Monthly Archives: July 2012

Island Beneath the Sea by Isabel Allende

Posted on July 30, 2012 | 13 Comments

Island Beneath the Sea - Isabel AllendeIsland Beneath the Sea – Isabel Allende
Translated from the Spanish La Isla Bajo el Mar by Margaret Sayers Peden
Fourth Estate, Harper Collins Publishers, 2010
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It has finally happened: I read my first novel by Allende!^ Luckily I have 5 more of her books waiting on my shelves, as this was a lovely experience that convinced me I’d like to read more of her work.

In essence, Island Beneath the Sea is the story of Zarité – or Tété – who is a slave determined to build a better life for herself and  her children. Her greatest wish is her freedom from her master: Toulouse Valmorain.

Valmorain arrives on Saint-Domingue in 1770 on a visit to his father. But instead of returning home in a few weeks, Valmorain takes on the responsibilities of the family plantation upon his father’s death. Soon, Valmorain marries a young woman from Cuba, for which he purchases Tété as a slave. But as her wife slowly becomes psychologically ill, he starts to rely on Tété more and more. [spoiler: and when I say rely I mean in all senses of the word, as he frequently, almost daily, rapes Tété, and she eventually bears him two children, while also taking care of his legitimate child.] Meanwhile, slaves on the island have started fighting for their freedom, and Valmorain struggles to unite the philosophies of his youth and what he feels to be his growing responsibility to be more strict with the slaves on his sugar plantation.

When revolution takes over Saint-Domingue (which will eventually lead to the Republic of Haiti), Zarité and her master try to find safety and flee for New Orleans, with the promise of a better life for Tété. But both still have ties to their former colony. And while Tété tries to build a life of her own, her ties to Valmorain make this difficult.

It is not accidental that while, as I said, Island Beneath the Sea is in essence the story of Zarité, Valmorain’s life takes up such a long part in this book’s premise. For most of the book, we follow Tété’s life through the things that happen in her environment, things that are often outside of her control as they are influenced by decisions made by her master, his bride, or other people who are hierarchically above her. There is lots of space in this book dedicated to figures outside of Zarité and Valmorain, including Violette, a mixed race prostitute who manages to build an independent life, and Dr. Parmentier, who accepts that the medical knowledge of the slaves is more effective and tries to learn and apply it himself.

We hear Zarité’s voice and perspective in small chapters that alternate with the third-person narratives in the novel. In these chapters, some of the forgotten or silenced experiences are revealed, and we learn more about the cruelties, and also the female perspective, through these pages. Things that are conveniently stepped over in the stories centering on Valmorain, for example. Some may find it annoying that we learn little of Zarité’s own thoughts and feelings, directly, but I feel Allende’s approach was incredibly smart: through it, the reader feels just what it is like to be a silenced human in history, instead of someone who is thought capable of their own thoughts and feelings. Meanwhile, in her third person narrative, and in Zarité’s own chapters, she challenges this colonial perspective constantly. And somehow, in the middle of this, she manages to make Zarité the most central character of them all, the one you feel for most, and the one you feel you really come to know.

I received Island Beneath the Sea as a birthday gift two years ago. My friends based their buying it for me on the fact that its plot alludes to the intersection of class, gender, and ethnicity. And boy did they make the right decision on that count, because Allende does a stellar job of showing just how tangled up all characters are in the webs of hierarchical taxonomies. All three boundary markers are foregrounded repeatedly, and yet through great characterisation Allende shows that no one fits into any of the convenient boxes we often think in. Characters constantly struggle with divided loyalties between the individual’s conscience and ideals and his personal practical needs, between rationality and feelings (especially love), between personal alliances and society’s expectations.

What made Island Beneath the Sea stand out to me as a reading experience is that she got so much of the above right. A lot of the problems discussed in last month’s read along of The Tea Lords with regard to colonial characters and the reader’s post-colonial consciousness were resolved in an intriguing manner in this novel. But not only does Allende offer a many-sided perspective on persons involved in slavery and the sugar plantations on Saint-Domingue, she also brings the world to life. There were many moments where I forgot that this was fiction, and I felt this was, or might have been, reality.

Despite all my enthusiasm, there were moments that the narrative lagged a little, and this made some of the chapters a little slow. But overall I cannot help but feel incredibly happy to have read the book, even if the subject is dark, bleak, and depressing. Strange how that works, eh?

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I read this book as part of Spanish Lit Month, hosted by Stu and Richard. Click over to their blogs for many more posts on literature originally written in Spanish.

Other Opinions: Books Without Any Pictures, A Bookworm’s World, Lit and Life, Bookworm’s Dinner, Books Like Breathing, Beth Fish Reads, Books and So Many More Books, Rundpinne, Serendipitous Readings, Word by Word, The Picky Girl.
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^ I should probably note that I did read a book by Allende years ago: My Invented Country. But, as that is a memoir and I read it for an assignment in high school, I am not counting it as the first novel I have read by her.
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The Weather in the Streets by Rosamond Lehmann

Posted on July 28, 2012 | 3 Comments

The Weather in the Streets – Rosamond Lehmann
Virago Modern Classics, 2006
Originally published 1936
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The Weather in the Streets picks up ten years after we first met Olivia in Invitation to the Waltz. In the meantime, she married, and separated, from a man called Igor. She now lives in London together with cousin Etty. Sadder and thinner, but I wouldn’t say pessimistic, she travels back to her parental house after receiving a phone call that her father is gravely ill. On the train she encounters Rollo Spencer by chance, the man with whom she shared a brief moment on the balcony in Invitation to the Waltz. They fall in love, despite the fact that Rollo, too, is married. This books traces their love affair from its first moments, to the whirlwind of clandestine meetings, and onto the rather harsh confrontation with the realities and hurt that come with the role of being “the other woman.”

I cannot quite decide if The Weather in the Streets is better than Invitation to the Waltz. It is definitely a lot more depressing and not as lightweight in its descriptions as the previous book about Olivia was in stages. I’m trying to come up with the proper words to describe how I experienced reading this book, but I find I fail to make any coherent story out of them. So please forgive me for that.

The first 150-or-so pages of The Weather in the Streets reminded me of Invitation to the Waltz a lot. It has a similar setting, pace, and the same, what I can only define as, Bridget Jones-like way of having Olivia act and reflect on her feelings, and the mistakes she makes. I know the latter comparison probably won’t go over well with many, but there’s something about Olivia, the way she isn’t easy on herself, but also remains a flicker of humour when she talks about her sufferings, that reminded me of Bridget Jones. Except that, of course, Olivia finds herself in much more serious circumstances, and this book has a more serious setting and tone overall.

Perhaps it is the fact that this novel is so much longer (around 380 pages) that made my attention wander a little. I couldn’t quite interest myself as much in the actual affair between Rollo and Olivia. Perhaps another reason can be found in the fact that I often struggle with adultery in novels. However, I will say that Olivia’s account of her affair for the first time made me feel more sympathy for “the other woman”, something I wouldn’t have thought possible to feel as much of.

What remains from Invitation to the Waltz and is, I think, developed much better, is the social commentary. Exactly because of the social difference between Rollo and Olivia, his rich family, and Olivia’s lesser circumstances with the disgrace of a failed marriage on top, Olivia is able to reflect on them. Moreover, her more arty friends provide a good contrast to Rollo’s family setting, while Olivia never really feels satisfied with both. Most of all though, this social commentary can be found in the small details, or even the small remarks or thoughts of Olivia. They are easy to miss, but also very entertaining to read.

What made me care in the middle of feeling my attention wander at times, was [spoilers, highlight to read] the description of Olivia’s pregnancy and abortion. Lehmann’s descriptions of Olivia’s feelings, her struggles with wanting to bear Rollo a child but knowing it wouldn’t make him happy, her realisation that “the other woman” was all she was ever going to be, and that therefore she had no right and no future to offer the child, and then the painfully detailed scenes of Olivia’s collapse and sickbed after having had an abortion. [/spoilers] Add to that the realisation that in 1936, I’m sure to write about such a subject, as a relatively normal and regular occurrence, wouldn’t have been completely socially acceptable. It were these personal tensions described, but also the political hiding behind, that made me appreciate Olivia’s story again, as I did during the first 150 pages.

The Weather in the Streets divided me a little. On the one hand, I feel it may be the more accomplished of the novels about Olivia. The prose feels the same, but is more emotionally moving at certain points. And in its description of a longer episode in Olivia’s life, I feel that I have received a more complete picture. On the other hand, from the very start you know the story is going to be more bleak. If Invitation to the Waltz has the dreamy atmosphere of a seventeen-year-old still on the threshold of many opportunities, The Weather in the Streets is a realistic, and sometimes pessimistic, realisation that life never is what you dream it would be. It has a more confrontational quality to it. This does not make it a work less worthy of attention, but it does make for a novel that is more difficult to pick up and read, at times.

After reading two novels of Rosamond Lehmann in the past month, I am eagerly awaiting to read some of her other novels. Luckily, I do own one other by her, The Echoing Grove, as well the autobiographically based The Swan in the Evening. I also have Selina Hasting’s biography of Lehmann sitting on my shelves. To be honest though, I am most curious about reading Dusty Answer, which seems to be a favourite of so many bloggers.

Rosamond Lehmann Reading WeekI read The Weather in the Streets for Miss Darcy’s Library’s Rosamond Lehmann Reading Week. It is not too late to join in! Click on over to her blog for much more on the author and her fiction.

Other Opinions: Verity’s Virago Venture, Yours?

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Seraphina by Rachel Hartman

Posted on July 27, 2012 | 10 Comments

Seraphina - Rachel HartmanSeraphina by Rachel Hartman
Random House Children’s Books, July 2012
Review copy from Netgalley
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I know, I know. Everyone and their mother has told you how great this book is. And I will gladly add my name to that list, for Seraphina is a wonderful, wonderful novel.

Seraphina (after the name of the heroine of the story) is set in the kingdom of Goredd. Goredd has known peace between dragons and humans for almost four decades, but distrust between the two is running high. When a member of the royal family is murdered in a manner that makes people suspect a dragon is behind in, these tensions come more and more to the surface, just as the court is preparing for a celebration of the peace treaty’s 40 year anniversary. Seraphina Dombregh, a talented musician, has just been appointed assistant to the main music conductor at court. She has reason to fear both sides, and has been told by her father and the saarantas Orma, a dragon in human form, to lay low. But soon she’s drawn into the investigation together with Prince Lucian Kigg. In the middle of the threat to peace, Seraphina struggles to keep her own secret safe.

I am by no means an experienced fantasy reader, but even so I feel confident in telling you that the world building is fantastic in Seraphina. The setting of Goredd, with its court-life, the different species, dragons being able to take human form, other kinds of dragons who cannot, and the human-dragon relationships is built up so well. It is a rare thing when I have exact pictures of the setting described in my head, but even weeks after finishing Seraphina, my head supplies me with pictures of landscapes , the city, and court. And that isn’t because Hartman’s descriptions are long-winded and all too detailed, because they aren’t. There’s simply exceptionally good gradual world building that allows you to slowly become familiar with the world in which Seraphina lives.

There were two things that particularly interested me in Seraphina. First, there is the divide between the two worlds of dragons and humans (and I have to thank Ana’s review for making this all the more visible to me). Dragons are cold, rational creatures, while humans are seen as emotional, and therefore better able to perform in the arts. When dragons take human form as saarantras, they experience human emotions. Out of fear that their emotions will last and take away some of the essence of being a dragon, any dragon who gets too emotionally attached has to go through excision, in which any memories and emotional attachments are erased from his brain.

This dualism between ratio and emotions has fascinated me since high school due to some interactions with someone who didn’t believe in emotions, and my frustrations on meeting with a strict divide between the two on many occasions. Moreover, the idea of dragons as logicians and humans as more able in the arts reminded me of the common dualism between science and the humanities, that you encounter in so many strata of today’s society: if you’re a physicist, surely you cannot be a proper lover of music, and if you’re an artist it’s a given you aren’t good at math. Having dealt with this stereotype all too often as a science major in high school who went on to study history, it annoys me to no end.

This is why I appreciated the manner in which this dualism is addressed in Seraphina so much. Because it depicts it and foregrounds it even more by letting it coincide with a divide between species, and then continues to undermine it through Seraphina’s story. Seraphina in person, her back story, and some of the interactions between humans and dragons around her continually challenge and subvert these assumptions. I cannot go into detail as to how this happens without giving much of the plot away, but I can say that this was very well executed and subtly done.

The other things I absolutely loved was Seraphina herself. She is insecure yet strong, and she is very much a character who still has to come to terms with who she is, but who deals with this process on her own terms. There is a definite character growth throughout the novel. And while there are outer circumstances which  threaten to disrupt her path to finding self-acceptance, and she often experiences a sense of hopelessness, she always comes through fighting. What I loved about the way in which her character is described is that she never becomes an exceptionally strong girl that you cannot identify with but only admire. Seraphine experiences insecurities, even of the most devastating varieties, and she comes close to giving up on herself, but she also learns, grows, and keeps going. Despite the definite trajectory Seraphina goes through, she is thus a character that I was able to sympathise with throughout the novel. And she’s also someone who I would have been able to look to as a literary inspiration when younger, in finding self-acceptance.

What adds to my love for Seraphina’s characterisation and growth is that the love triangle that plays a role in the latter part of the novel never disrupts her sense of self-sufficiency. Despite her awareness of loving a certain character, despite the help she receives from him, she never relies on him. There are even numerous occasions when she ignores his help because she feels she should handle things on her own. [insert joyful dancing here]. More importantly, the love triangle is very different from the trope you often find in YA literature of the last few years, which even had me hesitate to use the word because it might summon dislike in some people. You see, there isn’t any unhealthy rivalry, and the message of the whole thing seems to be that despite having two people love the same person, friendship can still win out.

Despite my love for the novel, I did find the beginning a little bit slow. The world building is still fantastic in that part, and Seraphina’s character is too, but it wasn’t until somewhere in the middle of the novel that I was completely hooked and could not put the book down before I finished it. And I mean this quite literally, as at that point I stayed up until 3.15 am to finish it.

If I were to summarise my feelings for this novel, they would be expressions of love and joy. It is not often that right upon finishing an e-galley, I order the hardcover copy of a novel. Usually I wait for the paperback release. Not for this one though. I am all giddy with the thought of taking up the beautiful US hardback copy of this novel in anticipation of the sequel (There will be a sequel right? For once, I desperately want this to be a series!). There is a reason why I mention the US version though, as the UK cover made me cringe a little bit.

Other Opinions: Things Mean A Lot, Stella Matutina, The Book Smugglers, Bookworm1858,  Books Without Any Pictures, The Night Bookmobile, Mindful Musings, Steph Su Reads, Waking Brain Cells, The Readventurer, Gimme More Books, Misfit Salon, Polishing Mud Balls, weartheoldcoat, Paranormal Indulgence, Magnificent Octopus, Charlotte’s Library, intoyourlungs.
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Posted in Books, Fantasy/Science Fiction, Fiction, Young Adult

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Invitation to the Waltz by Rosamond Lehmann

Posted on July 25, 2012 | 14 Comments

Invitation to the Waltz - Rosamond LehmannInvitation to the Waltz – Rosamond Lehmann
Virago Modern Classics, 2006
First published 1932
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I think Invitation to the Waltz was one of the first Virago Modern Classics I managed to find over here. Not that I claim to have a grand collection now (I may own approximately 15 titles at the moment), but I do remember finding this in a shop – relatively cheap – and simply feeling elated because these books come with a reputation of being wonderful. And so, in my head, they all are, and all immediately need to be bought.

Happily, I was not disappointed in this one, which is also my first book by Rosamond Lehmann.

The premise of the story told here is simple: For her seventeenth birthday Olivia Curtis receives a number of gifts, including a roll of flame-coloured silk for an evening dress. She is to wear this dress to her first dance. We follow her preparations, excitement, and nerves for this first dance, and watch the event unfold in all its splendour and uncertainty. How will shy and awkward Olivia do on this first grand social occasion?

The appeal of Invitation to the Waltz  is to be found in its depiction of the thoughts and anxieties of a seventeen-year-old at her first social event and the atmosphere Lehmann manages to evoke. As such, it is perhaps the part depicting the dance that was of the most immediate interest, but there are still quiet and appealing moment in the narrative preceding that one. What touched me most was how I was able to relate to Olivia’s inner world. Sometimes for the most basic things, such as her thoughts on getting out of bed, pronto:

Another five minutes, thought Olivia, and shut her eyes. Not to fall asleep again; but to go back as it were and do the thing gradually—detach oneself softly, float up serenely from the clinging delectable fringes. Oh, heavenly sleep! Why must one cast it from one, all unprepared, unwilling? Caught out again by Kate in the very act! You’re not trying, you could wake up if you wanted to: that was their attitude. And regularly one began the day convicted of inferiority, of a sluggish voluptuous nature, seriously lacking in will-power.

But even more so for the novel’s portrayal of hope and anxiety, of blinding insecurities and telling yourself to pull through it, when it comes to social events. Olivia’s doubts about her dress, which she dreamt would be perfect, but seems a little awkward when she puts it on, must be recognisable for most who have felt insecure about their wardrobe at times. But most of all, Olivia’s inevitable social awkwardness  at the ball; how many events have I not spent in this manner, albeit not grand social affairs like balls, but more likely high school parties:

Why go?  It was unthinkable.  Why suffer so much?  Wrenched from one’s foundations; neglected, ignored, curiously stared at; partnerless, watching Kate move serenely from partner to partner, pretending not to watch; pretending not to see one’s hostess wondering; must she do something about one again? – (but really one couldn’t go on and on introducing these people); pretending not to care; slipping off to the ladies’ cloakroom, fiddling with unnecessary pins and powder, ears strained for the music to stop; wandering forth again to stand by oneself against the wall, hope struggling with despair beneath a mask of smiling indifference…Back to the cloakroom, the pins, the cold scrutiny or (worse) the pitying small talk of the attendant maid.

It is hard not to feel a deep sympathy for Olivia. And Lehmann has done a stellar job in making a somewhat awkward heroine into someone the reader is happy to identify with. There’s something very appealing about Olivia’s inner world, right alongside moments at the beginning of the story that make you want to step in and tell her to please not make the mistake she’s about to make..

Yet, there are less than perfect moments in Invitation to the Waltz, most notably the fact that sometimes, suddenly, the narrative will swing between Olivia and her older sister Kate. While Kate’s story might have been interesting, I was not always sure how I was meant to place it alongside Olivia’s. Moreover, sometimes the change in perspectives startled me, and I had to stop and think before I realised that this was not Olivia, but someone else entirely.

Rosamond Lehmann Reading WeekOverall though, I am more than satisfied with my first experience of Rosamond Lehmann’s fiction, and I am a little impatient to read more. First on my list? The Weather in the Streets, which is the story of Olivia ten years later (to be reviewed later this week). After that I have a few other titles of Lehmann waiting on my shelves..

I read this book for Miss Darcy’s Library’s Rosamond Lehmann Reading Week. It’s not too late to join in! Click on over to her blog for much more on the author and her fiction.

Other Opinions: Verity’s Virago Venture, Shelf Love, Fleur Fisher, The Captive Reader, Heavenali.
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Bonjour Tristesse by Françoise Sagan

Posted on July 20, 2012 | 11 Comments

Bonjour Tristesse - Francoise SaganBonjour Tristesse – Françoise Sagan
Translated from the French by Irene Ash
Penguin Great Loves, 2007
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Bonjour Tristesse is one of those books of which I had heard, vaguely, knowing it was a book, but nothing beyond that, except perhaps that it was French. Violet’s post on this novella must have been what turned this vague knowledge into the wish to read it. Subsequent reviews of other bloggers only made me more eager.. And so, it has been on my wishlist for a little over 2 years, but somehow I always forgot to actually pick it up. However, July being renamed Paris in July BookBath and Thyme for Tea, I knew it was time I finally read it.

Let me begin by telling you a little of what this novella is about, although I am sure most of you are aware of its content already:

Bonjour Tristesse is the tale of seventeen-year-old Cécile, who spends her summer vacation at a French beach, together with her father Raymond. Having long since accepted her father’s ever changing string of mistresses, she is alright with the fact that Elsa, his current girlfriend, is staying with them in the villa, even though she is a little silly. Cécile is familiar with her father’s hedonistic, decadent and slightly promiscuous lifestyle, and likes to think of herself as similar to her father. Until the arrival of her late mother’s friend Anne, we follow Cécile as she is experiencing her own love affair with Cyril, the boy occupying the villa next to theirs.

But things change with the arrival of Anne. Soon, Anne and Raymond claim to be in love, and Anne starts to disrupt the comfortable hedonistic life Cécile and Raymond had spun together. Cécile, extrovert and rather spoiled, used to getting her way, sets a plan in motion to get rid of Anne’s elegant influence on their lifes, but she is not aware of the tragedy lurking around the corner.

There’s an interesting dynamic surrounding Cécile’s character. As Sasha so eloquently puts it: “Cécile , make no mistake, is a little brat.” And she is. And I generally do not enjoy reading about brats. On top of this, Cécile is so unlike me in many ways that I was a little surprised that she did not bother me more. She does not care about having failed her exams at the end of boarding school, she rejoices in trying to imitate her father and his liasons, and she is bothered by the possible intrusion of structure in her life. Moreover, she is extravert and self-assuredly goes after what she wants. Not that I condemn these characteristics, but they’re not things I identify with generally. And at times I struggled with this; sometimes the novella bordered on providing the reader with a little too much detail on Cécile’s character, on her teenage-ness, so to say. And yet it never really crosses the line.

So what saves this book for me? I think part of it is that the Cécile described, and the Cécile making the descriptions, are different persons. The latter has been changed and has, presumably, grown up by the experiences put forth in Bonjour Tristesse. This is a novella of introspection, of ruthless honesty about the selfishness and naivety of adolescence, but from the viewpoint of someone who has lived through it, not someone who is still in the middle of it. This makes it a lot more bearable to read about a character like Cécile’s, for yes, and I keep returning to this, she is a brat. But she’s also someone who allows insight into her reflections, thoughts, and motivations. And the observations offered are acutely insightful, often recognisable (even for someone who feels she is completely different from Cécile in many respects).

For all the confrontation with the ugliness that can be found in the scheming and the egoistical world described -but these words are too strong, really, for there is an overarching innocence and naivety covering it all up too- there is also a wonderful beauty to the prose in Bonjour Tristesse. Moreover, this novella is so accomplished as a whole.  Just look at the first paragraph of the book:

A strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the grave and beautiful name of sadness. In the past the idea of sadness always appealed to me, now I am almost ashamed of its complete egoism. I had known boredom, regret, and at times remorse, but never sadness. Today something envelops me like a silken web, enervating and soft, which isolates me.

And there we have the real reason this novella worked for me, despite not falling head over heels in love with it. The prose is stunning at times. The kind that makes you want to just read it a few times over, linger on it, and contemplate it for a while. To think that Sagan wrote this aged eighteen makes it all the more admirable. I am sure I’d like to read more by Sagan in due time.

Other Opinions: Stuck in a Book, The Book Whisperer, In Spring it is the Dawn, Reading Matters, The Literary Lollipop, A Book Blog. Period, Savidge Reads, The Literary Stew, Sasha & The Silverfish, Bart’s Bookshelf, Still Life With Books.
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