This one is a re-read for me. I think last time I read it was when I lived in Toronto and I just hung out at the library after work and read books because my living situation was not ideal. This time I was visiting Esther in Halifax, and I knew I could finish it on my vacation, and Terry Pratchett is a favourite of mine.
Having said that he's a favourite, I need to warn anyone who might try him out that he is VERY silly and British. If you don't like Douglas Adams (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) or Monty Python, chances are that this guy is not for you. I think you all should give him a shot, since until that Rowling lady came along, he was THE GUY for young adult literature. Note that it's young adult fiction, so it's not like there are terribly complex things going on here.
That's one of the other things I love about Pratchett. He doesn't sacrifice style to plot, and he doesn't think kids will lose their attention if the words are too difficult. I think he is successful in this because he is just constantly cracking jokes, so even if the plot is progressing less quickly (which it must do from time to time. Pacing is a thing, Rowling lady) there is still a lot of value in the writing.
Ok so on to the actual book. This one, Dodger, is not part of the gigantic Discworld series which Pratchett is known for. It's a novel about the character Dodger from Dickens' Oliver Twist. If you've read Oliver Twist or seen the movie, it might help you understand some things about the book, but it's not necessary and of course Wikipedia can always answer any particularly pressing questions. The best way to characterize this book is that it's a tribute to a time and place: London, England in the early Victorian era. I guess it's also a tribute to Dickens himself, and what the book Oliver Twist sought to accomplish.
Oliver Twist is a social commentary on the life of the poor in Victorian England. Oliver is innocent, honest, and uncomplicated. Various characters attempt to play him into their selfish, criminal schemes but he narrowly evades these traps by telling the truth and trusting the right people. Eventually everything works out and he lives with a wealthy family in the country. Dodger is a social commentary as well, but instead of the trusting innocence of Oliver, Dodger uses his knowledge of the city, his perceptions of people, and a staunch commitment to sounding truthful to get himself and his lady friend out of trouble. Dodger's cast of characters borrow from Oliver Twist, history, and from Dickens' own life, with Dickens playing a central role. Pratchett obviously held Dickens in high regard as a humanitarian and a writer. He just disagreed about what it takes to rise from the pits of poverty.
Dodger could be played off as a villain next to the innocence of Oliver Twist, but he enacts values of gentleness, generosity, and justice in spite of being recognized as "a geezer", which I take to mean as some sort of slum lord. Pratchett seems to be saying that crime and evil are not equivalent, and my good old G. K. Chesterton smiled in his afterlife.
Pratchett is a satirist, so of course this whole book is just cartwheeling with puns and sassy one-liners and parodies of historical figures. I know I must have looked like a doofus, sitting on a giant boulder in Peggy's Cove, grinning, reading. Can't be helped. Sweeny Todd even makes an appearance.
So where am I going with all this? I am not certain at all now that I read it back to myself. Dodger is the non-angelic hero that is miles more sympathetic than the pure-and-righteous Oliver Twist. Pratchett's crafting of characters and setting are impeccable, and it's also hilarious. I give it a perfect 8/8.
“After all, my young Dodger, what exactly are you? A stalwart young man,
plucky and brave and apparently without fear? Or, possibly, I suggest, a
street urchin with a surfeit of animal cunning and the luck of
Beelzebub himself.”
Up next: Stardust by Neil Gaiman
Saturday, 30 July 2016
Friday, 22 July 2016
The Captain and the Enemy by Graham Greene
My dad suggested this book and left it at my house, so it was easiest if I just read it. After all, he gave in to my incessant raving about Neil Gaiman (see blog about Neverwhere, April 2016).
To be honest I don't think I really understood this one either. Unlike Slaughterhouse Five, which I've grown to appreciate more and more as I've thought about it, I don't remember this one clearly enough to re-hash it and pull the meanings out. Probably has to do with the quality of the writing. None of the characters possess the brilliance of reality which would make them stick in my mind. None of the scenes are written so expertly as would make reading them just as good as living them (yes, it does happen).
The first half is a sort of a love story. The Captain and Liza have a sort of love relationship, but it is told through the memories of a child, and a fairly dull child too. No conflict or adventures, no questioning the adults or reaching out for affection. Just floating along in observation. There is one aspect that I found interesting about the love story, and that is its basis on acceptance and kindness, rather than passions or affections. Liza feels obligated to The Captain for his kindness and care of her. The Captain feels obligated to Liza for her quiet acceptance of his decisions and vices. It's unclear whether they are lovers or just mutual sympathizers. They spend most of their lives separated from each other and correspond regularly but telling each other very little. I wonder if this is an attempt by the author to construct a love story with the exact opposite operational basis from what we would consider desirable or normal. All of the obligation, none of the shared history. All of the kindness, none of the passion. All of the moral components, none of the physical.
Anyway after the love story part it turns into a spy story? The Captain turns out to be a spy/drug smuggler in Panama, and the narrator goes to track him down to tell him that Liza is dead and it all gets a bit bizarre. I don't know at all what the theme or point is supposed to be. There are references to the love theme, but overall the exposition is poorly done. Close, but no ciggy, Mr. Greene.
This novel has been part of an attempt by my dad to find the "new classics": books written recently which will survive into the following generations as important commentaries on philosophy, life, love, etc. We can't all read only Steinbeck and Hugo forever.
I don't recommend this book. It was an honest attempt, but it lacked fire and skill in the crafting.
Up next: Dodger by Terry Pratchett which was a recommendation from my past and was available at the Halifax Public Library. Terry Pratchett is candy for my heart.
To be honest I don't think I really understood this one either. Unlike Slaughterhouse Five, which I've grown to appreciate more and more as I've thought about it, I don't remember this one clearly enough to re-hash it and pull the meanings out. Probably has to do with the quality of the writing. None of the characters possess the brilliance of reality which would make them stick in my mind. None of the scenes are written so expertly as would make reading them just as good as living them (yes, it does happen).
The first half is a sort of a love story. The Captain and Liza have a sort of love relationship, but it is told through the memories of a child, and a fairly dull child too. No conflict or adventures, no questioning the adults or reaching out for affection. Just floating along in observation. There is one aspect that I found interesting about the love story, and that is its basis on acceptance and kindness, rather than passions or affections. Liza feels obligated to The Captain for his kindness and care of her. The Captain feels obligated to Liza for her quiet acceptance of his decisions and vices. It's unclear whether they are lovers or just mutual sympathizers. They spend most of their lives separated from each other and correspond regularly but telling each other very little. I wonder if this is an attempt by the author to construct a love story with the exact opposite operational basis from what we would consider desirable or normal. All of the obligation, none of the shared history. All of the kindness, none of the passion. All of the moral components, none of the physical.
Anyway after the love story part it turns into a spy story? The Captain turns out to be a spy/drug smuggler in Panama, and the narrator goes to track him down to tell him that Liza is dead and it all gets a bit bizarre. I don't know at all what the theme or point is supposed to be. There are references to the love theme, but overall the exposition is poorly done. Close, but no ciggy, Mr. Greene.
This novel has been part of an attempt by my dad to find the "new classics": books written recently which will survive into the following generations as important commentaries on philosophy, life, love, etc. We can't all read only Steinbeck and Hugo forever.
I don't recommend this book. It was an honest attempt, but it lacked fire and skill in the crafting.
Up next: Dodger by Terry Pratchett which was a recommendation from my past and was available at the Halifax Public Library. Terry Pratchett is candy for my heart.
A Beauty That Hurts by W. G. Lovell
This was an excellent suggestion from my little sister Esther, who is studying International Development. She had to read this for a class and thought I would like it, which I did.
It's not a novel. This is a history/memoir/case study of Guatemala with a special emphasis on the indigenous Mayan people. Lovell is a professor at Queen's University and has worked and traveled in Guatemala for decades. He narrates a comprehensive history of Guatemala from the pre-colonial period, through the Spanish Conquest, independence, and 30+ years of civil war lasting into the mid-nineties. The analysis he provides was truly enlightening because he is able to identify with the Maya's values system and describe how the conquest and subsequent Spanish administration (even once independence was gained) made civil war all but inevitable.
Lovell's description of guerrilla warfare also brought me back to reading Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls" (blog post available, May 2014). As guerrillas (or in Hemingway's book, republicans) gain control of an area, they hunt down and eliminate any person not loyal enough to their cause. This included thousands of Mayan villagers not involved in the conflict but who would try to protect their homes and families. Then, as tides would turn, government forces would hunt down and eliminate anyone not sufficiently loyal to their cause. This included thousands of Mayan villagers... you get the idea.
The book included memories and reflections from Maya who lived through the civil war. They had family members slaughtered all around them; they had daughters and sons kidnapped, raped, murdered, dismembered; they lost entire villages. I really appreciated that Lovell included these personal stories with his excellent scholarly history because it humanizes the conflict. It's easy to read "45,000 Guatemalans fled across the border into Mexico", but it is much harder to read the stories of even one of these people - what they fled from and why they would prefer to live in a refugee camp in Mexico.
The description and analysis of the involvement of the U.S. government was also painfully enlightening. It shone a distinctly unfavourable light on how developed nations often treat tumultuous nations, offering their support to whichever militant group or government which is most sympathetic to American or European involvement. This prioritizes silence over peace - silencing dissident voices instead of hearing and addressing complaints, silencing all-out war by murdering individuals (over 5000 murders in 2010). During the war itself (1960-1996) it is estimated that 200,000 people were killed by government-run death squads. These killings were either individual disappearances or massacres of whole families, groups, or even villages. The governments responsible for these acts were defended (to varying degrees) by American governments, who even supplied training to Guatemalan soldiers during the Ford and Carter years. I'm not even exaggerating, it's on Wikipedia.
So 200,000 extrajudicial killings is pretty bad. What about the current Syrian Civil War, which had almost as many in August 2014? And is the involvement of U.S.+allies making the situation any better? Short answer: I don't know.
Justice is one of those things. We crave it, we wish to impart it, but often the complexity and brutality of conflicts leave us emotionally and intellectually gasping. So we try to simplify it by supporting the "good side", and find that all the belligerents are unjust. Then we try the humanitarian tack and either we 1) help everyone, thus distancing ourselves from the justice of the situation or 2) help only the innocent, and scrutinize the motivations, actions, and emotions of every victim until no innocent remain. So what option are we left with? How do we support justice? How do we extend hope and love to people who are aggressors or defendants in violent conflict? How do we stand on the side of the good" (Apostle Paul, Romans 12:9)?
The perpetrator vs. victim model is no longer relevant to these struggles because almost every person will have played both roles. History can describe motivations and conditions which precipitate conflict, but it can't tell us who is good and who is bad.
I thought, after reading the book, that Guatemala might have a silver lining by now, but the outlook is still pretty bleak. The Canadian government has issued almost every possible warning for traveling in Guatemala, from public health advisories to measures for dealing with a corrupt and violent police force. Of course that doesn't mean individuals are not getting along with their lives. Farmers farm, vendors vend, bankers bank, policemen kill people. They just don't have the blessing of security or stability, and there aren't any quick ways to grant them that.
Sorry this got all political, I've been watching the news too much recently. The book was excellent. It combined excellent scholarly history with personal memories. Lovell wrote with eloquence and clarity about topics that are brutal and complex. I recommend this book to anyone who is interested in the history or culture of Central America.
Up next: The Captain and the Enemy by Graham Greene, a suggestion from my dad who has very similar taste to me.
It's not a novel. This is a history/memoir/case study of Guatemala with a special emphasis on the indigenous Mayan people. Lovell is a professor at Queen's University and has worked and traveled in Guatemala for decades. He narrates a comprehensive history of Guatemala from the pre-colonial period, through the Spanish Conquest, independence, and 30+ years of civil war lasting into the mid-nineties. The analysis he provides was truly enlightening because he is able to identify with the Maya's values system and describe how the conquest and subsequent Spanish administration (even once independence was gained) made civil war all but inevitable.
Lovell's description of guerrilla warfare also brought me back to reading Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls" (blog post available, May 2014). As guerrillas (or in Hemingway's book, republicans) gain control of an area, they hunt down and eliminate any person not loyal enough to their cause. This included thousands of Mayan villagers not involved in the conflict but who would try to protect their homes and families. Then, as tides would turn, government forces would hunt down and eliminate anyone not sufficiently loyal to their cause. This included thousands of Mayan villagers... you get the idea.
The book included memories and reflections from Maya who lived through the civil war. They had family members slaughtered all around them; they had daughters and sons kidnapped, raped, murdered, dismembered; they lost entire villages. I really appreciated that Lovell included these personal stories with his excellent scholarly history because it humanizes the conflict. It's easy to read "45,000 Guatemalans fled across the border into Mexico", but it is much harder to read the stories of even one of these people - what they fled from and why they would prefer to live in a refugee camp in Mexico.
The description and analysis of the involvement of the U.S. government was also painfully enlightening. It shone a distinctly unfavourable light on how developed nations often treat tumultuous nations, offering their support to whichever militant group or government which is most sympathetic to American or European involvement. This prioritizes silence over peace - silencing dissident voices instead of hearing and addressing complaints, silencing all-out war by murdering individuals (over 5000 murders in 2010). During the war itself (1960-1996) it is estimated that 200,000 people were killed by government-run death squads. These killings were either individual disappearances or massacres of whole families, groups, or even villages. The governments responsible for these acts were defended (to varying degrees) by American governments, who even supplied training to Guatemalan soldiers during the Ford and Carter years. I'm not even exaggerating, it's on Wikipedia.
So 200,000 extrajudicial killings is pretty bad. What about the current Syrian Civil War, which had almost as many in August 2014? And is the involvement of U.S.+allies making the situation any better? Short answer: I don't know.
Justice is one of those things. We crave it, we wish to impart it, but often the complexity and brutality of conflicts leave us emotionally and intellectually gasping. So we try to simplify it by supporting the "good side", and find that all the belligerents are unjust. Then we try the humanitarian tack and either we 1) help everyone, thus distancing ourselves from the justice of the situation or 2) help only the innocent, and scrutinize the motivations, actions, and emotions of every victim until no innocent remain. So what option are we left with? How do we support justice? How do we extend hope and love to people who are aggressors or defendants in violent conflict? How do we stand on the side of the good" (Apostle Paul, Romans 12:9)?
The perpetrator vs. victim model is no longer relevant to these struggles because almost every person will have played both roles. History can describe motivations and conditions which precipitate conflict, but it can't tell us who is good and who is bad.
I thought, after reading the book, that Guatemala might have a silver lining by now, but the outlook is still pretty bleak. The Canadian government has issued almost every possible warning for traveling in Guatemala, from public health advisories to measures for dealing with a corrupt and violent police force. Of course that doesn't mean individuals are not getting along with their lives. Farmers farm, vendors vend, bankers bank, policemen kill people. They just don't have the blessing of security or stability, and there aren't any quick ways to grant them that.
Sorry this got all political, I've been watching the news too much recently. The book was excellent. It combined excellent scholarly history with personal memories. Lovell wrote with eloquence and clarity about topics that are brutal and complex. I recommend this book to anyone who is interested in the history or culture of Central America.
Up next: The Captain and the Enemy by Graham Greene, a suggestion from my dad who has very similar taste to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)