Tag: book review

Categories
English literature

ImoReads… ‘Flashman, Flash for Freedom! & Flashman in the Great Game’ (1969 – 1975) by George MacDonald Fraser

Blog Nº 31

“I’ve been a Danish prince, a Texas slave-dealer, an Arab sheik, a Cheyenne Dog Soldier, and a Yankee navy lieutenant in my time, among other things, and none of ’em was as hard to sustain as my lifetime’s impersonation of a British officer and gentleman.”

Flashman and the Great Game

It is difficult to know how to start this blog – in a nutshell, this collection of stories is just brilliant, and has earned itself a place in my top 5 books of all time. This particular omnibus includes three of the series of novels entitled ‘The Flashman Papers’, and I’m already chomping at the bit to read the rest. The stories are the memoirs of the fictional character General Sir Harry Paget Flashman, VC, KCB, KCIE, who is slotted into a series of real historical events between 1839 to 1894.

This edition contains the very first novel, Flashman (1969), which sees the young Harry Flashman, newly expelled from Rugby School, join the 11th Dragoons. With this regiment he is reluctantly sent off to fight in the first Anglo-Afghan War, where we first discover his extraordinary ability for self-preservation through any means necessary.

In Flash for Freedom! (1971), we reconvene with Flashman in his late 20s, where we find him pressganged into crewing on slave ship the Balliol College, hiding out in New Orleans, being on the run with an escaped slave and bumping into up and coming politician Abraham Lincoln.

Finally, in Flashman in the Great Game (1975), we are transported across to British India, in which Flashman finds himself spying for the British government, becoming enamoured with a ruthless Maharani and getting caught up in the brutal Sepoy Rebellion of 1857.

What makes these books so brilliant is the character of Flashman himself. Up until this point it would seem obvious to assume that ‘Flashy’ is a gallant military hero. In fact, he is a self-confessed rogue, scoundrel, liar, cheat, coward and womaniser, who in every instance is just trying to save his own skin, but happens to have the charm, wit and good luck to fool those around him that he is in fact the hero he appears to be. He will happily screw over those around him in pursuit of self-preservation and is entirely truthful in what he relays to the reader. And yet he is totally and utterly likeable. His honesty is refreshing and comical to read, but also when he tells of his exploits it really does seem like he escaped each situation in the only possible way. Flashman puts it all down to his heartlessness, but in many situations it does also show him as choosing duty to his country over personal feelings towards others. Of course, he would always do whatever it takes to survive, but quite often this supposed coward does have to act with extreme courage and intelligence simply in the interest of self-preservation. By the end, Flashman has almost become the hero he says that he isn’t, in spite of himself and his actions. Furthermore, though his behaviour is audacious, completely self-centred and deplorable, he is often the voice of sanity and reason in a world full of corruption, stupidity and false piety. His wit, sarcasm and pragmatism cuts through the craziness around him which is very entertaining to read. You are guaranteed to enjoy reading how Flashman romps his way through decades of Victorian history, and how through spectacular acts of spinelessness he manages to win military glory and nationwide respect.

The character of Flashman is brought even more to life by Fraser’s unbelievably accurate replication of swaggering Victorian English, particularly when discussing his numerous exploits with various women throughout the books, which cements his reputation as a cad and a rake. In fact, Fraser’s accuracy in all elements of these books is something to be applauded. He manages to seamlessly insert Flashman and other fictional characters into real historical events without causing a ripple in the factual accuracy of the given moment. The way each battle or political event and the opinions surrounding them is relayed is so precise that you would not believe these books were written a century after they were set. On first publication, Fraser prefaced his novel with the discovery of the Flashman Papers at a house auction in Ashby, Leicestershire in 1965, and named himself only as the humble editor of the twelve instalments of the Flashman memoirs, which he called ‘packets’. He also surrounded the text with explanatory notes and scholarly additions such as maps and appendices, always using an editorial voice reminiscent of an assiduous bibliographer or archivist. Paired with the perceived accuracy and detail of the novel, almost half the initial book critics believed the Flashman novels to be real memoirs of a forgotten soldier in their reviews.

Fraser’s genius is making the historical accuracy of the Flashman stories come to life through the abounding use of comedy throughout. We have the aforementioned sarcastic, witty and outrageous voice of Flashman himself, but there is also sexual farce and intrigue, satirical dialogue and gallows humour. Fraser also expertly utilises syntax to provide humour throughout the novel, choosing just the right words to describe situations or people in an amusing manner. And yet, because he does not shy away from the awfulness, death and bloodshed encountered by Flashman and others throughout the series, the perceived reality of the memoirs remains intact. The books are undeniably entertaining and suspenseful, but the harsh historical realities of each period are illustrated truthfully. For example, Flash for Freedom! contains one of the most shocking and harrowing portrayals of the slave trade that I have ever read, while Flashman in the Great Game lays bare the horror of the Indian mutineers’ massacre of the wives and children of British military men during the Sepoy rebellion. Fraser has a knowledge of Victorian social and military history that is simply staggering for someone who is an amateur historian, and he manages to interweave this with a fictional narrative to create an astounding series of adventure, intrigue and mischief.

These books are an absolute joy to read – you will grow fond of the roguish Harry Flashman while getting a stellar education about important events of nineteenth-century history relating to the British Empire and antebellum America. In fact, you will almost be disappointed that Flashy is only fictional, as his life story really is one of the most astonishing out there.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature Antiquity World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Song of Achilles’ (2011) by Madeline Miller

Blog Nº 30

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

I have wanted to read The Song of Achilles ever since being blown away by another of Miller’s novels, Circe. Much like how Circe is an imaginative homage to the goddess encountered by Odysseus in Homer’s The Odyssey, The Song of Achilles is an original take on The Iliad, one of the best known stories in the West. The heroes and villains of the Trojan War are brought to life like never before in this story of love, friendship, power and violence.

The Song of Achilles is narrated by Patroclus, an awkward young prince living in the age of Greek heroes. Exiled to the court of King Peleus on the small island of Pthia, he strikes up an unlikely friendship with Peleus’ son, the golden boy Achilles. As the two boys become young men, their bond develops into something deeper, despite the displeasure of Achilles’ mother, the sea goddess Thetis. Over the years, their companionship grows stronger and the two boys are still enjoying their carefree youth when Helen of Sparta gets kidnapped. This turn of events means that Achilles must go to fight a war in distant Troy to fulfil his destiny. Torn between love and fear for Achilles, Patroclus goes with him. 

The relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is highly significant in all stories relating to the Trojan War. In The Iliad Homer describes their relationship as deep and meaningful but never says explicitly that it is a sexual relationship. However, they were represented as lovers in Greek literature during the archaic and classical periods and it has been debated and contested ever since. Strong bonds between men was a custom in Ancient Greece, and this relationship could be intellectual, political and sometimes sexual. Miller has chosen to make their relationship deep and meaningful on many levels including sexual, and as such has created a moving, heartbreaking story.

As Patroclus narrates the novel, we are aware of his awe and admiration for the beautiful Achilles from the moment he arrives in Pthia. After several stolen glances and chance encounters, the pair finally speak, and a tentative friendship begins. In fact, they are good friends for a long time before anything else develops between them, though it’s clear they both desire each other. Miller’s smooth prose conveys their relationship as sexy and intense as well as thoughtful and sensitive, making the reader extremely emotionally invested in their bond, particularly as the danger of war looms.

Miller spent ten years researching and writing this book but has succeeded in crafting a seemingly effortless narrative that takes all the key elements of The Iliad and other stories to create a highly affecting version of Achilles. Where once stood the callous, cold superhero is now a man with depth who can be kind as well as godlike. He is not just a hero but a lover, a friend, a son, a father, a husband and most importantly, a normal human being. This makes the reader all the more emotionally engaged in the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus, because it is clear they are the only people for each other. 

The Song of Achilles is an epic novel, with several years passing before the ten year long Trojan War. I enjoy epic novels because you really become invested in the characters, their development and their world. A key moment in the book is when the pair realise that Achilles must go to Troy because it is decreed in a prophecy with a heartbreaking end. As a reader who has been following their story since boyhood it is natural to be as sad and fearful as Patroclus about this. Though for years they agree to fight the battles but purposefully avoid the terms of the prophecy, in the end it is their love for each other that eventually sees it fulfilled with all the tragedy as befits an Ancient Greek tale.

This book is a vividly atmospheric, enthralling and emotional read which sees the deepest human connections challenged against a backdrop of violence, politics and power. It is a joy to read this depiction of Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship – it is certainly a poignant story about love and friendship. I would highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone!

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
Caribbean Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Mermaid of Black Conch’ (2020) by Monique Roffey

Blog Nº 29

“The sea, that expanse of nothingness, could reflect a man back on himself. It had that effect. It was so endless and it moved around underneath the boat. It wasn’t the same thing at all as being on any expanse of earth. The sea shifted. The sea could swallow the boat whole. The sea was the giant woman of the planet, fluid and contrary. All the men shuddered as they gazed at her surface.”

I have always enjoyed stories that contain elements of myth and legend, but this is the first time I have delved into the world of Caribbean folklore. The Mermaid of Black Conch is arresting and powerful while unravelling all pre-conceived notions of what a mermaid is. It gives an insight into the long and fascinating history of the Caribbean through the unique story of Aycayia, the girl cursed to be a mermaid for all eternity.

The story begins in 1976 in the small town of St Constance, located on the island of Black Conch in the Lesser Antilles. An unsuspecting young fisherman, David Baptiste, is out in his pirogue boat singing and playing the guitar whilst waiting for a catch. What he doesn’t expect to attract is the mermaid Aycayia, a beautiful young woman cursed long ago by jealous wives who has been swimming in the Caribbean Sea ever since. So entranced by his music, when Aycayia hears David’s boat engine again she follows it, only to find herself a target for American tourists visiting the island for its annual fishing competition. Dragged out of the sea by the Americans and strung up on the dock like a trophy, Aycayia believes her fate is sealed. However, when night falls it is David who rescues her and takes her home. Slowly, Aycayia begins to transform back into a woman, much to the joy of David who has become completely enamoured with her. Unfortunately, transformations are not always permanent, especially when centuries-old jealousy is at play. Even the love between Aycayia and David may not be enough to break the curse.

Author Monique Roffey has succeeded in producing a spellbindingly rhythmic narrative often through simple literary devices such as repetition. For example, “she was floating port side of his boat, cool cool, like a regular woman on a raft, except there was no raft”, “I am an ol’ man now, and sick sick so I cyan move much”, or “after the fish-rain I realise curse strong strong.” She uses this technique frequently throughout the novel, indicating that it has been inspired by folkloric tales passed down for centuries through nothing but spoken word, made memorable by repetition. The fact that all dialogue is spelled phonetically – “Dou dou. Come. Mami wata! Come. Come, nuh” – only adds to the significance that spoken word has in stories like this. Roffey continues to show how important different voices are in The Mermaid of Black Conch by having several narrators sharing the storytelling duties. We hear from David through his retrospective diary entries in 2016, an unknown narrator present in 1976 who tells us the words and actions of all characters, and Aycayia herself who speaks in verse, which further emphasises the memorable quality of the narrative and her difference from the other characters. Furthermore, Aycayia always speaks in the present tense, yet it is clear she is looking back on events, suggesting that being stuck in an everlasting curse has made all notion of time and tense completely meaningless. This fusion of unique voices and narrative styles makes for a highly enchanting read.

It’s also important to focus on Aycayia herself. She in no way conforms to the trope of a siren sitting atop a rock, combing her hair and luring men to their deaths with her beauty. In fact, Aycayia is distinctly ‘unbeautiful’ when compared to Disney-esque mermaids. She has matted dreadlocks which are full of sea creatures who have made a home there, her teeth are sharp and pointed, she has dorsal fins on her back, she smells of salt and fish, she has webbed hands, and her tail is enourmous and scaly. Personally, I think she is a more authentic mermaid because she is at one with the sea, and is striking in a magical, sharp kind of way. Significantly, she has no idea how to lure in a man because she was cursed to this fishlike form when she was just on the brink of womanhood. It transpires that she used to dance for the men of her village centuries ago, not realising in her innocence why the men enjoyed it so much. Consumed by jealousy, the wives of these men chose to make her a mermaid when cursing her because they knew her tail would bind her ‘sex’, making her unable to seduce a man let alone sleep with one. It is not until she is on land, tailless and human, that she is able to finally ‘become a woman’ and understand what it is to physically love a man, a joy that she finds with David. Even though the long-dead wives can still wield their power over Aycayia, it is satisfying to know that whatever her fate, she has bested them through her relationship with David and this can never be taken away from her, despite the eternal cruelty of these scorned women.

I have read several books featuring mermaids, but I have to say that The Mermaid of Black Conch is now my standout favourite. It encompasses myth and legend, love and the cruelty of human nature as well as the beauty of the Caribbean and its complex history. I highly recommend this captivating and unique novel.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
Caribbean Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Orchid House’ (1953) by Phyllis Shand Allfrey

Blog Nº 28

“Miss Joan paused on the threshold, for a beautiful thing was holding her prisoner there. Just outside the orchid house was a frosted pink hibiscus bush, one of the rare ones which Old Master cultivated. A little fou-fou humming-bird had chosen the largest and most perfect of flowers to drain its sweetness. The flower was three times larger than the bird which was only like a flashing black-and-emerald moth. The bird was fluttering and humming at such a speed that it seemed to lie still along the bright warm air, its tiny claws curled up; its long sharp bill was deep in the bedecked trumpet of the hibiscus. Seconds and seconds it remained suspended there, appearing rigid, then like a drunken spirit it reeled away and wiped the sword of its beak on some lichen. Shocked by this exquisite sight, Miss Joan sighed deeply and sat down again.”

The Orchid House is Allfrey’s only novel, and it certainly makes a statement. Heavily autobiographical, the novel is set in Dominica in the Caribbean and explores themes including love, money, politics and family relations, all seen through the lens of colonial decay. 

Three sisters are returning to their childhood home in the Caribbean after being away for several years. Though the family are directly descended from colonial settler heavyweights, the family has sunk into a state of near poverty with the coming of the end of empire. Each sister wants to change the family’s fortunes but in different ways. I believe that Joan is the sister that is based upon Allfrey herself – she is concerned with empowering the locals through politics, influenced by her strong socialist ideals. Interestingly, Allfrey has chosen to have the sisters’ childhood nurse Lally narrate the book. Throughout the book we see Lally’s devotion to the family come up against her awareness of the destruction left in the wake of colonialism on the island.

The choice of narrator is interesting to me. Given the time of the book’s publication, the character of Lally is in some ways reminiscent of the ‘loyal faithful slave’ character depicted in many novels written by white authors in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Lally is completely devoted to the family she has been serving her whole life, and even looks down on other black characters for being unsuitable associates of said family. She always speaks about each family member with care and compassion. Though Allfrey was engaged in socialist politics and activism, it seems unlikely that she was not influenced by these stereotypes as she herself did grow up in the very same colonial environment with house servants who it would be assumed were completely loyal. On the other hand, Lally is becoming more and more aware of the downward turn in fortunes for the island. Furthermore, there are times when she wonders why at her age she is still as active in her service to the family as she was several decades ago. The narrator being black also means the reader interacts more with other black characters than if one of the sisters had been narrating. Therefore, I would say this is a slightly more well-balanced portrayal than some other books I’ve read.

A standout feature of The Orchid House is its descriptions of Dominica’s vibrant nature juxtaposed with its colonial decline. An example of a powerful quote from Lally is, “beauty and disease, beauty and sickness, beauty and horror: that was the island.” There are many similar moments in the novel that evoke the same emotions. The occurrence of a formidable storm also indicates the power that nature wields in the Caribbean, suggesting that it is strong enough to battle against the decay being brought on by its colonial past.

This book lives up to its reputation as a Caribbean classic – it deals with a lot of important themes whilst also regaling a very personal story. I would recommend it to anyone with an interest in recent Caribbean history.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
English literature

ImoReads… ‘Shuggie Bain’ (2020) by Douglas Stuart

Blog Nº 24

“Sadness made for a better houseguest; at least it was quiet, reliable, consistent.” 

I was given this 2020 Booker Prize winner for Christmas and it is quite unlike anything I have read before. Shuggie Bain is at once tragic, funny, harrowing and compassionate, forming a beautifully sad tale with lasting effect. It is a deeply moving account of poverty, addiction and childhood trauma in 1980s Glasgow.

1980s Glasgow

The novel is set in 80s and 90s Glasgow and centres on the young boy Hugh – or Shuggie – Bain. At the outset Shuggie and his older siblings Leek and Catherine live with their mother Agnes, father Big Shug and Agnes’ parents in a flat on the Sighthill Estate. Though it is obvious from the outset that the family do not have means, there is not yet a sense of despair in their situation. After the philandering Big Shug promises Agnes a fresh start in their own house everything begins to go wrong. Shug leaves Agnes and the kids in a mining town on the outskirts of Glasgow that has been decimated by Thatcherism, shattering Agnes’ dreams of a comfortable life bought and paid for. As she increasingly turns to alcohol for solace, each of her children try their hardest to save her. Yet, one by one as they get older, they leave Agnes behind to try and save themselves from a life of poverty and hardship. Shuggie holds out the longest, spurred on by unadulterated love for his mother and a youthfully innocent sense of hope. However, Shuggie has his own problems. Though he tries his hardest to fit in with the other boys his age, it becomes increasingly clear that he is ‘no right’, leaving him exposed to abuse and bullying. Agnes wants to be there for her son, but her addiction is slowly destroying her relationships with everyone around her, even Shuggie. 

Blackhill Estate, 1980s Glasgow

What is striking about this novel is how the ruthlessness of poverty is laid bare so forcefully. Stuart really captures the bleakness of life in Glasgow during this time. His descriptive passages of the mining town Pithead (likely based on Cardowan) particularly stand out. Small, squat, grey houses packed closely together with no privacy; the surroundings don’t get more scenic than slag heaps and overgrown wilderness. The men are lost without work in the mines. Stuart describes the women as having rings of dirt round their necks and the children as running amok with matted hair and unkempt clothing. The language is coarse, the future prospects are non-existent and the vice is drink. I was always filled with despair to read how Agnes and other adults in the town scrambled to buy drink with most of their weekly benefit money while their children looked on hungrily. It is hard not to feel sympathy for Agnes nonetheless – her alcoholism manifests itself in endless cans of Special Brew lager and bottles of vodka. Time and time again she is mistreated and abandoned by men, rejection which she often takes out on her children. Even as young as eight, Shuggie is dismayed whenever his mother picks up a drink, leaving him to courageously deal with the trauma of her drunken disappearances, suicide attempts and blind rages. 

Slum in 1980s Glasgow

Shuggie Bain is Stuart’s debut novel and it is largely autobiographical. It is clear to the reader that Shuggie does not fit in with the other boys – though we know why, Shuggie just thinks he is ‘wrong’. Stuart has spoken about how difficult it was growing up in a housing scheme where there was a real stigma around being gay. The idea of being ‘out and proud’ did not fit into this hard, working-man’s world. Particularly in a world without internet, he could not easily find any solidarity with the wider gay community or comfort in his identity. Stuart’s struggles are heartbreakingly played out in Shuggie. Though Shuggie tries everything – changing his walk, pretending to like football, hiding the fact that he likes ‘girly’ toys – he is still a target for bullying. He is often beaten up, verbally abused or made to do unspeakable things by other boys at school or in the neighbourhood. It brings me joy to know that Stuart has found happiness and acceptance with his husband Michael Cary in New York City, where he has resided since 2000.

Stuart grew up without books or any formal education in literature making the calibre of his debut novel even more astounding. I am thankful that I have been exposed to such a heart-wrenching story of love, struggle and pride about an era and city that I know shamefully little about despite living in Scotland’s neighbouring country. I will close this blog with a powerful quote from Stuart, which sums up the essence of Shuggie’s Glasgow:

“I have a complicated relationship with my hometown—but there’s no place I love more. I hope “Shuggie Bain” is a love story to Glasgow, not a fawning love story but one that sees the city clearly. It’s very Scottish to be direct about difficult things, so there’s no point in pretending it wasn’t a hard place to live. The city is a place of contrasts; in all its devastation and deprivation, the people still remain strong and fiercely proud, and I know of no one who is warmer, kinder, and more blackly funny then Glaswegians.”

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
English literature

ImoReads… ‘The Two Towers’ (1954) by J.R.R Tolkien

Blog Nº 19

“The world is changing: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air.”

I have now completed my third foray into Middle-earth by continuing on with the next LOTR instalment, The Two Towers (TTT). This has to be my favourite so far; Tolkien’s storytelling reaches a new peak now that the Company has splintered. Sauron’s power is growing, and this is represented in the land becoming ever more menacing and treacherous. And yet, the burning hope of the fellowship cannot be dimmed, even when separated from one another. This tale captivates with even more mysterious and vast landscapes filled with strange people, all which bring us closer to the horror of Mordor where the One Ring must be destroyed.

TTT is split into two parts. The first deals with those in the company who Frodo and Sam left behind, namely Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Their first mission is to rescue Merry and Pippin who were taken by orcs at the Falls of Rauros. Along the way they encounter old friends and new allies, all intent on bringing the evil wizard Saruman to his knees. Lurking in Isengard, Saruman is in league with the dark lord Sauron, so the group knows that this victory will help Frodo and Sam from afar in the completion of their wretched quest.

In the second part, we return to Frodo and Sam who are continuing on to Mordor. A key player in this section is Gollum, who has been shadowing the pair of hobbits for miles and miles with the aim of reclaiming the Ring for himself. Through some clever manoeuvring from Frodo, Gollum remains unaware of the true nature of the mission and ends up being their guide to Mordor. He can never quite be trusted, making the long journey across such desolate lands even more uneasy. As the burden of the Ring weighs ever more heavily on Frodo, it is up to his trusty and loyal companion Sam to keep his master safe from the dangers looming on all fronts.

One particularly magical happening in TTT is the introduction of the Ents, who are without a doubt my favourite Middle-earth creatures. Guardians of the forests, Ents are an ancient race of tree-like beings, most likely inspired by longstanding folklore tales of talking trees. ‘Ent’ comes from the Old English word for giant, indicating that despite their ability to blend in with the forest, they are much larger than regular trees. Merry and Pippin are fortuitously rescued by Treebeard, the oldest of the Ents and indeed the oldest living thing in Middle-earth. Confirming what he already feared, Merry and Pippin inform Treebeard of Saruman’s orc army desecrating the forests to provide fuel for their war machine. This leads to a particularly wondrous event, an ‘Entmoot’. That is, a large meeting of the Ents – in this case to determine the best course of action against Saruman. 

I like the Ents because they are patient, kindly, wise and methodical and because despite all this, you should never underestimate their strength or power in their duty as tree protectors. Treebeard and the other Ents successfully march on Isengard, entrapping Saruman in Orthanc Tower and simultaneously reuniting Merry and Pippin with Gandalf and the others. I have developed a serious soft spot for these magical trees with booming voices; the only sadness is that they have lost their ‘Entwives’ and are yet to discover their whereabouts. I like to think that they did eventually reunite.

Another standout section of the TTT comes in part two with Frodo and Sam. They are struggling to find their way to Mordor until Gollum offers to be their guide. The closer they get, the more bleak and menacing their surroundings become, indicating the cruel grip Sauron’s kingdom has over its neighbouring lands. As I have said previously, Tolkien is truly a master of language. Never have I been made to feel such dismay, hopelessness and distress from descriptive passages alone. One poignant chapter is ‘the passage of the marshes’, in which Gollum leads the two hobbits across the Dead Marshes to avoid being seen by orcs on the main path to Mordor. The way Tolkien describes the marshes makes it seem as though goodness and light have long forgotten this vast and sinister place. One foot wrong and the hobbits would flounder and sink, joining the ghosts of the many soldiers who were slain there long ago. Tolkien emphasises the foul stench of the marshes and the haunting floating lights that surround them on their difficult path across. There is no sound or sight of a single living thing in these marshes or overhead, making our three characters seem utterly and completely alone in this desolate and unwelcoming land. Immediately I thought that Tolkien must have been inspired by his time fighting in the trenches in World War Two to create this bleak and frightening landscape.

I also discovered that Tolkien’s time in the industrial Black Country of the English Midlands was an inspiration for Mordor and its surrounding lands. This is clear to see when comparing the explicitly evil, industrial land of Mordor, which has a cost of environmental decay and destruction, with the light, homely and nature-abundant Shire, which is more akin to some of England’s picturesque rural counties. 

At the end of The Two Towers we are still unsure whether Frodo’s quest will ever be completed and what will become of all the members of the fellowship, and indeed of Middle-earth itself. TTT has been a thoroughly enjoyable, exciting and suspenseful read; I am anxious to get going on The Return of the King so I can see this long and treacherous journey come to an end, hopefully with the conclusion that goodness always prevails…

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature

ImoReads… ‘Apartment in Athens’ (1945) by Glenway Wescott

Blog Nº 18

“Naturally they were not a happy family, but they had good hearts, and did their best to console each other in bereavement and impoverishment.”

After reading Apartment in Athens for the first time, I am wholly convinced that it should be more widely-known and read as one of the great novels to come out of World War Two. I didn’t know much about Germany’s occupation of Greece during WWII and as such, Apartment in Athens was an educational and eye-opening read. In addition, I was surprised and enthralled by Wescott’s unique narrative style. It’s extremely frank, and this style compliments the plot beautifully to build up an atmosphere of tension, high emotion and exhaustion in an apartment in war-torn Athens.

Wescott’s novel focuses on Greek couple Mr and Mrs Helianos who are struggling to get by in Nazi-occupied Athens. Their favourite son Cimon has been killed in the Battle of Greece, leaving them with their two younger children – sickly Alex who wants to kill a German and simple Leda who is plain and strange, neither of whom the Helianos’ particularly love or understand. The family is forced to share their modest apartment with German officer Kalter who is not shy about his clear and unadulterated disgust for Greeks. The novel takes place exclusively between the walls of this small apartment in Athens, and within this space Wescott stages a disquieting and intense triangular drama between Mr Helianos, Mrs Helianos and Kalter, with the added collateral of the children. As the novel goes on the issues of accommodation and rejection, resistance, and compulsion reach a boiling point; Wescott effectively depicts a great and terrible war through the lens of one family’s everyday existence. The plot takes some unexpected turns, and despite Wescott’s starkness of language it is almost impossible to decipher between triumph and defeat in this unusual tale of spiritual struggle.

As I mentioned, the language in Apartment in Athens is striking for its ability to multitask as being so simple and frank yet so demonstrative of emotion. On a practical level, Wescott was writing the novel as the war played out meaning that paper was hardly in ample supply – it would have been difficult to publish a novel in a more unwieldy and passionate style. Besides, I think the language style he has used is extremely effective in stressing the intensity of emotion experienced by the Helianos’ throughout the novel; sometimes silences and fewer words say more than long and impassioned speeches. The simplicity of language even extends to the characters themselves – never do we find out the first name of Mrs Helianos, and we are only told once that Mr Helianos is called Nikolas right towards the end of the book. They are just referred to as Mr and Mrs Helianos or even just ‘Helianos’ and it’s up to the reader to distinguish who is being talked about.

Language and setting combined are what make Apartment in Athens a potent tale of repressed emotions reaching an unbearable boiling point. Setting the novel strictly in the apartment means that interestingly, the wider war itself does not really get much airtime. It is all about one German officer invading the space of one Greek family, which of course mirrors Germany’s invasion of Greece as a nation, but for the reader it creates an atmosphere of high drama, claustrophobia and emotion in one tiny cross-section of the war. Relationships between the conquerors and the conquered were a popular literary topic during the war, with one notable French novel being La Silence de la Mer (1942) by Jean Bruller (under the pseudonym Vercors). This novel is also a striking read in terms of language because the old man and his niece who must house a German officer show resistance to his presence by refusing to speak a single word to him for the duration of his stay.

A key turning point in Apartment in Athens is Kalter’s sudden change of attitude towards the family from disgust to civility and almost kindliness after suffering a personal tragedy. At first this bodes well for the Helianos’, but it eventually leads to their hopeless disintegration as a family between the crushing walls of their apartment. As a reader you can’t help but hope for a happy outcome for the Helianos’ but the novel ends abruptly and ambiguously as the family deals with its helpless situation. Of course, Wescott was writing in 1944 so he himself could not know the outcome of the war or Germany’s occupation of Greece, and he perhaps represents this through ending his novel on a cliffhanger.

I have read many books and watched many films set in WWII and I always find that stories which revolve around individuals are just as important as those that take in the war as a whole. This is because stories like Apartment in Athens are impactful to our understanding of individual human experience of the conflict rather than the political, economic and cultural impact on a global scale.

I thoroughly recommend Apartment in Athens; it’s an intense and gripping read which will see you ensconced in one of the many human struggles that contributed to WWII.

Happy reading,

Love Imo x

Categories
English literature

ImoReads… ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ (1954) by J.R.R Tolkien

Blog Nº 17

” Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens”

After finishing The Hobbit, I was more than happy to continue on my adventure through Middle-earth by delving straight into the first volume of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring (TFOTR). I thoroughly enjoyed this novel as we start to see the consequences of Bilbo Baggins taking the One Ring from Gollum in The Hobbit playing out with ominous effect. More mature than The Hobbit, which Tolkien wrote for his children, TFOTR wrestles with themes of greed, power and violence as its heroes fight to keep the all-consuming darkness at bay. And yet the warming moments of humour, friendship and courage which often prevail against the gloom of evil keep the reader faithful in the power of good and fully ensconced in this exciting adventure.

Set 60 years after The Hobbit, TFOTR deals with the fallout of Bilbo’s innocent taking of a gold ring from the creature Gollum. We discover that years ago, the dark lord Sauron created a set of Rings to give to the rulers of Men, Elves and Dwarves. However, Sauron deceived them by secretly making another, the One Ring to rule them all. Lost and forgotten about, this is the extremely powerful and dangerous Ring that came to be in Bilbo’s possession, unbeknown to him. To stop Sauron regaining the Ring and therefore bringing Middle-earth into an era of evil and darkness, a great quest must take place to destroy the Ring in the place of its creation, the fires of Mount Doom in Mordor. This is a mighty challenge which is why a select few, ‘the fellowship of the ring’, are chosen for the task.

The nine members are: Frodo Baggins, his gardener Sam Gangee, the wizard Gandalf, the elf Legolas, the dwarf Gimli, the men Aragorn and Boromir, and the two young hobbits Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took. 

As had been proven by Bilbo, the corrupting influence of the Ring works much more slowly on hobbits as they are truly good creatures less easily swayed by greed and lust. This is why it is Frodo who bears the Ring while the others act as his guides and protectors. Met with much peril and evil along the way, the group also become firm and loyal friends. Although they encounter much danger and loss, their spirits are never fully dampened as they are often assisted by magical allies in their darkest hours. 

I know I waxed lyrical about Tolkien’s use of language in The Hobbit, but it deserves a quick nod here as well. He manages to create a real sense of disquiet and ill-omen in his narrative which is as thrilling as it is alarming for the reader. Let’s take for example the Black Riders, faceless, evil beings – formerly the nine Men gifted with Rings but who have faded away under their influence to become Ringwraiths dominated under Sauron’s will. Seated astride ebony black horses, they plague Frodo and company throughout the novel trying to obtain the One Ring. Tolkien portrays them as menacing phantoms always close at hand but not always seen. The feeling of being watched seeps eerily through the chapters; so much so that the reader feels as anxious for the characters to get to somewhere safe as if it were they themselves being constantly chased.

As TFOTR went on I found myself growing fond of every member of the fellowship, but I have to say my favourite character is Legolas the Wood Elf. Not only a moral and brave character who forms an unlikely friendship with Gimli, he also (like all elves) can slay an enemy with a delicate yet ruthless grace. In fact, all his movements are silent, swift and elegant which is always admirable to the average awkward human. One of the most wondrous sections of the book is when the company takes refuge in the dreamlike Elven realm of Lothlórien, ruled over by the Lady Galadriel and her husband Lord Cereborn. Tolkien’s imagination knew no bounds in creating this extraordinary place where each elf captivates the company and the reader with their endless poise and refinement.

Yet alas it is soon after this moment that the fellowship encounters great difficulty and splinters, which is where the novel ends. Luckily, I won’t be left on this cliff hanger for long as volume two, The Two Towers, is already in my possession. 

I’m glad to say that TFOTR is an extremely worthy successor to The Hobbit, and I look forward to continuing on with the saga of Middle-earth.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature

ImoReads… ‘The Little Friend’ (2002) by Donna Tartt

Two Snakes null Albertus Seba null Purchased as part of the Oppé Collection with assistance from the National Lottery through the Heritage Lottery Fund 1996 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/T10693

Blog Nº 15

“She was young still, and the chains had not yet grown tight around her ankles…Whatever was to be done, she would do it.” 

Ever since reading Donna Tartt’s beguiling and thrilling first novel The Secret History (1992 – blog coming soon!) a couple of years back, I knew that she was a literary force to be reckoned with. So, when I came to read her sophomore novel The Little Friend, published ten years later, I expected great things; I can safely say that it didn’t disappoint. Tartt has only published three novels thus far, the third being the Pulitzer prize-winning The Goldfinch (2014) that I have yet to read. However, I think we can all agree that if it takes a decade to craft each work, then we are dealing with fiction that is incredibly well-researched, intensely vibrant and detailed, with impressively complex plots and characters (meaning this is another long blog – sorry!)

Plot

Although famously elusive about her private life, we do know that Donna Tartt grew up in Greenwood, Mississippi, a town known for its thriving cotton plantation culture in the nineteenth century. The Little Friend is set in the fictional Mississippi town of Alexandria in the late 1970s, but I imagine that many of the cultural references are reminiscent of her own upbringing in Greenwood.

The story centres on twelve-year-old Harriet Cleve Dufresnes over one school summer holidays. Harriet is quick-witted, engaging, persuasive, a total bookworm and certainly has an intelligence beyond her years. When she was just a baby, her nine-year-old brother Robin (who was the unquestionable darling of the family) was found hanged in the backyard in broad daylight on Mother’s Day. This haunting crime, told to us in the prologue, has never been solved and has left irrevocable tears in the fabric of the family.

Harriet, who has grown up in the aftermath of this tragedy, takes it upon herself to solve the mystery of her brother’s murder this one summer, and for this task she enlists the help of her friend eleven-year-old Hely; he is so hopelessly devoted to Harriet that she knows he will do whatever she says. However, what starts as a childish mission soon turns menacing and dark as they dig deeper into the mystery.

Race relations

Anyone who has read my blog on Gone With The Wind will know that novels set in the American Deep South are of great historical interest to me. The time period of the book is never explicitly stated – and it took me a while to work out that it is in fact set in the late 70s. This is because in terms of the race relations between black and white characters, it could easily have been set in Scarlett O’Hara’s time of nearly one hundred years earlier. 

That is, Harriet is from an ‘old money’ white family, and many references are made to their Civil War-era ancestral home, a now destroyed house named Tribulation. Like all the other respectable white families in town, the Dufresnes live in a big house and employ a black housemaid and gardener. 

In her childish innocence Harriet adores the family housemaid Ida Rhew more than her own mother, and yet will refer to the ‘black’ neighbourhood as ‘niggertown’ as she has heard other adults do, without realising the racism in what she is saying. 

Throughout the novel it becomes obvious that there has been no upward mobility for the black population of Alexandria. They are employed in menial jobs only, they live in the poorer end of town and they are still viewed with contempt and irrational suspicion by many of the white adult characters, even those who are the most ‘reasonable’. In fact, it was only cultural references to certain television shows, car models and current affairs that allowed me to place the novel in the late 1970s. This novel is an unnerving indication of how deep-set and rigid casual racism and attitudes of white superiority still are in the Deep South.

Narrative voices

The Little Friend is told from the perspectives of two characters – Harriet and her main murder suspect, a poor white man named Danny Ratliff who was a classmate and friend of Robin. Now a young man, Danny is a methamphetamine dealer and addict who just wants to escape his destructive family and start over. The Ratliffs are notorious in Alexandria; Danny and his brothers have all served time for various offences, and they live in a state of poverty and depravity in a trailer outside of town. 

It becomes obvious to the reader pretty quickly that Danny is unlikely to be Robin’s killer and is in many ways a victim of the American class system (which places poor whites at the very bottom of the hierarchy), but Harriet and Hely become convinced it was him due to the subconscious effect of the town’s prejudice towards the Ratliffs, and years-old rumours that Danny had bragged about committing the murder.

The excellence of this novel is that Tartt can observe with the skewed lucidity of a child – and that of a drug addict – to give a stark view of the world as unforgiving, scary, bleak and inconclusive, filtered through the bright colours and impossible clarity of childhood assumptions and drug highs. 

As The Little Friend progresses, Harriet and Hely’s attempts to flush out Danny become more and more daring as their misplaced fear of him intensifies, while Danny becomes more and more tormented by the mysterious little girl plaguing his existence. 

Genre

Although at its heart The Little Friend is a crime novel, it also fits well within the genre of adventure fiction as that is how Harriet and Hely perceive the whole escapade. There is peril, excitement and a series of events that are completely out of the ordinary in these children’s daily lives – all tropes of the adventure genre. We discover early on that Harriet has a keenness for adventure; multiple times throughout the novel she can be found reading about/referring to/imagining famed British explorer Robert Falcon Scott who led two expeditions to the Antarctic, included the ill-fated Terra Nova voyage.

Tartt’s merging of genres creates a fast-paced, tense, exciting and at times humorous story which may not have been the case if the protagonist had been an adult lacking the imagination, creativity and enthusiasm possessed by children like Harriet and Hely.

The intense detail in the settings, descriptive passages and the many sub-plots which I have not had space to mention here are a credit to Tartt and her ability to impeccably weave together seemingly unrelated details into a crucial plot point.

I won’t reveal what happens in the nail-biting finale, but what I will say is that this tale has a strong message about morality, conscience and guilt which will leave you thinking about it long after finishing reading.

For me The Secret History still has the edge, but The Little Friend is still an excellent follow up which is completely unputdownable. Next, The Goldfinch …

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
English literature

ImoReads… ‘Fingersmith’ (2002) by Sarah Waters

Blog Nº 14

“And I couldn’t have kissed her, without wanting to save her.”

Matt Thorne from the Independent on Sunday calls Sarah Waters ‘one of the best storytellers alive today’ and after reading Fingersmith I can see why. Never have I been hit with so many incredible twists and turns in the same novel, making the story not at all what it seems at the start. 

Waters’ story is set in 1860s Victorian England, opening with part 1 as told from the perspective of our ‘fingersmith’ (a talented thief or pickpocket) Susan Trinder. Sue is an orphan who has been raised in a ‘Fagin-like den of thieves’ in the Borough, London by her adoptive mother Mrs Sucksby. An associate of Mrs Sucksby, Richard ‘Gentleman’ Rivers (who is by no means a gentleman), hatches a plan to seduce a wealthy heiress named Maud Lilly, but he needs Sue to pose as her maid and gain her trust in order to persuade her to elope with Gentleman. He then plans to have the vulnerable Maud committed to a mental asylum and make off with her fortune. Persuaded by Mrs Sucksby and a share in Maud’s fortune, Sue agrees. 

Upon Sue’s arrival at Briar, the imposing country house where Maud and her reclusive uncle reside, the reader will quickly realise that Maud is not a normal young woman. Summoned at specific times throughout the day to read aloud to her uncle and help him with his mysterious book indexing project, Maud’s entire existence is precisely structured with no room for deviation. Her behaviours and manners are bizarre and disquieting as a result of her extremely sheltered and restrictive upbringing.

Our first unexpected turn comes when Sue and Maud’s unlikely friendship turns into feelings of mutual physical attraction, which are brought to a head when Sue volunteers to ‘show’ the innocent Maud what may be expected of her on her wedding night to Gentleman. From here on out we begin to feel Sue’s agonising guilt about her continued involvement with the plot as she persists in persuading Maud to marry Gentleman despite her own feelings. I could feel myself getting more and more nervous along with Sue as the day of committing Maud to the mental asylum drew closer. 

THIS was the moment when I had to take a breath and go over what I had just read – Maud and Gentleman sit coldly while the doctors drag a horrified Sue out of the carriage and into the asylum, closing the chapter with Sue’s chilling words, ‘That bitch knew everything. She had been in on it from the start.’

I mean ???

Waters is truly the queen of unexpected plot twists and suspense. From this point forward, the truth is slowly unravelled, first from Maud’s perspective in part 2 and back to Sue in part 3, allowing the reader to piece together how the lives of these two girls have been linked by an ominous fate since birth. But, we only discover things when Waters allows us to. Her mastery of language is such that it is impossible to guess what’s coming next, but as soon as you discover it, you wonder how you could’ve missed it. 

What comes next is the unearthing of Maud’s sordid existence at the hands of her uncle’s erotic book fetish, and her discovery that she is the next victim of Gentleman’s deception. We have Sue’s daring escape from the asylum after months of hell and her fraught journey back to London to discover the truth.

As a reader, I felt myself becoming very agitated about the multiple ‘truths’ flying around and was anxious that Sue and Maud reunite so the actual (and again, shocking!) reality of the situation could be exposed.

And of course, these two young women were in love – despite obvious barriers of the time such as the perceived impropriety of same-sex relationships, especially between women, and the class divide between them – so I could not help but wonder what would become of their relationship.

I won’t reveal the biggest shocker of all about the intertwined destinies of the girls or whether they endure as a pair – this is for you to find out; Fingersmithis truly a fast-paced, surprising and vibrant novel that is impossible not to be drawn into.

Happy reading,

Imo x