In Which I Have Some Quiet Time...

Hey all, apologies for the quiet on here as late, but I am tres busy doing many things and have rediscovered a somewhat forgotten pleasure: reading for myself, and myself alone. It won't last too long I don't think - I'll very soon have something I am desperate to say - but for now I'm enjoying the experience of it being just me, myself and my page.

In the last few weeks I have read Lewis Hyde's The Gift: How the Creative Spirit Transforms the World, which was quite beautiful and profound, and made me realise some truths like I'm not at all unusual for the type of person I am, and that I'll never be rich unless my writing takes off as I'll always put a lid on my professional activity to leave room for my creative endeavours. A really great book if you're into that kind of thing. I also read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a devastating work of schmaltz, and disappointing similar to Everything is Illuminated, which I think is the superior novel. 

Last week there was a glorious re-read of Girl With a Pearl Earring, a quiet classic ever-present in my mind, and also a delve through The End of Men: And the Rise of Women, which made me both sad and excited for the future, but seemed to willfully ignore the fact that not all women in the workplace are Google execs who can demand that their company pay for a business class flight for their nanny so they can commit fully to family and the workplace at the same time, and the some such. 

There was also too much focus on one socio-economic and racial group, not enough consideration of welfare, single parenthood or the fact that not everyone has all the components of family and economic life lined up like ducks waiting to be utilised, like idle grandmothers and houses near head offices so they can be the CEO, if just their husband would help them with the washing up. It was well-written though, clipped along at an entertaining pace and I did recognise several people in my life within it.

Anyway, should you miss me until my next post there's always my column to read, as well as my short story Poinsettias, which appears in Danse Macabre #66 (if you click through, turn your sound up.)

x 





'Everything is Illuminated' by Jonathan Safran Foer

My thoughts on 'Everything is Illuminated' can be summed up quite neatly by Francine Prose, whose book I reviewed the other day:

'To be truthful, some writers stop you dead in your tracks by making you see your own work in the most unflattering light. Each of us will meet a different harbinger of personal failure, some innocent genius chosen by us for reasons having to do with what we see as our own inadequacies.'

So there. This book made me feel so insignificant and talentless that I properly downed tools for a couple of days and started to wonder whether I have been completely wasting my time. I was quite overwhelmed by it because it is MIGHTY and ambitious and clever and funny, and made me feel quite stupid, actually, which is probably why it's taken me an age to get around to writing about it. In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about my age and the fact that I am already two years older than Safran Foer when this was published. He was 25.

The story is lead by the narrative of a young Jewish-American, handily called Jonathan Safran Foer, and his journey back to the Ukraine to explore his familial roots there and try and find the women who saved his grandfather life when his shtetl was destroyed by the Nazis in WWII. He is accompanied on his journey by Alexander Perchov, his Ukrainian translator, Alex's father, also called Alex, and a mangy, flatulent dog called Sammy Davis Jnr Jnr.

The narrative takes multiple strands: 

1) Sections from Jonathan Safran Foer's (the character) own novel-in-progress, about past members of his family who lived in the Ukrainian shtetl a long time ago;

2) Narration from Alexander Perchov, the translator, who provides a running commentary on Jonathan Safran Foer's time in the Ukraine, in his own special brand of English;

3) Letters between Alexander and Jonathan after the event, which work well to tie all the strands together.

None of this of course describes the emotional impact of the story, but it does start to give an illustration of the meta-fictional devices that Safran Foer uses to heighten and give massive energy to his work. The writing is nimble and hilarious, and cut through with a type of knowing literary legacy that allows him to make sense of the insensible, I guess, in a very original way. I found it thrilling and fresh, but at the same time I can see how it would make this book an easy target for haters of this kind of meta-fictional audacity.

I'm not saying it is a perfect book. Alexander Perchov comes across, rather unflatteringly, as a bit 'Borat', with his unique English and wild proclamations (my husband actually dumped it after a page, called it nonsense), and preoccupation with sex and masturbation that runs through the book smacks a little of adolescent male given free rein.

However, the positive outweighed the negative for me on a larger scale than I can measure. It was so funny and then so heart-breakingly sad that I felt the tangible weight of all the horrific things that have happened to billions of people in the recent past, and specifically the unspeakable tragedy of the Holocaust, which is conveyed in this book. I loved also how the generations melded together in Jonathan's stories of the shtetl - there were several moments where I didn't know who we were talking about, or when, as it was so widely and sadly applicable  - and I felt that it gave a good conveyance of locality in the Ukraine. It and him remind me, funnily enough, of Tea Obreht and 'The Tiger's Wife', as they are both dazzling wunderkinds ('The Tiger's Wife' was published when Obreht was 26) who run along similar thematic lines: exploration through Eastern Europe to find specific family members or unearth family secrets, complimented by a magical realist historical narrative thread, with all parts coming together at the end. The impact and aftermath of war also features heavily in both, but that's unsurprising considering that there are few families you could go back through without encountering conflict, particularly in Eastern Europe, where both writers can trace direct links back to.


I feel a bit like something special was happening to me after reading this book and I'm intensely aware that I'm struggling to convey that in this review. I saw a review on Amazon which is basically 'THIS WAS AMAZING, OH MY GOD, I CAN'T TALK ABOUT IT', which echoes my thoughts well. Just read this book, if you haven't. I'll read it throughout my life I imagine, but maybe only when my own work is going well.


Title: Everything is Illuminated
Author: Jonathan Safran Foer
Publisher: Perennial, and imprint of HarperCollins
Date: 2002
Format: Paperback, 276 pages, and it was very kindly given to me by Nicole at Book Lush. 





'The Politics of Book Purchasing' Guestpost on 12 Books, 12 Months

A short series of posts by me over on 12 Books 12 Months concludes today with my guestpost 'The Politics of Book Buying', in which I describe the complex overthinking that goes into each of my book purchasing escapades.

I've actually already read Margaret Atwood's 'Surfacing' (read my review here) and Murakami's 'South Of The Border, West Of The Sun' (review here), whilst the other two books mentioned are nearing the top of my TBR pile. 

Rest assured, I've also bought many more books since then. 

Thanks again to Ali at 12 Books, 12 Months for allowing me air time on her wonderful blog!

  





In My Mailbox, No. 6

It's April, which means it's In My Mailbox time again, hosted as always by The Story Siren! So...





'Ashenden, or, The British Agent' by W. Somerset Maugham is my current read, and was part of a wonderful late birthday present last Saturday. It's my first Somerset Maugham, which is quite exciting. Review to follow in a week or so.








'The Pendragon Legend' by Antal Szerb, and translated from the Hungarian by Len Rix, was the second part of my late birthday present, and it's an intriguing-sounding murder mystery/hilarious romp/'gently satirical blend of gothic and romantic genres' (according to the blurb). Yikes. Looking forward to this.






'Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close' by Jonathan Safran Foer marked the beginning of a little shopping spree that I had in my local Waterstones on Wednesday, when I feeling a bit down. Buying books always make me feel better, and if I chose instinctively, rather than by just buying what I need, I often end up buying books with vague answers in for me. Anyway, this was on buy one, get one half price at the front of the store, and see ing as the consensus seems to be that the film is a miss, I though now's as good a time to read this as any.








'South Of The Border, West Of The Sun' by Haruki Murakami was the next book I picked up - this is one of only a few of his that I haven't read, and I liked the thought of a slim volume that I could make my way through in a few days. Really excited about this, so might read it after 'Ashenden' above.






'Surfacing' by Margaret Atwood was bought as a consequence of three things: I had Murakami and Safran Foer in hand, and thought I need to buy something by a girl; it is also slim, and the cover is the most dreamy, calming blue; a couple of years ago, I read David Lodge's 'Art of Fiction' and this book was given as an example of a successful present tense narrative.







'The Pale King' by David Foster Wallace was my fourth pick on Wednesday, as I feel I should have read something of his by now, and also it had an offer sticker that made it my 'get one free'. The blurb sounds good, so we'll see. Incidentally, I felt quite intellectual carrying it round the store :)







That's it for now I think; what are you reading?