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...

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?

Lorrie Moore - A Gate At The Stairs

A Gate At The Stairs is one of "those" books - beautiful writing, intelligent conversation flowing through the book, a sensitive plot, and a book with great potential. Tassie is a college student in the Mid-western town of Troy, who finds a job as a baby sitter for Sarah, an affluent restaurant-owner who adopts Emmie, a "biracial" child. Sarah is perpetually busy running the upmarket restaurant, and Tassie ends up spending a fair bit of time mothering Emmie.

While there are two other parallel stories (Tassie's "first love" and Tassie's brother contemplating his future at the military), the adoption of the biracial two year old by a white couple was the one that had me glued to the book.

When a boy uses the infamous n-word at Emmie, the babysitter reports it to Sarah, who starts a "group" for parents with non-white children. The group meets every Wednesday, and contemplates what the future holds as well as discusses the present-day situation of the African American race. In a post 9/11 world, racism in midwestern America is still rampant, and the lives of the minority is still under question. The snippets of conversation on Wednesday evenings that Moore penned down had me absolutely boggled. Call me naive, but I don't think much about racism or how a person's caste or skin colour can affect their place in society. In my ideal world, it shouldn't, and maybe because I've not witnessed it first hand, I'm absolutely oblivious. As Martin Luther King once said, "judge not a man by the colour of his skin, but by the content of his character" - but that doesn't really happen, does it?

Yes, I've read a fair bit about slavery and the troubles African Americans face, but, most of those books are from a different age, and in my little head, that time had just gone by. The unfairness of racial abuse towards biracial children literally had me perplexed!

Anyway, I digress. Back to Moore's book.

As one might expect, the plot twist comes from a blast from the past that reminds the many characters that the past does not forget. In my opinion, this was a little excessive as well, and Moore was trying to make the plot more dynamic, more "exciting" - to an extent, she did succeed, but, it just left me feeling perplexed.

The book was an interesting read, but, the last seventy pages just ended up taking a gigantic detour and having a story which didn't really fit in with everything else. Again, maybe it was something that does belong to the post 9/11 world? I don't know - I think the book would have benefitted from either streamlining the story, or avoiding some of it, despite it being emotionally powerful, and relevant in this day and age.

You can't fault the writing style though. It's beautiful, witty, insightful, and although Tassie at times comes across as way too mature for her age, at other times I could relate to her and her college lifestyle. Even Sarah and Edward (Sarah's husband) characters are well-developed, and while I didn't care much for the latter, I did sympathise with Sarah.

Think this book is worth a read, and I'd love to read more of Moore's works, to see if they're as insightful.

Have you read anything by Moore? How do you think her short stories compare to her novel?

Nancy Huston - Fault Lines

It's the third book I've read this year, where the narrative goes chronologically backwards - the difference being, this time, it follows four generations of six year olds, starting in 2004 and ending in 1944-45. Sol, a six year old in 2004, believes the world revolves around him, and that he's a genius. Brought up in a pro-Bush environment (Jesus wept), he seems to have a perverse side, as he browses the internet for pictures from the war in Iraq - dead soldiers, raped women, and, there's a reference to the Nick Berg execution as well. This section of the book, to me, highlighted how children today are becoming less innocent and more worldly than back when I was six! Google seems to be playing a massive role in that! To be honest, he almost reminded me of Stewie from Family Guy.

I can feel it      Sol's soul      feel it is eternal and immortal       one in a million billion googol        one that will change the world.

I'm the Sun King, Only Sun and Only Son, Son of Google, Son of God, Eternal Omnipotent Son of the World Wide Web.

The second section goes back in time to 1982, where we meet Sol's father, Randall, at the age of six. Living in New York, playing ball in Central Park, and climbing the jungle gym in the playground defined his life, until, his mother, Sadie, decides to move the entire family to Israel to find out more about her own mother's childhood (and Lebensborn/The Fountain of Life) - a subject her mother, Erra, is quite silent about. While initially unhappy about the move, Randall makes his peace with it. He even enjoys learning Hebrew, and befriends a Palestinian girl in Israel... of course, things don't quite end well on that front. It's quite interesting to note how differently the Palestinians and the Israelis view their history, and their presence in Haifa - as the Palestinian girl relates the story she's been fed by her parents, and confuses the six year old.

Moving further back in time, we come face to face with Sadie, a miserable six year old, with minimal self-esteem and excessive self-doubt. An illegitimate child, she craves her mother's attention more than anything else in the world, but as her mother, Erra, is a famous singer and always busy with tours and the like, Sadie lives with her grandparents, who are strict and have no time for her emotions. They want to ensure that Sadie doesn't end up the same way as Erra.

And finally, we go back to Erra's past in the mid 1940s - the crux of the book. Sadie has devoted her life trying to understand her mother better, and going through historical scholarly reports to find out more about her, as Erra is quiet on the subject. Yet, the reader only finds out some truths about Erra's life in this final narrative - and even then, some elements remain unclear and hazy.

While this was an interesting book, dealing with innumerable controversial and heavy topics, I think the author took away a lot of the complexities by showing the world through the eyes of six year olds. Worryingly though, the six year olds were extremely fluent and verbose, to the extent that they didn't really sound like six year olds! Is that war does to children? Make them grow up faster than they should have to? Or, in this case, it's the family's history that makes children who they are?

The book, despite dealing with innumerable heavy topics (spanning over half a century, and some major historical events), is relatively easy to read, and there's a fair few bits that made made my eyes round with incredulity - specially in the first section.

Have you read this book? Were you as taken aback by Sol's character as I was?

Also, do you find reading books set in the 21st century, with numerous references to Google slightly bizarre? I can't pinpoint why, but in a way, I do...

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.

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

Samantha Harvey - The Wilderness

I almost bought this book two months back, but, for some unexplainable reason, I didn't. About a week back, I found the first edition signed hardback in a second-hand bookstore, and literally jumped with glee. Saying buying this for £2.50 is a bargain is an understatement of sorts. The Wilderness follows the story of Jake, as he slowly loses his mind to Alzheimer's - slowly, or fast, depending on your definition of 'time', something Jake has no concept of. The book starts with him taking a plane ride, a present, which he clearly doesn't want. However, at the very outset, this plane ride allows the reader to glimpse into Jake's world: the prison he built (in his architect days), which he admires but the pilot considers to be a travesty, and, Quail Woods where Jake has spent his childhood, but the woods has slowly been ruined by people.

The book follows various 'stories' of Jake's life: his Jewish mother, and her relationship with his anti-Semite father, his opinions on the Six Day War, his relationship with his wife, and his extramarital affair which he felt no guilt over, immediately becoming one of the men he hated. However, due to the evident disorientation, the stories may or may not be true, and one doesn't quite know what's a figment of Jake's imagination, or what actually happened. It also leaves a lot of questions unanswered: What happened to Alice? What happened to the money? What's the skin-covered Bible got to do with anything? What happened to Rook? Sara? Joy?

While this is a story about a man suffering from Alzheimer's, it's also a story about symbology ('yellow dress', 'the glass aviary', 'the cherry tree', 'the woman clothed with the sun', 'the wilderness' itself, etc), and the transience of everything.

What is better? To give up what you are and be alive, or keep what you are and end up dead? What you are is mere circumstance anyway. It isn't that important. [...] It isn't more important than being alive. [...] I am telling you an you must listen: where you are from, what is yours, what is home - sometimes these are not the point. The truth is not everything. You have to know when it is time to walk away.

Harvey's done an amazing job in creating a fairly realistic novel about Jake, and his disease. I found myself getting fast despondent over Jake's condition, and had to close the book a couple of times, because I just couldn't bear to read about how Alzheimer's makes your life near impossible.

He breaks eggs into the pan and throws the shells away. He then takes the shells away from the bin again and stands with them in his hand with the idea that he needs them for the omelette - he can't remember if the shells are like packets that you throw away or apple skins that you eat.

However, the part of the book that literally broke my heart, was when he told Alice that he had Alzheimer's, and he'd known for two years (which was the 'truth' as he remembered it, even if it wasn't the 'real' truth), and how she said she'd come and help. Nothing compares to the relationship a father and daughter share, and my dad's been ill for the last two years, and I've had to battle some difficult choices, and it just hit home.

So, we've established it's a beautifully written, thought-provoking book, that just makes us realize that no matter what we do today, or who we are, in the end, we'll just fade away. Nothing is perpetual, not even in our own lifetimes, and sometimes, we just loop 'round and 'round in our own thoughts, convinced by the reality we make up for ourselves, and there's no good reason why.

The one thing that did get to me, though, was the fact that the book was written in third person, despite it being about Jake, and the other peripherals (if I may call them that) in his life. In a manner of speaking, Jake is the narrator, but then again, the whole book focuses on the 'he' instead of the 'me'.

Rating: 4