The White Tiger

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga was the winner of the Man Booker Prize in 2008. But I didn't enjoy it. It wasn't the worst thing that I've read in the last couple of months, but I was certainly disappointed.

I think the main reason for my disappointment was the writing itself. I understand that the narrator is an uneducated Indian, but I didn't like the format of the letters, nor did I like the simplicity of the language. More so, on reflection, I don't think I liked the voice of the narrator at all. 

   In some ways I have to forgive these reasons, because I have not read anything else by Aravind Adiga. For all I know, the writing style perfectly reflected the character of the narrator - who was not a very nice person. In which case, the reasons I so disliked this book are actually very clever writing techniques. But, I can't completely forgive these things - it could have been written from an omnipresent narrator, and the story would still have been a striking a depiction of India.

   The reviews called it 'blazingly savage and brilliant', but it's probably just the truth. The truth is savage, and the hot Indian sun makes that savagery blazing! I have no doubt of the corruption, and the dramatic differences between the poor and the middle class that exist in any country dragging itself into the first-world. It doesn't make this book a masterpiece, but it is a story that will take you away from your comfortable bedroom for a few hours.

Remembering Babylon

This short novel by David Malouf reminded me of That Deadman Dance by Kim Scott, though it was much shorter and left more gaps for the reader's imagination to fill. Written in 1993, Remembering Babylon won the IMPAC Award, and was shortlisted for the Miles Franklin award and the Man Booker Prize.

The reason that it reminds me of That Deadman Dance is probably because it is about a pioneer settlement on the fringes of other early Australian settlements, and it involves Aboriginals. In That Deadman Dance, it was an Aboriginal that was cared for and became part of the white society, and then didn't fit in with either communities. Remembering Babylon is the reverse - it is about a young white boy who gets thrown off a ship whilst ill, and lives among remote Aboriginals in Northern Queensland for half his life. Once white settlement starts moving as far north as the tribe he is with, he ventures back to his own kind. But he has nearly completely lost the English language, and most of the English body language as well. It is about isolation, racism, and community. His very presence in the community divides it into two: those who will tolerate and in time love him, and those that are determined to drive him away (from fear of something different).
   The voice of the narrator is very stable and removed, which distinguishes this novel even further from That Deadman Dance. Despite being distant (allowing quite lovely descriptive prose), the narrator often has quite profound insight into the characters (which is the only way that you get to know them well, because their description is not focused on). Having such a detached narrator really allows your own feelings to guide you, inside of being guided by a main character's feelings. I suppose this allows for a very broad range of responses to the novel, based on a reader's own background and sensitivities.
   The narrator does take on some traits of the race of characters that the story is focusing on. The description of the landscape is very different when the characters are white (it is always a very hot, stark and feeling of being crowded-in by the bush) and when they are Aboriginal (there seems to be magic in the bush, as well as a peaceful silence). The only time that the whites seem to be clam in their surroundings is when they are at the house of the lady bee-keeper.
   As well as describing the landscape magically, David Malouf also has some beautiful prose describing some of the cultural and spiritual aspects of the Aboriginal people. I have never read anything that expressed and explained another races' culture so well.
   The only downfall with this short novel is that it just short of dribbles off into a nothing ending ...


 

The Sense of an Ending

I had no expectations about The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes when I picked it up, except that it had won the Man Booker prize for 2011 (so it must have been good). I won't give anything away ...

The writing certainly lived up to the expectation - from a literary and prose perspective, the writing was lovely. But I think that the topic would isolate a lot of readers - it certainly wasn't something I related to, or was interested in. I probably only finished the book because I was camping, and didn't have anything else to do! Perhaps it was written for an audience that didn't include my sex or age-group (what does that say about the judges of the Man Booker prize?).
   The Sense of an Ending is also a book that critics have said should be read twice. I can understand that a different light would be reflected on all the insinuations in the novel, if you already knew the ending. But I really don't feel compelled to read it again.
   The ending was not a revelation - it was such a simple little story, so focused down onto a subjective level of the narrator and main character, that the ending didn't really affect me as the reader. I can see that it would have caused a bit of a heart flip for the main character, but certainly wouldn't have been something to obsess about, considering the event in question happened over 40 years prior.
   The hostility and obstructiveness of Veronica still isn't explained, even after the ending is revealed. Nor is the financial legacy that is left to the main character. The ending doesn't seem to justify these points. Maybe Veronica is just a nasty, bitter person - in which case, why would she even engage with the main character at all? Maybe because he's so annoying - his self-obsessing certainly annoyed me.
   Maybe I'll reread it in a couple of years. Right now, I don't have the patience for the characters - I need a break from them.

Wolf Hall

I haven't done a book review for a while, because I have been reading the epic novel by Hilary Mantel: Wolf Hall. It won the Man Booker prize in 2009. It took me about three weeks, when I am used to reading a book in a week. At a few points, I was ready to give up. The pace was slow, some of the paragraphs were nearly a page long.  It was also confusing, because the writer kept referring to Thomas Cromwell (the main character) as 'he', even when there were other male characters in the scene. So, I was always having to reread sections to work out you said what, and what Cromwell actually did and didn't do.

   After taking about 300 pages to build up, I did actually like Cromwell a lot. He was a great character. I think I like him because he was modern for his time, and a realist. He was also highly intelligent, and a hard worker. He was fair, and compassionate.  He's also never completely loyal to anyone but himself, and he's not afraid to lie and cheat to get what he wants.
   The other reason I kept reading was that I know and love the story of King Henry VIII. This is the fourth novel about Henry that I have read. I have also watched the TV series: the Tudors. The story of Henry has never been told from a secondary perspective around Cromwell. It portrayed Henry in a different light, too, because of the experiences Cromwell had lived and where he was coming from.
   I think the next novel I should read about Henry will be A Man for All Seasons. Apparently there are some stark contrasts between how the characters are portrayed in each of these books. Sir Thomas More irritated me in this novel. But that is hardly surprising, since I have very little time for extremists. And that's what I consider More to be.
   Another interesting thing about this novel was that it was written in the present tense. It is unique to find  novel that is written this way, especially one that flows well, because I had to have it pointed out to me before I even noticed.
   Readers who are not familiar with King Henry's story, and the people in his court, may find it difficult to keep track of the characters. Other interesting peripheral characters are also introduced, which breathed fresh life into the story.
   The most disappointing thing for me was that I felt the book finished in the wrong place. I thought it was called Wolf Hall because it would continue through until Jane Seymour became queen. The may that Mantel has portrayed Jane Seymour makes me wonder how she ever got noticed by Henry. Answering that question was one of the reasons I kept reading, but not to have that question answered has left me feeling unsatisfied.
   Obviously, if we don't even get to the point when Jane Seymour is queen, then we don't get to Cromwell's lutheran queen, and the beginning of his end. Does that mean that there is room for a sequel to Mantel's epic? I hope not: I can't cope with putting this much effort into reading.