“Yer a wizard, Merlin!”
While taking a DAMN YOU, DON DRAPER break from Mad Men, I’ve been enjoying this rather light hearted spin on Arthurian myth. I’m also about to finish reading The Green Lion Trilogy, which, aside from being absolutely fantastic, has some Arthurian parallels. All of which has led me back to where my Merlin love began… Years ago, when I was still young enough for bedtime stories, and just old enough for chapter books, my mom started reading me this:
Let me tell you, my seven-year-old butt was cleaned up and ready for bed by 8:30 every night so we could get a chapter in. This was the first series I truly loved, where I was so deeply emotionally invested in each of the characters. Harry Potter, the first volume of which was published the year after the first of this series, eventually surpassed it, but this series still holds a warm place in my heart and a dedicated spot on my bookshelf. So, FINALLY, I have decided to give it a reread, so I can stop judging all the other Merlins out there and finding them wanting in comparison to MY Merlin.
Well, technically, T.A. Barron’s Merlin, but whatever.
The Night Circus
After a glowing recommendation from my mother, I finally decided to give this one a shot. I also have a thing for old-timey circuses- I loved Carnivale, which was this sort of Twin Peaks meets Dust Bowl era traveling circus show on HBO. The cover design has the same beautiful whimsy as the book itself. It’s difficult to believe this rich, engrossing, and mysterious romantic fantasy extravaganza is Morgenstern’s debut. It ably avoids the pitfalls of many a first novel, especially one of this genre. Each member of the large cast of characters remains distinct and, though most are somewhat mystical, each retains enough humanity to be relatable. The surreal aura of mystery can be a little creepy, but it is mostly magical and thoroughly lovely. The sumptuous prose is heady and heavily descriptive, though short of purple. Highly recommended, and I will definitely read Morgenstern’s next novel.
Phew!
Now that I’ve graduated (woo-hoo!) I can finally return to this blog! Yay! I’m working on a new review, but, in the meantime, I have super exciting new book purchases:
The entire series constitutes one of the most impressively brilliant works of literature I have ever encountered. I don’t know if words can express my love.
Peter Sis is one of my favorite illustrators; his work is so surreal and beautiful.
The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
In the first paragraph of “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet,” “a cacophony of frogs detonates” while a young Japanese midwife somewhat miraculously delivers a magistrate’s child, and you know immediately that author David Mitchell’s fifth novel will deliver the unique, exquisite prose he is known for. A birth is also an apt beginning, because this book comprises a man’s life: his joys, fears, disappointments and dreams.
Jacob de Zoet, a poor clerk for the Dutch East India Company, arrives in Japan hoping to save enough money to marry his dream girl back home while maintaining a precarious balance between nobility and survival in the brutal internal politics of the Dutch trading station. He eventually falls in love with the midwife, Orito Aibagawa, the beautiful, scarred daughter of a prominent doctor. Ultimately, Jacob works with Uzaemon Ogawa, an interpreter he has befriended, to free her from an enigmatic cult.
The Man Booker Prize finalist’s (for 2004’s “Cloud Atlas”) three-part novel takes place at the turn of the 19th century during the Age of Imperialism, putting the novel in the tradition of Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” along with more modern works noted for presenting characters as fully-realized human beings rather than outdated, subhuman stereotypes, like Barbara Kingsolver’s “The Poisonwood Bible” or Terry Pratchett’s mind-altering alternate history novel “Nation.”
The great strength of “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” is the writing.
Mitchell employs poetic, surreal phrases and unexpected word choices and turns of phrase; light, for example, “skitters off the Almelo clock’s bearings like splinters of stars.” His writing is always a treat; Mitchell could write a fortune cookie of such dazzling, filigreed beauty as to make your heart ache. Whole pages of “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” read more like poetry, and the novel is all the more powerful for it.
His beautifully written descriptions lend a strong visual clarity to his work; when he describes the Milky Way with “Stars pollinate the banks of Heaven’s River, germinate and sprout,” you see exactly what he has described, despite the abstract phrase. He writes a particularly stunning description of a mountaintop sunset: “The rarefied sunset turns the snow-veined Bare Peak a bloodied fish pink, and the evening star is as sharp as a needle.”
Mitchell has a wonderful aptitude for putting words to thoughts people can’t articulate. “Level with the shrine’s eaves, she sees the ancient column of Amanohashira rising from the sacred courtyard. Its spike impales the moon. Such arresting beauty, Orito thinks. Such silent violence.” This happens many times in the book; a character will have some profound feeling that Mitchell evokes in the reader with eloquent italicized thoughts.
He conveys the tone of a scene with such simple tools as short sentences and repetition. Otane, an elderly village herbalist, secretly practices the Christian faith prohibited by her government. As she prays to her hidden shrine, an unidentified visitor knocks on her door: “Something strikes the door. Otane gasps. The dog is on his feet, growling…/ Otane slides the wooden screen as a second blow strikes./ The dog is barking now. She hears a man’s voice. She arranges the alcove./ At the third knock, she walks to the door and calls out, ‘There is nothing to steal here.’” The brief sentences and position of each knock on a separate line lend you Otane’s frantic hurry to clean up the evidence before her visitor enters.
Mitchell describes characters briefly, but comprehensively, letting you know all you need from a few sentences. When he introduces Melchior van Cleef, deputy to Chief Vorstenbosch of the Dutch trading post, he writes, “A friend might describe his narrow eyes as ‘observant,’ an enemy as ‘Mephistophelian.’ ‘Good morning, Mr. Vorstenbosch; and welcome to Dejima, Mr. de Zoet.’ His handshake could crush stones.” Mitchell describes a monk who “gives the impression of a man perpetually on the brink of laughter that never comes… The world, [Orito] guesses, is his own vast private joke.
To call “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” a cross-cultural love story or an indictment of Imperialism is to diminish this broad and excellent work. Though both of those things and more, the novel is an epic, striking character study of a sturdy, moral rock of a man who grows complex and strong while out of his element.
Projects!
As summer is winding down, and I have some spare time, I have decided to start some projects!
I am nearly done re-reading Harry Potter (Order of the Phoenix what what!).
I have officially started my journey into Alan Moore. I read Watchmen years ago, and then stumbled across this blog post while researching superhero costumes for a friend’s party.
Finally, I decided as of today to delve into Batman. Which is not to say I’ve never read a Batman, it’s just that the number of volumes I would have to track down seemed insurmountable. However, a few websites I have found provided nice lists of necessary volumes to get a handle on the existing continuity before the DC reboot and the third Nolan film.
So, it looks like this blog is going to be about comics for a while. I would say sorry… but I’m not. :)
New Books!
Our department got some new books!
Whenever new books arrive, someone gets the most glorious task of all: checking the books in, writing the date in the back, and stickering them. The purpose of stickering is that it enables us to tell patrons, for example, “Oh, if you’re looking for fantasy books, just browse the shelves and look at all the books with the unicorn sticker.” The consequence of stickering is that I get super excited about it. Also, you have to at least flip through the books before you can decide what sticker they should get; in the case of most picture books, it also gives you a chance to read through some of the new material hitting the shelves, which is especially helpful when patrons ask for recommendations. I was so excited about some of these that I decided to do a quick post about my favorites.
Lost and Found by Shaun Tan
Shaun Tan’s work is awe-inspiring. Not only is he one of the most incredible illustrators I’ve ever seen, conveying such amazing depth and emotion in his art, but he also tells truly beautiful, profound stories. I passed this one to a coworker after I finished it, and she brought it back with tears in her eyes. I couldn’t recommend it more highly.
I’m a Shark by Bob Shea
On the other hand, there’s certainly something to be said for the book that had both of us laughing out loud. Bob Shea’s picture books are fantastically cute, funny, and, in many cases, inspired by Shea’s son; I’m a Shark is no exception. I mean, really. Look at that cover!
In Defense of Catcher in the Rye
In high school, I worked at this little bookstore. I had a middle-aged customer once who spent fifteen minutes telling me how Catcher in the Rye was an example of the ”trash” assigned to high school students, noting that it was “not relevant” to modern teenagers. I just murmured, “It’s actually one of my favorite books… And I’m seventeen…”
This is my full (very much delayed) response:
To call Catcher in the Rye irrelevant because it happens to be set in the 1950s is like calling To Kill a Mockingbird irrelevant for its setting. The era in which a novel is set or written does not determine its ability to resonate with readers; literature that endures deals with universal themes. In the latter case, though segregation no longer exists officially, racism and prejudice continue to prove pervasive. While some issues may change, the driving themes of both novels remain relevant to society.
Rebellion against social norms has been the modus operandi of youth for generations. A profound sense of post-pubescent alienation from one’s peers and the rest of society and a frustration with seemingly rampant superficiality are certainly still relatable- I had no problem relating to Holden as a 16-year-old in 2005, and I still don’t at 22. The difficulty of finding meaningful connections and relationships after childhood is part of the human experience.
Holden’s struggles are not isolated to adolescence either. The fundamental issue of Catcher in the Rye is existential angst, a profound theme in literature no matter the age of the protagonist or the novel’s audience.
I’m not opposed to challenging the literary merit of even well-established and critically-lauded works, but I don’t think that calling a work that has an obvious cultural impact irrelevant trash with no basis other than your personal antipathy is constructive. That makes you no better than these assholes.
So… There.
Nation
This was my first Terry Pratchett novel, and I was absolutely blown away.
The complex, realistic characters and depiction of the Nation’s culture make the novel stand out in a crowd of imperialism-related literature, which too often features one-dimensional, child-like stereotypes instead of fully-realized “native” characters, even in the case of authors sympathetic to their plight. Strong and dynamic female characters also abound. While its characterization is impressive, the novel’s thought-provoking approach to religion and long-standing cultural attitudes is its strongest suit.
The plot engages the reader immediately. Mau is hours away from the ceremony that will grant him a man’s soul when a massive tidal wave destroys his home and his people. Mau must begin rebuilding the Nation, helped eventually by Daphne, a British castaway, and an influx of refugees from surrounding islands, as he rapidly grows to manhood and questions his gods, his ancestors, and, eventually, religion’s purpose in a society.
Mau’s and Daphne’s gradual understanding and friendship is made possible by their mutual respect; they serve as a microcosm for the beneficial relationship the novel proposes Western powers should have attempted with the cultures they colonized. Ultimately, Nation’s alternate universe illustrates the possibilities available to a world in which colonizing nations chose to learn from other cultures rather than exploit them.
(Source: Wikipedia)
