Rachel Ferguson - The Brontës Went To Woolworths

The Brontës Went to Woolworths is one of those utterly bizarre books, with quirky characters and a story which makes the mind boggle. The thin line between fact and fiction is erased by the Carne sisters - the protagonists of this book - as they let their imaginations run away with them, and create a wondrous warm world of friendship, happiness and make-believe. A dog who used to be Pope, a doll who used to live in Paris and friends in high places, including Judge Toddington ("Toddy"). You also have their mother, who indulges them and the prudish governess, Miss Martin, who judges them, as she can't quite fathom what's going on inside the bubble the family has created for themselves, probably to cope with grief and sadness after their father's unfortunate demise. To be fair, one can't really blame Miss Martin for being confused about what's going on in this 1930s household - I was utterly baffled by what was going on for the first fifty odd pages, and I kind-of had an inkling of a clue. However, once I figured out the line that the Carnes had erased, things suddenly became much clearer...

...and while they became clear in my head, things got slightly more complicated for the Carnes, when Deirdre (the eldest sister) met Lady Mildred (Toddy's wife) at a charity bazaar, and ended up befriending the older lady and subsequently, her husband - the father figure that Deirdre had created for herself. The "Saga" the Carnes had created for themselves was suddenly moving closer towards reality, and the emotions that ran through the book were both, endearing and heart-rending. Shiel, the youngest daughter, practically had no grip on reality, and her older sisters were extremely protective of her - not only that, but, they themselves spent most of their time in the nursery, escaping their own reality.

The other thing I loved about this book was the irony and humour present throughout. There were a fair few chunks that had be laughing out loud. For instance, the opening paragraph, as narrated by Deirdre, reads:

How I loathe that kind of novel which is about a lot of sisters. It is usually called They Were Seven, or Three-Not Out, and one spends one’s entire time trying to sort them all, and muttering, ‘Was it Isobel who drank, or Gertie? And which was it who ran away with the gigolo, Amy or Pauline? And which of their separate husbands was Lionel, Isobel’s or Amy’s?

How can you not love the irony, when this book is about the three sisters, for the most part?

Another bit that absolutely had me in splits was when Deirdre talks about a proposal she received:

I couldn't accept the man, much as I liked him, because I was in love with Sherlock Holmes. For Holmes and his personality and brain I had a force of feeling which, for the time, converted living men to shadows.

I did enjoy this book thoroughly, and would recommend it highly. It's not very twenty-first century, though, so it's almost like a fairytale. The cynic in me did kick in from time to time, but, I just brushed it aside, for I couldn't help but hope for a "happy ending" for the kooky family, that resorted to escapism to find their solace.

Frances Hodgson Burnett - Little Lord Fauntleroy

I finally have some semblance of a life again after being under the weather for an extraordinarily long time (well, "extraordinarily long" is a relative term, but it is coming up to about two months now). I read loads of my old Enid Blytons and Nancy Drews, while twiddling my thumbs and imagining all kinds of crazy things, but most of them were being re-read for about the seven hundred and twenty third time. I can actually recite some of those books without any prompts... Right, that's a long digressive opening paragraph, which is meant to lead up to this simple statement : the only children's book (comfort read) I read during this period which I hadn't read before was Frances Hodgson Burnett's Little Lord Fauntleroy. I absolutely loved both, The Secret Garden and A Little Princess, but I'd just never managed to find this book anywhere before. Hurrah for libraries!

There's something about children's books and being ill.* They're just feel-good, and take you away to this "happy place," where you're thinking rainbows and butterflies, without actually resorting to LSD or 'shrooms or any other illegal substance. Little Lord Fauntleroy is no exception.

A story set in the late nineteenth century, it focuses on eight year old Cedric Errol who lives with his mother (who he calls Dearest) in a New York side-street, after his father, Captain Errol, passes away. Everyone is extremely fond of the boy, with his "quare little ways" and "ould fashioned sayin's!"

"'Ristycratic, is it?" she would say. "Faith, an' I'd loike to see the choild on Fifth Avey-NOO as looks loike him an' shteps out as handsome as himself. An' ivvery man, woman, and choild lookin' afther him in his bit of a black velvet skirt made out of the misthress's ould gownd; an' his little head up, an' his curly hair flyin' an' shinin'. It's loike a young lord he looks."

One day, out of the blue, a lawyer from England visits the mother and child, and breaks the news to them : Cedric, the grandson of the Earl of Dorincourt, was to become Earl someday, as both his uncles had passed away in the recent past. Probably not the best of comparisons, but think The Princess Diaries.

However, unlike the princess in The Princess Diaries, Cedric already exudes lordship: sensitive to others, generous and always wanting to help those he can. If that's not enough, he's also polite, respectful and fearless, completely oblivious to class differences and the prejudices that rule the world. For instance, how his grandfather, the Earl, had disowned his son when he married an American commoner. So, that's the grandfather - the polar opposite of Cedric; a crabby old man, who no one likes and who, in turn, cares for no one. Or, is it vice versa?

The rest of the book is essentially about the interaction between the grandchild and the grandfather, and how the latter is won over by the innocence and good-heartedness of the child. It's weird, and so unreal, but I just couldn't help rooting for that perfect happy ending, simply because that's all I wanted from the book. In another world, you could have the the impressionable child being more swayed by his grandfather, and becoming just like him! Or, a brattish spoilt child being the person to inherit the estate. But, no! None of that dark miserable stuff was in this book (thankfully - it was just what I needed after reading The Fifth Child).

I thoroughly enjoyed it, and am really glad that I read it when I did. However, I still can't help but strongly believe that The Secret Garden is miles better! I really must re-read it someday soon. I'm now wondering if I should venture into some of Burnett's books for adults. I've not read any, but have seen a fair few reviews on The Making of a Marchioness and The Shuttle, both of which have been published by Persephone.

What other works by Frances Hodgson Burnett would you recommend? And, do you have any favourite "comfort-reads" that simply must be read?

*Verity had a couple of posts on comfort reads and children's books a few weeks back as well (here and here). I couldn't agree more with some of her recommendations and selections.

Doris Lessing - The Fifth Child

By virtue of Doris Lessing being a Nobel Laureate, her books have always intimidated me. The size of the one book I've heard about the most, The Golden Notebook, hasn't really helped. However, when I stumbled upon The Fifth Child at the library, I felt as though I had to try reading at least one of her books. I've read Nobel Prize winners before, and more oft' than not, I've enjoyed the reading. Also, the blurb at the back of the book intrigued me. It reminded me of Lionel Shriver's We Need To Talk About Kevin. No, this isn't a book about a high school shooting. Instead, it's a book about a child being born into a perfectly happy family, who is violent and uncontrollable, with a vicious streak in him from the time he was in his mother's womb. Set in the 1960s, this book revolves around two social "oddballs," David and Harriet, who meet at an office party, and almost immediately decide to get married, and have loads of children ("six, eight, ten"). They buy a massive house in the suburbs which they can just about afford, and Harriet gets pregnant, on the first viewing of the house! In the six years that follow, the couple have four children, and depend on their family for support. Yet, they're happy, which is the important thing.

Despite the family's constant advice, the couple are adamant to have more kids, and so, the fifth child is born. Even before the birth, Ben seems to be a violent child. According to Harriet:

sometimes she believed hooves were cutting her tender inside flesh, sometimes claws.

And when Ben is finally born, he resembles a goblin or a troll more than a human - Harriet's thoughts again! Nothing is safe from the little Frankenstein. Not the pets, not the other children, not the house they live in. His parents hate him, his siblings hate him. And so, the idyllic life that Harriet and David have built with such conviction starts falling apart.

Harriet was wondering why she was always treated like a criminal. Ever since Ben was born it’s been like this, she thought. Now it seemed to her the truth, that everyone had silently condemned her. I have suffered a misfortune, she told herself; I haven’t committed a crime.

This book raises more questions than it answers. In a family, what is the concept of consequentialism : the good of the entire family, or the good of every child? In a warm loving environment, how is a child like Ben born? And more importantly - why? Is happiness merely transient? Or, did David and Harriet tempt fate with their constant utopian life? Oh, and of course, it takes us back to the age old question: nurture or nature?

I found The Fifth Child to be a fascinating gripping read, and was amazed by how much Lessing had packed in in such a short novel (160 pages). The language wasn't complicated, and the plot moved fast. Even before the first chapter was over, David and Harriet had met for the first time, and decided on their marriage!

There's a sequel to The Fifth Child called Ben, In The World. Have you read it? If yes, is it worth reading?

Have you read any other books with a "monster" child, that you'd recommend? It does seem to be a crop up a fair bit in the world of literature. I'm just hoping it's not that common in reality.

Ernest Hemingway - The Old Man And The Sea

I have an absolutely ancient copy of this book lying around, and it's actually bizarre that I've not read the book yet - it's just 114 pages long! Published in 1974, the book cost just 30p at the time (US$0.45)! The book costs £7.99 now... let's keep that musing for another day! The Old Man and the Sea is an extremely 'concise' book, for the lack of a better word. The plot is uncomplicated, with minimal dialogue. It's literally about an old man and the sea, as the old man (Santiago) tries to change his luck, after going eighty-four days without catching a fish.

Santiago's protege, Manolin, has moved on to a "lucky" boat, as per his father's wishes, and so, when the old man heads out to the waters on the eighty-fifth day, he's all alone, without the boy he trusts.

On this fateful day though, Santiago's luck does change, as he catches what appears to be a giant fish, and an epic battle begins at sea between the fish and the man, as he is not able to haul the fish onboard. Thus begins a great game of waiting and patience (and impatience) as the old man bides his time, and ponders upon many-a-thing, including how useless his left hand his (when it starts cramping), how much he misses the old boy, and how he would have made some changes in his journey, had he known better.

He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped. It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.

'What kind of a hand is that,' he said. 'Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good.'

While I'm glad I read this book, I still thought it dragged on a bit, by recounting the story of the old man's stay at the sea and his battle with the fish. Ironic that I'm saying the above about a book which is only 114 pages long, but there you have it. I guess I'm not interested in fishing, and while I understand the basic jargon, I don't really get what a lot of it means. For that matter, I don't quite understand fishing techniques either. So, maybe that's just me!

The old man's characterisation was fantastic though, as was his dialogues with the various natural things around him, including his victim - the fish. The way he handled exhaustion, cramps, hunger and thirst was mind-blowing, and I couldn't help but sympathise with him at those times. Even when I finished the book, I felt slightly despondent - but I reckon that's an emotion the book is expected to evoke.

The writing was brilliant - not poetic, but very real. The language was simple, and easy to read, while simultaneously bringing alive some of the scenes from the book. There was no superfluity, but all the words came together as though essential to form the whole story.

It's the first Hemingway I've read (yep, I know that's embarrassing!), but was wondering if you have read any of his works. If yes, what would you recommend?

J.M. Coetzee - Life and Times of Michael K

Life and Times of Michael K won the Booker Prize in 1983, and it's been one of Coetzee's books that I've wanted to read for a really long time. The name intrigued me: who is Michael K? And, what is it about his life and times that merits a novel?

The first thing the midwife noticed about Michael K when she helped him out of his mother into the world was that he had a hare lip. The lip curled like a snail's foot, the left nostril gaped.

Due to his disfigured cleft, his mother institutionalised him at a young age, and when he grew up, a simpleton, he became a gardener in Cape Town - a lifestyle that suited him, with his social inhibitions and lack of intelligence. However, when his ailing mother requested him to take her back to her hometown, when the country was ravaged by war, he agreed without even thinking twice.

Unfortunately, when his mother dies on the way, and all Michael K is left with is some of her belongings, and her ashes, he continues his journey to her hometown. While many unpleasant events occur en route to Prince Albert, once Michael finds the farm (which he thinks is where his mother grew up), he makes himself comfortable there, and begins gardening again: planting his seeds, and looking after them. He's away from the world, and he quite likes that.

Every now and again though, the story takes a turn, and Michael is forced to live in prisoner camps, and work for his food - something he just cannot fathom. As far as he is concerned, he should not be forced into a life, but choose his way of life. He understands there is a war going on around him, but then again, he just figures he's not a part of this war, for he doesn't want to be. Gardening is in his blood - all else is secondary.

Irritation overflowed in me. "You are not in the war? Of course you are in the war, man, whether you like it or not! This is a camp, not a holiday resort, not a convalescent home: it is a camp where we rehabilitate people like you and make you work!

This is an incredibly sad poignant book, which resonates within you long after you've finished it. It's not overtly verbose, it's not overtly descriptive; but perhaps, a more verbose book would not do justice to the character of Michael K - considered a simpleton, but still clever enough to run away from the government and not get caught? So, what is it about the life and times of Michael K during the War? Is it his refusal to succumb to the government's way of working, as he doesn't want to partake in the war? Or, is it his quest to find a place where he belongs, even if it is far away from humanity? Or, maybe it's simply that he will go to any lengths to not bow down to the metaphorical machine, even if it means harming himself?

Have you read this book? Was Michael K a simpleton, or simply someone hellbent on getting his own way, at any cost?

Have you read anything else by Coetzee? What would you recommend?

Colleen McCullough - Angel

I loved The Thorn Birds when I read it, almost ten years ago. Never went near another book by Colleen McCullough after that, as I was scared it would ruin The Thorn Birds for me. However, while browsing around at the library, I saw a fair few books by McCullough, and decided to take the plunge. So happy that I did - I loved this book! It's a diary of twenty-one year old Harriet Purcell in the 1960s. An X- Ray technician, Harriet's engaged to the boy she's been dating for a long time (but he doesn't even kiss with his mouth open!), and she shares a bedroom with her grandmother.

Despite what, on the face of it, seems like the perfect life, Harriet isn't completely happy. So, much to her parents' chagrin, she moves out of home to The House, which is located at the sleazy side of Sydney, Kings Cross. Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz is her landlord, and her neighbours include artists, prostitutes and lesbians. Harriet, having lived an extremely sheltered life, hadn't ever interacted with any lesbians prior to this!

The main thing that convinced Harriet to move into The House was her landlady's daughter, Flo - a four year old child, who's affectionate but a mute. She helps Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz in her profession as a soothsayer - a business she initially started as a racket, but with time, her predictions became accurate thanks to Flo. Harriet fell in love with the child at first glance, and continuously refers to her as an "angel." She does have her nemesis in Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz lover, though...

Harriet matures as she keeps writing her diary - she takes a walk on the wild side; has her first affair, has a long-lasting affair with a senior doctor, learns how to cook, and works hard to first be transferred to Casualty, and then asked to run the X Ray unit in Casualty. She's intelligent, energetic, generous, conscientious and presumably attractive (based on the number of men who are attracted to her). She's also got a strong independent streak, and has a wicked sense of humour (referring to her ex-fiance as a "constipated Christian boy." At times, she comes across as a hedonist - someone who loves life, and wants to live it to the fullest!

And though this is only a few days old, I'm already well into a fat exercise book, and I'm quite addicted. Maybe that's because I can never sit still and think, I always have to be doing something, so now I'm killing two birds with the same stone. I get to think about what's happening to me, yet I'm doing something at the same time. There's a discipline about writing the stuff down, I see it better. Just like my work. I give it all my attention because I enjoy it.

She's also naive and innocent, struggling to figure out some things which everyone around her seems to understand - be it about sex, or lifestyle, or life at Kings Cross. Full credit her though, as she befriends all the social "outcastes," without paying much heed to their lifestyle choices. She sees them as "real" people, and doesn't put them in the brackets that society does.

Tonight has been a blinding enlightenment. I can never think the same about people again. Publicly one thing, behind closed doors something very different. Dorian Gray everywhere.

Of course, as things roll, there's a twist and a turn, but annoyingly enough, there's a perfectly happy ending, where everything just falls into place, and makes sense, and they all live happily ever after, despite it looking as if there would be no light at the end of the bleak metaphoric tunnel, for the longest time. I'm not really the biggest fan of books that end with all the loose ends tied up perfectly, but somehow, it did work for this novel, and left me feeling very glad that I'd read it.

Have you read anything by Colleen McCullough? If yes, what would you recommend I read next?

Grace Metalious - Peyton Place

Oh, it's been absolutely ages since I've read a 470+ page book in a day, but boy, this one was absolutely worth it. It's been labeled "wicked", "sordid" and even "cheap". I half thought of The O.C. as I was reading it, albeit set in the late 1930s, and not the twenty-first century. I've heard of Peyton Place in passing before, but never realised it was a book until quite recently, when everyone in the blogging world seems to be reading it. I wasn't actually planning on reading it, as such, but when I stumbled upon it in the library, I figured I might as well see what it's all about. I wasn't disappointed.

Set in a small fictional town (Peyton Place) in New England, just before the second World War, this book focuses on the hypocrisy and the downright gossipy nature of the inhabitants of this small town, where a good story includes one of three: a suicide, a murder, and an unmarried girl getting pregnant. Needless to say, in this book, all three events occur!

It's a book that's quite hard to write about, simply because of the plethora of characters that were introduced and developed: some you couldn't help but hating, and some you just couldn't stop rooting for.  It's commendable, how well Metalious (a pseudonym) has developed all the characters, though, considering there are well over fifteen characters whose life the book follows. Not once did I get confused as to which character she was talking about, nor where they stood on various issues. For me, the two main characters were two teenage girls, coming from totally different worlds : Allison, who lived with her successful mother after her father had passed away; and Selena, who lived with her parents and siblings in a shack. The latter's father was an alcoholic, and made life miserable for the rest of the family. Allison carried her own burdens - she wasn't aware that she was an illegitimate child (a fact that haunted her mother continuously), and she had some very set, almost naive, ideas about how her life would turn out: she wasn't going to fall in love, but was going to live a life full of affairs.

In terms of the adults, again, there were two characters who stood out more than the others, as they were almost too good to be true. Doctor Swain and the new Greek principal of the school, Tomas Makris. Both want to do the right thing - even if, at times, the so-called "right thing" is illegal or frowned upon.

Other characters include a batty old spinster with a cat (quite stereotypical, don't you think?), the village handyman who is also an alcoholic, the son of the richest man in town who's an out and out hedonist, and the poor teenager whose mother is unhealthily possessive, and insists on "giving him an enema and putting him to sleep."

As already mentioned, in Peyton Place, everyone knows everyone, and everyone talks. That's the one thing that's been a constant at the little town.

"The public loves to create a hero....Sometimes I think they do it for the sheer joy of knocking him down from the highest peak. Like a child who builds a house of blocks and then destroys it with one vicious kick."

Yet, the writing is wonderful: extremely easy to read, but full of wonderful metaphors and analogies. The opening line itself is beautiful,

Indian summer is like a woman. Ripe, hotly passionate, but fickle, she comes and goes as she pleases so that one is never sure whether she will come at all, nor for how long she will stay.”

and then, a couple of pages later:

Those grown old, who have had the youth bled from them by the jagged edged winds of winter, know sorrowfully that Indian summer is a sham to be met with hard-eyed cynicism. But the young wait anxiously, scanning the chill autumn skies for a sign of her coming. And sometimes the old, against all the warnings of better judgment, wait with the young and hopeful, their tired, inner eyes turned heavenward to seek the first traces of a false softening.

Agreed, it's not the most "literary" book out there, but it really is an enjoyable read. Being from a society prone to gossip and talking, I could only empathise with the characters, although again, being a part of society means I had to judge some of them as well.

Haruki Murakami - Kafka On The Shore

Surrealism. I've reached the conclusion that it's the only word that can be used to describe Murakami's books. Kafka on the Shore is no exception. Leeches and fish rain down, there's a character called Johnnie Walker, and another called Colonel Saunders (of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame), a mysterious childhood "accident" results in one of the characters being able to speak to cats, and there's a portal to a parallel universe. The book follows two characters in interleaving chapters: Fifteen year old runaway, Kafka Tamura and Nakata, an elderly man who is considered "dumb" by most as he is unable to read or write. While neither of them are aware of the other's existence, there's a greater (almost supernatural) force that connects them.

Kafka ran away from home, after this father had cursed him with the Oedipus prophecy: that he would kill his father, and sleep with his mother and sister. His mother and sister had left home when he was merely four years old, and he has no recollection of them whatsoever. He figures he just has to be the toughest fifteen year old boy. Or, so "a boy called Crow" tells him.

And I bet the longer I live, the emptier, the more worthless, I'll become. Something's wrong with this picture. Life isn't supposed to turn out like this! Isn't it possible to shift direction, to change where I'm headed?"

Then there's Nakata, who fell unconscious after a bizarre attack while he was still at school. This so-called "attack" left sixteen children unconscious, but when they came to, their memories and intelligence was left intact. They simply had no recollection of the event itself. Nakata, however, lost all his intelligence, and his ability to read or write. Instead, he was bestowed with the ability to talk to cats, which led to him earning a little money by finding lost cats, in addition to the government "sub city" (subsidy) he received.

Kafka runs away to Takamatsu in Shikoku, and starts working in a small private library. He befriends the librarian, Oshima, as well as gets closer to the beautiful albeit melancholy Ms. Saeki, the manager - a lady who still mourns the demise of her long lost love, who was killed about thirty years previously.

Nakata, on the other hand, runs into a dangerous man, Johnnie Walker, in Kafka's hometown, who is kidnapping cats, and then killing them brutally in order to make a flute of their souls. In order to save the cats, Nakata ends up killing the man and then following his "fate" - he doesn't know what it is, but he'll know it when he sees it.

This was an obscure novel, which on finishing, I had more questions than answers. Who is "the boy named crow"? Did Kafka succumb to his fate, or did he manage to avoid it? Can ghosts of living people exist? Can ghosts of people's past exist? What connected the two characters? And, what actually happened to Nakata in his childhood, that left him bereft of his intelligence?

Don't get me wrong - I enjoyed this book, as I do most Murakamis. And, I would recommend it. Just remember, if and when you read it, it'll be a hell of a ride, and you'll be second guessing everything right till the last page - and beyond. While some bits were tedious to read, all in all, the characters and the surrealism made it a must-read for me.

Note: Kafka on the Shore is the first Murakami I ever had on my shelf. It was given to me as a present sometime in 2008, and I kept "saving it" for the right occasion. I planned on reading it when I went on holiday to Barbados last year, as part of the Japanese Literature Challenge 3 hosted by Bellezza last year, and a couple of other times as well. Finally read it about a year later, while the Japanese Literature Challenge 4 is being held. Have been meaning to write a post about the challenge itself for awhile, but kept getting sidetracked. Apologies.

Anyway, head over to Bellezza's, to find more reviews of Japanese Literature, and to see what everyone else is reading. Hope to see some of your reviews around as well. :)

John Wyndham - The Chrysalids

When I was quite small I would sometimes dream of a city -which was strange because it began before I even knew what a city was.

So opens John Wyndham's post-nuclear catastrophe dystopian novel, as narrated by David, a child living in a small place called Labrador. Not much is known about the nuclear war, how humanity survived, and the extent of the damage done. That's all in the past - all that matters is the present state of affairs, the present society, where mutation of any form is illegal, and anyone "different" is sent out to the Fringes and cast away from society.

It's a religious society, which staunchly believes that "any creature that shall seem to be human, but is not formed thus is not human. it is neither man nor woman. It is blasphemy against the true Image of God, and hateful in the sight of God," and David's father is one of those people who follows this to the tee. Everyone is taught the basic moralities of this society at a very young age:

Watch Thou for the Mutant

The Norm is the Will of God

The Devil is the Father of Deviation

and few, if any, question these maxims. However, when David befriends a "mutant," a girl with six toes, he starts puzzling over the ways of his world. Flowers, people and animals which are considered to be "deviant" are done away with, and even new born babies are inspected by the officials, before they are given the "certificate of humanity."

David himself is "different" though - he can telepathically communicate with a group of children (think Midnight's Children). When the authorities discover the "mutation" of this group of arguably gifted children, they flee to the Fringes, to escape the fate that awaits them in Labrador, with the Inspectors hot on their heels.

While this book is essentially an adventure story, it's also a discussion on human nature and society. If we juxtapose this against the present world, the two words that come to mind immediately are fundamentalism and conformity. The religion is laid out for everyone to follow, without them having a say in it. The Bible and another book, Repentances, survived the nuclear horror, and everyone is compelled to follow them, without challenging or contradicting any of their sayings. However, if we don't challenge society's beliefs or their norms, how do we figure out what's fair and what's right? How do we grow? How do we improve ourselves? And, if everyone is identical, and there's no tolerance for any "mutation,"  how do we evolve? How do we become a "developed" society?

I think those are the points Wyndham stresses on, as he creates this post-apocalyptic world. However, this book is fast-paced and essentially a thriller, so much so that the themes he discusses blend in with the story, and very much become a part of it: from the time David questions the beliefs of the society he belongs to, to the time he ponders Enlightment.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book - my first Wyndham incidentally. Post-apocalyptic dystopian novels seem to be a genre I rather "enjoy" (slightly warped?), so are there any other books you'd recommend? Or, any other books by Wyndham? Day of the Triffids and The Midwich Cuckoos are two that have been recommended to me recently.

James Scudamore - Heliopolis

Ludo, born in the favela of Heliopolis (a shantytown), is "lucky." He's escaped a life of squalor, on being formally adopted by the extremely rich Carnicelli family, who have also hired his mother as a cook in their farmhouse.

When she had nothing but a handful of beans to her name, the tough nugget of pride at her core sustained her. Then along came Ze and Rebecca, and took away that pride, replacing it with impotent gratitude. Like the mythological pelican slashing open her breast to sustain her young, my mother fed me her blood, and she took a mortal blow for me in the process.

Now in his mid-to-late twenties, Ludo reflects on life, the city he lives in, and his rags-to-riches story, which puts him in the awkward role of supposedly knowing both worlds : the squalor and the wealth, and trying to figure out where he belongs.

He's in love with his adopted sister (who he sleeps with occasionally, despite her being married), thinks his job (in advertising) is completely pointless and is mostly passive about most things - almost to the point of the passiveness being criminal! However, he's an insightful narrator, who sometimes has you nod in agreement and sometimes, just chuckle.

Practise your confidence tricks on the street and you risk getting shot by trigger-happy security guards; do it in the office and you get put on the board.

The other primary character, in my opinion, is Sao Paulo itself. The epigraph of this novel is a quote by Marlene Dietrich: Rio is a beauty. But Sao Paulo - Sao Paulo is a city. From a social perspective, the class divide that's shown, the general acceptance of it by the public, and the dignity with which the shantytown dwellers are portrayed makes the novel so much more colourful. Ze (Ludo's adoptive father) has not stepped on the grounds of the city for fifteen years, as his helicopter is his only mode of transportation, as nobody who's anybody gets driven to work in the city these days.

And then of course, you have the ambience of the Brazilian city, which is captured, almost to perfection:

Since the city took off in the nineteenth century, wave after wave of developers have ripped through it, obliterating what lies in their path. But occasionally, the past remains in isolated fragments that seem as if they have escaped the halo of a nuclear explosion.

The novel is fast-paced, and incredibly easy to read. It's not a translation, and Scudamore, in my opinion, has done an amazing job of making the book sound "Brazilian" enough, without anglicising the content overtly - a massive bonus! The other thing that I quite liked about this book was that each of the chapter headings reference food, be it Mango or Orange Juice; Crab Linguine or Feiojada. The food referenced in the chapter heading invariably appears in the chapter, and also plays a role in defining both: the social and cultural aspects of the city.

This is the first book I've read, that's based in Brazil, and I'd love to read more books set in Latin America. Do you have any recommendations? Possibly not a rags-to-riches story (although, I did read an interesting fact : the President of Brazil was buffing shoes and selling peanuts on the streets when he was ten years old! It's a city where the rags-to-riches story aren't always only a fairy-tale!), as I've read a fair few them in the recent past?

Muriel Spark - Loitering With Intent

There's a thin line between reality and fiction; they oft' reflect each other very closely, so much so that the line is indiscernible. But - what happens when reality starts imitating fiction? That's the basic premise of Spark's 1981 novel, starring Fleur Talbot: an aspiring writer in London in the 1950s. She's writing her first novel, Warrender Chase, but she needs a job to get by while she finishes it. And so, she takes up the position of the secretary to Sir Quentin Oliver, and his brainchild: The Autobiographical Association.

The Autobiographical Association comprises of a bunch of people who write their memoirs, which are to be published in the future, when anyone and everyone mentioned in the autobiographies are dead. In a manner of speaking, it's almost like a time capsule.

A myriad of entertaining characters are created by Spark, to fill in the roles of the members of the Association - each more warped than the other. Fleur, the narrator, ends up "enriching" their otherwise mundane autobiographies. However, right before her eyes, the scenes from the office start resembling her novel - which she had started before taking the job! What's is Sir Quentin's end goal? And to what lengths is he ready to go to in order to achieve his end goal?

In Fleur, we have a witty likeable narrator, who says it as she sees it.

I always desired books; nearly all of my bills were for books. I possessed one very rare book which I traded for part of my bill with another bookshop, for I wasn’t a bibliophile of any kind; rare books didn’t interest me for their rarity but their content. I borrowed frequently from the public library, but often I would go into a bookshop and in my longing to possess, let us say, the Collected Poems of Arthur Clough and a new Collected Chaucer, I would get into conversation with the bookseller and run up another bill.

She befriends Sir Quentin's mother, Lady Edwina, who is an eccentric character, with a mischievous side. And then there's the despicable Beryl Tims - the apparent love interest of Sir Quentin - who works with him, and finally, Sir Quentin himself - a character who's extremely unlikeable and becomes a shade more repulsive with each turn of the page. It's these characters that carry this work of metafiction, and makes it a fascinating read.

I think I didn't get enough out of the book, by virtue of not knowing much about a couple of authors (Benvenuto Cellini and John Henry Newman) whose works Fleur (and a couple of other characters) refers to at regular intervals (quoting passages as well), setting them as model autobiographies.

I also thought Warrender Chase sounded like a pretty dreadful book (not one I'd like to read, anyway). Maybe in a parallel universe, where novels are actually a byproduct of reality, this book exists, and the "lucid readers" are singing a different tune. If not that, maybe it has a "cult" following. What do I know?

Sarah Waters - Affinity

In a world where twenty-seven year old women are called "spinsters" and they aren't allowed to study further, despite being inclined towards academia, where they still need their mother's permission to carry out certain activities, and where they're bound by society's rules and regulations, this story is about a woman desperately trying to find her place and her footing while her siblings are getting married, having babies and moving ahead. It's also a story about another woman, a spiritualist, who has been imprisoned due to her involvement in an affair which led to the unfortunate demise of one of her clients. She blames it on the spirits who she interacts with, but there isn't any evidence in her favour.

Set in London in the 1870s, this book is about two women: Selina, the prisoner (and spiritualist) and Margaret, the Lady Visitor at the prison who is trying to overcome an "illness."

Early on in the book, Margaret's visit to Millibank Prison are more about meeting Selina (who she's never met before), than the other prisoners. Selina, who communicates with various spirits from the prison cell as well, interacts with Margaret's father who passed away two years previously. As they form a special spiritual bond - a result of loneliness and despondence - they start sharing the details of their past (and their present), which brings them closer together, leading Margaret to believe that Selina is her "affinity."

One sympathises with Margaret, wonders whether Selina is really a spiritualist or not (well, I did - I don't really have believe in spirits being able to interact with humans via various media), and dreads the prison - which essentially could be a character in itself. Dark and gloomy, with endless passages, odours, wards, and extremely strict (almost inhumane) matrons who patrol the wards and punish the prisoners for their crimes.

As I've come to expect with Sarah Waters' novels, there's a breathtaking plot twist, which just leaves the reader gripped to the book, long after they've turned the last page. The book is written in interleaving chapters of the present and the past: the present is Margaret's voice, writing in her diary, and the past is Selina's, presumably writing in her diary as well. Thus, the whole book is presented to us from the eyes of the two protagonists, and one does start seeing things from their points of view. It's easy to relate to them, sympathise with their predicaments, and hope for a "happily ever after" that's only ever seen in fairy tales.

While this book is no Fingersmith (I doubt Waters will be able to re-do that kind of magic), it is still immense in terms of character development and scene setting. It's probably my second favourite book by Waters (although I still have Tipping The Velvet to go). I've read/heard many comments saying Waters is at her best while writing about the Victorian period, and as things stand, I'm bound to agree.

Have you read Affinity? Where do you think it stands amidst Sarah Waters' other novels?