It would seem that both the highlights and
lowlights of my 2019 Year in Books involved well-known authors. From my
surprising introduction to Angela Carter to my hugely disappointing (but
annoyingly un-put-down-able) foray into Murakami, books with varying complexity
and depth give no indication of whether they will be good or not. Mysteries
ranged from the dissatisfying unsolved to the resolved too obviously or neatly.
Or the novel is a rollercoaster of zaniness and ideas, as in The passion of new Eve and George
Saunders’ short story collection.
The caveat is, as always, that there is no
accounting for taste. I was supremely discomfited at moments in Carter’s work,
but the same in Saunders’. This was often because unlikeable characters have
unlikeable thoughts. The truth is, this is probably an indication of good writing!
So perhaps I need to spare Julian Barnes my criticism?
Feminist
The passion of new Eve, Angela Carter
Angela Carter has been on my to-read list for a
while, yet I am unsure whether this particular book is a bizarre or
representative introduction to her work. Set in a dystopia of racial and
gendered distrust, Evelyn’s cocksure self is to become somewhat less so – this
is not a spoiler as such – as he becomes the ‘new Eve’. This frenetic adventure questions so many things
including sex, sexuality, gender, love, war, militant protest and religion. I
imagine this book has been a minefield of criticism. Words that stand out to me
in Goodreads reviews are: ‘brutal’, ‘cruel’, ‘hallucinatory’, ‘bizarre’,
‘grotesque’, ‘disturbing’, ‘abrasive’. Not for the faint hearted.
Woman on the edge of time, Marge Piercy
I was sold on this cover at the library, described
as a ‘feminist sci-fi classic’ and with a blurb-recommendation by Margaret
Atwood.
Of a similar vintage to Carter’s novel, Piercy’s addresses
some similar subject matter such as sex, sexuality, gender, love, war and,
importantly, bodily autonomy. Where The
passion of new Eve features an unwilling sex change, Woman on the edge of time reveals a stark reality of life for a
Latino-American woman both in state housing and the mental health system.
Piercy cleverly draws out the connection between Connie and Luciente by filling
in backstory with multiple other characters until the reader suddenly realises
Luciente is not a real person in Connie’s past but is neither a figment. Interchanging
between Connie’s reality in a mental hospital and her visits to Luciente in the
future, this book draws out the tension of the issues in the story while
painting a picture of a utopian future. This was particularly curious to read in
2019 alongside books like Vox by
Christina Dalcher and The testaments by
Margaret Atwood, because a difference in utopia and dystopia relies on women’s
ability to give birth and community rule versus a dictatorial tyranny.
Short stories/anthologies
Civilwarland in bad decline, George Saunders
At the time I considered writing a full review for
this collection of short stories, but I am so often eager to get started on the
next book (and driven by library return deadlines) that I didn’t get around to
it.
This collection completely establishes Saunders’
preoccupation with ghosts alongside dystopian visions. There are twists and
turns, likeable and unlikeable characters, crude humour and dialogue as well as
poignant moments. Sometimes you have to read a short story collection to
discover what an author is truly about and I think this one does exactly that. Incisive,
colourful and readable.
The unreal and the real, volume 2, Ursula K. Le Guin
Having read The
unreal and the real, volume 1, the more ‘real’ of the two volumes, and The
left hand of darkness in 2018 set me up well to enjoy the sci-fi short
stories in this collection.
Highlights included: ‘The matter of Seggri’, in
which Hainish anthropologists infiltrate the world of Seggri and illuminate the
matriarchal culture in which men are oppressed in similar ways to women on
earth, complete with comparable reasons for men not to be educated and being
hormonal and irrational. Very cleverly exposed through different characters’
accounts. Playing with perspectives again, like writing from the perspective of
a tree in The unreal and the real, volume
1, is ‘The ascent of the north face’. ‘Sur’ sees an account of an
all-female Antarctic expedition. ‘Nine lives’ calls into question the ethics of
cloning in a vivid classic sci-fi situation. While ‘Those who walk away from
Omelas’ plays with another classic ethical question. These stories reveal Le
Guin’s cleverness in the sci-fi fantasy genre, her commitment to her
world-building particularly in the Hainish cycle stories, and her ethical and
feminist bents which infiltrate all her writing.
The underwhelming
I read a few underwhelming books this year too.
Some of these fell under an ‘other’ category to my list above, some fall into
the set lists in some way.
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki, Haruki Murakami’s
My first foray into the prizewinning author
Murakami’s work, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki,
was a book I could not put down yet was disappointed by in the end. Reading the
reviews, the issues with the book are representative of Murakami’s work. A
number of mysteries are never really solved or explained, including the core
one, a long story-within-a-story has uncertain relevance, female characters are
all surface and overly sexualised and the protagonist is simply unlikeable (and
not in a good unreliable narrator kind of way). I thought Murakami was supposed
to be this magical poet of a writer, but this encounter has made me reluctant
to read even his most famous works – although I suspect I will get there.
(While his other works are perhaps classics and sometimes dystopian or sci-fi,
I think this one is a bit of an ‘other’ with some fantasy elements. No talking
cats in this one, though.)
The night circus, Erin Morgenstern
The night
circus was
a fantasy novel recommended to me a few years ago by a fellow student with whom
I shared an interest in Isobelle Carmody’s work. I read recently that Erin
Morgenstern wrote her debut during NaNoWriMo – that is over the month of
November, for the uninitiated. Again, similar reasons kept me reading yet
underwhelmed me. A review I read suggested that each of the elements of the
blurb could be deconstructed and helped me to understand my reluctance with
this novel. No spark between the lovers, no urgency to the ‘battle’, too much
back and forth with the timeline. This reviewer suggested the novel was too
long and that lovers of prose would like the book, but while I found some of
the writing lovely and poetic, I found it was more often straightforward than
poetic. The imagery was there simply because the writer liked it, not because
it held any deeper, literary meaning. I bought this book and I’m looking to
give it away – I won’t be reading it again!
Other notable underwhelms:
The sense of
an ending,
Julian Barnes. Apparently Barnes is one of these famous white male writers!
People seem to quote him! This is probably actually a good book. There is some
really great imagery and clever circularity in the use of the imagery in
particular. The narrative in the main, though, seemed to be kind of
narcissistic and there were crudities which, it would seem, tend to go with
this genre of writing and bring out my responsive prudery!
Did you ever
have a family,
Bill Clegg. And what is it with debut writers and complex stories that are achronological
and feature far too many characters? This seems to be a theme of the novels I
have read this year, both debuts and subsequent novels (The
night circus, Sleeping
on Jupiter by Anuradha Roy [not a debut]), like these novice novelists
haven’t read their creative writing rules! I think these people must be
bouncing off of an unwitting success. I actually skim-read some this book
because it was so tedious (clearly not tedious enough to actually put it down
though). It pitched a great mystery to it, then spread off into the tendrils of
a myriad of other characters’ stories which figured in the main story, so only
titbits of information came through about the main mystery in each chapter. The
mystery wasn’t worth it at all.
Something different from a different time
Requiem for a wren, Nigel Schute
I picked up Requiem
for a wren by Nigel Schute from the general library shelf. I have read a
few Vintage Classics, and was at first looking for something completely
different from The testaments to
analyse for a comparative essay. I came back for it later just to read.
It is a wartime mystery and is described as a
romance with a difference. A box-style narrative, the narrator tells another story
within his story, gradually revealing more information leading to the ending
the story began with. This novel was uniquely Australian and shed light on the
English and Australian experience of World War II. I had not read a book like
this before, although I suppose I have watched a great deal of programs and
films set during this time, like Foyle’s war
and The promise.
Some of the language was hard to follow simply because there was no
explanation; I suppose I was expected to know what a Bofors was. (I appreciated
learning some of this when watching a film recently though: I knew that a
Junkers was a German plane and that a Bofors was a gun. I think that was Jojo Rabbit.)
It was a solemn sort of book but I liked the structure and the way the
characters were gradually developed. Again, I sensed where it was going and
perhaps the ending was too neat – there was a bit of an assumption about a
woman’s feelings!
