Book Review: Waiting for Sunrise

Waiting for Sunrise: A Novel by William Boyd (New York: Harper Collins, 2012. 353 pp)

William Boyd (b. 1952) is a Scottish novelist and screenwriter. In 1983, he was selected as one of Britain’s top twenty young British novelists. Though his novels, An Ice-Cream War, Brazzaville Beach, and The Blue Afternoon, have been shortlisted for many major prizes, he has not garnered much acclaim. On April 11, 2012 Boyd announced he is writing the next James Bond novel, set in the year 1969.

Three Parts Make a Whole

If you’ve ever seen the period-based television show, Downton Abbey, you know how riveting and intentional drama can be. Often enveloped by the lives of those in the fictitious drama, I was delighted to find a First World War period novel. Caught up in the throws of World War I, we see a protagonist go through self-enlightenment, while we wait for the sun to rise in his life.

Waiting for Sunrise is part period piece, part psychological journey, and part war/spy novel. Experimentally written, the switches in topic, tone, and even narrative mode don’t deter from the readability of the novel, but rather enhance it.

The protagonist, Lysander Rief, is warned in the early pages of the book about the dangers of the Austrian capital, Vienna. Even though the city seems like a safe place to explore, below the surface is a giant river of temptation for Lysander.

“‘This place—this Pension Kriwanek—is just like Vienna. You have the world of Frau K on top. So nice and so pleasant, everybody smiling politely, nobody farting or picking their nose. But below the surface the river is flowing, dark and strong.’‘What river?’‘The river of sex’” (27).

Transferring Jobs

Lysander is in danger of going under. As an English actor, he traveled to Vienna to seek treatment from a psychologist named Bensimon. While in the waiting room, he meets two people, one of which, Hettie Bull, becomes his newest lover. He also meets Alwyn Munro, who is a military official at the British consulate. By meeting Alwyn as well as talking with Dr. Bensimon, Lysander becomes interested in the spy world.

In his talks with his therapist, Lysander learns of a theory called “parallelism”, furthering his interest in being a ruthless and ingenious spy hunter.

“‘Let’s say that the world is in essence neutral—flat, empty, bereft of meaning and significance.  It’s us, our imaginations, that make it vivid, fill it with colour, feeling, purpose and emotion. Once we understand this we can shape our world in any way we want. In theory...I hesitate to say this, and I vary rarely make this leap, but I have a feeling Parallelism will cure you, Mr Rief, I really do” (49).

Parallelism, perhaps the largest theme in the novel, closely ties into Lysander’s addictions. As Bensimon suggests, the individual has the ability to change their world for the better, if they so choose. Lysander has the chance to change his addictions, to better his life, and to move away from a life of frivolity and meaningless sex. Through parallelism, Lysander has a chance to make his life work. However, Lysander doesn’t change his addictions, but rather his employ.

Many Realities

What ends up happening in the novel is a collage of espionage and global war, sex and temptation. When World War I breaks out, Rief, instead of fulfilling his theatric aspirations, is called by Munro to transform himself into a spy. Lysander is sent on a mole hunt that takes him all around the world, eventually landing him in London. 

Meanwhile, Lysander falls in love with yet another woman, further entrenching him in the river of sex mentioned in the first few pages of the novel. The theory of parallelism runs rampant in the novel, transforming Lysander into a spy, yet his addiction to and problems with sex still somehow remain. Parallelism isn’t a thorough reality for Rief.

If you’ve ever seen the television series Downton Abbey and would like to read a book that is eerily similar to the First World War depiction therein, William Boyd’s Waiting for Sunrise is about as close as one can get. William Boyd has been asked to write the next James Bond thriller, so that gives you a good idea of the spy narrative within. Even though there’s a lot going on, Waiting for Sunrise combines complicated, intellectual intrigue and adventure to make something worth reading. 

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5
What do you think? Did you read Waiting for Sunrise, and like it? Or were you confused? Have you read Boyd's other novels? Share your thoughts below.
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Posted by: Andrew Jacobson

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Book Review: C

C: A Novel by Tom McCarthy (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010. 320 pp)

Tom McCarthy was born in London and raised in Greenwich. Educated at Dulwich College and New College, Oxford, McCarthy worked as a literary editor for Time Out. In 2005, his debut novel, Remainder, received critical acclaim. He has published numerous essays, articles, and stories in The Observer, The Times Literary Supplement, The London Review of Books, Artforum, and The New York Times. McCarthy’s latest novel, C, was nominated for the 2010 Man Booker Prize.

Bugs!

The thorax is an interesting part of an insect’s body; it connects the head to the abdomen and provides the insect with it sectionalized look. Each section of the body is critical to the life of the organism and connects to each part. Tom McCarthy’s avant-garde novel, C, utilizes this insect imagery in order to link four completely different stories into one cohesive whole.

C begins with the birth of the protagonist, Serge Carrefax. Serge grows up in a well-off family with an eccentric father who experiments with wireless technology and runs a school for deaf children. In his early years, Serge follows his older sister, Sophie, around the property feeding off of her eccentricities as she develops into a brilliant scientist. Under these curious circumstances, Serge develops his own oddities.

McCarthy poetically elaborates on these Serge’s strange developments in writing:

“Serge pictures minute dung-flecks being deposited on this man’s mouth, the even tinier bacteria inside them turning inwards from his lips, swimming against his phlegm through crashing rocks of teeth, past lashing tongue and gurgling epiglottis down towards his stomach…” (81).

The Great War

The book continues to trace Serge’s life as World War I dawns on the European horizon. In this section of C, McCarthy’s prose shines in its brightest hues. While in the war, Serge develops into an advanced flight operator in the British Air Force.  Through brilliant explanations of dogfights and battles of attrition, Serge engages in some of the bloodiest battles in European history.

Observing the horrors of war, McCarthy pens,

“Serge, chewing on his omelette, wonders if it’s really necessary to fight the Germans after all: they could all just lounge around, each on their own side, dying in random accidents until nobody’s left and the war’s over by default” (131).

Current Events in a Mirror

Soure: Al Jazeera

In the last half of the book, Serge meanders through London life and eventually takes a gig in Cairo. Although these sections are not as strong as the World War I depictions, I found it both interesting and currently applicable that Serge encountered protestors in Cairo. While not integral to the plot, the protests certainly echo our current events

Ultimately, C is a novel about repetition. From Serge’s sexual habits and substance abuse to his obsession with germs, insects, the letter “C” and the rhythms of Morse code, each section of the book narrates a similar story in a different setting.

Summing these ideas artfully, McCarthy envisions Serge sleeping. He

“dreams of insects moving around a chessboard that may or may not be the sea. At times it seems more like a gridded carpet than a chessboard. The insects stagger about ponderously, stupidly, reacting with aggression towards other insects when these cross their paths: rearing up, waving their tentacles threateningly as antennae quiver and contract, and so on. Despite the unintelligent, blind nature of the creatures’ movement, there’s a will at work behind them, calculating and announcing moves, dictating their trajectories across the board. The presence of this will gives the whole scene an air of ritual” (300).

McCarthy’s second novel is a difficult read. The narrative flows into long passages of abstract illustrations of the plot. Through repetition, the story materializes. If you are unwilling to navigate McCarthy’s abstract style, this book is not for you. However, if you persevere through the difficult sections, C as a whole becomes an impeccable work of fiction. If you are a fan of literary fiction, I recommend this book.