A Zoo In My Luggage

by Gerald Durrell

The true and amusing tale of how Durrell went to the Cameroons to acquire animals for his own zoo, which was then set up on Jersey in the Channel Islands.  It’s apparent how much Durrell loves wildlife, or at least collecting it; and he knows how to write with fluidity and humor.  I think the story was marred by Durrell’s authorial ego (he criticizes his wife for clucking over and anthropomorphizing the cute animals, but he does it all the time himself; he assumes that collecting animals from their native habitat is a worthwhile endeavor, no debate about it), and by his colonialist tone.  His conversations with the Africans (and between Africans themselves) are all reported in a babyish pidgin, which may be a droll device but gets old and smacks of European condescension.  The last part of the book describes Durrell’s escapades with the animals in suburban Bournemouth, which is very funny, and even informative, when he reports some simian behavior.  I would have liked for Durrell to give some details of his collisions with the local bureaucracy to set up a zoo in England, but then I suppose he’s not that kind of writer.  All in all a cute, lightweight book, with minor flaws rooted in the point of view of Durrell’s generation and class. 

three stars

The Finanacial Expert

by R.K. Narayan
1952

Set in the mythical village of Malgudi, this subtle book tells the story of Margayya, a self-appointed financial wizard who helps peasants with their money matters.  One day, after being shamed by a peon at the big Co-Operative Bank, he decides to become very wealthy.  He goes to a priest, performs the rituals, and gets into a variety of money making schemes, offering high interest rates for the villagers’ savings.  But when Dr. Pal, the learned journalist, gets too friendly with Margayya’s spoiled son, things fall apart.

The story is told from Margayya’s point of view, so sometimes the reader loses track of what a self-occupied, greedy miser he must be, although he sincerely wishes a better life for his rather dim son.  The dialogue is quite sharp, and apt; having been to India, I think I understand the characters more than if I hadn’t.  The whole book, in fact, takes a rather detached, Indian approach, with little in the lines of plot and a rather desultory climax and denouement; and when Margayya loses all his wealth at the end, he merely stoically declares that he will begin again, without moralizing to his son or blaming himself.  The book is an appealing slice of Indian life, told in a light, comical way which I enjoyed.

four stars

Gone Whaling: A Search for Orcas in Northwest Waters

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

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 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

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

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.