Week 47: First They Killed my Father – Loung Ung
Recommended by: Zoe Matthews
If reading a book such as this is something of a harrowing experience, reviewing it is to some extent impossible. How exactly does one comment, let alone pass judgement, on a first-hand account of genocide? Anyway, that was my task so I will obviously share some thoughts on the matter now.
First of all, this is an important book. Goes without saying really, but an account of such a terrible period of history, the horrors and the hardships faced not just by a girl and her family, but an entire country, is an important record. Perhaps especially for those in the West, as history is largely taught with a self-centred focus. See also current affairs and the disproportionate amount of media attention focused on the recent atrocities in Paris as opposed to those that regularly happen elsewhere, though that's a topic beyond the scope of this blog and my meagre brainpower. That said, I'm sure the same is true in all countries, probably in Cambodia the school system isn't preoccupied with the the Angevin dynasty, the repeal of the Corn Laws, or necessarily anything in between.
I have to say my knowledge of the Cambodian genocide didn't extend to much beyond the existence of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, the fact that a quarter of the population died, and that it was contemporaneous with the Vietnam War, something I suspect rather more people are familiar with, even if they don't know much of the narrative. So anything that can bring attention of such events to more people, the lessons that can be learned, and the need to remember such atrocities can only be a good thing.
There's certainly something in the lack of knowledge of the topic that gives it a greater power to shock. The straightforward narrative, simply and honestly told, works well; there's no dressing up of what happened and nor does there need to be. The hardship and difficulties faced by Loung and her family, split up and forced to work, to starve, to fight, are all here. One of the things that I found surprising was that the people didn't know what was happening much of the time or indeed who was behind it. I guess this seems strange in the global village of 24-hour rolling news and twitterstorms.
It's not a fun book, obviously. And you know certain things are going to take place: Loung survives, her father does not, the barbarism of humanity is often enough to make one weep. Though much like my experience reading If This is a Man and The Truce very nearly a year ago, it's the end of the book, the fallout and the aftermath which are the bits that never get talked about. Battles, war, disasters, murder, genocide all tend to get aired and command attention but all too often little is said about those who survive, who have to somehow find a way to go on. This is dealt with in a follow up, After They Killed my Father, which I suspect will be just as understated in its delivery and will deliver an equally hard blow to the heart and mind.
Monday, 30 November 2015
Thursday, 19 November 2015
This is my church
Week 46: Blood Song – Anthony Ryan
Recommended by: Peter Gee
As I'm fairly sure I've already mentioned in at least one blog, while I do love the fantasy genre, there are a couple of things that do bug me a bit. First, while I enjoy immersing myself in the world, strapping on my armour and going frolicking with the ogres, I do wish that books in the genre weren't regularly a minimum of 500 pages. Second, while I also understand the desire on the part of both authors and readers to revisit favourite worlds and characters and to develop them further, series which run and run can both be exhausting when each tome is a brick, as well as potentially running out of steam as the series continues, stretched out out too far by publisher or author. I like series and trilogies and they are the mainstay of the genre but sometimes I just crave a good stand-alone.
Bearing this in mind, I was entirely unsurprised to find that Blood Song is both a doorstopper and the first of a trilogy. It follows Vaelin Al Sorna through his coming of age as he joins the Sixth Order, the military arm of the faith. So far, so standard. But if there are seven basic plots and probably fewer within the genre, it's often not about the premise. The world building and the characterisation are ultimately what most fantasy books will live or die by and fortunately Blood Song holds its own here.
Vaelin is an interesting, well-rounded character. Sure, he's special and not just because he's the protagonist, but he's not perfect, there's a journey of discovery and his colleagues are noticeably better at some things than him. Plus given the training the Order has to go through just to survive, it's not a surprise that anybody who makes it that far is going to be pretty formidable. There can be a relatively fine line between a Mary Sue (I've never liked the phrase Marty Stu for a male character, it's just not as catchy and sounds a bit, well, dumb) and a heroic character and not everyone is going to be Joe Average. I also like the fact that Vaelin isn't really described physically, allowing you to fill in the blanks yourself.
The United Realm is a classical setting at a critical juncture, held together by force of will and faith but with obvious cracks that are barely papered over. In today's geopolitical climate you can, if you choose, read a lot into the portrayal of religion. You have an all-encompassing faith that doesn't allow for non-believers, within which there is the full gamut of intolerant fanaticism to tolerance. There are also plenty of politics, with the church as an arm of the government (or is it the other way round?), asking questions of the role of religion in the executive and the long-running debate over the separation of church and state that each country has, each with its own unique slant on the matter.
Alternatively, you can choose not to think too deeply about this and simply accept it as an enjoyable story, which is perfectly fine. For ultimately, that's what this is and I have no doubt that I'll end up picking up the second and third volumes.
Recommended by: Peter Gee
As I'm fairly sure I've already mentioned in at least one blog, while I do love the fantasy genre, there are a couple of things that do bug me a bit. First, while I enjoy immersing myself in the world, strapping on my armour and going frolicking with the ogres, I do wish that books in the genre weren't regularly a minimum of 500 pages. Second, while I also understand the desire on the part of both authors and readers to revisit favourite worlds and characters and to develop them further, series which run and run can both be exhausting when each tome is a brick, as well as potentially running out of steam as the series continues, stretched out out too far by publisher or author. I like series and trilogies and they are the mainstay of the genre but sometimes I just crave a good stand-alone.
Bearing this in mind, I was entirely unsurprised to find that Blood Song is both a doorstopper and the first of a trilogy. It follows Vaelin Al Sorna through his coming of age as he joins the Sixth Order, the military arm of the faith. So far, so standard. But if there are seven basic plots and probably fewer within the genre, it's often not about the premise. The world building and the characterisation are ultimately what most fantasy books will live or die by and fortunately Blood Song holds its own here.
Vaelin is an interesting, well-rounded character. Sure, he's special and not just because he's the protagonist, but he's not perfect, there's a journey of discovery and his colleagues are noticeably better at some things than him. Plus given the training the Order has to go through just to survive, it's not a surprise that anybody who makes it that far is going to be pretty formidable. There can be a relatively fine line between a Mary Sue (I've never liked the phrase Marty Stu for a male character, it's just not as catchy and sounds a bit, well, dumb) and a heroic character and not everyone is going to be Joe Average. I also like the fact that Vaelin isn't really described physically, allowing you to fill in the blanks yourself.
The United Realm is a classical setting at a critical juncture, held together by force of will and faith but with obvious cracks that are barely papered over. In today's geopolitical climate you can, if you choose, read a lot into the portrayal of religion. You have an all-encompassing faith that doesn't allow for non-believers, within which there is the full gamut of intolerant fanaticism to tolerance. There are also plenty of politics, with the church as an arm of the government (or is it the other way round?), asking questions of the role of religion in the executive and the long-running debate over the separation of church and state that each country has, each with its own unique slant on the matter.
Alternatively, you can choose not to think too deeply about this and simply accept it as an enjoyable story, which is perfectly fine. For ultimately, that's what this is and I have no doubt that I'll end up picking up the second and third volumes.
Tuesday, 17 November 2015
Swipe left
Week 45: Her – Spike Jonze
Recommended by: Shaun Gamble
Another week, another first: this time I read my first screenplay. I've read plays before but never something originally intended to appear on the big screen. Blockbuster entertainment this was not, however. Indeed, Her is the antithesis of the big budget blow-shit-up kind of film. Which I suppose makes sense as something you'd read as a screenplay; you probably wouldn't give Rambo the same treatment. And if you're going to read a screenplay, better make sure it's a good one and an Academy Award in that category is a pretty decent indicator.
Set in the near future, this is just about science fiction but it's so close to reality it feels only barely out of reach. And really it's an excellent premise – that of artificially intelligent operating systems that can form relationships – in order to put human relationships in the age of Tinder under the microscope. Themes of loneliness, fidelity and emotional distance are explored from a variety of perspectives; predominantly the protagonist Theodore, but also seen through his friend Amy and the OS, Samantha.
It's a topic I've thought a lot about, loneliness and isolation is probably my biggest fear and the essence of this is captured wonderfully in the dialogue and the simple direction. It doesn't need fancy sets, just the power of words. The vulnerability of the characters, their ability (or not) to deal with complex emotions, the desire for someone, anyone, to understand them all regularly bubbles up to the surface. Theodore obviously embodies this, but Samantha does too. The idea of computers or robots with human emotions is hardly new, but the way it's explored in relation to humans, as equals as opposed to either slaves or masters adds complexity. And yet while she seems to be all one could dream of in a partner, like anybody else, you can never truly know what's going on beneath the surface.
It's a gut-wrenchingly sad story, though it's punctuated throughout with some excellent comic touches that only serve to throw the big picture into contrast. The sense of loneliness pervades the whole piece to the extent that I can imagine the visuals and the score in my head, which is a definite result. To my mind it's the LA of Less Than Zero with more sympathetic characters and added Blade Runner neon nightscapes, spare piano mournfully underscoring night in the city. I've not watched the film; I both want to because I'm sure it's excellent and that the stellar cast sure will do justice to the script, and don't want to because I have such a good mental image anyway that I'm not sure I want to break the spell. Plus if the film has anywhere near the emotional impact on me as the screenplay alone, it's going to be just too damn sad.
Recommended by: Shaun Gamble
Another week, another first: this time I read my first screenplay. I've read plays before but never something originally intended to appear on the big screen. Blockbuster entertainment this was not, however. Indeed, Her is the antithesis of the big budget blow-shit-up kind of film. Which I suppose makes sense as something you'd read as a screenplay; you probably wouldn't give Rambo the same treatment. And if you're going to read a screenplay, better make sure it's a good one and an Academy Award in that category is a pretty decent indicator.
Set in the near future, this is just about science fiction but it's so close to reality it feels only barely out of reach. And really it's an excellent premise – that of artificially intelligent operating systems that can form relationships – in order to put human relationships in the age of Tinder under the microscope. Themes of loneliness, fidelity and emotional distance are explored from a variety of perspectives; predominantly the protagonist Theodore, but also seen through his friend Amy and the OS, Samantha.
It's a topic I've thought a lot about, loneliness and isolation is probably my biggest fear and the essence of this is captured wonderfully in the dialogue and the simple direction. It doesn't need fancy sets, just the power of words. The vulnerability of the characters, their ability (or not) to deal with complex emotions, the desire for someone, anyone, to understand them all regularly bubbles up to the surface. Theodore obviously embodies this, but Samantha does too. The idea of computers or robots with human emotions is hardly new, but the way it's explored in relation to humans, as equals as opposed to either slaves or masters adds complexity. And yet while she seems to be all one could dream of in a partner, like anybody else, you can never truly know what's going on beneath the surface.
Saturday, 7 November 2015
One man and his dog
Week 44: Travel with Charley – John Steinbeck
Recommended by: Andy Boor
Travel writing is another relatively new area for me and one where I'm expanding my repertoire. Recently I have been on a whirlwind tour of some of the world's most exciting cities with Ian Fleming, walked across a chunk of Europe with Patrick Leigh Fermor and toured the vastness of Patagonia with Bruce Chatwin. And now I'm strapping myself in and joining John Steinbeck and his dog Charley as they tour a large chunk of the USA in a converted van.
Steinbeck is a fine writer, indeed in my opinion one of the finest (maybe the finest) there has ever been. We join him here approaching sixty, away from his native California, setting for most of his most famous works of fiction, and looking to reconnect with and rediscover his country. From his New York home he travels up to New England, through the Mid West and the Mountain States all the way to Seattle, down the West Coast to California, then east across Texas and into the Deep South. What stands out is his evocative descriptions of place, for America is a country of incredible variety. Add to that an equally varied cast of characters he encounters, brought to life by his fundamental understanding of what it is to be human, something which informs all of his writing.
It's also a snapshot of a time, 1960, and we get to experience both the Kennedy–Nixon election and the burgeoning Civil Rights movement. Nature remains a big theme and he expresses views bemoaning America's throwaway culture and questions the disconnection many people now feel for the great outdoors. He disliked the direction the country was moving in, but he also recognises that it has gained much since the hungry thirties, even if it might have lost something along the way. Again, his ability to celebrate the achievements as well as highlight the faultlines, shows perception; wisdom comes in his distaste for consumerism and selfishness and the sense of discontent laying lightly across the land.
This is after all a book he could not have written as a young man, any more than Hemingway could have written The Old Man and the Sea before he hit his fifties. His return to California comes with time to reflect on how it – and his family – has changed since he left; ditto Texas and his in-laws there. But it is always the landscapes, the connection to nature that we come back to time and again, from the rugged Atlantic coast of New England to the awe-inspiring cathedral of redwoods on the Oregon–California border.
Where possible, Steinbeck prefers to travel by back roads, largely avoiding big cities and famous landmarks. He appreciates the solitude as well as the companionship of his dog, but also accepts this sometimes spills into loneliness and recognises that one of the best things about travelling can be coming home. He had the travel itch, something he characterises as American, at least within the boundaries of the country, and it was a journey he needed to take. What a privilege to share it with him.
Recommended by: Andy Boor
Travel writing is another relatively new area for me and one where I'm expanding my repertoire. Recently I have been on a whirlwind tour of some of the world's most exciting cities with Ian Fleming, walked across a chunk of Europe with Patrick Leigh Fermor and toured the vastness of Patagonia with Bruce Chatwin. And now I'm strapping myself in and joining John Steinbeck and his dog Charley as they tour a large chunk of the USA in a converted van.
Steinbeck is a fine writer, indeed in my opinion one of the finest (maybe the finest) there has ever been. We join him here approaching sixty, away from his native California, setting for most of his most famous works of fiction, and looking to reconnect with and rediscover his country. From his New York home he travels up to New England, through the Mid West and the Mountain States all the way to Seattle, down the West Coast to California, then east across Texas and into the Deep South. What stands out is his evocative descriptions of place, for America is a country of incredible variety. Add to that an equally varied cast of characters he encounters, brought to life by his fundamental understanding of what it is to be human, something which informs all of his writing.
It's also a snapshot of a time, 1960, and we get to experience both the Kennedy–Nixon election and the burgeoning Civil Rights movement. Nature remains a big theme and he expresses views bemoaning America's throwaway culture and questions the disconnection many people now feel for the great outdoors. He disliked the direction the country was moving in, but he also recognises that it has gained much since the hungry thirties, even if it might have lost something along the way. Again, his ability to celebrate the achievements as well as highlight the faultlines, shows perception; wisdom comes in his distaste for consumerism and selfishness and the sense of discontent laying lightly across the land.
This is after all a book he could not have written as a young man, any more than Hemingway could have written The Old Man and the Sea before he hit his fifties. His return to California comes with time to reflect on how it – and his family – has changed since he left; ditto Texas and his in-laws there. But it is always the landscapes, the connection to nature that we come back to time and again, from the rugged Atlantic coast of New England to the awe-inspiring cathedral of redwoods on the Oregon–California border.
Where possible, Steinbeck prefers to travel by back roads, largely avoiding big cities and famous landmarks. He appreciates the solitude as well as the companionship of his dog, but also accepts this sometimes spills into loneliness and recognises that one of the best things about travelling can be coming home. He had the travel itch, something he characterises as American, at least within the boundaries of the country, and it was a journey he needed to take. What a privilege to share it with him.
Close but...
Week 43: This Close – Jessica Francis Kane
Recommended by: Michael Chilcott
I don't read enough short stories. That's the conclusion I usually draw when I read a short story collection. Then for some reason I tend to forget about it until the next time I happen to stumble across one or pick one up. Perhaps they're the kind of thing one can't read one book after the other; I find I can't always just sit and read huge chunks of a collection in a single sitting either. But when I do read them, I'm always reminded that I really like them as an art form.
I didn't know anything about Jessica Francis Kane but on the basis of This Close she belongs at the top table of post-war North American short story writers along with the likes of Raymond Carver, Alice Munro and Richard Yates. This collection weaves through city and suburban life, with various links between them to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts.
The stories feature a range of normal people doing mundane things: dry cleaning, gardening, yard sales, but the key is find the extraordinary in their own very ordinary lives. Like all good short stories, there is an immediacy to them, you are instantly involved in the characters' affairs and it's the simplicity of the situations, the way you can relate to their day-to-day life that works so well.
If there is a theme running through them, it's the relationships between people, their vulnerability, their rivalries, the closeness that they can and can't achieve with their friends and family. And it's this which draws me in and keeps me coming back, the eye for detail and the ear for language, not to mention the obvious writing skill that ties it all together. I will certainly be checking out more of Kane's work and I hope that she is able to find a bigger audience for her talent.
Recommended by: Michael Chilcott
I don't read enough short stories. That's the conclusion I usually draw when I read a short story collection. Then for some reason I tend to forget about it until the next time I happen to stumble across one or pick one up. Perhaps they're the kind of thing one can't read one book after the other; I find I can't always just sit and read huge chunks of a collection in a single sitting either. But when I do read them, I'm always reminded that I really like them as an art form.
I didn't know anything about Jessica Francis Kane but on the basis of This Close she belongs at the top table of post-war North American short story writers along with the likes of Raymond Carver, Alice Munro and Richard Yates. This collection weaves through city and suburban life, with various links between them to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts.
The stories feature a range of normal people doing mundane things: dry cleaning, gardening, yard sales, but the key is find the extraordinary in their own very ordinary lives. Like all good short stories, there is an immediacy to them, you are instantly involved in the characters' affairs and it's the simplicity of the situations, the way you can relate to their day-to-day life that works so well.
If there is a theme running through them, it's the relationships between people, their vulnerability, their rivalries, the closeness that they can and can't achieve with their friends and family. And it's this which draws me in and keeps me coming back, the eye for detail and the ear for language, not to mention the obvious writing skill that ties it all together. I will certainly be checking out more of Kane's work and I hope that she is able to find a bigger audience for her talent.
Sunday, 1 November 2015
Fringe benefits
Week 42: Ghostwritten – David Mitchell
Recommended by: Jon Mazliah
Before you ask, no, not that David Mitchell, novelist David Mitchell. Indeed his first novel, and in the opinion of my recommender at least, his best. The only Mitchell I'd read before this was Cloud Atlas, way back when I was just started my career and had also just formed a book club. I enjoyed it for its scope and ambition, weaving the strands of several separate tales together through different periods of time.
It's a similar premise here, interwoven stories spanning Asia, Europe and North America with characters as strangers and outsiders, on the fringes of society. The narration takes place from an array of points of view, from a terrorist cultist in Japan to a scientific genius in rural Ireland via a spirit in Mongolia. It's certainly a way to showcase the writing talent that Mitchell has from both a characterisation and plotting point of view. I don't know if all of his novels are structured in the same way, as I'd like to see what he does with the chance to develop characters over more than 50 pages each, but certainly within the form he's brilliant.
Inevitably some stories grabbed me more than others but the overarching strands running through it pull it together and make it more than the sum of its parts. It's smart too, the author giving himself the platform to show his intellect as well as his range. Even more than this though, is how prescient it feels reading it now. The themes of modernity and change, dislocation in the face of global connection, fear and conspiracy, would be cutting edge now. Published as it was just before the turn of the 21st century, pre-World Trade Centre attack, it must have really captured the zeitgeist.
If there's one criticism of it I can make it's a personal one. For all that it's whip-smart, on the money, crammed full of interesting ideas and well-crafted characters, I found that it was just missing that je ne sais quoi.I liked it, indeed I liked it a lot and can appreciate all of the things that a great about it. But I never found it unputdownable, it didn't grab my by the throat and yell "This is good! This is real!" at me and I can't quite put my finger on why. Everything about it was great and to my taste but somehow, for me at least, it lacked the X-factor which would have put it into the absolute top tier.
Admittedly if that's the worst thing you can say about it, then you're still looking at a damn fine book. And this certainly is that. Packed full of bankers and backpackers, robbers and radio DJs, there is a lot of depth to the work that almost surprises because of the breadth of ambition. It's a whirlwind tour across the globe, it's explosive stuff, so strap yourself in and prepare for take-off.
Recommended by: Jon Mazliah
Before you ask, no, not that David Mitchell, novelist David Mitchell. Indeed his first novel, and in the opinion of my recommender at least, his best. The only Mitchell I'd read before this was Cloud Atlas, way back when I was just started my career and had also just formed a book club. I enjoyed it for its scope and ambition, weaving the strands of several separate tales together through different periods of time.
It's a similar premise here, interwoven stories spanning Asia, Europe and North America with characters as strangers and outsiders, on the fringes of society. The narration takes place from an array of points of view, from a terrorist cultist in Japan to a scientific genius in rural Ireland via a spirit in Mongolia. It's certainly a way to showcase the writing talent that Mitchell has from both a characterisation and plotting point of view. I don't know if all of his novels are structured in the same way, as I'd like to see what he does with the chance to develop characters over more than 50 pages each, but certainly within the form he's brilliant.
Inevitably some stories grabbed me more than others but the overarching strands running through it pull it together and make it more than the sum of its parts. It's smart too, the author giving himself the platform to show his intellect as well as his range. Even more than this though, is how prescient it feels reading it now. The themes of modernity and change, dislocation in the face of global connection, fear and conspiracy, would be cutting edge now. Published as it was just before the turn of the 21st century, pre-World Trade Centre attack, it must have really captured the zeitgeist.
If there's one criticism of it I can make it's a personal one. For all that it's whip-smart, on the money, crammed full of interesting ideas and well-crafted characters, I found that it was just missing that je ne sais quoi.I liked it, indeed I liked it a lot and can appreciate all of the things that a great about it. But I never found it unputdownable, it didn't grab my by the throat and yell "This is good! This is real!" at me and I can't quite put my finger on why. Everything about it was great and to my taste but somehow, for me at least, it lacked the X-factor which would have put it into the absolute top tier.
Admittedly if that's the worst thing you can say about it, then you're still looking at a damn fine book. And this certainly is that. Packed full of bankers and backpackers, robbers and radio DJs, there is a lot of depth to the work that almost surprises because of the breadth of ambition. It's a whirlwind tour across the globe, it's explosive stuff, so strap yourself in and prepare for take-off.
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