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.