Novels Now

Go smiled, said, “When we see ourselves without judgment, then we’ll begin to see and accept others without judgment. We’ll turn the volume down on the external world, and we’ll see we’re all connected, we’re all same-same.” – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 175 -

Cesar is a troubled seventeen year old, growing up on the streets of Los Angeles. His father is mostly absent. His older brother, Wicho, is serving time for the murder of two teenage boys. Cesar is fast following in his brother’s footsteps – a member of a gang whose violence is pulling Cesar into a world where there is no future. Concerned about her son, and wishing to start over, Cesar’s mother decides to move back to the small town of Unalakleet, Alaska – a fishing village where she grew up. Cesar at first believes the move to be temporary…and makes a bet with his cousin Go-boy that he will move back to LA within a year. But Cesar is unprepared for the power of his cousin’s optimism. Go-boy believes in a Good World Conspiracy…and he is ready to lead the way, sporting an Eskimo Jesus tattoo on one arm while philosophizing about the strength of goodness in their small town.

Go was the only person I’d ever known who could take a good perspective on anything, and the only person I knew who assumed I could and would do the right thing, the good thing. It was obvious that when Wicho told me he believed I would go to college and get him out of jail, he was just messing with a little kid, trying to cheer up his sorry- and lonely-ass little brother. But when Go-boy bet me I’d stay in Alaska, and when Go-boy encouraged me to pursue a hundred other interests and plans, even invited me to help him, it felt authentic. All of it. It was real. And I liked the version of myself that Go-boy saw. – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 116 -

As Cesar adapts to life in Unalakleet, his vision of the world begins to change. Together, with Go-boy and Go-boy’s half sister Kiana, Cesar begins to envision a different future for himself.

I wrote that if we had grown up here, Wicho wouldn’t have shot anybody. There were no gangs on the tundra. Nobody was shooting to claim shoreline. Nobody was walking around town flashing anything but a wave. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

And when it was deep up here our boats didn’t get stuck, and when all of life’s shit landed on a single day, when the moment arose that we wanted to reach for our guns and spray a bullet or two through a couple people, instead we could drive up North River till we ran out of gas, sit on the shore, skip some rocks, and never see another person. Time was everywhere. We could wait anything out. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

Mattox Roesch’s debut novel is about hope born of our connectedness with others. Dark at times, the story explores the roots of despair and how easily an individual can choose the wrong path in their search for identity. Narrated in the original voice of seventeen-year-old Cesar, Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same reveals the struggle in choosing a moral path, the guilt of past actions which can not be undone, and the attempt to find meaning in one’s life.

Roesch’s prose is marked by breaks in the narrative, a shifting between past and present. This style did not always work for me, and although it did create a tension in the novel, I found it mostly annoying. Despite this, I thought Roesch got the voice of Cesar “right.” Tough and occasionally insensitive, Cesar was not always a likable character. Although the novel is about Cesar’s growth, I was more strongly drawn to Go-boy who is a quirky, sensitive guy wanting desperately to believe in the goodness of others. Go-boy’s decompensation, as Cesar becomes stronger, was a powerful aspect of the book.

I finished this book with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I loved the message of the book and the originality of the prose. On the other hand, I found Roesch’s style sometimes difficult to read. I believe young adults will be drawn to Roesch’s teenage narrator and Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same would make for an excellent book discussion. Readers looking to gain insight into a troubled teen’s thoughts will find this novel compelling.

Where is my village? Where do I live? I live on this train. I used to live in one place and I will live in another but now I live in this perfect place between the past and the future, the known and the unknown, the bad and the good. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 128 -

Sri Lanka is located in Southern Asia, an island which lies in the Indian Ocean south of India. The war between the Sinhalese majority and Tamil separatists began in 1983 and the resulting ethnic conflict has contributed to thousands of deaths. Despite a cease-fire negotiated by Norway in 2002 between the government of Sri Lanka and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), renewed violence occurred in 2006. It is against this political backdrop, spanning a 30 year period, that Ru Freeman’s debut novel unfolds.

A Disobedient Girl begins as two parallel stories. Biso, a mother of three who is fleeing her abusive husband, envisions a future of hope and new beginnings but her journey quickly becomes disastrous. As one unpredictable event after another occurs, Biso must make decisions which will have a lasting impact on those closest to her.

Such bliss is not meant to last. In my husband’s house, my children were my real gifts: the older ones had turned fear over and over in my stomach until it molted into rage, and perhaps it was that rage, that sudden fearlessness in me, that had caught Siri’s eye and brought me my youngest, the second daughter, who finally gave wings to my feet. Wings. Or rails. I am grateful for this chance, for the future, for the train that is carrying us there, its carriages full of strangers, kind to one another, kinder than anyone had been to me in my husband’s village. I am grateful for its spaces, which fill up and release people, empty of fear. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 123 -

Latha (a servant girl) and  her mistress Thara (the daughter of high caste parents) grow up together as friends. But when Latha makes a fateful decision to seek revenge against Thara’s mother, the girls’ friendship and Latha’s future is threatened. Latha is sent to a convent, then two years later returns to Thara’s home where she must deal with her own personal desires and the hope for a better future despite the limitations of class and prejudice.

Latha froze. There is was again: a proper servant. That was all they had expected of her. Despite her education, regardless of it, and her looks, she was supposed to be no more, no less. Servant. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 324 -

The novel is narrated in alternating viewpoints: first through the third person limited point of view of Latha over a 30 year span of time; and then through the first person point of view of Biso over the course of a few days. This unique technique is effective in building tension and setting the stage for a surprising twist at the end.

A Disobedient Girl examines the destructive power of secrets, betrayal, loss, and domestic violence, and the power of love to overcome tragedy. Sri Lanka is not only a source, but a destination country for the trafficking of men and women for the purposes of involuntary servitude and commercial sexual exploitation…and in Freeman’s debut novel, this aspect of Sri Lanka is revealed through the eyes of her characters who experience these dangers first hand.

Ru Freeman’s writing is stunning, beautifully crafted and powerful. She carefully reveals her characters’ desires, motivations and flaws…and in so doing, draws the reader into their stories. I found myself marking passage after passage of this extraordinary novel. One passage reads:

All my children grab my body, pressing close to me, screaming with fake terror. I listen to the echoes of other children’s voices from compartments to either side of ours. These shrieks that I have heard each time we pass through a tunnel lift my spirits. They are the sounds of childhood and innocence. When we are out of the tunnel and my children let go of me, I feel unmoored. - from A Disobedient Girl, page 123 -

Indeed, I felt unmoored at times while reading A Disobedient Girl – transported to another time and place, experiencing things which most Americans can only imagine, and feeling moved and haunted by the book’s characters…who although fictional, could be almost any woman living under such circumstances. Freeman does not spare her readers from the raw emotions of fear, anger, or desperation. But, she also allows for the hope of redemption and salvation.

Like the train which Biso boards, A Disobedient Girl moves relentlessly forward towards its heartbreaking, yet hopeful conclusion.  When I turned the final page I felt awed by the power of the human spirit which is able to survive the worst of tragedies; and the strength of people to continue on in the face of loss and overwhelming odds.

Readers who love literary fiction and who want to be wowed by a writer’s talent, should look no further.

Highly recommended.

Read a guest post by Ru Freeman here on Caribousmom.

She used to think that without her brother she would simply cease to exist. But now, as she heard her lungs gasping for air and felt the ache of her knees against the hardwood floor, she knew her body was stubborn; it would insist on remaining alive, even if her life no longer made sense to her. Even if she couldn’t comprehend the world in which she’d found herself. It was frankly impossible, and yet this was her reality now: a world without Billy. – from The Promised World, page 7 -

He never complained that he had to live his life under the shadow of always knowing what Lila could not bear to know. And whenever her pain got too bad, he would remind her of the second part of the plot, an elaborate story of the happy adulthood that he’d constructed out of thin air and taught her to believe in, too. The promised world; their lives, redeemed. – from The Promised World, page 75 -

Lila is a Princeton graduate, a college professor of English Literature and married to the gentle and understanding Patrick. But when Lila’s twin brother Billy threatens a school full of children with an unloaded gun and is killed through “suicide by cop,” Lila’s world unravels. Unable to remember any of her early childhood years and completely dependent on Billy’s interpretation of her past, Lila finds herself floating without an anchor when Billy dies. What really happened to her? What is merely a story… a contrived plot of her life? The Promised World centers around this psychological mystery. Lila must recreate her childhood and unearth both her and Billy’s secrets  in order to not only move forward, but to save her eight year old nephew from a doomed future.

Told from multiple viewpoints, the novel is an examination of memory and the power of storytelling as the characters move through grief, trauma, and betrayal. Tucker’s strength is in her characters who are both deeply flawed and painfully human. Lila is a woman who has essentially been living life like a character in a novel – reality and fantasy have become inexplicably linked. Her struggle to sort out the discrepancies of her life and hold together her marriage with Patrick is raw and believable. Billy’s wife, Ashley, and his children (William and Pearl) have also been caught up in Billy’s world of carefully constructed half-truths. Tucker easily slips into the voice of William – a child who adores his father and only wants to please him, even if it means doing the unthinkable. Although Billy is revealed only through the voices of those around him, he is perhaps the most compelling character – complex, brilliant, and deeply disturbed.

The Promised World is an unnerving novel which examines psychological survival from trauma and loss and questions how well anyone really knows another person. Tucker’s style is conversational and easy to read. The narrative is non-linear and the use of multiple viewpoints works in creating tension – the answers to Billy and Lila’s past are revealed slowly, as if in a dream. I found myself unable to put the book down by the midway point. I wanted to know the truth and I was fascinated with the psychological aspects of the story. Although dark and heartbreaking, The Promised World ultimately delivers a hopeful message.

Readers who have suffered an abusive relationship or been shattered by the suicide of a loved one may find The Promised World difficult to read. But for those who enjoy engrossing character driven novels which examine the human psyche in the aftermath of trauma, Tucker’s book is an intriguing read.

Miss Skeeter move her eyes back to the window, on Miss Hilly’s Buick. She shake her head, just a little. “Aibileen, that talk in there…Hilly’s talk. I mean…”

I pick up a coffee cup, start drying it real good with my cloth.

“Do you ever wish you could…change things?” she asks.

And I can’t help myself. I look at her head on. Cause that’s one a the stupidest questions I ever heard. She got a confused, disgusted look on her face, like she done salted her coffee instead a sugared it. – from The Help, page 10 -

The year is 1962. The place is Jackson, Mississippi. The issue is civil rights. Kathryn Stockett’s best selling debut novel, The Help, is narrated in the unforgettable voices of three women caught up in history and courageous enough to believe things can change simply by sharing their stories.

Skeeter is the white daughter of a cotton farmer. Despite her mother’s wish that she marry a prominent man and become a good Southern wife, Skeeter dreams of a different life for herself – that of a journalist and novelist. Unlike her closest friends, Skeeter doesn’t understand the division between whites and blacks – least of all the hypocrisy of having black women care for their homes and children, but denying them the use of their bathrooms because of fear of “disease.”

Aibileen is the black maid of one of Skeeter’s best friends, Elizabeth. Large, loving and sensitive, Aibileen mourns the loss of her son while wrapping her arms and heart around the white children in her care. Skeeter offers her hope of change – that this new generation might somehow see the racism of their parents and teachers and reject it.

Minny, anther black maid who must face the untrue accusation that she is a thief, is filled with energy, honesty and anger. Her unflagging spirit and kind heart lift her above an abusive marriage and give her the courage to join Aibileen and Skeeter in a project which will shake the racist foundation of a town whose views of segregation have stood fast for far too long.

A Dreft commercial comes on and Miss Celia stares out the back window at the colored man raking up the leaves. She’s got so many azalea bushes, her yard’s going to look like Gone With the Wind come spring. I don’t like azaleas and I sure didn’t like that movie, the way they made slavery look like a big happy tea party. If I’d played Mammy, I’d of told Scarlett to stick those green draperies up her white little pooper. Make her own damn man-catching dress. - from The Help, page 50 -

Thematically, The Help explores parenting, moral values, the many faces of racism, women’s friendships, and the power of joining our voices in a common cause. Skillfully crafted using three narrators in alternating chapters, The Help is a book which is hard to put down. Stockett is a talented storyteller who takes her time in fleshing out her fascinating and complex characters. I found myself growing to care immensely about Aibileen, Minny, and Skeeter. I worried about them, found myself cheering them on, and hoped for a positive resolution of their conflicts. There were moments when I had to remind myself that these were fictional characters, not real people. Perhaps it was the power of their stories, the reminder that less than 50 years ago what they were experiencing was part of our historical record, but Stockett’s characters came alive for me. I felt their fears, their joys, their hurts and triumphs. There are very few books which follow me into my dreams – but The Help was one of these. I went to sleep thinking of the book, and woke up wondering what would happen next in the story.

Kathryn Stockett has written an important novel about what it means to be human regardless of the color of one’s skin. Sensitive, disturbing, and ultimately hopeful, The Help is a must read book.

Highly recommended.

The Bishop’s Man by Linden MacIntyre, 399 pages

I only know Linden MacIntyre for his work as an investigative reporter on the CBC show the fifth estate, but he has a future as a novelist if this book is anything to go by. He writes a somewhat suspenseful tale of a lonely man, a priest facing a personal and spiritual crisis.

The long nights in the glebe give him too much time to think about his own troubled childhood, and to drink, and to think some more. (from the inside cover)

I enjoyed this memoir-ish novel of a priest looking back on his career. It wasn’t the usual parish priest experience however. Father Duncan MacTavish spent some time in Honduras, and as the Bishop’s investigator, was sent in to deal with local priests who had gotten in trouble. His job was to minimize trouble and appease the victim. The Bishop hated the word victim, and was all for hushing up events. Eventually, these situations collide with his memories after he is assigned to the parish he grew up in, and he begins to question his own faith, and the repercussions left in a community after the problem priest was dealt with.

I’m not from Cape Breton, but small towns on an island are probably pretty similar, so the Gaelic influence and reliance of the church in small communities was relate able. MacIntyre grew up on Cape Breton (his memoir is called Causeway: A Passage from Innocence) and he draws a picture of life on the beautiful island with descriptions of land and people.

The bay is flat, endless pewter beneath the rising moon. Hypnotic. (page 64)

The story is told in several strands, and the timeline isn’t completely linear, a reflection of how the present is coloured by past experiences. The first of the book is filled with foreshadowing and hints of things to come, which made me want to keep reading to find out what had happened, and then as events kept happening, I was turning faster and faster as Duncan’s crisis came to a head. I liked the portrayal of the priest as a real person, with struggles and demons, colliding with the expectations of his community. The hierarchy of the church, or maybe it was just his Bishop, looked more interested in power and protecting their position than in admitting what had happened. The topic of abuse within the church was very timely, and I thought it was a fair portrayal of how things were dealt, or not dealt, with.

I’m not sure what the RC church would think of the book, with its comments on celibacy and the discussion on abuse. They are certainly important ideas to be discussing. Interestingly, my parish has just ordained a rare married priest.

4/5 good solid read

The Blue Notebook by James A. Levine

Pages: 210
First Published: Jul. 7, 2009
Genre: literary fiction
Rating: 4.5/5

First sentence:

I have a break now.

Reason for Reading: Honestly, I simply felt compelled to read this, even though it’s not my usual type of reading. I do however enjoy books written in diary format, books with an Indian viewpoint and books written from a child’s point of view.
Comments: This is a heart wrenching book to read. Set in modern India, the story of a nine-year-old girl who is sold by her loving father into prostitution (to pay off his debts) and her presented to us in the first person through her diaries. We are given her story from her present timeline at the age of fifteen as well as from her past as she tells how she came to be in her present circumstances, until past meets present and we only can go forward with her.

This book is going to be a hard read for some people. A child prostitute leads a brutal life and the author leaves no stone unturned nor holds back on any details. Yet, Batuk, the main character, is many things. She is a victim, she is a part of her world, she is a survivor, she is an innocent child, she can be devious, she can experience pure child-like joy and she experiences terror no child should ever have. She is a character that the reader feels both great outrage and compassion for and also admires for her own strength and spirit.

One thing that really struck me as I read was how amazingly real the voice of the fifteen-year-old girl is, while realizing that the book is written by a man. For a man to project this teen’s feminine multi-layered personality so beautifully is a sign of a brilliant author. I look forward to his next novel.

The only thing that disappoints me some is the ambiguous ending. The only thing that stops me from giving a 5* rating. We are left to sort things out for ourselves and decide what happened. It ends in such a way that one can assume that it ended a certain way but if your not happy with that there is plenty of ambiguity to perceive your own ending. I prefer my books to tell me how it ends.

There is a lot of graphic s*xual detail, though none of it is gratuitous. It is necessary for such a story to show what really goes on in this world. This is a book that will open your eyes to something that you may not wish to have opened to you but how can you *not* go on without knowing these truths about your world.

What had persuaded her to buy the house, though, were none of these sensible reasons but the thought that sprang into her mind at the first sight of the address – 41 Fortune Street – that her grandfather would have liked the name. “Straight out of Dickens,” she could hear him say, straw hat rocking. The pleasure of that image more than outweighed her own faint twinge of superstition. - from The House on Fortune Street, page 275 -

The House on Fortune Street is a leisurely novel about how our past reflects upon our future, and how our relationships with others are inextricably linked to how we integrate events from our childhood.

The book is broken into four separate parts – each narrated by a different character. Abigail  is an actress and playwright who immerses herself in loveless sex, protecting herself from the intimacy she knows may hurt her. Sean has left his wife and struggles to complete his dissertation on Keats. He moves into the Fortune Street house with Abigail and finds himself regretting his decisions. Dara is Abigail’s best friend from college. Highly sensitive, she works as a counselor and longs to find true love and start a family, but her questions about why her father abandoned his family when she was a young girl overshadow her happiness. Cameron, Dara’s father, is living with a secret and struggling to come to terms with yearnings he is unable to explain.

Early in the novel, a pivotal event occurs … and from this point onward the reader searches for understanding of each character’s motivation, desire, and fears. Livesey has given each character “a literary godparent” – an author who the character relates to and provides further understanding of that character’s personality. For Sean, Keats provides that role; for Abigail is is Charles Dickens; Dara relates to Charlotte Bronte, and the novel Jane Eyre; and Cameron connects with Charles Dodgson (better known as Lewis Carroll).

“My grandfather thought he could learn everything he needed to know about England by studying Dickens. He said everyone had a book, or a writer, that was the key to their life.” – from The House on Fortune Street, page 258 -

Margot Livesey’s prose is gentle and probing. In The House on Fortune Street she brings her story together with patience, carefully flushing out each character and putting together the pieces of their lives as though constructing a psychological jigsaw puzzle. Thematically she explores the idea of luck or chance vs. choice, and examines the role which early childhood plays in the development of our personalities. Specifically, she gives the reader a glimpse into the complexity of women’s friendships – the intimacy, as well as the secrecy which these types of relationships engender.

I found myself deeply involved in the lives of Livesey’s characters – I grew to care about them, to wonder about their choices, and to sympathize with their struggles. The format of the novel – a series of interlocking narratives – gave depth to the story which might not have happened if told only through the eyes of one character.

The House on Fortune Street is a heartbreaking tale which deals with some uncomfortable subject matter. It is not filled with action, but requires patience and a slow reading to fully appreciate. There are no sudden “aha” moments, but rather a gradual realization and understanding of the underlying message of the novel. At times I wanted to flip ahead to get to the nitty-gritty of the story, but I am glad I restrained myself from doing so as I think I would have been disappointed that there are no easy answers in this book.

Readers who enjoy well-written literary fiction will like Livesey’s style. Written with sensitivity and compassion, The House on Fortune Street is recommended.

Standing above the rug, he began to pray, but his thoughts continually turned to Nouf. For the sake of modesty, he tried not to imagine her face or her body, but the more he thought about her, the more vivid she became. In his mind she was walking through the desert, leaning into the wind, black cloak whipping against her sunburned ankles. – from Finding Nouf, page 2 -

Nayir ash-Sharqi, a desert guide, is hired by the Shrawi family to locate a family member who has disappeared. Nouf, only sixteen years old and planning her wedding, appears to have run away into the desert. But when her body is found in a wadi and the coroner reveals her cause of death as drowning, disturbing questions arise. Nayir joins forces with Katya Hijazi, a lab worker at the coroner’s office who is like no woman he has ever met. Together they begin to piece together Nouf’s last days and hours to uncover the mystery surrounding her death.

Finding Nouf is at its heart a mystery, but it is also more than this. Set in modern Saudi Arabia, the novel explores the role of women in a gender-segregated society which clings to its history while at the same time must address the changing views of the women it seeks to control and protect. Nayir is a devote man who prays regularly and wishes to follow the laws of Allah; but he is also a bachelor who fantasizes  of one day finding a woman with whom he can share his life.

Nayir sipped his tea and marveled at the casual way that Muhammad had spoken of his wife. There had been no need to explain who she was, and telling Nayir her name was something else entirely. It put Muhammad squarely in the category of young infidel wannabe. Gone were the days of calling one’s wife “the mother of Muhammad Junior”; today women had first names, last names, jobs and whatnot. He wondered how many men had known Nouf’s name. – from Finding Nouf, page 97 -

Nayir’s conflicted feelings provide the tension in the book. At first I disliked Nayir, finding him rigidly pious and chauvinistic. Ferraris does a remarkable job turning Nayir from a largely distasteful character to one the reader begins to respect. It is Nayir’s growth as a man (who comes to see women as human beings with dreams, desires and individual strengths) which elevates the novel to more than a simple whodunnit.

Katya represents the modern Saudi woman – a woman who has her own job and dares to speak to men not related to her. It is through her that the reader begins to gain a deeper understanding of Nouf – a teenager from a wealthy family who yearns for freedom.

Zoe Ferraris once lived in Saudi Arabia during the time following the first Gulf War. At that time, she was married to a Saudi-Palestinian Bedouin and was exposed to a culture largely closed to Americans. Knowing this about the author gave me respect for the perspective of this novel which although seen mostly through the eyes of the lead male character, exposes the dreams and desires of women living in a paternalistic society.

Ferraris’ writing is clean and riveting. The core mystery (what actually happened to Nouf) has many twists and turns which kept me guessing right to the end. This is a novel I would classify as “literary mystery” as its focus is as much on its main characters (and their growth) as on the mystery which propels the story.

Readers who enjoy a good mystery, as well as literary fiction, will enjoy this look inside the Saudi culture.

Recommended.

Finding Nouf is the 2009 Alex Award Winner

Zoe Ferraris Website

New Novel due out Spring 2010 (sequel to Finding Nouf): City of Veils

a mercy by Toni Morrison

Pages: 167
First Published: Nov. 11, 2008 (Paperback - Aug. 11 2009)
Genre: historical fiction, literary fiction
Rating: 2.5/5

First sentence:

Don’t be afraid.

Reason for Reading: I am in the process of reading all the author’s books. This is her latest as of July 2009.

Comments: The time is 1680, the place is colonial America. This is the story of four women: Rebekka, an English girl sent to America as a wife whose family paid a monetary dowry; Florens, a black slave child (later woman) who is traded in exchange for partial payment of a debt; Sorrow, a European (Irish I find myself thinking for some reason) foundling coming to womanhood who is given as a gift to protect her from the growing boys in her current household; finally Lina, another child (later) woman who remembers vividly some small parts of her Native American life before she is sold and paid for. All these women belong to a man who doesn’t believe in slavery, who despises those who does. He is a fairly decent, kind man but ultimately wants to have the riches of those he despises. But most of all, as the jacket flap states: “A Mercy reveals what lies beneath the surface of slavery. But at its heart it is the ambivalent, disturbing story of a mother who casts off her daughter in order to save her …”

The story is told in many voices: all the woman have their turn (some many times), the man behind the women and the farm hands. The story is told in a progressive forward movement but also slips into flashback scenes to give backgrounds to the characters. In such a short book, this becomes quite confusing at times. I spent a large majority of the time not knowing who was speaking until halfway through their narrative. Generally, I enjoy switching points of view and flashbacks but the book was just too short for me to get a grasp on anything really substantial. I must say for half the book I was under the impression Lina was a Native American and then I came to think she was African and I’m pretty sure she’s Native, but I could be wrong… Needless to say, the book confounded me more than enlightened me in any way.

I couldn’t connect with any of the characters, nor did I really find the story emotionally charged which is something I’ve come to expect with Toni Morrison, from her books I’ve read so far. There is also a heavy theme of religious (namely Protestant) intolerance running through the book. First from a Dutch settler (Calvinist) towards Catholics in general, then Anabaptists causing grief in those other settlers who don’t understand their ways and finally the term used becomes “the Protestants” (though I still think we are talking Anabaptists) as the slave people talk of how the Protestant’s religion says that certain people such as savages (ie. blacks/natives, etc.) are not equal in God’s eyes to them. This theme is pretty heavy handed throughout and I didn’t know what to make of it. Does Morrison try to say slavery began with Anabaptist intolerance? Protestant intolerance? Christian? Religion, in general? I don’t know anything about Anabaptists but when you get to broad terms such as Protestant or religious intolerance for each one intolerant person there are many good-hearted embracing people and I just don’t buy into the “religion is the root of all evil” camp.

A readable story but with each chapter change the figuring out of where you are and what’s going on distracted me from enjoying the book as much as I could have otherwise. Fans, go ahead and read it, you may like it a lot more than I did. Never read Toni Morrison before? Don’t start with this one.

The main thing isn’t about dying or how old you are when you die, it’s what you are doing the moment you die. In Taniguchi the heroes die while climbing Mount Everest. Since I haven’t the slightest chance of taking a stab at K2 or the Grandes Jorasses before June sixteenth, my own personal Everest will be an intellectual endeavor. I have set my goal to have the greatest number possible of profound thoughts, and to write them down in this notebook: even if nothing has any meaning, the mind, at least, can give it a shot, don’t you think? – from The Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 26 -

Renee Michel, concierge of a wealthy apartment building in Paris, screens her true nature from the residents she serves. She is a woman whose prickly attitude and appearance belies her love of art and literature, someone who finds beauty in a camellia and is horrified when a comma is misused in a sentence.

Madame Michel has the elegance of the hedgehog: on the outside, she’s covered in quills, a real fortress, but my gut feeling is that on the inside, she has the same simple refinement as the hedgehog: a deceptively indolent little creature, fiercely solitary – and terribly elegant. – from The Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 143 -

Paloma Josse, at age twelve, is plotting her own suicide before she turns thirteen and has decided to burn down the building in which she lives. But before she dies, she vows to write down profound thoughts in haiku. Highly intelligent and mature beyond her years, Paloma is fascinated by the beauty of movement such as a petal falling from a rose. She is also adept at observation…of the world at large and of her family whose dysfunction includes a depressed mother and a misguided sister.

When Kakura Ozu, a distinguished Japanese man, buys the apartment on the fourth floor of Renee and Paloma’s building the three are drawn together – people who appreciate art and simple beauty, and are seeking meaning in life.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog started slowly for me – in fact, I nearly stopped reading it at one point. But I persisted, and I am glad I did because Muriel Barbery has written an exceptional story about appearance, class, beauty, and the search for meaning in one’s life. Written in alternating viewpoints between Renee and Paloma, the book shows how an older lady from a poor background is not that different from a twelve year old being raised in a wealthy family.

We sit there for countless minutes holding hands, not speaking. I have become friends with a lovely twelve-year-old soul to whom I feel very grateful, and however incongruous this connection may be – asymmetrical in age, condition and circumstances – nothing can taint my emotion. - from The Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 289 -

The novel is rich in philosophy and thoughts about culture, art and literature. But it is the secret lives of its characters which drive the narrative and keep the reader turning the pages. Barbery’s writing is beautifully wrought and captures the small things in life which bring joy, wonder, and hope.

When of a sudden Old Japan intervenes: from one of the apartments wafts a melody, clearly, joyfully distinct. Someone is playing a classical piece on the piano. Ah, sweet, impromptu moment, lifting the veil of melancholy…In a split second of eternity, everything is changed, transfigured. A few bars of music, rising from an unfamiliar piece, a touch of perfection in the flow of human dealings – I lean my head slowly to one side, reflect on the camellia on the moss of the temple, reflect on a cup of tea, while outside the wind is rustling the foliage, the forward rush of life is crystallized in a brilliant jewel of a moment that knows neither projects nor future, human destiny is rescued from the pale succession of days, glows with the light at last and, surpassing time, warms my tranquil heart. – from Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 106 -

The Elegance of the Hedgehog was translated from the French by Alison Anderson. A sensation in France when it was published in 2007, the novel has won the hearts of Americans as well, which seems to validate Barbery’s theme that cultural differences do not preclude finding the beauty in simplicity. The Elegance of the Hedgehog is a simple story that explores complex ideas and leaves the reader fulfilled.

Highly recommended.

Far North by Marcel Theroux

Pages: 314
First Published: Jun. 15 ‘09
Genre: post apocalyptic fiction
Rating: 4/5

First sentence:

Every day I buckle on my guns and go out to patrol this dingy city.

Reason for Reading: As soon as I saw the words dystopian and post apocalyptic associated with the plot I was there. Those are favourite genres of mine.

Comments: Makepeace lives a solitary life in the Russian/Asian North, the only survivor in a once thriving town of American settlers. This is a world sparsely populated, where occasional persons pass by on the road but only rarely these days. Groups have settled in different areas and Makepeace begins to see what the world is really like after a plane flies by overhead and a decision is made to find the fabled land where civilization is still running, where they still have planes. Makepeace sees native tribes who are friendly and living off the land proudly, native tribes who are brutal and take what they want leaving pillage and bodies behind, a society based on strict religious rule and more but ultimately Makepeace is captured by a slave camp where work is gruelling but at least food is readily and freely given.

I really enjoyed this book. Makepeace is a very interesting character and while secondary characters come and go Makepeace is the one that is fully fleshed out and whose past is slowly revealed throughout the book. The atmosphere is dismal and bleak, as is the writing. I found it a slow read just as the trudging through snow and back breaking work would slow one down, it also slowed down my reading.

Blurbs on this book use either the word dystopia or post apocalypse but I’m going to take a stand and say I would not apply the term dystopia to this book. The world is too large, there are too many societies, the scope is more global and there is no true oppressing force. Sure there is oppression but it is from various sources of different makings. The book is certainly post apocalyptic and as the reason is revealed, truly believable. When reading modern apocalypse books I’m always leery of how heavily they will rely on “global warming” (sorry “climate change”) and I think the author’s theory of our ultimate doom should be believable to those on either side of that particular fence.

Religion is a strong theme in the story as well. Although the author is certainly against it. There are a lot of Biblical references in the narrative and yet the main character is agnostic (at the least) and all the Christian characters are villains or fools. The Muslim characters are shown as grouping in cliques and their religion makes them stand out, for various reasons, in the different societies encountered in the book. Being Christian myself, it is always disappointing when characters don’t find redemption, but neither is the book offensive, in fact, it is quite thought-provoking. How would a truly Christian character or society have affected the outcome of Makepeace’s story?

A fascinating tale of self-preservation at all costs, perseverance that never ends, greed, love, friendship, betrayal. Most of all though it is a desolate, frightening tale of our possible future which still manages to leave a feeling of hope for the future of mankind.

The Beacon by Susan Hill

Pages: 154
First Published: May 11, ‘09 (UK/Can) Nov. 24,’09 (US)
Genre: novella, literary fiction
Rating: 3.5/5 (If I gave 1/4 points, which I don’t, I’d give it 3.75/5)

First sentence:

May Prime had been with her mother all afternoon, sitting in the cane chair a few feet away from the bed, but suddenly at seven o’clock she had jumped up and run out of the house and into the yard and stood staring at the gathering sky because she could not bear the dying a second longer.

Reason for Reading: I have tried (and enjoy) the author’s mystery series and wanted to try some of her fiction.
Comments: With a novella one can’t say much about the plot without telling the whole story. So briefly. Set in the “North Country” of England a family of four children grew up in the fifties on a farm far from any neighbors but with a little village close enough by. After they’ve all grown, one of the boys leaves the area for good never to return. This book examines how that effects those left behind, while it examines their past and their present especially through the eyes of May, the eldest daughter.

Beautifully written in stark language. This is a desolate story full of atmosphere to match. It actually has a Gothic feel with the lonely farmhouse, named The Beacon, and the silence inside as it contains May and her dying mother, then May and her mother’s body and finally May on her own. I enjoyed the process of reading this but as often happens with books so short I wanted more. I really wanted to know more about May, but I think that was the whole point of the story. Right from the beginning we are aware that their is a secret and then in my mind I felt as if their were two secrets and only one of them is revealed. The final ending has me stumped. I’m not sure I understand it all. Oh, I have some ideas and one that pervades is it tells the answer to the second secret but it’s not what I suspected. I’ll be thinking about this for a while.

Susan Hill fans will definitely want to read this, but if you haven’t read the author before it’s best not to start with this ambiguous story.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Historical Fiction
2009 Amy Einhorn Books
Finished on 3/25/09
Rating: 5/5 (Outstanding)

Product Description

Three ordinary women are about to take one extraordinary step.

Twenty-two-year-old Skeeter has just returned home after graduating from Ole Miss. She may have a degree, but it is 1962, Mississippi, and her mother will not be happy till Skeeter has a ring on her finger. Skeeter would normally find solace with her beloved maid Constantine, the woman who raised her, but Constantine has disappeared and no one will tell Skeeter where she has gone.

Aibileen is a black maid, a wise, regal woman raising her seventeenth white child. Something has shifted inside her after the loss of her own son, who died while his bosses looked the other way. She is devoted to the little girl she looks after, though she knows both their hearts may be broken.

Minny, Aibileen’s best friend, is short, fat, and perhaps the sassiest woman in Mississippi. She can cook like nobody’s business, but she can’t mind her tongue, so she’s lost yet another job. Minny finally finds a position working for someone too new to town to know her reputation. But her new boss has secrets of her own.

Seemingly as different from one another as can be, these women will nonetheless come together for a clandestine project that will put them all at risk. And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.

In pitch-perfect voices, Kathryn Stockett creates three extraordinary women whose determination to start a movement of their own forever changes a town, and the way women—mothers, daughters, caregivers, friends—view one another. A deeply moving novel filled with poignancy, humor, and hope, The Help is a timeless and universal story about the lines we abide by, and the ones we don’t.

About the Author

Kathryn Stockett was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi. After graduating from the University of Alabama with a degree in English and Creative Writing, she moved to New York City, where she worked in magazine publishing and marketing for nine years. This is her first novel.

I was first drawn to the attractive cover art of this book and it quickly found its way to my stack of ARCs, but it wasn’t until I’d readKay and Tara’s lovely reviews that I decided the time was right to begin reading The Help. I’d been on quite a roll, reading winner after winner, and I trusted both recommendations, feeling confident I was in for another enjoyable book. And what a great book it turned out to be! The characters are fleshed out and memorable, the dialogue is convincingly believable, and I fell in love with Aibileen and Minny, often forgetting that they were characters in a novel.

Stockett is a terrific storyteller and should be very proud of her debut novel. Coming in at just under 450 pages, I almost wish it had been longer; I hated to leave these characters and longed to see what the future held in store for Aibileen, Minny and Skeeter after I turned that final page. I’ve been saying this a lot these past three months, but I simply couldn’t put this book down and often found myself thinking about the characters when I wasn’t reading. They invaded my mind and left a permanent mark on my soul. The setting and time period is one with which I am only vaguely familiar, having spent that portion of my very early childhood in Canada. We did not have maids, nor did we experience the ugly prejudices so rampant in the United States in the early sixties, and thus I cringed as I read passages such as this:

In a rare breeze, my copy of Life magazine flutters. Audrey Hepburn smiles on the cover, no sweat beading on her upper lip. I pick it up and finger the wrinkled pages, flip to the story on the Soviet Space Girl. I already know what’s on the next page. Behind her face is a picture of Carl Roberts, a colored schoolteacher from Pelahatchie, forty miles from here. “In April, Carl Roberts told Washington reporters what it means to be a black man in Mississippi, calling the governor ‘a pathetic man with the morals of a streetwalker.’ Roberts was found cattle-branded and hung from a pecan tree.”

It’s difficult to write about this book without giving too much away. It’s also very difficult — painful, in fact — to write about the terrible attitudes of that time and place. I often found myself full of shame for some of the characters represented in this story, many of whom were ignorant and closed-minded. I will say that I enjoyed all the historical references (Medgar Evers, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., the March in Washington, D.C. etc.). I especially appreciated the manner in which Stockett dropped little bits of history into the narrative without it feeling like she was going down a list, checking off each historical tidbit as she incorporated it into her story. For example, Chapter 19 begins with the following:

It was 1963. The Space Age they’re calling it. A man has circled the earth in a rocketship. They’ve invented a pill so married women don’t have to get pregnant. A can of beer opens with a single finger instead of a can opener. Yet my parents’ house is still as hot as it was in 1899, the year Great-grandfather built it.

and

The summer rolls behind us like a hot tar spreader. Ever colored person in Jackson gets in front a whatever tee-vee set they can find, watches Martin Luther King stand in our nation’s capital and tell us he’s got a dream. I’m in the church basement watching. Our own Reverend Johnson went up there to march and I find myself scanning the crowd for his face. I can’t believe so many peoples is there–two-hundred-fifty thousand. And the ringer is, sixty thousand a them iswhite. “Mississippi and the word is two very different places,” the Deacon say and we all nod cause ain’t it the truth.

and

On the news, now Roger Sticker is reporting in front of the Jackson post office with the same stupid grin as the war reporter. “…this modern postal addressing system is called a Z-Z-ZIP code, that’s right, I said Z-Z-ZIP code, that’s five numbers to be written along the bottom of your envelope…”

Funny how you can take things for granted, believing they’ve been around forever and not just 45 years! I’d never not used a ZIP code when addressing a letter and had never stopped to think that there was in fact a time, not all that long ago, in which they didn’t exist.

Suffice it to say, this is a fabulous read. I think it has incredible depth and would be a great book club choice. There’s plenty to discuss and it could easily carry a meeting well into its second hour. And I love what the author says in her final words (Too Little, Too Late):

Like my feelings for Mississippi, my feelings for The Help conflict greatly. Regarding the lines between black and white women, I am afraid I have told too much. I was taught not to talk about such uncomfortable things, that it was tacky, impolite, they might hear us.

I am afraid I have told too little. Not just that life was so much worse for many black women working in the homes in Mississippi, but also that there was so much more love between white families and black domestics than I had the ink or time to portray.

What I am sure about is this: I don’t presume to think that I know what it really felt like to be a black woman in Mississippi, especially in the 1960s. I don’t think it is something any white woman on the other end of a black woman’s paycheck could ever truly understand. But trying to understand is vital to our humanity. In The Help there is one line that I truly prize:

This isn’t simply a great book for fans of historical fiction and book clubs; it’s an important work of literature that should be taught in history classes in high schools across America. Just as we should never forget the Holocaust, we should also never forget the despicable treatment of our fellow citizens.

Kudos, Kathryn! This is a superb story and one I’ll be anxious to recommend to friends and customers alike. I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us next!

Little Bee by Chris Cleave
Fiction
2009 Simon & Schuster
Finished on 4/9/09
Rating: 4.5/5 (Terrific!)

Product Description

From the author of the international bestseller Incendiary comes a haunting novel about the tenuous friendship that blooms between two disparate strangers — one an illegal Nigerian refugee, the other a recent widow from suburban London.

We don’t want to tell you what happens in this book. It is a truly special story and we don’t want to spoil it. Nevertheless, you need to know enough to buy it, so we will just say this: This is the story of two women. Their lives collide one fateful day, and one of them has to make a terrible choice, the kind of choice we hope you never have to face. Two years later, they meet again—the story starts there…

I went into this book completely blind. Although I’d seen it at work (who could miss that brilliantly colored cover art?!), I had no idea what it was about and hadn’t heard any buzz (no pun intended) about the details of the story. Then I came across Marcia’s enticing review and decided I had to give it a read. Picked up a copy and devoured it in just a couple of days. Unputdownable! I fell in love with Little Bee and Sarah’s son, Charlie (the latter of whom provides a touch of much needed humor in this distressing, yet powerful novel), and know they will join my ever-growing list of memorable characters.

Cleave is a marvelous storyteller. The main characters are fully realized and the dialogue is well executed and realistic. I loved the author’s device for explaining cultural differences by having Little Bee explain how she would describe a particular situation to “the girls from back home.”

I wait for a gap in the traffic and then I ran across to the center of the road. I climbed over the metal barrier. This time a great many car horns were blown at me. I ran across, and up the green grass bank at the other side of the road. I sat down. I was out of breath. I watched the traffic racing past below me, three lines in one direction and three lines in the other. If I was telling this story to the girls from back home they would be saying, Okay, it was the morning, so the people were traveling to work in the fields. But why do the people who are driving from right to left not exchange their fields with the people who are driving from left to right? That way everyone could work in the fields near to their homes. And then I would just shrug because there are no answers that would not lead to more foolish questions, like What is an office and what crops can you grow in it?

Cleave paints a vivid portrait of the harsh realities in an immigration detention center:

Me, I was a woman under white fluorescent strip lights, in an underground room in an immigration detention center forty miles east of London. There were no seasons there. It was cold, cold, cold, and I did not have anyone to smile at. Those cold years are frozen inside me. The African girl they locked up in the immigration detention center, poor child, she never really escaped. In my soul she is still locked up in there, forever, under the fluorescent lights, curled up on the green linoleum floor with her knees tucked up underneath her chin. And this woman they released from the immigration detention center, this creature that I am, she is a new breed of human. There is nothing natural about me. I was born—no, I was reborn—in captivity. I learned my language from your newspapers, my clothes are your castoffs, and it is your pound that makes my pockets ache with its absence. Imagine a young woman cut from a smiling Save the Children magazine advertisement, who dresses herself in threadbare pink clothes from the recycling bin in your local supermarket car park and speaks English like the leader column of The Times, if you please. I would cross the street to avoid me. Truly, this is the one thing that people from your country and people from my country agree on. They say, That refugee girl is not one of us. That girl does not belong. That girl is a halfling, a child of an unnatural mating, an unfamiliar face in the moon.

On an asylum seeker’s newly found freedom:

Outside, the fresh air smelled of wet grass. It blew in my face. The smell made me panic. For two years I had smelled only bleach, and my nail varnish, and the other detainees’ cigarettes. Nothing natural. Nothing like this. I felt that if I took one step forward, the earth itself would rise up and reject me. There was nothing natural about me now. I stood there in my heavy boots with my breasts strapped down, neither a woman nor a girl, a creature who had forgotten her language and learned yours, whose past had crumbled to dust.

On desperation and loneliness:

Three weeks and five thousand miles on a tea ship—maybe if you scratched me you would still find that my skin smells of it. When they put me in the immigration detention center, they gave me a brown blanket and a white plastic cup of tea. And when I tasted it, all I wanted to do was to get back into the boat and go home again, to my country. Tea is the taste of my land: it is bitter and warm, strong, and sharp with memory. It tastes of longing. It tastes of the distance between where you are and where you come from. And it vanishes—the taste of it vanishes from your tongue when your lips are still hot from the cup. It disappears, like plantations stretching up into the mist. I have heard that your country drinks more tea than any other. How sad that must make you—like children who long for absent mothers. I am sorry.

Little Bee on the sad irony of rock music’s popularity:

“Everyone in my village liked U2,” I said. “Everyone in my country, maybe. Wouldn’t that be funny, if the oil rebels were playing U2 in their jungle camps, and the government soldiers were playing U2 in their trucks. I think everyone was killing everyone else and listening to the same music. Do you know what? The first week I was in the detention center, U2 were number one here too. That is a good trick about this world, Sarah. No one likes each other, but everyone likes U2.”

As I sit here composing this review, I find myself thinking back to The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver’s excellent novel about a missionary family’s experience in an African village in the 1960s. Both Little Bee and The Poisonwood Bible deal with tragic violence and political unrest experienced in Nigeria and the Belgian Congo, respectively, and yet Cleve’s compelling story of loss and survival never feels preachy or pedantic. Little Bee is an excellent choice for a book club discussion, perhaps even combined with Kingsolver’s novel for comparison.

In the news: Kidman vying for film rights

Final word? Can I say I loved this before Oprah smacks her logo on the cover and claims it for her book club?!

Amazing Journey

Skeeter Phelan just graduated college and is trying to go about her day to day living like a good white Southern woman should. She is a active member in the Junior league, she plays Bridge with her friends, and even goes out on a date that her best friend Hilly set her up with. Her over bearing mother wants nothing more for her daughter than to marry, live in a nice house, and have a black maid. So what’ s wrong with her? Why isn’t this enough?

Skeeter has her own aspirations and dreams big for a southern white woman. She wants to actually make use of her college degree and become a writer. She sends her resume to Harper and Row in New York City. Amazingly she actually hears back from the editor. Not with a job but with some sound advice. Skeeter quietly follows it.

On her path to becoming a writer, Skeeter starts to question the norms of the southern society she lives in. This is when she forges an unlikely friendship with two black maids. The book is narrated in turn by Skeeter and the two maids, Aibileen and Minny.

This is an amazing book about race relations in the south during the Civil Rights era. Reading this book was like Kathryn Stockett put me in a rocket and transported me back in time to the 1960’s south! I lost hours of sleep and had a hard time prying the book out of my hands.

The character and plot development were stellar, that of a seasoned writer. Imagine my surprise when I learned that this is Stockett’s first novel! I rarely read a book more than once because there are so many that I want to read however, this book is worth a return visit! I see quite a promising writing career ahead for Kathryn Stockett and cannot recommend this book highly enough!

5/5

First settlement in New South Wales

Born in 1767 England, Daniel Rooke was a boy of great intelligence. He was exceptional with numbers and has a keen sense of curiosity about where numbers could lead him. Even though he had this intelligence or in part because of it he had trouble forming friendships with his peers.

Daniel was accepted to At Portsmouth Naval College on scholarship and became quite interested in astronomy. He becomes a Lieutenant in the Navy and goes on a mission to take convicts to New South Wales. On the ship he took on the role of navigator and once in Australia, that of Astronomer. Part of the mission was to get to know the natives and try to befriend them so that the convicts and others could live in safety.

As Astronomer, Rooke was given permission to build an observatory away from the camp to live and work in. After a time some of the natives started visiting him there and he built up a friendship with a young girl named Tagaran. She teaches him the native language and he keeps meticulous records about their conversations and the language. However, soon the relationship between the natives and soldiers deteriorates and Rooke has to choose between his friendship with the natives and duty.

I loved Kate Grenville’s The Secret River (see my review) and was highly anticipating her next book. While I quite enjoyed it, I didn’t love it like The Secret River. It took a long time for me to warm up to the character of Daniel Rooke . Once her started his relationship with the natives, I did warm up to him and loved reading about his special friendship with Tagaran. The problem is that it took well over 100 pages to lead up to this and it didn’t last very long. I would have like to explore the relationship further. Also, in the last chapter when find out the Rooke had been married but nothing about the relationship. We are never introduced to his wife.

That said, I did enjoy The Lieutenant and would recommend it, especially to those interested in the first settlement in New South Wales.

3.5/5

The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Muriel Barbery
325 pages

“They didn’t recognize me,” I repeat. 
He stops, in turn, my hand still on his arm. 
“It is because they have never seen you,” he says. (p. 303)

Renée is a concierge in a posh Paris apartment building. She is a recluse, quietly tending to the needs of her wealthy tenants. They consider her inferior, and she plays up to the stereotype. But behind closed doors, Renée is an intellectual who reads Tolstoy, watches Japanese films, and has in-depth knowledge of art. And unbeknownst to Renée, a kindred spirit resides in her building: Paloma, a 12-year-old girl of extremely high intelligence.      

For most of this novel, Renée and Paloma lead separate lives. Then one day, a new tenant moves in and unwittingly brings them together. And this marks a turning point in the novel. Beginning as an interesting and very well-written character study, The Elegance of the Hedgehog becomes an incredibly emotional work. In very simple and subtle ways Renée, Paloma, and the new tenant Kazuro each exert profound influence on their new friends, taking each other to unprecedented levels emotionally and spiritually. The last two chapters are some of the most moving literature I’ve ever read. 

This is a beautiful book. I loved it. 

The White Tiger
Aravind Adiga
276 pages

See, this country, in its days of greatness, when it was the richest nation on earth, was like a zoo. A clean, well kept, orderly zoo. Everyone in his place, everyone happy. … And then, thanks to all those politicians in Delhi, on the fifteenth of August, 1947 — the day the British left — the cages had been left open; and the animals had attacked and ripped each other apart and jungle law replaced zoo law. Those that were the most ferocious, the hungriest, had eaten everyone else up, and grown big bellies. (p. 53-54)

Balram Halwai lives in “the jungle” that is 21st century India. The book is organized as a lengthy letter from Balram to China’s Premier, shortly before the Premier’s visit to Bangalore. In the letter, written over several days, Balram describes how he left his rural village to work as a driver for the son of the village’s wealthiest man. He landed this position completely by luck, and used it to rise up in Indian servant society, and eventually become an entrepreneur.

But this is no rags-to-riches story. It is instead a sometimes humorous, sometimes scathing account of contemporary Indian society. Adiga vividly describes the stark contrasts between “haves” and “have nots,” and is resigned to this remaining as status quo for years to come:

An Indian revolution? No, sir. It won’t happen. People in this country are still waiting for the war of their freedom to come from somewhere else — from the jungles, from the mountains, from China, from Pakistan. That will never happen. (p. 261)

The White Tiger explores many of the same themes as A Fine Balance, but I found the latter better-written and far more moving. This was an OK read, but disappointing compared to other Booker Prize winners. 

A Mercy
Toni Morrison
167 pages

One afternoon a few months ago, I was sentenced to that purgatory that is a 2-hour drive on the New Jersey Turnpike. But then my spirits were lifted heavenwards by a National Public Radio interview with Toni Morrison. Ms. Morrison discussed her new book, A Mercy, and rewarded her audience with a reading. Sheer bliss. I knew I had to read this book! 

My, oh my, oh my. Morrison packed so much richness into this short novel. The richness is centered around a tiny bit of storyline, in which Florens, a slave girl, is sent on an errand to get help for her seriously ill mistress. But there’s so much more in the stories of each character, told in their own voices: Jacob and Rebekka, the sadly childless European landowners; Florens, who was sold away from her mother to repay a debt; Lina and Sorrow, women who came to the farm via slave ship; Willard and Scully, the white indentured servants; and the blacksmith, a nameless free African who captured Florens’ heart. I found myself enveloped in Morrison’s prose, savoring every word, as with this description of an Atlantic crossing: Women of and for men, in those few moments they were neither. And when finally the lamp died, swaddling them in black, for a long time, oblivious to the footsteps above them, or the lowing behind them, they did not stir. For them, unable to see the sky, time became simply the running sea, unmarked, eternal, and of no matter. (p. 85) 

This is a wonderful, moving, haunting book. Highly recommended. (  )