The Resurrection of Maltravers. Alexander Lernet-Holenia.

An interesting book from Vienna, in which a decadent count "dies", and then comes back to life.  Rather than going back to his old life, he decides to start anew.  This is not a "bad man turns good" story: more complex, and not so rosy.  Instead, Maltravers decides to train a handsome young man in the ways of a jaded old man.

Some great scenes, a subtle sense of humor, with quite a few good one-liners of philosophy, psychology, or humor.  Here's a good one (from a rambling thought process of Maltravers), but be sure not to tell John Gray:

"All men love all women at once, and all women love only the man they love.  All women are only one woman to a man, and one man is all men to a woman."

I would recommend it, though the translation is a bit quirky at times.

Thief of Time. Terry Pratchett.

Thief of Time.
Terry Pratchett.
Harper Collins: 2001

Another Discworld book involving Death's grand-daughter, Susan.  This time she winds up with a love interest in the person of Lobsang Ludd, the child of Time.

Pratchett discovers his funniest new (I think) character in a while: Lu-Tze.  This guy is the 800-year-old sweeper of a secret monastery who is nevertheless the most respected guy there--to those who know who he is.)  His knowledge of "The Way" comes from a housewife in Ankh-Moorpark, and he carries around a book of her sayings, which are, of course, everyday trite proverbs to us, but their application in the story is hilarious.

The usual misadventures, near catastrophe, and last-minute solution, with sit-com/slap-stick/monologue humor by that old stand-by, Death.

The Marriage of Mr. Mississippi. Friedrich Durrenmatt.

The Marriage of Mr. Mississippi.
Friedrich Durrenmatt.
Grove Press: 1964.

Durrenmatt, a playwright by profession, wrote one of my favorite books: Traps.  Mr. Mississippi, a play, is more his standard work.  One funny thing about plays is that characters often spout off didactic monologues--this is allowed in a dramatic situation, but not in the (usually) more realistic prose work.  This play is full of mini-monologues as instructive & thought-provoking for the audience as they are revelatory of the characters' inner beings.

The play centers around the theme of justice--who decides what is just? a mass or a man, and in what situations?  Dare we follow a dream of ideal justice or settle for practical justice? Are there any truly just men?  In the midst is a love quadrangle between a married couple (who have killer their former spouses and have married each other for penance), a political aspirant, and a failed professional--and the lady, of course.  Very good.

The Nun and the Bandit. E.L. Grant Watson.

The Nun & the Bandit.
E.L. Grant Watson.
Albatross: 1935

Another good book from Grant Watson. This one revolves around the changing relationship between a desparate man and the nun he accidentally kidnaps (she was with the girl he intended to kidnap.) The nun, Lucy, is of course beautiful, but it is not love which drives Michael; rather a combination of animal lust and revenge--revenge against God for the rotten hand he has been dealt.

Michael's tale is one of an everlasting search for meaning and escape. Lucy's tale is again a search for meaning (as, I suppose, it is for us all) and a complex one of acceptance and forgiveness. For she allows Michael to take her (in exchange for sparing the child) and she stays with him--not quite willingly, but at least passively, obediently, and even companionably.

The setting is the Australian outback, and Grant Watson once again evokes the horror close beneath it and the feeling of insignificance one feels amongst it.

Wicked. Gregory Maguire

Wicked.
Gregory Maguire.

An awful and tedious perversion of the Oz story. I can think of nothing to recommend it: the writing is ostentations, the characters are ridiculously unbelievable, the plot is both boring but also beyond belief and contradictory to Oz.

The whole idea is telling the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. However, if one is going to write a book using the characters, setting, AND plot from another novel, one ought to follow the rules set by the previous author. Wicked takes the wonderful world of Oz and its rich characters, and turns it/them into a soap opera complete with useless drama, pointless sex & perversions, cardboard characters who don't act like normal--or even abnormal--humans, sophomoric moralizing, etc. etc.

This is a best-seller, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. There can't be that many people who hate the Oz books so much they'd like to see them destroyed like this.

The Mainland. E. L. Grant Watson

The Mainland.
E. L. Grant Watson
Alfred A. Knopf: 1917

The first half of this book is excellent. Grant Watson excels at a few things: intense psychological suspense, interesting nature writing, and mysticism. All of these are present and strong in the beginning of the book, and I had high hopes of a book as good as Lost Man.

After John's heartbreak, however, the book turns into a sort of epic, rather than a detailed description of his attempts to get Mrs. Cray back &/or is utter annihilation. Instead, as John grows and matures (he was raised on an island with only his parents), the intensity of both his emotions & Watson's writing lessens, and the detailed descriptions become more generalized (as John himself is learning to generalize.) Stylistically, this is successful, and it is still a very good novel, but I miss the intensity, the mystical response to nature, and the suspense, that was present in the first half. Grant Watson needed to have John be that intense as a youth in order to show his mellowing and maturing as an adult--perhaps I just miss my own intense youth...?

Car. Harry Crews

Car
Harry Crews
William Morrow, 1972.

A shockingly good story. Herman, the son of a junkyard owner, decides he is going to make his claim for fame by eating a car. The short novel follows the repurcussions within and out of their small family.

The writing is intense, the strange psychology of all characters is at once absurd and utterly believable. Crews is successfully able to tie together a devotion and obsession with pop culture, an expose of crass commercialism, and a wholly believable look at some strange sexuality, in a way which is riveting, disturbing, and fun.

I must get my hands on more of his books, but they are apparently all highly sought-after...

The Dark Tower. Stephen King.

The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower.
Stephen King.
Grant: 2004.

[warning: plot spoilers]
The final volume in this interesting series is as good as the first. All the good guys and the bad buys die -- including some real tear-jerking moments -- except Susannah (who gives up--a very disappointing move on King's part) and Roland. He, of course, successfully reaches the Dark Tower. As he ascends, he passes through rooms, each of which encapsulates one moment, one part of his life. When he at last reaches the top and opens the door, the horrible truth comes to him: he has done this already, perhaps an infinite number of times. He is immediately sent back to the desert, chasing the man in black (the opening scene of Gunslinger, already forgetting what he knew. King could have made this a great commentary on the curse of a character who has to relive his painful life each time the book is read anew (he is, after all, aware that he is a character), but he backs away from this by changing one detail, which implies that next time Roland goes through this, he might find redemption, or at least be one step closer. Oh well, at least it's a positive message of perseverance and hope.

R.U.R. Karel Capek.

R.U.R.

Karel Capek.

Washington Square Press: 1969/1923

I have always known this book for two reasons: it is the origin of the word 'robot' and it has always been hailed as being ahead of its time. Despite the advance warning, I was still taken aback by its ability to be applied to today's world. Indeed, the main plot of the book (robots come to realize that they can take care of things better than people can) is one of the plots in Asimov's I, Robot.

The play reads fast, yet even a fast read cannot ignore the huge issues raised: who is responsible for the moral use of technology?, what should the relationship ultimately be for man & machine?, will humans evolve or be replaced by another species -- even one of our own design?, what are the effects of leveling of the economic/political strengths of the world's economies?, who watches the watchers?, how does one face personal vs. global annihilation?, etc. This guy is good!

Rasselas. Samuel Johnson.

Rasselas: Prince of Abyssinia.
Samuel Johnson.

John B. Alden: 1887.

A short classic about a young prince who leaves his overprotective castle to search the world for happiness -- or, the way to live happily. He is joined by his sister and an older "man of learning," Imlac, on his quest.

Along their way, they meet with a variety of people who seem happy: farmer, hermit, scientist, philosopher, ruler, etc.; yet each one declares himself to be unhappy. Eventually, they decide to return to Abyssinia.

Johnson's cynicism and pessimism are laughable at times, probably intentionally. Rasselas intends to find a life of continual ease and happiness -- such as his father intended for him at Abyssinia -- yet despite his own experience and observations, he his unable to see that struggle and strife are necessar to experience true happiness.

The Broken Bubble. Philip K. Dick

The Broken Bubble.
Philip K. Dick
Arbor House, 1988.

One of Dick's posthumously published non-SF novels. This follows a man who is 30-35 but still refuses to succumb to societal norms. One day, he refuses to read a blaring radio ad on his programme; his refusal speaks clearly to some teenagers who proceed to -- believe it or not -- rebel against authority. More interesting than this guy is his ex-wife (whom he is pursuing again) who has a complete emotional and moral breakdown.

Ultimately, though, the reader is watching these people's lives rather than understanding or participating in them. Dick's writing is good enough that we believe him when the ex-wife seduces the 18 year old fan, or paints the whole apartment black, etc., but the emotional distance remains -- as with his naked woman in a giant ball, we are always watching through a plastic bubble.

By Neva's Waters. John R. Carling.

By Neva's Waters.

John R. Carling.
Little, Brown: 1907.

An uncommon title by Carling, who was a writer of historical romances. A hundred years ago, there was much more emphasis on the adventure than the romance, though. This is a simply marvellous tale of Russia at the time of czar Alexander I's rise. A dashing and gallant Englishman, Lord Wilfrid Courtenay, falls in love with a beautiful Russian noblewoman.

Various adventures and political intrigues ensue. At times, this is more a drama of manners, as it were, since so much of the plot revolves around certain people's perceptions of other people. Nowadays, of course, such thinking seems quaint and it is felt to be an outdated plot device.

At the end, it turns out that Wilfrid's love is in fact the Czarina, and as such, a relationship is impossible. So, he settles for his second favorite lady, who was in love with the Czar, but now prefers Wilfrid. Strange, but wistfully happy.

The Story Without a Name/A Nameless Story. Barbey d'Aurevilly.

The Story Without a Name.
Barbey d'Aurevilly.
W. B. Conkey: 1882/1902.

An interesting little book, with a Robert Louis Stevenson short story at the end. For some reason, "Collins" is on the spine of this book (along with the title "Nameless Story"), but this was penned by d'Aurevilly although he is not credited anywhere in the book. Most likely a pirated edition. The first legit U.S. edition seems to be 1919 published by Brentano's of New York.

At times, this book seems almost more of a sketch of a longer one. This story takes place in a remote valley, where a widow and her daughter are host to a wondering Capuchin monk for a few weeks. Neither like him, and they are relieved when he leaves.

The daughter, Lasthenie de Ferjol, becomes sick, and her mother thinks she's in love; a suspicion reinforced when the daughter is discovered to be pregnant! Lasthenie has no knowledge of how this happened. Mme. de Ferjol is harsh and unforgiving. Daughter gives birth to still-born, slowly pines away and dies, not having spoken for years. Of course, it turns out that the monk was the father of the baby, and the mother goes to the grave and curses him.

Sections of nice detailed writing interspersed by long sections of simple, almost hurried writing (or translation.) Could be reworked into a great gothic or Dickens novel.

Interestingly enough, French doctors have described as "Syndrome of Lasthénie de Ferjol" a syndrome in which women bleed themselves repeatedly and secretly to the point of death or grave illness.

Tales of the City. Armistead Maupin.

Tales of the City.
Armistead Maupin.
Harper: 1990.

Essentially a soap opera with San Franciscans. Maupin has presumably lived in San Francisco, and he really hits on the middle- to uppoer-class white folks there, with their casual acceptance of everything and their amateur philosophy. There are, of course, other sides of SF, but perhaps he touches on those in one of his other five novels in the series.

The book centers around a house owned by a marijuana-growing woman with a secret past, who is like a mother to her young tenants. None of the tenants have any real direction in their lives, nor are any very lucky in love. Although largely a soap, there are some truly comic moments in the book (but not as many as the author thinks.)

Overall, this is a safe, well-written story. I listened to the audio book, which is read by Maupin who has a distracting accent. I probably will not read more in the series, but would like to read another book of his to see if he ever really develops his sense of absurdity, or if he just keeps it at the sit-com level.

The Treasure. Selma Lagerlof.

The Treasure.
by Selma Lagerlof. Translated by Arthur Chater.
Doubleday, Page & Co: 1925.

A very enjoyable book. Set in 16th century Sweden, it tells the tale of a brutal murder by villains, and how the only survivor, the ghosts of the victims, and the last person to see them alive avenge their murders. The plot twist is that the survivor, a 14-year old girl, falls in love with the leader of the villains. The leader is haunted by a ghost and is very remorseful; he falls in love with the girl. The witness is too cowardly to do much of anything.

It ends with the lovers hating each other, the girl kills herself so that the leader can get caught (he doesn't) and the witness finally gets the courage to make a stand. The bad guys are eventually caught, and the girl is honored in/by her death.

This has all the aspects of a successful fairy tale: a fun yet dark & twisted plot; good characters; yet reads as easily as a young adult novel. Lots of neat setting details make this successful just as an historical novel.

Full Moon. P. G. Wodehouse.

Full Moon
by P. G. Wodehouse

Read this on insistence of Diana who laughs hysterically every few pages when reading a Wodehouse novel. This book displays an ungodly amount of British humor - lots of slapstick, situation comedy, puns and other word play, etc., and entirely lacking in the great English tradition of satire. Some of the dialog is amusing, to be sure, but, as Diana always says, I was "underwhelmed."

Snow Falling on Cedars
by David Guterson.

Winner of two mid-size awards, this very popular book is ultimately disappointing. In comparison to pulp mysteries it scores with better writing, but fails with plot. In comparison to "literature" in pales all around. The characters are flat with one or two defining inner conflicts, the plot is only vaguely interesting. What keeps this book going is its descriptions of small-town/small-island life. Although these depictions fall into ready stereotypes, Guterson at least gives a coherent rationale for their existence.

The writing is clear and easy to read. The plot revolves around a Japanese man wrongly accused of murder. Ten years after WWII, internment, Pearl Harbor, etc., tensions still run deep on this small island in the Pacific Northwest. The real guts of the story is supposedly a love affair between a white boy and Japanese girl before the war, but it is really quite uninvolving. I wish the Japanese guy had killed the other guy, just for some kind of interesting plot twist!

The Book of Sorrows
by Walter Wangerin, Jr.

The title nails it - this is a sad book. A sequel to the brilliant "Book of the Dun Cow", this book again displays the author's great writing technique in an allegorical tale of animals fighting Evil. In the "Dun Cow", the climax was a great war, and the "Sorrows" deals with the psychological aftermaths of the war, especially on Chauntecleer the rooster-pastor.

Beautifully written, though lacking much character development except a few (common to sequels, I suppose, though in this case, the main character continues to be a dynamic one). The main themes are the survivors' guilt, and loss of active faith: both of which are experienced by Chauntecleer who eventually must die for his sins.

John MacNab

John MacNab

John Buchan. Wordsworth Classics: 1986.

A fairly short but entertaining adventure/mystery about three men, bored with respectable life, who go to the country and challenge their neighbors that "John MacNab" will poach an animal from their estate during a given time period of three days.

Of course, there are minor subplots, and some fun characters, but the bulk of the story is the planning and execution of the stunts. It has the same intellectual stratagem of a mystery, the excitement of a suspense novel, and a LOT of Scottish colloquialisms.

Yes, this is fun, but the former English major in me cannot resist seeing the Christian Trinity in the MacNab three-in-one persona: father (loss of innocence plot), son (fish miracle plot), and Holy Ghost (power of love plot.)

June 4, 2005

Cat's Eye

Margaret Atwood. Doubleday: 1989.

A dry and witty novel about a 50-ish artist looking back on her life. Atwood is at her best when describing the early childhood of Elaine: the innocence of the child clearly comes through. Abused by a childhood "best friend", the adult Elaine keeps thinking she'll run into her former tormenter Cordelia while she's back in Toronto for an art show.

Good enough to be a "modern classic": it is very good, and Atwood packs in the thematic subtext. Yet she pokes fun at all of this: Elaine's artwork, when seen from her perspective is largely autobiographical. However, when the art critics dissect her artwork -- lots of long words, high-falutin' stuff -- they do so much to Elaine's amusement. Just goes to show that 90% of criticism comes from the critic, not the work.