Showing posts with label World War I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label World War I. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

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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Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Book Review: Bright's Passage

Bright's Passage: A NovelBright’s Passage: A Novel by Josh Ritter (New York: Dial Press, 2011. 208 pp)

Hailing from Moscow, Idaho, Josh Ritter is best known as a critically acclaimed singer-songwriter. With his songs containing distinctive narrative lyrics, a jump to full-length fiction offered the natural next step. A graduate of Oberlin College with a self-created major of “American History through Narrative Folk Music,” Ritter launched his career in Ireland with the help of Glen Hansard and the Frames. While on a recent tour, Ritter began writing Bright’s Passage and after significant edits, released it with Dial Press on June 28, 2011. Currently, Ritter lives in Brooklyn.

Literary Songwriting

As a musician and an avid music fan, Josh Ritter’s albums have graced my playlists for the last half decade. When I heard he was writing a novel, my interest piqued since his songs have always felt like short novellas. With much joy, I attended Josh Ritter’s book reading at Elliot Bay Book Company.

Angelology

During the reading, Ritter elaborated on some of his topical obsessions. One of the themes Ritter constantly considers is angelology.

At one point, Ritter commented facetiously that when angels arrive, they always encourage people to be not afraid. Yet, an angel appearance causes immense levels of fear! In Ritter’s novel, Bright’s Passage, he elaborates,

“’You hear me, Henry Bright.’ The voice was very close to his ear in the blackness.
‘Yes,’ he said finally. Then, ‘Who are you?’
‘I am an angel, Henry Bright, be not afraid.’
‘I am.’ His throat was tight with fear and the words came out with a cracked, whistling sound. ‘I am afraid’” (97).

The word “angel” comes from the Greek word “angelos” meaning messenger. Before its use in the New Testament, angelos was used primarily in terrestrial terms. Yet, with its constant use in the gospels, angelos encounters a spiritual sense as the Greek word became a term for God’s spiritual messengers.

However, what is clear in the history of angelos is that whenever an angel shows up, something important happens.

A Brief Synopsis

Ritter’s obsession with angels provides the bedrock for Bright’s Passage. Set in the aftermath of World War I, the book’s protagonist, Henry Bright, is a veteran returning from an ugly war where probability suggests he should not have survived.

Led by an angel manifested in Bright’s horse, Henry marries his childhood sweetheart and together they conceive what the angel proclaims is “the future king of heaven.”

Describing the newborn, Ritter pens,

“The baby boy wriggled in his arms, a warm, wet mass, softer than a goat and hairier than a rabbit kit” (3).

As the story unfolds, Bright’s Passage depicts the classic chase scene narrative where his antagonistic father-in-law pursues Bright through a West Virginia wildfire.

World War I

Interposed through this narrative are flashbacks to Bright’s time in World War I. Relying heavily on the grim features of warfare, Ritter paints a horrific picture of the front:

“Mud and water and the stumps of trees. In every direction that was all there was. Bodies fell, but the trees died standing up. Nightly they were crucified upon themselves by the zip and whine of machine guns, their leaves corroded by gas, their branches and trunks hacked for kindling, some roots cut by entrenching tools, others drowned by the ceaseless, steady dripping of blood and rain” (13).

The Purpose of Piety in the Face of Carnage

While the story unfolds in West Virginia as the angel leads Bright away from his father-in-law, the literary core of the novel questions the piety of God in the wake of World War I’s carnage. In the course of a conversation between the angel and Henry Bright, Ritter exclaims,

“’What wreckage this King has wrought.’
Bright took the lemon away and spoke softly. ‘Not now.’
‘A new King must be found. This one has soaked the world in blood. He has allowed War to become so terrible that it can kill all of mankind. No King of Heaven has ever allowed War to become so powerful’” (122).

Josh Ritter
For better or worse, Bright’s Passage explores the relationship between religion and warfare. Sadly, religions carries a checkered past of blood lust and implicit in the pages of Bright’s Passage is a critique of religion’s influence on society.

Of course, Ritter’s observations carry some weight but they are not new condemnations. Many have used the horrors of religious warfare as a proof text against the veracity of religion. In my mind, the problem of war runs deeper than creed and confession. Religious and atheistic regimes alike provide evidence for the depravity of man.

Humanity and the Divine

Having Ritter’s obsession with angelology take center stage, Bright’s Passage forces the reader to interact with the spiritual realm. Is the self-proclaimed angel really divine? Does the angel have Henry Bright’s interests in mind? Could the angel be a figment of Bright’s imagination? If so, is the protagonist mentally unstable? The history of literature references angels often. What does that say about human culture?

An Honest Appraisal

Ritter’s first voyage into the literary realm is a success. On the surface, Bright’s Passage is an entertaining novel with compelling characters; underneath the storyline, Ritter weaves the threads of an essay against religious institutions and just warfare.

If you are a fan of historical fiction and want an easy read with some depth, I highly recommend Bright’s Passage.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Book Review: C

CC: 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. 

Monday, January 3, 2011

Book Review: The Blasphemer

The Blasphemer: A NovelThe Blasphemer: A Novel by Nigel Farndale (New York: Crown Publishers, 2010. 384 pp)

Best known for his interviews in the Sunday Telegraph, Nigel Farndale is a British author and journalist. Farndale went to Barnard Castle School before receiving a master’s degree in philosophy from Durham University. On top of his work for the Sunday Telegraph, Farndale contributes articles to the Sunday Times, Country Life, and Spectator. Of his five published books, Haw-Haw: The Tragedy of William and Margaret Joyce was shortlisted for both the 2005 Whitbread Prize and James Tait Black Memorial Prize. Additionally, The Blasphemer was shortlisted for the 2010 Costa Novel Award. Farndale lives between Hampshire and Sussex with his wife and three sons.

The Lifeboat

The lifeboat example, a classical Philosophy 101 illustration, depicts a scenario in which you reside safely in a lifeboat surrounded by a sea of drowning passengers. While the hope of you – the lone lifeboat resident ­– is to save as many as possible, only one more person can safely board. Amongst the drowning treads your spouse, a brilliant physicist, and a poor child. Who should you save?

Daniel Kennedy – a zoologist, Dawkinsian atheist, and protagonist of The Blasphemer – would first choose to save himself. As a downed seaplane off the Galapagos Islands fills with water, he swims past his struggling, common-law wife, Nancy, in order to reach the surface. Although Daniel fills his lungs with air in order to swim back down to the sinking wreckage in order to save Nancy, the psychological damage is done.

Later, while Daniel attempts to swim approximately 14 miles to the Galapagos Islands hoping to find help for his fellow survivors, he is compelled forward by a vision of a man, an apparition, or more logically a hallucination.

Fight, Flight, and Faith

Farndale’s book discusses weighty subjects. Following Daniel’s great-grandfather, Andrew Kennedy, through the First Great War and detailing Daniel’s detective-natured father, Philip, the Blasphemer narrates three familial generations through war, terrorism, and foundational belief.

In between the tensions of modern science and ancient religious tradition, Farndale crafts his characters:

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps that is why God makes angels, immaterial beings whose identity resides in the world of thought. The unseen world. The abstract world. They are creatures that can’t be explained away by scientists.”
“Thought you sad men make angels.”
“No. I said that Darwin said that men make angels.”
“So you do believe in them?”
“They have been described as the most beautiful conceit in mortal wit, and I would go along with that” (177).

Although the tome begins slowly, the story compellingly unfolds into a page turner. Farndale’s characters provide depth in the storyline and the motifs from each era unite nicely.

Foundational Faith

Ultimately, the Blasphemer is a cinematic story surrounding belief. While some create a dichotomy between faith and reason, Farndale suggests that faith is a necessary aspect of reason. When placed in stressful and life-threatening situations, humans react in different ways. Some safe themselves, some save the most talented, and other are self-sacrificial. In all of these instances, actions exist on a foundation of faith. As one of the better books read last year, I recommend this book. 

Monday, October 11, 2010

Book Review: The Last Town on Earth

The Last Town on Earth: A NovelThe Last Town on Earth: A Novel by Thomas Mullen (New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2006. 432 pp)

Born in Rhode Island, Thomas Mullen graduated from Oberlin College. His first novel, The Last Town on Earth received the James Fenimore Cooper Prize for excellence in historical fiction, Best Debut Novel of 2006 by USA Today, and the Chicago Tribune best book of the year. Mullen currently resides in Atlanta with his wife and two sons.

Having thoroughly enjoyed The Many Deaths of the Firefly Brothers, I decided to take a stab at Mullen’s debut novel, The Last Town on Earth. Set in the dense forests of the Pacific Northwest, a small town named Commonwealth quarantines itself in an attempt to avoid the flu epidemic of 1918. With guards posted, the unique and semi-socialist settlement believes that families and jobs will safely continue as the outside world suffers from World War I and the Spanish flu.

Being a Pacific Northwest native, I always have suspicions about using my region as a setting. My knowledge of the area allows me to criticize flawed descriptions of Western Washington. For example, I am thoroughly bothered by the song, “Hello Seattle” by Owl City because the lyrics contain a baffling line about manatees swimming in the Puget Sound. In case you were wondering, manatees live in warm waters near the equator. Mullen, however, finished his homework. His description of Washington State and the small logging towns in the Cascades is remarkably accurate and illustrative.

While the narrative in the Last Town on Earth carefully builds, I particularly gained interest in Mullen’s depiction of early twentieth century labor strife and counter-cultural communities attempting to create flourishing lifestyles for all town members.

Considering the treatment of employees in our modern times, many workers discover small injustices in policy implementation by management. Yet these injustices and oversights pale in comparison to the volatile scenes merely a century before in Everett, Washington. Known as the "Everett Massacre" (massacre is a slight misnomer since only 7 people died officially), a workers union known as the “Wobblies” had a violent confrontation with local authorities. In placing a main character in this discordant event, Mullen brings this historical footnote to life. It is of crucial importance that we remember the lengths workers took in order to ensure the rights that workers now enjoy.

The Last Town on Earth not only details early labor disputes in the Pacific Northwest, it also explores the progressive communities that sprouted up throughout the Pacific Northwest in the early 1900s. Home to the protagonists in the story, the settlement of Commonwealth contains a timber mill owned by Charles Worthy, a visionary convinced that a business can be successful when workers are paid a fair wage and treated like human beings. His wife, Rebecca, teaches the town’s children in the lone school and participates both in anti-war rallies and suffragist movements. Given the historical setting of World War I and the Spanish Flu, Commonwealth’s neighbors see the town as enemies on a physical and philosophical level. Nevertheless, Mullen depicts the ideals of Commonwealth in the utmost positive light as they battle the exterior pressures of the world when he writes:

“But as they walked in silence, they came to the same strange realization: the closed-off town of Commonwealth was precisely this place. There was no war, no pestilence. People around the globe were dying, dying from flu and pneumonia and aerial bombings and bayonets, but in Commonwealth, the last town on earth, people were safe. This was the place to run to, and they were already here. All they could do was wait” (p. 42).

While slow in parts, the Last Town on Earth investigates the heart of a particular historical context. Understanding the regional history that Mullen depicts, I am sufficiently impressed at Mullen’s attention to detail. The book is both thought-provoking and entertaining; Mullen’s writing style is erudite and clear. I highly recommend this book.