Deal Me in Challenge: Let Me Promise You by Morley Callaghan

 Card Drawn: 7 of Hearts.

Since I don't really have much to say about this short-story other than it was mediocre and completely forgettable, I made a meme instead that sums it up. Here is an interesting fact: not only was Morley Callaghan from my Canadian hometown of Toronto but he was also good friends with Ernest Hemingway back in the day. Pretty cool.

Deal Me in Challenge: Ray by Guy Vanderhaeghe

Card Drawn: Ace of Hearts

Guy Vanderhaege strikes me as a humble and sincere type of writer, someone who exhibits quiet restraint with a penchant for intimate portraits of human relationships. Perhaps such observations are presumptuous on my part; since, my only exposure to his writing is the short-story Ray taken from the excellent collection of Canadian Short Stories compiled by Jane Urquhart, but Vanderhaege's slice-of-life story evokes these particular qualities that feels distinctively Canadian. To a certain extent, the soft-spoken mildness and elegant simplicity of his aesthetic is reminiscent of Alice Munro but here one gets the recognizable impression that Vanderhaege is attempting to branch away from his Canadian influences and establish his own authorial voice. Having only just been introduced to this author, it is impossible for me to determine just what exactly constitutes his artistic vision and literary sensibilities without succumbing to some specious argument. Nonetheless, Ray is indicative of an author in the nascent stages of developing his craft, whose keen observation of human experience is deeply introspective and who seems capable of delivering heart-felt stories. 

This story begins in medias res, the titular character and his wife engaged in a heated argument. Ray is perturbed by the whole situation because not only is this the first major fight between the couple but revolves around sensitive subject matter: his childhood memories associated with his father. They live in a small unnamed rural town and while Ray is fairly content concerning their current living conditions, his wife feels differently. She is restless and frustrated; feels her youth slipping away, her married life not living up to her idealized expectations. Essentially, she is bored of this dull existence and wants more than this little town has to offer. The narrative consists mainly of a long flashback, switching intermittently back and forth from Ray's reflections on childhood to the present time where his marriage seems on the precipice of disaster. Vanderhaege purposefully avoids trite nostalgia and sentimentality and there is a hint of irony here since Ray's wife accosts him for indulging in these very same self-delusions about growing up in loving home with his father. Of course, he denies such allegations, looking back on his younger days with fondness, especially the relationship with his father. The fallibility of memories and how we choose to remember the past is of great importance to the story.

The effective use of subtlety and tacitness are two important elements of the short-story. However, Vanderhaege decides to eschew with these common principles in favor of a more blunt approach but is unable to pull it off successfully. The end result is a story that is far too "on the nose" with obtrusive symbolism that comes across as contrived. While sometimes prosaic and at other times on the verge of achieving something substantial, the story never quite maintains a semblance of wholeness. Thus, while a quick and interesting enough read, Ray will unlikely linger in my mind for very long.

 

Deal Me in Challenge: The Turkey Season by Alice Munro

Gobble. Gobble.

Card Drawn: Queen of Hearts

A Nobel prize winning author, Alice Munro is often considered one of Canada's greatest literary treasures and a master of the short-story. She tends to receive nothing but the highest praise from critics and readers alike -- yet, she is the kind of author who seems to always remain under the radar. Her writing possesses a modest, gentle, demure, quiet and reserved quality that feels so...Canadian. 

Out of all the stories that I have read from the McClelland & Stewart collection edition of Alice Munro's Best Selected Stories, Turkey Season is my least favorite. I picked it out at random because the title seemed oddly amusing. This story comes across as an anomaly, not indicative of the author's commendable writing talents. In contrast to many of the other stories, this one does not showcase Munro at her best. Hey, we all have off days right? Even the best writers are bound to crank out few duds once in a while. 

Taking place in a small unnamed town, a woman reflects on her younger days during the 1940's when she gets her first job working at a turkey farm. Positioned on the killing floor, her station is responsible for gutting the turkey out and removing all its innards before being prepared to be shipped off for sale. Kinda gross. Looking back on some of my part-time jobs during high-school such as working at the movie-theater or doing binary at a printing company don't seem as bad in comparison. The narrator along with several of her female co-workers are fascinated with the foreman named Herb Abbott since he has a charming and attractive personality but they can't quite figure him out. He enjoys their company but ignores their flirtatious advances. He only seems to care about his job. The women begin to think that he might be a homosexual, his true colors hiding behind that rugged exterior. Christmas is the busiest time of year at the turkey farm, so the boss hires additional staff to fill the orders. One of these new recruits is a young man named Brian who disrupts the balanced order upon his arrival. What follows is of little importance, or at least, rendered inconsequential even though Munro was aiming to be profound in some way by employing ambiguity. She captures the sense of nostalgia with clarity and grace but there is a severe lack of emotional nuance to the story. 

With a detached narrative voice, the entire story is far too conservative, bland and stilted. Her writing style reminiscent of John Steinbeck in its simplicity and directness. She is usually capable of delivering emotionally charged stories containing subtle complexities but this is not the case here. Much like the turkeys gutted out by the narrator, this story feels hollow, dried out and severely undercooked.

The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay

“The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down.” 

There are fantasy authors and then there is Guy Gavriel Kay who is in a league of his own. Not only does he deserve to be recognized as one of most talented writers of the genre but should also be regarded as one of Canada's finest writers. I mentioned this fact in my review of his other novel Tigana but it is worth reiterating once again. He often gets overlooked because his works are not taken seriously in contrast to his contemporaries such as Margaret Atwood, Michael Ondaatje or even more recent authors such as Joseph Boyden who tend to deal with "big issues" that reflect Canadian identity. Kay's novels may not be rooted in Canadian culture but they certainly cover a wide range of contentious issues such as religion (a major theme in The Lions of Al-Rassan), class, colonialism, gender, hegemony, power struggles, etc, so to simply say he only writes "entertaining fiction" would be a grave error in judgment. In fact, it is difficult to classify many of his novels, especially Lions, as a fantasy novel in the traditional sense because Kay is unorthodox in his methods, often playing around with genre conventions. It might be more accurate to label this particular work as some kind of hybrid of fantasy/historical fiction instead. 

The particular story is influenced by the history of Moorish Spain where Muslims, Jews and Christians were engaged in civil war. There are no fire breathing dragons, elves, dwarves, wizards or magic of any kind to be found here--only a beautifully written epic story about talented individuals who are forced to do extraordinary things because they live in a world on the verge of collapse and pure anarchy. Conflicting loyalties and religious ideologies create a a rift between friendships, family and love; the brutality of war dividing a nation into various factions, innocent blood spilled in the name of divine providence. While there are fight sequences and epic battle scenes, Kay doesn't indulge in grand gestures; rather, there is a poetic lyricism to the way he presents violence--much of the intense action occurring on the peripheral, a latent narrative strategy that effectively heightens the suspense leading up to those pivotal moments. The final confrontation between the two main characters who have been good friends up until this point and have now become leaders of opposing sides is handled with such precision, grace and unwavering intensity. The reader does not either of them to die in battle but of course, it is inevitable that only one shall triumph. For those who don't read a lot of fantasy or tend to avoid it on general principle, Guy Gavriel Kay is an author worth checking out who might just change your mind about the genre. As a master story-teller, his unique vision, memorable characters and sublime writing deserves nothing but the highest praise.

I only reserve 5-star ratings for masterful literary works that prove to be extra special in some way: The Lions of Al-Rassan easily falls into that select group (that now makes two 5-stars ratings for Mr. Kay so far, well done sir). In addition to containing everything that I look for in a novel--an absorbing story that is a pure joy to read with superb writing, well-drawn characters, having a breadth of ideas, possessing narrative cohesion that all leads up to a satisfactory climax--it is the emotional intensity and the achingly beautiful ending that really stand out. Kay's ability to create such sympathetic characters with depth and complexity is truly remarkable. They are never one dimensional and feel so real, coming to life right there on the page. Flawed, contradictory and perhaps not always acting with the most ethical conduct (heck, one of the main characters is an assassin), they uphold a sense of moral duty; even willing to die for for their beliefs, which makes them wholly unique individuals. Sorry if this sounds corny or cliche but I really cared passionately for these characters and on some level even grew to love them. I never expected to get so emotionally attached but as the story progressed towards its conclusion, I found myself completely entangled up in their lives and dreading what might become of their fate--the experience was almost unbearable. Kay surely knows how to pull on those heart-strings. This brings me to the climax of the novel, which hit me like a ton of bricks. Other than Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse, I don't ever recall being so profoundly moved by an ending. No, I didn't bawl my eyes out or anything that dramatic but I do admit to feeling a lump in my throat, choked up by the sheer beauty and magnitude of those final closing moments. An absolutely breathtaking and unforgettable novel.

On a final note, I  had the privilege of actually meeting Guy Gavriel Kay when he was doing a book signing here in Toronto last year. My first meet and greet with an author too. I don't get out much but this was an exception. The place even had live music and free food. Score! Mr. Kay was a very affable gentleman and we spoke briefly. Of course, I was completely awe-struck in his presence, sweating profusely, nervous as hell and tongue-tied the whole time during our brief conversation. Somehow I managed to tell him through all my stuttering that I loved his work and that they were sources of comfort during a recent rough period in my life. He was very humble, thanking me for being so honest and upfront with him. I then proceeded to ask whether or not he had ever been approached by Hollywood to adapt one of his novels but he wouldn't give me a direct answer. He played it coy, saying something along the lines of "Oh, I don't know..." and then gave me a wry smile before signing two of my books--one of which was The Lions of Al-Rassan (I can die happy now), the other being The Song of Arbonne. I would have liked him to have sign Tigana as well but there were others waiting in line and having nearly soiled myself in excitement, I needed to find a restroom quick time. It was such an honor to meet Guy Gavriel Kay and if he happens to be in town again for another one these book signing events or press tours, I'll be sure to attend and try acting less like a gushing fan-boy.

This novel also counts towards my Canadian Reading Project.

Teaser Tuesdays: Carnival by Rawi Hage

It's been a long while since I've participated in Teaser Tuesday held by MizB of Should Be Reading, so I figured what the hell, let's do this. This is a weekly meme where you open up to a random page of your current read and post one or two teaser sentences from that page without giving away any spoilers. 

Page 4: "For the past five years I have lived in a building that hums with strange people, rodents and insects who come and go as they please."

That cover. It's awesome. This sentence sounds like it come right out of Hage's previous novel, Cockroach. I only started reading this late last night and haven't gotten very far. There's a visceral and raw quality to Hage's writing that really appeals to me. I have no idea what to expect with Carnival and don't have much knowledge about the plot either. Jumping in blind here. Rawi Hage really impressed me with his novel Cockroach and I've been curious ever since to check out more from this author. It happened to be on display at the library and the wacky cover really grabbed my attention. I have also been slacking on my Canadian Reading Project so perhaps Carnival will provide me with more incentive to press forward instead of abandoning ship.

The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje

“All I ever wanted was a world without maps.”

Often regarded as one of Canada's greatest living writers, Michael Ondaatje doesn't strike me as an author who would reach a wide audience at all. Granted, my only exposure to his writing is with this particular novel but it is far too abstract, fragmented and heavily infused with poetic language to appeal to many readers. Visit any used book store or second-hand thrift shop (with a book section) here in Toronto, and I can guarantee you that several copies of this novel--along with other titles by the author--can more often than not be found at low bargain prices or in the "free bin." Most people don't seem particularly fond of Ondaatje or The English Patient in particular, and they seem more than happy to be rid of it, which helps to partially explain the overwhelming amount of copies floating around. 

I have been avoiding this novel for years and probably never would have picked up this novel had it not been for my Canadian Reading Project. Even though I don't feel that all of the negative flak it tends to receive is completely warranted, it is perfectly understandable why so many people are keen to express their vitriolic hatred towards this novel. Those looking for a well-told story are bound to be disappointed and frustrated. The narrative is convoluted and disorienting: jumping around between past and present, distorted by fragments of memory; the characters exist on the periphery, obscured by shadows. It does not surprise me that Ondaatje was a poet before turning towards fiction because his writing revels in lyrical diction, elevated language and imagery. There is no denying that the prose is beautiful, sensual and even provocative at times (bringing to mind the writings of Virginia Woolf minus the stream-of-consciousness) but it is overdone, inadvertently encouraging mockery. At one point, Ondaatje tries to convey the overflowing passion between the mysterious pilot and his lover by describing one of their sexual experiences together where he licks up her menstrual blood. Sorry, but that is just gross no matter how eloquently one might describe this act. There does exist scattered moments of stylistic virtuoso and profound insight but the novel ultimately collapses under the weight of its superfluous purple prose--all style, very little substance. Ondaatje would much rather focus on establishing a specific mood or explore the fallibility of memory. I don't usually mind this type of poetic style but he gets too caught up in trivialities and seems a little smug in showcasing his literary pretensions.

It's the end of WWII, a Canadian nurse from Toronto (bonus points) is caring for a severely burnt patient at an abandoned Italian villa where two other people eventually enter their little sanctuary. Utilizing shifting character perspectives and flashbacks, the story (or lack thereof) unfolds in a cryptic fashion shrouded in ambiguity. We get glimpses of these people but the reader is always kept at a distance. The basic premise of the novel is intriguing enough but I really wish Ondaatje had spent more time fleshing out the different characters and focused more on the story, instead of leaving it dormant and veering off into elaborately discursive territory. I'm no medical doctor, but it bothered me that this pilot who is suffering from life-threatening burns could stay alive so long with only the aid of morphine and still be able to maintain complete mental acuity. This novel could have been a sweeping historical epic with a powerful love story at its core but Ondaatje has other intentions. If he somehow managed to balance his poetic aspirations and brand of literary impressionism with developing a solid story containing believable, strong, well-rounded characters, he might have been able to achieve something truly spectacular. 

Taking into consideration that very little action takes place in the novel, it baffles me that it was even adapted into an Oscar winning film. To my mind, the end result can only be disastrous and I am very curious to watch that train-wreck unfold on the screen. My two star rating might seem a tad generous but I didn't find the novel to be completely without merit, even though my general impression was that of indifference. Ondaatje might be self-indulgent but his writing can be quite beautiful and enrapturing in small doses.

 

This novel is part of my Canadian Reading Project.

Cockroach by Rawi Hage

"The underground my friend, is a world of its own. Other humans gaze at the sky, but I say unto you, the only way through the world is to pass through the underground."

Rawi Hage has given me hope that there does exist other great writers hailing from Canada whose name isn't Margaret Atwood (no disrespect intended). His novel Cockroach was the runner up in this years Canada Reads: a "battle of the books" competition where one book is voted amongst a panel of judges for the whole country to read that will inspire social change. He lost to Joseph Boyden's The Orenda in a tight match where the final votes were 3-2. This novel is a gritty, raw, solemn and unflinching look at the ugly side of immigration, which is unlikely to appeal to a wide audience. I never really paid much credence to the legitimacy of Canada Reads selections before since it often feels like a marketing ploy to increase sales for specific novels but I'm glad Cockroach received the proper recognition and here's hoping more people will be inspired to read this wonderful novel because Rawi Hage deserves a wider readership.

Canada's open immigration policy has made it one of the most diverse multi-cultural countries in the world but it is not all sunshine and rainbows for those who come here in search of a better life. Rawi Hage reveals the seedy underbelly of this country that often gets swept under the rug, or in relation to this novel, squashed (a bad pun but I can't resist). The narrator of the story is unnamed: he is invisible, living on the margins of society as a a Middle-eastern immigrant in the grim wintry climate of Montreal. Alienated in a foreign country, everyday is a struggle for survival. Destitute and living in poverty, he must rely on his wits to keep from starving or freezing to death in the cold streets. This means manipulating others to get a hot meal or resorting to thievery. He is also an expert at breaking and entering other people's homes, but not so much to steal from them but to observe how the more fortunate live in luxurious splendor. Unable to find steady work that pays a decent wage, he has no choice but to take any job that comes his way, no matter how crippling to his pride or self-worth. He drifts along without any real purpose, moving from one service position to another and is content to land a job as a bus-boy at a Persian restaurant. It is revealed early on that he has attempted suicide and through mandatory therapy sessions, the reader is provided glimpses of his previous life before coming to Canada in a serious of flashbacks. Rawi Hage does an excellent job of infusing plenty of dark humor to counterbalance the depressing subject matter. His prose is sensational; emanating a stark and gripping quality that makes it a pleasure to read. He expertly draws the reader into the tumultuous mind of the protagonist that is unsettling as much as it is fascinating. He has a great ear for dialogue (although I am unsure why he decided not to use proper quotation marks when someone was speaking--perhaps to further highlight the loss of identity?). Rawi Hage leaves it up to the the reader to make up their own opinion of the narrator. I found myself sympathizing with the main character a great deal despite his lascivious behavior and various transgressions. Are we too look down upon him as immoral if he is driven to a life of depravity by a society that makes it increasingly difficult for immigrants to establish a modest living?

Of course, not all immigrant experiences are as bleak or depressing as the one depicted in this novel and to interpret it as representative of the norm would be a spurious conclusion. Many people do manage to make a better life for themselves in a new land but Rawi Hage is less optimistic. He attempts to convey immigration as paradoxical: new arrivals to a country find themselves in a perpetual state of displacement, unable to fully assimilate into society and forced to live on the periphery. The narrator perceives himself as a cockroach and the metaphor is perfectly apt--he is a nocturnal creature, viewed a pest in the eyes of others who discriminate against him as a racial minority. Cockroaches are able to adapt to their harsh environment and so does the protagonist even though it is met with much hardship and misery. Of course, one can't help but make the connection to another, if not, the most famous bug or "cockroach" in literature: Gregor Samsa in Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis. Both novels couldn't be more radically different whereas Kafka emphasizes psychological transformation through allegory and Rawi Hage focuses on depicting caustic realism. However, they both deal with social alienation where the protagonists are outsiders living in a world of chaos and absurdity. A more detailed comparison would be interesting to take under consideration.

Even though I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, it does contain several flaws. First, despite the protagonist's devious personality and grueling situation, he still manages to engage in sexual relations on a regular basis. His frequent sexual encounters seem implausible and hinder Hage's representation of estrangement. The lack of female companionship might have proved more effective in the attempt to illustrate the narrator's brooding loneliness as an immigrant. Second, even though the narrative is purposefully discursive without a discernible plot, a hallucinatory nightmare of sorts that reflects the protagonist's erratic mind, the final denouement seemed rushed and contrived. I realize that Hage stresses ambiguity and the climax does fit the persistent cynical tone already established but the ending felt unsatisfying, incomplete somehow. It seemed as if Hage was setting up for a powerful, gut-wrenching and explosive finale but it sort of just fizzles out.

Nevetheless, Cockroach is an absorbing and worthwhile read that puts the controversial issue of immigration on the table but as an advocate for social change? Probably not. However, it does possess the power to stir up discussion on the subject and that's a start. Rawi Hage is a talented young author and I believe he is capable of putting Canadian literature back on the map. 

 This novel is part of my Canadian Reading Project.

Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay

"In this world, where we find ourselves, we need compassion more than anything, I think, or we are all alone.”

Stop the press! I hereby declare that Tigana may just be the finest stand-alone fantasy novel ever written. Yeah, it's that good. In fact, it transcends the genre and should be recognized as a great piece of literature in its own right. This is my my first encounter with the writings of Guy Gavriel Kay and it certainly won't be the last. Where has this author been hiding all my life? I'm kicking myself for not having read anything by him sooner. He's even Canadian! Shame on me.

I am not sure how his other novels compare, but based solely on the masterful work that is Tigana, it's a travesty that Mr. Kay has not received the recognition so rightfully deserved as one of the great Canadian authors of our time. Sure, he is much praised within fantasy circles, but rarely is he ever acknowledged amongst the more notable Canadian writers such as Margaret Atwood, Mordecai Richler, Michael Ondaatje, Robertson Davies, W.O. Mitchell or Alice Munro (just to name a few) who tend to steal the spotlight. I can't seem to shake off the nagging feeling that he has been wrongfully excluded because of a certain level of prejudice that exists against authors who write within the fantasy genre. This elitist attitude is completely unsound and downright infuriating to me. I really wish people would keep more of an open mind, embracing literature in its many forms instead of being quick to judge a novel as simply derivative just because it does not fall into the general consensus of serious literature.

So what is this story about? Well, for starters, it revolves around a conquered land known as the Palm, whose territory is divided up by two opposing empires, each under the control by a powerful sorcerer--Brandin of Ygrath of Alberico of Barbidor. For over twenty years, peace has been maintained by the two rulers but now tensions are beginning to rise as certain events are set into motion by a small group of rebels who aim to overthrow their oppressors. One particular province named Tigana has been cursed by Brandin due to particular circumstances and will soon pass out of all knowledge unless these individuals find a way to bring its name back into the world. Kay weaves a rich history of culture and religion that is nothing short of mesmerizing. He transports the reader to a fantastic realm that pulsates with authenticity and there is no limit to his imagination. It would be cruel to reveal more plot details and spoil the fun of discovering them on your own but it should be noted that the novel is surprisingly light on fantasy elements, the main emphasis placed on the characters and story. There is very little action, no large battles until the very end and the display of magic is marginal. Kay's decision to scale back the action is well-conceived because it allows more time to focus on the intricate narrative rather than wasting time on pointless fighting sequences. When these small bursts of action do occur, the stage has been slowly set up for awesomeness. One of the many interesting aspects of the novel is that the magic used in this world remains ambiguous and Kay is not adamant to go into technical detail at all. This approach is surprisingly effective, leaving room for the reader to use their imagination, to infer through context. He is a natural born story-teller, a very skilled writer who knows how to cleverly hook the reader into the narrative by revealing just enough information but not leaving them completely in the dark; dropping clues, calmly building suspense, and then knowing exactly when to divulge key plot points that are stunning in their turning points to move the story along towards its spectacular finale. He makes it seem so effortless.

Kay is able to take those familiar fantasy genre tropes and flip them on their head to tell a story that is truly unique full of depth and complexity. He imbues layers of ambiguity, metaphors and subtext that leaves the reader with plenty to contemplate. In fact, one can argue that the novel serves as a parable or allegory of colonial rule, the loss of cultural identity that often afflicts a conquered people. Tigana is a slow-burn and somewhat confusing at first since Kay drops the reader into this fantastical world without very little explanation, not to mention the plethora of characters to keep track of. Considering the many interconnected story-lines, Kay performs a miraculous juggling act with the use of shifting narrative perspectives to keep the story flowing at a steady pace. There are plenty of surprises and unexpected plot twists that dropped my jaw to the floor. As a stand-alone epic, I didn't think Kay could successfully pull it off without stumbling towards a lackluster climax but he continually surprised me and left me in awe. The penguin edition clocks in close to 800 pages and it's usually the sign of a great novel if it manages to keep me turning the pages at a brisk pace and by its conclusion, leave me wanting more. I honestly can't remember the last time I became so enraptured by a novel, reveling in the absolute pleasure of reading a great story that is entertaining as much as it is intelligently written, filled with elegant prose and memorable characters--heroes and villains that are not portrayed in black-and-white but come across as complex individuals struggling with their consciousness and who undergo moral dilemmas as a result of their actions. Kay also writes compelling female characters, strong independent women who do not fall into stereotypical gender roles. There are a few sex scenes (gasp!) but they are not gratuitous and believe it or not, actually serve a purpose to the story. Although it is difficult for me to settle upon a favorite character, Brandin of Ygrath stands out as one of the more fascinating villains I have come across in fantasy. He is a tyrant and has committed unspeakable crimes but he is a sympathetic antagonist whose cruel actions are understandable considering the circumstances leading up to his victory over the Western Palm. He might be a sorcerer wielding great power, but he is also human, someone who is flawed, blindsided by grief but also capable of expressing love, especially towards Dianora who plays a key role in the story.

  

On a somewhat related note, it surprises that no movie studios have decided to buy the rights to this novel. Kay's writing possesses a very cinematic quality that would translate well to the silver-screen and the epic story would certainly appeal to a mass audience but then again, it would also be very difficult to do the novel justice. Perhaps a mini-series would be the better way to go. This is one of those rare novels that still lingers in my mind and I can't wait to revisit it again. Even if you aren't a fan of the fantasy, do yourself a favor and give Tigana a chance. Like me, you might be pleasantly surprised to discover a newfound appreciation of the genre.

This novel is part of my Canadian Reading Project.