Wednesday, November 28, 2012
THE PARIS WIFE by Paula McLain
The wife in question is Hadley Richardson, Hemingway's first
wife. Neither Hadley nor Ernest is the
least bit loveable in this engrossing piece of historical fiction. She's spineless and careless, and he's
self-centered and insulting--discarding his mentors, one by one. His relationship with Hadley is another
casualty, as he flaunts his affair with her very good friend, Pauline, destined
to be ex-wife #2. All of this strife and
torment makes for a pretty good story, even with no one to root for. I kept hoping that the clingy Hadley would
rise up and see the light, and obviously she does eventually step aside so that
Hemingway can marry Pauline, although we can see from the outset how doomed
that union will be. Hadley narrates the
majority of the chapters, but a few give Hemingway's side of the story,
especially regarding a pivotal event that spells the beginning of the end. I enjoyed all the anecdotes about other
famous writers in Paris at the
time, particularly Scott Fitzgerald, who is completely enchanted by his weird
wife Zelda. The downfall of Hadley and
Ernest's marriage is somewhat precipitated by the flagrant disregard for
marriage vows that so many of their other friends exhibit. The accolades for In Our Time and The Sun Also
Rises feed Hemingway's ego, so that he feels entitled to a mistress himself
and exhibits an appalling callousness to the pain he inflicts on his tortured
wife. In many ways, though, she's not
exactly a shrinking violet, sharing Hemingway's admiration of the violent
bullfights and matching him almost drink for drink. I felt that their marriage might have lasted
if she could have shed the chip on her shoulder that she felt for not being an
artist herself. On the other hand, she
was probably better off without him in the long run. Did regret play a role in his suicide, or was
he just another tormented genius? I
can't help believing that at some point he realized the error of his ways.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
ABRAHAM LINCOLN: VAMPIRE HUNTER by Seth Grahame-Smith
Somehow I expected this to be more campy or
cheeky or funny or something, but the book seemed far too serious for its
subject matter, and by that I mean the subject of vampires. I think the author walked a fine line here,
trying not to trivialize slavery or the Civil War or Lincoln's assassination, while at the same time introducing a
potentially comic supernatural element into Lincoln's life. For me, the blend of the historical setting
with vampire slaying just doesn't work, especially since the author attributes
just about every death—Lincoln's mother, girlfriend, son, and countless others—to
vampires. Of course, the real baddies,
like John Wilkes Booth and a fairly large contingent of slave owners, are, in
fact, vampires. Lincoln's cohort in his quest to stamp out the vampire
population in the U.S. is "good" vampire Henry Sturgis (like
Edward in the Twilight series?), who
tells Lincoln where to find various "bad" vampires for Lincoln to destroy with his trusty axe. Seward, Lincoln's adversary for the presidential nomination and then
later his Secretary of State, has also killed a few vampires. He and Lincoln then have the daunting task of
convincing the rest of the cabinet that vampires will take over the country if
slavery continues. There are some interesting
historical nuggets here, such as the fact that Lincoln's bodyguard had abandoned his post on that fateful
night at Ford's Theatre. However, aside
from the vampires and the points of history that are common knowledge, I
couldn't always separate fact from fiction.
Perhaps it was the author's intention to blur the line just enough to
make the journals and correspondence contained in the novel seem legit, in a
weird, alternate-universe kind of way.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
MAKEDA by Randall Robinson
I almost stopped reading this book for two reasons. For one, the writing is not to my liking at
all. The third page has a sentence that
begins, "The girls were all but surpassingly proud." What the heck does that mean? Secondly, the book drags for at least 100
pages, as we get to know Gray, an African-American growing up in Richmond
in the 50s, just as the Civil Rights movement is starting to gain some
momentum. Gray has a giant chip on his
shoulder, and too much of the book dwells on the causes of his poor self-esteem. He is a second-class citizen due to
segregation and racial prejudice, but also has been made to feel inferior to
his older brother Gordon. His parents,
particularly his father, have pinned their hopes on Gordon, who reeks of
intellectual and physical prowess, but Gray's blind grandmother nurtures a
spiritual kinship with Gray. While in
graduate school, Gray falls in love with Jeanne, and the two of them make plans
to travel to Africa to research and validate his grandmother's dreams, which
are really memories of a previous life hundreds of years ago. I've always enjoyed tales of reincarnation,
but this book ultimately offers a lot more than that. The author succeeds, I believe, in his
attempt to correct some misconceptions about history. He points out that African civilizations
during the Middle Ages were perhaps more advanced than those in Europe,
especially with regard to science, government, architecture, and human
relations. I found this aspect of the
novel very enlightening, and the author contrives a short-term rift between
Jeanne and Gray that forces Gray to do some growing up. He harbors a huge burden of guilt over the
fate of his brother, and we readers are left in the dark as well, until the end
of the novel. I was disappointed when I
did finally find out what happened to Gordon, not only because the incident was
so completely predictable but also because it seemed out of line with the main
themes of the novel.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
THE ORPHAN MASTER'S SON by Adam Johnson
Generally, I think that people control their own fates, but
in a country as repressive as North Korea,
maybe not. Jun Do (John Doe?) grows up
in an orphanage and then finds himself buffeted from one bad situation to
another. Along the way, however, he manages
to spend a year in a school where he learns English and joins a delegation of
diplomatic imposters who travel to Texas. His exposure to American culture serves him
well, especially in the second half of the book. In a nation where a single comment can cause
someone to disappear, and women routinely find themselves with replacement
husbands chosen by the state, Jun Do takes the place of Commander Ga, who is
married to the beautiful actress Sun Moon.
North Korea's
Dear Leader, Kim Jong Il, is the scriptwriter for all of Sun Moon's films, and
he obviously scripts and directs the lives of all his citizens, who live in
constant fear and whose knowledge of the outside world is only as accurate as
the propaganda that blares from the loudspeakers in their homes. One of the main characters in the second half
is a prison interrogator who lives with his parents. His parents must be constantly vigilant,
aware that their son could turn them in for the slightest infraction; they
behave like robots in his presence, never divulging any personal opinions that
might be construed as seditious. The
best that the North Korean people can hope for is survival, but for what? Physical torture, famine, loss of loved
ones? The regime recognizes that there
is a strong sense of comradeship among the people that can be used as a
deterrent to defection. If someone
defects, his friends and family will suffer the consequences. Therefore, a defection has to be camouflaged
as death or kidnapping or whatever. It's
hard to conceive of such a society, but the author uses vivid imagery to draw
us into the horror. One section
describes some of the things the protagonist eats to keep from starving, and I
found that section even harder to stomach than the physical brutality.
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