Never Let Me Go: Kazuo Ishiguro

Kazuo Ishiguro – Never Let Me Go (2005)
Novel – 280 pages – my copy (paperback) found on the staircase of the family home
- 3 nods

Ishiguro has built himself a reputation of being one of the finest of novelists in contemporary Britain, winning prizes and plaudits from works such as The Remains of the Day and The Unconsoled. Never Let Me Go continues in the same vein as these previous works, exploring our emotions, our relationships and asking the question of what it is to be human.

Set in a ‘darkly skewed version’ of modern England, the book follows the life of Kathy H, a thirty-one year old carer. She describes her childhood, growing up without parents at Hailsham School and the friendships she builds with Ruth and Tommy.

Seemingly innocent enough, the novel has a sinister undertone, in that these children are not normal at all, but rather clones born for the purposes of donating their body parts to the rest of society. More and more is revealed, as Kathy herself realises as she grows older: from the reactions of others, including the teachers at Hailsham. Accepting their fate, they continue through their school years and to the process of becoming carers (for the donators), before ending their short road in life as donators themselves.

It is an emotionally moving book, a particular highlight being the affirmation of all they feared towards the book’s end when they meet again with the head of Hailsham. However, the majority of Kathy’s monologue isn’t concerned with her escape from her destiny (a Hollywood type story, perhaps), but rather her coming to terms with her past experiences.

This itself is rather admirable of Ishiguro, bringing a new outlook on the dystopia genre; yet ultimately, there is nothing exceptional about Kathy’s detailing of the past. Much of it is Grange Hill scenarios with an ominous dark cloud approaching; rather humdrum and ultimately unfulfilling. Never Let Me Go, then, is a story with a ghastly under-plot, yet one of never ending friendship. A book for all Ishiguro fans; but for those yet to receive the author into their bosoms, a trip to Waterstones for The Remains of the Day remains the first port of call.

The History of Bodmin Jail: Bill Johnson

Bill Johnson – The History of Bodmin Jail (New Edition: 2009)
Local History – 250 pages – my copy (hardback; 2009), a present at Xmas, 2009
- 2 nods

Local histories can produce vastly contrasting impressions on the reader: some are small, mere pamphlets based on a church; others run for meandering page after page on conflicts that remain bewildering to ninety-nine per cent of the population; and then, there are those behemoths that are heavily referenced and confusing to the very locals that live there (a preserve of the academic!). So, when opening a local history book, there is that slice of trepidation upon the Worm's fingertips.

Bill Johnson’s history on Bodmin Jail (or Gaol), a town that once stood as the capital of Cornwall, is full of wonderful facts and figures. Much painstaking research has been undertaken, as shown in the mass of tables and columns ranging from percentages of prisoners convicted for misdemeanours to the diets of prisoners in 1874. There are building plans, photographs of the cells, family trees of the prison wardens, and even a detailed drawing of the warming and ventilation system used in 1847; while the appendages are enough to make the reader either smile with joy or bring tears to his eyes, such is their thoroughness and loving attention to detail.

In the preface the author notes his academic background in chemistry and in taking up a challenge issued to him ‘that the education of British scientists was too narrow and that scientists were not able to talk or write about non-scientific issues’ (p.2). In so many ways, Johnson succeeds at going against type: his history has many positive qualities. However, facts and figures do not make a book complete; his book has too many narrative flaws and his prose is too dry to keep the reader’s eyes alive and open. Furthermore, the inconsistency of the formatting of the text annoyed the Worm as he turned page after page. Yes, such mistakes seem to be a mainstay of the local history book: however, they are mistakes that could be easily eradicated.

For the reader who wants to know about Bodmin life in the past – and indeed, Cornish life as a whole – Johnson’s history is the book for them: comprehensive and intriguing. But again, to other readers beyond the boundary of the Tamar, The History of Bodmin Jail will remain a quaint, parochial oddity with a lust for fact and figure.

Fire In The Blood: Irene Nemirovsky

Irene Nemirovsky – Fire In The Blood (2007)
Novel – 150 pages – my copy (paperback; 2008) found in Starbucks, Plymouth in the summer of 2009
- 3 nods

Irene Nemirovsky’s life was one cut tragically short, but a life full of adventure and of great talent. Born in Tsarist Russia in 1903, her family fled the east for France after Lenin and his Bolsheviks took control of power in 1918; she later became a successful novelist before the Germans attacked in 1940; leading to her arrest and death in confinement in Auschwitz before her fortieth year. In recent years, her biographers and family have un-earthed several unfinished novels, such as Suite Francias and the book under scrutiny in this review, Fire In The Blood: and what good finds they have proved to be.

Fire In The Blood is set in rural France of the 1930s, centring in the first person perspective of Silvio who watches from afar the dramatic entanglements of the family and friends around him. Always contemplative and slightly rueful, the elderly Silvio reflects upon the fire that once ran in his veins, forcing him to roam the world for adventure, now commenting on it being extinguished. He notes that he, like those in old age, ‘have renounced the vain attempts of youth to adapt the world to their desires. They have failed and, now, they can relax’ (p.22). Silvio reacts to the events around him with philosophic remarks that serve not to flatter, but instead to add realism to all situations: ‘No one deserves to be admired so passionately. Just as no one deserves to be despised with too much indignation’ (p.103) he tells his troubled niece. Yet this equilibrium is shattered with the story’s ending revelations, when Silvio remembers the old fire that once consumed him: ‘That was what we wanted. To burn, to be consumed, to devour our days just as fire devours the forest’ (p.152).

The book is short – just over one hundred and fifty pages – while Nemirovsky’s style is sparse and simple; yet accompanying this is her beautiful description of the quiet rural life where ‘the days drag on while the years fly by’, with ‘long hours spent sitting by the fire doing nothing, not reading, nor drinking, not even dreaming’ (p.35).

The novel does not follow a strict narrative of noting all actions, just the main events over a couple of years from Silvio’s viewpoint. Though this may indeed be due to its full lack of completion by the author, which leaves many question marks. What changes would have Nemirosvky made? Furthermore, the book’s rather abrupt ending leaves the reader unfulfilled.

Fire In The Blood is an enjoyable novel and an excellent introduction to a talented author. It is a wonder that it was sitting still for over fifty years, waiting for the day when readers would devour its pages. A credit to her biographers and family, as well as to Nemirovsky herself.

From Bismarck to Hitler: Geoff Layton

Geoff Layton - From Bismarck to Hitler: Germany 1890-1933 (1995)
History – 150 pages – my copy (paperback; 1999) bought for £1.99 from the Oxfam Bookshop in St Austell, Cornwall around Xmas 2009
- 3 nods

The Access to History series – of which this book on Germany is one part of – is an interesting and widely varied catalogue of books, printed to enlighten students and the general public alike. It differs from many other texts in concentrating on a single period (for German history, for instance, the reader could lap up Germany: 1815-90 or the Third Reich), summarising in a nice, simple bite-sized manner.

Taking up the baton of Germany in this changing time, Geoff Layton does an admirable job, bringing such topics as the Kaiser, the First World War, as well as the rise and the fall of the Weimer Republic to us, the audience. He concentrates on Wilhelmine Germany (1890-1914) in domestic and foreign affairs, commenting upon its political and social structures. The First World War acts a middle, dividing point in this period; a point that brought about massive change, clearing out the old of the Kaiser to bring in the new of republicanism and democracy. Layton brings up interesting arguments in the ending chapters based upon the Weimer Republic, raising some teasers as to the Republic’s actual demise: was it Hitler or were the democratic structures eroded before the man with the little moustache arrived on the scene, aided in the persons of Bruning and Hindenburg?

The failure of Weimar resounded as a devastating failure for the world as a whole. But in its struggle to maintain unity and its downfall, Layton raises all the issues of conflict as a good historian should. A whole body of heated historiography is brought to the reader’s attention, from German historians (such as the noted Fritz Fisher) to the assertions of the structuralists. Even the ‘hero’ of Weimar, Stresemann, is not let off lightly; Layton debating his democratic values.

Layton’s study upon Germany in this period never threatens to be anything more than an introduction; yet in 150 short pages he manages to alight the reader and student on the situation and the possibilities of dipping further into the pool of this period.

The Kings Depart: Richard M. Watt

The Kings Depart by Richard M. Watt (1968)
History – 530 pages – my copy (hardback; 1969) borrowed from University of Plymouth library, courtesy of Jay
- 4 nods

Germany at the end of 1918: an empire wrecked by over four years of war, of internal conflict and rising hatreds. This is the starting point for Richard M. Watt’s study upon the German people in this tumultuous time, the book’s subtitle encapsulating the massive, historic dimensions: ‘the tragedy of Germany: Versailles and the German Revolution’.

In the space of 530 vigorous pages, Watt takes the reader through the closing weeks of the war, the comings and goings in the offices of the German government, the rise of the Spartakists, misadventures on the borders of Soviet Russia, before the acceptance of the harsh peace treaty mercilessly bestowed by the Allies. 1919 was a frantic and frenzied year for Germany; and Watt does a terrific job of tackling each of the key issues in an impressive manner.

There is a mammoth amount of detail to fit into these pages, from the Kiel Mutiny to the rise of the Friekorps to the Bavarian revolutions. Such a size could force many historians to cower in submission; but not Watt. His style throughout all is informative while being easy to read, thus making each session with the book a real delight. Furthermore, The Kings Depart is not a weighty report detailing economic and social trends (though it does touch upon these), but rather one centred upon the personalities of the time. He spends much energy on the socialist leader Ebert, of the dynamic Gustav Noske, of Hindenburg and the Kaiser; as well as the allied leaders of Woodrow Wilson, Clemenceau and our very own David Lloyd George.

My chief gripe with The Kings Depart is the book’s layout and narrative. The first hundred pages deal not at all with Germany, but rather with the Allies when drawing the Versailles peace treaty (mainly centring on Woodrow Wilson). Although Watt’s biographical sketches are strong, the pace of the book is somewhat skewed when it flings from the Allied leaders to the heart of Germany and its troubles, where it stays for the next three hundred pages. A curious choice, and perhaps the book’s greatest failure: Watt attempting to consume as much as possible of this period into the book. Perhaps the portrayal of Wilson would have been better served in a separate volume.

The wonder of this period is the possibility of history taking dramatically different courses: a communist Germany, perhaps, or a fully fledged republic dedicated to defending democracy; both of which would have stopped the rise of Hitler and his Nazi party, as well as the Second World War. There was so much change in such a short space of time in 1919 that any eventuality can be argued. What did result, however, was the weak Weimar Republic and a doomed constitution, both of which only survived fourteen brief years before the shadow of Hitler loomed larger and ever larger. The Kings Depart keeps the reader wondering at the What Ifs of History.

Lord Jim: Joseph Conrad

Lord Jim (1900) by Joseph Conrad
Novel – 310 pages – my copy (paperpback; 1993) bought for £1 from the charity bookshop in Derriford Hospital, autumn of 2008
- 5 nods

Joseph Conrad is one of English literature’s most enigmatic characters: a Pole by birth who travelled the seven seas, initially on French boats, he ended on these shores writing fiction in what was his third language. He wrote substantial works; perhaps his most famous is the brooding and mysterious novella, Heart of Darkness (which later served as the basis for Coppola’s film adaptation, Apocolypse Now). Lord Jim, its forerunner by two years, shares many characteristics: the sea, mystery and the presence of a narrator, Marlow.

Lord Jim follows the adventures of a water-clerk named - yes, you guessed it - Jim; a man who was ‘an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, headed forward, and a fixed from-under-stare which made you think of a charging bull’ (p.3). Jim finds himself attached to unwanted infamy when he and several others abandon their ship, the Patna, when they believe it to be heading the way of Davy Jones’ locker; leaving the hundred or so souls present on the ship to their watery graves. However, the boat survives, leaving those who bolted to become derided as cowards.

Intrigued by Jim's struggle, Marlow becomes attached to him and his romantic story (befriending others and any who will listen to him), seeing him fly from one job to the next, always trying to stay ahead of his besmeared reputation. Jim is eventually given a chance to hide from the known world on the island of Patusan, where – feeling he has nothing left to lose – he rises to become respected, their Tuan – or Lord in English. The story ends with Jim's final confrontation in his battle for redemption: not only from the wider world, but also from his own conscience. I leave out the details in case any of you Bookwormers take the great choice of reading this classic.

And classic is it. Throughout all Conrad’s prose is a delight to behold. This is one of the top masters of English fiction at work. Moreover, Conrad's inventive narrative devices clad this tale in a greater enigma. The story is told in numerous viewpoints, from third-person to that of Marlow, all of which give us multiple glimspes of Jim. The ending question for the reader is: do we ever really know him, or does it instead remain an unsolvable mystery?

Lord Jim is a heavyweight of literature; a showcase of one of the great novelists on top form; a hands down 5 nodder.

The Elusive Greek Fire

Judith Herrin – Byzantium (2007)
History – 340 pages – my copy (paperback; 2008) bought from Waterstones, Xmas 2008 for £10
- 2 nods

Now largely forgotten, the Byzantium Empire was a domain that endured for over one thousand years; it’s capital was the magnificent and unrivalled Constantinople – now modern Istanbul – and it held a great significance in being the bulwark against the rise and spread of Islam, allowing Europe to grow. Yet despite this, it remains an empire that is largely neglected by both historian and reader alike. It is Herrin’s self-proclaimed intention to reverse such a trend.

‘The modern stereotype of Byzantium’, writes the author, Herrin, ‘is tyrannical government by effeminate, cowardly men and corrupt eunuchs, obsessed with hollow rituals and endless, complex and incomprehensible bureaucracy’ (p.321). Herrin’s self-proclaimed intention is to reverse the trend of dull, ‘complicated histories which fail to bring to life the inner dynamic of the empire’ (p.267). This book – glossy and modern – is the marker for change.

From it’s inception in the Roman period, to it’s demise when seized by the Ottoman Turks in the mid-fifteenth century, Herrin takes the reader throughout all conceivable aspects of Byzantine life. There is no narrative, rather a chapter summary of all topics, from eunuchs to the mystical Greek Fire. Yet rather than tackle the issues head on, Herrin instead glosses over each one; each chapter never threatening to become engrossing.

Herrin argues throughout how the empire was important in allowing western Europe and Christendom to grow: ‘Without Byzantium, Europe as we know it is inconceivable’ (p.87). Yet such an assertion, though perhaps kindling gratitude, isn’t enough to sustain the layman throughout three hundred pages of a book that is dull in large parts, lacking in adding the sparkling interest that Herrin desperately craves.

‘The surprising life of a medieval empire’ reads the subtitle of Judith Herrin’s history on Byzantium; yet a flick through these pages mostly reveals the reverse. It may be that Byzantium remains, like Greek Fire, elusive; but the Worm is of the convinced belief that it is the author herself who fails in the task of bringing to life this vigorous empire and time.