Mark – Page 3 – Mark's Reviews

The Tunnel by Ernesto Sabato

At one hundred and forty pages this 1948 novella, by the celebrated Ernesto Sabato, makes up for in literary punch what it lacks in length. Deservedly named a “Modern Classic” by Penguin it contains elements drawn from Freudian, surreal and existentialist influences. It is an interior monologue tracing obsession where psychological reality and unreality clash.

The artist Castel becomes fixated with Maria, he stalks her until they meet. Possibly aided by his art and fame they form a relationship. The course of the affair is dominated by Castel’s intense ideals and paranoia. He deals with every micro comment and behaviour with impossible logic and extrapolation, in which Maria is always judged to be suspect or guilty. The fatal climax is followed by his recollection from the prison cell.

The book is a study in the psychosis of a narcissistic ego. It is described through the meeting of that personality in a romantic relationship with another. The effect on Castel is written in very short intense paragraphs which draw out the relentless anxiety and battle between an increasingly twisted logic and a sociopathic sensibility. His efforts to control only lead to increased perceptions of powerlessness. This self-absorption means he actually sees little of the real Maria, typical observations of her are, “She looked frightened” and “Maria’s eyes were sad”. As Sabato does such a good job of looking through Castel’s eyes the tiny amount of Maria we see is both shocking and tragic.

Why? Why does Castel think and behave as he does? Is this climax of his life the explosion of forces that have been brewing since childhood? There are scattered clues in Castel’s endless referencing and thoughts, which you will collect as you read. Overall, the impression seems to be left of someone who craves an impossible ideal he blames others (mother?) for setting and in true misanthrope style all other women are in on the conspiracy. Presumably, Castel can only function in society by presenting a split personality, aggravating his issues. Help or intervention is not sought or offered, all this happens in distilled isolation. In moments of self awareness he sees himself as in a mental tunnel, with glimpses to the outside.

Sabato presents a contrast to Orwell and Kafka, here the oppressor and the repression are internal. The terse and controlled writing style directs and communicates the story of chaotic mental dissolution. A modern day Othello.

HEAVEN BY MIEKO KAWAKAMI

This is a short book about two fourteen year olds who are badly bullied at school. A girl, Kojima and the unnamed boy narrator. It contains graphic and harrowing scenes.

It may recall “Lord of the Flies”, only in a modern urban Japanese setting.

The comparison may be appropriate, as Kawakamis’ writing raises the story far above the gratuitous and makes it worth reading. Using direct and unsparing language in description and dialogue, the conversation and relationship between Kojima and the boy narrator develops. They react to their predicament, but also explore and analyse it. This is not a conventional coming of age or romantic narrative. They are essentially trying to cope with adolescence and trauma at the same time, this is what they have in common.

The two main bullies are sketched and have different characters and possible motivations. The “ground-hog day” atmosphere of a miserable school life and a strange, almost secret, double life between school and home are depicted relentlessly.

The enclosed first person perspective is convincing and effective. You are dropped into his viewpoint. Though the very effective opening passages suggest a memory the whole quickly assumes present tense.

The conversation between Kojima and the boy touches many philosophical questions, but does not become abstract, they are finding ways to live, survive even. The two have different interpretations of what is happening to them and how they should respond, but they are looking at issues of unhappiness, loneliness, powerlessness and dilemma together.

Whether being “different” in Japanese society is worse than in a less homogenous society, in don’t know. It does not stop this story having a universal application though, nor would issues of gender, authority and age. The person who recommended this book to me referred to the issue of control. When you look at the actions of the two main characters and the two antagonists, you can see a whole range of possible interpretations, surprising and disturbing, carefully folded in, which is one of the skilled achievements of Kawakamis’ writing.

Maybe the book asks, how do we focus? This is a powerful and direct story, which avoids the mawkish and stares at issues which are often over looked. It is no surprise that Mieko Kawakami has been recognised in Japan and is being translated internationally.

THE FIRE OF JOY BY CLIVE JAMES

This is a remarkable book.

A popular critic, especially of T.V on T.V, Clive James was also a lifelong critic, writer and lover of poetry. Increasing health problems saw him concentrate his remaining efforts on poetry. “The Fire of Joy” is his last writing.

The introduction explains that fire of joy derives from the French military rifle celebration of feu de joie. James uses the metaphor to evoke the successive heritage of English poets and poetry. He emphasises the rhythm and sound of poetry as well as being strong believer in reading aloud.

The book is a collection of eighty poems which were particularly memorable to James. They range in chronological order from the sixteenth century to contemporary verse. Each poem is accompanied by a short commentary. These are individual and subjective, but written from a lifetime of evolving understanding of the subjects. They display a passion for discussion of literature and writers. Some contain personal memory of the poets, others are mini essays. All are written with style and wit: he has a brief conversation with John Donne, of Emily Dickinson he says, “Shadows hold their breath when she speaks”, of Dylan Thomas’s approach to credit, “Equipped with the lightening reflexes of a champion sponge”, how Carol Ann Duffy creates, “the sound of a picture”.

James wrote the book from memory as he could not read by the time the project got underway. He had assistants, especially his daughter Claerwen. However, the circumstances and the content show a real determination and commitment to undertake and complete the project, which he did only a month before he died. This anthology is a spirited passing on of his love and enthusiasm for lyric verse. The epigram is dedicated, “To the next generation”.

To finish with a quotation from the introduction, “That line of fire that continues past you, leading into the distance, is as bound to continue as you are not. Creativity is the great mystery. Anyone can be destructive, but the capacity to build something will go on being the great human surprise.”

Time of the Magicians: The Invention of Modern Thought by Wolfram Eilenberger

The post world war one modernism of the nineteen-twenties featured famous writers such as, Joyce, Woolf, Hemingway and T.S. Eliot. Music and art were developing in new ways too. Not least in philosophy, established systems of thinking were changing and re-forming, with huge implications for human society.

The author Wolfram Eilenberger is a philosophy insider, he has been a teacher, writer and magazine editor. The book has been a bestseller in Germany, Spain and Italy. The four hundred and eighteen pages include notes, bibliography and index.

Eilenberger focuses on the story through four pivotal philosophers chosen for their range of thought and impact then and later. They are: Ludwid Wittgenstein, Martin Heidegger, Ernst Cassirer and Walter Benjamin. The book follows a duel biographical and philosophical route developing the themes chronologically.

It is important to say the philosophical passages, by there very nature, are difficult (for novices like me), but of course thought provoking. The book can be read and enjoyed though, as it is supported by the fascinating life stories of each philosopher. Also, Eilenberger recognises this and divides each chapter into short sub-chapters, with bold headings. This eases the progress of the philosophical propositions and links them to biographical content. The historical context brings to life important developments, particularly in the precarious journey of the Weimar Republic in Germany.

The four characters were highly driven and each capable of being misunderstood professionally and personally. Eccentricity and feet of clay seem to have seem to have been part of the job description of philosopher. They also alternated between isolation and engagement academically, socially and politically. Politically, their influence stretches from extreme right through liberal to extreme left, though this is probably not an ideal analogy. Though they can be highly egocentric, didactic and slippery, they can also be attractive, tragic and human. There is a fascination in the lives.

It is pertinent to observe how rapidly very contradictory positions developed in a period of crisis, when centrifugal forces challenged propositions which were liberal in there implications. Wittgenstein’s “God-like” challenges, Heidegger’s search for “authenticity”, Cassirer’s studies of cultures and symbols and Benjamin’s Writings on modern culture and media, all contributed to the rush of ideas.

Yes the book can be difficult, but, if you are philosophic about the philosophy, very rewarding. Also, Eilenberger employs a wry humour which leavens the tone. You can decide who the heroes and villains are!

A Necessary Evil by Abir Mukherjee

This is the second of the Captain Sam Wyndham and Sergeant Banerjee police detective novels set in inter-war India. Specifically, the pair represent the Calcutta Police Force of 1920 and are set to investigate the assassination of an Indian V.I.P. Their investigations take the pair from the big city to the, diamond rich, princely state and city of Sambalpore, with the action centered around the Palace of the Sun. Here the setting of the traditional court is described and the number of suspects, Indian and British, multiply as does the matrix of motives.

The characters are sketched. Wyndham is the first person narrator. In classic detective style he is fond of independent action, has a love interest in Annie Gray, a periodic opium habit and a line in dead pan observations. He is no Sherlock Holmes, but possesses a determined streak. His blind spots, he cannot pronounce Surendranath Banerjee, so calls him “Surrender-not”, are part of a depiction of the interplay between cultures and people, at this time. Wyndham pursues his belief in process and justice. It is a pity Banerjee, given his background, does not play a more active role in the crime fighting partnership, which seems somewhat dormant. Though, this could be insightful writing by the author and anachronistic thinking by me. Other characters include: the Maharaja, first and third Maharani, three princes, the Zenana occupied by wives, concubines and eunochs, the local Prime Minister or Dewan, the British Resident and his wife, a British accountant and a radical local school teacher.

This is, of course, an historical novel. As the story progresses the plot development reveals the interplay of history, culture, race, religion, economics, politics and power in this fictitious corner of India, in parallel to the whodunnit. The British Raj at the time is beginning to feel insecure and the local autonomous Indian states are manoeuvring for position in a changing environment, as ancient and modern forces meld.

Pace and action are two main features of the book, which progresses through quickly succeeding short chapters. Wyndham’s both creative and destructive initiatives keep him on the proverbial scent, but the inevitable chain of events remains just out of his reach and understanding. A metaphor for the British role at this time? While reading I could not help thinking ,will the resolution, if there is one, leave him as hero, loser, or just witness? Throughout the dialogue is brisk and informal. Formal occasions are dealt with by passages of continuing tension and an awareness of social facade. Descriptions are either wide, painting a picture of an essentially gothic Sambalpore, or detailed, usually as a prelude to action. Atmosphere is heightened by the increasing pre-monsoon heat. The pace of the final chapters really does accelerate.

Including the short and interesting historical authors note, the book contains three hundred and seventy-four pages. There should be a Radio 4 podcast available of an interview with the author by “Bookclub”, from January 2022, concerning the first novel of this series “A Rising Man”, which may be of interest (there are currently five books in the series).

“A Necessary Evil” is a tight and streamlined book, written with an analytical knowledge of the society and period. It is also an atmospheric and absorbing story. Don’t look at the epilogue until you have read the rest of the book. Do beware the epigraph, “You can’t make an omelette without breaking heads”.

Caribbean Dozen

Blow the cobwebs away!

Do it with “Caribbean Dozen”, poems from thirteen Caribbean poets, edited by John Agard and Grace Nichols. This is a collection of poetry about childhood in the Caribbean, bringing together memories of home, family, play, school, the tropical landscape, climate and produce. It is more than that though, as the poems are infused with human spirit, colour, flavour and vibrancy.

This book of one hundred and ten pages begins with a short introduction by the editors. Each poet contributes three to five poems and introduces their section with a short piece on childhood memories and early literary impressions and influences. At the back of the book is a biographies section and the list of first lines.

The poets include John Agard Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry, Valerie Bloom MBE and Caribbean literary pioneer Frank Collymore.

The language in all the poems is accessible and speaks directly, expressing memory through the viewpoint of childhood, as in “Remember when the world was tall and you were small”, from Remember by Pamela Mordecai p74.

A browse through the book gives a sample of the themes and imagery used. Fairy-tale fantasy in “The Cat Who Could Fly”, “Every night he flies from the window-sill”, by Faustin Charles, p19. The theme of the sun in “Sun Is Laughing”, “This morning she got up on the happy side of the bed”, by Grace Nichols p27. The zing of nature and light in, “Dancing Poinciana”, by Telcine Turner, p34

“Fire in the treetops,

Fire in the sky.

Blossoms red as sunset

Dazzling to the eye.”

“Fruits” by Opal Palmer Adisa, p47, recalls the beginning of “Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti, with a tropical twist. Family and home is evoked in, “I Love The”, “friday night smell of mammie baking”, by Marc Matthews. p53. This is an upbeat collection, however, history is remembered in the sad, but beautiful and dignified. “Lament of an Arawak Child”, by Pamela Mordecai, “Once I played with the hummingbirds”, p78. A child’s ingenious reflections on identity are given by James Berry in his “Isn’t My Name Magical”, “Nobody can see my name on me”, p92.

Enjoy this collection. Experience the cadences of Caribbean cultures and the childhood memories of people who grew up under tropical skies.

Constable: A Portrait

This is a new biography by the established art historian and biographer James Hamilton, published in 2022. The 472 pages include a “Cast of Characters”, notes and index. The book is prefaced by its contents page, list of illustrations and maps.

Hamilton’s first few chapters concentrate on Constable’s family background and relations, in some detail. This proves to be important as the books’ emphasis is on Constable the person, rather than the painter. Also the world in which the family lived operated on patronage and personal contacts, especially for corn millers, on the edge of the “genteel” world. The characters of Constable’s parents, Golding and Ann emerge, as well as those of his siblings.

Constable was expected to eventually take Golding’s place in the family business. However, his rising ability in and commitment to art eventually took him to the Royal Academy Schools, propelled by determination and self-belief, rather than pre-determination. Over the years he created a space for himself as an opponent of the influential historicist painting, producing, deliberately, large landscapes, driven by his passionate observation of nature.

Elements of his personality were turbulent, in contrast to the calm of the pictures, especially in voicing a strong opinion. This was balanced by many friendships and a loving family life with Maria and their seven children, which were in turn challenged by health and money problems. Hamilton shows the brio and risk-taking needed to live in the early nineteenth century, especially in London; he is good on detail and by quoting Constable’s correspondence, shows what an accomplished writer he also was, a voice and personality can still be heard.

Hamilton presents the sometimes contradictory aspects of his subject, but is not judgmental, writing a good story of a life which followed an often rocky road. In future I will look at “The Hay Wain”, in a new light!

J.M.W. Turner the man seems known to us, the life revealed in this book shows that his contemporary, rival and occasional friend John Constable, had his own personality in full measure.

Convienience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

This was the first of Murata’s novels to be translated into English from the original Japanese. It is a short novel, but with a strong grip.

The narrative is of the central character Keiko and her relationship with work, society and self. Her reaction to these is conditioned by her own social and communication issues, which leave her isolated, self-sufficient and misunderstood. She finds purpose, commitment and contentment working in a convenience store. This is challenged, on social and marital status grounds by family and the plot develops when she meets Shiraha in response to this.

The story is narrated in the first person by Keiko in a clear pared down, functional way, as bright as the lights in the convenience store. Pace is brisk and the style is ideal for drawing readers into the minutiae of the repetitive daily life of the store, textual rhythm imparts the predictability and synchronicity Keiko thrives on.

Keiko strives to fit in, even so, society seeks to mould her into something else. In this book work and basic conformity are not the great enemy, to Keiko being a part of the machine is a fulfilment. Yet greater conformity is demanded of her because understanding is lacking. We could say Keiko has no life, but how many of us really live lives that are not much different in essentials, repetition, specialised tasks, corporate procedure? Are those around her demanding she change any less conformist, happier, or ever made independent choices? These are all issues Murata extrapolates to extremes in her book, “Earthlings”

Irony and humour fizz around the edges of the story. Keiko has real challenges, she somehow rises to them, in context, the self-knowledge she has is impressive, her consciousness has to work overtime to mark time, which she achieves, without constructive help; a nine to five Samurai.

The work uses the particular to observe the general. Some criticism raises points about contradictions of character and unresolved issues. I think the book doesn’t seek to smooth over these issues, rather highlights them. Murata’s writing is artful and explodes taboos with creative confidence.