Summary
When Beatrice Nightingale, a divorced English teacher, is called out on an errand to locate her nephew in post-war Paris and return him to the United States, she has no idea what she has gotten herself into. Her brother Marvin, the anxious father to the disappeared boy, turns out to be a worse parent than he had thought himself to be. What starts out as a simple endeavor ends up as a story in which every Nachtigall family member is confronted with his/her flaws.

Review
The Nachtigall family may be a wealthy one, but it is certainly not without problems. Father Marvin is a bad-tempered, contemptuous and foul-mouthed man, who can only think in terms of success versus failure and prestige versus loss of face. I still cannot understand why his sister Beatrice did not give up on him – and the quest of returning Julian to California – early on in the book, when all she received for her efforts was contempt. Marvin disrespects her in every way imaginable. Yet, she mostly continues on without taking offense. I would have picked a fight with my sibling if I was ever treated that way! Also, I could not fathom why she stubbornly held onto her past; she may have lost her feelings for her ex-husband a long time ago, but wouldn’t it make sense to get rid of his huge piano as well? I keep wondering whether Beatrice likes to punish herself by keeping that instrument and her brother in her life. No, I could not relate to her at all…
As for the Nachtigall offspring: Julian is a pampered, overweight boy who plays at being another Hemingway in Paris and his sister Iris may have the brains but her long-winded, unstructured letters underline the fact that she is far from grown-up. Let’s just say that, fortunately, there are many 18 to 20-somethings out there who are less self-absorbed and who have lived less sheltered lives.
Then, what about the remaining characters? Beatrice’s ex Leo Coopersmith is, in my opinion, a superfluous character. Margaret Nachtigall is a tragic woman whose mind slowly got unhinged, and I’m guessing Marvin is the culprit. Finally, Lily, the mysterious older woman who has attached herself to Julian (or rather, the other way around) is a fascinating character who deserves more backstory and firs-person narrative than she actually gets. This is a pity because, frankly speaking, she is the most interesting of the bunch.
There is not much else to say about the book, except that I am awarding it two stars solely on the fact that Ozick has a elegant writing style that really shines in some places. But in the end, the book left me feeling rather underwhelmed.

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.

Summary (back of the book blurb)
Major Ernest Pettigrew (Ret’d) is not interested in the frivolity of the modern world. Since his wife’s death, he has tried to avoid the constant bother of the village women, his ambitious son and the suburbanisation of the English countryside. He prefers to lead a quiet life, upholding the values that people have lived by for generations – respectability, duty and a properly brewed cup of tea (very much not served in a polystyrene cup with teabag left in). But when his brother’s death, and a love of Kipling, sparks an unexpected friendship with the widowed village shopkeeper, Mrs Ali, the Major is forced to confront the realities of the twenty first century.

Review
Part charming romance, part social criticism, I still cannot make up my mind whether it was leaning too much towards the chick-lit genre. I guess that in the end, it does not matter. You can read it whichever way you like, there is certainly something for everyone in this book.
Most of the story takes place in a quiet and small village in England, where people are uneasy in the company of people of colour. It has taken them years to get used to the small shop that is run by Mrs Ali (and before, by her late husband). Their pettiness, narrow-mindedness and arrogance shine through at the annual dance of the local golf club. Making the dance a success has priority over inconsequential details like getting historical facts right.
As for the second storyline, which has something to do with the undesirable redevelopment of the village, it did not interest me much, which is why I skimmed through the pages dealing with it.
Major Pettigrew’s obsession with his father’s two guns first blinds him, but slowly he (re)discovers what is truly important in his life. The quarreling about these guns annoyed me to no end, so I was glad to see their importance recede into the background. I would have liked to see the relationship between the Major and his son Roger explored more. The character of suave American business woman Sandy, Roger’s fiancee, could also have benefited from a bit of fleshing out. Unfortunately, despite the wonderful witty repartees, I thought Roger was a disappointment: he remained a fickle personality, someone for whom I could not muster any patience nor understanding. Some people were more caricature than believable flesh-and-blood characters. I’m referring specifically to the knitting needle wielding great-aunt, Mrs Khan and Lord Dagenham. And what about the Ali family? Why is it so important to hold on to their late son’s wife? And yet, they agree to Abdul Wahid’s scandalous reunion. These people made it difficult for me to take the story seriously. The novel’s saving grace is the delicate, budding romance between the Major and Mrs. Ali. They are proof of love (and a continuation of life at its fullest) at a later stage in life.

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.

Summary
Against the backdrop of the Cultural Revolution, the lives of sisters Yumi, Yuxiu and Yuyang unfold. The storyline follows them as they battle for respect, a secure future, friendship and love. Yumi, as the eldest sister, deals with overly high expectations and finds herself settling for less. The right match will help her family climb up again after the disgrace her father caused. Yuxiu, the middle daughter, discovers that her social skills lead to one disaster after another. She despises Yumi, but family ties are not that easily severed. Finally, the third part of the book tells of youngest sister Yuyang, who escaped the village by making it into a teacher-school. But even there, it seems impossible to escape prejudice and loneliness.

Review
Let me first get one thing straight: this is not chick-lit. I saw a review of this book in which it was classified as such, but whoever wrote that about Three Sisters clearly did not get it, nor did he/she know much of the novel’s historical background.
With that off my chest, I have to admit that I am not particularly enthusiastic about the book. Bi Feiyu attempt at a satiric, yet tragic portrayal of Chinese village life in the mid-70s (up to the 1980s) is a good one, but the bleakness and cruelty were a bit too harsh for my liking. Prior to reading this book, I had always assumed that with Communist rule – whether it was good for China or not remains debatable – women’s emancipation received a boost. Mao Zedong wanted to get rid of traditional hierarchy (heavily influenced by Confucianism) and replace it with a society in which everyone (but natural state enemies like the bourgeoisie) would be equal. But right off the bat, the Wang sisters’ family is described as a dysfunctional one. Embarrassingly, there are too many daughters, so something must be wrong with either the father’s genes or the mother’s womb. Then, after mother Shi Guifang finally gives birth to a son, she concludes that now that her place has been earned, she can resort to hanging about lazily around the house. It’s Yumi, the eldest, who cares for baby brother Little Eight, and she enjoys flaunting him around the village. Clearly, men are still more important than women, even in seventies’ China. The father of the Wang girls (and boy) is the local Party Secretary and with that comes power: he enjoys sleeping around with married women. And they all comply without protest. He only comes to grief when he is caught in the act with the wife of a fellow Party member: a clear-cut case of double standards.
Another example is Yumi’s unfortunate engagement to “the aviator” Peng. Differences between city and countryside are emphasized by her lack of education and his eloquent written Chinese. In dynastic China, her village peers would congratulate her for baiting a city scholar(-bureaucrat). In Communist China, she has done well by hooking a potential hero. Again, women’s rights are an alien concept when Peng tries to convince her to sleep with him (before marriage) and she can only protest weakly. After a certain calamity takes place in the Wang family (which underlines the inequality between the sexes all the more) and false rumours reach him in faraway Beijing, he does not hesitate to cut all ties. Women who lose their virginity before tying the knot or who have intercourse with someone other than their husband will always be considered sullied goods. It truly does not matter whether they were overcome by romantic feelings and lust, coaxed (by a man in power) into a sordid affair, or raped.
Finally, I thought the construction of the book was a bit haphazard: the Chinese title translates as “Yumi”, which is the eldest sister’s name. But only the first chapter is dedicated to her. The second part centers on Yuxiu, who tries to follow in Yumi’s footsteps (or not quite) and flees the village. The third part is the odd one out, as Yuyang is the youngest girl in the family and has made it into teacher-school, but she has nothing to do with Yumi nor Yuxiu. I had hoped that, like in chapter two, the relationship between the sisters would feature more prominently. For me, it is therefore the most disappointing part of the book.
Three Sisters is a book that I’d recommend to someone who is interested in changes in Chinese society, but I’d advise reading up a little on twentieth century Chinese history first.

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.

Summary
The Night Circus arrives without warning. One moment there’s an empty field, the next a sprawl of majestic black and white tents fills your vision. Everything becomes surreal, or perhaps truly real, the moment you pass its gates. Every tent has its own performer, each artist leaving you in awe. You are tempted to join the ranks of faithful fans, the rêveurs, to give up everything in order to spend as much time as possible at the circus. Mysteriously, the people attached to the circus don’t seem to change, don’t appear to age. How do they do it? Clever trickery… or magic? If only you were aware of what was at stake, how the circus is actually a very serious game between two masters of deception, would you run in fear? Or remain to stand witness?

Review
The Night Circus is a tale of magic and mystery, of being enchanted and transported to a different world. In fact, le Cirque des Rêves is a fully functioning microcosmos where different rules apply, in which physics and time are manipulated to serve the goals of the players of the game. On one side, there is Celia Bowen, unwanted daughter of world-renowned magician Prospero, competing against the student of the man in the grey suit. Marco Alisdair he calls himself, this orphan whisked into a life of studying the occult. For years they dance precariously around one another, using new wondrous circus attractions as moves on a chessboard. For decades they are left in the dark regarding the exact rules, the specific outcome that is expected, of the game they play. Both Celia and Marco are left rankled when they discover the truth of the matter, but anger and grief are not the answer…
Celia, the beautifully dressed illusionist and Marco, the skilled and reserved assistant of the circus’ proprietor. Tsukiko, the silent contortionist and Herr Thiessen, the brilliant clockmaker. Alexander H., the man in the grey suit and Prospero, his spiteful opponent. All of these characters and more are indispensable to the intricate fabric of the story. The mystery of the exact arrival and departure of the circus and the seemingly impossibility of its attractions add to the dreamlike ambiance surrounding le cirque and its talented staff. I would love to stroll on its many paths, get lost in the Labyrinth, wish upon the Wishing Tree and taste some of that sticky caramel popcorn. Morgenstern cleverly crafted a podium on which her many characters perform, sometimes hidden out of sight. The reader sits comfortably in a red velvet chair, quietly soaking up the drama being played out on stage. It reminds me of a Greek play I once saw, where spectators could either watch the actors or read along with their lines, written on the walls.
I particularly like the fact that the game is not simply about showing off to one another, but how it also challenges the players to carry responsibility for the repercussions of their actions on their playing board and in the outside world. People are not pawns and teachers are not always right. Everybody counts and every loss is mourned. The Night Circus is a beautiful reverie with nightmarish moments, from which you don’t really want to wake up.

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.

Summary
It’s years before the onslaught of the Trojan War when Patroclus, child of a half-wit mother, exiled son of a vindictive father, finds himself fostered far away from his childhood home. Meeting Achilles, son of his benefactor King Peleus, is pure divine will, laced with godly humour. The dwellers of Olympos are not known for their mercy or understanding. Humans, half-gods and lesser divinities alike are nothing but pawns on their eternal playing boards. For Patroclus, the path ahead is clear: his sorry fate is intertwined with that of Achilles. They just have to make the most of their lives before the prophecy claims them…

Review
Recent years have seen the creation of several adaptations and spin-offs of the Iliad and the Odyssey. An example worth mentioning: the Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood featuring a pensive Penelope who, from beyond the grave, recounts her life by depicting a different version of Helen’s kidnapping and the subsequent war. I also liked the Ilium/Olympos set by Dan Simmons, in which the old tales are played out once more on a future Mars, with the use of (bio)technology.
The Iliad sings of Achilles’ heroic deeds and his prophecised demise. In Homer’s epic, he is portrayed as a sullen, unwilling and above all self-centered hero. Not so in this adaption, which includes a prologue, then takes us straight to the height of his fame… and to his inevitable death. Through Patroclus’ adoring eyes, we see Achilles as a boy, easing into manhood, who readily chooses the fame/early death option over old age and obscurity. The Song of Achilles is a soulmate’s plea for understanding, for seeing more in the ill-fated hero than the cockiness and stubbornness that are immortalised on paper. As Achilles’ advocate, Patroclus shows us the playful, sensitive and insecure human in him, a young boy who grows to accept the consequences of his choice. Miller has truly done a magical job in capturing the contradictions in his character: on the one hand, he is Aristos Achaion, the best of the Greeks, a skilled and cold-blooded warrior surpassed by no other (half-)human. But on the other hand, his love and loyalty to Patroclus run deep and there is kindness in his actions. The beautiful Briseis, is not a bed-slave but rather a girl saved from Agammemnon’s cruel appetites and kept under Achilles’ and Patroclus’ protection. The terrible events that are to take place are set in motion by a begrudging and jealous Agammemnon. How is the son of sea nymph Thetis expected to react, other than to defend his name and reputation (for which he gave up longevity and happiness, remember)?
Every single page tugged at my heartstrings and, as I rooted for Patroclus’ and Achilles’ happiness, I kept hoping that somehow the story would end differently, their wretched fates rewritten by one God or another. Of course the author stayed true to the main storyline, but I did find some comfort in the fact that both of them knew what was coming and how they made the best of every remaining minute. Achilles, so it appears, was more human than god after all.

“‘Ask her’, [Odysseus] said. ‘Ask your mother what she knows.’
Achilles swallowed, loud in the silent chamber. He met his mother’s black eyes. ‘Is it true, what he says?’
The last of her fire was gone; only marble remained. ‘It is true. But there is more, and worse that he has not said.’ The words came tonelessly, as a statue would speak them. ‘If you go to Troy, you will never return. You will die a young man there.’
Achilles’ face went pale. ‘Is it certain?’
This is what all mortals ask first, in disbelief, shock, fear. Is there no exception for me?
‘It is certain.’
If he had looked at me then, I would have broken. I would have begun to weep and never stopped. But his eyes were fixed on his mother. ‘What should I do?’ he whispered.
The slightest tremor, over the still water of her face. ‘Do not ask me to choose,’ she said. And vanished.”

The Song of Achilles

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.

Summary
For two semesters, Tanja Lučić is hired to teach servo-kroatisch, a course meant to be focusing mainly on literature, at the university of Amsterdam. A rebellious streak in her decides to take a different path, to rekindle the Yugo-nostalgia that her students – all exiles from former Yugoslavia, like her – have pushed away. In essays, her “kids” are requested to describe their experiences and memories. But can she really help them – and herself – with her eclectic form of therapy? Are they as willing as she is – she who has not suffered as much as they did – to plunge into a sea of pain?

Review
What is like to live with Yugo-nostalgia? To be drawn to others of “your own”, fellow diaspora of former Yugoslavia? To never be at peace, feel at home, be completely yourself or fully recover from having your country torn from you, your memories replaced with new ones and the suffocating guilt of having gotten away?
Despite my efforts to really try and like this book, my feelings remained an unwavering lukewarm at the most. The author penned a beautiful, sad, harsh, unforgiving and above all, truthful account of how Tanja and the others experienced the new world (“after”) and the often unsuccessful quest for their place in it. Nevertheless, she failed to instill a grain of sympathy in me, and her protagonist remained an aloof, overly cautious woman throughout. I am afraid that the continuous emphasis on “us”, “we” and “our own”, did not help either. At the beginning of the book, I wondered briefly whether a more profound knowledge of the history of the former Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia would have granted me a better understanding of the story… but I don’t think so anymore. Ugrešić somehow managed to keep me at an arm’s length, and I never got upgraded from my seat as a casual observer.
When I first picked up this book, I was attracted by the blurb on the back. You can probably guess by now that this was a mistake: the story deals with a ministry of pain, but it has nothing to do with s&m in the sense of sexual behaviour. Their classroom symbolises this ministry of pain and the reminiscing they do inflicts pain on them. Whether this can be compared to sadomasochism, I really do not know. In short: I expected a tale about former Yugoslavian refugees who get caught up in a crime, that is somehow tied to their parttime work (which is the making of s&m clothing and accessories in the aforementioned location), instead, I had to battle through chapters and chapters of what felt like aimless self-reflection. I also felt let down by the backdrop of the book: a fictional Amsterdam. The casual insertion of Dutch words here and there added nothing to the story, it only managed to give an already alienating novel an awkward feel.

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.

Summary
When Tony Webster, a retired sixty-something, receives an unexpected bequest, he is suddenly catapulted into his distant past. His memories are like a dam threatening to break, or perhaps a can of worms opened in dismay, and they call for a careful re-evaluation. His old school friend Adrian once quoted that “history is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation”. While Tony scrutinises his personal history, he is time and time thwarted by his ex-girlfriend’s unhelpful “you do not get it, you never did and you never will”. Will he be able to discover a new truth about the people in his past, including his young twenty-something self?

Review
The Sense of an Ending, in essence, deals with memories and the notion of subjectivity and trustworthiness regarding one’s recollections. Tony Webster starts the story by reeling off a collection of random images that comes to mind when he tries to reminisce about his friend Adrian and a part of his youth that has been closed off for a long time. In school, he used to have three friends, Colin and Alex, and serious, logical Adrian Finn. The first part of the book deals exclusively with this part of his past, describing the relationship between the four young men who, like anyone in that age group, like to question and rebel against “the system”. Tony remembers how group dynamics changed, as the original three members started gravitating towards Adrian. Even after they have each gone their own way, to different colleges, their letters are mainly addressed to him. When Tony finally meets a girl, with whom he is allowed to have quasi-sex, he doesn’t yet realise what impact she will have on his life. The relationship was on a road to nowhere and after they break it off, he decides to go traveling in the United States for a while. Not until Tony’s return, does he learn of Adrian’s death. A calm, logical thinker in life, and a methodical planner until his self-chosen end.
Part two of the book continues where the notification of a sudden legacy has left Tony: for some reason, he has inherited the diary of his late friend Adrian. Unfortunately, the precious bundle is in the hands of his ex from long ago, Veronica, and she refuses to release it to him. There is a lot of reliving of their brief shared past, and it quickly becomes evident that deep down neither of them has changed. Tony is still a quiet man, too quiet and easy-going for his own good and apparently Veronica has never stopped playing (mind) games and getting angry when her point does not come across.
Overall, the book was a fairly quick and enjoyable read, but some parts did drag a little or were written too philosophically. Tony is a man who has found his own way in life, a life in solitude and calm. Personally, I thought he was a bit of a bore who chose to take the easy, uneventful way through life. Veronica, on the other hand, is a stereotypical woman who cannot (or does not want to) communicate clearly. Very frustrating that.
By only dropping subtle signs, Barnes slowly worked towards the big, shocking revelation at the end. Without a doubt, that was the best part of the book. Without revealing too much, let me leave you with one of my favourite quotes from the book:

“When you are in your twenties, even if you’re confused and uncertain about your aims and purposes, you have a strong sense of what life is, and of what you in life are, and might become. Later… later there is more uncertainty, more overlapping, more backtracking, more false memories. Back then, you can remember your short life in its entirety. Later, the memory becomes a thing of shreds and patches. It’s a bit like the black box aeroplanes carry to record what happens in a crash. If nothing goes wrong, the tape erases itself. So if you do crash, it’s obvious why you did; if you don’t, then the log of your journey is much less clear.”

©2012 Always cooking up something. All Rights Reserved.