Hilary Mantel - Wolf Hall

When Wolf Hall won the Booker Prize in 2009, I was slightly disappointed. It was one of those books on both, the longlist and the shortlist, that I didn't want to read. I can't quite put my finger on what it was, but there was zero motivation to read the book. A couple of weeks back though, I pulled it out from my Chunksters shelf, and decided to give it a go, prepared to abandon it midway. But, from the minute I started it till the time I turned the last page, I was totally mesmerised, and was kicking myself (not literally) for not pulling it down sooner.

Wolf Hall, at 650 pages, has Thomas Cromwell, 1st Earl of Essex, as the central character. While it's set before and during the English Reformation, the focus is not King Henry VIII or Anne Boleyn; instead, it's the man who was the King's right-hand man.

But - how does a boy, a blacksmith's son, who doesn't even know his own birthday - get to be the King's favourite, and play such an instrumental role in the events that shaped British history? That's the angle Mantel has approached this book from. Fictionalising some of Cromwell's life, while following the actual historical events of the 1500s, she casts Cromwell as a sympathetic loyal family man and not the devil that everyone thinks he is. What is actually incredible is though, while portraying him as the hero (and not the anti-hero), Mantel does share what everyone around Cromwell thinks of him, and some of the things said are far from flattering. The high opinion the reader has of Cromwell though - it never changes. It doesn't even waver. Haunted by personal tragedies, his father's wrath, experiences abroad after running away from home post being victimised by his father's drunken beating once again, Cromwell's rich character shines through.

The Reformation is essentially about King Henry VIII wanting to divorce Katharine the princess of Aragon to marry Anne Boleyn. To do this, the Church of England is forced to break away from the authority of the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church, as the Pope would never void a legitimate marriage. King Henry VIII insists that Katharine was not a virgin when he married her, thereby meaning the marriage was never actually legit.

"Some say the Tudors transcend this history, bloody and demonic as it is: that they descend from Brutus through the line of Constantine, son of St Helena, who was a Briton. Arthur, High King of Britain, was Constantine's grandson. He married up to three women, all called Guinevere, and his tomb is at Glastonbury, but you must understand that he is not really dead, only waiting his time to come again.

His blessed descendant, Prince Arthur of England, was born in the year 1486, eldest son of Henry, the first Tudor king. This Arthur married Katharine the princess of Aragon, died at fifteen and was buried in Worcester Cathedral. If he were alive now, he would be King of England. His younger brother Henry would likely be Archbishop of Canterbury, and would not (at least, we devoutly hope not) be in pursuit of a woman of whom the cardinal hears nothing good: a woman to whom, several years before the dukes walk in to despoil him, he will need to turn his attention; whose history, before ruin seizes him, he will need to comprehend.

Beneath every history, another history."

Real-world events of historical significance, the wars and economic concerns and a rich cast of characters all come together in Wolf Hall. The significance of the title is not lost on the readers as well. As Mantel says in an interview:

Wolf Hall, the Seymour House in Wiltshire, is where we're going at the end of this book. But of course, I chose it primarily for its metaphorical resonance: who could resist it? The whole of Henry's court is Wolf Hall.

Cromwell makes everything his business, his loyalty, first to the disgraced Cardinal and then to the King unequivocal. His occasional thoughts about Anne, who he doesn't really seem to like, are hilarious though.

A little later he hears that Anne has taken wardship of her sister's son, Henry Carey. He wonders if she intends to poison him. Or eat him.

Anne really doesn't come across as a likeable character or Queen though. Instead, the Princess of Aragon seems to have a lot more character, and subsequently, a lot more respect from Cromwell. His interactions with both are delicate, as he tries to make peace and do what is right by the King - not questioning him - which might, in fact, be his biggest failing. It's almost a case of the Henry saying "Jump" and Cromwell replying with "How high?"

Even when Thomas More is in the Tower, awaiting his punishment for not condoning the divorce or the split from Rome, he tries to prompt him to ask for forgiveness, saying Henry's a compassionate monarch. And it's parts like this that makes Cromwell come across as a nicer person than history might indicate. Obviously, certain chunks are fictional, but to take a hated character from history and to turn him into - well, Cromwell in Wolf Hall does take serious talent.

The power struggles, the jealousy, the humour and the emotional baggage that everyone's carrying - it all comes across, so stark, so clear, that every character is ambiguous. There's no black and white. There's no sinner, there's no saint. It's a lot like the real world today - everyone has their place, and everyone has their endgame. To manage that with such a myriad of characters (we actually do meet practically anyone and everyone who was involved in the Reformation, or had a part in Henry's Court or knew Cromwell) is incredibly commendable, and I found it quite difficult to judge the characters or find out if I liked them or not. Cromwell and his family though - loved them to bits. And the Cardinal.

My only gripe with this book was the way Mantel referred to Cromwell - always in the third person pronoun: He. Occasionally, paragraphs and pages had to be re-read, but that's a small gripe compared to just how fantastic I thought the rest of this book was. There is meant to be a sequel in the pipelines, and I can't wait to read that. Off we go to Wolf Hall, and see what transpires next...

Anita Brookner - Hotel Du Lac

Belated birthday wishes to Anita Brookner, and a day late, but a happy International Anita Brookner Day to the rest of you. Some time back, I decided to re-read Anita Brookner's Booker-winning Hotel du Lac a few months back, as part of Sarah's Not A Rat's Chance In Hell, and last week seemed to be the right time to read it (what with 16th July being IABD, hosted by Thomas at my Porch and Savidge Reads).

I enjoyed Hotel du Lac the first time I read it, when I was still in my teens - the pathos, the despair, the richness of characters and the fact that it is set in Switzerland. Switzerland is, by far, my favourite country in the world, and I intend to live there at some point in my life. It just feels like... home.

The re-read, however, wasn't quite the same experience. I felt myself getting slightly more frustrated with Edith's character, and her complete lack of proactivity. It was almost like she was resigned to her fate, and was letting life pass her by; letting other people pull her strings.

Edith, an established writer, has been exiled to a hotel by Lake Geneva. Her friends have advised her to “disappear for a decent length of time and come back older, wiser and properly sorry,” for an act that she has committed, albeit it isn't quite clear what that act is, in the opening pages of the book. In the hotel, she meets a myriad of characters, each seeking a break from reality, and as she gets to know them better, we (as readers) get to know our protagonist better as well.

What it had to offer was a mild form of sanctuary, an assurance of privacy, and the protection and the discretion that attach themselves to blamelessness.

Edith is in love with David, a married man, but her affair with him is not the reason behind this exile. And, it's not her absolution. She writes letters to David regularly, and yearns for his presence, which doesn't seem forthcoming. She attempts to return to her writing in the hotel, but the characters that surround her distract her - mostly, the women, but there is the one man who catches her eye? Or, does she catch his eye?

The women in the hotel, which is indeed very selective of its guests, include the extravagant superficial Puseys whose interests most involve shopping and living an expensive lifestyle; Monica, who seems enviously condescending of the Puseys, as she spends her days sharing coffee, ice-cream and cakes with her dog; and Madame De Bonneuil, an old lady, who's been abandoned by her son after his marriage. Then there's Mr. Neville, a self-proclaimed romantic who thinks he's good for Edith...

A lot of the book focuses on women, and how their stature evolves with age and marriage; the importance of marriage and of having the significant other. Of course, this is predominantly due to the time in which the book was set - possibly the 70s - but subjecting all women to such... banality... was what got me slightly annoyed. A woman's place in society should be incidental to her marriage, not a result of it - that's my verdict, but then again, I live in the twenty-first century, so it is easy for me to say that.

The company of their own sex, Edith reflected, was what drove many women into marriage.

Brookner does pull out a couple of good twists though, which almost saves Edith's character, for she does come across as a passenger in her own life, not an active participant - definitely not the driver. It was well-written and slightly humorous, but, despite being under two hundred pages, oh-so-slow, that it almost feels like a book you want to curl up with, a glass of red wine in one hand, and the Moonlight Sonata playing on the stereo.

Thought I'd share some gorgeous pictures of places that have been mentioned in this book as well... it really is a place I would recommend to go to, to get some respite from the world.

Oh, and do let me know which Brookner should I read next? Just go chronologically, or... which are your favourites?

J.M. Coetzee - Life and Times of Michael K

Life and Times of Michael K won the Booker Prize in 1983, and it's been one of Coetzee's books that I've wanted to read for a really long time. The name intrigued me: who is Michael K? And, what is it about his life and times that merits a novel?

The first thing the midwife noticed about Michael K when she helped him out of his mother into the world was that he had a hare lip. The lip curled like a snail's foot, the left nostril gaped.

Due to his disfigured cleft, his mother institutionalised him at a young age, and when he grew up, a simpleton, he became a gardener in Cape Town - a lifestyle that suited him, with his social inhibitions and lack of intelligence. However, when his ailing mother requested him to take her back to her hometown, when the country was ravaged by war, he agreed without even thinking twice.

Unfortunately, when his mother dies on the way, and all Michael K is left with is some of her belongings, and her ashes, he continues his journey to her hometown. While many unpleasant events occur en route to Prince Albert, once Michael finds the farm (which he thinks is where his mother grew up), he makes himself comfortable there, and begins gardening again: planting his seeds, and looking after them. He's away from the world, and he quite likes that.

Every now and again though, the story takes a turn, and Michael is forced to live in prisoner camps, and work for his food - something he just cannot fathom. As far as he is concerned, he should not be forced into a life, but choose his way of life. He understands there is a war going on around him, but then again, he just figures he's not a part of this war, for he doesn't want to be. Gardening is in his blood - all else is secondary.

Irritation overflowed in me. "You are not in the war? Of course you are in the war, man, whether you like it or not! This is a camp, not a holiday resort, not a convalescent home: it is a camp where we rehabilitate people like you and make you work!

This is an incredibly sad poignant book, which resonates within you long after you've finished it. It's not overtly verbose, it's not overtly descriptive; but perhaps, a more verbose book would not do justice to the character of Michael K - considered a simpleton, but still clever enough to run away from the government and not get caught? So, what is it about the life and times of Michael K during the War? Is it his refusal to succumb to the government's way of working, as he doesn't want to partake in the war? Or, is it his quest to find a place where he belongs, even if it is far away from humanity? Or, maybe it's simply that he will go to any lengths to not bow down to the metaphorical machine, even if it means harming himself?

Have you read this book? Was Michael K a simpleton, or simply someone hellbent on getting his own way, at any cost?

Have you read anything else by Coetzee? What would you recommend?

J.M. Coetzee - Disgrace {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

This is the final post on the Weekly Geeks Q&A from 13th June. It's taken me about a month to 'catch up', and I will still have a trilogy to go. As I'm planning on re-reading His Dark Materials in August, I'll hold off until then. Yes, I tend to procrastinate ever so often.

I read Disgrace last year, and really enjoyed it, mostly because the story starts off on one note, but just spins off, and the sequence of events that follow seem very surreal.

On with the questions... Well, umm, question (singular) in this case.

From gautami tripathy:

Disgrace: what is it about? Do you recommend Coetzee to your readers? Is it your first by that author?

'Disgrace' is about a professor, David Lurie, at the Technical University in Cape Town. He has an affair with a student, and her parents lodge a complaint with the University. At a formal inquiry, he admits to sleeping with the student, but refuses to seek clemency or admit that he was wrong. Instead, he resigns to his daughter's farm in rural South Africa, as he waits for the whole thing in Cape Town to blow over.

This, according to me, is where the story starts: about Lurie's relationship with Lucy (his daughter), and their life on the farm. It touches upon them being victimized by racial attacks, where Lucy is raped and Lurie burnt, and its aftermath, which leads to Lurie's perspective on life and women changing.

I recommend Coetzee to anyone who listens to me! I loved this book, and its straightforward simple writing, that touches on many thought-provoking and difficult subjects: racism, rape, redemption, reality. It doesn't offer a quick-fix to the disgrace of apartheid, but, it does end on a note of hope...

Nope. I read Diary of a Bad Year before I picked this one up. I was completely enthralled by that book, due to its quirky writing style. It might be one of the most 'intelligent' books I've read in the recent past, and hence, when I saw Disgrace, I had to pick it up.

I have both, Youth and The Life and Times of Michael K on my TBR. The latter is supposed to be Coetzee's best book 'til date, so I'm really looking forward to that.

Salman Rushdie - Midnight's Children

The winner of the Booker Prize in 1981, the Booker of Bookers in 1993, and the Best of the Booker in 2008, this book is much-acclaimed and highly recommended. The New York Times claims:

The literary map of India has to be redrawn... Midnight's Children sounds like a continent finding its voice.

And, I can't even refute that for argument's sake, because this epic novel explores the history of Indian independence, of the Indo-China war, the Emergency, blackouts, the Partition, the emergence of Bangladesh, and essentially, it's a history of the Indian sub-continent from the time of its birth. But, what makes this novel truly historical is its protagonist: Saleem Sinai, born exactly at the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world slept and, India awoke to life and freedom, and the other 'midnight children' - children born between midnight and 1 am on the day of India's independence. One thousand and one of them. These children are all special, gifted. While one can travel through time, another can travel via any reflective surface. There's a witch, and there's a girl so beautiful that her beauty blinds anyone who sees her face. Someone else can changes sexes at will. But, of course, the most potent of gifts comes to Saleem, born exactly at midnight - the gift of telepathy, as well as, being able to 'conference' in all the midnight's children, and allowing them to communicate through him. And his nemesis, Shiva, who ironically enough, is born in the same hospital at exactly the same time. While Saleem was the offspring of a Hindu street-singer, Shiva was born into a affluent Kashmiri family. However, typically, a nurse made the switch, thereby changing the destiny of the two most potent Midnight Children, who would be mortal enemies until the end. While Saleem's birth was celebrated, with a letter from the then Prime Minister, saying his life would always be entwined with his country's, Shiva's birth was not celebrated nation-wide!

So, who were the Midnight's Children? What did they signify?

Reality can have metaphorical content; that does not make it less real. A thousand and one children were born; there were a thousand and one possibilities which had never been present in one place at one time before; and there were a thousand and one dead ends. Midnight's children can be made to represent many things, according to your point of view; they can be seen as the last throw of everything antiquated and retrogressive in our myth-ridden nation, whose defeat was entirely desirable in the context of a modernizing, twentieth-century economy; or as the true hope of freedom, which is now forever extinguished; but what they must not become is the bizarre creation of a rambling diseased mind. No: Illness is neither here nor there.

However, this book does not trace the life of all one thousand and one children, or the five hundred and eighty one that survived. In fact it focuses solely on Saleem, the narrator, and the thirty-one years of his life. And the life of his parents and grandparents. An astrologer predicted Saleem's fortunes (or, shall we say misfortunes, for he was both, the master and the victim of his time) before his birth:

A son... such a son! A son, who will never be older than his motherland - neither older nor younger. ... There will be two heads - but you shall only see one - there will be knees and a nose, a nose and knees. Newspaper praises him, two mothers raise him! Bicyclists love him - but crowds will shove him. Sisters will weep; cobra will creep... Washing will hide him - voices will guide him! Friends mutilate him - blood will betray him! Spittoons will brain him - doctors will drain him - jungle will claim him - wizards reclaim him! Soldiers will try him, tyrants will fry him... He will have sons without having sons. He will be old before he is old! And he will die before he is dead!

Sounds complicated, right? The above pretty much sums up the story. If you think it's confusing, it's because it is. A tryst with destiny, a dance with fate and he seems singly responsible for a multitude of historical events in India, post-independence: be it the emergence of Gujarat and Maharashtra, or the Indo-Pak wars, the politics, or even the Emergency period!

You would think that the Midnight's Children would unite, to do some good, to do their nation proud. But, India at the time, seemed to be in a chaotic state of class differences, where people of the various castes did not interact with one another. And, there was a bigger problem: Saleem was their only mode of communication, and once he discovered how he and Shive had swapped destinies, he was reluctant to open the Midnight's Children network again, lest his arch-enemy discovered how his affluent birth had been denied. So, the children lived in denial, hiding their gifts, not interacting with one another, and thereby letting the nation succumb to an apparent greater evil, which would be the end of the Children.

Yes, it's a complex plot, and it's a difficult read. Rushdie's writing is convoluted, and he has literally created his own language and grammar rules. From not using commas, to using words like 'nearlynine' and 'almosteight'. Towards the latter half of the book, there are chunks where in the same paragraph, he refers to himself in both, first and third, person, making the book more difficult to read than it should be. But then again, with my past experiences with Rushdie, this isn't altogether surprising.

The book's interesting, gripping, and colorful. It shows you a historical India, tainted with its new-found independence, and corruption. It gives you an insight into the culture of the country, and the lifestyle. The fascination with Europeans and Americans, and the emphasis on 'black' being unattractive.

However, what I really loved about the book was the role of Padma - a role so effortlessly and artistically worked in, that it actually helped me through the first couple of hundred pages. So, who is she? Padma is physically present as Saleem is writing his story. Through the book, we are allowed a glimpse into the psyche and emotions of Saleem, as he narrates his story, battling his past, and simultaneously attempting to adhere to the truth as much as possible. However, Saleem is prone to digressing, and often, initially, I found that I wasn't quite sure where the book was going. And, that's where Padma steps in: she calls him on it.

But here is Padma at my elbow, bullying me back into the world of linear narrative, the universe of what happened next: 'At this rate,' Padma complains, 'you'll be two hundred years old before you manage to tell about your birth.'

or,

You better get a move on or you'll die before you get yourself born.

Honestly, at the time I was reading this portion, I was hoping the narrator would bring his meanderings to a close, and move on with the story. What's amazing is, this allows both: digressions, and a gentle push back into the story line.

This is an amazing work of literature, and I fully think it deserves to win both, the Booker of Bookers and the Best of the Booker. Volume, story, historical value and literary significance - all in abundance.

Overall rating: 9/10.

Anne Enright - The Gathering

I'm trying to read all the Booker winners, in the next couple of years. This painstakingly dull book, filled with unengaging characters and a pointless plot adds a serious blemish to my plan at the very outset. I struggled through the first thirty pages, and struggled some more 'til I hit page 89, in a week... And then... then I just gave up, and figured this book is not for me. I mean, what a gigantic waste of my reading time! 

I wonder if the Booker judges even read this book, and if they did, did they have exceptionally low standards? I must read the rest of the shortlist for 2007, for I really can't fathom how this book won any kind of prize. 

I mean, what kind of a person imagines the sex-life of her grandmother, and starts off a chapter saying she thought her grandmother was a prostitute? That's the narrator for you. She also judges her mum, and talks of the 'endless humping' in her family, which led to the number of siblings she had being in double-digits. 

I feel terrible, but, 0/10. If negative ratings work, I'd probably give this a -10. Argh! Ok, rant over. 

PS: I was almost tempted to create a new 'genre' called pointless reading for this!