I am opening this review with a confession. I am a reading lemming. I like to read all the books that everyone else is reading, preferably before most people do. I hate saying, "No," to the question, "Have you read..." This is why I read most award winners, most bestsellers and anything that is written by a famous actress. I am terrible book egoist!
The Silkworm is the second in Robert Gilbraith's Cormoran Strike series. Robert Gilbraith is of course a psuedonym for the famous JK Rowling, a fact that ensures that these book will sell lots and lots and lots of copies. I read the first one (The Cuckoo's Calling) and thought it was okay but the ending was very silly. The only reason I read this one was because I knew that people would say to me, "Have you read the new JK Rowling?" and I wanted to be able to say, "Yes." Embarrassing, right?
Now that I have that off my chest, it's time to review this book. Like I mentioned earlier, this book will sell approximately one squillion copies and be reviewed in every major paper. In it, Cormoran Strike must solve a crime with the help of his trusty sidekick Robin and, in the process, prove that he is smarter and better than everyone else. The crime in this case is the disappearance of a not-very-popular author who has been caught up in a publishing industry scandal of his own making. There are plenty of reviews out there that discuss the plot in more detail; I do not see the need to add to them here. Instead, here are some general thoughts I had after reading the book.
1. Cormoran Strike has a prosthetic leg. This was established in the first chapter of the first book. It is clearly very important as it is referred to on average of once every three pages. Cormoran Strike also likes beer and watching football (soccer). These are also regularly referred to in the novel. It's like above JK Rowling's desk, there is a paper stuck on the wall that lists the traits of her characters and a note of how often to refer to them (Strike: likes beer (every fifteen pages - tick), watching football (every 100 pages - tick) and has prosthetic leg (every three pages - tick)). He's less of a character than he is a checklist of characteristics - there is no character development at all.
2. The language style in this book is confused. Each chapter opens with a quoted verse from a classic literary tale. Does anyone ever read those? I don't, but JK Rowling wants you to know that this is a LITERARY not a CHILDREN'S book and if she has to bash the reader over the head with 16th and 17th century poetic references to make that clear, then dammit she is going to do it. However, her most famous books were children's stories and that is reflected in the writing style, particularly when the characters are reflecting on their motivations. As a reader, I found this quite disjointing and it disrupted the flow of my reading.
3. Robert Gilbraith is a bit of a misogynist. Every woman in this book is put very firmly in her place: if she has children, she is boring and stupid and if she does not have children, she is unfulfilled, sad and spends her evenings at home alone or is a cheating sluttish sex demon. Women in power are bitches who should either be in an administrative and secretarial position or in the home where they belong. I am not familiar enough with the oeuvre of JK Rowling to say whether this is a characteristic of her style or if she's trying to make her male pseudonym more realistic but either way, it was pretty frustrating. Robin could be a great character if she wasn't solely defined in terms of her relationships with the men in her life who influence every single decision she makes.
Even with all of the flaws listed above, it is still very readable book. I absolutely would not pay for it but if you don't mind having no decent female characters or any character development, this is a decent way to spend 500 pages worth of time. A good holiday read but nothing more - three stars.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Dear Committee Members: A Novel by Julie Schumacher (2014)
Jason Fitger is a beleaguered professor of creative writing at Payne University. With an office that is turned into a construction site from which the Economics department has been moved for its safety but the English department left to inhale toxic dust, he seems to spend much of his time writing Letters of Recommendation (LOR) for, it seems, everyone he knows, including past and future students, colleagues, friends and lovers. Dear Committee Members: A Novel is an epistolary tale, telling Jason's story in a series of often funny but always (sometimes brutally) honest LORs. Over the series of letters, we discover that upon graduating, Jason wrote a successful semi-biographical novel based on others he was in school with that he is still dealing with the fall-out from; that he sabotages his own happiness; that he is alternately egotistical, grandoise, self-pitying and amusing; and that he really believes in the benefits that English studies and writing can give to society.
The epistolary novel is an interesting format. My favourite example of this is The Guernsey Potato Peel Pie Society, which I loved loved loved. However, as a novel format does have flaws. If it is written from the point of view of one character (as this novel is), it allows you to really inhabit the mind of the protagonist. This book does that really well and Jason's voice is both strong and believable. The problems with this format come because we are restricted to only one character's point of view and also to the kind of information that would realistically be found in the letter. By the end of the novel, I did get a bit weary of only hearing partial stories: I wanted to know more about the events that were being alluded to! There is also one event that happens at the end of the book that seemed to be dealt with in a somewhat summary manner that I thought deserved a lot more discussion.
Despite those flaws, Dear Committee Members is a funny but scathing indictment of the predicament of the humanities in the modern tertiary marketplace while celebrating the hard work of those who constantly fight to defend the honour of English and champion the students without whom the system would fail. Three and a half stars.
The epistolary novel is an interesting format. My favourite example of this is The Guernsey Potato Peel Pie Society, which I loved loved loved. However, as a novel format does have flaws. If it is written from the point of view of one character (as this novel is), it allows you to really inhabit the mind of the protagonist. This book does that really well and Jason's voice is both strong and believable. The problems with this format come because we are restricted to only one character's point of view and also to the kind of information that would realistically be found in the letter. By the end of the novel, I did get a bit weary of only hearing partial stories: I wanted to know more about the events that were being alluded to! There is also one event that happens at the end of the book that seemed to be dealt with in a somewhat summary manner that I thought deserved a lot more discussion.
Despite those flaws, Dear Committee Members is a funny but scathing indictment of the predicament of the humanities in the modern tertiary marketplace while celebrating the hard work of those who constantly fight to defend the honour of English and champion the students without whom the system would fail. Three and a half stars.
Friendship by Emily Gould (2014)
Emily Gould is Internet famous and she had a famous Internet meltdown. The thing about being Internet famous, though, is that while one may be ridiculously well known in one's own corner of the world wide web, the Internet is so niche that only the others who hang out where you do will know who you are (a case in point is the Yarn Harlot, a woman so Internet famous that her simply knitting a pattern can cause its popularity to sky rocket and whole colourways of yarn to sell out but who is virtually unknown outside the knitting blogosphere). Obviously Emily Gould and I reside in different parts of the Internet because it is only recently that I discovered who she is - a blogger who wrote for Gawker who got given a lot of money to write a book which then bombed and the stories within it caused rifts with her friends and family.
This knowledge about Emily Gould is fundamental to an understanding of her first adult novel, Friendship. In this book, Amy is an Internet famous person who had a famous Internet meltdown. She is now the editor of Yidster, a blog with "a modern Jewish focus" and a small but loyal readership, which is slowly and steadily losing money. Amy hates her job but it only involves about 15 minutes of actual work per day and she is too lethargic to do anything about finding a better job. Beth is a midwestern transplant who is back in New York after disastrously moving to Wisconsin for love. She is paying back an immense student loan debt from the one year she completed of a two-year MFA program. She is temping and struggling to make ends meet. This book chronicles the ups and downs of their friendship after Beth becomes pregnant after one night stand and Amy is forced to address the realities of her life.
Emily Gould is a very good writer. I read this book in one sitting, while my cat basked in the sun next to me. This is super rare for me to do and an indication of how easy the book is to read. I think the book also really captures well the dynamics of intense female friendship. However, these characters are incredibly and profoundly irritating. They make really stupid decisions really often, they seem completely unable to inhabit a financial and practical reality and they act with a truly breathtaking talent for self-destruction. The plot is frankly a bit stupid, particularly Beth's decision to scrimp on the $40 the morning-after pill would cost and the entire Sally plotline.
For me, this book feels a lot like the TV show Girls (a comparison that I am sure Emily Gould quite consciously cultivated). It focuses on a bunch of women who feel entitled to a life they can't afford and bewildered that life isn't turning out like they thought it would. These women are obnoxious, bratty and, for anyone with actual real problems, incredibly frustrating. But they are also entertaining and funny and very watchable. Emily Gould's online person is ridiculously self-involved and self-centred and the characters she created are also but she is a good writer. Your ability to enjoy this book will completely depend on your tolerance of Gould and her characters unrelenting self-absorption. Three stars.
One more thing: paying $60,000 for an MFA will not make you a writer. It is only through the act of writing that one becomes a writer. Invest that $60,000 in making sure you have the time and space to write rather than supporting the exploitative idea that an MFA is a thing of actual value.
This knowledge about Emily Gould is fundamental to an understanding of her first adult novel, Friendship. In this book, Amy is an Internet famous person who had a famous Internet meltdown. She is now the editor of Yidster, a blog with "a modern Jewish focus" and a small but loyal readership, which is slowly and steadily losing money. Amy hates her job but it only involves about 15 minutes of actual work per day and she is too lethargic to do anything about finding a better job. Beth is a midwestern transplant who is back in New York after disastrously moving to Wisconsin for love. She is paying back an immense student loan debt from the one year she completed of a two-year MFA program. She is temping and struggling to make ends meet. This book chronicles the ups and downs of their friendship after Beth becomes pregnant after one night stand and Amy is forced to address the realities of her life.
Emily Gould is a very good writer. I read this book in one sitting, while my cat basked in the sun next to me. This is super rare for me to do and an indication of how easy the book is to read. I think the book also really captures well the dynamics of intense female friendship. However, these characters are incredibly and profoundly irritating. They make really stupid decisions really often, they seem completely unable to inhabit a financial and practical reality and they act with a truly breathtaking talent for self-destruction. The plot is frankly a bit stupid, particularly Beth's decision to scrimp on the $40 the morning-after pill would cost and the entire Sally plotline.
 |
| My cat, keeping me company and lying in the sun |
For me, this book feels a lot like the TV show Girls (a comparison that I am sure Emily Gould quite consciously cultivated). It focuses on a bunch of women who feel entitled to a life they can't afford and bewildered that life isn't turning out like they thought it would. These women are obnoxious, bratty and, for anyone with actual real problems, incredibly frustrating. But they are also entertaining and funny and very watchable. Emily Gould's online person is ridiculously self-involved and self-centred and the characters she created are also but she is a good writer. Your ability to enjoy this book will completely depend on your tolerance of Gould and her characters unrelenting self-absorption. Three stars.
One more thing: paying $60,000 for an MFA will not make you a writer. It is only through the act of writing that one becomes a writer. Invest that $60,000 in making sure you have the time and space to write rather than supporting the exploitative idea that an MFA is a thing of actual value.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Fiona's Flame by Rachael Herron (2014)
Fiona's Flame takes us back again to the warm and comfortable streets and beaches of Cypress Hollow, where the dear departed master knitter Eliza Carpenter's words provide a crafy backdrop to the action that takes place in the narrative. This fourth installment focuses on the romantic travails of the lovely Fiona Lynde. Not a knitter, Fiona is a mechanic who owns and runs Fee's Fills (the local garage) and makes jewellery from vintage car scraps. She has had a serious crush on the gorgeous Abe Atwell ever since she saw him rescue a kitten from a mailbox but hasn't spoken to him for years. Abe has been firmly off the market since he was left at the alter nine years ago, focusing instead on being harbourmaster and developing his whale-watching business. Their worlds collide when their development plans for the local lighthouse differ. Fiona wants it demolished and turned into an accessible park; Abe wants it restored and turned into a museum.
As the novel progresses, we find out that Fiona and Abe are in different ways driven by their pasts. Abe's father, who was much loved by Abe and Abe's mum, died in a boating accident. The lighthouse was a special place for Abe's father and it is there that each year Abe and Abe's mother celebrate his memory. When Fiona was young, she lived in the lighthouse with her father and alcoholic mother, and has only sad memories of the place. Will they be able to resolve their differences and, at the same time, deal with the ghosts of their past?
This is a romance novel, so of course they will, but not until after the requisite misunderstandings and make-ups have occurred. As with all of Herron's books, there are nice secondary characters and a good sense of place. This book is an enjoyable visit to a familiar, comfortable place.
I have two minors quibbles the book though. My first the random explicit language. For example, Fiona and her friend Daisy are discussing the cuteness of Abe's friend Zeke and Daisy drops into conversation how she "get[s] wet" when guys talk about budgets on dates. Obviously it's part of a joke between Fiona and Daisy but the phrase is really out of context with the gentleness of both the genre and the conversation. (I should note here that I had the exact same criticism about her last book, so it's clearly an author quirk, but I don't like it. Not because it's explicit, but because it's jarring because it feels so out of context). Secondly, I wish there were at least one LGBT character. But these are very minor concerns, so please don't let them put you off.
A nice, quick easy read. Three stars.
As the novel progresses, we find out that Fiona and Abe are in different ways driven by their pasts. Abe's father, who was much loved by Abe and Abe's mum, died in a boating accident. The lighthouse was a special place for Abe's father and it is there that each year Abe and Abe's mother celebrate his memory. When Fiona was young, she lived in the lighthouse with her father and alcoholic mother, and has only sad memories of the place. Will they be able to resolve their differences and, at the same time, deal with the ghosts of their past?
This is a romance novel, so of course they will, but not until after the requisite misunderstandings and make-ups have occurred. As with all of Herron's books, there are nice secondary characters and a good sense of place. This book is an enjoyable visit to a familiar, comfortable place.
I have two minors quibbles the book though. My first the random explicit language. For example, Fiona and her friend Daisy are discussing the cuteness of Abe's friend Zeke and Daisy drops into conversation how she "get[s] wet" when guys talk about budgets on dates. Obviously it's part of a joke between Fiona and Daisy but the phrase is really out of context with the gentleness of both the genre and the conversation. (I should note here that I had the exact same criticism about her last book, so it's clearly an author quirk, but I don't like it. Not because it's explicit, but because it's jarring because it feels so out of context). Secondly, I wish there were at least one LGBT character. But these are very minor concerns, so please don't let them put you off.
A nice, quick easy read. Three stars.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
The Bat by Jo Nesbo (1997, translated to English in 2012)
Do you remember the time about 10 years ago when everyone was reading Steig Larssen? Everywhere one looked - on the train, in cafes, on the bookshelves of friends and relatives - there sat at least one but often all three of the Millenium Trilogy. Then, just as suddenly, everyone moved on from the Larssen books and I somehow ended up with about five full sets given to me by well-meaning friends who knew I loved books and therefore thought I would fully appreciate the books they had enjoyed so much.
Written in 1997, The Bat is the first Harry Hole mystery. However, it was not translated into English until 2012, after about eight other Hole mysteries had been translated and very popularly received. The reason for this delay soon became clear: The Bat is not a very good book. It is a bad, bad book. Really, quite terribly bad.
Well, lately my friends and family seem to be doing the exact same thing with the Jo Nesbo Harry Hole novels. I have five of them sitting on my 'To Read' shelf (yes, I have a 'to read' shelf which is in a separate location to the rest of my books. I only have enough room for one bookshelf in my small apartment so only really special books that I want to re-read are kept. It's a hard but fair system.). I decided that if I was going to do the series, I'd do it properly, so I started from the start and borrowed The Bat from the library.
Written in 1997, The Bat is the first Harry Hole mystery. However, it was not translated into English until 2012, after about eight other Hole mysteries had been translated and very popularly received. The reason for this delay soon became clear: The Bat is not a very good book. It is a bad, bad book. Really, quite terribly bad.
I was surprised to find out that The Bat is actually set in Sydney. Norweigan detective Harry Hole (said "hol-ay" or, in Australian, "holy") has been sent from his native Oslo to help the NSW detectives investigate the murder of a Norweigan B-list celebrity, Inger Holter. Hole is paired with Aboriginal detective Andrew Kensington, who was one of the Stolen Generation. I found the decision to set the story in Australia incredibly strange. Possibly because a Norweigan audience would be unaware of Australia's history, characters are constantly giving Hole long speeches about Australia's history and the Dreamtime. I know I'm from Melbourne rather than Sydney but I've managed to live my entire life without having a stranger tell me a 15-minute long story about Aboriginal mythology. It just doesn't happen and was a really clunky, awkward device.
As they investigate Holter's murder, the team of detectives discover that her death is likely one of a series of deaths, implying that there is a serial killer on the lose. That's all good, because serial killers make good subjects of detective stories. However, the longer the story goes on, the more it becomes clear this is story is only interested in men. All the detectives are men. All the major characters are men. The only way women are represented is as ancillary to men - they are wives, mothers, girlfriends, cleaners, prostitutes (there's always a bloody prostitute somewhere in these misogynist mysteries), but never detailed characters in their own right. I then realised that Jo Nesbo is in fact a man, not a woman as I'd previously assumed (yes, I'm a bit slow. Probably why I am not a detective!). As I have written about before, I find it very hard to enjoy stories without decent female characters and unsurprisingly I found the categorisation of the women in this book both grating and sexist.
After a traumatic event near the end of the book, the alcoholic Harry Hole goes on a massive bender in Kings Cross. Again, I'm from Melbourne not Sydney and the book was written nearly 20 years ago but there is no way a foreigner could go on a three-day binge in the middle of an Australian capital city the way Hole is supposed to. He wasn't robbed, beaten, thrown into jail or even apparently noticed by anyone else. I've been out drinking in Sydney at night on a weekend (although not binge drinking) and I did not buy it at all. It seemed like really lazy writing. If he needs to go on a bender for the plot but also must emerge relatively unharmed, have him drink in his hotel room. Don't pretend that it happened while he was wandering around one of Australia's most notorious nightspots. Your audience is really not that stupid.
This book is pretty terrible. Harry Hole is an arsehole who does terrible things without any apparent consequence. Jo Nesbo is a sexist writer and the plot is at times not only unrealistic but downright ludicrous. But a lot of people whose literary opinion I respect have liked the series (and, incidentally, not read this book), so I am assuming that the reason it took so long to be translated was because of the flaws I have noted here and I will give the series another go. Once some time has passed and I've forgotten how bad this one was, though...
Two stars.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Elizabeth is Missing by Emma Healey (2014)
Sometimes, after a particularly gruelling or busy time with work, I have an inescapable compulsion to stay in bed and read all day long. No TV, no phones - just the printed word and hot, sugary beverages. However, if I am going to commit to a full day in bed drinking hot chocolate and not raising my heart rate above 90, then it needs to be a good book. Thanks to Simon Savidge's glowing review, I found the perfect one and spent last Saturday immersed in a sad yet lovely tale.
Elizabeth is Missing is told from the perspective of Maud, an elderly woman who has Alzheimers. She lives alone but is looked after by a carer and her daughter, Helen, and is slowly losing her ability to remember. As a mnemonic device, Maud writes notes to herself and these notes, whose meaning is often obscure once removed from the context in which they were written, fill Maud's pockets and are scattered throughout her house. There is one note that is repeated over and over again: Maud's friend Elizabeth is missing and no-one other than her is concerned. Amidst the current-day search of Maud for her friend, the story is intertwined with memories of Maud's childhood during the Second World War. Her sister, Sukey, who Maud adores, vanishes, most likely at the hands of Maud's family's lodger Douglas or Sukey's black marketeer husband Frank. The search for Sukey and Elizabeth drive both temporalities of the narrative.
One of the most effective elements of Elizabeth is Missing is the vastly different voices of the young and old Maud. Similarities in tone and character make it clear that the two are the same person but, while the young Maud's thoughts are crystal clear, the old Maud's are clouded and foggy. The entwining of these two stories and the parallel investigations into the disappearance of two women that Maud loves are done really well. In fact, the whole book is done very well - its exploration of ageing and illness are sad but at the centre of this book is the strength of family and of love. It's excellently written, engaging and I recommend it wholeheartedly. Four and a half stars.
Elizabeth is Missing is told from the perspective of Maud, an elderly woman who has Alzheimers. She lives alone but is looked after by a carer and her daughter, Helen, and is slowly losing her ability to remember. As a mnemonic device, Maud writes notes to herself and these notes, whose meaning is often obscure once removed from the context in which they were written, fill Maud's pockets and are scattered throughout her house. There is one note that is repeated over and over again: Maud's friend Elizabeth is missing and no-one other than her is concerned. Amidst the current-day search of Maud for her friend, the story is intertwined with memories of Maud's childhood during the Second World War. Her sister, Sukey, who Maud adores, vanishes, most likely at the hands of Maud's family's lodger Douglas or Sukey's black marketeer husband Frank. The search for Sukey and Elizabeth drive both temporalities of the narrative.
One of the most effective elements of Elizabeth is Missing is the vastly different voices of the young and old Maud. Similarities in tone and character make it clear that the two are the same person but, while the young Maud's thoughts are crystal clear, the old Maud's are clouded and foggy. The entwining of these two stories and the parallel investigations into the disappearance of two women that Maud loves are done really well. In fact, the whole book is done very well - its exploration of ageing and illness are sad but at the centre of this book is the strength of family and of love. It's excellently written, engaging and I recommend it wholeheartedly. Four and a half stars.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Animal People by Charlotte Wood (2011)
Animal People is an Australian literary novel by Charlotte Wood. It follows a man, Stephen Connolly, over the course of a day. We very quickly learn a lot about Stephen: he is dating Fiona, who has two children, he has a troubled relationship with his mother and, although he has a job working in a cafe in a zoo, Stephen is not an animal person.
Stephen knew he demonstrated some lack of humanity by not being a Dog Person. This seemed unfair. He was not a cat person either. He was not an animal person in the same way he was not a musical person, or an intellectual person. One was born to these things, like the colour of one's eyes, or the length of one's legs. Not to be musical or intellectual was unremarkable and provoked no suspicion. But not to be an animal person somehow meant he wasn't fully human. (p28)
The person who gave this book to me said "It's not a long book but it took me a long time to get through." I found the book immediately engaging, so I tore through the first 80 pages quickly. As I read Stephen's reflections on love, family and poverty I kept thinking "Profound! So true!" But by about page 80, the initial infatuation had worn off. I realised that Animal People just like so many contemporary literary fiction novels - a well-written book about a white middle-class middle-aged man wanking on about the meaning of life and the human condition, including the literal wanking that now seems to be a prerequisite of any literal fiction novel (Why did that start? Is it supposed to be ironic? How can we get it to stop?).
Animal People is very well written. It does start off very engagingly. It is great to see an Australian female author doing well in the male-dominated field of literary fiction. But once the novelty of the concept of "animal people" wears off, it's pretty much just the same as all of the other literary fiction out there. If you like hearing male protagonists fretting about potential unfilled and disappointment in how their lives have turned out, then you will probably like this book. I personally think that if Stephen started seeing a therapist and finding the right combination of antidepressant meds, most of his problems would go away. Three stars.
Stephen knew he demonstrated some lack of humanity by not being a Dog Person. This seemed unfair. He was not a cat person either. He was not an animal person in the same way he was not a musical person, or an intellectual person. One was born to these things, like the colour of one's eyes, or the length of one's legs. Not to be musical or intellectual was unremarkable and provoked no suspicion. But not to be an animal person somehow meant he wasn't fully human. (p28)
The person who gave this book to me said "It's not a long book but it took me a long time to get through." I found the book immediately engaging, so I tore through the first 80 pages quickly. As I read Stephen's reflections on love, family and poverty I kept thinking "Profound! So true!" But by about page 80, the initial infatuation had worn off. I realised that Animal People just like so many contemporary literary fiction novels - a well-written book about a white middle-class middle-aged man wanking on about the meaning of life and the human condition, including the literal wanking that now seems to be a prerequisite of any literal fiction novel (Why did that start? Is it supposed to be ironic? How can we get it to stop?).
Animal People is very well written. It does start off very engagingly. It is great to see an Australian female author doing well in the male-dominated field of literary fiction. But once the novelty of the concept of "animal people" wears off, it's pretty much just the same as all of the other literary fiction out there. If you like hearing male protagonists fretting about potential unfilled and disappointment in how their lives have turned out, then you will probably like this book. I personally think that if Stephen started seeing a therapist and finding the right combination of antidepressant meds, most of his problems would go away. Three stars.
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