by Douglas Hand
An account of the author’s quest for the culture of killer whales in the Pacific Northwest, and the root of our fascination with orcas. He goes from a museum to an aquarium to a renegade scientist to Haida craftsmen who carve whales. It’s quite a meticulously researched book: the histories of the museums, the histories of the native crafts, etc. This erudition is a sideline, however, used to supplement the human side of the story, rather than overshadowing it.
It is a subtly written book, yet I don’t think it succeeds. I didn’t see that Hand hit upon the essence of our fascination with orcas, if only because he eschews philosophy in favor of factual commentary. A philosophy he does come near to espousing may be a Zen-like acceptance (he mentions Chuang Tzu), not analysis: the orca is mysterious and amazing, and this should be felt rather than said. And yet he wrote a 200-page book about it. I also did not care for what I saw as Hand’s ego, apparent in the writing: Hand did the sketches himself (they’re unremarkable), and he seems to feel the need to insult all his interlocutors’ appearances, citing their balding heads or discolored teeth. What’s the deal with that?
three stars
Wednesday, January 6, 1999
Monday, January 4, 1999
Wobegon Boy
by Garrison Keillor
The narrator, a man from Lake Wobegon, moves to New York to work at a public radio station, and meets the love of his life. And meanwhile, life happens: his father dies, he is fired, his restaurant idea fails as the developer appropriates the land, etc. In other words, there’s not much of a plot per se, but slice after slice of life. I must say, I’m surprised at how much I like this book. Sure, I rebel against what I perceive as Keillor’s good ol’ Middle America anti-periphery values, but I must say that this book is laugh-out-loud funny. Keillor truly excels at telling the weird, fantastic life stories of everyday, normal characters. Everyone has at least one story to tell in this book – and the best part is, they’re all funny.
four stars
The narrator, a man from Lake Wobegon, moves to New York to work at a public radio station, and meets the love of his life. And meanwhile, life happens: his father dies, he is fired, his restaurant idea fails as the developer appropriates the land, etc. In other words, there’s not much of a plot per se, but slice after slice of life. I must say, I’m surprised at how much I like this book. Sure, I rebel against what I perceive as Keillor’s good ol’ Middle America anti-periphery values, but I must say that this book is laugh-out-loud funny. Keillor truly excels at telling the weird, fantastic life stories of everyday, normal characters. Everyone has at least one story to tell in this book – and the best part is, they’re all funny.
four stars
Friday, January 1, 1999
The Fifth Child
by Doris Lessing
1988
A middle-class English couple buck the disapproval of both their families and plan to have “at least six” children, buying a huge house and becoming the focus of all holiday gatherings. The fifth child, however, Ben, after a difficult pregnancy, turns out to be some sort of evil throwback, horrifying and sending away the extended family.
This slim novel appears to be making a comment on social selfishness, as well as being a parable for our violent modern times – “the barbarous eighties,” as the novel says. I would have liked the story to come to some sort of solid ending; instead, the book ends as the mother considers selling the giant, empty house, and as Ben and his gang of Clockwork Orange droogs venture gradually from riots and petty theft to more vicious crimes. The mother assumes he will probably move forever to some even more depraved urban pit. This device is no doubt meant to emphasize the universality of the problem, as if Ben were an Everythug. A rather chilling tale, but not exceedingly deep, and in the end unsatisfying.
three stars
1988
A middle-class English couple buck the disapproval of both their families and plan to have “at least six” children, buying a huge house and becoming the focus of all holiday gatherings. The fifth child, however, Ben, after a difficult pregnancy, turns out to be some sort of evil throwback, horrifying and sending away the extended family.
This slim novel appears to be making a comment on social selfishness, as well as being a parable for our violent modern times – “the barbarous eighties,” as the novel says. I would have liked the story to come to some sort of solid ending; instead, the book ends as the mother considers selling the giant, empty house, and as Ben and his gang of Clockwork Orange droogs venture gradually from riots and petty theft to more vicious crimes. The mother assumes he will probably move forever to some even more depraved urban pit. This device is no doubt meant to emphasize the universality of the problem, as if Ben were an Everythug. A rather chilling tale, but not exceedingly deep, and in the end unsatisfying.
three stars
Monday, November 16, 1998
The Stranger
by Alfred Camus
1942
translated by Matthew Ward
I continue to find that I still identify very closely with the existentialists and absurdists, and that my fascination in high school was not just a phase. I identify very much with Meursault, the protagonist of this story; although I certainly can’t see myself allowing evil to become so contagious so quickly, I can see how the world sort of takes us up in its series of events, and things simply happen without us intending them to. The way in which his girlfriend, Marie, for example, asked him to marry her, and his indifference to the idea either way, struck me as startlingly familiar. The book says so much in what it doesn’t say: the terse, laconic style speaking pages about Mersault’s state of mind, how he takes everything at face value and sees no need to dissimulate about the world, or make false pretenses. The theme of man’s helplessness in the face of the world’s absurdity comes through in a much more stark fashion, perhaps more so than in “The Trial,” because of Mersault’s failure to panic and his dismissal of hope. Quite a profound and moving book in its few pages.
four stars
1942
translated by Matthew Ward
I continue to find that I still identify very closely with the existentialists and absurdists, and that my fascination in high school was not just a phase. I identify very much with Meursault, the protagonist of this story; although I certainly can’t see myself allowing evil to become so contagious so quickly, I can see how the world sort of takes us up in its series of events, and things simply happen without us intending them to. The way in which his girlfriend, Marie, for example, asked him to marry her, and his indifference to the idea either way, struck me as startlingly familiar. The book says so much in what it doesn’t say: the terse, laconic style speaking pages about Mersault’s state of mind, how he takes everything at face value and sees no need to dissimulate about the world, or make false pretenses. The theme of man’s helplessness in the face of the world’s absurdity comes through in a much more stark fashion, perhaps more so than in “The Trial,” because of Mersault’s failure to panic and his dismissal of hope. Quite a profound and moving book in its few pages.
four stars
Sunday, November 1, 1998
The Man In the Iron Mask
by Alexandre Dumas
1850
edited and annotated by David Coward, from an older translation
Well, the mammoth saga of the once-invincibles comes to a rather sad end. Porthos dies because his strength gives out. Aramis flees France in disgrace because his schemes come to ruin. And Athos dies because the one thing dearer to him to God, his son, leaves his company to go die in the Africa campaigns under the Duke of Beaufort. And d’Artagnan – well, d’Artagnan’s star does not decline under the sun king, but that’s only because this once so haughty Gascon spirit humbles itself rather abjectly before the iron will of Louis (chapter 81, simply and appropriately titled “King Louis XIV”). I have one complaint with this action-packed adventure, during which in the course of 570 pages the suspense hardly slackens. Why did Aramis, General of the Jesuits, master planner always with an out at his disposal, admit defeat instantly when Fouquet announced he would denounce him? Up to that point, Fouquet had been a pawn of Aramis. Suddenly, Aramis had to flee for his life on the word alone of Fouquet. Well, maybe it was the onset of age that weakens Aramis’ resolve.
1850
edited and annotated by David Coward, from an older translation
Well, the mammoth saga of the once-invincibles comes to a rather sad end. Porthos dies because his strength gives out. Aramis flees France in disgrace because his schemes come to ruin. And Athos dies because the one thing dearer to him to God, his son, leaves his company to go die in the Africa campaigns under the Duke of Beaufort. And d’Artagnan – well, d’Artagnan’s star does not decline under the sun king, but that’s only because this once so haughty Gascon spirit humbles itself rather abjectly before the iron will of Louis (chapter 81, simply and appropriately titled “King Louis XIV”). I have one complaint with this action-packed adventure, during which in the course of 570 pages the suspense hardly slackens. Why did Aramis, General of the Jesuits, master planner always with an out at his disposal, admit defeat instantly when Fouquet announced he would denounce him? Up to that point, Fouquet had been a pawn of Aramis. Suddenly, Aramis had to flee for his life on the word alone of Fouquet. Well, maybe it was the onset of age that weakens Aramis’ resolve.
Saturday, July 18, 1998
The Liar
by Stephen Fry
1991
Fry is a very funny comic actor, in Blackadder and the TV version of Bertie & Jeeves, among others. This debut novel concerns a young lad at a prep school, who later (or is he lying?) becomes a street prostitute and then, under the tutelage of his supremely arch and worldly mentor at Cambridge, becomes involved in an international espionage drama, which turns out to be not at all what it seems – more than once.
Although Fry writes some sharp and funny dialogue, this book never really decides what it’s supposed to be: the coming of age story of an uncertain gay boy? A bittersweet commentary on street life? The morality tale of a too-bright student who learns that he can fake his way though life without effort? Or a tongue in cheek ripping spy yarn? It’s all of these things and, of course, none of them fully, and so the book is highly dissatisfying to me. The book won great acclaim from all corners, but I have a feeling that if Fry hadn’t already been famous it wouldn’t have been quite so celebrated.
two stars
1991
Fry is a very funny comic actor, in Blackadder and the TV version of Bertie & Jeeves, among others. This debut novel concerns a young lad at a prep school, who later (or is he lying?) becomes a street prostitute and then, under the tutelage of his supremely arch and worldly mentor at Cambridge, becomes involved in an international espionage drama, which turns out to be not at all what it seems – more than once.
Although Fry writes some sharp and funny dialogue, this book never really decides what it’s supposed to be: the coming of age story of an uncertain gay boy? A bittersweet commentary on street life? The morality tale of a too-bright student who learns that he can fake his way though life without effort? Or a tongue in cheek ripping spy yarn? It’s all of these things and, of course, none of them fully, and so the book is highly dissatisfying to me. The book won great acclaim from all corners, but I have a feeling that if Fry hadn’t already been famous it wouldn’t have been quite so celebrated.
two stars
Sunday, April 5, 1998
The Big Rock Candy Mountain
by Wallace Stegner
The only word for this 560-page slice of Americana is "saga." It's a rich, detailed, loving and amazingly authentic portrayal of an American family, the Masons, from the turn of the century to the '30s. In telling the story of this never satisfied, ever-scheming, gambling liquor-runner and his wife and two boys, Stegner recreates vividly and successfully everything that touches them. He describes with care and apparent ease the thrill and trouble of working the first cars with cranks; the vast prairies, troubling droughts, deadly blizzards; small towns with their plank sidewalks and dirt roads; the experiences of frontier children and their trapping, shooting and loves; and with keen insight, he captures all the unfair and selfish emotions that the various family members feel as life shunts them about on their voyage. The novel is about life, and death, and understanding, and carrying on the struggle. I'd never heard of Stegner before, although he won the Pulitzer Prize for a different work; but I rate him now up with Steinbeck as one of the truly great American writers.
five stars
The only word for this 560-page slice of Americana is "saga." It's a rich, detailed, loving and amazingly authentic portrayal of an American family, the Masons, from the turn of the century to the '30s. In telling the story of this never satisfied, ever-scheming, gambling liquor-runner and his wife and two boys, Stegner recreates vividly and successfully everything that touches them. He describes with care and apparent ease the thrill and trouble of working the first cars with cranks; the vast prairies, troubling droughts, deadly blizzards; small towns with their plank sidewalks and dirt roads; the experiences of frontier children and their trapping, shooting and loves; and with keen insight, he captures all the unfair and selfish emotions that the various family members feel as life shunts them about on their voyage. The novel is about life, and death, and understanding, and carrying on the struggle. I'd never heard of Stegner before, although he won the Pulitzer Prize for a different work; but I rate him now up with Steinbeck as one of the truly great American writers.
five stars
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