“I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974.”

I love lists of famous first lines, because they prove the power of the written word. Undoubtedly, there are some books that catch you from the first sentence and Middlesex is bound to join these ranks – at least in my book and it is no surprise that Jeffrey Eugenides won the Pulitzer Prize for this indescribable novel.

Calliope Stephanides is the narrator to a story that seems too outrageous, humorous, sad, sincere and complex for it to be considered mere fiction. Only real life is this entwined with messy family secrets, fate and coincidence. Middlesex is first and foremost a story about Calliope, a Greek-American who is born and raised a girl, and comes to realize she is a hermaphrodite when she reaches puberty. Determined to tell the story accurately from the beginning Calliope’s story begins at the turn of the 20^th century, when her grandparents come to America from Turkey. Settling in Detroit the Stephanides family is established and the book is a parade of various colorful characters that all play a small part in what becomes Cal’s world. Calliope builds her identity through the foundations of past. The innocent mistakes of her grandparents and parents, construct the genetic and cultural furnace in which she/he forms. The story spans many decades, thus expressing the many changes to working class families in Detroit.

I loved how this book illustrated the inherited connections in families both genetic and emotional. In reading this book I realized the immense role sex and gender play in our identities. We are born and assigned an identity by our sex and only through a story like this can we realize that sex doesn’t necessarily define gender.

This is an excellent book, excellent for book clubs because of the many issues it evokes. It is also a beautiful story about immigration and American history.

Hanne

Here is a perfect book to curl up to on a rainy day in the late summer. The Thirteenth Tale is about Margaret Lea, a lonesome young woman who still lives with her parents and tends to their antiquarian book store. Her uneventful life is disrupted when she is asked by the renowned and reclusive writer, Vida Winter, to write her biography. Margaret goes to the ailing Winter, somewhat reluctant to take up the commission, believing that Winter is incapable of revealing the truth about her past. Many motivated biographers who tried to get her life story in the past, discovered the accounts Winter told them were in fact full of the same fictions as the author’s novels.

Margaret finally agrees to stay at Winter’s house while she works. Interwoven between the author’s life story and her own investigations, Margaret is swept up into the past of the Angelfield Manor. As Winter’s health deteriorates and the mysteries thicken, Margaret discovers family secrets that range from mental illnesses to illegitimate children. While trying to piece together Winter’s tale, Margaret also finds herself confronted with ghosts of her own past.

Other reviews have dubbed this novel ‘gothic’ – with its haunted mansions and mad-women it is no wonder. I will agree there is a Bronte-esque feel to the book. The mysteries surrounding this writer’s life are compelling and the images of a decrepit mansion and vast unruly garden add to the ambiance. Setterfield writes beautifully. There were many sentences that I read over and over, light in their simplicity but rich with truth. Setterfield has a way of telling her story without giving us a definite time, in which this book is set. This was a bit disconcerting to me at first, until I concluded this must be an intentional effect, to not tie the book down to any particular era.

I am a believer, which good books make you ask more questions and I asked many.

Cheers,
Hanne

Regards,

Hanne

Having loved Lisa See’s last novel ‘Snow Flower and the Secret Fan” I was thrilled when I discovered her latest novel at the library. In what is becoming her own style, Lisa See creates the world of ancient China with intricate detail and care.

Peony in love is the story of a young, wealthy girl who has been sheltered in her family’s compound for her whole life. She anxiously awaits the announcement of her engagement, but fills her days enthralled by the Opera “The Peony Pavilion”. The Opera tells the story of a young girl who dies of love sickness. As Peony’s own life begins to move towards adulthood, her obsession with the opera becomes stronger. Having fallen in love with a man she sees briefly through curtains during the opera’s performance, she is reluctant to be married and begins to starve herself. Peony chooses to follow in the footsteps of her beloved heroine Liniang when her obsessions end up causing her own death. Forced to realize the mistakes of her naïve and girlish obsession, Peony faces eternal damnation as a wandering ghost. She sets off on the impossible task of correcting things in the mortal world that could bring about her own salvation.

Having started this novel without a clear idea of where it would go, I have to admit to being a bit flustered at the plot twists. Unlike See’s other novel, this book wanders into the world of the Chinese afterlife, educating along the way. I appreciate See’s attention to detail as well as her keen ability to shape realistic characters. If anything, I find See’s work informative as that it is so well researched and she takes the time to explain customs, styles of dress and the setting.

I had some issues with Peony as a character. Her naivety was quite clear to me from the start and it made it rather difficult for me to feel sympathy for her. I also found it rather tiresome to read through the ages and ages of Peony’s struggle. Being a reader that will not dump a book, I would be lying if I didn’t confess I thought about taking a break from it. Although I found the explanations and descriptions of the Chinese afterlife very interesting, I could not suspend my disbelief of it.

I cannot say much more, except that this book is rather limp in comparison to “Snow Flower and the Secret Fan” – a book in which See shows genuine human relationships and the beautiful Chinese culture.

With regards,

Hanne

Hanne

What a strange book. I was anxious to venture back into Japanese literature after a long hiatus and I thought Murakami was the best way to begin. I have seen Murakami’s books get checked out of the library and after reading his long list of awards and commendations I obligingly ‘gave in’. I can’t say I totally regret succumbing to the hype, since there are some creditable things in between the pages here.

So Toru Okada is a completely unexceptional legal clerk living in Tokyo. He loses his cat, his job, his wife and his grasp on reality – in no particular order. Through his losses Mr. Okada, ends up in his own psychological detective story.

With his career suspended in limbo, he wanders around his upper-scale neighborhood looking for the missing cat and stumbles upon strange characters, all of whom are embroiled in their own worlds. There is the retired army veteran, burdened by his war experiences in Manchuria. There is “Creta Kano” the psychic and her sister Malta (also a psychic and a prostitute). May Kasahara is a troubled young teenager who lives in the neighborhood. Add to this Mr. Okada’s wife Kumiko and her arrogant politician brother Noboru Wataya. All these characters come to play a part in Toru Okada’s journey some of them serve as the catalyst for his confusion; some of them serve as allies while others somewhat unexpectedly are enemies.

Essentially the story revolves around Kumiko and her sudden disappearance. Although Mr. Okada has been told that Kumiko has left of her own free will and wishes a divorce he refuses to let go of her – refusing to believe that his wife could be such a stranger to him. As his luck worsens Mr. Okada searches for Kumiko and for himself all over Tokyo and deep within, to… well, an undetermined outcome.

Stepping away from my initial feelings of confusion and frustration, I am able to appreciate Murakami’s style of writing. I enjoy his plain, unassuming sentences and his descriptions of Japan. Being unable to read Japanese I am held hostage by Mr. Rubin’s translation and I can only hope it has been conveyed truthfully. I can only imagine that if the text seems beautiful in English- how beautiful must it be in Japanese? I can appreciate why Murakami is considered one of Japan’s foremost modern authors.

With its archetypal characters, historical flashbacks and all the hallucinogenic dream scenery the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle was puzzling, confusing and even annoying at times. Just when things got interesting, Murakami takes the story somewhere else for a while. To some extent I was able to appreciate the polarity between characters and the symbolism of certain objects (like the wind-up bird) - but admittedly most of it still eludes me.

Finally, I took out my literary scalpel and dissected the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle in the attempt to make some sense of my confusion. I saw themes forming and yet there are so many in this book that it is difficult to tell which one Murakami wants to focus on – then I thought that perhaps it was confusion that the author was ultimately trying to achieve.

I think Murakami is trying to to trick his reader. This is a story about searching for the self. Although the plot would seem to indicate this is a search for a man’s wife, in reality it is the opposite. Toru Okada realizes he does not know himself when he finds that he does not even ‘know’ the one closest to him.

I wouldn’t say this was an ‘easy’ read and it will be quite some time before I pick up another Murakami book… I know I eventually will because I thrive on literary challenges. For now – I’m exhausted!

Hanne

Irene Nemirovsky was already an established author when she conceived Suite Francaise in the early 1940′s. She envisioned the work to be in five parts, based on work of classical music. In the first part “A Storm in June” she traces the paths of several different groups of people, fleeing Paris upon the arrival of the Nazis. One is an upper-class housewife who must abandon her home with her children while her husband stays behind in Paris. There is the enlightened aristocrat, who cares for no one and nothing, except his precious Chinese vases. There is also a poor middle-aged couple, who are torn by their need to continue working and worried about their son at the front.

In part two ‘Dolce’, Nemirovsky captures the day-to-day life of a town occupied by German troops. She shows the reader through an intricate web of characters how age, nationality, faith and social status influence people’s opinions and behavior. One quickly realizes that war does not necessarily move people to let go of their greed and prejudices nor was there one ‘United’ French front against their German conquerors. Nemirovsky even dares to present ‘the enemy’ as human beings capable of love and kindness.

Although the section is entitled ‘dolce’ – after the Italian musical term which means ‘sweetly’ – the literature is a juxtaposition of sweetness and intense anxiety. The author paints the picture of this pristine French town without forgetting the shadows. Suite Francaise explores the subtle horrors of war, the indiscretions and betrayals. Interlaced between the actions of the novel, the text falls away into images of the beautiful countryside – making the war seem almost like a trivial human complication.

Suite Francaise has an indescribable poignancy to it, probably because it was written in the time that these events occurred. It stands out from all the other books I’ve read about this time, because it is incomplete. As I said earlier, Irene Nemirovsky envisioned this book to be in five parts. Nemirovsky was Jewish and before she could complete the other three parts of this novel – she was arrested and taken to Auschwitz, where she died. It was her daughter that finally discovered her mother’s work in a suitcase and had it published.

My first instinct was to think: this is not a book to be read for plot – because it leaves you hanging. The seasoned reader can see the groundwork laid out for further development, a development that never comes to fruition. This book poses questions that never get answered. Initially, I saw this lack of resolution as a flaw. It seemed so tragic to me that it would end so abruptly. I have hung on to my thoughts about Suite Francaise, only to come to somewhat astonishing realization – at least on a personal level.

The number of people who can remember the tension that swept across Europe in the Second World War is dwindling, this is an unavoidable fact. As the generation that experienced the wars first-hand age and pass away, we are losing touch with a period in time that changed everything, a time that made our world what it is today. It is only natural that there is a sense of urgency buried within our Western society, to keep hold of these memories, to communicate and explain them.

This sense of urgency, this need to keep hold of our war past, has bred into the many books and films that our modern media produces. Directors and writers spend days and weeks researching obscure missions, moments and people. Some do it with the genuine intent to document and re-open our memories, while others seek to take advantage of the period’s “sale-ability”. One cannot deny it, even sixty years later, the war sells – take for example the 2001 film “Pearl Harbor” which made near 450 million dollars in box office sales world wide and or “Saving Private Ryan” (1998) which made approximately $479 million[i]. So we, the grandchildren and great grandchildren of veterans pile into our seats at the multi-plex and we are captivated by the special effects, the love stories and the destruction we witness.

I have been thinking about WWII since I read “Suite Francaise” by Irene Nemirovsky. I have been thinking about what I know about my own personal history in the war, what my own European relatives endured and I realize my sense of those times is polluted by those who have tried so desperately to document it. I believe that we, who have lived two generations away from those turbulent times sometimes humor ourselves and imagine that we understand what our grandparents experienced in either in battle or as civilians. We think we comprehend the raw carnage, the thick uncertainty and the confusion – but what we know is actually the construct of modern story telling: we know the poor Jew is going to be persecuted and perhaps killed, we know the soldier is going to experience vicious battle, we know the battalion is going to suffer losses – and ultimately we know how everything turns out. Our knowledge of the war’s outcome is the punctuating problem in our inability to understand it. Knowing how things turned out, knowing the end makes it impossible for us to completely understand the gravity and sense of uncertainty that our ancestors faced.

We have become too accustomed to resolution or the ‘denouement’ that we learned about in elementary English class. We want our history to fit the stories we have been told and it doesn’t – it simply doesn’t. I was troubled by the end of Irene Nemirovsky’s Suite Francaise – because I felt like I had been cheated of something – answers, a resolution etc. In reality – this book has given me an immeasurable gift. It has taught me to understand uncertainty and the unknown.

Regards,

Hanne

Do not let the oddness of the book title deceive you, this is a comedic novel and well worth the read if you are looking for a good chuckle. The book is about Nadezdha and Vera, two sisters approaching middle age, who haven’t been on good terms with each other since their mother passed away a few years prior. The girls are forced together again when their eighty-something widower father falls in love with a 30-something blond Ukrainian woman and announces that he is going to marry her. Valentina, their father’s soon-to-be wife is a blond, bosomy and very ambitious. She has a young son from a previous marriage and she stands to gain a lot if she gets married to a British citizen. Hoping they might be able to talk some sense into their father they soon discover in horror how much control Valentina has over their father. The sisters are forced to work together to prevent the disaster from getting any worse, while old skeletons come out of the closet and much of the past gets stirred up like dust.

Anyone with older parents will be able to appreciate the perplexing and sometimes embarrassing moments in this book. Nadezdha is sincerely a good daughter who is not only trying to save her father; but she is also trying to understand him. The story has an endearing quality to it because it addresses the subject of family dynamics and how family history can be perceived very differently by different family members.

Lewycka is clearly writing with some personal experience and with a fair bit of bravery. Writing about one’s own culture is a dangerous thing to attempt, particularly because one does not wish to excessively satirize it while on the other hand one cannot ignore the precious and (at times) infuriating idiosyncrasies that make it so special. A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian is worth considering for book clubs because there is so much you can debate between the different characters. This is an commendable first novel and I will be looking out for more of Lewycka’s work.

Cheers,
Hanne

Da Chen is known in the literary circles as a memoirist, who came to America after growing up in Southern China. According to his website, his father was a landowner prior to the revolution in China and his family was persecuted. He studied at the Beijing Languages and Cultural University. He then studied Law at Columbia University and then went to work on Wall Street.

It is with these deeply moving personal experiences that Da Chen writes his first novel Brothers. The book is like an age old fable as it follows the life paths of two boys, Tan and Shento. Tan is born to General Long and his wife, whom are both from wealthy high-status revolutionary families. Shento is the result of a union between General Long and a village girl, who is so ashamed of her pregnancy that she commits suicide just after giving birth.

Unaware that the other exists, we follow these two brothers as they mature and go out into the world. Tan’s early life is enriched with piano lessons, pretty girls and the best schools. Shento finds safety with surrogate parents, the village healer and his wife. Although his opportunities are limited, he excels at all he does and dreams of becoming a General, like the one in charge of his village. A strange fate entwines these two young men as they move forward through the challenges and obstacles that fall before them. One brother grows to hate his father while the other wishes to never disappoint him.

Da Chen has managed to weave a very intricate web in this novel that connects age old ideas of fate and destiny with a modern era in history. We see the effects of communism on Chinese society from both angles as we follow both Tan and Shento on their paths. There is a fantastic element to the similarities that the brothers share, which at times punctuates the fictional nature of their story. One could say there are far too many coincidences in this tale to make this story believable. Nevertheless, one cannot ignore that fact that in Chinese culture these ‘coincidences’ are very serious ideas that relate to their concepts of destiny and fate. When reading books in another culture, be it South American, Asian or European – I allow myself the indulgence of embracing the magic of their beliefs…

There are many beautiful characters in this novel. I found it enjoyable to read as the protagonists are both strong characters who have such a determined will and overall goodness. Da Chen is also very candid with his imagery and commentary on the time and the effects of the Communist revolution on all the classes in China’s society.

In conclusion I feel I must admit the end of the story was a tad disappointing. The body of the narrative builds itself up higher and higher with increasing momentum. It almost seemed to me, as though the story reached such an intense height that it simply ‘pops’ at the end. I found myself saying “That’s It?” Because of the fairytale-like structure of the novel, Brothers needs a final confrontation that in my opinion was not remarkably apparent.

Please, however, do not take my word as gold on this matter – and read the book yourself. It is well written and it was thoroughly entertaining.

Please visit Da Chen’s Website for more information about the writer and the books he’s written.

with regards, Hanne

Anyone who has been to the Palace at Versailles would agree that it is a fascinating place. Untouched by the many wars and ages that have past since its creation it is a spectacular stronghold of such amazing size that it forces you to open your eyes a little wider, just to take in the scope of it all. Built in 1682 it was constructed out of a hunting lodge built by Louis XIII and molded into its glory by the patronage of Louis XIV. Just imagine 37,000 acres of land sculpted into tree-lined terraces, 1400 fountains, 400 pieces of sculpture and countless flowerbeds.

The first time I saw Versailles I was sixteen, dressed in my flip-flop sandals, t-shirt and summer shorts. It was July and blistering hot. My father and I walked up to the gates amidst the crowds of tourists pouring in and out of the gates. I found myself speechless. The palace, it seemed to take up half the sky, with its elaborate facades stretching on endlessly, its triple courtyards ahead of me narrowed into eternity.

As we paid for our tickets and took our first steps into this abode of Kings, I found myself transported into that time in history. I could almost hear the swish of the heavy silk dresses of the lady courtiers on the stone floors. I could smell the exquisite food being prepared and hear the music being played. Even back then, I knew that this was where Marie Antoinette, the majestic Queen, lived out her days.I stood in the hall of mirrors glancing at my own reflection as I walked – feeling so gauche, awkward and ridiculous – no where near as prim and proper as the visitors of the past. I had already learned that it was this opulence and extravagance that had brought about great suffering for the poor of the time. I knew the excess that the aristocracy lived in had sealed the end to the French royal family. It was nevertheless impossible for me, to ignore the beauty of this monument.

Abundance, by Sena Jeter Naslund, takes you into that old world of Versailles to see it from the eyes of her most famous mistress. Told with great detail and emotion, this ‘novel biography’ of Marie Antoinette takes us through the many stages of her life. We see how it was like to be an archduchess of Austria and Dauphine of France. Only fourteen, the politics of the grown up world seem so daunting to little ‘Toinette’. Naslund has used the many letters and journals of the former Queen to build a solid and stunning picture of her maturation. Although history has often vilified Marie Antoinette, it has become more evident in modern times that much of her extravagances were exaggerated or even invented. It is therefore, not wholly unlikely, that the Queen did feel the emotions of confusion and frustration that Naslund has ascribed her. The book is a pageant of people that appear to have been real and true characters of her life. I found that as the end drew near I felt more pity for Marie Antoinette than disgust over her past indulgences. She was, after all, born into royalty and knew no other world. In some way it was her misfortune to be born into the era when the average man realized his own power.

Sena Jeter Naslund is the writer in residence at the University of Louisville in Kentucky and she also written several other books of considerable acclaim including ‘Ahab’s Wife’. In Abundance, Naslund has captured historical accuracy with together with fictional artistry to give you a good sense of Marie Antoinette and her world. While the Queen was excessively naïve in her royal realm, Naslund succeeds in making us sympathize with her because she presents Marie Antoinette not only as the Queen, but as the wife, mother and friend.

This is an excellent book and it was a nostalgic trip for me, back to that fascinating moment when Antoinette’s and my realm finally met.On later visits to Versailles, when the amazement and lustre of my initial encounter wavered, I noticed that the French seem to enjoy the gardens of the Palace. They prefer to rest in the cool shade of the hedges, a distance from the spray of the fountains, away from the tourists, rather than to wander the elaborate halls. I found it rather ironic, that what was once so hated by the people is now considered a national treasure. Then again, the French are a passionate people and they seem utterly unable to discard beauty, no matter what it once symbolized. I found myself wondering in my nostalgia, what Marie Antoinette might have thought about the people of France and the world, playing in her gardens and wandering the halls of her beaudoir – some listening to iPods, some eating ice creams and snapping pictures with their digital cameras… <sigh> the passage of time is fascinating

For more information about the author of Abundance please visit http://www.senajeternaslund.com

The following titles were excellent historical references on Marie Antoinette’s life:

Fraser, A. (2001). Marie Antoinette: The Journey. Toronto: Doubleday.
Lever, E. (2000). Marie Antoinette: The Last Queen of France. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Thomas, C. (1999). The Wicked queen: The Origins of the Myth of Marie Antoinette. New York: Zone Books.

I also suggest that if you can’t go to Versailles, that you at least do a Google image search on it. It’s absolutely amazing!

Cheers, Hanne