Disgrace

I just finished reading Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee. You may have heard of it... the book took the Booker Prize in 1999, the author was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2003. A well-regarded book from a well-regarded author, obviously, and not at all my usual sort of thing. But my father was reading it on our flight home from Toronto (we had been attending Spring Reunion at Trinity College— it's been 10 years for me, and 40 for him), and he kept laughing to himself and muttering things. So, of course, I had to know what was so funny.

Disgrace is very well written, but it wasn't my cup of tea, and I doubt I'll ever re-read it. This is in no way a criticism of the writing, which is superb: it's the subject matter that I disagree with, and that is my priviledge.

The disgrace referred to in the title (or at least the chief and most obvious disgrace) comes about when 52-year-old protagonist Professor David Lurie has an affair with one of his students, a girl named Melanie, and of course he ends up being dismissed for harassment and abuse of power. I found the whole premise distinctly off-putting, and the protagonist rather distasteful: an old professor lusting after a young college student, but then acting on it (and once rather against her will too), and then admitting his guilt but refusing to be sorry. The slyness and flirtatiousness of the girl affected me in a negative way also, almost as if these attributes somehow were supposed to mitigate the professor's behaviour. Coetzee makes the point that what ostensibly started as a mutual relationship became the basis for a harassment accusation after the fact, and equally the point that a confession of guilt may be demanded but repentance can't be compelled— but that doesn't make me like these characters any better. The fact that the professor uses prostitutes, including one younger than the college student, not once but twice during the novel, only serves to alienate me further. He also has an unemotional affair with a woman that he considers dumpy and unattractive, which seems vaguely offensive as well.

Actually, I feel rather badly saying I didn't completely enjoy such a well-written novel. The prose itself is clever and beautiful. The dry humour is entertaining; I can see what made my father laugh— in particular, the portrait of modern academia is killingly apt. And there were elements of the plot that I found very good indeed. There is some political subject matter in Disgrace, which is set in South Africa, switching between Cape Town and "the uplands of the Eastern Cape"; I am no expert, but to me it was interesting and well-handled. There is also a gritty storyline about recovery from robbery and rape, which is needfully grim and distressing, and again well-handled. Coetzee is clearly a master writer.

I think what I wanted, and didn't get, from this novel was one uplifting moment. That's a personal bias of mine; I like some hope with my fiction. The professor sees himself as "just an old lag serving out [his] sentence", equating the remainder of his existence with imprisonment. And the very last scene of the book, while poignant and beautifully written, is... well... not how I wanted it to end. Just more gritty reality, no light at the end of the tunnel.

The Birth of Venus

For some reason, I just had to re-read The Birth of Venus for what must be the third or fourth time.

Subtitled "Love and Death in Florence", this powerful novel by British writer Sarah Dunant is described by Simon Schama as being "a beautiful serpent of a novel, seductive and dangerous". I don't know about "dangerous", exactly, but edgy and subversive it certainly is at times. "Serpent" may also seem to be an odd choice of word to describe a novel, but in this case it makes sense on reading the book.

A classic coming-of-age tale, the story centres around Alexandra, a young girl growing into womanhood in Renaissance Italy. She is surrounded by privilege and luxury, but also by education, fabulous art and artists, creativity... and splendid fabrics; her father is a cloth merchant. All the requisite elements of the coming-of-age story are present: sibling rivalry, rebellion against parents, independence and adventurousness in the heroine, and of course love in many forms.

Be warned, though, that despite a Renaissance backdrop, this book takes a swing at a number of edgy issues, including homosexuality and adultery. People who are uncomfortable with a discussion of these topics may not enjoy this book.

Sarah Dunant, originally a writer of mysteries & crime fiction, has lost none of her skill in creating suspense with this move away from genre writing. Clever plot twists and moments of discovery keep the story moving along at an exciting pace.

Note: Try to figure out the identity of the Painter before the end of the book. Bonus points for guessing the secret that Alexandra's mother keeps.

Memory, Sorrow and Thorn trilogy

For those who enjoy large-scale epic fantasy, the Memory, Sorrow and Thorn trilogy by Tad Williams is one of the best I've read. The trilogy begins with The Dragonbone Chair, continues through Stone of Farewell, and wraps up with To Green Angel Tower. These are not short books, particularly the last (the paperback edition is split into two volumes), and so should last even fast readers a good bit of time. Don't be put off by the cover design, which does very little to convey anything about the story or characters; just read.

All the usual epic fantasy elements are present; the world "somewhat like ours" (or at least like ours might have been long ago), the requisite dark power wishing to conquer it, the wise and beautiful elven/faerie race who may or may not involve themselves in the struggle, and of course the young protagonist who goes from ordinary joe to epic hero during the course of the adventure. The story is also sprinkled with a nice selection of trolls, giants, wizards, castles, peasants, etc. in the best fantasy tradition. There are also, however, a few things that make it different from your ordinary epic. Instead of one wise white wizard as a source of safety and advice (think Gandalf, Dumbledore, etc.) throughout the story, there are a series of learned advisors who are wise but realistically not all-powerful. At one point, vaguely reminiscent of Gandalf blocking the Balrog's pursuit out of Moria (Lord of the Rings, for anyone who's not familiar with it), the wise Jarnauga enables a similar escape... by breaking off a knife blade in the door hinge to jam it. The quest element is also less precise that usual for a fantasy epic; instead of one item or task that needs to be found/disposed of/completed, the quest element unfolds more like a search for answers in how to halt the coming evil, with sub-quests being revealed as the answers arise.

A most interesting thing about the land, history and religion of Osten Ard is its relative but not exact similarity to our own. It's like a translation in which the translator has taken quite a lot of poetic license, or a different adaptation of the same play. The Aedonite religion of Osten Ard bears many similarities with Christianity, but also some interesting and creative differences; some of the "pagan" deities seem somewhat familiar too. The city and fallen empire of Nabban certainly bear some similarities to Rome and the Roman Empire, which naturally leads one to play guessing games with the other regions and cultures. Is Erkynland England? What is Perdruin supposed to represent? And the Wran... India, Africa, or somewhere in Southeast Asia? It's like an itch you can't scratch; enough similarities to cause your subconscious to try figuring it out, enough differences to make clean answers impossible.

Cultural references also abound, hidden throughout all three books. The folk hero Jack Mundwode (appearing in assorted songs and tales throughout the story) bears a strong resemblance to Robin Hood, but with the higher ideals filtered out; he's charismatic, but very much a bandit. There are also some nicely subtle Arthurian references, with the Lancelot/Guinevere story delicately played out in the background by characters you wouldn't initally guess at.

Finally, the cast of characters is what really makes this long tale worth reading. It's a multi-threaded story, told through many points of view as the narrative switches from thread to thread. The segments that deal with Simon, Prince Josua, and Miriamele are particularly compelling, with Maegwin and Guthwulf being the least interesting, in my humble opinion. But the major players are all well-crafted and dynamic characters, which is impressive in a work of this size; the author could easily have populated much of the book with the usual fantasy suspects, and instead chose to spend eight years creating a world full of characters you can believe in.

Of all the epic fantasy I have read, this is one of the few that brings something new and interesting to the genre. I would give it four stars and recommend it highly to anyone who reads fantasy.

re-reading The Lord Of The Rings and more

Unfortunately, I haven't been reading as much as I'd like lately. I just finished an old Mary Higgins Clark book called The Cradle Will Fall (1991), given to me by Peggy recently. I ended up enjoying it very much, and I can see why she is such a popular writer, although I would not go so far as to compare her to P.D. James or Agatha Christie.

I also had to re-read the entire Lord Of The Rings trilogy (when The Two Towers movie came out), which led to endless nitpicky discussions with Grant (also re-reading same) along the lines of "But it wasn't Eomer who came to the rescue at Helm's Deep, it was another guy Erkenbrand-- Eomer was in the siege!" and "That whole bit about Arwen leaving with the elves, they totally made that up, it wasn't in the book at all!" You have to believe, this went on for weeks... in bed... over dinner... and so on.

Currently, I am re-reading Anne McCaffrey's Freedom's Challenge (I re-read most of her books periodically, a fix of old favourites).

light reading

Well, it's been a while, but I'm back. My mysterious absence is in large part due to the fact that I've been reading rather a lot of Sue Grafton and Dick Francis, and didn't want to admit to it. Not that I'm maligning either of these two fine authors; on the contrary, I wouldn't spend so much time and money on their books if I didn't enjoy them. It's just not very literary, and I feel silly when my bookspot is entirely filled with popular fiction, and nothing obscure or academic mixed in.

Speaking of literary, I volunteered at the Vancouver International Writers (& Readers) Festival again this year. I always enjoy giving my time to this annual event, and this year was no exception. I found out that C.C. Humphreys, who wrote The French Executioner, has a new book out called Blood Ties, and I can't wait to find myself a copy.

A Desert in Bohemia

I just finished reading A Desert in Bohemia by Jill Paton Walsh, a beautiful novel beginning in Central Europe in 1945. It is set in a place called Comenia, which she describes in an author's note as follows: "There is no such country as the one describe in this novel; rather, there have been several such countries." This novel is full of beauty and magic and humanity as it describes the darkest of times. One of the things that I love about Jill Paton Walsh's writing is how it seems to follow many threads at once, gradually weaving them into a single story. I think that I loved this one almost as much as her earlier novel A School For Lovers, which I have read many times.

In the last couple of weeks, I have also read a couple of crime novels, kindly lent to me by Peggy whom I talk to on the bus. One was The Forgotten by Faye Kellerman, about hate crimes and white supremacists. It was a bit too heavy on the religious aspect of Judaism to be a light read, and the kinky sex stuff, though there was only a little of it, was a bit too weird for me. But it was reasonably good and fast-paced. The other book was The Associate by Phillip Margolin, and it was just what the doctor ordered for a long bus ride home: full of lawyers, conspiracies, ex-cops, seemingly unrelated murders, and all that good stuff. Both of these books are currently on bestseller racks in grocery stores and pharmacies everywhere. Enjoy!

Incidentally, it's Grant's birthday today, and one of the things I gave him was Timothy Findley's Spadework. So we'll see how he enjoys that, and I will probably read it eventually. Also, for everyone who told me (after my blasting of "Shopaholic") to read about her visit to Manhattan, thank you! I have borrowed it from Emma and will let you know what I think of it.

Taken At The Flood

One of my constant stand-by favourites is Agatha Christie. She wrote so many books that one can never possibly have read them all, and I am always rather excited when I come across one that I haven't yet read.

I picked up Taken At The Flood the other day (in our local London Drugs, of all places); it features Hercule Poirot and a whole string of twists of identity.

With a twist-of-identity plot, the characters become the most important feature of the mystery. A couple of my favourite characters from this one are Aunt Kathie-- who is "under spirit guidance" and puts great faith in ouija boards and mediums-- and Frances, "one of those lean greyhound women who look well in tweeds", with "a rather arrogant ravaged beauty about her face which had no make-up except a little carelessly applied lipstick". That description in particular says so much with so few carefully chosen words, which is one of the reasons why I love Agatha Christie.

Anyone who dismisses Christie as a serious writer because of her prolific writing or her status as a 'mystery novelist' is missing some very clever snapshots of human nature and life in England... and in the case of Taken At The Flood, an interesting perception of life after war-- for those who stayed behind and those who went to war and returned-- for men who stayed at home and women who went as Wrens and returned.

Even more than most Christie mysteries, this one is worth reading.