Not lost

Hi everyone,

I finished The Reluctant Fundamentalist and Mr. Pip....I can't find the Gathering anywhere and I assume the other two are still not in print in the US. I will post both my other reviews soon though!

I did read "The Zero" by Jess Walter which I may have liked more than anything I've read for this year's Booker.

book update

I ended getting all the books from the library. A copy of Mister Pip just arrived for me but I haven't picked it up yet. Will probably return OCB and TRF in exchange for it. I had the Gathering handy so I went ahead and started it. The Gathering only came out in the states in hardback last Tuesday I think (a week and a half ago) so stores I talked to didn't have it yet - maybe now.

The Gathering, Chapters 1-6

Raw, man. R. A. W.

The spikey sentences (I think they're "jangley") were hard to get used to, but I think I like it so far.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist - Take 1 - Few (no?) spoilers

I thought The Reluctant Fundamentalist was a brilliant, beautifully written, and engaging novel about individual and collective identities and narratives. I finished it over a week ago and have been meaning to post every night, but have always been too tired. I am forcing myself to do it tonight, thus my thoughts are somewhat choppy. I try not to give away any *major* spoilers in this post.

On the narrative style:

Hamid weaves together stories of the past with dialogue taking place in the present between Changez and an American visitor, set mostly in passing afternoon and evening in a street side café in Lahore, Pakistan. Initially I thought I would find this manner of telling the story to be distracting, but without really noticing it I quickly became used to it and found that it, in itself, advanced a number of H’s themes. It was an effective vehicle for telling this story – a manifestation of many of the themes of the story itself (past/present, American/foreign, storytelling/truths).

On the story of the individual/story of the collective consciousness:

Hamid tells the story of an individual – an international student who works hard in college and lands a sought after job at a high paying business firm, he falls in love with an American student and forms a relationship with her after they both move to New York, he struggles in the wake of September 11 – at the same time he tells a much bigger story about collective identity in the aftermath of the tragedy. This could have turned out incredibly cheesy, but I thought Hamid told a beautiful story of both the individual and the collective at the same time; his artfully crafted story about Changez allows him to explore a variety of present and urgent themes that have emerged in the early days of this century.

On the themes:

Hamid deals with some pretty huge questions: Who are we? Where are we going? What do we want? What are we afraid of? He tackles individual identity/collective identity, fears/hopes, American/foreign, past/present, storytelling/narrative, personal connections/communication.

It’s postmodern, with a post-terrorism twist. It’s interesting to see how these events – terrorist attacks and Iraq war – are starting to play out (be explored? be exploited?) in different forms of media today.

Below are some of my favorite passages:

On Changez's dialogue: it’s so distinguished and clever, and sometimes witty.

Suffice it to say that in relationship to the contemporary female icons of your country, she belonged more to the camp of Paltrow than to that of Spears. (22)

On beautiful language: I loved some of the passages about Erica – Hamid’s prose is like gliding clouds or the ocean. He needs few words to completely describe complexities of Erica’s inner goings on.

Often, as we stood or sat in the midst of an impeccably turned-out crown, I would observe that she was utterly detached, lost in a world of her own. Her eyes were turned inward, and remarks made by her companions would register only indirectly, on her face like the shadows of gliding clouds across the surface of a lake. ….. But I had come to suspect that hers were not merely the lapses of the absent-minded; no, she was struggling against a current that pulled her within herself, and her smile contained the fear that she might slip into her own depths, where she would be trapped, unable to breathe. (86)

On who we are, as defined by ourselves and others:

For we were not always burdened by debt, dependent on foreign aid and handouts; in the stories we tell of ourselves we were not the crazed and destitute radicals you see on your television channels but rather saints and poets and—yes—conquering kings. (101)

On past and present, and who we are:

There was something undeniable retro about the flags and uniforms, about generals addressing cameras in war rooms and newspaper headlines featuring words such as duty and honor. I had always thought of America as a nation that looked forward; for the first time I was struck by its determination to look back. (115)

On hopes/dreams/certainty:

What your fellow countrymen longed for was unclear to me—a time of unquestioned dominance? Of safety? Of moral certainty? I did not know—but that they were scrambling to don the costumes of another era was apparent. I felt treacherous for wondering whether that era was fictitious, and whether—if it could indeed be animated—it contained a part written for someone like me. (115)

On certainty/knowing/past/present:

Our creed was one which valued above all else maximum productivity, and such a creed was for me, doubly reassuring because it was quantifiable—and hence knowable—in a period of great uncertainty, and because it remained utterly convinced of the possibility of progress while others longed for a sort of classical period that had come and gone, if it had ever existed at all. (116)

On histories/stories/narratives/truth:

But surely it is the gist that matters; I am, after all, telling you a history, and in history, as I suspect you—an American—will agree, it is the thrust of one’s narrative that counts, not the accuracy of one’s details. (118)

Going with Flo

So I've finished "Mister Pip" and will post my comments on that shortly, but I thought I'd first reply to Eleanor's "On Chesil Beach" post. I did get the next book, "The Reluctant Fundamentalist" this evening so I will start on that right away. Has anyone found any of the other three? I didn't see them at the store tonight. It took me a long time actually to find "The Reluctant Fundamentalist" (it was on a table of new arrivals rather than anywhere alphabetical) and I was getting rather frustrated. I already had sort of a crappy end to my day with a procedure not working which has a habit of not working on Friday afternoons...I even debated whether or not to look at the results because I've had such bad luck with it and didn't want my weekend soured. But I did look and it didn't work so I was left with the solace of an evening at the bookstore which the inefficient book sorting of the store almost ruined. However, if not for the extended search, I would never have found this, and this discovery certified my day a good one. Failed experiment or no, the fact that Allison (though I'll always think of her as Pam) felt the call to be a novelist convinced me that I truly can accomplish anything.

In reply to Eleanor, in terms of the readability of On Chesil Beach or Atonement, I guess this is a matter of taste--I find his prose to be delightful. There's wonderful turns of phrase and a peculiar rhythm that engrosses me. I can see how this rhythm might also just daze someone. Beyond the style of writing, I had my issues with this book and with his others as I mentioned in my last post. Reading some of the reviews online I read someone say that McKewan is "a great writer, but a mediocre artist"...I think that is a bit harsh, I would prefer "uneven artist." I still would argue that Atonement is a strong book and I think there are many good things about On Chesil Beach. A lot of the criticism on the net has been about the unbelievability of the story--that a relationship couldn't break up over a bad sex episode, with all the attendant jokes one could make. I strongly disagree with that--I wonder if the "bad sex can ruin everything storyline" might play better in America than elsewhere. I found it plausible.

I had more sympathy for Edward than Eleanor did--naturally I think he is going to come off more negatively to an outside observer than Florence in this situation but I thought McKewan made several efforts to convince the reader that Edward 1) genuinely loved Florence and 2) was clueless that she wasn't as equally excited as he was about their wedding night. I don't think McKewan wanted us to assign blame to either party but to view it as a series of symmetrical misunderstandings. Where I think we can assign blame to both of them--or what strains credulity--is not the drama of the wedding night or even the annulment that followed, but that over the next thirty years neither of them contacted each other or bothered to look the other up. Especially given that Edward was in the music business (though not the classical music business). Still--don't you think he might have occasionally flipped to the classical magazines to see what his ex-wife was up to? Over 30 years? I google totally non-famous people who don't know that I exist on a regular basis.

The other criticism I've seen in the blogosphere is that McKwean is formulaic--small decisions having disastrous consequences, how misunderstandings balloon, the connectedness between large and small events. The critics making this point acknowledge that these are good themes but that he seems to recycle them without adding much new. I would agree and this is the heart of my "no grace" point in my previous post. That being said, they are important themes and I think he does them justice to varying degrees in his different books. Atonement being the best that I have read (though I've heard some of his early stuff I haven't read is equal to it). I'd put On Chesil Beach up there above Amsterdam and Saturday, but it may be a correction prize this year, because they didn't give it to him for Atonement.

As for the references to sexual abuse, I don't have the book in front of me but I think there were at least two places where it was alluded to, the most obvious being a flashback of Florence's where she remembers her father getting dressed. The description of her relationship with him is also strained.

Mister Pip will be my next post shortly. I've only read two of the books for this year and while both were enjoyable and I do have four to go, I'm a little disappointed that this is apparently the best the year has to offer. Since I don't usually read within "annual" limits maybe I'm being too tough--that is, comparing the best of one year to the whole time line of literature isn't going to favor the one year picks--still, I'm hoping The Reluctant Fundamentalist is a standout.

First take on Chesil Beach

Well, I've finished about as much of On Chesil Beach as I can handle. I should probably wait to post something, so that I can ruminate on my thoughts and compose something eloquent. Except the way I feel about posting is the same as I felt about the story: I have no patience for it.

I feel awkward in saying this, since I apparently don't (anymore?) understand great literature or great writers, but there's something about Ian McEwan's writing that makes me want to skip entire chunks, to turn the page, no pages without reading. Maybe I haven't given it the college try, and I should try to read a few more books, but I'm afraid that I'll have a similar experience of picking it up and finding it a dreadful chore to turn pages. I started Atonement several times and just couldn't get into it so I put it down each time, and I had a similar experience with Chesil Beach.

I actually did find the first chapter engaging, and sort of wanted to find out the backstory about these people and their connection. But as I started chapter 2 I found myself very quickly progressively less interested in the characters or their story at all. I skipped to the end and read the last chapter. And then I felt like I had cheated, so I went back looking for juicy parts. Just now I tried to make myself read the rest of it - the middle chunk - but I found myself again skipping whole paragraphs and then pages. So, given that I gave the middle a slightly light reading, here's what I got.....

Firstly, I agree with Paulio's second comment about the believability of Florence's fears. I found Florence's character development to be the most engaging thing about the story. I found her inner dialogues, her small movements, her rationalizations to be so real. I agree that all of Florence's thoughts and actions, and the events of their wedding night seemed entirely within the realms of normal human experience -- especially given two relatively inexperienced (in ways of deep intimacy) young people who seemed to have some real lack of communication at some level (which was probably also part of the times and also totally normal).

I did find it sad that Edward has his realization about his losing what was potentially the best relationship with another person in his whole life in such a brief moment of lack of communication. I can only speculate about what may have happened with Florence -- Would she have become more comfortable with intimacy? Would he have had flings on the side and would she have been content? I don't think I got enough about her to really guess.

I haven't fully worked out yet what I think about their lack of/communication prior to and on the wedding night. I need more time to think about it. I'm ruminating on....Did Florence really "deceive" Edward by not revealing more of her issues with intimacy prior to the marriage -- should she have said more or voiced her concerns prior? Does Florence get points for her (fairly straightforward) explanation on the beach that sex just isn't her gig and that she understands he'll need it and can pursue it if he wants? Edward certainly feels that she deceived him by not telling him about her lack of desire for sexual intimacy, but at the same time, he didn't do a good job of explaining his own anxieties on the wedding night or explaining himself on the beach after the blunder that occurred. I saw that they both played a role in the disastrous (but possibly totally normal and probably to be expected) wedding night blunder -- but Edward didn't really take responsibility for his role in it, or communicate his own fears before or after -- so isn't he a bit hypocritical to judge that she's deceived him and that everything is her fault? I guess therein lies the tragedy at the end.

Again, my opinion may be tainted by the fact that I didn't exactly read the "entire" thing, but I found Edward to be thin, shallow, boring, and annoying.

Where was the allusion to past sexual abuse?

Wish I were at the beach....

Ooh, the first real book post - Splendid! I think there is indeed a Booker craze, as I was not the only person in line for several books at the library.

Good news that I obtained Chesil Beach from the library this morning. I have already become swept up by the Reluctant Fundamentalist, but I might put it down and get on the Beach soon so that I can catch up.

Will write something real soon. Also will force myself not to read your real post for a few more days.