Books: The Headmaster's Wager, Here on Earth
Vincent Lam first came to my attention, as he did to many other people, through his award-winning Bloodletting and Other Miraculous Cures, an anthology of loosely connected stories. The Headmaster's Wager draws on his Vietnamese-Chinese roots, talking about the Vietnam War.
I have to compare this book against Nanjing Requiem, since it's also a story set in the turbulent wars of the Asian 20th century. While Jin's book is more historical, The Headmaster's Wager is more personal, being about a fictional person. That said, it's deeply steeped in the turbulent situation of the time. As a man descended from South East Asian Chinese heritage, I really find this type of book fascinating, because it illustrates a lot of the tensions between Chinese, native, and Western populations. There's a lot of things politically and morally to be said about colonialism, but those arguments aside, the conflict between different peoples in the same space is a potent source for drama, and Lam mines that sources for all it's worth.
The Headmaster's Wager succeeds for me because every character has his or her own agenda, in a way that's almost like a spy thriller, except the stakes are based around family - although as the war escalates, the stakes are raised as people move from caring about prosperity to survival. Beliefs taken for granted are cruelly disproven, and the capacity for people to cope - or rationalize - their situations are tested. That said, I'm not sure it's worth owning - there's a certain inevitable tragedy to the entire situation that makes the book more like a slide than a roller coaster. Certainly reading it, I experienced the joy of being taken on a journey, but the action all leads to a certain place. I'm not sure the book could move me if I read it again.
Between both Lam's and Jin's books, though, I've definitely sought out more about the turbulent history of modern Asia, from the last vestiges of Japanese imperialism to the rise of Communism in China.
Alice Hoffman's Here on Earth is another book I've long wanted to read, ever since I was in grade 12. My OAC Writer's Craft teacher had shown us the Oprah episode where she compiled all the interviews she'd done with writers related to Oprah's Book Club. (I read more Oprah's Book Club than the average reader, I think, but far fewer than the average Oprah fan.) Anyway, I remember a brief snippet about Hoffman stating how hard it was for her to write this book, and she had to do Practical Magic in the middle before completing it. I dismissed Magic as it was made into a movie, so how good could it have been? Somehow, though, Hoffman and her writer's struggle stayed with me, and I remembered it when I was looking for what next to borrow from the library.
As I was Googling more information about the book, I learned two things before I started reading it. One, that it was an homage of sort to Wuthering Heights, and someone on Goodreads (I think) said all the characters were incredibly selfish. I had read Wuthering Heights many years ago, and I didn't like it. It was a slog. I can't remember anything about it other than Heathcliff was a domineering figure and Meatloaf's (and Celine Dion's) "It's All Coming Back to Me" is based on the book. This precursory information probably meant I was hesitant about starting the book, but as I began reading it, I become enthralled.
Switching from third-person to third-person narration is really in right now, thanks to A Song of Ice and Fire, but there's other, more subtle ways to do it, and Here on Earth definitely succeeds here. It was fascinating getting into the heads of all her characters, even though the crux of the book is the unspoken and ignored aspects of the relationships between them all (whether it be mother and daughter, lover and old flame, or supposed best friends). And I liked how characters dropped in and out of focus, and as March becomes more and more isolated in her dangerous situation, it's a thrilling marriage between narrative focus and theme. I really liked how Hoffman didn't dwell on resolutions; when someone escapes, it's a true escape - we know they've earned a "happy ending" of sorts, but an overarching structural theme, I guess, is that characters and their lives change but they can change back. Or perhaps it's that when you grow and overcome your past, you still carry it around with you.
It's altogether a much more complex book than you would expect when a family in the book has the surname "Justice". (Yes, I know it can be a real surname.) Anyway, I can appreciate the online reviewer's complaint that everyone is selfish, and that can be hard to read. I mean, if just one person had an ounce more sense, certainly the entire conflict of the book could be avoided. Sometimes to love - to live - and to create justice, to overcome the wrongs you have faced - does require selfishness. Maybe it's not the only way in the real world, but I think the fact that Hollis and others in the book all are doesn't make it a bad story. The more I write about this book, the more I think I'm appreciating it, which is always a good thing for a reader.
I have to compare this book against Nanjing Requiem, since it's also a story set in the turbulent wars of the Asian 20th century. While Jin's book is more historical, The Headmaster's Wager is more personal, being about a fictional person. That said, it's deeply steeped in the turbulent situation of the time. As a man descended from South East Asian Chinese heritage, I really find this type of book fascinating, because it illustrates a lot of the tensions between Chinese, native, and Western populations. There's a lot of things politically and morally to be said about colonialism, but those arguments aside, the conflict between different peoples in the same space is a potent source for drama, and Lam mines that sources for all it's worth.
The Headmaster's Wager succeeds for me because every character has his or her own agenda, in a way that's almost like a spy thriller, except the stakes are based around family - although as the war escalates, the stakes are raised as people move from caring about prosperity to survival. Beliefs taken for granted are cruelly disproven, and the capacity for people to cope - or rationalize - their situations are tested. That said, I'm not sure it's worth owning - there's a certain inevitable tragedy to the entire situation that makes the book more like a slide than a roller coaster. Certainly reading it, I experienced the joy of being taken on a journey, but the action all leads to a certain place. I'm not sure the book could move me if I read it again.
Between both Lam's and Jin's books, though, I've definitely sought out more about the turbulent history of modern Asia, from the last vestiges of Japanese imperialism to the rise of Communism in China.
Alice Hoffman's Here on Earth is another book I've long wanted to read, ever since I was in grade 12. My OAC Writer's Craft teacher had shown us the Oprah episode where she compiled all the interviews she'd done with writers related to Oprah's Book Club. (I read more Oprah's Book Club than the average reader, I think, but far fewer than the average Oprah fan.) Anyway, I remember a brief snippet about Hoffman stating how hard it was for her to write this book, and she had to do Practical Magic in the middle before completing it. I dismissed Magic as it was made into a movie, so how good could it have been? Somehow, though, Hoffman and her writer's struggle stayed with me, and I remembered it when I was looking for what next to borrow from the library.
As I was Googling more information about the book, I learned two things before I started reading it. One, that it was an homage of sort to Wuthering Heights, and someone on Goodreads (I think) said all the characters were incredibly selfish. I had read Wuthering Heights many years ago, and I didn't like it. It was a slog. I can't remember anything about it other than Heathcliff was a domineering figure and Meatloaf's (and Celine Dion's) "It's All Coming Back to Me" is based on the book. This precursory information probably meant I was hesitant about starting the book, but as I began reading it, I become enthralled.
Switching from third-person to third-person narration is really in right now, thanks to A Song of Ice and Fire, but there's other, more subtle ways to do it, and Here on Earth definitely succeeds here. It was fascinating getting into the heads of all her characters, even though the crux of the book is the unspoken and ignored aspects of the relationships between them all (whether it be mother and daughter, lover and old flame, or supposed best friends). And I liked how characters dropped in and out of focus, and as March becomes more and more isolated in her dangerous situation, it's a thrilling marriage between narrative focus and theme. I really liked how Hoffman didn't dwell on resolutions; when someone escapes, it's a true escape - we know they've earned a "happy ending" of sorts, but an overarching structural theme, I guess, is that characters and their lives change but they can change back. Or perhaps it's that when you grow and overcome your past, you still carry it around with you.
It's altogether a much more complex book than you would expect when a family in the book has the surname "Justice". (Yes, I know it can be a real surname.) Anyway, I can appreciate the online reviewer's complaint that everyone is selfish, and that can be hard to read. I mean, if just one person had an ounce more sense, certainly the entire conflict of the book could be avoided. Sometimes to love - to live - and to create justice, to overcome the wrongs you have faced - does require selfishness. Maybe it's not the only way in the real world, but I think the fact that Hollis and others in the book all are doesn't make it a bad story. The more I write about this book, the more I think I'm appreciating it, which is always a good thing for a reader.