122. The Fall – Albert Camus

At the back end of last year The Fall (or La Chute in the original french) fell into my lap (you see what I did there right?) and I couldn’t resist finishing off 2018 with a little existentialism. In my poking around online I have come to discover that this was the last completed novel Camus wrote, but it is far from his lightest. I have consumed a small nibble of absurdist writing and all of it Camus, I had mixed feelings on The Outsider and adored the bittersweet heartache in The Plague, but there is something about Camus that just keeps me coming back for more. There is something intoxicating about the style of writing, that I just want to absorb or embody, or wear as clothes.

Much like The Outsider, the narrative in The Fall contains seemingly meaningless events that cause something like a fall from grace. But this novel could be argued as a larger allegory for the fall of man. This fall is something inevitable and necessary and unforgiving. This is not a larger narrative that you piece together slowly. It’s framed as one of those unfortunate moments where you bump into the one drunk in the bar that will talk your ear off and not leave you alone. That drunk is Jean-Baptiste Clamance – and his confession is yours to judge.

The Fall – Albert Camus

Camus uses a seemingly innocent encounter and a way of writing I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before. It is written as if you yourself are stood at the bar with Jean-Baptiste Clamance, in silence, letting him unload his confession. With minor pauses and phrases as if questions from the reader are being repeated and answered. I was in quite a rapture with this style of writing as Camus builds the characters you and this Clamance are easily. You are both men, in your forties and from Paris and you find yourself in Amsterdam at the same bar night after night listening to this seemingly helpful stranger.

Clamance states that he started out as a good man by his own measure, he was once like the listener to the tale, a magistrate where he lived a fine and satisfying life in Paris and believed himself a model citizen. But the illusion is broken when walking by the Seine one night he witnesses a woman flinging herself from the river bank to her death in the water bellow. It appears her fall triggers his own. And continuing on in his Solipsistic monologue he states how from that point on he was awakened to the reality of both his own, and the whole of humanity’s guilt.

Like some sort of vessel for the human race’s guilt, Clamence retreats from his life choosing instead to spend his days recounting his story in the hope others will be awakened as he has been. All to alleviate the burden he himself carries. He is candid about the opinion of himself saying that he is both condemned and condemning, a sort of judge-penitent and although he says he has taken to his misanthropic life with ease there is no hope to his words.

As the story unfolds, it is clear that although Clamance claims to want clemency for himself and others he is far more obsessed with himself and his self given job of judgement. Preoccupied with his own mortality early on in the novel he only seeks to do good acts when watched by groups of people. He only seeks to warn others of the danger of ‘the fall’, while both attempting to awaken listeners to the failings and delusions of humanity.

Although Clamance, as a respected lawyer should be seen as the face of morality, he seems to belong easily to the gap between reality and illusion. And I must admit a great deal of this novel seems to be about unpicking the ambiguity of Camus ideas which at best can be tricky and bleak.

Clamance is not a character I root for, but neither do I root for him to fall further and horribly and as deep into the abyss as possible. I want to try and pity him, and I watch his journey with particular morbid interest. There is a lot of selfish humanity in him, as a character life seems to fall into his lap easily, and although he struggles with genuine friendship and committing to women. He wants to possess women and their affections wholeheartedly but not being possessed in the slightest himself. And I struggle to connect with him as there isn’t anything redeemable to him in my mind.

I wholeheartedly haven’t riddled out this novel and I can’t decide if Clamance is trying to entice the reader and the listener into abandoning a prospering life. Or if his intention is simply to derail the reader so you can judge him and separate yourself from that behaviour and watch him slide into his ravings. I’m stumped on that one. I just don’t know what his actual intentions are because I don’t trust him as a narrator. And as a character I find Clamance both fascinating and repugnant, intriguing but utterly repellant. Which incidentally is exactly how I feel about 90% of the people I have bumped shoulders with and started a conversation with at a bar.

This is an interesting read, but difficult, and there is a fog of ambiguous ideas that I personally would probably need another read and a good discussion to unpick. Camus writes brilliantly as ever but I have a hunch this one in particular would be better read with his other work to support it. A good book to end a year on, or close a chapter on.

119. Something Childish but Very Natural – Katherine Mansfield

Another in the Penguin Great Loves collection, Something Childish but Very Natural is my first taste of New Zealand-born Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923). I must admit that a lot of dipping into this collection has been to gain introductions to authors I am perfect strangers with. Some have really tugged at the heart strings and some have put me to sleep with their bombastic silliness. On the whole I’ve felt that I’ve filled in some of my knowledge gaps but this collection of books can be a bit hit and miss.

So before we get to the book who is Mansfield? She was a short story writer and poet, a modernist, a friend to D.H. Lawrence and Virginia Woolf. Her life was cut short by tuberculosis, but despite her 34 years she still had a full life. Lovers, both male and female, failed marriages, miscarriages, travelling, and an altogether bohemian feel to some of her affairs. A scattering of publications. Sadly, she died leaving much of her work unpublished thus the husband she left behind and hadn’t divorced is responsible for editing and publishing the body work.

Something Childish but Very Natural – Katherine Mansfield

From that you might probably be able to guess that this is a collection about the short comings of love and the ikky queasy feelings that come with uncertainty. This is really a book I would never have read from my own motivation, there is a control to the prose that doesn’t feel forced and at times is poetic.

At times her stories are fleeting, but sensitive in their complexities. You get the sense Mansfield really understands the emotions she is writing about, her and all of her characters are old friends that have been on this stage together and now, she is their perfect director. Mansfield seems to be a a writer concerned with a sort of ‘threshold of people’, by that I mean the emotional experience and the endurance of the emotional experience, the sort of pain threshold. In turn her prose seem to turn you into most observant voyeur and an emotional seismograph reading the smallest ripples that come from the smallest details.

I found a very interesting article about Virginia Woolf’s relationship with Katherine Mansfield and here is a lovely quote taken from one of Woolf’s letters to Vanessa Bell:

“Still there are things about writing I think of & want to tell Katherine…. And I was jealous of her writing — the only writing I have ever been jealous of.” – p.264, “Katherine Mansfield, Virginia Woolf and Tensions of Empire during the Modernist Period”, Sarah Ailwood.

That on it’s own must be the highest praise and are words I never thought I’d see written. So. To follow here is a run down of the 8 stories within Something Childish but Very Natural.

Something Childish But Very Natural – The title story concerns some bittersweet moments of thorny innocence. Henry meets Edna on the train and the two young people fall for each other through the journey. He works in an architect’s office and she goes to a training college to be a secretary and although the have decided they are in love their relationship is scuppered before it begins by youth, inexperience and naivety. Edna wants to keep it purely platonic but Henry, whilst patient and caring, is desperate to take it to the next level. He tries to keep his feelings in check despite the fact that he is in love with Edna “with the marigold hair and strange dreamy smile that filled him up to the brim”.”

Feuille d’Album – The painter Ian French rejects the advances of numerous woman and has never fallen in love until he observes a girl at a window. He becomes obsessed with his neighbour and watches her from afar.

Mr and Mrs Dove – Reginald is returning to Rhodesia, as it is his last day in England and he hopes to see Ann the object of his affection. His feelings are lingering and questioning as his affection is not returned as ardently as he might hope.

Marriage à la Mode – A tale in which a husband desperately tries to capture the attention of his wife, who has distanced herself from him and has been spending all of her time with a new set of friends.

Bliss – Bertha Young is in high spirits and still has her dinner party to look forward to. It concerns her marriage, a group of haughty friends and unwittingly discovering that her husband is cheating on her with one of the guests. When she comes to realise what is going on, the reality of her situation is like a punch to the stomach and her expectations are shattered.

Honeymoon – George and Fanny are on their honeymoon! On a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean they talk and the story itself illustrates the differing attitudes and dreams of a young couple on a honeymoon. If I remember correctly they also compare themselves to the couples around them and are as fascinated by being spectators to these other relationships as to their own. There is a protectiveness and a standoffish air of not being like anyone else.

Dill Pickle – A bitter sweet story about a six-year hiatus. A man and woman who used to be lovers meet in a cafe and reflect on their regrets and the changes in their lives since they last met. This may seem like it would be cliche at first glance but it isn’t.

Widowed – Geraldine, in a very short scene, remembers the moment she heard of her late husband’s death.

Mansfield is an odd, interesting, beautiful, bohemian spirit of a writer. And I find her prose mouthwatering. She writes about the uncomfortable sides of falling in love and gives you reality not meeting expectation quite often. In all honesty, it could be quite bleak for some of you because this collection does not make me want to throw myself at love, it seems far too painful and restless a thing to bother with (if Mansfield is to be believed).

There is something terribly honest and jaded in this collection. But also a bittersweet beauty that sometimes gets far away from me when I try to pin it down. I expect I will return to her.

So to finish this post here is a quote from Woolf again on Mansfield, trying to describe the relationship they had as writers in a letter to Vita Sackville-West, which I think is also an apt reading on Mansfield’s writing:

“We did not ever coalesce; but I was fascinated, and she respectful, only I thought her cheap, and she thought me priggish; and yet we were both compelled to meet simply in order to talk about writing … she had a quality I adored, and needed; I think her sharpness and reality — her having knocked about with prostitutes and so on, whereas I had always been so respectable — was the thing I wanted then.” – p.265 “Katherine Mansfield, Virginia Woolf and Tensions of Empire during the Modernist Period”, Sarah Ailwood.

To learn a little more about Katherine Mansfield look here.

I’ve quoted an interesting journal article twice from the University of Wollongong Australia that discusses a little more about Mansfield and Woolf which you can find elsewhere in the post but also here.

118. Courage Calls to Courage Everywhere – Jeanette Winterson

It’s also been a very long time between visits to Jeanette Winterson’s work so when this book threw itself in my path I bought it on impulse. Later on I realised it was signed and was obviously delighted by serendipity. I have adored Winterson since my first reading of the Stone Gods. Every book of hers I pick up is somehow unexpected, the mundane becomes interesting, mixed in with fairytale or a retelling of a play. Characters can be the largest giantess caricature or the most real, full of humility individual (who just so happens to be a robot) speaking from a repeating world. Much like a lighthouse on the edge of a dark choppy ocean, I keep coming back to Winterson. She has become a bit of a hero of mine.

I can’t exactly pinpoint why she is though, perhaps it is the variation in her work, the obvious experimentation and blend of elements that build up very different books. There is no set genre to her work. Maybe it’s the queer that seems to run through a good portion of her work, which isn’t shoehorned in as a fetishised exhibit. Or maybe it is a combination of a lot of things with brilliant story telling. Courage Calls to Courage Everywhere doesn’t fall short of her usual intelligent, style, but it has a healthy dose of the conversation ease found in Why be Happy when you could be Normal?

Courage Calls to Courage Everywhere – Jeanette Winterson

Courage Calls to Courage Everywhere is short enough to read in an hour and adapted from lectures. Published at the anniversary of a hundred years of (white) women (in Britain) getting the vote. It manages to say a lot of important things loudly, sometimes with humour, but is thought provoking and a great quick insight into history. While it is chewable if you’re well versed in suffragette history it may be nothing new to you, but it is written in a way that I found quite invigorating. Courage is both a reminder of how far we’ve come and a hopeful nudge to keep going and if you’re new to feminism and new to the history of gender equality then I implore you to give Courage a go.

Alongside the edge of wry humour and likening suffragettes to Pussy Riot there is an extra spoonful of passion that toes the line of anger. Courage is the size of a postcard and a good third of it’s 72 pages are taken up with Emmeline Pankhurst’s famous 1913 speech ‘Freedom or Death’. But any anger within Courage is justified and comes from disenfranchisement, and frustration. And for something so slim and seemingly brief (it’s brief at first glance only) it riled me up.

Winterson reminds us there is still a war of the sexes going on, there is still inequality on the street and in the work place and in the home, but the glaring truth of this battle is that discrimination of any kind is never rational it only pretends to be rational. Arriving at the present day having women taking up more space than the previous hundred years is not a justification for saying feminism is finished and there is no more work to be done. It is a common mistake to make to think that it is a fight won. It is a revolution that is still singing and is still unfinished.

Why? Feminism can always be more inclusive, more intersectional, louder, clearer, and more instrumental in keeping the autonomy of bodies through health care, choice, and consent, safe (for a few). Winterson remarks on biology as destiny being an old fashioned idea, and the need for more women in technology, the success of the recent #MeToo movement, and equal pay.

She recalls the Marriage Bar where certain jobs and careers were not open to married women. That it wasn’t until 1975 the Sex Discrimination Act made it illegal to manipulate the labour market in favour of men. Although it may be clear that society is still dealing with the long shadow thrown by previous constraints, Britain is a rich and progressive country, but we have food-banks and large-scale poverty. Winterson mentions the 2008 crash, exploitative gig economy, domestic violence and Trump. And rather than being fear mongering, or a battle cry, I left it feeling hopeful and recognised.

I think what I’m getting at is Courage reminds us that if we sit in the shit for long enough, it stops smelling, but it doesn’t stop it from being shit that we’re sitting in.

It reminds us of the long shadow cast by systems that seek to dominate, belittle, and remove autonomy, and how fighting for equality, here and abroad (and of course with intersectionality) is still really important. It reminds us that Feminism is still a working part of every day equality, and if we give it up to the past as a dirty word or something that belonged to a previous century we will be doing ourselves a disservice. If it is “retired” or cast aside as irrelevant, we will be loosing a great part of the arsenal that belongs to the spheres of civil rights and equality.

117. Lords and Ladies – Terry Pratchett

Witches. Witches. Witches. I really do love the adventures of the witches.

There is something about these grumpy, stand-offish ladies that really tickles me. Whether they are trying to speak ‘foreign’ on a holiday they don’t want to be on, or shouting at wizards for equal footing when it comes to magic. Shortly after the adventures of Witches Abroad, they come back to Lancre. Magrat is due to be married to the once court jester/fool now King, Verence II. But bigger and more terrifying then that, the magical barriers between worlds are weakening which means crop circles are appearing everywhere.

What is trying to get to Lancre has not only been there before but has an unpleasant history which has been glossed over and forgotten. It isn’t anything as harmless as trolls, or plague or ogres or giant spiders or bad wizards, but elves. Not those helpful frolicking sort that you leave a saucer of milk out for and they clean your dishes in return, but the sort that will control you, play with you for sport, and kill you. And why is this happening?

All because some silly girls in the village are playing at being witches and dancing naked under the moon by the magic stones known as the Dancers.

Lord and Ladies – Terry Pratchett

Up with this sort of thing Granny Weatherwax will not put.

Not a woman to be trifled with Weatherwax sets to work in educating these girls into why they shouldn’t be defying witches and has a staring contest with the sun.

Verence has sent invitations far and wide, one of which ends up in the hands of Archchancellor of the Unseen University the wizard Ridcully. Oddly enough he is eager to go as Lancre holds some old nostalgia for him, which is bittersweet, there was a girl whom he almost fell in love with and a path he almost didn’t take. So off he goes with a few hand picked staff in toe, including the Librarian.

Coinciding with the wedding is of course, a lot, because weddings never go to plan.

The ancient standing stones known as the Dancers serve as a portal protecting the Disc from the alternate universe where the elves, or Lord and Ladies, dwell. These elves are known to seduce with magic and glamour before moving in for the kill but are completely vulnerable to iron. And of course through that portal is dun dun dun Granny Weatherwax’s nemesis, the Queen of the Elves. Because who ELSE would be Granny Weatherwax’s nemesis if not a QUEEN OF SINISTER ELVES.

Of course, everyone, EVERYONE, literally EVERYONE in Lancre, including Magrat has the wrong idea about elves. And they are eager to welcome and invite the Lord and Ladies back because they’ve forgotten that elves are nasty creatures who live only to torture their prey.

Granny Weatherwax lives up to her reputation, with Nanny Ogg supporting her, instructing Magrat to go off to be Queen and stop witching. And generally being interfering and telling everyone what is good for them but funnily there’s a bit of love and romance for all three of our witches in this novel.

Nanny Ogg is seduced by a roguish suiter. Magrat is struggling with cold feet with her coming wedding and Granny Weatherwax comes face to face with a childhood sweetheart. Who of course, she gives a good telling off.

But don’t mistake me this is a darker novel, which is balanced out with some really entertaining humour. Not to mention that Granny Weatherwax is rounded out a little more in this novel and we learn a little more about her history as a witch. It comes to no surprise to anyone that Granny Weatherwax was a headstrong young girl, but when she was offered a seductive shortcut to power by a mysterious woman in red who stood at the centre of a stone circle she declined. Rather than taking the easy way out to witchcraft, Granny worked, learned, got crafty, grew older and craftier and decided it was for the best.

I got really invested in Lords and Ladies. Magrat is one of those characters that I tend to ignore and dismiss a little as I favour Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax but in this one she has some WONDERFUL scenes. From struggling with the demure-giving-up-herself-and-disappearing-into-a-wife-queeny role she realises her husband to be is still the same court jester he always was even if he is now king. And that gives her a royal kick up the arse to kick some arse.

But for me Granny Weatherwax is the absolute star of the show. And I am not ashamed to say that a few of the scenes at the end of Lords and Ladies had be welling up and sobbing. Never did I think I would cry at a Discworld novel but here we are, bizarre things happen every day. This is a really enjoyable novel that could stand alone from the other Witch adventures. I find Terry Pratchett a little hit and miss sometimes, but this is up there with my favourites and it is for the unstoppable, glorious force that is Granny Weatherwax. Long may she reign.

116. Shades of Grey – Jasper Fforde

Isn’t it a shame that this novel has an unfortunately similar title to another well known series. Fortunately for you, readers, the subject matter in Fforde’s Shades of Grey is very different to that other series and I also don’t feel the urge to go through it with a red pen and correct all the errors. (Read: you will not be getting a rant about fan fiction and BDSM during this post.)

Shades of Grey is set in a world not so different from ours, but ‘the Something that Happened’ has rendered it a post-catastrophe one, ridged with rules, and social hierarchy. It is never clear why natural colours are waning from the world, or why artificial colour is mined from the pre-calamity relics and synthesised to add colour to towns and gardens. But there is a lot about Fforde’s Shades of Grey that is surprising in it’s original world building. While on the surface it is a book about society being ranked by what colours you can see best and the social projects of affording to repaint the town for social status, it is also quirky and a book about spoons being prized commodities, and the night being dangerous (and full of terrors… yes… I’m sure you can guess what I’ve been watching recently) and man-eating plants.

While this isn’t the most exciting novel I’ve read, it feels like a good beginning to a larger story and it is agreeably pleasant and eccentric while feeling original.

Shades of Grey – Jasper Fforde

Shades of Grey drops you straight in the middle of this 1950s-like world, where manners are important because they are a transaction with everyone you come across. It’s a world where you are marked and watched and have points (which translate as a sort of currency to be able to marry or move house) and those are some of the most precious things you possess. If you are particularly badly behaved you get sent to a sort of social rehab but nobody is sure where it is, or what happens to you after that.

The perceptual biases – in what colour you can see – has resulted in a social hierarchy which everyone is subjected to. Greens rank higher than reds and everyone who can see colour ranks higher than the greys (who are no better then servants) and it is discouraged to allow marriages to happen between certain colours. Because of course, genetics pass and mixing the colours can water you down to a grey. Everyone living in ‘the Collective’ knows how things work and don’t mention or see anyone who lives outside of their idea of what society is. Think – if I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t destroy my world view because if I see it, I can’t explain it through the rules I know to be true.

Colour isn’t just a valuable commodity to paint or decorate with it is also medicine. It can also be an intoxicant. Staring at a particular shades of green or “chasing the frog”, is the equivalent of taking drugs. Think keeping a vanity case with a lime green paint swatch from B&Q in it and stealing glances at it.

Rather then being a giant comment of social hierarchies this book is a little more concerned with it’s own workings. While there are some glaringly obvious injustices and maladies which our protagonist struggles to place in his understanding of the world this is more of a book about trying to fit in rather then fighting to be part of the difference. But because it is so involved with itself in giving us carnivorous trees and spoons and postcodes assigned at birth and the social intricacies of marriage while tapping out stories on the water pipes after dark in morse code – the first half is a little slow narratively.

Now I don’t think this is a bad thing because writing this post has become more about the world building than the narrative. This is a lot of information to take in, it is unfamiliar and sometimes seemingly backward and it gives a lot of wiggle room for our protagonist, Edward Russett to develop as a character. But while the novel potters and putters it has a great helping of humour for light relief in the similar vein of Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams which distracts from the pace.

Eddie is a gawky unpopular teenager trying to exist in a very ridged society and have a life that isn’t awful and praying that he scores highly on his colour Perception test so he can get a good job. So the first half of the novel where Eddie gets thrown into an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people is exactly where the reader is.

It’s a much gentler ride to some of the novels I’ve read recently where I have spent a third of the novel being bombarded with stuff while getting a handle on a complicated narrative and it is welcome relief. Sometimes you just want a gentle book right? You want a book that is a little slapstick, a little fond of word play, a little eccentric, and brilliantly written. You want something that’ll make you smile and is a little absurd and Shades of Grey is that book.

For one reason and another, East Carmine has no Swatchman (like a doctor) and Eddie’s father has been charged with the duty of standing in. East Carmine is on the very outskirts of the collective and is very different from where they have lived previously. En route they take a brief stop and Eddie sees Jane – a grey – and falls head over heels for her midst an emergency (a man – a high raking purple – is having a heart attack). Through this chance meeting once and then again in East Carmine, Eddie begins to learn that the society he lives in is not as straightforward as he believes. East Carmine is corrupt and the Collective may be a greater evil than ever imagined.

All manner of hidden secrets come out of the woodwork in this novel and I feel a little sorry for Eddie at times, he starts as a very naive young man, who is genuinely trying to make a good go of it, and just so happens to meet one of the most jaded and cynical of all people in his world. While the narrative isn’t as remarkable as some and the pace can be slower, the execution of Shades of Grey is incredible and the world building is in a class of it’s own. Although it currently stands alone – Fforde has said that there will be more.

This is a quirky, unusual read that I think is great light relief from heavier books or simply a wonderful gateway into uncharted genres.

115. Nymphomation – Jeff Noon

And so we go down the cyberpunk rabbit hole again. It has been quite a long time since my last post about one of Jeff Noon’s books (95 would you believe). The other two I’ve read, Pollen and Vurt, are still two books that stick out in my mind because I find Noon’s writing a little electric. These are book that belong to the weird and wonderful, plants vs. zombies, substance abuse, incest, robodogs, lawbreakers, the working class and homeless of Manchester rallying against capitalism, or reality, or any authority figure. There is just something about this imagined dystopia, cyberpunk, Manchester that can make a lot of anything else you’ve ever read just seem… well… a little beige.

In my experience Noon’s books are books to remember. And this one is no different.

But to pin it down into what it’s really about is a little difficult. Is it about gambling? Is it about family? Is it about the plight of the working class and homeless dregs of society taking down capitalist overlords? Is it about ridiculing mainstream consumerism? Is it about Mathematics? Obsession? Murder? Sex? And uncovering truths you’d rather not have known? Well yes. It’s about a little of all of that.

Nymphomation – Jeff Noon

I really enjoyed this one. More straightforward then the others though I found myself listing for a while because it struck a pace that was quite slow. I rarely read the blurbs of my books let alone have a fair idea of what it’s about when I pick it up and 70 pages in I had the deafening question what is this even about!?!? But with a little perseverance the story began to unfold.

I’d say that after Vurt (which sadly isn’t reviewed on this blog), and Pollen, Nymphomation is the weaker novel (marginally). It isn’t as jarring. With the other two novels I had become accustomed to dropping right into the thick of a place I do not understand or am even sure I like. Nymphomation is slower and more gentle in this regard. I was a little disappointed with this to tell you the truth, until I got further in, but I am certain some would be perfectly fine with this gentle slide into madness. On the surface this world is very pedestrian and almost giving an illusion of being beige. But never fear, it’s just a trick of the light and before you know it you are swimming in unknowns and weirdness.

“In 1993, post-rave, where things were still jumping but they were starting to get a bit dark … Jeff Noon was the sound of post-rave.” – Jeff Noon Life in Writing, The Guardian

I think what I adore about Noon’s writing is that there is a sense of rebellion beneath the pages, or dismantling, where borders of expected reality do not remain static and often they become fluid. There is a melting and fusing, as if the very atoms that build up the pages would shag the ink and the covers and your hands if they could (and they may very well be, this is Jeff Noon after all).

This goes for the feel of Nymphomation, although it starts slow, it gathers up it’s shopping bags of rave culture and druggy fantasy, with overlays of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, tucks away the weird math in it’s pockets and digs cyberpunk’s bellybutton for lint, gets aroused, and eventually runs for the bus.

So what’s it actually about then as I am just purposefully teasing you by not outright telling you. Well. To put it simply, this is about a group of underdogs trying to crack the secrets of the lottery. But that lottery is based on a game Dominos due to go world wide. Adults buy dominos displaying two constantly changing numbers. Once a week these numbers will solidify at the same time Lady Cookie Luck displays the winning numbers. The person who’s domino matches exactly wins! Anyone with double six becomes the new Mr. Million. Anyone with a double blank wins the Joker Bone (the booby prize – which everyone knows is bad – although nobody knows what it is).

Surprise surprise all of our characters are relatively poor, ordinary people with messy lives so they all play! But one or two of them have a head for maths, or hacking or hacking DNA and while the air is thick with Blurbflies – living adverts that have been created by the AnnoDomino Company – they may have bitten off more than they can chew.

For such a slow start, this book really gathers speed by the last third. After setting up all of the backstory and characters and intrigues it suddenly gambols and goes on a wild ride of scenes I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.

Our narrators (to name a few) are Daisy Love – an 18 year old Mathematics student (who is a bit of hot shit when it comes to numbers although she’s never beaten her alcoholic Dad at dominos). Jazir Malik a physics student who works at his father’s indian restaurant (who is Daisy’s landlord). Eight year old Celia Hobart (who is habitually given spare change by Daisy as she goes to work at the bookshop Celia begs outside of).

Now I’m sure you’re thinking what has Mathematics have to do with any of this? Oh oh OH well…. it’s a weird and wonderful backstory, involving a group of competitive academics starting a publication, a labyrinth, a computer program, a dabbling of black magic and what happens when numbers stop being singular, and begin to multiply through, Nymphomation.

And that is all I will say on the subject because it is too weird and wonderful to completely spoil. So if you want to understand the secrets of Nymphomation and understand what blurbflies are and Play to Win, Win to play, you’re just going to have to get on and read it aren’t you?

Never would I have thought that I would’ve enjoyed a book about the lottery.

I really enjoyed this book and I’m certain after this, I’ll go back Vurt and Pollen and finally get around to reading more of Noon’s work. While I think this novel could stand on it’s own quite well and be a great gateway drug to anyone wanting to give Noon a go. I would really encourage you to read Vurt or Pollen or both, first. There is just a wonderful easter egg at the end of this novel that makes it that much more satisfying.

There is the action, the big reveal, and then the lovely sweetness of how this novel links to Vurt. So without giving anything away, it had me in the most blissful delight for days, because who doesn’t love an author giving you the most unexpected detail so casually like it’s the gift you deserve?

114. Optimism over Despair – Noam Chomsky

In a recent exchange we had, I expressed my pessimism about the future of our species. You replied by saying “I share your conviction, but keep remembering the line I’ve occasionally quoted from the Analects, defining the ‘exemplary person’ – presumably the master of himself: ‘the one who keeps trying, though he knows there is no hope.'” Is the situation as dire as that? 

We cannot know for sure. What we do know, however, is that if we succumb to despair we will help ensure that the worst will happen. And if we grasp the hopes that exist and work to make the best use of them, there might be a better world.

Not much of a choice. – p. 83

This book doesn’t actually offer much optimism. It is full of despair, but Chomsky does (apparently) offer the reader a choice between pessimism and optimism. Suggesting that optimism should be blind regardless of circumstance. The book is build up from interviews from the recent years with the same reporter – C.J. Polychroniou for Truthout. Chomsky discusses his views on the world from the war on terrorism to Neoliberalism, the refugee crisis, Black Lives Matter movement, the prospect for peace in Israel/Palestine, and the danger posed to humanity by climate change to name a few. Almost no country or leader is spared, the hit list includes the Iraq invasion, the plot of developed countries stripping developing countries of their autonomy by building economic dependencies through imbalanced policies, Obama’s drone warfare, and the Regan era policies and executions that are responsible for the class divide.

For how slim it is, this book is dense and if you aren’t well versed in reading political science or serious discussion (like me) it is likely impossible to feel as if you’re taking it all in one reading.

Optimism over Despair – Noam Chomsky

Chomsky paints a really unhappy picture of the world, rampant with political atrocities, misguided decisions and policies on a planet that is likely a poached egg waiting to come to the boil. But this book also asks the question what I, the ordinary person, can do to help create a hope of meaningful change in this mess.

As a longtime political activist, Chomsky’s influence and focus on public debate have cemented him as an immeasurable force. With a background in linguistics, his contributions to cognitive science, history and philosophy have cemented him as a sort of thinking titian amongst modern thinkers. And sometimes while reading his work I feel like my vocabulary is lacking, that I will never fill my life with enough investigation with a sharp enough focus to scratch the surface of what Chomsky has achieved during his lifetime.

To say the least: his work has magnitude.

And this book is no different as it speaks authoritatively. But to compare it to On Anarchism, I didn’t enjoy Optimism over Despair as much. I found the format of the book labour intensive and a little resistant because this is a collection of interviews. In book form I think the interviews suffer a little, because as informative and well constructed as they are it was sometimes difficult to decipher meaning from the text. It is not a book that I personally can jump in an out of unless I am sitting down and reading full sections of the book to fully comprehend. Otherwise I found myself lost. That being said it was refreshing to read a publication that is a collection of interviews that has relatively up to date material.

The shortcoming of this book is that Chomsky spends a great deal of time and effort cataloguing the ills of our present situation but rarely touches upon how he believe we can remedy them. Methodical in his method, he leaves little positivity to contrast with the bleakness of Optimism over Despair. While doing a little research for this post I came across the advice that if this is your first taste of his work that you should go back and find another. In doing so you will get a deeper feel for his understanding and beliefs on the kind of society we should be working towards. As for this one, this is not a balanced account of optimism and despair or even a compelling one to why we should favour optimism as the title may suggest.

This is a book to read with an open mind but it will easily lead you to bleak pessimism as this isn’t an uplifting read, as it was likely never intended to be. It is not to inspire or act as a call to alms for activists. Instead it serves the bleak meal of what we’re all eating with the dinner conversation buzzing around to the tune of “all of this is awful and bland….. but hopefully they will bring the salt out soon.” With no clue how long we will be waiting.

113. Broken Angels – Richard Morgan

I must admit Broken Angels (2003), the #2 Takeshi Kovacs novel left me a little… not disappointed… disappointed is not the word I’m looking for. It’s jarred perhaps, and approaching disappointing, maybe more then a little unsatisfied.

So, we all know (if you’ve spoken to me much in the last six months) Altered Carbon (2002) ticked a lot of boxes for me (and I was very happy to find it was a book after watching it on Netflix). It is a solid story a wild ride of a Neo-Noir detective story. Takeshi Kovacs is a private investigator, former mercenary with physical enhancements that amplify his abilities to kick ass. It’s part of that cyberpunk sub-genre of literature that can be owed to the likes of Gibson and part of the beauty of Altered Carbon is that it’s a revitalisation of cyberpunk. Kovacs hunts down clues and interrogates ruthlessly through the streets of San Francisco and blasts out every obstacle that approaches him in real and virtual spaces. He is crispy cool guy that doesn’t care what you think, arrogant and quick to violence and possess a bizarre charisma (which is actually his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ directness) that lands him women and what he is seeking with locust like efficiently. Singleminded and a little unlikeable, Kovacs is not a character to be trifled with.

It was a brilliant way to open up a series. Although it did have a few flaws. But I went out and bought the next one because I thought why not? And expecting to get a similar flavour was probably my biggest mistake. Broken Angels isn’t a Neo-noir Detective story, it reads more like Military Sci-Fi. It’s a war novel where meat is meat and throwing enough of it at a problem left an unsavoury flavour in my mouth.

Broken Angels – Richard Morgan

I suppose part of the joy for some with this novel is Morgan cutting the umbilical chord of his influences. Whereas Altered Carbon was dripping in the old clothes of Blade Runner for example, this one really pulls away. But I’m not convinced I enjoyed the direction it went in. It is a slower read then the first one and gets really bogged down with minor details that aren’t really plot defining.

The plot is a simple one, some 30 years after Altered Carbon, Tak is working as a mercenary fighting for Carrera’s Wedge. He gets enlisted as a mercenary to find some leftover Martian garbage that may or may not be worth a fortune and do something interesting. He has to do this in a nuclear war zone.

While Morgan fleshes out the world in this one I feel as if the plot suffers. We still have the basic mechanics from Altered Carbon which I think sometimes Morgan leans back on. We still have different sleeves and a society with the potential to become immortalised through simply plugging their ‘stacks’ or personality into another body. But some of the intelligence of the narrative is absent for me. We get blinkered in double-crossing and changing allegiances and the military sci-fi.

While I really like the world building as an arc that explores the evolution of Martian warfare and the history of how humanity has colonised the stars and manage to unlock enough technology to render society potentially immortal. There is just so much about this book that I do not care about. Characters sometimes seem like luggage or cannon fodder, and there is a real bleak undertone to much of this novel. Or there is so much minor detail that doesn’t add to the narrative it seems to just distract away from the story and slow the pace.

The entire premise of the Martians is that they came before and now they are all dead but have left ruins everywhere and we don’t know how they died, but they did. And most of what they left behind is complete mystery. They were winged, they were really into their interstellar travel and suddenly it seems like their entire race came to an abrupt end. But although the main backdrop of the plot, it is such a small part of the story in relative terms. I think I would have enjoyed Tak more as a sci-fi Indiana Jones after doing so well as the Neo-noir detective.

Instead we have a Takeshi Kovacs who is as war-weary and unlikable and probably psychologically damaged as ever. It’s difficult to follow who’s side he is on as his allegiances change so much. In this one he is the darker antihero who is more introspective, but who’s methods of fixing a problem are still akin to dropping napalm on it or cutting it up into tiny pieces until it stops wriggling.

One of the most annoying flaws I found was the slightly misogynistic tinge to the story and that any female character that becomes interesting or significant enough seems to topple into Tak’s bed. The sex in the first novel fit with the plot, and I’m pretty sure I mentioned some of that seemed boyish fantasies that was a little grotesque. Broken Angels tops that assessment by a long shot, containing one of the most cringeworthy and ridiculous sex scenes I have ever read in a novel that was treating it as serious and not as a complete fantasy.

Thankfully their are some other characters to try to sympathise with, but I didn’t find myself caring about any of them in particular. I felt that a lot of the characters only existed to provide a scale to destruction, in the novel and also to partly distract from how straightforward a novel it is. Morgan’s focus on the world building and on some of the minor mechanics of the novel is perfect for what could be considered a stand alone novel. But in other areas it really lacks.

Perhaps it is the subject matter also, as military fiction is not something that I generally enjoy. However there is a big element in this novel of rebelling against capitalism, and a big comment on how this universe treats it’s soldiers while flitting from one sleeve to another. As at one point Kovacs is supplied with a platoon of enlisted combatants from a jar.

The obsessive fact finding and focus of the first novel is absent in Broken Angels and it appears more of a ‘wait and see’ sort of a novel or a bumbling around and see what lurches out of the sand at us sort of novel. But it also seems to throw some of the point of Altered Carbon on it’s head, whereas that novel was fundamentally about fighting against the power money can buy you Broken Angels is about fighting for money and power. As Broken Angels opens it makes it clear that war is simply commerce conducted by other means.

I really tried to like this novel more then I do. But I find it a frustrating novel to think about. Of course there are things I like about this novel and I am not trying to tell you that it will be a giant waste of your time to read it because it won’t be. But it is problematic. It will be a giant waste of your time to walk into this novel expecting it to have the same themes from Altered Carbon running through it, so take this post as a cautionary tale.

112. The Ice Palace – Tarjei Vesaas

There isn’t much in the way of international literature on my shelves (actually less shelves more piles/mountains as I do not own bookshelves), but I am slowly and surely changing that. With a little of this and a little of that I find myself in the position of creeping, albeit slowly. The reason this one took my eye is because I am very fortunate to know a wonderful bunch of Norwegians. It is also very overdue that I start jumping into some Norwegian literature. I must admit I do sometimes shy away from translations, because some of the meaning might be lost, or it may be an awful translation and distort the original story completely and how would I know. But also, and perhaps more concerning is that the music and poetry in another language might be completely lost in English. Sometimes English cannot stand up, it can only do it’s best with the tools it has and they may be lacklustre.

As I knew nothing about Tarjei Vesaas I decided to do a little research for you in case you didn’t either so you’d have an idea of where the Ice Palace may be heading before we even get to it:

Vesaas (Born in 1897 Vinje, Telemark, Norway) is widely considered as one of Norway’s most important writers of the twentieth century. Poet and author, he may be the most important Norwegian writer since WWII. His authorship spans nearly 50 years and his work is characterised by terse and symbolic prose. Although simple, his stories are often about simple rural people undergoing psychological drama. Vesaas often revisits the themes of death, guilt, and angst, while uses the Norwegian natural landscape as a prevalent feature in his work.

So what is the book about before we go to the cover image: Siss is a regular 11-year old girl living in her rural community, and her life is about to change in ways she can’t imagine when Unn moves to the village to live with her aunt.

The Ice Palace – Tarjei Vesaas

To give you a little more idea of the plot, Siss and Unn are the opposite sides of the same coin. Siss is very outgoing, popular, and inviting and Unn is withdrawn, alone, and a little sad. They become aware of one another at school and there is an intense curiosity, a wild magnetism between them that almost verges on obsession. All Siss can think about is the excitement of Unn and spending the afternoon with her. I cannot decide if this is innocent because she has known everyone her entire life in her village and Unn is strange and exotic. Or if there is the implication of a childhood crush there because there is an intensity that did make me feel a little, not uncomfortable, but questioning.

They spend the afternoon talking for a while and after she has shown Siss a photograph of her family, Unn persuades Siss that they should undress just for fun. They watch each other and everything is so highly charged the book practically split the paint from my walls with electricity. Everything is implied and nothing is really said and nothing is fully laid bare but maybe it is? Honestly from what has gone from what I assumed was quiet a naive and misleading book about rural childhood gets turned up to eleven when Unn confesses she has a secret and she’s afraid she’ll never get into heaven. She of course promises to tell Siss what her secret is the next day.

Siss runs home and on the way passes the Ice Palace. A naturally forming ice structure that has been created by a local waterfall. She is in a flurry of emotion, as is Unn, and the next day Unn decides to skip school because she is embarrassed.

Here the novel becomes intimately sober and really starts to reveal some of the deftness of Vesaas’s skill as a novelist. Unn goes into the Ice Palace to hide and explore and the worst happens.

It is a troubling book that deals with enormous themes in a way that can be resistant to reading. Sometimes I felt as if I was reading the Ice Palace as if I myself was staring at the pages through a sheet of ice. It can be simplistic and almost resistant, and at times have a weird hallucinative quality that is almost queasy. Often I forget that Siss and Unn are children. Because they are both treated by their community as equals, and also Siss fights so incredibly to be recognised as more then just a child and as another pair of hands to be useful. But also because the other children around Siss recognise her need to grieve in her own way.

All of the children in this novel are so incredibly good at handling things that are difficult that some of them seem to do it better then the adults in the novel.

This is a bit of a terrifying fairytale that demonstrates intractable human emotion. At times it reads like a light and fluffy story that will have a happy ending and it could be argued it has a moral like a fairytale. The contrast between what is a relatively simple, rural life and what is an intense, and sometimes frightening, emotional world is pretty incredible.

I have said some reviews that believe that Siss and Unn are undeveloped characters and that this is tedious writing that is a children’s story written for adults. And in a way that is correct, but generally those reviews also confessed with not sticking to the novel to finishing it out. I went into this novel and found it uncomfortable because it pushed back at me as much as I pushed back at it. I found it tedious at first, I found it difficult, and unyielding with it’s secrets. And like all classics and most literature worth reading it revealed itself to be more than meets the eye.

I’m not saying I’m ready to re-read it tomorrow because I don’t think I’m ready for Siss and Unn again yet. But I am saying that I really want to read more Norwegian literature. This story is entirely mysterious, subtle, and satisfying, and I highly recommend it.

I found another book review here if you would like more information on the novel. If you would like to explore this and other Norwegian classics here is a list of ten books, some of which have been added to my to buy list. And of course any information I found and paraphrased about the the author (and a bit more) is found here.

111. Meditations – Marcus Aurelius

Would you like to know what’s a little bit weird? Reading someone’s personal diary and finding inspirational and a little consoling. And perhaps what’s weirder than that invasive activity: is reading something originally written in Greek by a Roman Emperor. We’re all aware I’m no historian and any historical knowledge I possess is patchy at best, but while Meditations could feel like a massive invasion of privacy it doesn’t contain the private emotional turmoil of a fourteen year old girl with a crush. It isn’t even necessarily about anyone’s personal life directly, but takes an interesting tone.

It isn’t full of the nitty gritty, of “Oh my god I can’t believe my Centurions are wearing helmets LIKE THAT. And the sandals that are in this season are so last century.” It’s more about what to value in life, it is more about remembering good lessons through adversity and not getting bogged down in emotional turmoil.

Meditations – Marcus Aurelius

It took me a while to read, but I really enjoyed this one! And there were times that it seemed as if Marcus Aurelius himself was springing off the page to comfort me when the unexpected appeared in my own life. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Aurelius was writing himself personal encouragement, a consolidation of his own being to endure and weather the storms he faced being Emperor while juggling his own personal intricacies.

Meditations are a significant source of modern understanding on Stoic Philosophy. As you might remember I also jumped into Seneca’s Letters from a Stoic not that long ago so of course, Meditations couldn’t be far behind. As for preference, I prefer Marcus. Seneca is an interesting read but at times long winded, repetitive, and I found myself skimming a great deal of the last quarter of that book. Meditations seems more direct somehow, it is less weighty with “You should live like this because of this long winding story that I have already told once but will tell again, but this time with sock puppets.”

I like how direct Aurelius is and sometimes how Meditations it is a series of quotations and short notes, and at others longer paragraphs filled with more rounded ideas.

He is decisive in his writings and primarily concerned with behaviour and how we should strive to live everyday and put understanding into practice. Living a ‘good life’ and aiming through thought and ‘meditation’ and musing and philosophy that is applicable to life. As Seneca implores in his letters, these meditations aim at transforming the individual into a person of integrity with character. A person with inner strength and a quiet mind, whom values that inner strength and stillness above all else.

Much like the Philosophers before him, Marcus Aurelius recognised the need for radical personal transformation to achieve such lofty goals. A desire but also need for rigorous mental discipline as well as physical, to achieve them. Much like a blacksmith working at an anvil.

I think more then Letters from a Stoic, Meditations is a little more relatable to me. It reads less of a series lecture and more of a collection of notes that are some times surprisingly insightful. I think Meditations is also more likely how I would keep a collection of writings myself if I did journal every day – albeit mine would be more unorganised and less important – with snippets of quotations and a sort of dialogue with the self on paper. I really enjoyed this one, and can’t really find fault it. I really enjoy reading ancient texts and finding something relatable and contemporary in them and discovering the accessibility is there. Because ten years ago if you had told me today I would have read a little of Seneca, and a little of Marcus Aurelius I would’ve honestly have thought you were joking.

I know that I will reread this again, because there is so much to try to take in on one reading and there is a lot of insight on the human condition in there. Though I think now I have read it cover to cover, I would like very much to dip in an out of it on a lazy afternoon when the mood takes me. It is very much that kind of book that you can glance at at any point and you might find a little wisdom or reassurance or even just something to mull over. Highly recommend.