November + December 2019 Books

I group these two months together merely because I took a picture of both month’s worth of books together (on account of my YouTube video being late). So that’s how lazy I am. But, I read some great books towards the end of 2019 and I’m very excited to share them with you.

Highs

The Greenlanders by Jane Smiley

The first of two Smiley books for this month, and a novel that I continue to think about weeks after finishing it (so much so I’ve amended my rating for it to the full five stars as I begin to appreciate just how much of an effect it had on me and how much of an achievement it is). This is a book in the style of an ‘Icelandic or Norse saga’ according to Wikipedia; I admit I haven’t read many of those, but I’m willing to believe this book reads pretty similar to one. It has a formal style which clearly refers back to an oral tradition - much like the actual Norse sagas - so don’t expect it to go into the psychological depths of its characters (for that you need look no further than Smiley’s A Thousand Acres). Instead it is much more formalised and sometimes repetitive, but in such a way as to impress upon you the everyday experience of its cast. I found this book to be riveting and profoundly moving, and I’m surprised it’s never gained more appreciation.

This novel follows a family that live on Gunnars Stead; they are descendants of Nordic settlers in Greenland, and life is hard not only because of the unforgiving environment, but also because of their neighbours. This is one of those books where there’s a lot of somewhat similar names to keep track of, and to fully appreciate it you must log all the small details, but my is it worth it. It’s said that Smiley wrote it because very little has been written about these settlers - who eventually had to leave Greenland because of the harsh conditions - and it’s clear that she wanted to afford them some sort of legacy and remembrance in this novel.

To be honest I can’t say too much more about it except to urge you to read it. It’s not a very exciting book (though there are plenty of moments of high drama), but even through the formalised style Smiley manages to create great feeling for her characters, and as I said in my notes it ‘invades spaces in your mind’. It’s one I won’t forget in a hurry.

The Book of Dust: The Secret Commonwealth by Philip Pullman

Whenever an author returns to a work you love after many years it can be a little nerve-wracking, but luckily in this case it’s like slipping into an old self. This is the middle book in a companion trilogy to my childhood fave His Dark Materials and it is a sequel (the first Book of Dust was a prequel). This book follows Lyra who is somewhat estranged from her daemon Pantalaimon as a result of what they went through in HDM, and she finds herself still coming up against the Magisterium. This book was more relaxed in feel than the first instalment which was much more allegorical in style. It was really the true beginning of this second storyline with the return of an adult Lyra, and it has all the things I loved about the original series; the plot is gripping - full of tension and fantastic characters - and the way Pullman weaves ideas into his novels is always confident and interesting. This contemporary series has contemporary concerns, from refugees to the rise of fascism. I loved it and I cannot wait to read the final book, especially because this one ends on such a cliffhanger.

The Earthsea Quartet by Ursula Le Guin

Where to begin with Le Guin’s Earthsea Quartet? Both within and without the world of speculative fiction, Le Guin is legendary and Earthsea is one of her most famous worlds. And I can see why.

In a fictional archipelago consisting of hundreds of islands, a young wizard comes to prominence after an eventful apprenticeship. Obviously I read all four books together in one volume - that has been sitting on my shelf unread for at least twenty years - and I certainly think they work well as one lengthy work. It offers glimpses into Sparrowhawk’s whole life, the gap between each book being at least a few years, and I felt at the end that I wanted even more (which can only be a good thing). Although these books offer all the staples of good old fashioned fantasy - the wizards, the dragons, the unnamed evil beings - they are in my view quiet, understated books. Le Guin weaves a magic based on equilibrium and language flawlessly into her world; it is fully realised and very clever without being too heavy-handed. These books are ultimately about friendship, love, respect and balance in all things, but particularly with regard to nature and power. She is excellent at creating atmosphere and tension, and it is easy to see where she has inspired many authors that have come after her. There are a couple more of her books set in Earthsea that I will definitely be reading, along with everything else of her’s that I can get my hands on.

Good Faith by Jane Smiley

This is the kind of book I shouldn’t have liked; it’s about a real estate agent and his greedy associates in small town America. But then again, Jane Smiley wrote it. It follows Joe Stratford who makes a decent living brokering real estate in the 80s until a new guy shows up in town with big ideas about developing one of the jewels of the county; an old estate that is useless as farmland but seems like an easy transformation into a clubhouse and golf course. In Smiley’s hands, this book becomes unaccountably interesting; her dialogue is sharp, her characterisation nigh on flawless. Although the ending seems inevitable, you’re still following closely as to how Smiley unfolds the plot, and whilst it is a piece of (scathing) realism, there would be more than enough here to unpick: the way masculinity is wielded by new guy Marcus Burns to manipulate Joe; the strange obsession of a client with a house that is fundamentally flawed. By the end of the novel I felt like I had been on a real journey, and whilst it was slow in one or two areas, that’s all a part of it’s charm; this book is subtle in weaving its web. This isn’t a groundbreaking novel in and of itself, but as I said I’m consistently impressed by the way Smiley seems to attack each topic with such ease.

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

I’m not sure what I was expecting from this classic novel which I’ve heard so much about over the years, but it surprised and delighted me. It follows Janie Crawford, who finds herself in two unhappy marriages until she eventually finds love in a third man, partially for his kindness, but also because of his relationship to the natural world. Through the novel we see Janie flourish into an independent and strong-willed woman. Hurston’s prose twists and flips on itself, wriggling free of traditional bounds and multiplying meanings, deftly examining the workings of gender roles and race on Janie’s life. She captures pain and emotion artfully, and though it is very readable, the writing runs like poetry. I loved it, and found it remarkably moving.

Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison

This is a coming-of-age novel of a young man who finds himself entangled in the expectations of his family and friends, leading him eventually to flee his comfortable middle-class life to head south in search of family treasure. Compared to other Morrison novels I’ve read, this one has a more straightforward narrative (she talks about this in her introduction explaining it is because she had a male protagonist with a more traditional story arc), but it still has the rich and slippery language that defines Morrison’s work. In this novel she examines issues of race, class, gender, inheritance and violence, and it is as masterful as everyone says - I highly recommend it.

Death’s End by Cixin Liu

I finally got round to finishing the concluding instalment in Liu’s The Remembrance of Earth’s Past trilogy, and right up to the very end, Liu’s novel fascinated and bewitched me. I can’t talk too much about this book without spoiling the first two in the trilogy, but these are hard science fiction novels that try to imagine what would happen if humans encountered (or were encountered themselves) by an alien life form with much higher technological capability. I was consistently amazed at the scope of Liu’s vision, and always enjoyed (including in this particular book) his inclusion of other elements outside the main narrative; I loved the opening of this book which is set in the fifteenth century at the fall of Constantinople, I loved the fairytales and also the brief glimpse into another alien intelligence.

Whilst I enjoyed this book and found it to be a remarkable achievement like the other two novels, I think Dark Forest was probably my favourite of the three. As it’s set over hundreds of years, the protagonist of this novel was different to the others, and I felt like Cheng Xin was rather less charismatic and interesting than prior characters. This may have partly been to do with the presentation and role of women in this novel which became more pronounced with Cheng Xin, who seemed to represent ‘femininity’ in a way I wasn’t too comfortable with (plus her love story is questionable, too). And the last hundred pages or so felt rushed both logically and scientifically compared to the painstaking care that had been clear in all that had come before. Nonetheless they were truly excellent and extremely imaginative beyond the scope of lots of science fiction, and I will definitely be returning to them in the future.

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

This is a classic novel that probably doesn’t need much explanation but here I go anyway; this is a satirical war novel that seeks to show the futility and absurdity of war. It follows a group of men led by anti-hero Yossarian, who finds himself thwarted by his superiors in his attempts to shirk his duty and save his own life. It is funny and also profoundly upsetting, too, and well worth a read, particularly for anyone that consumes a lot of World War II literature. Some of the dialogue is repetitive, illogical and farcical which I know puts some people off this novel but I think it’s worth allowing yourself to slip into its rhythms and be carried along by Yossarian and his endless missions. A classic that lives up to its reputation.

Lows

The World Goes On by László Krasznahorkai

For me this was one of those books that I don’t think I fully ‘got’. It’s a selection of short stories that cover vastly different topics - the drunken experience of a simultaneous translator obsessed with waterfalls who finds himself stumbling around Shanghai at night, or a man who is forced to give a group of shady people lectures on topics like ‘possessions’. All of the stories, however, have a similar sense of hopelessness, and examine the pitfalls of the modern experience and lament our estrangement from nature and from each other.

Nominated for the Man Booker International last year, I picked up this collection a little daunted by the claims that Krasznahorkai’s writing was incredibly difficult to read, and that he was best known for extremely long sentences. Whilst the long sentences abounded, I didn’t find his writing particularly difficult in the actual reading process, though I also didn’t do much close reading either (which may be a rather large flaw in my ability to review the work properly). Nonetheless, I did get the sense that a lot of the stories were based on rather flimsy ideas that were padded out by the listing and rolling of the lengthy sentences. For example the story ‘He Wants to Forget’ which looked at the concept of memory didn’t seem to be as profound as it felt itself to be; I have read similar or more poignant meditations on memory before (it was here I started to worry that this was another Flights which I hated and had to put down). In fact as a general rule, the stories that featured Krasznahorkai’s long sentences were my least favourite; somehow he managed to make topics I might have otherwise found interesting - ‘A Drop of Water’ that explores the unique properties of water molecules or ‘That Gargarin’ which looks at the life and death of the first man in space operating in the highly volatile Soviet era - pretty dry and boring.

There were stories I liked, particularly ‘One Time on 381’ which follows a labourer at a marble quarry who walks off mid-shift only to find a stunning abandoned mansion. In this piece, Krasznahorkai created a subtle tension and lasting imagery that was truly beautiful and I was so disappointed that there weren’t more stories of this kind. Instead of the half-baked philosophy or science of some of the other pieces, this one wove it’s ideas into the story much more successfully whilst also making for a much more gripping reading experience. I do admit though that maybe because I wasn’t wholly invested in analysing each piece that I just preferred this more pared back and accessible story.

The World Goes On also suffered through my comparison with another book I’ve read this year. Solar Bones is a novel comprising of one long sentence, and though I was apprehensive about this fact - expecting it to be pretentious in the extreme - I found McCormack had obviously chosen the form specifically for his content, which found a man returning from the dead for a few hours on All Soul’s Eve and reflecting on his life, from the big political elements down to the smallest personal details. The run on sentence allowed for an all-encompassing and somewhat simultaneous view that easily moved from the big to the small. With Krasznahorkai, the sentence structure seems somewhat arbitrary and doesn’t directly relate to the content; maybe it’s a style, yes but if you are going to mix it up at all (for example with the generally normal prose of ‘One Time on 381’) then when you do use it I feel there must be a good reason. And finally, Solar Bones felt much more relevant and urgent than The World Goes On, which seemed a little outdated in its approach; I believe I saw someone on goodreads compare it to postwar literature and indeed I think it’s ideology seemed to have halted somewhere a few decades ago and doesn’t have the depth and relevance of other contemporary writing. I kept reading hoping I’d get a little more like ‘One Time on 381’ but I just couldn’t love this book nor could I much enjoy reading it no matter how much I tried.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Alright, this isn’t really a ‘low’, but I was disappointed with this novel seeing as it is so famous. It describes Guy Montag, a fireman in a dystopian world in which books are banned (along with other things representing free and nuanced thinking) and burnt if found. After an encounter with a young girl who reawakens his awareness to the world around him (particularly the natural world), Montag begins to turn against his world and wonder what it is about books that makes them so dangerous.

I believe this is one of those books that suffers for its reputation. It is a little clunky and heavy handed in its handling of its topic, and at times it seems like a thought experiment that has been rather stretched over a longer format (indeed, Bradbury himself said in the foreword to my edition that it was born of various dystopian short stories come together). Originally published in 1953, I can see why it captured people’s imaginations and spoke to concerns about new ways in which we consume news and art. However in reality it felt to me to be a book without real depth itself. Perhaps this is a style indicative of the world it describes, but in terms of a reading experience, it rather detracted from it. Ultimately I couldn’t love it, though I can see why it makes for good fodder for English departments around the world.

A God in Ruins by Kate Atkinson

A follow up to Atkinson’s enormously popular Life After Life, this book certainly suffers under the inheritance of its predecessor. LAL follows a woman named Ursula who repeatedly dies only to be returned to her birth again, thus providing a narrative filled with alternative lives (and deaths) for its protagonist. I can’t remember too much about this book other than that I enjoyed it. I’m a completely different reader now than I was then, though, so I don’t know whether A God in Ruins was really much worse, or I’m just less of a fan of Atkinson than I was.

It’s clear with this book that Atkinson wanted to do something similar to LAL but knew she couldn’t repeat the premise, so this novel follows Teddy, Ursula’s younger brother who was a pilot in World War II. The novel is not in chronological order, jumping between his childhood, the war, his married life and life as an old man watching his daughter and grandchildren grow up. Although Atkinson’s writing is confident, it became clear about a hundred pages in that this novel was just a little too meandering for me. I started to wonder where the novel was wandering off to and what the climax would be; was it something that happened in the war? In his marriage? Cue the world’s worst ending after a very long almost-400-pages. I won’t spoil it just in case you did love LAL and do want to try your luck on this book (though I wouldn’t recommend it) but wow. I was pissed. Read Slaughterhouse-Five instead, another World War II novel, where the jumps in time are fully realised and justified.

Gave up on The Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne

I don’t usually write anything about books I didn’t finish but because so many of you guys love this novel I thought I’d just tentatively explain why I couldn’t get through it. It opens with a dramatic scene of protagonist Cyril’s mother being kicked out of her rural Catholic Church for being illegitimately pregnant with him. The fifty-or-so pages that follow are great; alternately funny and sad, they show Cyril’s mother navigate Dublin with a wherewithal far beyond her years. Then (sadly), enter Cyril himself, now adopted into an eccentric upper middle class family. He quickly encounters Maurice Woodbead, who introduces an endless slew of misogynistic and vulgar observations about women, which I presume serves the narrative purpose of unnerving young Cyril who finds himself attracted to other boys, Maurice particularly. Sadly, I couldn’t hack it. The dialogue becomes tedious as Boyne tries to be funny in every line; where the first section had a good balance of drama and comedy, from Cyril’s entrance onward it becomes strained, with even the more disturbing elements of the plot glossed over with jokes. As it’s a long book I decided to let myself off, but I would like to know if any of you felt like this at some point in your reading but ended up enjoying it, or if it got better at any point. I loved the opening scenes so much I was sorely disappointed to give up on it.

Fire & Blood by George R. R. Martin

This was a level of boring that for once I don’t even have much to criticise. It describes the history of House Targaryen from Aegon the Conquerer (conquering) onwards. It’s actually only the first half of this history as well, so it doesn’t go up to what I imagine will be the events immediately preceding Game of Thrones. The problem is, it’s written in the style of a history book, and not a history book written by a good writer of history, but instead a very dry, very boring writer. Plus there’s all the usual concerns about Martin’s misogyny. I listened to it which seemed to make the whole process even longer and more boring. I strongly advise you don’t ruin your A Song of Ice and Fire experience with this book.

Everything in between

Myal by Erna Brodber

I read this book one sleepy morning so I don’t remember absolutely loads about it. I felt it was another strong piece of Jamaican literature that examined the racial politics at work both there and in the diaspora. It follows two young girls, one of whom is mixed-race, who ultimately finds herself in America, where she is taken advantage of. It is deeply layered and it would probably be good to do a couple of reads of it. The only reason it isn’t really a ‘high’ is because at the moment I’m very much enjoying longer reads where I can really get to grips with the characters and storylines and this book is more like a novella.

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

Finally, we have this novel which started out a real high for me and then finally the disappointment began to creep in, mostly with regard to its attitude towards women. I seem to have read a lot of books by men recently - some good, some bad - that have really let themselves down on this front so I hope the bad streak ends soon. Anyway, this novel follows a man who has recently given up work and whose cat has just gone missing; his wife tasks him with finding it, and in the process he meets a strange cast of characters who begin to lead him into the unreality shadowing his life. I love Murakami’s signature style: surreal and melancholy, but also pared back and deceptively straightforward, and I was completely entranced from the first. Sadly, as the novel went on more and more questionable attitudes towards the women and girls that populate the book popped up, and in the last hundred pages or so the plot became more hackneyed and didn’t have any of the sophistication of the first half. I’m not giving up on him, but I was sad that this novel took a turn for the worse in this regard. And I did find it compelling throughout so it has to be a confusing grey area in between read for me.