Muriel Spark - The Driver's Seat

Oh, for such a small novella (tautology?), The Driver's Seat covers so much, with a dark plot, completely mental characters and just bizarreness all around! Lise, a thirty-something year old woman, is stuck in a dull office job for a decade or so, and she's about to embark on her first vacation. At the very outset, we discover that Lise is completely and utterly nuts. Like flips out in a shop, while looking for a dress to travel in, when the salesperson tells her it's made from stain-resistant material... so much so that she walks out of the store, as she is affronted by the insinuation that she does not eat properly. When she finally finds an outfit to wear ("a lemon-yellow top with a skirt patterned in bright V's of orange, mauve and blue.' and a coat over the top 'narrow stripes, red and white with a white collar") during her travels, the reader is left truly bewildered, by the sheer garishness of it, which she justifies easily.

The colours go together perfectly. People here in the North are ignorant of colours. Conservative; old-fashioned. If only you knew! These colours are a natural blend for me. Absolutely natural.

Okay, so possibly, Lise is on the verge of a breakdown of sorts, but she does seem to have an agenda. She insists she's meeting her boyfriend at the destination, but one wonders if she knows the man in question, for she does incessantly use the phrase, he's not my type while interacting with any of the strange men she encounters from the start of her break till... well... her death. Again, early on, Spark lets us know about the fate of her character. Not the who, not the why, just the what.

She will be found tomorrow morning dead from multiple stab-wounds, her wrists bound with a silk scarf and her ankles bound with a man’s necktie, in the grounds of an empty villa, in a park of the foreign city to which she is travelling on the flight now boarding at Gate 14.

Lise's behaviour becomes increasingly erratic as the novella progresses. She lies glibly, steals a car, and just seems to have lost all regard for any semblance of normality. Everything as per her convenience. Everything on her terms. Bizarre, uncomfortable, gripping.

This is the third book by Muriel Spark that I have read, and it couldn't be more different than the other two. It's significantly darker, to begin with, and suspenseful. The characters are just - wow - I really hope I never have to interact with people like them! Honestly! And despite it being a mere hundred-odd pages, Spark covers a lot of ground, and the ending just fits perfectly. Almost as though everything makes perfect sense.

JG Ballard - Empire of the Sun

World War II literature is a genre that interests me tremendously. It would be wrong to say that I find it enjoyable, but the fact remains that I actively seek out books on WWII. So far though, most of the WWII fiction (and non-fiction) I've perused has taken place in Europe, so Ballard's much acclaimed Empire of the Sun intrigued me immensely.

The book is a personal not-completely-accurate-and-somewhat-romanticised account of Ballard's childhood where he was living the war, in a war-ravaged Shanghai (which was occupied by the Japanese at the time). The account begins in 1941, and continues till the horrific bombing at Hiroshima on August 6, 1945 and the subsequent devastation in Nagasaki three days later. Jamie, the protagonist, is eleven years old at the start of the story, and we see the War unfold in Shanghai through his innocent eyes. Occasionally child-like, occasionally grown-up, somewhat disoriented, predominantly emotive.

Jamie gets separated from his well-to-do expat parents during one of the Japanese strikes, and eventually, after scrounging around for food at various houses, looking for his parents, or in fact, any Briton, all alone, finds himself at a prison camp, living the survival of the fittest adage. He befriends those who will protect him, continues his schooling thanks to some of the adults at the prison camp, and tries to make the best of the awful situation by finding comfort in the smallest of things, be it having the biggest sweet potato or pocketing one slyly, just in case he needs it in the future, when the paucity of food may become a real issue.

His views are slightly skewed (maybe this is just retrospection talking), as he advocates the Japanese, and in fact, at one point, states that he would like to pilot one of the Japanese aircrafts. A little tentative of change, he gets nervous when the war is drawing to a close, and just wants some kind of stability in the turbulence.

He ate every scrap of food he could find, aware of the rising number of deaths from beri beri and malaria. Jim admired the Mustangs and the Superfortresses, but sometimes he wished that the Americans would return to Hawaii and content themselves with raising their battleships at Pearl Harbour. Then Lunghua Camp would once again be the happy place he had known in 1943.

It's really sad; the rationalisation and the innocence. The prison camps didn't sound as horrific as the concentration camps in Europe, but irrespective, for anyone to live through that is shocking... and for a child, even more so. What... is the point? What was achieved?

But a flash of light filled the stadium, flaring over the stands in the southwest corner of the football field, as if an immense American bomb had exploded somewhere to the northeast of Shanghai. [...] Jim smiled at the Japanese, wishing that he could tell him that the light was premonition of his death, the sight of his small soul joining the larger soul of the dying world.

"Kid, they dropped atomic bombs. Uncle Sam threw a piece of the sun at Nagasaki and Hiroshima, killed a million people. One great flash..."

"I saw it."

All said and done, this book was quite harrowing. What made it a bit of a strange experience, though, was how, at times, it almost read as a documentary - stating facts, narrating events - almost as though the writer was an observer, not an actor. Perhaps that is completely valid, if one thinks about it. Why focus on emotions when the story is powerful enough to evoke extremely strong reactions to the war, its perversity, and the trepidation, monstrosity and futility of it all. It really does fill me with immense despondence and sadness... and even those words feel extremely trite.

Do you recommend any other books set in Asia during the second World War? Or, any other books set during WWII? What is it about that genre that just.... beckons? I almost feel masochistic. Sadistic would be equally apt.

Margaret Atwood - Oryx and Crake

It was in September 2009 when I purchased Atwood's Oryx and Crake, and it's been sitting on my shelf since, feeling slightly neglected. I've heard mixed reviews about the book, so procrastination played its part in the delay, but I finally did pull it out, being in the mood for some post-apocalyptic fiction. My Atwood point-of-reference is The Handmaid's Tale, a book I can't recommend enough, and considering that, I thought this fell slightly short of my expectations. It might be because The Handmaid's Tale sets an incredibly high standard. I mean, all said and done, Oryx and Crake was shortlisted for both, the Booker Prize and the Orange Prize.

There's Jimmy, who has witnessed (and played a part in)the apocalypse, and is the lone human survivor, along with the children of Crake (called Crakers), and many genetically modified animals, including pigoons (a cross between pigs and raccoons used to harvest organs), rakunks (a cross between rats and skunks, which have no purpose but to serve as pets) and scary wolvogs. He reflects on the past and how he's ended up where he is, as he tries to figure out a way to survive this new reality.

Jimmy's childhood is an exaggeration of life as we know it: Online gaming and communities, pornography, watching live execution channels, playing chess and just hanging out with Crake, his closest friend. Yet, he grows up in a compound where pigoons were created and continue to be genetically modified so as to harvest more organs, and he has a rakunk as a pet. Negligent parents, no siblings, same story.

Yet, where Jimmy is ordinary, Crake is extraordinary. He is competitive, intelligent, and envisages a futuristic society where immortality can be contemplated.

Immortality [...] is a concept. If you take ‘mortality’ as being, not death, but the foreknowledge of it and the fear of it, then ‘immortality’ is the absence of such fear.

And, he conceives a world where the inhabitants are inherently nonchalant about sex and violence. They are stronger, prettier, more resilient, and can handle the stronger UV rays after the ozone layer depletes. Then, he plays god, and so, the children of Crake are born. Crake's focus on science and complete disregard of humanity as is (must end the world to create a better one philosophy) is almost scary. At what point does anyone have the right to play god? And who, if anyone, is there to check him? It might not be possible as things stand, but what if a couple of centuries later, someone did figure out how to bring "better" people into the world? Or, why not just leave life to evolution? Is that being too boring?

"As a species we're doomed by hope, then?"

"You could call it hope. That, or desperation."

"But we're doomed without hope as well," said Jimmy.

"Only as individuals," Crake said cheerfully.

"Well, it sucks."

"Jimmy, grow up."

Crake wasn't the first person who had ever said that to Jimmy.

While the Crakers were still being "developed" and taught, the deadly virus strikes, killing everyone but Jimmy, who has never interacted with them earlier, but has promised Oryx that he would take care of them, if disaster struck. It's almost as though she knew what was coming...

Oryx - the sole female protagonist - stayed calm, composed and unearthly throughout the book. Not prone to any extremisms, and in a state of perpetual indifference, Oryx almost came across as a robot. Strange as she had been sold by her parents to a gentleman, and eventually ended up as a child porn star, after which she encountered a string of unpleasant things. But her lack of emotions just made her seem too far and too distant from reality (whereas, I think, the gross exaggeration of Jimmy's childhood gets the reader closer to him).

And so - when Oryx and Crake, and everyone else die, Jimmy starts looking after the Crakers and answering the multitude of questions they throw his way - most of the answers he just makes up as he goes along. Crake has a god-like status amidst his "children" and Jimmy (or Snowman as he is now known) a demi-god-like status. He tries to use it to his advantage, but he really does try to do the right thing. That's what makes Jimmy's character slightly blasé: things happen around him in spite of him. He is not a catalyst, he is not the chemical - he's just the neutral, watching things unfold.

I think that's where my problem with the book lay  the characters! I found I cared little, if at all, about them. Honestly, the only character that seemed to have a real role was Crake, but the narrative was such that it didn't give us much insight into him. Instead, the narrative centred around Jimmy and his battles as he lives with the Crakers by the beach, trying desperately to just - survive. Just thinking aloud - I think it would have been extremely interesting if the book was written from the point of view of Crake, and what was driving him. We get a high-level insight into his philosophies, but... I felt as though I needed more.

What are your favourite dystopian novels? Which would you recommend over all else?

Muriel Spark - Loitering With Intent

There's a thin line between reality and fiction; they oft' reflect each other very closely, so much so that the line is indiscernible. But - what happens when reality starts imitating fiction? That's the basic premise of Spark's 1981 novel, starring Fleur Talbot: an aspiring writer in London in the 1950s. She's writing her first novel, Warrender Chase, but she needs a job to get by while she finishes it. And so, she takes up the position of the secretary to Sir Quentin Oliver, and his brainchild: The Autobiographical Association.

The Autobiographical Association comprises of a bunch of people who write their memoirs, which are to be published in the future, when anyone and everyone mentioned in the autobiographies are dead. In a manner of speaking, it's almost like a time capsule.

A myriad of entertaining characters are created by Spark, to fill in the roles of the members of the Association - each more warped than the other. Fleur, the narrator, ends up "enriching" their otherwise mundane autobiographies. However, right before her eyes, the scenes from the office start resembling her novel - which she had started before taking the job! What's is Sir Quentin's end goal? And to what lengths is he ready to go to in order to achieve his end goal?

In Fleur, we have a witty likeable narrator, who says it as she sees it.

I always desired books; nearly all of my bills were for books. I possessed one very rare book which I traded for part of my bill with another bookshop, for I wasn’t a bibliophile of any kind; rare books didn’t interest me for their rarity but their content. I borrowed frequently from the public library, but often I would go into a bookshop and in my longing to possess, let us say, the Collected Poems of Arthur Clough and a new Collected Chaucer, I would get into conversation with the bookseller and run up another bill.

She befriends Sir Quentin's mother, Lady Edwina, who is an eccentric character, with a mischievous side. And then there's the despicable Beryl Tims - the apparent love interest of Sir Quentin - who works with him, and finally, Sir Quentin himself - a character who's extremely unlikeable and becomes a shade more repulsive with each turn of the page. It's these characters that carry this work of metafiction, and makes it a fascinating read.

I think I didn't get enough out of the book, by virtue of not knowing much about a couple of authors (Benvenuto Cellini and John Henry Newman) whose works Fleur (and a couple of other characters) refers to at regular intervals (quoting passages as well), setting them as model autobiographies.

I also thought Warrender Chase sounded like a pretty dreadful book (not one I'd like to read, anyway). Maybe in a parallel universe, where novels are actually a byproduct of reality, this book exists, and the "lucid readers" are singing a different tune. If not that, maybe it has a "cult" following. What do I know?

Sarah Waters - The Night Watch

Sarah Waters' The Night Watch is the third novel I've read by her, and it's as different as the previous two as it can be. While one was a gothic ghost story set in Warwickshire (The Little Stranger), the other was a Victorian thriller (Fingersmith). And then we have this: a book set (mostly in) London during and after World War II. The book moves chronologically backwards - the opening section starts in 1947, followed by a chunk set in 1944 and finally in 1941. While nothing much happens in the opening section, it does define the state of the main protagonists, and how the years of war have led to their present situation - which isn't exactly joyous.

Maybe it's right after all, what the newspaper prophets say: that one gets paid back in the way one deserves. Maybe we've forfeited our right to happiness, by doing bad things, or by letting bad things happen.

There's Kay, a lonely figure, who is a lesbian and spent the war years being a female ambulance driver, and playing hero. Now, she wanders the streets and goes to the cinema, sometimes just to watch half the movie.

Then we meet Duncan, a young boy who lives with his "Uncle." During the years of war, while most men were being drafted, Duncan was in another kind of hell, which led to his relationship with his family deteriorating further. He now draws comfort from his older sister, Vivian, the only person in the family who still seems to care about him. However, Vivian is fighting her own battles - in a relationship with a married soldier - a secret she harbours closely; Duncan being the only one privy to it. She works with the fourth primary protagonist, Helen, in a matchmaking office, as they try to find the "right" person for whoever enters their office.

Helen, also a lesbian, is in a loving relationship with Julia, a famous author. Yet, her jealousy and paranoia seems go beyond the natural, and one has to wonder as to why...

1944, when the war was at its worse and "blackout" was enforced, the characters real stories come to life, and it's not pretty. Nothing about war is pretty. Kay's work as an ambulance driver sees her recover as many carcasses as people who can actually be helped... maybe even more. She tries to protect those younger and less impressionable, and seems to do the humane thing, as opposed to being a stickler for rules. In the end, she was my favourite character - by far.

We see a horrific botched abortion, by a dentist, and its consequences; discover the houses which are now merely rubble and stone; walk the streets of London with the characters - be it with two women starting an affair, or two other women trying to rescue as many people as they can! Not only do we discover Duncan's past, but, we also witness the meeting of the "glamour girl" Vivian with the soldier, Reggie, in a train lavatory!

Little symbols are scattered through the book - Vivan clutching a gold ring in her hand, and then transferring it to its rightful owner; the most beautiful pair of pyjamas as a birthday present which were never worn; Duncan's job making night lights. The significance of each of these symbols, despite being introduced in the first section, isn't quite apparent immediately. Yet, as you read on, the jigsaw starts coming together and making more sense.

Yet, for everything I liked about this book, I didn't actually love it. Not at all. The lesbianism was overdone, and some of the descriptions was unnecessary. There seemed to be more emphasis on the sexuality of the characters than the actual horror of war, at times. Also, to me (and I might be wrong here), the inclusion of Duncan was simply to have a male perspective as well, but his character, despite being an interesting one, didn't really add much to the story. The authenticity of some of the intertwining stories defied logic (e.g. Reggie-Vivian), and I was left feeling quite confused about Duncan and "Uncle" Horace's relationship.

If you're a Sarah Waters fan, I'd suggest reading it, but, if not, I'd give it a miss. It's nowhere near as good as Fingersmith, so like me, if you are seeking a repeat of that experience, I'd suggest heading in the other direction.

David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas

In January 2009, I was introduced to the wonderful world of David Mitchell by a friend, who lent me the surreal number9dream - a book I absolutely loved. She proceeded to lend me Cloud Atlas next, and it's been sitting abandoned on my unread shelf for about a year now, as I've been reluctant to pick it up for a myriad of reasons - book bloggers everywhere rave about it calling it a favourite, it's considerably chunky at 529 pages, and, well, it's Mitchell's most acclaimed book yet. Anyhow, I finally picked it up about a week back, and rode the long roller-coaster that is this book - it's a heck of a ride, you're almost begging for it to finish (as, all said and done, it is a difficult book to read), but when you eventually do turn the last page, you want to experience it all over again.

The book comprises of six independent stories, that span centuries and the atlas, of which five are told in "halves," revolving around the central tale of the post-apocalyptic future, where humans are living as savages, after The Fall. In the first set of "halves", which goes chronologically, each story is read/seen by a character in the subsequent one. In the second set, the stories start moving backwards, so the characters end up reading/seeing the story that follows. Hence, the opening chapter of the book (the first incomplete half-story) is completed in the last chapter.

The common theme that runs through the book is the presence of a "comet-shaped birthmark" - a distinction present in the protagonist of each story. Does this suggest reincarnation? The existence of the soul across generations? Or, is that merely coincidental?

Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same it’s still a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or who the soul'll be 'morrow?

The Pacific Journals of Adam Ewing {1850s} : A journal written by an American notary in the Pacific, who befriends an English surgeon as well as a stowaway Moriori. This story is cut off mid-sentence (and comes together nicely as the last chapter)...

Letters from Zedleghem {1931} : A young aspiring bankrupt composer, Robert Frobisher, goes to Belgium to apprentice with a famous composer, hoping to make some easy money, and simultaneously finding some success. Here, he discovers The Pacific Journals in the library...

Not only are there some romantic (and otherwise) twists in the tale, but, as Frobisher details his life in the Belgian estate to an old friend, Sixsmith (in the form of letters), the reader is introduced to Frobisher's biggest work, revolutionary or gimmicky: The Cloud Atlas Sextet.

Half Lives : The First Luisa Rey Mystery {1970s} : We move across the pond for this one, where Luisa Rey is a journalist, and is focusing on a big expose on the Swannekke Island Nuclear Plant in California. Sixsmith is the scientist who gave her the lead for the story, and in time, she reads the letters written to him by Frobisher. Luisa, trying to follow in her father's footsteps, seems to be hellbent on justice (consequentialism), even if it is at the expense of her own life.

The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish {present-day} : The focus shifts to present-day United Kingdom, where Timothy Cavendish is a struggling not-so-moral publisher, but, when he is tricked into admitting himself in an old-age home, with no way out, he starts trying to figure out the best way to escape, which leads to more trouble for him. A manuscript of The First Luisa Rey Mystery was sent to him by an author, and he's contemplating publishing it...

An Orison of Somni 451 {near future} : In this dystopia, where fabricants are slaves to purebloods, Somni 451 has ascended, and managed to develop her own personality, by acquiring immense knowledge. It's a story about the struggle of powers, the violence that emerges and the unfortunate state of things as they stand. She's not a partaker though, merely an observer, who recites her life-story to an Archivist. She was watching the film of Timothy Cavendish, when she was taken away...

Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After {Post-apocalyptic future} : Zach'ry is the protagonist here, in a civilisation that considers Somni god, and Ol' Georgie the devil. Zach'ry and his family are savages, in awe of the Smarts, believing that the Soul either reincarnates or gets set to stone. Technology is a myth in this civilisation, and, the people mainly herd goats or the like, living in tribes in forests, fearing invasion and power struggles by the terrifying Kona.

This book is immense - the writing style in each of the stories changes significantly, so much so that they read as completely different stories : from Victorian formal english, peppered with ampersands and other shorthands, to pidgin english which I personally found quite annoying to read. However, each style seems to reflect the age it it set in, appropriately, as well as, the structure of each story seems to be similar to its genre. For example, the Luisa Rey mystery is written in numerous short chapters, much like an airport thriller, whereas, the post-apocalyptic narration is written as a rather long rant.

The common theme that binds these stories together soars above and beyond the comet-shaped birthmark. It's a story about power, domination, and the ultimate quest to rule. The stories stress on the selfishness of people, and how ultimately, this will lead to the inevitable apocalypse.

Yes, the devil shall take the hindmost until the foremost is the hindmost. In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.

While I enjoyed this book, parts of the stories just didn't grab me, and I was left quite unsure as to what's going on, and how these stories are inter-linked together. Why isn't it just a book of short stories? A much less author might have done that... or, attempted six different novels, with completely different themes. However, Mitchell, managed to tie most of the loose ends together, and left me questioning my own existence, and the power of one individual. It's an ambitious work, but, in my opinion, Mitchell's managed to pull it off surprisingly well.

Simon Mawer - The Glass Room

Shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2009, Simon Mawer's immense novel revolves around The Glass Room, or, Der Glasraum: A modernist house resulting from an architect whose maxim is ornamentation is crime. The conception of the house happens when Victor (a Jew, who owns an automobile manufacturing company) and Liesel Landauer are gifted a plot of land by Liesel's parents, on their wedding. The parents suggest building a good and solid house; yet, Victor, looking into the future of Czechoslovakia, a young nation of hope, conceives a modernist house, without the fortresses, and gothic windows. He actively searches for an architect to undertake this commission, and while the young couple honeymoon in Vienna, they meet Rainer von Abt, a self-proclaimed poet of space and structure, who desires to take Man out of the cave and float him in the air; to give him a glass space to inhabit. And, so the the wondrous Glass Room is born.

Once completed, it had become a palace of light, light bouncing off the chrome pillars, light refulgent on the walls, light glistening on the dew in the garden, light reverberating from glass - a masterpiece created by von Abt for the Landauers. The time is 1930s though, and the nation of hope is soon going to find out that the future is not as optimistic as they foresaw.

As history unfolds, and Czechoslovakia is invaded by the Nazis, the young couple flee the country for Switzerland, where they hope to build a stable life, with their two children. The relationships that were initiated early on in the book: Victor's almst obsessive affair with a prostitute, and Liesel's close friendship with Hana (a "modern" non-orthodox vivacious character), run much stronger now, as Victor and Liesel drift apart, but remain married. These intense relationships and emotions carry the book for the most part.

However, the main protagonist of the book isn't any person, but The Glass Room itself. So, when the family flees, the focus shifts to the Nazi lab that is set up there, which runs "tests" on people, in order to prove that the Jews are indeed inferior to the Nazis. A new host of characters are introduced, who play their short part exceptionally well. Once the Nazis leave, Der Glasraum is owned by the Soviet, for their lodgings. And then, it becomes a children's hospital, and as before, a new host of characters are introduced. Finally, the Czechoslovakian state wants to take it over, and make it a museum.

One would think that the myriad of characters, plots and time-lines would make this book cluttered, and cliched; that it would run the risk of trying to be too profound; that the varying emotions and relationships would be overdone and hyperbolic. However, Mawer, via some artistry (or waving of the wand), manages to escape these criticisms for this absolutely fantastic book, with the atypical protagonist.

At the beginning of the book is an author's note, that reads The Glass Room is a work of fiction, but the house and its settings are not fictional. A little researching indicated that the house is based on Villa Tugendhat, designed by the German architect, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, in Brno. It was built between 1928 and 1930, and is said to be the icon of modern architecture.

Rating: A+

J.M. Coetzee - Summertime

And so, my Booker shortlist (2009) journey continues with Coetzee's fictional memoir, which completes the trilogy, already containing Boyhood and Youth. I haven't read either of them, so, I wasn't sure what to expect with Summertime, although my experience with Coetzee told me it wouldn't be a very "summertime" book. Needless to say, I was right! However, this is a well-written, clever book, which comes across as part fictional, part real. A research student, Mr. Vincent, is planning to write a biography of the Nobel Prize winner after his death. After scouring the late author's journals, and reading his books, Vincent interviews five people he deems important to Coetzee in the 1970s - the time this novel focuses on.

The novel is essentially paraphrasing the interviews, with the interviewees comments interlaced with the interviewer's questions, so that it reads as a conversation. Through these conversations, we get a glimpse into the life and times of John C (see what I did there?), as he perceives himself through the eyes of his cousins, friends, lovers and acquaintances.

Coetzee's well-known to be a recluse, and this novel affirms that, with its self-deprecating prose, and harsh insights - some of which may be true, and most of which is pure fabrication!

"Coetzee was never a popular writer. By that I do not simply mean that his books did not sell well. I also mean that the public never took him to their collective heart. There was an image of him in the public realm as a cold and supercilious intellectual, an image he did nothing to dispel. Indeed one might even say he encouraged it.

Julia, the first interviewee, refers to John as a "cold fish", while his cousin thinks he's "stuck up". A lady he was supposedly in love with says, "Not sexless. Solitary. Not made for conjugal life. Not made for the company of women," while one of his teaching partners describes his writing as being far from great: "Too cool, too neat, I would say. Too easy, too lacking in passion. That is all."

However, while this is almost a fascinating revelation on Coetzee, it does raise a number of pertinent questions: Just because Coetzee won the Nobel Prize, does he deserve the attention he's getting? Specially, as Vincent is looking for a "story", and all he's getting is snippets that show Coetzee's unsocial, slightly disembodied personality.

And, what drives us to look after our parents, after a certain age? Is it a responsibility? Is it a necessity? And, can we run away from that filial duty? Or, do we succumb to it? More importantly, is it about love? Or, the right thing to do?

Again, in a typically Coetzee fashion, he touches upon life in South Africa in the 1970s, as the social climate was slowly changing, but the gap between the Afrikaner and the white man was still vast. He talks of how people fled the country, in "stormy times", and how people returned when they had nowhere else to go. There's also an element of the interests of black students, and white students, and how they differ - specially when you toss in the "radical black students".

It's a thought-provoking gentle book - not as hard to read as some of his other books - but, it still draws you in, and lets you peep into the heart and mind of someone who's almost considered socially inept, despite his genius. He might not be the most loveable person out there, but his self-criticism, romanticism, affection and determination really grew on me, and I half-wish I had the opportunity of knowing him, and arguing with him: principles over pragmatism. That makes two of us.

Rating: 4.5

Sarah Waters - The Little Stranger

This is the first book on the Booker shortlist that I've tackled this year, and I have to admit that my opinion on the book remains ambivalent. Having finished Fingersmith a couple of weeks back, I expected a lot more from The Little Stranger - more twists and turns, and surprises. Ironically, what makes The Little Stranger good is the subtlety and the lack of hyperbolism - that the story isn't swept away by the author's imagination, to degenerate into a run-of-the-mill horror story. Set in post-war 1947, in Warwickshire, the story is narrated by the pragmatic Dr. Faraday. One day, he is called to the Hundreds Hall, to treat the maid, and there he re-acquaints himself with the once wealthy Ayres family, whose fortunes have faded with time. He remembers the time when he visited the exquisite mansion, as a young boy, to be presented a commemorative medal, and he marvels at its dilapidated condition now.

Once he "treats" Betty, he continues to find reasons to return to the Hundreds Hall, as he recalls its past splendours, and juxtaposes that against the present state. He befriends the family, becomes almost indispensable to them, and the family themselves seek his company - they have few visitors now-a-days, and they do not invite their old friends as they are ashamed of the present.

The family constitutes of Mrs. Ayres, the lady of the house; Caroline, her plain eldest child, and Roderick, who was severely injured during the War, and still has a limp. He now looks after the estate, by selling plots of land and living off its capital, while trying to protect his mother and sister from seeing how bad things truly are.

One night, the Ayres decide to have a party, to welcome their new neighbours, but things go frightfully wrong, and its during this party that the story actually kicks off. Rod does not attend the party due to a headache, but after the party, Rod seems to succumb to his "nerves problem" and eventually suffers a nervous breakdown of sorts.

As the story progresses, it seems as though there is an unwelcome "mischief-maker" in the house. But, whom, or what, is causing the mischief? There's no evident answer - what is clear, though, is that the Ayres are glad to have the services of Dr. Faraday, who rationalises and provides a scientific explanation for every event - something that probably comes naturally to most doctors.

While Dr. Faraday narrates the events, and provides the reader with a glimpse of the emotions of all the characters, he also successfully draws on the changing political, economic and social climate. He's worried about his own future, after the National Health Service is established, for he fears he will lose his patients. He's concerned about the Ayres, and their large estate being turned into council houses - something that happened to numerous mansions and grounds at the time. He highlights the changing class system, by stating the comment from Roderick early on in the book: "I gather that neglecting servants is a capital offence these days".

The book also raises many interesting topics, in terms of society and how times change, and how important it is for the people to change with times. The general opinion on the Ayres misfortune is based on them being stuck in their glorious past, as opposed to adapting with the times. It brings out the role of a doctor, and what drives a typical doctor, in a day where money and fame wasn't altogether prominent in the occupation. Simultaneously, it also shows how self-righteous and know-it-all-ish doctors can be, with Dr. Faraday more than once saying "I know so", when asked what he thought about something. Most importantly, it indicates how losses and heartbreaks can haunt people, and twist the hands of their fate.

However, my main gripes with the book was that occasionally, the writing fell flat, and, I just didn't feel the Warwickshire atmosphere. I went to university at Warwick, and I didn't really feel the essence of that, despite Waters dropping the names of the towns and cities around, like Leamington, Coventry, and Kenilworth. Also, as already mentioned, I missed the surprise factor which made Fingersmith so incredibly addictive.

Rating: 3

Note: I can't help wondering if I would have rated this book differently, if I hadn't read Fingersmith recently.

The Booker Half Dozen

Is actually a half-dozen. So, the shortlist for the Man Booker Prize was announced today, and I sheepishly admit that I haven't read a single book that made the shortlist. Considering I only read two books on the long list, I don't think that's incredibly surprising.

I intended to read the entire shortlist when it was announced, but, I feel incredibly disinclined to read Wolf Hall, which is probably this year's favorite. However, if Coetzee does win with his memoir, Summertime, it will be his third Booker Prize.

I am reading The Little Stranger at the moment, and I seriously hope it lives up to my expectations, which is a result of Fingersmith - my first Sarah Waters book, completed about a week back. Once done, I intend to read Summertime, which I did start, but, one of my friends wants to borrow the Waters book, so I had to bump that up the reading list.

Some bloggers have rated The Glass Room very highly, and I reckon that will be the third book on my Booker Shortlist TBR. I actually have incredibly high hopes for this book, so, I have my fingers crossed that the book lives up to its hype.

I was quite disappointed (although maybe not surprised) with the absence of Sarah Hall's book, How To Paint A Dead Man. I really really enjoyed the book, and thought it might just be clever enough to make the cut. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. As for Samantha Harvey's The Wilderness - I did enjoy the book, but its exclusion from the shortlist didn't have me too surprised. I don't know why.

From the long list, I still intend to read Heliopolis though. It sounds fantastic, and who can resist a little bit of Brazil?

What are your thoughts on the shortlist? Did you read many books from the longlist? Was the exclusion of any book severely disappointing? And, the million dollar question: Who do you think is going to run away with it?

Lloyd Jones - Mister Pip

Set in Papua New Guinea, in the 1990s, this book is narrated by Matilda, an adolescent, who witnesses the horrors of civil war first hand. The book opens with many people fleeing the island, and it being lost to the outside world, as the 'redskins' (the government soldies) and the 'rambos' (rebels) advances.

One white man ("the last white man on the island"), however, commonly referred to as Pop Eye, stays on in the village, despite the odds of him fleeing being far greater than some of the others. Mr. Watts is his name, and he's a massive fan of Dickens. The responsibility of teaching the children falls on him, and he reads them the epic novel, Great Expectations, which allows the children's imagination to run away to the Victorian England, and befriend Pip (the protagonist of Great Expectations).

During the blockade, we could not waste fuel or candles. But as the rebels and the redskins went on butchering one other, we had another reason for hiding under the cover of night. Mr. Watts had given us kids another world to spend the night in. We could escape to another place. It didn't matter that it was Victorian England. We found we could easily get there. It was just the blimmin' dogs and the blimmin' roosters that tried to keep us here.

The redskins mistake Pip to be an actual person, though - the result of a shrine created by Matilda on the beach - and, they initiate a horrific manhunt, which leads to the thin line between reality and fiction being erased. Houses and possessions are burnt down, makeshift roofs are created, and the children continue trying to find an escape in the world so artfully created by Dickens.

This is an amazing book, that brings in multifarious cultural thoughts and highlights the great divides. For example, Matilda's mother believes that Mr. Watts is not providing the children with proper education, due to the lack of religious education. Instead, he spends time talking of a fictional character which doesn't exist, and says that the devil is a symbol.

It's barbaric, emotional, heart-wrenching and fascinating. There's despair, which is always highlighted by hope. There are sacrifices made, nightmarish experiences, death, and the consequences of each decision render the reader awed and despondent. I cannot help but wonder what would've been, if Matilda's mother had not made that one impulsive decision...

The power of story-telling, the wonder of literature, and the importance of the imagination are themes so beautifully brought out, that they almost perfectly accentuate the diabolic war. Beauty and ugliness will always be held in the same hand.

This is the second book by Lloyd Jones that I've read in recent times, and I have to say that I found The Book Of Fame more lyrical, although the story didn't really appeal to me. However, the story of Mister Pip is amazing, but I found myself yearning for the writing present in The Book Of Fame.

Rating: 4

Sarah Waters - Fingersmith

It's the 1860s, and Lant Street, a dodgy street near Southwark Bridge, is inhabited by petty thieves, small-time burglars, piddling swindlers and the like. Here lives Sue Trinder, a seventeen year old, with Mrs. Sucksby (her guardian), and Mr. Ibbs (a man who fences stolen items), along with a bunch of infants, unwanted in this world, who Mrs. Sucksby brings up and introduces to the world of small crime; and, some adolescent pickpockets (or, "fingersmiths", if you like).

We were all more or less thieves at Lant Street. But we were that kind of thief that rather eased the dodgy deed along, than did it . We could pass anything, anything at all, at speeds which would astonish you.

One day, Gentleman, a fraudster who was born into a rich cultured family, but went wayward with time, comes to visit (as he oft' does), with a proposal: He wants to take Sue to become a maid to a rich heiress (standing to get the money upon marriage) who lives at The Briar (a dark miserable place, where the sun never seems to shine), with an eccentric Uncle: Maud. Maud is unaware of how much she is worth, and she is supposed to be a lady in all rights. Sue's job is simple: make Maud her confidante, and convince her to marry Gentleman. After marriage, Gentleman will have Maud committed to a mad person's home (lunatic asylum), and, take her fortune as his own. Sue will get £3,000 for her role in the affair, and while she is slightly dubious about the plan, she agrees, to make Mrs. Sucksby and Mr. Ibbs proud.

And so, after being trained by Gentleman, Sue heads to The Briar, and seeks to get the wheels in motion. Everything is going exactly according to the plan: the Gentleman arrives, Maud is completely smitten, they plan the elopement, and Sue helps at every stage.

However, just as you, the reader, thinks everything is happening as planned, and the plot falls into place, Waters does an incredible job of delivering twist after twist - things that you'd never expect, but that doesn't come across as unbelievable. It's a book about love, jealousy, betrayal and a web of lies, that seems to spin deeper and deeper, denser and denser. It's dark, ruthless, and sinister. The characters almost float off the page and dance before you, just as if to prove how real they are. However, despite being descriptive, the book isn't dull at any stage. Instead, it grips you, and you just keep turning the page, desperate to know what happens next. And... with amazing skill, Waters ensures that you're always guessing... for nothing is as it seems.

Rating: 5