Winner of the Costa Book Award 2017 *sigh* I have thought long and hard about why I dislike this text, especially because so many people whose opinion Winner of the Costa Book Award 2017 *sigh* I have thought long and hard about why I dislike this text, especially because so many people whose opinion I value just loved it, and I could even find all the points they have raised in order to explain why they liked this novel so much in the text, but their well-made arguments did not change the fact that this book did almost nothing for me. So here are some attempts to explain why I found myself so underwhelmed:
The structure of the book dominates (if not to say suffocates) the story. McGregor portrays life in an English village over the course of 13 years, starting with the year in which 13-year-old Rebecca disappears. Animals, plants, villagers, festivities that mark the succession of every year – everything that happens flows in a steady narrative stream, as if life was a calm steady river, as if people, animals and plants exist in some common contemplative space that is shaped by natural forces, where even crime, death, and love lost are nothing more than parts of the course of life…yeah, I have a couple of questions regarding this concept: How does this mirror human experience? If we do not talk about how it feels and what it means to be human, if we do not acknowledge all the little tragedies as such – what’s the point in writing at all, what’s the merit of a story?
I am interested in the characters the book has to offer, I think all their trials and tribulations are worth exploring, especially because they are so common – but this attitude turns out to be a problem here, because the villagers are only portrayed in a rather superficial way, crammed in short episodes, with zero direct dialogue that might disturb the steady pace of the narrative. But I like my narratives with changing paces, with differing moods, and full of expression. This runs against what McGregor wants to do (and, admittedly, also achieves to do), but the more the author sticks to his narrative and structural concept of composed calm, the more agitated I get.
“Reservoir 13” has often been compared to Solar Bones, and there are some similarities. But in my opinion, McCormack highlights the dignity, the societal contributions, and the epic elements in the life of a so-called average person, while McGregor evens out everything: The average is made more average, and life is made to appear flat. I see that McGregor’s approach can be interpreted as humble or soothing, as in “we are all part of a greater scheme”, and yes, we are, but the human experience is that all those troubles feel existential to us, and they are what makes up our lives: Jackson’s illness is tragic, Su’s trouble with her twins and her job are worth discussing, and what the hell is going on between Rebecca’s parents? I want to know, because it matters!
So unfortunately, I felt more intellectually stimulated and emotionally engrossed watching Conor McGregor’s bout with Floyd Mayweather than reading Jon McGregor’s welterweight of a book – it doesn’t qualify as light reading, but for my taste, it does definitely lack some muscle....more
It’s not the historical information or the details about the “peculiar institution” that make this book worth reading – if you are slightly knowledgeaIt’s not the historical information or the details about the “peculiar institution” that make this book worth reading – if you are slightly knowledgeable about American history, you heard all of that before (and there are much better books that illustrate the horrible faith of American slaves). What makes this text original is Whitehead’s decision to expand his story beyond the classic slave narrative and superimpose other historical events and debates, almost like a pastiche with regard to content.
His vehicle to do that (haha – sorry) is of course the underground railroad, which Whitehead turns from a metaphor for the secret routes and safe houses that slaves used to flee to the free states, into an actual, physical railroad that operates underground. The railroad transports his protagonist Cora to five different states in the South before she reaches the North, and the author uses each location to play out a different set of ideas:
- Georgia: As a starting point, Whitehead shows the lives of slaves on a Southern farm, the cruelty they suffer from their masters and the dynamics that unfold among the slaves themselves. Plus: We learn about our protagonist, Cora, who flees the plantation.
- South Carolina: …is Cora’s first stop. Although at first, this seems to be an advanced state, Cora finds out that its government performs medical experiments on black people without their knowledge and that a large sterilization program is set up to stop the black population from growing – methods reminiscent of Nazi eugenics and the experiments Mengele carried out in Auschwitz. First I thought that Whitehead mainly aims to track down the parallels between racial hatred against different groups and its consequences, but then another Goodreader informed me that beyond that, the U.S. government did in fact carry out experiments on black people without their consent: The "Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male" started in 1932. It is also true that there were attempts to hire poor white immigrants for the work on the farms, but, and this is exactly as horrible as it sounds, exploiting and subjugating black people was cheaper.
- North Carolina: In the novel, NC has recently decided to abolish slavery, and white resistance is strong. Abolitionist Martin hides Cora in his attic, until she is captured in a raid. Whitehead cannot possibly have foreseen this, but this chapter is a particularly dire read when the current American President has just declared that there are also some good people in the KKK and that General Lee was basically just another fun patriot (plus the travel ban, DACA cancellation, Arpaio, you get the idea). Whitehead shows the mania, the primal indulgence into violence, the fury that is evoked in some people when white supremacy is questioned – the ecstasy of the mob has always been a key feature to the survival of any ideology of hatred.
- Tennessee: The Tennessee chapter is mainly used to illustrate the character of the professional slave catcher Ridgeway (large parts are dialogue between Cora and Ridgeway) and his young black assistant, Homer. One of the most haunting characters in the book, Homer is like a young version of Stephen, the house slave in Tarantino’s “Django Unchained”. After observing the dynamics of the mob, Whitehead now discusses individual justifications for and adjustment to racism.
- Indiana: After Cora is freed, she flees to Indiana, where she lives on a farm with other black people, some of them runaways like her. As the pressure from the white community is growing, the black inhabitants of the farm discuss how to go about the advancement of their race, the main verbal antagonists being Milton and Lander. Their dispute seems to foreshadow the actual debate that happened after the South lost the Civil War: How can the freed slaves be educated, how can they make better lives for themselves in the world of Jim Crow laws? Although Milton and Lander do not talk about the exact same issues, their conflict is reminiscent of the debate between Booker T. Washington and W. E. B. Du Bois, hinting at the diverse opinions within the black community and the enormous challenges that lay ahead for free slaves, challenges that reach up until our present.
As to the depiction of violence in the novel which, for some readers, seems to be a cause for criticism, let me quote Quentin Tarantino talking about "Django Unchained”: ”What happened during slavery times is a thousand times worse than what I show. So if I were to show it a thousand times worse, to me, that wouldn't be exploitative, that would just be how it is. If you can't take it, you can't take it.” I think that we all deal with it is not too much to ask for....more
This book reminds me of a fairy tale, in as far as it describes a curious incident involving fantastical elements - the sudden appearance of magic dooThis book reminds me of a fairy tale, in as far as it describes a curious incident involving fantastical elements - the sudden appearance of magic doors all over the world that allow people to move to other countries without passing border controls - connected to a moral. Another aspect that brings the story close to a fairy tale is that time and place remain vague, with the protagonists Nadia and Saeed living in and finally fleeing an unspecified country that stands emblematically for the many war-torn areas in the Southern hemisphere . And for the romantics among you: Yes, there’s also a fairy tale-ending (well, at least there’s a definite improvement). :-)
I think these connections to the set-up of a fairy tale are pretty interesting, because they highlight that Hamid wanted to write an accessible tale that makes a moral point by appealing to universal human sentiments, a story that could also come from an oral tradition or be a folk tale (the people in the book always “hear” about the doors from other people).That he takes this approach with a subject as complex as migration and still manages to avoid portraying and discussing it in a simplistic manner is a remarkable achievement. Even the book’s language is extremely accessible and Hamid completely relies on his content to make his text interesting (so in a way, this book is reversing the principles of Solar Bones, which is also an amazing book).
I agree with those readers who maintain that the story fails to answer some major questions like “Where do these magic doors even come from?”, but I think just like a fairy tale, this story expects you to simply accept the fantastical elements – who would ask how the wolf managed to dress up a like a grannie in “Little Red Riding Hood”? Hamid aims to discuss the reasons for and consequences of worldwide migration, and to focus on that, he found plot devices to block out whatever might distract from that.
Through the magic doors, Nadia and Saeed travel to Greece, England, and finally the United States, trying to make a better life for themselves. Hamid does an amazing job when it comes to making their actions and reactions plausible, and he manages to be highly empathetic without ever using clichés. By showing the different reactions of Nadia and Saeed individually, the effects of migration on their relationship, and the circumstances in the different countries, Hamid creates depth and nuance, which he further expands by adding unrelated episodes of people from different parts of the world and their experience with migration, because “we are all migrants through time” – a fascinating theme throughout the book, where Hamid frequently plays out the similarities between movement in time and in space.
Good book that I would never have picked up if it wasn’t for the Booker longlist - so thanks, MBP judges!...more
Die Audiobook-Version, die auf Spotify steht, ist offenbar gekürzt, ich habe also zugegebenermaßen nicht alles hören können. Was ich gehört habe ist aDie Audiobook-Version, die auf Spotify steht, ist offenbar gekürzt, ich habe also zugegebenermaßen nicht alles hören können. Was ich gehört habe ist allerdings recht aufschlussreich, leider jedoch nicht in der offenbar intendierten Hinsicht, denn NEWSFLASH: Nein, die Millionen Amerikaner, die im Mittleren Westen leben, sind nicht allesamt waffentragende, erzkonservative Hardcore-Christen. Dass eine vermeintlich liberale und aufgeklärte Amerikanerin wie Tufts so herablassend über jene, die nicht an den Küsten wohnen, spricht, ohne, wie sie selbst zugibt, jemals dort gewesen zu sein, spielt eine nicht unerhebliche Rolle bei der Beantwortung der Frage, wie Donald Trump es geschafft hat, ins Weiße Haus einzuziehen (Stichwort: Spaltung).
„Ich jedenfalls wollte noch nie in einem fly-over-state landen“ – eine Amerikanerin, die sich von Teilen ihres eigenen Landes distanziert, ja, diese Teile ablehnt, ohne sie je betreten zu haben. Das ist wirklich traurig und offenbar symptomatisch für den Zustand der USA.
Da kann Tufts noch so viele Anti-Trump-Demos besuchen und lustige Plakate schwingen: Um Trump und die Ideen, für die er steht, zu bekämpfen, brauchen wir schon eine bessere Strategie. Vielleicht fangen wir damit an, mit den vermeintlich Anderen zu sprechen und Spaltungen zu überwinden.
Ich bin enttäuscht, denn eigentlich mag ich Gayle Tufts ganz gerne…...more
Now Winner of the 2018 International Dublin Literary Award It is amazing how this text turns the life of an everyman - "husband, father, citizen" - intNow Winner of the 2018 International Dublin Literary Award It is amazing how this text turns the life of an everyman - "husband, father, citizen" - into poetry! McCormack portrays what is mostly considered too common to make it the heart of a story, and in a way, he celebrates the life of those who make up and sustain our societies: Average people.
There are already many interesting and eloquent reviews of this book, so I'd like to restrict myself to challenging one notion that has been frequently maintained: I'd like to argue that this is indeed a political book. The difference to, for instance, Autumn or Home Fire is that McCormack talks about a lower level of politics. By doing so, he exposes dynamics that exist in and shape politcs in general, and he illustrates how the political sphere affects our lives, everyday, right in front of our eyes.
Protagonist Marcus Conway works as a civil engineer for the Mayo County council, and he is responsible for building projects,
"(...) projects which if taken all together, would amount to a fully serviced metroplis with adequate housing for a hundred-thousand souls, give or take, plus facilities for health and education and recreation with complete infrastructure (...)".
In his job, he is responsible for planning, timely construction, but also the solidity of the buildings. When a politician calls and wants him to sign off papers to start construction on a school building project, Marcus does not want to comply because he worries about the quality and compatibility of the envisioned building materials. The politician points out that he wants to cater to his constituency as he aims to be re-elected, while Marcus, who is just an employee, worries about the safety of the kids who will attend the school.
"(...) fuck engineers, Moylette roared, his temper now routed engineers don't make the world, you should know that more than anyone, politics and politicians make the world and I'm telling you now I do not give one fuck whose name appears on that cert but that's the difference between you and me John what difference the difference between a politician and an engineer, your decisions have only to hold up for four or five years - one electoral cycle (...)"
This tension between power politics and sound policy is very common on all levels of government (especially when there is a degree of uncertainty involved), and McCormack gives a vivid example of this dynamic and how it affects or might affect people - those working for the government and those living in the governed area.
Politics also plays an important role when McCormack describes the health crisis that emerges due to contaminated water. Marcus' beloved wife falls ill, and he has heated discussions with his kids which drift from the water crisis to politics in general. Marcus himself is also very critical of how the crisis is handled:
"(...) the civic authorities sought to locate the exact origin of the disaster it found that it could not be pinpointed to one specific cause, human or environmental, but that its primary source was in the convergence of adverse circumstances (...) which smudged and spread responsibility for the crisis in such a way as to make the whole idea of accountability a murky realm (...)" He sees the city "politically at its wits' end", then going on to use metaphors like "a company of zombies (...) shepherding a small flock of sheep".
McCormack brings politics into the domestic realm, and I really liked how he manages to merge these spheres. That he does that by using a stream of consciousness-technique (and even bringing this technique to another level by not using any punctuation) reminded me of Arthur Schnitzler's None But The Brave (German: "Leutnant Gustl"), an Austrian classic in which Schnitzler paints a portrait of the Austro-Hungarian Empire's obsession with honor and the military by taking a glimpse inside the head of an army lieutnant. McCormack imagines the thoughts of an everyman, and he paints a picture of modern society.
The aspect of politics is certainly not the main point of the novel, but it is one of many components that make the text so brillant....more
Now Winner of the Women's Prize for Fiction 2018 - well-deserved!! " - Go back to uni, study the law. Accept the law, even when it's unjust. - You don'Now Winner of the Women's Prize for Fiction 2018 - well-deserved!! " - Go back to uni, study the law. Accept the law, even when it's unjust. - You don't love either justice or our brother if you can say that."
This book tells the story of a British family with Pakistani roots that gets torn apart by the ideology of jihad - and the story is modeled after Sophocles' classic greek tragedy Antigone. I loved the idea, as it underlines that the turmoil we are facing today is not as new as we like to assume. Rather, it can at least in part be traced back to aspects of the human condition and universal feelings that have not changed in the last 2,000 years.
The main protagonists of "Home Fire" are Isma and her twin siblings Aneeka and Parvaiz. Their father was an Islamic terrorist who died on his way to Guantánamo, and after the death of their mother, then 21-year-old Isma is left to provide for her 12-year-old siblings. After Aneeka and Parvaiz finish school, Isma decides to leave London (where all siblings have lived all their lives) and finally continue her studies in the United States. While Isma and Aneeka seem to be able to overcome their past, Parvaiz' life slowly unravels until he finally decides to move to Raqqa and take part in the jihad, just as his father did.
The story is split in five parts, each moving the story forward from a different point of view: - Isma - Aneeka - Parvaiz - Karamat, the British Home Secretary in charge of fighting terrorism, who is himself the child of Muslim immigrants - Eamonn, Karamat's son, who falls in love with Aneeka
I would like to talk a little about the parallels to "Antigone", but beware: While I stopped my little summary above to avoid spoilers, the connections between "Home Fire" and "Antigone" will give you some hints concerning what will happen to the three siblings! Okay, let's go:
(view spoiler)[Oedipus, the King of Thebes, and his mother Iokaste had four children: Antigone (here: Aneeka), Ismene (Isma), Polyneices (Parvaiz), and Eteocles (no direct counterpart). After Oedipus' death (for more on his story, check: Oedipus Rex and Oedipus at Colonus), Polyneices and Eteocles start a civil war fighting for the throne of Thebes, in which both die. The new king Creon (Karamat), brother of Iokaste, blames Polyneices (Parvaiz), whom he had previously banned from Thebes, and orders to deny Polyneices (Parvaiz) the burial rites. Although Ismene (Isma) tries to prevent it, Antigone (Aneeka) goes ahead and buries her brother (Polyneices/Parvaiz) anyway, as she refuses to conform to a law she sees as unjust and to male dominance. Instead, she chooses to conform to what she perceives as the rules of the gods. Antigone's (Aneeka's) fiancé Haimon (Eamonn) tries to save her from the consequences of her actions, but Creon (Karamat) realizes that he has gone too far only after it is too late: Both Antigone (Aneeka) and Haimon (Eamonn) die. (hide spoiler)]
I particularly liked that both in "Antigone" and in "Home Fire", none of the main characters are outright bad: They are trying to do what's right, but some of them make bad choices and take the wrong decisions - with devastating consequences. The way Shamsie talks about race, class, religion, identity and belonging is very lucid and daring, as she asks extremely difficult questions that are almost impossible to answer. I was fascinated by the character of Karamat, who at some point asks himself:
"Working class or Millionaire, Muslim or Ex-Muslim, Proud-Son-of-Migrants or anti-Migrant, Moderniser or Traditionalist? Will the real Karamat Lone please stand up?"
I also enjoyed how the people of Thebes who question their king in "Antigone" are mirrored in "Home Fire", media frenzy and all.
Other parts of the novel, especially the scenes in Pakistan and the ending, are not told realistically, but almost dream- or movie-like. The effect is rather puzzling, but not in a bad way, and I will have to think about those scenes more in order to interpret them.
Although the language is not nearly as good as in Autumn or Lincoln in the Bardo, this book would also be a worthy winner of the Booker - yes, I said it! For instance, it is way, way better than the former winner The White Tiger, a book that also talked about class and injustice. This will most likely make my shortlist. (Update: It did make my shortlist, but unfortunately, the Booker judges did not shortlist it)....more
"What I do when it distresses me that there's something I can't remember, is. Are you listening? Yes, Elisabeth said through the cyring. I imagine whate"What I do when it distresses me that there's something I can't remember, is. Are you listening? Yes, Elisabeth said through the cyring. I imagine whatever it is I've forgotten is folded close to me, like a sleeping bird. What kind of bird? Elisabeth said. A wild bird, Daniel said. Any kind. You know what kind when it happens. Then, what I do is, I just hold it there, without holding it too tight, and I let it sleep. And that's that."
I've never read Ali Smith before, and this really blew my mind - I love the lyrical language that is almost a mixture between fiction and poetry, I love how the textual structure resembles a collage, and I love how the text expands on so many themes without ever losing track of the single threads and ideas.
In their reviews, Paul and Neil did an excellent job summarizing the content and explaining what role the artist Pauline Boty and the 1963 Profumo Scandal play in the text, so I would like to take the liberty of referring to their analyses.
I would like to add that I really enjoyed how Smith uses the themes of memory and representation as an undercurrent throughout the whole text: There is an acute awareness that the past and the present are not only intertwined, but that both are created through stories, and that those stories paint a picture of reality just as Pauline Boty did with her collages.
"And whoever makes up the story makes up the world, Daniel said. So always try to welcome people into the home of your story. That's my suggestion."
Our stories about the world are not only a form of representation, but these "portraits in words" are a form of appropriation that shapes our reality, which, in turn, can be read by others. This is a key to the protagonists' memories and dreams, and it is also important when Smith writes about politics -Elisabeth's mother even ends up in jail when she uses memories turned into artefacts to challenge barriers (I cannot spoil this part of the novel, it is just too good).
Other examples for the themes of memory and representation would of course be Boty and Keeler, with Boty being dead and almost forgotten until Elisabeth, inspired by Daniel, digs into her work and biography.
Some readers from outside Europe have expressed that they feel like this novel is mainly concerned with current events in Britain, which somehow diminishes the text's relevance. As another European, I would like to contradict that notion, at least in part. Although the consequences of Brexit will affect Britain more and differently than the rest of Europe (especially young people who now fear to loose their Schengen privileges), Brexit is worrying and upsetting people throughout the continent. The EU is not only an economic structure, it is a supranational organization with roots in 1957, when countries who used to be enemies signed the Treaty of Rome which would turn out to be a crucial step towards the longest peace period in the history of the continent (at least between the EU member states; in 2012, the EU won the Nobel Peace Prize). When Britain decides to leave this union, what does this mean for the future of Europe? - that's the question that is scaring people and the dimension in which the Brexit discussion needs to be understood. How can we uphold the values on which the EU is based? In her book, Smith talks a lot about values and respect, and what she says is very relevant in today's EU (and in Trump's America, for that matter). My guess is that this book will personally affect many people, also outside Britain.
Regarding the question whether the book will stand the test of time, I am not sure whether I can answer it, but I think "Autumn" will remain a valuable and touching portrait depicting how many people felt at a certain point in time....more
As a nature-loving dog owner who used to live in beautiful Minnesota, I was inclined to love this novel. Unfortunately, I didn’t. What is this book abAs a nature-loving dog owner who used to live in beautiful Minnesota, I was inclined to love this novel. Unfortunately, I didn’t. What is this book about? I found three hints in the book, admittedly planted by the unreliable narrator, as to what Fridlund wanted to achieve. First, there is of course a presentation the protagonist, 15-year-old Linda, gives on the title-giving “History of Wolves”. The emphasis is on the misleading concept of the alpha male as in a pack, dominance is impermanent and shifting in relation to the specific situation. But does Fridlund go on and discuss the concept of shifting powers in social contexts in her story? Nope.
Rather, Fridlund meditates on two questions that she also lets Linda ask herself: “What’s the difference between what you want to believe and what you do? (…) And what’s the difference between what you think and what you end up doing?” Linda is a neglected kid who grew up in a failed cult and in the book, she meets a married couple of Christian Scientists who believe that people who fall ill can be healed by displaying a certain mindset and do not need evidence-based medicine. It is the nature and consequences of these gaps between personal conviction and outward reality, thought and action that the book mainly discusses. Befriending the Christian Scientists and becoming the babysitter of their son, Linda gets caught up in a situation she is unable to handle, and the consequences of her own misled perception will end up tormenting her (more details would be too much of a spoiler). In connection to that, Linda declares that her story is an account “of the origin of human evil. (…) I think, now: That’s the story I am trying to tell.” In a subplot, there is also a pedophile teacher and the problem of guilt regarding the thought of a crime vs. committing a crime is displayed.
In my opinion, having an unreliable narrator (who, by the way, is nicely characterized) telling a story does not mean that a writer has to execute his/her main plot ideas inconsistently – and as described above, the gist of the novel is a little messy. In addition to that, Linda is supposedly a grown-up looking at her past when she tells this story, and that does not show. “History of Wolves” is a coming-of-age story with minimal character development apart from feelings of regret about things past – although that seems to be intentional, I did not like it as it is unsatisfying to read and adds to the ever-present mood of resigned melancholy. In disregard of the above-mentioned presentation on the alpha male, the wolf seems to mainly stand for the wild as such, where Linda feels more at ease as in civilization. To nag on, I would like to add that the hints that Fridlund places throughout the book are maybe a little obvious.
I am still a fan of wolves, dogs (who, as domesticated wolves, also feature in the novel), and Minnesota, but I do not think that this book will make the Booker shortlist....more
Paul Auster, I am officially annoyed: This book could have been just great, but it is way, way too long, and by that I don't mean to say that I am genPaul Auster, I am officially annoyed: This book could have been just great, but it is way, way too long, and by that I don't mean to say that I am generally opposed to long books, but that this story could have been told more effectively if a good editor had taken out at least 200 pages.
The basic idea that Auster plays out over the course of 866 pages is that coincidence and the slightest change in circumstances can change our whole lives. He demonstrates this by telling the life story of Archie Ferguson from infancy to early manhood in four different versions that diverge more and more over the course of time, as every Archie experiences different events and grows up in a slightly different social context. I did not feel that Auster's way of telling these stories in a linear, but parallel manner was particularly innovative, in fact it does not even have a postmodern feel to it (which is of course not necessarily a bad thing, the novel's structure just did not feel fresh or particularly exciting to me).
On a positive note, I was very impressed with Auster's writing, which is accessible without ever being simplistic or shallow. I really enjoyed how he dives into the psychology of his characters, shedding light on their ambiguities, insecurities, and doubts while always preserving their dignity and, by that, evoking an enormous amount of empathy on the side of the reader. As I listened to the audiobook, I also want to mention that Auster has a beautiful voice and very engaging way of reading.
Nevertheless, there was just too much detail, too many minor characters, and too many sidetracks that would not have been necessary to get the point across. I see that Auster wanted to paint a lively picture and highlight all the little things that have the power to affect us, but the reader gets that message very early on, and after some time, hammering home this point becomes rather tedious. I would not even limit this criticism to the extensive description of 60's campus politics at Columbia U (although I totally understood why some readers found the length of these passages outrageous), but I would extend that claim to many parts of the story. The excessive length takes away some of the power the novel undoubtedly has, a power that could be increased by crossing out a serious amount of material.
At around page 500, there is a little vignette that works as a spoiler and gives away the ending, but I did not mind it that much - Auster really went for the most obvious choice to end his book, but it is also the most consequential alternative. Unfortunately, I felt a sense of triumph after I managed to finish the whole thing - which is a rather bad sign.
This probably won't make my Booker shortlist....more
Oh, Zadie Smith, why? Why do you take some good basic ideas and then play them out in the most predictable way possible? I want the time back that I sOh, Zadie Smith, why? Why do you take some good basic ideas and then play them out in the most predictable way possible? I want the time back that I spent listening to this!
As many readers have already remarked, the two storylines - one about the unnamed narrator and her childhood friend Tracey, the second about the narrator's work for an international superstar named Aimee whose character is modeled after Madonna - do not quite come together. I also have problems with each of the plot lines separately:
1) The story about the narrator and Tracey has great potential as a tale about the complicated friendship of two mixed-race kids/teenagers/adults, a constellation suited to discuss questions of race and gender. Unfortunately, it feels like Smith took somewhat classic motifs and issues usually discussed in this context and put them together without adding anything substantially new or surprising. If you already read anything in this direction, there is a good chance you'll end up profoundly bored. (If you haven't, better books on the subject are for example Caucasia, Passing, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, and Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood).
2) The story about Aimee, the global superstar founding a school in Africa and using shady tactics to adopt an African child, made me a little angry - not because it doesn't touch upon important moral issues regarding money, power, and race, but because these issues have already been discussed in just about every paper, and unfortunately on the same intellectual level. Literature should have something new to add, a new perspective, a new understanding...but there's nothing there!
The topic that could potentially elevate that story and turn it into a truly original tale is the role that dancing plays - or better that dancing could play, as I felt like the theme was touched upon frequently, but not consequently played out. Smith hints at the different traditions of dance and what they represent culturally: From the dancers in minstrel shows to tap dance, performance in theater and musicals, ballet, tribal dances and dancing as free expression without any rules. Smith could have made a much more coherent case here if she had used the implicit metaphorical potential more consequently thoughout the text. Also, the parts that talk about (real-life) dancer Jeni Le Gon are a case of wasted potential - this could have been so much better (shout-out to Ali Smith and what she has done with Pauline Boty in Autumn).
I would also like to touch upon the question of unfulfilled potential/shadows that has already been pointed out by some of my GR friends: The narrator likes it when Tracey takes the wheel and makes the decisions, and later this position is taken up by Aimee. The narrator herself remains strangely passive though, as if she really was a simply a narrator, not a protagonist (until the final twist, that is) - why is this the case? I have not yet found a convincing explanation (maybe there is one and I didn't get it).
The whole story is told by the same first person narrator, but in a non-linear manner - though it remains unclear why Smith decided to do that. The placement of the narrative bits appears to be quite random, the structural choices do not create a particular atmosphere, they don't help to keep the reader's attention or to make the story more suspenseful. Don't get me wrong: I am usually all for non-linear fiction, but there has to be a point in cutting up the story, besides wanting to add a postmodern touch to it. Alas, I did not find that point here.
I have to say though that I liked the twist at the end: (view spoiler)[After criticising Aimee for adopting a child from a poor family in Africa, the narrator contemplates whether she should take care of the three children of her childhood friend Tracy, who has trouble to get her life on track. When she arrives at Tracy's house, she sees her and her children dancing on the balcony. (hide spoiler)] Now that is an interesting, thought-provoking ending - if just all of the novel would be like that!
As the attentive reader has certainly noticed by now, I am not a big fan of this, it just feels too generic and stale. No MBP shortlist material....more
In his new book, Al Franken (former comedian and current U.S. Senator for Minnesota) talks about the lessons he had to learn in order to become an effIn his new book, Al Franken (former comedian and current U.S. Senator for Minnesota) talks about the lessons he had to learn in order to become an effective politician (because yes, Mr. Trump, that's an actual job that requires actual knowledge of governmental procedures and political issues), the inner workings of the senate, the role of bipartisanship, and how the Republican establishment gradually laid the ground for a person like Trump to become President (who is now using the same strategy against those who invented it). And of course, Franken also shares some funny stories and talks about the now infamous confirmation hearings for Jeff Sessions and Betsy DeVos.
I particularly liked how Franken talks about Minnesota, the state he represents in the senate. Since the election of Trump, the American heartland has frequently been portrayed as a region full of rather simple-minded people who tend to be racist. Franken talks about people and their stories both in the Twin Cities and the rural areas, and the role the Somali and the Hmong communities play for the identity of the state (Minnesota's Somali community is the largest in the United States, and of 2010, Minneapolis-St. Paul has the largest urban Hmong population in the world). He also talks about the struggle of Native American communities and his work in the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs (the state Name "Minnesota" comes from the Dakota name for the Minnesota river, meaning "cloudy water").
Although Franken currently says he is not planning to run for President, it would be great if he changed his mind, because he would certainly do a great job (but so would his colleague Amy Klobuchar). You betcha!...more
The premise of this book is just brilliant: Whether gods exist or not depends on whether people do believe in them - the more people worship a god, thThe premise of this book is just brilliant: Whether gods exist or not depends on whether people do believe in them - the more people worship a god, the more powerful he/she becomes, but when a god is forgotten, he/she ceases to exist. Accordingly, people take their beliefs and their gods with them when they move across borders. Based on these concepts, Neil Gaiman plays out the idea of the U.S. being a melting pot of traditional gods from all over the world who are trying to hold their ground against the new and rising gods like media, celebrity, and technology (who are also personified in the novel).
In case you are not on top of your mythology game (like me), it is important to do some research in order to be able to really appreciate the text. While Odin, Loki, Anubis and some others were familiar to me, I had never heard of some of the other mythological creatures, like the African god Anansi (the spirit of stories who can take on the form of a spider), or the Slavic deity Chernobog (the black god – you better watch out for his hammer, he seems to have some anger management issues :-)).
The book’s protagonist Shadow Moon (yes, this is a truly silly name) takes the reader along as he meets the mysterious Mr. Wednesday, explores the world of the traditional gods, their conflicts with the new gods, and his role in the whole scheme. I was extremely impressed by the sheer number of intricate ideas that Gaiman works into his story, and I am pretty sure that I have not even found all of them. That said, “American Gods” is clearly a book that makes you work when you intend to really understand all the philosophical and mythological undercurrents that move the main story forward – sometimes it even feels like the story is just a vehicle for the philosophical discussion Gaiman wants to have with his readers. To provide a wider context, the book encompasses some back stories about how the traditional gods came to America, including an extremely well-written piece about the gods that came with the African slaves.
With “American Gods”, Gaiman has written something like a “fantasy novel of ideas” – highly impressive if you are willing to put some work into it....more
"Pole Poppenspäler" (Northern German dialect for "Paul Puppeteer") is Storm's 1874 novella about the contrast and conflicts between artist and citizen"Pole Poppenspäler" (Northern German dialect for "Paul Puppeteer") is Storm's 1874 novella about the contrast and conflicts between artist and citizenry, and how love can bridge that gap: Extremely sentimental, but also very touching....more
An old man contemplates a love lost when he was young...after reading two novellas by Storm, I am confounded by the degree of sentimentality, and I amAn old man contemplates a love lost when he was young...after reading two novellas by Storm, I am confounded by the degree of sentimentality, and I am even more confounded that in his case, I do not mind it a bit! :-)...more
MAN BOOKER PRIZE 2008 // Don't let the book's cover fool you: Aravind Adiga's "The White Tiger" is an unfaltering, angry critique of modern Indian socMAN BOOKER PRIZE 2008 // Don't let the book's cover fool you: Aravind Adiga's "The White Tiger" is an unfaltering, angry critique of modern Indian society. There's nothing playful and cute here, and the blurb's choice of words, particularly "mischief" and "endearing", are absolutely out of place.
The novel's protagonist Balram, a poor countryboy, escapes his miserable, degrading life as a servant by becoming a murderer and a thief, and goes on to succeed as a businessman in Bangalore (no spoiler here: The text is about how all of this happened; what happened is clear pretty much from the beginning). The genius of the text is that it still manages to create a degree of moral ambiguity: How much degradation and unjustified inequality can/should a person take? What can your family demand from you before it becomes okay to betray them? How far would you go to get the possibility to live in dignity?
Adiga finds some powerful metaphors and strong images to describe the plight of the working poor - who are the motor of India's economic growth, but barely profit from it - and how widespread corruption undermines the functioning of the world's biggest democracy. But it is the author's rightful anger (he once said in an interview: "It is important that writers like me try to highlight the brutal injustices of society") that also becomes a problem for the novel: The characters are highly emblematic and symbolic, some of them absolutely devoid of features that go beyond anything you would expect from "the rich magnate without a conscience", "the conservative, illiterate grandmother", or "the corrupt policeman". This is really a let-down, because in those parts of the novel where the writing is strong, it is STRONG.
"The White Tiger" clearly is a text with a political agenda, and although fighting for social justice is certainly a more than worthy cause, it does not add to the strength of a novel when the clarity of the message is put before the complexity of storytelling, and it's also less than ideal when not the reader, but the author seems to get a little carried away by his emotions....more
PRIX GONCOURT DU PREMIER ROMAN // As a novelist, how do you do justice to the men who had to die after they managed to kill Nazi-leader Reinhard HeydrPRIX GONCOURT DU PREMIER ROMAN // As a novelist, how do you do justice to the men who had to die after they managed to kill Nazi-leader Reinhard Heydrich? This is the main topic of Binet's brilliant metafictional book about an author who writes a novel about the assassination of the so-called "butcher of Prague". One of the most powerful and brutal Nazis (even Hitler named him "the man with the iron heart"), Heydrich simultaneously held the positions of SS Senior Group Leader, Chief of Police, Chief of the Reich Main Security Office, and Acting Reich Protector of Bohemia and Moravia (a territory that was formerly part of Czechoslovakia), where he ordered the strategic execution of tens of thousands of people in order to break civil resistance to the German occupation and to ethnically cleanse the area. As these mass shootings did not seem effective enough to him, Heydrich became one of the main architects of the "final solution to the Jewish question"- the Nazi euphemism for the holocaust - with its concentration camps and gas chambers.
Binet's narrator (who might be identical with Binet himself, though it is never made unambiguously clear in the text) wants to tell the story of those who managed to kill that man: Jozef Gabčík (Slovak) and Jan Kubiš (Czech), members of the Czechoslovakian army in exile, who were trained in England and flown to the Protectorate to carry out their dangerous mission. So while reading the story of those two soldiers, we are also reading the story of the man who writes their story: He tells us what inspired him to start the novel (and by that gives information on his perspective), he takes us along on his research trips and discusses the ambiguities and blank spaces he encounters, he comments on other fictional books on the topic that he reads, he lets us know how his writing project intersects with and affects his private life, and he shares his meditations and qualms about whether it is okay to fictionalize real people who really suffered and really died in a monstrous war.
By doing that, Binet walks the line between history and literature, he presents the classic dilemmas and restrictions of objective writing, and illuminates the strengths and weaknesses of literary fiction: The more the narrator learns about Gabčík and Kubiš, the more he identifies with them - he loses more and more of his objectivity, but he comes closer to a truth that can only be revealed by literature, as it involves emotions and identification. The narrator imagines himself being with his protagonists, he empathically takes educated guesses regarding what might have happened when he does not have proof, he imagines how Gabčík, Kubiš, and other members of the resistance must have felt and reveals his own feelings.
Of course we also learn a lot about Heydrich which is crucial to the understanding of the whole story, but Binet does not want to make this book about "the blond beast", but about those who fought him. It is really brilliant how Binet takes us along on the journey of the protagonists and the narrator, who of course in this case is also a protagonist - the narrative becomes a multi-layered maelstrom, compelling and inescapable. Brilliant, daring writing....more
A love story that reflects the struggles within Japanese culture brought about by the westernization at the beginning of the 20th century – Mishima, yA love story that reflects the struggles within Japanese culture brought about by the westernization at the beginning of the 20th century – Mishima, you’re a genius. On the surface, the content of the book could be summed up like this: The young Kiyoaki, born into a family that has recently come to accumulate considerable wealth, grew up with Satoko, the daughter of an old aristocratic family struggling with monetary problems. It is only when Satoko gets engaged to an Imperial prince that Kiyoaki realizes that he truly loves her, and they begin a secret love affair that ends tragically.
Of course, that is only the top layer of this intricate poetic work. The author biography at the beginning of the book states that after completing his tetralogy “The Sea of Fertility” (of which “Spring Snow” is the first part) in 1970, Mishima committed ritual suicide. Whoever wrote this is guilty of misleading readers by omission: Before Mishima ritually cut open his stomach and let himself be beheaded by a friend, he tried to stage a coup d’état because he wanted to restore the power of the Emperor. This poet was also a martial artist and bodybuilder who had his own private army, and he wanted to protect traditional Japanese values against westernization. Accordingly, this is not a harmless love story, but a meditation on the differences between Eastern and Western thought, law, culture, and religion.
Kiyoaki’s ancestors used to be samurai, but there is not much warrior spirit left: His parents indulge in Western movies, fashion, and style, and Kiyoaki declares that he will never spill blood. At the same time, the family is still attached to Japanese cultural traditions: They entertain guests with Geishas, they are very proud of their contacts to the Imperial family and, if conflict arises, they mention how this would have been resolved in “the old times”. This tension between East and West is also reflected in the relationship between Kiyoaki and Satoko. Kiyoaki admires her whenever she behaves like a demure, traditional woman, he is intrigued by her physical beauty, her colorful kimonos, her face and neck under her white make-up. But whenever Satoko acts confidently and speaks her mind, Kiyoaki feels insulted and gets angry. When Kiyoaki finally begins a relationship with Satoko after her engagement, he knowingly breaks the rules of Japanese society - well, any society, actually, but here the situation is worsened by the fact that the Emperor sanctioned the marriage to an Imperial prince. Nevertheless, Kiyoaki tells his friend Honda that he would be willing to comply with the rules when forced to face consequences for his transgression, including death. Just as Japanese society as a whole, Kiyoaki and Satoko are torn between the old and the new.
Beyond exploring the impact of westernization by looking at individual and family relationships, Mishima also discusses the change within societal institutions that shape Japan as a whole, namely law and religion. Kiyoaki’s friend Honda is the son of a judge and aims to become one, too. He is fascinated by the differing principles of law that might be applied in different societies, and through his eyes, Mishima displays philosophical tensions such as the imperative of Western law that is based on man’s power of reason and Hindu/Buddhist cosmic law with its doctrine of the transmigration of souls. This becomes crucial as the “Sea of Fertility” tetralogy depicts Kiyoaki being reincarnated in every installment, while Honda grows old and witnesses Kiyoaki’s reincarnations. Adding to that, one could mention that the then-valid Meiji Constitution was based on Prusso-German law and by that was heavily influenced by the West.
And they are more fields in which the theme of the book is played out: Siamese princes who come to Japan and experience culture shock, loyal servants in moral distress, and a reactionary student wrapped up in his own ideas. So although “Spring Snow” might not be as obviously political as “Confessions of a Mask” or “Sun and Steel”, it still is a very typical Mishima book, as it ponders the question what direction Japan should take, and how the decline of tradition and the rise of westernization should be handled. Beautiful prose, fascinating ideas, and must probably be read many times in order to understand the text’s whole genius....more
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