Marghanita Laski - Little Boy Lost

So, you start a book which is meant to result in emotional upheaval, and you keep your distance to begin with, but then the book sucks you in, and you feel your emotions getting the better off you, while the writing itself remains simple and straightforward, with almost no sentimentality. And as you keep turning the pages, you just want the happy ending; the fairy-tale happily ever after. And then the book ends, and you're just sitting there holding it, stunned into disbelief by the response evoked by a book less than two-hundred-and-fifty pages long.

It's Christmas Day, 1943, when Hilary, a poet and an intellectual, learns that his little boy, John, is lost. Lisa, his wife who was involved in the Resistence, was killed in Paris by the Gestapo, but before her death, she had asked a friend to look after her baby, who Hilary had seen but once. But on that fateful Christmas Day, a stranger (a Frenchman named Pierre) knocks on the door of Hillary's English home, informing him that his son has disappeared without a trace, and he would like to help Hillary find the boy.

Post-war, Hillary reluctantly heads to Paris upon Pierre's request, in order to commence the search for the lost boy - a search that has already been initiated by the resourceful Pierre. But Hilary is not prepared for the war-ravaged Paris that greets him.

Yes, it was familiar again - until the bus creaked past the bombed factory, the makeshift bridge, the shattered rusting locomotives, and the English in the bus shamefacedly whispered to each other, "Do you think we did that?" and then wondered if there could still be friendship between the destroyer and destroyed.

Simply, eloquently put.

Hilary starts following the trail which could potentially lead him to the son he lost about two years ago - almost unwillingly - for, with time, he's made himself invulnerable to emotions, and is content to live in his memories. The search leads him to a convent in a small town in France, where a boy who might be his son lives. It's not definite, but the age and blood type match. The hope is that on seeing the boy, Hilary would recognise his son.

Hilary visits the boy (called Jean) in the convent, and starts spending a couple of hours each day with the boy, his affection for the slowly mounting, but the uncertainty as to whether the boy is actually his son not really diminishing. The first meeting is confusing, as at first glance, he thinks that's his son, but on second glance, he stares at the child in horror and repulsion, certain that the child isn't his...

...and thus begins the journey of trying to determine if he's found his little boy...

...But then, Hilary is detached, pragmatic and almost like an icicle at times, that one just wants to physically shake him into finding his human emotions - diametrically polar to some other moments where he buys the child expensive gloves, and gauges his reactions, without the child having to say much, if anything at all.

As the relationship evolves during the course of the week, the child transforms from a shy nervous boy to an excited happy one around Hilary. You can make out that he doesn't want to disappoint Hilary, and when Hilary comes across as impatient, the boy withdraws into himself. There are moments where, as a reader, you just hate Hilary, for how can someone be so heartless?

Hilary said nothing. He stood there watching the child, feeling only hate for the creature who had put him in this predicament, through whose interventions he had made a fool of himself. The little coward, he was saying, the little coward.

Jean whimpered, "I want my red gloves back."

You're finding out you can't buy happiness, thought Hilary coldly. Aloud, he said, "You can't have them back. Once you've given a present, it's a present forever."

Jean stopped whimpering, only stood there shaking and staring. You're finding out what desolation means, thought Hilary savagely [...].

But - but it's the absolute last line of the book that makes it so... touching and heart-rending. Just the last line. Honestly, words cannot describe the impact they make.

While the heart of the book is about the father looking for his lost son, Laski pays attention to the rampant corruption existing in Paris at the time, and the black market, which emphasised the difference between the haves and the have-nots, and the whole "survival of the fittest" philosophy. She also highlights the slight disconnect between the locals, as they attempt to determine on which side their counterparts stood during the Occupation.

"But at least the Occupation showed each man what he was capable of. Don't you think it was something to be able to find out?"

"No, why?" said Pierre. "Some found they were better than they thought, some worse. We are finding that out all the time in our everyday lives."

"But we're not conscious of it all the time," argued Hilary. For some reason, this point seemed of vital importance to him. "Surely occupation or battle or something like that brings the whole thing to an inescapable point - a sort of judgment by ordeal?"

If you haven't yet, please do read this book.

I've read two books by Laski so far, and have two more to go (which have been printed by Persephone) - her writing is amazing, and I can't wait to read the others.

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.

Michael Chabon - The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is well - amazing. Not only does this book celebrate the "great, mad, new American art form" and pays a tribute to the spirit of Americana in the 1930s, it simultaneously depicts the despair in Europe during the second World War, and how incredibly disconcerting the war was - both, for the people who had to live it, as well as the people who managed to escape it. Eighteen year old Josef Kavalier flees Prague in the golem's coffin, leaving his family behind, and ends up in Brooklyn, New York, where he's forced to bunk with his seventeen year old cousin, Samuel Klayman (Clay). The cousins, both aspiring artists, hit it off immediately, and Clay introduces Kavalier to the wonderful world of comic books - in an age where Superman has just hit the stands, where the comic book obsession is rampant, and where there's big bucks to be made, the cousins decide to create their very own super-hero to rake in the money.

And so, The Escapist is born, inspired by the boys' fantasies of freedom and liberation, in the face of the Holocaust and their admiration for Houdini. With Kavalier's artistic talents and Clay's plot-building  genius, The Escapist kicks-off and is a massive success, followed on with radio episodes, TV and merchandise. Time and again, they send the Escapist to battle against Attila Haxoff (a fictional character meant to represent Hitler), and the "Razis". Kavalier saves enough money to bring his family to America, and spends most of his time hating the Germans and brooding and introspecting about the situation he is in, while dreaming of the day he will be united with his family. His creativity is inspired by his circumstance, and he makes no effort to tone it down:

There were just two principals, the Escapist and Hitler, on a neoclassical platform draped with Nazi flags against a blue sky. [...] His [The Escapist's] musculature was lean and understated, believable, and the veins in his arm rippled with the strain of the blow. As for Hitler, he came flying at you backward, right-crossed clean out of the painting, head thrown back, forelock a-splash, arms flailing, jaw trailing a long red streamer of teeth. The violence of the image was startling, beautiful, strange. It stirred mysterious feelings in the viewer, of hatred gratified, of cringing fear transmuted into smashing retribution, which few artists working in America, in the fall of 1939, could have tapped so easily and effectively as Josef Kavalier.

At the heart of every super-hero's success though, lies tragedy. Superman's planet was destroyed, and Batman's parents were murdered - what does fate have in store for Kavalier? and Clay? Their early success passes them by, and they grow up, struggling to find their place in the world - to find their calling. Kavalier finds his love interest in Rosa Saks, a warm affectionate artist, whose world revolves around Kavalier - in fact, she's the only real female character in the book (discounting the mothers of the cousins, both of whom have short fleeting roles), and automatically, one roots for the happy ending that Kavalier deserves with her.

But, in this pre-war New York (pre-war as America still hadn't entered the war), things aren't always fair, and along with the happiness, beauty and joy, there lies anger, despondency and helplessness. As the blurb at the back of the book says:

Joe can think of only one thing: how can he effect a real-life escape for his family from the tyranny of Hitler?

And one can't stop turning the pages to figure out how it all ends.

This book covers a lot of ground: from magic to Houdini, from pop-culture to homosexuality, from comic books to the warfront, from the grand escape to living with hope and despair, from loving to losing, from 1930s to the 1950s, from war to post-war, and the underlying tragedy at each step, despite the humour, romanticism and passion that the protagonists have, makes it a fantastic read.

It's also an eye-opener into the world of comics, and how much effort and talent really goes into it - the story, the backdrop, the "why" - every super-hero has a story, and the way these stories are concocted and created are mind-blowing. Many book-lovers that I know disregard comics, presuming it's not "all that" but, this quote from the book says it all, really:

For that half-hour spent in the dappled shade of the Douglas Firs, reading Betty and Veronica, the icy ball had melted away without him even noticing. That was magic - not the apparent magic of the silk-hatted, card-palmer or the bold, brute trickery of the escape artist, but the genuine magic of art. It was a mark of how f*****d up and broken was the world - the reality  - that has swallowed his home and his family that such a feat of escape, by no means easy to pull off, should remain so universally despised.

This book was quite chunky, at 600+ pages. However, I really did not want this book to end, as I reached the last hundred pages... and I think that stands as testament to how incredible I thought this book was. It's been ages since I've read something as fantastic and captivating as this, and I can't wait to read another book by Chabon.

Marghanita Laski - To Bed With Grand Music

I've been meaning to read a Laski for a long time, and I finally picked this book out of my shelf, just to help me return to the world of reading - one of my many loves that I've been ignoring recently. And on finishing it, I was gently reminded as to why I love reading so much. I've spent the past couple of months literally obsessing over things, and trying to make a life-changing decision (career-wise). However, while reading (and on finishing) this book, I almost immediately started focusing on the points it raises and the questionable character of this book's protagonist. Annoyingly, I can't seem to make my mind up about where I stand.

On the eve of Graham's departure to Cairo for an office job in the midst of the War, his wife (Deborah) and he are lying in bed talking. Graham is likely to be away for a few years, and right up front, he tells Deborah that while he doesn't think abstinence is likely, he will promise not to fall in love with anyone else, thereby remaining faithful to his wife. Deborah, the model wife, on the other hand, promises to be faithful on all fronts, and devote her time to looking after their baby, Timmy. Yet, within days, Deborah is bored to death by the banalities of life as a mother and home-maker, and it only takes minimal persuasion from her mother for Deborah to abandon life in the small Hampshire village, and head to London for an office job.

Her first day in London results in a drunken one night stand, which she is disgusted by, and returns home and devotes herself to Timmy. In general, she has a better temperament, much to the relief of her mother as well as her housekeeper, Mrs. Chalmers. However, she returns to London soon after, and shares an apartment with her college friend, Madeleine, leaving Timmy in the capable hands of Mrs. Chalmers. Initially, she spends the evenings alone in the apartment, despite Mady's best efforts to coax her into the life of glamour: going to parties and having fun, adamant that she should not even be tempted to be unfaithful to her husband. At this point, I sympathised with her, despite her abandoning her son, and looking for a more exciting life in London during the war.

Her adamance crumbles though when Joe, a married American, knocks on the door of her apartment, and convinces her to go out for dinner. While Graham promised Deborah that he would not fall in love,  Joe's promise to his pregnant wife was the inverse, i.e. he would not cheapen his relationship with his wife by sleeping with cheap women. They both appear to be on the same page when it comes to their marriage and their thoughts on infidelity. They do sleep together though, which they justify by saying they are still faithful to their respective spouses, as they are not in love. Many expensive presents and dinners and drinks later, the line between love and companionship blur, and Deborah is very much in love with Joe. Yet, when he has to leave the city, Deborah accustomed to a life of glamour and ostentation, finds another lover and then another - which is all too disturbing. It gets sickeningly worse when she asks men to visit her at the her cottage in Hampshire over the weekends, and it's evident that she's lost all her moral standards and naivety when she requests one of the men to teach her how to be a good mistress - only because it's a trait that Mady possesses, and Deborah envies that. The way she convinces herself that she's not in the wrong and justifies each and every action of hers is mind-boggling, for initially she does come across as someone with high principles and moralities. One can account for a weak character easily being dispossessed of all their virtues, but someone who is as uptight and "holier-than-thou" as Deborah morphing into a greedy tart almost seems to defy logic.

Overdrawing from her bank account, moving from man to man, to the extent that one man introduces her to another, and manipulating men at will to buy her fancy things and take her to restaurants and clubs which Graham would never be able afford seems to business-as-usual for her, and this hedonistic superficial lifestyle is all she cares about. Even her son takes second place. Yet, she manages to justify it.

"You're at least the third person," she said, "who has asked me if I mightn't be better if I went home to my chee-ild. Well, darling, that's just one of the things I've really thought out for myself and I know it's better to be happy than unhappy, and not only for me but for my baby as well. I like this sort of life, in fact, I love it, and seeing as how I'm hurting no one and doing myself quite a lot of good, I rather think I'll carry on with it. I've come to the conclusion that conventional morals were invented by a lot of unattractive bitches to make themselves feel good."

One does wonder though: is it the aftermath of war that prompts people to abandon their principles? Or, is war just an excuse for people to let loose their inner inhibitions an do what they want? If Graham hadn't been called up, would things have turned out differently, or was Deborah only looking for the easiest way out of a life of commitment and stability only to plunge into glamour and deceit? And, how exactly is it, that people who initially come across as so prudish are so quick to turn themselves into the "anti-prude", driven by envy and hedonism, and then, even justify it? Or, does the need to justify the actions arise from the prudishness, or the need to believe that they haven't done any wrong?

I was very much in love with Graham when I married him, conceded Deborah, who was determined not to be one of those low girls who denied a love as soon as it was over, but there's no reason why the person who suited you at twenty should still be the right person for you at twenty-five, when you've both developed and changed and in different directions too.

But honestly - the way Deborah's character spirals downwards is scary, and just... worrying. The transformation from naive and innocent to vice is so rapid, that I couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed and contemplative. Is it only a matter of circumstance? Can circumstance really justify this sheer selfish extravagant hedonism? And with no regrets? Actually, I lie - Deborah did end up regretting the fact that the war had ended, and she would be forced to go back to the mundane life of hers, and leave behind the thrills of London.

According to the introduction, this book is not entirely fictional, but an account of someone Laski knew who did transgress similar to Deborah. Initially, it was written under the pseudonym Sarah Russell, as, according to Laski's daughter, Laski was "fascinated and upset at seeing what the war had done to this person" but didn't want the person to figure out that she was the anti-heroine of the book. The person Deborah's character was inspired by managed to get a divorce from "Graham" and she re-married a rich man - probably one who was able to afford her extravagant way of living, and who liked showing off his trophy wife (the last bit's pure conjecture on my part).

I loved this book, and I really do want to read some more books by Laski. There are four published by Persephone, so I guess I have three more to go. Which would you recommend next?

Monica Dickens - Mariana

I bought this book back in January, simply because the blurb likened it to I Capture The Castle, and ended up "saving" it for the Persephone Reading Week (hosted by Verity and Claire). I had great expectations from this book (if you may excuse the totally unnecessary pun), not only because of the blurb comparing it to one of my favourite books from last year, but also because the writer is Charles Dickens' great-granddaugher, and I wasn't disappointed. The title of this book is inspired by Tennyson's Mariana:

She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary; I would that I were dead!"

and it's the story of a young girl, Mary, reflecting on her life as a child, teenager and finally, an adult. In the opening chapter itself, Mary hears the news that a British Destroyer has sunk, and the next-of-kin of those departed have been informed. There are some survivors. There's a storm outdoors, the telephone lines are down, and there's nothing she can do in that point in time to find out whether she's going to be the recipient of good news, or bad; whether her dearest has survived or not.

While she restlessly awaits the morning to go into town, she reflects on her life - from the time she was eight years old until now. The idyllic visits to her grandparents' estate in Chabury during the vacations, the stress of school, her hilarious experience at a school for drama, her fantastic year in Paris (being courted by the romantic Pierre) and of course, the "happily ever after" before now.

I don't know what it is about the name "Mary," but the characters are oft' quite contrary (as in the nursery rhyme). The protagonist of the Dickens' novel is no different. She's spoilt, wants her own way most of the time, and her mother normally gives in.

"You're so utterly wrapped up in yourself that you have no interests outside your own egotism. You've obviously been accustomed to having your own way all your life - someone to do this and that for you, to listen to your complaints and pander to your moods -"

Despite that, I found myself rooting for Mary through the book - her naivety coupled with her innocence and idealism make her quite a charming character. There were times she was annoying, and deserved to be put in place, though, and at some points she just seemed very weak-minded and self-pitying. Was it the childhood romance gone wrong? Or, the indulgent Uncle who lived with her and her mother? Or, just a part of growing up, struggling with identity and desiring independence?

The writing is humorous, and the book an easy, "fun" read. It's not like one giant reflection on her life. Instead, it's like numerous continuous flashbacks, with no nod to the present.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and half-wish I'd read it when I was still a teenager. While I had no trouble relating to Mary now, I think I'd've loved her much much more when I was sixteen.

Have you read any other Monica Dickens? Would you recommend them?

And how's your Persephone Reading Week coming along?

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.

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+

Michelle Magorian - Goodnight Mr. Tom

This incredibly poignant well written story tackles various important and sensitive topics, some of which are still valid today, despite the book being set around the time of the second World War.

Set in the English countryside, Michelle Magorian tells the story of Willie, a timid little specimen, who is an evacuee from London, and is made to stay with the reticent grumpy Tom Oakley, who Willie calls Mr. Tom.

Mr. Tom is thoroughly unprepared for the scared nervous creature that's at his doorstep, as he half-expects the evacuee stereotype - the wild ill-mannered children, who cause more chaos than anything else. However, he soon finds out that Will has been continuously abused by his mother, and his small body is covered with sores and bruises. But - the psychological damage surpasses the physical, as Willie cowers at the thought of getting on the wrong side of Mr. Tom, and is petrified of doing anything to annoy him. He also wets his bed, throws up his food, expects absolutely nothing, and tries to shut out the world around him, as his mother has brainwashed him into believing that people will only like him if he's invisible and quiet.

However, Mr. Tom has demons of his own. Ever since the death of his beloved Rachel and son, he had resigned himself from village activities, and kept to himself, grieving alone. Yet, when Willie walks into his life, unexpectedly, he attempts to change, and provides the young boy with a happy home, almost selflessly. Be it clothes, food, shoes, or spending time narrating stories or organising surprise birthday parties!

A children's book, there is no surprise that Will (calling someone Willie sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?) overcomes his childhood traumas, makes friends, works hard, and is a talented artist, under the protective loving care of Mr. Tom - the hero. Yet, half way through the book, Will gets a letter from his mother in London, who is ill, and wants him back...

This story will make you laugh, and it will make you cry. You'll hate the woman that's Will's mother, but you'll wish for more Mr. Toms in this world. You'll mourn the tragedy of war, but cherish the permanence of friendship, and you'll come to terms with life not being fair, but, things having a way of working out - eventually.

As a children's book, this is incredible. Yet, as an adult, I found this book a little too simple, without the raw emotion I'd love to see in a book like this, which could bring it to life. Of course, one can argue that it might not be a book for children then...

Rating: B+

Bernhard Schlink - Homecoming

 This is another one of my reviews that have been pending for over a month. While I'm reading the super-chunky Midnight's Children, I thought it's a good time to get up-to-date with some of the reviews which really should have been written earlier.

Homecoming was my attempt to get familiar with Schlink's writing, before I read The Reader - Schlink's much acclaimed international bestseller, and unfortunately, I was fairly disappointed, so much so that, I've put off reading The Reader 'til next year. 

Another book that originates in the post-war Germany, this one traces the life of Peter Debauer as he struggles to find his 'home'. Born and brought up in Germany, by his mother, Peter has never known his dead father, although he spent his vacations with his father's parents in Switzerland, while growing up. 

His grandparents were editors of a series called Novels for Your Reading Pleasure and Entertainment. However, they were insistent that young Peter never read these manuscripts, and instead, they would provide him with books more suitable for children his age. However, Peter disobeyed them only the once, and coincidentally, stumbled upon a story that would change his life... 

The story revolved around a soldier who escapes from Russian imprisonment, and starts his journey home, overcoming obstacles on the way. Yet, when he reaches home, he finds his wife married, with a child. What transpires next is unknown, as the last few pages of this story are missing. 

Years later, Peter finds the story again, and is filled with an urge to determine what happened next in the story. So starts his quest to look for the novel, and its author. However, he is unable to find a published copy of the manuscript, but, he is able to identify the building in Germany which used to be the soldier's home, and he rings on the apartment. Typically, a woman opens the door, and Peter ends up falling in love with her. And in due course of time, she tells him that she is already married. 

When they meet again, a few years on, Peter proposes to her, and they decide to tie the knot. However, the legal documentation cannot be completed, as the authorities are unable to find anyone with Peter's name born at the time/place of his birth. In theory, he doesn't exist. When he goes back, to ask his mother the details of his birth and early life, he finds out that she hasn't been totally honest with him, about his father, or his early life. In fact, his father might be alive. Another coincidence: the author of the manuscript might just be the man who fathered him! 

And so he sets off to New York, to find out who he really is, where he's come from, and the mystery surrounding his father. 

The book is well-written. However, it's a hackneyed unbelievable plot, with too many coincidences; most of which seem far-fetched. Also, Schlink's tried way too hard to allude to the Odyssey, drawing parallels between the protagonist's life and the classic masterpiece. In fact, it looks like he's tweaked and tucked his plot to match the Odyssey's. I also think this might be one of those books, which suffers from losing a lot of its brilliance due to translation. The words just don't flow easily, and at the end of the day, it seems like a rigid forced novel, instead of an easy free-flowing one. 

Overall rating: 4/10

Philip Roth - The Plot Against America

This review has been outstanding for about a month and a half, and for that I apologize. I read it back when I was working towards a big deadline, and I just didn't find time to review it back then. But here it is, now...

I stumbled on to this book by chance. One of my colleagues recommended The Man In The High Castle to me, fleetingly, and it sounded quite interesting. However, by the time the day had come to a close, and I got home, I just couldn't remember the name of the book. So, I googled something like 'World War II alternate reality", and guess what I found: Philip Roth's The Plot Against America. I still haven't read The Man In The High Castle, but this, this was fantastic! Is this what they call 'serendipity'? A fortunate mistake? Because, it sure was. Barring the classics that are Gatsby and A Clockwork Orange, this has been my favorite book in 2009. 

The premise of the book is both, credible and simple: what if Lindbergh had won the 1940 Presidential election, instead of Franklin D. Roosevelt? In an interview, Roth says he stumbled upon a sentence in Schlesinger's notes, which stated something along the lines of: Some Republican isolationalists wanted Lindbergh to run for President in 1940. And so, the book was born.

Roth has gone to great lengths to keep all the other events as historically accurate as possible, so much so that the book actually seems like real history. The political characters, the speeches, historical events - they all seem to add up. He even chose Winchell to lead the opposition against Lindbergh, as he hated the latter; calling him pro-Nazi from the moment Lindbergh propagated the cause of America not intervening in events geographically far away from them. I concede that the thought of Winchell ever running a political opposition against the President of the United States is scary, but, then again, you can say the same about Lindbergh becoming President. Nonetheless, one can also see why Lindbergh becoming President was not as incredible as it sounds: an aviation hero (making the first transatlantic flight in the late 1920s), he gained public sympathy when his child was kidnapped and murdered. He said 'Hitler was a great man,' but simultaneously voiced what must have been a very popular opinion: No American should die on foreign soil! So, yes, what if Lindbergh occupied the White House in 1940... 

While some of the historical accuracies makes the book 'real', what makes it magnificent is that Roth chooses to write it in first person, in a direct way, where the narrator is Roth's younger self - all of seven when the book starts. Living with his parents, his older brother and his cousin, Roth's narration is a mixture of childhood pains and adult intelligence.

The book opens with:

Fear presides over these memories, a perpetual fear. Of course no childhood is without its terrors, yet I wonder if I would have been a less frightened boy if Lindbergh hadn't been President, or if I hadn't been the offspring of Jews. 

One of the so-called pains is when one of the neighboring kids tries to befriend him, but Roth only has disdain for him, even after Seldon saves his life. In fact, the greatest tragedy of the book is orchestrated by Roth, inadvertently, and one ends up feeling the greatest sympathy for Seldon's loss. 

While Roth is fighting these childish personal battles, he is also aware of the political environment, that seems to be pulling his family apart, as all its members are dealing with Lindbergh as President in their own world. His cousin runs away from home, to fight the War, and comes home with a prosthetic leg and anger - anger at how things turn out. His brother idolizes Lindbergh, and uses his artistic talents to create amazing portraits of him, which he keeps hidden under his bed. His father is furious with the turn of events - specially, when he takes his family on a holiday to Washington, and their hotel room is rendered unavailable. Bess (his wife) is embarrassed, as he reminds the people around him of the Gettysburg principle : All men are created equal. It's no avail, and they are forced to find another hotel room. They live the dream, Philip's father says, and we live in a nightmare.

As the book progresses, and more anti-Semitism is introduced through programs like 'Just Folks', which encourages Jewish city boys to go and work on a farm for a summer. Philip's older brother, Sandy, is one such member, and he is later requested to encourage other Jewish boys to do the same. Bess' sister, Evelyn, has a boyfriend who is a Rabbi, a Rabbi who propagates Lindbergh's cause, insisting what's happening in Germany is completely different to what's happening in America; i.e. the Jews should enter into a country life, and disappear into it. This adds more friction to the family relationships. 

Can you imagine this? A fascist America? The President of the Free World being anti-Semites? America siding with Germany during the War, and signing non-aggression treaties? I can't, not for the life of me. But Roth, he's managed to a spectacular job of bringing something we can't imagine to life, and making us grateful that for once, the 'what if' didn't quite pan out. 

Overall, a 9 on 10.

Weekly Geeks - On Wars...

This week's Weekly Geeks has two questions. One for Memorial Day, and one for summer reading. Due to the diametric opposites of the topics, I've decided to split this up into two posts. First one's on war....

With Memorial Day in the U.S. this coming Monday, I thought it would be appropriate to focus on the military. Either share your favorite book on war or movie on war and why. Provide a clip from the movie if you'd like or a passage from the book that shows us why you it's your favorite book or movie. Or do both. OR choose your own military theme, for example, if you have a relative or friend in the military and you would like to send them a video or a message of thanks, do that on your blog. OR do all three. The book and movie also don't have to be "patriotic" necessarily. For example, one of my favorite fictional books on war is Johnny, Get Your Gun by Dalton Trumbo.

This is going to be on books - I'm not a big movies buff. However, this book made a great movie as well, apparently (haven't seen it). Cutting to the chase, it's Schindler's List/Ark. The book won the Booker Prize in 1982, despite being a non-fictional masterpiece, and it follows the quest of one man to save the life of thousands of Jews from the gas chambers during World War II: Oskar Schindler. It's an incredibly absorbing book, which its author, Thomas Keneally, has tried to make as factual as possible, so as not to 'debase' the record of Schindler - fiction, according to the author, would do exactly that. 

I unfortunately don't have the book at hand, so I can't pull out a passage, but, I would recommend that book to anyone interested in that era. It's well-written, non-fictional, and fills us with hope, that even during the grossest of times, there was one man out there striving to make a difference. 

There are some other books that come to mind, including Philip Roth's The Plot Against America, which portrays an alternate reality, where Lindbergh won the Presidential elections in 1940, instead of Roosevelt. That was creepy: imagine a Fascist America! 

There are loads more, but, I think these are probably the two books I was completely blown away by. 

Happy Memorial Day, folks (albeit we don't celebrate it this side of the pond).