Book Review: Richard III

I’ve been really struggling with this challenge this year… 8 weeks in, and I’m still only a quarter of the way through the first book I started, so I thought I’d take a break from it and try Shakespeare’s Richard III instead. After all, a play only takes three hours to perform, it should only take a few hours to read, right? Turns out, no.

Usually I love Shakespeare. I love the comedies, I love the tragedies. I even liked Henry V (the only other one of his histories I’ve read). Richard III disappointed me.

I chose Richard III for the ‘classic play’ category for several reasons. There’s been a lot of public interest in the life of King Richard III since his corpse was recently re-discovered. Some of Shakespeare’s most famous lines come from Richard III. Then of course, there’s one of my all-time favourite songs from Horrible Histories.

(From Horrible Histories – BBC)

Honestly… you’d think if Shakespeare really was making all of it up, it would be a little more interesting. It seemed to me that the whole thing was politics, politics and more politics – and every once in a while someone would come on and announce that another character’s death had occurred offstage.

Please don’t misunderstand me… I am well aware that Shakespeare is a genius, and I really do love some of his plays, but as anyone who’s read my review of The Man in the Iron Mask will know – too much politics in a story turns me right off…

Thank goodness!

I just had to share this article…

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/feb/16/childrens-books-are-never-just-for-children?CMP=share_btn_fb

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to re-read Harry Potter…

Damn it January, where did you go?

I started off this year with such good intentions… I was going to blog more. I was going to write more short stories. I was going to start editing my novel. I’m already falling behind.

Three deadlines for short story competitions have now passed me by. One of them I had a fantastic idea for, but not enough time to research. While I was letting this idea stew, nothing happened on the other competitions. The next deadline is in two weeks, and I’m honestly thinking I won’t have anything ready for that this year either… Oh well…

I started off blogging pretty regularly, 2-3 times a week, but the last week I’ve just had nothing to say for myself. I haven’t finished any books that I want to review, and I haven’t written anything. I bought about ten ‘new’ second-hand books, but I wasn’t going to admit to that (honestly, I lost count, but ten sounds about right).

I haven’t started editing my novel yet, although I was intending to go back to it with fresh eyes anyway, so maybe February will be the month for that. Is it just me, or is this year already moving way too fast?

Book Review: The Pianist

This is going to be a short one… Wow.

Wladyslaw Szpilman was a well-known Polish pianist and composer, who performed frequently on Polish radio. He was also a Jew, and after the German invasion of Poland in 1939, he became one of the millions of people subjected to Hitler’s anti-semitic laws. After several years living in the Warsaw ghetto, his entire family was sent to the extermination camp at Treblinka, but Wladyslaw was saved by a policeman who was apparently a fan. He then joined a crew working construction in the ghetto for several more months, until he was able to contact friends on the other side of the walls, who helped him escape and hid him in a series of apartments in the city. As the war drew to a close, Warsaw was almost emptied, leaving Szpilman to fend for himself. He then met Wilm Hosenfeld, a German officer who saw no sense in the atrocities he was being ordered to commit and did what he could to keep Szpilman alive until the Russians arrived to liberate Poland.

There is little literary merit in this one. Szpilman was a musician, not a writer. There are just the raw facts, which make for a harrowing story of survival. Written almost as soon as the war was over, it was soon withdrawn from publication by the Russians, who did not approve of the accusations of collaboration with the Germans by Ukranian and Lithuanian mercenaries. It was not until late in the 20th Century that Andrej Szpilman, Wladyslaw’s son, found a copy on his father’s shelf and submitted it for re-publication. The story is shocking, and at times almost unbelievable. It is not surprising that, towards the end, Szpilman frequently contemplates suicide, even going so far as to plan his methods. On one occasion he is convinced the Germans are coming to get him and actually swallows a whole bottle of sleeping pills, but fortunately he wakes up the next morning.

I have read quite a few memoirs by people who survived Hitler’s tyranny in Europe, both Jews and the people who were arrested for hiding them. Every time they are painfully familiar, but each still has something new to offer. The Pianist is certainly worth reading, but it’s not a pleasant bed-time story.

Book Review: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

If you stacked all the books currently on my TBR one on top of the other, the pile would be more than twice my height. According to Goodreads, there are 195 books I’m intending to read one day, and I’m pretty sure I still haven’t added all of the books I own but haven’t read yet… This has a point, and I swear I’m getting to it. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was not on this list until a few days ago, when I saw it sitting on the couch at home. The title intrigued me. Idly, I picked it up and glanced at the blurb on the back cover. It mentioned books and WW2, two of my favourite subjects. Suddenly, it had jumped the queue.

It turns out, my mother had borrowed it from the library. Much as I hate to admit it, we often enjoy the same books, so as soon as she had finished it, I grabbed it.

The Plot

The novel begins in January 1946. During the Second World War, Juliet Ashton wrote a regular newspaper column pointing out the lighter side of wartime. At the close of the war Sidney Stark, the elder brother of a schoolfriend, published a volume of the best of these columns and is now eagerly awaiting Juliet’s next manuscript.

At the same time, Juliet receives a letter from a member of ‘the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’. Dawsey Adams had found her name and address on the fly-leaf of a second-hand book he enjoyed, and as there are no book shops on Guernsey anymore, he asks her to assist him in finding more works by the same author. Juliet is intrigued, not only by the strange request, but by the oddly named book club. She promptly strikes up a lively correspondence, not merely with Dawsey, but with many members (and detractors) of the society. She learns that the society was formed out of necessity during the German occupation of the Channel Islands, and sees that this is a story worth telling.

The entire book is actually a series of letters written by, to, or about Juliet. The correspondence varies between long letters, short notes and telegrams between Juliet and her publisher, his sister, her overbearing American suitor and the members of the society. As the story unfolds, the characters develop ever deeper friendships and Juliet attempts to piece together the stories of individuals into a coherent narrative.

I often judge the quality of a book by how quickly I read it. If it’s not grabbing me, a book can take me weeks. I finished this one in under 8 hours. I just couldn’t put it down. I don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but I will say that the depictions of life under German rule in Guernsey tally very closely with memoirs I have read of people under similar circumstances in the Netherlands and Poland. As far as recommendations go, this is probably more of a ‘girl’ book. That said, the romantic sup-plot takes up comparatively little real-estate, so I can imagine men enjoying it too, just probably not quite as much. Sadly, this was Mary Ann Schaffer’s only novel. The 73-year-old former librarian was in ill health when the manuscript was sold, and died just months before the book was published, after asking her niece, Annie Barrows, to step in and complete the editing process.

One last point. Apparently a film adaption is in the works, with filming due to start later this year. Part of me can’t wait, and part of me says “Don’t hold your breath”. After all, they’ve been promising me a movie version of Wicked for years, and I’m still waiting…

Book Review: The African Trilogy

Note: Technically I’ll be reviewing three books here but since they were published in one volume, I’ll be reviewing them as a set.

I’m not exactly sure when I first saw Chinua Achebe’s name. I was researching books to read by authors from cultures other than my own, when it came up on some website or other. It also turned up on the catalogue of my local library, so I decided to give it a whirl. I’d never heard of The African Trilogy until a few weeks ago, and had no idea what it was going to be about when I started reading it, but boy was it worth it. Essentially it covers certain aspects of white colonization and attempts to ‘civilise’ the Igbo people of south-eastern Nigeria.

Things Fall Apart

Tells the story of Okonkwo, a resident of Umuofia. His father was not a good provider, and in his efforts to avoid his father’s poor reputation, Okonkwo rules his family with an iron fist. He keeps to the old traditions, and rapidly rises through the ranks of his village to become a respected citizen. Just as he is on the brink of attaining the highest title available to him… things fall apart (hence the title).

No Longer at Ease

Some 25 years after Things Fall Apart, we meet Okonkwo’s grandson Obi, who has just been convicted of using his position in the Nigerian civil service to take bribes. The judge at his trial expresses surprise that a man who has been given the opportunities Obi had (including being educated at a university in England) should sink so low. The remainder of the novel leaves the readers in no doubt, following Obi’s travels from Umuofia to the UK, and then to the city of Lagos – and his descent from a young idealist determined to keep his morals to convicted criminal.

Arrow of God

Is concerned with events in the six villages of Umuaro, which are overseen by the same white administration that appeared in Things Fall Apart. Ezeulu (translated literally, the ‘king of ulu’) is high priest of the god Ulu, who was created by the six villages to be their supreme deity after the villages united in war against another nearby clan. This has created some jealousy, particularly from Ezidemili, the high priest of the Royal Python (Idemili) who was formerly the highest deity in their pantheon. Ezeulu understands that his position is largely ceremonial. While he advises the local elders when times demand it, he rarely insists on his advice being followed. The white administrators do not understand this, and feel that Ezeulu should be given a warrant to become Chief of his clan (answering to the colonial government, of course.)

I chose to read this book because I wanted to expand my horizons a little, and experience literature from outside of my little bubble. Reading these novels was like sticking my toe into a pool to test the water and finding myself falling in the deep end. I knew almost nothing about Nigerian history and culture before I read this, so I was completely unprepared for what I learned. The way Achebe describes the Igbo peoples’ lifestyles and beliefs, was… well… there were certain practices that I’m not surprised the colonists wanted to stamp out. That said, there were also times when I found myself shaking my head at the depth of ignorance displayed by the ‘white masters’. Given the long history of British incompetence when it comes to Empire and colonisation (and the mistreatment of the native inhabitants in almost every country they conquered, including here in Australia) I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.

As I have little previous experience of African literature, I’m not really sure how to describe the writing style. Was it typically African? I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t like anything I’ve read before. There was a certain amount of repetition, especially when nailing home instructive analogies which had clearly been passed down through the generations. Perhaps this was more pronounced because sometimes these sayings appeared in two – or even all three – of the novels.

Last question – did I enjoy The African Trilogy? Yes, I really did. It took me a little while to get into Things Fall Apart, but once I did I finished it quickly. No Longer at Ease I read in under a day. Arrow of God was the longest part of the trilogy, but still only took me a few days to read. If you, too, are looking to read something different, I would definitely recommend The African Trilogy.

(When) Is a story set in stone?

Yesterday I started reading a novel, the third in a trilogy. In a ‘preface to the second edition’, the author states that in re-reading the novel he found some ‘structural weaknesses’ which he had chosen to ‘remove’. He basically stated that he doesn’t care what the novel’s ‘detractors’ would feel about this, but he hoped that the ‘admirers’ will approve of the changes. This is not the first time I’ve come across this phenomenon. Last year when reading Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, I discovered that there were several different editions, including one called the ‘author’s preferred edition’, which combined elements of the British and American editions.

This has got me thinking… when is a story set in stone? Is there a point, at the end of all the drafts and editing, when an author can really say, “this is exactly what I wanted to say, and I am completely happy with it”? Is there a point when an author just has to let it go?

Here’s another question. Can an author make major changes after a work has been published, or should any changes after that point just be cosmetic? I don’t have the answer.

Last year I wrote a short story that I submitted to a competition, in spite of the fact that I wasn’t completely happy with it. Obviously the judges agreed with me, I didn’t appear in the prizes. I knew the ending wasn’t quite right, but I still feel that there was something in it. What do I do with that story now? If I do figure out how to fix it, I will. I might even submit it to another competition (not the same one, obviously). But how do I know when to stop making changes? When is it time to just let it go?

Word vomit…

I know… it’s not a nice title, but it describes this post so well.

I have big goals this year. I want to edit my NaNo novel, and get it to a point where I’m prepared to show it to publishers. There’s a bunch of competitions I want to enter. I’m already planning my second novel. Right now, a blank page is my worst enemy.

Don’t get me wrong… I love the feeling of starting a new story. As Beatrix Potter said, “There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.” Unfortunately, starting a new story is not always easy. Sometimes a story pops into my head almost fully formed. There is a beginning, a middle, and an end. There is a character (or characters) that I love. I just have to put them all together and see what happens. Then there are the other times. The times when I’ve got nothing. Or worse, the times when a deadline is looming – and I’ve got nothing.

Those are the times when I have to give myself permission to suck. The most important thing I learned from NaNo was to shut off the inner editor and just write. Whatever comes into my head. Just get it all out onto the page and sort out what’s usable later. Kind of like what I’m doing now, in fact. I have a few very bad drafts in the pipeline right now, but sadly, that’s all I have. My goal for this week? To make at least one of these drafts into something readable… or come up with something better!

Happy 2015!

Another year is over, and it’s time to evaluate. What went well? What didn’t? Last year I posted a list of New Years’ Resolutions, with a brief summary of why I was setting each one. So, how did I go?

New Year’s Resolution #1: Figure out a way of blocking out distractions and just getting on with it…

Tick. I moved my laptop into my bedroom in November, which seems to be working so far. I also bought a tablet so I can work when I’m out of the house.

New Year’s Resolution #2: Get invited to some parties…

Umm… My social circle didn’t increase quite as much as I’d hoped this year, but I did go to a few good parties, and I met some awesome people during NaNoWriMo. I should probably keep a variation of this one on the list for 2015.

New Year’s Resolution #3: Enter at least four writing competitions (that’s a minimum, twice as many as last year).

Ba-Bow. Things got away from me, and I only ended up entering one competition for the whole year. I have some fantastic competitions picked out for 2015 – now I just have to write some fantastic things to enter.

New Year’s Resolution #4: Write a novel.

Big tick. Thank you NaNoWriMo!

New Year’s Resolution #5: Keep off any weight I happen to lose!

The less said about this one the better.

And what about 2015? What are my goals for this year?

#1 Back on the diet… again.

#2 Edit my novel, and get it ready to query.

#3 Write another novel.

#4 Actually enter the competitions I’ve picked out

#5 Spend some more time hanging out with people in the real world

Book Review: Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories

Although technically a challenge I’d set for myself for 2015, I decided to bend the rules and start expanding my horizons a little early. It’s a good thing I did, because to be honest, I’ve found this collection of Akutagawa Ryunosuke’s short stories rather hard to swallow. Don’t get me wrong, the stories are impeccably crafted. It’s the subject matter I object to. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised, given what I learned about the author from the brief biography in the introduction to the stories.

With a life marked by tragedy and mental illness that ended in suicide at the age of only 35, is it any wonder that Akutagawa should be obsessed with themes of death and religion? Perhaps this will give you a little insight into the author. The story Green Onions begins with a confession from Akutagawa that he is writing on a deadline and has no idea what the following story is going to be about. Throughout the narrative he continues to interject his own thoughts, including this gem about himself: ‘the fellow the critics are always blaming for having too little heart and too much intellect’. I can’t help but agree with this assessment. The stories (particularly the historical pieces) are filled with scenes of torture, religious persecution, executions, murder, and graphic depictions of rotting corpses. Had I known this beforehand, I probably would have chosen a different book to read.

Interestingly, the translator has arranged the stories chronologically – not in the order they were written, but in the order of historical setting. The earlier stories are based on Japanese folk tales and historical events, while the later stories are set in the author’s present day. Here I must admit that my knowledge of Japanese history is woefully inadequate, and I was very grateful for the notes provided by the translator and publisher. Many of the stories would have made little sense to me without them.

Although I would be lying if I said I enjoyed this collection, I didn’t feel the need to stop reading it either. I found the last six stories very enlightening, as they were semi-autobiographical, and explained a lot about the kind of mind that would write the other pieces. Would I recommend them to others? Hard to say. While the stories weren’t exactly my cup of tea, they certainly have literary merit… perhaps the best I can do is to suggest that readers make up their own minds based on what I’ve described above.