Book Review: The Elephant of Belfast

The Elephant of Belfast, by S. Kirk Walsh

    Amid the bombs and destruction of life during World War II, a young Northern Irish woman tries to preserve what she can.

    Her family is troubled; her few friends are floundering, and her job as a part-time zoo worker is underwhelming. So Hettie Quin tries to save a young elephant from suffering as mankind wreaks havoc.

    It's a fine book, with a decent if depressing story, but just a tad bit overwritten. Some of Walsh's passages go on far too long, with an amount detail that simply does not add to the tale. 

    But Walsh captures pre-war Belfast -- already an old industrial city split between its Protestant and Catholic citizens -- as it crumbles before our eyes. Hettie tries to save the city's soul partly by saving her small part of it.

    

    Her life is a mess. Her beloved older sister recently died in childbirth. Her mother has fallen in a deep depression; her father has abandoned the clan, and her brother-in-law is finding solace in joining the IRA. At 20, Hettie is thinking of her own future -- trying to escape the Irish pressure to get married and start a family. She wants a job, but also find herself attracted to a co-worker and her brother-in-law. A female co-worker urges her to live out her dreams, but also to spruce herself up to find a man.

    Meanwhile, the German bombs are falling on the ciy's docks and industrial center, near the zoo and Hettie's home. The Protestant half of the city curses the Germans, while many in the Catholic neighborhood see an opening in the English-German war to re-unite the long conflict for Irish freedom and unity. Hettie, again, is caught in the middle -- while she is Protestant, her sister married a Catholic, and thus her in-laws and her infant niece are Catholic.

    But her key struggle is to save the young elephant that recently came to the zoo, and is in danger. Neighbors who live near the zee fear the bombing might allow the animals to escape and threaten their lives.

    Walsh captures Hettie as a confused but kind woman, dealing with her own issues while her neighborhood contends with the ancient Irish Troubes and her city with its very survival. 

Book Review: The House in the Cerulean Sea

     

   

    

The House in the Cerulean Sea, by TJ Klune

   Chock full of metaphors, with a delightful mix of characters and exquisite writing, The House explores life's inequities in a fun, colorful way. 

   This is a gay friendly book, in every new and ancient definition of the word.  

    It takes on, sometimes bluntly, sometimes figuratively, power and control, homophobia and bias, abuse of children, anti-immigration -- but sets a path to right them, with  kindness, love, acceptance, magic. 

    And a cat.

    Linus Baker is a working drone who does what he is told and follows the rules. He leads a lonely life, but he tells himself he is happy. He grows sunflowers -- the only spot of color in his drab life -- and loves listening to early rock 'n' roll on his Victrola. He's a caseworker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, and we first meet him while he is on an assignment checking out one of the orphanages under the department's control.

    He is thorough. He tells himself he cares, and he kinda does. He is methodical. But he is disinterested in what happens after he files his reports -- it's not in his job description. Linus is a good person. But he dares not go outside his comfort zone. It's against the rules.

    That is, until the day Linus is called before Extremely Upper Management and given a unique, classified assignment -- to check out a secret orphange on a distant island and see if the children there are perhaps too magical and too dangerous. Oh yeah, and check out the Master of the House, one Arthur Parnassus, to ensure he is following the rules.

    The metaphors continue as Linus leaves his dreary life in the city on a rainy day -- he again forgets his umbrella -- to take a long train ride to the island on the edge of the ocean. The rain lets up. The clouds disappear. The sun breaks out. The grey sky brightens into a cheery cerulean. He can smell the salt in the air and hear the waves in the ocean. "Then lights began to shine at his feet. ... They were soft and yellow, like a brick road."

   
    There he meets the children. There's Talia, a girl gnome who loves tending her garden and threatening to bury Linus. Phee is a forest sprite with a special relationship to trees and flowers. Theodore is a wyvern, and Sol is a shapeshifter with anxiety problems.

    Chauncey is -- well, no one is quite sure what Chauncey is. He's an airy creature, with his eyes on stalks, kinda like Oblina from Real Monsters, but less dense. He hides under beds because he's been told that's what monsters are supposed to do. But he cannot bring himself to scare anyone. His dream is to become a bellhop.

    Then there is Lucy, short for Lucifer, a six-year-old boy who is literally the son of the devil. Lucy is proud of his heritage, but suffers from nightmares. Lucy is an intriguing, if over-the-top character, treated with wisdom and humor and compassion. 

"Regardless of his parentage, he is a child," Arthur, the house manager, tells Linus. "And I refuse to believe that a person's path is set in stone. A person is more than where they come from. ... Behind the eyes and the demon in his soul, he is charming and witty and terribly smart."

    In addition to Mr. Parnassus, a magical, mystical guy himself, adults include Zoe Chapelwhite, an island sprite who watches her island and sometimes the children. And there's Merle, the grumpy ferryman who delivers people to and from the island.

    Lucy is wonderfully compelling. As the son of the devil, he is always threatening death and destruction, and predicting he will wind up as everyone's overlord. But he is six years old, and pictured as a tousle-haired, rambunctious orphan who craves attention.

    The key to the tale is that as Linus begins to observe the children and Mr. Parnassus, he takes notes and writes reports back home in his usual style. But he soon gets sucked into their lives and individual needs, and must keep telling himself to remain objective. He also becomes enamored with Mr. Parnassus, but can neither explain nor understand the attraction.

    His struggles of understanding are the heart of the story. And the metaphors become clear as we move along and open our hearts and minds to all of the story's characters.    

Book Review: The Midnight Library

 The Midnight Library, by Matt Haig

    Imagine, if you will, a young, drab British woman named Nora Seed. She is depressed. She lives a sad, lonely life. Her music career fizzled out, and she cannot make it as a music tutor. She is stuck in a dead-end job she hates. She lives in a ratty apartment. She regrests dumping her latest boyfriend because she has no other prospects. 

    Oh yeah, and her cat just died.

     So she decides to end it all by taking a handful of sleeping pills and crawling into bed. But instead of dying, she wakes up in a library. An unusual library with row-upon-row-upon-row of books. The neverending tomes stream by at various speed. Sitting at a nearby table is a woman who looks suspiciously like her childhood school librarian, Mrs. Elm.

    Nora soons learns she did not die, but instead is visiting the Midnight Library, a place between time and space. The books contain the story of every one of her possible lives, changing like butterflies with every single decision she has made.

    So she picks a book, reads the first line, and enters an alternative life.

    Which is a cool idea, and opens up a whole timeline of changes, possibilities, and adventures. But its realization has  two severe flaws.

    One is that Nora jumps into a new life with all the memories of her old life, but having no idea what she was getting into. For instance, in her first jump, she finds what would have happened if she had married her beau and moved with him to buy a pub in rural Ireland. This happens in other jumps -- her being a rock star on stage without a clue as to what comes next, as a wife and mother who doesn't know who the child in her room is, and as a scientist with no knowledge of her speciality. So she has to fake it.

    The second problem is that Nora whinges. A lot. Some of her whinging is passed off as part of her depression, and some is part of her learning experience. But jeez, she is not a likable character.

    But the story does draw you in. You wonder in which life Nora will be satisfied. You enjoy the interludes at the library, where philosophical discussions with the Mrs. Elm lookalike bring exposition, background, and deep thoughts.

    It's an intriguing, well-written book, which gives insights to the bizarre yet conceivable ideas of time bending and alternative realities.

Book Review: The Nickel Boys

 The Nickel Boys, by Colson Whitehead

    This book is grim, depressing, and infuriating. It's also extraordinary piece of writing depicting a horrific experience that seems all too common in the BIPOC community. 

    Although it's a fictional tale, the story is based in fact. Indeed it is based on facts showing that throughout the United States, Canada, and large parts of Europe, the dominant class structure always has mistreated, abused, and tortured others -- mostly women and people of color -- simply because it can, and it wants to. 

  

    Elwood Curtis is the narrator of his tale. As the book begins, he is an older Black man living in New York City who owns and runs a cleaning company. Then he see reports exposing the defunct Nickel Academy's history of  abuse and neglect, along with the discovery of dozens of bodies buried on its property.

    The story then shifts to Curtis's years as a young Black boy living in the wrong side of the tracks in Tallahassee, Florida, in the 1960s. Of course, because of discrimination and segregation, all Black people lived on the wrong side of the tracks in Tallahassee, Florida, in the 1960s.

    Curtis is a smart kid, and his mother encourages him to educate himself and enrich his mind. He becomes enamored of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his words and actions, and strives to rise above the racism and bigotry surrounding him. But while hitch-hiking to his first day of college classes, he is picked up by a man driving a stolen car. Police stop them, and Curtis is charged with being a juvenile delinquent. He is sent to the Nickel Academy, a so-called reform school in small town Florida.

    Of course, the "academy," based on the Dozier School of Boys, is anything but a reform school. The boys are segregated by race -- with the exception of one Mexican boy, who is sent to either the Black side or white side, based on the whims of the "teachers." Both sides are horribly abused, subjected to random corporal punishment, having their meals withheld, and being sent out to work for local politicians or businessmen, with a small fee for the "headmaster." Some of them are sent for extra punishment, from which they seldom return.

    Whitehead explores the relationships Curtis forms with other boys in the home, along with his experiences with the headmasters. Curtis tries to accept his lot, while maintaining his dignity and fighting back against the cruel abuse the boys are subjected to. He also steps in when some of the other  boys turn on each other.

    The more he learns about the Academy and its "students," called the Nickel Boys, the angrier he becomes.

    The book reaches a high point when Curtis and Jack Turner, his cynical friend and roommate, decide to take action against the crimes of the adults. It's a scary yet compelling narrative that keeps you reading long into the night.

    The novel earned Whitehead his second Pulitzer Prize for fiction. The first was in 2017 for Underground Railroad. "It burns with outrageous truth,"Josephine Livingston said in The New Republic. about The Nickel Boys. The Guardian newspaper said Whitehead showed "how racism in American has long operated as a codified and sactioned activity."