Media Things: Fiction

Gilead

2005-04-05T05:15:47-08:00

Gilead By Marilynne Robinson Published: November 28, 2004 Pulitzer Prize Winner, Fiction, 2005 It seems an odd choice for a Pulitzer, at least on the surface a mundane-seeming clergyman's story. Last year's winner, Edward P. Jones' The Known World took an unflinching look at slavery and the initial years of abolition, a more popular Pulitzer theme. Then, on second thought, in these times, perhaps it's an old perspective from which fresh insights can be gleaned. Perhaps also, the perspective itself requires some fresh insights, both from within and without. An excerpt, followed by some links. It's a plain old church and it could use a coat of paint. But in the dark times I used to walk over before sunrise just to sit there and watch the light come into that room. I don't know how beautiful it might seem to anyone else. I felt much at peace those mornings, praying over very dreadful things sometimes -- the Depression, the wars. There was a lot of misery for people around here, decades of it. But prayer brings peace, as I trust you know. In those days, as I have said, I might spend most of a night reading. Then, if I woke up still in my armchair, and if the clock said four or five, I'd think how pleasant it was to walk through the streets in the dark and let myself into the church and watch dawn come in the sanctuary. I loved the sound of the latch lifting. The building has settled into itself so that when you walk down the aisle, you can hear it yielding to the burden of your weight. It's a pleasanter sound than an echo would be, an obliging, accommodating sound. You have to be there alone to hear it. Maybe it can't feel the weight of a child. But if it is still standing when you read this, and if you are not half a world away, sometime you might go there alone, just to see what I mean. After a while I did begin to wonder if I liked the church better with no people in it. . . . In the old days I could walk down every single street, past every house, in about an hour. I'd try to remember the people who lived in each one, and whatever I knew about them, which was often quite a lot. . . . And I'd pray for them. And I'd imagine peace they didn't expect and couldn't account for descending on their illness or their quarreling or their dreams. Then I'd go into the church and pray some more and wait for daylight. I've often been sorry to see a night end, even while I have loved seeing the dawn come. Trees sound different at night, and they smell different too. Review: The New York Times Author Profile: The New York Times Review Religion & Ethics Newsweekly Review: Slate Marilynne Robinson Bibliography Housekeeping (1980) Mother Country: Britian, the Welfare State and Nuclear Pollution (1989) Puritans and Prigs (1999) The Death of Adam: Essays On Modern Thought (2000)

MARILYNNE ROBINSON

The Fever

2005-01-07T01:16:59-08:00

This little play, Wallace Shawn's monologue of 112 pages, rocked me when I first encountered it at the Vancouver Fringe Festival sometime in the mid '90s. Perhaps I'll add some commentary later, but for now, try these links: A reading by the author, Wallace Shawn Analysis/Review Review: performance at the fritz theatre, san diego, CA, 19 April 99 which provides the most erudite observation of the meaning underlying this play: "Shawn's theater is not of didacticism, but of dialectic, of disturbing questions posited to provoke us rather than simple answers to soothe." Keep that in mind when reading the reviews by Library Journal and Publisher's Weekly on Amazon.com, which are in stark contrast to those by readers.

Wallace Shawn

The Crimson Petal and the White

2004-05-13T19:34:16-08:00

Epic (944 pages!) novel set in Victorian England. Reads well, and more quickly than one might expect with such a chunky volume. Unlike other somewhat revisionist time-pieces, everyone here regardless of gender or class comes off somewhat doltish, though victimhood is generally limited to women of all classes and men of the lesser ones. The one exception is the innocent Sophie, but then she's all of 6 when she makes her appearance in the last stages of the book, so what could one expect. Faber's narrator is one of those third-person omniscients who occasionally steps out to address the reader more directly. It's an interesting device that Faber employs well, if somewhat unevenly. When the more intimate narrator intercedes, it can remove the reader from the story. There's a plot surmise on Amazon.com, so I won't repeat that here. I enjoyed the book. It's an interesting mix of class, gender and sex in Victorian England. I didn't finish it all in a contiguous reading -- something distracted me along the way and several months passed before I picked up where I'd left off around page 600 or so.

Michel Faber

A Wizard of Earthsea

2004-05-01T17:26:11-08:00

Book one in a popular and critically acclaimed trilogy (The Tombs of Atuan, The Farthest Shore). Only The Lord of the Rings is a more strongly written fantasy. However, Ursula K. LeGuin's story is a more personal tale with political undertones, particularly regarding man's footprint on this earth. Notably, filming of on an adaptation for television is slated to begin on May 17, 2004, my birthday. The miniseries, to be titled, Earthsea, will present the first two books of the trilogy. Also notably: in 1991, LeGuin published book four, Tehanu, which I have not yet read.

Ursula K. LeGuin

The Fever

2004-02-04T06:04:35-08:00

This play can be devestating to a complacent psyche. Delivered as a monologue, the un-named, un-gendered protagonist, wealthy and well-placed, describes the events and conditions leading to an emotional breakdown in "some third-world country where my language isn't spoken." The fever in question is metaphorical, metaphysical and medical. The world whorls all about the deathly ill narrator, in surreal hallucinations, as the bolts holding a comfortable world-view are loosened, then jettisoned. Sickened by the dawning realisation that priviledge exists only where exploitation supports it, the narrative picks apart the conceits, luxuries, baubles and entertainments of the west while connecting them to poverty and death-squads in the third-world battle grounds of economic exploitation--the source of prosperity. It is a descent both rapid and rabid. A long, dark night of the soul, if you will, with only the most daunting of options providing any dawning hope.

Wallace Shawn

The Trade Mission

2004-01-26T02:22:17-08:00

A friend of mine is a publishing industry publicist here in Vancouver. Publishers send her boxes of books she distributes to local media types who might be interested in reviewing the book or, even better, interviewing the author. Generally, she receives more than she distributes and the rest are available to friends and others. The Trade Mission is one of those. I've got a small but growing collection of first editions this way. Can't say as I'd have purchased this one. It's been sitting on a shelf in my trailer for over a year. Fortunately for Andrew Pyper, I'd run dry of reading material. This is an odd book. The characters are odd. The premise is odd. The events are exceedingly odd. I'm something of a fan of odd. But I'm not a fan of this book. Its characters, particularly those who live the longest, are quite unlikable. I think the author made a point of killing off characters in the order of his growing distaste for them. We start out... Nah. I'm not going to bother getting into the story.

Andrew Pyper

The Polished Hoe

2004-01-23T13:15:49-08:00

I'm just a few dozen pages into this book, so I'll comment more later. For now, I'll just say it's an interesting take on post-abolition plantation life in the US South. The Hoe in question, sharpened to a fine point and polished with linseed oil, is established early on as being a likely murder weapon.

Austin Clarke

A Widow for One Year

2004-01-23T13:13:03-08:00

A reviewer in Amazon thoroughly panned this book. It's not that bad. On the other hand, there's not much to recommend it over most of John Irving's catalogue, especially A Prayer for Owen Meany or The World According to Garp. Once again a building plays a central thematic role in an Irving story, this time in the Hamptons of Long Island. There are also, as often is the case, dead children who set a dark cloud over the lives of parents, siblings and everyone who comes into contact with them. In Widow these children died several years before the story begins, owever, Irving manages to make them central characters in the book. Their presence is felt in every room, and in every corner of the novel, as a series of framed photographs. It's an interesting device though, by the end of the book, I think it has been wrung dry of any usefulness. However, the central theme of the book is an exploration of autobiographical content within fictional narratives. Five of the central characters are writers of varying degrees--and styles--of success and Irving thoroughly explores how the life of each author affects their writing, and vice-versa. I think, also, Irving has given himself over to exploring personal themes which keep appearing in his book (eg, lost children and the family home). I suppose this could be considered self-indulgent. However, given that the characters in this story are drawn with little-enough of interest to endear them to the reader, it's the exploration of the novelist as autobiographer that makes the book interesting enough to warrant a read.

John Irving