At first, I was a little cranky that there were two books on the Man Booker shortlist with 'Room' in the title (not to mention another on the Cheltenham shortlist). It seemed like an oversight; how can this reflect the best of Commonwealth literature when two have such similar titles. Then the copy of the book I had was a slightly oversized hard cover, which also annoyed me. I put the book off.
I started reading 'Room' on Wednesday night. I had finished it by Friday morning. I found myself reading it when people left the room, while I was walking down the street, staying up until 2am because I JUST COULDN'T STOP.
'Room' is instantly compelling because of the voice of the narrator, Jack. He is five, and there are immediate clues that his world is not a normal one. In fact, it turns out that his world in simply Room. Jack's mother (who we only ever know as Ma), was kidnapped seven years earlier; Jack was born and raised in Room, and has never known more than this eleven by eleven foot space. Items in Room have proper names (after all, if there's is not another Bed in your world, why call it 'the bed' or 'that bed'? There are no other beds from which to distinguish) and genders. Necessities are requested as 'Sundaytreats' and delivered by 'Old Nick', who visits Ma after 9, when Jack is 'switched off' in Wardrobe.
While Jack knows and loves Room and all of her facets, it becomes clear that Ma is distressed and ready to leave. The games they play often have a different meaning for Jack than they do for Ma; while Scream is a fun game they play, allowing them to climb up near the skylight and yell, for Ma it is a desperate ritualistic attempt to gain the attention of someone, anyone. Ma starts to break down the boundaries of Jack's world, advising him that, now he is five, he is old enough to know that there is a world outside of Room; that things on the TV are actually real. Jack struggles with such concepts, and what they mean for him and his world.
Many novels thrive on the 'car-crash' storyline, the type of plot that is so tragic and horrible that our sympathy compels us to keep reading. 'Room' could run the risk of falling into this category, but for one factor; Jack. While at first it is jarring and horrifying to hear a child describe such a limited and warped existence, the reader quickly settles into an understanding that, for Jack, this is normal and safe. Any threats to this normality are dangerous and far more disturbing for him than his own situation could ever be. Jack's voice completely disarms and consumes the reader, allowing them to wholly connect with him; we want simultaneously to keep him safe from fearful newness, but also to gift him the freedom to escape and experience the childhood he ought never to have been denied.
Like 'A Strange Room', I found this novel completely un-put-down-able. While I'm truly a bibliophile, it's very rare that I am so absorbed in a book that I will read it while walking: 'Room' is absolutely brilliant.
Showing posts with label MB Shortlist 2010. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MB Shortlist 2010. Show all posts
Friday, April 22, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Parrot and Olivier in America, by Peter Carey
I've read a lot of Peter Carey books; I think he is an amazing writer. I also think he writes the most despicable characters EVER. It is incredibly hard to like a Peter Carey character (that said, I haven't read 'Oscar and Lucinda', who sound less hate-worthy). However, neither Parrot nor Olivier fall into that category, and that shifts this book from one I can recommend to my literary minded friends, to just about anyone.
In some ways, Parrot and Olivier are almost caricatures. They are over the top representations of the French nobility, and the wily lower, servile classes. Olivier is odious, whining, arrogant... and fascinating. Parrot was a young lad who exhibited extraordinary talent, and met very little, if any of his potential due to a weak character- and yet we sympathise, rather than judge.
The novel follows these two unlikely partners through their early years, and then later through their experiences together in the newly independent America. Through flashbacks we learn more of their in-between years. Both characters surge through a series of projects, sideprojects, relationships, siderelationships and personal discoveries about themselves.
At times, Carey broaches Bryce-Courtenay-danger-zone in the sheer unlikeliness of coincidental meetings and links, and the breadth of the world Parrot seems to have traversed in his years. But he gets away with it far better than Courtenay; while it seems odd that Parrot would have, in 50 years, have built homes and careers in England, Australia, France AND America, the fact that he is at least consistent in his trade helps with the credibility factor. Just.
In the end, 'Parrot and Olivier in America' is highly readable, despite its intimidating size. It also has a BEAUTIFUL cover in the hardback, with embossed paper dustjacket and a gorgeous parrot print on the inner sleeves of which its printer-protaganist could be proud. If you've been scared off by Carey before, come back; if you're thinking of trying Carey out, start here. A thoroughly enjoyable jaunt.
In some ways, Parrot and Olivier are almost caricatures. They are over the top representations of the French nobility, and the wily lower, servile classes. Olivier is odious, whining, arrogant... and fascinating. Parrot was a young lad who exhibited extraordinary talent, and met very little, if any of his potential due to a weak character- and yet we sympathise, rather than judge.
The novel follows these two unlikely partners through their early years, and then later through their experiences together in the newly independent America. Through flashbacks we learn more of their in-between years. Both characters surge through a series of projects, sideprojects, relationships, siderelationships and personal discoveries about themselves.
At times, Carey broaches Bryce-Courtenay-danger-zone in the sheer unlikeliness of coincidental meetings and links, and the breadth of the world Parrot seems to have traversed in his years. But he gets away with it far better than Courtenay; while it seems odd that Parrot would have, in 50 years, have built homes and careers in England, Australia, France AND America, the fact that he is at least consistent in his trade helps with the credibility factor. Just.
In the end, 'Parrot and Olivier in America' is highly readable, despite its intimidating size. It also has a BEAUTIFUL cover in the hardback, with embossed paper dustjacket and a gorgeous parrot print on the inner sleeves of which its printer-protaganist could be proud. If you've been scared off by Carey before, come back; if you're thinking of trying Carey out, start here. A thoroughly enjoyable jaunt.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
A Strange Room, by Damon Galgut
This novel is slim, but jam packed. Once I picked it up, I found it incredibly hard to put down, and finished it in a number of days. It traverses three journeys the protagonist (author?) has experienced, each shared with another person, and each with a disappointing end.
The protagonist, through much of the novel, clearly experiences a sense of displacement and uncertainty. He drifts through life, either through foreign countries, or through the loungerooms of people he knows in various locations of South Africa, his homeland. He seems to have few ties to people or place at home, yet the connection he makes when he travels are prominent and significant. Perhaps this rises out of the thrill of the unfamiliar, perhaps from the distinct possibility of a new relationship. However, he seems unable to achieve what he wants from these relationships, even when he gathers the courage to reach out and act. In the end, there is always a sense of disappointment, either of chances not taken, or of promises of greatness simply not meeting their imagined potential.
Galgut plays with an interesting voice and tense use. He shifts from first person voice, to third person, giving the impression that the events are being narrated from some years afterwards. This at first makes the protagonist a little difficult to connect with, a notion which seems appropriate given the shift in the character by the third journey, which occurs in middle age.
We only have opportunity to witness three journeys in the character's life, yet to me he was entirely easy relate to. The aimlessness of youth, the yearning of later years, and then the resignation and calm of finding your place all resonated as aspects of a life fully lived
The protagonist, through much of the novel, clearly experiences a sense of displacement and uncertainty. He drifts through life, either through foreign countries, or through the loungerooms of people he knows in various locations of South Africa, his homeland. He seems to have few ties to people or place at home, yet the connection he makes when he travels are prominent and significant. Perhaps this rises out of the thrill of the unfamiliar, perhaps from the distinct possibility of a new relationship. However, he seems unable to achieve what he wants from these relationships, even when he gathers the courage to reach out and act. In the end, there is always a sense of disappointment, either of chances not taken, or of promises of greatness simply not meeting their imagined potential.
Galgut plays with an interesting voice and tense use. He shifts from first person voice, to third person, giving the impression that the events are being narrated from some years afterwards. This at first makes the protagonist a little difficult to connect with, a notion which seems appropriate given the shift in the character by the third journey, which occurs in middle age.
We only have opportunity to witness three journeys in the character's life, yet to me he was entirely easy relate to. The aimlessness of youth, the yearning of later years, and then the resignation and calm of finding your place all resonated as aspects of a life fully lived
C, by Tom McCarthy
Ok. I finished 'C', gruellingly, and then dived headfirst into the fabulousness that is "A Strange Room" by Damon Galgut, which I finished in a matter of addicted days. But first things first.
'C' explores the life of Serge Carrefax, and ponders the notions of communication, perception and design. While the book wanders intriguingly through the unusual events of Serge's early life (including being born (with hearing) into a deaf world, in which his father tries to teach deaf children to talk) and taps into exciting ideas of radio communication and spy codes, for me it became entirely bogged down in the too-detailed consideration of Serge's later life. This made the book seem uneven, and I felt Serge in later life was a dry character steeped in arrogance.
I really enjoyed the interweaving themes of communication and perception. McCarthy's fascination with early communicative technology and its intersection with Serge's development was intriguing, with Serge's father always one step behind. But while Serge is capable of noticing all sorts of intense detail, such as an ability to categorically map out an area in his mind, his perception of other humans is callous and dismissive. On the whole, the intriguing curiosity and precociousness of the young character is sadly undeveloped in the more oblivious, self-centred older character occupying the greater part of the book. A bit of a disappointment for me, in the end.
'C' explores the life of Serge Carrefax, and ponders the notions of communication, perception and design. While the book wanders intriguingly through the unusual events of Serge's early life (including being born (with hearing) into a deaf world, in which his father tries to teach deaf children to talk) and taps into exciting ideas of radio communication and spy codes, for me it became entirely bogged down in the too-detailed consideration of Serge's later life. This made the book seem uneven, and I felt Serge in later life was a dry character steeped in arrogance.
I really enjoyed the interweaving themes of communication and perception. McCarthy's fascination with early communicative technology and its intersection with Serge's development was intriguing, with Serge's father always one step behind. But while Serge is capable of noticing all sorts of intense detail, such as an ability to categorically map out an area in his mind, his perception of other humans is callous and dismissive. On the whole, the intriguing curiosity and precociousness of the young character is sadly undeveloped in the more oblivious, self-centred older character occupying the greater part of the book. A bit of a disappointment for me, in the end.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Uh oh- tipping point
Oh no. School starts tomorrow. I haven't finished the second book in my challenge ("C" by Tom McCarthy). I'm a bit worried I'll go back to work, and become overwhelmed by the need to prepare Year level assemblies, and course outlines, and that speech I'm meant to make at Fy & Ben's engagement party, and the resolution will go under...
So. "C" Fairly readable, although it did all this interesting temporal jumping early in the main characters lifetime, and then plods in fair detail through his middle life. And it spent some time wallowing the war, which always bores me. But I'm so close, about 5/6 of the way through. Better go commit to some pre-bedtime reading. SO CLOSE!
So. "C" Fairly readable, although it did all this interesting temporal jumping early in the main characters lifetime, and then plods in fair detail through his middle life. And it spent some time wallowing the war, which always bores me. But I'm so close, about 5/6 of the way through. Better go commit to some pre-bedtime reading. SO CLOSE!
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Long Song, by Andrea Levy
Book #1, done and dusted. I have to say that I expected something quite different from Prize-nominated books. I was expecting weighty, perhaps a little elitist. This is not the case with this very readable book.
The Long Song tells the story of July, a slave girl on a Jamaican plantation. It uses a deliberately aware narrative framework; the blurb itself alerts you to the fact that the narrator is learning the format of a novel as she writes this story. At times, the reader is withdrawn from July's world and into the world of the narrator. These are signalled by a shift in language to the more common conversational language the characters in the 'story' use, and while they're often frivolous little interjections, these moments give a clearer voice to the narrator, and break the tension or stillness of the story at the time.
My favourite part about these interjections, though, is the way the narrator's son will impose his own expectations on his mother's writing, questioning the way she has described something, or omitted a section he deems worthy. It raises questions of the process of writing, and of remembering. This process is also reflected in some parts of the story, where the writer will not only tell the event as she remembers it, but will also fill in the versions known to other memories, urban legend or tall-tall tales.
July's story itself is partly tall-tall tale, partly sad-sad tale. As a child stolen from her mother, she begins a life of servitude to a selfish white woman who changes her name and screeches at her constantly. No white characters are painted in a positive light in this novel, even those who begin with good intentions. It is a harsh judgement on the imposition of a social structure upon another people, but for the most part told in a cheery, joking tone which almost brushes over the severity of the crimes committed.
I really enjoyed this book. It was immensely readable, and the characters were quite easy to connect to and pity, if not always like. Even though you're aware that the story is being filtered in several ways, by memory or editing, you are still so swept up in the events that you don't mind.
The Long Song tells the story of July, a slave girl on a Jamaican plantation. It uses a deliberately aware narrative framework; the blurb itself alerts you to the fact that the narrator is learning the format of a novel as she writes this story. At times, the reader is withdrawn from July's world and into the world of the narrator. These are signalled by a shift in language to the more common conversational language the characters in the 'story' use, and while they're often frivolous little interjections, these moments give a clearer voice to the narrator, and break the tension or stillness of the story at the time.
My favourite part about these interjections, though, is the way the narrator's son will impose his own expectations on his mother's writing, questioning the way she has described something, or omitted a section he deems worthy. It raises questions of the process of writing, and of remembering. This process is also reflected in some parts of the story, where the writer will not only tell the event as she remembers it, but will also fill in the versions known to other memories, urban legend or tall-tall tales.
July's story itself is partly tall-tall tale, partly sad-sad tale. As a child stolen from her mother, she begins a life of servitude to a selfish white woman who changes her name and screeches at her constantly. No white characters are painted in a positive light in this novel, even those who begin with good intentions. It is a harsh judgement on the imposition of a social structure upon another people, but for the most part told in a cheery, joking tone which almost brushes over the severity of the crimes committed.
I really enjoyed this book. It was immensely readable, and the characters were quite easy to connect to and pity, if not always like. Even though you're aware that the story is being filtered in several ways, by memory or editing, you are still so swept up in the events that you don't mind.
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