Beloved By Many (Beloved)

For someone who went to high school in America and, indeed, took every English class she could fit into her schedule, it is probably quite appalling that I've never read a book by Toni Morrison. Because her writings are set in America's past with a particular focus on the culture and history of African Americans, Morrison's novels have instilled themselves into the US education system and appear on many a reading list.

But while my peers were reading classics like Pride and Prejudice and Great Expectations, I was either immersing myself in trendy contemporary fiction like 1984 or Catch-22 (some things never change), or fulfilling my reading requirement at the last minute by reading a 70-page, double-spaced play like Equus or A Streetcar Named Desire.

Nonetheless, Toni Morrison seemed to follow me around - excerpts from her novels appearing in a few of my university courses and newly published books staring down at me from bookshop shelves. At the age of 76, Morrison is still going strong so I decided I owed it to her, as well as my literary-lazy high school self, to read one of her offerings.

Beloved (1987) is Morrison's fifth, and probably best known, novel. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1988 and made into a movie starring Oprah Winfrey and Thandie Newton, the novel revolves around the life of ex-slave Sethe in 1920s Cincinnati.

Haunted by her past (quite literally), Sethe carves out a lonely life for her and her daughter, Denver. The unexpected arrival of Paul D Garner, another former slave from the 'Sweet Home' plantation, brings about a dark series of events that draws on Sethe's past, present and future.

Morrison's prose is lyrical, yet unforgiving, with the novel depicting the horrors of Sethe's life somewhat beautifully. Unfortunately, the pacing and complexity left me unusually apethetic and unmoved. Likewise, the supernatural aspects of the book initially took my imagination, but eventually left me feeling cold (no pun intended).

Nonetheless, I can appreciate Morrison's vast talent and contribution to American history, and I wouldn't rule out reading another of her works. But choose her over George Orwell or Joseph Heller? Perhaps I'll forever be classically lackadaisical.

Not Exactly A Lucky Charm (Lucky)

Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones is a beautifully-written, yet harrowing novel that chronicles the brutal rape and murder of 14-year-old Susie Salmon. As Susie watches from heaven as her loved ones come to terms with her death, she slowly begins to grasp the purpose and meaning of her life.

Alice Sebold's Lucky is a well-written, yet painful memoir that chronicles the brutal beating and rape of Sebold herself. Nearly 20 years on, as she remembers the incident and her attempts to bring her rapist to justice, Sebold slowly begins to come to terms with her rape and how it has affected her life.

It is glaringly obvious how similar these two pieces of work are and, indeed, how drastically Sebold's real-life experiences affect her fiction. But where The Lovely Bones is emotional and sprirtual, Lucky is more matter-of-fact. It adeptly timetables key events, details legal processes and describes Sebold's loved ones' reactions to her ordeal, but is less convincing in revealing the author's personal sentiments about the incident.

That's not to say that Lucky isn't insightful or important. Indeed, Sebold paints the ugliness of rape in a way only the victim of this atrocity could. However, given my previous knowledge of the author, I was perplexed by the detachment of the memoir--Sebold's strength and optimism seems almost sacrilegious.

Perhaps this is the by-product of re-living the experience after so many years, or maybe it is simply that Sebold's nonfiction voice is incomparable to her fiction voice. Yet, I can't escape the idea that Sebold's brilliant debut novel gave her the ability to fictionalise her own experiences in a way that allowed her to step back and vocalise her anguish. And if this is the case, then Alice Sebold is, indeed, extremely lucky.

An Iridescent Beauty (Girl With A Pearl Earring)

I saw the film Girl With A Pearl Earring a couple of years back. At the time, I was struck by how much was said with so little dialogue. Both Colin Firth's and Scarlett Johansson's performances were understated but powerful. The novel is the same.

Tracy Chevalier's historical novel was inspired by the Johannes Vermeer painting of the same name. It is essentially an imagining of how the painting came about and, although based on fact, it is largely fictional based on how little is actually known about Vermeer's life.

Set in Delft, Holland in the 17th century, Girl With A Pearl Earring follows 16-year-old Griet as she goes to work as a maid for the painter Vermeer. Forced into the occupation to help support her family, Griet strives for more. Her tranquil manner and attention to detail endear her to her Master.

Although fairly short, Chevalier's novel is as rich and detailed as one of Vermeer's paintings. From the descriptions of preparing paints using minerals and elements from the apothecary, to the exploration of class system through the depiction of various lifestyles, the amount of research and attention that has gone into this book is astounding. Perhaps the most extraordinary aspect is Chevalier's understanding of Vermeer's work and her ability to chronicle his artistic processes.

Nonetheless, Girl With A Pearl Earring is so well-characterised and poignant that the historical details seem an afterthought. Although I knew the story itself was fiction, I found it impossible not to search for the truth in it. And so Tracy Chevalier has painted a beautiful picture of how life once was... or, perhaps, could've been.

Ain't No Home Sweet Home (Close Range: Brokeback Mountain and Other Stories)

A little over a year ago, I was lucky enough to go to a premiere of Brokeback Mountain at the Santa Fe Film Festival. I was even luckier still that the screenwriters Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana were there to say a few words about the experience of scripting such an exceptional film. Of course, they praised the original piece of work that the screenplay was developed from--a short story by Annie Proulx.

Before readuing Close Range: Brokeback Mountain and Other Stories, my only other experience of Annie Proulx was The Shipping News, which I read at least six years ago. At the time, I remember finding the prose challenging and not being entirely taken by the story, which was set in Newfoundland. It was only after I saw the adapted film version of the novel (starring Kevin Spacey and Julianne Moore) that I realised the research and vision that had been attached to this book.

Close Range is a collection of 11 short stories that explores the lives, loves and losses of the ordinary people (cowboys, housewives and country folk) of Wyoming, where Proulx has lived since 1994. Most of these stories appeared in various magazines (The New Yorker, The Atlantic, GQ) before the publication of this collection. The overall tone of the book is resigned--quiet desperation in the face of hard work and uneventful days--but Proulx's astute exposition makes this surrender beautiful and particularly relevant to the world we live in today.

In fact, Elton John and Bernie Taupin's 'American Triangle' played incessantly in my head while I was reading this book, the chorus creating the perfect soundtrack for Proulx's prose:

'Western skies' don't make it right

'Home of the brave' don't make no sense

I've seen a scarecrow wrapped in wire

Left to die on a high ridge fence

It's a cold, cold wind

It's a cold, cold wind

It's a cold wind blowing, Wyoming

The overall themes of sexuality, tradition and escape help Proulx paint a picture of modern Wyoming that would be difficult to emulate in any other form, while the irony and often morbid humour entertain. Brokeback Mountain sits at the end of the anthology like an encore and, indeed it is, but other stories, particularly People in Hell Just Want a Drink of Water, are just as deserving of praise and acclaim.

Annie Proulx did not write her first novel until the age of 56 and now, at the age of 71, has been billed as 'maybe the best writer in America' by the Independent on Sunday.

Does she deserve this accolade?

As a Wyoming rancher might say, 'Does milk come from a cow?'

An Incident of Curious Bother (A Spot of Bother)

I thought, before reading this book, that I would be somewhat disappointed. I had resigned myself to the fact that it would be simply impossible to replicate the sheer joy, innocence and depth that Mark Haddon created in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Nonetheless, I was immensely eager to read his new offering A Spot of Bother--so much so that I read the hardcover version, which is very unusual for me because (1) as much as I adore literature, I find it absolutely appalling that a publishing house expects people to pay nearly £20 for a single novel, and (2) because it is just plain inconvenient for a 'commuter reader' like me to haul a great, burdensome volume around.

Anyway, I couldn't moan about the price because my partner bought me the book as a present, but it did mean I had to take my most vast handbag with me to work for a couple of weeks.

I guess you could call A Spot of Bother Haddon's first 'real' adult novel because, although The Curious Incident is primarily an adult novel, both its protagonist and style appeal to a younger audience, and it ended up making the book enormously successful on both the adult and young adult bestseller lists. Of course, this kind of success is a double-edged sword for any author because of the extreme expectation that is placed on him in terms of a follow-up, and I think sometimes readers have to appreciate that amazing works of brilliance are spawned from exceptional circumstances and subject matter and cannot be expected every time.

Thus, A Spot of Bother is a good work of fiction (in fact, it's well above average) and yet my preconceptions of Haddon initially allowed me from enjoying it for what it is--an account of an ordinary, but dysfunctional family in contemporary middle England. However, Haddon's familiar, well-paced style was easy for me to fall back into and I soon found myself being won over by the little things.

Haddon has a gift for details and it’s these nuances that make all the difference in terms of characterisation because it gives the reader something to relate to. When protagonist George Hall has a funny turn in Allders while buying a suit, or when George's gay son Jamie buys a Tesco ready meal for one and retires alone to his flat, it connects readers to characters by shared knowledge. And I think this is esentially what this novel is aiming to do: engage the reader in a series of events that are all the more profound because they are circumstances (incidents, if you like) that we could all find ourselves in.

I read this book with my face alternating between a smile and a grimace (some parts are quite graphic, and some cringeworthy), but isn't that what life is about? Can't most situations in life be summed up by these emotions? And I finished this book not disappointed, but entertained and satisfied. So, next time, maybe I won't automatically resign myself to disenchantment. And maybe, next time, I will actually buy the hardcover myself.

No Mistaken Identity (You're Not You)

Michelle Wildgen's You're Not You was recommended to me by my high school English teacher, who doubled as my neighbour in the small Wisconsin town where I grew up. She and her family were ever-present figures during my childhood, and I particularly looked up to her three daughters (all quite a bit older than me) who seemed so mature and cool in their Levi's and Guess sweatshirts.

Wildgen is a close friend of her middle daughter, who was an early reader of the book. Although You're Not You is Wildgen's first novel, she is senior editor for the literary magazine Tin House and an editor for Tin House books. She has also published various essays and contributed to two culinary books.

Wildgen's debut begins with Bec applying for a carer position she sees advertised in the newspaper. As the story moves forward, the reader comes to understand how out of character this is for Bec, a college student who is aimlessly pursuing a major she hates, as well as an affair with a married professor. Although she has no medical or healthcare experience, she gets the job and is immediately immersed in the culturally-rich, but inevitably difficult life of Kate, a married, 30-something with Lou Gehrig's disease.

That said, this book is not about a terrible, debilitating illness as much as it's about relationships and the human spirit. It would have been very easy to let Lou Gehrig's take precedence over the plot, characterisation and story, but Wildgen is very clear in her motive of portraying Kate as an exceptional human being who has been afflicted with, but not weakened by, disease. In fact, Bec is the true victim of the story, and Kate is her healer.

I think Wildgen's greatest achievement for this book is the character of Bec. It is rare to see such character depth in a debut novel and, even then, it can be clumsily and amateurly done, but Bec is a faultless narrator, using her voice and past experiences to propel the story forward. The setting of the novel--Madison, Wisconsin--is also particularly reminiscent for me, and the detailed descriptions of many locations certainly made me homesick.

I know that Michelle Wildgen has received a lot of acclaim for You're Not You in the US (a segment in People magazine being a highlight) and I cannot think of a more worthy author or novel. I'll definitely be promoting her on this side of the 'pond,' biding my time and waiting for her next book.

Searching for Momentum (Until I Find You)

At 928 pages, John Irving's Until I Find You has to be one of the longest novels I've ever read; the only longer that springs to mind being Gone With the Wind. But the length, by no means, excuses my absolute procrastination and sheer laziness in posting this blog. I am embarrassed by my literary disgrace. No really, I am... Aw come on, give me a break, it's Christmas.

Holiday greetings aside, I decided to read Irving's latest novel after seeing the review by the Glasgow Herald describing it as Irving's 'magnum opus.' Having previously read The World According to Garp (see archived blog) and finding it a fairly 'great work,' I was curious to see if Until I Find You was really better.

Like Garp, Irving's new book is a fictional biography. Chronicling the unconventional life of actor Jack Burns, the driving force behind the story is the absence of Jack's father, William, and the prospect that he might one day meet him.

At the outset of the novel, the similarities between the two works are striking: a strong, domineering mother; the lack of a father figure; growing up in a private school environment. An even stronger parallel is Irving's technique of changing the protagonist early in the novel. In Garp, the initial part of the book follows Garp's mother Jenny Fields, before switching its attention to Garp himself. The same happens in Until I Find You, which commences with a strong focus on Jack Burns' mother, Alice, before centring on Jack.

The first transition of the novel follows Alice, a tattooist, and four-year-old Jack through the Scandinavian countries in pursuit of William, an organist and connoisseur of antique instruments. The myriad of bizarre (almost absurd) characters that the pair meet along the way is a trademark of Irving's rich and flawless characterisation. Accurately researched and obsessively detailed, this initial segment sets a high standard for the rest of the book.

Unfortunately, the story quickly loses momentum, and I felt my reading habits being directly affected by this pacing. I went through a series of emotions and phases with this book, ranging from enjoyment to frustration to contentment to disappointment. But ultimately, the overall piece is so character-driven, it was impossible for me to form any sort of attachment with the story.

Nevertheless, Irving's latest novel has its moments, and I felt myself wondering if it could have been another 'great work.' Perhaps if it was shorter and more structured. Perhaps if Irving depended less on characterisation and more on story. Perhaps if symbolism had been used as a literary device instead of just an excuse to use symbolism. Perhaps if the protagonist had been called Garp...

Blagging A Bestseller (The Liar)

I know I have professed my deep admiration for Stephen Fry in a previous post (reviewing Fry's book Making History), so I won't bore you with all that again. However, my interest in the actor/comedian/presenter/writer/genius (okay, okay) was re-awakened when I recently watched the television documentary which explores his battle with manic depression. In the aftermath of that insightful, yet tragic show I pulled out copy of The Liar that had been sitting in my wardrobe for a fair few months.

Published in 1991, The Liar was Fry's much-awaited first novel. It received rave reviews and became a number one bestseller.

Drawing heavily on many situations, settings and people from his own life, Fry's debut novel tells the story of protagonist Adrian Healey, a compulsive liar and extrovert whose dishonesty gets him in way over his head. The style is similar to the wacky, almost fantastical storytelling of Making History, but on a smaller scale.

When it was published, the main criticism of this novel was its extreme similarities to Fry's own life. Of course, every writer draws from life experience but, after reading Fry's autobiography, I have to agree with these criticisms to an extent. However, I also feel that the critics may have underestimated Fry's perceptiveness and ability to predict this feedback. Many of the situations from the book are surely embellished (and many are works of complete falsity), yet this merging of fiction and non-fiction works well to keep readers wondering about Fry's past.

It is hard for me to determine whether or not I truly liked this novel because I am biased. I suppose my feelings are best compared to those of watching a film with a favourite actor and appreciating his/her performance, but ultimately feeling disappointed by the overall package.

Nonetheless Fry's personality shines through and there are many a laugh-out-loud moment in this book. In retrospect, this was not a bad start to what is a thriving writing career for Stephen Fry, who (fortunately for the British public) is getting better with age.