The Sense of an Ending

I’m back! After a ridiculously long hiatus (during which time I could only bring myself to read books with either a) happy endings or b) containing at Least One Of dragons, wizards, or gnomes), here we go again.

So I started with Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending; short and sweet. It was a superb re-introduction to the world of Serious Literature.  (Not that I’m knocking the fab genres that have filled my last 18 months. Fantasy books, I love you.) I haven’t read Barnes before, and, in spite of an ending which I have a strong sense of leaving me unfulfilled, I really enjoyed my first foray into his work.

The Sense of an Ending is a personal history – the memoirs of Tony Webster, focusing on the events of his adolescence and young adulthood. It confronts suicide, sex, depression, history, mental health, and a host of other huge issues in a hyper personal, extremely specific way. In a way that is almost light hearted … only it isn’t, quite.

One of the most fascinating things about the book is the sense of perspective Tony, our protagonist and narrator, gives us. I like him. I want to believe him. But he proves that his own memory (and indeed his own interpretation of his memory) is suspect. Sometimes he owns up to that – other times less so. So what do we believe? Is there an answer?

As the title suggests, this book is really all about the Ending. Essentially the critical pieces of the puzzle are only unveiled in the final two pages. At which point it is far too late to ask more questions of Tony, or really to figure out what, exactly, happened. In many such books I end up Angry – WHY would the author do this to me!? What a friggin’ cop out! But somehow, with Barnes, I got the sense (pardon) that he Knew what he was doing. And that there IS an answer, if only I was smart enough to unpick it. The book meanders so much and yet is so concise, I really can’t fault it. It’s a splendid contradiction.

So I ask of you – please go read this book. And please tell me what you think of the ending. I would love to figure it out.

A Visit from the Goon Squad

Pager turner: 8/10
Heart tugger: 7/10
Thought provoker: 9/10
Overall: 5 stars
Readability: 5 stars

A Visit from the Goon Squad is fab. It’s a good read. An award-winning book that I read that I would periodically would forget was award winning. Which (perversely?) is a good thing. I think.

Jennifer Egan’s writing style for Goon is just so solid. And unpretentious. The book doesn’t have any of that slightly nose-in-the-air *worthy* feeling that so many others on this list seem to. It was refreshing, as well as just awesome.

I could describe this book a being ‘about’ sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Or I could describe it (somewhat more loftily) as about time. Either would be accurate, and you can read the book on either level and enjoy it.

A Visit from the Good Squad is sort-of like Love Actually meets Sliding Doors meets six degrees of separation … in the fourth dimension. One chapter kicks off with a character from the last, but you don’t know which character and you don’t know at what point in his/her life. It bounces around. And it is interesting if you read each chapter on its own, but it Makes Sense if you read them together, and are paying a bit of attention. Of course the lives of the characters interweave in mundane and meaningful ways. And of course the characters themselves are flawed, human, loveable, and frustrating.

Did I mention there is a whole chapter told from the point of view of a 12-year-old who keeps a powerpoint diary? Amazing. Resonant. Fun.

Read it.

Life of Pi

Page turner: 7/10
Heart tugger: 5/10
Thought provoker: 7/10
Overall: 4 stars

The Life of Pi is a coming of age shipwreck story, about religion and zoology. What more can you ask for?

Yann Martel’s mind must work in such a different way. I suppose that is what creativity is. But the very fact that he managed to construct a story where an Indian boy can be Muslim, Hindu, and Christian (because he ‘just wants to love God’) grows up, literally, in a zoo and gets shipwrecked with a tiger (probably) tipped this book to a four from a 3 plus. That’s quite a lot to fit in. And he does so with aplomb.

What’s interesting to me about the Life of Pi is that I read it for the first time probably about 10 years ago and managed to remember so little of it. I usually can recall most of the major themes of a book, and with this one all I remembered was the shipwreck and the tiger. There’s Quite a lot more to it than that – so I do wonder why my brain didn’t retain them the first time ’round. Maybe I was too overwhelmed by the different themes? I have to say that I definitely enjoyed it more this time than my memory of it a decade ago. I *like* that a boy manages to be three religions. I choose to interpret that move in a way that pokes fun at the institution of religion (rather than the spirit behind it), which appeals to me. But there are enough religious overtures in the book that I also see there is room for different interpretation, and for controversy.

I liked the Life of Pi because I like the story. And the fact that really it is a story for the sake of a story, makes it all the more appealing. I’ll ruin then end if I explain that further, but if you’ve read it you will know what I mean. Which I quite appreciate. There are times when Martel pushes implausibility to become ridiculous, but I can still forgive it. There are a few needless points of view, and I found that I never got particularly upset at any of the more tragic turns of events – which is a bit surprising.

Still, I very much recommend Life of Pi as being something totally different, interesting, fun, and full of animal-life. It’s a grown-up bedtime story.

Brave New World

Page turner: 8/10
Heart tugger: 7/10
Thought provoker: 10/10
Overall: 5 stars

Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley, is brilliant.

In my head, I thought it would be a sort-of precursor to 1984: author creates totalitarian regime for political point. Point made well and clear, and good story along the way an added bonus. (Not to diminish from 1984, which I will certainly get to and give proper consideration in due course!) A Brave New World is so much better than that. Huxley, in 1932, publishes a book that creates an entirely different planet- full of crazy rocket technology, syntethetic experiences, and sky scrapers- that hasn’t, really, aged. And this new planet isn’t really the result of an intentially extreme political party gaining world dominination. Instead, it is an entirely new culture. A new world. One that I had never even considered feasible.

The brave new world which Huxley writes about is a world of ‘decanting’ rather than ‘birth’; where happiness, consumption, and stability reign at the price of passion, liberty, and independence. Imagine a world where ‘pneumatic’ is the highest of compliments. It’s so very, very backwards from what we all take for granted. But it takes not-very-long before you get into it. Even as I read about the conditioning that people go through in order to create this society of solidarity (think Pavlov … on crack), I felt for them. You feel the pressures of thier invisible constraints. And you empathize.

Cover art for Brave New World

The appropriately eerie cover from my edition of Brave New World

Really, I think this book should have been in the curiculum on one of my university anthropology courses. Talking about seeing things through different lenses. It’s nurture trumping nature – but playing by totally different rules.

Meanwhile, it’s still a good story. Lots of sex (not too explicit), drugs, love, death, and a bit of adventure. And the accessories of the world itself is more novel and fascinating than plenty of ‘modern’ science fiction books.

It’s also incredibly well written.  Concise but descriptive. Clever but functional. And, not to be too blunt, a very readable length. Well edited.

Brave New World is really a commentary about what happens ‘for the sake of progress’. When technology gets us so far – then what? You can see why what happens happens. And simultaneously you can totally comprehend the perspective of ‘ancient’ Shakespeare (his works feature) and of the folks of a ‘Savage Reservation’ whose way of life resembles that of Native Americans at the turn of the 20th century. Sort of.

I will admit that by a somewhat surprising turn of events the two main locations of the book- London and Malpais, New Mexico – are places that I hold rather personal connections with. But that probably just makes it a cheeky 6 stars for me, and a 5 for everyone else. So, if you are looking to read a Great Book, getting many virtual brownie points for high school English teachers the world over, go with Brave New World.

Offshore

Page turner: 6/10
Heart tugger: 5/10
Thought provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars (but on the low side of 3)

I liked Offshore, which won the Man Booker prize in 1979. I was tickled by the tendency of the characters to refer to each other by the names of their boats; and particularly pleased by the character, Maurice, who changed the name of his boat to Maurice in response to this.

The book is about a small group of people who live in house boats at Battersea Reach on the Thames, London in the early 1960s. Quite pleasingly, I coincidentally discovered that the modern-day bus route 319 passes has a stop at Cheyne Walk, right where the characters are traipsing about.

The characters are, to say the least, an eclectic bunch. The best two, by far, are the 11 and 6-year-old daughters of Nenna, the abandoned wife. They are both feral and precocious, which is an improbable and impressive combo.

The trouble is, I just didn’t quite ‘buy’ any of the characters. They were a bit too … out there. Some of their inner monologues are clever and convincing, but as a set, I just never quite got Into the book. I never saw myself amongst them. And so, in spite of the fact I actually KNOW where the book takes place, I kept getting tangled in location, time, and events. Which is actually a bit embarrassing given that nothing particularly unusual or exciting happens. Yes, one of the characters is a male prostitute, but the author, Penelope Fitzgerald, steers clear of any sordid details. So the characters – apparently doing deep-and-meaningful things – to me just seemed to be bopping about.

As it is an award-winning book over a certain age, my edition of the book has an introduction. I usually try not to read them until after I’ve reviewed, so that I’m not unduly influenced. But this time I did, and I am going to borrow the term ‘tragi-farce’, which describes the tone of the book well. It’s dark, but not depressing. It would make an excellent Christopher Guest film.

*Anything* after 17 days of Ulysses would be a pleasure, but on reflection while I liked Offshore (and enjoyed my personal connection to it), I would think it was average overall. And the ending was thoroughly unsatisfying (again, fab for a movie, but…)