It was International Poetry Day recently, so I thought it was a good time to pick up a copy of Rupi Kaur’s second published collection of poems, The Sun and Her Flowers.
I loved Milk and Honey, a study of the beauty and pain of our relationships, especially our relationships with our bodies as women. I enjoyed the accompanying illustrations as well. I had high expectations for this second collection, which was broader and more political in scope… Two new foci emerge in this collection – the role of her mother in her life, and an emerging sense of herself as part of a history of immigration.
But perhaps this was too much of a good thing. There weren’t as many stand-out for me in this one (which is not to say there weren’t some wonderful moments!) and at times, I struggled with the voice and tone.
Nonetheless, Kaur remains one of the most powerful modern poets and well-deserving of her success. Get a little taster of this collection here.
Ali Smith’s Autumn is a lyrical novel, but also a puzzling one.
Part of her Seasonal series (followed by the now released Winter), each of the novels is touted to deal with “time and how we experience it”. This explains the non-linear narrative utilised in this novel.
The central focus here is the relationship between Elisabeth, a young girl (and at other times in the text, a young woman) and her neighbour, an elderly man called Daniel Gluck. Gluck is an exceptional kind of man – one who encourages Elisabeth to see the world in new ways. It is the central relationship of Elisabeth’s life – one that shapes her career and her future relationships.
Threaded through it all is ponderings on feminism, literature, art and Brexit – and how it could be signifying a shift to a more xenophobic world. Things no doubt high on Smith’s list of priorities and concerns in the world around her today. It jumps around a lot – and we fins out more about Elisabeth than we do Daniel, who remains a somewhat mysterious figure.
I wouldn’t say I loved it, but it was intriguing and thought-provoking. Much like her beautiful writing, Autumn takes things that appear mundane, and lifts them to a whole other level.
In a detour from his recent forages into fantasy and magical realism, Salman Rushdie presents us a with a clever realistic fiction in tune with modern politics.
The Golden House is the story of Nero Golden and his sons – a mysterious family who immigrate to New York escaping a shadowy past. Their great wealth, and the unusual characteristics of each of his three sons; Petya, Apu and D make them irresistibly interesting to their neighbour Rene, who aspires to make a film about their lives. Indeed he does, but in doing so he becomes far too embroiled in their dramas and the past that is about to catch up with them.
Behind all of this rather excellent storytelling is some very funny foreshadowing of Trump’s eventual – and surprising – presidential win. Much of this is entertaining enough on its own. Rene and a girlfriend create a series of short films portraying Trump as the Joker… and become increasingly alarmed is this joke seems to turn into a reality.
Its certainly not one of his better novels – but engaging and reasonably clever. Nothing unexpected here – nothing in his usual vein. This will likely disappoint some fans, but might buy him some new ones – especially with the current political commentary.
There’s a lot to like about Judas, the 2017 Man Booker Prize nominated novel by Amos Oz. An Israeli, Oz has exceptionally beautiful prose and seems to have mastered romantic longing in his stories.
This one if about Schmuel, a university student dedicated to the study if Jewish views of Christ – and that also if Judas, a largely demonised character in Christian mythology but not so much in historical record. But Schmuel’s life is upended when his parents announce they can no longer afford his school fees, and his girlfriend leaves him to marry her ex.
Schmuel quickly finds himself living as a companion to an old Jewish politician and his daughter-in-law, a sad and mysterious women who quickly he comes to dream about.
Its a book about foolish young hearts, unrequited love, intellectual curiosity, and the ostracising of the Jews for their failure to recognise Jesus as the messiah. Some of this was deeply religious, and some political and much of it admittedly outside of my sphere of understanding. And this did slow down my reading of what ultimately is a finely crafted story.
This was a book I really didn’t want to read. It’s not often a book – even one as long as this one – will take me a month to get through. But the subject matter was dense, painful and far too real.
The first level of the novel is the story of a marriage breakdown – Jacob and Julia are entering middle life to find that after working so hard to be good parents to their three sons and good Jews, they have forgotten how to be real with each other. This is raw and brilliant writing – but not for the faint-hearted. Safran Foer pulls no punches here. This is human nature in all its complexity – the beauty of forgiveness, the shallowness and frailty of betrayal. You won’t question him as a writer.
While this might seem like enough for any modern novel, it is also very tied up with Jewish identity. Although Jacob and Julia want to be seen as good Jews – even forcing their unwilling son Sam to have a bar mitzvah because “this is what we do”, they themselves acknowledge they don’t hold as fast as they should to their traditions and customs. Yet Jacob’s grandfather – a Holocaust survivor who immigrated to America – reminds them of the importance of protecting those traditions each day. In addition, Jacob’s Israeli cousins espouse the view that all Jews should have stayed in the Holy Land and that living in America is a kind of betrayal to their heritage.
When an earthquake devastates Jerusalem and her enemies look to make war, will Jacob answer the call of his cousins? Like Abraham before him, when called upon to sacrifice all that he loves, will Jacob answer his God with “Here I Am”, or will he be incapable?
Complex, brilliant, too much.
I am very much overdue in writing this review, having finished the book more than a week ago. My reading has been very interrupted recently as the need to read for the 2016 text list at school has kind of trumped any personal reading. This book sat right in the middle of that process – one I was considering for school, but eventually finished even after I went in a different directon.
Stiff has a lot of things going for it. I enjoyed reading a book set in Melbourne for a start – and it does have a terrific sense of place and local flair. And not many writers can make the world of politics interesting – although pretty much everything the main character Murray Whelan does is interesting. Smart but somehow still a disaster-area, Whelan turns every situation into a black comedy.
Whelan is an ALP member and right-hand man of a sitting member. Somehow, he gets embroiled in the death of a factory worker, which leads him into the path of union corruption and migrant gangs. A few brushes with death later, and he can’t imagine what has happened to his life. Although he would probably prefer all of this to a visit from his estranged wife.
A solid read, particularly for young men who will find much to relate to in Whelan’s character.