So I first read One Day in October 2015 as part of my 52 book challenge that year. I loved it. I can still remember bits from the novel almost 5 years on, not just the plot but the actual words in order. I can also still remember the text I got from my mother (I gave her the novel translated in Dutch for her birthday) when she'd finished it and was heart-broken in the same way I'd been. So with all this stay-at-home mayhem going on, I decided it was time for some rereading, and I picked One Day up again.
I still loved it. Even knowing what was going to happen, how everything was going to turn out, I loved the story, I loved the characters. Reading it again, I was struck by how cleverly the story turns in on itself, ending just where it began, a writer's trick I missed the first time around. Since finishing it, I've felt slightly sad, like the main characters are people I've come to know and spend part of my life with, and now they've somehow gone and all I have a memories. Bits of the story keep coming back to me, almost visually, as if I really was there and really did see it happen. Jonathan Coe says on the blurb: "You really do put the book down with the hallucinatory feeling that they've become as well known to you as your closest friends" and I couldn't agree more.
I also thought back of my own life 5 years ago and now, comparing the 29 year-old with the 34 year-old, wondering whether I identified more with the characters in the earlier part of the novel than in the second, as I did now. David Nicholls really knows how to write people, to put a person of a certain age and disposition on the page.
Plus, he is very very funny.
So if you haven't already, do read this novel. Ignore Sweet Sorrow, ignore Us, just read One Day.
Sunday, 19 April 2020
Monday, 13 April 2020
Girl, woman, other
It has been some time since I finished reading Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo, but somehow I didn't feel reflective/introspective in a literary sense, so I haven't written about it. But now I've started reading another novel that will require thinking about, so before this one gets too far lost, I'll put something out here.
Girl, Woman, Other won the Man Booker last year, so traditionally it should have been my first read of 2020, but as the whole Man Booker committee decided to do things a bit differently this year (awarding the prize to two authors) I chose to do the same. I'd been reading Frankissstein, which also concerns issues of transsexuality and gender, but that didn't really hold my attention, so I decided to switch to this one, as it supposedly dealt with some similar issues. On the surface that is probably true, but in the writing style, character development, depth of themes and use of language things differ quite a bit. In favour of the latter, obviously.
The novel starts with Amma, walking to the premiere of her play at the National. She has been struggling as a black female playwright for years, but this feels like her big break. We learn about her past, present, the way she sees herself in society, and the way society has treated her. The next chapter is written from the point of view of Jazz, Amma's daughter, and concerns many of the same topics, but now seen through the lens of a confident millennial, finding her mother outdated the way children the world over do at some point in their lives. The next chapter concerns Dominque, Amma's playwright friend who moved to the US. And so on and so forth; we meet 12 characters, all women, all somehow connected to at least one other character in the novel. Slowly, the past of several generations begins to unfold, with all the drama that can take place in a human life.
The way the stories are interconnected is clear at first but becomes more opaque later on in the novel, until at some point I had a major a-ha moment when I could connect two storylines that seemed set far apart in space and time. Then the whole novel somehow came together, like a drawstring pulling the story tight. This felt like a magical moment, which was somewhat spoiled by the epilogue in which the author puts the connection between the two characters on a platter and pushes our face in it, as if it needed extra emphasis. She could easily have left that out.
This is the only major flaw of the novel, there are some other minor issues, cracks where you can see Evaristo working hard to keep the story together. Otherwise her writing style is very nice, similar to Sally Rooney and Anna Burns in that she doesn't use capitals or interpunction, so sometimes the lines
consist
of
just
one
word
for reasons of emphasis, or because a character is slowly dawning on a realisation. This might have been annoying or show-y in the hands of a less experienced author, but to me it felt like the novel flowed. Even when jumping in time or space from one part to the next, there were no hard stops or bumpy transitions within the chapters and I just kept reading and reading. The characters all felt unique and equipped with their own tone of voice and world view, which could sometimes be contested by the way other characters saw them, showing just how much we're willing to lie to ourselves about ourselves.
With all these black female characters the novel is sure to be put in the 'feminist' or 'black empowerment' corner (or both), but to me it just felt like real lives, of real people. Maybe the lives of people whose voices haven't been heard that often in literature, and I fully agree with the novel being awarded the Man Booker, but mostly because it tells stories of human nature, of human interactions and of human failure. It is an insight into 12 meaningful lives and experiences, and well worth reading.
Girl, Woman, Other won the Man Booker last year, so traditionally it should have been my first read of 2020, but as the whole Man Booker committee decided to do things a bit differently this year (awarding the prize to two authors) I chose to do the same. I'd been reading Frankissstein, which also concerns issues of transsexuality and gender, but that didn't really hold my attention, so I decided to switch to this one, as it supposedly dealt with some similar issues. On the surface that is probably true, but in the writing style, character development, depth of themes and use of language things differ quite a bit. In favour of the latter, obviously.
The novel starts with Amma, walking to the premiere of her play at the National. She has been struggling as a black female playwright for years, but this feels like her big break. We learn about her past, present, the way she sees herself in society, and the way society has treated her. The next chapter is written from the point of view of Jazz, Amma's daughter, and concerns many of the same topics, but now seen through the lens of a confident millennial, finding her mother outdated the way children the world over do at some point in their lives. The next chapter concerns Dominque, Amma's playwright friend who moved to the US. And so on and so forth; we meet 12 characters, all women, all somehow connected to at least one other character in the novel. Slowly, the past of several generations begins to unfold, with all the drama that can take place in a human life.
The way the stories are interconnected is clear at first but becomes more opaque later on in the novel, until at some point I had a major a-ha moment when I could connect two storylines that seemed set far apart in space and time. Then the whole novel somehow came together, like a drawstring pulling the story tight. This felt like a magical moment, which was somewhat spoiled by the epilogue in which the author puts the connection between the two characters on a platter and pushes our face in it, as if it needed extra emphasis. She could easily have left that out.
This is the only major flaw of the novel, there are some other minor issues, cracks where you can see Evaristo working hard to keep the story together. Otherwise her writing style is very nice, similar to Sally Rooney and Anna Burns in that she doesn't use capitals or interpunction, so sometimes the lines
consist
of
just
one
word
for reasons of emphasis, or because a character is slowly dawning on a realisation. This might have been annoying or show-y in the hands of a less experienced author, but to me it felt like the novel flowed. Even when jumping in time or space from one part to the next, there were no hard stops or bumpy transitions within the chapters and I just kept reading and reading. The characters all felt unique and equipped with their own tone of voice and world view, which could sometimes be contested by the way other characters saw them, showing just how much we're willing to lie to ourselves about ourselves.
With all these black female characters the novel is sure to be put in the 'feminist' or 'black empowerment' corner (or both), but to me it just felt like real lives, of real people. Maybe the lives of people whose voices haven't been heard that often in literature, and I fully agree with the novel being awarded the Man Booker, but mostly because it tells stories of human nature, of human interactions and of human failure. It is an insight into 12 meaningful lives and experiences, and well worth reading.
Tuesday, 21 January 2020
Sweet Sorrow
For the last couple of years, the first book I've read in a year was the Man Booker winner of the previous year. But since the Man Booker people decided to break with tradition by awarding the award to two novelists, I figured I can break my own little tradition too. Not that I don't want to read both novels, they just haven't found their way into my home yet.
So my first read for this year is, and this is in keeping with tradition, the book I was trying to finish last year but that took me longer than expected. In this case, three whole weeks longer. That is probably not a good omen. In 2015, when I was doing my 52 book challenge, I read three David Nicholls books in one year. I remember loving Starter for 10, crying my eyes out over One Day, and feeling slightly disappointed with Us. But overall, I loved his novels. So when Sweet Sorrow came out, a novel about one summer in which love turns everything around, revolving around Romeo & Juliet no less, I was very eager to read it.
I enjoyed the first chapters very much. The main character, Charlie Lewis, brought to mind the protagonist of Starter for 10; clumsy, disorganised, dishonest, but lovable in his own chaotic ways. Charlie isn't doing all that well in school, is maybe hanging out with the wrong crowd a bit, but is cute in his awkwardness. He stumbles upon a group of fellow teenagers rehearsing Romeo & Juliet and finds himself eager to join because of one girl participating; Fran Fisher. She is the most magical creature in the whole world and he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. In this first part, there are some great reflective and descriptive pieces of writing. There is one about 'love at first sight', which goes on for a whole page but includes bits like "It's true that I thought she was lovely, but I thought this about someone five to ten times on any given day and even alone, I thought it while watching TV. It's true that during our first encounter a clear, insistent voice in my head had told me concentrate, this will matter, concentrate, and true, too, that part of this was probably just sex, the noise of which underscored almost any conversation that I had with a girl at that time, like a car alarm that no one can turn off."
But as the story progressed, I found myself liking the main character less and less. Sure, he'd had a shitty childhood, and shitty friends, but he is finding a lot of excuses not to be a better person. Not to work at being a better person. He is mostly ashamed of himself, ashamed of his father, ashamed of his theatre friends to his 'real' friends and the other way around; somehow this character is ashamed of his own existence. Without changing anything about it. And all the witty, wry commentary on life and love and teenage drama goes out the window.
Even worse, I found nothing whatsoever appealing about Fran Fisher. Literally nothing. I cannot see how she can be the great love of his life; she is constantly telling him to change himself, to man up, to put in work, she is letting him dance on a string for her by insisting he joins the theatre company before she will even go out for coffee with him. And if he were able to look back on this (the story is told from the perspective of a forty-year-old Charlie) with some detachment or perspective on the whole this would be okay, but he appears to be the exact same character, despite some of his theatre friends pulling out of his rough situation and trying to make something of him. He's never seen doing anything for himself. Neither is Fran, who is preoccupied only with herself. This is why I put the novel down for several days on end: I really couldn't be bothered to find out what would happen to them. On the back of my copy of the novel is a recommendation by Graham Norton, saying "Capturing perfectly a moment in time we've all experienced". I sincerely hope that not everybody has run into this kind of first love, as it will set you up for a life of broken hearts.
Okay, back to the good parts. For there are some. The novel takes place in 1997, with the characters being 16; I was 12 that year and recognise many of the cultural references and ways 'things are done' around that time. The language, as displayed above, is beautiful as ever, the plot lightly follows Romeo & Juliet's story without being too obvious. It is less arduous than Us, but a long way away from the light wit of Starter for 10 and the deep, emotional love of One Day.
With David Nicholl's writing speed, I'm afraid it'll be another four years before he produces another novel. I sincerely hope his next novel is more like his earlier writings.
So my first read for this year is, and this is in keeping with tradition, the book I was trying to finish last year but that took me longer than expected. In this case, three whole weeks longer. That is probably not a good omen. In 2015, when I was doing my 52 book challenge, I read three David Nicholls books in one year. I remember loving Starter for 10, crying my eyes out over One Day, and feeling slightly disappointed with Us. But overall, I loved his novels. So when Sweet Sorrow came out, a novel about one summer in which love turns everything around, revolving around Romeo & Juliet no less, I was very eager to read it.
I enjoyed the first chapters very much. The main character, Charlie Lewis, brought to mind the protagonist of Starter for 10; clumsy, disorganised, dishonest, but lovable in his own chaotic ways. Charlie isn't doing all that well in school, is maybe hanging out with the wrong crowd a bit, but is cute in his awkwardness. He stumbles upon a group of fellow teenagers rehearsing Romeo & Juliet and finds himself eager to join because of one girl participating; Fran Fisher. She is the most magical creature in the whole world and he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. In this first part, there are some great reflective and descriptive pieces of writing. There is one about 'love at first sight', which goes on for a whole page but includes bits like "It's true that I thought she was lovely, but I thought this about someone five to ten times on any given day and even alone, I thought it while watching TV. It's true that during our first encounter a clear, insistent voice in my head had told me concentrate, this will matter, concentrate, and true, too, that part of this was probably just sex, the noise of which underscored almost any conversation that I had with a girl at that time, like a car alarm that no one can turn off."
But as the story progressed, I found myself liking the main character less and less. Sure, he'd had a shitty childhood, and shitty friends, but he is finding a lot of excuses not to be a better person. Not to work at being a better person. He is mostly ashamed of himself, ashamed of his father, ashamed of his theatre friends to his 'real' friends and the other way around; somehow this character is ashamed of his own existence. Without changing anything about it. And all the witty, wry commentary on life and love and teenage drama goes out the window.
Even worse, I found nothing whatsoever appealing about Fran Fisher. Literally nothing. I cannot see how she can be the great love of his life; she is constantly telling him to change himself, to man up, to put in work, she is letting him dance on a string for her by insisting he joins the theatre company before she will even go out for coffee with him. And if he were able to look back on this (the story is told from the perspective of a forty-year-old Charlie) with some detachment or perspective on the whole this would be okay, but he appears to be the exact same character, despite some of his theatre friends pulling out of his rough situation and trying to make something of him. He's never seen doing anything for himself. Neither is Fran, who is preoccupied only with herself. This is why I put the novel down for several days on end: I really couldn't be bothered to find out what would happen to them. On the back of my copy of the novel is a recommendation by Graham Norton, saying "Capturing perfectly a moment in time we've all experienced". I sincerely hope that not everybody has run into this kind of first love, as it will set you up for a life of broken hearts.
Okay, back to the good parts. For there are some. The novel takes place in 1997, with the characters being 16; I was 12 that year and recognise many of the cultural references and ways 'things are done' around that time. The language, as displayed above, is beautiful as ever, the plot lightly follows Romeo & Juliet's story without being too obvious. It is less arduous than Us, but a long way away from the light wit of Starter for 10 and the deep, emotional love of One Day.
With David Nicholl's writing speed, I'm afraid it'll be another four years before he produces another novel. I sincerely hope his next novel is more like his earlier writings.
Monday, 30 December 2019
Books of 2019
Yes, it's that time of the year again! I was hoping, as always, to add another book to this list, but since that isn't going to happen this year, I may as well post this when the year has still one more day to go. So, I managed to finish 26 books this year, which keeps up my average quite nicely, at a book every 2 weeks. The list is pretty varied, I made some book resolutions a while ago, which I never updated in my books of 2018 post, but of course I didn't think of those as I picked my novels. I discovered some new writers this year, had some big disappointments from writers I love, and overall read more Dutch books than I've done in recent years.
So, without further ado, the complete list:
1 Milkman
2 Conversations with friends
3 Early Riser
4 Taal voor de leuk
5 Alias Grace
6 Friday Black
7 Machines like me
8 There there
9 Warlight
10 Naar de overkant van de nacht
11 Autumn
12 The Most Dangerous Place on Earth
13 Simon vs the Homosapiens agenda
14 Ferrera
15 Winter
16 How to
17 Calypso
18 The Catcher in the Rye
19 The Nickel Boys
20 Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek
21 The Cockroach
22 Maar je ziet er helemaal niet autistisch uit
23 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
24 De meeste mensen deugen
25 Asymmetry
26 Speeddaten met Plato
Just two rereads this year, the Harry Potter novel and Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek. Only one 'classic' novel, too; I'd never read The Catcher in the Rye before. Only a couple books by what I'd call my 'usual suspect' authors; Atwood, McEwan. I would have liked to read some books by Julian Barnes or Graham Swift, but somehow they didn't make their way into my bookcase this year. But on the other hand, I read lots of novels by new authors, either debut novels or new authors to me, which I mostly loved. I've written about several of these already, but let's put some of them into lists.
Best English novel
1 The Nickel Boys
2 Milkman
3 Autumn
So many great books this year. So, so many. But I think this will have to be the list for this year. Surprisingly, these are all authors I've never read before. I read several 'unheard' American voices this year, and Colson Whitehead's novel was the last. I think it was also the best, but maybe that is because I read it last. The Nickel Boys tells a horrible story in a beautiful way. Of all the novels I read this year, it is the one that is still on my mind some days. In contrast, Milkman was my very first read of 2019, and also the winner of the 2018 Man Booker. A deserved win, in my eyes. I don't think I've ever seen pages this densely packed, while getting through the novel at such speed. It is heavy, both in language and subject matter, but the story flows beautifully. Finally, of course, Autumn, by my big discovery Ali Smith. Less heavy subject matter, but giving the sense of togetherness in the novel, contrasted to the recent Brexit events, it will probably become a classic read at some point in time.
While reading them, I was expecting to put Conversations with friends or There there in my best novel list of this year, but overall it was such a great year, other novels found their way to the top. Honourable mentions to both, then.
Best Dutch novel
1 Kruistocht in spijkerbroek
2 Naar de overkant van de nacht
So most Dutch books I read this year were non-fiction, but I read 3 novels, one of which can be found under 'most disappointing' below. So Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek, or Crusade in Jeans, was the children's book sold cheaply this year (Dutch booksellers pick one childrens's book every year to promote reading). I love this novel when I first read it around age 10, and I love it still. Reading it as an adult makes you see loads of things you never realised when you were a child, but that doesn't make the novel any less good. Apparently someone made a film out of this novel, but I'd never watch that, for fear of ruining the images I have in my head. The second novel, Naar de overkant van de nacht, I started reading somewhere in 2017 or 2018, but I found it a pretty hard novel to get through. It's about a man celebrating carnival and thinking about his life. It felt a bit too heavy, too symbolic for my taste, which may explain why it took me so long to get through a novel less than 120 pages long.
Best classic
1 The Catcher in the Rye
If you're the only classic I read, you're going to end up on top. I liked this novel, but reading it after reading several stories featuring contemporary teenagers, Holden does turn out to be a bit of a whiner.
Best non-fiction
1 How to
2 De meeste mensen deugen
3 Taal voor de leuk
Right, enough has be said about How to in the accompanying blogpost. The second book, De meeste mensen deugen, is by Rutger Bregman, who has been getting some international attention due to his comments on the World Economic Forum in Davos. He's written a couple of books already, some of which have been translated into English. I'm pretty sure this novel will be translated as well. It focusses on human nature, specifically on how Hobbes and Rousseau both had opposing views on the matter. As the title (Most people are good) says, Bregman believes people are innately good, it takes a whole lot of effort or desperation to make someone commit criminal and/or violent acts. Being an optimistic person, I loved his view on things, especially the debunking of psychological studies that have become basic knowledge but now turn out to be based on faulty data or assumptions. Taal voor de leuk is by Paulien Cornelisse and features some of her columns on the Dutch language and the way people talk.
Best autobiographical
1 Maar je ziet er helemaal niet autistisch uit
2 Calypso
I realise these are technically also non-fiction, but as I read so many non-fiction novels, most of which I didn't write about here, I wanted to put in another short category. Maar je ziet er helemaal niet autistisch uit is by Bianca Toeps, who describes her life as an autistic person. She explains how certain things work, where certain traits come from, and how best to interact with autistic people. Some of the things she described were very recognisable, sometimes scarily so. I haven't been diagnosed, but I think this is a good read for everyone looking for a bit of recognition or reassurance. Calypso is a collection of columns by David Sedaris; I've never actually read any of his novels, but a friend gave me this book for my birthday. I enjoyed reading about his life, although it got a bit repetitive at times, as columns published months apart were now pushed together.
Best short-story collection
1 Friday Black
The only short-story collection I read, but a great one. Too bad there wasn't more of it.
Best fantasy/scifi
The only novels I read that could be considered scifi are sadly in the most disappointing list.
Best 'new' author
1 Ali Smith
2 Anna Burns
3 Colson Whitehead
So this is the other way around from my 'best English novel' list. Why so? Well, I liked Whitehead's novel best, but his voice maybe a bit less so. I'm looking forward to reading The Underground Railroad, but it isn't at the top of my list (it wasn't even on my 'books to buy' list until five minutes ago). Anna Burns has written two other novels, both of which I'm very curious about, and both of which are pretty hard to find. But if they're anything like Milkman, I'm in. Ali Smith, the most famous of the authors, has published the third instalment in her seasonal series, Spring, but it isn't in the right format yet. Yes, I'm one of those people who wants the whole series to be in the same edition. So I'll have to wait for that one, but luckily she's also written How to be both, and several other novels already. Her voice, the way she tells her stories, makes me very curious for more.
Most disappointing novel
1 Machines like me
2 Early Riser
3 Ferrera
The first two novels in this category can hardly come as a surprise. I wrote extensively about my disappointment with Ian McEwan's novel about living together with a robot. Thankfully he made up for it by The Cockroach, but Machines like me remains the biggest disappointment of the year. Closely followed, second only because McEwan is my favourite author, by Early Riser. We've been waiting for the sequel to Shades of Grey for years now, and Jasper Fforde decides to write a horrible novel like this! Again, I've vented my disappointment in an earlier post, but this also still smarts. The third novel is the long-awaited sequel to Ventoux by Bert Wagendorp. Ventoux, which I read before 2015, if my book lists tell the truth, was a great novel about renewing a boyhood friendship. Ferrera finds these 'boys' now in the middle of mid-life crises, packing up to go to Ferrara Italy. It feels like Wagendorp had a mid-life crisis while writing the novel, and it didn't do him any good. It was uninspiring, with flat characters, meaningless sideplots and a pointlessly dramatic ending. Again, after waiting for so long for a new novel, it was a big disappointment.
Authors I read more than once:
- Ali Smith (2x)
- Ian McEwan (2x)
So, without further ado, the complete list:
1 Milkman
2 Conversations with friends
3 Early Riser
4 Taal voor de leuk
5 Alias Grace
6 Friday Black
7 Machines like me
8 There there
9 Warlight
10 Naar de overkant van de nacht
11 Autumn
12 The Most Dangerous Place on Earth
13 Simon vs the Homosapiens agenda
14 Ferrera
15 Winter
16 How to
17 Calypso
18 The Catcher in the Rye
19 The Nickel Boys
20 Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek
21 The Cockroach
22 Maar je ziet er helemaal niet autistisch uit
23 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
24 De meeste mensen deugen
25 Asymmetry
26 Speeddaten met Plato
Just two rereads this year, the Harry Potter novel and Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek. Only one 'classic' novel, too; I'd never read The Catcher in the Rye before. Only a couple books by what I'd call my 'usual suspect' authors; Atwood, McEwan. I would have liked to read some books by Julian Barnes or Graham Swift, but somehow they didn't make their way into my bookcase this year. But on the other hand, I read lots of novels by new authors, either debut novels or new authors to me, which I mostly loved. I've written about several of these already, but let's put some of them into lists.
Best English novel
1 The Nickel Boys
2 Milkman
3 Autumn
So many great books this year. So, so many. But I think this will have to be the list for this year. Surprisingly, these are all authors I've never read before. I read several 'unheard' American voices this year, and Colson Whitehead's novel was the last. I think it was also the best, but maybe that is because I read it last. The Nickel Boys tells a horrible story in a beautiful way. Of all the novels I read this year, it is the one that is still on my mind some days. In contrast, Milkman was my very first read of 2019, and also the winner of the 2018 Man Booker. A deserved win, in my eyes. I don't think I've ever seen pages this densely packed, while getting through the novel at such speed. It is heavy, both in language and subject matter, but the story flows beautifully. Finally, of course, Autumn, by my big discovery Ali Smith. Less heavy subject matter, but giving the sense of togetherness in the novel, contrasted to the recent Brexit events, it will probably become a classic read at some point in time.
While reading them, I was expecting to put Conversations with friends or There there in my best novel list of this year, but overall it was such a great year, other novels found their way to the top. Honourable mentions to both, then.
Best Dutch novel
1 Kruistocht in spijkerbroek
2 Naar de overkant van de nacht
So most Dutch books I read this year were non-fiction, but I read 3 novels, one of which can be found under 'most disappointing' below. So Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek, or Crusade in Jeans, was the children's book sold cheaply this year (Dutch booksellers pick one childrens's book every year to promote reading). I love this novel when I first read it around age 10, and I love it still. Reading it as an adult makes you see loads of things you never realised when you were a child, but that doesn't make the novel any less good. Apparently someone made a film out of this novel, but I'd never watch that, for fear of ruining the images I have in my head. The second novel, Naar de overkant van de nacht, I started reading somewhere in 2017 or 2018, but I found it a pretty hard novel to get through. It's about a man celebrating carnival and thinking about his life. It felt a bit too heavy, too symbolic for my taste, which may explain why it took me so long to get through a novel less than 120 pages long.
Best classic
1 The Catcher in the Rye
If you're the only classic I read, you're going to end up on top. I liked this novel, but reading it after reading several stories featuring contemporary teenagers, Holden does turn out to be a bit of a whiner.
Best non-fiction
1 How to
2 De meeste mensen deugen
3 Taal voor de leuk
Right, enough has be said about How to in the accompanying blogpost. The second book, De meeste mensen deugen, is by Rutger Bregman, who has been getting some international attention due to his comments on the World Economic Forum in Davos. He's written a couple of books already, some of which have been translated into English. I'm pretty sure this novel will be translated as well. It focusses on human nature, specifically on how Hobbes and Rousseau both had opposing views on the matter. As the title (Most people are good) says, Bregman believes people are innately good, it takes a whole lot of effort or desperation to make someone commit criminal and/or violent acts. Being an optimistic person, I loved his view on things, especially the debunking of psychological studies that have become basic knowledge but now turn out to be based on faulty data or assumptions. Taal voor de leuk is by Paulien Cornelisse and features some of her columns on the Dutch language and the way people talk.
Best autobiographical
1 Maar je ziet er helemaal niet autistisch uit
2 Calypso
I realise these are technically also non-fiction, but as I read so many non-fiction novels, most of which I didn't write about here, I wanted to put in another short category. Maar je ziet er helemaal niet autistisch uit is by Bianca Toeps, who describes her life as an autistic person. She explains how certain things work, where certain traits come from, and how best to interact with autistic people. Some of the things she described were very recognisable, sometimes scarily so. I haven't been diagnosed, but I think this is a good read for everyone looking for a bit of recognition or reassurance. Calypso is a collection of columns by David Sedaris; I've never actually read any of his novels, but a friend gave me this book for my birthday. I enjoyed reading about his life, although it got a bit repetitive at times, as columns published months apart were now pushed together.
Best short-story collection
1 Friday Black
The only short-story collection I read, but a great one. Too bad there wasn't more of it.
Best fantasy/scifi
The only novels I read that could be considered scifi are sadly in the most disappointing list.
Best 'new' author
1 Ali Smith
2 Anna Burns
3 Colson Whitehead
So this is the other way around from my 'best English novel' list. Why so? Well, I liked Whitehead's novel best, but his voice maybe a bit less so. I'm looking forward to reading The Underground Railroad, but it isn't at the top of my list (it wasn't even on my 'books to buy' list until five minutes ago). Anna Burns has written two other novels, both of which I'm very curious about, and both of which are pretty hard to find. But if they're anything like Milkman, I'm in. Ali Smith, the most famous of the authors, has published the third instalment in her seasonal series, Spring, but it isn't in the right format yet. Yes, I'm one of those people who wants the whole series to be in the same edition. So I'll have to wait for that one, but luckily she's also written How to be both, and several other novels already. Her voice, the way she tells her stories, makes me very curious for more.
Most disappointing novel
1 Machines like me
2 Early Riser
3 Ferrera
The first two novels in this category can hardly come as a surprise. I wrote extensively about my disappointment with Ian McEwan's novel about living together with a robot. Thankfully he made up for it by The Cockroach, but Machines like me remains the biggest disappointment of the year. Closely followed, second only because McEwan is my favourite author, by Early Riser. We've been waiting for the sequel to Shades of Grey for years now, and Jasper Fforde decides to write a horrible novel like this! Again, I've vented my disappointment in an earlier post, but this also still smarts. The third novel is the long-awaited sequel to Ventoux by Bert Wagendorp. Ventoux, which I read before 2015, if my book lists tell the truth, was a great novel about renewing a boyhood friendship. Ferrera finds these 'boys' now in the middle of mid-life crises, packing up to go to Ferrara Italy. It feels like Wagendorp had a mid-life crisis while writing the novel, and it didn't do him any good. It was uninspiring, with flat characters, meaningless sideplots and a pointlessly dramatic ending. Again, after waiting for so long for a new novel, it was a big disappointment.
Authors I read more than once:
- Ali Smith (2x)
- Ian McEwan (2x)
Monday, 23 December 2019
Puzzling
A while ago I mentioned my enthusiasm in making logic puzzles; both in creating these puzzles for others to play, and in solving those made by others. But digital and/or logical puzzles are not the only kind of mental diversion I enjoy; there are also the physical sort, in the shape of jigsaw puzzles. Now this used to be something we did around Christmas time: put a big panel of wood on the dining room table (so that we could remove the puzzle if it wasn't finished by dinner time, which is honestly never was), pick a jigsaw puzzle we all liked or hadn't made in a while, and put it together. This was a team effort; someone could abandon the puzzle for a couple of hours to do the cooking or shopping or whatever, but there were longish stretches of time where everyone was at the table, cup of tea at their elbow, solving the puzzle together. My parents own a couple of puzzles, the older and bigger ones showing drawings of birds or rural scenes, the newer ones more colourful, with for example paintings by Van Gogh.
Now as I went away to uni, making a jigsaw wasn't really an option; for one because I didn't have a dinner table. But also; it's really a bit of an old person's hobby, right? So while living on my own, I never really made them. But a couple of years ago I was in a games store in December, and they sold the most beautiful puzzle of a curious bookcase, and I fell in love with the colours and the funny titles and the many beautiful details, so I bought it. And then a friend bought me another one. This was one of those friends who also enjoys making jigsaws, although this was not something you'd go around telling everyone, for fear of being considered dull.
But then this changed. We, the people, millennials most of all, are all too stressed out, working too hard and not being mindful of ourselves. Firstly, there were the colouring books for adults. Followed by yoga for everyone. Then, cuddling with cows. (I may have the order mixed up a bit, but you get the drift.) Somewhere along those lines, making jigsaw puzzles became socially accepted. Encouraged. Something to live in the moment, to take your mind off your busy life and impossible life choices. Suddenly, everyone was making jigsaws. And to make things better: they were doing it competitively.
Now I know this sounds like a proper juxtaposition: we're making jigsaws to forget about our rat race lives, and then we turned into a competition. And that is probably true. But it is a fact that the Dutch National Jigsaw Competition is in its tenth year in 2020. The first couple of years were small events with lots of jokes (puzzling in the dark, or without the example picture), but for the last 3 years it has become a serious business, with dozens of teams from all over the country competing. These teams of four (no more, no less) make the same 1,000 piece puzzle by Jan van Haasteren under the same conditions, trying to finish quickest. The national record is at 57 minutes.
One of my colleagues competed in 2018 and 2019, finishing second both times. Inspired by her stories and together with another colleague and a friend of mine, we tried to get into the 2019 competition as well, but all the qualification rounds were already fully booked. So, we set about practising. We'd all made jigsaw puzzles, lots of them, but trying to make one as fast as you can, without taking the time to go to the bathroom or take a sip of tea or do something else entirely was very strange at first. Hard to take serious, in a way. Also, the strategies to finishing a puzzle as quickly as possible are wildly different from just making one at home for fun. In the latter case, for me, the pieces stay in the box, I start by making the outer edge first and then fill it in gradually. In competitive puzzling, you throw all the pieces out of the box and sort them as quickly as you can, putting all the large colourful areas together first and not even bothering with the outer edge, as that will only get in the way when you're moving pieces around. We became pretty quick, even more so when a fourth member joined our team and we could actually compare our times to the times other teams had on earlier occasions.
This year, we were on time for the qualification round nearest to our home. We went there, full of anticipation, finding ourselves in a room with 39 other teams, mainly women, of all ages. Some teams were of the semi-professional kind, even wearing team shirts, others were clearly mainly there to have a pleasant evening together. Of these 40 teams, only 3 would go on to the finale. After the national anthem (it being a national competition) we counted down together, tore the wrapping paper from the box, and were very happy to see that it was one of the prettiest and easiest puzzles Jan van Haasteren has made. So we were in good spirits, dumped the pieces on the table and got started. After about 30 minutes, the announcer told us that if we wanted to break the national record, we should be halfway by now. And that some teams were more than halfway already. We looked at each other in despair; we were nowhere near halfway. How could they be this quick? After just 44 minutes and 24 seconds the first team was finished. They broke the national record by 13 minutes, setting an impossible time to ever beat. One place for the finale had been filled. We looked over to the only neighbours we could see; they were also nearly finished. There was no way we were going to make this.
Now I've never really competed in anything. I'm not a sports person. I like to win when playing boardgames, but I enjoy the company and the togetherness more than the victory. So I was surprised to notice my own drive, my own ambition to finishing this puzzle as quickly as possible, against all odds of ever taking a place in the finale. And I wasn't the only one. Our faces were red, we were standing up and shoving pieces at each other and into the jigsaw as quickly as we could. At the one hour mark, the announcer said that the numbers 2 and 3 were also close to finishing. We still had to put in about 100 pieces; we were sure we weren't going to make it. At 1:02:38, the table next to us erupted into cheers. We paid no attention, as we just needed to put in about another 10 pieces ourselves. At 1:02:53, we were finished. Third place. We made it into the finale, against all odds, the only newcomer team to make it. Fourth place was at 1:07:18, so we beat them by almost 5 minutes. I still can hardly believe it.
As I said, I've never been a competitive person. But I can now see why people do these things, put in the hours, train together, focus, keep going even when you're sure you're not going to make it. It was a rush of adrenaline, of energy, and most of all of great fun. We reached our goal; getting into the actual finale. Which we'll enter without any hope or expectations, as were the newcomers and there are so many better, faster teams. But it'll be another experience to remember. And... who knows?
These Christmas holidays, I'm back to making jigsaws at a more leisurely pace, together with family and friends, the way I secretly still like it best.
Now as I went away to uni, making a jigsaw wasn't really an option; for one because I didn't have a dinner table. But also; it's really a bit of an old person's hobby, right? So while living on my own, I never really made them. But a couple of years ago I was in a games store in December, and they sold the most beautiful puzzle of a curious bookcase, and I fell in love with the colours and the funny titles and the many beautiful details, so I bought it. And then a friend bought me another one. This was one of those friends who also enjoys making jigsaws, although this was not something you'd go around telling everyone, for fear of being considered dull.
But then this changed. We, the people, millennials most of all, are all too stressed out, working too hard and not being mindful of ourselves. Firstly, there were the colouring books for adults. Followed by yoga for everyone. Then, cuddling with cows. (I may have the order mixed up a bit, but you get the drift.) Somewhere along those lines, making jigsaw puzzles became socially accepted. Encouraged. Something to live in the moment, to take your mind off your busy life and impossible life choices. Suddenly, everyone was making jigsaws. And to make things better: they were doing it competitively.
Now I know this sounds like a proper juxtaposition: we're making jigsaws to forget about our rat race lives, and then we turned into a competition. And that is probably true. But it is a fact that the Dutch National Jigsaw Competition is in its tenth year in 2020. The first couple of years were small events with lots of jokes (puzzling in the dark, or without the example picture), but for the last 3 years it has become a serious business, with dozens of teams from all over the country competing. These teams of four (no more, no less) make the same 1,000 piece puzzle by Jan van Haasteren under the same conditions, trying to finish quickest. The national record is at 57 minutes.
One of my colleagues competed in 2018 and 2019, finishing second both times. Inspired by her stories and together with another colleague and a friend of mine, we tried to get into the 2019 competition as well, but all the qualification rounds were already fully booked. So, we set about practising. We'd all made jigsaw puzzles, lots of them, but trying to make one as fast as you can, without taking the time to go to the bathroom or take a sip of tea or do something else entirely was very strange at first. Hard to take serious, in a way. Also, the strategies to finishing a puzzle as quickly as possible are wildly different from just making one at home for fun. In the latter case, for me, the pieces stay in the box, I start by making the outer edge first and then fill it in gradually. In competitive puzzling, you throw all the pieces out of the box and sort them as quickly as you can, putting all the large colourful areas together first and not even bothering with the outer edge, as that will only get in the way when you're moving pieces around. We became pretty quick, even more so when a fourth member joined our team and we could actually compare our times to the times other teams had on earlier occasions.
This year, we were on time for the qualification round nearest to our home. We went there, full of anticipation, finding ourselves in a room with 39 other teams, mainly women, of all ages. Some teams were of the semi-professional kind, even wearing team shirts, others were clearly mainly there to have a pleasant evening together. Of these 40 teams, only 3 would go on to the finale. After the national anthem (it being a national competition) we counted down together, tore the wrapping paper from the box, and were very happy to see that it was one of the prettiest and easiest puzzles Jan van Haasteren has made. So we were in good spirits, dumped the pieces on the table and got started. After about 30 minutes, the announcer told us that if we wanted to break the national record, we should be halfway by now. And that some teams were more than halfway already. We looked at each other in despair; we were nowhere near halfway. How could they be this quick? After just 44 minutes and 24 seconds the first team was finished. They broke the national record by 13 minutes, setting an impossible time to ever beat. One place for the finale had been filled. We looked over to the only neighbours we could see; they were also nearly finished. There was no way we were going to make this.
Now I've never really competed in anything. I'm not a sports person. I like to win when playing boardgames, but I enjoy the company and the togetherness more than the victory. So I was surprised to notice my own drive, my own ambition to finishing this puzzle as quickly as possible, against all odds of ever taking a place in the finale. And I wasn't the only one. Our faces were red, we were standing up and shoving pieces at each other and into the jigsaw as quickly as we could. At the one hour mark, the announcer said that the numbers 2 and 3 were also close to finishing. We still had to put in about 100 pieces; we were sure we weren't going to make it. At 1:02:38, the table next to us erupted into cheers. We paid no attention, as we just needed to put in about another 10 pieces ourselves. At 1:02:53, we were finished. Third place. We made it into the finale, against all odds, the only newcomer team to make it. Fourth place was at 1:07:18, so we beat them by almost 5 minutes. I still can hardly believe it.
As I said, I've never been a competitive person. But I can now see why people do these things, put in the hours, train together, focus, keep going even when you're sure you're not going to make it. It was a rush of adrenaline, of energy, and most of all of great fun. We reached our goal; getting into the actual finale. Which we'll enter without any hope or expectations, as were the newcomers and there are so many better, faster teams. But it'll be another experience to remember. And... who knows?
These Christmas holidays, I'm back to making jigsaws at a more leisurely pace, together with family and friends, the way I secretly still like it best.
 |
| Someone managed to take a picture at our moment of triumph. |
Friday, 29 November 2019
NaNo the other half: winner
The wrap up party for NaNoWriMo is called Thank God it's Over. I never really understood that name; sure, it was hard, but I usually finished at least a couple of days before the 30th, with an enormous margin to par from pretty much the first week. Not so this year. This year, it really felt like thanking the universe for this (self-afflicted, I am aware) ordeal to be over.
Which it now is! I just wrote the final of my 50,020 words, wrapping up the story and the storyline, finishing off my character's development and plunging me into one last day of November that is NaNo-free. I don't think I've ever written this many days consecutively, usually I'm so far ahead I can skip a day or two in between. Not so this year, although this year I also wanted to get all the badges, which means writing 21 days in a row. Some days, that meant I just wrote 100 words, or thereabouts. My word count graph per day looks like an interesting roller coaster:
Maybe it was a very busy year at work (which would explain the lack of blogging too), but I can't remember it being this hard in other years. Or maybe it was my subject matter, which was a bit more personal and emotional than I'd anticipated. Or maybe my characters just didn't want to be in my story (I can't blame them). Whatever it was, out of the 7 NaNo's I've 'won', this was by far the most difficult. I'm hoping I'll feel the accompanying feeling of 'most accomplished' soon too, for now I mostly feel relieved and intensely tired.
Tomorrow, I can start doing all those other things I do in my spare moments, such as actually finishing the Harry Potter novel I've been reading for three weeks now. NaNo is great for forcing yourself to write, but it's good that it's confined to one month a year. But, inevitably, I'll put myself through this again next year, with fresh enthusiasm, which I'll probably start to feel coming in tomorrow. But for now, sleep.
Which it now is! I just wrote the final of my 50,020 words, wrapping up the story and the storyline, finishing off my character's development and plunging me into one last day of November that is NaNo-free. I don't think I've ever written this many days consecutively, usually I'm so far ahead I can skip a day or two in between. Not so this year, although this year I also wanted to get all the badges, which means writing 21 days in a row. Some days, that meant I just wrote 100 words, or thereabouts. My word count graph per day looks like an interesting roller coaster:
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| Yup, that really is a low point of 120 words. |
Tomorrow, I can start doing all those other things I do in my spare moments, such as actually finishing the Harry Potter novel I've been reading for three weeks now. NaNo is great for forcing yourself to write, but it's good that it's confined to one month a year. But, inevitably, I'll put myself through this again next year, with fresh enthusiasm, which I'll probably start to feel coming in tomorrow. But for now, sleep.
Friday, 15 November 2019
NaNo Days 10 to 15: holiday sprint
So being on holiday gave me ample chance to write lots of words. Most days, those words actually came to me and it was easy to reach 2,000, but I've had some days where I had to search for topics as well. I'm now in that 'middle bit'; all the characters have been introduced, they have gathered, their backgrounds are known, and now Stuff Needs to Happen. But at the same time I'm also working towards the end, because if there is one thing frustrating about NaNo it is finishing the writing but not the story. Because then I know the story will never be finished, and will always be lacking an ending. Or a middle, in some years I've written the ending of the story but not the middle.
Today is the 15th of November, which means I should be at 25,000 words, as the month is halfway through. As we speak, I am at 28,130 words, putting me two days ahead of par. I'd hoped for a bit more headway, as I have a pretty busy work week waiting for me when I get home, but this will have to do. At least I'm not behind. And at least I'm still liking my characters, my plot, and my writing, even if it is difficult to get and keep going sometimes. Let's hope I'll keep up the writing when I'm back home!
Today is the 15th of November, which means I should be at 25,000 words, as the month is halfway through. As we speak, I am at 28,130 words, putting me two days ahead of par. I'd hoped for a bit more headway, as I have a pretty busy work week waiting for me when I get home, but this will have to do. At least I'm not behind. And at least I'm still liking my characters, my plot, and my writing, even if it is difficult to get and keep going sometimes. Let's hope I'll keep up the writing when I'm back home!
Saturday, 9 November 2019
NaNo Days 4 to 9: Ups and downs
So I've been focusing so much on writing NaNo, that I'd forgotten to do the meta-writing part, that is, the blog. The good news is: I'm still writing! I just reached 15k!
It's been a bit of a bumpy road getting there, with my daily word count sweeping up and down like a maniacal roller coaster:
It's been a crazy week at work, reflected in the crazy amount of writing I've done on some days, and the very little I've done on others. Luckily for me, I'm spending the next week in a cute little cottage in France, which will give me plenty of time to catch up. My daily goal has been 2,000 words or more, and as you can see I managed to do something very near that on at least 5 days so far. That's more than half of my writing days. Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sounds so bad...
It's been a bit of a bumpy road getting there, with my daily word count sweeping up and down like a maniacal roller coaster:
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| What goes up, must come down? |
Sunday, 3 November 2019
NaNo Days 2 & 3: 5k!
So, after a first day of writing 1k, I had to write a bit more every day to get back on par. Today's par is 5k, and I have just finished my writing streak of today at 5,011 words. It still feels very much like the beginning of the story, like I'm getting to know the characters and figuring out who they are and what they're going to do.
This year I'd planned ahead and given myself a book of 22 chapters; 1 prologue, 10 flashback chapters interspersed with 10 present-day chapters, and 1 epilogue. Today, I decided to throw all of that out, and just mix the flashbacks in together with the rest of the story, without bothering with chapter starts or finishes. I can't see why I never realised to do this before, maybe I'll run into issues with this later on, but for now it feels like a revelation. It does make the whole thing more stream-of-consciousness, which is in the modernist corner I usually try to avoid, but we'll see how it works out.
Tomorrow I'll be at a write-in, so I hope to get lads more words in before the business of the workweek prevents me from writing for one or two hours every day!
This year I'd planned ahead and given myself a book of 22 chapters; 1 prologue, 10 flashback chapters interspersed with 10 present-day chapters, and 1 epilogue. Today, I decided to throw all of that out, and just mix the flashbacks in together with the rest of the story, without bothering with chapter starts or finishes. I can't see why I never realised to do this before, maybe I'll run into issues with this later on, but for now it feels like a revelation. It does make the whole thing more stream-of-consciousness, which is in the modernist corner I usually try to avoid, but we'll see how it works out.
Tomorrow I'll be at a write-in, so I hope to get lads more words in before the business of the workweek prevents me from writing for one or two hours every day!
Friday, 1 November 2019
NaNo Day 1: A quick 1k
Today was always going to be busy, with work and swimming and friends coming over, but just after 11 I could actually start my writing for this year's NaNo. I put in 1000 words exactly, which was the point at which I should have stopped, but I continued for another 80 words before deciding that tomorrow was a better time to write. I am not a late night writer, it has been proven yet again. More to follow on the morrow!
Sunday, 27 October 2019
The Cockroach
So Ian McEwan's last novel, Machines like me, was not my favourite. In fact, it may have been his worst novel ever. And it left me despairing that he may have lost his touch, something I'd apparently feared before.
I need not have worried, for just six months later I wandered around the bookshop and ran into The Cockroach, a small novella (less than 100 pages) about Jim Sams waking up and "finding himself transformed into a gigantic creature". I've never read The Metamorphosis, but even I know enough to recognise that reference. In this story, it is the cockroach that is transformed into the human, into the PM of the United Kingdom, to be exact. The UK is undergoing political upheaval as the Reversalist Conservatives want to push through a big economic change, which the Clockwise Labour party wants to forestall. Sounds familiar? What if I tell you the Labour leader is actually a Reversalist himself? Or what about the American president Tupper, busy communicating by Twitter and spending time on his many golf courses?
Yup, this is a political satire, and a good one at that. Brexit is never mentioned, the whole story is purely fictional, and "resemblance to any cockroach, living or dead, is purely coincidental". But between the lines there is of course the absurd reality that the UK is now living through. I don't know that Ian McEwan has written a satire before, but this one is really well done. And it combines his dry, witty humour with his beautiful, flowing language, even when he is verbally slaughtering political opponents.
I raced through the book in about two hours and it left me both good for having read a great McEwan story and sad because the craziness it describes is actually taking place across the pond. But in the end, it is more words by my favourite author, and I'm always happy to have those.
I need not have worried, for just six months later I wandered around the bookshop and ran into The Cockroach, a small novella (less than 100 pages) about Jim Sams waking up and "finding himself transformed into a gigantic creature". I've never read The Metamorphosis, but even I know enough to recognise that reference. In this story, it is the cockroach that is transformed into the human, into the PM of the United Kingdom, to be exact. The UK is undergoing political upheaval as the Reversalist Conservatives want to push through a big economic change, which the Clockwise Labour party wants to forestall. Sounds familiar? What if I tell you the Labour leader is actually a Reversalist himself? Or what about the American president Tupper, busy communicating by Twitter and spending time on his many golf courses?
Yup, this is a political satire, and a good one at that. Brexit is never mentioned, the whole story is purely fictional, and "resemblance to any cockroach, living or dead, is purely coincidental". But between the lines there is of course the absurd reality that the UK is now living through. I don't know that Ian McEwan has written a satire before, but this one is really well done. And it combines his dry, witty humour with his beautiful, flowing language, even when he is verbally slaughtering political opponents.
I raced through the book in about two hours and it left me both good for having read a great McEwan story and sad because the craziness it describes is actually taking place across the pond. But in the end, it is more words by my favourite author, and I'm always happy to have those.
Saturday, 12 October 2019
The Nickel Boys
The Nickel Boys was one of those novels I read a review about and then immediately wanted to buy, so when I saw it at the local bookshop I did just that. However, the blurb on the back mentions stuff like "the Nickel Academy is a grotesque chamber of horrors where the sadistic staff beats and sexually abuses the students, corrupt officials and locals steal food and supplies, and any boy who resists is likely to disappear "out back"." That doesn't sound like a very pleasant read. It sounds like a horrible read, actually.
So I put the novel aside for a while. Do I admit I was a bit scared to read it? Yes, like with A Little Life, the looming thread of violence put me off. But then I read a double interview with Colson Whitehead, the author, and Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, the author of Friday Black. And the interview mentioned that such stories, of the suffering of black people in the US, have not been told in this way for a long time. And also that both books are based on facts. Which made me realise that the horrors told in The Nickel Boys may be a horrible read, they must have been far worse for the boys that actually endured them.
So I started on the novel, which was every way as 'understated' as the article mentioned. We follow Elwood Curtis as he makes his way up in the world; doing good in school, working in a store, and finally landing a place at a local college on a scholarship. But then he is put in Nickel Academy for hitching a ride with a car thief. Putting someone away for several years for something he hasn't done sounds outrageous, but the things that happen next are far worse. In his first couple of days Elwood steps out of line, again without intentionally doing something wrong, and is taken to The White House for his punishment. The actual abuse and mistreatment are described in short, distant paragraphs, the main focus is the connection Elwood makes with fellow Nickel students Desmond, Turner and Jaimie. How he finds joy in life, even though he is basically scared all the time.
The story taking place at Nickel is interspersed with events happening later in time, when the illegal graveyard with all the boys that have presumably 'escaped' is discovered. The afterword mentions that this really happened; remains were discovered near a school in Florida. The actual White House boys that lived through their ordeals there are now heard for the first time.
So was I right to fear this read? Absolutely not. It is a haunting picture, of course, but the story is beautifully written, the characters are deep and honest, the language is intelligent and full of meaning. The final chapter, to top things off, is one of the best I've ever read. The final paragraph brings such a flood of realisation, tying the whole novel together and completing the story so that you can only marvel that Whitehead can write about such horrors in such a beautiful way.
I realised today that these past months have been one of a lot of American authors, and a lot of minority groups. Interesting. I know The Nickel Boys is pretty big in the media, especially in the US, but I don't feel like I've been pushed by the media towards these novels. I've found most of them through reviews in Dutch papers. So maybe it is true that these are voices that are just now beginning to be heard properly, or by a broader audience. Or maybe I just started paying attention.
Whichever way, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this novel; it is one that will probably stay on my mind for quite some time.
So I put the novel aside for a while. Do I admit I was a bit scared to read it? Yes, like with A Little Life, the looming thread of violence put me off. But then I read a double interview with Colson Whitehead, the author, and Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, the author of Friday Black. And the interview mentioned that such stories, of the suffering of black people in the US, have not been told in this way for a long time. And also that both books are based on facts. Which made me realise that the horrors told in The Nickel Boys may be a horrible read, they must have been far worse for the boys that actually endured them.
So I started on the novel, which was every way as 'understated' as the article mentioned. We follow Elwood Curtis as he makes his way up in the world; doing good in school, working in a store, and finally landing a place at a local college on a scholarship. But then he is put in Nickel Academy for hitching a ride with a car thief. Putting someone away for several years for something he hasn't done sounds outrageous, but the things that happen next are far worse. In his first couple of days Elwood steps out of line, again without intentionally doing something wrong, and is taken to The White House for his punishment. The actual abuse and mistreatment are described in short, distant paragraphs, the main focus is the connection Elwood makes with fellow Nickel students Desmond, Turner and Jaimie. How he finds joy in life, even though he is basically scared all the time.
The story taking place at Nickel is interspersed with events happening later in time, when the illegal graveyard with all the boys that have presumably 'escaped' is discovered. The afterword mentions that this really happened; remains were discovered near a school in Florida. The actual White House boys that lived through their ordeals there are now heard for the first time.
So was I right to fear this read? Absolutely not. It is a haunting picture, of course, but the story is beautifully written, the characters are deep and honest, the language is intelligent and full of meaning. The final chapter, to top things off, is one of the best I've ever read. The final paragraph brings such a flood of realisation, tying the whole novel together and completing the story so that you can only marvel that Whitehead can write about such horrors in such a beautiful way.
I realised today that these past months have been one of a lot of American authors, and a lot of minority groups. Interesting. I know The Nickel Boys is pretty big in the media, especially in the US, but I don't feel like I've been pushed by the media towards these novels. I've found most of them through reviews in Dutch papers. So maybe it is true that these are voices that are just now beginning to be heard properly, or by a broader audience. Or maybe I just started paying attention.
Whichever way, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this novel; it is one that will probably stay on my mind for quite some time.
Sunday, 29 September 2019
NaNoWriMo 2019
It isn't even October yet, but my mind is already drifting to November, also known as National Novel Writing Month. (I am really early this year, usually I write this in the middle of October, as I found out last year.) Of course, I will be participating once again. I've just created my new 'project', which was a bit more of a fuss than usual, because the entire nanowrimo.org website has had a major do-over. I'm not sure if I like this new design better, some things are pretty fancy, but especially the forums seem to have become a lot more difficult. Will have to spend some time figuring that out.
Anyhow, NaNo is not about the website, it's about the writing. And the community. And rewarding yourself with sugary treats every 1,000 words you write. And... Let's stick with the writing first.
After my brief departure into 'romance' last year, I'm firmly back onto 'realism' territory. Who was I kidding? I, who love the basic prose of Sally Rooney, Ian McEwan, Graham Swift. I shouldn't wander off the path of down-to-earth conversations and everyday occurrences that gain hidden depths through unified themes. Or at least I shouldn't stray from attempting to write such a story, as those are the novels I love to read, so those are the stories I love to write.
So, I will be stealing some characters and perhaps plot lines from an earlier NaNo and putting those in a new story that I've been thinking about for a while. I've given myself a very contained time span and location, to avoid going off on various tangents and never finishing. I've even got a basic 'book' structure laid out, all 22 chapters. The chapters will be alternating 'group' chapters and more personal chapters focusing on one of the characters each time around. If that sounds like NaNo 2019 will be a breeze, think again. My characters will probably revolt and break down the entire plot house I've built for them in the first 5,000 words. But that's okay. That's what NaNo is about; just writing and see where it will get you.
As always, I'll be keeping you up to date on my progress here, but since November is still 32 days away, it will be some time. Somehow, being this early doesn't make me feel any more prepared...
Anyhow, NaNo is not about the website, it's about the writing. And the community. And rewarding yourself with sugary treats every 1,000 words you write. And... Let's stick with the writing first.
After my brief departure into 'romance' last year, I'm firmly back onto 'realism' territory. Who was I kidding? I, who love the basic prose of Sally Rooney, Ian McEwan, Graham Swift. I shouldn't wander off the path of down-to-earth conversations and everyday occurrences that gain hidden depths through unified themes. Or at least I shouldn't stray from attempting to write such a story, as those are the novels I love to read, so those are the stories I love to write.
So, I will be stealing some characters and perhaps plot lines from an earlier NaNo and putting those in a new story that I've been thinking about for a while. I've given myself a very contained time span and location, to avoid going off on various tangents and never finishing. I've even got a basic 'book' structure laid out, all 22 chapters. The chapters will be alternating 'group' chapters and more personal chapters focusing on one of the characters each time around. If that sounds like NaNo 2019 will be a breeze, think again. My characters will probably revolt and break down the entire plot house I've built for them in the first 5,000 words. But that's okay. That's what NaNo is about; just writing and see where it will get you.
As always, I'll be keeping you up to date on my progress here, but since November is still 32 days away, it will be some time. Somehow, being this early doesn't make me feel any more prepared...
Monday, 16 September 2019
How to
I've been a fan of xkcd for as long as I can remember. Apparently Randall Munroe started the website in September 2005, when I must have been on the Internet for a couple of years already, but I simply can't remember being online and not checking the website for new comics every so often (the publishing schedule has varied throughout time).
So what is xkcd, you may wonder. It's a webcomic. A nerdy, scientific, but also very funny webcomic, written by a very nerdy (ex-NASA) guy. I've seen one of Randall's TED talks, and it is almost impossible to believe that someone that dry and nerdy can write such funny comics. For one, the name of the website isn't an acronym, it's simply 'a word with no phonetic pronunciation'. I can't really get all of the jokes, to be honest, but thankfully there is even a website explaining the jokes (and science) in the comics.
Randall has created a couple of side projects, one of which is What if? in which he answers scientific questions (usually of the ridiculous kind). This has sparked a book, which contains even more questions about what would happen if you'd do something pretty crazy. He's also written a Thing Explainer, in which complicated things such as rockets are explained using only the thousand most common words.
His latest book is How To, which tells you how to do a couple of things: how to dig a hole, how to decorate a tree, or how to see if you're a nineties kid. The answers are never as straightforward as you may think. I love these kinds of books. You learn about something pretty complicated, like quantum physics or crowd psychology, while reading absurd stories of how Serena Williams takes down a drone by hitting it with a tennis ball. Randall tries to explain things in the easiest ways possible, sometimes showing how off the cuff estimations can get you pretty close to the real answer without having to do a lot of difficult calculations. If you understand the logic behind something, the way things work and affect each other, you can get pretty far without crunching the numbers.
The trademark comics are interspersed with the text, so you don't feel like you're reading a physics book. Rather, it feels like reading a comic book with some chunks of text in the middle. It feels like learning without studying, and that physics isn't as scary as you might think.
So what is xkcd, you may wonder. It's a webcomic. A nerdy, scientific, but also very funny webcomic, written by a very nerdy (ex-NASA) guy. I've seen one of Randall's TED talks, and it is almost impossible to believe that someone that dry and nerdy can write such funny comics. For one, the name of the website isn't an acronym, it's simply 'a word with no phonetic pronunciation'. I can't really get all of the jokes, to be honest, but thankfully there is even a website explaining the jokes (and science) in the comics.
Randall has created a couple of side projects, one of which is What if? in which he answers scientific questions (usually of the ridiculous kind). This has sparked a book, which contains even more questions about what would happen if you'd do something pretty crazy. He's also written a Thing Explainer, in which complicated things such as rockets are explained using only the thousand most common words.
His latest book is How To, which tells you how to do a couple of things: how to dig a hole, how to decorate a tree, or how to see if you're a nineties kid. The answers are never as straightforward as you may think. I love these kinds of books. You learn about something pretty complicated, like quantum physics or crowd psychology, while reading absurd stories of how Serena Williams takes down a drone by hitting it with a tennis ball. Randall tries to explain things in the easiest ways possible, sometimes showing how off the cuff estimations can get you pretty close to the real answer without having to do a lot of difficult calculations. If you understand the logic behind something, the way things work and affect each other, you can get pretty far without crunching the numbers.
The trademark comics are interspersed with the text, so you don't feel like you're reading a physics book. Rather, it feels like reading a comic book with some chunks of text in the middle. It feels like learning without studying, and that physics isn't as scary as you might think.
Friday, 30 August 2019
Summer reading
Summer reading had me a blast, summer reading happened so fast...
Right, I can't fathom that just two days from now September starts, it feels as if summer has just begun. But the nights are getting longer, putting an end to long summer evenings spend outside reading (I tried to make do with candles and/or the light from my mobile phone, but it just isn't the same as the long evenings of June and July). Sad as it is that summer is nearly gone, I look back on several great summer reads.
Firstly, I read The Most Dangerous Place on Earth by Lindsey Lee Johnson. It is her debut novel, based on her experiences teaching a high school near San Fransisco (much is made of the specific valley the school/town is set in, but I can't actually remember it). I picked this novel because it had a great review but also because I happened to be travelling the west coast this summer. The day I read the first chapter, in which a character bikes all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge, parks his bike, walks for some time on the sidewalk and then jumps off the bridge was the day after I myself rode to that same bridge, albeit from the other side, biked across it, and past several points the novel mentions. This was pretty surreal.
The novel focuses on a specific group of students as they make their way from eighth grade to senior year. The chapters written from a specific student's point of view are interspersed with the point of view from their English teacher, Miss Nicholl, Through the course of the novel we get to know most of the kids in the group, leading to surprising discoveries. They are all entitled, rich, snobbish and quite brutal in their behaviour and opinions of each other. But reading each chapter you get to know the actual person behind the image, usually leading to a better understanding and more sympathy for the way they are. Stereotypes turn out to be a mask to hide behind. Lessons are learnt. Paths are chosen. Towards the end I feared a sugar coated happy ending, but to my surprise and relief the ending was very human, very real, and slightly painful. All in all a great read, made even more special by being in the places it was set.
After that my travel book supply had run dry, so we went to a Barnes&Nobles and I bought Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli. Another debut by a female author, another novel about high school life, but this one has already been made into a film called Love, Simon. I'd seen the film but was curious about the novel, especially because the film had an un-American feel to it. The story is written from Simon's point of view as he meets a fellow closeted gay student through an online message board (Tumblr, which dates the novel quite a bit). One of his fellow classmates discovers their secret emails and blackmails Simon into setting him up with one of his friends. This leads to all sorts of teenage drama, but the tone of voice of the novel is surprisingly mature and undramatic. Simon is very analytical, balanced and humorous. Several things are different from the film, not always to the best, although the characters in the novel felt more realistic and sympathetic. In contrast to The Most Dangerous..., this is an actual YA high school read. Added to that, the novel deals in a respectful and normal way with pretty sensitive issues, making it even more suitable for the target audience.
Finally, I read a Dutch novel, Ferrera by Bert Wagendorp. This is the sequel to his famous (in the Netherlands) novel Ventoux. It focusses on a group of four friends who are now in their early fifties. In the first novel they hadn't seen each other for more than 20 years following the death of their fifth friend on the mountain of Ventoux. In this novel, they travel to Ferrera in Italy as one of them has found an old building to turn into a design hotel. The novel focuses on them coming to terms with their ageing and death, or basically with human mortality in general. In a way, it is a 'coming of age' story for the baby boom generation. This is one of the few novels I've ever read in which I actively disliked the main character (not even his tone of voice, his whole personality). He is whiny and self-obsessed and overly dramatic. Also, way too many references to obscure Italian historians/poets/philosophers, and extensive descriptions of the town of Ferrera. Where in The Most Dangerous... the subtle references to real locations gave the story some depth, here it felt like showing off. The plot twist at the end felt forced and as I had no sympathy for any of the characters, the (unsurprisingly) bleak ending left me feeling pretty indifferent.
So maybe not the best of novels to end the summer on, but it was a typical summer read in that it was not a difficult 'literary' read but an easy, summery story set in a warm and sunny location. But after all these snack size stories I feel ready to tackle something with a bit more substance. Time for cold, rainy, autumny nights spend curled up with a cup of tea and a good book. Reading is a feast for every season.
Right, I can't fathom that just two days from now September starts, it feels as if summer has just begun. But the nights are getting longer, putting an end to long summer evenings spend outside reading (I tried to make do with candles and/or the light from my mobile phone, but it just isn't the same as the long evenings of June and July). Sad as it is that summer is nearly gone, I look back on several great summer reads.
Firstly, I read The Most Dangerous Place on Earth by Lindsey Lee Johnson. It is her debut novel, based on her experiences teaching a high school near San Fransisco (much is made of the specific valley the school/town is set in, but I can't actually remember it). I picked this novel because it had a great review but also because I happened to be travelling the west coast this summer. The day I read the first chapter, in which a character bikes all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge, parks his bike, walks for some time on the sidewalk and then jumps off the bridge was the day after I myself rode to that same bridge, albeit from the other side, biked across it, and past several points the novel mentions. This was pretty surreal.
The novel focuses on a specific group of students as they make their way from eighth grade to senior year. The chapters written from a specific student's point of view are interspersed with the point of view from their English teacher, Miss Nicholl, Through the course of the novel we get to know most of the kids in the group, leading to surprising discoveries. They are all entitled, rich, snobbish and quite brutal in their behaviour and opinions of each other. But reading each chapter you get to know the actual person behind the image, usually leading to a better understanding and more sympathy for the way they are. Stereotypes turn out to be a mask to hide behind. Lessons are learnt. Paths are chosen. Towards the end I feared a sugar coated happy ending, but to my surprise and relief the ending was very human, very real, and slightly painful. All in all a great read, made even more special by being in the places it was set.
After that my travel book supply had run dry, so we went to a Barnes&Nobles and I bought Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli. Another debut by a female author, another novel about high school life, but this one has already been made into a film called Love, Simon. I'd seen the film but was curious about the novel, especially because the film had an un-American feel to it. The story is written from Simon's point of view as he meets a fellow closeted gay student through an online message board (Tumblr, which dates the novel quite a bit). One of his fellow classmates discovers their secret emails and blackmails Simon into setting him up with one of his friends. This leads to all sorts of teenage drama, but the tone of voice of the novel is surprisingly mature and undramatic. Simon is very analytical, balanced and humorous. Several things are different from the film, not always to the best, although the characters in the novel felt more realistic and sympathetic. In contrast to The Most Dangerous..., this is an actual YA high school read. Added to that, the novel deals in a respectful and normal way with pretty sensitive issues, making it even more suitable for the target audience.
Finally, I read a Dutch novel, Ferrera by Bert Wagendorp. This is the sequel to his famous (in the Netherlands) novel Ventoux. It focusses on a group of four friends who are now in their early fifties. In the first novel they hadn't seen each other for more than 20 years following the death of their fifth friend on the mountain of Ventoux. In this novel, they travel to Ferrera in Italy as one of them has found an old building to turn into a design hotel. The novel focuses on them coming to terms with their ageing and death, or basically with human mortality in general. In a way, it is a 'coming of age' story for the baby boom generation. This is one of the few novels I've ever read in which I actively disliked the main character (not even his tone of voice, his whole personality). He is whiny and self-obsessed and overly dramatic. Also, way too many references to obscure Italian historians/poets/philosophers, and extensive descriptions of the town of Ferrera. Where in The Most Dangerous... the subtle references to real locations gave the story some depth, here it felt like showing off. The plot twist at the end felt forced and as I had no sympathy for any of the characters, the (unsurprisingly) bleak ending left me feeling pretty indifferent.
So maybe not the best of novels to end the summer on, but it was a typical summer read in that it was not a difficult 'literary' read but an easy, summery story set in a warm and sunny location. But after all these snack size stories I feel ready to tackle something with a bit more substance. Time for cold, rainy, autumny nights spend curled up with a cup of tea and a good book. Reading is a feast for every season.
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