The Slap, Christos Tsiolkas

This was my first Man Booker read, and technically I didn't read it for that purpose. I have loved Tsiolkas' writing for a long time, since losing myself in the gothic darkness of "Dead Europe". Since then, I've read all of Tsiolkas' (often morbidly brutal) novels, and have wallowed in my addiction to his narrative voice, combined with utter loathing for character.

I find it funny when people describe how hard they found "The Slap" to read, on account of the characters having no redeeming features. That always marks the reader as a Tsiolkas virgin to me; "The Slap" characters may be unpleasant in ways, but they are nothing on the unseemliness of, say, the protaganist of "The Jesus Man". Tsiolkas loves to shock. In a way he follows an Australian suburban tradition of writing characters gritty and realistically depraved. Sure, his characters cheat and lie, or at least dream of it; but who hasn't experienced a semblance of such thoughts at some fleeting moment?

"The Slap" is somewhat watered down from Tsiolkas' prior novels, because the narrative voice jumps from character to character, meaning you needn't bathe too long in one character's nastiness. On the other hand, this does ensure that you can't pick a particular character out as the villain; they all have some form of fatal flaw. In other words, they're all human.

The novel's content has been well discussed in public media, particularly with the screening of the ABC mini-series adaptation. A child is slapped by an adult not his parent at a barbecue. The resulting outrage and legal proceedings threaten to shatter a formerly close group of friends and family.

I found the story interesting, but it was the structure which truly grabbed me. Tsiolkas doesn't simply tell the same moment of story from a number of different points of view. Each chapter is from the voice of a new character, yes; but it is also a chronological progression of the storyline, so that Hector's chapter tells a completely different section of the tale to Rosie's chapter.

Importantly, too, each chapter immerses the reader in the life of its narrator. We hear all of their innermost secrets, the kind they don't dare speak aloud. The intimacy with each character via only a single chapter is incredible, and at the same time does not sacrifice our understanding of the narrative as it rolls along. This is truly masterful storytelling, even if the tale told is somewhat confronting. An outstanding read, and certainly should have been shortlisted, in my opinion.

Pigeon English, Stephen Kelman

How exciting to discover, when I checked the 2011 Booker Shortlist, that I had actually read one of the shortlist. Not so far behind, after all! I'd found "Pigeon English" in my local bookstore, and immediately fallen in love.


Things I loved about "Pigeon English" before I even really started reading:


- The cover art. 
The artwork is gorgeous, combining bird silhouettes with a boy's in a way that mimics one of those pysch pictures where you don't know if it's a duck or a rabbit. This really captured the sense of the book, too. While there were 'bad; characters, it was hard to shake the feeling that once they were just like the hero, Harrison. He's a young boy living in the London projects, and his main sources of inspiration are the boys around him, gangsters all.


- The list on the back. 
"
Wars. Kids vs Teachers, Northwell Manor High vs Leabridge High, Dell Farm Crew vs Lewsey Hill Crew, Emos vs Sunshine, Turkey vs Russia, Arsenal vs Chelsea, Black vs White, Police vs Kids, God vs Allah, Chicken Joe’s vs KFC, Cats vs Dogs, Aliens vs Predators." 

The list was so bittersweet. The concept of wars in kid-language is so heartwrenching. Some of these wars are serious wars that strike fear into the heart of adults (God vs Allah). Some are bitingly witty, and sum up the humour of the novel (Emos vs Sunshine). And others, like Chicken Joe's vs KFC, just underline how childish the protaganist is. At the heart of everything, he is a young boy in a cruel, fast paced world. As the reader, you are just hoping against hope that his reputation as the second fastest runner in Year 7 will help him to outrun any danger.

- The voice of Harry. 
Harry is so unmistakably a child. Some of the adventures we follow him through are those of simple adolescence- trying to fit in with the cool crowd, his first girlfriend. Others are sadly adult, such as living through the aftermath of a murder in his community. And yet even the way he deals with this grief (to create a detective duo bent on finding the killer) is so juvenile, it made me ache. "Pigeon English" has been compared to the fabulous "Room", and I can see why. It shares the same gift of telling a story wholeheartdely through the eyes of a child, and both of those stories are sadly not the tale of childhood we would wish for our heroes. 

For me, "Pigeon English" is not just the tale of a childhood though, but of life robbing us of our innocence. The characters of the novel could all have been like Harry once, but life kept beating down on them until they cracked. Harry hasn't cracked yet, but you get the feeling it's only a matter of time before the world wins. A beautiful and often funny novel, but with a nagging twinge of sadness at the world we are creating for our children.

The Sisters Brothers, Patrick deWitt

At first, I thought "The Sisters Brothers" would be some family drama, a la TV show "Brothers & Sisters". Then I started reading, and the brotherly duo of Charlie and Eli reminded me somewhat of another highly enjoyable novel, "The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart"- especially when Charlie and Eli stumbled across a supernatural occurrence or two. But magic proved to be less than the main theme, and "The Sisters Brothers" took on its own voice, and I became engrossed.

Charlie and Eli Sisters are not good men, but Eli wouldn't mind becoming one. He has had enough of the mercenary life; while he gets a thrill from his very name striking fear into the hearts of men, he also experiences moments of darkness and loneliness which make him long for death. He sees where all this is headed, and it is not good. He knows he needs to change his ways. If only he could convince his brother of the same.

The novel meanders along with a distinctly fantastical bent; characters recur for no reason or logic, things fall unexpectedly into place, and events bookend each other in pretty parallels. But "The Sisters Brothers" is also a Western, set in the Californian gold-rush, when men were manly. And thieving. And murderous. As a result the novel feels, well, more dusty than gritty.

"The Sisters Brothers" has been one of my favourite novels in a long time. A great re-entry back into the world of Booker novels, except that I fear it has set the bar too high for some others to match.

Realisations

I had two sudden realisations recently. One was that the 2011 Booker Prize was due soon, and I HAD NOT READ ANYTHING from the shortlist. The other realisation was that the Booker Prize also had a longlist, none of which I had perused. Cue extensive library borrowing, toppling towers of books, overdue notices and fines. However, I have read several excellent books in the last few weeks, and have plans to release a flurry of reviews. Probably quite soon, as I have a great number of other tasks I should, by rights, be prioritising.