Book Review: 1666

  By Lora Chilton

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Historical fiction

• Where I bought this book: Joseph-Beth Bookstore, Lexington, during the Kentucky Book Fair 

• Why I bought this book: The author talked me into it  

 ********

    The thing you have to understand about this book, and what affected me the most, is that these were real people who survived the horrors within.

    The PaTow'O'Mek tribe of what is now called Virginia actually existed, and because of the people written about and their descendants, exist again. That is no small thing, considering how America was built on the wanton destruction of the native people and their lifestyles.

    The novel begins with the tribe living in a time of change, when the Strangers have come and expressed an intent to take the land, regardless of the desires of the current inhabitants. Several tribes live on the land, with similar lifestyles but with shifting interests and coalitions. The Strangers take advantage, and with superior weaponry and numbers (not to mention the diseases they bring), take what they want.

    In doing so, they massacre all the male members of the PaTow'O'Mek tribe -- now known as the Patawomeck. They capture the women and children they don't kill, and sell them into slavery in the sugar fields of Barbados.

    The survival story is told in alternating chapters through two women who lived through the massacre and whom we meet again aboard the slave ships. Ah'SaWei and Xo, tribal friends, are split up when they arrived. Xo has the harder enslavement of the two, being regularly subjected to rapes and beatings. Ah'SaWei's enslaver is a Quaker, who is less vicious in the treatment of the people he enslaved.

    Several parts are particularly difficult to read, as the author spares little in documenting the violence inflicted on those who were kidnapped and enslaved. But it's necessary to lay it all out, as it explores the inhumanity of the original colonists, and the suffering of those whose lives and lifestyles were uprooted and destroyed.

    Chilton, the author, is a member of the tribe, and she interviewed tribal elders, studied the language, and researched documents from the colonial era and beyond to put together the tale. It's quite an amazing work that reads like literary history, and marks the trauma, pain, sadness, and eventually triumph.

Book Review: The Weaver and the Witch Queen

 By Genevieve Gornichec

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Magical Fiction, Historical Fantasy, Historical Fiction

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble, Florence, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: I enjoyed her debut novel

 *****

  

    Gornichec's second novel is not so much re-written mythology, but re-written -- or perhaps invented -- history. She calls it historical fantasy, inspired by medieval Icelandic sagas.

    And it's a decent book about those tribal times, when life was hard and bloody, cold and violent, and ruled by vicious and power hungry illusory kings.

    It's a decent read about Gunnhild, a young girl who doesn't admire the Viking lifestyle and who  dreams not of marriage and family, but adventure. She and two friends, sisters Oddny and Signy, take an oath to become blood sisters, intertwining their lives and futures.

    Gunnhild gets her early wish when a seeress/witch called Heid bids her to follow, and becomes her teacher and mentor. A decade later, Gunnhild strikes out on her own, a witch who still has a lot to learn.

    We don't see her training, but her life as she emerges and seeks to catch up with her blood sisters. The story is quite violent. The job and lifestyle of the Vikings and their leaders are to raid farmers and villagers, taking what they can, killing whoever tries to stops them. Gunnhild isn't sure how she fits in.

    Those Viking leaders -- from families of wealth from raiding -- hire more raiders, called the hird. They demand payoffs and loyalty from those who don't want to be raided and killed or enslaved, thus rising in the royal hierarchy to become  hersirs, jarls, princes, and kings. Sounds like a protection racket, but it happened all over Europe during these times.

    Gunnhild steps into this life, with her own wants and desires, friends and enemies. There's a lot of drama, backstabbing, and witchery. There's some romance, which comes with its own drama.

    So it's a nasty story, although it has some high points. It abounds with strong women and others who seek an alterative life. They guide and help each other, yet bicker and betray when it suits them. They pray to the gods and goddesses, who rarely play a major role in their story. 

    Bonuses include an Author's Note that explains her background and the foundations of Norse history. It includes a list of characters and terms, which are helpful in keeping track of who is who and what is what, and how people are related. I appreciated all those touches, and a map would have been nice.

    Overall, it's a well told tale. The writing is consistently strong. The action mostly moves along, although it tends to get bogged down in the drama and the romance.

    I suspect we haven't seen the last of Gornichec or her characters. Perhaps this will become a multi-part series, with more drama and romance and intrigue. Although I would prefer she go back to writing about the ancient gods and goddesses.

Book Review: Babel

• By R. F. Kuang

• Pub Date: 2022

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

• Why I bought this book: It called out to me

**********

   

     This is an extraordinary tale that uses magic and fantasy to explore the realms of language as it's used and abused to use and abuse people.

    It revels in the history and decadence of language, its twists and turns, its meanings and context. We see its glory and honor, and its brutalities and  tragedies. We see it as homey and friendly with a welcoming smile. We see it as elite and fastidious, with a smirk and ridicule.

    And in this story about the fictional history of the revolt and strike by the translators of Oxford, we see that language is used by the privileged and powerful for their own ends. And, of course, those privileged and powerful are white men. The translators include some women and a small cohort of people of color, but only as necessary to perform the difficult if unpretentious tasks.

    The setting is Oxford, England, a small college town some 50 miles from London, but several hundred years removed from what's described as a stinking, bustling, crime-infested city of thieves and thugs and foreigners. Oxford is determinately quaint, sophisticated, and, well, well-educated.

    The time is the early 19th Century. The Silver Revolution is in fill swing, its magic providing clean water, quick transportation, and a better life for those who deserved it. 

Book jacket photo

Author R. F. Kuang is a remarkable woman.

She is a translator with master's degrees from

Cambridge and Oxford in Chinese studies, 

and who is studying for a doctorate in East

Asian languages from Yale. She has written

six books, and has been nominated for 

the Hugo, Nebula, Locust and several other

awards for her works. She is 26 years old.

    The characters are few -- the translating cohort of Robin, "rescued" from the slums of Canton, China, who can pass for white if you don't look too closely; Ramy, a lad from Calcutta, proudly brown-skinned but aware of the dangers from the bigoted; Victoire, a Black French woman originally from Haiti, and Letty, the "English Rose," who is both part of the privileged high society but a second-class citizen because she's a woman.

    Other characters include the high-minded if mysterious Professor Lovell, who takes in Robin to prepare and raise him for a spot at Oxford. Others -- several who become instrumental to the plot -- come and go and are well-rounded, if there only to serve specific purposes in the story.

    Indeed, even the main characters are plot specific, and serve as representations of larger societal issues. Even the plot points are metaphors: the Silver Revolution is the Industrial Revolution, if more intellectual -- and magical. 

    (In this world, silver and words combine to bring power, and the translators do the dirty work. England obtains silver bars from elsewhere, through means nefarious, but which it deems legal. The translators perform the magic, inscribing paired words from various languages, which allows the bars to provide a way to make possible train travel, electricity, and other modern wonders.)

    The story is heavily about the class structure of the British Empire, and its exploitation -- for goods, for money, for knowledge -- of the rest of the world through violence. This England is relentless in getting what it wants, regardless of the cost to other cultures and lands. The book doesn't demonize England; it simply highlights is schemes, its murders, and its wars for its own purposes.

    Even our cohort of four translators are assimilated to exploit their own countries -- China, India, and parts of Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Americas -- and accept their work as being the price of their comfort and intellectual life. But slowly, they come to realize what they are doing, and what the Oxford translators do.

    That realization and its consequences are at the heart of the book, and Kuang tears our hearts out as she tells the tale. We find ourselves sympathizing with the dilemma the four face, and understanding their choices, and why they are made.

Book Review: The Last Barracoon

 

•  Author: Zora Neale Hurston

• Where I bought this book: National Museum of African-American History and Culture, Washington. 

• Why I bought this book: While doing research on Hurston, I found I wanted to read her books. This was a good start.

********

 

   The protagonist in this book is known by several names -- his African name and his slave name, which is the name he adopted for himself. But it is only because of Hurston's persistence that he gets to tell his story, although the books wasn't published until 2018.

    And it's a story that needed telling. 

    It's a horrific, devastating story about the last newly enslaved men, women, and children who were captured in Africa and sold in America. It's how, despite all odds, Africans have survived despite bigotry, hate, and oppression.    

    He was known as Olulae Kossula -- the English spelling is a transliteration from his native tongue -- the name his mother called him and that he used in Africa. But in America he became Cudjo Lewis -- a combination of his African name and a corruption of his father's name.

    He was born in 1841in the West Africa town of Banté, a member of the Isha group of the Yoruba people. In 1860, a group of illegal slave traders came to his area, and -- with the help of some tribal enemies called the Dahomey -- captured him and a number of his neighbors. Bear in mind that Cudjo had no idea what was happening, and when shoved into the hull of a slave ship, had no idea what was happening to him.

    Ultimately, he was taken to the United States by the Meahers, Alabama brothers who enslaved people, and he was owned by Jim Meaher. After freedom, he lived in Africatown, which the former slaves built themselves on the land of their former plantation, which they had worked and saved to purchase.

    The story is told mostly in Cudjo's voice -- with his dialect and pronunciations as close as Hurston can transcribe. It is moving and compelling. It is overall horrifying, sometimes angry, often sad, and exhibits a loneliness that he felt near the end of his life. Some of its accuracy -- particularly how much is Cudjo's words and how much is the author's -- has been questioned and defended. But the overall story is factual.

    It tells of confusion and despair. It shows how men, women, and children are ripped from the only lives they've known -- their family, their culture, their liifestyle -- and dropped into a hellhole. They are not told what's happening, are literally treated like cargo, then dropped off in a strange land and told they must now work for strangers or be beaten and tortured.

    But it shows the utter joy that Black people experienced when they learned they were free.

Know how we gittee free? Cudjo tellee you dat. Da boat I on, it in de Mobile. We all on dere to go in de Montgomery, but Cap'n Jim Meaher, he not on de boat dat day. Cudjo doan know (why). I doan forgit. It April 12, 1865. Da Yankee soldiers dey come down to de boat and eatee de mulberries off de trees close to de boat, you unnerstand me. Den dey see us on de boat and dey say, 'Y'all can't stay dere no mo'. You free, you doan b'long to nobody no mo'. Oh Lor'! I so glad. We astee do soldiers where we goin'? Dey say dey doan know. Dey told us to go where we feel lak goin', we ain' no mo' slave.

Book Review

The Underground Railroad, by Colin Whitehead

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio
• Why I bought this book: It is written by Colin Whitehead

**********

    Whitehead takes the Underground Railroad literally.

    

    He imagines it as a subway, with underground tracks,  cobbled together train cars, and live conductors. It has hiddens entrances, stations, and a schedule.

    Moreover, he imagines some of the stations leading to havens for escaped slaves -- a place for them to stay, work, and put together a life of normalacy, in a town where Black people can grow and succeed, and raise a family.

    But this is no feel-good fantasy. Real life intrudes, even in their free towns. White supremacists hate Black success. They hound and harass them. Slaves catchers make a career of chasing them. The escapees from slavery fear being forced back to the savagery of their previous lives or the torture that will end them.

    Make no doubt, this is a painful, fearful book to read. The descriptions of the daily humiliations, sufferings, and agonies of the enslaved are difficult to read. One is presented with the inhumanity of the enslavers and those who support and defend them. The entire callous system that brought about and sustained chattel slavery is shown for the cruel, merciless abyss is was.

    The story is told throught the eyes of Cora, an enslaved person. Because her mother successfully escaped -- or at least ran, and was never caught -- Cora's life is particularly difficult, She is an outcast even among the other enslaved. The overseer on the plantation selects her for particular harassment, and others condemn her to the hob, a portion of the slave camps for the unfavored. 

    She describes her life on the plantation, the deaths, the punishments, and the rapes and assaults. She longs for her mother, but simultaneously hates her for running off and leaving her. When Cora is offered an opportunity to flee by a fellow slave named Caesar, she takes it. 

    The book follows her on the Underground Railroad. She describes the efforts by her enslaver to recapture her, and by the slave catcher Ridgeway to kidnap and return her to her life of hell. Even the towns along the Underground Railroad, which appear to offer refuge, are an illusion that hide a insidious scheme to keep the enslaved from ultimate freedom.

    One finds it easy to root for Cora, who shows tenacity to get what she wants, and overcomes much of her suffering. Her compelling story is a testament to her character, and by extension, the character of her fellow enslaved people.

    Whitehead's writing is superb. His stories alternate from Cora's tale, to the backgrounds and motivations of the enslavers, slave catchers, and others who participated in the system. His language is profound and gripping. He draws you in to the story, and with a mesmerizing narrative, compels you to stay there. Cora's detailed account is raw, riveting, and captivating. 

    He deservedly won the Pulitzer prize for this novel.

Book Review: Days Without End

 Days Without End, by Sebastian Barry

    At one point in reading this painful novel, I was thinking of putting it aside forever. But I ploughed through, and eventually, it was worth it. But beware this is a depressing, violent, and traumatic book. 

    The plot, such as it is, is secondary to the descriptions of the scenes and the settings. And while the writing is evocative, it can be incessant at times. And some of those vivid descriptions deal with long passages about slogging through rain, snow and mud, or with hatred, fear, and slaughter. 

    The voice telling us all this comes from the main character and protagonist, one Thomas McNulty. He is a remarkable person to tell this story of the wild west, the Civil War, and the attempted genocide of the Native population. He is an Irish immigrant whose family died in the Great Hunger, a soldier, and a gay man who is gender fluid. He enjoys dressing as a woman, for a job, in the theater, and in his personal life. His loving relationship with John Cole, another male character, is a constant throughout the book.

    Barry gives McNulty a voice in the style of an uneducated person of the mid-19th Century. He uses language, terms, and expresses ideas that likely were common for the time, although considered offensive, if not derogatory and unacceptable, today. Yet, the gay love and transgender issues are treated in a matter-of-fact manner. While the two men often hide their love from others, they are sometimes accepted as a couple. In a passage late in the book, McNulty describes how he is comfortable with being gender fluid.

I am easy as a woman, taut as a man. All my limbs is broke as a man, and fixed good as a woman. I lie down with the soul of a woman and wake with the same. I don't foresee no time where this ain't true no more. Maybe I was born a man and growing into a woman.

    The story follows Thomas, or Thomasina, from about the time he is 12 when he and his partner, often called Handsome John Cole, run away from their orphanage and set out to explore the country. They get jobs as female dancers in a mining town, which is otherwise without women. It's not a sexual thing, but about companionship, and it is an enjoyable experience for Thomasina.

    The pair then join the cavalry. This is where the book bogs down. Pages and entire chapters are dedicated to their travels and travails though the mountainous west, the intricacies and politics of army life, and the murder and dehumanization that occurs during the Indian Wars.

    Then we read similar tedious descriptions about the battles of the Civil War.

    Eventually, John Cole, Thomas, sometimes as Thomasina, and a Native child they have adopted settle in Tennessee with an old Army buddy and a few others. But even that life does not go smoothly, and there are more long-winded tales of unpleasantness.

    But for the most part, it is a satisfying ending worth getting to.

Book Review: Here Comes the Sun

 Here Comes the Sun, by Nicole Dennis-Benn

    Poverty and despair, combined wth judgmental Christianity, do not bode well for a society.

    Especially when it is comprised of people of color whose ancestors were enslaved by the European colonizers who already had killed off the indigenous population. After a few hundred years of this treatment, they live on a Caribbean island where catering to weathy tourists is their major source of income.

    Thus, we see a society -- at least the one portrayed in this novel, written by a Jamaican woman -- where the exploitation of others seems to be the norm. Striving to be something other than what you are runs a close second.

    It's not a happy novel about reggae music and lolling in the sun smoking weed. Instead, it depicts people struggling against themselves, their families, and their heritage, to achieve what they have been taught they need -- and discovering they have to exploit and betray not ony their loved ones, but their very souls.

    This is Dennis-Benn's first novel, written in 2016, and it's a good one. The writing is superb, rich in language and history. Many characters speak in Jamaican Patois -- except when they need to impress someone richer or whiter than they are -- and while it's sometimes difficult for a reader to disentangle, it adds a sense of realism.

    The main character, Margot, uses power and sex to climb up the corporate ladder of the hotel where she works. She controls the future of her sister, Thandi, by wielding promises to pay for her education. Thandi wants to be an artist, but Margot persuades her she wants to be a doctor. Thandi also participates in her own exploitation by literally trying to be whiter than she is -- using lightening creams provided by a respected elder, Miss Ruby, and wrapping herself in plastic, despite the hot sun -- to erase her blackness.

"Remembah to stay outta the sun like ah tell yuh," Miss Ruby says. "'Cause you and I both know, God nuh like ugly."

    Others in the book routinely manipulate those around them. Miss Ruby encourages the uses of creams to make them paler. Margot's and Thandi's mother, Delores, sells them to older men. Those men rape and assault the woman around them.

    It comes to a head as a new hotel arises on the banks of their small community, the fruition of Margot's dream. But Thandi revolts to an extent, and as their futures play out, we learn the trauma and abuses of their pasts, partly explaining their actions.

This Week in Books, 10th Ed. Black Authors

Black Authors White People Should Read

In the past few years I have made a concerted effort to read more female writers and writers of color. Last year, I started counting, and half of the authors I read were women, and more than a quarter were people of color. I am improving from the days of reading almost exclusively white male authors.

So in honor of Black History Month, I am recommending several writers of colors and their books, and what I have learned from them.

Washington Black, by Esi Edugyan: With this novel, set in the 19th Century, Edugyan gives us an extraordinary work filled with powerful and explosive  writing, Through the title character, Edugyan shows some of the true horrors of slavery, not just in the routine dehumanization of people of color, but in the lifelong impact it has on them, She shows the depravity of its systemic brutality. She shows how it allows white people to decry its savagery while simultaneously benefiting from it.


Red at the Bone, by Jacqueline Woodson: Woodson goes a step beyond the present, and shows how history and family and ancestory affect black lives today, She shows how bigotry and hate and violence in the past impacts the present and the future for black Americans. Bonus book: Read her Another Brooklyn, about groing up black in Brooklyn.


On the Come Up, by Angie Thomas: Thomas uses Bri, the smart, hip, talented, and ambitious protagonist, to show us what it's like to grow up as a 16-year-old black girl living in black ghetto in an otherwise white world.  Bri discoves how people judge her through lenses tinged with bias and outright bigotry. Her teachers condemn her as "aggressive." White parents claim her rap lyrics causeviolence. Many -- even her fans and neighbors -- see Bri as little more than a ghetto hoodrat.

My Name is Leon, by Kit De Waal: A British writer of Irish and Kittian descent, De Waal writes about a mixed-race child in England trying to find his way. After Leon's mother falls ill, social services take him and his younger, white brother, who is adopted almost immediately. Leon stays with his white foster mother. He learns the difficulties in being a black boy in white Britain while bonding with a group of black men from the West Indies.


Celestial Bodies, by Jokha Alharthi: It tells the stories of a multi-generational family growing up in Oman at a time of massive societal change in the Middle Eastern country. It's the first book originally wriitten in Arabic to win the Man Booker prize, It's mostly about three sisters trying to adjust to the changing culture, and it also explains the village of al-Awafi where they live. It does so through many voices, which reach a cohesive whole that is sad, but compelling and illuminating.

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: The Water Dancer

The Water Dancer, by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Ta-Nehisi Coates brings some powerful writing to evoke the abject horrors of slavery. 

His descriptions of the denial of the basic humanity and dignity to those enslaved are anguished and compelling. He doesn't just tell, but he shows their stories through a range of characters who represent the Tasked, those existing under the yoke of slavery; the Quality, the owners and their family, who perpetuate yet remain enfeebled under the system; and the Low, the vast majority of poor whites who are among its most voracious defenders because it allows them to appear to build themselves up while tearing others down.

The novel depicts a daily horror show of the trepidation, fear, and devastation of a people bought, sold, and beaten as part of a system that degrades and humiliates them and their families. Its shows how the hope of freedom elevates the meaning of the word to its truest sense -- allowing one to live and love without qualm.

It is a gem of a novel, important for both its revelations and its story of hope.

But yet.

It's not perfect. Weaving in and out of the tale is the thread of magic realism -- the idea that it takes something beyond reality to end this evil and to bring people home. I think it subtracts from the efforts of  those who consistently laid their lives on the line to present the notion that supernatural assistance was required.

Another flaw is more prosaic: it felt at times to be a disjointed narrative, lacking a clear trail from

event to event, causing readers to stop in their tracks to re-evaluate.

Still, it's a fine book. The characters are strong, courageous, and human. They are male and female. The tale is clearly driven by its main black characters, which is as it should be because it is their story.

Through Coates, a student and scholar of African-American literature, history, and philosophy, the characters come alive through stirring words and vivid actions. Some are figments of Coates' imagination; others are drawn from historical figures.

All are remarkable, and present an evocative tale of a shameful time when white people sold and abused their fellow humans simply because of the color of their skins.

Book Review: Celestial Bodies

Celestial Bodies, by Jokha Alharthi

This can be a difficult if enjoyable novel to read. Its style -- combining several voices and perspectives jumping around in time, along with its setting of a different culture in an unfamiliar place -- forces one to read closely.

Several times, I had to go back and re-read paragraphs or whole chapter -- which tend to be short -- to comprehend the time and voice. Helping immensely in this is the inclusion of a family tree that connects most of the characters. I bookmarked this page so I could refer to it early and often.

The story is ostensibly about three daughters in a changing Oman, an Islamic country on the Arabian peninsula. But it's really a multi-generational tale about the village of al-Awafi and its people. The clans intermingle, slaves who were bought and sold and recently freed live and work with their former owners, and women are married off, usually not to a man of their choice.

The book is the first novel originally written in Arabic -- it was translated by Marilyn Booth -- to win the Man Booker prize. The award called it "a coiled spring of a novel, telling of Oman's coming of age through the prism of one family's losses and loves.

We meet sisters Mayya,  Asma, and Khawla, representative of different women who are changing along with the country. We also hear from and about others in the town, from the poorest of former slaves, to other who try to maintain their dignity over time, to those who are leaving behind their traditional culture for a new way.

We have Abdullah, whose voice ties the novel together, who married Mayya and talks about his abusive father, a slave trader. We have London, the eldest daughter of the couple, who becomes a doctor and enjoys western culture. We have Zarifa, a former slave who raised Abdullah after his mother mysteriously died, and whose place in the village is inconsistent.

As the novel moves along its path, the intertwined stories become clearer, and we reach a cohesive whole that becomes more familiar, at times sad, but always compelling and illuminating.

Book Review: Lincoln in the Bardo

Lincoln in the Bardo, by George Saunders

This is a strange, but ultimately compelling and readable novel. It won the Man Booker literary prize in 2017, so you know it's good.

It's only peripherally about Abraham Lincoln and the death of his 11-year-old son, Willie, in 1862. Lincoln took the death hard, and for several days, visited his son's crypt. From this snippet of history, Saunders leaps off into the realm of fantasy, hope, longing, grief, and despair.

The bardo of the title is a Tibetan word for the transitional state between life and death. It can last days, weeks, even years. The being in such a state is unsure about his existence, and throughout the book refers to the coffin as a "sickbox." It's a way that Saunders can explain how a person reviews the life, and can sometimes see images of a past that did not exist and a potential future that never came.

The novel takes the form of citations from books written and imagined, and discussions by various spirits. Those spirits watch as Lincoln visits his son; they try to influence Lincoln's actions, and they attempt to encourage Willie to move on. A young boy in such a state is unusual, the spirits allow.

They seem drawn to Lincoln's sadness, and use it to examine their own lives -- full of lost loves, missed opportunities, squandered time, and prejudices and bigotry that continue to plague them in the bardo.

It's a difficult book to get into. But once you read through a couple of chapters, the book comes into focus, and the characters grow and develop as we learn about their lives. 

Book Review: Silence of the Girls

The Silence of the Girls, by Pat Barker

Another Man Booker prize winner, and another fine read.

I enjoy novels that tell a different side of the story. In this case, Barker tell the story of Achilles and the Trojan Way from the perspective of Briseis, a high-ranking woman from Troy whom the Greeks captured and gave to Achilles as a war prize, as a slave.

It can sometimes be confusing to read such a book, as it gives details and tells anecdotes that are new, and sometimes contradictory to the stories you have heard before. But that's the point.

Barker tells it well, in succinct, well-written prose. Briseis' anger, her regret, and her longing for her past life and her family come through loud and clear. She also tells of the women with her, who are living a life as bad or worse than her own. Briseis is unflinching in her disgust at the men and their killing, at the viciousness and thoughtless hatred that fills the rage of Achilles and the other warriors. 

This is Briseis' story, as she explains near the end of the book.

"What will they make of us, the people of those unimaginably distant times? One thing I do know; they won't want the brutal reality of conquest and slavery. They won't want to be told about the massacres of men and boys, the enslavement of women and girls. They won't want to know we are living in a rape camp. No, they'll go for something altogether softer. A love story, perhaps? I just hope they manage to work out who the lovers were. His story. His, not mine. It ends at his grave."

It's a fascinating read that tells the experiences of the captured women, whom no one listens to and no one hears. Silence becomes a woman, says Ajax, one of the Greek fighters. Barker replies with the  sounds of silence.

Review: Washington Black

Washington Black, by Esi Edugyan

If this book has proven one thing, it is to appreciate the Man Booker Prize for selecting some of the finest contemporary fiction available. Whether a novel is on the longlist, shortlist, or is the actual winner -- Washington Black was shortlisted for the 2018 prize -- rest assured it's going to be good.

But Edugyan has shown much more with the powerful and explosive writing in her extraordinary work. Through the title character, Edugyan has shown some of the true horrors of slavery, not just in the routine dehumanization of people of color, but in the lifelong impact it has on its victims. She has shown the depravity of its systemic brutality. She has shown how it allows white people to decry its savagery while simultaneously benefiting from it.

Set in the 19th Century, the book follows George Washington Black, who begins life as a field slave on a plantation in Barbados. It's a cruel, grueling life, and Wash is confused and alarmed when he finds he is assigned to be a manservert to the master's younger brother. He fears he will be assaulted and abused, with no way out, because he is always forced to go along. Even when he finds that Titch -- which his new master insists that Wash call him -- is not the vicious master he feared, he cannot rest easy.

"I thought of my existence ... the brutal hours in the field under the crushing sun, the screams, the casual finality edging every slave's life, as though each day could easily be the last. And that, it seemed to me clearly, was the more obvious anguish -- that life had never belonged to any of us, even when we sought to reclaim it by ending it."

Titch discovers Wash has natural artistic skills, and he encourages his talents. But he does so because he sees a benefit to his own scientific endeavours.

When a tragedy occurs on the plantation, Titch and Wash flee, leading to their adventures through America, Canada, and England. The tale is told in brilliant, colorful, descriptive language.

For instance, later in the book, Wash recalls his experience in the Canadian Arctic.

"I had been warned ... that snow was white, and cold. But it was not white; it held all the colours of the spectrum. It was blue and green and yellow and teal; there were delicate pink tintings in some of the cliffs as we passed. As the light shifted in the sky, so did the snow around us deepen, find new hues, the way an ocean is never blue but some constantly changing colour. Nor was the cold simply cold -- it was the devouring of heat, a complete sucking of warmth from the blood until what remained was the absence of heat." 

It's that writing, showing the melancholy, the bitterness, and the haunted, hunted existence that follows Wash throughout his life, that makes this book worth buying and saving, so one can read it again and again.