Review: Sunnyside- Glen David Gold

I love this cover and all the little Chaplin's

This door wedge sized book has been sat in proof copy edition on my shelf for two years as a remnant of my time as a bookseller.

It’s size is not surprising. It took eight years between the publication of his first novel, Carter Beats the Devil for Glen David Gold to release his second novel. Centring around actor Charlie Chaplin, budding actor and lighthouse keeper’s son Leeland Wheeler and an officious young train engineer Hugo Black and swirling with a host of secondary and minor characters interweaving through the various rich and detailed plots it’s sometimes hard to see what fits where in a novel that stretches across time and topic. Thematically spanning the Hollywood dream, the First World War, absentee parents (in more ways than one), romantic mistakes and dog training it can be quite easy to loose the central arc of the book.

Where the book really shines is the Chaplin storyline. By far the most engaging and coherent of the myriad stories, the book opens with a mass vision across America of Chaplin as his most famous character the tramp.  Leeland spies him cavorting in a rowboat off the coast off the coast of California at the same time that the train Hugo is working on is stopped by an angry mob in Texas who were (for some reason they can’t remember afterwards) awaiting Chaplin’s arrival and throughout various hotels and clubs pages are being put out for the same man. Chaplin himself meanwhile is blissfully unaware of the commotion and daydreaming about his next film. What’s most frustrating about this exciting opening is that it is never properly explained. Gold attests that this incident actually happened in his detailed endnotes but unhelpfully, doesn’t mention from which source he discovered this. More to the point, it acts as an opening but after the initial furore dies down there’s no mention of the most memorable incident in the entire novel.

We follow Chaplin as his career is taking off, through the various relationships leading up to his first marriage and how he copes with the public scorn and his own feelings of guilt when the authorities secretly ban him from taking an active part in World War One outside of morale raising. The scenes that really shine here though are when we see Chaplin in his element. The rich, evocative descriptions of Hollywood parties, film techniques and creative struggle of genius are so very detailed that it is not hard to imagine that Sunnyside is completely biographical. Chaplin himself comes across as a very likeable character with a ready wit and obvious talent that is shrouded in his own eyes by a fear of failure.

Whilst the other characters are likeable enough in their own way, Chaplin is so obviously the protagonist that I kept looking for meaningful links between their stories and his and generally drawing a blank.

Wheeler briefly meets Chaplin but otherwise, his story of blundering boyhood dreams of Hollywood stardom and escaping his overbearing (but well meaning) lighthouse keeper mother, doesn’t pick up until he finds himself fighting in France. After unintentionally ending a marriage, he rescues some Alsatian puppies from certain death and devotes the rest of his stay in France to caring for and training them. It’s unclear at first why events have taken this turn but at least the reader gets the satisfaction of understanding the connection as Leeland’s strand of the story ends (I won’t spoil it as I thought the surprise was a nice twist).

The Hugo Black storyline is even more ponderous. After appearing in the first chapter, he disappears until well over half of the book is done. There’s some good comedy moments as he finds himself driving a steam train through the Russian steppes as part of an isolated American troop and he even gets to meet three deposed princesses but otherwise his presence in the novel seems almost indulgent.  Likewise, the various bit part characters who pop up in between acts to move the narrative on in inventive ways before swiftly ducking out of frame once more (Rebecca Golood being the classic example) are charming enough and suggest a certain connectivity between all the characters but they are somewhat underdeveloped. With repeated appearances especially, I kept expecting the plots of these lesser characters to develop and begin heavily intertwining with the main players, but alas, that never came to pass.

As much as I enjoyed the comedy and the ‘big picture’ writing style of using many characters/actors (in much the same way as a plot of an old Hollywood film) I can’t help but think that Sunnyside needed a heavier hand during the editing process. The many voices can be distracting and confusing, especially when you’re trying to remember who’s related to who. There’s just so much information crammed in here from all the many hours of research that Gold no doubt put in to make this epic sized novel, that the story is quite often overwhelmed by its weight. All in all, it’s a novel with a brilliant premise but one full of internal disconnections which ultimately leads to disappointment.

EDIT 4TH NOVEMBER 2011:
ReaditRibbit has moved! Check out the new blog here

Review: Out - Natsuo Kirino

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but it was precisely the cover that drew me to Out. It’s striking in its simplicity and pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the plot.

I had wanted to pick this up for ages, but never seemed to get round to it. I’ve even managed to read Kirino’s Grotesque previously, even though Out had been in British bookstores for longer. Out was the first English translation of Kirino’s books to be published. Set in her native Japan, it’s a hard hitting crime novel that is not for the faint of heart.

Following four female colleagues who work the graveyard shift making boxed lunches, the plot soon dives into the seedy underworld of suburban Tokyo. All four of the women have very different but equally difficult home lives until the young housewife Yaoi, murders her husband in retaliation for his mistreatment of her and her two young children. Panicking, she calls her friend and colleague, Masako, to help her. Before long Masako has roped in their friends ‘The Skipper’ and Kuniko to help dismember and dispose of the body. It seems they’ve got away with it, until that is, bags of body parts are found in a local park and the police start asking them questions…

As you can probably tell, it’s a pretty intense book. There are some incredibly graphic descriptions and subject matters and I found myself wincing more than once. As I’d read Kirino before, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride but no amount of mental preparation dulls the power of these scenes. Whilst the subject matter is undoubtedly dark, Kirino does not glorify in these scenes. Rather, we watch as the four women get sucked further and further into a murky world, as their lives slowly unravel, as they try to cope with the mental and spiritual scars they have inflicted on themselves. As the net pulls in around them, the atmosphere becomes unbearably tense, with the feeling that retribution is just around the corner.

Kirino creates realistic characters, worn down from years of drudgery. It’s a bleak view of the world, yet she never lapses into polarisation. Even the most repulsive characters like Kuniko and the lone shark Satake are complex and there are moments where I felt genuine pity for both. Likewise, the characters painted as mostly good (the put upon and the misunderstood) show realistic slivers of steel and undercurrents of cruelty, demonstrating that in Kirino’s world, as in life, good people can sometimes to bad things.

Although often disturbing, the narrative pulls you into turning the pages and I found myself genuinely caring if the women would get away with their crime or not. Kirino knows exactly when and how to amp up the tension, depicting slow burn scenes where nothing much happens accept the characters wondering how much longer they have left before they’re found out. In some ways, it’s quite an internal book with the main characters taking turns to share with us their point of view, their interactions with others dulled by the events they have witnessed and taken part in.

Due to the subject matter, I felt as if I didn’t want to spend too much time in the book lest the characters dark views started wearing off onto me. Finishing the book is like rising out of a murky pool: you feel like you need a mental shower to make yourself clean again. The grubby, sordid tale is so realistic and well written, that although you may not spend a very long time with the characters, you’ll carry the story around for much longer.

Despite my squeamishness, it’s a brilliantly daring novel: I doubt very much that you’ll have read anything similar. Unlike most crime novels, there are no hero detectives, no fiendishly clever, morally straight protagonists to root for. Kirino spins the situation on its head in that you’re essentially rooting for the criminals. Nothing is black or white in this world and everything is complicated.

Out is a compellingly tense psychological thriller that will leave you questioning your own morality: it’s a fairly quick read, but is not an easy one. If I were you, I’d line up a nice, light-hearted comedy to read straight afterwards, trust me, you’ll need it.

Review: China Witness- Xinran

I’ve been reading my beautiful, hardback copy of Xinran’s latest book for around two years now, a chapter at a time in between novels and FINALY finished it this week.

Based on twenty years of experiences and interviews, China Witness is a combination of history and biography following Xue Xinran as she attempts to gain a better understanding of the generations that came before her own: the generations of Chinese people who lived through the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.

Oral history has traditionally received a bad rap from the academic world. After all, human memories are subjective and various studies have proven without a doubt that they are mutable and susceptible to change. I won’t go into this debate in detail, suffice to say that recent students of history tend to think that ALL history is subjective to some degree but as human life tends to be subjective, think that it is inevitable that the study of history is bound to be littered with contrasting opinions.  More to the point, oral history has been the preferred method of passing down events by those who cannot leave their story for future generations in any other format. Not only has Oral history been an important tool for accessing the opinions and memories of those who are not educated, but it has also provided a platform for those without social or economic power and those who have views that are opposed, repressed and suppressed by their respective sources of power. Oral history then can be a very effective way to glean information that otherwise would have been forgotten.

Xinran’s China Witness is based around this concept. Whilst the rest of the world has since been made aware of the horrors and hardships of living in China under the leadership of Mao Zedong, it is still extremely rare to hear first hand accounts from the ordinary people who were his contemporaries. Interviewing everyone from taxi drivers and lantern makers to a female PLA General, Xinran leaves no stone unturned in her efforts to gain a better insight into her parent’s generation.

Her interviewing style is very personal. Often, we are told, she merely waits. She chats generally, allowing her interviewees to relax and reveal their often suppressed memories and feelings. The interviews are presented in transcript format, complete with inconsequential details and painstaking descriptions of the physical manifestations of the fear and pain which stirring up old memories cause.

Despite these barriers, a number of the ‘witnesses’ here give frank and open accounts of their past roles in society. However, there is still a tendency for Xinran to ignore her journalistic instinct on the occasions when the person she is talking to is evasive or skirts around an issue. Her failure to probe deeper is often explained away as an unavoidable side effect of showing deferential respect. She is at pains to point out the generational gap between herself and the people she talks to:  the majority of the people whose stories are recorded within China Witness are in the seventies and eighties and the Chinese culture is known for its deferential attitude towards its elders. In addition, this particular group of people lived through one of the most controlling societies in modern history, mainly because they learned to play by its rules, and kept their heads down and their thoughts to themselves. Considering the nature of the project, it is perhaps not surprising that Xinran chooses the softly softly approach, however, there are moments when you sense that the merest push might have revealed something more.

One of the more harrowing accounts is that of Mr Chanzheng, a ninety year old survivor of the Long March. The accounts here are very restrained, often the language used is fairly subdued but even the toned down language cannot hide the horror of accounts like Mr Chanzheng’s when he reports loosing companions in the Lazi Kou Pass:

‘Some of our comrades didn’t take enough care coming down and they rolled over the edge and died! When I think back to all that, it makes me really, really sad. We never knew who would be next.’

China Witness provides a fascinating insight into the history of modern China and the lives of ordinary Chinese people during an extraordinary period. Some of my favourite stories came from the everyday workers, who carried on living life as normally as possible despite increasing pressures to conform to new standards. The interview with the lantern-maker may not seem as relevant as that of the ex-policeman, but it is full of minor, charming details that paint an intimate picture of one man’s working life. These intimate portrayals of Chinese lives are what make China Witness stand out and ultimately mark its triumph.

Restless - William Boyd : Review

A very modern spy novel, Restless won William Boyd the Costa Novel Award in 2006. Set across two time frames, it tells the story of a young woman recruited as a British Spy during the Second World War and the consequences of her actions as she relates her hidden past to her twenty something daughter in seventies Oxford. Switching between the past and the literary present, we learn more about the relationship between mother (Sally/ 

Eva Delectorskaya) and daughter (Ruth Gilmartin) as well as the complicated web of history they find themselves in.

Eva Delectroskaya is approached shortly after her beloved brother’s death by a British spy looking to utilise her international childhood and language skills in the upcoming war effort against Germany. Jump forward to 1976 to find Eva living a quiet life under the name of Sally Gilmartin, with no one, not even her daughter, knowing anything about her past life. Ruth is more than a little surprised to be handed a first hand account, a chapter at a time, of her mother’s past. Slowly, details unfold of the schemes and plots that Eva/Sally was involved in as it becomes apparent that her past is coming back to haunt her.

Meanwhile, Ruth has been struggling with the fallout of her father’s sudden death which led her to flee to a progressive academic life in Germany and an affair with a married man that resulted in the birth of her son, Jochen. Stuck between writing a PHD on a subject she’s not very interested in and teaching English to foreign students to make ends meet, Ruth is pulled from her now boring existence into her mother’s intriguing past.

For a novel with such a complex plotlines, it’s a surprisingly easy read. It would make an excellent beach read.  There’s a romantic sub-plot between Eva and the enigmatic man who recruited her, Romer, but above all else this is a spy novel, one that asks its readers to question the nature of trust and the motives of all the characters  found within it. The momentum of the story is fast: Ruth and in turn the reader, is exposed to revelation after revelation as Sally/Eva casually presents her with the next chapters in her story. Rather than disrupting the narrative flow, the choice to alternate the storylines by chapter aids in unravelling the complexities of Eva’s story. The much more sedate and mundane aspects of Ruth’s life allow a little breathing space from the intrigue and rich detail and often Ruth’s reactions to the latest chapter of her mother’s story help the reader tease out all of the important details which the latest instalment has revealed. This can sometimes lead to the Ruth story arc being overshadowed, despite having an interesting sub-plot about German political intrigue which could have been developed further. It’s a shame that all the intricacies of Ruth’s story suffer as a result, but Restless is Eva’s, not Ruth’s story and consequently, the main focus of attention is turned to her.

A vastly entertaining read, Boyd keeps his readers on the edge of their seats in anticipation as he cleverly unravels events. The pacing throughout is flawless and building the plot around lesser known historical details of the activities of the British Secret Service before and during the Second World War adds an exciting twist to a time period and subject matter which has been used time and again.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall- Anne Bronte: Review

Despite reading both Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights at a young age, I never got around to reading either of the final Brontë sister’s (Anne) work until now. This is due in part to taking a disliking to the aforementioned Brontë works (I never could forgive Charlotte for linking the strong willed and likeable Jane with the detestable and woefully inadequate Rochester. You don’t want to get me started on Heathcliff.), so it was with some reserve that I finally picked up The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.

I actually bought this rather battered looking copy last year in Bratislava. The shop I found it in not only had a substantial English book section but also boasted it’s very own, in-store wine bar. I know, brilliant idea, right? After the initial distraction of the availability of wine in a bookstore had passed, I got even more excited by the sight of shelves full of old style Penguin Classics. Their creamy spines cannot fail to set off a wave of nostalgia in me as it was through this particular series of books that my teenage self discovered an enduring love for the Classics and some of my top reads of all time.

After lugging it around half of Europe in a backpack, my copy of The Tenant languished on my bookshelf until I challenged myself to my Reading Resolution. When I finally started reading it, I was pleasantly surprised. For a start, Anne’s style of writing is very different to her sisters. Doing away with the sweeping Gothicism and romance of the former, Anne focuses on realism, on events and people with a more limited scope. This tone gives the novel a more intimate feeling

In Helen Huntington, Brontë created a very likeable character, despite her tendency to steer her towards two-dimensional sainthood. Helen does everything her own way, independent of the men in her life. This aspect of the novel has often led it to be cited as the first truly feminist novel. Whilst the feminist angle is an important part of the book, the main plot point revolves around the importance of clean living and the evils of alcohol. Helen is presented as an antithesis to this evil: the most morally upright, sensible and just character within the book.

Written in epistolary format as letters from Gilbert Markham to his friend about the mysterious new tenant of Wildfell Hall and as extracts from said tenant’s diary, the novel starts slowly and doesn’t really pick up the pace until it ditches Markahm’s stilted voice for the livelier viewpoint of Helen Huntington. Until this point, it feels like a lot of time is being spent setting the scene and it was quite a slog wading through the minutiae of the story before my hard work began to pay dividends.

The story has been padded out quite a bit. It could easily be cut by two thirds and have the same impact. There’s a lot of repetition of scenes and themes, mostly set in motion to hammer home Helen’s plight. Endless scenes of drunken revelry in her home and arguments with her husband help to explain why Helen takes such an unprecedented step (for a woman in the nineteenth century) by opting to leave her husband and taking significant measures to make sure he cannot find her, but they are featured so often that they loose their impact as the book continues. Some of these scenes could have been cut to help with the pacing without the story or the book’s didactic message being lost. Perhaps I am viewing this from a modern perspective, used to the relatively clipped and controlled style of pacing and turn of phrase of the  modern writer, but whilst Brontë’s contemporaries may have written in a similar fashion, only a mere handful would insist on setting the scene quite so thoroughly as she does.

  

Nevertheless, the story wears well with age mainly due to the excellent characterisation of human nature. Most people have met an Arthur Huntington ie: someone with their finger on their self-destruct button and have some idea of the fallout which such a destructive personality can cause. It’s also easy to sympathise with the character of Helen, despite her seeming saintliness, because she is inherently flawed. The plot is driven by her single and most costly lack of judgement: believing that she could save Arthur Huntington.  Through her diary we are shown that she recognises and acknowledged the existence of the major character flaws and traits which threaten to consume Arthur and see that she believes that she is sagacious and wise enough to act as his personal saviour. The misery she later endures at his hand all turns on this moment of blinding pride in her own abilities and through this costly mistake, she easily gains the sympathy of readers.

Sometimes difficult to read (both because of its subject matter which can be seen as a mirror to real life and because of its rather overpowering moral message) The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is an excellent example of character study. A certain degree of mental preparation should be undertaken before reading this worthy (in the old fashioned sense of the word) book, which all too easily slips from novel into morality lecture, an effect which at times makes continuing reading quite difficult and a bit draining.

Review: The First Apostle- James Becker

This mass market plot boiler is not the sort of book I usually read and for that reason, has been sat on my bookshelves for quite some time now.  A Christmas gift several years ago and shelved almost immediately on receipt, I dug ‘The First Apostle’ out of exile as part of my reading resolution (see previous posts). I shouldn’t have bothered.

I suspect that the world would never have been introduced to Chris Bronson if it wasn’t for the success of the Da Vinci Code.  The plot of ‘The First Apostle’ is fairly similar: a conspiracy by the Catholic Church to keep ‘the truth’ from the world; one ordinary man in the right place and the right time who stumbles across the most well guarded secret in history and unravels it all in the space of a few days with only his limited resources to hand and bad guys intent on keeping ‘the truth’ hidden.

Although it is widely accepted that this genre doesn’t take itself too seriously (created mainly as light entertainment for a quick read) like all genres, there are both good and bad examples to be found. Unfortunately, 'The First Apostle' is a poor example, carrying the hallmarks of inexperience and an often sloppy writing style.

Putting to one side the rather misleading tagline ‘A Secret Old As Time Itself’ (I take umbrage with a secret formed in the year 67 AD being described in such a blatantly exaggerated way. I’m guessing Bantam Book’s marketing team forgot about the Millennia categorised as ‘BC’), the plot itself is generally disappointing, with major points hanging on improbable coincidence. 

The main character, policeman Chris Bronson, is drawn into a religious conspiracy after the wife of his friend is discovered dead in their Italian home. Matters are complicated somewhat, as it turns out Bronson has been knowingly holding a flame for the deceased woman for some time. Bronson possesses quite the skill set, including an unexplained fluency in Italian (which means that even after the demise of his friends, the Hamptons, he can carry on investigating unimpeded), which is handy.   

Even more conveniently, after finding a trail of clues in Latin, Bronson taps into his serendipitous connections to gain timely information about history and various artifacts from his ex-wife and her colleagues at the British museum. The reason why his ex-wife is willing to help a man who married her knowing full well he was in love with another woman, is never fully explained, rather it is hinted at that she would quite like to be Mrs Bronson again. I’m sorry, but I just don’t buy a resourceful academic who keeps her cool when being told her life is under threat, meekly returning to a man that used her for however many years.  Weak characterisation is a hallmark of this book.

The implausibility increases as we follow the atheist mafia boss who has inherited a commission made by the Vatican hundreds of years ago to keep their secret hidden and despite actively hating the Church, does his best to do their bidding because,

 ‘We agreed to undertake this many task years ago and my organisation takes its responsibilities seriously.’

 Even more irritating than a plot that hinges far too heavily on coincidences is the heavy and often laboured writing style. There are several instances of long winded explanations in dialogue to hammer home a simple point that was just made in the narrative. For instance, take this scene where Bronson and Mark Hampton discover a shopping list that suggests the late Jackie Hampton had been looking for a Latin dictionary.

‘ “She bought it,” Mark said. “I saw a Latin-Italian dictionary on the bookshelf in the study. I didn’t bother mentioning it because it didn’t seem important. But why would she want a Latin dictionary?”

“Maybe because of this,” Bronson said, holding up a blank sheet of paper. “There’s no writing on either side of this sheet, but when I looked at it I saw faint indentations, as if Jackie had been writing something on another piece of paper on top of this one. There are four letters altogether, printed in block capitals and their reasonably clear. The letters are “H”, “I”, “C” an “V”. Those letters, in that order, are not part of any word that I can think of in English.”….

…..“I think the dictionary Jackie bought might be a clue. I studied Latin, believe it or not, and “HIC” is a Latin word.”  ’ *

Three pages of stilted reasoning later, they come to the conclusion that Jackie bought the dictionary to understand the meaning of a Latin word. Now perhaps I’m wrong but I have always been under the impression that was the main purpose of a dictionary; it really shouldn’t take that long to figure it out. After idiotic incidences like this, Becker expects the reader to believe that his characters have the nuance of reasoning  to uncover the largest, most intricate conspiracy known to the world; a conspiracy that has alluded the most brilliant and skilled people in existence. Ridiculous is the term that comes to mind.

In addition to these gapingly unbelievable plot holes, the author’s use of clunky, awkward and frequent references to brand names is highly suspicious: either Becker is trying to highlight his relevance with contemporary brand names to get down with the groovy kids of today, or he’s being paid to name drop. Why his editor didn’t go to town with the red pen on the following examples, I’ll never know:

‘Finally, he opened the web browser-like most people, the Hamptons had used Internet Explorer…’

‘In the guest bedroom, Chris Bronson booted up his Sony Vaio Laptop.’

The one small saving grace is the action scenes, which have the ring of authenticity about them. Becker’s past life in the Royal Navy can be detected in the detailed hand to hand combat scenes and gun descriptions.

I would only (tentatively) recommend the First Apostle to the staunchest of converts to the religious thriller genre. The seemingly complex plot is revealed to be as simplistic and contrived as the style of writing as the novel progresses. Thrillers are supposed to be built on tension, but it quickly becomes apparent that no matter the minuscule odds for success, the inexplicably multi-talented Bronson will find his way out of every inescapable situation, which destroys any potential anxiety or tension before it has even begun to build. The plot has been seen a dozen times before in various guises. Throw in a free Mason conspiracy and the Knights Templar and the First Apostle could pass as a reference book for modern conspiracy theories.

If you like smart books that keep you on the tip of your toes, avoid at all costs.

*The First Apostle by James Becker. Chapter 8 part 2.