Book Review: "The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy

There is so much thought provoking writing within the covers of this book regarding the events, the history, the Indian culture and language, the characters, places, themes and feelings, not to mention the confusing given names and surnames (you truly have to keep a scorecard, but luckily Kindle does this for you..just click and hold on a name and it gives you the background). The main reason I gave The God of Small Things 4 stars was the author's use of language, an abundance of engaging, endearing, funny, wonderful, beautiful, allegorical, lyrical language. I highlighted a lot of examples and made them public in Goodreads. Here are just a few examples: "A cock crowed in the distance and its voice separated into two. Like a sole peeling off an old shoe."   "When Margaret Kochamma saw her little daughter’s body, shock swelled in her like phantom applause in an empty auditorium."  "And a greenwavy, thickwatery, lumpy, seaweedy, floaty, bottomless bot-tomful feeling."  Would that I could write sentences like those! It is no wonder that Arundhati Roy won the 1997 Man Booker Prize for The God of Small Things. I went to a reading of Roy's new book, “The Ministry of Utmost Happiness”, a book that people have been waiting twenty years for. I look forward to reading it.

Book Review of The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne

"A line came into my mind, something that Hannah Arendt once said about the poet Auden: that life had manifested the heart's invisible furies on his face". Any author who takes a quote from Hannah Arendt, a German-born American political theorist, professor and writer of books like The Origins of Totalitarianism and Eichmann in Jerusalem, who was the subject of the fascinating movie, Hannah Arendt, to be the title of his book, is an author to take note of and I took 40 of them as I read The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne. What amazes me is that I hadn't heard of this author before becoming aware of this book. How I became aware of this book is thanks to Elyse, a most voracious reader and reviewer, who I'm proud to call my Goodreads friend! She called it the best book of 2017 and bubbled over with enthusiasm for the writing, the characters, the dramatic backdrop of Irish politics, culture and church. Elyse was passionate about the book and I dare say, I am too. 

Elyse mentioned in her review that the dialogue of a particular character, Mary-Margaret Muffet, was particularly funny. I will expound on that. The first two parts of the book, and the end of the last part, are filled with dialogue that for me was LOL funny. The humor in this book is one of its characteristics that I most enjoyed. I highlighted several examples on my Kindle (one of the many functions I love about Kindle), which can be found on Goodreads (one of the functions of Goodreads that l like, as well as the other readers and reviewers it allows you to meet). 

Boyce is in fact a master of dialogue and wonderfully skilled in  the way he draws his characters, both of which frequently put me in mind of the great story writer, O. Henry (I wondered if O. Henry was an influence on Boyce's writing). In fact, I think it is the dialogue per se that serves to draw the memorable characters, starting with Cyril, the narrator and central character. His life starts in Ireland in 1945 and ends there in 2015 when he dies. Between those years Cyril lives in Amsterdam and New York City. The book visits Cyril every seven years throughout his life. We see what it was like to be Gay in Ireland where it was illegal and thought to be disgusting and could only be hidden because gay men were routinely beaten and even murdered for their sexual orientation, with no repercussions. We see how life in Ireland is fundamentally influenced by the Church and more specifically the Priests and the hypocrisy therein. Cyril's life carries us through the book, but it is often the other characters, for example his "adopted" parents, Charles and Maude, his best friend and object of his lust and love, Julius, a few of the priests, his "girlfriend", Mary-Margaret Muffet, and others who give the book its gusto and hilarity. 

“I always called them Charles and Maude, never ‘Father’ and ‘Mother’. This was on Charles’s insistence as I wasn’t a real Avery. It didn’t bother me particularly but I know it made other people uncomfortable and once, in school, when I referred to them thus, a priest punched me around the ears and told me off for being modern.”

This novel was as insightful as it was long (close to 600 pages) and I would not delete one word. It's one of those books that makes you laugh, cry, think, learn and wish it would never to end. 

Book Review: Mr. Chartwell by by Rebecca Hunt, Susan Duerden (Narrator)

I listened to the audiobook edition of Mr. Chartwell by Rebecca Hunt. As is my habit, I added it to my library list of books that are available in the audio format way before I got the audiobook from the library. I only wish I could remember how this book came to my attention. In my opinion, the most important component of an audiobook is the reader (performer, narrator). Mr. Chartwell was read by Susan Duerden and she had the perfect clipped British accent. She made each character an individual with her voice and articulation. I always seem to prefer books read by British performers. It adds an appreciated charm aspect. I came to the book knowing that it was somehow about Prime Minister Winston Churchill. I soon learned that Chartwell was the name of Sir Winston Churchill's home, where he lived along with his wife, Clementine, who, as it happens, was Winston’s emotional rock and most trusted confidante. What I did not know was that Churchill suffered from depression. 

The book opens in July 1964, where Winston Churchill wakes at dawn in his bed chamber at the  Chartwell House. There’s a dark, mute “presence” in the room that focuses on him with rapt attention. That this presence is a dog slides slowly into my consciousness  Soon after, in London, Esther Hammerhans, a librarian at the House of Commons, widowed for two years, decides to rent her late husband’s study. When she goes to answer the door to her new lodger, "through the glass she sees a vast silhouette the size of a mattress". His name is Mr. Chartwell and though Esther is astounded to see what seems to be a huge dog, standing there, it all becomes quickly, if not completely, plausible to Esther and to the reader. Though many reviewers begin with the all too real metaphor of Mr. Chartwell, to be known as Black Pat as the book moves on, as a physical representation of the blackness of living with depression, this reader initially had no idea. I think my cluelessness worked to my advantage. It allowed me to be put smack into the story from the very beginning and pretty much stay there to the end with my eyes and ears open and accepting. Mr. Chartwell, the dog, was written from the first with such wit and impudence, charm and repulsion, appeal and disgust, intelligence and fatuousness, that I not only accepted him, I relished in him. As the book proceeds, Sir Winston Churchill, Esther Hammerhans and Mr. Chartwell's stories intertwine, coming together in a very satisfying way.

At some point, even this, slightly dense reader began to understand the metaphor working in Mr. Chartwell and that Churchill had lived with the black dog of depression for many, if not most of his years. As for Esther Hammerhans, Mr. Chartwell has come to her as well because the loss of her husband has left her depressed and feeling empty, but not nearly to the extent of Churchill. The fact that Winston Churchill was hounded (no pun intended) by the "black dog of depression" became the conceit for Rebecca Hunt's novel and from it she wove a tale that for me was more than entertaining. It was one of the most gratifying and captivating books that I have read in a very long time. And, while you never forget that depression is serious, she made it possible to laugh as you dry away the tears.