Willoyd's Read Around The World

[willoyd]

Book #35: The Bone Readers by Jacob Ross for Grenada *****
The book for Grenada in my Reading The World project.  I don't often read crime fiction, although I am a fan of both Simenon (Maigret) and Leon (Brunetti), and have enjoyed a fair few others (admittedly usually historical fiction, like CJ Sampson).  However, this appealed from the word go, and in the event didn't disappoint.  As with all the best crime fiction, it's so much more. Yes, it has a good plot (and this is not cosy crime, having corruption, child abuse and statutory rape at the heart of the problem), but that's not what makes a book for me. What I enjoyed were the strongly drawn characters (both male and female), the sense of place (a major part of why I so enjoy Simenon and Leon), and the insights into island culture and politics. The author tries to reflect the local patois in his dialogue, and yet still manages to leave it eminently readable and understandable, only demanding a couple of rereads when I realised I'd misunderstood something!

In short, I find this pretty much unputdownable, reading into the early hours to finish off last night - that doesn't happen often with me!  And, as a confirmation of how good I thought this was, I've already ordered Ross's other two novels from my local bookshop.  Whether it gets upgraded to 6-star/favourite status later, time will tell, but in the meantime, this is an easy 5-star grading.

[France]

That sounds really good, just what I enjoy.

[Hayley]

The Bone Readers is now on my to-read list too! 

[willoyd]

Book #36:  The Sorrow of War by Nao Binh for Vietnam **

A classic of the Vietnamese war I understand, on a par with All Quiet on the Western Front and other war greats. I can see sort of see why, but personally I found this a tough, unrewarding read, boring me rigid before I reached half way, and struggling to make it to the end of what is, after all, only a slim 220 pages or so. Graphic in detail (the even mildly squeamish should be wary), unrelenting in its grimness, it may well be an all too starkly accurate portrayal of what the war was like, but I also found it repetitious and narrow in its language (this, of course, may be a function of the translation), equally repetitious in its narrative, and disjointed in its telling - chronological this is not (I don't normally find this a problem, but on this occasion it just confused). The odd attempt at metafiction just felt clumsy. All of this, for some readers (actually, most readers from the reviews - I'm definitely in a minority here) may well add to the impact, or carry this into the realms of the classic, but I'm afraid it just lost me about a quarter of the way in, and with only occasional remissions, it remained that way to the end, by which time I was really having to force myself not to leave it unfinished (I'm really trying to ensure I read books all the way through for this project, even if it's one I'd normally abandon). I'm sure this is down to inadequacy as a reader on my part, but this was a book I was glad, relieved, to put behind me.

[niko]

On 2/13/2024 at 5:46 PM, willoyd said:

Book #35: The Bone Readers by Jacob Ross for Grenada *****
The book for Grenada in my Reading The World project.  I don't often read crime fiction, although I am a fan of both Simenon (Maigret) and Leon (Brunetti), and have enjoyed a fair few others (admittedly usually historical fiction, like CJ Sampson).  However, this appealed from the word go, and in the event didn't disappoint.  As with all the best crime fiction, it's so much more. Yes, it has a good plot (and this is not cosy crime, having corruption, child abuse and statutory rape at the heart of the problem), but that's not what makes a book for me. What I enjoyed were the strongly drawn characters (both male and female), the sense of place (a major part of why I so enjoy Simenon and Leon), and the insights into island culture and politics. The author tries to reflect the local patois in his dialogue, and yet still manages to leave it eminently readable and understandable, only demanding a couple of rereads when I realised I'd misunderstood something!

In short, I find this pretty much unputdownable, reading into the early hours to finish off last night - that doesn't happen often with me!  And, as a confirmation of how good I thought this was, I've already ordered Ross's other two novels from my local bookshop.  Whether it gets upgraded to 6-star/favourite status later, time will tell, but in the meantime, this is an easy 5-star grading.

It sounds pretty interesting and unusual. I'll probably add it to my reading list.

[friendofbooks]

On 12/27/2022 at 5:52 PM, willoyd said:

Book #16: Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata for Japan **

If ever a book made me feel inadequate....! Acclaimed as a classic, regarded by many as the masterpiece of a Nobel laureate, I failed at pretty much every level to engage with this slim (thank goodness!) novel. As much as anything, I think this must be something of a culture clash, as I can't recall a single Japanese novel that I've enjoyed (I've not read many, but have tried a few now) - at least one reviewer has commented that one needs to understand at least something of the way the geisha system works (I admittedly don't). Even trying to allow for that, whilst I found some of the description of the landscape evocative,  I never really felt there was much point to what I was reading, with 2 characters bumbling along going nowhere, either as people or on any form of narrative arc, and revealing about the same. I stumbled my way through this in a fog of incomprehension and bewilderment, but, unlike some difficult poetry, with no real 'hook' to movitate me to try and work it all out: I found the style of writing almost abrupt, too staccato and fractured, with dialogue where it was all too often difficult to identify who was speaking. I'm just relieved to be able to move on, although I will probably, once given a chance to draw breath, start to wonder what that was all about.

I really liked the quote. The main character is talking to a masseuse, and she tells him: 'I don't know why, but if a person doesn't drink sake at all, they can't be truly happy, and nothing good remains in their memory...' - which completely captures my personal mood about the novel's main character.

[PYX]

On 12/27/2022 at 5:52 PM, willoyd said:

Book #16: Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata for Japan **

If ever a book made me feel inadequate....! Acclaimed as a classic, regarded by many as the masterpiece of a Nobel laureate, I failed at pretty much every level to engage with this slim (thank goodness!) novel. As much as anything, I think this must be something of a culture clash, as I can't recall a single Japanese novel that I've enjoyed (I've not read many, but have tried a few now) - at least one reviewer has commented that one needs to understand at least something of the way the geisha system works (I admittedly don't). Even trying to allow for that, whilst I found some of the description of the landscape evocative,  I never really felt there was much point to what I was reading, with 2 characters bumbling along going nowhere, either as people or on any form of narrative arc, and revealing about the same. I stumbled my way through this in a fog of incomprehension and bewilderment, but, unlike some difficult poetry, with no real 'hook' to movitate me to try and work it all out: I found the style of writing almost abrupt, too staccato and fractured, with dialogue where it was all too often difficult to identify who was speaking. I'm just relieved to be able to move on, although I will probably, once given a chance to draw breath, start to wonder what that was all about.

This novel is amazing. It's like a Japanese slow burn - sensual, piercing, and sad. It's tough to read because it's so emotionally intense. 

[willoyd]

A series of catch-up posts!  Starting with....

 

#37: Not A River by Selva Almada for Argentina *****
Reading various posts in CR24 and articles on publishers of books in translation (particularly a Guardian profile piece on several UK indie publishers), my eyes picked out this book from Charco Press in a tabletop display in my local Waterstones during a browse earlier this week. I've not read any of their books yet, but the name was familiar from both posts and article. A quick glance, and I knew I was hooked, not least by the production values (I'm a sucker, especially, for French flaps!). I've since discovered it's on the longlist for this year's International Booker and, having read it, I'm not surprised.
At only 99 pages (including a fascinating translator's note), this was a short but absolutely compulsive read: two friends are on a river fishing trip with the teenage son of another friend who died on a previous visit. They successfully land (by shooting!) a monster ray, which attracts the attention and the ire of local villagers, in turn threatening to boil over in violence. The story tells of how the relationship pans out, with flashbacks centred both on fishermen's and villagers' lives fleshing out both how they got here, and why things work out the way they do. It's a carefully, tightly woven narrative, made all the tighter by Almeda's very lean language and the spartan use of punctuation and paragraphing. So often this latter makes life harder, but the author's style rapidly grew on me, and it really did add to the atmosphere and my involvement as a reader (I may have been helped by the fact that I'm a few hundred pages into Ulysses, which has similar traits that actually made this feel relatively easy!). Almeda's focus is primarily on aspects of masculinity, much toxic, in a strongly patriarchal society, and some of the fallout from this, with this the third in a thematically related trilogy of books (they each stand alone, with no narrative or character crossover, so don't need to be read in order).
Yet, whilst the questions are asked and themes aired, this is also, in its simplest terms, a brilliantly told story, with a twist that both took me utterly by surprise, and made me go back to reread whole sections (easy enough when there's only 99 pages!) to tease out the clues, indeed large bites of narrative meaning, that I'd missed. This was a book which produced a genuine "Oh I see it now!" moment well after I'd reached the end. Maybe (probably!) I'm just a bit thick, but I did enjoy the revelatory experience!
So, a very happy impulse choice (perhaps not the right word, as this is a very dark book!), and a great one to add to the Reading The World list.

[willoyd]

#38 Pedro Paramo by Juan Rulfo for Mexico ****
A classic of Mexican writing apparently, which is why I chose it, included in a list of world's 100 most important works by the Nobel committee, and a major influence on Latin American literature. Slim at only 125 pages but anything but a short or straightforward read with chronological shifts, dead talking to the alive (and other dead!), and a style of writing that sometimes makes it quite hard to workout who is being written about and who is talking. To be honest, half way through I was feeling decidely unenamoured, but it grew on me and is, I think, a book that needs to be read more than once to work out what is going on, and interesting enough that it's worth reading more than once! I was relieved to read that even Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the writer of the Foreword of the translation I read, reckoned it's a difficult one! I'm not going to write a more detailed review, simply because I don't really have a lot more I feel I can say. Maybe once I've given it another go!

[willoyd]

#39 Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco for The Philippines ***
Strangely two-dimensional, overly complex, over-written, this was a book that I had really looked forward to reading but ultimately disappointed. Seemed to take forever to finish. I'm not sure quite why I've rated it as high as 3 stars, but credit where credit is due - the idea was clever (and should have been entertaining and intriguing), and there were some great individual scenes. This should have been a great book, but the author seemed to spend too much time trying to impress rather than engage the reader.

[willoyd]

#40 The Details by Ia Genberg for Sweden *****
Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize, this was a choice for one of my book groups. It didn't make a huge impact on most members, who were pretty flat on it, but I and one other were distinctly more enthusiastic! Split into 4 chapters, each effectively a character study of an individual who made a significant impact on the narrator, recollecting them through the fog of a virus. The descriptions and writing were distinctly unfoggy (in fact, the illness felt trivial, simply an excuse to explain, unnecessarily in my opinion, why the narrator was recalling them), the precision and detail (inevitably given the title) marking the whole, very slim, book out. For me the character studies actually said as much if not more about the narrator than the subjects - in the creation, the development and the ending, as these were all relationships that had finished in one way or another (or had they? Part of the novel was surely about how the relationships had, in their own way, continued and affected the narrator). Whilst I found the book thoroughly engaging, immersive even, almost more interesting than the characters described (and none were particularly likeable, or even ones that I cared about) were those who were left out, not least the friend who appears in all 4 chapters almost as a common thread. Presumably (in part) because that relationship still existed? But others surely didn't.

All in all, whilst there was very much a 'could take it or leave it' air about most of the group discussion, I found this to be one of the strongest reads I've had so far this year, and feel very glad to have read a book that would almost certainly not have otherwise crossed my horizon.

[willoyd]

#41 A Heart So White by Javier Marias for Spain ***
Read for one of my book groups as well as being my choice for Spain. This is probably Marias's best known book, and it starts with a bang (literally) as a young newly-wed, Teresa, commits suicide during a family meal. The book is narrated by her nephew Juan, daughter of her sister Juana and Ranz, the man who was Teresa's husband at the time and who later marries her younger sibling. In simple terms, it's a mystery around why Teresa killed herself, but it is actually far (and I mean FAR) more complicated than that.

Juan, an interpreter is recently married to another interpreter, Luisa. Juan contemplates the nature of marriage, relationships (one of equals, or is it always a case of one manipulating/compelling the other?), and secrets (especially in a marriage). His own style is highly voyeuristic, but voyeurism through voice rather than sight, his interpreter skills focusing in on the subtleties and importance of language and verbal communication. Marias was himself an interpreter and translator (including the Spanish version of Tristram Shandy!), so it's interesting as to how much of this might be autobiographically drawn.

Equally, the book itself is a translation from Spanish, and much of our group discussion circled around the importance of this in both understanding and enjoying the book: Margaret Jull Costa chose to stick to the original Spanish structure - where sentences at times extended to half a page or more, and commas often functioned much as full stops would do in original English. This, according to a bilingual member of our group, is relatively easily handleable in Spanish and not untypical, but whether it was the most appropriate style to adopt in English was subject to much (and rather inconclusive!) debate. This all on top a looping narrative, including repetition of themes and even individual phrases and paragraphs. To be honest, most of us got used to the style, and some, indeed, came to positively enjoy it (no different, for instance to the lack of speech marks or full stops in some original English works?). It didn't, however, make the reading an easier, and several (including me) found it hard to read large chunks of the book at one go - a chapter or two at a time was enough for me (and they weren't long).

As a book group choice, this proved a thoroughly successful selection, as it stimulated a really lively and thoughtful discussion, both in terms of the themes addressed, and in terms of our views on the book itself, these ranging from 'hatred' to 'love' - perhaps the widest range of opinion we've had for a while. Most did enjoy it though, and found it rewarding to read, whilst all agreed they were glad to have read it (different to enjoyment)! I remain slightly ambivalent - definitely glad to have read, not so sure about anything else. In one respect I want to reread it - there was much to reflect on, much I wanted to go back over, much I wanted to read again in the light of later reading, but I have to admit finding it tough going at times, especially in the third quarter where a particularly bizarre relationship was put under the microscope. On that front, I would suggest it's definitely not a book to read if you need to like your characters (or I think even care for them). If I do go back to it, I think I need a rest. It could be a long rest too!

Edited September 7, 2024 by willoyd

[willoyd]

#42 Runaway by Alice Munro for Canada ***
I've long intended to try Alice Munro's work. I'm not inherently a short story fan, the only writer ever really grabbing me being Katherine Mansfield, but, after all, Munro is a Nobel Prize winner, and regarded as one of the greats of short story writing. With the exception of Margaret Atwood perhaps, nigh on a shoe-in for Canada.
There is no doubt in my mind that she is a brilliant writer - there's a quality to her work that shines through, and I certainly had no difficult in finishing the book. However, the fundamental problem remains - these are short stories and Munro just doesn't overcome that for me. One Runaway reviewer likens short stories to endgame studies in chess as compared to the novel / full game, and that sums the issue up perfectly for me: there's an artificiality of context, a lack of development that the short story writer simply can't get away from. They're great to examine, to practise on, but they lack the depth that only a full game can provide. They always seem to have one specific point they're trying to make, one twist that gives the story an 'ending' before it's fully started. Munro tackles these issues far better than most writers I've come across: her character development given the lack of space is remarkable (although her men don't work for me), but she still lacks the space to really get to grips, and whilst I can sit back and admire her work, it just doesn't hold me (I regularly find myself checking out how many pages to the end), not least because of the slightly surreal atmosphere that permeates so many. It doesn't help also that every one (as happens with most short stories it seems) ends in almost predictable disappointment - they reek of melancholia - and it's not only the characters who are disappointed either... So, a decent enough read, but nothing there that screams at me to want to read more, and confirmation that, even in the hands of the best, short stories really don't work for me (although there's always Katherine Mansfield!). I live in hope though.

[willoyd]

#43  Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk for Poland ******
Read as the book for Poland in my Reading the World project. Superficially a murder mystery, this is a book that offers so much more - a book that (although much lighter) reminded me of The Name of the Rose. 60+ year old Janina Dusszejko (although she won't thank me for using her name - she hates it) lives in deep countryside on the Polish-Czech border. One night, her neighbour Oddball (she ascribes names to people rather than use their given names) disturbs, having found the dead body of another neighbour Big Foot. It's the first of a series of deaths, some more mysterious than others, and the development of a murder hunt, with all the victims members of the local hunting club.

Janina herself is 'different'. Whether she's just a 'mad old woman', as the local authorities see her as, or merely 'eccentric' or 'unconventional', or somewhere on a spectrum is left to the reader's judgement, but she is an absolutely fascinating and powerfully drawn character, especially interested in animals (with whom she relates better than most humans), astrology and the poetry of William Blake, who, whilst socially isolated in some ways and certainly highly individual, even reclusive, still manages to develop a small, tight, coterie of friends - a group of friends on the fringe of society, and largely disregarded by those with power (even when closely related!). As a reader, I found myself on several occasions drawn along by Janina's thought processes, completely agreeing with what she was thinking, particularly recognising the weaknesses/features/tics she zooms in on in others (eg the constant repetition of standard, on trend phrases), and then suddenly finding myself realising that I've been pulled along so far, and that we're now in the realms of what I would regard as extreme or at the very least 'individual' behaviour/attitudes. She's certainly not afraid to speak out, but when, for instance, one reads her letters of 'advice' to the local police, one starts to see why the word 'mad' is applied - but where does 'normality' end and 'madness' begin? Janina's strong belief in astrology is one side of the line for some, and tending to the opposite for others. Her equally strong belief in animal rights threatens to take her views over the divide (at least for many people), but then when the hypocrisy with which she's dealing with fully reveals itself, her extreme doesn't seem to be quite so extreme after all - or maybe it still is? Tokarczuk appears to thoroughly enjoy playing around with our perceptions of the 'normal' and the 'extreme', teasing us, none more so than in the her handling of the denouement!

Even so, I think I missed a lot: several reviews touch on the relevance of so much of this novel specifically to attitudes, politics and the role of religion in Poland that completely passed me by (until explained!). But even missing that, this is a book that both thoroughly entertained (it's genuinely funny in places) and constantly pulled me up short and made me think. I have to admit, I did rather glide over some (most!) of the astrology, but that was it - the rest was riveting, one of my favourite pieces of fiction this year.

Edited September 7, 2024 by willoyd

[willoyd]

#44  The Book Censor's Library by Bothayna Al-Essa for Kuwait ******
Translated from the Arabic by Ranya Abdelrahman and Sawad Hussain.
This is a fantastical satire examining the rise of authoritarianism and the dangers of book censorship : 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 are obvious influences, but oh is this so timely. In a post-Revolution society where imagination and much technology is banned, and conforming to 'logic' is the rule, the unnamed protagonist of this book finds himself a member of the team of book censors responsible for approving (or not) the books people are allowed to read. He's desperate to conform, but finds himself being sucked into the joys of reading (triggered off by reading Zorba the Greek) and into the resistance, the Cancers. At the same time, his daughter is showing scary signs of imagination, where fairy stories (and where did she acquire her knowledge of them) are all too real, making her vulnerable to being shipped off to one of the much feard child rehabilitation centres.

I'm not normally a fan of satire, and definitely not of dystopian fiction (and this is both), but, like our protagonist, I was unrelentingly sucked into complete addiction. This was almost an effortless read, particularly noteable given the darkness of the subject matter, the writing crisp and sharp, with not a trace of having been translated. The fantastical element, well controlled, added an edge that both intrigued and entertained (all those rabbits!). Unusually for me, there were some genuine laugh out loud moments. Yet this book is deadly serious, and there were moments which exemplified why I don't enjoy (if that's the right word) dystopian fiction.

All in all, a brilliant read. Not quite a 'favourite' (can such a book ever be one?) but another outstanding read on my world tour.  Glad to have been able to get hold of this book relatively easily - I thought Kuwait might be one of my more challenging countries that way. This has only recently become available in the UK, and the book is noteably even then printed and published in the States.

[willoyd]

#45  The Pleasure of Drowning  by Jean Burlesk for Luxembourg ****
A thoroughly entertaining collection of short stories, a series of alternative perspectives on traditional stories and legends.  It's a quick, very easy, read, being barely 80 pages long, but packs a fair bit into that.  I'll definitely be rereading it soon too. I'm not convinced that's the author's genuine name!

[willoyd]

#46  Ulysses  by James Joyce for Ireland  ******
A book that I've intended to read for many years, but kept shying away from: "when I've got the time to devote to it". Making it my choice for Ireland - and putting it right at the centre of the project by requiring every other book to be 'post-Ulysses' - was designed to force the issue! In the end, I started this in March, read about one-third, and then took a break between the end of April and the beginning of September, at which point, for various reasons, I set myself the target of reading it by early October. And finished it was today!
It is comfortably the biggest, most challenging, even most exhausting, book I've ever read; it's the only one (so far!) where I've been glad of a guide alongside it (I used Patrick Hamilton's The Guide to James Joyce's Ulysses, and found it very useful in keeping me on track!). Even with that help I found a few sections very difficult (excruciatingly so at one point, fairly early on - but Hamilton helped me keep going!), but I was very pleasantly surprised as to how much was anything but, and overall it ranks amongst the most enjoyable books I've ever read, culiminating in the glorious final section, Molly Bloom's stream of consciousness soliloquy. It's certainly the most intricate book (fiction or non-fiction), and the one, when I got to that final "Yes!, that has provided the greatest sense of achievement! I totally get why this is often cited as the greatest novel ever written.
I'm not going to attempt to write a fuller review, but just to say that I will definitely be reading it again, although perhaps in small sections now I have an overall broad grasp of it (if anybody can ever 'grasp' this novel!), and definitely want to visit Dublin to track Leopold Bloom's day! How can I give this anything but 6 stars? Wow!

Edited December 31, 2024 by willoyd

[willoyd]

#47  So Distant From My Life  by Monique Ilboudo for Burkina Faso ****
This is a slim volume, barely 120 pages, and centres on Jeanphi, a young man desperate to emigrate. He tries a variety of different ways, eventually resorting to what are for him extreme measures, difficult to reconcile with, to achieve his goal. The effects of this decision have consequences, which Jeaphi doesn't appear to fully appreciate until it's almost too late. The author, obviously well-informed (her biography is pretty formidable), packs in a huge amount especially given the small space, addressing a whole range of issues, including migration, post-imperial colonialism, corruption, attitudes to homosexuality, the role of NGOs and more, yet writes with a spark and a lightness of touch that made this a very easy read - I fairly rattled through it!

However, enjoyable and readable as it is, the balance between the length and the heft didn't quite work for me: there's almost too much rammed in here, leaving too many unresolved questions at the end as the author seemed to keep wanting to move on to another theme she wanted to cover. Either the book needed to be a fair bit longer (it's not often I say that!), or she needed to focus a bit more tightly on fewer topics. I'd reckon the former, as it's the interaction of all the issues that makes things so real to life. And that may just be what the book was about: so many challenges, demands, pressures all bouncing off each other, no time to fully consider them, all needing to be surmounted in order to get on - and if you take your eye off the ball, and let something slip under the radar, then that's when it all goes wrong. So, can Jeanphi make that happen? What this book certainly highlighted is how tough the challenge is for someone in his position. It was certainly a book that made me think, and one I'd definitely recommend for a book group, as there's plenty (almost too much!) to discuss and learn from. I'd certainly want to discuss the final twist too. Does it work? I'm not sure, but it certainly took me by surprise.

[willoyd]

#48  The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden for the Netherlands *****
Set in the late 50s/early 60s, with the war still fairly fresh in minds, Isabel has lived on her own in the family home since the death of her mother (promised to her brother when her uncle, who owns the house, dies), and is comfortable in her solitariness: her distrust of others is almost agoraphobic. And then, out of the blue, she has her brother's girlfriend foisted on her to stay whilst he is away on business, completely upsetting her routine and her life, leaving her riddled with suspicion, even hate - and so the relationship takes its course. And it's a sinuous course too, with much to be revealed that is concealed along the way. Whereas the Kushner was cool (too cool for its own good IMO) and sooo laid back, this was passionate and intense, with a depth to the characterisation and an almost claustrophobic sense of place that I really enjoyed. Now, this I could understand why it was shortlisted, an impressive debut. Perhaps not quite as good as Orbital in my view - the other nominee I've read - but a contender, and certainly better than some previous winners I've read. Also my book for the Netherlands in my world reading project.

Edited December 31, 2024 by willoyd

[willoyd]

#49  The Black Notebook (L'herbe des nuits)  by Patrick Modiano for France *****
So much to choose from for France, but I finally settled on this one, partly because Modiano is a Nobel laureate, and partly because he was until recently, completely unknown to me, so I was intrigued! The first I did know was when his name cropped up in Antoine Laurain's The Red Notebook, read earlier this autumn for a book group (and not a book I'd wanted to choose for France!), followed up in the subsequent book group discussion, where I learned that Laurain rather idolises Modiano. A quick dip into a book that the introducer had brought with her suggested that I might appreciate Laurain's taste in books rather more than his writing. In the event, that supposition proved correct, and I loved this slim, deeply atmospheric novel, set in Paris, and so redolent of the Paris of Georges Simenon's Maigret. There's even an element of mystery, but the mystery is more personal, as the protagonist, Jean, remembers back to his past and his relationship with the elusive Dannie and a group of unsavoury individuals she hangs out with - he (Jean) is still trying to work it all out! It's not the most scintillating of plots - intriguing rather than gripping - but I just lapped up that sense of place! Looking forward to exploring Modiano's work more now, and to that end have already acquired a copy of Missing Person.

[willoyd]

#50  To Live  by Yu Hua for China ****
Fifty up! Fugui is the oldest child of a well-off family in pre-communist China who squanders the family fortune on gambling and prostitution, and is forced to become a tenant farmer on the land that he previously owned. He and his family then live (and die) through the civil wars, arrival of communism, the Cultural Revolution and more. Life is a struggle, sometimes very brutal, but, ironically, it's their very poverty which on some occasions enables them to survive when those who have acquired their former wealth suffer even more so under the new regimes. Iniitally cutting an abhorrent figure, Fugui grows throughout the book even as all around him collapses, and his resolution and handling of all that is thrown at him (and that's a lot, almost too much!) makes him, in his poverty and persistence, an object for respect. He is the ultimate survivor, standing perhaps (as I suspect Yu Hua is trying to tell us) for so many Chinese in general? Apparently this was originally banned in China but 'has recently been named one of the last decade's most influential books there' (so the blurb states).
I have consistently found books from eastern Asia quite hard to read and enjoy - there's something about the writing that I find a bit cold, almost distant? I struggle to explain it, but it always reminds me of the way that myths and legends are told - is it something to do with the emphasis on events, or telling rather than showing? I can't quite put my finger on it, but they hardly ever engage me in quite the same way as I've found, for instance, reading African or Latin American literature. It was no different for much of this book, but somewhere around two-thrds of the way through I found myself gradually becoming rather more immersed. A couple of things (I won't spoil by saying what) kicked me out of that towards the end, but as eastern Asian books of late go, this proved one of the most profound and powerful reads I've had.

[willoyd]

I've been posting reviews on my Book Blog thread, but haven't been updating here, so 3 books so far this year:

 

#51. Co-Wives, Co-Widows by Adrienne Yabouza for Central African Republic *****
Having reached fifty just before Christmas, I had a brief hiatus whilst I get my United States tour back up and running: i initially intended only to start this global journey after finishing the American trip, but was too keen to start, and the problem then became that the latter then slid rather on to the back-burner. I'm still pressing on with it (40 reached now), but can't leave this alone much longer - it's too addictive!

So, a book for a continent that's been a bit of an eye-opener: I've really enjoyed pretty much every book so far having read so little African literature before. This latest is apparently the first adult novel from CAR to be translated into English. As Ann Morgan says on her website (in several places!), there's a danger in this sort of situation for a book and author to almost be forced to adopt the mantle of 'representing' a country, and i suppose that's true of any book in a project such as mine too, but on the positive side, it's still broadening my range of reading, and increasingly is serving as an introduction to a whole range of literature that I'm looking to explore further.

Co-Wives, Co-Widows is a slim volume, barely 120-odd pages, in the Dedalus Africa series. It focuses on the impact of the unexpected death of their husband Lidou, a successful builder, on the lives of his two co-wives, especially when Lidou's family led by cousin Zouaboua, a nasty piece of work!) try to take over Lidou's property and money. Ndongo Passy and Grekpoubou have a fight on their hands if they are going to secure their and their children's future.
The novel touches on a range of serious subjects, including the situation of women in a highly patriarchal society and systemic corruption at all levels (it is set against the backdrop of a presidential election). However, it's written with such a light touch, that it's the wit and humour that is the main aftertaste, but it's a wit that cuts with a very sharp knife. Yabouza says much in very few words, so few that on occasions it's almost too easy to miss, a single word changing the slicing direction of a sentence, a severe beating of the two wives summarised in barely four or five lines, the brutality underlined by the succinctness and matter of factness of the writing, but easily overlooked if not paying attention! The language feels simple and direct belying a subtlety that took me a while to appreciate. Much of the narrative has an uncomfortable feel from a westerner's perspective (the patriarchy!), but one begins to understand that the women involved (not just the two co-widows) are going to 'succeed' (read survive perhaps, but hopefully also change things) by working within the system rather than always against it.

I found this a very quick but thoroughly rewarding read. It initially feels a 'simple' read too, fooled by the directness of the language, but I was soon disabused of that. Whilst I enjoyed it from the very first page, it was a book that definitely grew on me as I read it, and is one that I will almost certainly return to in the future. And, in the same way that I have started to enjoy exploring the back catalogue of Latin American specialists Charco Press, I'm now looking forward to trying out the (smaller) Dedalus Africa series, which has opened up previously hard to come by introductions to other non-English speaking countries from this continent too.

[willoyd]

#52. Havana Year Zero by Karla Suarez for Cuba ****
A lively, quirky romp of a novel, centred on a quest by Julia (a pseudonym, as are all the names meant to be) to trace a document which proves that the Italian, Antonio Meucci, invented the telephone, as opposed to Alexander Graham Bell (Meucci is an historically real person). It's as convoluted as ball of wool, and thoroughly entertaining, reeking of both time (1993) and place.

[willoyd]

#53. Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood ****
Shortlisted for the Booker prize last year, and regarded by many as the best on that list, I can see why (even if I disagree - Orbital remains for me a rare occasion where I actually agree with the judges, at least of those I've read to date). It is a book which I respect, even admire, rather than actually say I 'like'. Beautifully written, it's more a meditation than a narrative (although the progress of the plague of mice has a certain compulsive, almost horror, quality to it), not least about how we handle both grief and those instances in life of which we are privately ashamed, but which occasionally come back to haunt us (even if others may barely remember them, if they do at all). I read this pretty much in one sitting (only broken to make a cup of tea at one point!), it was so compulsively hypnotic. So why 'only' 4 stars? I can't quite put my finger on it, but in the immediate aftermath, that just felt the right level - perhaps reflecting that lack of like versus respect. Just a mite too clinical, too starkly 'literary'? I struggle to put my finger on it, but that's how it left me, so 4 it is.