ORBITAL by Samantha Harvey

Here we glimpse 24 hours inside an orbiting space station on the day of the first moon landing since the Apollo project.  The six characters—four astronauts and two cosmonauts—are in need of a plot in order to keep this reader engaged and awake.  I liked the message of this book a lot more than the book itself, as the author indulges in quite a bit of philosophizing about Planet Earth as this vessel goes around and around.  Monotonous?  Maybe, but the six characters seem to be eternally in awe, seeing Earth from 250 miles away as what should be a borderless utopia.  However, they also witness the effects of pollution and climate change brought on by Earth’s human inhabitants but don’t seem to dwell on our shortcomings.  The book reminds us that everyone who has ever walked on the moon was an American—a fact that one of the Russian cosmonauts laments.  I was also surprised, though I shouldn’t have been, at how steep a toll weightlessness takes on the human body.  No amount of exercise can compensate for the absence of gravity on a body that is supposed to bear its own weight.

THE SEVEN MOONS OF MAALI ALMEIDA by Shehan Karunatilaka

Maali is a 1980s war photographer in Sri Lanka with a box of incriminating hidden photos that he wants to come to light.  Unfortunately, Maali is dead.  He is now a spirit residing in the In Between for seven days and floats around to observe anyone who speaks his name.  He therefore serves as an omniscient narrator, commenting on what happens in the aftermath of his death.  He would also like to discover who murdered him, and there are possibilities aplenty.  This book was a challenge to read, not only because I’m not familiar at all with Sri Lanka’s history, but also because the characters have long and unfamiliar names, making them difficult for me to distinguish.  The author seems to assume that the reader is familiar with the historical events in Sri Lanka’s history, the vocabulary, and the names and acronyms of the various warring factions.  I tried to keep up but failed miserably, and although I didn’t understand half of what was happening in the country, the parts of the book that I did understand were powerful.  The author reveals insights into humanity’s struggles that are worth mentioning.  For instance, he notes that no major religion forbids rape and that all civilizations are built on genocide.  Think about it.  On page 345 Maali’s father says this:

‘”You know why the battle of good vs evil is so one-sided, Malin?  Because evil is better organized, better equipped and better paid.  It is not monsters or yakas or demons we should fear.  Organised collectives of evil doers who think they are performing the work of the righteous.  That is what should make us shudder.’”

That sounds too frighteningly familiar.

THE PROMISE by Damon Galgut

A more appropriate title for this book would be Broken Promises.  Wedding vows are broken.  A priest divulges the details of a woman’s confession to her husband.  A man promises to marry his girlfriend but never does.  A woman promises to end her affair but doesn’t.  Of course, the word “promise” has at least one more meaning, such as when we say that a student shows a lot of promise.  In this novel, Anton, the oldest son in the Swart family, shows promise, but goes off the rails after he shoots a South African Black woman during apartheid.  Anton’s youngest sister, Amor, overhears their father’s promise to grant their mother’s dying wish to give their maid ownership of the house in which she resides.  However, the father denies that such a promise was ever made, and this unfulfilled promise hovers over the entire novel.  Anton and Amor’s middle sister, Astrid, is shallow, stringent, and bulimic, and sides with their father.  The maid herself has no say in the matter, as she did not witness the promise being made.  I would say that this novel is enjoyable but not riveting.  The Swart saga covers about forty years, and the family undergoes a lot of changes, as does South Africa.  There are several sudden and unusual deaths, but these characters are hard to care about.  Struck by lightning as a child, Amor has the most heart, but she is aloof and estranged from the family for most of her adult life.  In the case of this family, though, I can see why.  The writing is a little quirky in a good way.  For example, a homeless man appears in the story, for what purpose I’m not sure, and the author suggests to the reader that we call him Bob.  Quirks such as this are a welcome contrast with the overall gloom that settles over this family.

SHUGGIE BAIN by Douglas Stuart

The title character of this bleak, semi-autobiographical novel is a gay boy growing up with an alcoholic mother in Glasgow, and to describe it as dreary and depressing is a huge understatement.   The mother, Agnes, apparently resembles Elizabeth Taylor, but there is nothing beautiful about her behavior toward her three children.  Shuggie is the youngest and therefore the most dependent on Agnes, but, in reality, she is dependent on him emotionally, and he serves as an accomplice to her addiction at times.  Unfortunately, not even his unconditional love can sustain her.  Her needs interfere with his schooling, as he is habitually truant, and her craving for alcohol trumps his health and well-being every time.  A brief period of sobriety is cut short in the most cruel way, and, for me, this event is the most devastating one in the novel.  It is really the last straw, as far as her older children are concerned, as well as for me as a reader.  This book is at least 150 pages too long, I think, because Agnes’s family just becomes increasingly despondent as her problem rages on, unabated, page after page, with no hope on the horizon.  Plus, the dialog is full of Scottish dialect, which perhaps adds to the book’s authenticity but increases the thankless challenge of reading it.  The language did become marginally easier to decipher as I became more accustomed to it, but I would have gotten the picture with a lot fewer pages.

OSCAR AND LUCINDA by Peter Carey

At first I thought this book was just about gambling—obsession with gambling, gambling in secret, guilt over gambling, and passing judgment on gambling.  However, about halfway through the book, the plot becomes focused on one wager between the title characters.  Oscar develops a gambling system that enables him to attend Oxford and then sail from England to Australia in the mid-1800s.  This journey is especially taxing, as he is terrified of open water.  Lucinda, living in Sydney and purchasing a glassworks with her inheritance, goes to England to find a husband.  She fails in that endeavor and meets Oscar on her return voyage.  She is more of a compulsive gambler, with plenty of resources, but her gender hampers her ability to nourish her obsession.  The problem with this novel is that the pace is agonizingly slow.  The book finally becomes somewhat interesting, though, when Oscar embarks on an ill-advised expedition that has consequences neither he nor Lucinda, nor the reader, for that matter, could have imagined.  One thing that annoyed me about this novel is that it is so wordy that I at times overlooked important events that were buried in a lot of descriptive language, and I had to retrace to find what I had missed.  Also, the narration is actually first person, with Oscar’s great-grandson as the narrator, and each time the word “I” popped up, I had to remind myself who that was, as the vast majority of the book has nothing to do with Oscar’s progeny.

THE LUMINARIES by Eleanor Catton

It’s 1867, and Walter Moody has just arrived in Hokitika, New Zealand, and aims to pan for gold.  As he settles into the smoking room of the semi-shabby Crown Hotel, he finds that he has disturbed a private meeting of twelve men.  We will soon discover, through the paraphrased words of shipping agent Thomas Balfour, that the meeting concerns three unusual events that all happened on the same day two weeks prior.  One man died, one man disappeared, and a prostitute apparently attempted suicide via opium overdose.  Gradually, the stories of these three people unfold, along with those of the twelve men and Walter Moody himself.  There are multiple mysteries here, and, with these 16 characters plus several more, the storyline becomes quite convoluted.  Not only are the characters’ stories a bit confusing, but props get moved around and change owners frequently—dresses with gold hidden in the seams, several misplaced cargo items, assorted paperwork, and, of course, some gold treasure.  This is a very long book, so that there’s plenty of time to get everything sorted out, but I have to confess that I still have a few important unanswered questions, including the identity of a murderer.  In any case, I loved this book, even if I didn’t quite put all the pieces together.  The whole zodiac theme was lost on me as well, but somehow I don’t think that angle was really pertinent to the plot.  What’s not to love when you have great writing, plus séances, pistol shots, bloody bodies jumping out of crates, long lost relatives, false identities, a villainous sea captain with a facial scar, an unsigned bequest, and a sinister widow with a checkered past laying claim to her husband’s fortune?  This is a really good yarn whose mood felt to me like that of an American western, churned with a bit of sea salt to spice it up.

THE SEA by John Banville

Max Morden has returned to a coastal villa that once was the summer residence of childhood playmates Chloe Grace and her mute twin brother Myles.  The Grace family appealed to Max not only because they were more affluent than his own family but also because young Max was initially attracted to Mrs. Grace.  This infatuation eventually dwindled as his attraction to Chloe grew.  The narrative goes back and forth in time, and in the present Max is still reeling from the death of his wife, Anna.  Several important revelations appear late in the novel, including the disclosure of a character’s identity, which I had already figured out.  The big question all along is what happened to Chloe and Myles.  We do find out the answer to that question, sort of.  However, there are lots of other dangling questions, including the subject of an argument between two women at dinner.  This omission seems like a copout to me.  The author also teases us with some snippets of another conversation that are intended to mislead us, as well as the other characters who overhear the conversation.  I found this to be a little cheesy as well.  He could have at least made the snippets a little more ambiguous.  After finishing the novel, I reread this section, and I’m even more baffled than ever, wondering if the snippets of conversation are not indicative of the rest of the conversation or if one of the participants in the conversation is not being truthful.  Myles’s inability to speak is never explained, either.  Perhaps the storyline just demanded his silence.  This novel beat out Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go and Julian Barnes’s Arthur and George for the 2005 Booker Prize, but I’m not sure why.  Perhaps the judges were swayed by the author’s prodigious vocabulary.  I finally dug out my ancient paperback dictionary, but many of the unfamiliar words were not there.  The upside is that now I understand the difference between the verbs “blanch” and “blench”—more or less.

DISGRACE by J.M. Coetzee

David Lurie, a university professor in post-apartheid South Africa, will go to almost any length to satisfy his sexual needs, including the seduction of one of his students.  When she charges him with sexual harassment, he is forced out of his job, partly because he shows no real remorse.  He then moves in with his daughter, a lesbian who lives on a small farm.  A tragic and violent event drives home the vulnerability of women in this society and sheds a different light on David’s role as a predator.  This novel made me uncomfortable, particularly with regard to the role reversal between the blacks and the whites.  The blacks have the power, and the whites now find themselves in a world where they are not the bosses.  David’s daughter is more accepting of the new order of things, particularly the lack of law and order, while her father’s frustration festers.  Their opposing attitudes cause a rift between them, and I have to say that, despite his despicable behavior with regard to women, his point of view seems entirely reasonable with regard to his daughter’s safety.  His daughter becomes depressed but ultimately seems willing to absorb some personal losses in order to maintain her quiet life.  Is she courageous or just plain stubborn?  She basically has three choices:  stand up for her rights, accept the situation as is, or leave.  Standing up for her rights could cost her her life, and I think she feels that the whites deserve the treatment they are getting from the blacks anyway.  Turnabout is fair play.

THE LINE OF BEAUTY by Alan Hollinghurst

Nick Guest is a guest—a lodger, actually—in the home of Conservative Parliament member Gerald and his wife Rachel, along with their grown children, Toby and Catherine. Toby and Nick were friends at Oxford, and Toby has invited Nick to move in with his family. Nick’s father is an antiques dealer, and Nick’s previous exposure to this level of posh gentility was limited to accompanying his father on clock-winding visits. It’s the late 1980s, and Nick is gay, so that the AIDs epidemic is lurking ominously on the horizon. Nick is an enigma, knowing that he does not quite fit in socially, but at the same time he somehow sees his host family members as friends. They, however, seem to view him more as a charity case who can help keep an eye on Catherine, who is bipolar. When she’s off her meds, she poses a threat to herself at least and may possibly be destructive in other ways. Nick is dangerous, too, in an entirely different way, blatantly snorting cocaine, right under the noses of the family, and meeting lovers in the garden. I couldn’t believe he would take his living situation for granted to the point that he would risk sullying Gerald’s political career. He overestimates his standing in the family, and in the end he realizes that his view of the family is seriously distorted. Their snobbish hypocrisy is obvious to the reader but not to Nick. There’s a reason his very rich friend Wani, short for Antoine, wants to keep their affair under wraps, and it’s not just for the sake of his Lebanese parents. Certainly, the appeal of this novel lies in its satirical treatment of upper-crusty manners, including a scene where high-as-a-kite Nick dances with Prime Minister Thatcher to a Rolling Stones tune. However, as a reader, you’ll be acutely aware that almost all of the male characters are gay, so that this novel’s world seems a little skewed in more ways than one. Hollinghurst’s sublime prose kept me interested in Nick’s fate, as I held onto the hope that he would stop making so many egregious errors in judgment before his world toppled around him.

THE SENSE OF AN ENDING by Julian Barnes

I remember with appalling clarity all of the worst things I've done (I think).  Our narrator, Tony Webster, on the other hand, has repressed the gist of an unbelievably vicious letter he wrote his friend Adrian when Adrian began seeing Tony's ex-girlfriend Veronica.  I enjoyed this book right up until the end, and then I had only "the sense of an ending," because it didn't really have the impact I think it was intended to have.  Actually, the title could apply to a number of "endings," including a couple of suicides, the latter of which is completely baffling.  Tony's relationships have only "the sense of an ending," as Veronica reappears when her mother inexplicably leaves Tony a dead friend's diary, and Tony's ex-wife continues to be his sounding board, at least until the Veronica thing is dredged up again.  In other words, Tony's failed relationships never really have closure, and he just drifts away from his old friends, but then don't we all?  Tony is not one to make waves, and that aspect of his personality makes the vengeful letter all the more surprising, given the pivotal effect it has on the other characters.  The novel's ending certainly explains how the diary came to be in Veronica's mother's possession, and I think the ending is supposed to shed some light on the departed's state of mind.  I certainly drew my own conclusion, whether it is the one the author intended or not.  I wonder if this book is short because its publication was moved up in order to qualify for the 2011 Booker Prize.  Since it won, I can't help but feel that the prize was lip service to a body of work, not necessarily a tribute to this particular novel.

HOTEL DU LAC by Anita Brookner

Edith Hope is vacationing at a sedate Swiss hotel, waiting from some sort of scandal to die down. Does it have to do with her affair with a married man? She writes romance novels under a pseudonym and therefore remains anonymous to the other guests who are fans of her work but not opposed to voicing the occasional criticism. One gentleman there is on to her, and he strikes up a friendship with Edith, who is intrigued by a very wealthy mother/daughter pair. Another woman, with an eating disorder and a small dog to help disguise it, seeks out Edith's company also. For someone trying to keep to herself and complete her next novel, Edith is somewhat in demand and becomes privy to all sorts of gossip and liaisons. As it turns out, she is too distracted/dispressed to write anything but letters to her lover that she may or may not be mailing. This is one of those slow-moving, nuanced and very British novels, with a spinster heroine and a skeleton in the closet, which is not scandalous at all by American standards. Ultimately, Edith has a decision to make—return home and make amends for her past behavior, or seize an opportunity that's not all that appealing but has its advantages. A chance observation serves as a wake-up call, clarifying her options and helping her realize what is important to her. The book feels like it belongs on a live stage, with its confined setting and stifling group of characters, and was apparently adapted as a play for television.

THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS by Arundhati Roy

The imagery and lyrical language evoke the Indian landscape beautifully, but for me the prose was too choppy, and the same goes for the plot. The author tells the story in bits and pieces ("small things") non-sequentially with insufficient clues sometimes as to whether the main characters, Rahel and her fraternal twin brother Estha, are children or adults. Also, the death of their cousin Sophie bisects their childhood into before and after. Sophie's funeral takes place at the beginning, and the rest of the book tells of the events leading up to her death and to the banishment of Estha to live with his father. One of the repeated themes in the book is that we talk about the small things and leave the big things unsaid. This truism and numerous other phrases and images, including descriptions of Estha's and Rahel's hairdos, are repeated throughout the book in different settings. From the title I would think perhaps that this is the story of the small things that compose the characters' lives, but the horrific defining events are actually quite big things. The book is supremely sad, and I'll never look at a movie theatre snack counter in quite the same way again.

WOLF HALL by Hilary Mantel

This fictional opus opens with a boy being beaten up by his sneaky father. Fast forward to adulthood. The boy, Thomas Cromwell, is now a lawyer and friend to Cardinal Wolsey, who is rapidly losing favor with Henry VIII, due to his inability to secure the annulment of Henry's marriage to Katherine of Aragon. After Wolsey's demise, Cromwell becomes Henry's chief adviser, managing just about everything, including the annulment or the marriage and the execution of the stubborn Sir Thomas More. The plague seizes Cromwell's wife and daughters, leaving him to launch a number of promising young men, including his son Gregory and nephew Richard. Cromwell comes off as a hero—reasonable, witty, and clear-headed among a huge cast of lustful, misguided, and manipulative 16th century characters. Cromwell, of course, leads the pack in the manipulation category but does so with understated flair and aboveboard tactics. The author never lets us forget that Cromwell has succeeded in spite of the fact that he is a commoner, making his accomplishments all the more impressive. My biggest beef with this book is the plethora of pronouns with an ambiguous antecedent. I finally figured out that in most cases, "he" refers to Cromwell, even if I had no idea that "he" was even on the scene. I found this apparently intentional device on the author's part to be extremely aggravating and time-consuming, as I found myself continually rereading dialog in an already overly long book.

THE WHITE TIGER by Aravind Adiga

Balram Halwai, the son of a rickshaw-puller in India, is feisty and ambitious. He succeeds in his quest to get a job as a rich man's chauffeur, and we know from the beginning that he kills his boss and becomes an entrepreneur. This set me up to want to find out why he did it and how he got away with it. Balram tells his story in the form of a (very long) letter to the premier of China who is coming to visit Balram's city of Bangalore, ostensibly to find out how to bring technology and entrepreneurship to China. Balram begins by describing the paradox that is India—the high-tech outsourcing companies surrounded by slums with open sewers and contaminated drinking water. Then he proceeds with the story of his life, including his father's death from TB at a public hospital with no doctor. This sounds incredibly bleak, and it gets worse, but Balram's voice is laced with dark humor and sarcasm, and I found myself ashamed to be laughing. I love that Balram justifies the murder of his boss by observing that we often honor our murderous leaders with statues. The author seems to enjoy pointing up all the dichotomies that exist in India. For example, graft and election fixing are rampant in a country that considers itself a democracy. The rich are corrupt, while their poor servants are scrupulously honest to avoid the wrath of their masters. Sadly, the book offers no hope that India will ever be able to dig itself out of this situation, and certainly the author is not suggesting that the country needs more Balrams. The irony is that Balram escapes poverty by emulating the every-man-for-himself attitude of the men in power.

AMSTERDAM by Ian McEwan

Having found the ending to Atonement totally exasperating, I was pleasantly surprised to have the opposite response to Ian McEwan's Amsterdam. Molly Lane has just died after a slow, sad deterioration. Two of her former lovers, Vernon, a newspaper editor, and Clive, a composer, make a pact to ensure that the other doesn't suffer such an ignominious decline. We then get a closer look into the personalities of these two men. At first it seems that Clive is a better friend—more thoughtful and unselfish—even as he contemplates that he may be England's first musical genius. He has been commissioned to write a symphony for the new millennium and is under the gun to finish it. Vernon, on the other hand, is fighting to increase circulation of his newspaper in order to save his job. He seems more materialistic, willing to tarnish a despised politician's reputation in order to sell newspapers. However, the tables turn when Clive witnesses a man assaulting a woman but can't be bothered while he's on the brink of coming up with the perfect riff that will make his symphony a masterpiece. The two men become equally despicable, each concluding that the other has lost his marbles. The book raises the issue of human euthanasia and how to determine if it's warranted. The metaphors are just stunning, including one sentence where McEwan likens clothes hanging in a closet to commuters sitting side-by-side on the train. The writing, coupled with the intriguing, nuanced characters, just blew me away.

VERNON GOD LITTLE by DBC Pierre

DBC Pierre's Vernon God Little won the Booker prize in 2003, and I've wanted to read it ever since. However, I found the story frustrating rather than funny because, really, how many bad decisions can a teenager make? This is not one of those books where the journey is better than the destination. In fact, you have to endure the journey to earn the destination--a very satisfying ending with a message. Plus, the events and characters are completely outrageous--caricatures almost--even for Texas/Texans. I continually had to remind myself that a story does not have to be believable to be worthwhile.