Robin Sloan's Mr Penumbra is a lighthearted, clever collision between books, googlers and wizardry in a San Francisco bookstore. Our hero and narrator, Clay, is a RISD grad in search of a job. He wanders into a strange bookstore and we're off. Clay has a likable voice, which is one the charms of the book. His frequent second thoughts and pithy observations in the middle of conversations are delightful. He slowly learns that his employer, Mr. Penumbra, is part of a secret society which is trying to solve a puzzle left in a book by an early Venetian printer, Aldus Manutius. Clay was a gamer as a teen, and an avid reader of a fantasy trilogy. So, decoding is an elixir to him and he is hooked. He soon adds his own unorthodox high tech methods to crack the code. Enter google and the googlers, and a good deal of fawning over google. This is redeemed by musings on books, the future of books, the love of books, and, the future of Media. Clay involves his friends in the quest, some high tech and some no tech, an unlikely band, which is a key ingredient in this type of genre. Speaking of "type", a font plays an important role in the story, so, attention bibliophiles. Have fun!
The Constant Heart, published in late 2012, is vintage Craig Nova. The story is of deep and changing relationships, and people in tough situations. As often is the case in his work, Nova writes of the manipulation and abuse of women by men. His prose is clear, concise, dry, and, every few pages, Nova makes an observation that is startlingly insightful. Heart is about two relationships. First, the relationship between a father and a son, and the lessons about kindness, gentleness and forgiveness that the father imparts. These attributes are out of synch with the times we live in, and the novel explores this. The second relationship is the friendship over the years between the son and a girl/young woman. Her life has had little kindness in it, instead, foster homes, half way houses, and jail. These three lives collide with a man who has been exploiting her. She goes past the point of no return and the two gentle men are willingly pressed into service to help her. The resolution of the problem is a bit contrived, but doesn't detract from the story, the writing and lessons he learns.
Nova's previous release, The Informer, is the strongest of his 12 novels. The prose style is similar to Heart, and is superb. The story is of a woman detective in Berlin, before and after WW2. It is not a mystery novel. The various characters she has to deal with are developed in a powerful way that is tied to the workings of the story. They all have an agenda and motives that she must interpret and juggle. Again, Nova is looking at women in extremely difficult circumstances, who are manipulated by bad, bad men. Some of the scenes are breath stopping. However, Nova's clear prose is at work again, and these scenes are made all the more dramatic by being under-written. The Informer is strong stuff, I recommend that you read it!
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.
