Susan Hill - The Beacon

Background: I ended up picking this book for the Take A Chance Challenge#5. You might have noticed that in my original book selection, I had opted for Mary Higgins Clark's Just Take My Heart. However, that book is not out in paperback yet, so... I went back to the phone book and found the name "Hill".

With Howard's End Is On The Landing out recently, and loads of bloggers reviewing it, I figured Susan Hill was the sensible choice! And so, here it is... Susan Hill's The Beacon. Just for the record, this is the first Susan Hill I've read....

The book opens with Mrs. Prime's peaceful death at The Beacon, where she lives with one of her children, May. Two of the others have married locally, and quiet, almost reticent Frank lives in London. May had gone to London to study to escape from the bleak country-life, but, hallucinations and nightmares drove her to return to the safety of home within the year.

While May is contemplating making the call to her siblings, she tries to figure out if she should call Frank - Frank who betrayed the entire family, and who they haven't spoken to since. This leads to retrospection: looking back at how events unfolded, and the impact it had on the family as a whole.

Mostly written in May's voice, this book does explore a very interesting topic. Frank's ultimate betrayal is writing a book in first person, entitled The Story Of One Boy's Brutal Childhood, where he talks of his life in the "cupboard under the stairs" (very Harry Potter-like), and the abuse he suffered at the hands of his older siblings and father. However, as the other children (now adults) remember it, this is mere fabrication, and none of it ever happened. However, as they live in a small village in Ireland, the family name has been tarnished, and it's almost impossible for them to vindicate themselves. Also, a doubt has formed in everyone's mind, and the siblings themselves cannot determine what's the truth, and what they have deleted from their memories.

While the premise is interesting, i.e. how a memoir like Frank's victimises the family, the book in itself fell flat. It started off being interesting, but as it progressed, it left a lot to be desired... specially the ending, which was at best ambiguous. Based on this, I don't think I'll be seeking out more of Susan Hill's works.

Rating: 2.5

Carlos Ruiz Zafón - The Angel's Game

I absolutely loved The Shadow Of The Wind when I read it back in April, with its glimpse into old Barcelona, fantastic story-telling and hyperbolism extraordinaire. When The Angel's Game hit the stores a few months back, I picked it out almost greedily, and stacked it on my bookshelf, waiting for the "right" time to pull it out, and lose myself in the magical world of Zafón's writing.

The Angel's Game takes us back to old Barcelona, towards the end of World War I, through the eyes of David Martin, an aspiring writer. The opening lines set the mood for the book:

A writer never forgets the first time he accepts a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood, and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets most: his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him. A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price.

The narrator starts off as a sensationalist story-writer; his thrillers are first published weekly in a newspaper, and he goes on to assume a pseudonym, to write a monthly series of books entitled City of the Damned. While his stories were well-received, David's attempt at a serious novel met with bad reviews, and a combination of disappointment and enticement led him to make a deal with the devil himself : Andreas Corelli, a Parisian publisher, who offers David a small fortune, in return for David writing him an epic book, a book that would create a brand new religion, to which Corelli would play god (or, in this case, the devil).

David inadvertently gets sucked into Corelli's game, digging up secrets from years gone by, witnessing murders, being a subject of police investigations, and almost living a life that existed in his series, City of the Damned. His best friend marries his lover, an adolescent moves in with him in order to find a writing mentor, and subsequently turning his life upside down, and his residence, a creepy tower in the sinister dark side of the city, holds infinite mysteries of its own.

The book also takes us back to the Cemetery Of Forgotten Books, an incredible concept that Zafón introduced in his debut novel, and it sounds equally fantastic. This time, David goes there to hide a book, and is subject to the same rules as Daniel was in The Shadow Of The Wind.

However, that's where the similarity ends. The book has some great characters, with Isabella (the adolescent who seeks David out to be her mentor) being a personal favourite, but the story was disjointed, and had way too many bizarre things happening, leading to a disappointing ending, where the loose ends remain untied. The book started promisingly, and is quite fast-paced, but in my opinion, it's at the expense of things not being explained coherently, or the writing being rushed.

Zafón's a talented writer, and there are phrases and sentences that leapt off the page and made me chuckle, or nod in agreement. Like his protagonist, he seems to be a sensationalist writer, enjoying the luxury of hyperboles and scandal. In fact, in parts the book, I thought that some of David's experiences were first hand accounts - the way David is treated by his publishers, the art of procrastination, and the way of research.

It's unfortunate, so, that his second book didn't live up to all the hype that the first book had created.

Rating: 2.5

Daphne du Maurier - Rebecca

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me.

So opens Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca, and it's an opening line that piques the reader's curiosity. Also, it seems to be a retrospective metaphor for the narrator's, a young girl who remains nameless, life at Manderley.

The late Mrs. Rebecca de Winter, the lady of Manderley, the wife of Maxim de Winter, the attractive tall dark-haired woman, who was politically correct and loved by one and all for her social graces, and her "breeding", inspired the title of this classic. But, she's not the narrator. In fact, the narrator is the "other woman", the new Mrs. de Winter, the new lady of Manderley, a young girl of low social standing, who is also socially awkward and shy.

Maxim de Winter meets the narrator in a hotel at Monte Carlo, while she's a companion to a rich and pretentious woman. While the woman tries her level best to charm Maxim, he is quite taken by the young narrator, and when the old lady falls ill and hires a nurse, Maxim spends a lot of time with the "companion", and they both find that they enjoy each other's company, despite the massive age difference. He never talks of Rebecca, and she never asks. She's heard the gossip about the lady of Manderley, a Manor house in Cornwall, drowning in a sailing accident, and Maxim's immediate breakdown.

When her employer decides to cut short the holiday, she runs to Maxim, who proposes marriage: she can be a companion to Mrs. Van Hopper, or she can marry him and be the lady of Manderley! She happily agrees to the latter, ignoring the fact that Maxim has never said anything about love. In fact, Mrs. Van Hopper, who the narrator has nothing but contempt for, offers the young girl a final piece of advice:

"Of course," she said, "you know why he is marrying you, don't you? You haven't flattered yourself he's in love with you?

But, the couple get married, honeymoon in Italy, and then head to the wonder that is Manderley.

Yes, there it was, the Manderley I had expected, the Manderley of my picture post-card long ago. A thing of grace and beauty, exquisite and faultless, lovelier even than I had ever dreamed, built in its hollow of smooth grassland, and mossy lawns, the terraces sloping to the gardens, and the gardens to the sea.

However, the happiness and wonder of the honeymoon ends right there, as the narrator meets the staff, who expect someone from a high social class - someone similar to Rebecca. The scornful Mrs. Danvers, who runs the household, treats the narrator with utter contempt, for, how can someone like her replace the Rebecca that Mrs. Danvers was devoted to? Her social awkwardness, her insecurities, and her mannerisms brings out the worst in Mrs. Danvers, who is excessively hostile, seemingly focusing on making the narrator's life uneasy...

How much more uneasy can you make someone who is haunted by her husband's dead wife's ghost, that she can almost see Rebecca, hear the conversations Rebecca has with the staff, with Maxim? How can she escape the past, and try out a hand at being the Lady of Manderley, when everything that she wants to do has already been done - be it cutting the flowers, or placing them neatly in a vase, for decorative purposes; be it sitting at the desk in the morning room, or going for walks with the cocker spaniel, Jasper? And, how can she compare to the beauty that was Rebecca when Maxim's own sister told her that she was nothing like Rebecca?! And, is Maxim still in love with his wife who hasn't even been dead a year?

Just as the reader comes to grip with the story line, the plot twists, and the reader (or me, at least) can't help but continuously flip the pages, and beg for more - to find out more about Rebecca; to find out more about Mrs. Danvers; and most importantly, to find out more about Maxim. The twists keeps the book interesting and gripping, and one can't help be amazed by how things pan out.

I loved the book to bits. I really did. In fact, I was due an early night yesterday, but I was up 'til the wee hours of the morning finishing this classic. The prose is descriptive and beautiful, and the story incredible. Manderley sounds heavenly, and I've spent most of my day trying to imagine what Manderley would look like, based on du Maurier's vivid descriptions. Wild flowers, gardens, the sea, the library, the "west wing", the "east wing", the works, really!

However, I did find that the narrator's character one-dimensional, and I don't think I really understood her. Maybe it's the times (the book was written in the 1930s), but, I can't help but wonder what can prompt a young girl to marry someone her father's age? Is it just the thought that there's someone out there who loves her, for she did delude herself into thinking Maxim had asked her to marry him because of love? And how can someone be so forgiving, and turn a blind eye to all their lover's flaws?

Have you read Rebecca? Or, any other DDM? What did you think of it? Would you love to live in a place like Manderley? Or, is it just not for you?

Rating: 4.5

PS: Thanks to Sandy from You've Gotta Read This for hosting the read-along. I'm running way ahead of schedule (it was meant to be 16 chapters by the 8th, and the rest of the book by the 15th), but I just couldn't stop reading! Blame du Maurier and Rebecca, not me!

Lloyd Jones - Mister Pip

Set in Papua New Guinea, in the 1990s, this book is narrated by Matilda, an adolescent, who witnesses the horrors of civil war first hand. The book opens with many people fleeing the island, and it being lost to the outside world, as the 'redskins' (the government soldies) and the 'rambos' (rebels) advances.

One white man ("the last white man on the island"), however, commonly referred to as Pop Eye, stays on in the village, despite the odds of him fleeing being far greater than some of the others. Mr. Watts is his name, and he's a massive fan of Dickens. The responsibility of teaching the children falls on him, and he reads them the epic novel, Great Expectations, which allows the children's imagination to run away to the Victorian England, and befriend Pip (the protagonist of Great Expectations).

During the blockade, we could not waste fuel or candles. But as the rebels and the redskins went on butchering one other, we had another reason for hiding under the cover of night. Mr. Watts had given us kids another world to spend the night in. We could escape to another place. It didn't matter that it was Victorian England. We found we could easily get there. It was just the blimmin' dogs and the blimmin' roosters that tried to keep us here.

The redskins mistake Pip to be an actual person, though - the result of a shrine created by Matilda on the beach - and, they initiate a horrific manhunt, which leads to the thin line between reality and fiction being erased. Houses and possessions are burnt down, makeshift roofs are created, and the children continue trying to find an escape in the world so artfully created by Dickens.

This is an amazing book, that brings in multifarious cultural thoughts and highlights the great divides. For example, Matilda's mother believes that Mr. Watts is not providing the children with proper education, due to the lack of religious education. Instead, he spends time talking of a fictional character which doesn't exist, and says that the devil is a symbol.

It's barbaric, emotional, heart-wrenching and fascinating. There's despair, which is always highlighted by hope. There are sacrifices made, nightmarish experiences, death, and the consequences of each decision render the reader awed and despondent. I cannot help but wonder what would've been, if Matilda's mother had not made that one impulsive decision...

The power of story-telling, the wonder of literature, and the importance of the imagination are themes so beautifully brought out, that they almost perfectly accentuate the diabolic war. Beauty and ugliness will always be held in the same hand.

This is the second book by Lloyd Jones that I've read in recent times, and I have to say that I found The Book Of Fame more lyrical, although the story didn't really appeal to me. However, the story of Mister Pip is amazing, but I found myself yearning for the writing present in The Book Of Fame.

Rating: 4

Sarah Hall - How To Paint A Dead Man

I wasn't planning on reading the entire Booker long list, prior to the short list being announced. However, there were a couple of books that intrigued me, and Sarah Hall's How To Paint A Dead Man was one of them. Initially, I was torn between Heliopolis (James Scudamore) and this one, but, I held both of them in my hand, and for some unexplainable reason, How To Paint A Dead Man just grabbed my attention a little bit more.

It's a bizarre book, in terms of the plot (if you can call it that). The book works on alternating stories of four characters across different decades and places, who are loosely connected. Hence, the story continuously goes back and forth in time, exploring the characters, on each of the chapters.

There's one set of chapters called The Mirror Crisis, which the book opens with. It introduces Susan, whose twin brother, Danny, has just passed away in an accident. The opening paragraph just won me over, and I knew I'd love the book, simply based on that.

You aren't feeling like yourself. You haven't been feeling like yourself for a while now, not since the accident. More accurately, not since the moment you heard about it. That morning, that minute, holding the phone to your ear and hearing your father say those horrific words; it was then you felt the change, then when you were knocked out of the kilter. You're not sure what's wrong exactly; it's hard to put your finger on, hard to articulate. It isn't grief. Grief would be simple. Something internal, something integral, has shifted. You feel lost from yourself. No. Absent. You feel absent. It's like looking into a mirror and seeing no familiar reflection, no one you recognize hosted within the glass.

Dealing with her twin's loss, Susan finds comfort in the arms (and bed) of her friend's husband, as she tries to deal with the shock of losing someone who was once a part of her - when she referred to everything as "We", not "I".

The second set of chapters is called Translated from the Bottle Journals goes back in time, to the life of an Italian artist, who is doing his final "masterpiece," as he approaches his final few days.

And then you have the third, The Fool On The Hill, which comes back to the present (kind-of), and refers to Peter, Susan's father. During his younger days, he would write to the Italian artist with ideas, and now, he's a famous landscape artist. However, he's abundant in his vulnerability, and is dealing with a mid-life crisis, trying to do his daughter proud. However, an accident leaves him trapped in the hills, with his left leg stuck, and as he struggles to get out, he reflects on his life, his first marriage, and how things have panned out.

And finally, you have The Divine Vision of Annette Tambroni: another collection of chapters that goes back in time, and focuses on a young girl, who has lost her sight, and is now a flower seller. She was taught by the Italian when he was lecturing at school, and was a prized student. After his death, Annette, despite her blindness, continues to visit him (and her father) in the cemetery, and contemplates on the Bestia, a monster whose presence she keeps feeling around her.

The story just trickles on, and you're lost in a world of beautiful writing, and heartbreaking narratives.

Of all the conditions we experience, solitude is perhaps the most misunderstood. To choose it is regarded as irresponsible or a failure. To most, it should be avoided, like an illness. Inside solitude people see the many compartments of unhappiness, like the comb of a pomegranate.

It gets difficult to read at times, due to the lack of continuity or relation between the four stories. However, I did end up feeling perfectly happy losing myself in the story, and sympathizing with the many actors. Times like this, I'm glad for things like the Booker long list, for I don't think I would have picked up this book otherwise.

Rating: 4

Audrey Niffenegger - The Time Traveler's Wife

Contrary to popular opinion, I thought this book just wasn't all that. I know many people who have this book on their "best of" lists, and it's supposed to be amazing. And there are parts of it which are... specially the premise: Henry suffers from a genetic disorder, which allows him to time-travel, albeit the time-traveling isn't done at his will, but can happen anytime, with no heads up whatsoever. So, at the age of thirty-six, he goes back in time to meet Clare. the love of his life, who is six, but, in real terms, she is only eight years younger than him!

So, as I was saying, the premise in itself is interesting, and gripping. However, this book has disregarded the concept of space-time continuum completely - almost as though such a thing didn't exist, and time-traveling decided the course of events, as opposed to nature, fate, or life itself.

For example, Henry tells little Clare that he is her future husband. So, all her life, Clare is only seeking one man, as she doesn't see any point in dating other guys, for she already knows who she's going to end up with. So, if Henry hadn't gone back in time to tell Clare about their love, would Clare have even given him a second look when she met him in the library?

And, why would someone tell his future wife that they'll be together when she's a small easily impressionable child? Shouldn't some things just be left to chance? Personally speaking, I would have hated it if someone would have told me that in my pre-adolescent and adolescent days, for, it probably would've ended up trivializing a lot.

Second, I really didn't understand what the whole deal with shedding clothes and arriving naked in the non-real time zone was about? Was Henry moving so fast that the clothes didn't have a chance to keep up with him? Was that really that necessary a part of the book? Because, at times, there were some semi-pedophiliac moments.

And, how could Henry have told the number of people he told his 'secret', and not have it turn into a gigantic deal with the media? How did he manage to escape becoming a part of a scientific experiment? Gomez hated him. Dr. Kendrick would have had his own interests at heart, and a case like Henry's would have ensured him some well-deserved limelight.

I know, it's supposed to be a romantic sci-fi book, but the sci-fi bit isn't really, as it's too romanticized, and the romance is just dull. I couldn't relate to either of the protagonists (Clare or Henry), and I just couldn't fathom what made them tick. I know I'm in the minority here, but, this book just wasn't for me. Add to it that there are two narrators, and the book is constantly going back and forth in time, with some repetitions, and that's enough to confuse the living daylights out of me. In fact, I thought that the editors should've stripped at least 200 pages from the book.

Maybe I just didn't get the book, or maybe, I was expecting too much, or, maybe I was reading the book in a pragmatic frame of mind. I don't know. I know some of you loved this book, so I'd be interested to hear what made the book tick for you? And what made it really phenomenal, because as things stand, I honestly think I missed out on something fundamental, which is what ruined the experience for me.

Rating: 1

Samantha Harvey - The Wilderness

I almost bought this book two months back, but, for some unexplainable reason, I didn't. About a week back, I found the first edition signed hardback in a second-hand bookstore, and literally jumped with glee. Saying buying this for £2.50 is a bargain is an understatement of sorts. The Wilderness follows the story of Jake, as he slowly loses his mind to Alzheimer's - slowly, or fast, depending on your definition of 'time', something Jake has no concept of. The book starts with him taking a plane ride, a present, which he clearly doesn't want. However, at the very outset, this plane ride allows the reader to glimpse into Jake's world: the prison he built (in his architect days), which he admires but the pilot considers to be a travesty, and, Quail Woods where Jake has spent his childhood, but the woods has slowly been ruined by people.

The book follows various 'stories' of Jake's life: his Jewish mother, and her relationship with his anti-Semite father, his opinions on the Six Day War, his relationship with his wife, and his extramarital affair which he felt no guilt over, immediately becoming one of the men he hated. However, due to the evident disorientation, the stories may or may not be true, and one doesn't quite know what's a figment of Jake's imagination, or what actually happened. It also leaves a lot of questions unanswered: What happened to Alice? What happened to the money? What's the skin-covered Bible got to do with anything? What happened to Rook? Sara? Joy?

While this is a story about a man suffering from Alzheimer's, it's also a story about symbology ('yellow dress', 'the glass aviary', 'the cherry tree', 'the woman clothed with the sun', 'the wilderness' itself, etc), and the transience of everything.

What is better? To give up what you are and be alive, or keep what you are and end up dead? What you are is mere circumstance anyway. It isn't that important. [...] It isn't more important than being alive. [...] I am telling you an you must listen: where you are from, what is yours, what is home - sometimes these are not the point. The truth is not everything. You have to know when it is time to walk away.

Harvey's done an amazing job in creating a fairly realistic novel about Jake, and his disease. I found myself getting fast despondent over Jake's condition, and had to close the book a couple of times, because I just couldn't bear to read about how Alzheimer's makes your life near impossible.

He breaks eggs into the pan and throws the shells away. He then takes the shells away from the bin again and stands with them in his hand with the idea that he needs them for the omelette - he can't remember if the shells are like packets that you throw away or apple skins that you eat.

However, the part of the book that literally broke my heart, was when he told Alice that he had Alzheimer's, and he'd known for two years (which was the 'truth' as he remembered it, even if it wasn't the 'real' truth), and how she said she'd come and help. Nothing compares to the relationship a father and daughter share, and my dad's been ill for the last two years, and I've had to battle some difficult choices, and it just hit home.

So, we've established it's a beautifully written, thought-provoking book, that just makes us realize that no matter what we do today, or who we are, in the end, we'll just fade away. Nothing is perpetual, not even in our own lifetimes, and sometimes, we just loop 'round and 'round in our own thoughts, convinced by the reality we make up for ourselves, and there's no good reason why.

The one thing that did get to me, though, was the fact that the book was written in third person, despite it being about Jake, and the other peripherals (if I may call them that) in his life. In a manner of speaking, Jake is the narrator, but then again, the whole book focuses on the 'he' instead of the 'me'.

Rating: 4

Chris Cleave - The Other Hand

As far as I'm concerned, this book represents everything that is wrong with the publishing industry at the moment. I've read some fantastic reviews about this book, and was really looking forward to it, despite being quite unimpressed with the two marketing stunts the book (I don't know whether this should be attributed to the author or the publishing company) tried to pull: One was the blurb at the back cover, which reads:

We don't want to tell you what happens in this book. It is a truly special story and we don't want to spoil it.

Nevertheless, you need to know enough to buy it, so we just say this:

This is the story of two women.

Their lives collide one fateful day. and one of them has to make a terrible choice.

Two years later, they meet again - the story starts there...

Once you have read it, you'll want to tell your friends about it. When you do, please don't tell them what happens either. The magic is in how it unfolds.

Seemingly inspired by the fantastic Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, which also has a blurb refraining from giving an accurate gist of the story, I wasn't too put off by the above, on its own. However, the opening page of the book has an "editor's note" that starts:

Dear Reader,

You don't know me. I'm Chris Cleave's editor, and I'm writing to tell you how extraordinary The Other Hand is.

She goes on to categorize the book with the likes of Schindler's Ark and Cloud Atlas, and makes it sound like the best thing since sliced bread.

Now, I know the book requests me not to disclose any more facts, so I'll just state three points that aggravated me most about it (and I think there were far more than three):

1. One of the protagonists talks of her country, where people don't understand what 'wood floors' and 'coffee tables' mean. Yet, they're massive U2 fans. That's the one thing that unites people world-wide: Everyone loves U2.
2. The book is repetitive - repetitive to the point where it feels patronizing, and you get a jolt of deja vu: Hang on, I've read this before. You flip back a couple of pages, and sure enough - you have.
3. The other protagonist has an insipid lackluster personality, but, she's still capable of making a 'terrible choice' (note: the 'terrible choice' is more of an 'incredible sacrifice', but, I don't think that would sell as well).

I also thought that the book went in for the 'shock' factor, without dealing with the sensitive and controversial topics that it addresses. Characters lacked depth, the two narrators weren't realistic, and a lot of the story was unbelievable. There was, I thought, one saving grace to the book: the child you see on the front cover, but the author managed to ruin that as well, by overusing his single nuance.

Sorry publishers, but I didn't really feel like telling my friends about this book after I read it.

Rating : 1

Jeffrey Eugenides - The Virgin Suicides

Once upon a time (in the 1970s), there were five sisters: Cecilia, Therese, Mary, Lux and Bonnie - the Lisbon girls. But Cecilia, the youngest, killed herself. And then, by the end of that one year, there were none.

The Virgin Suicides, written by a collective 'we' (as opposed to 'I', or in third person), traces the events that occurred from the first attempted suicide, to the last, from the eyes of young boys (school mates and neighbors of the Lisbon girls) who are now middle-aged, and still reflecting on the life and times of the enchanting, mesmerizing teenage girls, short, round-buttocked in denim, with roundish cheeks.

The reader takes a trip with them down memory lane in the 1970s elm-streeted America, as they present various 'exhibits'  (a polaroid of their house, canvas high-tops, a brassiere), interview people who knew the Lisbon girls (including their parents), and remember the only time the girls went to a dance, or, the 'party' in the basement of their house, which was followed by the first successful suicide. There were unsigned notes exchanged, a telephone conversation which had the boys and the Lisbon girls playing music back and forth to one another, and of course, the strong presence of the mother's strong Catholic roots, which prompted her to admonish the girls for make-up, bleaching, wearing halter-tops etc.

While this book touches on a very depressing subject, the casual and conversational nature of the book, coupled with the 'legacy' the Lisbon girls left behind hardly makes the reader reach for a pack of tissues.

They (the Lisbon girls) became too powerful to live among us, to self-concerned, too visionary, too blind. What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself. [...] They made us participate in their own madness, because we couldn't help but re-trace their steps, re-think their thoughts, and see that none of them led to us.

There's something creepy, almost stalker-like, about these boys, who used to gaze at the Lisbon house, in search for any indication of the Lisbon sisters, and what they were doing - be it looking through their window panes, or keeping an eye on their father, as he would mirror their well-being (this is after the girls rarely, if ever, left home). An element of unrequited love, the curiosity of adolescence and the enigma that surrounded the five sisters, who most people couldn't differentiate by name - the book in a nutshell!

The one thing that baffles me is, there was never any reason given for the first suicide. While the narrators were contemplating on that as well, no conclusive answer was reached, despite them having perused Cecilia's journal. What prompts a thirteen year old to first slit her wrists, and when that doesn't kill her, jump and impale herself on a fence, while a party is going on in the basement?

This is a fantastic debut novel, but, it also leaves a lot to be desired. For one, suicide can't be trivialized, and specially not the suicide of five teenage sisters, which ends up tearing the family apart - or, what's left of it anyway! I also found the characters intriguing, but I couldn't relate to them in any way, shape or form: be it Cecilia, always wanting to wear a wedding dress, or Lux, who has innumerable sexual encounters on the roof of her own house - her parents wouldn't be able to see her. The rest of the neighborhood would!

However, after reading this, I am looking forward to reading Middlesex, as I really enjoyed the style of writing.

Rating: 3

J.M. Coetzee - Disgrace {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

This is the final post on the Weekly Geeks Q&A from 13th June. It's taken me about a month to 'catch up', and I will still have a trilogy to go. As I'm planning on re-reading His Dark Materials in August, I'll hold off until then. Yes, I tend to procrastinate ever so often.

I read Disgrace last year, and really enjoyed it, mostly because the story starts off on one note, but just spins off, and the sequence of events that follow seem very surreal.

On with the questions... Well, umm, question (singular) in this case.

From gautami tripathy:

Disgrace: what is it about? Do you recommend Coetzee to your readers? Is it your first by that author?

'Disgrace' is about a professor, David Lurie, at the Technical University in Cape Town. He has an affair with a student, and her parents lodge a complaint with the University. At a formal inquiry, he admits to sleeping with the student, but refuses to seek clemency or admit that he was wrong. Instead, he resigns to his daughter's farm in rural South Africa, as he waits for the whole thing in Cape Town to blow over.

This, according to me, is where the story starts: about Lurie's relationship with Lucy (his daughter), and their life on the farm. It touches upon them being victimized by racial attacks, where Lucy is raped and Lurie burnt, and its aftermath, which leads to Lurie's perspective on life and women changing.

I recommend Coetzee to anyone who listens to me! I loved this book, and its straightforward simple writing, that touches on many thought-provoking and difficult subjects: racism, rape, redemption, reality. It doesn't offer a quick-fix to the disgrace of apartheid, but, it does end on a note of hope...

Nope. I read Diary of a Bad Year before I picked this one up. I was completely enthralled by that book, due to its quirky writing style. It might be one of the most 'intelligent' books I've read in the recent past, and hence, when I saw Disgrace, I had to pick it up.

I have both, Youth and The Life and Times of Michael K on my TBR. The latter is supposed to be Coetzee's best book 'til date, so I'm really looking forward to that.

Jodi Picoult - My Sister's Keeper

It's a parent's worst nightmare: their two year old daughter being diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia, and no one in the family being a bone-marrow match. They can go on the 'list', for an unknown donor, but, the odds of finding the perfect match are scarce. So, they have another baby. Nope, not to 'replace' their ill daughter, but to save her. The new baby, a 'designer' baby, has been created to be a perfect match for her sister...

And now, at the age of thirteen, Anna wants out, and she's suing her parents for medical emancipation. Kate, her sister is sixteen, and while she had been in remission, the cancer came back. Her entire life, Anna has been saving Kate's life - blood transfusions, bone marrow transplants, etc. And now, Kate's kidneys are giving up, and Anna is expected to be the donor.

However, Anna has a different idea, and finds a lawyer, and takes her family to court over the rights to her own body. While one can't blame her for this decision - every activity of her life is dependent on her sister; be it camp, or be it a friend's birthday party - one does wonder what finally triggers this decision. Is she ready for a life independent of her sister? Or, has she finally been pushed too far? Is it because she's always been invisible to her parents, but for Kate? Or, is it because she was created for a 'purpose', and never really had the 'childhood' most kids do? Or, is it something completely different?

This unbearably sad, emotional and heart-breaking story follows Anna's battle against her parents, and the family's battle to stick together, while everything seems to be coming apart at the seems. There's Jesse, the brother who is a juvenile delinquent; there's Brian, the father, an amateur astronomer and a full time fireman, and there's Sara, the mother, the ex-lawyer, the obsessive protector of Kate.

The book explores the points of view of every member of the family, with each chapter being narrated by one member. Campbell, Anna's lawyer, and Julia, Anna's guardian ad litem have their fair share of narrations as well, and this brings the whole book together incredibly. We aren't restricted to the views of just one actor, and as readers, we are allowed to sympathize and empathize with all of them. Your heart goes out to thirteen year old Anna, who's confused, and while one would assume selfish, can you really blame her? You can almost feel Sara's anger towards Anna on hearing her decision, as she's motivated by keeping Kate alive. And then there's Brian - the sensible objective parent, who's more rational and sticks by Anna. Of course there's Jesse, and you can't help but feel sorry for him.... he couldn't be the perfect match for his sister! The characters grow and evolve through this book, and you can see how each decision and action tears them apart, while simultaneously, bringing them together.

The book delivers this punch at the end, which you just don't see coming, and that's what hits the hardest. Life has this weird way of balancing out, and sometimes, it's not a fair or fine balance.

It's a contemporary book, exploring arguments and controversies that persist in the medical world today: from 'designer babies' to 'stem cell research'. It's fascinating, as you wonder, do parents really always know what's best for their children? Is Sara acting on what's best for Anna, or what's best for Kate? And it boggles your mind, to see a thirteen year old girl being adult enough to stand up for something she wants, despite ambivalence being rampant in her heart and mind. No one can doubt, for even an instant, that the two sisters don't love each other a lot.

Rating: 5

Sebastian Barry - The Secret Scripture

Shortlisted for the Booker Prize 2008, and winner of the Costa Award 2008, The Secret Scripture explores the lives of both, Dr. Grene (a psychiatrist) and his centerian patient, Roseanne, as both characters reflect on their life from their youngest days, to where are they at this point in time.

Roseanne McNulty has enjoyed the comforts of the Roscommon Mental Hospital for more decades than she can remember. However, the hospital is about to be demolished, and Dr. Grene is re-assessing his patients, to see who are free to roam the outside world, and who need to go through the pains of moving hospitals.

When Dr. Grene breaks the news to her, and says he'll need to revisit her admission to the hospital, she starts reflecting on her life, from her earliest memories, and jots them down, addressing the reader of the 'scripture'. However, she's reluctant to share her memories with her doctor, and keeps the scriptures hidden from the hospital staff, by keeping it under a loose floorboard. Calling herself a cailleach (the old crone of stories, the wise woman, and sometimes a kind of witch), Roseanne tries to keep her writing as accurate as possible, but, as she admits

No one has the monopoly on truth, not even myself.

At the same time, Dr. Grene is dealing with the pains of his personal life, with the estrangement of his wife, despite living in the same house, followed by her death.

We are not wolves, but lambs astonished in the margins of the fields by sunlight and summer. She lost her world, Martha. And I lost mine. No doubt it was well deserved. Whatever her husband suffered was not, and whatever Bet suffered I know for a certainty was not.

Because faithfulness is not a human question, but a divine one.

As Dr. Grene tries finding out more about Roseanne, while battling his own problems, the book progresses into a beautiful piece, with some incredible memories, and some terribly sad ones (and some disturbing ones). The reader cannot help but empathize with both characters, as they struggle to figure out how they got to where they are: from Roseanne's early childhood memories and the silence of her mother, to her father's unfortunate death, to her marriage with Tom McNulty which was followed by an annulment, to the birth of her child, which was taken away from her - a lot of which boiled down to her being Presbyterian. She acknowledges her loneliness, at various stages of her life, and the reader cannot help but feel a tug in their heart as they read her story.

How I wished suddenly for my own mother to seek for me, so fiercely, so sweatingly, to find me again on the lost strand of the world, to rescue me, to recruit others for my rescue, to bring me again to her breast, as that distant mother so obviously ached ached to do with the happy creature in my arms.

With almost poetic writing, Barry brings to life a realistic Ireland during the 1922 civil war, where there's the smell of death and betrayal; where idealism is being compromised, and, innocence lost; where the only thing that matters is being on the side of power, and surviving. The characters are incredibly well-drawn, specially that of Fr. Gaunt - a character I grew to hate as the book progressed, for it was he who seemed to be making life very difficult for Roseanne, just because she did not follow his instructions.

Both, the beauty and the problem of the book lies in the first person narration of Roseanne and Dr. Grene, as they both write in their respective journals. It is easy for the reader to lose track of whose reflections they are reading, and as the stories come together, it gets confusing... specially as, Barry also highlights the meetings between the various characters in the present-day (i.e. the whole book is not written in a reflective manner).

I really enjoyed the book, and Barry's writing flows so lyrically that it makes this a very pleasant reading experience. You feel like the characters are in front of you telling you their stories, and you can actually see all the emotions that must be flowing through them at each moment.

Rating: 4