Stone Upon Stone by Wiesław Myśliwski, translated by Bill Johnston

Rating

* * * * *

The book's description from the publisher's site:

Myśliwski's grand epic in the rural tradition—a profound and irreverent stream of memory cutting through the rich and varied terrain of one man’s connection to the land, to his family and community, to women, to tradition, to God, to death, and to what it means to be alive. Wise and impetuous, plain-spoken and compassionate Szymek, recalls his youth in their village, his time as a guerrilla soldier, as a wedding official, barber, policeman, lover, drinker, and caretaker for his invalid brother. Filled with interwoven stories and voices, by turns hilarious and moving, Szymek’s narrative exudes the profound wisdom of one who has suffered, yet who loves life to the very core.

Nostalgia is the first word that comes to my mind after finishing this outstanding novel. Because if Szymek's life and my life are separated by decades, I spent half of my life (the first 15 years) pretty much living with my peasant grandparents on their farm. And I loved them, that life and I'm more a peasant myself than a city girl nowadays, even though I've had my share of big cities' living. What I'm driving at here is that every day of Szymek's life spent with his parents, farming the land and observing or not observing the traditions, was my life too and my maternal grandparents' and my mom's, her siblings' and our entire huge family's. I cannot believe how accurately Mr. Myśliwski depicted the realities of post-war Polish peasantry and beginnings of Stalinist government taking roots in our country. It was actually uncanny to read the minutest details, such as the way Szymek's mother cut the loaf of bread (this is how I learned and used to do it) to the father yelling at Szymek, "Dear God, hold me back or I'll kill him, I'll kill him like a dog!" (I remember my grandpa yelling the same way at my uncles, and yes they were adults but for us kids it was funny as hell) and realize those are all the things that happened in my life. Anyway, so far it's all personal, I know but to me that is the most important  part of Stone Upon Stone. Also, when you do get to read it, it's not all exaggerated, sentimentalized, romanticized view of the things long past. It's all true, exactly the way we, peasants lived in Poland for decades, including the parties, drinking and bloody fights, and the love of land above all. Nothing's made up. Historically, all details are very accurate. Shit, I even remember the scythes and helping my grandpa with their sharpening using the whetstone  and I'm not ancient (measly 35) :D.

Word and language mastery are the next three words staying in my mind all the time I was reading Stone Upon Stone. The author writes beautifully and gives the power of words their due. Life wisdom and insight into human nature abound. And even though it is written in a stream of memory, it's not the same as stream of consciousness and as a real stream, it flows smoothly and easily.

But thinking's no good. I mean, you're not going to think something up unless you actually do it. People thought and thought, and what did they come up with? The world's still the way it was, and all thinking does is make you think more and do less. (p.149)

 That's wisdom. Simple it may be but profound nonetheless. And the form mirrors the philosophy contained within it. Really, this novel is a masterpiece in its form, in its content and in its message. But most importantly, it's a tribute to farmers and rural Poland. I can't imagine anyone better suited for such an important role than Mr. Wiesław Myśliwski. A great, memorable read to which I'll be returning more than once.

Note on Translation

Stone Upon Stone (Kamien na kamieniu) was translated from Polish by Bill Johnston. The fact that this translation got three translation awards in 2012 - PEN Translation Prize, Best Translated Book Award, American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Prize (AATSEEL) - pretty much speaks for itself. I must say that Mr. Johnston did a superb job translating Myśliwski's novel and he did the Polish language proud. I'm looking forward to more translations of his in the future. And apparently, in 2014 there is going to be another novel by Wiesław Myśliwski, Treatise on Shelling Beans, translated by Bill Johnston hitting the American market in 2014.

~~~~~~~

FTC: I purchased a copy of Stone Upon Stone by Wiesław Myśliwski.

Kiku's Prayer by Endō Shūsaku, translated by Van C. Gessel

Rating

* * * *

The book's description from the publisher's website:

Kiku’s Prayer is told through the eyes of Kiku, a self-assured young woman from a rural Japanese village who falls in love with Seikichi, a devoted Catholic man. Practicing a faith still banned by the government, Seikichi is imprisoned but refuses to recant under torture. Kiku’s efforts to reconcile her feelings for Seikichi’s religion with the sacrifices she makes to free him mirror the painful, conflicting choices Japan faced as a result of exposure to modernity and the West. Seikichi’s persecution exemplifies Japan’s insecurities, and Kiku’s tortured yet determined spirit represents the nation’s resilient soul.
Set in the turbulent years of the transition from the shogunate to the Meiji Restoration, Kiku’s Prayer embodies themes central to Endō Shūsaku’s work, including religion, modernization, and the endurance of the human spirit. Yet this novel is much more than a historical allegory. It acutely renders one woman’s troubled encounter with passion and spirituality at a transitional time in her life and in the history of her people. A renowned twentieth-century Japanese author, Endō wrote from the perspective of being both Japanese and Catholic. His work is often compared with that of Graham Greene, who himself considered Endō one of the century’s finest writers.

Just when you think you might be getting somewhere with your knowledge of history, a book comes along such as Kiku's Prayer. Thanks to Endō Shūsaku, how little I know of the history of the world was glaring me in the face from the first until the last page of this novel. I am still incredulous how history teachers (among other people)  never failed to pound into my head the Catholic Church's cruelty during the Inquisition. The other side of the coin, the hundreds of thousands of Christians made to apostatize under some of the most awful torture practices and thousands upon thousands of Christians persecuted and killed across the Asian continent alone, had never been presented, discussed or even mentioned in passing to me until Kiku's Prayer. Incredulous and grateful at the same time are two emotions that are prevalent in mind as I think about  Endō Shūsaku and his book.

Admittedly, Kiku's Prayer's begins slowly and it requires a bit of patience to keep going. However, the subject - the persecution of Japanese Christians (Kirishitans) in 19th century Nagasaki - is fascinating, worthy and deserving of notice and our attention. Not every book has to be a distraction and the effort you invest in reading Mr. Shūsaku's novel will be well paid off in the end.

Besides the subject matter, there are a couple of intriguing aspects of Kiku's Prayer that I was surprised to notice. I'm certainly not an expert in Japanese or Chinese literature. But nor am I a novice to it. I've read I think enough to see a  distinct quality to it, quite apart from the western tradition. The writing of Endō Shūsaku is the first time I encountered a change from what I became to identify as an Asian style of writing.  Here, there is a lot more emphasis on plot development than on descriptive, albeit always crisp and to the point, narrative where the physical surroundings, the mystical power of nature and landscape and how they relate to the growth or decline of human character. It was a different reading experience but by no means of inferior quality.

The narrative style takes an unusual turn as well. The narrator comes off as a kind of a documentary commentator/historical archivist living in the present but describing events from the 19th century. On the one hand it gives a reader confidence in the accuracy of historical events written about in Kiku's Prayer. Equally important is that this technique escapes the dangers of becoming an overtly moralizing tale whose message wouldn't or couldn't touch the hearts of readers in a way the essence of this novel will. On the other hand, the  side effect (and the only negative side of Kiku's Prayer) is the awkward and sudden switches of narrative from smooth retelling of the story to dry enumerating of the events in the fashion of almost a newspaper article. Overall, it doesn't detract from the importance and quality of Kiku's Prayer and from why it matters that you read it.

A Note On Translation

Kiku's Prayer by Endō Shūsaku has been translated into English from Japanese by Van C. Gessel for the first time. Below is a short description from Columbia University Press about this esteemed translator.

Van C. Gessel is professor of Japanese at Brigham Young University. He is the author of Three Modern Novelists: Sōseki, Tanizaki, Kawabata; coeditor of The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature; and translator of seven literary works by Endō Shūsaku, including The Samurai and Deep River.

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of Kiku's Prayer from the publisher, Columbia University Press via NetGalley.

Wilderness by Lance Weller

Rating

* * * * *

The book's description from Lance Weller's website:

Thirty years after the Civil War’s Battle of the Wilderness left him maimed, Abel Truman has found his way to the edge of the continent, the rugged, majestic coast of Washington State, where he lives alone in a driftwood shack with his beloved dog. Wilderness is the story of Abel, now an old and ailing man, and his heroic final journey over the snowbound Olympic Mountains. It’s a quest he has little hope of completing but still must undertake to settle matters of the heart that predate even the horrors of the war.

As Abel makes his way into the foothills, the violence he endures at the hands of two thugs who are after his dog is crosscut with his memories of the horrors of the war, the friends he lost, and the savagery he took part in and witnessed. And yet, darkness is cut by light, especially in the people who have touched his life—from Jane Dao-Ming Poole, the daughter of murdered Chinese immigrants, to Hypatia, an escaped slave who nursed him back to life, and finally to the unbearable memory of the wife and child he lost as a young man. Haunted by tragedy, loss, and unspeakable brutality, Abel has somehow managed to hold on to his humanity, finding way stations of kindness along his tortured and ultimately redemptive path.

Quite simply, Wilderness is a beautiful and heartbreaking story. Beautiful in the writing which inspires strong emotions of compassion, sympathy and appreciation of both the nature of people touched by tragedy and suffering and yet persevering to live a meaningful life without giving in to despair and loss of morals, and the Nature, with its landscape, the wilderness surrounding humans, this powerful element of rebirth, always escaping absolute destruction. Heartbreaking in how much pure evil can live in the hearts of men who are determined to hurt others and ruin their lives simply because they can. Heartbreaking also in watching innocent people get hurt, suffer and die in the nightmare of what is perhaps the worst of all wars, civil war (not that there are good wars because there aren't, ever). And Civil War and the battle of the Wilderness is an important event in American history this novel deals with as well.

The Battle of the Wilderness in 1864

Lance Weller is such a talented writer that saying how unbelievable it is his Wilderness is a debut novel seems somehow trite and taking away something from the depth of Mr. Weller's gift. It just somehow doesn't seem to matter whether it's his first or tenth novel. What matters is the story, the characters (good and evil and somewhere in-between) and the meaning, all of which will linger in one's memory for quite some time. Really, I would be surprised and not a little disappointed if anyone who reads it, would find Wilderness lacking in anything.

~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of Wilderness by Lance Weller from the publisher, Bloomsbury via NetGalley for a review.

Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See by Juliann Garey

Rating

* * * * *

The book's description from the publisher's site:

A studio executive leaves his family and travels the world giving free reign to the bipolar disorder he's been forced to hide for 20 years.
In her tour-de-force first novel, Juliann Garey takes us inside the restless mind, ravaged heart, and anguished soul of Greyson Todd, a successful Hollywood studio executive who leaves his wife and young daughter and for a decade travels the world giving free reign to the bipolar disorder he's been forced to keep hidden for almost 20 years. The novel intricately weaves together three timelines: the story of Greyson's travels (Rome, Israel, Santiago, Thailand, Uganda); the progressive unraveling of his own father seen through Greyson's eyes as a child; and the intimacies and estrangements of his marriage. The entire narrative unfolds in the time it takes him to undergo twelve 30-second electroshock treatments in a New York psychiatric ward. This is a literary page-turner of the first order, and a brilliant inside look at mental illness.

So very little is written about mental illness. And whatever is written that's of any value is almost never read by the right audience. I hope that Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See will end up in the hands of readers who must read it not because they suffer from mental illness but because they share their lives with a manic-depressive, depressive or schizophrenic person. I have no idea how Juliann Garey managed it but she wrote exactly what it feels to be mad and that there's no 'snapping out of it'. Ever. Because when you try to hide your illness, like Greyson had, it won't eventually go away but return with a vicious vengeance.

Greyson's bipolar disorder finally reigns supreme over his mind and his life. It's absolutely heartbreaking to be a remote witness (as a reader) to how the lives and spirits of Greyson's, his father's and every person's who loved them get ravaged by this invisible monster. But you will not be able to tear yourself away, no matter how much what you read will make your heart ache. Therein lies the power of Ms. Garey's writing. Her prose is beautifully spare, with enough impact to pierce your heart with sorrow for those people who find themselves ruled by a potentially very deadly disease and can do nothing about it, just like they couldn't do anything to prevent it from happening.

Juliann Garey will make you her hostage for the time it'll take you to read Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See. This is not a feel-good novel, it's disturbing, and it's tragic in many ways. But the way this author captured what is going on in the mind of a person affected with a mental illness (bi-polar in this case) is brilliant, precise and as close to the truth as you can get. It's torture and Greyson has to live with it until he dies. In the end, the choices made will be more easily acceptable to any reader, especially those who thankfully never have to live through Greyson's nightmare.

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See from the publisher, Soho Press via Net Galley for a review.

Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See by Juliann Garey will be on sale on December 26, 2012.

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe + a few thoughts on his other works

Africa, my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this you, this back that is bent
This back that breaks
Under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
Springing up patiently, obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.
David Diop, 'Africa'

Forgive me for the length and for thoughts encompassing the three Achebe's books that comprise the African Trilogy (and a little bit on Anthills of the Savannah), rather than writing a straight-up review of Things Fall Apart. Achebe and these four books are close to my heart. I had loved Achebe's writing, his message and motives for writing from my very first reading. So much so, that I chose this writer's work for my master's dissertation as the only student in my academic year at my university (everyone else went all Shakespeare, Victorian or Austen). What you'll read below then, are just my general thoughts as I remember them from some few years ago.

Chinua Achebe is a post-colonial Nigerian writer who almost all his life has been struggling to bring back to his own nation the sense of dignity which had been lost in the process of colonisation and gaining of independence. Achebe's ways seem to be of contradicting the long lasting idea of wild, uncivilised Africa. However, one should pay attention to the fact that Achebe does not put blame for what had happened to Nigeria on the white man only. He admits that what has been taking place in his country after the end of colonialism to the present day is the pure example of neo-colonialism.

The poem quoted at the beginning refers to complex history of African path to the twice-lost freedom. First, this freedom was taken away by ignorant Westerners, who came to Africa and claimed it as their own. And it was taken away for the second time by African leaders who, under the disguise of the saviours, gave the false liberty a 'bitter taste.'

Although Achebe has written much more literature than what I mention here, the four novels I speak of are probably most important ones. Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God and No Longer at Ease create the African trilogy. Their main purpose is to display step by step the impact that the advent of the white man had on the Nigerian nation. Achebe introduces the Igbo [known as Ibo as well] people since he is the descendant of their tradition. He is on the crossroads of cultures because his parents were converted Christians but the rest of his family remained faithful to the tribal Igbo tradition. In effect he was given the possibility of learning both the religion of the colonisers and the culture of his ancestors. That is why the deep insight into two different and antagonistic worlds enabled Achebe to objectively display the past culture of the Igbos and the relationship between his nation and the Europeans. He is very critical about the white man's attitude towards Africans.



Equality is the one thing which Europeans are conspicuously

incapable of extending to others, especially Africans.

But anyone who is in any doubt about the

meaning of partnership in that context need only be

reminded that a British governor of Rhodesia

defined the partnership between black and white as

the partnership between the horse and its rider (...) For

centuries Europe has ruled out the possibility of a dialogue.

You may talk to a horse but you don't wait for a reply!
(Achebe)

Since he does not expect the white man to clarify the true vision of past Africa, and, moreover, he is not willing to give the white man such a right, Achebe feels inclined to show to his people that they had a civilised and rich past.

Things Fall Apart is the novel which describes the life of the Igbos before the coming of the colonisers. It introduces the complex religion and political systems that operate within the tribe. The social and moral values seem very often controversial, but at the same time they show the loyalty and faithfulness of the Igbos towards the systems they had constructed themselves.

  
Arrow of God is the continuation of the previous novel since it reflects the situation of the Igbo people right after the meeting with Europeans and the dangers they faced when accepting the new religion. No Longer at Ease, the last novel from the trilogy, introduces to the reader the situation the young generation of Nigerians is put into right after the gaining of the independence. There is the atmosphere of hopelessness and being lost in the disarray of old values and the new ideas about modernity with its corruption and ignorance. The main characters of these three novels fail because of the lack of flexibility in their personalities. However,the novels themselves do not carry negative pictures of these characters because they failed. The meaning of those novels is rather that the three men were left for themselves, they were abandoned by their kinsmen. And a single person, even if he or she has got the right intentions, cannot possibly realize them by him/herself.

Anthills of the Savannah is the fourth novel that completes the message (although can be read quite independently). It is different from the three mentioned above in the way that it shows the change of Achebe's attitude towards the situation of Nigeria. In this novel Achebe does not accuse colonialists for the devastated condition of his country any more. He makes it clear that these are Africans themselves that are responsible for the actual state of things in Nigeria. He proposes definite solutions for saving Nigeria from the impotent leaders. He claims that writers should take a strong stand and not hesitate to criticise the hopeless governments that reside over Nigeria.

~~~~~~~~~~

The above essay/ review/ piece of writing is the beginning of what I hope to be a series of posts on Achebe's work.

P.S.
I'm really hoping Achebe will be awarded Nobel Prize this year. It really is about time.

Toby's Room by Pat Barker

Rating

* * * * *
The book's description from the publisher's website:

With Toby’s Room, a sequel to her widely praised previous novel Life Class, the incomparable Pat Barker confirms her place in the pantheon of Britain’s finest novelists. This indelible portrait of a family torn apart by war focuses on Toby Brooke, a medical student, and his younger sister Elinor. Enmeshed in a web of complicated family relationships, Elinor and Toby are close: some might say too close. But when World War I begins, Toby is posted to the front as a medical officer while Elinor stays in London to continue her fine art studies at the Slade, under the tutelage of Professor Henry Tonks. There, in a startling development based in actual fact, Elinor finds that her drafting skills are deployed to aid in the literal reconstruction of those maimed in combat.

One day in 1917, Elinor has a sudden premonition that Toby will not return from France. Three weeks later the family receives a telegram informing them that Toby is “Missing, Believed Killed” in Ypres. However, there is no body, and Elinor refuses to accept the official explanation. Then she finds a letter hidden in the lining of Toby’s uniform; Toby knew he wasn’t coming back, and he implies that fellow soldier Kit Neville will know why.

 There can never be enough books about WWI experience. Not for me, at least. I will never know enough. But with each, well-written story I learn more. And Toby's Room is exceptionally well-written with crisp simplicity that cuts to the bone. This was my first experience with Ms. Parker's (a Booker Prize winner) writing and it left me in awe of how the lack of flowery, ornate writing opens the door to clarity.This clarity is essential to make the human tragedy that continued long after the war was over, real to the contemporary reader (we all know it was real, but knowing and actually feeling are two different experiences).

Even though Toby's Room is a sequel to Life Class, it's also a stand-alone novel. I read it without having a clue it was a sequel and had no issues with being confused about characters or previous story-lines that you sometimes get dropped right in the middle of when starting with book two in a series. I was however quite shocked with the strong beginning, wondering whether I really was reading what I thought I was. I loved how Pat Barker so unassumingly led me from a straight path on to a hurl down a sharp hill in the beginning chapters  and then ended the story in the same, unexpected manner - one of the final scenes, the story of Neville's about what happened with Toby truly took my breath away and I found myself wiping tears off my cheeks in disbelief. My strong emotions however were not due to some shocking, suspend-your-disbelief-now event (it was something rather quite believable) but to the author's mastery of writing. It felt like she set a trap for me with her calming, down to earth, simple story-telling just to deliver a heartbreaking blow.

The whole book is sad, of course. I mean, how can it not be? It's about the worst coming-of-age experience possible. You enter your late adolescence full of dreams, ideas, crazy fooling around and then it all just stops, it's taken away because your guy friends, fiancees, boyfriends have to go and fight and die, or come home terribly disfigured, most likely with wounds to their bodies, souls and spirits that will never heal. And then you start to think those horrible but inevitable thoughts that maybe dying on the war front would have been better. That's what Toby's Room is and it's beautiful in the sorrow of the bright, talented people who were denied a chance. Life would never, could never, be back to what it was supposed to be. Life was now this:

It seemed, looking back, that he's grown around the loss, that it [grief] had become part of him, as trees will sometimes incorporate an obstruction, so they end up living, but deformed. (loc.1888-90, Kindle ed.)*

But then, the most surprising thing was to find out that despite the tragedy, the talent prevailed and was used in one of the most amazing ways and also, again, heartbreaking ways: to help the doctors with reconstructive surgeries performed on the surviving soldiers, painting those wounded before and after surgeries. If you're interested (and you should be), please see some of those paintings by Henry Tonks (who was also featured in Toby's Room) at Gillies Archives.

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of Toby's Room from the publisher, Doubleday via Edelweiss.

* The quote is from an unfinished copy. Please verify against a published book.

We Sinners by Hanna Pylväinen

Rating

* * * 1/2

The book's synopsis from the publisher:

This stunning debut novel—drawn from the author's own life experience—tells the moving story of a family of eleven in the American Midwest, bound together and torn apart by their faith
The Rovaniemis and their nine children belong to a deeply traditional church (no drinking, no dancing, no TV) in modern-day Michigan. A normal family in many ways, the Rovaniemis struggle with sibling rivalry, parental expectations, and forming their own unique identities in such a large family. But when two of the children venture from the faith, the family fragments and a haunting question emerges: Do we believe for ourselves, or for each other? Each chapter is told from the distinctive point of view of a different Rovaniemi, drawing a nuanced, kaleidoscopic portrait of this unconventional family. The children who reject the church learn that freedom comes at the almost unbearable price of their close family ties, and those who stay struggle daily with the challenges of resisting the temptations of modern culture. With precision and potent detail, We Sinners follows each character on their journey of doubt, self-knowledge, acceptance, and, ultimately, survival.

I enjoyed this novel very much and was convinced it would be another winner for me among literary writers debuts. Hanna Pylväinen most certainly displayed a significant writing talent, especially when portraying the family dynamics, within the most unusual family nonetheless.

I appreciated the most that despite the Rovaniemis family living according to very strict religious rules, the author didn't make a parody of them or their religion. Nor did she point an accusing finger at anyone. She left the choice to form opinions to the readers. At the same time, Hanna told her story, in her own way, with her own opinion to be found between the pages. No small achievement for any writer, if you ask me. The truth is, 'we' are no more normal than 'them' and just because something is unknown to the majority of society, it doesn't make it weird, unacceptable or intolerable. Every one of us in this world has something that could be perceived as 'weird' to others. If you're a reader like me, who's looking for a moral or some kind of life truth in a story, We Sinners is something you may enjoy.

I was loving every page of We Sinners...and then it ended so abruptly and with a story that, while interesting in itself, had little to do with the rest of the book and should have been a prologue instead of the ending, that my enthusiasm deflated and I ended up quite disappointed. I got no emotional closure considering pretty much every member of the Rovaniemis' and I wanted so badly to keep reading and to find out how their lives really turned out. I could not believe when turning the last page that that was it. It made me quite angry. However, Ms. Pylväinen is a very talented new writer who I believe only has to spread her wings a little wider. I will read her books as they get published with no hesitation. 

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received We Sinners by Hanna Pylväinen from the publisher, Henry Holt & Co. for a review.

A Hundred Flowers by Gail Tsukiyama

Rating

* * * * *
 
The book's description from the publisher's website:

China, 1957. Chairman Mao has declared a new openness in society: “Let a hundred flowers bloom; let a hundred schools of thought contend.” Many intellectuals fear it is only a trick, and Kai Y ing’s husband, Sheng, a teacher, has promised not to jeopardize their safety or that of their young son, T ao. But one July morning, just before his sixth birthday, Tao watches helplessly as Sheng is dragged away for writing a letter criticizing the Communist Party and sent to a labor camp for “reeducation.”

A year later, still missing his father desperately, Tao climbs to the top of the hundred-year-old kapok tree in front of their home, wanting to see the mountain peaks in the distance. But Tao slips and tumbles thirty feet to the courtyard below, badly breaking his leg.

As Kai Ying struggles to hold her small family together in the face of this shattering reminder of her husband’s absence, other members of the household must face their own guilty secrets and strive to find peace in a world where the old sense of order is falling. Once again, Tsukiyama brings us a powerfully moving story of ordinary people facing extraordinary circumstances with grace and courage.

Quietly unassuming. I have always wondered how to best express what Tsukiyama's novels are like and with A Hundred Flowers I have  finally found the right words: quietly unassuming, until at the very end the true beauty of it stunned me.

What can I write about A Hundred Flowers that I haven't already praised when writing about The Street of a Thousand Blossoms and The Samurai's Garden? I've loved them both and although I approached Ms. Tsukiyama's newest 'jewel' with trepidation (I was anxious about how it would measure up to her other 'jewels'), I love A Hundred Flowers. I love the writing, I love the tone, and especially, I love the message it carries: the hope that keeps us humans going despite the almost equal despair and unfairness of life. 

I could give you a rant about the deceit and cruelty of communism (living through the last decade of it myself), a socialist movement that may sound good in theory, but it never, ever is good in practice. But I won't. A Hundred Flowers will hopefully compel you to research further and learn about Mao's
Hundred Flowers Campaign and Great Leap Forward. Trust me, it's worth it. This greatly talented writer will show you the truth in words such as these:

Kai Ying tried to imagine what it must have been like to have servants doing all the things that now filled her days. It was the bourgeoisie lifestyle Mao and the Communist Party had despised and fought against, declaring victory for the people. And yet, why was there never enough rice or oil or coal for the people?

Gail Tsukiyama will first and foremost, however, help you understand what the truest hardship is, how decisions of one person (in this case, Chairman Mao Zedong's) have the power to shake the foundations of whole families, the power to cause suffering of wives, husbands and children, who quite possibly suffered the most just like little Tao. He couldn't fully comprehend what was happening, why people he loved disappeared from his life or caused him heartbreak. And in the end he had to grow up faster than any child ever should. But those decisions will never break those people. As long as there is hope, they'll persevere. And therein lies the true beauty of A Hundred Flowers.

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of A Hundred Flowers from the publisher, St. Martin's Press, for review.

The Cranes Dance by Meg Howrey

Rating

* * * *

The book's synopsis from the publisher's website:

I threw my neck out in the middle of Swan Lake last night.

So begins the tale of Kate Crane, a soloist in a celebrated New York City ballet company who is struggling to keep her place in a very demanding world. At every turn she is haunted by her close relationship with her younger sister, Gwen, a fellow company dancer whose career quickly surpassed Kate’s, but who has recently suffered a breakdown and returned home.

Alone for the first time in her life, Kate is anxious and full of guilt about the role she may have played in her sister’s collapse.  As we follow her on an insider tour of rehearsals, performances, and partners onstage and off, she confronts the tangle of love, jealousy, pride, and obsession that are beginning to fracture her own sanity. Funny, dark, intimate, and unflinchingly honest, The Cranes Dance is a book that pulls back the curtains to reveal the private lives of dancers and explores the complicated bond between sisters. 

I have never had anything to do with ballet. Not much with dancing even. Hence, The Cranes Dance should have been a novel outside my interests and not held my attention. But it did. As I knew it would, when I requested it. I believe ballet is just a springboard to dive from into a complicated relationship between sisters, a maybe even more complicated relationship with one's parents, and generally into how dangerous one's passion for something, anything, can become to that person.

In Meg Howrey's novel, that person is Kate Crane and she is one of the most interesting and endearing heroines I've met in the past few years. She is flawed, the years of her life dedicated to ballet having taken a major toll on her, and most importantly she's been struggling with living with, loving, caring for and competing with her younger sister all her life. I think I appreciated the sisterly love tinged with envy and competition the most. I am, like Kate, the older of the two sisters, and understood how such a relationship is never simple. We love our sisters to death but yes, we do struggle with more unwelcome emotions as well. I really liked that the author managed to deal with those without making Kate or her younger sister, Gwen out to be ungrateful, disturbed or dysfunctional siblings.

Yet another side of The Cranes Dance that makes this novel so appealing, is the beautiful writing. It's sharp, it's simple and when you think there's not much meaning to it, all of a sudden you discover there are layers of meaning in one sentence or a paragraph - I suppose that's what profound may be:

Keep making noise, I prayed, laughing. Bang drums. Clamor and ring bells for I cannot stand to hear the tired beating of this almost heart.

I am here. I am in the present tense. I'm not always here, and sometimes here is a very difficult place. Sometimes it is a labyrinth, or a Minotaur, or a rope I can neither let go of nor follow. It's hard to find the right words, but I guess I would say that it's something like feeling the floor. And that it is my privilege  to feel it.

It's just like the whole novel. The Cranes Dance is a story with many layers and many meanings. If you get to enjoy it like I did, chances are you'll want to read it more than once and with each reading, there'll be more to discover and appreciate. True, I did find the ending a bit too tidy for my personal tastes (maybe I'm a morbid kind of reader) and rather difficult to believe, but who knows, maybe when I read it the second time, I'll find that that too had something hidden I just didn't get the first time. 

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of The Cranes Dance by Meg Howrey from Vintage Books, an imprint of Knopf Doubleday via NetGalley.

The Hunger Angel by Herta Müller; translated by Philip Boehm

Rating

* * * * *

The book's description from the publisher's website:

A masterful new novel from the winner of the 2009 Nobel Prize, hailed for depicting the "landscape of the dispossessed" with "the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose" (Nobel Prize Committee)

It was an icy morning in January 1945 when the patrol came for seventeen-year-old Leo Auberg to deport him to a camp in the Soviet Union. Leo would spend the next five years in a coke processing plant, shoveling coal, lugging bricks, mixing mortar, and battling the relentless calculus of hunger that governed the labor colony: one shovel load of coal is worth one gram of bread.
In her new novel, Nobel laureate Herta Müller calls upon her unique combination of poetic intensity and dispassionate precision to conjure the distorted world of the labor camp in all its physical and moral absurdity. She has given Leo the language to express the inexpressible, as hunger sharpens his senses into an acuity that is both hallucinatory and profound. In scene after disorienting scene, the most ordinary objects accrue tender poignancy as they acquire new purpose—a gramophone box serves as a suitcase, a handkerchief becomes a talisman, an enormous piece of casing pipe functions as a lovers' trysting place. The heart is reduced to a pump, the breath mechanized to the rhythm of a swinging shovel, and coal, sand, and snow have a will of their own. Hunger becomes an insatiable angel who haunts the camp, but also a bare-knuckled sparring partner, delivering blows that keep Leo feeling the rawest connection to life.
Müller has distilled Leo's struggle into words of breathtaking intensity that take us on a journey far beyond the Gulag and into the depths of one man's soul.

 That which doesn't kill me...doesn't make me stronger either.

No man is an Island, entire of itself...Every man is an Island, entire of itself.
(emphasis and changes are mine)

These two quotes are simply thoughts of two individuals. Nietzsche's quote isn't even accurate ('kill' should be 'destroy'); I suppose it was changed by simply another individual to make the message more powerful And yet, people use these witticisms as guides/mental support for their lives. I really dislike these and many other 'sayings' because they're misleading and untrue. Nowhere is it more obvious than in The Hunger Angel. Soviet Union's regime and its gulags had that absolute power which could and did kill a great number of people; those who had the misfortune to come back from the dead, existed among the living as if suspended between life and death. They indeed survived the camps but returned weaker, conditioned to fear, yearning for the relief of death and not receiving it. They were little islands floating among those saved from the cruel reality of the camps and living entirely of and dependent on themselves. This is the truth Leo Auberg embodies.

When I picked up The Hunger Angel, I didn't know what to expect. I was hoping I would like it and would be able to appreciate the aspects of Herta Müller's writing that earned her the title of a Nobel Prize winner. What I didn't expect was to be stunned into silence by the power of Müller's gift. From page three, when I read

I carry silent baggage. I have packed myself into silence so deeply and for so long that I can never unpack myself using words. When I speak, I only pack myself a little differently.

I knew that, from then on, my life would be split into two phases, the life before The Hunger Angel and the life after. I knew that because those words spoken by Leo were my life, my most secret and yet most fundamental feelings that I'd always wanted to articulate and that I couldn't even express cohesively to myself. This review is the most difficult to write because The Hunger Angel became very personal to me. Reading it was an epiphanic experience. With every page, all the murky, undefinable emotions rising within me and causing me so much anguish became crystalline clear.

To avoid the danger of ending up with a mini memoir of mine, instead of a somewhat helpful review of  Ms. Müller's book, I will only say that when Leo writes about his homesickness, about displacement, about feelings of not really belonging anywhere, he writes about me as well.

Müller's writing is incredible, it has clarity and shoots meaningful images like arrows, straight through your heart. And yet, this same writing created a novel that's so layered with messages, that every time you read it, you'll find meanings and depths you hadn't the time before. Every person that reads The Hunger Angel will come away from it with a different understanding, a different message and a different interpretation from other readers.

There is one thing though that is unmistakeable and undeniable regardless of what else all who read The Hunger Angel understand from it. And that is the power of words.Words are what helps Leo survive the five years of terror and horror and I believe words propel him to live just one more day of his life after the gulag. Not being able to tell his story to anyone, facing the cruel realization that no one really wanted to listen, to know, he writes it all down. He unburdens himself of the silence he carried for so long by pouring all the words he can never speak onto paper.

There are so many weighty subjects that Herta Müller writes about in The Hunger Angel, that whole dissertations could be written about it (and no doubt they will some day soon). The life in the gulags, the loss of dignity, the hunger angel that becomes Leo's constant companion and that never goes away, even if the food is abundant, because there's always something else we'll desire and the hunger angel will be there to fuel it.

To me, it's the themes of dispossession and displacement that were crucial. Once it happens to a person, it can never be healed. Because, contrary to one of those sayings again, time doesn't always heal all wounds. Indeed, when you're uprooted, denied life where you had always belonged, not only can you spend the entire rest of your life searching for that which can never be found, but you can also,  on some subconscious level or through an upbringing doom your descendants in the way you were doomed. How am I drawing this conclusion? My great-grandparents and my grandparents were Poles living in Ukraine and I believe a few months into the WWII, they had to run, literally like thieves in the middle of the night, from the Red Army. They left everything behind, their vast lands (they were farmers), their homes, everything in them. All they could take, they carried in potato sacks on their backs. I am now 34 years old, with a family of my own and the most prominent factor present in all my life is that I never really have felt at home, felt an attachment to a place that would make me realize this is where I belong. I still don't. Most importantly, displacement isn't just geographical. It's also the displacement of the soul. And Leo is and will always remain doubly displaced: from his Romanian town and by being denied his sexuality. Leo is homosexual and that's yet another silent baggage that he carries, that will never allow him to find a place where he belongs, as long as he has to fear being discovered.

I have to finish these wandering thoughts of mine about The Hunger Angel. I would love for you to just know this: read this book not for the plot, certainly not for seat-of-the-edge suspense, and maybe not even all that much for the characters. There's no happy ending either. Read The Hunger Angel to experience the most incredible writing, to witness the work of a literary genius. Not one sentence can be skipped because they all carry meanings and when you find those meanings, which will probably in some way become personal to you gasp and hold your breath in shock. Read it also for the history that has been mostly ignored and still is. Soviet Union's communist regime with Stalin for a leader performed ethnic cleansings on an unimaginable scale. Herta Muller gives our generation an opportunity to be ignorant no longer. And don't be that person who exclaims with disdain, 'It's only fiction!'. The quote I'll share below is not the author's figment of imagination. The speech of an officer to the prisoners of the gulag, as absurd as it may sound, does give you a real taste of the ideology behind Soviet Union's communism.

An officer...gave a speech at the roll-call grounds, the Appellplatz. He spoke about peace and FUSSKULTUR...: Fusskultur strengthens our hearts. And in our hearts beats the heart of the Soviet Socialist Republics. Fusskultur steels the strength of the working class. Through Fusskultur the Soviet Union will blossom in the strength of the Communist Party and in the peace and happiness of the people.

Translation

The Hunger Angel is translated by Philip Boehm, who is an accomplished translator of works in German and Polish. He obviously performed magic when translating Muller's novel. To be put to task to translate such a complex novel, with meanings and words as the main themes, must have been awe-inspiring. You'll catch yourself forgetting that The Hunger Angel is originally written in German and thinking that maybe English is Muller's native language. And the thing I admired the most when considering Mr. Boehm's approach to this novel, is his choice of the title. Original one (Atemschaukel - breath-swing) is not easily and literally translatable into English in order to make sense, like it does in German. I know that it's just my opinion, but The Hunger Angel is the title (and what it represents throughout the novel) that was meant to be. One may wonder what sense does it make that The Hunger, that awful, persistent and never-ending sensation, is called an angel. My understanding is that firstly, as Leo personifies sensations and things and objectifies people to maybe develop some kind of mental detachment pivotal to survival, a hunger becomes a being, a companion, a presence that never leaves, the Hunger Angel. Secondly, now that it's no longer simply a bodily sensation, in the end, the Hunger Angel is the only one that never abandons Leo and lets him know that Leo's not alone in that world he no longer belongs to. Sick and twisted, yes. But that's mercy nonetheless, and angels and mercy travel in pairs.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here I'd like to share with you some of the quotes that are especially meaningful to me.*

No words are adequate for the suffering caused by hunger. To this day I have to show hunger that I escaped his grasp. Ever since I stopped having to go hungry, I literally eat life itself. And when I eat, I am locked up inside the taste of eating. For sixty years, ever since I came back from the camp, I have been eating against starvation.

I'm always telling myself I don't have many feelings. Even when something does affect me I'm only moderately moved. I almost never cry. It's not that I'm stronger than the ones with teary eyes, I'm weaker. They have courage. When all you are is skin and bones, feelings are a brave thing. I'm more of a coward. The difference is minimal though, I just use my strength not to cry. When I do allow myself a feeling, I take the part that hurts and bandage it up with a story that doesn't cry, that doesn't dwell on homesickness.

Some people speak and sing and walk and sit and sleep and silence their homesickness, for a long time, to no avail. Some say that over time homesickness loses its specific content, that it starts to smolder and only then becomes all-consuming, because it's no longer focused on a concrete home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FTC: I was provided an ARC of The Hunger Angel for review from the publisher, Metropolitan Books, an imprint of Macmillan.

* All the quotes are from an uncorrected proof and need to be verified against a finished copy for any inaccuracies.

The Sadness of the Samurai by Victor Del Arbol, translated by Mara Lethem

Rating

* * * * *

The book's synopsis from the publisher's website:

A betrayal and a murder in pro-Nazi Spain spark a struggle for power that grips a family for generations in this sweeping historical thriller
Fierce, edgy, brisk, and enthralling, this brilliant novel by Victor del Árbol pushes the boundaries of the traditional historical novel and in doing so creates a work of incredible power that resonates long after the last page has been turned.
When Isabel, a Spanish aristocrat living in the pro-Nazi Spain of 1941, becomes involved in a plot to kill her Fascist husband, she finds herself betrayed by her mysterious lover. The effects of her betrayal play out in a violent struggle for power in both family and government over three generations, intertwining her story with that of a young lawyer named Maria forty years later. During the attempted Fascist coup of 1981, Maria is accused of plotting the prison escape of a man she successfully prosecuted for murder. As Maria's and Isabel's narratives unfold they encircle each other, creating a page-turning literary thriller firmly rooted in history.

After I finished The Sadness of the Samurai, I had been seriously worried that there might not have been much reason to try and read anything else for a while. The intensity of this novel seemed unparalleled by anything that might come after it. Even though I am now lucky enough to be reading another astonishing novel, I can say with all honesty that within the past ten years, I haven't read anything like The Sadness of the Samurai.

This novel is raw and brutal. It seemed that all my nerve endings were working beyond their capacity, just to help me process the story enough to concentrate on my next day routines until I could read some more (I primarily read at night when my two toddlers are sleeping). What makes The Sadness of the Samurai so special however, is that all the cruelty is juxtaposed with Victor Del Arbol's beautiful, at times tragic, writing. It's verging on poetic sometimes, other times it's straightforward, yet so powerful, it made me catch my breath.And it always crept up on me unexpectedly. That element of surprise, not in the events, but in the writing, added yet another layer of depth.

Now, you'll probably see The Sadness of the Samurai categorized as one genre or another. But don't let it discourage you, if you don't read one specific genre this book is listed under. A thriller? Yes, it is that. A spy novel? I suppose one could call it that, as well. A historical fiction? Most definitely. One that will at the very least make you want to look up Spain's 20th century history, especially the years of WWII and after. But most importantly, it's a complex literary work of fiction. And that means,  having read it, you won't end up dumber. The characters are frighteningly human...in their capacity for cruelty and in their fragility. Some of the people there are truly evil. There's no redemption for them, nor would they seek any. Not one remorseful thought enters their minds. Some are innocent victims, who pay a dear price for the sins of their parents. And of course, those in between: not wholly good but not wholly evil either. You'll have plenty of people to pick from to hate and to admire. I particularly liked Maria, who in the end is, when it really matters, a very brave woman. She's a person with integrity, one who fought, one who knowing full well the consequences, didn't turn her back on her moral responsibility. Really, I could go on for hours about how well Del Arbol builds up his characters, but that's one of the reasons why you may want to read the book and judge for yourself.

I need to stress that The Sadness of the Samurai is not for people whose sensibilities are easily offended. It is not for those who can't stand graphic violence, rape and the bestial side of human nature. I'm saying this not because the brutality takes anything away from the story, but because it is a very important, crucial even, element that makes Del Arbol's book so raw and so astounding, and if a wrong person reads it, they will give a low rating and low opinion on a book they shouldn't be reading in the first place.

Translation

The Sadness of the Samurai has been translated from Spanish by Mara Lethem. While I couldn't find much information on the web about this translator, I did notice that she has a fairly established record and has been a translator for at at least three different Spanish authors. Just like Del Arbol is a splendid writer, so is Ms. Lethem a talented translator. As a native European, for lack of a better word, I know that there are noticeable differences in a story's overall atmosphere between a novel written by a European author and that by an American one. European novels generally take on a slightly darker tone, explore existential questions and the nature of humans with gloomy outcomes, as opposed to the lighter tones of American novels, where the outlook on life is almost always positive in the end, offering hope and at least some little bit of optimism. Mara Lethem captured the character and atmosphere of that Spanish novel really well, for which I am very grateful.

~~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received a copy of The Sadness of the Samurai by Victor Del Arbol from the publisher, Henry Holt & Co.

Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

Rating

* * * * *

The book's synopsis from the publisher's website:

Acclaimed author Graham Joyce's mesmerizing new novel centers around the disappearance of a young girl from a small town in the heart of England. Her sudden return twenty years later, and the mind-bending tale of where she's been, will challenge our very perception of truth.

For twenty years after Tara Martin disappeared from her small English town, her parents and her brother, Peter, have lived in denial of the grim fact that she was gone for good. And then suddenly, on Christmas Day, the doorbell rings at her parents' home and there, disheveled and slightly peculiar looking, Tara stands. It's a miracle, but alarm bells are ringing for Peter. Tara's story just does not add up. And, incredibly, she barely looks a day older than when she vanished.

Just when I thought there were no new to me writers to discover, along came Graham Joyce. He is an established author, with a long and successful writing career and a nice following of fans. Yet, up until I started reading his newest creation, Some Kind of Fairy Tale, I'd had no idea about Joyce's existence. I won't go into specific reasons why that happened. But it made me reconsider my reading priorities. Maybe I should have been devoting my time to reading fantastic authors such as Graham, instead of wasting it on nonsensical, devoid of any deeper meaning books that bring no value to my life. I suppose there comes a time in most people's lives, when they get such realization about anything of significance (reading is what matters to me), and there's usually a trigger to set our minds in motion. Some Kind of Fairy Tale was a sort of a trigger to me.

If you ever want to experience what true magic realism is, read Some Kind of Fairy Tale. And no, it's not 'a fairy tale' for adults. This is a story where the divide between what's 'real' and what's 'magical' gets smaller and smaller as you read, until at some point you realize that it doesn't even matter any longer whether it's there at all. You read the story of Tara's and where there may have been some incredulity at first, in the end it seems just as natural an explanation, as any other could have been. The subtlety with which Joyce weaves the impossible into our pragmatic world is out of this world (pun intended).

Above all that, Some Kind of Fairy Tale captured my heart with its writing. The prose is simple, spare and brilliant. There's nothing, or almost nothing, that I hate more than convoluted passages of writing that in the end mean absolutely nothing and serve no purpose other than to indulge an author's ego. Mr. Joyce's straightforward writing is, obviously, the exact opposite and does a splendid job of creating characters I really liked and whose company in real life I'd enjoy. All these people were changed by Tara's disappearance and the fact that she comes back, that she is alive after all, doesn't really bring any closure, any resolution.If anything, it brings disappointment and disillusionment for Tara. She now can see the world she left as empty of wonder, and the people she once knew and loved as incapable of looking and any further than at what's right in front of their noses, and sometimes not even that.

OK, before I go off somewhere philosophizing, I'll cut it short and sweet. Some Kind of Fairy Tale is a smart novel that will encourage you to ponder on whether your reality is mundane, and if it is, whether it's because the world is mundane or because we make it so. The novel's tragic at times, at times quite entertaining (made me laugh a couple of times) and it's never boring. Some Kind of Fairy Tale is a proof that literary fiction is not pretentious if it's written well, and that it will give you a satisfied feeling of having spent your time in good company.

~~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce for review from Knopf Doubleday via NetGalley. 

Some Kind of Fairy Tale will be on sale beginning July 10th, 2012. In the meantime, please read a sample below and see if you like it.

Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel

Rating

* * * * *

The book's description from the publisher's website:

The sequel to Hilary Mantel's 2009 Man Booker Prize winner and New York Times bestseller, Wolf Hall delves into the heart of Tudor history with the downfall of Anne Boleyn
Though he battled for seven years to marry her, Henry is disenchanted with Anne Boleyn. She has failed to give him a son and her sharp intelligence and audacious will alienate his old friends and the noble families of England. When the discarded Katherine dies in exile from the court, Anne stands starkly exposed, the focus of gossip and malice.
At a word from Henry, Thomas Cromwell is ready to bring her down. Over three terrifying weeks, Anne is ensnared in a web of conspiracy, while the demure Jane Seymour stands waiting her turn for the poisoned wedding ring. But Anne and her powerful family will not yield without a ferocious struggle. Hilary Mantel's Bring Up the Bodies follows the dramatic trial of the queen and her suitors for adultery and treason. To defeat the Boleyns, Cromwell must ally with his natural enemies, the papist aristocracy. What price will he pay for Anne's head?

What a pleasure this book was for me! I really enjoyed Wolf Hall, the first book in the Wolf Hall trilogy, but because of the style it was written (present tense, third person), it took some getting used to. Bring Up the Bodies, on the other hand, read a lot more smoothly and Ms. Mantel managed to finally engage my emotional side in this novel. I was honestly surprised how quickly I read it and how deeply I sympathized with Cromwell. Although, not so much with Anne Boleyn. But I did have strong feelings towards her and her behavior nonetheless, which is also a testimony to how much improved Bring Up the Bodies is over Wolf Hall.

Another aspect that I liked is that Mantel doesn't seem to subscribe to any one particular school of thought on Henry VIII or the Boleyns, especially Anne. I felt that the characters were presented to me with as much accuracy as possible and I had the freedom to make out of them what I willed. For example, even though there's mention of witchcraft, no credence is given to it. I still dislike Anne (probably always will) but it is after reading Bring Up the Bodies that I felt compelled to truly reexamine the person behind the name of Thomas Cromwell.

Aaaah, Thomas Cromwell. If you think you know all there is to know about him, I encourage you to read Bring Up the Bodies. I realize that facts speak for themselves but Ms. Mantel managed to open my eyes to possibilities. Before I started reading the Wolf Hall trilogy, I had regarded Cromwell as one of the villains of history. When reading Wolf Hall I began thinking that maybe he wasn't all that bad. Bring Up the Bodies has me question why I disliked Cromwell so strongly to begin with. What can I tell you...Hilary Mantel is a persuasive writer in the study of character. He was a 'nobody' in the eyes of his contemporaries. He had nothing working for him, no dues owed him, no loyalties to fall back on. He truly was a man alone. And he knew it. And as much as he conspired against and/or lied to others, he never hid the truth from himself. You will get no excuses, denials or justifications for Cromwell's deeds. But neither will you get an apology. And maybe that is the singular decision of Mantel's that speaks of her skills most strongly, to offer us no apologies for Cromwell (because maybe she liked him and wanted us to like him too) or condemnation of him and his deeds (because maybe she despised him and wanted us to despise him as well).

The quote below represents to me the true depth of Cromwell's inner pain over losing what he loved and somehow shows the man he was (not to mention, it's also one of the most beautiful to me):

"He once thought it himself, that he might die of grief: for his wife, his daughters, his sisters, his father and master the cardinal. But the pulse, obdurate, keeps its rhythm. You think you cannot keep breathing, but your ribcage has other ideas, rising and falling, emitting sighs. You must thrive in spite of yourself; and so that you may do it, God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone." *

People do not know what the future holds. When the judges awarded Mantel the Man Booker Prize for Wolf Hall, they couldn't have known that what followed would be a lot more deserving of that honor Wolf Hall is a brilliant novel but Bring Up the Bodies has that intangible 'something' that allowed me to make the emotional connection I wasn't able to make reading its predecessor. My only suggestion is to read Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies in succession, without a long lapse of time. I read Bring Up the Bodies right after I finished Wolf Hall, and because I was already acquainted with the somewhat unusual narration, I could just relax and let the story take me where it wanted.

~~~~~~~~~

FTC: I've received a galley of Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel from the publisher, Henry Holt & Co.

*The quote is from an uncorrected proof, please check against a final copy for any inaccuracies.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

Rating

* * * *
The book's description from the publisher's website:

In the ruthless arena of King Henry VIII’s court, only one man dares to gamble his life to win the king’s favor and ascend to the heights of political power 

England in the 1520s is a heartbeat from disaster. If the king dies without a male heir, the country could be destroyed by civil war. Henry VIII wants to annul his marriage of twenty years, and marry Anne Boleyn. The pope and most of Europe opposes him. The quest for the king’s freedom destroys his adviser, the brilliant Cardinal Wolsey, and leaves a power vacuum.

Into this impasse steps Thomas Cromwell. Cromwell is a wholly original man, a charmer and a bully, both idealist and opportunist, astute in reading people and a demon of energy: he is also a consummate politician, hardened by his personal losses, implacable in his ambition. But Henry is volatile: one day tender, one day murderous. Cromwell helps him break the opposition, but what will be the price of his triumph?

I'm starting this review off with my interpretation of the title. I've seen it mentioned that the title had nothing to do with the content of the novel or that it's only connected in relation to the residence of the Seymour's household by the name of Wolf Hall. It may be that I am over-analyzing, but I think that the title has a significant meaning. Cromwell has his sights set on Jane Seymour, the lady in waiting to Anne Boleyn. Even though she is a young girl, I believe that Jane mights have been the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing (she is even referred to as a sheep by Mary Boleyn in a conversation with Cromwell). The way I see it, Thomas Cromwell being the forever scheming, forever thinking ahead man, somehow suspected that Anne Boleyn might not have been the last serious target of Henry VIII's attentions. I don't think it was ever Cromwell's intent to marry Jane himself. He loved his deceased wife too much, thinking of her almost constantly throughout the whole novel. Think what you may, but why else would Hilary Mantel, who is obviously an intelligent writer, who knows what she's doing, titled her major piece of work in such a seemingly careless way?

On to my personal impression of Wolf Hall. This is not a 'fast and furious' type of read, so if you're looking for a lot of nail baiting action and quick pace, Wolf Hall will not meet your expectations. Ms. Mantel wrote a 'slow and steady wins the race' kind of book. And to me, it was a rewarding read. Especially in a sense that, for once, I got to use my mental capacities while reading, give my full attention to the book and oil those rusty brain cells of mine. I'm glad to know that books requiring readers to think a little deeper, and making us want to analyze and interpret what's written, are still being not only written, but internationally recognized.

Hilary Mantel has a rare style of narration. Third person, present tense is not commonly employed by authors, mostly, I imagine, due to its trickiness. It is very easy to make a story unbearable with this kind of narration. The first couple of pages of Wolf Hall may be teetering on the verge of confusion. The author's usage of third person pronouns, especially 'he', is one thing that readers complain about most often. I'm not sure that there is, first: an easy way around it, narration being in present tense, third person; second: all that much confusion there. I honestly wasn't confused and if you notice, all the other times when the narrator refers to characters other than Cromwell, 'he' is followed by the last name of the person mentioned. Does it require more effort on the reader's part? Yes, it does. But this narration gives us a better insight into who Thomas Cromwell was, what he felt, what really motivated him and a reason why Cromwell really was only a man, a human being, although a  very unique, very smart, very observant and perceptive human being. Also, as I mentioned above, Wolf Hall is on the whole such a novel that will spur your brain cells into action. I'm happy about it and recognize the value of this book because I'm of the belief that literature is not to be written or read for entertainment only. If you prefer books that are entertaining only (not that there is anything wrong with it, we all have our tastes and opinions), you will not enjoy this novel.

The only complaint of mine and the reason for four stars, instead of five, is that I was emotionally distanced. Not completely detached, mind you. In a way, I felt for Cromwell, for his losses in personal life (his wife and his two daughters) and especially for his strong love for Liz, his late wife and his eldest daughter, Anna. In the end however, I noticed the lack of strong bond between me and the characters. And, if there is one thing that will always decide between my extreme like and utmost love for a novel, it's how emotionally vested I am in it.

~~~~~~~~

Wolf Hall is book one in the Wolf Hall trilogy.

Book two, Bring Up the Bodies (which deals with the fall of Anne Boleyn), is coming out from Henry Holt & Co. tomorrow, May 8, 2012.

~~~~~~~~

FTC: I bought my copy of Wolf Hall.

The Land of Decoration by Grace McCleen

Rating:

* * *
The book's description for the publisher's website:

In Grace McCleen's harrowing, powerful debut, she introduces an unforgettable heroine in ten-year-old Judith McPherson, a young believer who sees the world with the clear Eyes of Faith. Persecuted at school for her beliefs and struggling with her distant, devout father at home, young Judith finds solace and connection in a model in miniature of the Promised Land that she has constructed in her room from collected discarded scraps—the Land of Decoration. Where others might see rubbish, Judith sees possibility and divinity in even the strangest traces left behind. As ominous forces disrupt the peace in her and Father's modest lives—a strike threatens her father's factory job, and the taunting at school slips into dangerous territory—Judith makes a miracle in the Land of Decoration that solidifies her blossoming convictions. She is God's chosen instrument. But the heady consequences of her newfound power are difficult to control and may threaten the very foundations of her world.
With its intensely taut storytelling and crystalline prose, The Land of Decoration is a gripping, psychologically complex story of good and evil, belonging and isolation, which casts new and startling light on how far we'll go to protect the things we love most.

OK, I'm officially flummoxed by The Land of Decoration  and by what others saw in there that I didn't and vice versa. I suppose I now know what it feels like for a reviewer who doesn't love the book that is loved by everyone else.

Not to be alarmed, though. I agree with the majority that Grace McCleen shows a natural talent for writing. It transported me into Judith's world in no time, demanded my attention and held it until the story was finished. It's great to find new voices in literature today who are, like the author of The Land of Decoration, devoted to their writing and their passion, and whose effort and skill shine through in their novels.

It was, therefore, with pleasure that I read Ms. McCleen's book. Judith is a very likable little girl, capable of evoking sympathy from others for her difficult predicament. What I had trouble with was the very mature voice for a ten-year-old, despite of how her upbringing might have made her grow up faster than other children. To me, it read more like an adult Judith telling the story of her own childhood. Another thing that caused me some amount of consternation was that I seemed to be the only reader thinking Judith suffered from the early onset of schizophrenia, rather than merely creating her own reality where she had more control over her life and that of people around her. Hearing voices that tell Judith what to do and having Judith actually follow up on 'the advice', believing that the voices in her head aren't made up but as real as that of her father, her teachers or her school bullies, and finally

 *SPOILER ALERT*
attempting suicide, because the voice of God told her that it would fix all the troubles and unhappiness that Judith herself caused;
*END SPOILER*

to me, all this spells schizophrenia, not magic realism, as a lot of readers and reviewers seem to think.

But this doesn't really take anything away from the quality of writing in The Land of Decoration. If anything it adds some points because through it, Grace McCleen gave her readers an opportunity and freedom to draw their own conclusions.

What does diminish this book slightly in my eyes, is the mentioned lack of authentic voice of a ten-year-old narrator plus my emotional disconnect from almost all characters, including Judith. I saw her torment, I could understand how people would empathetic to her despair but I felt like a detached observer. The only person I could truly feel for was her father, whose emotions and feeling, although not as evident as Judith's, had a lot more power and impact, and his enormous love for Judith was what saved her in the end. What saved them both.

When I finished the novel, I wished I had felt more strongly for poor little Judith, believing that it would make The Land of Decoration a five-star affair. But I couldn't and I didn't. I still recommend it for others to read, for people who are looking for a pleasant, satisfied feeling of investing their time wisely, which only comes from smart, quality writing that shows a lot of promise for its author.

~~~~~~~

FTC: I received The Land of Decoration by Grace McCleen from the publisher, Henry Holt and Co. for review.