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.