bookrblog

No Great Mischief

Sunday, October 4th, 2009 | Canadian Literature | No Comments

This is a lovely novel of the Scots in Canada, by Alistair Macleod. It tells the story of a family living with their own language and culture in a difficult land and during difficult times. The old stories of the original exiles from Scotland merge with those living as foreigners in their own land in the twentieth century. Family is everything, language and history permeate everything, but these lead to struggles with a government that doesn’t understand them. Great characterisations, fascinating stories and legends, and exceptional writing make this a wonderful read.

Island

Saturday, July 18th, 2009 | Canadian Literature | No Comments

I bought this book of short stories by Alistair MacLeod under the impression it was by Alistair Maclean who wrote the wartime sagas. MacLeod is actually a Canadian author who writes about the people of Nova Scotia, who speak Gaelic and work in the mines and in the sea. It is an exceptional book. The stories are compelling and the writing is simply beautiful. He reveals an entire world which now barely exists, as few Canadians now speak Gaelic, and the communities who worked so closely together have now drifted apart. His stories are all about people, and range from mildly comic stories (about a boy trying to breed the perfect calf) to utter tragedies. There are love stories of all kinds. He celebrates and examines family, and how the past affects the future. His stories are brilliant; a great find for this year.

The Birth House

Monday, February 9th, 2009 | Canadian Literature | No Comments

Divisidaro

Tuesday, June 5th, 2007 | Canadian Literature | No Comments

This is the long-awaited new novel by Michael Ondaatje. Like his earlier books, it uses lyrical language with embedded quotes and dialogue, occasional authorial comment, and fragmented chronology. It does lack the emotional power, the anger which sparked his previous works; it’s a calmer, even a more distant work. But that’s part of it, because “divisidaro” doesn’t just mean “divisions” (one of the more obvious themes) but also “seeing from a distance”.

All the characters are observed in many different ways, first person, third, the main actor, the one on the sidelines. Unlike his earlier novels, which had scattered characters who come together for a time, this is more about the separation. Lovers are divided, parents from children (most of the characters are orphans), siblings, friends. Their time together is often brief and sometimes imaginary. And yet, despite the ever-present divisions, it’s actually the connections which are stronger. They might not be together, but they feature in one another’s life, colour one another’s lives.

I enjoyed this – it’s a book to read slowly, revelling in the language. I didn’t love it as I did his previous works, but then it took a few reads before I embraced them anyway. Perhaps after a couple more rereads I’ll be waxing more lyrical – but at the moment, it’s true to say I liked it.

Unless

Saturday, December 24th, 2005 | Canadian Literature | No Comments

When I picked up this book by CAROL SHIELDS, I thought at first it was a piece of chicklit. Which as it happens is funny because it’s a story about a woman intending to write a piece of chicklit about a woman who writes. As it turns out it isn’t chicklit, but literary fiction, and that’s what this book is too.

It’s Canadian, and firmly set in the year 2000 - the Bush election mentioned, and a Muslim woman burning herself to death (if you recall, there was a fair bit of media attention about women in Afghanistan back then) - and it’s about how women feel marginalised, sometimes. There’s the main character, Reta, who keep writing letters to male writers about how sexist they are; there’s her mentor, Danielle, who is a great writer being forgotten; there’s Reta’s daughter, who has moved onto the streets and sits there with a piece of cardboard with the word “Goodness” written on it. They all feel pretty frustrated at society’s attitude twards women. I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m too young, but I can’t emotionally appreciate that; as in, I am so utterly aware of society’s attitude towards women that it doesn’t shock me enough of even slightly surprise me. I can’t see it suddenly becoming anything different. Now, I can understand that if you were around in the sixties or seventies as Reta and Danielle were, you might have been led to expect a great feminist revolution, but if you were born after that time, then I can’t see where that expectation would come from. So Reta’s daughter’s reaction doesn’t ring true for me, and the device of the word “Goodness” is a bit too much. On the other hand, it is the kind of thing that I can imagine a person with a mental illness doing, though not out of some deep disappointment with teh way the feminist revolution has gone.

What I do like about this story, apart from the fact that it’s a good flowing read with interesting characters, are the few good lines where you spontaneously respond with - yes, that’s true! (”So is like the oboe, signalling the A pitch to the strings.”) And then there are long discourses on things like the nature of goodness that you can imagine Carol Shields walking along thinking about, and then perhaps talking to someone about, and them replying - yes, that’s so true! Structurally it is pretty interesting the way she manages to keep it all rolling along and yet have both these discourses and the feminist letters not disturbing the flow whatsoever.

It has a happy ending. Reta finishes writing her book and discoveres the mystery of her daughter and in that feels quite satisfied - both in that her daughter has come home and that her daughter feels as strongly about feminism as she does. Oh, I’m simplying it but I think that’s true. It’s comprehensible to her, that’s the main thing. What else do I like? All the characters are attractive, including the wonderful husband, the monther-in-law, the kindly editor and the later curiously amusing one, the daughter’s boyfriend. Even the sexist pigs she’s written letters to to turn out to be pretty nice after all. I think Carol Shields must also be a nice person to be able to think so kindly about everyone. Even though she’s so sad about feminism.