Continuous Vivid Dream

I have fond memories of my first few experiences at Borders.  So many books to touch and feel and peruse.  And it’s shocking that it is no more.

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I’m reading Don Quixote and listening to this Yale lecture series.  I commit to reading a long work of fiction every year.  Last year, I read War and Peace and the year before I read Infinite Jest.   I did read a couple other long pieces of fiction in the last couple years, including David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas and Bolano’s 2666.

10 Essential Books for Thought Provoking Summer Reading.

Reading Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald was as challenging as reading Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain (a book I never made it through). Austerlitz is a non-conventional novel with black and white photographs interspersed through the text detailing the life of the main character, Austerlitz. It’s told through a series of conversations between Austerlitz and an unknown narrator and their continual encounters over an extended period of time.

I picked up this novel mostly due to the rave reviews surrounding the work, but clearly I was at a loss to the appeal. It is a very dry story of the mundane travelings of a man and his attention to architecture and his exploration of his past, his connection to the Holocaust, and his early childhood. Apart from a visit to the Jewish ghetto and his mother’s connection to the purge of the Jews, the novel lacked much in terms of action or even dialogue. The novel felt more like a diary of one’s actions as told through his stories with the narrator. But our narrator doesn’t seem to have much to say, and as a reader, we really don’t glean much about his purpose in existing in this novel at all.

If you search other reviews of Austerlitz, they are very praiseworthy of this piece of fiction. I tend to agree more with the review of this Grumpy Old Bookman.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss is a refreshing return to quality fantasy.  Unfortunately, it’s the first of a trilogy, the second two books have not been released.  This fact certainly leaves the drama on hold until March, according to this post.

The title and the cover of the book have much to be desired. When I picked up a hardback copy from the library, I had doubts it would have much to offer.

I consider The Name of the Wind as a more adult equivalent of Harry Potter (I’ve read the first two H.P. novels and feel the target audience is middle to high school students).  The first of the trilogy begins in an inn, when a Chronicler (storyteller who records history) comes across an innkeeper, Kvothe, who appears to be “laying low.” The Chronicler wishes to record the story of Kvothe and his rise as an artificer, since apparently his exploits were legendary.  It details Kvothe’s early life–his childhood, loss of family, friendship with a wiser artificer, and his eventual admission to the University, the school of magic.  The majority of the novel revolves around his time at the University and his growing relationship with female drifter named Denna.

What’s different about the fantasy character, Kvothe, is his talents lie more than just magic. He’s a talented musician as well, and he must overcome many obstacles, cruel professors, financial hardship, and a mean bully, to achieve his goals.  The storytelling is compelling and filled with original action. Ultimately, Kvothe is interested in learning more about the blue-eyed Chandrian, who murdered his family, and appear to be the ultimate drive of everything he does.

The Name of the Wind is considered Day One, in a three day account.  There is a past and a present in the story, and it appears that we will learn more about the past in Day Two, before the present comes into focus. Though my predictions have been incorrect in the past.  The novel ends with Kvothe’s assistant at the inn, demanding that the Chronicler “wake up” Kvothe and help him remember who he is — a magician of consequence, not a meaningless innkeeper.

Overall, if you enjoy fantasy to any degree, The Name of the Wind is a must-read.  I can’t say there is much here that is completely unique (apart from tree-eating dragons) from fantasies that have preceded it. But it’s certainly nice to see a return to the roots of good fantasy, with an edge. Let’s hope that what follows is just as true.

A good What-If always makes for an intriguing novel.  Never Let Me Go joins a group of other novels like Children of Men (What if women stopped having children?) and the Handmaid’s Tale (What if women were subjected in society?).  The What-If in Never Let Me Go is: What if people were cloned for the purpose of donating their organs?

It’s certainly a timely question when donors for many organs are hard to come by and the question of cloning for medical purposes continually is raised.  In Never Let Me Go, the story is told in retrospect by Kathy, a carer, who slowly learns the truth of her existence through the years.  Sheltered from the truth until adulthood, it takes a silly misunderstanding (if you show you are in love through your art work, you can postponement to donate) to lead her on a mission for the shocking discovery of how she and her friends were all clones and raised for the purpose of donating their organs.

Never Let Me Go gains its title from an old song Kathy cherishes in her childhood, an allusion to a scene of Kathy holding a child in her arms and refusing to ever let her go.  The scene instills sadness in one of her guardians who breaks down on sight of a young child with no possible future as a mother cradling a fictional child.

Kazuo Ishiguro uses a unique storytelling devise to drive the story through the novel, bringing up an incident and then going back in time to fill in the details prior to the incident, then returning back to the incident.  It’s compelling because it instills curiosity in the reader in the pursuit of understanding.

Where the novel fails is in Kathy’s relationships with Ruth and Tommy.  The novel centers around these childhood friends and their connection later in their life.   There doesn’t seem much redeeming in these relationships and her relationship with her friend, Ruth, is quite antagonistic.  Her later attachments with Tommy seem forced and hardly the signs of a loving relationship.

Never Let Me Go is a worthwhile read.  I would argue though that it lacks the suspense or oppression of other What-If scenarios presented in other hypothetical novels like Brave New World or 1984.  It’s a much lighter and less poignant account of one possible reality in a world seeking to live a little longer.

The New Yorker featured an article entitled “What Can’t the novelist David Mitchell do?” in July.  I consider Mitchell one of my all-time favorite authors with Paul Auster and Richard Russo.  From his first novel I read in Ghostwritten to Cloud Atlas, which I believe I abandoned a little halfway through (before I learned it’s considered a masterpiece of the last decade), I acknowledged his skills as an excellent storyteller.

There is no doubting Mitchell’s ability to write compelling stories and use language as a master craftsman.  There are certainly moments when I have to sit back and acknowledge the genius in certain passages or accounts within one of his texts.  Even his least popular novel, Number9Dream was a pleasurable reading experience.

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet was difficult reading at first.  I questioned my fortitude whether I could get through after fifty to seventy pages because it takes place in a foreign land at the turn of the eighteenth century. I persevered and I was rewarded for my efforts.

David Mitchell’s novel focuses on a bookkeeper in the failing Dutch East Indies company in Dejima, the only trading port of Japan.  The story revolves around Jacob de Zoet and his relationships with Orito, a disfigured Japanese intern and his colleagues in the company and in the secluded locale.  The initial portion revolves around Jacob’s belief in the practice of moral record-keeping amidst gross corruption and fraud throughout the post and his initial meetings and advances on Orito.  The pace of the second half of the novel heightens with Orito’s abduction and her long-standing lover’s attempts to risk everything to free her.  The plight of Orito and the other girls resembles the horror found in the Handsmaid’s Tale.

The final chapters of the story return to the story of Jacob and his valiant stand against the British, who seek to take control of the post from the Dutch.  It is impressive what Mitchell is able to accomplish with a character as powerless and simple as a bookkeeper like Jacob de Zoet, transforming him into a hero without the need to lift a weapon.  There is certainly something quite tragic about Jacob’s years spent working and living in Dejima and his later return to his home country.

The style of David Mitchell’s novel is unique in its short one sentence bursts scattered throughout its breath.  Reading any of his novels aloud is a worthwhile exercise because of his command of the language.  For a novel so far from my reality, the Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is a success in storytelling.  There is also a remarkable humor in the novel that should not be discounted.

There is one passage later in the novel descriptive of the flight of birds over the activity of Dejima and its inhabitants that shows the thought and poetry in Mitchell’s writing:

“Gulls wheel through spokes of sunlight over gracious roofs and dowdy thatch, snatching entrails at the marketplace and escaping over cloistered gardens, spike-topped walls and treble-bolted doors. Gulls alight on whitewashed gables, creaking pagodas and dung-ripe stables; circle over towers and cavernous bells and over hidden squares where urns of urine sit by covered wells, watched by mule-drivers, mules and wolf-snouted dogs, ignored by hunch-backed makers of clogs; gather speed up the stoned-in Nakashima River and fly beneath the arches of its bridges, glimpsed from kitchen doors, watched by farmers walking high, stony ridges.”

I’ve been so disappointed with contemporary fiction lately, giving up on so many novels within 100-150 pages, including Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Dome, Extraordinary Thunderstorms, and Freedom.  My frustration is mostly with the writing style and ridiculous premises, I had little faith I would ever finish the Passage by Justin Cronin, a 800 epic vampire/armageddon/virus novel, supposedly the first of a trilogy.

I must confess The Passage was a pleasant surprise.  The story is nothing new on the most part: terrible virus spreads and ultimately destroys the United States as we know it.  The sufferers of the virus don’t become mindless zombies according to the tradition of these types of stories and movies, and they are not completely mindless.  The virals or vamps spread the virus through a simple bite and can “fly” or jump very high, and are significantly more formidable opponent for the remaining survivors.  These virals can get into your mind and dreams.

A note about good writing: if you can skip entire paragraphs and not lose track of the plot or story, you can tell the writing is below average and contains extraneous, useless detail.  The first two hundred pages of the Passage falls into this category and I was losing faith it would keep me interested.   All the government employees lacked any conscious and felt like a bad episode of Prison Break.  The whole idea behind how the virus was injected into death row inmates to create the super soldier seemed preposterous.  I was about to drop the book at this point.  But Cronin appears to have little loyalty to these characters, and on the most part, all the characters who are in the first 200 pages are old news and not in the other 600.  Thank God.

The majority of the novel revolves around a group of survivors 100 years after the spread of the virus, a group of grown decendants (I picture them in their 20s) who live in an enclosed colony in California.  It’s a unique world (comes with a handy little Colony map) and culture.  And I began to read most of the words.  I found my temptation to jump through paragraphs gone, as the lives of these colonists was good storytelling.  It felt like life without technology in a time after technology.

Cronin brought us into their lives at a crucial point in their existence: the batteries powering the lights that kept them safe were running low and one of the most powerful virals was getting into the colonists’ dreams, breaking down their defenses.

In the spirit of Stephen King’s The Stand, a number of colonists discover Amy, a girl given the virus along with the death row inmates, and learn of their need to journey across the devastated States, to find answers and solutions to mankind’s future.  As readers we know from the beginning how it all began, and the suspense of learning the truth is not as compelling for us.  I wonder if Cronin might have been better off keeping the origin of the virus secret until the end, and I’m sure if this is made into a movie, it will probably be hidden from the viewers like the Bourne Identity trilogy.

The novel ends on a dark note (supposedly one of our key characters appears to die), and it’s not until I searched the web that I learned this is the first of a trilogy.  I can’t complain; though I can’t imagine how Cronin will be able to extend this story into another 1600 pages.  At the end of book 1, we only defeat one of the 12 death row virals.  For all we know, the story will resume 100 years later with all of these characters a distant memory.  I would not put it past this storyteller, and that’s a compliment.   Only two of the characters outside of the Twelve have the virus in their system, which means they could continue to be characters in book 2 and 3.  I’d start it again when these characters are at the ends of their lives, and their children continue the fight.

The Passage has received positive reviews, and they are deserved.  It’s rare when we can pick up a long novel and want to keep reading.  At least I know the frustration of not caring to keep reading.  One lasting memory of this novel is when our traveling colonists stumbled upon a group of survivors living free from the virals in the desert in a penitentiary.  You can tell there is something wrong about it, and the discovery is disturbing and unexpected.  This is the original writing readers are wishing for.

Life of Pi ends with the following line:

Few can claim to have survived so long as Mr. Patel,  and none in the company of an adult Bengal tiger.

This is a great final line for this novel, and you’d have to read it to find out why.

Life of Pi by Yann Martel is a survival story, a religious allegory, and a tribute to the wild.  Though a work of fiction, the story feels true and realistic.  The story revolves around an Indian boy, Piscine Patel, the son of a zookeeper, a believer in three religions, who is forced to survive on a life raft with a group of wild animals.

Life of Pi is divided into two sections: Pi’s early life at the zoo and his later survival on a life raft.  In the first part, we learn of Pi’s childhood background, his family, and his exploration of religion, including the origin of his nickname and what it is like to grow up as the son of a zookeeper.  Martel respects the marvels and ferocity of the wild, and not being someone with much knowledge about the topic, I appreciated Martel’s ability to create suspense and intrigue around hyenas, tigers, orangutans and acidic trees.  Three favorite scenes included: 1) the comparison made between a zookeeper and a hotel manager and 2) Pi’s father’s approach to protecting his son from becoming too friendly with the animals in the cages, 3) and the survival of the fittest confrontation on the raft between a hyena, orangutan and Bengal tiger.

You cannot walk away from Life of Pi without a new appreciation for the wild and the savagery of nature, as well as Pi’s resourcefulness to stay alive.  I recommend everyone with a love of good storytelling to pick up and read Life of Pi.