Pride & Prejudice

What to say about Jane Austen that hasn't been said before? I was a sceptic. Actually, I'd read about half of Mansfield Park years ago for University, and been so thoroughly bored an unimpressed I never finish. (don't tell). However, Pride and Prejudice is a classic, and on that principle alone I 'wanted' to read it eventually. Add to that my best friend Larissa pushing me to pick it up - a good recommendation from her is certainly held in high regard - and another friend not only telling me to read it, but informing me of my likeness to one of the characters. I was too intrigued to say no.
Plus, I already owned a copy sitting patiently on my bookcase.

My thoughts?
Well, it is still an Austen, so as far as action, adventure, major events, mass plots or any such thing - it certainly fails. However, that does not mean it is as entirely boring as I may have previously thought.
The novel of course, is driven by character, and the characters of both Elizabeth Bennett, Mr Darcy and Mrs Bennett provide a rather interesting mix. Eliza is what drives the story. She is the focus, the most interesting, and arguably the most relatable character in the novel.

Blunt, intelligent, witty and lively, Eliza goes against the subdued gentle nature that is generally attributed to young girls of her time. This in itself, prevents the story from becoming dull and (overly) predictable, as she acts upon her thoughts and feelings in a more direct way than say, her sisters would. Likewise, her interactions with Mr Darcy, especially in the later chapters of the book show spunk, wit and a playful banter otherwise unseen in the novel. This break of period convention helps to open the classical novel to new readers through the ages as Eliza takes on a more time transient role, no longer entirely fixed within the confines of her time period. She is a timeless character, and that it was what makes the novel work.

Because otherwise, it's not exactly thrilling.

Something about it, though, remains beloved to readers through the generations. Young girls swoon for Mr Darcy - and not just because he is usually a good-look brit in modern-day movie adaptations. There is something about him girls adore. I am intruiged as to what exactly this is. I quite enjoy his character, his refined, shrewd and blunt nature, and yet - for him to have become a symbol of 'the perfect man' ? that doesn't entirely make sense, does it? Perhaps it is the fact that his love for her seems inexplicable to him, that he cannot understand what it is that turned his opinion of her, or why, but rather that the pair seemed drawn to each other - destined in a way. Maybe that's it. Maybe it is the fact that ELiza IS different, that she isn't the beauty that her older sister is, perhaps it is that she holds her own and does not give in the Darcy's advances at first. That she changed him, in some way, or that she refused to let him change her.

I truly am unsure of just what it is that marks the relationship of Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett as so ideal, but there it is. A standing -non mushy - non romanticized - love that has lasted through the years.

My advise? Give the book a read for yourself and see if you can figure it out.

Everything Remains Dark

Browse Tumblr for more than 30 seconds, and I'll beat you'll come across some reference to Jonathan Safran Foer - most likely, a non-creative posting of cover photos of Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close scrawled in bright vibrant letters. See cover here And, I must admit, the poppy type-art simplicity, was a good seller for me. While both novels continue to circle the Literary cult cultures with quotes and trendy 'likes' I'd be lying if I said I actually knew much of anything about this novel aside from the time I was ready to watch anything Elijah Wood was in and came across his smiling sunflower-glassed visage at Blockbuster. I never did watch the movie though, so it was blindly that I dove into the pages of Everything Is Illuminated this September with no frame of reference for plot, style or literary context.
Long story short - I had no idea what the book was really about, except that Lit-hips loved it.

Taking place in the Ukraine - which might explain the bright blue and yellow, at any rate, the novel follows two or three timelines that weave their way (occasionally connecting) through the rural Ukrainian villages. The first, most 'present-day' story is that of Sasha, a small town Ukrainian young man longing for America, and a life bigger than that which he leads. Manufacturing tales and encounters that boost his image, he rattles off depictions of his daily grand life with poignant humour and charmingly broken english. Capturing that fluent but not North American style of speaking and writing, Safran immediately gains the readers trust through the voice of Sasha, and establishes a relationship where the reader is firmly on his side, and rooting for his success and happiness.

Shortly into this we meet Jonathan Safran Foer the character - an American travelling through the Ukraine in search of one woman from an old photograph, and a connection to his past: the one who saved his father's life during the second world war.

And that's about where my comprehensive overview ends.

Weaving in and out of this present day story - which itself is told partly in the moment, and in part through recounting letters from Sasha to Jonathan after the fact - are tales of the past. The relatives Jonathan is seeking to gain knowledge of have their own chance to tell a story - a stumbling and halting history of their village, and the individuals and encounters which occurred there.

Though in theory the reader is able to keep histories separate, the manner in which each is introduced and revealed leaves much to the imagination, and tends toward simple confusion. I often found myself trying to decipher who was who and related in what way, what time period/frame of the novel I was in, and just what the heck was actually going on.

Because of this, the novel quickly became muddled, confusing, and frustrating. Though there were certainly moments where the reader could sympathize with the characters of the novel, the disconnect of the stories and the narrative style prevented continuity or emotional attachment at the level which the story needed. Without it, the weight of character's emotional baggage, war trauma, and inner turmoils fall flat, missing the reader all together on their downward spiral into muddled reality and confused plot lines.

Rather as though bits an pieces of the novel were left out, revelations and conversations would occur in the novel without explanation or backstory to provide either context or relevancy. As such, I often found myself frustrated with entire sections of the novel, unable to connect to one character or another, or piece together the significance of one story in relation to another.

While I could grasp at the thought that the miss-mash of stories is a commentary or depiction of the way in which history circles, or memories blur in the minds of both individuals and nations - pulling this all together in the collective frame of reference of Jewish life in the Second World War - I'd have to say that's the type of stretch more commonly found in the pages of a second year English Major's dashed together analytic essay. It's time to face the music. Parts of the novel held merit, but as a collective book, it fell short.

I'm not saying each and every aspect needs to be explained in full detail, or that backstories need be outlined for every anecdote, but when the reader is left with an overwhelming feeling of 'so what' or, 'how does this relate to anything again?' you know that something's missing. Finishing the novel with an overwhelming sense of frustration, I have to admit I was disappointed. Sure, Safran illuminates some honest, blunt truths here and there, but generally speaking, I found the very title of the novel a wild irony (the one thing I can say just may have been deliberate) and the resounding conclusion lingering darkness.
And I'm not really sure what to do in the dark.

Rant

Chuck Palahniuk, where DO you come up with these things?
Rant, the 'oral history' of one Buster (Rant) Casey, is a tale which is ever intriguing, wildly insane, and just once you think you've got the crazy concept, jumps up several notches into the exceedingly imaginative.
Now I realize that description does little to inform of the actual plot, synopsis or narrative modes of the novel, but that's just it with Palahniuk - he's genius in his very concepts.

The novel is written in the halting, broken style of accounts, or oral histories, whereby sections of interview or conversation are transcribed with little evidence of chronology, relevance of speaker, or merit. Aside from the brief description of each character in the form of tagline ex: (Party Crasher) , (Childhood Enemy), (Mother) etc, the story is in many ways about deciphering the credibility and biases of each speaker as much as it is unravelling the story of Rant himself.

From the get-go, it is clear that this is not your average tale. Rant is a teen with ambition, cunning and a plan. Outwitting his small town in under the table old-fashioned coin deals - the Tooth Fairy scheme - he inflates the entire economy of his tiny town by way of paying children in gold coins for lost teeth, thereby drawing attention away from his own pile of gold which would otherwise be deemed suspicious.
The parents lie, the children lie, and everyone gains.

This is the mindset of Rant Casey - reckless, rash and pleasure seeking. From the moment the reader hears of him stuffing his arm down holes and dens in the middle of the dessert just to see what might be inside, the image of Rant is solidified. He is insane, but wondrously and geniusly so.

As the story unfolds we read of thinks like PartyCrashing, and Night timers and Day timers concepts and phrases known not the the reader, and never fully explained. It is with a level of authenticity and completeness that Palahniuk leaves it up to the reader to piece together over time what exactly the world in which Casey lives is like, and what it means to be a 'night timer'. Accounts of Rabies epidemics and coin trades add to the mystery of who Casey is, and what really was all the interest in his life - was he a serial killer? Patient X, just a regular reckless teenage boy?

Palahniuk's style and poignant voice make his novels - and this is no exception - a mind bending experience. If you've ever seen or read Fight Club and thought, yes, that seemed exceptionally likely, maybe you're the one person who would not be impressed, but for the rest of us I'd have to say his creativity and careful unfolding of information and character development masterfully evoke not only intrigue, but suspicion and avid following. I was hooked. Rather confused, at times, but hooked. And once I hit the end - well - I was ready to call it down right genius.

It's an insane story, and certainly not meant for everyone - it's a pretty specific appeal as far as the style of writing and content go, but if you're willing, it's well worth the mind bend.

-Q

Pigeon English

Stephen Kelman's debut novel Pigeon English is a raw and real look into inner-city London's dark daily life. Narrated by the profound Harrison Opoku - an eleven year old boy recently emigrated from Ghana, Pigeon English reveals the depth of violence and twisted justice which so quickly becomes apparent in the London youth. 

Following the death of a fellow youth and student - a bloody and seemingly meaningless stabbing - Harrison and his friend Derek take on a vague sense of duty an begin investigative reports on the scene. In their simplified childish way, they set up watch, interrogate suspects and look for clues and evidence. 

Though the novel holds aspects of crime scene investigation, it is in no means a Murder Mystery by genre. Instead, through these investigations, Kelman reveals the beauty of a young boys mind, and the simple honesty with which he lives his life. Both gentle and loving in his displays of caring for the pigeon which lands on his balcony one day, Harrison is an expressly loveable character whose affection and protective nature for his little sister Agnes (residing in Ghana with their father) is both inspiring and heart warming. 
"I pretended like all the oranges rolling everywhere were her happy memories and they were looking for a new person to stick to so they didn't get wasted.”

 In contrast,  the youth's desire for destruction, brutality and violence, and Harri's own fascination with the local gang, reveal the intensity of youth and the ease with which they as a society can slip into such immense horror and destruction: "Killa got a screwdriver out of his pant. I saw it with my own two eyes... I could even see the killing thoughts in the air, they were sticking to us like crazy moths after thunder. They wanted to kill us, you could tell." Through these dichotomous emotions Kelman weaves the intricate tapestry of emotions which drive youth culture. 

The voice through which the story is told - most predominantly that of Harri, is honest and real, and often times simple - childish excitability certainly comes though - but with a profound depth and beauty which transcends all age and circumstance. 
His analysis of people, is so childishly simple that it reveals truth so often missed by adult mindsets. In his observation of Mr Frimpong, Harrison reveals the pureness of his heart: 

“Mr. Frimpong is the oldest person from church. That's when I knew why he sings louder than anybody else: it's because he's been waiting the longest for God to answer. He thinks God has forgotten him. I only knew it then. Then I loved him but it was too late to go back.” 

This passage also reveals a reoccurring theme within the novel and specifically within Harrison of a fascination with death. The memory and 'spirit' of "The Dead Boy" permeates and presides over the story, weaving its way in and out of day to day chores, guilty looks, and moments of personal triumph. Harrison is fixated on his memory - a boy he wasn't particularly close with - and continually dedicates his moments of happiness to the boy's memory or spirit. 

In the same way, gang members and bully figures are forever fixed on death and revenge, carving death threats in apartment doors and chanting for blood during street fights. There is an animalistic quality alive in each youth and each person which Kelman carefully explores within the confines of brutal gang culture, forcing it to collide with innocent hearts and pure minds in a violent clash of interaction and emotion.

A turbulent and reflective novel, Pigeon English uses the simplicity of style and heart to pierce the heart of the reader even as it drags them into a world of shockingly hardened young criminals perpetuating the dark inner-city life of London. 
Funny, sickening and triumphant, Stephen Kelman's debut is a fine example of voice and heart in a plot-driven, increasingly sic-fi literary world.  

Starter For Ten

"All young people worry about things, it's a natural and inevitable part of growing up, and at the age of sixteen my greatest anxiety in life was that I'd never again achieve anything as good, or pure, or noble, or true, as my O-level results."

A poignant and raw look into the inner workings of the eighteen year old Brian Jackson, upon his entry into University, Starter For Ten by David Nicholls is not so much a straight forward coming of age as it is an uncovering of what University life really is about - what knowledge means, and the lessons school cannot teach you. Inherantly smart and hard working, Brian is a rather typical book-smart student lacking the comfort and ease of social structure and easy friendships. But behind the simple structure of his character is the burning desire to bring pride to his mother and deceased father, and clinging to knowledge - specifically University Challenge which he connects inadvertently to memory of his dad, and  longing for love and acceptance from the University sweetheart "beautiful and knows it" Alice.


Brian has big dreams for University - and high expectations. Ever focused on school work above all else, it is his sole belief that hard work and dedication will bring him the future he desires. This humorous and ironic passage depicts not only Brian's hopes for the future, but more poignantly, his sheer lack of understanding of how the world really does work.

“I want to be able to listen to recording of piano sonatas and know who's playing. I want to go to classical concerts and know when you're meant to clap. I want to be able to 'get' modern jazz without it all sounding like this terrible mistake, and I want to know who the Velvet Underground are exactly. I want to be fully engaged in the World of Ideas, I want to understand complex economics, and what people see in Bob Dylan. I want to possess radical but humane and well-informed political ideals, and I want to hold passionate but reasoned debates round wooden kitchen tables, saying things like 'define your terms!' and 'your premise is patently specious!' and then suddenly to discover that the sun's come up and we've been talking all night. I want to use words like 'eponymous' and 'solipsistic' and 'utilitarian' with confidence. I want to learn to appreciate fine wines, and exotic liquers, and fine single malts, and learn how to drink them without turning into a complete div, and to eat strange and exotic foods, plovers' eggs and lobster thermidor, things that sound barely edible, or that I can't pronounce...Most of all I want to read books; books thick as brick, leather-bound books with incredibly thin paper and those purple ribbons to mark where you left off; cheap, dusty, second-hand books of collected verse, incredibly expensive, imported books of incomprehensible essays from foregin universities.

At some point I'd like to have an original idea...And all of these are the things that a university education's going to give me.”

Set from 1985-86, the novel is a commentary on social class and societal structure, often addressing Brian's understandings of money and privilege (shown in both the character of the seemingly perfect Alice and various boarding-school types) in contrast to his own working-class single parent upbringing (his father having died when Brian was 12). No where is anti-classism more evident, though than in the brash, passionate character of Rebecca who through a chance meeting at a party becomes in an awkward, Brian way, one of Brian's closest (and indeed one of few real) friends. Relying heavily on Brian's self deprecating wit and humour, manifested primarily in his narrative (first person) voice, and Rebecca's hard edged honesty and banter, Nicholls adds a light and admittedly very funny tone to the would-be heavy novel. There is an obliviousness, and an extremely narrow sighted optimism in Brian which drives not only his actions but the manner in which he sees - and therefore narrates - the world around him.


Despite a keen interest in his studies and efforts otherwise, Brian very quickly finds himself an outsider, marking this down to class difference and upbringing more than anything else. Reflecting on his own lack of personal connections, he contrasts his way of life with that of Alice's, as she states she enjoys her independence, realizing in doing so, just how alone he has become:


"Independence is the luxury of all those people who are too confident, and busy, and popular, and attractive to be just plain old lonely. And make no mistake, lonely is absolutely the worst thing to be. Tell someone that you've got a drink problem, or an eating disorder, or your dad died when you were a kid even, and you can almost see their eyes light up with the sheer fascinating drama and pathos of it all, because you've got an issue, something for them to get involved in, to talk about and analyse and discuss and maybe even cure. But tell someone you’re lonely and of course they’ll seem sympathetic, but look very carefully and you'll see one hand snaking behind their back, groping for the door handle, ready to make a run for it, as if loneliness itself were contagious. Because being lonely is just so banal, so shaming, so plain and dull and ugly."


Brian has lived the majority of his life with people grasping for the door handle, but for so long has not been able to see it. As his paper-perfect University career begins to spin around him, odd friendships, failed relations, let downs and confrontations lead Brian to discover that though he might be full of knowledge worthy of quiz shows, he is, inevitably, ignorant to the world in a manner far beyond his comprehension, and, indeed, doesn't even know who he is. 


“I contemplate the idea that maybe I'm an alcoholic. I get this occassionally, the need to define myself as something-or-the-other, and at various times in my life have wondered if I'm a Goth, a homosexul, a Jew, a Catholic or a manic depressive, whether I am adopted, or have a hole in my heart, or possess the ability to move objects with the power of my mind, and have always, most regretfully, come to the conclusion that I'm none of the above. The fact is I'm actually not ANYTHING.”


A realist often sarcastic and extremely humorous novel, Starter for Ten outlines not only the base lines of lasting grief and inherent loneliness, but the meanings of friendship, the awkwardness of young adult relations, and ultimately, the true value of knowledge (and whether or not knowledge is really the same thing as intelligence). 

Watership

Just completed my annual reading of Watership Down by Richard Adams.
Regardless of its position in the children aged 9-12 section of Chapters, it is a brilliant book I can't help but love. For me, it is an ageless tale that translates far beyond a 9 year old audience to reach young and old readers alike. Though I did first read Watership at age 11, I'm not 100% sure all of the deeper themes would translate to your average 9 year old from the outset)

A tale of loyalty, and friendship that overcomes all obstacles, the underlying themes of the novel are universal ones, despite all characters being rabbits (with the exception of one bird). A relatable story of suffering and triumph, where goodness wins out (but not without sacrifice) and wits and cleverness are praised, I can't help but love it time and time again and find it an ageless gem for all readers - definitely enjoyable and with some great lessons too. What more could you ask for?

The Book Thief

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak appeared mysteriously on my bookshelf one day. I believe it's been sitting there for a while, sorted into the pile of 'novels that do not belong to me' (which primarily hosts books borrowed from my big sister). This, however, appeared on its own.

Rather fitting really, now having read the tale of book thievery, that it should have ended up in my procession as a gift I recently took it down off the shelf to read. I read The Book Thief without knowing anything at all about it. I enjoy reading books that way, it adds to the story without predetermined context or assumptions about the content, and the Book Thief was for me, then, a complete surprise.

A powerful, sorrowful tale of death, destruction, and inevitable dismay, the Book Thief is a curious tale of a unique young girl, and an even more intriguing speaker. Though the narrator is never literally named, it becomes quickly apparent to the reader that the speaker is indeed, the voice of Death - a personification that is both supernatural, but of seemingly human-like form, "You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue." Death is both expressly inhuman, and yet very much a part of who we are, in it's own perspective, becoming both beyond ourselves, beyond human, and inherently sympathetic as it feels and comprehends hope, sadness, defeat, and most often, fatigue. 

Set in Germany in the second World War, Death is not only a fitting, but a challenging narrator which provides not only insight into the depth of destruction obviously apparent at the time, but a level of individuality as the voice touches on single stories within the ever present context of death. 

Though it could technically be categorize as War literature, or even historical fiction, the Book Thief was unlike any other wartime or holocaust themed novel I had previously read, the focus of the novel so very much on the girl, Leisel, rather than the war itself. Of course, the thoughts and consequences of war were ever present throughout the novel, but they arose as just that - consequences - which moved and shaped the daily activities and lives of the characters within. Leisel felt the sting of war every day, and the reign of Nazi Germany, the omnipresent ruling, was a foreboding darkness over the city and nation. It was through her story that the pain of the war years is made real to the reader, not as a statistic, or a horror story of holocaust victim, but rather through the tale of a loss of innocence and privilege, a loss of comfort and home, and eventually, the simple loss of life. Because Leisel's tale is such a simple one, such a basic one, in essence, it allows the reader to connect and latch their emotions to that of the young girl all the more strongly as she stumbles her way through life and onto Himmel St. 

Death, itself, takes care of the bigger picture. Through simple tales of mass murders and bombings, concentration camps and executions, told from the other side, Death is able to turn the stories from unfathomably horrific, to poignantly tragic - a subtle change which allows readers who have in all likelihood been bombarded with History texts books in school years, to view the deadly acts of world War Two in a new, more personal light. A calm, but sorrowful one. Death does not talk of the bloodlust in the killer's eyes, or the long nights of suffering, but of gently scooping up the souls of the dying humans, whether one by one and slowly, as the victims starve in their beds, mercifully and lightly, as escaping Jews fall to their death over rocky cliffs - dying mid fall, or  of collecting them all at once and in large batches, sifting the souls out of the deadly smoke that rose out of the killing showers of concentration camps. All horrific, all deaths, but all told from a caring, but calm voice who lifts them each out of their bodies, and carries them skyward.  

Using the voice of death provides a unique perspective not only on dying, but on loss and being left behind: "I witness the ones that are left behind, crumbled among the jigsaw puzzles of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs". For death, the dying brings relief, whether the dead realize it immediately or not, and it is those left that become the victims, broken by the incomprehension of separation.

The novel, then, centres around not only the inevitable sense of loss and destruction, but on friendship, and the bonds of those fated to live through such times. Introducing the childhood best friend connection with Rudy, Leisel is able to experience, in many ways, a normal relation with her neighbour and soon best friend. It is this bond, the ever growing friendship that exists both despite and because of the environment within which the characters live, that allows the reader a sense of hope and a connection to the story, as the reader invests in the child antics and relations. The friendship, like all those in the novel, is complicated by circumstance, and though street soccer games and playground fights are central, bonds are formed through the stealing of apples - a necessity for the near-starving children, rather than a game of fun - and bonds of mutual longing, as both children experience what it is to have their father figures sent to war. 

Likewise, Leisel's relationship with her Papa and Mama both mirrors that of a child with their parent, but is given further depth by the sheer fact that neither are Leisel's biological parent. Learning to form a connection of extreme love and devotion, the three characters quickly become a bonded family, their love extending past factual family and becoming one knit together by love, loss and circumstance, just as Max is integrated into their hearts in much the same way. 

Providing a window into the life of a Jew in Nazi Germany, Max becomes not only a friend but a liability. A constant balance between a fugitive and a brother, the threads of Max's friendship with Leisel are woven through not only a sense of family and justice, but over an attendance to Hitler Youth, around the loss of her own brother, and through the not only impractical but the forbidden nature of such a bond. It is not only love that holds these characters together, but the reoccurring theme throughout the novel of Words. 

Words, as any reader will know, are an extremely powerful tool. Both a weapon and a form of reconciliation, or comfort, words can connect and severe ties, and infiltrate minds. Words are the birthplace of so many actions, and so much of the movements of Nazi Germany. And Leisel herself writes after reflecting upon both her habit of book stealing and of writing, "I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right."

The Book Thief itself uses words in much the same way, highlighting and pushing them, contorting them to depict both the good and the bad, as well as highlighting the consequences of words, both said and unsaid, and their effect on those on which who's ears they fall. From simple spelling lessons, to a book which Death itself carries in its pocket, literature and language (spoken and written) is shown for what it truly is - a power and weapon beyond understanding which can shape the minds of followers, and a hope on which to cling to, when all else falls. 

It is with a unique voice and brilliantly executed perspective - that of the character and narrator of Death - that Zuszak sheds light on the dark times of Germany in war, and reawakens an emotional connection between reader and characters, refreshing what has become numb and desensitized in a violence-based society. 

491.

A little bit of shameless self promotion, which I tend to be quite bad at, really.
I've been 'published'
digitally.

To view my short story posted on CommuterLit , go to:
http://commuterlit.com/2012/04/tuesday-491/
I'd love to read your comments, or thoughts!



And aside from my story, there is a lovely collection of one-a-day stories to be read for the commuter or casual reader. Sign up for the newsletter to receive the weekly story list.
Happy reading!

Room

We meet Jack, the narrator and hero of Room by Emma Donoghue on his fifth birthday and proceed to share the next few weeks with him experiencing every corner of his life and world, Room, the 11 by 11 foot, windowless room he has called home for the entirety of his young life. Living just with his mother for company, Jack and 'Ma' learn to live within the confines of their sheltered 'home' relying on and loving each other as their very means of survival. Never having left Room, Jack and his mother exist only within the tiny space, warping Jack's very perception of the world and life itself. For him, everything in Room is real, and everything on TV is purely that - TV. There is no world, there is no Outside. There is only Room and it's occupants.

Donoghue masterfully crafts an interesting and engaging tale within the tiny space of Room, using what little possessions, interactions and events the two characters encounter within the context of confinement to weave a tale of innocence, ignorance, and innovation. Trapped within the four walls, Jack and Ma show perseverance against all odds. The bond between mother and child is explored and reinforced as the two have nothing but each other for company and support through the ins and outs of their days and nights. Those monotonous days. And yet, it is a tribute to Jack's Mother that she continues to make the most of her situation, educating her five year old son beyond his years despite the lack of schooling, exercising and implementing routine to ensure that regardless of confinement, their lives had order, purpose, and a sense of stability. The down side to this routine, though, is the fact that the reader becomes very familiar with the daily life of the characters rather quickly, and a sense of tedium or monotony may threaten to enter the story.  But just when the reader was feeling the events too repetative, Donoghue expands the imaginations and events of the two characters through vivid dreams and aspiritions for the future, providing a turn of events in the story which re-awaken's reader's investment in the young character's lives, disposing of the 'familiar-to-the-point-of-dull nature that can creep in to confined tales.

The true strength of this novel is it's voice and style. Being narrated by the five year old Jack, the narrative voice has both a simplicity, and a beautiful honesty that can only really be seen through the eyes of a child. The unique look into the activities of his life highlight not only the bliss he holds in his ignorance, and the crafty fashion in which the author makes issues known to the reader that are beyond Jack's understanding, but the balance is perfectly written, and allows for a beautiful relation between character and reader as he moves through his days, painting, albeit vaguely and in pieces, the larger picture of his life within Room. Likewise, it is Jack's pure joy and inability to grasp what he is missing that is both tragic and hopeful for the reader as we witness the melee of emotions of both characters through the turmoil of modern imprisonment. Difficult though it can be to capture the nature of a the world through a child's eyes, Donoghue grasps the very syntax that is evident in a young boys mind, cause the thoughts of the child narrator not only to ring true to any age of reader, but to grab hold of their emotions and fill the gaps which may be lacking (in a grammatical or verbal sense) from Jack's vocabulary. The result is a wonderful concoction of words and rhythm that permeated my own way of thinking and speaking for days after reading.

As the novel progresses and comes to its conclusion, issues of social justice, public danger and modern slavery are addressed through the platform of human frailty and emotion, woven within the complex styling of Donoghue's narrative voice. All in all, it is an interesting tale of a simple life in dire and complicated circumstances,which hones in on how the love between a mother and child can prove to be a bond both more powerful and more vulnerable than any other.

The Hunger Games Trilogy

Now, there's been a lot of hype and talk and fandomonium about the Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins consisting of The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay, so naturally, I thought I'd investigate. And when some well respected friends added merit to the general public's love of these novels I thought them worth a shot - especially with the movie coming out in March, I knew I had to read before I saw too much. I must admit, though, I was a bit nervous seeing as Twilight etc. got even more fame and those were certainly not top novels. The YA genre is full of mush, yet some stars remain.
In Hunger Games, I was not dissapointed. (Or at least not entirely).
It is essentailly pointless and impossible for me to critique each of these novels seperately as they not only contain the same characters/world in the continuity of a Trilogy, but they essentially read as one large novel more so than 3 stand alone novels. While it is possible (although somewhat unsatisfying) to read just the first, the second and third novels would be nothing without the original, and so they stand a firm trilogy.

First of all, on a high note, the characters are wonderfully unique, complex and real. Showing both immense bravery and immense fear, love and hate and everything in between, the characters grab you immediately and pull on your heart strings from the very start. For me, this is of the utmost importance - if I am not invested in the characters, then who really cares?

The main character, a sixteen year old girl named Katniss, is every young reader's dream. With the possibility of being vague and flippant, and wash of a character (see the non-descript bore Bella Swan), Suzanne Collins avoids the generic and dives head first into a strong, distinct pointed character. And this, is the beauty of it, really. You might not love Katniss - you might not be all that much like her: as brave, or as hard, as indecisive or as piercing and yet, it doesn't matter. (or at least, didn't bother me, though fangirls of the male characters everywhere will doubtless scream she is an unloving, insensitive fool). I think, though that vagueness of character is a major flaw that writers fall into, especially those that write teen or YA literature, to pick a character - a main character - which is universal with the assumption that the more relatable the character is, the more invested the readers will become. It's really just the opposite, I find. Sure, vague characters WORK because we place ourselves in the role and feel part of our own character going through the plots and turns, but in the end, who did we just read about? Does the character stick with us? Could they be real, do we really care?
No.
This is where Collins diverges from the norm. Katniss Everdeen is most certainly NOT your average 16 year old girl. With a strong sense of justice and a streak of rebellion she runs her household in place of an absent father and vacant mother. Hunting, trading, bartering and protecting, she is the provider for her family leading them day in and day out through the impoverished life of District 12.

Throw into that Katniss's first big act - a selfless volunteering to replace her 12 year old sister in 'The Hunger Games' a fight-to-the-death televised event where 24 children (ranging in age from 12-18) enter a stadium, fight, survive, outwit, until only one remains, and Collins has immediately stepped up her game.
The shining beacon of Collin's work is her ability to form meaningful, quick relations between the characters and the reader at just the right level so that when they die (as inevitably most of them will), the reader feels a real sense of loss at their death without feeling completely gutted, or like part of the story has died with them. This is a major feat given the genre, as often authors cannot find the balance and when a character we are invested in dies, we lose a large part of why we were connected to the story in the first place, and begin to seperate ourselves from the story.

It's 'The Lottery' meets 'Gladiator', a mashup of crepy opression and violence. Though the death match idea is not an original idea, by any means, and The Hunger Games has often been compared to such stories as 'Battle Royale', it is not althogether fair to write Collins' work off purely as a rip-off or a replica of novels previous. This story holds its own, at least in part.
For me, the first novel was something worth fighting against the 'Battle Royale' critiques, etc. Strong, powerful and heartwrenching, Hunger Games is a well crafted tale of triumph, failure, friendship and perserverance amidst the great horror of forced violence, murder and death. Collins did well to adress these issues in a way that was both poigant and accessable (especially to the younger audience). It wasn't until the later novels that the story began to change adopting an aire of rebellion (far stronger than that found previously), a bigger cause, and a greater sense of struggle against the opressor. The story no longer becomes just about Katniss, or the Games, but the very structures in which these characters live. Enter, Dystopian novel archetypes.

Stephen King who has large amounts of praise for the series, added this in his review: "displays of authorial laziness that kids will accept more readily than adults." The general idea was that while the novels have great merit, there are flaws which the 15 year old female reader will be less inclined to critique (give or take a few). I must say upon reading this comment, I feel much the same way. While the first novel was polished and precise, the later two had some tendencies that wavered away from the main story including a few dashed-together scenes that in theory were good, but lacked the slow detail that would have made them shine like the rest. "authorial laziness" makes perfect sense to me when describing such tendencies - they are neither wholey bad nor entirely poorly written, just, lacking in depth and detail, especially when  contrasted to the rest of the novel. Especially the ending, which (of course) I won't give away, held a much more prominant sense of this laziness in my mind where events seem to build and build towards the great acts, only to be thrown together and wrapped up in almost a rush - a real shame, seeing as the feel and flow of the novels previous was such a strong point. Collins gets lazy, and thus seems to pull out of that which makes the novel truly a good one.

Plot points and focus become some-what muddled as the story continues through books two, and especially three, with big overarching themes that both rocked the events of the novel, but also turned many things readers held dear from the first book on their heads. Though in theory this is not a no-no, more time and care should have been given to such plot points so as the add a level of beleivability to the events despite the other worldly nature of the novel. When characters, events or situatuions are flipped so drastically, readers can feel a sense of betrayal, disconnect or disturbia that will pull them out of the novels. Though I wouldn't say Collins goes so far as to betray the readers, I did find the occasional turn jarring, and felt that more time and care could be taken to lead the reader into the changes and therefore make them more realistic and maintain continuity.

At times I found myself wondering what the real focus or drive of the later novels were - what the characters were leading up to, what was actually being done, and coming up with simply ideas like 'fighting against opression' or 'rebelling for the cause'. Fine... but, just because the target audience is young, doesn't mean they don't understand details of war and refugee living. Or at least, could LEARN to know them given the writer's intention to expand their knowledge. Collins doesn't hide to gore or the sorrow or the realities of starvation in Hunger Games, why are finer points so readily left out of Catching Fire and Mockingjay? Characters die off, triumphs are made or lost, and they become blips in plot, not moments of feeling and expansion. This is the real downfall. In order for the reader to connect, they need to be pulled into these moments, and often times I felt less of the story, and more of the point-by-point plot summary. Collins, though talented, lacks this continued reader-character connection, at times, that leaves the novels at a good, level but prevents them from being amazing.
There is so much I can say about these novels, and so much i have already said, but ultimately, I very much enjoyed reading them and felt they were an excellent option (if occasionally graphic) for younger readers. (much more preferable than some teen & YA lit out there today). With real feeling, and real issues, Collins begins to open the minds of young readers and older ones alike, but stops short of greatness as plots get bigger and slightly out of her grasp, losing focus on the character connection that so drove her story at the start. A return to this, and a more polished conclusion after 3 novels, would only serve to elivate what is widely considered a successful and enjoyable series. I am anxiously awaiting the release of the first movie, and hope it does the author justice rather than stripping it of all it's literary goodness.
If you haven't read these, do it. despite my critiques, I don't think you'll regret it.

The House on Mango Street

A snapping, poingent look into one girls suffocating life and bumpy coming of age, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisnero is another example of her raw talent and unrelenting eye. An eighty-odd page 'novella' consisting of chapters ranging mostly within the length of 1-4 pages, Mango Street is less of a novel and more of a series of snippets and poems hitched together by the underlying current of supression, poverty and endurance.

Seen through the eyes of the young Latina girl Esperenza, the reader catches glimpses not only of Esperenza's life - desperate to escape the impoverished neighbourhood she seems forever confined to - but the lives of those around her, costantly observing. While the majority of the text focuses on Esperenza's day to day activities, the reader is also exposed to other ways of life on Mango Street alluded to by Esperenza's childish observations: the neighbour who's wife seems to look diffferent to everyone each time they see her; Lucy and Rachel the texan girls with whom Esperenza and her little sister Neeny form a close friendship; Sally who is embrassing womanhood at a speed far beyond Esperenza, despite their closeness in age. The other characters paint a picture of life on Mango street, and for esperenza, what seem to be some of the few options she might have to follow. However, despite hercircumstances, she is determined to bnreak free one way or another, and her first outlet becomes writing.

Esperenza often writes little poems or vignettes as a way to escape her surroundings and project a sense of future. Though it is never directly stated, by the end of the Novella we are led to believe that her ability to escape Mango, and yet always have a need to return, encompasses this act - though she may not remain physically in Mango Street, her heart will ever return there, as she writes the stories of those she new, helping them, too to escape.

One Day

When was the last time you read a book that was so good, so filling, so all consuming that you just couldn't put it down. You spent hours on end turning page after page, completely happy to spend the day wrapped up in whatever it was you were reading. For me, that book was One Day by David Nicholls. A painfully realistic, witty and sentimental novel, the characters and their lives grabbed hold of me from the very first line, and had me until the end.

The Novel, which has now become a Motion Picture (which I am both intrigued and terrified to watch, incidentally), revolves around the concept of one seemingly ordinary day - July 15th, to be exact, and visits the lives of the two main characters - Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley - on that day from 1988 and every year onward. Whether the characters are together or apart on that day, the narrative ties them together throughout the novel as the two discover what it means to grow up and remain (or fail to stay) [best] friends.

The style and voice of his writing is at once sentimental and powerfully moving (I must admit it brought me to tears on a few occasions), and wonderfully hilarious and witty – I even laughed out loud, something I RARELY do while reading. The humour: snappy, occasionally dark, and always understated was not only brilliant in its own right, but served to balance beautifully against the darker or dramatic aspects of the novel, making it a well rounded complete story.

The very style of the narrative – highlighting merely one day in a year of a life, allows for Nicholls not only to move quickly through time, but also to pull together a larger picture of actions and consequences. While we never see the ‘day after’ effect, we instead see the characters the following year, and can connect the dots as to which events we saw previously were trivial in the grand scheme of things, and which became pivotal life moments. Nicholls brilliantly handless the difficult task of keeping the reader connected and up to date with the lives of the characters without revealing too much or plunging into the boring tedium of daily life. By carefully constructing events and encounters around July 15^th he keeps the story both interesting and progressing, while firmly rooting himself in the rolls of an average and – exceptionally realistic – life.

The novel has an authentic, genuine quality to it which I personally found added immensely to the character of the novel as a whole, and thus my connection and emotional ties to the story. Set in Scotland and England primarily, with a heavy focus on Edinburgh and London, I couldn't help but love it just that little bit more, having recently visited both countries, and cities. The details in the novel such as street names, slang terms and landmarks were such that they familiarized the story to any reader with a good knowledge of the cities, but did not detract from any readers which may not. It made a nice change to read the story from view of a friend relaying a life compared to what can be described as 'informative narrative' [not sure if that's a real term or I've just made it up] which not-so-subtly explains culturally specific references to readers. 

Similarly, and more importantly, Nicholls paints his characters in sharp relief creating similarly real, relatable characters. They are, each in turn, both loveable and detestable as any human being would be. Dexter, who we might assume is a stereotype of the suave always-trying-to-be-cool guy: "He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph" is soon revealed to be so much more than just an image, with all his triumphs and failings, rounding him into a complex believable character I couldn't help but imagine as real. Emma, on the other hand, is shown first to be the anti-conformist: "The problem with these fiercely individualistic girls was that they were all exactly the same. Another book: The man who mistook his wife for a hat. Silly bloody fool, he thought, confident that it was not a mistake he would ever make." but is soon revealed with her own set of short comings and secret assets. By the end of the story their lives are told with such complex detail, in such a realistic rollercoaster of events and emotions, that I couldn't help but think for a brief moment that the author could very easily have written his life story, for all the reality it seemed to hold. Of course, neither Emma nor Dexter are modelled after David Nicholls himself, but it is a testament to his talent that it seemed (for a moment) as such.

Though I think a great deal of why I SO connected to the novel was my own personal ability to relate so strongly with the character of Emma, I found this novel both engrossing and emotionally engaging in a way which to me suggested skill beyond circumstance. Regardless of whether I saw myself in Emma, I cared immensely for both (and all) characters within the novel, where their lives would lead, if they might reconcile differences with other characters or live out their dreams. A story, put simply, about life itself, David Nicholls One Day was just that – a beautiful glimpse, once a year, into the everyday (and therefore extremely complex) lives of two common Brits. Even when things didn’t turn out as you wanted them to – a quality in plot I find most admirable in one’s writing, you pour your heart into reading it just the same, and all the more. What more could you possibly ask for?

A Vist From the Goon Squad

An interconnected tale where one character leads into the lives of another, in some small, chance way A Visit From the Goon Squad the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Jennifer Egan is a unique depiciton of multiple self destructive lives as they reflected, regret and hide from themselves. Often people find interconnceted stories a bit forced, or, for whatever reason, just simply unenjoyable, but Goon Squad had a simplicity and realistic quality to it which pulled characters together in a range of ways - from the significant to the unnoticed, in order the weave a full tapestrey of experience, leading some critics to describe it not as a Novel, but rather a Series of Short stories. (For my purposes I'm going to stick with Novel, because a that's how it read to me, and b) it was marketted/formatted as such.

Punchy and gritty, the novel is steeped in Punk and Rock and Roll - from the glamour to the depressing, dictating this in its own distinct style, both raw and refined, allowing the reader the taste of the times without diving fully into the culture of it (in say, Trainspotting style). The tone of the novel, however changes with each tale. Whether it be teen would-be punks with green hair getting wasted and tripping out at the local grunge bar, a struggling musician or the success of the CEO of a new record label, fame fortune and music preside over the story, tying them all together. With a focus on the dismantling of life over time, it follows the hopes and failures of life with a nearly objective clarity.

Because of the style of the novel - several little stories piled up into one, it is likely that the reader will find at least one which they can relate to on a deeper level, and connect their own path to. However, many of the tales are unfinished, or simply alluded to later when the name crops up in someone else's story, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks and try to connect the dots. I appreciated the fact that not all the dots are given to you. though I occasionally found it tricky, reading the name 'Drew' and thinking, where do i know that name from again? it was an interesting challenge to connect that character to the one from a previous story, and piece the aspects of a single persons life back together. I found it very life like, in that way, as discriptions and reminders were not provided (this is Sasha, she's the assistant, remember?) so that our understanding of characters was based purely on memory, and that hazy process of flipping through our personal memory name/face databases. This idea was further by the fact that the novel is not chronological, slippingfrom the late 60's to present day and back, while similarly picking and choosing between characters past, or teen years, and their adult (or even elderly) lives.

Though at first somewhat removed from the characters - perhaps the hard edged style or simply my own experiences didn't resonate with those in the novel as deeply as they might, preventing strong emotional attachment to the novel, there was still a sense of triumph in the little victories of the characters I read, and moments where I shared the empty broken feeling for girls like Jaqi who let her life slip away from them in a childish game of chasing their youth. Some of the most moving moments for me were, suprisingly, within the chapter written entirely in PowerPoint format, flowcharts and little graphs and speech bubbles rather than paragraphs. Not something I expected to enjpy 'reading', I found myself moved by the simple (and often unspoken) truths of the pages, and the underlying connection of pauses in music - a seemingly useles obsession, and yet it said it all: the unspoken parts of a song, the unsaid parts of your life. There was something beautiful in the formatting of these pages which I must admit, probablly wouldn't have carried as well in 'conventional' narrative form.

"Time's a goon, right?"
the novel is a vaguely multi-media approach to the destructive effects of time on the lives of those that most try and flee. Through each story, and each form it allows the reader to connect and observe from varying perspectives, the course of each characters life - those that succeeded or those that (more often) failed, winding up a million miles from where they started, or, more dissapointingly, in exactly the same place they started.