Eschewed Obfuscation

Frankenstein
by Mary Shelley
166 pages (trade paperback)
Genre: Fiction/Horror/Literary/Gothic

No self-respecting English geek should ignore Mary Shelley's first and most famous novel, Frankenstein--billed originally as a horror piece but studied today purely on a "literary" level. The ostensible protagonist and namesake of the novel is Victor Frankenstein; however, the story at least equally concerns itself with Frankenstein's monster, a grotesque creation of science. As a lit geek, then, I found much to love: allusions, metonymy, layered narrative, dopplegangers, character foils at even the diction level. The characterization is by far Mary Shelley's strength.

For it is difficult to overlook her main weakness: prose. The writing clunks about like a knight in rusty armor, repetitive and flowery with too much "telling" so that the emotional impact of the characters' suffering is considerably lessened. Plot is predictable and clumsily foreshadowed; exaggerated emotions made me mentally roll my eyes more than once. And there is absolutely no voice distinction among the three first-person narrators (Robert Walton, Victor Frankenstein, and the monster). This last point irritated me the most, because I have a damn hard time believing that a created sentient being can acquire such overblown and formal facility with language after a few short years and no direct instruction.

Still, I don't regret reading Frankenstein (though it was required reading, in any case). In concept and character, Mary Shelley did show flashes of appreciable brilliance. I try my best to judge classics as literature rather than pleasure-reading; notably so far, only Pride and Prejudice has enthralled me by both standards.

A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers
by Xiaolu Guo
283 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Fiction/Literary/Romance

This novel was my version of an impulse buy; I was browsing the new releases shelf in the library and the word "Chinese" caught my eye. I've been trying not to overload with library books, since I have a backlog of borrowed and bought books to work through, but the title was tempting and the author was most definitely a PoC, so I decided to give it a go. And oh, I am so glad that I did.

A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers is classified, at least by my library, as romance on the spine. But it breaks so many romance tropes, and touches on so much more than the usual of that genre, that I think it is foremost a "literary" novel. It is the story of Zhuang Xiao Qiao, nicknamed 'Z', who travels to England to study English for a year. She meets an older English man who couldn't be more different--living always in the present as opposed to the Chinese obsession with the future, flagrantly liberal (an ex-anarchist) where Z comes from a hardworking peasant family in a conservative society. Her lover--never directly named in the novel, instead being addressed as "you"--is also bisexual, and I loved the openness of the novel overall. At one point, some friends discuss transsexual surgery; there is also a scene where Z reads the instructions on a condom package that is simply hilarious.

The prose is unique, employing several conceits that take skill to pull off. I don't have an aversion to the diary style, though I do object to using it as a conceit for no apparent reason; but here it works extremely well. The words live at a meta level, evolving unnoticeably. The point-of-view is unmistakably first person, and yet Z addresses her lover as "you" so often that I think this novel could be used as an example of how to write second person effectively. The POV trick gives the reader a sense of intimacy that couldn't otherwise be achieved, and Z's voice is absolutely authentic. I love how all her verbs are gerunds at first, unconjugated like in Mandarin: "Chinese, we not having grammar. We saying things simple way. No verb-change usage, no tense differences, no gender changes. We bosses of our language. But, English language is boss of English user." [20] Actual Chinese characters are also used in a non-culturally-appropriating way (admittedly perhaps because Guo herself is from China and this is her first novel written directly in English). For instance, on page 142 is a paragraph of coherent, actual Mandarin because Z is so frustrated with English--with England, with life--that she switches to her native langauge. (The English translation, on the facing page in italics, is excellent. I had to get my mother to read the Chinese to me aloud because my character recognition is just that terrible. Interesting fact: they didn't translate the "curse" at the beginning of the Mandarin section. But I digress.) In the first half especially, there were lovely cultural snippets like cheng2 yu3 (e.g. ben4 niao3 xian1 fei1, "the stupid bird flies first"), four letter phrases like mini-poetry with several layers of meaning.

Finally, before I go briefly under spoiler cut: the ending is quiet, resonant, and realistic.


I did have one complaint, and that is about Z's lover. He's never named and we never see him except through Z's broken, emotional English. By the end of the novel, I cared much more about Z than I did about him. Just another way that A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers is not a romance story; the focus here is clearly on Z, and the major themes of culture clash and freedom.

I would recommend this novel to many, many people; anyone interested in modern Chinese culture, anyone actively seeking literature written by POC (oyceter and others?), and anyone to whom it appeals from reading this review. (Not formula-romance readers, though.) Go forth and seek it out; I promise, whatever you may think ultimately of the book, it will be worth your time.

ETA: Spoiler cut added.

The Blood of Flowers
by Anita Amirrezvani
377 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Fiction/Historical/Literary

The unnamed narrator, an innocent Iranian village girl, ends up in the city with her mother after her beloved father unexpectedly dies and they are left penniless. This novel tells the girl's story in first person--a story reminiscent of A Thousand Splendid Suns, though not up to such a standard in prose or character--and is suitably tear-wrenching. I have no major issues with Amirrezvani's nine-year work; but I do have lots of minor issues, and they add up. First, I have trouble accepting the narrative device employed; the prologue sets up the novel as an oral tale, with the narrator's mother clearly ailing and the narrator in a regretful, nostalgic mood. I dislike this kind of device in any long-form work because it's very difficult to carry off without the narration sounding rather unlike something the character would say aloud; Amirrezvani reinforces my opinion. And while I liked the interspersed traditional Iranian tales, it was unclear where exactly these stories came from--some were told by her mother, others by the narrator, and then still others that pop up out of nowhere. Some of these stories also suffer from a veil of implausibility (not in the way of a fairytale, either)--for instance, a wrecked ship's salvaged silver is not anywhere near the cost of building a stone tower from scratch.

At the prose level, The Blood of Flowers seems strangely amateur. The characters are interesting and rounded, but not especially so. The voice seems to be reaching for ornate formality, but reaching is the operative word. It flows prettily but labors for that veneer, like a heavy layer of makeup--lacking the sublime lightness of a master writer. There are clumsy transitions, too, such as "It was several months later, and..." directly after a short verse insert, without even a scene break indication.

I characterized this novel, genre-wise, as historical and literary; I feel that it strives too hard to be literature, to be more than a novel of pleasure. The narrator seems too naive at times--I wouldn't give something away without securing payment in advance, at the tender age of fourteen--and her character arc is more than a little contrived. It teachs too much of a lesson, encompassing such blatant statements as "I was bold, but I was no longer rash" [p. 334]. The title is apt and the author's notes at the end comprehensive; but in the end, I found The Blood of Flowers indescribably uncomfortable. It was too overtly symbolic and its various aspects are good--never great. Of course, such may be to the taste of another; if you like dense historicals with literary pretensions, this novel is perfect. But I am not that reader, and there are too many better books out there for me to recommend this one.

Both of these were read for English class. Just some notes and thoughts.


Beowulf: A New Verse Translation
by Seamus Heaney (trans.)
213 pages (trade paperback)
Genre: Poetry/Literary/Historical

I really like Heaney's translation, though Kennedy's strict adherence to the poetic structure is attractive. Here though, Heaney's voice shines through as he becomes the unnamed poet and writer of Beowulf.  (It was amusing when we did the scansion exercise and people were tapping or clapping out the rhythm and still getting it wrong.) I'm rarely in a poetry-reading mood, and it was a pain to read this as assigned for class when I yearned for some decent action prose, but that reflects not at all on the actual merits. The version I read had side-by-side Old English and modern translation, which was nice for linguistic curiosity.

For the record, I still think that Grendel was a real monster, not a metaphorical fear; he was probably a human outcast from the community, and exaggerated in the tale. Which brings me to...


Grendel
by John Gardner
174 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Fiction/Literary/Historical/Post-Modern

In this novel, the idea of the Shaper really resonated with me. The Shaper makes Grendel more monstrous and the Danes more heroic; yet, he is the sole recorder of their society's history, as keeper of their oral tradition. His words change the meaning of the world for Grendel. And personally, I believe that words create (not only express, but create) meaning. The nihilism lesson was also mildly interesting, if sometimes only skim-worthy. It's a short novel and plays with intriguing ideas of structure and metastructure.

A Thousand Splendid Suns
by Khaled Hosseini
~372 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Fiction/Literary

It took me a while to get through this, but it was worth it. I don't, however, have any desire to read The Kite Runner; a large part of what made the novel succeed for me was the focus on female protagonists and the place of feminism in Islam.

Miriam is an illegitimate daughter who ends up married to Rasheed, a cruel but chillingly typical man. The secondary storyline, which gradually becomes the primary focus, is a younger woman named Laila who loves Tariq but also marries Rasheed after a tragic accident of war. The story is set in Afghanistan during its various wars--I would give more detail, but my knowledge of the area's history is woefully sparse--amid bombings and maimings. That infamous group called the Taliban also plays a part later on, and 9/11 is depicted from a very different viewpoint.

The prose here is for the most part smooth, but nothing special. Hosseini's real strength is characterization. The children are utterly realistic--I adore Aziza, and Zalmai is a spoiled little boy in a time of prejudice and war. Hosseini's depiction of women in the Islamic world is heartbreaking, yet you get the feeling that he's only brushing the surface of their suffering.

On a completely different note, Laila's Babi is strikingly similar to Jane Austen's Mr. Bennet of Pride and Prejudice.

This novel is touching and poignant as well, but in a completely different way. Whereas Sold employed poetic form, white space, and innovative structure to deliver its point, Never Let Me Go uses literary elements--a reminiscing style, difficult themes, and too realistic characterization. The story is told from first person, by a 31-year-old "carer" named Kathy H.

If you prefer simple YA plots, don't read this book. The narrative wanders all over the place, with three parts and two parallel stories being told at once. This unique literary style nevertheless fits perfectly because it mimics Kathy's thoughts and memories. I won't spoil the premise; it gave me great pleasure to read it unspoiled, being able to guess at the truth hidden underneath the placid descriptions of life at Hailsham. I will say that I saw hints of sci-fi influence, though maybe that's just a cliche imprinted in my brain.

The ending was heartbreaking and I cried. It was also the only possible way to end it fittingly, because anything else would have been a deux ex machina, failing to live up to the world created by the novel.

Recommended for all readers of literary fiction, as well as genre readers willing to take a chance on a wonderful book.