A New World

Hello...sorry, it's been too long. Finished Call It Sleep by Henry Roth last week, but have been caught up in the whirlwind of moving/settling in/starting a new life.

Anyway...I had said in my previous post that I had very much been looking forward to reading this novel, and it didn't disappoint.

Told in two languages (although both are English), the story of David and his immigrant family is powerful, heartbreaking and profoundly moving. I have always had a bit of a fascination with New York City history and how the millions of immigrants who came to the city made their way in such an unfamiliar and intense environment.

David's street language (English) is rough and coarse, but the language he speaks at home (Yiddish, translated into English for the reader) is beautiful and elegant. What happens in his home is a different world to what happens on the street, but violence rears its ugly head in both.

The reader not only gets David's experience of life in New York at the turn of the century, but also his parents' individual experiences. His angry father and loving mother both have their reasons for secrecy, but David is able to piece together their sad history and their reasons for coming to America. The struggles that both face are emblematic of the struggle that most immigrants faced.

Roth's voice in this novel is sympathetic, of course, and his prose invites the reader to feel the same sympathy without pity. A strained and fractured family experience in the wider context of harsh immigrant life: brilliant.

Next up: Great Apes by Will Self.

Future Shock

Finished The Children Of Men by P.D. James yesterday.

A sobering and fascinating look at our nearly immediate future - even though this book was written about ten years ago.

James' prose speaks eloquently of a time when human beings can no longer reproduce, and the human race begins to slowly die out.

The protagonist, Theo, is a professor and scholar who feels as if his life work is all now rather pointless. It does beg the question - what is the point of history when there will be no one there to remember/study it? Would we keep honoring the past if we knew that the future didn't exist?

I would like to think that I would still want to read, look at art, listen to music, visit foreign countries, fill my mind with all that I could. Why wouldn't I? I don't think I would want to wallow in the hopelessness of the situation.

James also writes of a government which treats its elders with contempt, its youth with indifference and its immigrants with a complete lack of respect. She definitely draws parallels with contemporary society.

All wrapped up in a suspense-filled drama, with sympathy, apathy, and nobility.

Up next: Call It Sleep by Henry Roth - a book I have been wanting to read for AGES. Very much looking forward to this one.

Curious, Indeed

Finished The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon a couple of days ago (been busy - now blogging about it, finally).

An easy read - as in quick - but touching and profound.

The story is told from the perspective of Christopher, a British teenager who suffers from Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism. Christopher's condition renders him unable to process emotions and feelings like the average person, but this doesn't mean he doesn't have them himself; he just deals with them in a very different way.

The story begins with the murder of a neighbor's dog, but takes on the shape of a complex and heartbreaking family drama, all seen through Christopher's analytical and seemingly emotionless eyes.

To me, however, it seemed that Christopher DID experience great tides of emotion and feeling (hence him feeling ill and agitated when confronted with an unpleasantness); his mind is simply unable to handle the extremity of feeling - so he retreats into the logical and cold world of mathematics and science to deal with what is happening to him.

Christopher's family situation is desperately sad, but it is because he is the way he is that allows him to deal with it in a detached manner - but with a very deep-down well of feeling that he is unable to show.

Sweet, sad, funny, heartbreaking. A good read.

Up next: The Children of Men by P.D. James.

Whoa

Finished Foucault's Pendulum yesterday.

Whew. My mind is still wrapping itself around this one. This book needs to come with a dictionary, encyclopedia and Cliffs Notes. SO much to discover and digest.

I don't even know if I can talk about this book coherently, so I will just say this: It was one of the most complex, byzantine, labyrinthine, brilliant books I have ever read.

I think my IQ has gone up by a few points just for finishing it.

Seriously, not sure I can say too much else without living up to its unbelievable size - in all senses. Will come back to discuss in a later post.

Up next: A break needed, so some lighter fare: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon.

Very Talented, Indeed

Finished The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith yesterday.

A tense, taut thriller. I had seen the film, so knew the outcome of the novel, but really, seeing the film didn't make the novel any less suspenseful or colorful or enjoyable.

Tom Ripley is a great anti-hero - insecure, malevolent, conniving, clever. His distaste for boring, rich, inane and vapid society people leads him to commit the acts that he does. I didn't condone his actions, but I did not feel an anger or disgust for what he did either.

Tom survives by fooling others to the best of his ability, and it is this ability to deceive that keeps him alive, or at least one step ahead of the others.

There is a constant air of menace throughout the entire novel...the reader doesn't know from page to page if Tom will be caught for his crimes. I felt as if I was along for the wild ride that Tom takes throughout Europe, with the knowledge of what he had done, and secretly hoping that he would get away with it. For what's the fun in getting caught?

A great book - I look forward to more of Highsmith's work.

Next up: Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco.

On "Atoning"

Just finished Atonement by Ian McEwan about an hour ago. Felt compelled to write about it asap.

A beautifully crafted and achingly sad novel...and if I hadn't seen the film adaptation, I would never have guessed the ending (I won't "spoil" it for anyone who hasn't read it yet).

I think it is the idea that McEwan introduces of a lie corrupting and destroying whole lives that resonated with me most. Speaking personally, lies have undone my life in certain ways. I could see how a childish and rash decision to lie can affect not just one life, but many.

The limpid beauty of the Tallis family home is breathtakingly realized by McEwan...the reader can feel the heat, literal and metaphorical. The love between Cecilia and Robbie is touching, tender, sensual and real - their first sexual liaison is all of these and one of the most provocative things I've ever read - and in a good way.

Briony (the Tallis sister whose horrific lie sets the main story in motion) realizes her mistake and tries to "atone" for her transgression. It comes to pass that she has been "atoning" her entire life. To know that she has done wrong and tries to right that wrong doesn't excuse her appalling behavior - and it made it hard for me to sympathize with her. Cecilia and Robbie's stories are much more deserving of mention.

Gorgeous book.

Next up: The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith.

That's Not Sexy

Finished Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller a couple of days ago.

Sorry it's taken a bit of time to write, but had to get to the library first to get my next round of books.

Ok...back to the novel. Did NOT enjoy this book. The sheer amount of sex, references to sex, talking about sex....I'm no prude, but it grew rather tiresome.

I realise that at the time it was written, it was quite a groundbreaking and titillating read. The liberation expressed by the author in early 1930s Paris (post WWI, pre WWII) was seen to be scandalous, but just what a staid and reserved society needed. Miller's incessant references to sex, types of sex, the women he has sex with was most likely PERCEIVED as sexy, but to my cynical, 21st-century eyes, it all seems a bit dated and quite misogynistic.

I will say that Miller's descriptions of his friends, girlfriends, colleagues and Paris itself are worthy of a read - faded glamour, seedy bars, volatile moods, strange behaviours. Interesting.

However, Miller himself (and I am sure this was on purpose) comes across as a self-loathing, manipulative, downtrodden, selfish dilettante. His own self-descrption didn't make me admire him, or want to live in that city at that time with him and his equally disagreeable mates.

Hmmm.

Next up: Atonement by Ian McEwan.