Book Review: Mad and Furious City

In Our Mad and Furious City, by Guy Gunaratne

Gunaratne's debut novel is both sad and angry, full of hope and full of despair. It is beautifully written in the voices of the old and the young, those who revolt in violence and those who see courage in running from the gathering storm. It displays the voices of those united in their poverty, who have lived its hatreds, its futility, and its destructive impulses.

This is London at its inner core, with the story of the dispossessed, growing up in the shadow of massive towers built for the unwanted. It's the story directly told by those involved -- the children and the parents who know the violence and the heartbreak of being outside the mainstream.

The story is told in five voices: There are Selvon and Ardan, who are both looking for a way out. Yusuf is torn between the comfort of and the growing oppression of his religion, and the influence it is having on his older brother, Irfan. Nelson and Caroline are the remnants of an older generations who have seen it all before.

At the start, the style is a bit confusing: the characters take some time to become individually known and recognized. Their occasional use of British slang muddles the issue; here Google was my friend, as I looked up the words and learned something. Those terms quickly became well-known, innit?

The voices soon become familiar and reassuring, and their temperament becomes soothing as the story increasingly grows edgy. Here comes the aftermath of a soldier being killed and his body hanged. An angry white mob wants revenge, and descends upon the council estate (public housing) of mostly immigrants of color from Southwest Asia. Those residents, who simply want to move on with their lives, either stay and battle or avoid the fight. Complicating the issue is the new leadership of the local mosque, which wants its membership to become more insular and conservative.

The writing complements the book's rhythm and flow. As the struggle nears its climax, the chapters get shorter, the writing tighter, and the action more intense. You feel yourself in the midst of everything, as you are hearing from all the characters' perspectives. It's a strong ending for the story, by a brilliant writer.

The book's blurbs are filled with comments about how we will hear a lot from this young writer. I agree. This novel was on the longlist for the 2018 Man Booker prize. He is off to a fine start.

This week in Books 6th Ed.

TBR's Stephen King
bookcase

So, I finally persuaded my daughter to give Stephen King a shot. She doesn't like horror. I kept telling her King is much more than a horror writer

We have shared books since she was in her late teens. When she comes home now, we often go straight to my library, where I offer some suggestions, and she can browse for more. At times, she'll recommend a book for me. It works for us.

She's a runner (a good one, I might add; a Boston qualifier). So I gave her Elevation, telling her it had a running story arc that was well done. It's one of King's shorter works, so it's a quick read. Here is my review.

She liked, it. No, she loved it. I am happy, although not surprised. It is a good read.

The best description of King is that he puts regular people in abnormal situations. I think King's strength as as writer is simple: He writes well, has great characters, and tells a helluva story. What more could you want? Despite his reputation, he's not solely a writer of horror, which I've always seen as bloody, slasher stuff. Instead, he's a writer of the supernatural -- the paranormal, if you will.

Anyway, now I have to decide what King work to suggest next. Perhaps one of his earlier works -- perhaps Dead Zone, which could be appropriate in the current political climate? Or perhaps a later work, Sleeping Beauties, which he co-wrote with his son, Owen King? It hits the high points of a King book, and I credit Owen King with taking out some of King's flaws, particularly his weakness in crafting a credible ending.

As for the TBR stack: It's getting bigger after a trip to a local bookstore this past week. I found three books that weren't even on the horizon:

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek tells the fictionalized tale of the first travelling library in Kentucky (my home), and how one of the (real-to-life) blue people of Kentucky was its librarian. They Said it Couldn't be Done is about a time I remember well from growing up in New York City in the summer and fall of '69, when man landed on the moon and the Mets won the World Series. Fifty years later, I cannot read enough about the latter. And Washington Black continues my excursion into books by and about people of color. This one tells the story of an 11-year-old field slave who becomes his master's brother's servant, and their ever-changing relationship. It was nominated in 2018 for the Man Booker prize, always a great place to find a good read.

Book Review: Storm Keeper

The Storm Keeper's Island, by Catherine Doyle

Books like this make me wish I believed in magic.

Especially the type of magic that allows you to bottle an island storm into a candle that when burned could reveal your heritage and your fate. The type of magic that lets you see where you came from, and what it means to you.

Gabrielle also enjoyed The Storm Keeper's Island,
 despite the absence of cats

Such is the story of this Young Adult novel, which tells the tale of Fionn and Tara Boyle, a brother and sister who visit their grandfather on Arranmore Island, off Ireland's rugged western coast. Grandad is the storm keeper of the title, the person who keeps alive the magic of the island and protects it from its curse. Fionn, 11, and Tara, 13, must learn about the island and their place in it, while coming to grips with the death of their father and the sadness of their mother.

They must battle the Beasleys, who believe their son Bartley should inherit the storm keeper's title. Some -- although not all -- members of the family appear to side with the darker side of the island's being.

Complicating the issue is that Tara considers Bartley her boyfriend, leading to tension with her brother, portrayed as an awkward, scared little boy.

The story is compelling and sometimes thrilling. The story-telling is simple yet effective. 

I first read this book last year, but decided to re-read it in preparation for the sequel, which is out next month. I eagerly anticipate it.

Book Review: Dreyer's English

Dreyer's English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style, by Benjamin Dreyer

Most books about grammar can be boring -- especially those that combine rules of writing (sometimes the rules are gathered willy-nilly and often are wrong), with long lists of misused words.

Dreyer's English keeps the boring part to a minimum, and makes up for it with splendid gems mixed throughout, such as this: "ATM machine: ATM = automated teller machine, which, one might argue and win the argument, is redundant enough as it is."

 

His list of rules can be forgiving, but not unduly so. He points out, correctly, that the entire purpose of language is to communicate, so you need rules to understand each other. But he notes the English language is constantly changing and adapting, which is good, otherwise we'd be speaking and reading Old English, with no words to describe modern life.

He's generous: He doesn't like the singular "they" but recognizes why people insist on using it. (I agree.) He agrees that "begging the question" is often misused, but people should get over it because it's here to stay. (I disagree; it should be fought at every turn.) He is adamant that "unique" is singular and means one of a kind, which cannot be modified by degree. (This may be my top crochet; I cringe every time I see "very unique.")

And his discussion regarding use of "woman" as a adjective instead of "female" is not only thoughtful and persuasive, but leads to his best line in the book.

"Whether you choose to characterize professionals by gender is not my business. How you do it is. Dammit, Jim, I'm a copy editor, not a sociologist."

Book Review: Song of Achilles

The Song of Achilles, by Madeline Miller

This is a story about love.

But it's also a story about rage, and war, and the killing fields, and how any of those can stand in the way and kill the heart. It's a story about how the three together can destroy the soul.

It's a tale based on The Iliad by Homer, with a few twists. Achilles still is heroic, handsome, and courageous, the warrior who will save Helen from the Trojans and allow the Greeks to sack Troy. He is neither a king nor a god, but he remains the best the Greeks have to offer.

But Achilles' song is not the beautiful tunes he plays on the lyre, but is his anger and bloodlust. It torments not only  him, but his friend and lover, Patroclus, during Achilles' early life and later through the long siege of Troy.  Patroclus fears Achilles will be remembered only for the number of men he killed during battle.

"Perhaps such things pass for virtue among the gods," Patroclus says. "But how is there glory in taking a life? We die so easily."

It is up to Achilles to choose: A prophecy has given him the choice of being a hero who dies young, or an old man who lives out a long life in obscurity.

Miller is a Greek scholar who has written this gem of a book, which describes an alternative to The Iliad. It's wonderfully written -- poetic even -- and full of tightly written tales and varying perspectives that gives voice to the men who fought the wars and the women they held captive.

Through Patroclus -- her narrator and bard for Achilles, not just during their lives, but after they pass into death -- Miller explores Achilles's life and relationships, She explicitly portrays Achilles and Patroclus as lovers. That's a relationship that Homer may have hinted at, but never described. It's something that later writers have alluded to and tried to explain, often by putting it into the Greek context. Those descriptions show the two men may have had brief sexual encounters, and even loved one another, but they also had wives and children. Miller describes their relationship, except for a few incidents, as an exclusive, lifelong companionship.

Miller, who also wrote Circe, from the back cover of The Song of Achilles

She also delves into the relationship between Achilles and his mother, the sea-nymph goddess, Thetis, Narrator Patroclus also explores his own relationship (not good) with Thetis, as well as his relationship (good) with the war-prize slave Briseis, whom Patroclus saves from the hands of Agamemnon, who wanted her as his bride and slave.

Miller tutors us on the myths and legends of other Greek gods and warriors, including Odysseus, Hector, and Paris. In her notes, she tells us the legend of Achilles' heel is not something Homer wrote about, but that came along much later. In dismissing it, Miller gives it a single, oblique reference: A warrior, with the god Apollo by his side, attempts to kills Achilles.

"Where do I aim?" says the man. "I heard he was invulnerable. Except for ..."

"He is a man," Apollo replied. "Not a god. Shoot him and he will die."