Bored to Death?

The Flanders Panel
-Arturo Perez-Reverte

In the realm of literary mystery, Perez-Reverte provides a modern, sophisticated and unfortunately shallow look at art, history, mystery and the prototypes of the business.

I chose this novel randomly after studiously perusing the shelves of Barnes and Noble for a smart, interesting mystery. I was tempted to go with a traditional Agatha Christie or Janet Evanovich, but I opted for the quasi DaVinci Code read alike.

The premise is a painting with three subjects and an unfinished game of chess set in the 15th century. Julia, art restorer and protagonist uncovers the real mystery of this painting, an unsolved murder and the unlikely murderer. Soon enough a 20th century game of chess begins and she becomes a living piece on the chessboard.

While the mystery is seemingly interesting in the beginning, shortly enough the plot becomes a mess of poorly orchestrated chess plays and a set of characters that are clunky and pretentious.

Despite the bland plot it is the stereotypical characters that really disappoint. There’s the flaming homosexual, the older, slutty crack addict and the beautiful, independent, single and searching, protagonist. None of these characters would ever associate with each other in real life and I was appalled at the casual use of heroine and alcohol by the cast.

The novel gets two thumbs down from this reader. If this is what “literary” mysteries are all about, I’ll stick to M.E. Braddon or Agatha Christie.

Note: I read the Publisher’s Weekly review after I wrote this and while theirs may be a little more eloquent, I’m glad to see that we’re eerily on the same page.
http://www.amazon.com/Flanders-Panel-Arturo-Perez-Reverte/dp/0553377868

Disgraced...

DISGRACE

J.M. Coetzee

Haunting. Yes, that is the best word to describe this Booker Award winning novel by South African - born Coetzee. This was another random selection off the reading cart one slow graveyard shift at the jail. Although, to be honest, I have heard of Coetzee and have been wanting to read some of his work for quite some time.

Bad news first: this is not a piece of fiction that will be remembered for its great storytelling ability. On the other hand, it will be recognized for its stark realization of society in post-apartheid South Africa. It is a wake up call to many who are not familiar with the terrifying political climate still alive today.

With a text that bleakly deals with rape from two different angles and the comparison between the actions of men and animals, this is not a “light” read. Like many of Coetzee’s contemporary’s, protagonist David Lurie is not an overly likeable character. His almost-rape of a student, questionable personal morals and inability to help his daughter are frightening. Coetzee analyzes not only politics but two sides of modern man; those who take by force and the weak intellectual. While this branches out on a bigger issue that Coetzee may not be trying to cover with this title, where are the dependable, honest, strong men in our society?

Overall, it was a text that left me sad. Sad of how “real” it was and how easy it is to overlook what is still happening in third world countries that do not make the news quite as much as the middle east.

Coetzee as an author has sustainability. It was a hard book to read due to content, not length or lexicon (a quick read, I think it took me two sittings). That said, it has a place in the canon of future generations primarily due the stark social and political implications.

Travels in the Scriptorium

“That was my crime. Take it for what it was, but don’t let it interfere with the reading of this report. Trouble comes to all men, and each man makes his peace with the world in his own way.”

"Travels in the Scriptorium" –Paul Auster, p. 52.

This epithet is misleading. It is also a perfect example of why I am so critical of contemporary literature. Nothing in Paul Auster’s latest work gives any sense of conclusion. The crime is never explained. The protagonist, Mr. Blank, is exactly that, blank and boring. If you like reading literature that is about as interesting as a blank white wall than you will appreciate Auster’s austere piece. No questions are answered, only raised. Mr. Blank has no epiphany because his memory is gone. The reader is left in a whirlwind of confusion that is supposed to be mysterious and modern. Yet, the writing is too cold and automated to find interest in.
Other critics praise Auster for his storytelling abilities. Granted there are a few brief parts where Mr. Blank adlibs the end of an obscure manuscript, but this lasts a few paragraphs. What does this say about character development and leaving a lasting impression on the reader’s mind? Nothing. Nothing at all. There is no lasting impression. No profound conclusion that stays with the reader and passes on from generation to generation. When you can’t respect the main character despite his flaws then what is really the point of the novel? Instead of reveling in his economically written 140 pages, Auster should spend a little more time developing a storyline that intrigues. Saying this story is not so unlike the US today is insulting and unjustified given the few random similarities that were thrown in for good measure. Instead of trying to write to win like other contemporaries such Amis and McEwan, write something worth remembering, something readers won’t feel is a complete waste of time.

Divisadero and the Curse of Writing a Masterpiece

DIVISADERO

- Michael Ondaatje

“He pushed the glass doors open and walked into the night so the coldness filled his shirt. He noticed the square of a window on the slope of the hill. There was a tightrope between the two farms, and below it an abyss.”
p. 221. DIVISADERO

Anyone who knows me knows that The English Patient is not only my favorite movie, but also my favorite book. Ondaatje uses his skill as a poet to write beautiful lyrical prose that simply carries the reader away to the mysterious worlds of Herodotus, Caravaggio and turn of the century France.

Yet, Divisadero is not without its problems. The beginning of the text, which is unusually set in the 1970’s is clunky and without much direction. The plot is slow if not non-existent. Ondaatje focuses on Claire, Coop and Anna who are raised like family since childhood. Anna and Coop have an innocent liaison and then a tragic separation takes place thanks to her father. Then, the story jumps several years down the road to Coop’s self-destructive behavior. The problem is, it isn’t until this section of the novel that the reader really gets hooked onto the characters. Up until then, the reader feels passive, like they are on the outside, looking in. A reader doesn’t want to be on the outside, they want to be there, transformed to where the action is happening.

The final part of the novel transports the reader to turn of the century France, following the life of a recluse writer whose life subtly parallels that of Anna. This was the best and most interesting part of the whole story. Ondaatje’s writing remains beautiful and excels in this section. It is his fluid verse that gives life to the story. Ondaatje also has that gift for weaving history into the mundane and making the whole world seem like one big canvas. Unfortunately, when the writer’s section ends, so does the novel. Anna says a few last words as she reflects on her time spent researching in France, but aside from that there is no conclusion. Part of Ondaatje’s style is that he doesn’t visualize things linearly. The plot starts in the middle, moves backwards and then ends in the present. He also does not feel the need to wrap things up. This vague conclusion leaves the reader hanging in a most disturbing way. Sometimes the unknown is good, but this is too much.

Overall, the characters all have the beginning of what makes well-developed characters. Unfortunately, the segmented style that guides the text keeps the reader from gaining an attachment to the text. While this method works in The English Patient because the characters come full-circle, it doesn’t work for this novel. In fact, so

ABOUT A BOY

I picked up this book haphazardly while I was at work one night when I had absolutely nothing to read. Hornby writes in a carefree, easy manner that is appealing on a casual basis. Having seen the movie too many times to count, it is surprising how similar the book and movie are to each other. Whole sentences are repeatedly taken directly from the text. It made reading the book only okay since I knew what was going to happen - with the exception of the ending between Marcus and Eli.

As far as the movie goes, this is the first film since Sense and Sensibility where Hugh Grant did not act like a mumbling wuss. While I do appreciate the finer distinction of English acting, I cringe at the majority of his spineless characters. (Dare I mention “Notting Hill.” In “About a Boy” the movie, Grant’s acting is strong and his character has personality. He is excellent at the sort of “bad guy” wannabe role. Toni Collett and Rachel Weisz’ performances are exemplar as usual and it’s nice to see English actors in English roles.

While I guess I’m partial to the movie since I saw it first, both mediums provide a perfect mix of comic relief and thoughtfulness. Again, Hornby does an excellent job of portraying modern existence in a not so disturbing way. And, thanks to him, I will watch Hugh Grant movies again.