A Brace of Robinsons

Gilead

Marilynne Robinson

I read the first page or so of this, just for the flavour, several years ago, when Lynne gave it to me as a birthday gift; i wasn't impressed. Today i'm happy to report that i was incorrect in that very quick assessment, as i have greatly enjoyed reading this novel. It is very simple, in some ways, and yet lovely and complex in its entirety. The text is a letter written by the narrator, minister in a Congregational church in a small Iowa town, to his young son, explaining things he wants his son to know that he knows he will never have the chance to tell him, as he is a very old father, having been sixtyfive or so when his son was born. The letter is written in about 1957, and the story it tells ranges from roughly the American Civil War until its present; the key characters are the narrator, his father and grandfather, his lifelong friend, and that friend's son, named after the narrator himself. All woven together it is the story of families falling apart, struggling to survive the tensions within them, the sorrow that parents both give and are given, and, this being America, race relations.

Strange Affair

Peter Robinson

The second Robinson i have read (and, funnily enough, the second finished in the same day by someone called Robinson; coincidence is bizarre stuff), and i enjoyed this one at least as much as the previous. Peter Robinson's books are very much a part of a series, and i was feeling, as i read, that i really needed to read others ~ perhaps all others ~ in the series to fully understand the characters, who is who, and the relationships between them. Of course, i do recognise that this is partially a function of or attributable to a certain amount of my necessity for order and understanding, and that in fact i am perfectly capable of enjoying any of the series (if they're well written) without having to relate them to any others ~ just as it is possible to read, say, Lieutenant Hornblower without having to follow all the rest of the novels. Because something is possible, though, does not necessarily make it desirable. So, all in all, despite this wandering review, i enjoyed this novel, which kept me reading later than intended, and hooked me into trying to solve and work it out.

Non-Holmes Doyle, hmmm

The Lost World

Arthur Conan Doyle

It is curious how completely Conan Doyle's reputation has been attached to his creation Sherlock Holmes; so strong is the tie between the two of them that one just about forgets that he did anything else, let alone wrote much else; often the only other thing he is remembered for is his interest in spiritualism and being taken in by photographs of fairies at the bottom of the garden. In fact, though, i know he wrote more; i read at least one of his Medieval adventures about ten or fifteen years ago, and i was aware, vaguely, of Professor Challenger through the influence on subsequent generations of science fiction authors. This was, though, the first of Doyle's SF that i have read.

Professor Challenger is almost a character out of a farce, he is so much the easily offended intellectual, sublimely confident in himself (with some justification, it must be said), always ready to resort to physical violence to back up his mental powers. Doyle has provided him with a challenge sufficient to his abilities in the lost world plateau in the middle of South America somewhere, where remnants from past aeons of Earth's history are living together in some imitation of harmony. This lost world is clearly the precursor to any number of other isolated environments where a series of characters can explore and interact with no reference to the outside world, from Burroughs' Barsoom (not to mention the jungles of his Tarzan) to Lewis's Malacandra and Niven's Ring.

I am glad that i bought this edition, which contains all three Professor Challenger novels, as well as the two short stories Conan Doyle wrote, as i shall return to it in the future and read the rest; The Lost World is obviously a success for me.

Another classic completed (again?)

Sons and Lovers

D.H.Lawrence

It's a strange thing, but i have finished this without being reminded of the previous reading. I am certain i did read it, at Loretto, maybe for O Level, maybe not. But reading it i have not had the flash of recognition that i usually have at some point while rereading a book. Thus i have been forced to reconsider, have i read it? did i perhaps misremember, remember other pupils reading it? Who knows. Parts of it are familiar, but perhaps only in the sense that i am familiar with books which are a part of my cultural heritage, even if i haven't read them myself.

Without worrying further, i need to respond to the book itself, though, and decide how i felt about it and whether, which is more important that possible past events, i will read another Lawrence in the future. I have to own that, to my regret, i was not as impressed with the writing as i probably should have been. For one thing, Paul Morel, the Lawrence stand-in, is an unattractive character, tied to his mother’s apron-strings, either unable or not willing to make a decision for himself, and in the process he hurts at least two other people, the two women he is interested in but unwilling to make a commitment to.

Another point i found irritating (laughable, really, me, with no credit, being irritated by someone universally acknowledged to be one of the Giants of the Twentieth Century) is that for much of the plot, while not much is happening in the lives of the characters, Lawrence spends his time telling his readers what the interior life of the characters, Paul in particular, is; he does not show it, does not allow the readers to grow their own perceptions and understandings, but lays out in detail how Paul feels, why he reacts in a particular way. I cannot but help think that the better novel is one in which the character is revealed through action. I cannot say that i won't read Lawrence again; i have read some of his poetry before, and perhaps some of the travel writings also; but i can say that i am not inspired to rush out and find another to read immediately. Which reaction, given his stature, and the place of this novel in his canon, makes me question mine own critical ability.

Three from One

The Day of the Triffids

John Wyndham

I found a collection of six of Wyndham's novels a couple of weeks ago, at one of the charity shops in town, and snapped it up immediately; at one pound there was no question but that it would go with me. There is a bit of overlap with the three i already own, but it does mean that i'll be able to send one to Stephanie for her opinion of him. Mine own opinion, of course, is clear and without doubt: He was one of the best of the British writers of science fiction, whose control of plot may have been slightly less than perfect, but who forced the reader to think about consequences and ideas with every story he wrote. The Day of the Triffids, then: This is probably the most successful of his novels, from either writing period (before and after the War), both in terms of critical and cultural (and maybe financial, though i wouldn't know) success; certainly it is the one which has been the best known, having been made into a film (which i have never seen; one of those 'fifties sci-fi/horror genre, i suspect, it could have been appalling, but it was popular, i believe), and spawning at least one sequel which i read and reviewed about half a dozen years ago.

Seeds of Time

John Wyndham

A collection of short stories; i think this is the lesser of the (i think) two collections made in Wyndham's later period (not including The Outward Urge which could, arguably, be considered a novel), the other being Consider her Ways. I have read neither of them recently (well, not until i just reread this one, obviously), but it seems to me that Consider has the stronger stories in it. This is not to say, however, that those in this collection are weak; they are not, in the main. Wyndham clearly wrote attempting different styles and genres in these stories ~ he says as much in his introduction ~ with fair success. To my mind the better of the stories include the first (“Chronoclasm”), a romance between time-crossed lovers, “Survival”, a horrible development of the idea in Asimov's first published story, “Marooned off Vesta”, “Pillar to Post”, a very complicated story of time travel and body swapping which ends rather unsatisfactorily, and “Dumb Martian”, which shows almost more clearly than any fiction about actual racism the pointlessness and foolishness of prejudice.

Trouble with Lichen

John Wyndham

Though i can see flaws in it, this has always been my favourite Wyndham ever since i read it; i'm not altogether sure that i can pinpoint why, other than sheer pleasure in the clever simplicity of the plot and characters, along with, as always with Wyndham, a necessity for the reader to think about what would happen if.... It is hard to be critical in some reviews, and this is one, because i feel too invested in the book that i'm reviewing; i don't feel as though i can ever write less than effusively about Wyndham or, for a further example, Dick Francis, because i enjoy them too much, though, as i say, i can see imperfections in what they write those imperfections seem less important than the whole which surrounds them. So, clearly, i enjoyed reading this, and i'm glad i now own a copy, so i can reread it any time i choose.

Not Hornblower

Plain Murder

C.S. Forester

I have, obviously, known C.S. Forester for many years as an excellent story-teller (the Hornblower books are old favourites). I had never come across him previously as a murder/suspense writer, unless i allow The Peacemaker (first read about forty years ago, before even Hornblower) to fall into that category; i clearly have to increase my understanding of his abilities.

This was a delightful, though horrible too, book, telling the story of a man who murders once to secure his future and comes to find that he is prepared to see it as a way of answering many more of his needs than he anticipated. Indeed, there are few characters in the book whom he would not be ready to murder should the need arise. Forester's skill is shown as he makes his protagonist, the murderer, while clearly an unattractive person, sympathetic to the reader, such that i was almost rooting for him to succeed, hoping that he'd have just one more successful killing. When i thought about it, of course, i was horrified; while immersed in the book, though, clearly Morris had my sympathy.

Undoubtedly a success by my criterion, i had not expected otherwise, knowing Forester's other work; i shall definitely look for his other works in the same genre.

"Lists" usually = "Goodness"

The Royal Book of Lists

Matt Richardson

Just the sort of book i would write, and therefore find interesting ~ nay, fascinating ~ full of facts, trivial and otherwise, in this case about the British royal family, arranged in easy to consume lists. A couple of small annoyances to the thing: The adjective in the title is surely in the wrong place ~ they must have intended it to modify lists not book in order to make real sense ~ that i can put down to the publisher, though; the responsibility for error of fact, on the other hand, belongs squarely on the shoulders of the author, and leads me to question just how reliable he is in other facts, ones i didn't previously know, when he can give Richard II Edward II's dates. Such a simple error is really unforgivable, if for no other reason than that it is so basic, so easily verifiable. I have to admit, however, that this was the only real horror i found ~ though i wasn't looking for them ~ for which i was grateful. There is something about a list which is satisfying, to me at least, as it consists of almost nothing but information; the selection of that information does lend a certain amount of authorial interpretation to it, but a good list or series of lists is relatively complete, the selection is not biased, and the unmediated facts are pleasurable. This series meets these criteria.

Bizarrely Unsatisfying

The God Delusion

Richard Dawkins

I was curiously disappointed in Dawkins in this book. For some years i have read about him ~ i think i've read one or two of his previous works, but i can't be certain ~ and read a number of refutations of him and, more particularly, this work, and he has been built up as a great and terrible foe of the Church, of God (or any god) and of religion. I expected, then, to be challenged, to be logically argued into submission, to read strong and convincing prose of a scientific nature. Not what happened. In fact i found that Dawkins wrote in a fashion that, to my perception, is surprisingly close to what he stands against with all his force: The book reminds me of nothing so much as an evangelical preacher ensuring that the choir stay convinced and and strangers in the congregation are whipped along into following him. I'm afraid that his arguments generally were, to say the least, unconvincing, and he attempted to cover that up by using rhetoric designed to bludgeon his readers into agreeing. Let me explain.

Towards the beginning of the book Dawkins writes that he amused himself by noting in the margin of a book he was reading the false arguments used by one or other of his opponents; i have a healthy respect for books, and library books in particular, so i did not actually do so, but i noted in my mind at least a dozen times during Dawkins debating points at which i would have written BISS in the margin as a comment on the paucity of his argument: It solely consisted of “This is so, Because I Say So”, which really is not at all convincing as a means of persuasion. He does this, for example, in dismissing the idea of NOMA (non-overlapping magisteria) as suggested by Stephen Jay Gould, among others. He does not really argue against NOMA, other than to say that there is no reason to think that, if there are questions science cannot answer, they may be questions religion is capable of answering ~ or even exploring. There are, as i indicated above, a number of occasions on which Dawkins uses this argument from authority; it's simply a shame that the authority he uses ~ his own ~ is not actually sufficient to support the argument he makes. It is possible that NOMA is a poor idea, but not possible to discover that by reading this book; as far as Dawkins' argument goes, there is nothing wrong with NOMA at all ~ except that he doesn't like it.

The second point at which i found the book frustrating is the style. I likened him earlier to someone preaching to the choir; to explain that image a little let me point out that he uses rhetorical devices which are frequently and usefully used by preachers on Sunday mornings in church services to carry the congregation along a path they already believe and travel willingly: humour, exaggeration, straw man arguments, appeal to authority, and others. The most annoying, maybe offensive, was the use of humour; i find it offensive, i'm afraid, from a couple of perspectives, because it feels as though i am being patronised since he clearly believes i'm stupid enough to be convinced something is wrong if i can be made to laugh at it, and because on many occasions his humour is more vitriolic than funny, especially when he is relating anecdotes (and when did a personal anecdote become a strong logical argument?) about how he either has or should have demolished his opponents with his wit. It may be the case, as has been argued elsewhere, that harm to someone else in one or another form is the basis of all humour; when taken to extremes, however, it serves no purpose other than to make me uncomfortable and to rather dislike the instigator.

To be honest, quite a lot of the book seems surprisingly personal to Dawkins, as though he takes it as a personal affront that anyone should disagree with him (i suppose that this links back to my feeling that BISS was his major argument). That this is so is illustrated by the anecdotes i mentioned above as well as by the authorities he tends to appeal to. It may not be that they are the most common in the book, but certainly high among his authorities are Carl Sagan, admittedly a scientist, though more of a science-explainer than an active discoverer, and Douglas Adams, an author (non-scientific) and comic. The two primary reasons Dawkins seems to appeal to them are that he liked them personally, and they both agreed with his point of view. Neither of these is a sufficient reason.

A further way in which the book seems personal rather than reasoned is the way in which Dawkins seems to go out of his way to be offensive to theologians for no other reason than that they are theologians. He argues that there is no reason to be polite about religious beliefs, that religion is given a free pass in society because people are not willing to offend one another over their God and faith. The truth, of course, is that, in fact, there are all sorts of things people do not say to one another (i cannot imagine, for example, that Dawkins would be comfortable saying to a stranger, “Goodness, your wife is ugly”, or “What a stupid daughter you have”), because we have evolved (within the species, genetically, or in society, through trial and error, i do not know) a certain self-censorship over what we say in order that society may function. Religion falls into this category of Things We Are Polite About, yet Dawkins is attempting to remove from the category with no explanation or justification. Indeed, he treats it as falling in the opposite category, Things We Can Be Vitriolic About, as he all but personally insults theologians. Not, i am afraid, the actions of the reasoned, reasoning man he would portray himself as.

In the end, as i mentioned above, i found reading this book disappointing. I expected a real challenge to my thinking capacity, but what i found was similar to a secondary school level response to Bertrand Russell's Why I Am Not A Christian ~ from the other perspective, of course! Less than satisfying, i'm afraid.

How to be Happy?

The Geography of Bliss

Eric Weiner

Stephanie gave me this for Christmas, saying it was quite interesting ~ and the reason that she shows her location on Facebook as Iceland. Weiner claims to be a largely unhappy person, so considers himself perfect for conducting an investigation into happiness, specifically how the country one inhabits affects one's happiness. I suppose i like the idea; the writing was a little cuter than i care for usually; not enough to put me off reading the book, but perhaps enough to slow me down before picking up another by Weiner. The actual research ~ the book itself is largely anecdotal ~ is interesting, fascinating, one might almost say, as one's location and culture do seem to have some effect on happiness. In particular, monocultural places seem to be happier than multicultural, which is information that large swathes of the liberal West would do well to know and appreciate. Still, some of the responsibility must lie with the individual person, and Weiner seems to accept this, embrace it even, as he finds that his happiness level doesn't seem to change much no matter where he is nor how his circumstances vary.

Five books; two reviews

Nine Princes in Amber

The Guns of Avalon

The Sign of the Unicorn

Roger Zelazny

I stayed with Chen and Tony for the weekend, and while she was showing me her books Chen and i talked a bit about this series, how i encouraged her to start it one time when she was bored, how i had read it with Kathy White back in the summer of 1980 on the Oyster River farm, how it is so good and easy to read. I remembered the opening lines of Nine Princes, or thought i did, and opened it to take a look, and i was hooked, again.

It is surely a sign of a classic that i can remember the first time i read this series, the events surrounding that reading, when and where i bought the books, as well as the appearance of the first ones i read and the set i bought ~ which is, sadly, a part of the huge collection we have “temporarily” left in the US ~ and at least one other time i read the whole thing. I have, on at least one occasion, gone on to reading more, beyond the original five, which Zelazny added some years later, but did not find them of the same compelling quality; i know, for example, that i have read more, but i don't remember how many, nor am i certain where i got them, nor when (those two are close to the same, libraries depending on geography and personal history for me), nor anything about them other than a certain disappointment. That lack of compulsion, the relative loss of memory about the sequels, tends to show me that the subsequent books are of a lower quality; understandable, as the originals are so high, but disappointing nonetheless.

So, looking at the opening lines, as i say, i was immediately drawn in, as i suspected, if i am honest, i would be. The books read so quickly that i really had no difficulty in racing through them, finishing three of the five in the fortyeight hours or so i was in Cardiff. As well as the conversations, the walk to the city, the music we listened to, the films we watched. What is it, then, which makes these so easy to read? Part of it has to be the plot, which is fairly simple, but quite compelling; who doesn't understand family strife, the desire to change situation or circumstances, and the struggle to better ourselves? Another part is clearly the language; Zelazny is not prone to complex grammar or sentences, nor is his vocabulary awkward or specialised, which makes the whole easy going. The characters, too, are a part of the attraction, as it is possible to see truth in all of them, their interactions, their different facets. Overall, whatever the reasons, this is a series i love, and it was delightful to be able to renew acquaintanceship with it again.

The Hand of Oberon

The Courts of Chaos

Roger Zelazny

Visiting Chenowyth again, so reading more of her collection of Zelazny's Amber Chronicles, finishing them, in fact, and liking them in just the same measure and way as i have previously. I have always found certain portions of the novels a bit too florid, confusing, ultimately pointless, for my taste. Zelazny has Corwin, his narrator give several descriptions of what he calls hell-rides, and he describes Chaos on one or two occasions as well; to my mind they are unnecessary and distracting ~ to be perfectly honest, i often skip them altogether, leaving me a slight feeling of guilt ~ and more about showing that Zelazny is more than just a story-teller, that he can write exciting prose too. There are more of these passages in the final book, The Courts of Chaos, than in any of the others, and ~ coincidence? probably not ~ it is the weakest book. Not actually weak, though; the whole pentology is excellent, despite one or two untied loose ends which are probably because the whole is so complex that there simply would have been too much to pull everything together and answer every single question properly. Or maybe Zelazny just missed some. I just wish that the later books lived up to these five.

Surreal

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

Aimee Bender

Judging by the picture on the front cover (a young girl holding some lemons) and Jodi Picoult's name endorsing it, i assumed when Abi lent it to me that this was going to be a (female oriented) juvenile such as she and Bailey used to read. Now, having finished, i'm not sure. Not sure at all, in fact, what category or genre it might fit into: There are elements of that juvenile (the protagonist/narrator is female and, for a large portion of the book, prepubescent or adolescent), to be sure; there are also pointers towards the adult (not least the themes of broken people and relationships); not only that, but also a strong current of the surreal which doesn't really aid in genre-assignment but certainly adds to the interest of the book. 

The first element of surrealism encountered is the ability of the narrator to taste the emotions of a cook in their products. Actually, it might be fairer to say, the inability of her not to taste their truest emotions and desires in anything they make. As interesting as this sounds, it is for her the most awful ability, as she does not have a happy home life and, in particular, her mother (chief cook) is lonely and sad to begin with, then guilty over an affair later. There are other surreal elements, not least the knack that her brother has of completely disappearing, at first for a few minutes while babysitting, later for days or weeks at a time. 

I'm glad i have read it, mostly for the oddity; the portrayal of characters is good, particularly the relationship, such as it is, between the narrator and her brother's best friend, which is perhaps the realest portion of the book.