Minerva Reads

Andrew O'Hagan's The life and opinions of Maf the dog and of his friend Marilyn Monroe

2011-12-08T17:52:00.001+11:00

It was a dark and stormy night ... no, really, it was ... but nonetheless around 8 Minervans forded the hail, lightning and thunder to go to Kate's to discuss our November book, The life and opinions of Maf the dog and of his friend Marilyn Monroe, by Scottish writer, Andrew O'Hagan.

Why, asked a member to start proceedings, was it told by a dog? Couldn't it have been just as easily written as a third person story? Perhaps, others of us said, but the dog adds another perspective. And, in fact, O'Hagan suggests in the book that the animal world has it more together than the human of the species. At one point Maf talks of spouses, and how some can be competitive, can even want to destroy what they love. He suggests

Poor married people: perhaps they could learn something from dogs about how to settle the business of oneself before setting up shop with another.

There's a sense in fact that dogs are more moral, more sensible, that they can see the moral problems while humans get themselves tied up over such issues fame and celebrity. In a footnote, of which there are many ("a dog is bound to like footnotes. We spend our lives down here"), Maf tells us that dogs speaking of humans has a long tradition, starting in prose with Cervantes.

But, before I continue, a quick rundown of what is a pretty slim plot. Maf (short for Mafia Honey) is a Maltese Terrier who was given (in reality as well as in fiction) to Marilyn Monroe by Frank Sinatra. In the first few chapters Maf moves from Scotland, where he is born, to the home of Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant (of the Bloomsbury set), to the Los Angeles home of Natalie Woods’ parents, to Frank Sinatra to Marilyn. In the rest of the book we follow Maf as he lives with Marilyn Monroe, in New York and Los Angeles, in the last couple of years of her life.

Maf meets LOTS of people, moving as he does in the rarefied air of Hollywood and New York - and this brought out another criticism/comment. Some members felt the book was a little too clever or smart-alecky. There IS a good degree of name-dropping and if you don't know all the references (as I admit I didn't) then you're sure to miss something. Is this a flaw? Some felt it was, but we all agrees that O'Hagan's years of research resulted in the era being well described. And this was part of the theme or topic we thought, that is a description of the 1960s. The hope, in particular, with the election of John F Kennedy and the country being on the verge of the Civil Rights Movement. They were exciting times. At one point Marilyn and Maf take a tour to Ellis Island, the historical arrival point for many immigrants to America, and where the universal cry was "Let me start again".

Trotsky appears regularly in the novel, as he's Maf's hero. Maf seems to see him as an ideal man - a potential world leader, an interior decorator, and a literary critic. Towards the end is this:

In the society of the future, Trotsky wrote, all art would dissolve into life. That is how the world would know good philosophy had triumphed. No needs for dancers and painters and writers and actors. Everyone would become part of a great living mural of talent and harmony.

Oh yes!

We also talked a little about the humour, such as the various party scenes where Marilyn talks with the likes of Carson McCullers or the Trillings, or where Maf nips a literary critic he doesn't like. It's a pretty funny book and contains (of course it does) a discussion of tragedy versus comedy.

One of our members had done some research on O'Hagan and reported that when he was a teenager he saw Marilyn Monroe as representing what human beings can do with their lives. She became an exemplary life that spurred him on. Some, though, wondered whether he had idealised her. The book's ending, given that it's about the last couple of years of her life, was not the expected one - and a couple of members felt it was a somewhat schmaltzy movie-style ending.

By the end of the discussion, some of those who had not finished it and had been unsure whether they wanted to, felt that it might be worth keeping on going! What better assessment could there be of a good discussion ...

Howard Jacobson's The Finkler question

2011-10-26T14:40:00.001+11:00

Written by Sylvia ...

Howard Jacobson's The Finkler question,
Courtesy: Bloomsbury.

A very pleasant evening at Helen's was had discussing a book which intrigued and challenged many of us not 'in the club'. The level of ignorance about all things Jewish ranged from complete ignorance to full knowledge. Thank goodness for our wonderful members who have a more cosmopolitan background!

The Finkler question, by English writer Howard Jacobson, is the story of an Englishman, Julian Treslove (Fr. 'very love' ?) who lives in London. He wants to be Jewish and find true love and the girl of his dreams. He is utterly obsessed by his two Jewish friends, Sam Finkler and Libor Sevcik (a Czech Jew) and their whole way of looking at the world and their culture. Later in the book he falls in love with Hephzibah, Libor's neice, but although she is perfect he wants more -- too much more even for her. He wants to 'consume' her and in fact ends up making her completely miserable. He is a pathetic character (to some of us ) in that his endeavours to join in the life of his friends always ends in disaster and makes him more miserable and egocentric. He is a terrible father with little or no interest in his sons and even less empathy. He is a terrible de facto husband to the mothers of his sons for the same reasons.

There is a lot of philosophy and polemic in this novel. However, the tone is lifted by the clever and repetitive repartee from the main antagonists. According to our 'knowledgeable one' the book is true to Jewish dialogue, and thought patterns and humour. And it contains masses of humour if you read it carefully. Jacobson knows what he is describing and knows the long and winding conversations which can be very funny and very typical. The use of Yiddish is good because there are some Yiddish words which are not translatable into English, and they add to the sense of craziness or hilarity at times (eg Nebissh.)

The talk also ranged over some of the topics discussed by the main characters -- sex (a constant thread), the Palestinian state and the ASHamed Jews' viewpoint.

It was not decided what the main point of the book is -- is it just a chance to laugh with and at Jews or is it a spoof of their interminable conversations. Or is it something else entirely? It is ironic and it is a fabulous comedy for those who understand it. Did it deserve to win the Man Booker -- we didn't decide ?

... and then Sylvia throws down the gauntlet: "Maybe others can add to this, contest or whatever!", she says. So, go for it Minervans.

Hazel Rowley's Franklin and Eleanor: An extraordinary marriage

2011-09-30T00:32:00.000+10:00

It was pretty much a full house when Minervans met this week to discuss Australian biographer Hazel Rowley's last book, Franklin and Eleanor: An extraordinary marriage. Ten members turned up - with the only absentee being the person who first suggested it. We're not complaining though, because everyone, it appears, enjoyed the book. One, in fact, admitted secretly to preferring biography to fiction; some were surprised by how much they enjoyed it. The overall comment was that it was readable, engaging.

We started our discussion with our absent member's comment on our Facebook event page. She wrote that:

It is a beautiful piece of writing which shows just what an extraordinary period of change that first half of the 20th century proved. However, I did miss some of that Janet Malcolm style of careful consideration of where the biographer fits in with the story...

None of us had read Janet Malcolm (though we checked her on Wikipedia) and so were not quite sure exactly what Helen meant. Helen, if you read this post, please tell us in a comment!

Eleanor Roosevelt's White House Portrait
(Public Domain, courtesy US Government via Wikipedia)

Being women, we probably focused more of our discussion on Eleanor. Reasons we liked the book included the description of the rich (not as in "wealthy" though they were that too) lives they led, and the fact the Eleanor was a multi-dimensional, sophisticated person who could interact with many peoples on many levels. We discussed how driven she was by her mission - which mostly related to social justice issues such as equality and respect for black Americans.

We of course commiserated with Eleanor over Franklin's betrayal of her with Lucy Mercer in 1918 and discussed why they stayed together. Rowley gives pragmatic reasons - his mother threatened disinheritance, his political advisers said it would be the end of his political aspirations - but also suggests that there was love and affection between them, and that Franklin "still loved Eleanor; he knew how much he needed her". In the preface Rowley describes their marriage as "a joint endeavour, a partnership". It certainly seems it must have been that, as they stayed together for 40 years, until Franklin's death in 1945. However, we also wondered whether Eleanor's insistence on retaining Mrs Nesbitt as the White House housekeeper - the White House during their unusually long occupation was renowned for its indifferent cuisine - was a passive-aggressive act on her part, though others suggested it was simply that Eleanor didn't care much about food.

One member admitted that Eleanor had the life she would like to lead. Others weren't quite so sure.

We liked the description quoted near the end of Eleanor's blend of "naiveté and cunning".

We touched on some issues relating to the writing of biography, such as the challenge Rowley had in teasing out fact from mythmaking, particularly given some of the primary sources were written with a view to future public use. We felt Rowley was not judgemental but maintained an even-handed tone throughout, despite appearing to be more interested in Eleanor. Perhaps this focus is due to the fact that there are more primary records for Eleanor's part of the marriage. She, for example, kept a diary and wrote her "My Day" column for the newspaper, while Franklin kept no journal. I felt that while it was well-researched, and well-written, there was something missing, something Rowley probably didn't (couldn't) know regarding just what was the "glue" that kept them together. How much was real affection and how much pragmatism? That's something we'll never really know though the evidence Rowley presents tends to suggest mostly the former despite the myriad other romantic friendships and relationships each had. It really was an extraordinary marriage.

Being Australians, many felt they did not fully comprehend the history of the period. We recognised though that Rowley's book was not intended to be a history but an analysis of the marriage. Having lived in the USA, I said that there is still evidence today of Franklin's New Deal, and particularly the work of the CCC and WPA programs in and around the National Parks and some of the major scenic roads. Susan said she had visited Hyde Park, the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum. She said it was beautiful and fascinating, though also carefully curated (if you know what she means!).

A couple of us commented on the lovely accolades given on FDR's death. We particularly liked this one:

'His face was the very image of happiness,' Albert Camus wrote in the French Resistance newspaper, Combat. 'History's powerful men are not generally men of such good humour ... There is not a single free human being who does not regret his loss and who would not have wished his destiny to have continued a little longer. World peace, that boundless good, ought to be planned by men with happy faces rather than by sad-eyed politicians.'

And that seems as good a place as any to end this report. Comments anyone?

Caleb's Crossing or Bethia's Borders?

2011-09-02T16:25:00.002+10:00

Our lively discussion about Geraldine Brooks' latest novel was sparked by Sue quoting a controversial review by Jocelyn McLurg in USA Today, whose irreverent review claimed 'it reads like a puritanical mash-up of Avatar meets Dances With Wolves'.

The story is based loosely on the story of Caleb Cheeshahteaumauk, who in 1665 became the first Native American Harvard graduate, and is set in what is now called Martha's vineyard, (Wampanoag: Noepe) an island off the coast of Massachusetts, USA where Geraldine Brooks lives. The Minerva group found the book to be very readable and the story engaging.

We talked about her use of the female protagonist Bethia, and whether she spoke with a 21st century voice, or indeed Geraldine's voice. Other members argued that there was evidence of outspoken women at the time, and her feminist attitude while unusual was not unbelievable. She was the most fleshed out character, although her fate took a number of twists and turns, sometimes it seemed only to serve Brooks' narrative needs - eg in being indentured to the school, and then falling for Samuel.

We talked about the romance in the book, and whether Bethia and Caleb had a romantic attraction. Most agreed that the romance was a let down, and we didn't feel a strong emotional engagement with the characters. Caleb especially was seen as a shadowy character, particularly as the book progressed, so that we don't really get to know him.

We agreed that her capturing the sense of place was very successful, that she knew that environment well, and had as usual researched her background and characters well. Her understanding of the Indian dwelling Bethia went to and 'sank into the furs' was very believable, and we found out based on Geraldine's own experience. She certainly is inspired by places she lives to delve into the background to find the stories.

We talked of her use of language in using words from Wiltshire dialect, like 'shakedown' ... Sue commented that she was not entirely consistent, and thought her use of the term 'going forward' had a modern jargon association.

We touched on religion and it's constraints and the references to Satan and evil in relation to the pawaw's activities and seeming command of the forces of nature. However Bethia's father had his own reputation for magic healing when it seemed he could save the Indian sonquen Nahnoso from illness, a reputation shortlived when the sonquen succumbed to smallpox.

We explored the use of the title Caleb's Crossing...what was being crossed and what the significance was. Some thought Geraldine had a more straightforward motivation in simply telling a story that intrigued her. Others felt that she was examining the notion of crossing cultures, and the cost and difficulty of such a crossing, both by Caleb..who paid for it in his death, and by Bethia and her family who had a tough life in coming to a new country. Geraldine's own experience in having adopted a son from Ethiopia had also sensitized her to the needs to adapt and learn language and ways of a new culture. She refers to the importance of retaining the association with her son's original culture. In Caleb's case he really had to choose to abandon much of his Wampanoag life in order to be accepted in white society.

A stimulating discussion. A number of the group had heard Brooks interviewed and admired and enjoyed her tales about how she finds and researches the stories she writes...almost more engaging than her actual novel??

Kim Scott's That deadman dance

2011-08-30T23:23:00.002+10:00

Written by Sylvia:

On July 26 Minerva met to discuss That deadman dance by the Indigenous writer Kim Scott. All present had read most if not all of the book and although there were a couple of people who thought it was a little long and needed a good edit we all gained an insight into life of a Noongar man in the first few decades of white settlement in SW Western Australia. It is the same old story of exploitation of the sea and the land by white Europeans but it has many twists and turns which made it most agreeable and enjoyable to many of us. It is also more poignant because you get to feel the loss of status and hope experienced by many of the Noongar people during this time.

A surprisingly good feature is that it is not sequential in the life story of Bobby Wabalanginy (how do you pronounce that?). It covers the years from 1826 to 1844. We hear about when Bobby was very young and experiencing the sea and the whaling industry which arrived and left all in the space of a few years, the settlement, the exploration, the agriculture and the town growing up and his elderly life when he is telling tourists some of the stories told to him by his surrogate dad Menak as well as his own stories and songs. The Prologue is fascinating as it links Bobby not only to whales but also to European education -- learning to write English as well as work out his connection and love of whales and their presence in the sea.

The whaling scenes were considered by some to be distressing and too long but others thought they were good in that you really felt that the story had not been told so graphically before. And Scott captures the feeling of strangeness that his ancestors must have felt when going on board a big ship and experiencing the sea in a very different way from the way.

Another very good feature of this novel is that Scott makes a European reader a little bit more aware of the subtleties of Indigenous life -- for instance the lack of amity between tribes. Another example is that the Europeans thought they were trading for good 'things' from the local people but sometimes the Indigenous people gave them 'shonky axes, or 'a spear that wouldn't fly' (page 73).

There are many great characters in this book as well as Bobby. Menak is a powerful force in the novel -- 'a wise man' who suspects all Europeans. Dr Cross is one of the few good settlers who takes great interest in the local people and of course he is not popular with the others. Some of the others try but as time passes the opportunities for friendship disappear and so does the goodwill between the nationalities. James and Jeffrey are two Indigenous men who are killed by Chaine who is one of the most greedy of the settlers, but James and Jeffrey are not without their faults too.

The language is excellent -- some Indigenous words -- not always explained and lots of different words used to explain Indigenous culture. It does not have the cliche words such as 'dreamtime' but Scott talks about men from the horizon (for the white settlers).

Scott is a very clever writer as he is telling history as well as writing many memorable passages which add to his novel giving it resonance for all readers -- a very good example is the passage about reading:

you can dive deep into a book and not know just how deep until you return gasping to the surface... (page 86)

The whaling imagery is quite wonderful and very evocative. Another very good passage is Scot's raw view of the bush as seen by the explorers -

Leaves were like needles, or small saws. Candlestick-shaped flowers blossomed or were dry and wooden... (page 46)

- which is so much more graphic than using the modern botanical names.

I think many of us think this book could easily take a second reading as there is much to interest and understand.

Thanks, Sylvia ... and next time we'll do it together so it can be posted under your account.

M.J. Hyland, This is How

2011-07-21T16:01:00.014+10:00

Book cover courtesy
Text Publishing

*SPOILER ALERT*

We were envious of our absent travelling members as about seven of us gathered on a wintry evening to discuss this thought provoking novel. One of our travellers had emailed her response to the book - that lives can change catastrophically in a moment, as happened to the doomed, naive young Oxtoby, unloved by his family as being too "different".

We remarked on the very spare style of writing, with short, simple sentences using few adjectives so that it was difficult to tell exactly when it was set (maybe the sixties?). Some of us really liked the writing, and even though some normally prefer more lushly detailed prose with a rich sense of time and place (OK, me!), in this case we agreed that the lack of descriptive language and other digressions, along with the almost constant use of the present tense, helped the reader to be "in the head" of a character who would otherwise have been very difficult to understand. We remarked on the way the author created a sense of impending doom, building up tension with very few words, but odd, so you think there's something going on.

It was remarked that Oxtoby was a naive and dissociated person, lacking social skills and like an observer in his own life, almost mildly autistic. His parents, especially his father didn't understand him, saying that he "lacked the knack for happiness". He presumptuously assumed that his new landlady might be interested in him on first acquaintance. We noted the telling contradictions and repressed feelings around his response to the break-up with his girlfriend:

"She said she was breaking up with me because I didn't know how to express my emotions. The thing is, I didn't have that many. As far as I was concerned it was pretty simple. I was in love with her and I liked our life and we laughed a lot and it felt good to be in bed with her and have her touching me"...

"I wanted to push her down the stairs, make the kind of impression I didn't know how to make with words. But I didn't, and when she'd closed the front door I said 'OK then', and 'Goodbye, then.' Afterwards I played the scene over and over, imagined how I planted my hands in the middle of her back and pushed hard enough to send her flying.

And I got this sentence in my head, over and over, 'You broke my heart and now I've broken your spine'"...

We discussed the actual murder of his sleeping housemate, wondering to what extent the death was intentional.

"I take the adjustable wrench and go to his room... I step forward, lift the wrench in my right hand and bring it down. Only once, a good, certain blow to his temple, not heavy, and the wrench bounces..."

Yet in his own mind later it seemed to be a mere accident ("I only hit him once"). When asked in court, his acquaintances agreed with him that "he is not a murderer". As the author no doubt intended, this prompted us to wonder what a murderer was supposed to be like. We noticed that while Oxtoby seems to feel shame and embarrassment, he feels no actual guilt over the death. The guard remarked that everybody in the prison is innocent.

Oxtoby's response to the harsh, degrading reality of prison life was discussed. He had loved his Grandmother who had been able to get him to articulate what he most wanted to do with his life and was able to validate that for him. In prison he talks to a psychologist who is also able to connect with him. He is able to hug her, and use some of that good feeling to help his unappealing cellmate. It was remarked that the book's last scene also touched on the theme of male sexuality including homosexuality which recurs through the book. We didn't agree about the extent to which he had grown and changed through the experience of prison, or whether it was only that, once he was used to it, he was more comfortable in the controlled world of prison than he had been in the overstimulating outside world.

Apparently the author interviewed a few murderers before writing "This is How". It made a big impression on us and we agreed that it was a chillingly convincing window into the mind of a murderer, maybe especially chilling as the reader is able to understand and even like him, and almost come to share his view that it was merely a forgivable mistake.

Eva Hornung, Dogboy (or, is it Dog boy)

2011-06-26T16:55:00.001+10:00

Image courtesy Text Publishing

Six Minervans met on the last night in May to discuss Eva Hornung's intriguing and sometimes confronting novel, Dogboy. We were a small group with some of our number gallivanting OS taking advantage of the northern summer.

Anyhow, back to Dogboy. In April we discussed Alan Gould's The lakewoman. It was shortlisted for last year's Prime Minister's Literary Awards - and we were impressed with it. Dogboy is the book that won. We all thought it was a pretty close call (not having discussed the other contenders). Some thought Hornung's book had the edge in tightness and originality, but we generally agreed that either would have been a worthy recipient. This is, in fact, the group's second Hornung novel. We read, a few years ago, her City of sealions which was published under her married name, Eva Sallis.

The discussion started with a brief report from one of our travelling members who said she'd enjoyed it, though she didn't expect to at the start. Another member was also not expecting to like it as she "hates dogs", but she too was impressed with the writing and originality of the story.

The plot is pretty straightforward. It tells the story of Romochka who, at the beginning of the novel, is 4 years old and alone in an apartment in Moscow. He hasn’t seen his mother for a week or more and suddenly his uncle does not return. After a couple of days alone and sensing that the apartment building is being abandoned, he heads out and manages to get himself adopted by a dog, Mamochka, who lives with her four young puppies and two older offspring. The novel tells the story of his life with the dogs and of what happens when he, four years later, comes to the attention of humans, specifically two scientists/doctors working in a children’s rehabilitation centre.

The descriptions of life in the lair are pretty visceral:

This [a rat] was, he decided, his favourite food. He chewed through the slippery ribcage to its soft centre, keeping its head in his fist to make sure Black Sister didn't crunch through it and eat his treasure.

If you don't like dogs (and even if you do), these and similar descriptions can be particularly confronting - but, the characters are so strongly drawn and the story so compelling that we all, regardless of our attitude to dogs, found we wanted to keep reading.

Our main questions, in the end, focused on the scientists - their characterisation, their role in the novel. Some felt they were more successfully realised and integrated into the novel than others. But, they do of course raise the central question:

Would Romochka have been "better off living with dogs than with humans”?

The novel, then, teases out what it means to be human and, overall, humans (humanity) do not come out of it well, though of course there are humans who show love and care. Without Mamochka, however, Romochka is unlikely to have survived and this is a sobering thing for us to consider.

It was an interesting discussion but that's about all I'll report. It's a month since we met and I can't put my hands on my notes. I'm sure I've misrepresented some of the tenor of the discussion and would love to be corrected by those who remember more or something different. Go on, you can do it!

Schedule for the second half of 2011

2011-06-12T11:18:00.001+10:00

Our schedule for the second half of 2011 as decided at our May meeting is now listed under Current Schedule in the blog sidebar. Those of us who decided it hope the rest of you like it!

Please note that three members have not hosted this year. At the meeting we allocated the last two meetings to two of those members, but later heard that the third member had offered to host one meeting. So, I've decided to let you fight it out! Please look at October and November and let me know whether you're happy to do one of those and which one. I'll update the schedule when I hear from you.

Note: I have also updated the Schedule suggestions based on our discussions at the May meeting. Let me know if you have anything else to add, or change

Some schedule ideas for second half of 2011

2011-05-30T13:17:00.001+10:00

I will add these to the Schedule Suggestions list in the sidebar but am adding them here with a little reasoning.

There are only three books on the Miles Franklin shortlist for this year and all look interesting for one reason or another:

Kim Scott's That deadman dance. This book has been getting great reviews, and he's an indigenous writer who has won the award before. I'm very keen to read this.
Roger McDonald's When colts ran. He's from around here, he provided advice to Alan Gould and he's won before. I'd like to read this too!
Chris Womersley's Bereft. This has been getting great reviews too, and has already garnered some prizes. It's not his first novel but he is up and coming. Kate has read (or is reading) this in eBook version. Maybe if she can tear herself away from her river cruise she might comment here on whether she concurs with this for us to read.

But, what about some women writers? Cate Kennedy's The world beneath made a bit of splash last year. It's set in Tasmania. Or, a book by Gail Jones. I have yet to read her and would love to give her a go.

There are also some great books in those nice cheap Penguins, including books by Aussies Randolph Stow, Helen Garner, Robert Drewe.

Any other ideas?

Alan Gould, The Lake Woman

2011-04-27T09:27:00.006+10:00

About 10 Minervans plus the author found somewhere to sit in my living room last night to discuss this, to quote Les Murray, "strange and compelling book". Appropriately for Anzac day reading, the book begins with the moment that an Australian soldier in British service parachutes into the chaos of D-Day Normandy. It was good to have Alan confirm that the book was intentionally set in, but not actually about the war. Also, as it has a most arresting first few sentences, we weren't surprised to hear that for him, a novel begins with a sentence. Luckily his was a more fruitful beginning than that of a character in Camus's "The Plague" who, we remembered, endlessly rewrote the first sentence of his novel but got no further.

Alan, who started out as a poet, explained that for him, poetry is like music while fiction is like history, and that he can only work in one mode or the other and not both at once. We were struck by the beauty of his prose throughout the book though, written as only a poet could write. We felt that it helped create the sense of unreality and dislocation that overtakes Alec, the main character, as his purpose is shaken after his rescue by a strange and unforgettable woman, in a way shifting his mind to a timeless, legendary dimension. His subsequent lack of focus caused distress to his loyal, practical sister who hated to see him fail in his promise. Alan confirmed that he had used clocks and watches as symbols of Alec's removal from time, and the different languages, French, English, German, including music ("doodling") as different channels of communication to create a sense of confusion between two dimensions. Cannon fire, the chaos of war and and the surreal devastation of the formerly peaceful Norman countryside heightened the sense of unreality.

We were struck by the authentic, period feel of the spoken interaction between the characters, particularly the military and the Australian country people. It was interesting to hear how Alan absorbed and adapted the experiences and expertise of the friends and acquaintances credited in the Acknowledgements section, and no-one was surprised to hear of hours spent examining various maps of Normandy.

Alan was queried about the role of coincidence in the novel, for example the constantly reappearing Sergeant Ferris. He explained that Ferris is the death figure, appearing when others die, but himself unkillable, and that for Alan as a novellist "coincidence makes a story other than bland, both at the level of history and at a plane outside natural causality". In response to another query he explained why he took us through the whole of Alec's life - so that, through the response of the students at his retirement, he could see that his life had had some value after all. Some of us were very moved by the last couple of paragraphs, which clarified something that had remained ambiguous through the whole story.

We also heard about the highs and lows of life as a poet-novellist, the impact of changing literary fashions and the sad reality that the marketing manager now decides what gets published.

I've left out such a lot that was covered in a wide ranging conversation that I really enjoyed. I also really loved the book, which I think is Alan's best so far, but as an old friend of his I'm rather biased. Did anyone disagree though when someone said "We should have the author here every time"?

Lloyd Jones, Hand me down world

2011-04-25T12:38:00.001+10:00

Courtesy Text Publishing

All 8 (or so) Minervans who attended our meeting at the end of March to discuss Lloyd Jones' latest novel, Hand me down world, liked it. Some loved it, some liked it, but no-one disliked it. That says something about the quality of this book, methinks.

This is a multiple point of view novel chronicling the story of a young African woman who leaves Africa, by boat as an illegal immigrant, to find her son (who had been illegally taken from her when he was a baby) in Berlin. The first chapters of the book are presented as witness accounts by those who saw or helped her on her way. The rest of the book is told in larger chunks with, near the end, Ines (as we come to know her, though this is not her "real" name) telling us her (version of) her story. All these stories, except the Inspector's near the beginning, are told first person.

What Ines does to achieve her end is not - shall we say - always ethical. For her, the ends justifies the means in her desperation to make contact with her child. There's a death, and there's quite a bit of thieving and lying. For some Minervans this made her an unappealing character with whom they could not relate. For all of us, though, it certainly challenged us to think about what we might do - how far we might go - in similar circumstances. Another criticism of the novel was that it got a little bogged down in the central Berlin section ... did we need the full Defoe section some thought?

We discussed at some length the meaning of the title. Some ideas (including from reviews/interviews) included that:

the world, our world, is a rather arbitrary one
the son was, in a sense, "handed down"
people inhabit different worlds
Ines wore, symbolically, a hand-me-down coat, rather reflecting her status in the world as a "used" person because, for all her faults, she sure was "used"
versions - of things, people - are a theme of the novel (just as, really, the world has different "versions" depending on who we are and where we live)

Jones, it appears from the two novels we've read of him, keenly interested in the marginalised and dispossessed. His views are perhaps most encompassed by Bernard (or Millennium Three), the French character who most supports Ines, no questions asked. He talks of his politicisation in Berlin:

...we abhorred the state-inspired delineations and definitions of difference. Borders. Citizenship. Rich. Poor. Entitlement.

Another witness, the Film Researcher, talks of "other":

Until then she was, black, African, other. But now I saw a young woman who looked about the same age as my sister Alison. I could have been looking at Ali, apart from the obvious differences. Now I knew what I must do.

How to meet and react to "Other" is a powerful challenge for us all ... and Jones, in this novel, tackles it head on ... it's a powerful tale.

And there I'll leave it. Our discussion was a month ago so I can't remember the finer detail. Minervans, if I've misrepresented us, here's your chance. Comment away!

Albert Camus, The plague ... Why did he write it?

2011-03-02T17:12:00.001+11:00

Camus 1957 (Public domain, from the New York-World Telegram
and Sun Newspaper Telegraph Newspaper Collection)

A lively discussion ensued when 8 Minervans met this week to discuss Albert Camus' The plague. There were those who loved it, those who were surprised by how easy it was to read, and those who wished he'd written something different. If he wanted to write about the Nazi occupation of France, one member cried, why didn't he? With a discussion opener like that, it was on for one and all (more or less).

For those who don't know what the book is about, here is a quick plot. It is set in the town of Oran, on the Algerian coast, in the late 1940s. The town is 'visited' by the plague, and so closes itself off for the duration of the disease. The novel then follows the progress of the disease and how the citizens cope with such a pestilence and the resultant "exile" and "separation". There is a narrator, who is not revealed until the end, but we see the story through the actions and conversations of several characters including Dr Rieux, Tarrou (a "strange" visitor to the town), and Rambert (a visiting journalist). Secondary characters include the Priest Paneloux, a minor government official Grand, and a man with a past Cottard.

That's the basis of the literal story ... but this is a book that can be read on other levels. It can also be seen as an allegory about the French occupation in World War 2 (with a member suggesting that he took this approach because the French may not have been comfortable with a direct exploration of the occupation), or more broadly as a metaphorical story about how to live in an "absurd" world. It is these allegorical/metaphorical levels which engaged some of us, but frustrated others. Regardless though of what we thought was (or should be) the intent of the book, we enjoyed talking about the characters and how they behaved and reacted:

we thought about Tarrou's idea that we all have the plague in us. One member suggested that this idea is present in our 21st century consciousness - that is, that we are complicit in some way in the things that happen.
we discussed Fr Paneloux and his reactions: first, his fire and brimstone speech that people's sins had brought God's wrath upon them; and then later, in response to the death of an innocent child, his argument that whatever God willed, we should will too, that "the Christian should yield himself wholly to the divine will".
we felt we could understand Rambert's initial determination to escape. After all, it wasn't his town.
we admired Dr Rieux getting on with his duty.
we wondered about Grand and his seemingly trivial obsession with the first sentence of his novel, but a member suggested that he might be the true hero of the novel, and quoted the narrator:

... if it is a fact that people like to have examples given them, men of the type they call heroic, and if it is absolutely necessary that this narrative should include a 'hero', the narrator commends to his readers, with, to his thinking perfect justice, this insignificant and obscure hero who had to his credit only a little goodness of heart and a seemingly absurd ideal.

Grand in other words is a decent, ordinary everyman. No intellectualising for him, just a belief in doing the decent thing.

Of course, we discussed Cottard and his seemingly incomprehensibly happy reaction to the plague.

We enjoyed the language. One member commented that you could open the book anywhere and spot a beautifully written phrase. And this brought us to the translations. We all had Penguin editions, some old ones from the 1960s and 70s which used the 1948 Stuart Gilbert translation, and some the recent classic orange and white edition which uses the 2001 Robin Buss translation. We read the last paragraph in each translation and were surprised by the differences. For example, the "happy town" in 1948 becomes "contented" in 2001, the "linen-chests" of 1948 become "clothing", and "years and years" become "dozens of years". It felt very much like the language had been updated for more modern audience, but not being French experts we are not to say!

Finally, one member noted that an article she read described Camus as a "moraliste" but not a "moraliser", and that he had identified the central moral problems of the age. Many of us agreed with that, and felt that Camus was more humanist than existentialist.

I'm afraid, though, that the discussion was so vigorous that I have not recalled all that was said. I would be most happy if Minervans present picked me up in the comments on anything I've missed or, shock horror, anything that I've misrepresented! And, of course, for anyone else interested to chime in.

Freedom....what's it all about?

2011-02-28T12:46:00.005+11:00

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen was our Summer read, and first discussion for 2011. A long saga of a novel, by the author of Corrections, it follows the lives of Patty and Walter Berglund, their experience in American suburbia, their stumbling student days, reflections on their dysfunctional families, and the unwinding of their lives as their children head into adulthood.

Franzen certainly chooses a large canvas, and contains some satirical reflection on American life. Patty's reflection on her family where she always felt an outsider, is both humorous and moving: eg 'Patty's father, Ray Emerson, was a lawyer and amateur humorist whose repertory included fart jokes and mean parodies of his children's teachers, neighbours and friends' It also becomes tragic, where her parents don't want to dwell on her rape as it would disturb the status quo, 'Coach Nagel says I should go to the police ' 'Coach Nagel should stick to her dribbling,' her dad said. 'Softball', Patty said. 'It's softball season now'. Which Patty sees as a betrayal of herself, and a reflection of her parents lack of understanding of her life as a sports 'jock'.

Patty and Walter are both rather naive players in their lives, subject to the power and games of others. They are both drawn to the cynical, rock singing Richard, who has a power over them, but who in turn is drawn to their idealism and zeal. Perhaps Walter and Richard are two sides of the coin, and Patty is attracted to both, which forms a large part of the novel's plot.

I felt very engaged in the main characters, and could empathise with the pain and indecision of their courtship, the challenges of raising children, and the tensions of marriage over the long terms. Patty and Walter tried so hard to move away from their own dysfunctional family life, but succeeded in creating a son with completely opposite values to them, and in losing each other. He does however manage to create a very lovable screwed up couple who, we were pleased to see, ended the book happily.

We enjoyed the dialogue in the book, and considered Franzen at his best in some of the dialogue between characters. He gives the main characters fairly comprehensively realised psychologies, so that we really take a journey with them as they make mistakes, follow their hearts, and make new discoveries about themselves. He does also use the book as something of a soap box, talking about the effects of capitalism, war, environmental destruction, and at times the book seems mired in this preachiness, which is less successful than the realism and journey with many of his characters. Walter's interlude with Lalitha and the subsequent accident, did not work for some group members, seeing it as rather melodramatic.

Franzen describes his approach as 'tragic realism' and 'an antidote to the rhetoric of optimism that pervades our culture', which I thought an apt label. We discussed the title 'Freedom' and thought that the concept of 'Freedom and Liberty were much more significant in US culture. Franzen does question the value of freedom, and the rampant materialism, abuse of power, and impact on the environment that valuing freedom above else had. The characters too have their own quest to free themselves from their past, and to create new lives, to have the freedom to be individuals. Perhaps Walter was the character most prepared to work communally, but in the end he becomes a mouthpiece for capitalism and environmental rape. For some the title did not work. I came away thinking Franzen saw Forgiveness as a more necessary quality than Freedom, such that the characters in the book needed to forgive themselves and each other, to really be free to move on.

But I'll move off my soap box ... The group as a whole enjoyed the book, the characters and his humour, despite some meandering and overdoing the 'message' elements.

List of upcoming book-film adaptations

2010-12-03T08:58:00.000+11:00

In this post at Ripple Effects blogger Arti lists books that are currently in the process of being made into films. They might provide some ideas for future schedules.

Of course, we don't know from this list how imminent they are but it's a start. There are some interesting ones here including:

1984
On Chesil Beach;
The book thief;
The great Gatsby (again!); and
several other classics, again

If there are any books in Arti's list that we haven't read and you'd like us to consider, let me know and I'll add it to the schedule suggestions list in the sidebar.

The Thousand autumns of Jacob de Zoet

2010-11-09T15:09:00.003+11:00

Having rashly offered to write up our very enjoyable October discussion, I'm now attempting to come up with the goods. Eight (or nine?) of us gathered and enjoyed a literary evening followed by yummy chocolate cake. Kate was so anxious not to miss anything that she even rushed back from Cairo in time. Is that a record?
As you'd expect, our responses to the book varied. At least three of those who finished it had found it really enjoyable. This conclusion was tempered by the confession that the previously studied David Mitchell novel, Cloud atlas had been enjoyed at the time too, except no-one seemed to remember what it had been about. This fate couldn't befall Thousand autumns though! We mostly agreed that it had been a vivid, gripping experience being taken back to Japan during the Tokugawa Shogunate and stranded with the Dutch East India Company representatives on Dejima in Nagasaki Harbour, then taken up to a mysterious and sinister mountain shrine before finding ourselves on the deck of an English Man-of-War, creating havoc for all concerned.

Some of us found the cast of thousands hard to follow (and one of us was even driven to spreadsheet them all in her eagerness to keep up with the plot), but we agreed that the diverse characters were cleverly and engagingly created, so that we found ourselves in their heads and caring about them, and a couple of us had been moved to tears at different moments of the book.

There was the impression that a great deal of research and experience of Japanese culture was behind the well sustained authenticity of the world created, the invisible line between history and fiction, and we thought the novel was well paced and structured, with a satisfying, rather than anti-climactic ending.

We were impressed with the beauty of the language used and examples of the telling use of symbolism were discussed. The epic scope of the book was compared with Shogun, and the gradually revealed secrets of the shrine recalled The Name of the rose. Timeless themes were identified and discussed.

The comment was made that parts of the book were quite distressing and confronting. A more petty criticism raised was the misuse of the word "shall" by every character of every culture in the book, but nobody else agreed with me about that!

We thought the book would make a good movie, and speculated that the author had probably thought of that. However, on the basis of our discussion, a couple of us who hadn't finished the book decided not to wait for the movie but to get back into it forthwith.

Finally, I don't think even the fastidious Japanese could have queried the elegance of the tea sets that came with our yummy supper. Thanks Janet!

So much for that, by Lionel Shriver

2010-10-16T22:01:00.001+11:00

Courtesy: HarperCollins Australia

Nine Minervans, including new member Sue (welcome, Sue), met a few Tuesdays ago to discuss Lionel Shriver's latest novel, So much for that. The book was not universally loved by all members which resulted in a lively - though always respectful of course - discussion.

But first, the plot. The book starts with 48-year-old nice-guy Shep Knacker planning to escape the American rat-race to his dreamed of, and as it turns out ironically named, AfterLife in Pemba off Zanzibar. However, his plans are overturned by his wife’s announcement that she has a rare aggressive cancer called peritoneal mesothelioma and will need him to continue working, for his health insurance. Alongside Shep and Glynis’ experience of health service and insurance – and told in roughly alternating chapters – is that of their good friends Jackson and Carol whose 16-year-old daughter, Flicka, was born with the degenerative disease, familial dysautonomia. Two more health issues are added later in the book: Shep's father has a fall and needs to enter a nursing home, and Jackson undergoes some, let's call it, male "cosmetic" surgery which doesn't quite go according to plan. The novel plays these situations, economically, socially and psychologically to their relatively inevitable conclusions.

All this does make it sound a little contrived, which was one of the criticisms of the novel. Another criticism, somewhat related to this, was that it's a little too polemical. Some felt Shep was too good to believe. And some thought the ending was a cop-out which undermined the polemics. Then, of course, there were those who disagreed with these criticisms and who thought that the polemical aspect was balanced by her addressing other concerns such as the psychology of terminal illness, the language of health, and the implications of the American dream (or rat-race) from which Shep, for one, wished to escape.

Oh, and there were some things we all liked - such as the scene in which Shep and his free-loading sister discuss their father's post-operative care, and the clever title.

Not surprisingly with a book like this, discussion roamed beyond the book into Australia's health system and fears that it is slowly declining into something more American-like, particularly regarding things like funding and equity of access. We also talked about such issues as over-servicing or unnecessary servicing. Who makes the decision when, for example, tests are really needed and should be done, when treatment is no longer worthwhile and how do we define worthwhile?

This is a pretty superficial report of our discussion, but my excuse is that it was a while ago now. Comments elaborating on these - or anything I've missed are most welcome from those who were there and those who weren't.

Quote of the night: Celeste told us that after having an MRI some years ago she thought "I was relieved to find I had a brain". What a shame she had to go through an MRI to discover that. We've known for a long time that she has one! She only had to ask.

Truth....by Peter Temple

2010-09-14T14:27:00.008+10:00

Courtesy: Text Publishing

We decided to tackle, in August, the controversial Miles Franklin award winner Truth by Peter Temple, although none of us I think are crime genre readers as a rule. I think it took us all outside our comfort zone, and most found it somewhat cryptic and confusing to read. The main hero, Villani is somewhat stereotypical of the crime fiction/film noir character: a flawed and brooding character: good at his job, but somewhat stunted in his emotions and ability to form personal relationships. His outlook on life is pessimistic, and his personal life is coming apart. He is apparently attractive to women, has loyal colleagues, but with little time for the games and politics of the organisation.

Villani’s relationship with his father was one of the more interesting aspects of the novel, and gave some insight into his emotional limitations, his sense of responsibility and his somewhat terse communication style. A very male oriented book, it was interesting to see Villani and his dad, both fiercely independent, but with a respect for each other, and a shared love of the forest they had planted and nurtured. Villani’s doomed marriage, and his questioning of his immersion in his work were part of the self-reflections in the book, which focussed pretty squarely on this central character.

Two themes in our discussion resonated with me:

How authentic is the language he uses? The clipped, cryptic dialogue in particular
The pessimism in the book and the world it represents

The language
The language is deliberately brief with little background to set the scene or help the reader follow the action clearly. It seems intended as a challenge, to see if the reader can follow the many plot lines and shorthand references to other characters or situations. The question for me was: what was the purpose of this style? My husband who also read the book, and who likes thrillers did not find this one easy to follow. Was it intended as authentic speech for police officers, and the other tough characters in the book? Was it a version of the stylised language of the genre?

I admit to challenging its authenticity: it read like a pared down film script, almost a caricature of the style, not really naturalistic, but also something of a barrier for the reader to engage in the plot twists and turns. It was a relief when the first person narration took over as Villani reflected on his family life, as these were the main areas I could follow what was going on. Admittedly the language helped build the tension, and sense of small pieces of jigsaw being pieced together or sometimes not. However I question the effectiveness of this style of language in communicating with the readers..or with me at least.

The pessimism
The world of the book is quite dark, and his view on human nature quite pessimistic. From a police officer’s point of view this could be quite valid, as their focus is certainly on the darker side of human nature. Temple himself, South African born, comes across with a certain tough pessimism, and a sense of futility about society and those in power. The politicians, chief police officers, businessmen all exhibited a threatening air, and Villani was wary and sceptical of their motives.

Our discussion moved on to whether the group felt a deepening pessimism about the nature of society, the sense of personal safety and cynicism we have. This on the eve of a fascinating election, where the Australian voters have expressed a sense of cynicism in the major political parties, and a search for some more authenticity, or ‘truthfulness’ in their communication with the electorate.

I feel there is a developing ‘old fogeyism’ among my peers, which assumes society is becoming more violent, dangerous, and insecure. In this post 9/11 world my understanding is that the rate of murders is relatively stable per head of population. I made a case for an evidence based attitude, rather than hearsay and fear. In researching the crime rate in Australia, I noted that rates for many crimes have actually increased over the last 10 years for instance, but that our fear of crime has increased disproportionally, and not necessarily in line with our risk (eg those over 65 are most fearful of crime, but are least likely to be a victim of crime).

I did also notice that our murder rate which was reported as 321 deaths in 1995, is still around the same as the rate of 20 per million which was the case in 1916. Ah statistics....

Anyhow an interesting discussion, and Peter Temple’s Truth certainly took us to some new territory, and gave us fruit for discussion. Some group members felt that Truth was not as good as The Broken Shore, so I have put in a request to borrow Temple’s earlier work from the library to read next, and give him another go...

Solar, by Ian McEwan

2010-07-31T14:40:00.001+10:00

Five Minervans met this week to discuss Ian McEwan's Solar. We missed those tripping in other parts of Australia (singing in the Red Centre for one, and sunseeking in Queensland for another) and those in their sickbeds. We wish you - you know who you are - a speedy recovery!

Used by permission of the Random House Group

A quick plot summary: Solar tells the story of aging Nobel Laureate physicist, Michael Beard, who at the beginning of the novel is overweight, at the end of his fifth marriage, and resting on his laurels rather than doing any useful science. As usually happens in McEwan, an event occurs which serves to alter the course of people's lives - in this case, Michael Beard's in particular. As it happens, he's not above a bit of dishonesty here and there to ensure things work out to his advantage. How that happens and how it falls out makes up the rest of the book. All this occurs within the world of climate change, hence the title.

The general consensus was that we all enjoyed the book, but some enjoyed it more than others! The two who loved it greatly enjoyed the humour and felt that McEwan's ability to write about anything shone through. The others of us agreed more with Kate's blog post on the book. We felt it was readable but that it missed the mark in one way or another. The member who phoned in a late apology was in this camp too - she felt that it was a good story but that it got lost in the technical details.

We all though did enjoy some of the humour, particularly the episode where Beard goes to the arctic with a bunch of artists (he is the only scientist) to see climate change first hand. Chaos and disorganisation, not to mention a little hypocrisy (as they rush about the ice in their gas-fired skidoos), abound and we are left wondering whether the climate change community is capable of coordinating anything that would be positive for the environment.

Some of us found the constant description of Beard's eating, drinking and womanising a little repetitive and tedious though agreed that he represents a good example of "the unexamined life". That said, we also felt that Beard had his better moments, such as his ability to tell a story against himself (eg the stolen potato chips story).

We talked a little about the book's exploration of issues like logic and reason versus imagination, and also about McEwan's focus on middle-aged men. One of the members who really liked the book said this aspect of his recent books have put her off, and that it was the humour in this one which got her attention. Usually, she said, she prefers to read about middle-aged women. I suspect that's true for a lot of us.

Finally, we briefly discussed the last line and what it meant - but to discuss that here would be a bit of a spoiler if you haven't read it. We were in general agreement though that it was effectively open-ended: a couple of interpretations are possible but all point to roughly the same thing.

I don't think I've fully captured the discussion, so please add a comment if you'd like to flesh it out a little more OR if you weren't at the meeting and would like to add your 2 cents' worth.

Thoughts on Solar from the northern sun-seeker

2010-07-25T21:30:00.001+10:00

Here are some thoughts on Solar by Ian McEwan. Have a good discussion...wish I was there ...or better still you were ate Agnes Water listening to the waves with me...

McEwan has made a comical farce, supposedly resting on the most serious challenge of our generation: climate change. The two forces in the book sit uneasily with one another. His protagonist: Beard, a flabby middle aged (well late 50’s) scientist, seems to exhibit many sins of the generation: he is a glutton, selfish, a philanderer, a thief and a liar.... probably some others. He is completely unlikeable, although a source of some comedy, as for example he pretends to have a woman in his room to make his wife jealous. And he seems completely incapable of redemption, for example as offered by the ponytailed scientist tom Aldous. He simply steals his idea, and tries to profit from it.

His relationship with x, and his unwanted daughter may offer him redemption, as they seem to believe the best of him. However the farce comes tumbling to an end... I kept thinking heart attack, he must have a heart attack soon, as McEwan delights in describing one ghastly fast food overdose after another...

So it seems we are not to take it seriously, Beard is a caricature, hard to identify with (although he is shown as quite pitiful to us) and it surprised me to hear his public address which actually sounded quite reasonable....

So why did McEwan write the book? Why create such an unlikeable character, and such a farcical series of accidents, and human frailty...

I wondered if Beard was his attempt at Everyman....the 20^th Century human representing our foibles and weaknesses...particularly in an era when we need to rise above our petty squabbles to do something about Climate Change... He is intelligent, has the knowledge to solve the problem, but gets immersed in his own petty problems, ego, and base drives, and if we did not laugh at him, we would certainly weep at such a wasted life....

I think McEwan must have decided that a serious tome on Climate Change would not be appealing, so he has gone to the other extreme and kept the tone very satiricial and farcical. The book was readable and amusing: the scenes of him freezing his penis off on the Snowmobile ride were funny in an excruciating Basil Fawlty like way - in his ineptitude and inability to admit to his problems, and to worry about having taken his penis off...probably would have been better for all concerned if he had! I found myself wondering aghast at what ridiculous mess he would get into next... and when he would get discovered.

I agree with the review in the Guardian by Christopher Taylor who says that some elements of the comedy do not come off as well as they might in McEwan’s hands:

Lightness, however, comes less easily to McEwan, whose style depends on deliberateness and a certain ponderousness. The ominous lining up of causes and effects and the patient tweaking of narrative tension don't always mesh well with the aimed-for quickness and brio. Some of the humour is quite broad: there's a rather clunking motif concerning polar bears, and Beard gets involved with a stereotypical Southern waitress who's called, in the way of trailer-trash types, Darlene. He emerges as a figure of some comic dynamism, but the pages on his childhood and youth, though brilliantly done, articulate poorly with the knockabout parts of the plot.(Christopher Taylor, The Guardian, 13 March 2010)

On most levels I found the book unsatisfying, compared to Enduring Love, Saturday or On Chesil Berach. The humour and unlikeable main character distanced me emotionally from the book. McEwan says it was about human nature, rather than climate change, and getting us to look at the barriers in our nature to living differently and thus reducing the impact of climate change. The plot felt contrived, and I thought he spent a lot of time with Beard dealing with his infidelities. It would have been good to develop the Aldous character a little more, as he was the alternative good scientist to Beard the cynical scientific figure.

In the finale, it looked as though he might finally get his just desserts... although I would have liked to see him working in a menial way on some alternative energy scheme that might have just had a glimmer of hope, but that’s me...

March, May and June 2010 meetings

2010-07-05T17:44:00.004+10:00

Well Minervans, somehow we are not keeping this up to date, so I thought I'd try to do a quick run through from memory of the books we've not reported on - just for the record.

March : David Malouf's Ransom
All I can recollect of this one is that those present generally enjoyed it. We loved the language and we loved the more "lowly" human touches such as Priam's trip with Somax. A couple of us wondered a little what Malouf's point was in re-telling the story from this angle - was his retelling sufficiently "different" to add something to the myth? Some felt his humanising of the event - Priam's asking Achilles for the body of his son Hector - was, while others were not quite so sure. However, everyone (as I recollect) enjoyed the story and Malouf's lovely evocative writing.

May : Andrea Goldsmith's Reunion

There was perhaps a little more difference of opinion on this one, which is about the return to Melbourne some 20 years later of a group of old university friends. The novel describes the next few years of their lives - how the old friendships pan out, the various tensions and secrets that lie beneath the surface. Being friends ourselves, we discussed the drive to maintain friendships and enjoyed reading about people who were roughly our vintage! However, some thought that Goldsmith was just a little too simplistic about it all - and one member suggested that Goldsmith did not follow as well as she might have that old dictum of "show, don't tell". Most, if not all of us, though enjoyed the read.

June : Louann Brizendine's The female brain
We were a small group for this one, with three away overseas or travelling up north and three deciding, for various reasons, they could not brave what was a pretty cold night. Our discussion consequently ended up being a little briefer and less focused than usual. We didn't really get our teeth into the book in an in-depth way but we did end up talking about some of the issues she raises for women of a certain age - not only understanding our own biology but that of our teenage girls/young adult daughters. It was an interesting discussion resulting in the sort of sharing that is an important part of reading groups.

This book was published in 2006 and describes the degree to which Brizendine believes women's brains are different to men's. In other words, she discusses the ways in which she sees gender differences as being biologically determined. We did discuss a little the fact that Brizendine's evidence for all her claims was not as clear/substantiated as we would like, that is, that hard scientific support was sometimes (often) missing. And there was some discussion about her language. Janet who phoned in her apology said she got rather tired of hearing about the brain being "marinated" (in hormones, etc). In fact the language over all tended to be a bit cutesy and sound-bitey at times. The jury, of course, is still out regarding how much we are biologically determined but - to put my own stamp on it - I am willing to believe that there could be differences in our behaviours that are biologically determined. However, I don't believe biology accounts for differences in skills and intellectual ability, and nor does it mean that women's opportunities and rights should be limited and less!

All this said, I think we all found it an interesting read and something a little different from our usual fare.

If anyone would like to comment, particularly those who didn't make the meeting(s), please go ahead!

Image: Courtesy HarperCollins Australia

Another bookgroup

2010-07-02T18:38:00.002+10:00

Today I "met" online the member of another bookgroup that's been going for 22 years too. And, they have a blog that's a few years older than ours. Have a look at it: Booksnthings.

Does that get your creative juices going?

Schedule Suggestions 2010

2010-06-21T12:01:00.003+10:00

Two suggestions for our next schedule:

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoat, by David Mitchell

Some varied reviews - including this one from New Statesman - but sounds a fascinating book for Japan-ophiles, and for those interested in different structures etc.

Another interesting book in the same review that got quite a good rap, and the author was on the Book Show 18 June 2010, is:

The Life and Opinions of Maf the Dog, and of his friend Marilyn Monroe, by Andrew O'Hagan

Voss by Patrick White

2010-04-29T21:06:00.004+10:00

On Tuesday night 27 April, Gerda, Kate and I had a good discussion about this amazing book. It was a real pity more of you couldn't attend. We decided it was definitely one of the best books we have ever read for the story, the language, the characterisation, the cleverness and even the humour.

The story is loosely based on the 3 explorations of inland Australia by Ludwig Leichhardt. It was written in the mid 1950s and Australia was a very different country from today, culturally and in the way we think about ourselves as Australians. The Second World War effects were still an issue as well.

The main character is Voss, a German outsider and a man with a mission and a vision. He needs to do this trip across Australia not only for an intellectual exercise but he seems to have a physical need for it too. He meets Laura Trevelyan, also an outsider, and they fall in love with only moments of acquaintanceship -- literally a few hours of a picnic, a dance, a most difficult ride in a carriage and a farewell on the wharf. He writes to her at the first 'outstation' on their expedition and asks to marry her and from that moment they are linked/wedded telepathically.

There is a lot of racism in this book for example the 'German' is often pointed out or discussed by the Bonners and others. He is variously described as the Christ and as the devil. It is very much a love/hate relationship for Mr Bonner, the main supporter of the expedition. There is also a lot of love and hate about the country itself noted by the characters. This duality is found in the members of the expedition party too -- convict and squattocracy, young and fit and older and not so fit (Judd and Palfreyman), young and old Indigenous persons, rich and poor.

Laura and her cousin are also opposites in lots of ways and at times show an Australian version of Jane Austen's irony in mid 19th century Sydney.

It is a tragic tale but does not indulge in sentimental waffle.

There are also occasional funny moments --at the farewell on the wharf the "Colonel clasped the German's hand in a gloveful of bones'.

White was heavily critical of Australia in the mid 1950s and it does come out in this novel. Read David Marr* for more information about White's feelings about Voss. It has become a classic and Kate thought it would mke a great film although the tripping backwards and forward sequences are a little old fashioned these days.

It is highly recommended and easy to see why Patrick White won so many awards. It is well worth the effort.

* David Marr, Patrick White: A life

The little stranger, by Sarah Waters

2010-02-27T13:50:00.026+11:00

It has been a veritable Sarah Waters feast for Minerva this week, all because, coincidentally, The Canberra Times-ANU scheduled a literary event featuring Sarah Waters in conversation with Marion Halligan the day after we had scheduled Waters' The little stranger for discussion. Six of us turned up for the discussion, and four the next day for the conversation.

First, though, our discussion. It was a good one! All had read it - or made a good enough fist of it to join in the discussion. We all enjoyed it, though not without various reservations along the way. The things we liked were:

the social history: Waters has done a wonderful job of creating a "feel" for the time, and particularly of the class tensions that were rising in that post-war period
the "fabulous" descriptions, particularly of Hundreds Hall and its cold, damp feel
the characters: they were all convincing, even the minor ones

The plot was, though, frustrating for many of us. Many felt set up but were not quite sure for what. Some felt that at times Waters included information/details because she'd done the research and didn't want to leave it out. We puzzled quite a bit about the narrator, Dr Faraday. At times he felt unreliable, but we decided that in fact he was reliable. Some sympathised with him, while others felt he was manipulative. Did he love Caroline or the house? And we were not all convinced about who the little stranger was: the baby "Susan", or a poltergiest released by the Ayerses' inability to adapt to changing times, or perhaps, the doctor (though most of felt that he could not have consciously engineered the events that occurred)?

... and so it was with some enthusiasm that we went to the Sarah Waters' event the next day. We had our question ready! But, Sarah, it was clear, did not want to engage in discussions about the ending, fearing spoilers for those who had not yet read it. All she said formally was that she left it deliberately open but that she tried to lead the reader to a certain conclusion. She’s been fascinated by the discussions that have ensued about the ending. Don’t we know it! I'd love to know how many of those discussions have been off the mark (from her perspective anyhow).

However, she did say some things that might help our deliberations. Her original plan was for Dr Faraday to be a straightforward, transparent narrator, who was firmly in the middle class and a friend of the family, and who would chronicle their decline. This changed as she started writing: she decided to make him more uncomfortable class-wise with some latent class resentments. And, she talked about poltergeists and how they represent the release of unresolved tensions, conflicts and frustrations. Well, there were a lot of those at Hundreds Hall and so I think that if we accept poltergeists, then we might decide that more than one “person” is implicated in what happened at Hundreds Hall. There is, after all, the following statement in the book made to Dr Faraday by Dr Seeley:

The subliminal mind has many dark, unhappy corners, after all. Imagine something loosening itself from one of those corners. Let’s call it a – a germ. And let’s say conditions prove right for that germ to develop – to grow … What would this little stranger grow into? A sort of shadow-self, perhaps a Caliban, a Mr Hyde. A creature motivated by all the nasty impulses and hungers the conscious mind had hoped to keep hidden away: things like envy, and malice and frustration…

This is just the tip of the iceberg of a lively reading group discussion and an engaging literary event (as Waters and Halligan were really rather delightful). It would be great if others who attended the meeting and/or talk, or who didn't attend these but have read the book, shared their ideas here. Go for it ...

Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel

2010-01-23T17:38:00.013+11:00

Ten of our current active members attended our first meeting of the year at which we were to discuss Hilary Mantel's whopping Wolf Hall. Not only did ten turn up but a goodly number managed to finish it - or make a good fist of it. Most liked it, some really loved it...and that set us up for a good discussion.

It turned out that our hostess, also our newest member, loves historical fiction - and is pretty interested in this era in particular. She started us off by saying how much she liked the book. She enjoys, she said, what she calls "historical fiction lite" such as the works of Philippa Gregory - but this, she suggested, is a cut way above. When we asked her to define the difference, she said there were two main differences: in historical fiction lite

every character has one strong trait that tends to deny complexity of motivation; and
the story's the thing.

Well, Wolf Hall is somewhat different from that. Its story is strong of course - dealing as it does with the machinations involved in getting an annulment for Henry VIII from his marriage to Katherine (Catherine) of Aragon so he can marry Anne Boleyn. But alongside this story is a lot of detail about the issues surrounding this: the freeing up of access to the Bible, the separation from the Church in Rome, the Act of Supremacy, the rise of the trading class ... to name a few. And the characters - particularly Thomas Cromwell through whose eyes the story is told (albeit in 3rd person) - are complex. In fact, the story is really the story of Cromwell told through the Henry-Katherine-Anne plot.

We compared a little Mantel's interpretation of Cromwell and Sir Thomas More with other interpretations more favourable to More, such as A man for all seasons. Many of us would like to see that play/film again in the light of this book. Mantel clearly has some sympathy for Cromwell and has presented him more favourably - though not denying the fact that he was an ambitious, clear-eyed political-player willing to make hard decisions - than many before her have. One member questioned the interpretation of Henry VIII as a fairly "soft" man, though another wondered whether this was because the story is told through Cromwell's eyes. Is this how Cromwell saw Henry?

We talked a little about the style - particularly its third person point-of-view and the sometimes confusing way Mantel uses the pronoun "he". We liked its humour, particularly shown through Cromwell's interactions with such characters as "Call-me Risely" and next-door neighbour Chapuys. One member referred to Mantel's conversation with Ramona Koval (of ABC Radio National fame) about how she develops rhythm in her writing.

It was suggested that there was a point to writing this book now, since a major thread running through it is religious fanaticism: people are burnt - and are often prepared to be burnt rather than recant - for their religious beliefs, which is not far removed, she thought, from some of the fanatical religious behaviour evident in our era.

...and so we continued to toss ideas around. There were no gaps in our discussion about this book ...

We would highly recommend it to other groups, but with one proviso: people need to have the time to commit to it. It is not necessarily a hard book to read, but it is one that you need to get momentum going in order to follow its flow.

Cover image: Used courtesy HarperCollins Publizhers

Schedule suggestions 2009

2009-10-28T09:50:00.009+11:00

Here are some of the suggestions tossed around at our meeting last night (together with those previous suggestions in the blog's sidebar):

Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall (this year's Booker Prize winner. It's long so perhaps our summer read
Steven Conte's The zookeeper's war (last year's Prime Minister's Literary Award winner)
Rodney Hall (a book by him)
Alex Miller (a book by him - perhaps the new Lovesong??)
Patrick White's Voss (had been tentatively set for January but maybe Wolf Hall would be better for the summer read)
Kazuo Isiguro's Nocturnes (short stories)
David Malouf's Ransom
Jayne Anne Phillips' Lark and termite

Have I forgotten any that we discusssed?

What do you all think of these - and do you have other ideas? Marie, Susan and other farflung members - even if you can't come we would be happy to hear about any books you've read that you think we'd like to read.

(Free image from www.clker.com - for fun)

Valley of grace by Marion Halligan

2009-10-01T20:52:00.005+10:00

On Tuesday 29 September, 10 of us including the author Marion Halligan sat comfortably in Kate's house mulling over French lives, loves and babies. We started our discussion with comments about the amazing cake -- how does it stay together, had Marion eaten it -- yes but it was in a little bag (!) and she had never made it.

Marion was very generous with her memories of Paris in 1989 living near the Church whose creation is so central to a main theme of women and fertility. Her tale of writing the novel was fascinating -- it started life as a short story which had possibilities. We enjoyed hearing that her act of writing is pen and paper although she writes essays on the computer. She talked a little about writing erotica -- plenty of love in Fanny's life when Gerard appears. We heard about some of the characters including the Philosopher who is based on a Canberra academic and his wife who is so happy with her abandonment of him in preference to the god child. It was good to hear that all the answers are not known even for the author. The wild child was the Professor's offspring possibly and was so sad -- that lead to discussion about such children and Marion revealed that she had researched these children.

We talked of types of families in contemporary life and the growing trend of gay couples having children. Marion admitted that she considered a sad end for Claude and Agnes' baby but decided against it -- I am so pleased. She also talked of endings and the suddenness of this one.
The cover we decided is beautiful and its yellow rays appropriate for the story.

What also came out was Marion's love of Paris and the French and their cultured lives filled with books and good food, wine, chocolates and friends.

Next challenge is Pages -- Marion doesn't want to read it !

(Cover image courtesy Allen & Unwin)

Dreams from my father, by Barack Obama

2009-09-30T15:31:00.009+10:00

Somehow our report of our August meeting slipped through the net, so in the interests of comprehensiveness I'm going to do a brief one now. Eight of us (I think!) met at Celeste's to talk about the book everyone's been talking about - Barack Obama's Dreams from my father - though I think we must have been about the last group to get around to doing it!

Not surprisingly, we all enjoyed it, though some admitted to finding the Chicago section slower going than the rest of the book. We liked the nuanced way he explores the issue of racism and racial experience. By this we meant the way he comprehends racism from a number of perspectives, due perhaps to his own unusual background:

he was brought up middle-class and by his white mother and grandparents;
he spent part of his childhood in Indonesia, and so experienced another set of cultural differences and expectations; and
his father, with whom he had some (but not much) contact, was African born (rather than an African American).

These things, together with his personal experiences and, well, his personality, give him a fairly unique basis from which to look at the issue.

Our assessment of Obama was that he is both visionary and compassionate. He is very open on some aspects of his life - such as drinking, smoking and drug-taking in his youth - but pretty reticent about his relationships with women (though clearly he had some - relationships, that is). While we would like to have known more, perhaps it's to his credit that he's discreet!

Finally, we talked a little about the title and the idea that it contains an element of irony. Whose dreams are they? Did his father's dreams carry the seeds of his own destruction? With the benefit of hindsight, we can see that whatever and whosever they are, they have stood him in good stead to date!

(Cover image: Courtesy Text Publishing)

The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas

2009-08-03T21:57:00.004+10:00

On Tuesday 28 July, 7 Minervans met to discuss Christos Tsiolkas controverial book The Slap. Winner of the Commonwealth Writers Prize, we all agreed it was a can't put down read, that had engaged us all. There was a lot of discussion of the Greek Australian culture that formed the background for a number of characters, and the role of males within this culture. There was some discussion about the representation of a certain middle-class Australia: the aspirational Australians. There was a very strong representation of consumerism, and the material ascendancy of this second generation of characters.

We all admitted to finding a lot of the characters rather unpleasant, but nonetheless very empathic. It was the younger characters we felt were drawn the most successfully, but who also found themselves reacting to events around them, and caught up in the manipulations of others.

Tsiolkas managed to give all the characters a convincing voice, and to get inside their heads.There was a sense that all characters were portrayed as vulnerable, with the contradiction between their thoughts and deeds highlighted by the author. Different group members had favourite characters, from the tragic Rosie to the attractive and flawed Hugo, and the wicked Hector.

It was a fascinating structure to present the narrative from different perspectives, and to move the story along in a dynamic way, that retained suspense, and continuity.

The regular drug-taking and 'male-oriented' sex was also commented on. The representation of the abuse of power was very realistic and quite chilling in places.

The group discussed the slap or child punishment very little, seeing the book as much more about the relationships, power struggles and family stresses that were revealed as a reult of the incidence. There was also a comment that the book was not 'documentary realism', but more a series of incidences told in a sort of heightened realism to emphasise the drama, and implications of the actions of the characters. There were comments that some of the writing was somewhat melodramatic, and slightly 'TV soap script' in style, but most did not find this off-putting.

A book rich in discussion topics, and somewhat confronting in its depiction of aspects of Australian society. Well worth reading.

Snow, by Orhan Pamuk

2009-06-30T23:14:00.004+10:00

"It's good to read a book exploring 'big themes' instead of yet another Australian book about marriage breakups" was one member's comment about our June book, Snow, by Orhan Pamuk. This is the second Orhan Pamuk book that we Minervans have discussed, the first being his memoir-cum-history, Istanbul. Nine members turned up at our June meeting and almost all had attempted the book but only about half of us had finished, partly because, as most of us agreed, it is not one of those books you can read in long stretches. None of us, in fact, found it an easy book to read but we managed to tease out quite a few of the big themes it covers.

Some of the themes we looked at were: the relationship between art and politics, the role of women in Turkish society and particularly the issue of women wearing headscarves, east-west tensions (particularly between Turkey and Europe/Germany), and the tensions within Turkey between secularists, Islamic fundamentalists, and Kurdish nationalists. We didn't really resolve where Pamuk was taking us with most of these but we had fun trying.

We wondered what impact the translator had on our enjoyment of the novel. One member in particular felt it was cliched, contradictory at times, repetitive and weighed down by too much detail. Others of us, though, found it dense but overall an engaging read. Its structure is interesting: it is basically a third person story told by a first person narrator who has researched his friend's story after the events of the book, and much of the plot is foreshadowed before we get to it. There are quite a few pairs of characters who could be "compared and contrasted" to better understand them, including Ka the protagonist and his friend Orhan the narrator; Ipek and Kadife, the sisters; Fazil and Necip, the religious high school boys; and Ka (again) and Blue, the sisters' lovers.

Although the plot is based on a coup and there are some 29 deaths, the novel also has some very funny scenes - such as the scene where competing "rebels" get together to prepare a joint statement for the Western press. It is deeply ironic in places, and in fact we wondered whether the whole book has an ironic edge to it particularly in the way it plays with the art-politics nexus. Not surprisingly, snow - literally and figuratively - underpins the book and is presented somewhat paradoxically, that is, very early in the book it is described as pure but not innocent! The chapter headings are amusing and reminiscent a little of nineteenth century novel style. And the chapters are short - there are 44 chapters in under 440 pages. We do like a book with short chapters!

There were several attempts to sum up the book. One member suggested that it's a bit like a Turkish Wake in Fright, while another suggested that its complexity is rather reminiscent of a Turkish carpet. These are two quite diverse ways of looking at it. It would be great now to hear what others think, so please, comment away...

BREAKING NEWS! I have just learnt that "kar" is snow in Turkish - which rather explains the wordplay on Ka/Kars. The things you miss in translation, eh?

The limits of Google

2009-06-04T14:21:00.005+10:00

Had to share this. You have to feel sorry for the "punters" out there, including ourselves, trying to hone in on the information they/we seek. Recently, our blog was the second result in the hitlist produced on a search for "heroic quotes from Minerva". Well, of course our title is Minerva. And the report of our meeting on The white tiger does mention "hero" and the review of People of the book does include the word "quotes". Google very carefully put two and two together and came up with, well, not four in this case.

The trouble is that Google does not appear to use much in the way of proximity searching. After all, "hero" appeared in one post and "quotes" in another. The poor searcher arriving at our site must have been severely disappointed. You have to hope that if there are sites in which these words are closer together, they would have been listed ahead of us in the hitlist!

All this is to say that as wonderful as Google is (and I would hate to be without it), there is much to be said for good indexing and, more importantly perhaps, sophisticated search tools. Without them, searching the 'net is indeed a heroic activity requiring stamina, patience and perhaps, even, a little bravery...

(Photo:dannysullivan @ flickr)

Steve Toltz, A fraction of the whole

2009-05-27T07:48:00.009+10:00

What to say about a book that only a fraction of the six Minervans who attended this week's meeting had finished, except that despite this fact we had a fine discussion? Steve Toltz's A fraction of the whole is somewhat of a "loose baggy monster" that defeats some while engaging others. It was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize last year, and longlisted (but didn't make the cut) for the Miles Franklin this year. It did, however, win the inaugural People's Choice Award at this year's New South Wales Premier's Literary Awards. This is not a bad track record for debut novel by a writer in his early 30s.

What then is it about? It's hard to say except that the plot concerns the life of a father - a weird and wonderful one - as told by his son. It spans Australia, France and Thailand, not to mention several weeks at sea in a people-smuggler's boat. It is told in first person, mainly by the son, Jasper, but with sections told in, Martin's, the father's voice. These sections include the father's bedtime story of his life to the age of 22, his unfinished autobiography covering another section of his life, and parts of his journal. This is not really what it is ABOUT though and we spent some time discussing that - without coming to any major conclusions. We did, however, talk a little about the things he mocks, such as education and middle class Australian goals, and a little about his criticism of Western societies' lack of compassion. One member wondered whether there was a bit of the yin-yang to Martin and his brother Terry, and there could be some mileage in taking that discussion a little further.

We also talked about its style - and had a bit of fun picking out funny bits. You can find a "funny bit" on almost every page. It has some crisp dialogue and great descriptions, though some felt it could have done with a bit of an edit! Several felt it was a "young" book and thought its youthful breathless tone was a little reminiscent of D.B.C. Pierre's award-winning first novel, Vernon God Little. Unlike this book though, we found it harder at times to know exactly where Toltz stands on some of the issues he covers (though at other times it was pretty clear). We also thought that it was perhaps the most male book we'd read for a while - the last being Tim Winton's Breath.

There is a lot to think about and talk about in this book. Perhaps other members will add here some of the issues that particularly interested them.

(Book cover: Courtesy Allen & Unwin Website)

Patrick White's Voss, and other things

2009-05-09T09:55:00.003+10:00

Okay, I know we've done a classic for this year but could we squeeze in another? Kate and I were talking yesterday about the Voss events in town next week and Kate said she's never read it. I love Voss but it's been a long long time since I read it. I would dearly love to read it again. Voss, as I guess most of you know, is White's imagining of Ludwig Leichhardt's experience as he explored northern Queensland. What do you all think?

I have listed some of the books that have been suggested for our next schedule in the side bar on this blog. We should decide on our next schedule at the May meeting so have a think about what you'd like us to read. If you'd like to make some advance suggestions, you can do it in three ways: by adding a comment to this post; if you are an author here, by creating a new post describing your recommendation; by emailing me and I will add it to the list here.

Alan Bennett's The uncommon reader

2009-05-01T10:04:00.007+10:00

Light with bite is how I would describe Bennett's delightful novella The uncommon reader. It can be read on several levels from the straight (a sweet story about the current English Queen discovering the thrill of reading late in her life) through the contemplative (a meditation on readers, reading and the value of literature) to the satirical (an expose of life in the palace, and more broadly of politics and those involved in the political process).

Take for example, reading. The Queen (in the book) says that "Books are not about passing the time. They're about other lives. Other worlds". Fair eough, we all agree with that I'd say. But then there's this, again from our newly enlightened reading Queen: "Books generally just confirm you in what you have, perhaps unwittingly, decided to do already. You go to a book to have your convictions corroborated. A book as it were closes the book". Hmmm...Bennett's Queen is one clever (and scary) lady!

Jokes at the expense of palace officials, politics and politicians abound. Nothing really new here but they are proffered with a light touch. The Queen, now talking about writing her own book, says "To enquire into the evidence for something on which you have already decided is the unacknowledged premise of every public enquiry, surely?" on which the Prime Minister thinks to himself "If this was to be the tone of what the Queen was planning to write there was no telling what she was going to say. 'I think you would do better just to tell your story, ma'am'".

This is no sentimental tale, but neither is it completely cynical (though some could see it that way). Sly is perhaps the best word to describe its ability to engage us with the humanity of the characters while skewering them and their (our) world at the same time. However, I won't go on, except to say that the ironies, word play and allusions evident in the title give a clue to what is inside - and yet it can be read and enjoyed whether or not you pick up all, some or none of them. I'm sure I missed my share. But that's okay, as I would be more than happy to read it again.

Michelle de Kretser's The lost dog

2009-04-28T23:17:00.007+10:00

Lost was a little bit how the seven Minervans who met to discuss The lost dog felt when approaching a discussion of this novel. All agreed that de Kretser is a wonderful writer but there were mixed feelings about how successful this particular book is. Some felt it was slow to start, a few felt the middle was a little tortuous, while others loved it from go to whoa. In other words, we paralleled the mixed reactions of the critics.

The lost dog is framed by the story of one man, academic Tom Loxley, and his search for the dog he loses while staying in the country to finish his book on the writer Henry James. The story is divided into ten "chapters" titled by the days of the week over which the search is conducted. However, within this simple chronological construct is a complex amalgam of several pasts and the present, as Tom, our point of view in the novel, contemplates where he has come from, where he is now and, perhaps, where he is going. As we read, we start to believe the truth of the Henry James epigram which opens the novel, "The whole of anything can never be told".

De Kretser, we all agreed, can, in a few words, capture the essence of a thing. Take, for example, the different ways the young and the old experience time: "She [Iris] sculptured the past, according to whim, as a child plays with the future; each having an abundance of material". Or, the more banal, "On Saturday nights there was only TV on TV". But this ability can sometimes be counter-productive for de Kretser keeps such comments and observations coming with a frequency that can be mind-blowing. It is hard sometimes to stop and see the forest for the trees, as beautiful as the trees are.

Besides the wonderful language, a major strength of the novel is the characterisation. We felt her characters were well drawn particularly Tom, Nelly, Iris and the dreadful though to a degree understandable Audrey. (We decided not to show "the limits of our understanding" by refusing to "imagine" her properly!) These, and other, characters kept us going when the writing and layering of meaning upon meaning started to bog us down.

But what then, is the novel about and where does Henry James fit in? We have a plot concerning a lost dog - and another one concerning the disappearance of Nelly's husband. We have wonderful characters who fascinate and engage us. We have rich writing full of "aha" moments. The book covers a multitude of topics: literature/narrative versus art/image, west versus east, known versus unknown, not to mention aging, modernity, and migration. Overlaying all this is an ongoing discussion of the past, of history, and how it relates to the present and, perhaps, may inform the future. It is not a simple notion of past and history though that de Kretser explores. Rather it is the sense that we never can fully know what happened and that it may not even be necessary to know. And this is partly where James comes in. He is described by Tom as a novelist who aimed to "break with melodrama and romance and establish himself as the master of the new psychological novel" but who was not quite able to keep the mysterious, the supernatural, that is the unknown, out. For de Kretser this is no bad thing. Tom considers at the end "that knowledge, which had sheltered him round for so long, had been allowed to shrink to a constraint" and concludes that "what he wished ... was that he might yet be graced with courage and loving conduct in the face of everything that can never be known".

And so too, do we Minervans. After a lively and engaging discussion, we agreed that we did not fully know what the book is about but, like Tom, we can learn to "stroll around to the back of knowledge and look at it from the other side". We never know what we might find.

Geraldine Brooks' People of the book

2009-04-17T14:48:00.012+10:00

What I do is me. For that I came. I had to start the review with this because it is a favourite line of mine from a favourite Gerard Manley Hopkins poem, "As kingfishers catch fire". However, even though it appears twice in the book, I haven't quite worked out whether it contributes anything significant to the book. Still, it gave me a little fillip of joy, so for that I am grateful.

Back to the book. It comprises two stories, both working in opposite directions. The forwards moving story is a first person one told by Hanna Heath, a book conservator who is brought in to conserve the Sarajevo Haggadah but who also has a rather fraught story of her own. The backwards moving story imagines, through a series of mostly third person tales, how the haggadah was created and made its way from Spain to Sarajevo. It's an interesting structure and makes sense I guess: when telling a person's life suspense and interest - where are we going, what will happen next - tends to increase the more we move forward into the murky future, while for an object, building, event etc the suspense and interest can increase the more we move backwards into the murkier and murkier past (a bit like an archaeological dig in which you move from the known to the less and less known). These two contrasting movements in the book nicely balance each other: the two stories move progressively, in opposite directions, away from the book's starting moment.

It's an enjoyable and readable book with, I think, some worthy goals, the most important of these being "that diverse cultures influence and enrich each other". (p. 400) As Brooks envisages it, the history of the book involves both conflict and co-operation between Jews, Muslims and Christians. Different traditions are involved in both the creation of the haggadah and its survival - and, while many of the people who cross its path suffer badly in its wake, there are others who are enriched by it. And then, Hanna herself, ends up with with a man of another culture and religious background. This point regarding cultures influencing and enriching each other is expanded to include the notion of promoting harmony between them when, near the end of the novel, the Sarajevan librarian who had saved the book says "It was here to test us, to see if there were people who could see that what united us was more than what divided us. That to be a human being matters more than to be a Jew or a Muslim, Catholic or Orthodox". (p. 451/2) These two quotes sound a little preachy but in fact this heavy-handedness occurs mainly towards the novel's close...and occasionally in Hanna's story.

The stories which imagine the haggadah's creation and survival are well-researched and told, and are linked to Hanna through the various "artefacts" she finds when conserving the book, artefacts such as a butterfly wing, a wine stain mixed with salt, and a white hair. These stories, each one pretty self-contained, start in Sarajevo in 1940, and move back to Seville in 1480. They make rivetting reading, so much so that we want to know what happens to the characters in them when their role in the haggadah ends. Maybe Brooks will come back to them sometime in the future? She does have a skill at evoking historical periods.

But, the book has a weakness, and that is in Hanna's story. Her voice feels forced and her story is rather melodramatic. Brooks packs too many "dramas" into Hanna's story - unsupportive mother, lost father, critically ill child, cross-cultural romance, theft, forgery and a bit of counter-skullduggery - making Hanna a rather cardboard character, which is disappointing as she frames the story and is meant to be its glue.

Despite its faults though, People of the book is an engaging read with a sincere heart. I'd certainly recommend it - there are worse books to read out there.

(Book cover: Thanks to Harper Collins Australia)

Aravinda Adiga's The white tiger

2009-03-31T23:28:00.009+11:00

Adiga's 2008 Booker-prize winning The white tiger generated a lively discussion amongst the nine Minervans who attended the March meeting. All had read it and all essentially enjoyed it. Universal enjoyment is not always a recipe for good discussion we have found but there were differences of opinion about aspects of the novel which enabled us to tease out why we liked it and what we thought it meant.

But first, a quick plot summary! It is a one-sided epistolary novel in which Balram Halwai, a self-confessed entrepreneur, writes to Wen Jiabao, the premier of China who is soon to visit India. His aim is to tell Jiabao the truth about India to counteract the official story that India is "moral and saintly". To do this he recounts his own rise from being a servant driver for a rich family to an entrepreneur running his own "start-up" business, a rise that is brought about by his murdering his employer/master.

It is a deeply cynical, but darkly humorous, book about what it takes to be "a man" in a society where servants are treated like children. He describes the "Rooster Coop" in which servants are trapped because, if they try to escape, their families will be destroyed ("hunted, beaten and burned alive"). One point of discussion was the "choice" Balram made, that is, to murder his master in order to escape the "Coop". Some felt he had a real choice while others felt it was more a case of a Sophie's or Hobson's choice. Many felt there were valid reasons for his decision but questioned its rightness in terms of the cost to his family. Some wondered what he had actually achieved in terms of personal fulfilment while others wondered whether this was the point. Is personal fulfilment or joy what Balram was about?

We found Balram to be a credible voice, despite there being some critical opinion to the contrary, but also recognised that it is very much a one-person point of view. Everything is seen through his eyes...and his eyes are more anti-hero than hero. However, despite this, despite his anti-social behaviour, he manages to engage us; the success of the novel rests upon our ability to accept his voice, and accept it we all did.

A strength of the novel, besides the power of Balram's voice, is its language. Adiga's use of irony and dark humour, and of metaphor, made the book a compelling read from the start for most members, though a couple found it a little hard to get going at the beginning.

We briefly compared the book to the film Slumdog Millionaire which presents a fairy-tale-like response to the poverty of India, and Rohinton Mistry's A fine balance in which the characters survive but remain victims. The white tiger, on the other hand, presents a vision of success and survival that is founded upon very murky waters.

Why the book is framed in terms of letters to the Chinese premier is something we didn't fully resolve. Some critics feel it is a weakness in the novel but we wondered whether Adiga is making a point about the similarities and/or differences between these two Third World countries and their relatively recent economic growth. Is he suggesting China has a better way, or is he simply warning China off following the Indian way? Regardless of the answer to this question, the overall message we decided is one of concern about the foundations of India's success. Adiga has been reported as saying he wanted to "entertain and disturb". We all felt that he achieved his goal.

Obama - a must read

2009-03-02T20:50:00.003+11:00

Hi all
Our coast bookclub, Broulee & Beyond, just discussed Barack Obama's Dreams from my Father. I was so reluctant to even begin thinking that it would be schmaltzy. How wrong I was. One of the best reads ever. And we all agreed - even the toughest and most difficult to please amongst us.
It was written in 1994 (or '95) before he even entered mainstream politics, although I count his years as a grass roots organiser in Chicago as politics of the most basic sort. There's a wonderful preface to the second edition which came out in 2001 or so, but all long before any hint of presidency.
So much to discuss.
I highly recommend this book to you all.
Marie

Perth International Arts Festival

2009-02-27T19:57:00.005+11:00

PIAF, what a great acronym, has published its Top Ten Book Club Reads. It looks to me to be a great list, and contains some titles that we have already suggested or might like to consider for our next round, such as Joan London's The good parents, Sebastian Barry's The secret scripture, Arnold Zable's The sea of many returns, and Kate Grenville's The lieutenant.

Have a look at the full list - there are also books set in the Baltic, Afghanistan and Bosnia - and see what you think...

Nam Le's The boat

2009-02-25T20:24:00.006+11:00

How should a bookgroup discuss a short story collection? Discuss each story in turn? Have each member comment on her favourite? Do a general free-for-all? This week eight Minervans met to discuss Nam Le’s highly lauded collection of seven short stories The boat. We haven’t discussed many short story collections over our long years of existence and so don't have a tried-and-true plan of attack. Our most recent one was Tim Winton’s The turning but it was quite a different book to discuss because of the strong links between the stories.

The group as a whole was bowled over by The boat. We were impressed by his versatility and most of us felt that the language and style were highly differentiated from story to story to suit the particular characters and setting of each. For example, the language and sentence structure of the first somewhat autobiographical story “Love and honour and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice” was quite different from that of the second story, “Cartagena”, set in Latin America. The narrative voice varies too from 1st to 3rd person, and from male to female points of view. Several stories though rely on a fairly familiar "present interspersed with flashback" narrative structure. An exception to this is the very different, and more obviously poetic, "Hiroshima".

Besides the language, Nam Le’s versatility is on display in the variety of his protagonists and settings. The subjects range from an 8 year old orphan girl in Hiroshima to a middle-aged painter in New York, from a 14 year old hitman in Colombia to a 35-year old American woman visiting Iran. Despite this diversity, though, we noticed that survival seemed to be a strong underlying theme in the stories. This is probably not surprising in a writer who came to Australia from Vietnam as a boat refugee.

In addition to discussing specific stories in some detail, we also discussed the story endings and their clarity or lack thereof! Some felt they were more oblique than they need be and would have liked a little more clarity. The story that was particularly referenced in this discussion was “Tehran calling”, with many of the group being unsure about what exactly happened, and some feeling that this detracted from it. Others were less concerned about the open-endedness...or perhaps felt they knew what happened! "Meeting Elise" was another whose ending generated some discussion about its intent.

An issue we didn’t discuss but one that I can’t resist raising is that of the autobiographical aspect of the first story. That story is so close to Nam Le’s own life that it is tempting to read it AS his life. A character says to the fictional Nam that “instead, you choose to write about lesbian vampires , and Colombian assassins, and Hiroshima orphans – and New York painters with haemorrhoids”. One reviewer, Hari Kunzru in The Scotsman, wrote that “Sure enough, The Boat, contains all these stories, minus the lesbian vampires, who presumably got lost in the edit”. Does he know this for a fact? Did the real Nam Le write such a story or is it only the fictional one who did? Is this a case of life getting mixed up with art? In an interview on the ABC’s Bookshow Nam Le admits to a story about lesbians but says “the vampires I needed to leave some interpretive distance, I reckon”. I like to think of it as Nam Le’s little joke – but I may be wrong!

Now, any one else like to comment?

Edith Wharton's The house of mirth

2009-01-29T19:22:00.014+11:00

Six Minervans kicked off 2009 this week with a meeting at Gerda's. It was a hot night, but we stayed cool sitting in her back room, with its open hopper windows, sipping ginger punch and white wine. We also discussed The house of mirth, before adjourning to the lounge-room to watch the last few games of Jelena Dokic's quarter final match against Safina in the Australian Open. She lost, but we were proud of her!

Anyhow, the book. All who read it enjoyed it, some with qualifications. We started off with a discussion of the title - its biblical source, and what the word "mirth" connotes to us today. A couple thought the book was a bit wordy ("enough already" was the actual phrase spoken), and at least one thought it a little melodramatic and felt that its seams showed somewhat (that is, it was clear that it was a serialised novel). However, we all felt that she depicted the impact of the tight social strictures on women very well and that Lily Bart was a sympathetic, complex and well-drawn character. We were all glad we didn't live back then. Some of us were surprised to discover such a rigid society in the USA which has always promoted itself as the land of freedom where all can pursue happiness equally. Clearly this was not the case in early 20th century New York! There was a lively discussion about whether Lily was naive in trusting Gus Trenor or whether she used her wiles one time too many. Regardless of our attitude on this one, we recognised that Lily was in a pretty invidious position in that society and we all agreed that Gus behaved abominably.

We were less sure of Lawrence Seldon. Someone asked whether he was meant to represent the other half of the biblical quote alluded to in the title - the half that praises the serious life, expressed in Ecclesiastes as "the house of mourning" - but we didn't in the end feel that was quite it. Perhaps it is simply that his dual role as character and observer/commentator got in the way of his development as a fully-fledged character. We found Rosedale, the Jewish businessman, to be an interesting character. In this book as in many 19th century novels, it's clear that Jews were generally maligned by "society" and yet, while he never stopped being the businessman, he also showed compassion to Lily when the rest of her so-called friends forsook her. (Edith Wharton has been accused of anti-semitism, but her portrayal of Rosedale in this book doesn't really bear this out.)

Finally, we agreed that it is a "true" tragedy: Lily is a heroic character who, despite her dignity and sense of morality, is brought down by a combination of her own flaws and those of the society she lived in.

And now, perhaps other Minervans might like to add their comments...

Photo: Edith Wharton 1915 (Source:En.Wikipedia)

Susan Duncan's Salvation Creek

2009-01-11T19:24:00.009+11:00

Never fear, this is not another long review. I know Sylvia has read this book as it's been going around our patchwork group - has anyone else? It's a memoir by a woman who lost her husband and only brother to cancer in the SAME week and who, as a result, but over some time, made some major changes to her life including moving to live in a boat-only-access part of Pittwater in Sydney. She's very honest about her feelings - and her failings - and comes across as a pretty spunky warm-hearted and generous woman. She also writes beautifully about life on Pittwater. And, recent reprints contain the recipe for her wonderful-sounding, and apparently easy to make, Lemon Cake.

One of the pieces of advice she imparts - not didactically but as a message to herself - is something she remembers her uncle telling her. He says, "You've got to watch your noodle all the time. Turns on you in a flash, fills you with crabby, unhelpful little ideas if you're not constantly vigilant". It's what I call self-talk but her uncle's way of saying it is so much more poetic.

Her next book is now out, The house at Salvation Creek. Anyhow, if you like memoirs, if you like reading about people who make major changes in their lives, and if you are interested in women who are roughly our age, you'll probably enjoy this (if you haven't read it already).

Maybe its worked!

2008-12-30T21:06:00.002+11:00

Seems your invitation was what was missing Sue. OK - have deleted my personal blog so maybe now I can cope. Not sure about ever writing a review but at least I can follow all yours!
Happy reading - am just over half way through a Fraction of the Whole and at this rate - spending hours on the computer instead of reading - I'll barely have time to try read our next book, but will be well prepared for May or whenever.....

Help!

2008-12-30T07:13:00.001+11:00

mmmm-think Ineed help Sue!

Sebastian Barry's The secret scripture

2008-12-29T12:45:00.008+11:00

Just having a go at a little personal review!!

I wanted to read this book because I heard great things about his previous one, A long long way, and both it and this one were shortlisted for the Booker prize. The book is set in Ireland in contemporary times, with flashbacks to the 1930s, and is told through the voices of two characters: Roseanne, a centenarian who has lived in a mental institution for 60 years or so, and Dr Grene, a psychiatrist at the institution for 35 years. As Roseanne writes her life-story, which she hides under boards in her room, Dr Grene investigates the reasons for her being there with a view to deciding her future. What falls out is a tortured story of religion, family and politics at a time in Ireland when sides had to be taken, rules took precedence and humanity was in short supply.

I loved the book, though had some reservations. The ending was a little contrived and I think he got Roseanne's voice better than Dr Grene's, despite the fact that he's a male writer. Particularly towards the end, Dr Grene's voice felt a bit forced, as though even Barry knew his plot resolution was a bit too neat and didn't quite know how to do it.

What I liked was the language, the characters (though most are loosely drawn) and the themes. I loved the musings on "truth" and "history". This is not a new idea, but I liked the way he mused here. I also liked its relationship of truth to health, that Roseanne's "truth" was a healthy one.

Roseanne is an interesting narrator. I would call her reliable not because she tells us the correct facts necessarily (as it appears that she may not have) but because, as Grene says at the end, she tells us "her" truth and this truth "radiated health". It may not hold up in a court of law but it gets to the heart of who Roseanne is. It is "vexing and worrying", though, as Roseanne says, when different people's truths (such as Fr Gaunt's and Roseanne's) cross each other. How true is Father Gaunt's anyhow? His conveys the facts but contains no humanity, let alone empathy. He has no idea of who Roseanne is, but he does know the "law" (of the church at least).

This is my favourite aspect of the book - the issues it raises about truth - and I love the little touch re "truth" and health/psychological cure. It makes me think that we should always keep a look out for two truths – the facts and inner meaning - and decide which one should take precedence in any given situation. In a court of law the facts perhaps need to take precedence but we should also heed the "hidden inner" truth as well. When dealing with our relationships perhaps the "hidden inner" truth is the one we should look for, as in WHY is this person saying or doing this, not WHAT did they say or do.

The language is beautiful and poetic. Poetic usually means two things to me, mostly in combination - language that is rich in imagery, as Barry's is, and language that has a strong rhythm that is often though not always based on breaking the rules of prose. Barry has great rhythm - it doesn't tend to break the rules (it doesn't, for example, have a lot of sentence fragments) but he uses punctuation and long sentences interspersed with short sentences to give a lovely flow. He also uses repetitions. Take this near the opening - it almost reads like blank verse:

"That place where I was born was a cold town. Even the mountains stood sway. They were not sure, no more than me, of that dark spot, those same mountains.

There was a black river that flowed through the town, and if it had no grace for mortal beings, it did for swans, and many swans resorted there, and even rode the river like some kind of plunging animals, in floods.

The river also took the rubbish down to the sea, and bits of things that were once owned by people and pulled form the banks, and bodies too, if rarely, oh and poor babies, that were embarrassments, the odd time. The speed and depth of the river would have been a great friend to secrecy.

That is Sligo town I mean."

He sets a powerful tone in these opening few paras - the rhythm is slow but with just an edge of awkwardness that catches you off guard. And the language conveys something untoward - "cold", "dark", "black", "rubbish", "secrecy". These are not repeated but, used in combination in such a few concentrated paras, they give us a sense of the story to come. I found this opening quite wonderful and it engaged me quickly.

I was a little unsure of Dr Grene. As I read it I kept wondering what the point of all the Bet stuff was...even though I did find a lot of it quite moving. It was mainly towards the end that he started to lose me...when he started to more actively investigate Roseanne's history. From a plot point of view it was logical and understandable, but the voice seemed to lose it a bit - it became a little prosaic, ordinary in some sense that seemed to lose Grene's particularity.

In Dr Grene's choice in the last para of the bright and open rose rather than a uniform neat one, we can see an acceptance of being open to many truths, to the imperfections of the world (as Roseanne appears to be) than to that neat, dry version of the world that we get from Fr. Gaunt. I think this softens the neat plot conclusion somewhat - as does the fact that despite this neatness, he doesn't go in for the full cliched emotions that would be drawn out in a simple genre book.

me too

2008-12-25T09:46:00.002+11:00

story of my life - me too - being younger sister. Anyway, here it is Christmas morning, and I'm checking emails. Tragic. But we did our major event last night which is when whole family coincided in Sydney. And so I've done my labour in the kitchen, until tomorrow when there's more hoo hah.
Just about finished Eat pray love - and am enjoying it immensely. Next in the light summer read is the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Anyone read it?
Happy Christmas everyone...stuff yourselves, don't feel guilty, we're all so lucky. xxx

Using this blog

2008-12-18T21:48:00.000+11:00

I have been thinking about how we can make this blog useful (if we really get going). Using labels is one way of doing this. So, for example, if we post recommendations, we could use the label "Recommendation". If we review a book, we could use the label "Review". However, these are pretty broad and could get overloaded after a while. Should we just give it a go?

I'm also thinking that it would be good to keep using Facebook for Event org and invitations, and for group photos - and use this more for discussion about books, films and other topics we'd like to talk about?

What say you all (well, what say you Marie since you're the only who's taken up the invitation so far! - I know it's Christmas time and people are busy...)

Experimenting with Blogging

2008-12-18T21:15:00.000+11:00

Well - here's my first post - just to see where it ends up. A new post, a new thread? Only one way to find out.
As for me and reading, have been soooo slack the last two months - not feeling inclined at all - HOW STRANGE!. But just spent the last four days catching up with some Minervan literature - Diary of a Bad Year - intriguing form -and After Dark - OK, atmospheric, but not my favourite Murakami.

where to now? Maybe Barack Obama's Dreams from My Father which has sat on my bookshelf for months. Or The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson, set in Sweden. Bill's recommendation. And a bit sad cos' the author died not long after publishing his trilogy, this being the first.
MZ musings

Getting started

2008-12-17T06:41:00.000+11:00

Here we go with our very own blog. I believe we can make this a group blog but I haven't got that far in the tutorial. I also chose a fairly plain template to start with. All this can be changed later - I believe!