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The Magic of Oliver Jeffers

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 05:00:00 +0000

What are little boys made of?

In the universe according to Oliver Jeffers, little boys are one part adventure, two parts resourcefulness and all heart. They find the fantastic awaiting them at their doorstep, or in their cupboards, and step right up to seize it. They overcome fear and loneliness with élan, ford choppy seas and scale mountains to help a friend, and still find time to catch their favourite TV shows. And they also learn – and teach us – some remarkable lessons about companionship, patience and the art of being human.

‘Once there was a boy’, begin three of Jeffers’ best known books, chronicling the astonishing and heartwarming adventures of a nameless little boy and some truly surprising companions. Each of these books – ‘How to Catch a Star’, ‘Lost and Found’ and ‘The Way Back Home’ is, at its heart, about the same theme – the power of true friendship. Each book has our diminutive hero set out on a journey that ends with him discovering both a new friend, and something special about himself. ‘How to Catch a Star’, the book that marked Jeffers’ debut in 2004, follows the boy’s quest to do just that – catch himself a star he can play with and talk to. He spends the entire book in wild and fruitless pursuit, before realizing that good things do in fact, come to those who sit back and wait. ‘’The Way Back Home’ has the boy set out on a cruise into outer space before engine trouble leaves him stranded on the moon. But he isn’t alone – a little alien just like himself lands there too and what follows is an engaging and ‘awww’ – inducing story about overcoming differences and helping each other. And ‘Lost and Found’ has our little hero rowing all the way to the South Pole to get a lost penguin back home, only to realize that home might, after all, be where the heart is.

This is a universe Jeffers draws with breath taking beauty – spare , child like drawings rendered in amazingly rich colour. The text is much the same – a mere handful of words that seem determined to play sidekick to the drawings, though still conveying the author’s gentle humour. The first time I picked up a Jeffers book, I was struck by how solitary his characters seem – they are little more than small blobs of colour in a vast, empty expanse of white space. His boy seems almost marooned in a world of lollipop trees, surly birds and some of the prettiest skyscapes I’ve ever seen in kids’ books. Adults are peripheral at best, or just plain absent – these are books where a child takes charge , makes independent decisions and some pretty profound moral choices. Of course I speak as a nitpicking adult , and you should enjoy these books just for their lovely art, their whimsical stories, gentle humour and the unexpected twist that always, always awaits you at the end. Then again, Google these books and you will realize that Jeffers’ books strike a chord not only with children around the world but millions of adults as well.

Take ‘Lost and Found’, easily the most beloved of all Jeffers’ books. This multiple award winning book has inspired a short animation film that is itself recipient of some sixty awards, innumerable fan videos and quite possibly the most beautiful fan song ever. You are drawn right from the opening frames into the boy’s dilemma – how to help his mute and lonely friend. Faced with a world that can’t – or won’t – help, the boy decides to take the penguin home himself. And so he does. It is difficult not to be moved by his simple heroism, awed by his tremendous (and sweetly paternal) courage, or get all teary eyed when the boy and his friend make their surprising discovery at last. (Move over, Forrest Gump.) In just a few words and images, Jeffers manages to tell us a story about some universal human fears – loneliness, alienation, the inability to communicate – and the extraordinary powers you just might find in the most ordinary people around you.

Jeffers ‘ fourth book, ‘The Incredible Book Eating Boy’ is very different in style and story, taking a tongue in cheek look at a boy with a unique problem. Henry discovers, quite by accident, that he likes eating books. He starts with a word, then tries a sentence, then moves on to gulping down an entire page. What’s more, he discovers that the more books he eats, the smarter he gets, as he begins spouting all the wisdom he has quite literally digested. Thrilled by his new found genius, Henry begins eating books even faster. But all this gluttony comes with a price, and soon Henry finds himself in trouble. With its mixed media collage drawings – including the pages and covers of old books that have been directly painted upon – this story felt to me like a sly parable about the perils of rote learning. Look out for the delicious little detail built into the end of the book itself – trust me, you’ll know it when you see it.

This review merely scratches the surface of Oliver Jeffers’ impressively prolific career. Besides being an acclaimed artist, he has a whole bunch of other well received books out. There is his most recent one, ‘Stuck’, about a boy who attempts to dislodge his kite from a tree – by throwing other stuff at it. There is ‘The Great Paper Caper’, that manages to work a message about environmental conservation into a hilarious yarn about a paper plane competition among the residents a of a forest. ‘Up and Down’ continues the saga of the boy and his penguin.

And then there is ‘The Heart and the Bottle’, a book that gracefully addresses the issue of bereavement in its story of a girl who seals her heart in a bottle so she won’t hurt anymore.

Much like Henry, I await my chance to gulp these down.

Image Courtesy

Crossposted here

The Wednesday Soul

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 11:20:00 +0000

‘Deliberately moronic’, ‘brilliantly silly’ – The back cover is as much an invitation as it is a warning of things to come, with this debut novel by Sorabh Pant, a stand-up comedian of some renown. If you like your fantasy grim, your mythology revered and unsullied by contemporary cheek, and the fictional battle lines between good and evil clearly drawn, then this is not a book for you. Author Pant takes tremendous liberties with multicultural mythology in this reimagining of the afterlife, with irreverent swipes at everyone from Gandhiji and Jesus Christ to Manoj Night Shyamalan thrown in for good measure. Pant is clearly inspired by Douglas Adams, author of the terrific ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ series , and seems to have attempted to capture the madcap pace and brilliant humour of that classic in his book. Sadly, he doesn’t succeed.

‘The Wednesday Soul’ starts off promisingly enough – Nyra Dubey, aka the Delhi Belle, prowls the streets of Delhi by night, wreaking her own brand of vengeance on sexual predators who have escaped the law. She finds true love in the arms of fellow crime fighter Chitr, a bashful fridge- sized man with a curious immunity to pain and a penchant for blue suits. But just when you think things are looking up for our burly and very surly girl wonder, she finds herself dead. Well, murdered actually, though that fact is strangely overlooked when she is labeled a Wednesday Soul – a subconscious suicide – by the denizens running the afterlife.

And what an afterlife it is – chaotic, confusing, bristling with unnecessary procedures and pointless queues and policed by overly aggressive dog warriors – in other words, your average Indian government office. Add to this a seemingly endless cast - sundry winged beings (Garuda doing what he does best; Ayrawat quite literally turned into a jumbo carrier), cranky Ancients, bickering Council of the Afterlife members,a curiously erudite rescue dog turned bodyguard called Bari , the Sanskrit-speaking shade of Dame Agatha Christie, even Che. Nyra is soon knee deep in action, attempting to thwart a coup by celestials turned rogue, while also trying to survive nasty fates as varied as free fall in space, reincarnation as a beaver and suppression between the butt cheeks of a sumo wrestler turned capo. Things get even more confusing when bickering Ancients Chitr and Kutsa return to the afterlife, where they proceed to wage war over control of the afterlife, banishment of Wednesdays and, almost as an afterthought, destruction of the human race as well.

‘The Wednesday Soul’ brims with potential – interesting characters, crazy action sequences, some inspired takes on mythological characters . It keeps up a brisk pace, and has plenty of snappy dialogue. But it is hobbled by a patchy story line, bad grammar, clunky sentences (“Nyra felt as if her body would explode with the blood that this stranger had awoken inside her”) and very poor editing. Factual errors and typos abound; all kinds of intriguing ideas pop up through the course of the book, but seem to have been either forgotten or just abandoned as the storyline hurtles along. The narrative itself switches routinely from the main story to textbook mode explaining obscure sub plots and backstory, which struck me as rather lazy storytelling . The plot is also strangely preoccupied with that anatomical part the author terms ‘the badlands’ – the backsides of characters routinely double up as emergency exits, cubby holes for lost passwords or temporary holding cells. (Douglas Adams, it may be noted, managed to sustain reader interest in the riveting saga of Arthur Dent over five volumes without once descending into crassness.) Also a little hard to stomach was the celestials’ fascination with Nyra’s taser – come on, we are talking supreme beings with limitless powers and more than a nodding acquaintance with far superior mythical lightning bolts, vajras and astras.

Far more interesting is the parallel love story unfolding on earth, between the hapless Inspector Sharma and morgue in charge, Dr. Tashiding. Infact, Sharma emerges as the most likeable character in this novel – a Sanskrit speaking Chulbul Pandey, if you will – attempting to navigate a new romance, unexpected fatherhood and communication with the dead, armed with little more than bad English and well-honed skills at torturing suspects. Sadly, this odd couple doesn’t get the airtime it deserves in Pant’s prose. But the open end of ‘The Wednesday Soul’ seems to suggest the possibility of a sequel – or several – and perhaps the ballad of Sharma and Tashiding will get a chance to play out in the wake of Nyra’s new adventures.

Thanks to Blogadda for the review copy of this book.

This review is a part of the http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank">Book Reviews Program at "http://www.blogadda.com">BlogAdda.com

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The Iron Tooth

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 07:37:00 +0000

The latest entrant in the children’s fiction genre, Prithvin Rajendran’s ‘The Iron Tooth’ is a tale of fantasy and adventure set in the fictional land of Goodabaiya. The book begins by narrating the story of a young girl, unmarried and pregnant. She is thrown out of her home and makes a new home for herself at the foothills of the Mala Mountains, where few people dare to live. When she gives birth on a dark stormy night, she has two babies – one human and one troll.

The girl’s story that forms the prologue of the book is then linked to the events in the story at the end. Meanwhile Chapter 1 opens with the story of Dashter, a great and mighty kingdom ruled first by a good king, Dashtum and then by his equally strong but evil son, Darum.

King Darum is hated by his people who repeatedly rebel against his unfair and tyrannical practices. Darum does not really care for the opinion of his people, he is happy to enjoy the luxuries of being the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Princess Nova, Darum’s eldest child, is exactly like her father – arrogant, selfish and rude. When she insults the master magician, Faerum, he curses the entire kingdom of Dastur and imprisons Nova for the rest of her life.

The book then introduces us to the kingdom of Greatix, which is also the home of our protagonist, Princix and his family. Setting out on an adventurous quest for fame and wealth, Princix, who is both kind and brave, wins magical weapons that help him to become the Champion General for the kingdom of Greatix.

Princix’s first duty as Champion General is to find out who has cursed the neighboring kingdom of Dastur and help them lift the curse. To this end he sets out with two other Imperial Guards, Candelbre and Hammil. How Princix fulfills his quest and discovers the all-important iron tooth, (from which the novel gets its title), forms the rest of the story.

The story begins rather slowly, but becomes more readable as it devolves into the customary framework of fairy tales - that is, sending off a hero to a quest, in the course of which he also finds out about an imprisoned Princess and chivalrously decides to rescue her.

Other elements that help create the fairy tale atmosphere include the hero who does not know his own heritage, the sage who foretells the destruction of the kingdom and its resurrection by a stranger, an evil magician who will curse the kingdom, the Princess who will directly or indirectly cause the trouble, brothers who are jealous of their youngest brother who is vastly more successful, grateful strangers giving magical weapons in return for help rendered… all well entrenched examples from popular fairy tales. Rajendran has faithfully followed the fairy tale genre to give us a tale full of the fantastic and displays his own rich imagination and inventiveness in the process.

In the introduction to this, his first book, Rajendran tells us that his influences are the stories of mythical creatures that his mother used to tell him and the action figure toys that his dad bought for him.

The pages naturally are filled with fabulous, mythical creatures. There are vampires, trolls, Medusas, fairies from the Saxeaxs family, an immortal Custodian of the First Light, zombies, ghouls and creatures from the author’s own imagination such as the elite soldiers, the Baks.

I certainly felt that the cast of characters was overcrowded. Some of these mythical beings have very little to do in terms of furthering the plot but on the plus side, no one is going to complain that their favorite fantastic species is not mentioned in the book!

In terms of characterization, some stereotypes are inevitable because of the fairy tale genre, and do not detract from the book. I am surprised though that Rajendran was happy with such a tame portrayal of the Princess. After all, this is the 21st century, where princesses no longer sit around waiting for rescue. Quite often, they are the ones doing the rescue act so to meet someone like Nova who cannot do anything but repent her actions is a bit of an anticlimax for me!

Rajendran uses a medley of languages in the novel – there are brief snatches of various languages including one invented by the author, the language of the Bak. Both old and modern English are used throughout the book. And verse finds a prominent place in the text as well. I sometimes found the variety bewildering but the challenge may appeal to a younger audience.

In terms of plot, there is certainly completeness to the novel. The story gallops from one adventure to another, neatly picking up loose ends along the way so that by the end of the book, everything is neatly tied up. There is loving attention to detail both during the story and after the book, in the appendices which include a chronology, maps, a translation of the Bak language,Nivthrip and more.

‘The Iron Tooth’ is definitely an interesting read and I look forward to seeing how Rajendran’s next book turns out! Thanks to Blogadda for the review copy.

This review is a part of the <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank">Book Reviews Program</a> at <a href=""http://www.blogadda.com">BlogAdda.com</a>
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Sequels, prophecies ..and socialism 101

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 10:32:00 +0000

Is there a literary trope more tiresome than the prophecy? Just about every fantasy novel I’ve picked up these last few months has been about children variously marked, feared or heralded as ‘The One’ and mysterious strangers swooping in on them to convey them to their destiny. And honestly, shouldn’t ‘The One’ be picked for some reason greater than the accident of birth, or just plain being in a certain place at a certain time (aye, Boy who Lived, that means you.)? Meanwhile, what is it with prophecy-oriented stories and their inability to fit into a single tome, leaving us poor readers scrounging around bookstores and library waiting lists for Books 2 to gazillion? So I should have shied away from ‘The Midnight Charter’ which, apart from concerning itself with not one but two ‘The Ones’ is also clearly only part one of a series, meaning of course that a hundred narrative threads will be left dangling on the last page. As will I, waiting for Book 2.

Then again, when have I ever taken my own advice?

Well, for once that worked out alright since ‘ Midnight ..’ turned out to be a page turner, with a good story ,great pace and the kind of steadily darkening atmosphere that makes you simultaneously cringe and start reading faster . It is set in Agora, a grim medieval city ( imagine a very dark Lyra’s Oxford) that keeps its citizens walled in, where free trade is the reigning-and only- deity. There is no money in Agora, but anything can be bartered – emotions , children, lives (rather fittingly, murder is called ‘life theft'), even a woman’s voice. Children are considered property until they are legally emancipated at twelve, when they are left to fend for themselves, expected to improve their prospects either through marriage or slavery; the slightest hint of disapproval from their masters/ mentors could have them thrown into the streets and deemed unfit for employment. And all the while, the sinister and invisible Dictator does a Big Brother, tracking every move its denizens make.

Half dead from the plague, eleven year old Mark finds himself sold by his own father to Theophilus, the kind doctor tending to them. Nursed back to health by the doctor and Lily, a young orphan and employee of Theophilus’ grandfather, Count Stelli, Mark then begins his apprenticeship with the doctor. But fate has other plans for him; he finds himself being mentored by Stelli, a respected Agoran astrologer while Theophilus and Lily move out into the slums where they unleash a truly subversive weapon in the heart of materialistic Agora – philanthropy.

Mark narrowly escapes public humiliation after he discovers he is nothing more than a pawn in Stelli’s politicking. Rather serendipitously, Stelli’s life is destroyed while Mark inherits his wealth and becomes the toast of Agoran society, where he swiftly learns to be as unscrupulous and manipulative as his old employer. Meanwhile Lily tries to learn more about her mysterious origins even as she struggles to keep the shelter from being shut down .

Tides will turn, of course – it is only a matter of time before Mark falls out of favour with the powers that be, while Lily’s radical notion of giving away property for no reason other than the good of others, catches on and wins her many benefactors. But both children are unaware that they are part of a much larger game, overseen by shadowy figures, and that their fates are linked with that of Agora itself.

‘Midnight..’ does an interesting take on the age old Capitalism vs Socialism debate - Lily and Mark come to represent diametrically opposite points of view , and it is clear that some sort of confrontation lies ahead, even if they are allies at the end of the book. I liked the way Whitley’s characters develop, especially Mark – he goes from confused and scared waif to scheming and manipulative social climber, fuelled mostly by rage at his own abandonment. It is this angst that leads him to forge an unlikely bond with Cherubina, the infantile woman he almost weds in a marriage of convenience, and I would like to see their story evolve in future books in the series.

Rather like Philip Pullman’s ‘His Dark materials’ trilogy – though nowhere as dense, pedantic or exhausting - this is a book about the death of ideas – a society based on free trade sounds ideal on paper - a …“..vision of a city where all are equal..where balance, barter and give and take were woven into its very heart and soul…society where value was judged by every individual and no one could force something out of nothing.” But it is, like all other great ideas, easily corrupted and how Lily and Mark either strengthen or destroy the idea of Agora remains to be seen.

Josephine Tey – Inspector Alan Grant Mysteries

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 06:54:00 +0000

Josephine Tey and Gordon Daviot are both pseudonyms of Elizabeth MacKintosh. She has written 8 mystery novels between the years 1929 to 1952, five of which feature Alan Grant. A quick search on Gutenberg is sure to throw up a fair collection of novels. The first of the Alan Grant mysteries is ‘The Man in the Queue”, which did not really capture my attention. But it created just enough interest for me to pick up the second book, ‘A Shilling for Candles’ and then, I just had to find out what Grant does in the next book!

I suppose I need to mention that Tey’s books are accused of political incorrectness. There are claims that the author’s prejudices are passed on to her characters. To me, so many years removed in time, all that matters is a good mystery and on that count, Tey certainly scores high on my list.

Her detective, Alan Grant, does not astonish à la Sherlock Holmes; he does not have the flamboyance of a Poirot or the elegance of a Peter Wimsey. What he does have is ordinariness and a dogged determination to find the truth. He is an Everyman detective, albeit a clever Everyman.

Grant is well educated, as seen from his quotes from the classics, he is conscientious and will worry over a case even after he has reached a conclusion that is acceptable to all and perfectly logical. In The Man in the Queue, for example, after arresting the man who he has believed to be the murderer and listening to his story, Grant starts to wonder if he has indeed caught the right suspect. Evidence is never infallible and often Grant persists even when no one else can see the point.

Because he is essentially a kind and fair man, Grant finds devoted hero worship from his nephew and his sergeant, Williams. And that explains Grant’s appeal – he is no awe inspiring superhero – just a nice man trying to do his job and use his powerful position to fight for the cause of justice, succeeding against difficult odds.

In the novel, 'The Daughter of Time', which is Tey’s most famous Alan Grant mystery, Grant finds himself in hospital with a broken leg. He is bored to death and has no patience with the magazines and other trivial pursuits that are commonly provided to hospital patients.

Grant has a strong belief that the face is a true mark of the man. And considers himself an expert in the art of understanding the character through studying the face. As he says,

“It was a strange thing how much the meaning of a countenance depended on eyebrows. One change of degree in the angle this way or that and the whole effect was different.”

Knowing his interest, Grant’s friend, Marta Hallard, an actress, brings him some portraits to study. Grant does not recognize these people but the face that attracts his attention is that of Richard III.

Now if you know English history, then you also know that Richard III was king for only two years. He is remembered for the ignoble way he came to the throne. Richard III was supposed to the guardian of his brother’s son, Edward V, who was to be crowned king after his father’s death. Instead Richard III managed to have both of Edward 1V’s sons declared illegitimate and crowned himself as ruler. And the Princes? Why, no one saw them again, leading to speculation that Richard III had murdered them.

But when Grant looks at the portrait of Richard III, he sees not an evil murderer but a man of power, one used to both responsibility and suffering. So why is Grant’s analysis of Richard so different from what history has to say?

With the help of the ever faithful Sergeant Williams and reputed scholars, Grant investigates the true story of Richard III, so many years later, and concludes that this image of a murderer was created mainly as Tudor propaganda (with the help of dramatists like Shakespeare who portrayed the king as a power hungry despot, hunch backed and monstrous in appearance). Grant makes a persuasive case for Richard III as a brave, courageous warrior king by the end of the book.

An enjoyable book just like the rest of Tey’s mysteries. Interesting and ingenious plots that test Grant and the reader, loving attention to detail and varied settings all written in a pleasant prose make Tey’s novels necessary reading for those of us who like mysteries.

And when you are done reading Alan Grant’s cases, do look for Tey’s other books including ‘Miss Pym Disposes’ and ‘The Franchise Affair’ – both first class mysteries!

Mrs. Pollifax mysteries - Dorothy Gilman

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 07:03:00 +0000

A kind reader sent me a list of mystery writers that I hadn’t read. These are old school mysteries and the indescribable charm of these writers, their clever plots and their very appealing characters make reading a totally satisfying experience. Some of these books are available on Gutenberg as well.

Maybe this will turn into a series of posts – but for now, I am starting with Dorothy Gilman (1923 -) – focusing specifically on her Mrs. Pollifax mysteries – Gilman has written other general fiction that are vastly different from the Mrs. Pollifax books, so go ahead and explore the rest of Gilman’s repertoire if detective fiction is not your genre.

There are 14 books featuring Mrs. Pollifax and each of them have certain characteristic features – Mrs. Pollifax always sets out on simple jobs which however turn complicated, dangerous and generally end with her barely cheating death and very content with her adventure. Along the way she discovers reserves of strength she didn’t know she had and meets some outright villains, makes friends with a vast number of characters, some relevant to her case, some just because Mrs. Pollifax loves people. No wonder her postman is amazed by the letters she gets from exotic locales.

The exotic locale is also a given – Mrs. Pollifax on safari, in Albania (where she wasn’t supposed to be!) or watching the dance of a whirling deverish, in a rest cure in Switzerland, Italy, Turkey… I suppose that in today’s world where travel is so common, these locales are not always exotic any more… but the magic of reading about a different place in each book still exists and Mrs. Pollifax’s innocent joy at being in a new locale is hard not to share.

In ‘A Palm for Mrs. Pollifax’ she describes herself as “too cushiony”. And that is exactly what she is. Comfortable and reliable, just like your grandma. What makes a grandmother who looks more suited to being part of the garden club run around on missions for the CIA? It turns out that even grandmothers need some excitement in their lives – that the boredom of routine and the aloneness caused by faraway, grown up children and a husband who died over 8 years ago, can be depressing and make Mrs. Pollifax wonder if life is worth living.

In such a scenario, what can Mrs. Pollifax do? She makes a trip to Washington to the CIA building and offers herself as an agent. Through a case of mistaken identity, she is hired and sent on her first assignment which you can read about in The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax. She surprises herself and her superiors with her inventiveness, courage and physical stamina ensuring that she is a regular on the CIA rolls.

So the prize winning geranium gardener and member of the local Save our Environment Club also adds yoga and karate (brown belt) to her repertoire. And Mrs. Pollifax becomes a very successful agent for the CIA. Of course, the bad guys who do not know her like we readers too, generally underestimate her, thinking that there is just a fluffy old lady beneath those fascinating hats (there is always a paragraph devoted to Mrs. Pollifax’a latest hat in each book!). And that is part of Mrs. Pollifax’s charm – she does not act like a professional agent but still gets the job done most efficiently.

And so through each book, Mrs. Pollifax takes a simple case, apparently uncomplicated, and turns it into a geographical, physical and mental odyssey. As her boss, Carstairs, tells his assistant, Bishop,

“One must be philosophical about Mrs. Pollifax, Bishop. We sent her off to Bulgaria to deliver a few passports to the underground and she proceeded to arrange prison escapes and the arrest of a Bulgarian general. We sent her to Mexico City to bring back microfilmed information and she ended up in Albania.”

Extraordinary, resourceful, funny, unconventional and a very good human being, the adventures of Mrs. Pollifax are a must read for every fan of detective stories.

The Ring of Solomon - Jonathan Stroud

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 07:25:00 +0000

I confess that I am a big fan of the Bartimaeus series. I read all of them and was unhappy it had to end at book number 3. The magicians in the trilogy are frankly unlikable. And I am not sure I like Nathaniel, the other central character of the Bartimaeus trilogy. I thought he was annoying, too full of himself, childish and a complete idiot most of the time. But Bartimaeus? Well, as Bartimaeus would be the first to say, “What’s not to like?”

Would Bartimaeus be as brilliant without the foil provided by Nathaniel in the trilogy? That was the only concern I had when I picked up Bartimaeus and The Ring of Solomon, a prequel to the trilogy.

Bartimaeus of Uruk is an ancient spirit of ‘great resource’, fourth level djinni, summoned from the Other Place by human magicians. His modesty never prevents him from telling us about the renowned masters he has served and the buildings that are testimony to his architectural and artistic skill. He has many a battle to his credit and has defeated djinni, afrits, madrids and many more powerful beings. If a lot of these victories seem to be sheer luck, it doesn’t matter! As Bartimaeus tells us, “I have a high enough opinion of myself already not to need extra flattery from you.”

It is Jerusalem, 950 B.C. Solomon rules over his kingdom with an iron hand. He controls a group of elite magicians with his ring of power. Just turning it can conjure up spirits that are both powerful and deadly. The magicians are chafing at being controlled by Solomon, they are a mean spirited, evil and vicious bunch of people, and no one epitomizes this better than Bartimaeus’ master, Khaba.

While on duty, Bartimaeus meets Asmira, who is on a secret mission to assassinate Solomon. Queen Sheba, whom Asmira serves, has decided that Solomon must be destroyed. Is a hereditary royal guard actually equipped to deal with a powerful ring of power, dangerous spirits and wily magicians? Highly unlikely. But when Asmira tricks Khaba and rescues Bartimaeus, she begins an action packed adventure that is managed by Bartimaeus with his customary, insolent élan. She may not succeed but you can bet she is having the time of her life!

Bartimaeus has a unique ability, the ability to get into trouble. He follows the letter of the order given to him (when he absolutely has to) but never the spirit. There is chaos when Bartimaeus is around and the only person having a hearty laugh about it is Bartimaeus himself.

Magic, a dash of mischief, a few misunderstandings and a lot of mayhem best describe Bartimaeus´ working style. When Khaba orders the spirits under his control to build Solomon a great temple, Bartimaeus needs but a few minutes to create total disorder in the ranks. Bartimaeus tells us,

“My work was done. The argument was going nicely: all discipline and focus had vanished, and the magician was a nice shade of purple….

Khaba gave a cry of rage. ‘All of you! Be still.’

But it was far too late. Our line had already disintegrated into a bickering melee of shaking fists and jabbing fingers. Tails whirled, horns flashed in the sun, one or two previously absent claws slyly materialized to reinforce their owners’ points. “

Although Bartimaeus would have you believe that he is a poor, oppressed spirit merely pining for the Other Place, he is having loads of fun misinterpreting orders and driving his masters wild by pointing out how puny, unintelligent and powerless they really are.

Add to this a satirical wit, a wicked sense of humor (at the expense of other spirits and magicians), and a love of adventure (while following orders; of course), and you get a djinni with attitude a mile high! He has you chuckling, laughing out loud and glued to the book – and never bored.

Sadly, the rest of the book is not as entertaining. The chapters that have Asmira on her way to Solomon’s court are, in particular, a bit of a drag but the ending, spectacular and tricky, much like Bartimaeus himself, is outstanding.

And much as I disliked Nathaniel in the trilogy, he was at least doing what he did because he was ambitious and good at heart. Here, Asmira’s enthusiasm comes merely from her belief that she must follow the Queen of Sheba’s orders at all costs. True, you cannot doubt her courage or her bravery, but ultimately she is just a slave like Bartimaeus, a fact he constantly reminds her of.

As is typical of Stroud’s books, there are serious undertones to the book – the corruption caused by power, slavery, the individual versus the role given by society… and you can think about these themes at leisure. But as with the trilogy, this prequel, for me, is firstly about Bartimaeus!

Put on your bookshelf if you haven’t already.

The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party - Alexander McCall Smith

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Thu, 19 May 2011 15:56:00 +0000

The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party is the twelfth book in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series. And if, like me, you have faithfully bought or borrowed each of the previous books, then you know the strength of the book is in its characters. The creator of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, Mma Ramotswe, associate detective, Mma Matutski, apprentice Charlie, master mechanic Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, and the pushy Mma Potokwani are all old friends. The book narrates more life experiences of these familiar faces, ensuring we participate in their happiness and share their surprise at unexpected twists of circumstances.

The plot is typically crowded with stories and events – the big wedding party is Mma Matutski’s, who as Mr J.L.B. Matekoni points out, not unkindly, is ‘at long last’ getting married. Clovis Anderson’s The Principles of Private Detection, continues to guide Mma Ramotswe in her quest to find answers for her clients. Charlie is in trouble as usual but this time it really looks like he is in over his head. There is even mention of the hated Violet Sephotho who has broadened her ambitions – she is now attempting to get herself elected as a Member of Parliament. And to add to the practical difficulties of organizing a wedding, solving mysteries and stopping Charlie from making more mistakes, there is an apparently supernatural element introduced with repeated sightings of Mma Ramotswe’s old white van – the same van that was given up as only good enough for the scrap heap.

This is also the mellowest book in the series - there is less sermonizing and fewer criticisms. Even the abrasive Mma Matutski loses some of her rough edges thanks to her happiness in the soon-to-be wedding. Despite the loud altercation with Charlie at the beginning of the book which indicates a further worsening of the relationship, there are unexpected reconciliations all around.

At least part of it is engineered by Mma Ramotswe who gently reminds Charlie (and indirectly us) of his forgotten self-worth.

“She looked at him. For all his faults - and she had to admit they were manifold – he was a well-meaning young man. And much as he could be frustrating, he could also be amusing and generous and attractive.

‘Don’t change too much,’ she said gently. ‘We like you the way we are, Charlie.’

He stared at her incredulously, and she realised that he might not have heard many people say that. So she repeated herself: ‘We like you, Charlie, you just remember that.’

She looked down. He had clasped his hands together, his fingers interlaced. It was a gesture, she thought, of unequivocal pleasure—pleasure at hearing what all of us wanted to hear at least occasionally: that there was somebody who liked us, whatever our fault, and liked us sufficiently to say so.”

Near the end, the book has mutual apologies by Charlie and Mma Matutski and a hint that things could be smoother in the future. Yet another prickly problem is solved by a drastic change in the behavior of Mma Potokwani towards Mma Matutski. There is a newfound regard because a married woman is, in Mma Potokwani’s eyes, definitely worthy of respect. Typically in character, Mma Potokwani manages to wrangle an invitation to the wedding even when she was not on the original guest list and once she has got what she wanted all along, she uses her outstanding organizational skills to ensure that every aspect of the wedding party is memorable. A high note to end on - with so much more happiness in store for the characters.

This is not the best book in the series, certainly. And much of its richness would be lost if one is not familiar with the books that went before. But there is much to take away, the grace and elegance of Botswana shines through and a profound lesson on how simple kindness and understanding are sometimes all that is needed to make us better human beings.

Wounds already there

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 18:15:00 +0000

In Kevin Brockmeier’s new book, as stunning as it is disturbing, the Illumination refers to an inexplicable phenomenon that overtakes the world, where physical pain begins manifesting itself as a brilliant light emanating from the wounds on everyone’s bodies. Overnight, the world is awash in the dreadful beauty of lambent tumours and corroding tissue, luminous ulcers and glimmering schoolyard scrapes.

"The world had changed in the wake of the Illumination", Brockmeier writes. "No one could disguise his pain anymore. You could hardly step out in public without noticing the white blaze of someone’s impacted heel showing through her slingbacks; and over there, hailing a taxi, a woman with shimmering pressure marks where her pants cut into her gut; and behind her, beneath the awning of the flower shop, a man lit all over in the glory of leukemia.”

How would a world like this adapt to its newfound incandescence? Some turn voyeurs, rushing to capture the art, the unmistakable beauty in suffering. Hospitals evolve new triage rules; photography gains momentum like never before. For others, like the teenaged ‘cutters’ , self mutilation becomes an expression of angst, the inspiration for a whole new sub culture . “We’re not creating wounds”, a character says after a particularly grisly photo opp. “We’re uncovering the wounds that are already there.” Some see variety in the light around them, and in some, it inspires empathy. But for the most part, people just learn to look away. “You would think “, a character observes, “that taking the pain of very human being and making it so starkly visible – every drunken headache and frayed cuticle, every punctured lung and bowel pocked with cancer – would inspire waves of fellow feeling all over the world, at least ripples of pity…”.

Brockmeier gives us a world ripe with potential, a scenario that surely demands examination. Yet he prefers to breeze by this aspect of his tale, choosing instead to focus on individual stories. So we follow the trajectory of a journal through the lives of six unconnected people as they struggle to cope with their pain. The journal is a compilation of love notes written by a man to his wife. I love watching you sit at your desk, it reads. I love your gray coat with the circles like cloud covered suns. I love how easily you cry when you are happy. I love your many doomed attempts to give up caffeine. I love the way you shake your head when you yawn. I love the way chocolate makes your eyes light up.

It is a litany of endearments made all the more poignant by her untimely death, and it touches each of these six lives in different ways. For data analyst Carol Ann, whose life “seemed like one long litany of wounds”, it is the salve that helps her move on from a painful marriage and divorce. For Jason Williford, author of those notes, it is his one connection to the love he has lost, until his pain becomes his diversion and, ultimately, his salvation. Ten year old Chuck Carter, victim of bullying at home and in school, can see the pain in inanimate objects as well, and the journal’s radiant pages spur him to become its protector. For writer Nina Poggione, literally wounded by her words as she endures oral ulcers through successive book readings, the journal inspires a parable that leads her toward love and healing, however fleeting. And for used book peddler Morse Strawbridge, “..fascinated, yet vexed by the book”, the journal is a comforting presence, his sole companion in a momentary respite from his impoverished life. “Between each sentence, it seemed, there was a gap, a chasm, a whitening away of meaning. He did not understand how something so sweet, so earnest and candid, could also be so wayward and enigmatic. He kept expecting to return to the book and discover that it had pondered all his questions while he was gone and then fortified itself with the answers.”

In a world lit up by suffering, evangelist Ryan Shifrin is an anomaly – a man untouched by the Illumination, seemingly immune to disease and disaster. Bound to his vocation not by faith but the burden of obligation, his life is spent questioning God’s intent. Is the Illumination a sign of His love , in which case, he himself has been left bereft? Or is it a sign that His love is decorative, a particularly arduous test of faith? The journal resonates with a simple love he can never hope to feel, that he has, in fact, deprived himself of, and that he can only yearn for in “..a Heaven of starting over, a Heaven of trying again” .

‘The Illumination’ traverses terrain familiar to readers of Brockmeier’s earlier work – alienation, silent heartbreak, grief. This is also a book about the fleeting connections we make , or miss, the ephemeral encounters that leave one’s life forever changed. It is one of those books that you will either love or hate unconditionally, the kind that will work its way under your skin and into a stubborn corner of your head and stay there. There are times when Brockmeier’s chronicle of suffering feels like a dark reflection of Jason’s words, an unrelenting chronicle of damage and disfigurement – severed thumbs, mouth ulcers, the aurora of a million ruined hearts, livers and kidneys. His characters are offered little respite and certainly no redemption. The section on Jason Williford is especially hard to read, as we watch him apprentice himself to a teenaged cutter, learning how to release his grief in the incandescence of his pain.

And yet, for all its bleakness, it is hard to remain unmoved by this book’s raw and tragic beauty or Brockmeier’s considerable skills as a storyteller.

Race, rage, redemption - and pirates

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 07:41:00 +0000

Take One Candle Light a Room

by Susan Straight

Pantheon Books

“You a lie!” someone yells in the opening chapters of this powerful book about family ties, the notion of home and one woman’s search for redemption . And in many ways, Fantine Antoine, successful travel writer and narrator of this book, does feel like one. Secretive about her origins, camouflaged by a skin tone that confuses most people about her racial lineage, she makes her home among strangers, distancing herself from her roots with education and a lifestyle her family can neither comprehend nor appreciate.

For Fantine's family is bound by ties far stronger than blood – they are brought together by the shared trauma of rape, decades of racial prejudice and violence, and the insularity that comes from being unable to trust anyone outside of their tribe. But though to outward glance she has walked away from it all, she still wears the scars of her heritage close, in her inability to commit to relationships, in the distance she must necessarily keep even from those closest to her.

All this changes, however, when her godson, the academically gifted Victor – and the one family member who seems to be following in her footsteps - becomes involved in a random act of gang violence. As she races against time to reach him and save him from the dark future that claims so many young black men of his generation, Fantine finds herself reconnecting with her estranged family and confronting, at last, the memories and dark secrets she has tried to leave behind. After years of being ‘invisible’ in her neutral complexion, carefully chosen clothes and the privileges her job offers, Fantine discovers, as she drives across America with her father, the reality of being black , when even an act as innocent as driving at night comes fraught with danger. “You just a nigger,”, her father says, a man who has survived great violence and meted out his version of it. “You not a writer. You with me.You tite souri (mouse). For them.” And sure enough, despite her laptop and vocabulary, she is mistaken for a prostitute (“a low-rent Halle Berry”) by a passing white couple and duly propositioned.

As a writer Straight is known for her extraordinary ear for dialogue, and ‘Take One Candle..’ moves effortlessly between patois , street jargon and Fantine’s articulate, writerly voice. ( ‘You made me fall in love,’ a professor tells her, after reading her work. ) Through the anguished inner voice of her protagonist, and the stories of the resilient men and women who came before her, Straight does even more. In an essay I read a while ago,about Haitians who dared raise their voice against political oppression, writer Edwidge Danticat defines ‘ guapa’ - the ‘courageous beauty’ she sees in the actions of these artists, writers and activists. With ‘Take One Candle..’ Straight gives us a glimpse of hers, returning to issues she has so eloquently examined in her earlier books – race; prejudice; the burden of painful cultural memory and its crippling effects across generations; the weight of love, often as damaging as it is redemptive.

At the heart of this book is the relationship Fantine shares with Victor - complex, fraught with tension, laced as much with a frail resentment as it is affection. In many ways, it springs to life only when she realizes she may lose him. Until the moment this happens, you can sense a diffidence on her part to bridge the gap she keeps between them, and his own pained , but silent acceptance of it. She brings him gifts, expensive mementos from the places she visits, yet is unable to offer him shelter the one night he needs it the most. For, much as he is like her, Victor is still a painful reminder of the past for Fantine – his doomed mother was once her best friend, the secrets of his parents’ death her unshed burden. Growing up, Victor has survived abuse and severe deprivation, scraping by only because of the largesse of the clan. Fantine, black sheep of this family, has rarely stepped in to help him; yet, she notes, as much with pride as regret, she seems to be the person he wants most to emulate. “People like us were not meant to measure success in the same way our families did,” Fantine observes. "We were failures to them.. And now Victor wanted… to be me.” But what they do have in common is a love of words, and it is this love that forges the tenuous bond that keeps Fantine on Victor’s tracks as he hurtles across America towards his doom, with little more than his cellphone in hand.

Fantine does eventually catch up with Victor, only to lose him again when he inexplicably starts behaving like the boys he has been trying to escape till now, and sets out on a hair brained treasure hunt of his own. Given how gripping the story has been till this point, and how drawn I was into Fantine's world, Victor's volte face made no sense whatsoever to me. It also alters the trajectory of the plot , taut and grounded until now, to embrace, in one great swoop, pirate yarns, flood waters (dame Katrina herself) death defying rescues, romance, ghosts , even the odd miracle.

Yet stick with Fantine - and Straight - as they negotiate this strange terrain , for a finale as satisfying as it is cinematic.

Love in the Time of Paranoia

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 21:35:00 +0000

Who shall live and who shall die
Who at the measure of days and who before
Who by fire and who by water
Who by the sword and who by wild beasts
Who shall have rest and who shall go wandering
Who shall be brought low and who shall be raised high.

Mitchell James Kaplan’s debut novel, which takes its name from the words of this sacred Hebrew piyyut , follows the fortunes of one man at a time of great social and political turbulence. 15th century Spain was the epicenter of some world-changing tremors – the conquest of Muslim-dominated Granada by Queen Isabel; the establishment of the Inquisition to reinforce the power of the Church while displacing thousands of Muslims and Jews across the world, and- that most famous of nautical goof ups, Christopher Columbus’ ‘discovery’ of the New World .

Into these historical facts, Kaplan deftly weaves a story of a man caught in a crisis of faith. This is no ordinary man; Kaplan ambitiously chooses as his protagonist the powerful and charismatic Luis de Santángel, an influential member of the court, unscrupulous accomplice to King Ferdinand in his quest for power, and financier to the gamble that was Columbus’ quest for Asia. But Santángel was also a third generation converso, or New Christian-his forefathers having abandoned the Jewish faith - who was implicated in the murder of an Inquisitor and lost several members of his family to the Inquisition.

History shows that the conversos were never entirely accepted, their status as former Jews or Muslims always making them suspect .“You think you’re one of them…”, Santángel bitterly observes to his brother Estefan, a man who hides behind a boisterous show of Christian feeling. ”But neither you nor I shall ever be one of them, no matter how much we drink or take confession.”.

Kaplan interprets Santángel as a man whose revulsion at the horrors and hypocricy of the Inquisition gradually turn him from skeptical converso to covert Jew. (“ Where they see a conspiracy of New Christians,” he says, “I see… history. Shared history. And history, memories, how can you escape them?”) He turns to the comforting fold of his abandoned faith, secretly practicing Jewish rituals and studying ancient Hebrew texts with the help of a young scribe. When the scribe is betrayed and tortured by the Inquisition into confessing his ‘crimes’ and naming accomplices, Santángel has the Inquisitor murdered. He soon finds that his power and wealth are little protection, given his suspect status as a New Christian. He is arrested, before his proximity to King Ferdinand comes to his aid, but is helpless to prevent the punishment of his son and the torture and murder of his brother.

Running parallel to Santángel’s story is that of Judith Migdal, a young woman living in the Jewish quarter of the Muslim kingdom of Granada. Judith, a devout Jew, defies social convention by refusing marriage and single handedly taking over her murdered brother’s business and the care of his family. Santángel meets her on a visit to the vizir of Granada, but theirs is a romance doomed; Santángel is arrested, while the Christian occupation of Granada turns Judith and thousands of Jews like her into homeless refugees. Also playing a role in Santángel’s persecution is the Toledoth Yeshu, a Hebrew scroll of unknown origins, that Colon gives to him. Suggesting an alternate version to Jesus’ origins, the scroll ,though hardly comparable to the hate mongering of anti-Semitic propaganda like the Fortalitium Fidei ,has often been misrepresented as anti–Christian, and becomes, in this book, a powerful stimulus in Queen Isabel’s fanatical desire to conquer Granada.

The story moves seamlessly between theological debate, moments of intimacy and graphic violence, with the odd burst of florid prose'. Kaplan’s rendering of Santángel reminded me of Thomas Cromwell, flawed star of ‘Wolf Hall’, Hilary Mantel’s literary juggernaut – amoral, conniving, as much a power hungry opportunist as the monarch he supports, then blackmails. In Kaplan’s assured hands, however, Santángel is also an intriguing character, tortured by his love and the consequences of his beliefs. By contrast, Kaplan’s vision of Colon/ Columbus is far more flattering – devious, yes, in his single-minded dedication to his vocation, but also intellectually curious, and tolerant of cultures foreign to his own (in a sub-plot, he secretly supports Judith’s business at a time when anti-Semitic feeling runs particularly high).

But the character who stands out as truly heroic is one who starts off as an underdog - Estefan, a man who feigns an affinity to primitive Christian rituals, only to openly defy the Inquisition when his young nephew is arrested. “No one cares a straw what you believe, Luis,” Estefan tells his brother, rather prophetically, at the beginning of the book. “No one cares what I believe, in the black dungeon of my heart. That’s the outrageous joke behind this madness.” And later, “Where’s the other cheek?” he taunts the men arresting him for a drunken tirade against Torquemada’s ‘splenetic choirboys’ and their zeal for violence.”Where is He?” Needless to say, the Inquisition’s response is brutal.

‘By Fire, By Water’ makes for compulsive reading with its lucid prose and strong characters, in a narrative where the research never overpowers the story.

Thanks to Mitchell James Kaplan for sending Bookblah a review copy of his book.

Emma Freke.. as is everybody!

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 09:42:00 +0000

I, Emma Freke

Elizabeth Atkinson

Carolhoda Books

The best coming of age stories are often about great voyages and life-changing encounters, yet are really about internal journeys – about children making that first, significant step towards maturity, and away from the fears that have curbed them. ‘I, Emma Freke’ is about one such journey, and a girl’s struggle to find her place in the world.Released early last month, the book has already won a Moonbeam Children's Book award.

Emma Freke is smarter than anyone she knows. Right from the opening chapters of this story about a child’s quest for family and a sense of belonging, where she bemusedly endures a school counsellor’s ham - handed attempts to boost her ‘socialization skills’, we know she is different – knowing, self aware, and possessed of both the smarts and a wry sense of humour. And yet, she finds herself defined, and utterly trapped, by the connotations of her name.

For Emma would like nothing better than to be shorter, dumber and invisible. At twelve she is, by her own admission, the “..tallest, palest and saddest girl in all of Homeport.” Often mistaken for an adult, saddled with her awkward moniker, - “My mother forgot to say it out loud when I was born”, she explains to everyone who says ‘Am a freak’ for the first time - her alarmingly red hair and mortifyingly great height (“like a target visible from space”, she rues), school is an ordeal of sniggering classmates and insensitive teachers.

Sadly, home isn’t much better - a father she has never met but whose unfortunate name she is stuck with, a cranky grandfather she often has to look after, and a flighty irresponsible mother who will think nothing of passing her daughter off as an employee in order to hang on to a younger boyfriend. Worse, her best – and only – friend Penelope possesses everything she lacks – two doting mothers, a lovely house, irresistible charm and unwavering optimism. Is it any wonder that she desperately hopes she is adopted? But though her mother manages to shatter that one illusion as well, she does give Emma something else instead – a chance to meet the Frekes, her father’s side of the family.

What follows is an account, by parts sad and funny, of Emma’s discovery of herself among the Frekes . Surrounded for the first time in her life by people as tall , red headed and obsessive about order as she is, befriended and admired at last by girls her own age , Emma finally feels she belongs . Yet all is not well with the Frekes ; not only do they shy away from the family name (Frecky, they insist. Rhymes with Becky.) and cower before the family matriarch, they seem to dislike their own freaks too – short, dark haired and very irreverent Fred Freke. It will take a twelve year old’s wisdom and spirited stand in defence of a fellow freak for the Frekes to begin acting like a family, and for Emma to realize the worth of her own.

Atkinson keeps it real, and writes from the heart – reading this book, I was drawn right into Emma’s sad and lonely world, feeling all of her pain and heartache with her. Who, after all, has not felt this keen sense of isolation at some time or other in their youth? Emma’s is also a world sorely lacking reliable adults, save for the friendly neighbourhood librarian or Penelope’s mothers (a very matter of fact inclusion of an unconventional marriage in this story about embracing diversity, that had me nodding in approval as I read); yet, Atkinson’s crafting of these fumbling, fallible and very believable grown ups makes them difficult to dislike, be it Emma’s mom with her fetish for all things New Age, her elusive father or the domineering Aunt Pat. By the end, as Emma finally makes her way home and gracefully embraces her life (and name) for what it is – unconditionally her own, and defined not by other people and their ideas, but her own altered vision of herself - you realize that this simple action has changed their lives as much as her own.

Heart warming, self affirming, funny – a book for the freak in each one of us.

Thanks to Skye Wentworth sending me a copy of the book to review.

Crossposted here.

Things unsaid

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 13:50:00 +0000

Little Pieces – This Side of Japan

Michael Hoffman

Virtual Bookroom Publishing

This book has been a challenge to read and review. The stories it contains are rather like the dragonflies that appear in one of them – seemingly simple and light, yet elusive to the hand seeking to pin down and label them. If the art of a good short story lies less in the words it is made of than in the negative spaces between those words , then author Michael Hoffman is clearly an artist of considerable skill.

In these six spare stories set in contemporary Japan, Hoffman’s characters struggle with alienation, the claustrophobic binds of family and lack of direction. In stories like ‘The Miracle’ and ‘The Concussion’, both largely feverish monologues, we are led into the complex interior lives of their troubled protagonists as they grapple with their demons. Ambivalence is a dominant theme in these stories, as is a distinct preoccupation with violent death; characters either dream about bloody rampages, obsess over news reports of murders, contemplate (but step away from) suicide, or succumb to violence either as perpetrator or victim. The repetitive appearances of these little scenes through the book are one of the few things that rankle about this otherwise well written book. If these do not deter the reader, it is only because Hoffman’s gentle yet incisive eye ensures that these are neither dark stories nor repulsive characters.

‘First Snow’, which sets the tone and pace of this book, is a description of an encounter between a directionless, unemployed man and the woman who was once his babysitter. The evening progresses from reminiscence to confession; he dreams of escape, she seeks redemption for a past indiscretion. The falling snow seems to symbolize the freedom of unburdening for her; he realizes he needs to look inward for the answers he seeks. ‘It’s only when I open my eyes that I feel cold…” he thinks, poised on the threshold between his old life and the unknown new.

‘Dragonflies’ , the longest story in this collection, cunningly reveals layers of ideas as it alternates between the lives of Hiranuma and Sawamoto, both middle aged men who have been friends since childhood. One, a writer of some renown, struggles to write an essay on a revered peer, even as he puzzles over his wife Shizuko’s agitation over her music teacher’s seeming dalliance with a young girl. Her real reasons for her anger soon become evident, leaving him startled and hurt, yet also making him realize some important things about his own life. The other, Sawamoto, a philandering college professor and self confessed “bad man”, faced with losing his job to a more dynamic colleague, drunkenly ponders suicide and rues the pointlessness of love, only to go home and be surprised by its presence in his life. Running parallel to this story is a tale about a painting so aggrandized that it invariably disappoints the people who flock to view it. What this painting symbolizes – love, good reputation, Shizuko or even Sawamoto himself – is left entirely to our interpretation. So also the miracle in the story of that name, which could be any one of a number of things – the calm self assurance of Emi’s new friend; the hope he suggests for her future; the fact that, despite their darkest fears, neither Emi nor her mother is murdered by the end of the story. Or is it the metamorphosis of Emi’s mother from tormenter to protector?

My favourite story in the book – ‘Sonoko’ – is about a woman who escapes her colleagues, her overbearing mother and an ardent suitor, for the solitude of a hotel room, a book and conversations with her deceased father . ‘Sipping scalding tea with my eyes closed …. That is the greatest happiness we humans can know on earth,” she thinks, as she too, like Tamaki in First Snow’, turns inward for solace. Sonoko is, in direct contrast to Hoffman’s other female characters, at peace with herself and her devoted study of 12th century Japanese literature. Perhaps this peace is a result of her dying father’s last words to her, claiming to be an alien from another world . For she lives two lives, as he too claims to have done,switching periodically from ‘‘..modern, single, financially independent woman..’ to herself. Solitude is her true love - her Genji - for which she calmly chooses to embrace death (you guessed it, a violent one) through one last, socially appropriate gesture.

Crises of faith seem to be a strong subtext in atleast four of these stories. Nearly all of Hoffman’s central characters are Christian ( a curious fact given that Japan is predominantly Shinto). Emi in ‘The Miracle’ constantly dialogues with her God, as she struggles to keep her fragile hold on her sanity ; Stephen in ‘The Concussion’ turns away from Christ in a gesture of rebellion against his gentle missionary parents. Elsewhere characters debate God’s presence, cling to their pastors, obsess over death – clearly faith, in Hoffman’s Japan, is as much a source of distress as comfort. Even when a character isn't overtly Christian, Hoffman seems unable to keep him free of religious symbolism - Tamaki in 'First Snow' dreams of moving to India, 'a world of golden temples gleaming under a searing sun'; Sawamoto quips about travelling to India to bathe in the Ganges, an act typically associated with spiritual cleansing.

Hoffman also enjoys teasing his readers along. ‘The Concussion’ seems to doff its hat at Kafka with its opening lines – an elderly character awaiting trial for a crime he is unaware of – then follows in the wake of his reminiscences as he traces the path of his violent life – and his rage - back to a single childhood incident. Bit by bit, you realize that his prison and his captor exist entirely in his mind and what he really seeks is forgiveness for an entirely different crime. I also enjoyed the structure of ‘Little Pieces’, the final story in the book, which swings seamlessly between four different voices, to tell us the strange and tragic story of Sayaka and Kenichi, before ending in a disturbing freeze frame right in the middle of a conversation about death.

Aside from the writer’s predilection with those twin themes, - Christianity and death by bludgeoning – elements that do not always justify their presence, ‘Little Pieces’ is an elegant and well observed examination of the human condition.

The floating worlds of the exile

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 14:58:00 +0000

Create Dangerously : The immigrant artist at work

by Edwidge Danticat

Princeton University Press

‘The poet turns the world to glass, and shows us all the things in their right series and procession,’ Edwidge Danticat writes, quoting Emerson. In these twelve eloquent essays, Danticat does just that as she examines the many dilemmas of being a creative person exiled from their homeland,. Through the prism of her personal experiences and tenuous associations with her homeland, and in her interpretations of its troubled history and that of individuals she has interacted with, Danticat paints us a portrait of her Haiti – her ‘floating world’ as it were, and its tortuous struggle for peace and stability.

‘Create dangerously, for people who read dangerously’. These words by Camus have defined Danticat’s development as a writer, and they are central to Danticat’s defence of what she deems the artist’s purpose – to bear witness. In essays like ‘Daughters of Memory’, ‘I Speak Out’ and ‘Acheiropoietos’ , she profiles Haitians who have done just that – borne witness to the atrocities committed on Haitians , displaying what she calls ‘guapa’ – a courageous beauty.

In the opening paragraphs of ‘Create Dangerously’, the first of these quiet yet powerful examinations of identity, Danticat walks us, with excruciating slowness through an execution. The two men at the centre of this gruesome tableau, Marcel Numa and Louis Drouin are members of a rebel group trying to bring down the Duvalier dictatorship, and the public spectacle of their deaths will haunt generations of Haitians. They certainly haunt Danticat, even though she wasn’t even born at the time of this incident. Quoting Camus again - “..a person’s creative work is nothing but a slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three images in whose presence his or her heart first opened.”- Danticat’s essays reveal how these, and other horrors have been akin to creation myths for creative Haitians like her, intrinsic to what Basquiat calls ‘cultural memory’ in ‘Welcoming Ghosts’, Danticat’s incisive exploration of the young artist’s work and influences.

Dangerous writing – and reading- had something of a rich past in Haiti under Duvalier, where even the suggestion of dissent was liable to get you killed. The title essay of the book examines how, in the claustrophobia that was life under the Duvaliers, people chose clandestine methods of voicing their anguish, through the secret staging of plays and the reading of classics by foreign, or long dead authors like Cesaire, Fanon and Camus. “The fact that death prevented one from being banished,” she wryly notes, “..made the ‘classic writers all the more appealing. “

Sadly, lesser mortals do not always enjoy this posthumous immunity. Does death reverse exile, Danticat wonders in ‘The Other Side of the Water’ , as she recalls her attempts to have her cousin Marius’s body flown home from Miami to Haiti for burial. For Marius, an illegal immigrant with AIDS, lacks the necessary documents needed for his final flight home and must wait in legal limbo until a solution -or his passport – is found.

Creative stifling, she observes, has effectively silenced whole generations of her countrymen; in turn, it has made the few, like her, who choose to speak out, seem like martyrs.. ”crazy Saints (who) stared out at the world, like lunatics – or quietly, like suicides..” This is not a sainthood Danticat wears lightly; for just under the surface of her words lurks her guilt at having ‘escaped’ (through migration to the United States) and becoming an ‘accident of literacy’ while thousands of Haitians remain uneducated and poverty ridden. She struggles with this notion of being privileged, and with her own identity, as she is repeatedly accused of being 'dyaspora' , and incapable of authenticity when writing about Haiti. Danticat faces this alienation even at home; an elderly relative mourning her dead son says, ‘‘I know it’s your work, but please don’t write what you think you know about Marius.”

Perhaps this is one of the crosses the immigrant writer must bear, regardless of their creative voice – this obligation to be ambassador of a culture and people she is rooted in through the accident of birth. It is a cross Danticat refuses , however; rather she asserts that , by virtue of her craft, she transcends her own geographical boundaries, taking on, with every reading of her work, the nationality of the individual reader. ’Are you free, my daughter?” asks a character at a crucial juncture in Danticat’s debut novel, ‘Breath, Eyes, Memory. Danticat seems to pose that very question to herself repeatedly. ‘Walk Straight’, for instance, describes her guilt and confusion over being accused of misrepresenting Haiti in her writing, particularly over the issue of ‘virginity testing’ that several characters in her debut novel endure. ‘I exploit no one more than myself’, she argues, emphasising her role as a fiction writer, who merely borrows from the truth around her. And yet, a hint of self deprecation creeps into her writing, as she describes, in ‘Flying Home’, how she was ‘at work’ during a national crisis, the inverted commas being her own.

As a writer, Danticat finds she must also battle a kind of collective amnesia. Recalling the sabliyes -the forgetting trees from Haitian lore, that slave ancestors stepped under to free themselves of their memories and dull the pain of leaving home, Danticat observes that the Haitian psyche seems unwilling to step away from their shade, choosing to forget their long and painful history of slavery. It is a history that repeats itself; for Haiti remains a lesser ‘other’ to more powerful neighbours like the United States, even during national crises like the earthquake that ravaged the island earlier this year. In the moving ‘Our Guernica’, the final essay in this collection, she reflects on this inequity, even as her family calmly deals with the loss of loved ones in the earthquake, and begin the process of rebuilding their lives.

It is these images of quiet resilience that are perhaps most telling of Danticat’s floating world, of a country picking up the pieces of its shattered identity yet again – a country and a people undeniably guapa. And it is in the unflinching portrayal of these people and this country, in Danticat’s graceful and passionate commitment to bearing witness to their anguish and their joys, that we glimpse the guapa in her writing as well.

Thanks to Princeton University Press for sending us a copy of the book to review.

The Half-made World, by Felix Gilman

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 09:49:00 +0000

You have to stop and take notice of a book endorsed not just by Eric Van Lustbader, but the queen –Ursula Le Guinn- herself. You stop, notice and, if you are in any way like me, you worry – about overkill, disappointment, and,if the book is indeed a winner, about that interminably long wait, accompanied by much teeth-gnashing, for Part Two to reach your grasping little hands.

A few lags in pace – and a rather lackluster heroine - apart, here’s one for the gnashers amongst us.

Steampunk meets the supernatural in this sweeping tale of a wild, untamed world and the powers that battle for its control. Felix Gilman’s ‘The Half Made World’, part one of a duology, is an inventive rewrite of the settling of America, teeming with complex characters, fantastic devices and a dystopian landscape as compelling as it is unsettling.

To the East of this World are ancient lands that have long since been civilized by the calming hands of science and the arts; the West, however, is young and unbridled, and the object of a long standing war between two rival factions - the Line, a civilization marked by industrialization, a subdued population of slaves, and formidable weaponry; and the cult of the Gun, a loose mob of assassins – each more colourful than the next - dedicated to little beyond destroying the Line and keeping the flag of anarchy flying high. Marking the tenuous zone between the Line’s territory and the uncharted terrain beyond it is the House Dolorous, a sanatorium tending to the wounded of both sides.

This is a world at the mercy of unearthly powers. The servants of the Gun and the Line, with their incessant conflict seem human enough; yet they are controlled by strange forces, invisible God-like beings that a character calls .. ”..not so much political entities as religious enthusiasms, not so much religion as forms of shared mania”. Even the House thrives under the aegis of a mysterious subterranean Spirit that lives in a symbiosis of sorts with its patients, healing them and, in turn, feeding off of their energy. A third faction that had reared its head in a short-lived bid for democracy - the Red Republic – has been vanquished by the Line, and its leader now lies in the House, his mind scrambled by a noise bomb ( arguably the most inventive of the generous array of gadgets Gilman offers us in this book).

Into this unstable world strides Dr. Liv Alverhuysen, former denizen of the genteel East and practitioner of a radical new science called psychology, to try and heal the General. But the General’s mind holds other secrets, and Liv is caught in the crossfire as the Line and the Gun both battle to gain control of him. Kidnapped along with her near- catatonic patient by Creedmoor, a swashbuckling Agent of the Gun, she soon finds herself trekking across the great uncharted lands with her unlikely companions, and a regiment of the Line on her heels.

Gilman crafts great characters, and his World boasts a remarkable ensemble cast. Creedmoor, for instance, is a charismatic anti hero - flamboyant as they come, flawed in all the right places, alternating between glee and shame at his affiliations. . He gets all the best lines in this book, usually in his dialogues with his spirit mentor Marmion, and their relationship – rather like that of a rebellious teenager and a father at the end of his tether – is one of the highlights of this book for me. Chemistry crackles between him and Liv as well, something I expect the sequel to the World will gleefully explore. Then there is Lowry, recruited into the service of the Line as a ten year old, and seemingly well suited to his role as a dispensable cog in its great and terrible machinery. He is Javert to Creedmoor’s garrulous Valjean, doggedly following in the Agent’s trail for a master he fears and resents in equal measure. “Hardly the perfect model, “he thinks, disparagingly describing himself ”.., but effective and cheap enough for mass production. Incapable of disloyalty; he lacked the parts.” Here's a character, intriguing for all his supposed facelessness - heading either for a grand subversion, or utter annihilation, and I can't wait to find out which.

But the most mesmerizing character here is the uncharted world itself, teeming with powerful spirits that no one can really comprehend, save its indigenous people, the First Folk . This vast, yet claustrophobic world, where the lines between the vegetable and animal, the living and non living, real and hallucinatory, seem blurred, and where the very rocks seem malevolently alive, is truly a feat of world building.

By contrast, Liv is a disappointment; insubstantial when standing up besides robust characters like these. In many ways, she seems a half made world herself, spending a large part of the book meekly acquiescing to the experiences that claim her – a loveless marriage, a convenient widowhood, runaway/ kidnap victim- still unsure of what it is she wishes to become. It is only towards the end of the book that she steps out of Creedmoor’s considerable shadow, with a sudden vigour that promises much excitement in Part Two of the book.

Read ‘The Half -Made World’ to discover speculative fiction at its best – capturing the excitement and menace of a world at once threatened and empowered by technology, and examining issues as diverse as faith, national identity and individuality .

Thanks to Tolly Moseley for sending me a copy of the book to review.

And, dear reader, to pique your interest, here’s a short story by the author, set in the same world as this book.

The zombies came in two by two....

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 05:07:00 +0000

Rise Again: A Zombie Thriller

by Ben Tripp

Gallery Books

Release: 26 October 2010

Somewhere in the middle of this book, a character wryly observes that the disastrous events in the book would make a perfect movie of the week. It's a sentiment more than a few readers will undoubtedly share, as we are hurled along at breakneck speed through this energetic tale of a zombie apocalypse and what happens after.

Ben Tripp’s debut novel embraces a number of time - honoured tropes from the horror genre – monsters (flesh-eating and otherwise), a swashbuckling heroine with a troubled past and a yen for danger, a motley crew of mismatched survivors who must evolve into a team or die trying - and allhellzapoppin' opportunities for carnage. This could easily have been just another gory yarn about zombies; what sets it apart is its taut narrative, dark humour, strong characters and a flair for description that will leave the writer as gore-drenched as its characters. ‘Rise Again’ is a lively new addition to the ranks of the fictional undead.

So Sheriff Danny Adelman wakes up on the Fourth of July in picturesque all-American Forest Peak, California,to a terrible hangover, a neglected sister who has finally run away with her prized Mustang, and the prospect of enduring a day of festive locals and bored tourists. That’s the good part of the day. For the town is soon swarming with panic stricken refugees in the throes of a mysterious disease that is both highly contagious and leaves the infected inexplicably dead in mid-stride. Worse, all communication with the outside world breaks down, except for a single computer generated message relaying on the weather band of her police radio - “ The infected dead will rise again.”

Sure enough, the undead are soon shuffling through the streets, glassy eyed and oblivious to their grieving relatives, prompting a character to wonder if human-zombie unions will soon replace gay marriages as “..the hot button relationship issue.” As Danny struggles to comprehend what is slowly turning out to be a global disaster, and takes over as reluctant Noah to an edible Ark of squabbling survivors, she realizes Forest Peak has far more than odd couples to worry about. For the radio message now warns…”The dead eat living flesh.”

Now what more, you may ask, is there to say about the zombie (rechristened 'zero' by Tripp) apocalypse that Richard Matheson’s genre-defining novel ‘I Am Legend’ , George Romero’s celluloid classic ‘Night of the Living Dead’ and the legion of screen and print variations on the undead theme that is their infected spawn, haven’t already? After all, we've read and read again of virus-tainted, spirit-haunted or just plain differently evolved nasties chomp through the ensemble cast , right?

The characters in ‘Rise Again’ wonder as much, as they ponder zero-slaying techniques culled from the movies they’ve watched. “Anybody born after 1940 knows,” says Wulf, the town derelict and resident Rambo.”.When a zombie shows up, you gotta smash its head. Destroy the brain.” Simple enough, right? Cumbersome. Messy. Time consuming.. but then again, when the world as you know it doesn't exist any longer, what do you have but time?

But as Danny and gang soon discover, it will take more than the mere smashing, hacking and blasting of former tax payers to stay uneaten. For even as humans revert to the primeval, the undead are swiftly evolving from lumbering, almost comical, creatures into lethal predators that are capable of stealth, ambush and hunting in packs. Yet it would seem only Danny can see this evolution; the rest of humankind - myopic Senators, frivolous thrill junkies, rogue mercenaries – refuses to believe that they are no longer on top of the food chain.

“The end of the world was here”, Danny observes, after narrowly escaping an attack of zeros, “..and as always… it was up to the unimaginative, fighting, enduring types., like (her) , to pick up the pieces and carry on. The ones that got wiped out were the interesting people. “

Don’t believe her. Danny is a hero as compelling as they come, an alpha female equal parts damage and daring, with a strong maternal instinct that keeps her on the trail of her sister and an elusive redemption.( Think a terrestrial Ellen Ripley, accessorized with a truckload of emotional baggage.) A decorated war hero with the physical and emotional scars to show for it, Danny seems more at ease slaying zeros than being among people who care for her, and this book is equally about her journey from lone ranger to tribe member. As for that quest, prepare to be surprised .

Thanks to Corinne Marrinan for sending me a copy of the book to review.

Meanwhile, zombies seem to be the flavour of the week, for here
I am, midway through the terrific 'Dreadnought' by Cherie Priest and what havee we here, but boxloads of the undead.

Also, just finished 'The Half-Made World', Felix Gilman's stunning new novel which has no zombies per se, but does have something to say about being enslaved by ideas. More on these soon.

Hello again... and an announcement

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 06:06:00 +0000

Ok, that was supposed to have been a short break.. as Rip Van Winkle probably said to some baffled villagers.

It started off as a pause to just declutter my mind, set priorities.. actually, FIND priorities in the great pile of tasks I'd set up for myself. and was (quite naturally) consistently failing at. So that pretty soon, I wasn't really doing very much at all, including blahing about books.

Which was silly, given that all this while I've been reading like crazy, and whining about having no one to talk books to (Nitya having escaped to Bangalore).

So if you've been checking in for posts, or if you haven't banished the overly silent Blah from your blogroll yet ... THANK YOU. Posting will begin again really soon. With a zombie thriller, rather appropriately named RISE AGAIN.

Meanwhile, do check out CROCUS 2010, the week long virtual book festival over at Saffron Tree for some wonderful children's books from around the world.

Now, off I go to unvanWinkle myself.

Precarious, by Al Riske

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 09:50:00 +0000

In his debut collection of short stories, author Al Riske wields remarkably spare and elegant prose in fifteen examinations of relationships on the cusp of change. Riske’s eye for detail is sharp, but his hand gentle as he unravels the complexities and quirks of his characters in their various quests for connections , closure or just plain old sex.

The very first story, ‘Sleeping with Smiley’, sets the tone of the book, with its bitter sweet tale of a boy stepping out of the shadow of his gifted best friend, even as he proves his loyalty to him. This struggle between issues of sexual awakening and faith , the emotional distance one must travel in a journey towards finding oneself – these are themes central to many of these stories, best exemplified by ‘Praying for Rain’. In this well crafted tale, winner of a Blue Mesa Review Award in 2008, a young minister grapples with loss of faith and a growing attraction to a free-spirited woman, even as a scandal rocks the parish. Bill in ‘Just Admit It’ finds himself caught between his faith and his feelings for a male friend, while Gene with his burden of Christian guilt in ‘What She Said’ struggles with desire as Rachel alternately lures, then rejects him.

A gentle humour laces Riske’s writing, as also a flair for twists in the tail, as seen in ‘Precarious’, the title story, or ‘Dance Naked’, where a barroom brawl between two men over the attentions of a woman, grows increasingly threatening, only to end with unexpected results. Riske likes to keep his reader guessing too - stories like 'Double or Nothing' and 'Taken', end in intriguing, sexually charged freeze frames.

This is also a book replete with second chances. ‘Hold On’ begins on a grim note in the desert, a place “.. full of things you can’t hold on to”, as a man faces, then thwarts, the dissolution of his marriage. The two young protagonists of ‘Praying for Rain’ fall from grace, before helping each other out towards new beginnings. And Charlie in ‘X’s’ goes through heartbreak and betrayal to reunite with the woman he was meant to have been with.

The one story I didn’t enjoy was ‘Your Eyes Only’, a piece of speculative fiction about a man seeing the world again through a dead girl’s eyes. Placed right at the end of the book – no doubt because it is so different from the stories preceding it - this one is a foray into Stephen King territory that doesn’t quite succeed.

Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 09:42:00 +0000

Wolf Hall is set at a dramatic period in English history – at a time when Henry VIII wants the Church to annul his marriage to Katherine of Aragon so that he can marry Anne Boleyn. The King believes that Anne Boleyn will be able to give him a male heir to the throne.
The Church is not very amenable to his request. And so Henry VIII forces England to break away from the Catholic Church. As Mantel shows, the motivations are not just love and religion; it is also very much about money and power. Breaking away from the Church will also earn the King a share of its vast wealth and England will achieve independence and be its own authority.
As each section jostles for power, there is one man who stands above everyone else. Thomas Cromwell son of a blacksmith, runs away from home to escape his violent father. Exhibiting a great ability to survive, (a characteristic that will stand him in good stead in Henry’s court), he tries various professions before becoming Cardinal Wolsey’s aide.
The Cardinal is a man of great power, credited with putting England on the map. The king supports him against the many detractors who point out that the Cardinal is running a parallel administration. The king is hopeful that the Cardinal can convince the Church to annul his marriage. “If only he wanted something simple,” says Cardinal Wolsey. “The Philosopher’s Stone. The elixir of youth. One of those chests that occur in stories, full of gold pieces.”
When it becomes clear that the Cardinal cannot get the Roman Church to agree to the annulment of Henry’s marriage, the King orders that he removed from power and stripped of all his wealth.

As a favorite of Wolsey, it is possible that Cromwell’s career is over. Cromwell remains loyal to the Cardinal but is also sure that he will not “go down with the Cardinal”. So with the ease of a chameleon, Cromwell changes his colors to become indispensable to Henry. Cromwell is "at home in courtroom or waterfront, bishop's palace or inn yard. He can draft a contract, train a falcon, draw a map, stop a street fight, furnish a house and fix a jury." Cromwell is in fact everything to everyone.
Cromwell interacts with the most powerful personalities of his day but there is also Cromwell the family man – interacting with his wife and daughters and the deep sadness he feels when they die in the plague. Particularly memorable is the scene when a grieving Cromwell asks the priest if he can bury his daughter with her copybook in which she had written her name and the priest refuses.

Unlike Cromwell, the other characters do not come off so well. The court pretty much earns the title of wolf hall. The King seems more like a spoiled, capricious child than a monarch, Anne Boleyn is scheming and cold, the courtiers are petty and quarrelsome…Thomas More, another important figure in English history and Cromwell’s rival for power, is also painted heavily with dark colors.

Against a turbulent but riveting background, the book chronicles the story of one man’s rise from obscurity to power. Cromwell’s carefully crafted plans are masterly lessons in diplomacy, politics and statesmanship.

Is Cromwell the true architect of England’s independence? Or just an opportunist who used the turbulent times to his own advantage? Historians are divided on the matter and Mantel herself portrays Cromwell, warts and all, while pushing you to make the decision.
It is a difficult book to read – intimidating not just in terms of size (500 plus pages) but also in the vast historical canvas and the number of characters. The book becomes slightly easier if you know a little of English history although the knowledge is by no means mandatory.
The book is given a more contemporary feel by the use of every day English, rather than the use of ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ which was of course characteristic of the period.
Mantel is apparently working on a sequel. Although, history has clearly documented Thomas Cromwell’s life, I would certainly want to know how he measures up in Mantel’s next book!

Barefoot Gen : A Cartoon Story of Hiroshima

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 18:27:00 +0000

Written and Illustrated by Keiji Nakazawa
Translated by Project Gen

Tara Publishing

History, they say, is written by victors, never by underdogs. This holds true especially where the Second World War is concerned, where the experiences of people in the Allied countries largely public memory. The casual reader of history can also often miss the forest for the trees - reading about battles and treaties, strategies and foreign policy, it is easy to forget the millions of ordinary civilians who bore the brunt of political manoeuvres and compromises.

This is why Barefoot Gen is so important - it focuses on the hardships faced by ordinary Japanese citizens in a war their country fought largely for profit, and which many of them were opposed to. It looks at the way millions of people were routinely deceived and left to suffer, while corrupt officials and businessmen profited from the war. It also examines a horrific and shameful chapter in that war - the bombing of Hiroshima (and later, Nagasaki) by America. Seen through the eyes of a young boy, Gen, the book is a first in its attempt to explain this important event in history to young readers, using a medium that enjoys extraordinary popularity in Japan - the comic book.

First published in Japanese in 1972 as Hadashi no Gen, Barefoot Gen is the first book in a series that went on to become a cult classic among young and old alike It is loosely based on the author's own life - he was seven when the city was bombed and he,his mother and infant sister alone survived while the rest of his family perished.

Gen is the son of a poor farmer who is vocal in his opposition to Japan's role in the war. This causes the family a lot of trouble, as Nakaoka is ostracised and branded a traitor, his property vandalized and his children bullied. The family struggles to stay alive as food grows increasingly scarce; some of the most touching scenes involve the children fighting over,or fantasizing about, small things like rice or even fish bones.Recruited into the military, Gen's older brother experiences corruption, abuse and further disillusionment, finally becoming a deserter. And then, just when things seem to get better for the family, a B29 is spotted overhead...

Nakazawa was a professional cartoonist for years before he began drawing the Gen books, and the influence of popular stylistic trends in the manga of that period is evident in this book . With their stark black and white format, the panels effortlessly swing from the comic (almost slapstick, at times) to the symbolic.

While Gen is aimed at young readers, it does contain some disturbing images - children are injured, starving or killed; Gen's sister is stripped and humiliated in school; Gen and his brother fight over scraps and later resort to begging. The author's criticism of Japan's involvement in the war runs through the narrative; if anything, he comes across as overly critical of his own country while never once questioning Allied involvement or the bombings that followed.

The last quarter of the book is especially difficult to read - Nakazawa does not allow us to miss a single detail of the destruction caused by the bomb that was dropped on his city. The pace of the book becomes almost leisurely at this point, as he traces the little routines and rituals of people going about their day, unaware of what is to follow. When the bomb is dropped, we must see, through Gen's eyes, the agonizing end of everything he has known and loved.

So why am I recommending this book - because, for all the violence depicted in this book, it still conveys an incredible message of hope and humanity. It shows us that the huma spirit can be weak and misled, but also resilient and capable of great courage. Gen is a plucky little hero - sly and conniving at times, violent at others,- and his optimism and essential goodness kept me hooked to his story. If Gen depicts the cruelty of mindless mobs, it also highlights individual acts of courage and kindness. But most of all, here is a story that underscores the importance of keeping history alive by seeding the future with the lessons of the past - Barefoot Gen does not end with death, but the birth of Gen's little sister, and a powerful message to ".. never let this (war) happen again ". I look forward to re-reading this with my daughter when she is old enough.

Image courtesy

cross posted here

Year of the Horse by Justin Allen

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 11:21:00 +0000

(cross posted here)

‘Year of the Horse’ takes some very familiar threads in young adult fiction –a young protagonist with a destiny he must fulfill, a quest for hidden treasure, a dangerous landscape peppered with formidable foes and unlikely allies- to weave an engrossing coming of age tale replete with both wisdom and edge-of-the-seat moments.

In a foreword to this rollicking tale, author Justin Allen gleefully alerts his young readers to the unpleasantness that lies ahead, not wanting to “.. begrudge (them).. the opportunity to engage the sometimes shocking realities of history”. Fair warning indeed, for the roller coaster ride this book offers its readers, young and old alike, across the untamed and dangerous landscape of North America in the years following the Civil War. The book spares no punches in its gritty, often brutal, account of one young Chinese American boy’s experiences on a hunt for treasure, guarded by forces more formidable than anything he could imagine. Allen deftly weaves folklore and fantasy into this adventure, that also goes on to make a powerful statement about what it means to be American (or, indeed, a member of any community) regardless of one’s colour or creed.

For fourteen year old Chinese American Tzu-lu (or Lu, as he is soon rechristened) it’s just another day, working at his homework in his grandfather’s shop in the little town of St Frances. But a few hours later, a strange visitor leads him away on an even more mysterious voyage that he feels ill-prepared for. This visitor is Jack Straw, a famed gunslinger, who quickly becomes Dumbledore to Lu’s timid Harry, Gandalf to his reluctant Frodo – the wise teacher and father figure who grooms Lu for the task he is destined for. They are also joined by a ragtag group of travelling companions with whom he must struggle to survive not just hostile Indians and murderous Mormon settlers, but also the unrelenting harshness of the continent they must cross on horseback.

The book scores on pace, and its evocative descriptions of the terrain the group journeys through. Also the increasingly grim circumstances the group must confront - a horse literally dissolves in a pool of acid ; an amorous Mormon preacher attacks them in a bid to abduct their lone female comrade; and death, when it finally catches up with them, takes its toll on the weary travellers. Racism is never far away either ; Lu and his friends are regularly taunted , their identity and ‘Americaness’ questioned . Allen tempers the harsh reality of these scenes with enough humour and suspense to keep the reader hooked.

This is a book full of finely etched characters, right from the protagonist and his companions to the people they meet along the way. Yet , some things struck me as unconvincing . Lu and his companions seem strangely compatible, despite their cultural and political differences. The outcome of the book hinges rather conveniently on a gift to Lu from one of the several mysterious strangers he meets through the course of the book, each more clued in on his journey and its purpose than most of his group. Are there greater forces at work here, helping to tilt the balance in favour of Lu and his friends – no one ever stops to consider this . Jack Straw never explains the true nature of their foe to his friends, and they never seek to question him either, until prodded gently by one of Lu’s acquaintances. When they do, Straw abruptly disappears, leaving them an ancient notebook to draw their conclusions from, so that they are greatly unprepared for what is to follow. And Lu, when he is finally told about the circumstaces surrounding his father’s death, seems strangely untouched, never once pausing to grieve, rage or even reflect upon it.

For all the issues I had with the book, 'Year of the Horse' is still a riveting read. It also redeems itself with a cracker of a showdown, a very satisfying solution to the mystery of the treasure, and enough tantalizing clues to suggest the possibility of a sequel.

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 15:19:00 +0000

Anna’s World

by Wim Coleman and Pat Perrin
ISBN 978-1-935178-06-4
Chiron Books

Winner of several awards including the Moonbeam Children's Book Awards, and a Reader Views Reviewers Choice Award. 'Anna's World' is a gentle coming of age story, based in a turbulent time in American history. The book combines history and fiction with a powerful message about moral choice.

It is 1845. Fourteen year old Anna Coburn has barely survived an attack of typhoid after a flood that has left many of her neighbours dead. Her country is on the verge of war with Mexico, but no one thinks she should talk about it. Faced with financial trouble, her father sends her to live at a Shaker village.

The austere life expected of her with the Shakers upsets Anna at first - it is a world of forced segregation between sexes, prolonged periods of enforced silence, hard labour and limited contact with the 'World'. Precocious Anna finds life here tedious and oppressive. Yet, she finds friends and kindred spirits too - Sister Zenobia, the charismatic brother Seth, and celebrated author Henry David Thoreau himself. And, despite her many apprehensions, Anna turns out to be more Shaker than she realizes. When she leaves the village to join her father and his new wife in Boston, she finds the outside world both unpleasant and morally conflicted. Newly wealthy, her father expects Anna to lead a life of leisure like other girls her age and social status. Slavery exists as well as apathy for the people of Mexico, being slaughtered in a war with the USA that they are unprepared for. Worse, Anna's father‘s fortune is built on this very war, in partnership with a man who has betrayed the Shakers and threatened her life. Even as Anna struggles to reconcile her life with her beliefs, she is thrown into danger again.

The plot makes a smooth trajectory from history to mystery, weaving in some very powerful observations on moral choices and conviction in one’s beliefs. Anna is a compelling protagonist, sensitive and aware, and through her eyes the reader is offered a child’s eye view of two vastly different worlds. Neither the ‘World’ nor Shaker life is ideal, and the narrative deftly reveals Anna’s growing maturity as she learns to question and negotiate the hurdles she confronts in each. I especially liked the way a real historical figure, Thoreau, was introduced into the story, guiding Anna gently along on the journey she takes in this book toward finding herself and her calling.

There is a telling metaphor about Shaker shoes, which are made identical for either foot. Like Shaker life itself, the shoes do not fit Anna at first, and cause her discomfort. Yet by the end she finds she has grow into them.

*spoiler alert*

A heartwarming and thought provoking book about life, growing up and finding purpose.

Feisty fictional females

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 03:33:00 +0000

Cross posted here.

I get into a bookish frenzy over posts like this, this and this. I grew up reading incessantly, and now as a mom, I spend a lot of time looking for books my daughter can enjoy and grow with the way I did.

Like Chox said, there is a great overload of 'girly' girls out there in in the bookiverse . There are the Princess and Tiara Club series, for instance, that are all the rage with the Imp and her gang, but they're full of parties and royal balls and the general good girliness that really set my teeth on edge. While I loved pretty much everything Enid Blyton wrote as a kid, I have to say in hindsight that her girls really did not do much. Amelia Jane and the Naughtiest girl in school are generally chastised for doing anything out of the ambit of things Blyton considered appropriate for girls; the same goes for the various boarding school series she authored.George, the tomboy from the Famous Five, was perhaps the most adventurous girl Blyton ever came up with, and even she usually plays second fiddle to her male cousins and Tommy the dog.

But we've found some spunky girls in books these past few years, including some gems by Indian writers. While they have all been in books marked for older age groups, I've introduced them to the Imp anyway and she has certainly enjoyed them too.

So here's my addition to the lists drawn up by Chox and Ra( I love all the books they mention in their lists, and won't repeat them)

Firstly, Indian authors/ characters...

The three heroines of the stories in Unprincess! by Manjula Padmanabhan. As the title suggests, these are not girly girls, but smart sensible problem solvers. So there's Kavita, who rescues a busload of screaming girls from being eaten by a giant, Sayoni who tames nightmares, and (our favourite) Urmila, a girl so ugly she is used as a weapon of sorts.

Mati, from Journey to the City of Six Gates by Graeme McQueen (ok, a Candadian author, but the book is no tourist's view)- a big favourite at home still. it's a fantasy set in ancient India, and weaves a number of strands into its very smart plot - adventure, gender, evironmentalism. A book like The Sound of Music - perfect on its own, yet leaving you longing for a sequel.

Viks, from The Smile of Vanuvati, by Harini Gopalswami Srinivasan - a nicely paced adventure set on an archaeological dig. This is a book that asks to be made into a film, (Vishal Bharadwaj-ji, are you out there?) it mixes fantasy with history with good old fashioned mystery. The author's next book, Gind, is just out, and looks promising too.

Amie, from Amie and the Chawl of Colour, by Chatura Rao. This one is hard to find in shops, though her next book, Meanwhile, Upriver, is usually available. My review of it here.

Aditi, from the series by Suniti Namjoshi

Izzy Mumu from Bringing back Grandfather and Maya from Maya Running, both by Anjali Banerjee.

The entire cast of The Battle for No. 19, by Ranjit Lal, about a group of girls caught in a house in Delhi during the anti Sikh riots in 1984, and their struggle to stay alive. The story does not shy away from violence and one of the characters actually kills someone, but it is dealt with very well. (The only one in this list I haven't read with the Imp yet)

There is also Chip off the Old Blockhead by Rupa Gulab, and The Summer of Cool by Suchitra Krishnamurthy, which take a humorous look at older girls and their problems. Not on my favourites list by a long shot, but I expect the Imp will enjoy them when she is eight or nine. Also heard recently about a Foxy Four series begun by Subhadra Sengupta.

Some characters by other authors that we have loved..

Fern from Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White

Lucy from the Narnia books by C. S. Lewis. There is all manner of religious and chauvinistic preachiness in them, but all this is spoken in glum adult hindsight. As a child, I was blown away by this land on the other side of a cupboard.

Leslie from The Bridge to Terabithia, by Katherine Paterson. We've actually read this one already, but I think the Imp will probably like revisiting it later. We saw this as a film first, when the Imp was around four, and t got us talking about a lot of complex issues - alienation, bullying, the death of a child. It also gave us the line we consider our motto - The greatest prize in life is the chance to work hard at work worth doing. I actually like the film way more than the book, because of the way it brings the imaginary world of Terabithia and Jess's drawings to life.

The girls from books by Eva Ibbotson , Judy Blume and Jacqueline Wilson.

Jeremy from Slob, by Ellen Potter

And here are some girls I look forward to introducing to the Imp when she is a little older..

The Madcap of the School by Angela Brazil, a very old and very entertaining school story. Link to the free ebook here.

Sally from the Sally Lockhart Mysteries by Philip Pullman

Lyra Belacqua from the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman - the sort of books I'd want with me if I'm ever shipwrecked on some deserted island. I haven't really read these out to the Imp, but certainly described the story to her. We remain fascinated by daemons.

Sophie from Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder.

Smilla from Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow, by Peter Hoeg

The Brass Monkey from Midnight's Children, by Salman Rushdie

I expect she will read Ayn Rand in her teens like I did, classics like Fountainhead, Atlas Shrugged and We the Living. While these have some tremendous male characters like Howard Roark and John Galt for her to inspired by, I could never stand the female characters Rand wrote - whiny, overly dramatic, masochistic ninnies the lot of them. She did a Blyton too.

Are there other girls out there in the bookiverse you can introduce us to? Do tell.

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More....

Picture books:
Today is MY Day, by Anushka Ravishankar.
The Wacky Witch War, by Ellen Jackson

(Some additions, courtesy Linda Sanders-Wells)
Harriet's Had Enough!, by Elissa Haden
Beatrice Doesn't Want To, by Laura Numeroff
Martha Doesn't Say Sorry, by Samantha Berger
Maggie's Monkeys, by Linda Sanders-Wells

For Older Girls:
Victory Song, by Chitra Divakaruni Banerjee (thanks, Chox!)
Mma Ramotswe from the No 1 Ladies Detective Agency, by Alexander Mccall Smith

The Magic Thief series by Sarah Prineas

noreply@blogger.com (nitya) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 16:55:00 +0000

Move over Harry Potter. The next big thing is here. It is a trilogy (so far) entitled ‘ The Magic Thief’ – with two books published.

The protagonist is Conn, a young gutter boy who fights for survival in the poorer part of town. When he attempts to pick a wizard’s pocket, he steals the locus magicalicus, an all powerful stone that wizards use to practice magic. The wizard, Nevery, is amazed that the stone has not killed Conn instantly and therefore takes him on as a servant. But a series of unexpected events ensue and Conn becomes the wizard’s apprentice.

Conn is special because the magic and he share an unexplained bond – leading it to protect him and ensure his safety in the most trying of circumstances. When there is a crisis involving the depleting levels of magic in the city, it is Conn who discovers that the magic is being entrapped and frees it at great personal risk.

Probably because he has been outside the system always and because he relates to the magic differently from the others, Conn finds it easy to believe things that are practically heresy for the wizards of the time. For example, he believes that the magic is a living thing and that the spells the wizards speak are its language.

The books are page turners and score high on both drama and action– street fights, explosions, treachery, evil magicians, powerful dark beings created for the sole purpose of destruction, and more. Serious situations are often laced with humor so even while you wonder how Conn will get out of this one, you cannot help but laugh at his sudden insights.

Although the books are narrated by Conn, it weaves in letters from the characters, mainly Nevery, so that we get an idea of what is going on behind the scenes, unknown to Conn. A clever tactic that does away with the limitations of the first person narrative.

Conn is on a journey to discover himself and the nature of magic. And as the pages turn, he begins to understand things gradually. Journeying with him is the solitary Nevery, who moves out of his own loneliness to forge a relationship with Conn and eventually believe in Conn’s theory of magic. There is Rowan, the Duchess’s daughter, who learns more about the city she will eventually govern, thanks to her friendship with Conn. By forming relationships with each other, the characters evolve through the book, thus allowing us to feel that the book grows not just in terms of events but also dynamically.

In contrast to these characters are the wizards of Wellmet who refuse to understand or accept anything new, who will spend all their time consulting old books rather than facing up to the reality of the age they live in

One of my favorite characters is Benet, Nevery’s bodyguard – a man of few words. When he is not fighting off bad characters, he is baking delicious biscuits. Among Benet’s other unexpected talents are an ability to knit. A well rounded person, wouldn’t you say?

The illustrations at the beginning of each chapter are beautifully drawn. Antonio Javier Caparo’s maps and drawings make real the characters and the geography.

Yes, it is classified as Young Adults fiction and can be predictable in parts. And I would like to see a more extensive use of magic by the characters But Conn has a quirky, irreverent voice that I promise you will enjoy!

The Servants’ Quarters by Lynn Freed

noreply@blogger.com (wordjunkie) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 05:40:00 +0000

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
ISBN 978 0 15 11288 6

If the test of the writer’s craft is in making both good and bad characters equally compelling and readable, then Lynn Freed certainly aces this one. Her book, ’The Servants’ Quarters’, has some supremely unlikeable characters, be it the beautiful and aimless narrator, Cressida, her grasping mother or their wealthy benefactor, Mr Harding . And yet, this slim book with its spare and fluid narrative keeps you hooked and eager to know the fate of these frail, flawed people.

Set in an unnamed location in South Africa in the years following World War II, the story follows the relationship between Cressida and Harding over a decade. When they first meet, she is a precocious nine year old with a father in a coma, facing imminent financial ruin, while he is a much older war veteran who has suffered severe disfigurement in combat. For reasons not immediately clear, he begins supporting the family, even moving them to the servants’ quarters of his own house. His mentoring of Cressida seems avuncular (if condescending) at first, but soon begins to take on more predatory overtones that people around them either do not notice or choose not to. For all her reservations and despite knowing about his other affairs, Cressida is slowly drawn toward the man and he becomes the only stable constant in her life, and her most important influence, as things around her change. She blooms into a beautiful teenager, struggling with her silent love for Harding and her yearning to be free of her mother. She is directionless, bored, and casually toys with men who are besotted with her, even as she waits for Harding to notice her and whisk her away to his world of privilege.

As much as this is a love story, it is also a frank examination of the dynamics between rich and poor in the claustrophobic town that Cressida lives in , and that both she and her mother long to be freed from. Intertwined with these stories is a narrative on the devastating consequences of war, be it on Harding who has survived combat and prisoner camps, or the young Jewish Cressida who is haunted for years by nightmares of German soldiers . This shared anguish becomes a bonding force between the two, even as the people around them remain indifferent to it or choose to move on.

If you are looking for a story about a girl finding her wings and flying away, of a love that sets her free ..this isn't it. A bleakness hangs over the narrative, reminiscent of Dickens - the voice of the narrator grows from that of a knowing, free spirited child to that of a more cynical woman, changed forever by Harding's unwholesome attentions.If Harding is drawn to her fierce spirit as a child, he also manages to squash it completely over the years, leaving her an infatuated teenager with little on her mind but him. As a child she has been tormented by the fate of millions of Jews like her in the War, yet as a grownup the apartheid that must surely have existed around her at the time, never once finds mention. Clearly, Cressida's world has shrunk from the boundlessness of her childhood, to the social and emotional distance that separates her from her warped Daddy long legs. The biggest tragedy for me here was that, despite her revulsion for her grasping and opportunistic mother, and despite being offered the chance to go to university and escape this town on her own terms, Cressida nonetheless ends up just like her mother in many ways.

Freed keeps a clear unflinching eye on her characters, charting their lives with prose that is at once precise and nonjudgmental. You may never like Cressida or Harding, you may flinch at the idea of their romance, yet when it does come about, you cannot help hoping they find a golden sunset to walk into. If this is 'Beauty and the Beast' retold, it is also a retelling that captures the beasts within every one of its characters, as they strive to be redeemed by love from the worst in themselves.