Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky

This is a book that's probably better known for its author, who died at the hands of the Nazis, than the plot, which was to be a huge, five volume undertaking about the Nazi occupation of France. Why a biological Jew was writing a book about life in occupied France instead of getting the hell out of France is a mystery, one that probably will never be answered. While her husband, who was also killed, tried desperately to save them, Nemirovsky seemed fated to passing away.

Ironically, her last, unfinished book, uncovered after decades, seemed to be more favorable to the Germans who would kill her than her own countrymen. This is probably partly due to hoping to stay alive and partly because she was not a native of France, and probably had some resentment of the natives.

At any rate, this book is really two books--an introduction to all the characters she'd intended to use, and also a second book, more readable than the first, concentrating on a small part of them, and in particular the relationship between a German officer and a French woman who does not particularly care for her missing husband or mother-in-law.

The main problem I have with this one is that, in wishing to respect the dead author, the editor made no attempt, especially in the first half, to make the book more legible. There are a lot of places where "he said" and "she said" dominate, and with so many characters passing through, I frequently had no idea who was speaking.

Even in the second part, this was a problem. There are also a few times where it's clear there was placeholder sections, and even a few, "this is what I'm going to do with X" passages. For some people, this makes it an impossible book for them to read. That's a fair argument, and I don't fault them for it. I fumbled with the first half for quite awhile, and considered giving up myself. The dense text and obvious need for revision do tend to make this something you read more for historical purposes than for pure enjoyment.

It also doesn't help that Nemirovsky appears to be a tell, don't show type of writer. There's a lot of times where a lengthy piece of text stands in where dialog or a short scene could have done better. I haven't read any of her other work, so I don't know if this is a trait or just a quirk of being unedited, but for someone who really prefers the characters to just talk a lot, her endless scenes of telling us what her cast was intending, doing, or failing to do really just didn't grab me.

All in all, I feel like this is a book better suited for those looking for a historical oddity than a good story. It seems like the popularity of the work derives more from the tragedy of the writer's life than the quality of the work itself. Though I know it got a lot of buzz at the time, I just don't think this one is worth it unless you are looking it at from a cultural standpoint instead of a literary standpoint.

I appreciate those who want to read it as such, and I am glad Nemirovsky's family was able to get some closure with its publication. But it's obviously not something that was intended in this form for publication. I just don't really enjoy reading work that wasn't meant for/ready for publication--that's not what I want out of my fiction as a general rule. I read far too much non-fiction to analyze my fiction from a cultural standpoint. If you read fiction for fiction's sake, I think you're probably best served elsewhere. If you want to see a writer struggle with writing a narrative that expresses her frustrations but tries to keep the "winning" side happy, then give this a shot, but be prepared to read a story that wasn't even at workshop quality by the time it had to be abandoned.

The Fall of Troy by Peter Ackroyd

The only Ackroyd I'd read prior to this was his first entry in the series of brief biographies he's doing, on Chaucer. I liked it quite a bit, and made a note to read some of his fiction at a later date.

This book was in the NYT Book Review a little while back, and I kept it in mind for future reference. I saw it on the shelf on a random book hunt, and figured it was time to read some Ackroyd.

I am very glad I did. Ackroy's prose in this book is engaging, sharp, and compelling. While I admit that the subject matter was not only of interest but of recent memory (I just finished a documentary on Troy), I do not think you have to be a fan of Homer to like this book.

Ackroyd sets up a fictional archaeologist with the same desires and complexities as his real life model. In real life, the finder of Troy was a relic-hunting thug who did almost anything to make the facts fit his theory--eventually destroying the real Troy in the process. Ackroyd uses that temple perfectly, adding his own sinister touches. Our protagonist is a man with many secrets, which he keeps from our other main character, his wife. She is basically sold to him in exchange for her parents to deal in the antiquities found at Troy. The more she realizes that something is wrong with her life, the more interesting the book becomes.

This is almost a mystery as Ackroyd allows the secrets of his characters to seep out into the pages like the secrets of Troy seeped out into the shovels, trowels, and sifters of the archaeological teams. We have to puzzle together the truth of these people with the myths of Homer echoing in the background. Ackroyd flavors the book with constant references to Homer, which I must tell you is a lit geek's dream. As the pages flew past (this was a very quick read for me) I was happily entertained by the combination of historical and literary references.

Within that framework, Ackroyd makes wonderful supporting characters. There is the mysterious assistant, willing to do anything for the archaeologist. A gossipy vicar is one of several visitors, including an American skeptic and a British linguist. A blind specialist in pottery uses his hands to feel the ages, while the Turkish supervisor lurks on. (This may be the best part of Ackroyd's crafting in this novel--the supervisor is given a harsh look on first blush, but as the story plays out, you begin to see that all is not as it appears. Like the reader, the supervisor must keep pushing for answers. It is, I think, a brilliant device.) I am again reminded of a good mystery--the supporting cast brings the main characters into sharp relief, but are more than just props.

It's hard to cover the plot of this one without giving too much away. The best I can tell you is that our "hero" is so driven to find his Troy that he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, leading to some rather suspicious circumstances and peril for those who disagree-even his wife. He will find Troy no matter what the cost. The other half of this coin is the wife, who, like the reader, must decide if she wishes to buy into his obsession-based logic or risk being crushed by its weight. The answer lies within the pages, which I strongly urge you to read!

Warriors of God by James Reston, Jr.

No, this is not about modern politics, though perhaps it is, indirectly. This is a book about King Richard the Lionheart and Saladin and their role in the Third Crusade. I grabbed it on impulse at the library, and was pleasantly surprised by its quality.

The book starts off with the early, pre-crusade careers of both leaders, highlighting parts of their lives that shadow their later exploits. This is the only part of the book that drags a bit--it's hard to do the whole "Adam begat Abel, and Abel began Pepcid AC and Pepsid begat Relief" thing in a compelling manner.

Once we get get going, however, this is a very engaging read, as Reston describes the battles that destroyed the fragile Kingdom of Jerusalem. My prior knowledge of this part of wold history is frighteningly small, but I wasn't shocked to learn at all that petty bickering combined with inept leadership left the Christians ripe for the picking once the Muslims had a good leader, and Saladin was most definitely that man. While the Christians allowed political wrangling and appeals to pride to rule them, leading to the terrible King Guy and the pirate Reginald (apparently, "Though Shalt Not Steal" does not apply to unbelievers, though that seems to be missing from my copy of the text...) and some really stupid ideas (such as attacking a well-fortified area with no supply line and no water--guess how that ended up!), Saladin bided his time, let patience rule him as much as possible, and slowly but surely pushed the Christians out of the Holy Land.

But make no mistake, Saladin wasn't perfect. Throughout the text, he has many crises of faith--being the standard bearer for a whole religion is taxing, and on the Christian side, the lack of unity almost helped keep the pressure off Richard a bit. He also had a hard time keeping the unity he worked so hard to set up in the Muslim world. Still, he was an amazing General, as the text reveals, and his behaviour towards his enemies and the few Jews in the Holy Land make the Christians look like barbarians. (While Saladin invited the Jews back to Jerusalem, the Christians were having bonfires with their Jews, not to mention that during the first Crusade, Jews were the first to be slaughtered when they reached the walls. Frankly speaking, no pun intended, but the Christians come off rather badly in this whole affair.)

Once things are rolled up in the Holy Land, we turn back to Europe to see what Richard is up to. Seems he and his father didn't get along too well, and the legend of Richard as a strong fighter came mostly from fighting with his dad, and not just in terms of verbal banter, either, though apparently Richard was quite the wit, as Reston reveals in judiciously used quotes. He was also, which I appear to be the only person on earth who didn't know this, a homosexual until he had to get married for political reasons. Funny, that never comes up in Robin Hood, and I wonder if anyone told Sean Connery. He even had no women at his coronation session, and I hear it was a very gay affair. Ahem. Moving on. Richard's proclivities in his youth lead to trouble, however, because the other person headed off to Crusade with him is King Phillip of France, England's frequent rival and now a spurned lover.

I'm sure you're shocked, this doesn't go well, and Reston shows over and over again how Richard can't help but make himself look better than his old lover, building up a resentment that will lead to Richard being imprisoned after the Crusade is over. Apparently war and the French don't go together very well, because the French cut and run after a bit, leaving Richard, fresh off more conquests en route, to face Saladin alone.

This is the fun part of the book, from a military standpoint. Richard and Saladin were men ahead of their time, and, in the case of Richard, one of them may have been the best at personally leading his men of any General, ever. Reston includes many accounts of Richard single-handedly keeping the Crusaders in the fight when all seemed lost, most notably at the very end, where Richard needs to make landfall with a small army. (The way is blocked, until Richard himself leads the fight to clear up the beach. If I read that in a fiction book, I admit, I'd feel as though the author overreached, but apparently, it's true. Like I said, Richard was amazing.)

The Christians, badly outnumbered, far from home, and still squabbling all the way, manage to beat back Saladin to the point that he is ready to give up on Jerusalem and work to prevent Arthur from becoming another Ceasar. But maybe there's something to that divine intervention thing, because Richard gets cold feet just as he's about to win, pulling back at the right time for Saladin to be able to fight to a draw. This is just what he wants, because once Richard is gone, Saladin knows he can take out the Christians at a time and place of his choosing.

Like a paper cup that's been refilled one too many times, though, once the fight is over, neither party does very well. Saladin returns home, and, very ill, passes away soon after. Richard tries to flee back to England, and ends up captured by his foes and ransomed like a damsel in distress. He spends the rest of his life fighting with his ex-lover and settling disputes by fighting, the only thing he turns out to be good at. His end is far less glorious than anything he ever accomplished on foreign soil.

Reston's text, while long (it clocks in at just under 400 trade paperback pages), is fresh throughout, and his accounts of the battle are quite clear. At times, it's like reading a scrit for a History Channel documentary--he peppers discussion with sarcastic comments that also help keep the text moving. For example, when Richard (comically?) suggested a marriage between the two families, and Saldin's brother balks at being married to less than a Queen, Reston quips, "The players were being difficult." It's things like that which bring this up over the usual history book to something I'd recommend for people who aren't big fans of non-fiction.

This is not to say that the book isn't well-researched. Reston quotes where needed, and takes pains to point out the facts versus the legends, especially in the case of Richard. (I love how he handles Robin Hood, for instance.) He also does a great job of hopping across the world without spreading himself too thin. I was able to get the whole picture, and since this was a "world war" before they called them that, a sense of scope is highly important. All in all, though this is considered a "popular history" (translation--not dry enough!), I'd consider it a model of how to write an engaging and concise history of an event that more people should learn about.

If there's a lesson in this book, it's that every time Christians try to take over the lands that belong to the Muslims, it ends up badly for the Christians, and that Sunnis and Shiites never have gotten along very well. Deal with a moderate leader fairly, and we can all get along. But when you push people too far, they will fight. Apparently, this hasn't gotten through to modern times very well, and we're only going to learn that lesson to our peril. Since this book pre-dates all of today's problems, it would be asking too much of Reston to think he was trying to sound a warning to would-be Crusaders. But I can't help but think after reading this book that any attempt to take the Holy Land is going to end in disaster--even if our new goal isn't the True Cross, but Pure Crude.

I Am America (and so can you!) by Stephen Colbert

We got this out in audio book form, and while the CDs are slightly abridged, I think that's probably the best way to approach this material. It's one thing to imagine Colbert's over the top stylings in your head; hearing the real thing makes it that much better.

"Shouted" by the author, this book is a spot-on parody of Bill O'Reilly's cliff-note for neocons books, just as the show is a blatant take-off of O'Reilly's TV show. Cobert pretends to genuinely espouse policies and opinions that are only slightly more out there than those proclaimed by real conservatives, with a little help from a few friends (Amy Sedaris and Jon Stewart, amongst others) along the way. Short and punchy, the book takes on subjects ranging from child-rearing to the elderly (who he says are hard of hearing so he insults them in low tones and then flatters them with shouted hackneyed compliments) to immigration (in which he brings the elderly back into things by suggesting they all be hired as border patrol, since they are very good at telling kids to get off their lawns).

If you're chuckling at that last line, you'll laugh out loud as you listen to Colbert try so very hard to pretend he actually believes the things coming out of his mouth. This is parody at its best--just sincere enough to make you think maybe it's real commentary. Or maybe I've just spent too much time on the conservative side of things and it's hard to tell their reality from Colbert's fiction.

There's so much fun to be had in this one--whether it's Colbert's starting off by his statement that he won't give the book to libraries (and if you borrowed the book, you're a welfare queen) or his stated distrust of books, knowledge, and reading--and the wonderful skewering of internet "fact" that goes along with this diatribe--even those who fall on the right side of the political fence should be laughing right along. If you are a fan of the show--and even if you're not--you really need to check this out. It's better than Al Franken's work and less pretentious than the Daily Show. Enjoy!

Sunday Readings 05-17-2009

A few links to items of interest that I've found over the course of the past few weeks:

The Wall Street Journal calls this a "New Age of Discovery", as people rush around the world trying to find and preserve online items that may be destroyed for whatever reason. I am particularly interested in reading that new version of Medea, and wonder if there's some alternative Homers out there somewhere. I'd also love to read the one from the Crusades, a part of world history I am really starting to get interested in. An interesting look into something I'd, perhaps surprisingly, never given much thought to.

In a similar vein, Bibliodyssey has some examples from the National Library of Serbia of Cyrillic manuscripts.

Steven Burt has some thoughts on the fact that apparently only 8% of Americans are reading poetry. David Blaine says in a reply that all 8% are poets, and that's not hard to believe. When I was on Goodreads, as soon as I started posting poetry reviews, I was asked if I wrote poetry myself. (Truth is I do, but only privately--I haven't tried to publish a poem since 4th grade.) I tend to agree with his point--if there's still an audience, why worry? Also, were the people who could quote Longfellow daily actually reading any *new* poetry? My bet's on no.

And speaking of poetry, the Best American Poetry blog tells me that New Zealand has a "Best of...", too, that only publishes online.

Everything Happens in Chillicothe by Mike Shannon

[It's almost time for the Frontier League season to start again, so what better thing to post than this?]

Subtitled "A Summer in the Frontier League with Max McLeary, the One-Eyed Umpire", this book somewhat haphazardly follows McLeary around some of his Frontier League games in the 2000 season, from opening day through the first level of the playoffs. Shannon was originally just looking for some fun quotes when he met McLeary but the focus soon changed as he realized that not only was McLeary an interesting person beyond the obvious (a one-eyed ump?) but the Frontier League had a lot going on for it if you were a person who liked watching people who have no guarantees play the sport hard.

Soon, they were on the road together, drinking after games, following the two teams Max umpired most regularly (Chillicothe and Richmond), and getting a feel for this baseball league that got nothing from the Major Leagues except the occasional signing or former player coming in as a manger.

This book's high points are reading the periodic game summaries and quotes from things that have either happened to Max or to players in the Frontier League. Max handing his eye to an outraged coach and offering to let him call the game is just one of fun ones. The story of trying to make it as an unaffiliated minor league team is also a very compelling read. One owner-manager slowly cracks as the season progresses while another manager complains of incompetent umpiring at the same time Max and his friends say the league treats the umpires poorly (only 2 take the field each game to save money, for instance, and raises for playoff games are a pittance).

Players come and go throughout the season and injuring yourself is probably fatal to your career. A player who struggles just doesn't get any time to right himself, with so many people jumping at the chance to play ball and when they do play well, their teams suffer because they are signed to a big league's squad instead. (This actually harms one team's chances quite a bit over the course of the book. It's both a happy moment and a sad one--exactly the type of thing Bill James was arguing about when he said baseball's minor league system is unfair to the cities that house them.)

I really enjoyed reading about all of the above, and not just because I've gone to a few Washington Wild Things games, a team that is now in the Frontier League that was not when the book was written. I prefer watching people play hard to watching people get a paycheck and I actually prefer going to see a minor league game nowadays for that reason. Had this book solely been those topics, it would have an unconditional recommendation.

But Shannon, for reasons I don't understand, has to talk for pages at a time about what *he* was doing over the course of the year--a getaway with his wife, his relationship to his father, the need to go to church every day, etc.--and they stop the book cold every time. It's one thing to mention going to the baseball hall of fame and cornering Carlton Fisk about an umpiring accident. It's quite another to relate how you went mountain climbing with your wife in a book about struggling baseball teams and a cyclopsian umpire. The frequent insertions of the author into the text hurt the book in my opinion. Between that and the overt religious references, this book could have been about 50 pages shorter and more cohesive overall with the digressions removed.

Max is a very interesting fellow--he made some mistakes over his life, and a more religious person than I would say he was humbled by the experience of losing an eye and either way has worked hard to overcome that disability. He doesn't get every call right, but we do get inside the minds of the umpires in this book--why they might call a close play a certain way, for instance, or that they really are hurt when people don't think of them as human. I wish Shannon had tried to get inside Max's head a bit more and left some of the religion-based commentary to himself, but I'd still recommend this to any baseball fan as a great read for the off-season, when you need your baseball fix.

The Lady in the Lake by Raymond Chandler

That's not what the cover of the edition I read looked like, but I am a sucker for old editions of classic books, so this is the one I'm going with.

I've mentioned before I'm a mystery-detective fiction fan, so it's not surprise that I've taken to the Chandler I've read and watched like a duck to water. So if this review ends up gushing and glowing, you've been warned.

Another Phillip Marlowe story, this one involves Marlowe being asked to discreetly investigate a rich man's wife and quickly spirals into a complicated plot involving multiple homicides, brushes with police (both honest and otherwise), fast cars and fast action. Before Marlowe knows it, he's up to his neck in a plot so convoluted only a writer in the pre-workshop era could have pulled it off.

And that's just the way Marlowe (and I) like it.

I find writing about mysteries just a bit tricky because I don't want to give away any of the multiple twists and turns Chandler provides the reader as Marlowe gets deeper and deeper into trouble, trying at times to either protect or implement his client in the proceedings. The lies pile up one after the other, as Marlowe feels no need to play straight with anyone he doesn't trust--and sometimes, those he does.

For a modern reader, there's a definite sense of confusion at times, especially towards the end when Chandler must wrap up all his loose ends in a bundle that only ties together neatly if you don't think about it too hard and don't worry about "fair play"--the practice of giving the reader everything he or she needs to solve the crime. I have a fairly high tolerance for twists and turns in a story, but even I have a few moments where I wanted to just ask Chandler to end the story before Charles Lindbergh showed up asking for his baby.

But let's face it, you're not reading a Marlowe story for the plot, just like you're not watching Monk because it challenges the brain. You're here because Marlowe is one hell of a character, and Chandler's no-nonsense, amazingly scripted internal monologue of perpetual description is always there to put a smile on your face.

Some examples, drawn randomly:

"I got my knees under me and stayed on all fours for awhile, like a dog who can't finish his dinner, but hates to leave it."

"The hop was tall and thin and yellow and not young and as cool as a slice of chicken in aspic."

"In a little while it was dark enough and he sang and went away into the invisible depths of sky. I snapped my cigarette into the motionless water a few feet away and climbed back into the car and started back in the direction of Little Fawn Lake."

"My hand went out for it, stiff as an eggshell, almost as brittle."

"A wizened waiter with evil eyes and a face like a gnawed bone put a napkin with a printed peacock on it down on the table in front of me and gave me a Bacardi cocktail."

I think you get the idea.

There are some problems, of course, with the style. Marlowe, while taking his lumps early and often, seems like a super hero at times in his ability to get out of anything--eventually. There's also the problem of women in pulp works, especially of this nature. There's not a good dame in the bunch here and they often fold like water at Marlowe's toughness. I understand this as part of the genre and acknowledge (but not endorse) it, the same as I do when an otherwise good writer throws racial stereotypes at me. If you are particularly sensitive to those types of issues in fiction, you're better off staying away on this one.

Whether or not you're interested in the story depends entirely on how much you like Chandler's writing. If you get hooked into the constant patter of Marlowe and his jaundiced view of humanity--he didn't invent the phrase "I'm only in it for the money" but he might as well have--you'll love this book no matter how implausible the story gets. (I think where Marlowe tries to escape a trap set for him by hanging outside the window of a seedy hotel is probably the best example of this in "Lake.")

If on the other hand, you find the tone annoying--Chandler's writing style is almost always that of conversation without another party getting a chance to interrupt--or think those quotes above are some of the worst writing you've ever seen, then you're not going to like this at all. Chandler is definitely one of those writers you either enjoy or hate.

I of course fall into the former category, finding interesting stylings better reads than the polished work that's been edited to death in a writing workshop. If you're looking for a classic of the 1940s, this is definitely the book for you.