"'At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,' said the gentleman, taking up a pen, 'it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries, hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.
[...] a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?'"
from ?! by ?!
Adele Laurie Blue Adkins *1988
Many of you probably recognised the citation from Charles Dicken's novella A Christmas Carol with its main character Scrooge.
While rereading it - in the spirit of the season (!) - I thought of Adele and the row about her supposed decline of Bob Geldorf's request to participate in his project 'Band Aid 30'. I know, I know, Adele isn't really 'unheard' of and additionally, she isn't a writer in the book section - but she did something very remarkable lately. As the headlines called it: she 'snubbed Bob Geldorf and his project Band Aid 30'. Actually, she wasn't the only one and her reason is still under fierce discussion but it is interesting to see Bob Geldorf's reaction to criticism on his project. Criticism put forward to him by reporter Jayne Secker from SkyNews on YouTube: Interview with Bob Geldorf on Band Aid
Somehow it leaves me wondering...
Actually, the novella was published in 1843, more than 150 years earlier from today.
Has much changed in the meantime?
Has much changed since the original 'Band Aid' in 1984?
I am inclined to leave the questions pending and leave it up to you to decide to donate for whatever reason or cause "because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundances rejoices".
P.S.: Does this so-called 'festive season' also relate to Hindus, Buddhist, Muslims, Jews or members of any other religion? Oh, how much it makes me aware of its (limited) Christian background...
While rereading it - in the spirit of the season (!) - I thought of Adele and the row about her supposed decline of Bob Geldorf's request to participate in his project 'Band Aid 30'. I know, I know, Adele isn't really 'unheard' of and additionally, she isn't a writer in the book section - but she did something very remarkable lately. As the headlines called it: she 'snubbed Bob Geldorf and his project Band Aid 30'. Actually, she wasn't the only one and her reason is still under fierce discussion but it is interesting to see Bob Geldorf's reaction to criticism on his project. Criticism put forward to him by reporter Jayne Secker from SkyNews on YouTube: Interview with Bob Geldorf on Band Aid
Somehow it leaves me wondering...
**************************
Actually, the novella was published in 1843, more than 150 years earlier from today.
Has much changed in the meantime?
Has much changed since the original 'Band Aid' in 1984?
I am inclined to leave the questions pending and leave it up to you to decide to donate for whatever reason or cause "because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundances rejoices".
P.S.: Does this so-called 'festive season' also relate to Hindus, Buddhist, Muslims, Jews or members of any other religion? Oh, how much it makes me aware of its (limited) Christian background...
Quote of the Month - November 2014
"I hadn't done it, no. Hadn't lifted the gun. But Dick was right. I'd eaten the good food off the cedar table with the double damask cloth. Slept in the soft beds. Sat in the parlour, never known a day's hunger or cold, never asked where any of it come from.[...] I'd lived in a cosy place made out of secrets and lies. Now I was in another country, and its climate had no mercy. [...]
Shame would keep us silent, shame and the wishing that it was different. Dick and that woman who'd sent me down a johnny-cake, they'd tell their children the story. There was no shame in it for them, only grief. But who would listen to them?
The knowing was Pa's poisonous gift to me, and I was sick with it."
From Sarah Thornhill by Kate Grenville (2011)
Shame would keep us silent, shame and the wishing that it was different. Dick and that woman who'd sent me down a johnny-cake, they'd tell their children the story. There was no shame in it for them, only grief. But who would listen to them?
The knowing was Pa's poisonous gift to me, and I was sick with it."
From Sarah Thornhill by Kate Grenville (2011)
Kate Grenville *1950
Some years ago, a friend returning from Australia, presented me with Kate's book The Secret River. At first, I put it aside for I had judged it by its cover and its somewhat old fashioned language. And additionally, I had never heard of the author...But then I was looking for authors for The English Book Club who had once won the Commonwealth Writers' Prize. And Kate was one of them! So finally, I started reading her book and couldn't stop. I took the book on my list and researched the author.
I have read her loose trilogy on the very beginning of Australia in the meantime: The Secret River, The Lieutenant and Sarah Thornhill and it triggered me so far as to do a reading on these three books at the Volkshochschule (adult education centre) in Aalen/Germany on 25 November. Now having researched so much more on the background it seems whatever I would write about Kate Grenville comes short of what she is and does as an author. Therefore, I decided to just give some quick information on the author and the wish to you to watch the video taped by the Sydney Writers' Centre where Kate reveals her idea of writing, gives ideas to aspiring writers and informs about the 'starting point' of her novels: Interview with Kate Grenville
Kate Grenville, born in Sydney, might be rather unknown in Europe but she is well known in Australia. After completing an Art's degree at Sydney University she worked as an editor in the film industry. In 1976 Kate moved to Europe, living for some years in Paris and London, writing fiction while doing film-editing and secretarial jobs. Inspired by American authors she had met in Paris she moved to America in 1980 to pursue a Master's degree in creative writing. In 1983 Kate returned to Australia and became sub-editor until she won a literary grant in 1986. From then on she focused on her writing and published nine novels, various collections of short stories and four books on writing itself.
Two of her books were made into major films, her book The Idea of Perfection won the Orange Prize of Fiction and The Secret River won the Commonwealth Writers' Prize and was shortlisted for the Man Book Prize in 2006. Especially her loose trilogy on the first settlements in Australia had a large influence on her readership: The Secret River, The Lieutenant and Sarah Thornhill. All cover the first years of colonisation in Australia using historical facts being fictionalised to focus on the way the indigenous people had been 'handled' and how it all influenced not only the people who took action but also those who weren't directly involved or came after. She even goes further and claims that contemporary Australia is still influenced by its 'secret' history, a history not being told. As she says in the interview, she is hopeful that eventually "a shared story about what is a shared history" will come of it. Take your time and watch the video!
Quote of the Month - October 2014
"I needed him so much, I couldn't really go into it very far, this need, nor could my mother and I talk about it. But her wearing his robe was a sign to me of how she had to have the comfort of his presence in a basic way that I now understood. That night, I asked her if she'd packed Dad an extra shirt, and she nodded when I asked if I could wear it. She gave it to me.
I still have many of his shirts, and his ties as well. He purchased everything he wore at Silverman's in Grand Forks. They carried the very best men's clothing, and he didn't buy much, but he was particular. I wore my father's ties to get me through law school at the University of Minnesota, and the bar exam after. For the time I was a public prosecutor, I wore his ties for the last week of every jury trial. I used to carry around his fountain pen, too, but I became afraid of losing it. I still have it, but I don't sign my tribal court opinions with it the way he did. The unfashionable ties are enough, the golden tassel in my drawer, and that I have always a dog named Pearl."
From The Round House by Louise Erdrich
I still have many of his shirts, and his ties as well. He purchased everything he wore at Silverman's in Grand Forks. They carried the very best men's clothing, and he didn't buy much, but he was particular. I wore my father's ties to get me through law school at the University of Minnesota, and the bar exam after. For the time I was a public prosecutor, I wore his ties for the last week of every jury trial. I used to carry around his fountain pen, too, but I became afraid of losing it. I still have it, but I don't sign my tribal court opinions with it the way he did. The unfashionable ties are enough, the golden tassel in my drawer, and that I have always a dog named Pearl."
From The Round House by Louise Erdrich
Louise Erdrich *1954
There are sometimes interesting and surprising coincidences: While
leafing through a German magazine on latest book publications, I sort of
stumbled over an article on Louise Erdrich. Her book The Round
House had been translated into German and was presented in the
article (Das Haus des Windes, Aufbau Verlag). Obviously, it
was her name that caught my eye: Erdrich is a rather familiar surname
in the South of Germany. The more interesting to read that she is a
member of the Mikinaakwajiw-ininiwag or Turtle
Mountain Band of Chippewa Indians, a Native American
Tribe of the Ojibwa and Métis peoples based in North Dakota.  |
| Buchjournal 3/2014 |
Louise Erdrich was born in Little Falls in the United States of America, eldest of seven children. Her father Ralph Erdrich is German-American (which explains the familiarity of the name) while her mother, Rita (née Gourneau), is part French-American and part Ojibwe. Rita's father Patrick Gourneau served for many years as tribal chairman of the above mentioned tribe and certainly had a strong influence on Louise's education. Probably as much as her father's educational measurement: while parents usually pay children for each book they've read, Louise's father paid a nickel for every story his children wrote! Eventually: while Louise is mainly writing novels, her sister Heidi publishes poetry under the name Heid E. Erdrich and her sister Lise writes children's books.
Consequently, Louise earned her MA in the Writing Seminars at the John Hopkins University in Baltimore in 1979. The same year, she published her first short story "The World's Greatest Fisherman" which won the Nelson Algren Short Fiction prize. In 1984, after she had married Michael Dorris in 1981 and together raised three adopted and three biological children, she published her first novel, Love Medicine. While both her first short story and novel are placed in a fictional reservation her second book The Beet Queen, published in 1986, expanded its range. This lead to a fierce accusation that Louise was more concerned with her literary technique than the political struggle of Native peoples. A very common struggle: form vs. content, which reminded me of South African Literature under the Apartheid regime. If Louise compromised or just focused her point of view again on her fictional reservation universe, at least her many books are mainly placed within the circle of her familiar surroundings. Various conflicts concerning the tribal lives on religion, economics and tradition became part of the books Louise wrote until her divorce in 1995. With her book The Antelope Wife (1998) Erdrich left the fictional tribal surrounding for once but returnd to it afterwards. Nevertheless, this doesn't make her limited in her point of view. As the jury of the PEN/Bellow Award asserts:
"Some writers work a small piece of land: Louise Erdrich is not one of those writers. Her work has an awesome capaciousness – each person is a world. For Erdrich, the tale of the individual necessarily leads to the tale of the family, and families lead to nations, while the wound of a national injustice is passed down through the generations, expressing itself in intimate deformations, a heady intertwining of the national and the personal. Yet despite the often depressingly familiar, repetitive nature of so much human business, Erdrich’s eye is always fresh, her sentences never less than lyrical." (Read more at: http://www.pen.org/literature/2014-pensaul-bellow-award-achievement-american-fiction)
This is also the case with Louise's story The Round House.
Though its main focus is on an very personal and intimate incident it reveals at
the same time this very complicated relationship between historical
developments and interpersonal composure. It's wonderful how she
creates a rich, colourful picture where there is no space for any
black or white, right or wrong. And again there is much more between heaven and earth we could think of that influences the human spirit. Made me certainly curious to read
more of her aside of all 15 awards she's won so far...
Quote of the Month - September 2014
"Very well, said Hans, finding himself in the awkward position of having to contest a solid argument, very well, Professor, let us go step by step. You maintain that to translate feeling is more difficult than to translate thought. I am not sure in what measures it is possible to conceive of an idea as being divorced from emotion, or emotion devoid of any ideas. This would be my first objection, that you seem to take for granted the existence of pure emotion as if it came from nowhere and were self-contained. In my humble understanding, emotions are not only generated by a specific language, they also arise from cultural exchanges, from prior exposure to other languages, from national and foreign connotations. This is the heterogeneous basis of our thoughts, feelings and writings. In order to avoid getting lost in metaphor and upsetting you, I shall try to give you a concrete example, Professor. Does Goethe feel in German on the one hand and on the other speak six languages? Or rather, as an individual who speaks and reads several different languages, does Goethe feel in a specific way that is peculiar to him and which in this case expresses itself in the German language? Isn't his broad cultural knowledge a current that is channelled, translated [sic] into his mother tongue? And by the same token, are the translations of Goethe's own poems into other languages not simply one more link in an infinite chain of interpretations? Who are we to decide which is the original, the first link?"
From Traveller of the Century by Andrés Neuman
From Traveller of the Century by Andrés Neuman
Andrés Neuman *1977
A second time, an exception to my rule to only present female authors on this blog. But I had to add this inspiring author I had met at the international Literary Festival Writers Unlimited 2014 in January (see my blog on the month 'February'). So this time it's this promising author: Andrés Neuman, born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to a Spanish-Italian mother and a German-Jewish father, both musicians. He grew up and still lives in Grenada, Spain, where he studied philosophy and taught Latin American literature. Instead of describing his life, I prefer to quote from his books especially his wonderful book Traveller of the Century (=TC) which tells us more about this fascinating writer, his ideas and points of views than any list of awards:
"([...] How can you understand Novalis without heaven?) You're right, I disagree with him there. (Then why all the interest in Novalis, you, the atheist?[...]) Touché, touché, Novalis fascinates me because I don't quite accept him, I have to struggle with him in order to admire him. And since I never quite succeed, I constantly go back to him." (TC)
And it can been a struggle sometimes to read this fascinating novel by Andrés, though a rewarding one. Certainly because of the exceptional beautiful tone and language (my due respect to Nick Caistor & Lorenza Garcia for the translation) but also because of all those elaborate thoughts and ideas and concepts Andrés weaves into the story. A book some readers would dismiss because of the missing action. So, don't look for action or plot, but feel the impact the story and the lives of the characters have on you. Obviously, Andrés loves to dispute, discuss and argue and you as a reader get thoroughly involved. Another quote:
"Half-an-hour with her head buried in a book. Half-an-hour reading, becoming someone else." (TC)
Interesting enough, I was a traveller myself the time I've read the book. While I was commuting between Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands meeting dear friends, I had wonderful (reading) places and views to contemplate. Additionally, my transitional situation, will I stay in Germany or will I return to the Netherlands, had an extra impact on my contemplation:
"(But if love itself is a journey, the old man argued, why would you need to leave?) Good question, well, for example, in order to come back, in order to be sure you're in the right place. How can you know that if you've never left it? (That's how I know I love Wandernburg, replied the organ grinder, because I don't want to leave.)" (TC)
Some remarks of the novel reverberated a long time in me which leads me to another quote from Andrés' latest book Hablar solos:
"I wonder sometimes if we unconsciously choose the books we are to read. Or if books, those intelligent creatures, choose their readers and take care to be noticed." (from Stille sprekers, my translation)
And there is more of it:
"One contemporary novelist, Professor Mietter went on, has suggested that the novel [...], the modern novel mirrors our customs, that ideas are irrelevant and only observation matters, and everything that happens in life is worth writing about. An interesting notion, and one that accounts for the prevailing bad taste wouldn't you agree? [...] This idea, said Sophie, of the modern novel as a mirror is much bandied about these days, but what if we ourselves were the mirrors? I mean, what if we, the readers, were a reflection of the customs and events narrated in the novel?" (TC)
Though the novel Traveller of the Century is placed in the 18th century, it reveals ongoing discussions that still have effect on our global world these days. Sometimes, reading these discussions in the book, I hesitated if Andrés wasn't 'mirroring' current events: "So every week I go to the market square touting for work, I talk to the farmers who are there selling produce and if I'm lucky they offer me a day's labour, or more, weeding, tilling, sowing, you know. The worst thing isn't when you stand there waiting to be hired and they look at you as if you were a dried up turd, it's ending the day wondering if you'll get any more work."
Is the novel only about historical events or are these current events draped in historical garments? Or does Andrés cleverly show us that history repeats itself and there isn't much new under the sun? As mentioned above, it sometimes was a struggle to get through to its essence and I admit that I am still working on it. Yet, to limit Andrés to this one (historical) novel won't do justice to this fascinating writer - his latest book Hablar Solos / Talking to Ourselves / Stille sprekers is about death and reveals a very human approach to it. Certainly, you'll find his love for philosophy and exchange of ideas also in this book but its point of view is much more focused and centres on questions of human behaviour.
Both books (besides others!) reveal Andrés as a very intelligent author caring for details, thinking things through. It also shows by the list of prizes, awards and nominations. I could mention them all to underline his quality. Trust me, it won't do (extra) justice to this exceptional writer. He beams and shines and every word he says is a thorough revelation. He is alert and wary of things happening in this world and able to link unthought-of ideas and make new and inspiring associations. At one discussion he revealed himself as a fervent user of twitter, blog and co. So, when you are able to read Spanish, go ahead and enjoy! For the rest of us read his books and feel inspired.
P.S.: Unfortunately, 'German only' readers still have to wait - there are no translations yet!
And it can been a struggle sometimes to read this fascinating novel by Andrés, though a rewarding one. Certainly because of the exceptional beautiful tone and language (my due respect to Nick Caistor & Lorenza Garcia for the translation) but also because of all those elaborate thoughts and ideas and concepts Andrés weaves into the story. A book some readers would dismiss because of the missing action. So, don't look for action or plot, but feel the impact the story and the lives of the characters have on you. Obviously, Andrés loves to dispute, discuss and argue and you as a reader get thoroughly involved. Another quote:
"Half-an-hour with her head buried in a book. Half-an-hour reading, becoming someone else." (TC)
 |
| YH at Bacharach, Rhine |
"(But if love itself is a journey, the old man argued, why would you need to leave?) Good question, well, for example, in order to come back, in order to be sure you're in the right place. How can you know that if you've never left it? (That's how I know I love Wandernburg, replied the organ grinder, because I don't want to leave.)" (TC)
Some remarks of the novel reverberated a long time in me which leads me to another quote from Andrés' latest book Hablar solos:
"I wonder sometimes if we unconsciously choose the books we are to read. Or if books, those intelligent creatures, choose their readers and take care to be noticed." (from Stille sprekers, my translation)And there is more of it:
"One contemporary novelist, Professor Mietter went on, has suggested that the novel [...], the modern novel mirrors our customs, that ideas are irrelevant and only observation matters, and everything that happens in life is worth writing about. An interesting notion, and one that accounts for the prevailing bad taste wouldn't you agree? [...] This idea, said Sophie, of the modern novel as a mirror is much bandied about these days, but what if we ourselves were the mirrors? I mean, what if we, the readers, were a reflection of the customs and events narrated in the novel?" (TC)
Though the novel Traveller of the Century is placed in the 18th century, it reveals ongoing discussions that still have effect on our global world these days. Sometimes, reading these discussions in the book, I hesitated if Andrés wasn't 'mirroring' current events: "So every week I go to the market square touting for work, I talk to the farmers who are there selling produce and if I'm lucky they offer me a day's labour, or more, weeding, tilling, sowing, you know. The worst thing isn't when you stand there waiting to be hired and they look at you as if you were a dried up turd, it's ending the day wondering if you'll get any more work."
Is the novel only about historical events or are these current events draped in historical garments? Or does Andrés cleverly show us that history repeats itself and there isn't much new under the sun? As mentioned above, it sometimes was a struggle to get through to its essence and I admit that I am still working on it. Yet, to limit Andrés to this one (historical) novel won't do justice to this fascinating writer - his latest book Hablar Solos / Talking to Ourselves / Stille sprekers is about death and reveals a very human approach to it. Certainly, you'll find his love for philosophy and exchange of ideas also in this book but its point of view is much more focused and centres on questions of human behaviour.
Both books (besides others!) reveal Andrés as a very intelligent author caring for details, thinking things through. It also shows by the list of prizes, awards and nominations. I could mention them all to underline his quality. Trust me, it won't do (extra) justice to this exceptional writer. He beams and shines and every word he says is a thorough revelation. He is alert and wary of things happening in this world and able to link unthought-of ideas and make new and inspiring associations. At one discussion he revealed himself as a fervent user of twitter, blog and co. So, when you are able to read Spanish, go ahead and enjoy! For the rest of us read his books and feel inspired.
P.S.: Unfortunately, 'German only' readers still have to wait - there are no translations yet!
Quote of the Month - August 2014
"She did not know what was expected of her.
She had nearly reached him when suddenly, on an outward gust of air, he half said, half announced, a name: 'Wuraola.'
Who?
She froze, not knowing what to say or do.
Of course, she knew that Wuraola was her Yoruba name, the name that her grandfather had asked in a letter for her to be called when her mother had held her Nigerian naming ceremony. Wuraola means gold.
She knew all this...
...but nobody had ever called her Wuraola, not even her mother, whom she could now see from the corner of her eye making anxious, silent gestures for her to go to her grandfather.
Here, in this stone-walled corridor where the sunlight came in through enormous, stiff mosquito screens over each window and her clothes clung to her like another skin, Wuraola sounded like another person. Not her at all.
Should she answer to this name, and by doing so steal the identity of someone who belonged here?
Should she...become Wuraola?
But how?"
From The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi (2005)
She had nearly reached him when suddenly, on an outward gust of air, he half said, half announced, a name: 'Wuraola.'
Who?
She froze, not knowing what to say or do.
Of course, she knew that Wuraola was her Yoruba name, the name that her grandfather had asked in a letter for her to be called when her mother had held her Nigerian naming ceremony. Wuraola means gold.
She knew all this...
...but nobody had ever called her Wuraola, not even her mother, whom she could now see from the corner of her eye making anxious, silent gestures for her to go to her grandfather.
Here, in this stone-walled corridor where the sunlight came in through enormous, stiff mosquito screens over each window and her clothes clung to her like another skin, Wuraola sounded like another person. Not her at all.
Should she answer to this name, and by doing so steal the identity of someone who belonged here?
Should she...become Wuraola?
But how?"
From The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi (2005)
Helen Oyeyemi *1984
I love reading books in English - it's such a vast land out there and gladly, English is becoming a global language transporting unfamiliar ideas to broaden our limited knowledge.
Take Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones - I only knew 'bougainvillea' as a beautiful plant so far - never knew about a Bougainville island let alone about a crucial civil war in the 1990s on it. Probably, I could have looked it up in some history book and it is actually on Wikipedia - but truth be told: to have the incidents described from the innocent point of view of a child makes it more impressive and long-lasting.
And so it happened with another book I had chosen for The English Book Club last season (see the extra page on this blog): Starbook by Ben Okri. While preparing the session I came across the Yoruba Philosophy, embodied in the Ifa-ife Divination, known as the tripartite Book of Enlightenment. The novel's underlying Yoruba philosophy and its mixture of reality and imagination (actually 'dreamtime' - now think of the Aborigines...), made it like undergoing a time and sense expanding experience.
All in all, it left me ashamed of my limited European centred knowledge of Enlightenment and here I quote from Wikipedia: "Yoruba thought is mainly narrative in form, explicating and pointing to the knowledge of things, affecting the corporeal and the spiritual universe and its wellness. Yoruba people have hundreds of aphorisms, folktales, and lore, and they believe that any lore that widens people's horizons and presents food for thought is the beginning of a philosophy." This is exactly what happens with a lot of books I read and what I meant to say above: reading books is certainly widening your horizon!
And then I came across Helen Oyeyemi's book The Icarus Girl on my shelf, actually a remainder of my visit to the EdBookFest in 2011 (unfortunately, I didn't meet her). Another book largely enmeshed in the Yoruba philosophy and in this particular book the very special view on twins, but that's to you to find out by reading it...
So, another book written in the spirit of this particular African mythology and the playful usage of the literary theme of doubles. But, as usual, my focus will be here on Helen.
Helen was born in Nigeria and moved to England in 1988 at the age of four. She wrote The Icarus Girl in 2005 while still sitting for her A-level at The Vaughan in London, not yet 19 years old! While reading at Cambridge University, two of her plays, Juniper's Whitening and Victimese, were performed by fellow students. In 2007, her second book The Opposite House followed and in 2009 White is for Witching, which won the Somerset Maugham Award. In 2011, her fourth novel Mr. Fox and just this year, 2014, her latest book Boy, Snow, Bird were published. For those who follow my blog for some time: she is another author of the Granta 123: Best of Young British Novelists issue of 2013 with a short excerpt of her latest book. And those of you who've read all those quotes by Zora Neale Hurston lately: Helen's fourth novel was nominated for the Hurston/Wright Legacy Award!
She is a promising author with a quality on its own - mythical, magical, witty and spiritual, close to fairy tales in its imagination and fantasy. She is widely related by reviews to Edgar Allen Poe in its mysticism. Yet, I think this is limited in praise and is mainly because her writing is so original that assessments come short of what her writing is and does, being closely connected to her inner knowledge of other mythologies. As mentioned above, her writing is closely related to her African/ Yoruba background which leaves European points of views with a void. A void in relating to forms of 'reality' in connection to the spiritual and multilevel realities. There is a lot to learn out there and we can expect more of this gifted author!
And so it happened with another book I had chosen for The English Book Club last season (see the extra page on this blog): Starbook by Ben Okri. While preparing the session I came across the Yoruba Philosophy, embodied in the Ifa-ife Divination, known as the tripartite Book of Enlightenment. The novel's underlying Yoruba philosophy and its mixture of reality and imagination (actually 'dreamtime' - now think of the Aborigines...), made it like undergoing a time and sense expanding experience.All in all, it left me ashamed of my limited European centred knowledge of Enlightenment and here I quote from Wikipedia: "Yoruba thought is mainly narrative in form, explicating and pointing to the knowledge of things, affecting the corporeal and the spiritual universe and its wellness. Yoruba people have hundreds of aphorisms, folktales, and lore, and they believe that any lore that widens people's horizons and presents food for thought is the beginning of a philosophy." This is exactly what happens with a lot of books I read and what I meant to say above: reading books is certainly widening your horizon!
So, another book written in the spirit of this particular African mythology and the playful usage of the literary theme of doubles. But, as usual, my focus will be here on Helen.
Helen was born in Nigeria and moved to England in 1988 at the age of four. She wrote The Icarus Girl in 2005 while still sitting for her A-level at The Vaughan in London, not yet 19 years old! While reading at Cambridge University, two of her plays, Juniper's Whitening and Victimese, were performed by fellow students. In 2007, her second book The Opposite House followed and in 2009 White is for Witching, which won the Somerset Maugham Award. In 2011, her fourth novel Mr. Fox and just this year, 2014, her latest book Boy, Snow, Bird were published. For those who follow my blog for some time: she is another author of the Granta 123: Best of Young British Novelists issue of 2013 with a short excerpt of her latest book. And those of you who've read all those quotes by Zora Neale Hurston lately: Helen's fourth novel was nominated for the Hurston/Wright Legacy Award!
She is a promising author with a quality on its own - mythical, magical, witty and spiritual, close to fairy tales in its imagination and fantasy. She is widely related by reviews to Edgar Allen Poe in its mysticism. Yet, I think this is limited in praise and is mainly because her writing is so original that assessments come short of what her writing is and does, being closely connected to her inner knowledge of other mythologies. As mentioned above, her writing is closely related to her African/ Yoruba background which leaves European points of views with a void. A void in relating to forms of 'reality' in connection to the spiritual and multilevel realities. There is a lot to learn out there and we can expect more of this gifted author!
Quote of the Month - July 2014
"Though books were potentially harmful, novels were all the more dangerous. The path of fiction could easily mislead you into the cosmos of stories where everything was fluid, quixotic, and as open to surprises as a moonless night in the desert. Before you knew it you could be so carried away that you could lose touch with reality - that stringent and stolid truth from which no minority should ever veer too far from in order not to end up unguarded when the winds shifted and bad times arrived. [...]
Imagination was a dangerously captivating magic for those compelled to be realistic in life, and words could be poisonous for those destined always to be silenced."
From The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak
Imagination was a dangerously captivating magic for those compelled to be realistic in life, and words could be poisonous for those destined always to be silenced."
From The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak
Elif Shafak *1971
Some odd months ago, I had been to my favourite bookshop in Amsterdam: The English Bookshop in the Jordaan. I hardly leave the shop without a bagful of books. So, without much information I bought the title The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak, having a notion about the title but no further knowledge about the book.
Finally, I've found time to read the book. And the more I read, the more I grew curious about the author daring to fictionalise a very complex subject: the relationship between Armenians and Turks. It's not a political novel though she had been prosecuted for it (the charges were dropped later). It has a very different approach with the focus on a female perspective, a perspective that is less focused on political statements but on historical facts and the impact these facts have on the successors.
Her focus on a female point of view could be related to Elif's upbringing: When Elif, née Elif Bilgin in Strasbourg, was one year old, her Turkish parents separated and she grew up with her single mother, Shafak. Her mother, whose name Elif took on as her pen name, later became a diplomat which also meant that Elif grew up in various places around the world: Madrid, Amman and Istanbul. As she explains in an interview with the CNN (see here), it has been her imagination which helped her to make her feel at home at the various places. So she began writing at a very young age and published her first stories at the age of 23. With her first book Pinhan (The Mystic), published in 1997, she was awarded with The Great Rumi-Prize, given to the best works in mystical literature in Turkey. Another eight novels followed written either in Turkish or in English, awarded with various prizes and nominations and translated in numerous languages. Concurrently, she holds a Master's degree in Gender and Women's Studies and a PhD in Political Sciences, writes for major international newspapers in Turkish and English, sits in various councils and judgement panels and is active on Twitter, while commuting between Istanbul and London. A very impressive biography which leaves one breathless reading her various social and political roles and activities.
Yet, she is also an inspiring woman on a different level: When she gave birth to her daughter in 2006, Elif suffered from postpartum depression. Instead of masking her illness she went public and wrote her memoir Black Milk about the time of readjusting her inner self (check my blog on 'inner selves' - June 2013). As she was looking for other female writers, this time not for inspiration in writing but for their lives, she realized that becoming a mother brings along questions about one's new and extended identity. How to combine her previous activities and roles with her new role as a mother and the subsequent expectations of family and society. As she says in an interview: "Writing Black Milk helped me to reconstruct myself. Odd as it may sound, depressions are golden opportunities to reassemble our inner pieces. [...] You can't be your usual self, you can't do the things you have always taken for granted. In that utter chaos there is an astonishing potential to achieve a new order." (find here the interview on WildRiverReview) So Elif reassembled her inner pieces and continued writing about various subjects while breaking down categories and clichés of identity, society and history. An inspiring and courageous woman and writer - check your local bookshop (!) and you'll certainly find one of her books which is worth reading.
Being inspired not only by her book but as much by her life, I will present her in March 2015 at one of the various events around International Women's Day held in Aalen (D).
Her focus on a female point of view could be related to Elif's upbringing: When Elif, née Elif Bilgin in Strasbourg, was one year old, her Turkish parents separated and she grew up with her single mother, Shafak. Her mother, whose name Elif took on as her pen name, later became a diplomat which also meant that Elif grew up in various places around the world: Madrid, Amman and Istanbul. As she explains in an interview with the CNN (see here), it has been her imagination which helped her to make her feel at home at the various places. So she began writing at a very young age and published her first stories at the age of 23. With her first book Pinhan (The Mystic), published in 1997, she was awarded with The Great Rumi-Prize, given to the best works in mystical literature in Turkey. Another eight novels followed written either in Turkish or in English, awarded with various prizes and nominations and translated in numerous languages. Concurrently, she holds a Master's degree in Gender and Women's Studies and a PhD in Political Sciences, writes for major international newspapers in Turkish and English, sits in various councils and judgement panels and is active on Twitter, while commuting between Istanbul and London. A very impressive biography which leaves one breathless reading her various social and political roles and activities.
Yet, she is also an inspiring woman on a different level: When she gave birth to her daughter in 2006, Elif suffered from postpartum depression. Instead of masking her illness she went public and wrote her memoir Black Milk about the time of readjusting her inner self (check my blog on 'inner selves' - June 2013). As she was looking for other female writers, this time not for inspiration in writing but for their lives, she realized that becoming a mother brings along questions about one's new and extended identity. How to combine her previous activities and roles with her new role as a mother and the subsequent expectations of family and society. As she says in an interview: "Writing Black Milk helped me to reconstruct myself. Odd as it may sound, depressions are golden opportunities to reassemble our inner pieces. [...] You can't be your usual self, you can't do the things you have always taken for granted. In that utter chaos there is an astonishing potential to achieve a new order." (find here the interview on WildRiverReview) So Elif reassembled her inner pieces and continued writing about various subjects while breaking down categories and clichés of identity, society and history. An inspiring and courageous woman and writer - check your local bookshop (!) and you'll certainly find one of her books which is worth reading.
Being inspired not only by her book but as much by her life, I will present her in March 2015 at one of the various events around International Women's Day held in Aalen (D).
Quote of the Month - June 2014
"These sitters had been tongueless, earless, eyeless conveniences all day long. Mules and other brutes had occupied their skins. But now, the sun and the bossman were gone, so the skins felt powerful and human. They became lords of sounds and lesser things. They passed nations through their mouths."
From Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurstion (1937)
From Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurstion (1937)
Zora Neale Hurston (1891/1901 - 1960)
Zora was born... so
much is clear. Her birth date as well as her birthplace are
still subject of discussion resulting from the historical status of
Afro-Americans. They weren't considered full-term citizens and were
treated indifferently. At least we know that she was the fifth child
(out of eight) by preacher, farmer and carpenter John Hurston and his
wife Lucy Ann Potts. And again, it's unclear where she was born; at
least it is certain that she grew up in Eatonville, Florida in the
United States of America. Remarkably, Eatonville was the first
incorporated town and Zora's father became major of then 125
inhabitants. To Zora, this place became her utopia, a society free of
any racial restrictions. It also became the setting for many of her
novels presenting a community with only their inner limitations and
no racial harassment.
When Zora was thirteen years old her mother died, the family was split and the children were passed around the family. With little schooling, Zora worked as a household help and only with the aid of an employer did she have the chance to enter Morgan Academy in Baltimore in 1917. After graduation, Zora moved on to Howard University in 1918. Inspired by Alan Locke, professor of philosophy and an authority of Black culture, Zora decided to pursue a literary career. She published several short stories in various magazines taking her Eatonville background as a setting and became noted by poets as Langston Hughes and Countee Cullen, both active in the movement of the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s. When Zora decided to move on to Barnard College, a women's liberal arts college in Manhattan, being offered a scholarship in anthropology, she became quickly a well recognized member of the movement. Zora and her stories, a mixture of anthropological findings and oral stories of the rural South made her a major figure in the movement. Still her stories were received not only with praise for its vivid and original tone, its manifold metaphors and images but also criticised for being misrepresentative. The deep rooted wish of the members of the Harlem Renaissance to be recognized as full term citizens ran contrary to Zora's depiction of her characters as sovereign and original figures with their very own inner styles – no copies of the established, intellectual 'Negro' and no 'Nigger' that bows to any Jim Crow laws. Zora's characters are individual figures with all intrinsic contradictions combined with the folk-lore of their historical background: independent, individual and proud. But obviously, Zora's time had not yet come and she died in obscurity. Her literary rediscovery was made by Alice Walker who reread her novels and claimed her as her 'literary grandmother'. But also Nobel prize winner Toni Morrison took on Zora's style to continue telling the story of a bruised race.
Most of the quotations of the last four months were taken from her novel Their Eyes Were Watching God which is considered Zora's master work – actually it's the 'one novel' I would take with me on an island: her depiction of the main character's search of her womanhood is exemplary of any woman's search for her uniqueness interwoven with beautiful images and metaphors – just beautiful!
When Zora was thirteen years old her mother died, the family was split and the children were passed around the family. With little schooling, Zora worked as a household help and only with the aid of an employer did she have the chance to enter Morgan Academy in Baltimore in 1917. After graduation, Zora moved on to Howard University in 1918. Inspired by Alan Locke, professor of philosophy and an authority of Black culture, Zora decided to pursue a literary career. She published several short stories in various magazines taking her Eatonville background as a setting and became noted by poets as Langston Hughes and Countee Cullen, both active in the movement of the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s. When Zora decided to move on to Barnard College, a women's liberal arts college in Manhattan, being offered a scholarship in anthropology, she became quickly a well recognized member of the movement. Zora and her stories, a mixture of anthropological findings and oral stories of the rural South made her a major figure in the movement. Still her stories were received not only with praise for its vivid and original tone, its manifold metaphors and images but also criticised for being misrepresentative. The deep rooted wish of the members of the Harlem Renaissance to be recognized as full term citizens ran contrary to Zora's depiction of her characters as sovereign and original figures with their very own inner styles – no copies of the established, intellectual 'Negro' and no 'Nigger' that bows to any Jim Crow laws. Zora's characters are individual figures with all intrinsic contradictions combined with the folk-lore of their historical background: independent, individual and proud. But obviously, Zora's time had not yet come and she died in obscurity. Her literary rediscovery was made by Alice Walker who reread her novels and claimed her as her 'literary grandmother'. But also Nobel prize winner Toni Morrison took on Zora's style to continue telling the story of a bruised race.
Most of the quotations of the last four months were taken from her novel Their Eyes Were Watching God which is considered Zora's master work – actually it's the 'one novel' I would take with me on an island: her depiction of the main character's search of her womanhood is exemplary of any woman's search for her uniqueness interwoven with beautiful images and metaphors – just beautiful!
Quote of the Month - May 2014
"No I do not weep at the world -
I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife"
From How it Feels to be Colored Me by Zora Neale Hurston (1928)
Quote of the Month - April 2014
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others, they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by time.
Now women, forget all those things they don't want to remember, and remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly."
From "Their Eyes Were Watching God" by Zora Neale Hurston (1937)
Now women, forget all those things they don't want to remember, and remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly."
From "Their Eyes Were Watching God" by Zora Neale Hurston (1937)
Quote of the Month - March 2014
"Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see."
From Their Eyes Are Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston (1937)
From Their Eyes Are Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston (1937)
Zora Neale Hurston (1)
As I am in the middle of a new life experience I didn't get around to have a quote of the month made on time. Still, couldn't go without any...so for the time being there is a quote and the promise to reveal more of my favourite author on the long run. In the meantime enjoy her quotes!
Quote of the Month - February 2014
"...i want to thank everybody for the experience of the 2014 writers unlimited festival. it was really a necessary breath for me and it is always essential to meet new people. thank you also for the opportunity to be associated with the other writers and being able to be on stage with antjie [krog]."E-mail by Andries Samuel, South African poet and participant of the 19th edition of the Writers Unlimited literary festival
Writers Unlimited winternachten festival Den Haag, 16 - 19 January
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What a fantastic literary festival it has been! For four days, Den Haag/The Hague (NL) wasn't only the national city of peace and justice, but also host to the international literary festival Writers Unlimited 2014. The festival where writers meet others to discuss on a set of various themes. This year the focus has been on social media with its main focus on "LIKE ME".
Take the discussion on the Friday evening with its headline: "LIKE ME. PLEASE LIKE ME." The literary panel consisted of Amin Maalouf (F/LB), Aminatta Forna (GB/SL; see Quote of the Month - November 2013), Andrés Neuman (ES/AR), Fouad Laroui (NL/MA). It hasn't been about the newest book by one of the authors - it has been about the various approaches to social media, as facebook, twitter and blogger. As some of the authors explained, they are actually enjoying the exchange of ideas on the internet whereas others openly stated their aversion to it facing the accusation that they are being snobs or arrogant. A discussion totally on the impact of the subject on the authors. The writer as a personality stood in the centre of the discussion and Sheila Sitalsing did a wonderful job as moderator.
According to Ton van de Langkruis, director and founder of the festival, the Writers Unlimited winternachten festival in Den Haag is one of the literary festivals where the author stands central. Not her or his latest publication - though that is a welcome side effect because people certainly get curious about the books. But to Ton, it's the discussion, the exchange of ideas, the various points of view of the various authors that form the centre of the festival. And we, as audience are welcome to join and enjoy!
How did I enjoy those days! Just a few highlights: Antjie Krog from South Africa was one of the outstanding authors that had her poems on her grandchild presented with the headline: "My verre-verste kind" (=my far-farthest child) on Saturday night. What heartbreaking images on being a grandmother to a grandchild that lives miles away talking in a different language. How to connect? How to relate? And Wende, a Dutch singer-songwriter, put Antjie's poems in Afrikaans on music and made an impressive stage performance that certainly was breathtaking.
Not to mention Antjie's laudatory 'speech' on Tom Lanoye who received the Constantijn Huygens-prijs on Sunday for his complete oeuvre. What a show! What craft! Her own performance has been an excellent proof of her craftsmanship in poetry!
And please, don't tell me that poetry is dead. Arie Boomsma presented various poets: debut poet Kira Wuck (NL) next to honoured poet Alfred Schaffer (NL/SA), Rodaan al Galidi (NL/IQ) and the nominees of the VSB poetry prize Miriam van Hee (NL) and Antoine de Kom (NL). Everybody on the biggest stage of the festival! The hall was packed and everybody stood clapping in the end to Typhoon's musical poetry performance. Poetry has certainly been alive that evening.
But there had been also some serious discussions: 'Don't trust the experts! Question their knowledge!' - Noreena Hertz, British economist and author to the book Eyes Wide Open in discussion with Femke Halsema, former Dutch politician. Everybody probably agreed and didn't think she had something new to tell since Europeans tend to be overcritical. But then the turn in her argumentation: 'WikiLeaks isn't doing a good job - some things need to be secret...!' What an eye-opener, she was just contradicting herself!
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Not to forget the side shows: "De tekst van mijn leven / The Text of my Life" where authors had the opportunity to present a text to which they return regularly on behalf of inspiration. An intimate moment with the author in a side wing of the building and a casual meeting with the audience. To which text does an author return to for various reasons? And why? Interesting to learn about the various points of view. And these are only the highlights - there had been more fantastic programmes with wonderful personalities - check the website of the festival www.winternachten.nl and enjoy the videos (also in English) that had been taped. To those of you being able to read Dutch: there is also a special edition of the literary journal TIRADE with essays and poems by all participants: authors and musicians.
As for one young author - he impressed me so much - that'll be another "Quote of the Month"...
Quote of the Month - January 2014
The silence before
I hear my mother's voice -
New Year's phone call
Kiyoko Tokutomi (1929 - 2002)
Sometimes it needs only a few words to express a certain feeling. I liked this simple but strong haiku by Kiyoko for it expresses this rare feeling when children, living away from home, realise that their parents are getting old. Nowadays, a current haiku would focus on the fact that some elders won't realise that they ARE actually online while still checking their computer...
Kiyoko Tokutomi was born in a small farming community called Nabeshima, near Nagasaki, Japan. The family earned their living by raising silk worms. She attended the Saga Girls' High School and enrolled to the Saga Teachers' College. That summer in 1945, America had a nuclear bomb dropped on Nagasaki. The family survived by hiding in caves in the nearby mountains but lost family members. In 1948, Kiyoko majored in Japanese literature with the emphasis on haiku and became a teacher at Nabashima in literature and dance. There she met her future husband Kiyoshi who was born in America. He was sent to Japan earlier on by his Japanese mother when his father had died. A time of hardship followed during wartime and Kiyoko was mainly busy attending to Kiyoshi who had developed tuberculosis. When he had the possibility Kiyoshi returned to America in 1951, inviting Kiyoko to follow. Kiyoko came to America only in 1954 unable to read or speak in English. It took Kiyoko another three years to fully integrate into her new language. Because of her husband's illness, she took on a job and was continually promoted for her accuracy. She was noted for having an eye for details and her well-developed sense of aesthetics is reflected in her haiku.
Later on, she succeeded to win her husband for her passion - writing haiku. In 1975, they founded the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society. They taught English-speaking writers to write haiku focusing mainly on the essence of the kigo, the traditional haiku form, and the importance of simplicity. The cited haiku is a beautiful example for that. Another simple but strong haiku I like is a beautiful 'picture' of the English saying "Take time to smell the flowers":
Wisteria:
inside its fragrance
I pause
Kiyoshi died in 1987 and Kiyoko continued the work at the society they had started writing haiku in both Japanese and English. In 1999, she was named dojin in Kari, a designation given to the most accomplished members. In 2000, the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society celebrated its 25th anniversary and in September 2001, she read at the celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United States–Japanese Peace Treaty. That time Kiyoko was also diagnosed with cancer and Alzheimer's disease. Still, she continued writing haiku and visited Japan in August 2002, seeing her hometown, siblings and childhood friends. This would be her final visit to Japan. Kiyoko died on Christmas Day, 2002, two weeks after a final performance at the Yuki Teikei's winter party where the above mentioned book was being presented.
And since haikus are short - here another haiku from Kiyoko from the book haiku mind I've bought at the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh which made me aware of this particular writer:
shaking
the packet of seeds
asking, are you still alive?
Have a wonderful and inspiring year 2014!
Kiyoko Tokutomi was born in a small farming community called Nabeshima, near Nagasaki, Japan. The family earned their living by raising silk worms. She attended the Saga Girls' High School and enrolled to the Saga Teachers' College. That summer in 1945, America had a nuclear bomb dropped on Nagasaki. The family survived by hiding in caves in the nearby mountains but lost family members. In 1948, Kiyoko majored in Japanese literature with the emphasis on haiku and became a teacher at Nabashima in literature and dance. There she met her future husband Kiyoshi who was born in America. He was sent to Japan earlier on by his Japanese mother when his father had died. A time of hardship followed during wartime and Kiyoko was mainly busy attending to Kiyoshi who had developed tuberculosis. When he had the possibility Kiyoshi returned to America in 1951, inviting Kiyoko to follow. Kiyoko came to America only in 1954 unable to read or speak in English. It took Kiyoko another three years to fully integrate into her new language. Because of her husband's illness, she took on a job and was continually promoted for her accuracy. She was noted for having an eye for details and her well-developed sense of aesthetics is reflected in her haiku.
Later on, she succeeded to win her husband for her passion - writing haiku. In 1975, they founded the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society. They taught English-speaking writers to write haiku focusing mainly on the essence of the kigo, the traditional haiku form, and the importance of simplicity. The cited haiku is a beautiful example for that. Another simple but strong haiku I like is a beautiful 'picture' of the English saying "Take time to smell the flowers":
Wisteria:
inside its fragrance
I pause
Kiyoshi died in 1987 and Kiyoko continued the work at the society they had started writing haiku in both Japanese and English. In 1999, she was named dojin in Kari, a designation given to the most accomplished members. In 2000, the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society celebrated its 25th anniversary and in September 2001, she read at the celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United States–Japanese Peace Treaty. That time Kiyoko was also diagnosed with cancer and Alzheimer's disease. Still, she continued writing haiku and visited Japan in August 2002, seeing her hometown, siblings and childhood friends. This would be her final visit to Japan. Kiyoko died on Christmas Day, 2002, two weeks after a final performance at the Yuki Teikei's winter party where the above mentioned book was being presented.
And since haikus are short - here another haiku from Kiyoko from the book haiku mind I've bought at the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh which made me aware of this particular writer:shaking
the packet of seeds
asking, are you still alive?
Have a wonderful and inspiring year 2014!
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