Sunday, June 8, 2008

Book 18 - Crescent: A Novel

Crescent: A Novel by Diana Abu-Jaber is one of those exquisite, magical reads that makes me ache with its beauty. Often these books don't have a great deal happening in the plot - it's the descriptive writing and fluid imagery of such works that draws me in and creates a sense of rapture.

"No one ever wants to be the Arab - it's too old and too tragic and too mysterious and too exasperating and too lonely for anyone but an actual Arab to put up with for very long."
Crescent, p. 38

Crescent is a story of Iraqis in exile. Sirine, orphaned daughter of an Iraqi and an American, lives with her uncle, an academic, and works at Nadia's Cafe. Despite never having visited the Middle East, sensually authentic food flows from her fingers. Exiled Arabs from all over Los Angeles and particularly the university where her Uncle works are drawn to the cafe. Regulars include Hanif, a lecturer in Middle Eastern literature, and a slow, almost reluctant love affair commences between the two. No hot-headed teenage love affair, this romance draws on the sensuous maturity of the older pair. Passion is tempered by the mystery and not-knowing of what happened in the magical Iraq of Hanif's past and the war-torn version of today.

Food and storytelling pervade this text like a fabulous banquet and create its magic. Luxurious descriptions of food create a longing for the lost Iraq and a pleasure in Sirine's present world. Even the every-day city of Los Angeles takes on a feeling of mythical wonder, peopled with lonely young photographers, sensual and scheming professors and the love-struck couple.

The storytelling of Sirine's uncle's draws on the magic of Arabia's 1001 nights as well as gently mocking American stereotypes of the legendary Arab. It also creates a reflexive kind of intertextuality, reminding the reader that Sirine and Hanif's story is also a fiction even if the characters have more complexity and authenticity than the Arabs of Hollywood movies. I am inadequate to the task of describing this work's amazing imagery so I will leave you with a final description of the lost Iraq of legend from the storytelling of Sirine's Uncle.

"The streets of Aqaba are shell spirals and, on summer nights, crowded and complicated as women's hearts. Boys sit on the curb and wonder about love, women run their hands through their hair, locks dense with sea salt, men unfurl velvet prayer rugs, hands on their knees, the bow, rise, rock into the sea-waves of prayer."
Crescent, p?

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Interlude: Book Indecision

Sometimes I just don't know what I'm in the mood to read. Or there's a book I feel I "should" be reading, but I just can't get into it. And I actually really dislike this feeling - it's the proverbial "I'm booored" as it relates to the reading world. A gazillion books out there, but still "I'm bored".

So what is it that I'm "supposed" to be reading? No. 1 on the "should" list is The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teenagers. "That's a strange choice", I hear you say, especially as my 10 year high school reunion is on this year. Believe it or not, my doctor recommended it and I don't want to go back to her until I've finished it! I'm not a big fan of self-help plus reading it at work during lunch would be a bit embarrasing, so it's been lounging around at home for far too long. I've started it though, and once you get past the high school examples the principles behind it are quite good and the conversational style makes it quite readable.

Next is Baudolino by Umberto Eco. I bought this on sale a year ago because I love Eco. Only problem is he's challenging reading, and since I'm a deadline-oriented girl I tend to ignore my purchased books and work through the library pile before they're due to be returned. So anyway, I've started Baudolino which is set in Constantinople in the 1100's. Good reading but it's an enormous hardcover which rules out taking it on the bus. Yet another book floating around at home.

Princesses and Pornstars is a much more portable work, so I carted it along on the bus yesterday. It's a feminist critique on the modern perceptions of women which has been getting some media lately, and it's highly readable. Baudolino and 7 Habits are in danger of being shunted for this one I'm afraid.

Honourable mention goes to Micah. Yes, that would be from the biblical Old Testament. I am trying to get back into the habit of reading the bible on a regular if not daily basis. The whole theory is to find a daily time when you can dedicate your attention to it and to praying. I have difficulty with that because my day doesn't have enough of a structure to include a set space for that. I shall have to work on it.

I'm also two reviews behind folks - Crescent and Anne's House of Dreams. I hope to get to them tomorrow. Until then!

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Book 17 - Stardust by Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman is a pretty big thing in the fantasy/horror and comic community. I loved the depth and creative mythology of his Sandman comics, and have heard rave reviews about American Gods and Good Omens. So I guess my standards were pretty high when it came to reading Stardust, recommended by my friend Ozhaggis.

Stardust is the story of Tristran Thorn, born half of this world and half of faery. Raised in the town of Wall, which is just this side of the wall between the two realms, he has no idea of his heritage. At around the age of 17 he impulsively vows to bring the town beauty a falling star in return for granting him his one desire. Of course the star has fallen on the other side of the wall, so he sets off on a quest to find it. Faery being what it is, the star is not a chunk of rock but a girl with a broken leg who strongly objects to being given to someone else. And of course Tristran is not the only one looking for the fallen star.

Overall the interplay of plot and characters is well done, and the play on traditional fairy tale themes is quite clever. But it just seemed a little light to me - some of the characters and sideplots were a little underdeveloped. I think the problem was that I was expecting it to be a more adult fairy tale along the lines of Gaiman's other work, especially as I found it in the Adult Fiction section of the library. In reality it's probably more suited to the young adult audience, 11+. When viewed from the YA perspective it's a pretty enjoyable read and a great way to look at fairy tale themes and plot techniques. I have to say when it comes to modern fairy tales with a bit of meat to them I still prefer Robin McKinley's "Beauty" or the Once Upon a Time series.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Book 16 - Wide Sargasso Sea

Ok, so I didn't read Wide Sargasso Sea this week, and in fact haven't read it since 1999. But the last text of Regarding Jane Eyre, a series of letters by the author Jean Rhys, took me right back to where I started - my year 12 HSC class where we studied both Jane Eyre and Rhys' revisionist novel. It may not have impressed me as deeply as Jane Eyre, but most of it came flooding back after reading these letters. Apologies in advance for errors in plot or theme - as I said, it has been 9 years and unfortunately my copy of the novel is at my parent's house 5 hours from here.

A native of the West Indies and a product of the 20th century, JeanRhys objected strongly to Bronte's portrayal of Rochester's first wife as the mad Creole woman in the attic. It took her years to craft her response: a story of a sensual yet innocent woman named Antoinette Bertha and a suspicious young man who falls violently in love. In the lush and humid tropics lust and Obeah magic clash violently with Victorian prejudice and colonialism. The way I'm describing it makes it sound like a bodice-ripper!

Actually it's quite disturbing - Rochester projects all his inner conflict with his intense passion and sensuality onto Antoinette. His Victorian sensibilities could not handle a sexually responsive wife - as Bronte has Rochester suggest in Jane Eyre, Bertha's "gross sensuality" must have been early symptom of true madness. Combine that with her tainted Creole blood, and Rochester instantly believes the first poisonous story he hears of madness in the family.

What follows is a spiral of cruelty, lust and betrayal where Rochester gradually strips Antoinette of her identity - her friends, her country, her name, until she becomes poor mad Bertha, trapped in an English attic. She can only reassert her identity by burning down Thornton Hall and throwing herself to her death. The question hovers above the text - was Antoinette/Bertha truly prone to madness, or did Rochester drive her to it?

Trust me when I say that you will never look at Rochester in quite the same light again. Don't read this if you object to your heros having feet of clay. It's an intense read ripe with violence and sensuality. One image from the text still stays with me, nine years after reading Wide Sargasso Sea - the image of a moth, drawn to the light and heat of a candle that in a moment of ecstasy will prove to be its doom.

Book 15 - Regarding Jane Eyre

More Jane Eyre folks! I promise I am almost done with the topic.

Regarding Jane Eyre is a collection of writers' responses to Jane Eyre. It's an eclectic little collection, containing excerpts from various biographies on Bronte, some literary criticism, and some fictional writing as well. It's an Australian publication edited by Susan Geason, and several of the texts had a distinctly Australian flavour.

Here's a quick rundown of what's included: an excerpt from the Bronte biographies of Gaskell and Lyndall Gordon; an article on what boarding school was really like at the time (the stories are chilling), a psychologist's analysis of the child abuse and recovery that Jane experienced, questions about where Jane's rage went after Lowood; Amy Witting writing the ongoing story of a very minor character; and Morag Fraser relating the complex relationships of fathers and lovers to her own modern family. I will talk about the other three texts in a little depth as they had more of an impact.

My favourite article was janeyre@window by Carmel Bird (click the title to read the full text online, it's worth it). She has terrific fun identifying all the recurring symbolic motifs within the text - from red, fire and windows to Jane's inherent materialism revealed in an ongoing obsession with describing the furniture of a room. I love recurring motifs and teasing out their possible significance, it's what draws me to poetry as well.

Bird envisioned a cd-rom with a hypertext network of links between all these themes - clicking on "window" in the text would take you to all the other references to window etc. This was probably reasonably groundbreaking, given that it was written in 1996 in the early days of the web revolution. It's certainly a great idea and if it's been done I would like to know about it.

The strangest text was Jean Bedford's Crown me with Roses Pastiche, a somewhat bizarre modern re-imagining of the story where Gateshead is a commune, Lowood is an abusive cult and Thornfield a solitary outback homestead. Let's just say that the ending is nowhere near as positive as in the original text!

The last text, a series of letters by Jean Rhys, actually leads me to her novel Wide Sargasso Sea, which I think deserves an entirely separate review. So sorry, you will have to put up with Jane Eyre for one more post!

My final take on Regarding Jane Eyre: overall I felt there was a bit of an obsession with Jane's childhood and the boarding school, and Rochester suffered significantly under the withering gaze of modern feminism. But nevertheless it is quite a refreshing way to dig deeper into a text without having to resort to the traditional and not always reader-friendly literary criticism.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Book 14 - Villette

Well I just finished Charlotte Bronte's Villette and I was horribly dismayed by the ambiguous ending. You don't need to read Charlotte Bronte's biography to know that she had a difficult life - it comes through in the stoic manner of her characters. Lucy, like Jane, suffers from difficult circumstances and certainly does not lead a smooth life.

Lucy Snowe is an essentially penniless and friendless young woman (sound familiar?) who takes it into her head to travel to France with no secure situation. With determination and a dash of luck she secures a place teaching English in a French boarding school. As her name symbolically uggests, Lucy is a fairly detached and observant woman who depicts the character of those around her with honesty, wit and accuracy. She observes the flirtations and romances of her friends and acquaintances but does not actively seek to participate, nor would she announce her feelings to those she is drawn to.

Despite her self-effacing ways, Lucy catches the attention of the fiery and volatile Monseur Emmanuel, Professor of Literature. He claims to see beyond her modest facade and accuses her of being a passionate and wiley woman. The strange relationship that grows between the two is highly compelling - M. Emmanuel's voluble lectures and flamboyant actions are met by Lucy's innate stubbornness and pointed barbs. It is not a conventional relationship - at first it appears the two truly irritate each other, and even so they appear to be more friends than lovers for most of the book.

I mentioned that Lucy is a stoic and Villette reflects the author's sufferings. Certainly Lucy is more pragmatic than optimistic. When commenting on the courtship of two friends, Dr John and Paulina, she observes that some such as these are born to live fortunate and blessed lives, where she is not. I felt a sort of pity for this character who did not expect much for her life beyond being a single teacher and paying her way. This refrain reoccurs throughout the book and heightened the suspense considerably for the last series of events - there could be no guarentee of the conventional "happy ending".

A bit of a spoiler alert here for those who may want to read the book. I really want to discuss the ending because it affected me signficantly. Eventually the relationship between Lucy and M. Emmanuel deepends into love, but many obstacles are placed in their way - from financial circumstances to family objections and even religious issues (Protestant vs Catholic). Lucy is even led to temporarily believe that he is betrothed to another. Just as it all comes through Emmanuel's friends and family find a way to separate them by sending him off to manage an estate in the West Indies for three years. With all this tension, it seems impossible that it won't resolve in a happy marriage between the two. But alas! in the Epilogue Lucy tells of her three years of waiting which end in a series of wild storms that occur just as M. Emmanuel's ship should be returning. But instead of telling us his fate, she writes:

"Here pause: pause at once. There is enough said. Trouble no quiet, kind heart; leave sunny imagines hope....Let them picutre union and a happy succeeding life."

Aaagghhh! I would rather be told and have Lucy's gloomy predictions on her life confirmed than be left hanging like that. To invest so much in characters and then be deprived of a resolution is incredibly frustrating. How terribly postmodern - 100 years before that particular "ism" existed. But as I said, I really feel that the disappointment that Lucy - and the reader - suffers speaks a great deal of the kind of life that Bronte led. No doubt I will have more on that later if I manage to get through her biography!

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Book 13: Wives and Daughters

There was a natural progression in moving from Jane Eyre to Wives and Daughters. Its author, Elizabeth Gaskell, was a contemporary and close friend of Charlotte Bronte. In fact she wrote Bronte's biography, which I may attempt to read at some point in the future (I borrowed it from the library but you should see how tiny the print is!).

Molly is the half-orphaned daughter of Dr Gibson, raised to be quite a sensible and engaging (if shy) young woman. When invited to be a temporary companion to Mrs Hambly, the ailing wife of the local squire, her gentle and empathetic nature impresses itself on the entire household, including the rough-natured squire and his sons Osborne and Roger. Osborne is considered to be the genius of the family, whereas they view hardworking and good-natured Roger as a bit of a "plodder". However it soon becomes clear that Roger's strength is not the Classic fields of learning but progressive science and maths, and he soon makes a name for himself amongst the scientific community. His kind nature endears him to Molly and she quietly falls in love with him.

Circumstances at home seem to require Molly have a chaperone and the doctor somewhat unwisely plunges into marriage with Hyacinth Kirkpatrick, a widowed schoolmistress with a daughter of her own. Her somewhat vapid and selfish ways soon become a trial to Molly and her father. For Molly the greatest advantage in the marriage is that she gains a new sister, Cynthia, a beautiful, outspoken and strong-willed young lady with the ability to make all men drop at her feet. Molly's love for her new sister is strained when it becomes evident that Roger has fallen for Cynthia. But Cynthia also has a secret engagement with the unscrupulous Mr Preston, one that threatens to ruin not only her reputation but Molly's as well.

I suspect my going from Jane Eyre to Wives and Daughters was a bit of a disservice to Gaskell - she does not exude the same unorthodox passion and willpower that Bronte does. Essentially this book is just as much about family relationships as romance and society and in fact feels a bit like a wordier, Victorian version of Austen's Mansfield Park. Some of the characterisation is thoroughly enjoyable - Hyacinth is perfectly awful and the Squire Hambly is a wonderfully rough character. All in all it's not a bad read, although somewhat wordy.