This is one of the few books where I think the author was
justified in telling the story non-sequentially. The plot bounces back and forth between
present-day California and the Ligurian
Coast of Italy
in 1962. In the earlier time slice, Pasquale
owns a small hotel in a village called Porto Vergogna (port of shame)—not to be
confused with Portovenere in the famed Cinque Terre. Suddenly one day a beautiful young actress,
Dee Moray, arrives, stealing Pasquale's heart.
Dee has a small part in the movie Cleopatra, and Pasquale feels that she
is out of his league, romantically speaking, so that their connection is more
wistful than passionate. Plus, Pasquale
has obligations of his own to fulfill.
Fast forward to the present, and a young woman named Claire is
struggling with career decisions and love-life decisions, when a young man
named Shane comes into the studio where she works to pitch a movie idea. He has to take a backseat, though, to Pasquale,
now an old man, who has come to try to reconnect with Dee Moray. If this all sounds a little too saccharine,
then consider the two other characters who inadvertently orchestrate the
plot. Michael Deane is a self-absorbed Hollywood
bigshot who serves as the publicity chief for Cleopatra and ousts Dee from the movie with
a cruel lie of epic proportions. Richard
Burton, larger than life, is the cad we expect him to be, stealing Dee's
heart, even as he woos Elizabeth Taylor away from Eddie Fisher. Burton's
role in this novel is little more than a cameo, but his impact on the lives of
the other characters is immeasurable. I
loved the idea of this novel more than the novel itself. It was just a little too dreamy for my
tastes, with characters that I didn't bond with closely enough, and a plot that
didn't grab my attention quite tightly enough.
The calmness that pervades this book makes it a good one to relax
with. Even the book's moments of strife,
such as when Dee's son has to live penniless on the
streets of Edinburgh, never seem
too scary, as I just assumed everything would turn out OK in the end.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
CRY, THE BELOVED COUNTRY by Alan Paton
The most surprising thing about this book is that Paton
wrote it in 1946. The language is a
little odd but somehow intoned the voice of an African speaker. The two main characters are a black clergyman
and a white landowner, James Jarvis, both of whom live in a small fictional
village in South Africa. The black man, Stephen Kumalo, gets word that
his sister in Johannesburg is
ill. He travels there and finds that she
is not physically sick but has fallen into an unhealthy lifestyle, especially
for her young son. Kumalo then begins a
circuitous search for his own son, Absalom, and comes to suspect that Absalom has
killed Jarvis's son Arthur, who interrupted a home invasion. Arthur's activism for the abolition of
apartheid makes his murder by a black man all the more poignant, as the
"natives" have now lost an advocate and a friend. The two fathers are
to some degree a microcosm of the country itself, peeling back the layers of
the urban dysfunction, as their respective sons' activities come to light. The recurring theme in this book is fear, and
certainly ignorance begets fear. The
author makes a strong case for education as one of the many bricks needed to
build equality and unity among the diverse populations. One of my favorite passages is from a book
that Arthur Jarvis was writing before his death: "It was permissible to use unskilled men
for unskilled work. But it is not
permissible to keep men unskilled for the sake of unskilled work." Arthur had great admiration for Abraham
Lincoln, and in another passage, he observes, "We believe in help for the
underdog, but we want him to stay under."
What's ironic about South Africa,
vs. the U.S.
for example, is that the whites exploited a population that vastly outnumbered
them. Somehow the fear factor is much
more apparent when I consider this situation in which the whites had every
reason to be nervous. How can the few
subjugate the many without repercussions?
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
GIRL IN TRANSLATION by Jean Kwok
Kimberly Chang was the smartest student in her class in Hong
Kong, but in Brooklyn, her language
difficulties are a limiting factor. Then
after school she works with her mother in a sweatshop owned by her mother's
haughty sister, Paula. Aunt Paula also sets
Kimberly and her mother up in an apartment, but it's a ramshackle, roach-infested
dump with no heat. The upside of working
in the factory is that Kimberly meets Matt, who is also helping his mother meet
production quotas. Eventually, Kimberly
proves herself a scholar in math and science and earns an opportunity to attend
Harrison, an expensive prep school. She juggles school and work and keeping all
of her classmates, including her best friend Annette, in the dark about how destitute
she and her mother are. Achieving so
much with so few resources is quite a feat, but her life as a normal teenager
suffers, even though her aloofness is actually a turn-on for some of the boys
at school. We know from the start that either
her future as a surgeon or her relationship with Matt is doomed, because he
will never allow her to be the breadwinner.
I happily and quickly traipsed through this book, despite the fact that
I found the storyline to be a bit tired and predictable: A smart immigrant girl claws her way up from
abject poverty and has to choose between a bright future and love for a boy
from her old world. Also, the characters
are a bit one-dimensional—Kimberly is wonderful, although she does trip up
occasionally, Annette is her ever-supportive sidekick, and Aunt Paula is
basically a wicked witch.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
THE FAULT IN OUR STARS by John Green
Here's a young adult novel about 3 teenagers with cancer,
two of whom fall in love. This premise
may sound particularly unappealing, but think again. Yes, it's a little weepy, but there's way
more to it than that. Our narrator is
16-year-old Hazel, who has terminal thyroid cancer that has spread to her
lungs, forcing her to tote an oxygen cart around with her everywhere. Augustus is her 17-year-old love interest,
who has a type of cancer that most people survive, but he has already lost a
leg to it. Finally, there's Isaac, who
brings the other two together at a support group meeting. The author handles all this with such a deft
hand and with such witty and intelligent dialog that I didn't even mind very
much when he rather predictably turned the tables on us. He never lets us forget that these characters
have cancer, while at the same time making us love them for who they
are—typical teenagers in many ways but wise beyond their years because they have to look at
the world from a perspective that most of us don't have to experience. The back story is Hazel's favorite book, a
novel called An Imperial Affliction,
also about a young person with cancer, that ends in the middle of a
sentence. She and Augustus manage to
gain an audience with the author in Amsterdam
in the hope that he will enlighten them as to what eventually happens to the
characters in the book. The big
question, though, is this: What's the
point of loving someone who is about to die?
Given that death is inevitable and often unpredictable, we have to
cherish every moment with those we love, and the author makes this point quite
eloquently, without heavy-handedness. He
imbues his characters with a gentle thoughtfulness that draws our admiration
and our compassion.
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