Another excellent tale by Keigo Higashino. Charming, touching, fun and a little mysterious. There is a Japanese movie version that is remarkably faithAnother excellent tale by Keigo Higashino. Charming, touching, fun and a little mysterious. There is a Japanese movie version that is remarkably faithful to the book and quite excellent as well....more
It is so incredibly difficult to write a novel where one of the main characters is gone before the book even begins, but Jonathan Strong creates a movIt is so incredibly difficult to write a novel where one of the main characters is gone before the book even begins, but Jonathan Strong creates a moving and indelible character in Will Turley, the old man whose sudden death before the novel even begins leaves a mystery on the doorstep of Lawrence and Nancy Huggins.
This is an incredible story of the past, of human connection, of similarities and differences, and of childhoods that may or may not have been as idyllic as one recalls. It is a mystery of people and like all good mysteries, it doesn't reveal all of it's secrets by novel's end.
Not a traditional mystery or whodunit by any stretch, but a brilliant character study that haunts after the last page has been read....more
It’s a complete coincidence that I ended up in San Francisco just days before Mary Ann in Autumn, Armistead Maupin’s latest instaBarbary Lane Lives On
It’s a complete coincidence that I ended up in San Francisco just days before Mary Ann in Autumn, Armistead Maupin’s latest installment of the Tales of The City series, was released. The trip was planned well before I ever knew the release date of the novel, but once I learned of the close proximity of the two events, my trip to the Bay Area transformed into a pilgrimage of sorts to Maupin’s endearing and iconic works, Mrs. Madrigal, Michael “Mouse” Tolliver, and all the denizens of the Tales of the City.
After walking all the way from Market and Powell, getting lost, and going up and down Russian Hill at the grand old age of 46, I found myself, winded and sweating, standing on the steps of Macondray Lane—the real life inspiration for the house that has been etched into my psyche for so long—hoping to capture a little bit of the magic of that literary world. And it’s only fitting that in the opening chapter of Mary Ann in Autumn, the titular character, Mary Ann Singleton, finds herself climbing those same stairs to catch a glimpse of her former home, 28 Barbary Lane. With a wistfulness and longing, the 57 year-old stares through the locked gate of the property, similarly trying to recapture the magic that had been her past life, one she abandoned so many years ago along with her husband and adoptive daughter.
With that scene, Maupin perfectly sets the tone for Mary Ann in Autumn, a sweet and solid entry in the Tales of the City mythos that is part nostalgia (for both the readers and the character of Mary Ann), and a deceptively simple exploration of the desire for one person to discover who they truly are after pursuing who they thought they wanted to be.
Mary Ann has returned to San Francisco after some shocking revelations in her personal life, and the first person she contacts is her old friend, Mouse, now happily married to the younger Ben. From the moment Maupin brings the two together, their voices are as if they have never been apart, easily falling into the playful (and sometimes serious) banter that made them an endearing couple of friends in the original works. And here is where the novel succeeds best: the rekindling of that relationship and the literary rehabilitation of Mary Ann.
In the original Tales novel and early sequels, Mary Ann Singleton was an immensely likable young woman, a naïve transplant to San Francisco from the bastion of conservatism, Cleveland. Her journey as she discovered who she was and how she reacts to a city as free as 1970s San Francisco was funny, charming, mysterious and a little bit sad. But starting in the 4th book in the series, Babycakes, Mary Ann found herself in search of a career and she became a not-so-likable person, one who seemed willing to turn her back on family and friends. It was disheartening for me as a reader to see Mary Ann transformed such. Now, don’t get me wrong…it was utterly true to life. How many times have we all had someone in our lives who is incredibly dear to us who gets caught up in the desire to be something more and becomes someone we don’t like so much any more? There was nothing at fault in Maupin’s writing of those later three novels. It was spot on. I simply didn’t want to see a dear, wonderful friend become someone I didn’t like. I wanted her to always stay Mary Ann. And that, alone, is a testament to Maupin and the character he created. I never wanted her to change.
In Mary Ann in Autumn, though, we find a character who is, again, at a turning point. As she approaches the autumn of her life, she has obviously been taking stock, looking closely at her past choices, the repercussions of some not-so-great actions. In trying to find a way forward, she is looking back at the people she has left behind, one of whom happens to be herself. And she finds that little bit of herself, again. Don’t get me wrong, Maupin doesn’t magically convert Mary Ann back to whom she was. He doesn’t absolve her of her sins. She’s older, wiser, still a bit self-absorbed, but it almost feels as if she is exhaling all the inconsequential crap that has been in her life, so that she can breathe in again. And it is exactly in her relationship to Mouse that Maupin so expertly let’s us like Mary Ann again, perhaps understand her a bit more.
Maupin also adds in outsiders, those who never knew the Mary Ann we all loved, to help in this rehabilitation, namely Mouse’s husband, Ben who is a bit suspicious of this woman and her effect on Michael. Through him—someone without the shared history—we get to learn this new Mary Ann. As Mouse himself says to Ben “Look, I know you think she’s a drama queen, but she’s had some actual drama.”
Now, in any Tales novel, a reader expects some humor, a little bit of mystery and wonderful characters. Maupin is in excellent form here, capturing everything we readers have loved about Tales, but never once relying on our nostalgia for the series. His 2010 San Francisco is just as vibrant and alive as his San Francisco of the 70s and 80s. It has simply grown and changed, morphed into something different, no less charming or infections as its previous incarnation.
In the mystery department, Maupin gives us Shawna, Mary Ann’s estranged, adoptive daughter, now a popular sex-blogger looking for a new direction in her life. She fixates on an old homeless woman named Leia, and stumbles onto a mystery that she must solve, a mystery that gives us readers a genuine aha! moment or two that is richly satisfying. But that’s not all…Facebook figures into it all as well, giving us yet another jolt that can’t be revealed in a review. Now I tend to pride myself on figuring out twists and turns, but Maupin honestly got me on these. I didn’t have it figured out until it was very clear that Maupin wanted me to. Perhaps I was just naive, but I was genuinely taken by surprise by the twists.
In the character department, Mrs. Madrigal is still with us and although her role is somewhat limited, she’s just as pithy as always, each of her “dears” just warming my heart, and her spirit is richly pepered throughout the novel. DeDe Halcyon makes an appearance, as does D’or. And Maupin augments the Barbary Lane family with Jake Greenleaf, an immensely appealing trans-man, Michael’s Ben, and Shawna’s adorable and patient boyfriend Otto. These are all welcome additions to the family, feeling as natural as the characters we’ve all known for year.
Now, I have read a few reviews that mention the conspicuous absence of Brian Hawkins (Mary Ann’s ex-husband and father of Shawna) and those who have read Michael Tolliver Lives know that the beloved Mona is no longer with us. But I never felt their absence in this novel because Maupin has expertly woven their spirits into the work. Mona is there…a large part of her spirit embodied in Shawna…and Brian is present as well, aspects of his personality richly resonant in two of the new characters. One might even spot a younger version of Mouse or, perhaps, a successor to Mrs. Madrigal.
In the end, Mary Ann in Autumn is still a love-letter to San Francisco. It’s still a wonderfully magical series that, I think, Maupin has reinvented for the new millennium. He shows us that you can indeed go home again, though that home will have changed and grown just as we have. Most importantly, he shows us that while 28 Barbary Lane may have become a single-family dwelling, its spirit is still strong. Because 28 Barbary Lane isn’t so much a time or a place, some clapboard building at the top of a set of rickety stairs…28 Barbary Lane is our “logical family,” the family we’ve created and carry with us always, no matter where we may be.
To be perfectly honest, if I were prowling the aisle of my local literary chain and came across this book on the shelves, I would hMy review from 2008
To be perfectly honest, if I were prowling the aisle of my local literary chain and came across this book on the shelves, I would have given a little laugh at the cleverness of the title; I might even have flipped it over to read the dust jacket. Ultimately, however, I would have passed it by without a second thought. Not my cup of tea, I would have thought. And I would have been so much the worse for having thought so. I didn’t know what to expect when I started reading this novel. I wasn’t sure if it would be a romance, a male/male bodice ripper, or a Pythonian take on erotica, all of which could have gone horribly wrong given the core premise. In the end, what I got was immensely satisfying….a deeply moving story of love, of friendship, of recognizing the things that make us different while still managing to find those commonalities that bind us together. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a perfect novel and I do have a few gripes, but none are egregious and none detract from a story that is expertly told.
The plot is, at its core, a science fiction and fantasy staple. A stranger in a strange land, captured by those who don’t understand who or what he is, who has to find a way not only to escape his captors, but also some method of getting back home again. We’ve seen riffs on it in everything from Pierre Boulee’s La planète des singes to L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and countless other novels over the years. What separates the wheat from the chaff in this genre, however, is execution and that is where I was an alien cat toy excels. It doesn’t suffer from the oppressive dystopia of Boulee’s work or the sometime sickly sweetness of Baum’s; instead, it finds a comfortable balance between those two classics. Pyr Temin is our stranger, a pilot who, on a routine inter-galaxy supply mission, runs into trouble with his engines and crash lands on U67809, a planet which had once been home to a seed-colony of humans that had gone missing some 500 years before. Surviving the crash, Temin determines that his ship was sabotaged and that the damage makes returning home on his own impossible. Depressed at the nearly inevitable possibility of never seeing his family — or his lover, Jeng — again and having few other choices, he sets his transmitters to loop an SOS and sets out into the planet’s brutal winter to find food and shelter. It isn’t long before Temin comes across some of the planet’s indigenous life forms, primate-like beings that he attempts to hunt, with slightly comic results. Yet, the hunter becomes the hunted and the primates scatter as a low growl fills the air. Temin has only moments to think before the huge claws are headed his way: of all the ways he was going to die on this planet death by giant cat wasn’t on the shefting list.
The next time we see Temin is several day later, after he has been made a pet in the home a Kadit, the matriarch of a clan of Daiyne, the cat-people who inhabit this world. Temin is not, Kadit has decided, an ideal pet, far too boisterous and too much trouble for her. She convinces her son, Gredar, one of the clan’s older and most respected males, to take the odd looking “jopa.” Reluctant at first but always obedient to his mother, Gredar takes the naked and frightened Temin into his life. And this is where the story truly begins.The author cleverly uses short segments of each chapter to alternate between Gredar’s point of view and Temin’s as each tries to assess the other. Here the author avoids the Rashomon effect, sidestepping a storytelling method that has become somewhat of a cliché in literature and films. The author wisely chooses not to use the change of POV as a literary trick of rehashing what has come before, but rather as a device to keep the story moving at a smooth pace.
The result is that we see the characters through the other’s eyes, each scene building on the one that came before it. Gredar is fascinated by his new pet, by his intelligence, his hairless features which are strangely alluring. Temin, on the other hand, is terrified of these giant cats and his oversized “prison” and is intent on escape; yet, he also recognizes in Gredar a gentle, intelligent soul who is treating him better than his previous “owners.” The structure provides the reader with an almost bird’s eye view of the delicate dance that goes on between our two protagonists as they learn that they may not be so terribly different from one another. Soon, a tentative trust is born and slowly it begins to give way to a friendship that is mutual, far deeper than a master or his pet loving the other. However, while Gredar is away for a time, he entrusts the care of his “pet” to one of his grooming mates — the arrogant and impulsive younger male, Filwui — who mistreats Temin in one of the most vile ways possible.
The author captures Temin’s sense of betrayal and Gredar’s attendant guilt in heartbreaking, yet utterly realistic ways. There’s palpable sense of loss after this incident, a mourning of the near destruction of the trust that has slowly built between Gredar and Temin. But rather than let it lapse into a malaise that only fuels Temin’s desire to escape and turn the piece into a hollow action-romp, the author uses the event to bring the two characters even closer together when Gredar discovers that Temin has a language all his own. The journey of the two as they discover each other’s words is exquisite in every way, leading the characters to a fuller understanding of one another. After a time, the readers find themselves knowing Gredar’s language and slowly and quietly, the dual POVs meld together flawlessly as the barriers between them fall away.
Will Temin’s lover Jeng ever rescue him? Will he ever see his home and his family again? Or has he found a new home, a new family, a new lover?
Okay, so let’s start with the gripes, minor though they be. At the beginning of the story, Temin believes that his ship had been sabotaged, and wisely the author doesn’t dwell on this as it isn’t really essential to the story at hand. However, later in the novel it is revealed that the ship was indeed sabotaged. The resulting scene is rather expository in nature, an almost forced tying up of loose strings that was a bit of a disconnect for me. Personally, I felt that aspect of the story — and the expository scene — either needed to be excised from the story or integrated as a significant plot element.
As for Temin’s lost lover, Jeng, he is a presence always in Temin’s mind; yet, I didn’t really know enough about him — or his life with Temin — to really feel what the loss of him meant. He really was a bit of a ghost of a character for me and given that the author lovingly crafts such vivid characters in Temin, Gredar, Kadit and their feline family, the result is that when the possibility arises that Jeng might come looking for Temin, I instinctively didn’t like the character…without ever having met him. But, as I said these are minor, minor flaws.
In lesser hands, this story could have been reduced to an entertaining, yet vacuous story. But Somerville weaves in immensely likeable characters in Temin and Gredar, who are so richly drawn that you forget they are of different species. Both are dynamic characters, funny and frightening, unique and sympathetic. And each exudes a sensuality about them that never feels forced…it is simply at the core of their beings.
Somerville’s devotion to her characters doesn’t start and end with the leads. Each of the characters is equally full, from the authoritarian Kadit, to the loveably obsessed clan historian Martek; even Filwui escapes the cardboard-potential that villainy so often entails. Each character is multi-faceted and their motivations — while not always approvable — are completely understandable. The result is that we as readers are given a depth of character and emotion that I haven’t seen much of in the limited amount of fantasy/science fiction I have read of late.
The world building Somerville undertakes is equally impressive. Without resulting to purple prose or the tedious technicalities of layout, she crafts Ptane (the planet’s proper name) and the Daiyne village with such detail that you can see it all perfectly in your head.
Like all good sci-fi/fantasy there is some social commentary in the novel as well. Somerville’s depiction of a matriarchal society and its political structure are deftly drawn, and the story has much to say about the state of the human animal — both through her depiction of Temin and the Daiyne. However, while some writers in the genre insist on hammering home their “message,” Somerville is content to use a very light hand, allowing the reader to take what they will from the piece.
Now for those who like a little sex with their romance, you will indeed find it here and I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. I’m rather a prude when it comes to sex, but I freely admit I found the sexual encounters to be intriguing and very, very hot. So hot, I was almost, honestly, a little disturbed by my reaction to it. I think the effectiveness of these scenes is largely credited to the emotional realism of the relationship and the characters that Somerville has created here. The sex is not in any way gratuitous or full of bumbling lusty fantasies. It is fluid and loving and languorous. Best of all, it serves a purpose and was exactly where I wanted the characters to be at that moment.
While all of the piece is well done, where the novel excels the most is in the stunning creation of the bond between Gredar and Temin and the resulting friendships between Temin and the rest of the clan. The result is an honest to God love story, set in a fantasy world, yet grounded in the very real, believable human emotion of the “human” family. There’s a timelessness to I was an alien cat toy, and while there may be no place like home, Somerville — with love and humor and pathos — reminds us that our family, our home, is most often what we make of it....more
A series of interconnected stories from Ann Somerville. Strong on plot and character with great tension between the two male leads and fascinating worA series of interconnected stories from Ann Somerville. Strong on plot and character with great tension between the two male leads and fascinating world building. As usual, Somerville works in social commentary that's a hallmark of good sci-fi. Incredibly entertaining, reminding me of the serials I used to watch on TV when I was a kid. Great fun with a bite to it as well....more
Brilliant. See my reviews of the two stories ("On Wings Rising" and "Reaching Higher") for more details, but having these two together in print in a wBrilliant. See my reviews of the two stories ("On Wings Rising" and "Reaching Higher") for more details, but having these two together in print in a wonderful thing....more
Historical gay fiction doesn't get better than this. Appealing characters, expert setting, and dialog that reads true to the period. Read this book. IHistorical gay fiction doesn't get better than this. Appealing characters, expert setting, and dialog that reads true to the period. Read this book. It is outstanding....more
The Haunted Heart and Other Tales is not your typical single-author ghost-story anthology. That's to say that it isn't your typical ghost-story antholThe Haunted Heart and Other Tales is not your typical single-author ghost-story anthology. That's to say that it isn't your typical ghost-story anthology of today. This collection harkens back to days of "gentler" ghost-stories, the type of ghost stories that I grew up on. In fact, as I was reading this, the style reminded me very much of Ambrose Bierce crossed with the old Alfred Hitchcock magazine stories. (Interestingly, going back and reading the foreword and afterword, these appear to be some of Currier's influences). This is not a bad thing. This, to me, is a very good thing.
Readers expecting today's traditional ghost-story line-up might be a bit disappointed in this collection, but what Currier has done is gone back to the type of stories he (and I) enjoyed in his youth. Stories where the ghost is not only an apparition, but a metaphor, a commentary on various aspects of humanity. In that respect, the title of the collection is perfect in that this is about Haunted people; not necessarily ghosts that terrorize the reader.
Some of the stories do work better than others, but there really isn't a bad story here. A few tweaks with pacing might have helped to liven up those with which I connected less, and I would have liked a little more "show" rather than "tell" in a few of them, but again this goes back to the source of inspiration, being particularly evocative of Bierce. Most effective are those stories which have a strong through line with the AIDS epidemic; the experience of living though it or not; of having survived it or not. There is exceptional emotion here and Currier uses the ghost-story milieu to look deep into the human soul and psyche.
In the end, the ghosts in Currier's gentle collection didn't give me chills or frighten me, but what they did do is leave me haunted. Just as the title promised....more
For years, Sean Meriwether has served as editor of two of the most cutting-edge web magazines out there: Outsider Ink (now shuttered) and Velvet MafiaFor years, Sean Meriwether has served as editor of two of the most cutting-edge web magazines out there: Outsider Ink (now shuttered) and Velvet Mafia: Dangerous Queer Fiction. During his time with both markets, Meriwether has found exceptional literature by some of the best writers working. Occasionally he's also thrown one of his own works into the mix and that is how I first discovered Meriwether as an author in his own right. Over the years, Meriwether has been amassing an enviable body of work and that, my friends, is a very good thing for us.
I've always enjoyed Meriwether's stories and I've always known that he is a damn good writer, but until I read his collected works in The Silent Hustler, I didn't fully realize just how exceptional a writer he is. When you read one of Meriwether's works as a stand-alone, you always come away satisfied, perhaps a little (and sometimes a lot) aroused, and definitely emotionally affected, though on the latter you might never quite be able to put your finger on the emotions you are feeling or how Meriwether pulled them out of you. His prose is clean and evocative, creating place and time with the simplest turns of a phrase, and his dialog is impeccable, sounding like real men in very real situations. There are no contrivances here. Not of character. Not of story. No manipulation. Just straight out stories about real people. And when read together as a whole, these works blend seamlessly together to take us on a really interesting and varied journey of growing, becoming and living as a gay man.
The journey starts off with the "literary" (although, honestly, all of it is literary) "Things I Can't Tell My Father." It's part tribute, part indictment, and an always honest look at a father and his son. It's alternately melancholic and funny, touching and bitter, joyful and sad. It also serves as a cautionary tale of how one's actions make your children who they become even if you don't realize it. It packs an emotional wallop, but it isn't heavy handed. And that's the key to this collection. It's understated. There's no manufactured drama here, it's all very real and quietly, almost subversively, effective.
Many of the pieces in this collection would be classified as "erotica," and let me tell you it is erotica in the very best sense of the word. The majority of the stories are sizzling hot, but what I appreciate about each one is that Meriwether never loses the men behind the acts. Unlike much erotica these days these days, Meriwether keeps his characters firmly rooted in their realities. Character never suffers for the sex and, most importantly, Meriwether imbues every single story with the emotional impetus for the sex. Whether it's melancholia, insecurity or unbridled lust that drives the characters towards the sex, it is never superfluous. Take for example "www.menschangingroom.com." Man, this is a hot, erotic piece, but as we draw to a close, Meriwether reveals the emotion that leads out narrator to that site. "Sneaker Queen" is another one that—pun completely intended—sneaks up on you. I don't want to say much more than that. Needless to say, even with the most erotic pieces in this collection, you are going to get a wonderful depth of character and emotion to go along with all the steamy bits. And that makes the sex all that more fulfilling doesn't it?
Now, when one reads a single author anthology it is inevitable that you hit a story that just doesn't speak to you, one that you might secretly skim to the end. I've done it with some of my favorite authors. Well, I can honestly say that there is not a single story in this collection that doesn't work. Each is so incredibly nuanced that you want to savor every word. That's the brilliance of Meriwether's writing…he gives a lot in it and keeps you right there with the characters.
Perhaps—for me, anyway—the story that best represents the complexity of Meriwether's work and this collection is "So Long Anita Bryant And Thanks For Everything." Boy this story packs a lot in. It is incredibly touching, instantly recreating the time of the "Save our Children" campaign Bryant waged against us, and incredibly sexy all at once. Meriwether manages to capture how Bryant demoralized and vilified us, yet also unintentionally empowered us to fight for what should be ours. We also get to experience (or, in the case of us older folks, relive), the wide-eyed innocence of realizing there are others like us out there, that we aren't freaks, and the headiness of realizing—on an sexual level--that there are so many of us out there. And when the narrator announces, "I'm here to fight Anita Bryant," your heart swells with the young man's newfound pride. It's a story of innocence lost, pride discovered and adulthood born. A brilliant piece.
In the end, all the pieces work together—not something that can be aid of every single-author collection—blending seamlessly together to take us on an interesting, erotic, emotional and most importantly a literary journey of growing, becoming and living as a gay man. A tour de force that is not to be missed. 10 out of 10 stars. ...more
First and foremost, I must state up front that this work is a novella length work, clocking in at approximately 100 pages. But don't let that dissuadeFirst and foremost, I must state up front that this work is a novella length work, clocking in at approximately 100 pages. But don't let that dissuade you as Milton Murayama packs more into those 100 pages than most novels manage to do in 300+ pages.
This is an outstanding work, capturing so many varied aspects of the nisei (second generation Japanese Americans) experience in Hawai'i during the years leading up to (and including) the bombing at Pearl Harbor. I understand completely why it is considered a classic as it drew me in with its deceptively simple prose, rich characters, and vivid setting, all accomplished without verbosity.
The story is told from the first person point of view of Kiyoshi, the second son in a Japanese family who came to Hawai'i in the 1930s to work on the sugar cane plantations in order to better their lives. His older brother Tosh, is a headstrong young man, the manifestation of the growing differences between the issei (first generation Japanese Americans) and the nisei and as vastly different from Kiyoshi as can be imagined. In some respects, Kiyoshi is stuck between the old ways of filial piety represented by his parents and the birth of a new generation of Americans of Japanese ancestry represented by Tosh. The family is crippled by massive debt and as much as Tosh rebels against the thought of being saddled as first son, Kiyoshi is relatively content in discovering his own role in this new world.
But neither Tosh nor Kiyoshi are stereotypes. As often as Tosh finds the old ways grating and confining, he also find moments of pride in his heritage. Kiyoshi seems more comfortable in the divide between the two generations, seeming to understand the good points of the old ways, but fully aware that his generation is somehow different. Never is the angst in either character over the top, but when Tosh utters the titular line "All I asking for is my body," it packs an emotional wallop.
Murayama wisely chose to keep the narration in traditional English, while much of the dialog is in Hawaiian pidgin creole. This choice expertly creates a realistic setting while brilliantly capturing the differences between the ways the issei and nisei communicate. In turn, this subtly demonstrates the growing divide between the two "cultures."
What also is fascinating is Murayama's depiction of life on the plantation. The segregation encouraged by the luna (plantation bosses) shows us how the different racial communities were often pitted against one another to the benefit of the corporations milling the cane. It is fascinating and realistic to see the way the various races were pitted against one another, methods that resonate in today's political world.
Segregation by debt is also depicted well, the deliberate system of keeping the poor in their place. Kiyoshi's family are trapped in their lives by massive debt and bitterly low wages. It is no wonder Tosh feels suffocated, as if he is in a prison. And that is how it sometimes feels. With the bombing of Pearl Harbor, we as readers know that the internment of Japanese Americans is coming, but in many ways Kiyoshi's family has already been imprisoned from the time of their arrival in Hawai'i by the colonial system.
The bombing of Pearl is handled briefly, giving us the sense of what it must have been like being on a plantation so far away from the actions in the harbor. The event seemed so far away, but had such an impact upon their lives. This is all done subtly, but allows Murayama to explore the effect on the nisei boys. And that reaction is not standard text-book. The reactions are wonderfully varied, reflecting the complexity of emotions in the boys.
Now, I don't want to give the impression that this story is all sturm and drang, some sort of melodrama. It is utterly realistic, but it is peppered with humor and simple beauty. And best of all, within the family, there are no good guys or bad guys. Just a family, trying to make its way.
I highly recommend this book, not only for it's realistic portrayal of plantation life in Hawai'i and of the nisei experience, but for the emotional truth that underlies it all....more
Anyone who knows me knows that I have a strong connection to the Hawaiian Islands and a strong curiosity to read the stories by Hawaiian authors. I'm Anyone who knows me knows that I have a strong connection to the Hawaiian Islands and a strong curiosity to read the stories by Hawaiian authors. I'm not so much interested in the exoticism of the islands as I am the real, true life stories. So when author Lavina Ludlow (novel forthcoming from Casperian Books) suggested the work of Lois-Ann Yamanaka, I was more than willing to dive in.
Now, when authors are new to me, I do not search out any reviews or biographical information before hand as I don't want to color my perception of their work, positively or negatively. So when I looked at the list of Yamanaka's work, this novel was the first listed and so I went with it. And am I glad I did.
Wild Meat and the Bully Burgers is set in and about Hilo, Hawai'i (the big Island) in the 1970s. Our lead is the appealing Lovey (interestingly, one letter shy of Lovely), a relatively plain girl from a working class Hawai'i. As the blurb says, her Hawai'i is not the Hawai'i of picture post cards. Her family are barely surviving financially, unable to afford the comforts that the haole (white) islanders and many of those with whom Lovey goes to school have. This instills in Lovey a somewhat covetous personality. Like all children, she wants to fit in, be smart and popular and have the coolest things. And her attempts to fit in always seem to backfire, reminding her of her "place" in life.
While Lovey is our main character, most all of her interactions within the novel take place with her friend Jerry, a young man with a seemingly unending positive outlook and as much of an outcast as Lovey. Likewise, her father, a nisei (second generation Japanese American), is an important part of their life, their relationship at times wonderfully close and at other times strained by Lovey's desire to be more than who she is.
At its heart, this novel is a coming-of-age book, the journey of a young girl who is just beginning to grow up and realize what really is important in life. But what this story also is is the story of a young woman and the men in her life...Jerry and her father. While her mother, grandmother, aunty and sister are indeed in her life, the focus always returns to Jerry or her father. While I would have enjoyed seeing more of Lovey's relationship with the women in her life, the richness of her interactions with the men in her life is outstanding and full. One (especially one of the male gender) comes away with a strong understanding of the bond between father and daughter. And blessedly, Yamanaka makes that relationship utterly realistic.
Lovey's relationship with Jerry is wonderfully imbued with a strong sense of what friendship is. As in reality, sometimes the two can't stand one another. They fight and get jealous of one another, but in the end, they always end up together. Truly wonderful.
One of the things about Jerry that was missing for me is the implication that Jerry was gay. The blurb indicates that Jerry is effeminate, implying homosexuality. I didn't particularly see this to be true. Yes, he does play Barbies with Lovey, his interest are a bit off the beaten path compared to other boys, and both he and Lovey are constantly call derogatory names for gays by the "cool kids," but he never read as particularly effeminate or gay to me. In some respects, I would have like to have seen that dealt with more, but when I came away from the novel I realized that whether Jerry was or wasn't gay didn't matter. Because it didn't matter to Lovey. The only thing that mattered was their friendship. I walked away finding that refreshing.
In this novel, Yamanaka touches on a lot of issues. Classism. Racism. The loss of cultural heritage and homeland. But she deals with hem subtly and always in context of the story. We absolutely feel for Lovey when she is made fun of. We get angry at her when she picks on others from a different cultural background. Our heart aches when her father tells how his own father never saw Japan again before he died. It is all beautifully done.
Yamanaka also captures the spirit of the island. She doesn't do this by describing details of the locales, but rather by the use of Hawaiian Creole (pidgin) in the dialog and the prose. The result is a vivid portrayal of time and place that feels like home for us non-Hawaiian readers, yet is different enough so that we know we aren't in our own home. Likewise, Yamanaka brings emotional truth to the story, a universality that draws us to each of the characters. In the end, while we know we aren't a teen Japanese American girl, we understand and can empathize with all she is going through.
For those readers who grew up in the 70s, there is a lot here that will let you take a stroll down memory lane and which helps to provide the emotional connection to the characters. Yamanaka gets all the details right, from Bobby Sherman to wax coke bottle candies.
Perhaps the best thing about this novel is that while Lovey is covetous of those around her, her life is allowing her to build something more precious than the right clothes or the right tape recorder...she's building memories that will last forever.
I can not imaging coming-of-age novels getting any better than this and I can not recommend this book more strongly....more
The end of the series, this book has a really bittersweet feel to it, largely due to the character that Mary Ann has become. I watched her grow from sThe end of the series, this book has a really bittersweet feel to it, largely due to the character that Mary Ann has become. I watched her grow from someone I really liked into someone I did not like at all. The result really is a tying up of the series and a loss of innocence that is reflective of the time period in which it is set. May not be the most emotionally satisfying end to a series or the ending that we wanted, but it seems pretty truthful and it does work within the greater arc of the novels. ...more
The humor in this one really appealed to me and I felt more of the magic of the first three books. We spend a lot of time away from Barbary Lane, but The humor in this one really appealed to me and I felt more of the magic of the first three books. We spend a lot of time away from Barbary Lane, but the journey is fun....more
I have to say that this was my least favorite on the original Tales books. Mostly this is because we begin to see the "breakup" of the Barbary Lane faI have to say that this was my least favorite on the original Tales books. Mostly this is because we begin to see the "breakup" of the Barbary Lane family and the transformation of Mary Ann from innocence to almost ruthless by the series end. The writing is as sharp as ever and I think my reaction to this was very much more of not wanting to see the characters change as radically as some of them did. Not Maupin's fault. People grow and he does it well in this book. The attention put on the AIDS epidemic is handled extremely well....more
Another great spin, weaving in a little Jim Jones connection. This is the last book with the innocence of the characters as the subsequent novels see Another great spin, weaving in a little Jim Jones connection. This is the last book with the innocence of the characters as the subsequent novels see the family growing and growing apart. ...more
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