Book Review: The Heart in Winter

 By Kevin Barry

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Old-time Western

• Where I bought this book: The Corner Bookstore, New York City 

• Why I bought this book: Kevin Barry is one of Ireland's finest writers  

 *******

  

    Sparse, with tight writing and finely drawn characters, Barry has turned a cliched genre into into a tale worthy of Samuel Beckett.

    Tom Rourke is your basic cowpoke, an Irish immigrant living and drinking in the vast stretches around Butte, Montana, in the 1890s. He drinks too much, likes his dope too much, and tries to avoid working in the mines. Instead, he makes money writing love letters for other lonely men who are seeking mail-order brides.

    But when one of the strange denizens of the town finds a woman, name of Polly Gillespie, to marry him, Tom takes a shine to her. So they run, heading out further west, with a hopeful destination of San Francisco. But Long Anthony Harrington takes exception to his bride being stolen, and sends out a posse to bring her back.

    You see, Tom and Polly had a plan, such as it was

They reckoned up the provisions they had brought. It was enough for a few days. The horse would get them as far as Pocatello if they didn't bake it and from there as unknowns they could move by the rail. He massaged the horse's legs with an expert set to his mouth as if he knew what the fuck he was doing. 

    Such is life in the Old West, and Barry gives it a new shine -- squalid and dangerous, profane and perverse. He describes the couple engaging in debauchery and eating mushrooms on the high plains. There is violence and emptiness. It is dark, with stretches of hope.

They rode on. They rode double. The day was sharp and bright. They were mellow of mood if not entirely at a distance from the sadness natural to both of them, and these they knew were sadness unanswerable. She lay her face to the hollow of his back and closed her eyes a while. She felt his chest swell out and knew it was the fact of her embracing that made him proud.

    There is plainness and a lack of fancy in Barry's writing, which is not to be savored like a fine French wine, but admired and devoured like a shot of whisky and a pint of Guinness. 

Book Review: Long Island

 By Colm Tóibín

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Irish fiction

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: I'm a fan of Tóibín's work  

 ***

     The opening here sets up a memorable conflict: A man knocks on the door of his neighbor's house. Relates how her husband got his wife pregnant. When the child is born, he says, he is going to drop the kid on her doorstep, and it will be her problem. Then he leaves.

    Thus we return to the trials and tribulations of Eilis Fiorello, nee Lacey, an Irish woman from the County Wexford who emigrated to Brooklyn and now lives on Long Island with her husband Tony and their two teenage children. It's an uncomfortable arrangement. Tony's large Italian family -- parents, two brothers, their wives, and children -- live in four clustered houses on a cul-de-sac in Lindenhurst, some 50 miles from New York.

    So far, so good. The story is interesting; the characters -- especially the mother-in-law, Francesca -- are colorful, and the writing, so far, is tight and easy. 

    But midway through, things go off the rails.

    We first met Eilis in the novel Brooklyn. Saoirse Ronan played her in the movie of the same name. The dust jacket on this novel calls her Tóibín's "most compelling and unforgettable character."

    But she's not.

    Instead, she's a morose, secretive, lost woman trying to find her way in a world she doesn't care to understand. Now 40, and living during the 1970s, she assures one and all she does not want the baby, does not like her living arrangements, and does not enjoy her in-laws' claustrophobic lifestyles. The feelings are mutual (except grandma wants to raise the kid).

    Not to give away more of the plot, but eventually Eilis returns to her hometown for a visit. (I am sure in the eventual movie there will be montages of the town of Enniscorthy and the surrounding green fields, and it will be lovely.)

    Here, the plot really breaks down. None of the characters -- the ones in America or the ones in Ireland -- are particularly likeable. In many ways, they border on stereotypes: The Italians are insular and deceitful. The Irish are moody and critical. Their activities are mundane: Having tea, drinking in the pub, sneaking around the town.

    The writing also seems to decline here. Perhaps it's the characters' whinging, or their incessant gossiping. And we can see the ending coming, although by now we could care less about their lives and their futures.

Book Review: King of the Armadillos

 By Wendy Chin-Tanner

• Pub Date: 2023

• Where I bought this book: Irvington Vinyl & Books, Indianapolis 

• Why I bought this book: It's about Chinese immigrants in the Bronx, and it has a great title.*

 *******

    Hansen's disease has been around at least since Biblical times, and it's always been seen as a nasty, frightful, and stigmatizing sickness. It attacks both the body and mind, with painful skin lesions, muscular weakening, growths on or swelling of the nerves or skin, and potential blindness. 

    Formerly called leprosy, those afflicted had been damned as lepers. It was believed to be caused by sinful actions, wrongly thought to be highly contagious, and, more recently, to be spread by people from China.

    That last part is particularly meaningful to this novel, which tells the story of an immigrant Chinese boy who contracts the disease in 1950s New York.

    This self-enclosed novel takes places in that period, and oftentimes brings in the characters' pasts to explain their actions and choices. And those choices matter, whether immediately or sometime in the future. And while time goes by, we see the results and longer term implications of those decisions. 

    Victor Chin is the young boy who emigrated from China to New York with his father, Sam, and older brother Henry. Sam's wife and the boys' mother, Mei, stays behind in their  Chinese village of family obligations. She writes often, and everyone plans for her to one day join them in America.

    Sam works in and later buys a Chinese laundry. There, he meet Ruth, a Jewish woman who soon becomes his lover, and a maternal figure to the two boys.

    But their lives are turned upside down when Victor contracts Hansen's and is sent to a sanatorium in Carville, La.

    It is here where the story begins to move quickly. Victor finds friends, perhaps love, continues to write (never mentioning his disease) to his mother in China, and finds a new relationship with Ruth. He also exhibits a growing independence from his family in New York, and a love and genius for music.

He'd never been exposed to much religion, ... but Victor thought there might be something spiritual about what music made him feel. Maybe that was what people meant when they said they felt the presence of God. A feeling of not being alone, a feeling of being safe. A feeling that there, in the temple of sound he visited when he listened or played, he could let go of what he'd been holding on to so tightly.

    This is the strength of the tale, the heart and soul of the story. Victor begins to find his place in the world, and while knowing that his family may always be there, knows he must take control of his life. We learn more about the background of the other characters, and where they come from.

    Now, it is Victor's turn to stake out his life, to grow up, to come of age as a Chinese immigrant in American.

    The writing here is superb, and the story is about a life -- making decisions, growing and learning, not knowing what the future may portend, but willing to move forward while holding on to the memories and places and people that helped make you.

---------------------------------------------------

    *He considers himself the King of the Armadillos and takes them as a mascot after learning they are one of the few mammals, beside humans, who contract Hansen's disease.

Book Review: City of Orange

 By David Yoon

• Pub Date: 2022

• Where I bought this book: Irvington Vinyl and Books, Indianapolis 

• Why I bought this book: A blurb describes it as a cross between Station Eleven and The Road

***

    The Unreliable Narrator style, which is used in this book, annoys me.

    It makes me angry and frustrated. I feel deceived and manipulated. It makes the novel seem pointless, like the author didn't understand where they were taking the story, so changed direction. Ultimately, it's a waste of time for the reader.

    Like this book.

    Is it the tale of a man beaten and dumped in a future world, perhaps on another planet? Is it a description of a wasteland after a cataclysmic event? We don't know, and neither does our hero, who can't even remember his own name. It unfolds slowly, as we see what he sees, with vivid descriptions of horror and loss in the world he believes himself to be in.

    Yet, hints abound that all is not as it appears. 

    I'm not going to say more about the plot, such as it is, so as not to reveal any spoilers. Suffice to say it goes in a lot of directions, several of which are predictable, some of which are cliches and tropes, and few of which are original. And yes, I get the extended metaphor, but it's weak.

    Still, it has strong points: A smart, well-drawn main character whom we get to know and can identify with. Sharp writing that drags you in. A setting that is both everywhere and nowhere.

    But deep flaws overcome those positives. A  sense of evil pervades that main character. (At one point in my notes, I write: Did something bad happen to him, or did he do something bad?) Secondary character are mere bit players. The story drags, and the detailed writing can be overdone. It's impossible to tell whether the setting is real or imagined.

Book Review: Yellowface

  By R. F. Kuang

• Pub Date: 2023

• Where I bought this book: Author's appearance, via the Novel Neighbor, Webster Groves, Mo. 

• Why I bought this book: I read Babel by the same author, and it was fantastic

****

    Every novel I've read about the publishing industry describes it as a steaming pile of horrors, awash with infighting, backstabbing, and bigotry. This one is no different.

    Still, Yellowface was disappointing. Kuang's previous work, Babel, was indeed worthy of high praise. So when she announced a tour to promote her latest book, I headed to the nearest location, Saint Louis, to listen to her speak. It was worth it.

    So I eagerly read her latest, which delved into issues of diversity, inclusion, and cultural appropriation. It was meant to be a light-hearted look at the industry and how it handles the works of female and minority authors. I am sorry to say it fell flat.

    It was bitter. It was whingey. It was lies, piled on top of thievery, with a heavy helping of social media vitriol, all with attempted justification. The main character, manuscript stealer June Haywood, comprised all of those traits, and then some.

    She was friends with the vibrant and beautiful, best-selling and highly praised author Athena Liu. Then one night, while partying at Liu's luxurious and spacious apartment, Liu chokes on a piece of food and dies. Liu, of Chinese descent, had told Haywood she was celebrating because she had finished the first draft of her new novel about Chinese forced laborers in World War I.

    After calling authorities and explaining how Liu died, Haywood was cleared of the death. As she left the apartment, she took Liu's manuscript with her.

    She did some research, edited it and cleaned it up, then presented it to publishers as her own. Publishers were wowed and gave her a big advance, and suggested she used the name Juniper Song -- a variation of her birth name -- to make her sound more ethnic. They used a photograph that made her look vaguely Asian.

    While enjoying all the attentions, Song also becomes afraid of being caught, using underhanded means to keep the truth hidden. Some readers either figure it out, or have inside knowledge of her deceit, and much of it is hashed out on social media.

    We follow Song along her path, as she struggles to come to grips with what she has wrought. We also follow her and others on social media, and they direct criticism, bigotry, and at times threats and hate about her book and ethnicity. 

    But because of her actions, and her deception, it's hard to care for or about her or the path she has chosen.

Book Review: The Farm

 

•  Author: Joanne Ramos

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: It's been on my TBR list for a while, so when I saw it, I grabbed it

*******

    There are a lot of evil people in this novel.

    And I don't mean Lex Luther-type evil. Oh wait, I do. That's exactly who I mean. The evil folks in this book are either superduper rich -- like multiple-billions rich -- or wanna-be superduper rich and don't care who they have to step on or over to get there.

   

Gabrielle, the book, and a potted plant

  I would relate some of the utter evilness of their actions, but that would give away some jaw-dropping spoilers. Suffice to say the main storyline is their intention to pay young woman, many immigrants or people of color, to bear children for the superduper wealthy who just can't be bothered to do it for themselves.

     Admittedly, it's a lot of money -- life-changing, they grandly proclaim -- but no figure is ever proposed or given. (And it's only paid after the child is successfully delivered.) As they say when dealing with the superduper wealthy, the devil is in the details. Or perhaps, the devil is in the super-duper-wealthy themselves.

    Anyway, this is a damn good book. Your should go out and buy it, and then read it. 

    The "farm" is an estate in upstate New York where the pregnant women go to live for the time they are pregnant. After being implanted with a fertilized sperm and egg, their lives are no longer their own. They are constantly monitored -- for their own good, of course, and for the good of the babies -- not to mention the super-rich mommies and daddies.

    The women undergo strict testing, but most of them tend to be poor immigrants, usually Filipina, because the author is an emigrant from the Philippines, and it's what she knows best.

    The novel is told in a linear style, with chapters narrated by various characters. There is Jane, the protagonist Filipina who is trying to make a better life for herself and her daughter. Mae is the antagonist who created and runs the farm because she wants to be superduper rich, and caters to those who are because she sees it as a way in.

     Ate is sort of a secondary antagonist -- Jane's aunt and a mother figure to a group of Filipina immigrants in New York City -- whose role changes over the time of the novel. Reagan helps move the action along; she is a young white woman from an upper-middle class family unsure of what she wants out of life.

    Their tales move the story along, and with references to others in Jane and Ate's world, along with several other women at The Farm, who help us understand the rationale of being a surrogate.

Book Review: The Parting Glass

 

• Author: Gina Marie Guadagnino

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble Bookstore, West Chester, Ohio

• Why I bought this book: It shares a title with a great old Irish song

******

    Mary Ballard, born Maire O'Farren, left her home and her job in the west of Ireland for reasons unknown -- but eventually explained -- sometime in the early 19th Century.

    Her ensuing life in New York City as an Irish immigrant, a lady's maid, and denizen near the old Five Points neighborhood tells a tale of love and loss, heartbreak, and high living among poverty and destitution.

    Guadagnino's debut novel is a wonderful read.

    It's chock full of Irish history, New York City history, and the history of the Irish in New York. It touches on subjects including LGBT love, the empowerment of women, immigration, and the life of the rich and the poor in the 19th Century. 

    O'Farren -- or Ballard -- caters to her mistress, Charlotte Walden, a wealthy young woman of leisure whose sole goal in life is to find a wealthy husband. Walden, however, would rather love the man who runs the stables at her estate, near Washington Park in old New York City. That man, unknown to the  Charlotte, is Ballard's twin brother, Seanin. Of course, the Waldens are unaware of Charlotte's love for a common man.

    One more thing: Ballard holds in her heart her own unrequited and unspoken love for Miss Walden.

    But that's not all.

    On her nights off, Ballard hits the bars that line the streets of New York's lower east side. She finds a home at the Hibernian, run by Dermot, the man who sponsored and stood for her in New York. There, she meets another lover, a black woman who works as a prostitute and dreams of running her own brothel.

    Meanwhile, Dermot has his own connections with the Tammany Hall Irish who run that part of New York City, along with some ties to the Irish rebels back home. Here's is where Seanin returns to the story.

    Eventually, they all come together in a surprising and intriguing climax. Guadagnino does an impressive jobs with her research, her historical knowledge, and her writing.

Book Review

Darius the Great is Not Okay, by Adir Khorram

    This novel was hard to find but easy to read.

    Its title and description intrigued me, but I was unable to find it for three years in my bookstore visits, I finally asked and realized it was a Young Adult novel, and thus in that section. 

    Who knew?

    Anyway, Khorram's little gem of a book -- which gets better with every page, and wraps up with a strong, emotional finish -- has a lot to teach us. He delves into Iranian culture. He explores mental health issues, specifically depression. He discusses being bullied and not fitting in. He touches on living with a loved one who has depression, and the emotional toll it takes on everyone.

    Whew. That's a lot for a Young Adult novel to take on. But Khorram does it, and he does it well.

    Darius Kellner -- the protagonist and narrator -- is the son of a immigrant woman, Shirin, from Iran, and a white guy from the United States, living in Portland, Ore., attending his local high school. He tries to accept parts of his heritage but pales in comparison to his younger sister, Leleh's, knowledge and love of it. He calls himself a Fractional Persian.

    Both Darius and his father suffer from depression. Darius is overweight, not active, and has few friends. He thinks his father criticizes him and blames him for being bullied. He derides him as a Paragon of Teutonic Masculinity. (Yes, in capital letter.)

    While he does not get along with his father, he cherises the one thing they share -- their nightly watching of Star Trek reruns.

    The background is a setup to the family's first visit to Shirin's hometown of Yazd, Iran. There, Shirin's father is dying of a brain tumor.

    Once there, Darius enter a world unlike his own. He realizes he loves his grandparents. He learns about Iran's history, especially that of his namesake, and enjoys being called by the Iranian pronunciation, Darioush. But he also realizes that as an American who doesn't speak the language, he still doesn't fit it.

    Then he meets a neighborhood boy, Sohrab. They quickly become friends. Darious is overjoyed that he has found a friend, someone who wants to be his friend. It's an unknown feeling for him, and Darius must also learn the differing ways men and boys relate to each other in Iran than they do in the United States. It makes him uncomfortable at times, but also content with their closeness. 

    Their relationship, along with some surprising revelations from his father, helps change Darius. 

    There is a second book in the series, Darius the Great Deserves Better.  It's in the TBR Stack. 

Book Review: Girl, Woman, Other

Girl, Woman, Other, by Bernadine Evaristo

    This book is additional proof that the Booker Prize never leads you astray.

    It also shows the benefits of reading literature.

    The 2019 winner of the British-based prize, by Evaristo, an Anglo-Nigerian writer, was cited for "a gloriously new kind of history for this old country."

    Indeed. These seemingly random, but ultimately interconnected profiles of women -- mostly of color, but young and old, cis and trans, gay, straight, and bi -- are a wonderful collection of tales from groups who seldon are heard from and less often listened to. But these women deserve to be seen and heard, and noticed.

    And they are. And it is good.

    These vignettes tell the stories of women's lives. They demand that people like me -- a white, older male -- listen to their struggles and their success. The show me their cultures -- old, new, and joined. 

    Some show why they left their African or Caribbean homes for a difficult if more prosperous life in England, and how they fought to survive, adapt, yet hold on to their past.

    The descriptions connect mothers and daughters, or grandmothers and granddaughters, or descendants to their ancestors, and show us the lives of several generations. 

    One woman clings to her Nigerian heritage, but has no plans to return to her native home. Despite the racism and the poverty, her home and her life are now in England, and she cherishes being British. Another dreams of returning home, but cannot see a future for her there. Another not only lives her Nigerian culture, but desires to pass it, unchanging, to her daughter. But her daughter prefers her own Britishness, which she has fought hard to accept and be accepted in.

    The book's format allows for a full telling of an individual's prosopography. First, we hear from one woman, giving her background, her experiences, and her views on her life and work. A following chapter will tell the story of another person, until it slowly dawns on us that she is related -- by blood, marriage, or heritage -- to a previous person in the book. Then another individual's profle is told, and that person gives insight into previous -- and perhaps a future -- character.

    It's a compelling collection of tales, full of surprises, evocative yet pointed in its writing, colorful in its descriptions, and sensitive in its narrative.While it may not show the full panoply of women's views and stories, it tells a wide and impressive range.

This Year in Books: 2019 Edition

My Best Books of 2019

I like to begin the year reading a favorite story about one of the greatest baseball players of all time. Roberto Clemente died New Year's Eve 1972 when he boarded a plane to take supplies to Nicaragua, which had been recently devastated by an earthquake. The plane crashed, killing the 38-year-old Clemente, the pilot, and three others.

Fifteen years later, writer W.P. Kinsella, working off the idea that Clemente's body had never been found, wrote "Searching for January," in which a tourist sees Clemente coming ashore in 1987. In a touch of magical realism, they discuss what happened and what might have been.

Ready for breakfast and the yearly reading of Kinsella's work.

OK, that's a long intro/aside to my first Year in Review blog post, featuring the best books I have read this year. According to my Goodreads profile, I read a book a week, which, according to one estimate I have seen, means I read about 50 pages a day. Sounds about right.

Anyway, of those, I have selected eight as my books of the year. Why eight, you ask? Why not, I respond.

So here were go.

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, by Kim Michele Robinson. This novel, about a WPA project that paid women to ride mules into the hollers of Eastern Kentucky, became one of my favorite of all time. The writing is extraordinary, vivid, and sensitive. Richardson reaches perfection in her use of dialect -- just the right amount to give flavor to the speech of the people, but never too much. In addition to her keen ear, Richardson has a keen heart and mind in creating and letting her characters live their lives. Full review.

The Bees, by Laline Paull. Paull gives us a hive of honeybees that are feminist, pro-labor, and loyal, and presents them to tell a story of love, hope, and commitment. It's a book not about bees, but about us. It's about how we are locked into a caste at birth and struggle mightily to escape. Full review.

Washington Black, by Esi Edugyan. With powerful and explosive writing, Edugyan tells the tale of George Washington Black, who begins life as a field slave on a plantation in Barbados in the 19th Century. From that beginning, she follows Wash through the United States, Canada, and England, as he tries to escape slavery and live the life of a freeman. But melancholy and a haunted, hunted existence follows him. Full review.

The Testaments, by Margaret Atwood. This is today's story of what happens in the years of The Handmaid's Tale and its government of Gilead. It is told in various voices, from a top aunt in the organization to members of the resistance. They include children, who only know Gilead after the revolution, as they are taught little about the previous life. It's an inspiring tale from a top-notch writer. Full review.

Elevation, by Stephen King. This is an unusually short Stephen King book, but it's also the ultimate Stephen King book. It has great characters in a great story that's well written, with a little supernatural sprinkled in. It's a short novel packed with intensity and issues. Full review.

Unsheltered, by Barbara Kingsolver. Kingsolver melds past and present into a sentimental yet unsparing tale, exploring how our present determines our future and influences interpretations of the past. In her literate prose, with a gift for the narrative of empathy and understanding, Kingsolver touches on what moves us all -- our family, our homes, our beliefs, and our hopes for the futures. Full review

Night Boat to Tangier, by Kevin Barry. In the long, extraordinary history of great Irish writers, Barry is finding himself among the elite. Night Boat tells about  two old Irish drug dealers and wanderers, who have made it good, then lost most of it. As they wait in a Spanish port for one character's daughter, Barry tells their story in writing that is ravishingly beautiful. He makes every word count, and causes you to use your five senses to take it all in. Full review.

Music Love Drugs War, by Geraldine Quigley. Quigley introduces us to a group of young friends and acquaintances in Derry, Northern Ireland, at the start of the 1980s. Most of them are in their late teens and on the cusp of adulthood, but unsure of their futures. They live in a city where jobs are scarce, the violence can be thick, and the hope can be slim. Their pleasures lie in drugs, music, and each other. Their fears and realities lie in the violent struggle that has engulfed Ireland for 400 years. Full review.

Book Review: Patsy

Patsy, by Nicole Dennis-Benn

This is not your stereotypical novel of an impoverished immigrant moving to the United States, working hard, and rising to the top rungs of society, all the while remembering where she came from and keeping in touch with her common-folk heritage.

Far from it.

Rather, it is a far more realistic, if depressing, book about a girl growing up, poor and abused, in the ghetto of Pennyfield, Jamaica, and dreaming of a way out. Cicely, her best friend, has moved to New York City and writes letters about her wonderful life and how they can be together, happily ever after.

The book is well written, moving, and an important profile of immigration. It brings us into a world mostly unknown and unexplored. It's depressing nature comes not from a fear of immigrants, but the fear of being an immigrant -- the fear of not fitting into a new culture, of losing your self-identity, of being a failure in a new world for reasons beyond your control. Patsy sees or experiences all of this, and the book explores her struggles and reactions.

Patsy has several strikes against her as she dreams of leaving Jamaica for a life in Manhattan. One is a five-year-old daughter she doesn't love and cannot connect with. The second is the visa system in her home country, which makes getting a flight to the United States difficult. But eventually she makes it, landing at JFK, ready to meet and renew her love with Cicely.

It's both easy and difficult to judge Patsy. How could a mother leave her child behind, promising to return or send for her, with no intention to do so? How can her dreams be so common yet unrealistic Still, we root for Patsy and respect her decisions, hoping she can find joy and tenderness in Cicely's arms, and success in New York.

Not to give away the tale, but it's not that simple.

We see that Patsy's early life is not grand, and when she gets to New York, the story gets even more depressing. We learn about her sad and lonely life in the city, stuck in menial and degrading jobs, living in tiny, dumpy apartments. Patsy tries, but the Devil's Cold -- her own bouts of depression -- weighs heavily.

We also learn about her daughter's difficulties growing up back in Jamaica, abandoned by her mother, and being raised by her previously absent father, who doesn't understand her.

Dennis-Benn is unflinching it her portrays of the troubles -- and the growth -- of both mother and daughter. Her writing skills are up to telling this difficult yet engrossing tale.