Flood of Reviews

Yes, I'm catching up on all the books I'm behind on reviewing. I want to have a clean slate to start the new year. Sorry for the flood, but hopefully you'll have some interesting things to pore over when setting up your New Year's resolutions for what to read next year. :)

Rewiew: A Pale View of Hills

A Pale View of Hills, by Kazuo Ishiguro
8.5/10, a beautiful, haunting tragedy of a woman reminiscing about her life in Japan

I've made no secret of my writer-crush on Ishiguro in reviews of An Artist of the Floating World, Never Let Me Go, When We Were Orphans, and even The Unconsoled. "Pale View" was the last of Ishiguro's published books on my list at the time I read it (he has a new collection out now), and it was his first published novel.

Some of the rough edges show, the techniques he would perfect in "Remains of the Day." The narrative is by no means straightforward, skipping back and forth between present day in the West and many years ago in Japan. Etsuko, the main character, has gotten a visit from her daughter, which begins her reminisces of her years in Japan and a young woman she befriended there with her recalcitrant daughter, Mariko. As the narrative winds its way through the past and present, without the urgency of "Artist of the Floating World" or "Remains of the Day," it is still engaging and fascinating, and it includes an element those later books did not: a touch of horror. Especially in the interactions between Mariko and Etsuko, Mariko behaves oddly (even for an Ishiguro child) and has a creepy fixation on odd details.

Mariko turned over her hand and the spider crawled into her palm. She closed her other hand over it so that it was imprisoned.
"Mariko, put that down."
"It's not poisonous," she said, coming closer to me.
"No, but it's dirty. Put it back in the corner."
"It's not poisonous, though."
She stood in front of me, the spider inside her cupped hands. Through a gap in her fingers, I could see a leg moving slowly and rhythmically.
"Put it back in the corner, Mariko."
"What would happen if I ate it? It's not poisonous."
"You'd be very sick. Now, Mariko, put it back in the corner."
Mariko brought the spider closer to her face and parted her lips.

Despite the odd, semi-fantastical nature of the reminisces, Ishiguro still manages to build up to a revelatory climax that is emotional and shattering. Though this isn't the most masterful of his works, and it takes a good bit of thought to read through, it's still a terrific, skilful work. And it depresses me that it was his first book because it's still really good.

Review: The Wife of Martin Guerre

The Wife of Martin Guerre, by Janet Lewis
7.5/10, a dry but fascinating tale of family and mistaken identity in 1500s France

This story was published as a way to document the second ever documented case of circumstantial evidence, but Janet Lewis finds a human drama within the case as well. Bertrande de Rols is married to Martin Guerre at the age of eleven, and returns to live with him a few years later. His father, a stern disciplinarian, has rubbed off on Martin to some extent, but also bred in him a rebellious streak. After one particularly daring act of rebellion, fearing reprisals from his father, Martin flees, promising Bertrande and their young son that he will return soon.

Years go by. Martin's father never forgives him for his transgression, not until he dies. And the year following his death, Martin returns, looking much different and acting more considerate and erudite. Perhaps the years have softened him? Bertrande welcomes him back into her bed; her family welcomes him as head of the farm. But as the years go by, she becomes convinced he is not truly the Martin who left her. She can only convince one old uncle that she is right, but when a soldier appears who seems to back her story, she gains enough credence to bring her returned husband to court to prove his identity.

Lewis hews closely to the facts of the case as they were presented, elaborating on some of the human interactions and the feelings of Bertrande. Bertrande's sense of justice and propriety may seem a little outdated to us, but they're important to her sense of honor, and they form the basis of her character. The story is short but clear, and the twists and turns are the more engaging for being real, or at least based in reality.

The story ends somewhat abruptly, but that's where the reality of the story really takes hold. It would have been nice to have a clean wrap-up and a more emotionally satisfying conclusion, but all the ending does is remind you that these were real events and real people. After the conclusion of the case, there was no need to keep track of the litigants, so there are no records, and Lewis is forced to speculate. Though brief, her thoughts really tie up the narrative.

This was made into a movie, which I haven't seen, but the premise itself is fascinating. For as long as we've been telling stories, we've been fascinated by the nature of identity and personality, and this story speaks strongly to those themes.

Review: The Magicians

The Magicians, by Lev Grossman
9/10, a wonderful tale that brings fantasy and magic into the real world

"Harry Potter for grown-ups." An odd thing to say, since most of the Harry Potter fans I know are over 21. "Like a real-world Narnia." Another odd thing to say, because Narnia was supposed to be based in the real world of 1940s England, from which the Pevensies escape to Narnia. But those phrases do aptly describe "The Magicians," the most accomplished modern fantasy in years.

Quentin has just graduated from high school and is preparing for his alumni interview with Princeton. When his interviewer turns up dead, he gets another mysterious invitation and finds himself in a large exam room taking an exam that he doesn't fully understand. After some on-the-spot interviews, Quentin is admitted to Brakebills, a school for magicians hidden away in upstate New York.

It's not Hogwarts. The students drink, use drugs, have sex, and make mistakes. Magic, like many flashy things, is a lot more tedious on the inside, requiring not only talent, but dedication and attention to detail. Quentin makes friends and enemies, and graduates with little idea what he wants to do in life. Then one of his friends comes by with the bizarre claim that he knows how to get to the magical land of Fillory, the subject of a popular set of children's books.

From there, the story goes on, but even in the magical fantasy land, it doesn't get any less "real." And besides the engaging journey, the book leaves you with a lot to think about afterwards. The characters learn more than magic; as we follow them through school, we watch them learn that the point of an education is not the learning, it's what you do with it.

Grossman (who is on Twitter as @leverus and is entertaining to follow) writes well and creates a fascinating cast of characters, a terrific world to explore, and an engaging and thought-provoking plot. He eschews or subverts the conventions of fantasy, making pointed references to quidditch at one point, but the book stands on its own even if you're one of the three people who's unfamiliar with both "Harry Potter" and "Narnia."

"The Magicians" is a terrific read from beginning to end, and I highly recommend it for anyone who liked "Narnia," "Harry Potter," or any other contemporary fantasy. It'll leave you with a wistful longing, but only because it feels so difficult to say good-bye to the characters after having been with them through so much.

Review: Mothers and Sons

Mothers and Sons, by Colm Tóibín
8/10, a melancholy collection of stories of Irish families

Tóibín, author of Brooklyn, penned this collection of stories about families in Ireland. Loosely following the theme of mothers and sons, he tracks happy and sad families--but mostly sad.

The overriding theme, actually, seems to be "things aren't great, but we'd rather they not change." The characters in the stories are presented with opportunities to change their lives, to learn something, and in nearly every case, they put aside that chance.

That doesn't make the stories bad. They're engaging and interesting, written with Tóibín's lovely touch with language, if not the humor of "Brooklyn."

Every day he had planned his return [from military service], longed for it in detail, lived in the ordinary future where the smallest domestic detail--the sound of a jeep starting up, a chainsaw, a hunter's gun, or a dog's bark--would signify that he had returned, that he had survived. He had imagined this homecoming in all its satisfying comfort and freedom so closely that he had put no thought into how soon [his younger brother] Jordi's turn would come, how soon his brother would have to submit himself to the humiliation of the haircut and the standing in the cold waiting for the lorry to take him to Lerida. Miquel knew how bad it would be for his brother, and it was as though some more vulnerable and innocent part of him were going to have the haircut, leaving an empty bed behind.

I have remarked before on the uniqueness of Irish writing. If you enjoy it, then this collection will not disappoint you. It's a beautifully-written, sad world that is worth visiting.

Review: Amsterdam

Amsterdam, by Ian McEwan
7/10, a technically competent story that falls short of actual meaning

After seeing "Atonement", I became curious about Ian McEwan's stories. I found "Amsterdam," recommended in various places as a "dark comedy tour de force," or variations thereon, and I thought it'd be worth a read.

Certainly, McEwan creates memorable characters and extraordinary situations. The setup for "Amsterdam," loosely, is two friends reminiscing over affairs with a woman at her funeral, and mutually despising a politician with whom she was most recently taking up. The friends are a newspaper editor and a composer, and their lives become further disrupted when some photos of the politician surface that might be embarrassing. Over the seemingly minor question of whether the editor has a moral obligation to publish the photos, the two friends have a falling-out, which leads to further extraordinary situations and a fairly unbelievable ending.

It might be called "dark humor"; I find that a lot of people who attempt dark humor end up sliding too far to the "dark" and not including enough "humor." That's the case here, where a macabre and grotesque situation is supposed to be funny simply because it exists. There isn't enough time given to the setup of the two men and their friendships for us to appreciate the quick twists and turns of the story, and the extremes to which they go seem incongruous with the rest of the world they inhabit. Without giving too much away, the hinge of the whole moral dilemma seems weak, but perhaps that's just my unfamiliarity with British customs and traditions as regards their politicians. Still, in a country that outdoes the U.S.A. for tabloids, I find it hard to believe that there would be that much furor over embarrassing photos.

I do have a thing about endings, and the head-shaking nature of this one rather ruined the experience for me. It's possible that McEwan's other books are more worthwhile, but I wouldn't recommend this one.

Movie Review: Up In The Air

Since taking some screenwriting classes, our standards for movies have risen, slowly but surely. We pick at plot holes more, we attack dialogue, we scorn useless characters and sometimes entire movies ("Benjamin Button"). Yes, movies have been somewhat ruined, as our teacher warned us, but on the other hand, when we find a movie that really shines, the reward is that much greater.

"Up In The Air" is one of those rewards. It succeeds in a variety of areas: snappy dialogue, great acting, a great premise and imagery, good direction, and a story that makes you think for a while after you leave the theater.

It's suited to our modern times. George Clooney plays a contract firer, a person hired to travel around the country and announce layoffs to people for companies that don't want to make the announcement themselves. He has seen all kinds of reaction from the people he's laying off, and he knows how to deal with it all. He loves to travel, and he loves the life he's living.

Enter Anna Kendrick, playing a young business school grad who's come to Omaha to change the company. She thinks the company can cut costs by firing people over webcam--which would mean Clooney would no longer be required, or permitted, to travel.

Also enter Vera Farmiga, a fellow traveler with whom Clooney shares a passionate night. They have an amusing moment of trying to synch up their travel schedules so they can meet again, and she seems the perfect companion for him.

Between these two women, Clooney's world is in for some drastic changes, some of which he'll handle better than others. But the movie is subversive: Anna has a steady boyfriend and expounds on the joys of stable relationships, and Clooney is required at one point to attend his sister's wedding, leading one to think that this is going to be just another parable about the benefits of a family and how lonely the single life is. And then it turns it all on its head.

What this movie is about, as Clooney says eloquently in a speech to J.K. Simmons, is opportunity. Choices. Not limiting yourself to one thing, whether that thing be family, a job, or a way of life that keeps you on the road. In its own way, his addiction to travel is as confining as his sister's complete inability to travel. And the movie is artfully done, with subtle touches and great performances from Clooney, Kendrick, and Farmiga, not to mention Simmons, Jason Bateman, and a host of other small parts.

The dialogue snaps and crackles, as good as the dialogue Clooney delivered with such panache in "Ocean's 11." Toward the later part of the movie, it becomes less amusing and more serious, but it never drags.

Along with "Up," coincidentally, this is one of the best movies I've seen this year. It's not getting much attention--perhaps Clooney, in his third movie in as many months, is overexposed--but it deserves an Oscar nom.

Revew: Ghostwritten

Ghostwritten, by David Mitchell
9/10, a sprawling lovely tapestry that presages "Cloud Atlas"

I've made little secret of my admiration for "Cloud Atlas," Mitchell's award-winning novel. "Ghostwritten" was his first, and in it you can see the elements he later wove more successfully into "Cloud Atlas": the global setting with specific and eloquently described locations; distinct and wonderful character voices; a unifying theme rather than an overarching plot; a rather dramatic conclusion.

But "Ghostwritten" is not as complete a book as "Cloud Atlas," lacking depth in many of its component parts. It spans the globe rather than time, traveling from Okinawa to Tokyo, Hong Kong, China, Mongolia, St. Petersburg, London, Ireland, and New York. In "Cloud Atlas," the stories were linked with sometimes-thin devices; here, too, the linking feels forced at times, the more so because it's not always clear what the stories have to do with each other. They all share a theme of power and brutality, like the stories in "Cloud Atlas," but here Mitchell takes the theme in a decidedly different direction.

In some cases, the protagonists of the stories are the ones with power; in other cases they believe they have power; in some cases they are merely victims. But in all cases, Mitchell displays the marvelous gift for voice and description that made "Cloud Atlas" stand out to me, and even if some segments dragged a little, I never felt bored, never wanted to put the book down.

It's not a quick read, but it's a worthwhile one. As I've said in the past, if you want to learn about character voice, there are few people you could pick up lessons from better qualified than David Mitchell. So far, none of his books have disappointed, and if you've finished "Cloud Atlas" and are looking for something to remind you of it (complete with recurring characters such as Luisa Rey), pick up "Ghostwritten."

Review: Un Lun Dun

Un Lun Dun, by China Mieville
10/10, a brilliant, engaging "otherworld" adventure

My only previous exposure to China Mieville had been a short story read in our fabulist class, about a pile of garbage that comes to life through the devices of a shaman, and staring at the spine of "Perdido Street Station" in our bookshelf for five years. "Un Lun Dun" had gotten some good buzz, and when I picked it up in the bookstore and saw that the first chapter was titled, "The Respectful Fox," well, it was like Mr. Mieville was reaching into my pocket and taking out nine dollars.

And you know what? I don't mind at all. The fox only appears in the first chapter and then is gone, but I didn't care. He bows to Zanna, the latest in a series of odd incidents that have occurred to the young British girl, and soon she and her friend Deeba are in Un Lun Dun--from "Un-London," one of a multitude of "abcities," where all the refuse and unwanted things from the real cities end up, along with some people and animals, and some things in between.

Zanna, it turns out, is the "Shwazzy," destined to save Un Lun Dun from the horrible Smog. The quest she and Deeba set out on takes them to a town of ghosts, a large market where they meet a man who sews clothes from books, a ride on an old double-decker bus, to a bridge that has no fixed location, but joins any two places you can think of. That's where they meet the Propheseers and the Book, which contains all information known about the world, and is happy to share it smugly. They also meet the master of un-brellas (broken umbrellas) and a cadre of ninja-like garbage bins.

And from there, things get weird.

I can't share any more about the plot, because discovering it is part of the joy of the book. But there are so many other joys: the beautiful writing that manages to be both cinematic and literary (one of the side jokes I loved was in the Library of Un Lun Dun, where they keep all the books that haven't been written, one of the Librarians mentions going on a search for "Oh, All Right Then: Bartleby Returns"), the imaginative characters Mieville invents, the personalities and problems they all have, the illustrations (provided by the author), the humorous moments...

This book reminds me of curling up in bed at the age of ten with a fantasy novel. The way all fantasy feels to you at that age is the way this novel feels to me now. I cannot recommend it highly enough. It owes a lot to Neil Gaiman's "Neverwhere," but it is lighter than Gaiman, brighter without being less sound. I enjoyed "Neverwhere." I loved "Un Lun Dun."

Review: The Age of Innocence

The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton
9/10, a funny, insightful, and engaging look into class and society in late-1800s New York

The first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for fiction was Edith Wharton in 1921, for this novel. "The Age of Innocence" is the story of Archer Newland, a young man in New York society in the late 1800s, engaged to be married to May Welland (note the names: New-land, Well-land). She is everything he could want in a society wife: she always knows just the right thing to say and do. And yet, sometimes he feels dissatisfied, because he knows she is only saying what Society has scripted for her. He feels he will never get to know the "real" woman.

Enter Countess Olenska, Ellen, a scion of the family who has fled an abusive marriage. She knows little of New York Society, but after a couple faux pas (attending the party of a common artist! where there is dancing!), she is accepted into their ranks. Archer falls in love with her free spirit and sees in her the same desire he himself has, to show the Society folks how much of a sham their posturing and elegant disguises are, to show that they are insulating themselves from life.

And yet, and yet...every time he steps boldly toward Ellen, she retreats; when she makes a move in his direction, he seeks the shelter of the familiar. But they grow closer and closer to running away together even as his wedding to May grows nearer and nearer.

Wharton's grasp of character and story is marvelous. Archer is a tortured and complicated person, no less so than Ellen, but the side characters are simply wonderful: the old dowager who defied expectations to become highly respected and influential, who now is too large to get upstairs in her own house and now has the unconventional arrangement of having her bedroom on the ground floor; the van Luydens, one of the most influential families in Society by birth who nonetheless seem to prefer solitude to the company of people; the lynchpin of society, the aging dandy who knows all the gossip because everyone invites him everywhere to hear the gossip he knows, and in the process he learns theirs (and he lives with his unmarried sister, whom he sometimes sends to the less important engagements)...it's a marvelous cast of characters, and it makes for a terrific story.

Through it all, as through this review, runs the thread of Society, the unwritten code by which Archer and his peers say certain things and leave others understood; do certain things and leave others undone. Archer continues to question Society, pointing out to himself the ridiculousness of it even as he digs himself deeper into its grip.

A highly enjoyable and most recommended read. I will certainly be looking up more of Edith Wharton's work.

Review: Strange Itineraries

Strange Itineraries, by Tim Powers
7.5/10, an inventive collection of short stories

Continuing with my summer of reading my favorite authors, I took this Christmas present off my book stack. I'd already read The Drawing of the Dark, an early Tim Powers novel, and I was hoping for more of the same.

When it comes to imagination, Powers never disappoints. All the stories in the collection are based off brilliant ideas, and the writing is generally quite good. He has a way of introducing the protagonist's problem in very matter-of-fact language, where ordinary tasks pose huge issues or carry immense weight: the picking up of a baby's bottle, for instance, or walking across a closed bedroom.

But the stories lack the coherence and drive of his novels, for the most part. "Where They Are Hid" is the best of the bunch, a gripping time-travel story in which consequences and actions are mingled and unfold with perfect precision. Many of the others settle for being weird, which is just fine--Powers does weird with his own particular touch, and I love reading it. I'm just used to his stories having more texture and depth, and perhaps that's a limitation of the short story form.

Because they're short stories, though, they don't require a large investment of time to read. If you're looking for a taste of Tim Powers and you don't want to embark on one of the novels, this isn't a bad place to start.