Ian McEwan tackles climate change and tries to be funny. Now what is there not to like about that. In Solar, McEwan tackles the weighty problem of climate change through his ‘vaguely unprepossessing, (often) bald, short, fat, clever’ Nobel Prize winning protagonist, Michael Beard whose fifth marriage is on the rocks. Only this time, it’s not really his fault.

Beard has been coasting on his Nobel fame, accepting positions where his name will give an institute some prestige, giving lectures, heading departments with minimal commitments and more recently heading a newly founded centre for alternative energy. It does sound very boring, but McEwan does go light on the science and politics of climate change. In fact the first part of the book is at turn hilarious. Beard is definitely no adorable protagonist, but his dead silly antics does keep one amused.

After a life changing visit to the North Pole, Beard soon becomes a proponent for solar energy. However, it is not without some sneaking manipulation on his part. It seems that McEwan has thrown in his experience with being accused for plagiarism into this book. Beard coasts of the work of a former colleague. He has grand plans, but it all comes crashing down in the final part. After the interesting first part, and the rather weighty middle that gets a bit tedious I was expecting a better paced resolution. However, everything comes to one final showdown. Both his personal and professional life head towards a climatic confrontation. Nonetheless, Michael Beard was entertaining enough and a loser despite his Nobel success.

McEwan’s Solar deftly handles the issues at hands with a bit of comic lightness. The last time he tackled present day issue was in his novel Saturday. There everything felt angry. True, no on wanted the war, but the protagonist, a neurosurgeon seemed like a wrong choice to tackle the issue at hand. While Solar may not reach the heights of Atonement, which will be hard to achieve, it makes for an entertaining read. And trust me, there are no awkward scenes ala On Chesil Beach. (4/5)

Andrea Levy’s fourth novel, Small Island swept a myriad awards when it was released in 2004 and propelled Andrea Levy into the limelight. The book has always been on my consciences, but I was reluctant to pick it up. I can explain the apprehension, but after some other people suggested the book I plunged and took the leap of faith. And it has been an excellent dive into a fascinating world of pre and post World War II London.

Small Island is a tale that of dreams and prejudices. It is told through several narratives, each revealing a particular aspect of the story and each is a small piece of a bigger picture of London before and after the War. Queenie Bligh takes in black Jamaican boarders much to the dismay of the residents of the other houses. But what is Queenie to do, her husband Bernard has not yet returned from the Far East and there has been no word from him. She is only doing what is necessary to keep living. One of the boarders is Gilbert, who served in the British army during the war. He had lofty ambitions, which are soon quashed by the prejudices that he faces. The only friendly face in Queenie’s. Gilbert brings over his young wife, who he hastily marries before leaving Jamaica for England. Each of the characters have a tale to tell and they do intersect, although they are often oblivious to the fact.

Andrea Levy tackles racism without flinching, nicely comparing and contrasting the racial prejudices plaguing the Americans and the British. It is unflinching and the characters real. And she does have a good ear for speech, capturing the Jamaican into English. Despite the weighty material that is being tackled, she manages to inject humour into her writing and never lets the gloominess overwhelm the characters and the story. Racism and colonial superiority is a theme that Levy will revisit in newest book, The Long Song.

Levy has managed to capture a wide range of human emotions in Small Island without it sounding preachy and overwhelming. The touch of humour is very much welcomed. In fact, humour is what makes us human in a sense. After all the trouble that the characters go through, shouldn’t they at least be allowed to have some light hearted moments to make a life a little easier. Don’t let the 500 odd pages daunt you, it’s a breezy read and the pacing is good. And if you have yet to pick up a copy, head over to Kino for some signed copies. More on Andrea Levy’s at Kino later. (4/5)

]]> http://derleser.wordpress.com/2010/04/04/small-island-by-andrea-levy/feed/ 0 julyan Small Island http://derleser.wordpress.com/2010/03/25/andrea-levy-at-kino-and-borders-27th-march-2010/ http://derleser.wordpress.com/2010/03/25/andrea-levy-at-kino-and-borders-27th-march-2010/#comments Thu, 25 Mar 2010 10:00:55 +0000 derleser http://derleser.wordpress.com/?p=260 ]]>

A mini announcement: Andrea Levy, the author of the Orang Prize winning Small Island will be on the Little Red Dot this weekend. She’ll be at Kinokuniya at 3.30pm and over at Borders at 5pm. Can’t wait. Exactly the impetus to get me reading Small Island which is excellent and I was fretting that I would not get my copy of The Long Song in time. So if anyone on the Little Red Dot is free drop by Kino or Borders and have a chat with Andrea Levy.

Man, this sounds like an advertisment.

They break the door break down the door at the end of December and carry the body away.

Jon McGregor’s Even the Dogs is a powerful disturbing read and it is probably the best book I’ve read so far this year. We are immediately pulled in to the story by the first line and what follows is a cacophony of voices that sound like mindless rambling of the masses. The body that is carried away is Robert Radcliffe and Even the Dogs is a tale that tries to unravel his life through the various stages of a processing the dead.

McGregor uses the third person plural ‘we’ through out the book and it can be a bit confusing. It can get a bit problematic when he shifts the stream of thought to another character midway through a paragraph. The clues are there, but it can be a bit disconcerting if you are one who needs a linear mode of story telling. If you surrender to the cacophony of voices, the readers will soon be able to pull and tease apart a few individuals central to the death of Robert Radcliffe. There is Laura, his daughter, Danny who goes about looking for some one to tell. Mike who knows what to do, but seems to hear voices. Steve, Ant, Heather all junkies with their own story to tell. The ensemble is truly a depressing lot, but if you surrender yourself, McGregor effectively pulls you into the heart of the story.

Other than the premise of the story, it is rather hard to discuss the tale further without giving out too many details. The writing is impeccable and the scenes of desolation and even of tenderness are painstakingly rendered. Nothing is wasted in this truly unique piece of work. If you are wary of the stream of consciousness trick employed and the constant switching of voices, surrender yourself and position yourself as We. Looking out, as We one will find the joy of such a bleak and desolate tale. (5/5)

P.S: Oh it comes in a nice bendy back edition (Bloomsbury’s name for the binding format).

Hugo Wilcken’s Colony is a rather deceiving book. The blurb behind reads as follows

The year is 1928. Sabir – a petty criminal, drifter, war veteran – is on a prison ship, bound for a notorious penal settlement in the French tropics.

It is not so much about Sabir, but about the colony. Sabir as we will soon find out is but one of the few characters in the story. The novel is divided into three parts, but they aren’t continuous. Part one sees Sabir arriving in the Colony and attempting to escape. In part two, we are introduced to Manne or Hartfield or whatever else he wishes to be called. The final part is short, but sums up the horror that we witness through parts one and two.

The French colony is a deplorable state. The prison system has it’s own rules and the inmates have settled on their own hierarchy and mete out their own form of punishment. Wilcken is wonderful in describing the brutality of prison life. The decrepit conditions that their live in makes one shiver with fear. We also get an exploration of human nature: how far will one go to survive.

Colony is a rather hard book to get in to. The characters aren’t truly likable and the it reads like two short stories instead of one linear narrative. We get to imagine what happens at the end of part one, but once we do get to the end, we realize that only the worst could have happened to our woeful characters. However, Wilcken should be given credit for a wonderful study of the darkest of human conditions: our survival instinct. Definitely not something uplifting, but if desperation and the darkness of human nature is your cup of tea, Colony is the book of choice. (4/5)

I’ve steered clear of Haruki Murakami’s work for a while. I don’t know why I did it, perhaps it was the sudden burst of popularity that put me off his work or maybe it was the fact that his works were considered to be rather fantastical, but not in the realm of magical realism ala Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, but weird. A couple of months back a Murakami book, South of the Border, West of the Sun landed on my desk at work. I picked it up and enjoyed it and some one suggested I try Norwegian Wood next. It was a good suggestion indeed.

It starts out with as a flight lands in Hamburg and we are introduced to Toru who is trying to preserve the memory of Naoko by writing everything down as protection against a failing memory of the events that have passed. Toru, Naoko and Naoko’s boyfriend Kizuki form a rather happy friendship, that is shattered by the death of Kizuki. Naoko tries to escape from Kizuki’s death by turning away from Toru, while Toru leaves his home and enter university in Tokyo. Toru slowly adapts to university life, but Naoko becomes more withdrawn and moves away to seek help and refuge from the world. However, Toru still thinks of Naoko, but life is never easy and Toru meets Midori a quirky girl with secrets of her own. Soon we have a myriad of relationships with Toru smack right in the middle. At the centre of it all is a love story concerning Toru and Naoko, which blinds Toru. He is unable to see the affection that Midori has for him until it is almost too late.

The writing is clear and simple. It is not filled with the young yearning for love and is highly readable. It reads so easily and smoothly that I wonder whether there was anything to fear about Murakami in the first place. Then again, this was the book that propelled him to superstardom. As an introduction to Murakami, Norwegian Wood can’t be a better place to start. (4.5/5)

• The Very Thought of You Rosie Alison
• The Rehearsal Eleanor Catton
• Savage Lands Clare Clark
• Hearts and Minds Amanda Craig
• The Way Things Look to Me Roopa Farooki
• The Twisted Heart Rebecca Gowers
• This Is How M. J. Hyland
• Small Wars Sadie Jones
• The Lacuna Barbara Kingsolver
• Secret Son Laila Lalami
• The Long Song by Andrea Levy
• Black Water Rising Attica Locke
• The Wilding Maria McCann
• Wolf Hall Hillary Mantel
• Black Mamba Boy Nadifa Mohamed
• A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore
• The White Woman on the Green Bicycle Monique Roffey
• The Still Point Amy Sackville
• The Help Kathryn Stockett
• The Little Stranger Sarah Water

Very much looking forward to read The Long Song by Andrea Levy who will be gracing our humble shores next week. May not read the rest of the long list though, but some of them do sound interesting. Will Mantel sweep it after winning the US National Book Critics Circle Prize last week? Or perhaps it’s time for Waters to get some recognition?

I’ll try a Monday and Wednesday short story day. Reading 2 or 3 stories depending on length. I think it’s nicely spaced out and it won’t be an overkill. Any ideas how to read short stories?

W. Somerset Maugham’s Far Eastern Tales was supposed to accompany me on my recent trip to Penang, but I was greedy and started devouring the book almost as soon as I got it. Sad to say it didn’t make it as my holiday read, but it did get all the way to the airport.

W. Somerset Maugham is a superb writer of short stories. If you want to learn the art of the short story, look no further than Maugham. He has managed to cobble all the requisites for a story telling in a few thousand words. First the introduction, done artfully and not too hastily. Then nice trot to the climax, and a twist that throws everything out of kilter. By the end of the story there is some sort of resolution, but also a longing to know what happens next. He leaves the readers hanging on for more, but in a good way.

Maugham’s years in Asia and the Southeast shines through in this collection of stories. He is not derogatory and does not belittle the people of the land unlike Burgess in A Malayan Trilogy which got a bit tiring after a while. True we have the stereotypes of the races here, but we do not get delicate British colonists here. Here, they come raring to go, though in a few they are glad to leave. Maugham explores the difficult life encountered by the British in the colonies and offers a glimpse into the harsh reality as well as the extravagance. Although more than once the same tale regarding an affair with a native kept popping up though in different incarnations. That aside, Maugham’s Far Eastern Tales is a pleasurable holiday read that should be on vacation reading list in the Southeast Asia. (4/5)