Remainder is one of those novels that tells of events so fantastical that the reader is sure the whole story must be an allegory. But the meaning is ambiguous and elusive and open to interpretation, so that the reader must actively think about it rather than experience it vicariously. It is strictly a head novel, not a heart novel in any way.
The unnamed protagonist has been injured in an accident which involved something falling from the sky and has received a gargantuan cash settlement. The severe nature of his head injury has produced partial amnesia and has required him to relearn how to perform all physical tasks, including feeding himself. Perhaps because he has had to learn how to move by thinking of all the mechanics beforehand, he constantly feels as if none of his actions are natural, true, authentic.
Then a chance glimpse of a crack in a friend's bathroom wall triggers a whole set of memories for him of a place where he thinks he felt authentic. With his vast financial resources and the help of Naz, a facilitator, he recreates an apartment building exactly as he remembers it, including the neighbors he remembers, using hired actors constantly on duty to play their parts. Once the set is complete, he rehearses the actors and then has them reenact scenarios again, and again, and again, to try to recover his sense of authenticity.
He moves from there to recreating a recent incident which happened to him at a tire shop. Again, the incident is reenacted again, again, and again. Then he moves to a reenactment of some murders in the neighborhood, with his information for reenactment gathered from police forensic reports. And then.......
And so on, and so on. All this is reported in factual, detailed, police-report style--hypnotically stupefying in its repetitions. The ending is chilling, as the protagonist finally feels authentic.
As I interpret this novel, it has an existential message--the search of Everyman for authenticity and meaning. The protagonist's fruitless search for authenticity through the endless repetitions of actions represents our daily existence as we go through the motions of our lives. Only when the protagonist breaks away from the rehearsed and experiences the violence of chance does he obtain authenticity.
This novel reminded me very much of Dostoyevsky, and it left me with very similar feelings of depression and anxiety. Sure, it made me think, but I do not enjoy thinking along those lines.
Recommended with reservations for those who like depressing head books.
P.S. This is being written several days later, after thinking about the book, and I believe the whole thing may have been a scenario going through the protagonist's head as he lies dying from a gunshot wound or explosion. Here's the reason--many times we have the mention that the protagonist smells cordite, and this seems out of place with no purpose. So, finally, I looked up cordite, and it is connected with a certain kind of bullet and with explosives, and has a unique smell. Armed with that knowledge, I found that several of the stranger aspects of the novel made more sense.
Whatever....I feel more than ever that the purpose of this novel is for the reader to feel admiration for the cleverness of the author.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Swamplandia! by Karen Russell
I have always considered myself to be fairly imaginative, maybe even a bit more imaginative than most. But I could never in a million years have come up with the plot of this book. The Bigtree family runs a gator-wrestling theme park, Swamplandia!, on one of the small islands in the Florida Keys. The mother has recently died of cancer, the grandfather has started biting customers and has had to be taken to live at the Out to Sea Retirement Community, the big brother has run away to the mainland and gone to work for a competitor theme park, and the father has left to "take care of some business." Left by themselves on the island, the older sister has eloped with a "ghost," leaving the youngest, Ava, to try to deal alone with all the upset and confusion. About this time a mysterious Birdman comes along who offers to guide Ave on a trip through the swamps to the Underworld to find her runaway sister.
I ask you--what kind of imagination comes up with that story?
This is not magic realism, which inserts the fantastic into the mundane, but surrealism, where everything is exaggerated and askew. And it is often very, very funny. For example, the rival theme park is World of Darkness, which features blood-red swimming pools and whose customers are known as "Lost Souls." Its four-man team of pilots who take patrons on air tours to view areas of ecological devastation are known as "The Four Pilots of the Apocalypse."
For the first 150 pages or so I was enchanted by this novel. Russell has a knack of description and unexpected turn-of-phrase that is near genius, and I kept wondering, "Why did this not win the Pulitzer Prize?" Then she seemed to bog down in the plot turns, and the tone of the first half of the book seemed somewhat inappropriate when attached to the last half. Then I understood why the book did not win the Pulitzer.
Nevertheless, it is a most interesting and amusing read, better than most. And it has an important message about family love and loyalty. Recommended.
I ask you--what kind of imagination comes up with that story?
This is not magic realism, which inserts the fantastic into the mundane, but surrealism, where everything is exaggerated and askew. And it is often very, very funny. For example, the rival theme park is World of Darkness, which features blood-red swimming pools and whose customers are known as "Lost Souls." Its four-man team of pilots who take patrons on air tours to view areas of ecological devastation are known as "The Four Pilots of the Apocalypse."
For the first 150 pages or so I was enchanted by this novel. Russell has a knack of description and unexpected turn-of-phrase that is near genius, and I kept wondering, "Why did this not win the Pulitzer Prize?" Then she seemed to bog down in the plot turns, and the tone of the first half of the book seemed somewhat inappropriate when attached to the last half. Then I understood why the book did not win the Pulitzer.
Nevertheless, it is a most interesting and amusing read, better than most. And it has an important message about family love and loyalty. Recommended.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Roses by Leila Meacham
I'm embarrassed that I even read this book--that's how bad it is. I feel as if I have to explain why I read it, so that my good name is not besmirched: I am always on the lookout for good books by Texans, preferably also about Texas, for book reviews I do for TexasLive magazine. This one is set in East Texas, was written by a retired teacher who lives in San Antonio, and was a best seller a couple of years ago. Reviews compare it to Gone With the Wind and The Thorn Birds. Sounds like a good bet, yes? Wrong.
This is a family saga, so it covers several generations. The two main protagonists are third-generation East Texans, the male a timber baron and the female the heir to a cotton plantation. The story follows them through the next two generations, to the grandson of the male and the grand-niece of the female.
How do I dislike this book? Let me count the ways.
1. While Gone With the Wind is not my idea of literature for the ages, it does portray a time and a place with believable drama. The only similarity between that book and Roses is the heroine's obsession with the land. I read The Thorn Birds years ago and don't remember much about it, but I would have remembered if I had been offended by it. Thus, I don't think the comparisons hold up.
2. The characters are plastic stereotypes and unbelievable. The two primary love interests are tall, slender, and unbelievably good looking. The female is often referred to as a goddess, and the hero is frequently referenced as a "golden Apollo." The secondary (read, inferior) characters are frequently short, often dumpy, and always ordinary looking. As subsequent generations come along, they continue this pattern, so that the romance at the conclusion of the book features two tall, slender, unbelievably good looking descendents who look amazingly like the original love-interest couple. (I was reminded so much of Ayn Rand and her "super-couple" Dagny Taggart and John Galt.)
3. Racial stereotypes abound. The black characters in the book are all obsequious servants. Their conversations all sound like Gone With the Wind, even in 1985. The one Jewish character is portrayed as ruthlessly taking advantage of the financial difficulties of others; in his "mean little office" he taps his forehead with a "jaundiced-nailed finger."
4. The plot is full of holes. For example, there's a family curse, we're told. It's that the possessors of the land have few children, and most of them die before adulthood. Was this situation that unusual? Who cursed them? Why? What were they doing wrong? Loving the land too much? Or what?
5. The writing is often ridiculously overblown: "Caution and decorum flew from their restraints in surrender to her need of him, and she welcomed his possession...." Enough said.
6. All-in-all, this seems like nothing so much as a puffed-up Harlequin romance. The publisher just put roses on the cover, rather than a photo of an impossibly beautiful, photo-enhanced couple, in a passionate embrace. (He--tall, golden blond, and tan; she--tall, raven-haired, and tan.)
It's a darn good thing I didn't work for the publishers of this book, because I would have rejected it and would have deprived my company of all kinds of profits. I obviously have no clear grasp of what may or may not be popular out there in the wide world.
This is a family saga, so it covers several generations. The two main protagonists are third-generation East Texans, the male a timber baron and the female the heir to a cotton plantation. The story follows them through the next two generations, to the grandson of the male and the grand-niece of the female.
How do I dislike this book? Let me count the ways.
1. While Gone With the Wind is not my idea of literature for the ages, it does portray a time and a place with believable drama. The only similarity between that book and Roses is the heroine's obsession with the land. I read The Thorn Birds years ago and don't remember much about it, but I would have remembered if I had been offended by it. Thus, I don't think the comparisons hold up.
2. The characters are plastic stereotypes and unbelievable. The two primary love interests are tall, slender, and unbelievably good looking. The female is often referred to as a goddess, and the hero is frequently referenced as a "golden Apollo." The secondary (read, inferior) characters are frequently short, often dumpy, and always ordinary looking. As subsequent generations come along, they continue this pattern, so that the romance at the conclusion of the book features two tall, slender, unbelievably good looking descendents who look amazingly like the original love-interest couple. (I was reminded so much of Ayn Rand and her "super-couple" Dagny Taggart and John Galt.)
3. Racial stereotypes abound. The black characters in the book are all obsequious servants. Their conversations all sound like Gone With the Wind, even in 1985. The one Jewish character is portrayed as ruthlessly taking advantage of the financial difficulties of others; in his "mean little office" he taps his forehead with a "jaundiced-nailed finger."
4. The plot is full of holes. For example, there's a family curse, we're told. It's that the possessors of the land have few children, and most of them die before adulthood. Was this situation that unusual? Who cursed them? Why? What were they doing wrong? Loving the land too much? Or what?
5. The writing is often ridiculously overblown: "Caution and decorum flew from their restraints in surrender to her need of him, and she welcomed his possession...." Enough said.
6. All-in-all, this seems like nothing so much as a puffed-up Harlequin romance. The publisher just put roses on the cover, rather than a photo of an impossibly beautiful, photo-enhanced couple, in a passionate embrace. (He--tall, golden blond, and tan; she--tall, raven-haired, and tan.)
It's a darn good thing I didn't work for the publishers of this book, because I would have rejected it and would have deprived my company of all kinds of profits. I obviously have no clear grasp of what may or may not be popular out there in the wide world.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Cloudstreet by Tim Winton
As long as we have had storytellers, we have had stories about families--good families, bad families, absent families even. We don't all experience high adventure, existential anguish, or even romantic love, but we all experience family. We all have had a mother and a father, and someone who took care of us when we were helpless infants and children. We can all relate to the family story.
This is one of the best family stories I have read. It is the story of not just one family, but two: the Pickle family and the Lamb family, who share a huge, ramshackle house on Cloud Street in Perth, Australia, covering 20 years, from 1944 to 1964.
Sam Pickle, an inveterate gambler, has had a run of bad luck, having lost the fingers on his working hand in an accident. He has, however, inherited a large house, and he decides to rent half of it to help maintain his family of a wife, a daughter, and two sons. Enter the Lamb family, who have also suffered a tragedy--the near drowning of a son which left him brain damaged. The two parents and the six children rent half the house, and soon open a small grocery on the bottom floor. And the story begins.
This family story includes deaths, births, drunkenness, adultery, loss of faith, guilt, hate, love, and forgiveness--both forgiveness of others and forgiveness of self. It also includes ghosts, a talking pig, and a guardian angel. There's more than a touch of magic realism here. But that enhances the story, rather than detracting.
I think everyone could relate to at least one member of these two families. Quick Lamb says to his mother about the family, "Wierdos, Mum, flamin whakos." How many teenagers have felt that way about their parents? And then Quick says to his mother, "Let's face it, Mum....It's just that you're flamin bossy." I can certainly relate to that, because I happen to be "flamin bossy." I hope I can be forgiven, as this mother was.
A whole Course of Study of this novel could be written, including symbolism, use of opposition, etc., etc. But it's enough to say that it seems authentic and it's a damn good read.
Most highly recommended.
This is one of the best family stories I have read. It is the story of not just one family, but two: the Pickle family and the Lamb family, who share a huge, ramshackle house on Cloud Street in Perth, Australia, covering 20 years, from 1944 to 1964.
Sam Pickle, an inveterate gambler, has had a run of bad luck, having lost the fingers on his working hand in an accident. He has, however, inherited a large house, and he decides to rent half of it to help maintain his family of a wife, a daughter, and two sons. Enter the Lamb family, who have also suffered a tragedy--the near drowning of a son which left him brain damaged. The two parents and the six children rent half the house, and soon open a small grocery on the bottom floor. And the story begins.
This family story includes deaths, births, drunkenness, adultery, loss of faith, guilt, hate, love, and forgiveness--both forgiveness of others and forgiveness of self. It also includes ghosts, a talking pig, and a guardian angel. There's more than a touch of magic realism here. But that enhances the story, rather than detracting.
I think everyone could relate to at least one member of these two families. Quick Lamb says to his mother about the family, "Wierdos, Mum, flamin whakos." How many teenagers have felt that way about their parents? And then Quick says to his mother, "Let's face it, Mum....It's just that you're flamin bossy." I can certainly relate to that, because I happen to be "flamin bossy." I hope I can be forgiven, as this mother was.
A whole Course of Study of this novel could be written, including symbolism, use of opposition, etc., etc. But it's enough to say that it seems authentic and it's a damn good read.
Most highly recommended.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
The Home Place by Wright Morris
What a rare jewel of a book! I don't believe I have ever experienced a book which felt more authentic.
I say "experienced" rather than "read" because half of the book communicates through words and the other half communicates through black-and-white photographs, on alternating pages. And both tell the same story, but the total impact is increased more than twice, through the conjunction of the two.
The "story" follows the events of a one-day visit of a man and his wife and their two children to "the home place" on the plains of Nebraska, where he spent his summers as a youth with his aunt and uncle. With loving attention to detail, Morris pictures (both in words and in photos) the people and the surroundings and the way of life that shaped his central character.
I grew up on the plains of Texas rather than on the plains of Nebraska, but I am old enough and rural enough that I recognize all these characters--their meandering conversations sound like the ones I listened to in my childhood, and their worn-out and rural surroundings look totally familiar. Maybe you can't really go home again, but sometimes you wish you could.
This is a short review, but that does not mean the book did not impact me deeply. I don't know if younger people or city-bred people would enjoy it, however. It might not seem as authentic or evoke so much nostalgia, but they might still perceive the genius behind it.
I say "experienced" rather than "read" because half of the book communicates through words and the other half communicates through black-and-white photographs, on alternating pages. And both tell the same story, but the total impact is increased more than twice, through the conjunction of the two.
The "story" follows the events of a one-day visit of a man and his wife and their two children to "the home place" on the plains of Nebraska, where he spent his summers as a youth with his aunt and uncle. With loving attention to detail, Morris pictures (both in words and in photos) the people and the surroundings and the way of life that shaped his central character.
I grew up on the plains of Texas rather than on the plains of Nebraska, but I am old enough and rural enough that I recognize all these characters--their meandering conversations sound like the ones I listened to in my childhood, and their worn-out and rural surroundings look totally familiar. Maybe you can't really go home again, but sometimes you wish you could.
This is a short review, but that does not mean the book did not impact me deeply. I don't know if younger people or city-bred people would enjoy it, however. It might not seem as authentic or evoke so much nostalgia, but they might still perceive the genius behind it.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom by Cory Doctorow
Geez. This book made me feel so non-hip and old and out-of-touch. Maybe it is clever and inventive, and maybe not. I don't know. First, it contains all kinds of cyber language, and I barely know how to blog and e-mail. Second, it takes place in Disney World and I imagine a good bit of enjoyment can be had by a reader recalling memories of the attractions mentioned. I have never been to Disney World, Disneyland, etc., etc. I just did not connect to this novel at all.
The plot goes a little something like this: It's the future and nobody dies unless they want to. In case of illness or accidental death, a clone is kept on standby, along with a back-up of the person's memory. People don't need to carry around smart phones or i-pads because they have computers and the internet implanted in their heads, so they just have to think about the information they need. Money is obsolete; people try to earn Whuffie--points from public approval, kind of similar to "likes" on a status on Facebook or the number of Tweet responses. (I think, although I don't really understand Tweeting.)
Our hero is a member of one of the numerous "ad-hocs" who are keeping the amusement parks running as an homage to the twentieth century. He and his group are dedicated to maintaining the attractions in the old style, with only a few high tech additions. Another ad-hoc group is taking over attractions using more sophisticated brain-to-brain interfaces. Duplicity and intrigue ensue.
I did not understand enough of this novel to really form an opinion, except along traditional lines. There was little character development, little suspense development, little thematic content, as far as I could discern. Maybe my son would like it, because he knows all about techno-stuff and loves The Magic Kingdom.
Sometimes young people are asked by their teachers to read books which are too mature for their understanding. I have been guilty of doing that. This is a case of a book which I am too mature (read "old") to really understand.
The plot goes a little something like this: It's the future and nobody dies unless they want to. In case of illness or accidental death, a clone is kept on standby, along with a back-up of the person's memory. People don't need to carry around smart phones or i-pads because they have computers and the internet implanted in their heads, so they just have to think about the information they need. Money is obsolete; people try to earn Whuffie--points from public approval, kind of similar to "likes" on a status on Facebook or the number of Tweet responses. (I think, although I don't really understand Tweeting.)
Our hero is a member of one of the numerous "ad-hocs" who are keeping the amusement parks running as an homage to the twentieth century. He and his group are dedicated to maintaining the attractions in the old style, with only a few high tech additions. Another ad-hoc group is taking over attractions using more sophisticated brain-to-brain interfaces. Duplicity and intrigue ensue.
I did not understand enough of this novel to really form an opinion, except along traditional lines. There was little character development, little suspense development, little thematic content, as far as I could discern. Maybe my son would like it, because he knows all about techno-stuff and loves The Magic Kingdom.
Sometimes young people are asked by their teachers to read books which are too mature for their understanding. I have been guilty of doing that. This is a case of a book which I am too mature (read "old") to really understand.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach
I chose not to read this book for a long time because of its title and subject matter, even though I knew it had glowing reviews and had been chosen as one of the best books of 2011 by numerous publications, including the New York Times. I am not a sports fan and have never watched even one full game of baseball. I guess I was inoculated against being a sports fan early in elementary school when it became apparent that I could not make physical contact with any kind of ball, no matter how hard I tried. I blame this now on undiagnosed astigmatism.
I kept reading that one did not have to be a fan of baseball to enjoy this novel, so I gave in. And it is true that I enjoyed the book, but I think my lack of knowledge of the sport kept me from understanding the book. How baseball can be a metaphor for life is a mystery to me still.
The Art of Fielding is interesting because it is good storytelling, not just of one story but of five. We have Henry Skrimshander, the perfect shortstop until one error leads to a loss of confidence; Mike Schwartz, the mentor and teammate who guides Henry to potential greatness; Owen Dunne, Henry's gay college roommate whose love affair impacts all the other characters; Guert Affenlight, the college president who falls unexpectedly in love for the first time; and Pella Affenlight, his daughter, who is seeking for a purpose for her life. All these unfolding stories make the novel compulsively readable.
And now for the criticisms: The writing is often very clunky. Some plot developments are not very logical, seemingly entirely divorced from any normal human behavior (in my experience, at least). Character development is minimal. And, as I said, the baseball as a metaphor for life aspect escaped me, but that is perhaps my fault. The ending was trite, reminiscent of several sports movie treatments. I fully expect a movie to be made from this novel.
One small thing that annoyed me excessively: The term "freshman" is substituted by "freshperson." "Freshmen" are called "freshpersons." Since this is a college setting, these terms occur with great frequency. Do people actually talk this way now? Has sexual and political correctness gone so far? Should a school principal or college administrator say, "All freshpersons should do such-and such"? That sounds so ridiculous to my old-fashioned mind.
All-in-all, an interesting read.
I kept reading that one did not have to be a fan of baseball to enjoy this novel, so I gave in. And it is true that I enjoyed the book, but I think my lack of knowledge of the sport kept me from understanding the book. How baseball can be a metaphor for life is a mystery to me still.
The Art of Fielding is interesting because it is good storytelling, not just of one story but of five. We have Henry Skrimshander, the perfect shortstop until one error leads to a loss of confidence; Mike Schwartz, the mentor and teammate who guides Henry to potential greatness; Owen Dunne, Henry's gay college roommate whose love affair impacts all the other characters; Guert Affenlight, the college president who falls unexpectedly in love for the first time; and Pella Affenlight, his daughter, who is seeking for a purpose for her life. All these unfolding stories make the novel compulsively readable.
And now for the criticisms: The writing is often very clunky. Some plot developments are not very logical, seemingly entirely divorced from any normal human behavior (in my experience, at least). Character development is minimal. And, as I said, the baseball as a metaphor for life aspect escaped me, but that is perhaps my fault. The ending was trite, reminiscent of several sports movie treatments. I fully expect a movie to be made from this novel.
One small thing that annoyed me excessively: The term "freshman" is substituted by "freshperson." "Freshmen" are called "freshpersons." Since this is a college setting, these terms occur with great frequency. Do people actually talk this way now? Has sexual and political correctness gone so far? Should a school principal or college administrator say, "All freshpersons should do such-and such"? That sounds so ridiculous to my old-fashioned mind.
All-in-all, an interesting read.
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