by ELG Gray

Schindler’s Ark

Page turner: 6/10
Heart tugger: 10/10
Thought provoker: 8/10
Overall: 4 stars

Schindler’s Ark is an absolutely phenomenal book. This story of the holocaust is really only believable because it is true. It is fact that the work only barely qualifies as one of fiction that I have struggled hugely with rating it ‘fairly’.

The story of Oskar Schindler and how he saved the lives of over 1,200 Jews during WWII is outrageous. It is a tale of bravado, of love, of ridiculousness, and of cunning. And it is true. The reason that Thomas Keneally chose to write it as fiction seems to be because a) that was the fashionable thing to do in the early 80s and b) to allow him to guess at a few conversations of which there are no records.

But the story reads like non-fiction. It reads like a biography of Schindler – and regularly quotes the many people who were interviewed as part of the book. His Jewish advisers and beneficiaries, his stoic wife, some Polish/German observers and Nazi participants all contribute. As such, how do I compare it with the ‘actual’ novels on this list? Keneally gets credit, of course, for choosing the topic and the breadth of time covered. He crafts the swathes of anecdotes, formal interviews, and historical documents into a incredibly readable, tragic, brilliant work. But it isn’t ‘his’ story. Not in the way that Hilary Mantel inserts her imagination into Crowmwell’s Wolf Hall. Or at least, it doesn’t *seem* to be.

I gave it a four because I feel like I should be rewarding a novelist’s originality. Otherwise, this book deserves a 5. Keneally brings the characters and personalities off the page. Schindler is very much a flawed man; but one who became larger than life as circumstance and coincidence presented himself with an almost-godlike opportunity that he uniquely is able to seize.

The haunting image of Genia, in red, taken from the film Schindler’s List based on Schinder’s Ark.

I have read a lot about the Holocaust, and Schindler’s Ark stands above all the other books I’ve read. It does a brilliant job of balancing the vastness of the loss of life in that era with the reality of the pain and horror of individual losses. How the loss of many millions of lives is in fact the loss of one life, then another, many millions of times.

And, especially for those people who have seen the film adaptation Schindler’s List, who can forget little innocent 4-year-old Genia, dressed head-to-toe in her favorite color red as she toddles towards death? Keneally must have somehow managed to connect Schindler’s memories of the girl in red with the thousands of anecdotes of Cracow ghetto survivors to determine who the girl really was.

Schindler’s Ark is haunting. Triumphant. Read it.

02.22.14

by ELG Gray

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.

01.01.14

by ELG Gray

Portnoy’s Complaint

Pager turner: 6/10
Heart tugger: 5/10
Thought provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars

Portnoy’s Complaint is funny. And a relief! It isn’t (I don’t think) a book that I would put on the top 100 list of the 20th century (it came 52nd), but it is enjoyable and I appreciate it for its unconventional and ballsy approach to writing.

Alex Portnoy is the narrator, and frankly, the book is a massive diatribe. He is a 33-year-old Jewish man in New Jersey/New York living in the ’60s and obsessed with sex. His life – his overbearing parents, scorning of God whilst maintaining Jewish customs, everything – fulfills all stereotypes. But he still has a few good adventures as he recounts his life stories and rails against his misfortunes and his psyche. And did I mention he was obsessed with sex? Let’s just say there were a few moments reading on the morning train that I was concerned about what other passengers might think of me if they were reading over my shoulder.

If you are put off by a little bit of explicitness, definitely don’t pick this up. And imagine how it must have been received in its day! It caused a tremendous stir, and I can’t but respect him and his publishers for putting it to press. If you are able to push past some obscenities and offensive words to catch the humor (and a bit of irony) of Alex screeching in all caps, ‘LET’S PUT THE ID BACK IN YID’, then definitely give this book a go.

Subtlety is not Roth’s strength; by the end I definitely felt I had ‘gotten it’ about 5 times over. But he does manage to capture Alex’s great frustration and outrage as he sits, fuming, on the psychologist’s sofa. I was outraged with him, if occasionally somewhat more amused and embarrassed by his anecdotes than he was.

I suspect this book is on the list because it was so unprecedented when published. A trailblazer, of sorts, in socially accepted digs at religion, americana, and sex. And it is done in good humor, or so at least I choose to read it. But, given that after all it really is a massive rant I don’t quite think I can give it more than a solid 3.

11.13.13

by ELG Gray

Gilead

Page turner: 6/10
Heart tugger: 8/10
Thought provoker: 7/10
Overall: 3 stars

Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson is the warmest-and-fuzziest book I have read thus far in my great book quest. I would not go so far as to say it is Happy, but it is much more heart warming than the previous 8 I have read. The biggest difference is that the narrator of the book is a content, and his contentment sets the tone for the story.

The narrator is a 76-year-old man named John Ames, writing to his 6 year-old son about all the things Ames would like to be able to tell him as an adult, but can’t because of the very great age gap between them. Whilst there is something bittersweet in such an undertaking, Ames is so happy to have a son and a family at all that I was much more impressed with the warmth and love of the endeavor than the morbidity of it.

For all its warmth (perhaps because of it), Gilead is really the ramblings of an old man. It’s a journal. There are no chapters. The style and tone adds charm, but also makes it occasionally tedious. Especially given that the man is a Congregationalist Reverend (whose father and grandfather were also Reverends), prone to philosophical debates and conjectures. Refreshingly he isn’t one to proselytize, but it can get a bit heavy. Several times I had to stop myself from skim reading. Prepare yourself for the inevitable conflict about predestination. He doesn’t like it, either.

So the book is about religion, and love, and parenthood. It is about loss and friendship and family. It tells a story (or set of stories) about a small-town in the Midwest and its history. Gilead, by the way, is the name of the fictional Iowa town. Set between 1880 and 1957, it touches on the events of both World Wars, and recounts a great deal about its Civil War legacy and abolitionist heritage. It’s a nice book, and if nothing else a very interesting chronicle of a life that lived to see huge technical and social change. Plus, you cannot help but to like Reverend Ames, who is clearly a very, very nice man.

What makes it award-winning, I suspect, is that it tackles a really interesting concept: what a parent wants to teach a child. Knowing you are not going to be present for most of your child’s life – what do you say? Are you selfish? Philosophical? Instructional? Supportive? Robinson, I think, does a lovely job of exploring all of the above.

It’s just that Gilead just didn’t wow me. I got through the book pretty quickly, but mostly because I had 6 hours of train-time over the last several days. I liked reading it, but it didn’t really compel me to keep going. I didn’t Need to know. Throughout, the book inspired me, and touched me, but didn’t – quite – move me.