Happy Stories, Mostly by Norman Erikson Pasaribu (translated by Tiffany Tsao)

This group of short stories by Indonesian author Norman Erikson Pasaribu has a playful, metafictional vibe while evoking many vivid characters and situations that contain a great deal of emotional heft. Many focus on the points of views of characters related to or connected with homosexuals whether it be a mother grieving for her son who committed suicide, a man whose close friend turns out to be gay or a woman who snoops through the underwear drawer of her son's husband. The feelings of marginalization and isolation which accompanies much of gay life is approached at arm's length. This sense is carried through the opening and closing stories which are in many ways about the nature of fiction itself. The first story begins in a creative writing class. The final story concerns a woman aware she is being written and finds empty space when she tries to transcend the borders of what is constructed for her. All this ties into the presence of religion throughout the stories and questions concerning omnipotence, destiny and God. These tales collectively give a fascinating insight into Indonesian life and individuals sidelined by mainstream society. 

As with many collections of stories, there were some which stood out as stronger than others. Perhaps this has to do with the way there is an almost equal division between ones which depict specific realistic situations and others which self consciously play with narrative voice to verge more into the supernatural. I felt the strongest of the later category was ''Welcome to the Department of Unanswered Prayers' where the an individual is inducted into the bureaucracy of heaven. I would have loved to see stories such as 'So What's Your Name, Sandra?' and 'Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam' developed into longer narratives. I think it's easier for me to feel an immediate connection when the presence of the author's hand isn't so strongly felt. Though I really appreciate that the truth can't always be approached directly, I wasn't able to connect as strongly to stories which seemed like they were in direct dialogue with certain texts or aspects of Indonesian life I was unfamiliar with. That's not necessarily the storyteller's fault, but it's perhaps an inevitable consequence of reading about a foreign culture. So I really appreciated that the Tilted Axis Press edition of this collection included at the end a discussion between the author and translator where they described some of the references Pasaribu played off from and his writing technique. I enjoyed the author's innovative approach to these tales and would love to read a full novel written by him.

The Colony by Audrey Magee

On a small, sparsely-populated and remote Irish island there is an ageing population that still speaks their native Irish language, but they are steadily dying out. One of the remaining youngest island residents is James who prefers to speak English and be addressed by his English name rather than his Irish name Seamus. Two foreigners separately travel to this island for their own purposes. There is irascible London artist Lloyd who wants to create paintings that capture the island's beauty and its inhabitants. He hopes to produce great works that will establish him as the “Gauguin of the North”. There's also Frenchman Jean-Pierre, a linguist who has been making excursions to the island for many years to record how the “purity” of this spoken language is slowly changing with the increasing influence of English. He wants to write an account of whether true Irishness can be preserved and Lloyd's presence is mucking up his plans. The two bicker and clash over their right to be on this island. The actual residents of the island grudgingly tolerate both of them as they are paying guests who bring in much needed capital as the native fishing industry has also been dying out – quite literally as both James' father and grandfather died at sea. 

This is a slow burning drama that builds to say something much bigger about notions of national purity and colonialism. I admire how Magee approaches this on a very human level – as she did in a very different set of circumstances in her powerful debut novel “The Undertaking”. This new novel opens with a very funny scene where Lloyd insists on being ferried out to the island via an outmoded form of boat transport that's so rocky he's frequently sea sick. However, the heart of the novel is with the character of James who is caught between two worlds and whose opportunities are very narrow. He desperately wants to avoid following the family tradition of becoming a fisherman and finds a new passion in painting from his interactions with Lloyd. It's so moving how he develops an affinity for the spiky gentleman and what he can offer him as Lloyd suggests the boy's natural talent might go down well in the London art scene. Conversely, James is repulsed by the attention of Jean-Pierre who tries to get James to use his Irish name and preserve his native language. This all raises such strong questions about the meaning of national identity and who decides the fate of individuals and a distinct group of people.

Interspersed with the narrative about life on this island are short - almost journalistic - accounts of victims of The Troubles. These brief glimpses into lives that have been destroyed have the sobering effect of showing how ordinary individuals and families suffer while issues to do with Irishness and colonization are being more violently fought over. Even on the remote outpost of this island this longstanding war touches its citizens. Though Lloyd and Jean-Pierre believe their presence is benign or altruistic, they have a pernicious impact on James who finds himself left in as hopeless a position as before they arrived. The same is true for James' mother who (against the wishes of her family and the community) models for Lloyd and expresses her desire for a sense of permanence in Molly Bloom-esque soliloquies. The effect of this story is haunting. Its writing is so finely tuned with dialogue which fully brings to life these characters and their points of difference. Magee conjures a sense of tragedy that is very moving and impactful. 

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

I was especially keen to read “The Moonstone” since it's credited as having established many of the parameters and rules of the modern detective novel. Elements found in mysteries such as an English country house setting, red herrings, a clever investigator, a large number of suspects and a final plot twist might feel commonplace amongst many books in this genre now, but Collins' novel appears to have been one of the first to successfully combine these into a thrilling story. It concerns a legendary Indian diamond that's bequeathed to Rachel, an heiress who first wears the stone at her lavish birthday party. However, it goes missing during the night and it's disappearance concerns much more than simple thievery. There are many side plots and dramatic occurrences within the story which gradually unravels to produce a surprising conclusion. 

It's no wonder this novel was a hit with the general public who read it in serial form when it first appeared in Charles Dickens' magazine. It was subsequently published as a book in 1868. Gabriel Betteredge, the household's head servant and the first narrator in this epistolary novel, is so charming and sweetly funny. He frequently reads a copy of “Robinson Crusoe” and compulsively refers to it for guidance as if it were the bible. Betteredge also strikes up a friendship with Sergeant Cuff, the renowned detective who takes charge of solving the case. However, their relationship becomes strained as Cuff's suspect list begins to include many members of the household including Rachel herself. I found the down-to-earth quality of both these men really endearing especially the way Cuff is actually more interested in retiring and growing roses than he is in seeing justice served.

It's also extremely entertaining reading the point of view of Rachel's poor cousin Drusilla Clack, the second narrator of this story, as she is extremely pious and evangelical about pressing her religion on those around her. But everyone firmly rebuffs her proselytizing and clearly considers her to be an annoyance. It's clever how engaging Betteredge and Clack are as narrators while also laying out lots of vital clues to intrigue the reader. The plot really heats up going forward as we continue by following Franklin Blake, one of Rachel's suitors. He seeks to untangle what really went on during the night of Rachel's party and clear his name from the suspect list as he appears to be guilty. While I was delighted by the many twists in the story they did grow to feel increasingly ridiculous and impossible. Perhaps implausibility is also a necessary element of most detective stories because they want to create a heightened sense of drama. Also, it's somewhat uncomfortable how a large part of this premise relies on colonial exoticism and an exaggerated sense of Indian mysticism with a group of disguised Hindu Brahmins lingering in the background as additional suspects.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the humour and excitement of this tale. It's genuinely thrilling as well as emotionally engaging so it was such a pleasure to read. I was excited to learn that Anthony Trollope created a parody of this novel with his book “The Eustace Diamonds”. So I look forward to reading that once I get to Trollope's “Palliser” series of novels. Trollope poked fun at Dickens in his novel “The Warden” with great comic effect so he clearly enjoyed sending up some of the most popular fiction of the day. Yet, the influence of Collins' novel is irrefutably far reaching in how it set the standard for murder mystery stories. Though this tale is initially solely about a theft, bodies are discovered along the way giving a heightened sense that the culprit is lurking around the corner and must be discovered before they strike again. 

International Booker Prize Longlist 2022

It's the second big book prize announcement of the week! Here are the 13 books nominated for this year's International Booker Prize. A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing all these titles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paQELE_7QVU

I love that this award highlights the best new fiction translated into English and I've found so many new-to-me great authors through this award. With international relations in such a terrible and tense place at the moment it feels more important than ever to read stories of experiences and points of view from other countries. 

These novels and collections of short stories were translated from 11 different languages and originated in 12 different countries. This year's prize has a good representation of stories from Asia which is hasn't always been the case in past years and it's wonderful to see. There are also a number of queer stories. There's also quite a BIG difference in page length! The shortest “Paradais” is 118 pages and the longest “The Books of Jakob” is 893 pages. Phew! I do want to read Olga Tokarczuk's new epic but I'm on the fence about her writing since I didn't get on with “Flights” but really enjoyed “Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead”. 

I've currently read 4 books from this list: “More Than I Love My Life” by David Grossman, “Heaven” by Mieko Kawakami, “Love in the Big City” by Sang Young Park and “Elena Knows” by Claudia Pineiro. They're all excellent and truly worthwhile reads! I do hope to read all the rest of the books at some point but don't have much hope of finishing the list before the shortlist is announced on April 7th. Probably the next book I'll read from this group is “Paradais” since I loved Melchor's novel “Hurricane Season” so much. 

What do you think of the list? Are there any you're curious to read? Do you read much translated fiction? 

Women's Prize Longlist 2022

The longlist for the 2022 Women's Prize has been announced! There are a lot of surprises and there are quite a few ghosts/spirits in these stories. I've posted a video on my YouTube channel discussing the 16 novels. There are at least four dubut novels. A number of these authors have been longlisted before including Rachel Elliot, Charlotte Mendelson, Leone Ross, Catherine Chidgey and Elif Shafak. There are a number of authors from the UK and America, but some come from Trinidad and Tobago, New Zealand and Turkey.

I'm especially thrilled to see This One Sky Day by Leone Ross and Great Circle by Maggie Shipstead listed as these were two of my favourite novels that I read last year. I'm also delighted to see that The Paper Palace by Miranda Cowley Heller and The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak are nominated. Given how much Anna described her dislike of Heller's novel in our predictions video, I'm sure there will be lots of good debate about this book! 

I'm excited to see The Sentence by Louise Erdrich, Build Your House Around My Body by Violet Kupersmith, The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki, Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason, The Final Revival of Opal & Nev by Dawnie Walton and The Exhibitionist by Charlotte Mendelson listed as I've been wanting to read these anyway. I'd not heard that Rachel Elliott has a new novel out but I really enjoyed her previous novel Whispers Through a Megaphone (also Women's Prize longlisted) so I'm looking forward to reading Flamingo. I'd not heard of the novels by Lisa Allen-Agostini, Lulu Allison, Kirsty Capes, Catherine Chidgey and Morowa Yejidé but they all sound fascinating so it's wonderful that this list has tipped me off to books I probably wouldn't have encountered otherwise. 

Currently I've only read 4 books from this group. Before it was announced I didn't think I'd read the whole longlist, but now I've looked through them all they sound really good. So I'm going to aim to read all 16 before the shortlist is announced on April 27th but it'll depend on how busy I am. I might start by reading The Bread the Devil Knead or The Exhibitionist. It's definitely surprising that Sally Rooney, Lauren Groff, Hanya Yanagihara and Honoree Fanonne Jeffers didn't make the list.

What do you think of the longlist? Are you planning to read some or all the books nominated? Any books that you're disappointed didn't make the cut? 

Let me know! 

They by Kay Dick

Who can resist a story about a literary editor chancing upon a copy of a novel that's been out of print for over three decades and hails it as a lost dystopian classic? That's the seductive tale which accompanies the recent republication of “They”, a 1977 novel by a notorious figure from the 20th century literary scene. Though Kay Dick is barely remembered now, an obituary written for The Guardian in 2001 by Michael De-la-Noy makes her sound infamously unreliable, cash-strapped and vindictive. It's an ignominious end for a woman who was once George Orwell's editor and is called by Carmen Maria Machado “a trailblazing queer author.” This new edition of the novel is also covered with a string of endorsements from Margaret Atwood, Eimear Mcbride and Claire-Louise Bennett. If I'm focusing more on the author's reputation it's because I found myself more interested in the author herself than the content of her novel. 

By Machado's account, “They” is an unusual volume amongst Dicks' slender oeuvre as its cryptic stories describe a series of artistic individuals being intimidated by an unnamed group who are watchful, destructive and intensely creepy. The painters, sculptors, musicians and writers who populate this novel revel in nature, thrive in having intellectual exchanges and delight in friendship. However, their individuality and desire to express themselves makes them a target for the menacing figures who hover in the distance. These figures don't seem to belong to any one organization, but represent a homogenized bullying group. The artists realise that “We represent danger. Non-conformity is an illness.” They endeavour to find ways to cultivate their individual expression and exist on the margins of this repressive society even if some of them are punished, pillaged and have their memories wiped.

Though I appreciated the creepy tone to these stories and the eerie sense of being hemmed in, it was difficult to become emotionally invested in any of the characters because so few details are given about them or the nameless narrator(s). Instead we're just given snapshots of their behaviour wandering through the countryside walking their dogs or holing up together in places of refuge. The artists resent the figures in the distance not only for the way they terrorize them, but for their conformity in watching television and listening to pop music: “I could not endure the 90 dB intensity of pop music that street megaphones related at such times.” Equally, children generally rove around in marauding groups to torture animals. From reading about the author's life and the way in which the society outside this civilized circle of friends is represented makes me feel that this perception is coming more from a curmudgeonly author's point of view rather than an invented character's. Perhaps that's an unfair assumption, but I came to feel as critical of the pretensions of the artists as I did about the vicious figures that intimidated them.

I think reviews which came out when this novel was first published describe this book as a fever dream. That feels like a much more apt description than calling it a dystopian novel. Perhaps because I came to it with that expectation I was more disappointed because it felt quite different from any dystopian story I've read before. Perhaps that's a good thing and perhaps the dystopian novel now comes with expectations which are too limited. Nevertheless, the style of “They” left me with little to grasp onto or remember. There are some lovely evocative descriptions: “The damp sharp smell of newly mown grass stirred areas of childhood memories.” I admired the writing but it didn't build to a satisfying whole. The story could certainly be interpreted in many ways, but it felt too cryptic for me to feel impacted by it. Overall, I was left longing to read more about the author's life than to read more of her fiction. 

Five Days Untold by Badr Ahmad (translated by Christiaan James)

Several years ago I acted as an extra in a docudrama about a conflict in Afghanistan where I played a soldier. I was given a crash course in military training and how to handle a real weapon which was only armed with blanks. When filming started I fumbled with my weapon and found it difficult to keep pace with the other actors as they raced across the set re-enacting a war. The arms expert, crew and other actors got quite annoyed at what an incompetent soldier I made and it's safe to say my performance wasn't convincing. Luckily this was just a fictional situation and I've not ever been conscripted or made to perform compulsory military service. Ziad Al-Niqash, a young man who is one of the central characters of “Five Days Untold”, isn't so fortunate as an order delivered to his home commands him to join in the civil war occurring in his country. Though the specific location and conflict isn't named in the text, one can assume this is set during the civil war in Yemen given the author Badr Ahmad's nationality and because it takes place over the New Year of 2017-2018. We follow his harrowing journey being drawn into military service, the experiences of his family and the malicious plot of a local tyrant named Naji Awad. It's a terrifying insight into what it means to be a frightened young man who is suddenly forced to be a solider. 

There's a lot of pressure on Ziad at home already since he is the only son of his family and his father is mentally and physically unwell. Equally, he's made to feel like he must work in a specific job to support his family although his heart is drawn to a different kind of profession. So it's all the more heartbreaking when he's suddenly forced to become a soldier and he frantically wonders “how will I avoid being killed? I was unable to process it all. I wasn't made for this. I was created to draw and sculpt, to cultivate beauty in small corners, and to plant delight in people's souls.” The narrative follows the five days of his service which feels to him more like a lifetime as he's immediately fearful for his life and he encounters numerous gruelling attacks. The way this is vividly presented is so moving and heart racing. It's powerful how the author portrays the psychologically and physically destructive effects of such an experience while Ziad desperately clings to his humanity. At the same time, it's so brutal how little he's valued as an individual by many of the soldiers around him and how he's viewed as an absolute enemy by the opposing forces though he clearly didn't want to enlist in the first place. It's a devastating and impossible position to be in.

Though I appreciated how the author tried to also portray a politically-powerful man who is involved in dodgy arms dealing, I didn't think the characterization of Naji Awad was as convincing and his storyline seemed to belong more to a generic thriller. I don't doubt such self-interested and vicious people exist, but the way the author depicted his motivations for being such from his bad childhood to his impotence resulting from a car crash injury was rather rushed. It also made me very uncomfortable how the extreme sexual violence inflicted upon his wife was dealt with in an equally hasty manner. There's a scene where she seems on the brink of exacting her revenge which felt quite confusing and his story plays out in a rickety over-dramatised way. For instance, there's a scene where he enters a dance studio and takes out a gun but eventually leaves without anyone there seeming to notice him. Though the tensions amongst Ziad's family were handled somewhat better, I felt their unique story got swallowed up in a clunky plot and lacked the atmosphere present in the young man's sections.

I greatly appreciated reading a story from Yemen that concerns a conflict I've never read about in fiction before. However, I wish the novel had focused solely on Ziad's point of view as this was undoubtably the heart of the book. I'm still grateful to have read this because the way it immerses you in the perspective of a young soldier is very impactful. It’s wonderful seeing more Arabic fiction being translated into English from the publisher Dar Arab.