Currently Reading . . .

We are now reading Life of Pi, by Yann Martel, selected by Erin.

Wikipedia describes it as 'a factual adventure novel'.
Fantastic Fiction says: Life of Pi is a tale of disaster at sea. Both a boys' own adventure (for grown-ups) and a meditation on faith and the value of religious metaphor, it was one of the most extraordinary and original novels of 2002.

Hmmm. Get reading folks, because this one looks to be interesting!!

NOTE: Meeting is Wednesday 31 March, owing to Easter.

Midwives

I imagine that for most people reading this book, they already have a stance on home births. From my perspective, I don't like the thought of having a child at home. I think this is mostly due to the fact that for an event as huge as giving birth, I personally would like to know that I have all bases covered for whatever might happen, and having a child at home just wouldn't provide me with that reassurance. So with this in mind, you would think that I read the book with a certain bias that would influence my feelings towards the main character, the midwife Sibyl. However, I am also one for weighing up the evidence before making decisions, and so I can imagine that if I was a member of the jury during the trial, I would also have ruled in her favour.

This book is a well written account of what happens in what is in effect a no-win situation. You have the scenario that if you don't do something two people may die, but make a choice to save one, and you potentially pay the consequences for losing the life of the other. Ask anyone to make a decision under the same circumstances, and I would expect that most people would opt for the choice Sibyl made, which I think was reflected in her trial. However, I can also see that on a different day, in a different courtroom, the verdict could also have gone against her.

With respect to the writing of this novel, Chris Bohjalian has done extremely well to relate the story from many perspectives - not only from that of Sibyl, but also her daughter as well as how one might feel to be a juror in her trial. I certainly could imagine how each party would have felt during the course of the events that took place. However, I found that the back story took up too much space, and that only the last third of the book (along with the home birth scene, of course) contained the crux of the story. But having said that, I greatly appreciate a story that makes me think, and this book certainly did that.

As for whether home births are as safe as those performed in a hospital, I think the jury is still out on that one. A recent documentary on Dutch TV blamed home births and late intervention practices for the high infant fatalities in the Netherlands compared to other Western countries. Since the Dutch healthcare system on the whole leaves a lot to be desired, I am not sure that the correlation is that simple. However, such a discussion may be best left for another time.

Possession: A Romance

We discussed Possession: A Romance by A.S.Byatt last week. Of the six of us present, three had finished the book (including me!), one had nearly finished, one had read a small amount and seen the movie, and our host had seen the movie. (I too had seen the movie.)

It was a very weighty book to try to discuss in our usual time period of around an hour and a half, and as a result we jumped from topic to topic quite erratically as ideas formed and people bubbled over trying to express their opinions. I'm not sure how we would have coped with a larger group!

Somewhat inevitably, we discussed the poetry -- both in terms of how it was used to add atmosphere, texture and information, and whether it was necessary to read it all from end-to-end. I believe we were divided on that point. I personally found that experiencing the poems via the audio presentation was vastly easier and thus more enjoyable than reading them in the conventional manner, and I think the other audio listeners found this as well. And while it was certainly possible to enjoy the novel without reading them, I think they are an integral part of the whole and therefore enhanced the novel considerably. The bitterness of Mummy Possest gives great insight into Ash's feelings, for example. And those short, sad poems by Christabel left with Sabine's journal are also very revealing. (It was pointed out that most of the novel's complexity is derived from the poems, journals and letters. Without them you're left with little more than a slightly predictable plot hinged on coincidence!)

We also talked over several of the relationships -- Roland and Maud's is perhaps the central one for which the entire novel was declared an 'enormous foreplay' by one of our group. Certainly they spend an awfully long time getting to the point! In a podcast interview with Byatt she said that the novel had to end with Roland 'possessing' Maud to give the whole thing symmetry. She added that one of the sub-themes of the novel was exploring the effect overt 1980s feminism might have on a woman -- does it inhibit or enable? In Maud's case it was the former. Hence the waiting.

On the subject of the portrayal of academia, we discussed whether Roland's initial act of stealing the draft letters was reprehensible or not. I confess I lean a little to the side of not -- to my mind it's a bit like the proverbial tree in the forest. (i.e. if no-one knows they're there, does it actually matter?) Others thought the opposite! The discovery of the letters and the quest they engendered are for me at the heart of the story, and are what made me love the movie when I first saw it, which led me to select this book to read. Like Roland, like Maud, I wanted to know! I can clearly imagine the excitement they must have felt at such a momentous discovery!

Obviously we talked about all sorts of other things as well. I could go on about this novel for hours . . . about how I shared Roland's bereftness when all the others got in on the act and took the secret away from him and Maud . . . about how the plot relied a little too heavily on coincidence . . . about the fascinating characters of Leonora Stern and Beatrice Nest . . . about the various meanings of 'possession' and how they are explored . . . about the difference between feeling connected through words, as opposed to through artifacts . . .

As usual, my take on the novel is fairly analytical in terms of craft. I stand in awe of Byatt and her ability to create such a complex and convincing world -- she wrote all the Victorian poetry in two distinct voices, plus fairy tales, journal entries, letters etc in more voices again. Moreover, she says she wrote them in-situ, not after the fact, so they are integral building blocks of the story. But it's not just the poems. In fact, they might almost have been easy in comparison with all the other sources she created -- such as excerpts from Cropper's The great ventriloquist. This is replete with academic theory and analysis that sounds convincing enough to an ignoramus like me.

The novel is also rich with subtext and symbolism, and I'm sure I missed most of it. But for instance most of the characters are defined by colour -- Christabel (and Maud) is green because that's evidently the colour of fairies; Ellen Ash is white. I confess the colours were revealed to me in the podcast, so now I'll have to read it again to take more notice! (A very interesting thing Byatt said was that she sees novels in colours -- like an abstract painting -- and she can't write without knowing what colour it is . . .)

The final thing I am going to share is Byatt's inspiration for the novel. She was sitting in the British Museum library watching a Coleridge scholar pacing around the catalogues, and started wondering whether the woman had an original thought, or whether it was all the poet. Does he possess her, or does she possess him?

For those that are interested, here's the link to the podcast.

Here's a link to my (very different) post on Possession on Forge and Brew.

September: The Kite Runner (2)

This is more or less the same as my post on forge&brew.

In the end, I decided not to read The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini for most of the reasons outlined in an earlier (different) post on forge&brew. I didn't like the writing style (I found the author manipulative, which kept pulling me out of the novel). I didn't like the main character. The plot seemed trite and predictable and convenient. I would have liked to keep reading in order to hear more about Afghanistan, but I just couldn't make myself pick up the book or headphones. (For the latter, I blame Jane Eyre in many respects.)

Consequently, I forced myself to watch the movie the night before our meeting last Thursday, so that I might have some idea of the conversation. However, I tried not to say too much, because of my excessively negative reaction to this book. I thought the movie was OK. It did make me cry in a few sections, but it didn't make me wish I had persevered and read the book.

So I'm not going to go on here any more about what I didn't like. Instead I am going to summarise some of things discussed by the group, because I took notes.

One of the things many got out of the book was insight into the world of Afghanistan, past and present. Certainly the author portrayed a seemingly authentic picture of the Kabul he lived in as a child, including lots of detail about the various classes and the sport of kite fighting. We did wonder, however, about the authenticity of Afghanistan under the Taliban, given the author did not return himself until after the book was published. Nevertheless, all agreed it was a fascinating insight into that part of the world.

Inevitably, we talked a lot about Amir as well. Most seemed to agree he wasn't a nice person as a child, but thought it was a product of upbringing and culture. Owing to his difficult relationship with his father, Amir had a lack of role models. But does that justify the terrible way he treated Hassan in this book? And can you be redeemed for that? Someone argued that it was often better not to like the main character in a book, because antiheroes are more interesting. Well, I disagree with that. I need to be able to connect to the main character, not despise them. Flaws are essential, but there are limits.

Some felt the story was more about Amir as a character, and his inability to grow up because of the shadow cast by his father.

Interestingly (and possibly catalysed by my comments) others brought up the question of whether or not Hosseini is a good writer. Most seemed to think not, but in most cases their experience wasn't destroyed as mine was. They responded to his ability to generate emotion in readers -- and certainly he did that.

The relationship between Amir and Hassan as boys is pivotal to the story. Essentially they are friends, but it's a very unequal relationship, with Amir brought up wealthy and privileged, able to read and write, of a class that was respected. Hassan, on the other hand, was from a discriminated race and brought up as a servant. Yet he gives Amir an unswerving loyalty and devotion that I found really hard to take.

During the course of our meeting, the picture book called The Giving Tree was raised. This is a book about a tree that gives every part of itself to a boy over his lifetime as he grows into an old man. In the end, the tree is no more than a stump, yet it still gives of itself to provide a seat for the old man's weary bones. When I read this book, as I stood in a bookshop, I wept and then I hated that such a book was targeted at children. No relationship should ever be that unequal. And when the book was mentioned by chance in our meeting, I instantly felt it exemplified the level of giving Hassan showed Amir. How do some people end up being able to take take take and never give?

To sum up, just about everyone either liked or loved this book -- 6 out of 8 present had read it. The main positives seemed to be the descriptions of Afghanistan, and the depiction of just how shifty some people can be!

September: The Kite Runner (1)

Here are Kate's thoughts:

This is one of my top five books this decade. It explores so many issues in a moving and gripping way. Perhaps it's a bit formulaic and predictable, but it was the first time in a long time that I was sucked into a book and read it quickly. Incidentally, I didn't think its structure was formulaic and I did enjoy the flashback style.

The existential and spiritual issues raised in this book, interwoven with snippets about pre-and post-occupation Afghanistan, made for fascinating reading. I was particularly moved by the themes of guilt and making amends, although I thought that Amir's opportunity to make amends by caring for Hassan's son was a bit convenient. More often is the case that we don't have a chance to make amends with those we have wronged.

There wasn't much about this book that I didn't like. I enjoyed reading about the complex friendship between the two young boys. Amir writes about his child self in an almost loving and sympathetic way, knowing that such a young boy would be very conflicted by the complexity of their relationship. I enjoyed learning about a sport that is clearly a vital part of Afghan culture. I was interested to read that Afghani winter holidays are like the Western world's summer holidays. I liked the descriptions of traditional food. I found hope in reading about a man who had migrated to the US and who could see and silently scorn the oppression of women in his homeland. I sympathised with returning to one's place of upbringing and not finding anything as it had been.

Because I enjoyed the book so much, I have actually chosen not to see the movie. My experience is that I'm usually disappointed by movie adaptations of books, and I prefer to have Hassan and Amir live in my mind the way I imagine them. Although I read this book months ago, I still have very vivid images in my mind, which I like to take out and examine every now and again.
06 September, 2008

Currently reading . . .

Interpreter of Maladies - Hayley's thoughts

I managed to pick up a copy of the book from the library, and immediately from reading the first line of the blurb on the back of the book, I was intrigued.

'Jhumpa Lahiri's elegant stories tell the lives of Indians in exile, of people navigating between the strict traditions they've inherited and the baffling New World they must encounter every day.'

I have seen Indian friends of mine go through similar types of situations, and so I was looking forward to seeing how Lahiri would portray this in her stories. However, I shouldn't read a book with preconceived expectations, as it always seems to let me down. These short stories were easy to read and entertaining, but for me, they didn't always capture the emotion that I was expecting. I could not connect to many of the characters, and I think that this is partly due to the way Lahiri portrayed them. Her writing style is almost distant, as though she is observing these people from afar. As a result, I found that the characters seemed to lack personality and I found myself feeling emotionally detached from them. I am not sure if this was somewhat intentional, as a means of highlighting their isolation. I have my doubts.

As for being stories of Indians in exile, in some cases I thought that the stories could have applied to almost anyone (A Temporary Matter, Sexy and This Blessed House, for example). Just change the name, and you could equally imagine very similar situations taking place almost anywhere in the world. There are cultural differences in the way people cope with being away from their own country, and Lahiri didn't always captured this in her stories.

For me, the best story was 'Mrs Sen's'. I could really image how isolated Mrs Sen must have felt, by not having her support network, and the comforts of home around her. There is also a difference in how people cope with living away from home, depending on whether they chose to leave, or were more or less forced to move away. In my experience, my female Indian friends who moved to another country to be with their husbands seem to have the most difficulty adjusting. When you chose to move to a new place, you mentally and emotionally prepare yourself for the experience and you are usually willing to invest the energy to make it work. The same does not always apply to those who are displaced for other reasons (which includes for a partner and employment reasons).

After reading the book, it did surprise me that it was awarded the Pulitzer prize. Although nicely written, I think that there are other similar types of books that are better at depicting the lives of outsiders. I was perusing the reviews on Amazon, many of which seem to suggest that Lahiri had hit on a fashionable topic - Indians living in the USA. The skeptic in me would tend to agree.