Kevin Powers' The Yellow Birds is a remarkable novel. His prose is meditative, lucid and evocative. As a word-junkie, I love his writing. I have read only a few war novels, but they cover a broad gamut: Remarque's psychological classic All Quiet on the Western Front, the poet Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient, and the big, dramatic Birdsong, by Sebastian Faulks. The Yellow Birds is written by another poet, Powers was the Michener Fellow in Poetry at the University Texas at Austin. Like Remarque, Powers is a combat veteran. He enlisted in the Army at the age of seventeen, and spent two years in Iraq as a machine gunner.
While Powers is a poet, his writing is not poetic in the way Ondaatje's novels are. His prose has a kind of mindfulness, and creates a visceral presence. The book is largely the first-person emotional journey of John Bartle, a young soldier in combat in Iraq in 2004. Powers evokes clearly and without drama, the emotions of war, many of them not very heroic: fear, relief, mental and physical exhaustion. Bartle's reflections on fear are startlingly clear and present. The story includes very little combat "action", the book's action is mainly interior.
I hesitate to mention that this is a "first novel", because those words often imply some limitation or flaw. On the contrary, this is a very accomplished novel, first or otherwise.
I am easily hooked by books about writing. What Happened to Sophie Wilder is a good one. Christopher Beha deals with why people write fiction, how they write, and the love of reading. But, he also digs into family, love, betrayal, and unthinkable actions. Quite unusual for young writers today, he also links all of this with one character's brief encounter with religious faith. This is done with a deft and light touch, largely from the perspective of the friends on the outside of the experience. What Happened is the story of three friends who have high artistic aspirations during college. After graduation they separate. Charlie and his cousin live the alcohol soaked life of intelligentsia-wanna-be's in NYC, and Sophie lands in an unlikely marriage. They have not yet truly found the level of achievement that they have been passionate about, and some keep trying. The human aspect of the novel really gains traction after Sophie accidentally discovers her father-in-law, who she was told was long dead. She then awkwardly cares for him in a serious illness. This material is a lot to work with, and Beha does pull it off. There are some "first novel" weaknesses, but they can be overlooked given the high challenges Beha set for himself. The ending of the book borrows from a Richard Brautigan motif, which some might find too "writers' workshop-ish", but I enjoyed. Write, read.
I don't read many mystery novels. The ones that I have read have been outside the main footprint, like A Person of Interest, on which I commented in this blog. Nathan Larson's The Dewey Decimal System is way outside the box, and is great fun. It is a dystopian noir mystery set in a tottering New York City after coordinated unidentified terror attacks. Larson vividly creates the vibe of this world and the mind of the noir sort-of-hero, Dewey Decimal. He lives within a system of behaviors that he hopes will keep him sane and safe, and Larson really brings him alive. Decimal, a former soldier, works for the shady D.A. of NYC, doing odd jobs and dirty work. He runs afoul of the Eastern European mobs that dominate the city, as well as ruthless war criminals. They are playing a complex and dangerous chess game, with Decimal caught in the middle. The book does violate the classic noir code, as not everyone is dead at the end. Since a sequel was recently released, this observation is not a spoiler! Larson's writing is edgy without being overwrought, and the story moves quickly. As composer John Adams would say, it's "a short ride on a fast machine". Have some fun, get inside the head of Dewey Decimal.
We recently watched two films, directed by Patrice Leconte, that are a delightful pairing. Both films have charm, grace & humor, and are perfectly cast. After a decade and a strong cup of coffee, I finally realized that their titles share a motif: "The Girl on the Bridge", 1999, and "The Man on the Train", 2002.
"The Girl" is the story of two lost souls plagued with bad luck, who discover, after some difficulty, that they have better luck together. Vanessa Paradis plays a promiscuous, devil may care
woman and Daniel Auteuil plays a knife throwing carnie with some interesting ideas about luck and life. The young Paradis is a gap-toothed, wide-faced, not-pretty beauty, who is tailor made for this part. Auteuil perfectly brings to life the older, world weary, not quite sure of himself fast talker. They meet on a bridge in Paris when Paradis is about to jump off, and is saved by Auteuil, who needs another down-on-her-luck assistant for his act. After some success together, they part company, to their mutual regret. I have one caveats. The film opens with an odd setting, an interview of Paradis which I have always fast-forwarded through. Edit! . I would overlook this and enjoy the rest of the film!
"The Train" also finds two people thrown together. In this case, a twinkle eyed poetry professor and a taciturn bank robber, who meet when the hood needs a room to stay in. Again, the casting is wonderful. Jean Rochefort plays the professor, who wonders if he has let too much life pass him by. He is a delight to watch. Pop singer Johnny Hallyday plays the craggy faced, mostly silent, bank robber. Yes, French pop music is horrid, but Hallyday is perfect here. The two men are great foils for one another, in demeanor and character. A scene in which Rochefort secretly tries on Hallyday's black leather jacket, and imagines himself a bank robber, is a gem. I mentioned a Richard Brautigan motif, in a recent post on Christopher Beha, which is also found in the ending(s) of "The Train". It works well. An English speaking version of the film was made in 2011, which I have not seen. Leconte's film is a treasure.
Alif the Unseen wasn't quite what I expected. It is the story of an outsider Indian-Arab hacker-for-hire in a heavily censored Emirate, on the eve of it's own Arab Spring. This seemed to offer a potent mix that might lend itself to insights on spiritual and political aspects of moderate and radical Islam, and the collision with Internet technology. This is the case, to some extent. However, Alif is more likely described as a Muslim Harry Potter. It is complete with jinns, devious bad guys & secret police, innocent love interests, unlikely friendships, and a bit of Internet hacking. Wilson might have aimed Alif at young readers, so I can't say that it would be everyone's cup of tea. The book's most interesting aspect is the relationship between the structure of an ancient mystical text and a powerful new way of programming. Wilson converted to Islam while at Boston University, and moved to Cairo. There she wrote for several Western magazines, as well as the opposition weekly, Cairo Magazine. Her fiction genre before Alif was the graphic novel, often collaborating with artist M.K. Parker.
I recently cited Sebastian Barry as one of the greatest living writers of the English language today. I then realized that I had not posted on his books, my error. He's been long-listed and short-listed for the Man Booker Prize, but in my mind he's been short-changed. He deserved to win. This year's On Canaan's Side is vintage Barry: wonderful writing, great characters and a visceral story. It reminded me of his novel, The Secret Scripture, 2008, one of my faves of all time. Canaan is the reflections of an 89 year old woman, who fled Ireland in 1915 as a teenager with her boyfriend, on the run from the IRA. Much of the novel is the story of her hard scrabble life-in-hiding in Chicago. The most powerful passages are Barry's evocative telling of her terrors of assassins. One scene, in the Chicago Art Institute, is indelibly etched in my memory. Barry vividly evokes the heartbreaks of the Irish War of Independence, without blame or finger pointing.
The Secret Scripture is also based on the memories of an elderly woman, entwined with the inquiries and observations of her doctor, who is trying to discover her story from long ago. This novel begins in the early 20th century, when the young woman, through no real fault of her own, runs afoul of the tough emotions and the black-and-white stances during The Troubles. It's easy to think of The Troubles in terms of Bobby Sands and the 1970-80's, but both of these stories were set 100 years ago! What a long, hard road.
Barry's writing is extraordinary. His prose is more spare than John Banville, another Irish author who I recently praised, and just as artful. I often paused and sighed at how perfectly a sentence or paragraph was turned. Like Banville, Barry never over writes. I recommend both of these novels.
Two of the best living writers of the English language today happen to be Irish: John Banville and Sebastian Barry. Banville's latest novel, Ancient Light, is the third in a loose trilogy which includes Eclipse, 2000, and Shroud, 2002. The novels share some characters, but each book easily stands on its own. The triple-helix story and the characters in Ancient Light are compelling, but the delight to me is Banville's writing. This is not merely great word-smithing, this is high art. His prose is a gourmet meal, without ever being over written. If you love to read the written word, then you will enjoy Banville's works. Some books I read as fast as I can, but, Banville I read slowly, often re-reading paragraphs several times to savor them.
Much of the first half of the book is a retired actor's reflections on his teenage affair with the mother of a friend. I'm not that crazy about this setting, but it served as the basis for observations on a key part of all of our lives...His memories stand on very shaky footings, and it is wonderful to read his uncertainties about the scene and the events themselves. The season, time of day, the weather, people's emotions, all are often unclear or remembered in multiple ways. It's a delightful exploration of memory, especially for those of us having a similar experience with their own! The second strand of the helix is his pondering on the suicide ten years ago of his long troubled daughter. In the third, he is tapped to star in a film about a fraudulent academic, who was a key character in Shroud. Each strand is inter-woven with ease through the book. But, the real joy of this novel is Banville's art of writing.
You might also try his Shroud and The Infinities.
