Bookpost
A few short notes about a longish list.
First, Selvadurai and Zusak, both race stories, and because I've just finished them and are fresh in memory.
Funny Boy
Shyam Selvadurai
Selvadurai is Sri Lankan born and left for Canada after the race riots in 1983. I first read this years and years ago, and still love it like the first time. Arjie (Arjun) is from a wealthy Tamil family in Colombo, with growing pains. Confidante of love-sick aunts and privy to secrets, in the grand divisions of childhood, finds himself in the girls' camp, playing bride-bride with his girl cousins (Arjie is the bride) in the back garden of his grandparents house, while his brother commands the cricket team in the front garden. Naturally, his father's terrified he'll turn out 'funny'. The story ascends (or descends) from there to the Black July, 1983 in Sri Lanka when Tamils in Colombo were picked off the electoral roll and burnt and looted by rampaging Sinahalese (as retaliation to the 13 Soldiers killed by the Tigers) while the army and police watched. Arjie and his immediate family escape being burnt only because his dad's (Sinhala) business partner and their (Sinhala) neighbours hide them.
There are no embellishments in this story, no emphasis, no linguistic or literary acrobatics perhaps because the truth is more amazing and complicated and a hell of a lot uglier than any fiction. It has a very personable style, if I can call it that, as if Arjie's sitting in front of you. The Black July's considered to be the 'official' inauguration of the civil war. But you know, chicken or egg?
The Book Thief
Marcus Zusak
1938-1945ish in Germany, and Death's recounting his whereabouts. He's particuarly enamoured of a girl called Liesel who lost a brother and mother, stole many books and helped a Jew.
I struggled to finish this. Zusak seems to go to extraordinary lengths to avoid writing simple sentences. I love a good play on the words and imagery myself, but when every single sentence is punctuated that way it's like someone's droning on in a really loud, bullying voice in your ear. The characters were smothered with the language because often you had to stop and figure out the logistics of the image and by that time the moment and flow was lost. I wonder why he embellished so much? Is it because this particular story has been told so many times that he felt he had to make it sound different? The story here is the same as the one in Selvadurai, different time, place, races and (arguably) different scale. But I guess it's partly also because Selvadurai's story I can 'imagine' clearer, the thinly veiled old haunts of mine, schools, streets, sights and smells etc.
And what a boring character Death turned out to be.
The next few will be short since it's been a while since I read them.
Norwegian Wood
Haruki Murakami
Suicide, sex, love, manic depression, self-obsession, 1960's Japan. What more could you want?
I loved this. Toru keeps you hooked from start to finish, and the characters are wonderful except for one or two. (I couldn't care less about Reiko, but wished there was more of the Storm Trooper--he was hilarious). It's such a 'far away' or 'deep down' story--I felt like I was underground or under a doona while I read this, everything else was muffled. Funny in parts, poignant in others, drama all the way through. And what an ending.
Middlesex
Jeffrey Eugenides
Incest, hermaphrodites, silk worms, 5th chromosome, American Greeks or Greek Americans, self-obsession, sex, love--well, there's a reason the book's called 'Middlesex'. Wonderful, loved it. The most striking thing (apart from the obvious) is the narrator's voice--smart, well-read, self-deprecating, quirky, funny, ironic but oh-so lovable. Something very F.Scott Fitzgeraldian about it, who I love too.
Earthsea Quartet
Ursula Le Guin
Yes, I'm coming late into this. I was given this with the warning that it's 'old-fashioned' fantasy, before fantasy became mass-market. Not a bad thing. It has bare bones of story, not the detailed, door-stopper stuff you get these days. Beautifully sparse and moody, doesn't go into chapters of world-building which I personally find darn boring in fantasy, but which is supposed to be a must-have. I loved the second story best of all, Tombs of Atuan, and found the others a bit of a dense read. The other three had a sense of boy's tale about it which is strange for Le Guin, and I'm bored by the good/evil thing. *shrugs* But it was worth the read.
Black Juice
Margo Lanagan
Nearly forgot this. Lanagan is probably unfamiliar to most, she's Aussie and writes YA fiction. This collection of stories came highly recommended but I was disappointed, perhaps due to expectations. The first story, "Singing My Sister Down" is an award winner but I couldn't really see what the fuss was about. Fantastic idea, if not morbid--someone been sunk to death in a tar-pit. But the idea is so outlandish and I felt she didn't do much to make it familiar, and therefore the pain associated with it (the boy watching the sister being sunk for punishment this way) was somehow too far to feel. At least for me. In theory it should've worked--a family saying good-bye in ceremony to this sister who's being punished this way for murder. But I don't know, I simply didn't connect with it, I felt there were lots missing. Some of the other stories were better, and no doubt she's a consummate writer.
And if you're wondering about January, *drumroll* it's done. Epilogue sent away to beta.
So as Hermione says to Harry in the fairy-tale, and now we wait.
:)
First, Selvadurai and Zusak, both race stories, and because I've just finished them and are fresh in memory.
Funny Boy
Shyam Selvadurai
Selvadurai is Sri Lankan born and left for Canada after the race riots in 1983. I first read this years and years ago, and still love it like the first time. Arjie (Arjun) is from a wealthy Tamil family in Colombo, with growing pains. Confidante of love-sick aunts and privy to secrets, in the grand divisions of childhood, finds himself in the girls' camp, playing bride-bride with his girl cousins (Arjie is the bride) in the back garden of his grandparents house, while his brother commands the cricket team in the front garden. Naturally, his father's terrified he'll turn out 'funny'. The story ascends (or descends) from there to the Black July, 1983 in Sri Lanka when Tamils in Colombo were picked off the electoral roll and burnt and looted by rampaging Sinahalese (as retaliation to the 13 Soldiers killed by the Tigers) while the army and police watched. Arjie and his immediate family escape being burnt only because his dad's (Sinhala) business partner and their (Sinhala) neighbours hide them.
There are no embellishments in this story, no emphasis, no linguistic or literary acrobatics perhaps because the truth is more amazing and complicated and a hell of a lot uglier than any fiction. It has a very personable style, if I can call it that, as if Arjie's sitting in front of you. The Black July's considered to be the 'official' inauguration of the civil war. But you know, chicken or egg?
The Book Thief
Marcus Zusak
1938-1945ish in Germany, and Death's recounting his whereabouts. He's particuarly enamoured of a girl called Liesel who lost a brother and mother, stole many books and helped a Jew.
I struggled to finish this. Zusak seems to go to extraordinary lengths to avoid writing simple sentences. I love a good play on the words and imagery myself, but when every single sentence is punctuated that way it's like someone's droning on in a really loud, bullying voice in your ear. The characters were smothered with the language because often you had to stop and figure out the logistics of the image and by that time the moment and flow was lost. I wonder why he embellished so much? Is it because this particular story has been told so many times that he felt he had to make it sound different? The story here is the same as the one in Selvadurai, different time, place, races and (arguably) different scale. But I guess it's partly also because Selvadurai's story I can 'imagine' clearer, the thinly veiled old haunts of mine, schools, streets, sights and smells etc.
And what a boring character Death turned out to be.
The next few will be short since it's been a while since I read them.
Norwegian Wood
Haruki Murakami
Suicide, sex, love, manic depression, self-obsession, 1960's Japan. What more could you want?
I loved this. Toru keeps you hooked from start to finish, and the characters are wonderful except for one or two. (I couldn't care less about Reiko, but wished there was more of the Storm Trooper--he was hilarious). It's such a 'far away' or 'deep down' story--I felt like I was underground or under a doona while I read this, everything else was muffled. Funny in parts, poignant in others, drama all the way through. And what an ending.
Middlesex
Jeffrey Eugenides
Incest, hermaphrodites, silk worms, 5th chromosome, American Greeks or Greek Americans, self-obsession, sex, love--well, there's a reason the book's called 'Middlesex'. Wonderful, loved it. The most striking thing (apart from the obvious) is the narrator's voice--smart, well-read, self-deprecating, quirky, funny, ironic but oh-so lovable. Something very F.Scott Fitzgeraldian about it, who I love too.
Earthsea Quartet
Ursula Le Guin
Yes, I'm coming late into this. I was given this with the warning that it's 'old-fashioned' fantasy, before fantasy became mass-market. Not a bad thing. It has bare bones of story, not the detailed, door-stopper stuff you get these days. Beautifully sparse and moody, doesn't go into chapters of world-building which I personally find darn boring in fantasy, but which is supposed to be a must-have. I loved the second story best of all, Tombs of Atuan, and found the others a bit of a dense read. The other three had a sense of boy's tale about it which is strange for Le Guin, and I'm bored by the good/evil thing. *shrugs* But it was worth the read.
Black Juice
Margo Lanagan
Nearly forgot this. Lanagan is probably unfamiliar to most, she's Aussie and writes YA fiction. This collection of stories came highly recommended but I was disappointed, perhaps due to expectations. The first story, "Singing My Sister Down" is an award winner but I couldn't really see what the fuss was about. Fantastic idea, if not morbid--someone been sunk to death in a tar-pit. But the idea is so outlandish and I felt she didn't do much to make it familiar, and therefore the pain associated with it (the boy watching the sister being sunk for punishment this way) was somehow too far to feel. At least for me. In theory it should've worked--a family saying good-bye in ceremony to this sister who's being punished this way for murder. But I don't know, I simply didn't connect with it, I felt there were lots missing. Some of the other stories were better, and no doubt she's a consummate writer.
And if you're wondering about January, *drumroll* it's done. Epilogue sent away to beta.
So as Hermione says to Harry in the fairy-tale, and now we wait.
:)