New Century Reading

The Power and the Glory

Graham Greene has long been on my literary bucket list, so when Kristin announced The Power and the Glory as the February book club selection, I was all over it. (Even though I missed the discussion to due bad road conditions.) I had not previously read anything by Greene, and after this, I'm not sure I should again. Not because it was bad--far from it. It was so good that I wonder if anything else could live up to it. Anyone read this and any other books by Greene and is willing to comment?

This is a short book, but not a quick read. The main character is one of the only remaining priests in a southern Mexican state; the others have been kicked out, executed, or in one poor priest's situation, forced to marry a woman. The last priest is trying to escape with the law determined to find him and end his life.

But he's far from a perfect priest. He's all too human, a "whisky priest", with a list of sins a mile long. His journey, both physical and spiritual, make up the bulk of the book, and it's powerful indeed. This is not the road to sainthood or martyrdom, but a very human, despairing seeking out of life. A crucifixion tale? Yes, maybe.

It's interesting to read this book, published in 1940, and view it through the Catholic Church today (FYI, I'm not Catholic, so I'm an amateur commenter at best here). The flaws of the Church are getting a great deal of publicity now (including in my community, in which a priest who abused young boys for years ended up getting a pension and disability from the Church, as well as support for a second career, while the boys he abused were referred to public social workers). But the arrival of Pope Francis, who is hugely interesting, gives me pause. I don't want to give spoilers, but this book and the current church scene seem to fit together very well.

And gorgeous, wonderful writing:

"Common sense was a horrifying quality she had never possessed: it was common sense which said, 'The dead can't hear' or 'She can't know now' or 'Tin flowers are more practical.'"

"Happiness drained out of him more quickly and completely than out of an unhappy man: an unhappy man is always prepared."

"All around was the gentle noise of the dripping water. It was nearly like peace, but not quite. For peace you needed human company--his aloneness was like a threat of things to come."

Well worth the read, and so glad I had the opportunity.

David Copperfield

"Villany is the matter; baseness is the matter; deception, fraud, conspiracy, are the matter; and the name of the whole atrocious mess is -- HEEP!"

I think this is the most satisfying sentence in the entire book so far.

This was a pretty satisfying section overall. It's book-ended with references to suicide: in the opening section, Martha has fallen so far that she wants the river to take her away forever, and at the end, we have the odious Miss Dartle urging Little Em'ly to kill herself. In between, we have the clear sense that Dora isn't long for the world, although she doesn't seem destined to die in childbirth:

"The spirit fluttered for a moment on the threshold of its little prison, and, unconscious of captivity, took wing."

OK, that is an absolutely beautiful and heart-rending description of miscarriage.

We learn the truth about the strange man and Aunt Betsey, which felt sort of anti-climactic along with everything else, although I very much liked her self-described "grumpy, frumpy story". But we also had the wonderfully dramatic story of the Micawbers. We don't know what's happened, exactly, but we know Uriah Heep is at the root of it, and dare we hope that Mr. Micawber actually has some proof to put down this villain once and for all, and release the Wickfields from his evil grasp? Now that's a worthy cliffhanger.

Do you think Twaddles will ever get married? And why didn't Davy rush in to protect Little Em'ly from the demonic Dartle? Why wait for Mr. Peggotty? What was the point of that?

Only three more weeks--chapters 51-53 for next week. Or maybe four weeks, if I get around to reading the introduction to my edition (Penguin Classic) and want to talk about it.

Dark Lies the Island

Dark Lies the Island by Irish author Kevin Barry was a book of big ups and downs for me. The opening story seemed nothing more than a slight vignette, but the next few stories gained traction with wonderful characters. Hands-down, my favorite was Fjord of Killary, about a middle-aged washed-up poet with writer's block who buys an ancient inn in the middle of nowhere because he thinks it will rejuvenate him. I won't give more than that away, except to say it was full of interesting people and a flood, and let it go at that. Here's the opening paragraph:

"So I bought an old hotel on the fjord of Killary. It was set hard by the harbor wall, with Mweelrea Mountain across the water, and disgracefully gray skies above. It rained two hundred and eighty-seven days of the year, and the locals were given to magnificent mood swings. On the night in question, the rain was particularly violent—it came down like handfuls of nails flung hard and fast by a seriously riled sky god. I was at this point eight months in the place and about convinced that it would be the death of me."

But after that, the stories mostly returned to vignettes. There were stories with shocking violence, like one about two older women who spend their summers doing unspeakable things, which seemed designed mostly to shock, and not to go into the personalities of the women to find out what drove them--which would have made it significantly more interesting and much less voyeuristic.

So, a disappointment overall, although Fjord of Killary? Great fun.

 

David Copperfield

Well, this set of chapters had a little bit of everything. The first chapter, Housekeeping, was hilarious. But it also showed what I think is the beginning of marital problems, and some excellent common sense on the part of Aunt Betsey when she refuses to become involved. We all know "that" relative who sticks her nose in where it doesn't belong. Aunt Betsey is wise to simply be a friend, not a nag.

But just a few paragraphs into the housekeeping drollery, we have this sentence: "It was such a wonderful thing, at first, to have her coming softly down to talk to me as I ate my supper." That "at first" is rather ominous.

Then Mr. Dick proves that a simple man can be the perfect conduit for re-establishing marital harmony. Take that, Uriah Heep! In fact, I might go so far to say that not only did Heep not firmly ruin the Strongs' marriage, his interference, thanks to Mr. Dick, probably made the marriage better and (sorry) stronger. But, sadly, Mrs. Strong's statement that "There can be no disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose" clearly resonates with Davy. He may still be infatuated with his little Dora, but I think he's starting to realize that she may not have been the best choice for him for wife. He's already seen what a bad marriage looks like, thanks to Mr. Murdstone. Now he may be realizing bad marriages come in different forms.

Then, oh, that awful visit to the Steerforth home. Miss Dartle, what a wench, am I right? Yet Mrs. Steerforth, still so angry, finds it in her heart to tell Davy that his mother would have been proud of him. That scene ends with Dickens at his best in incorporating visuals and emotions:

"As I moved away from them along the terrace, I could not help observing how steadily they both sat gazing on the prospect, and how it thickened and closed around them. Here and there, some early lamps were seen to twinkle in the distant city; and in the eastern quarter of the sky the lurid light still hovered. But, from the greater part of the broad valley interposed, a mist was rising like a sea, which, mingling with the darkness, made it seem as if the gathering waters would encompass them. I have reason to remember this, and think of it with awe; for before I looked upon those two again, a stormy sea had risen to their feet."

The chapter ends with Davy and Mr. Peggotty hot on the trail of Little Em'ly by way of the fallen Martha. I suspect Little Em'ly will be found soon.

Something that struck me in this section was how I get a firm sense that Davy's marriage isn't going to last long, yet, looking back from many years, he still speaks of Dora with love and fondness. Whatever happens, it doesn't seem like it's going to sour him on her.

Some great lines in this section too. About Mrs. Strong's mother: "She was one of those people who can bear a great deal of pleasure". All of Aunt Betsey's asides during the scene at the Strongs. And this gem, about one of the many housekeeping Incapables: "Who was one of the most amiable of women, but who generally made a point of falling either up or down the kitchen stairs with a tray, and almost always plunged into the parlor, as into a bath, with the tea-things."

Next week: Chapters 47-50.

Another ToB finalist, How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia is a tongue-in-cheek self-help book that opens: "Look, unless you're writing one, a self-help book is an oxymoron. You read a self-help book so someone who isn't yourself can help you, that someone being the author." It's a fun opening that's a good hook. Each chapter focuses on a theme you might find in a self-help book of this type: Get an Education, Learn From a Master.

The problem for me is that after a while, it felt gimmicky. Add to that the second-person POV, and the fact that at heart it's really a love story that ends up feeling very contrived, and it lost me. I did finish it, to see how it ended. There are parts of the writing that I did like, but I think I would have liked it a lot more if author Mohsin Hamid had either stayed true to the self-help book theme, or told the story more conventionally without the theme and without the second person. I don't see this one getting far in the Tournament.

David Copperfield

Let's just cut right to the chase. Was I the only person who ended this section expecting one of two things: Either Uriah Heep would somehow ruin the wedding, or the wedding was just a dream?

I've been puzzled a little by Davy's ongoing infatuation with Dora, who seems rather vacuous, but a comment Peggotty makes in the last chapter, that she had seen Davy's mother's wedding, made me think: did Davy unconsciously marry his mother?

And I am the only one who wishes we'd have had a detailed scene of Aunt Betsey and the misses Clarissa and Lavinia, rather than a summary?

For whatever missed expectations or disappointments, the middle chapter, with the odious Mr. Heep, really gripped me. His eeliness/oiliness has never been so reprehensible, and the little power play with Dr. Strong was despicable. Dickens does a lovely job describing the aftermath. Whatever Mrs. Strong's faults and misdirected affections, we have never seen her be unkind to her husband, and as she realizes something is wrong, her increased despair says that even if he is not her first choice, she does have some feeling for him. It's touching. And all to keep Mrs. Strong from being too close to Agnes.

The chapter's title, Mischief, seems like the understatement of the year.

Why on earth does Agnes like Dora? And what about that ominous letter from Mrs. Micawber?

We only have five weeks left. While the wedding itself seems happy, the final sentences of this section seems to be full of foreboding: "I have stood aside to see the phantoms of thsoe days go by me. They are gone, and I resume the journey of my story."

Next week, chapters 44-46.

 

The People in the Trees

This is what I've been waiting for: that book that's a finalist for the Tournament of Books that wasn't on my radar and knocks my socks off. What's more, it's a debut novel, and boy howdy can this woman write.

The People in the Trees is the memoir of Norton Perina, who went on an anthropological study to the remote island of Ivu'ivu in 1950 and made a discovery that cements his role in scientific history: there is a group of people who are immortal--except for their brain function, which declines as normal brain function does, even while their bodies remain at about a 60-year-old level.

While that's fascinating enough, there's much more going on here. We learn early on that Perina was accused of misdeeds with children he brought back from Ivu'ivu and adopted. We learn about the people of Ivu'ivu themselves, and their rituals and lives. We learn a great deal of Perina himself. We learn about Paul Tallent, the researcher who brings Perina along, and Esme, the other researcher whom Perina immediately dislikes and distrusts.

What's more, the memoir's preface is by Ronald Kubodera, a staunch supporter of Perina's who also annotated the memoirs. His footnotes alone tell an intriguing story and develop his own character in surprising ways.

Now, that said, understand: this book isn't for everyone. Some of the rituals on Ivu'ivu are stomach-turning and completely opposite of we'd consider standard morality. I think the author is brave for tackling them, and presenting them in a way that's understandable within the culture of this group of people.

My only other nitpick is the epilogue, which I won't detail here to avoid spoilers, but I have mixed feelings about it, and wonder if the book wasn't better off ending without it. But overall, I found it riveting and hope author Hanya Yanagihara is hard at work on a new book.

David Copperfield

Well. We are hopping right along now. Mr. Spenlow learns of Davy's and Dora's engagement, and makes his opinion known, much to everyone's dismay. Then he dies! Did anyone but me find his death sort of hilarious? What, he had a heart attack and pitched off the side of his carriage? Not very creative, Mr. Dickens!

Miss Murdstone makes a brief but memorable appearance--hurray for this line: "Miss Murdstone gave me her chilly finger-nails", which I will remember every time I'm forced to shake hands with someone I don't like in the future.

But now Dora is a complete wreck, and I fear Miss Mills is not going to be of much help now. Even worse, in his frantic desire to get to Dora and re-establish communication and their engagement, Davy revisits the Wickfields, where it is clear just how completely Uriah Heep is taking hold of things. Even Mr. Micawber is under his spell. Heep has become a truly sinister character, along with his mother (and what is the deal with Dickens and knitters? He really has a thing about making them evil), and one of the best quotes in that chapter is when Dickens describes mother and son as "like two great bats hanging over the whole house." That scene where Davy wants to talk to Agnes, but can't shake the Heeps, is chilling. OTOH, "can't shake the Heeps" may be a new expression to designate times when you feel something bad is about to happen, although you have no reason to think that.

Then there is the sad appearance of Mr. Peggotty--and of fallen Martha. Where do you think that money has come from--as in where did Little Em'ly come by the cash to send to her family? Seems rather ominous to me.

And what will Dora's aunts say to Davy's plea? Will they stay firm? Or, since it sounds like they weren't exactly close with Mr. Spenlow, will they allow the romance to continue? I guess (maybe) we'll find out next week, in chapters 41-43.