"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)
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!
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