Winner of the Man Booker Prize 2018 *sigh* This isn't a bad book, but I didn't enjoy reading it at all - which confronts me with the challenge to do thWinner of the Man Booker Prize 2018 *sigh* This isn't a bad book, but I didn't enjoy reading it at all - which confronts me with the challenge to do the novel justice while also explaining why it didn't appeal to me. Challenge accepted!
"Milkman" tells the story of an 18-year-old woman in Belfast during the Troubles. While she is trying to stay out of the turmoil around her, even going as far as reading while she is walking the city, this attempt is obviously doomed: In times of a crisis of this magnitude, everything becomes political, and everyone is drawn into the conflict in his or her own way. Burns main aim is to show how the charged situation disrupts communities, not only between the two opposing sides, but also within the narrator's party: Who might be a traitor? Who is not properly supporting the cause? Who doesn't conform to the group's standards? Who might be a spy? Fear and fanatism drive the people into a frenzy, a kind of communal neurosis, fueled by the constant state of emergency they live in.
What I liked about the book is that Burns manages to write about a specific historic situation, but to transcend her story way beyond that: She does a great job detailing the psychological effects of fear and trauma, and these effects of the Troubles can be transferred to many conflicts and politically charged situations - as I am German, many passages reminded me of stories I heard and books I read about the GDR, where people also lived in constant fear of being spied upon, of being ostracized and ruined because they were declared to be traitors to the socialist cause, no matter what they really did or did not believe.
Our narrator is in a comparable situation, as she is accused of having an affair with the married "Milkman", which is not the case - still, people in the community create a reality by perpetuating the story. Large parts - in fact, very large parts - of the book are comprised of the protagonist's ruminations, and while many of her thoughts are interesting per se, she goes on and on and on and accesses certain aspects from all angles possible, again and again. From a poetic standpoint, this makes sense: There is not much real action, but much talk that goes around in circles and thus becomes the reality of the book and of the protagonist's life. But I found it tedious to read, and in parts I got seriously annoyed because I felt like I had long gotten the point, but Burns was still hammering it home for the sake of going all the way through with her poetic concept - very consequential, but for my taste, also very garrulous in parts.
Talking about ideas that are repeated ad infintum: Another important topic in the book are names and labels, because, as I explained above, the expressions that are attached to a person tend to become and utterly define the person (or the other way around) in the context of the conflict. Thus, there is "Milkman" (a senior paramilitary figure who stalks and threatens our protagonist), "the real Milkman" (surprise: He really is a milkman), "maybe-boyfriend", the "longest friend from primary school", the "land-over-the-water" and "the land-over-the-border", and so on and so forth - after the 3,000th mention of "maybe-boyfriend", I thought the idea to constantly repeat these labels became "maybe-pretentious". It's not that I don't see what Burns is doing here, but repeating an idea over 400 pages turns clever into annoying, IMHO.
It needs to be said that while this is a serious book about serious stuff, it is also in parts very funny, as Burns underlines the absurdity of the whole situation, and as the story progresses, it becomes more and more bizarre (which I didn't mind). I also found the way Burns explores the role of women and marriage way more interesting as in, let's say, its fellow Booker nominee The Water Cure.
Still, to finish this was a chore - I saw the intellectual and literary merit of the book, but I can't say that I had fun reading it....more
Winner of the Giller Prize 2018 The Booker judges seem to be eager to add quite some material that is highly accessible and easily readable this year, Winner of the Giller Prize 2018 The Booker judges seem to be eager to add quite some material that is highly accessible and easily readable this year, but while the inclusion of Snap seemed outrageous to me, this is a defendable choice. Edugyan writes about slavery, racism, and identity, but in the form of an adventure novel, told chronologically and in the first person. While this makes for a rather conservative narrative strategy, the author clearly knows how to compose an engaging and compelling story - and there is depth, too.
Our protagonist is George Washington Black who at the beginning of the story is an 11-year-old slave on a sugar plantation in Barbados. When the new owner's brother arrives and needs help for his science project, Wash, as people call him, gets the chance to get away from the vicious and sadistic cruelty the slaves on the plantation have to endure. Christopher Wilde, or "Titch", as the young scientist is called, borrows Wash from his brother so that he might help him work on an airship he designed - by that, Wash first gets the chance to learn about science and nature, which, along with drawing, will turn out to be his passion. When Wash, without his own doing, gets into trouble that might cost him his life, Wash and Titch flee Barbados with their "cloud-cutter".
From there on, Wash roams the world, first seeking safety as he is a runaway slave, later, when slavery is abolished, still fearing bounty hunters and looking for Titch - I will not spoil how they got separated, but I will say that Wash travels to the US, the Arctic, Canada, London, Amsterdam, and Marocco. We learn more about Titch's twisted family and witness how Wash tries to build a life, pursuing his interests in science and art.
All of this is intriguing as an adventure novel, but Edugyan also discusses the hardship Wash has to endure, because even when slavery was abolished, racism of course persisted. Wash struggles with his identity, constantly forced to look into the gap between his own potential and what society sees in him. The writing is particularly strong when Edugyan writes about the psychology of her characters, what drives them and how they suffer from their flaws and past injuries, mental and phsyical. For instance, the question arises why Titch decided to help Wash: Is he, the white upper class scientist and abolitionist who finances his endeavours with money earned by the plantation, a good person, or does he just pursue self-serving goals? Sometimes it seems like Titch does not know himself.
Sure, the novel partly comes close to a fairy tale and the narrative skeleton that carries Wash's travels always shines through - much of what happens is highly unlikely, or as the text itself puts it: "You are like an interruption in a novel, Wash. The agent that sets things off course." But realism is not the point here, Edugyan talks about history and human nature in the form of an allegory, and there are many smart ideas and strong images. This is an enjoyable, intelligent read that leaves room for interpretation and discussion....more
Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 Michael Ondaatje meditates on how we construct ourselves through the past - and he does it in elegic prose, hiLonglisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 Michael Ondaatje meditates on how we construct ourselves through the past - and he does it in elegic prose, highlighting the details that become instructive to understand the bigger picture, and illustrating the human need to somehow make sense of our own personal history. In "Warlight", this personal history is intertwined with world history, and like a historian tries to find the most enlightening ways to understand past events, our protagonist, Nathaniel, is looking for the bits and pieces that make up the most rounded version of his own person.
This novel has two parts: In 1945, 14-year-old Nathaniel and his sister Rachel are left behind in Lodon when their parents are moving to Singapore. Large parts of this first half are a coming-of-age novel about an abandoned child in post-war Britian. The second part is about a much older Nathaniel who tries to find out what really happened back then, uncovering his mother's role in the war and later realizing how the present passed him by while he was digging up the past.
I think I don't have to mention here that Michael Ondaatje knows how to write a book - he's freakin' Michael Ondaatje. Nevertheless, I have a problem with his language and storytelling that is not dissimilar to my feelings towards Paul Auster: This is all so anecdotal, traditional, and polished, that I am constantly longing for something weird to happen, for some wicked twist of his prose, for some sense of urgency to appear - but is all flowing nicely, perfectly tempered, a long narrative stream. Again, this does not mean it's bad: What Ondaatje does, he does masterfully. It's just not my kind of writing (I had the exact same problem with Ondaatje's Running in the Family).
Regarding Warlight's Booker longlisting, I have more objective issues with that: This year, we are dealing with a longlist that is severely lacking in geographical diversity, and now it turns out that while we have two Canadian nominees, neither of them are actually about Canada (while Washington Black: A Novel spends some time there, you clearly cannot argue that the novel is about Canada; I grant the book though that it deals with slavery in Barbados). There is an ongoing debate whether to include the US into the Booker competition was a mistake (I think it was an excellent idea), but even before that inclusion was made, this has historically been a prize for writers from the Commonwealth, Ireland, and Zimbabwe. To now focus on the UK to such a degree is a very bad look, IMHO, especially considering that Australia had two highly topical candidates (The Shepherd's Hut and First Person) and was snubbed, not to speak of India.
But even without my Booker issues here, I can only give this novel three stars - while I was profoundly bored by some parts, it seems unfair to give Ondaatje a lower rating simply due to reasons of my own personal taste....more
Longlisted for the Booker 2018, Shortlisted for the Costa and the Irish Book Award 2018 According to Sebastian Barry, Ryan is "the king of the new wave Longlisted for the Booker 2018, Shortlisted for the Costa and the Irish Book Award 2018 According to Sebastian Barry, Ryan is "the king of the new wave of Irish writers", his award collection encompasses, e.g., four Irish Book Awards and the European Union Prize for Literature. While "From a Low and Quiet Sea" was the first book I read by this author, this text immediately made it clear to me why this guy rules: There is such a deep compassion and humanity in these vivid character studies, I couldn't help admiring how this author evokes such profound emotions with so few, but perfectly crafted sentences.
The short novel consists of four parts: The first one is about Farouk, a Syrian doctor who fled his war-torn country with his family; the second is about Lampy, a heartbroken college-dropout from a working class family who lives with his mother and grandfather and drives a bus for the elderly; the third one is about John, a terminally ill former lobbyist and accountant who, in the form of an almost-religious confession, looks back on his regrets, particuarly regarding a past affair with a much younger woman. Three greiving men, very different regarding age, class, nationality, with different roles within society, both chosen and ascribed, and the fourth and last part, crafted as a coda, brings all of these narrative threads together in the most unexpected ways.
I don't even want to spoil any more of the content, let me just say that Ryan, not unlike his fellow Booker nominee Ondaatje, writes about the way the past influences our present, and how we deal with our regrets. While I was pretty underwhelmed by Warlight, I really enjoyed this book - Ryan's prose is less pompous and more urgent, IMHO. On top of that, Ryan manages to write a novel that points way beyond the actual events portrayed - the decision to start the book by pondering the way trees communicate with each other will make a lot of sense by the end.
For me, the strength of this book was not the story as a whole, and not even the individual narrative strands; rather, I was smitten with all those little vignettes, the pristine sentences and the way Ryan captures human nature by describing particular sentiments and inner movements - those perceptions make for vivid, complex characters, and I don't even need a big story when I can look inside the heads and hearts of such deeply humane protagonists. Also, Ryan manages to convey the plight of Farouk, the refugee, without writing moralistic pain kitsch (hello, Go, Went, Gone), which makes for a much more moving and disturbing effect that resonates deeply....more
Well-deserved Winner of the Goldsmiths Prize 2018 Wow, the poetic vision of this book is simply brilliant - what a haunting, atmospheric, and perfectlyWell-deserved Winner of the Goldsmiths Prize 2018 Wow, the poetic vision of this book is simply brilliant - what a haunting, atmospheric, and perfectly composed text! Robertson tells the story of a Canadian soldier who fought at the Western front in WW II and comes to the US to make a life for himself - or is it to get lost and to forget?
Our protagonist bears the telling name Walker, and he finds a new purpose as a newspaper reporter, roaming the city and covering mainly social issues, especially the life of the destitute on Skid Row in Los Angeles and San Francisco, many of them former soldiers like himself and/or black. But Walker suffers from severe PTSD, he is increasingly haunted by gruesome flashbacks. As the story progresses, his disillusionment with American society whose values he fought to protect also mounts: The gentrification, the criminalization of the poor, the new war in Vietnam, McCarthyism, racism - he sees a country in decline, and he sees himself in decline. And then there's the memory of Annie, the love of his life, whom he left behind in Nova Scotia when he went to fight in Europe...
It is masterful how Robertson connects the psychological state of Walker and the state of the city around him - the loneliness, the detachment, the collapsing buildings and Walker's collapsing pysche. In many respects, it reminded me of how Rilke has done that in The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, the first novel of German literary modernity, which shows many parallels to Robertson's work, even up to the encounter with strangely mythical blind street vendors.
Often, Robertson takes images and metaphors and lets them reappear in different contexts, like fire, illness, or drugs: There are the German soldiers fueled by amphetamines, Walker's dying comrades sedated with morphine, references to heroin (brown/spoon/needle) in L.A., plus there are tons of whiskey - even Walker's boss is named Overholt (and Johnny Walker is mentioned as well).
The whiskey is also central to the whole noirish atmosphere of the book: There are numerous references to jazz and movies (it's L.A., after all), and these references are brilliantly interlocked with the story - e.g., the above-mentioned sedated soldiers have an "M" on their foreheads, and then there are references to the horror/crime movie "M", which was originally created by German director Fritz Lang and re-made in Hollywood in 1951.
I loved how naturally the author works his references, like the coyotes which made me think of Sam Shepherd's True West that also discusses the death of the American dream, or naming Walker's colleague on the city beat "Sherwood", obviously a reference to the great chronicler of the American city, Sherwood Anderson. The aesthetic of the language is dominated though by Robertson's highly evocative prose which creates a strong sense of place and an intense atmosphere.
A wonderful book, to be read and enjoyed slowly like a good glass of whiskey.
Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 Oh, you poor, narrow-minded snobs who think that just because a book has pictures in it, it must be shallow! NLonglisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 Oh, you poor, narrow-minded snobs who think that just because a book has pictures in it, it must be shallow! Newsflash: "The medium is the message" never meant that the carrier defines the content, but that every carrier has specific qualities that allow messages to be conveyed differently, and that the carrier has an impact on the way a message is sent and perceived - which brings us to what makes a successfull graphic novel. Nick Drnaso finds wonderful ways to let his language and his drawn images with their specific qualities work together in order to create one coherent work of art instead of just piling up words and pictures.
The story focuses on Calvin, a surveillance specialist in the air force. He wants to help out his childhood friend Teddy, who had a nervous breakdown because his girlfriend Sabrina mysteriously disappeared. When it becomes clear what happened to her, Calvin and Teddy become targets of the news media and conspiracy theorists...
An important theme in the book is loneliness: The dialogue often consists of polite, but empty phrases, many images show just one person in a lonely room, hall or street, the story hints at different dimensions of alienation, and the coloring is very bleak and within a limited range. In this context, Drnaso discusses how and to what ends acts of violence like abductions, murders or mass shootings are committed in the media age, how the news cycle spins and how victims and their families are victimized a second time as a consequence of sensationalist reporting and the way some viewers react to it. When the pressure mounts, Calvin and Teddy react very differently, and Teddy even becomes susceptible to conspiracy theories that re-enforce his feelings of pointlessness and desperation.
I liked the quiet minimalism Drnaso employs to tell his story, and which contrasts directly with the loud media outrage he depicts. He draws with very few lines, there is nothing that wouldn't be necessary to tell the story. The reader has to look very closely at the faces to see the nuance in the expressions - and it is the need for nuance, for close attention and an acute awareness that this author wants to highlight in his story.
It's easy to see the merit of this book, and I'm all for including different forms of storytelling in the Booker list as long as the quality justifies it - in this case, it does....more
Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 This is really, really upsetting: It's not that the book is bad for what it is (hence the three stars), but tLonglisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 This is really, really upsetting: It's not that the book is bad for what it is (hence the three stars), but this should never have made the Booker longlist - dismissing Tommy Orange and literature from three whole continents in order to then include escapist entertainment feat. some kitsch elements with no apparent topical relevance is just stupid. It's not that I am against including genre fiction, on the contrary, but this book does not have anything to say, it's just a solid mystery, a beach read.
Short summary: The mother is murdered, the father, overwhelmed by grief, disappears, the kids are left alone, the oldest one, Jack, becomes a burglar to support his family and later helps to solve the mystery. The end. Sure, you could argue that the book portrays a family falling apart in the aftermath of a crime (sort of), and the kids are very well portrayed, but this book is the opposite of challenging and does not point to anything beyond its face value. The motivations of one key character (Catherine) are also unbelievable and the whole thing is slightly over-constructed, but that's not even what bothers me.
What bothers me is that the world is going nuts and there are tons of relevant books with urgent narrative voices and interesting aesthetic concepts tackling all kinds of important issues, and this novel is what the Booker wants to highlight? No Winton or Flanagan, no entry from Asia, no entry from Africa and then boasting "hey, we are so edgy, we are now including crime fiction!" to present us - this?
I was just conferring with some people at the Secret Society of International Book Lovers, and we are doubting that this is even the best crime novel of the year - we have a hunch that one of the judges might have called it in, and that most publishers submitting to the Booker did not even think of presenting a crime novel as a possible entry. This does of course not mean that anyone intends to blame it on ONE judge: They all agreed on the list, so it would be highly unfair to pin this on one person - we simply disagree with the decision to include this book.
We also feel like this is a marketing stunt: A Booker nominee for all those people who don't want to deal with Saunders/Smith/Cusk/McCormack-level complexity. A beach read Booker choice. Who needs to hear the stories of urban Native Americans, a tale about toxic masculinity or about the fight for Indian independence if you can chill with a cute little kid who becomes a detective to find out who murdered his mom?
I will stop this rant now by saying that I don't blame Belinda Bauer - she wrote a good book for what she was trying to do. But although this text meets the (rather broad) Booker entry criteria, it is absurd to include it in the longlist....more
Shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 This text is the reworking of a Greek tragedy (which one? (view spoiler)[
Oedipus Rex(hide spoiler)]), aShortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 This text is the reworking of a Greek tragedy (which one? (view spoiler)[
Oedipus Rex(hide spoiler)]), a horror/ghost story, and a hall of mirrors - Daisy Johnson knows how to write exciting experimental fiction! As the novel progresses, the mythological source becomes clear, but she twists and turns the story and introduces a whole cabinet of doppelgängers, mirror images, and shape-shifting ghosts. Recurring topics are the nature of fear and the question whether there is something like destiny - and have I mentioned that the way she employs the natural surroundings of a river to illustrate and strengthen her story is simply fantastic?
Our protagonist is Gretel who grew up on a houseboat with her eccentric mother, Sarah, who ultimately abandoned her when she was 16. At 32, Gretel works as a lexicographer and is constantly reminded of the words her mother used to invent, of the secret language they both shared - finally, she is prompted to put into action what she has been thinking about for a long time: Gretel sets out to search for her mother.
In this story, the characters are not only haunted by the past they can't forget, they also meet monsters that might be real or willed into being, people change their family and their gender, family secrets are unearthed, there are riddles over riddles, and people struggle with destinies they might or might not have - or is it their obsessions? The story also shifts between time frames and narrative strands, and the reader has to pay close attention to follow what is going on. Tipp: You should also watch out for oranges, eggs and the theme of blindness! :-)
And there is always the river, haunting, magical, and menacing - is this river the Styx? What spirit is Otto, the dog who looks like an otter and who is with Gretel during her search (and only during her search)? This novel is so full of ideas, it is edgy and weird, and it celebrates language, leading Gretel (of course her name's a Hansel and Gretel reference) through her journey with "words like breadcrumbs".
I could now complain about one minor thing, but only in this spoiler (view spoiler)[(it comes a little out of the blue when Marcus suddenly realizes that Sarah and Charlie are his parents) (hide spoiler)], but this seems like a minor quandry. It's also true that I am disappointed that this year's Booker longlist lacks geographical diversity and political topicality, but this is the kind of book I want to discover on a Booker list. Highly recommended....more
Of course you can slap the label "feminist dystopia" on a book in order to sell more copies, alas, it doesn't make the book a feminist dystopia. MackiOf course you can slap the label "feminist dystopia" on a book in order to sell more copies, alas, it doesn't make the book a feminist dystopia. Mackintosh's writing is languid and evocative, but there is nothing below the surface - no one will drown in the depths of this story.
In the novel, we meet three sisters, Lia, Grace and Sky, who live in almost complete isolation at a remote beach with their mother (who is reduced to her role and consequently referred to only as "mother"). Their father, not-so-subtly named King, recently left to get some supplies, but hasn't returned. He was the one who decided to take the family away from civilization, claiming he wants to protect the women from male violence and the toxic outside world - it remains unclear whether some environmental catastrophe has occurred or whether the meaning is purely metaphorical, hinting at toxic values or the toxic system of patriarchy.
Whatever might be the case, King's rule clearly is a patriarchy as well, and a particularly vicious one: To toughen the kids and under the guise of teaching them survival techniques, both mother and King have severely abused the sisters, both physically and mentally. Their disturbance becomes obvious to the reader as the book is told from the sisters' perspectives. The narrative also tells us that there used to be female visitors who sought shelter from male violence, insinuating that we are dealing with a kind of cult. At the time the narrative sets in, none of these women are still there though (the reaons for this remaining unclear). When mother and the sisters are visited by three men, well...things happen, don't even ask (there's also King Lear somewhere in there but whatever).
So let me get this straight: King is not saving women, he is torturing his female kids with the help of a woman - their mother, who is described as particularly sadistic. As a consequence, the sisters have numerous mental health issues, to put it mildly. The fact that you can hardly tell them apart by their respective narrative voices doesn't help either - these characters are nothing but dolls, carved out by their manipulative father.
On top of that, the women who visit the family fled from their tormentors to give up their agency again, subjugating themselves to dangerous and, let's face it, idiotic, pseudo-religious cures, because they are fragile and weak and also morons who long for someone who tells them what to do - torture or be tortured, is this the feminist message here? Or that women are always looking for a savior? Or that all women are victims of men, because all men try to manipulate them, even their fathers?
This brings us directly to the next issue I have with this book: The total number of men you can take seriously in this text is zero, and when I read sentences like "(t)here were men who naturally caused great harm. It was built into them", I want to scream because the stupidity of it is so obvious. Granted, one of the nutty sisters says it, but when you sell this as feminism, you have to be held to that standard. Do you know why misogynists are so morally despicable? Because they don't have to oppress women, there is no biological determinism at work, they decide to act like that. If they had no choice, if the monolithic entity of "all men" existed, you couldn't even blame them. *Sigh* I would be way less upset if they didn't force a non-existent feminist angle upon this surreal tale, I guess.
This book is all about its cold and detached language, an unsettling atmosphere and lofty allusions - the problem is that in the end, the story alludes to nothing. This water is very, very shallow, and if I was Jeffrey Eugenides, I'd be pretty upset that the marketing team has the audacity to compare this mess to The Virgin Suicides. Whoever has the chance to read the latter instead of this - do it....more
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2018 Rooney's sophomore novel once again focuses on post-millennial relationships, but at the same time, it's very diffLonglisted for the Booker Prize 2018 Rooney's sophomore novel once again focuses on post-millennial relationships, but at the same time, it's very different from her debut Conversations with Friends: The book revolves around the friendship/romantic involvement between Marianne, a rich kid who is perceived as an outsider at school, and Connell, a popular guy whose loving mother works as a cleaning woman in the mansion inhabited by Marianne's dysfunctional family. When Marianne and Connell enrol at Trinity College (Rooney's alma mater), their social status in their peer group changes: Now, Marianne is the popular kid. And that's more or less the whole story - once again, Rooney has written a page turner pretty much devoid of plot, a book that successfully focuses on the inner movements of and dynamics between its characters, and it works because Marianne and Coonnell, in all their shortcomings, are so complex and, yes, relatable.
At least for me. Today, I listened to a radio piece by a well-known Austrian critic denouncing the book as pointless in an argument that can be summed up as "OK boomer". It's true that Rooney has been hailed as a typical voice of millennials - but is she, though? Isn't she more than that? I believe that her writing is more relatable to younger people as the stories present other young people living in the now, so in a very specific time ("Normal People" starts in January 2011). But the themes she tackles are universal: We hear about classism, wealth gaps, gender roles, peer groups, habitus, status, and - this is the core of Marianne's and Connell's story - the attempt to build and maintain intimacy with another person, both emotionally and sexually. They disappoint and betray each other, they go their separate ways, they get back together, they try to be friends, etc. - relationship status: It's complicated. I have a hunch that other generations have struggled with these issues as well, just in different contexts, in their specific time.
Rooney's writing is very held-back, it's witty in a quiet way. There are no flashy po-mo tricks, there is no elaborate scene setting, it's even-paced and dialogue-heavy. This typical style has a hypnotic quality, it creates suspense without giving any suspense on the plot level - I can't wrap my head around the fact that there are quite some people out there who claim that Rooney can't write because she does not use all the tricks available in the book of postmodernity, but chooses a sleek, controlled style instead (which btw is very apt considering her topics and main characters).
So all in all, Sally Rooney is clearly my kind of writer, and I'm already excited to pick up her third effort. You can learn more about the book in our latest podcast episode (in German). ...more
Winner of the International Dylan Thomas Prize 2019 Nominated for the Goldsmiths Prize 2018 Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 This book is going Winner of the International Dylan Thomas Prize 2019 Nominated for the Goldsmiths Prize 2018 Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2018 This book is going to win the Booker (update: No it didn't, which of course only means that the judges were wrong! :-)). Set in London, the story discusses identity, a topic that is central for so many current political issues, from Brexit to the divided States of America, to globalization, religous conflicts, you name it. On top of that, the language is vivid and fresh, and Gunaratne finds many compelling images that he evokes in street slang and patois - the poetics of grime and hip-hop have clearly infused this text which is full of rhythm and musical references.
Our protagonists are three teenage friends who live in and near some decrepit housing blocks in North London: Selvon is the son of immigrants from the Carribean, and he dreams to climb the social ladder by getting an athletic scholarship, which is why he is obsessed with his physical fitness. Ardan has Irish roots and aspires to become a musician. Yusuf is the son of the local imam who has recently passed away. Apart from these three young men, we are hearing the perspective of two grown-up immigrants - what unites all five of them (apart from some aspects I will not spoil) is their experience of violence.
The interlocking stories of these characters quickly become an exploration into the question how fear and hate emerge and how these two feeling are interrelated. Why do groups of people - immigrants and non-immigrants, Muslims and Christians, Catholics and Protestants - start to hate each other, and how is hate perpetuated? How do these feelings become so overwhelming that they turn into madness and fury, so that the common living area - in this case the city of London - is suddenly a battleground?
These question touch the core of human nature, and Gunaratne discusses them to a dirty grime beat. I really felt with these characters, and it is miraculous what a joy it is to read this book, although it makes the reader stare into an abyss....more
Rachel Kushner writes about mass incarceration and the prison-industrial complex, and she does it by looking at the individuals who make up that mass,Rachel Kushner writes about mass incarceration and the prison-industrial complex, and she does it by looking at the individuals who make up that mass, and the singular rules and facilities that constitute the bigger complex. Novels about the poor, about drug addicts and the disenfranchised always run the risk to use their protagonists as mere devices in order to illustrate societal problems (even Brecht often did that), but Kushner gives her characters dignity and complexity. She excuses nothing - we are dealing with convicted fellons, many of them murderers, some on death row - but she illustrates the reality in which these women were brought up, and that puts the terrible decisions they made in context, and it raises the question what the aim of the prison system should be.
The main character is Romy, a young mother, former stripper and former drug-addict, who got two life sentences plus six years for killing her stalker. We meet her on the way to prison, and she is the one holding the story together while we get to know her fellow inmates, her public defense lawyer and the prison teacher. We learn more about all of these characters in several flashbacks that not only give more details about Romy's crime, but also inform the reader about the upbringing and living circumstances of several characters. It is obvious that the incarcerated women committed atrocious acts, but it is also obvious that their chances in life were very few - and that the system did interfer very late and only in order to punish. Skid row, negligent parents, abuse of all sorts, drugs, prison - for some of them that's all they've ever known, and all the people they've grown up with knew.
I really admired the narrative voices Kushner created: They feel real, sharp and acute, and the way she shines a light on certain situations and places from different viewpoints effortlessly illustrates how perceptions differ regarding where you come from and what your current role is. At some point, we even read a chapter written from the perspective of Romy's stalker, and not only the way he perceives his crime is interesting, but also how Romy in her telling of the story does not describe how repulsive this guy really is - we learn it by listening to his own account. Romy does not see her clients as people, only as wallets, in order to be able to cope with her situation as a stripper in the Mars Room, the "most notorious, the very seediest and most circuslike place there is.". Romy's logic is that if she has to be a stripper, then she wants to be one in the filthiest club there is - this stubborn refusal to aspire to work at the best place for this bad job is a twisted way to preserve her dignity.
But, she reminisces, "(s)omething brewed in me over the years I worked at the Mars Room, sitting on laps, deep into this flawed exchange. This thing in me brewed and foamed. And when I directed it - a decision that was never made; instead, insticts took over - that was it." There's only so much a person can take.
Kushner makes it very clear that she sees the system as broken: No help for the kids on skid row so they have a high risk to end up in prison at some point, excessive punishments for minor crimes, over-worked and under-qualified public defense lawyers, poorly qualified and supervised prison staff, and, probably worst of all, no proper rehabilitation for convicts - what's the point of a prison if serving time does not include proper measures to rehabiliate fellons?
The book also discusses gender roles (what happens to prisoners who don't conform to the male/female dichotomy?) and the objectification of women: In The Mars Room, Romy is only a piece of flesh, earning money by obliging to the wishes of the customers who don't see her as a person. In prison, Romy is only a number, obliging to prison rules and the commands of the guards who only see her as a convict. "Looking at someone who is looking at you was a drug as strong as any other", the text states at some point: Who is looking at the kids without care? Who is looking, really looking at those who have ended up in prison?
Highly recommended, and then go on to read "A Colony in a Nation"....more
Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2019 Richard Powers goes eco-fiction: In "The Overstory", the real protagonists are trees - living, breathingWinner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2019 Richard Powers goes eco-fiction: In "The Overstory", the real protagonists are trees - living, breathing, communicating, ever-evolving, hard-working, intelligent trees. Okay, there are also people, but the quest they are on is to understand what the trees already know. Powers knits a whole web of protagonists, and the rootage of the book is a compilation of short stories, introducing the human characters: Nicholas Hoel (who grew up on a farm), Mimi Ma (the daughter of a Chinese immigrant), Adam Appich (a psychologist), Ray Brinkman and Dorothy Cazaly (a childless married couple), Douglas Pavlicek (a war veteran), Neelay Mehta (a computer game developer), Patricia Westerford (a biologist), and Olivia Vandergriff (a recently divorced student).
Gradually, the reader understands how these people's destinies are connected, and all these connections relate to trees and forest preservation. The human protagonists learn about the value of forests due to different experiences, all of them develop unique feelings towards the natural world, and all of them take measures to preserve the forest that is vital for the survival of humankind. This may now sound like Powers wrote a story about epiphanies and eco-fighters, and in a way, he did, but mainly, this is a sad story about destruction and failure - I guess this was the only way to write an honest book about deforestation and human stupidity.
I found the structure of the narrative very impressive, and the importance of the message cannot be overstated, but to focus on the trees as intelligent organisms instead of objectifying them seems to be the real innovation and appeal of the book. In fact, the trees are smarter than the people in this book, and when it comes to the points discussed in the text, they probably really are.
Parts of the book are overtly long, but it's still a very worthwhile read....more
Loading...
