One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (1963)
Novella – 140 pages – my copy (Penguin paperback) bought for £1.50 from the wonderful BookStore in Truro, Cornwall around Xmas 2009
- 4 nods

A story so popular that its author was lauded as a hero in the contrasting worlds of Soviet Russia and the capitalist Western countries. One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich was one of the first stories in print to expose the brutality of life in the Russian gulag: of hard labour, of the blistering cold, of sanctions and of wasted years of life. ‘The days rolled by in the camp – they were over before you could say "knife". But the years, they never rolled by: they never moved by a second’ (p.56)

Writing with authority – having done ‘hard-time’ himself – Solzhenitsyn writes of Ivan Denisovich (known to all as Shukhov) and his struggle in Siberia. On first reading, one might expect Shukhov to do something spectacular, to rebel, to become the hero, to regain his long forgotten freedom. None of this happens; and it is what makes this story unique and special. Shukhov is a run of the mill prisoner, an ordinary Joe Bloggs in his home village; his heroic exploits include the hiding of his daily ration bread and of surviving the cold, icy weather outside during his working day.

This day, then, is one of life’s small battles. But also, of the struggle to keep what remained of the life one had before, with a prisoner’s humanity being chipped away, bit by bit. As the author writes: ‘During his years in prisons and camps he’d lost the habit of planning for the next day, for a year ahead, for supporting his family. The authorities did his thinking for him about everything – it was somehow easier that way’ (p.38).

The book is a condemnation of the thousands who were wrongly imprisoned in Soviet Russia, especially under Stalin’s iron rule. One of the most spectacular facts is that the book actually got published; arriving in a moment of a political ‘thaw’. Of course, Solzhenitsyn’s popularity in both camps would not last, being used a political pin-ball by the divided camps of the Cold War. Yet, this book, continues as a gold-standard of modern fiction.

The War of the Worlds: H.G. Wells

H.G. Wells – The War of the Worlds (1898)
Novel – 140 pages – my copy (1988; hardback) borrowed from my parents bookshelf
- 4 nods

Mr Wells is regarded, and perhaps rightly so, as one of the top science fiction novelists; indeed, it was Mr Wells himself who put the genre in the limelight, ensuring its success throughout the twentieth century: from the book to radio, from the big screen to the TV. The War of the Worlds is a prime example of a story that has spellbound audiences across several mediums: Orson Welles captivated his audience in the late 1930s, with many supposedly believing an actual alien invasion was underway; while more recently, Spielberg and Cruise made their own Hollywood adaptation.

The War of the Worlds is a short novel, written from the perspective of a middle class writer based in the greenbelt area around London. Perceptive and at first alarmingly casual about many things (though written from a later viewpoint), he documents the landing of the Martians and their eventual destruction of all around them and their march into London, then ‘the greatest city on earth’.

Of course, everyone is well versed in the eventual outcome of the story: the Martians are defeated not by human willpower, technological prowess or ingenuity, but rather by the bacteria on our planet. It is natural force over the human brain; a bold statement made by Wells at a time when man believed he had conquered science.

And here lies Wells’ ultimate vision: that humankind survives despite the struggle, despite the tears, despite the blood; more humbled and more respecting of life. It is a vision the story’s imitators have failed to grasp, with later versions focusing on the glory of defeating the invading alien. Such a difference has been neatly summarised by various commentators in being the difference between British and American values, with many British Sci-Fi being cut in the Wells mould. And, if we look further into the twentieth century, much of Wells’ vision is found in the British psyche, nowhere more clearly than in the resistance to the Nazi bombs in the Blitz. Further applause, then, to Wells: not only the novelist, but the great anticipator of the future.

All Because of Him: Klara Andersen

Klara Andersen – All Because of Him (1995)
Memoir – 210 pages – my copy (paperback; 1995) borrowed & enjoyed
- 3 nods

Klara Andersen is the pen name of a German born woman who reached maturity under the Nazis, survived the Second World War and Soviet occupied territory; all before travelling to England, setting up home in Cornwall. All Because of Him, her first memoir, is her life from Hitler’s coming to power to 1933 to her escape from Communists in 1948.

She speaks of the enforced rules of Nazi life, of the pending threat of war, of her home being bombed, of not knowing whether or not her husband will ever return to her. Yet the most frightening moments of the book come after Hitler’s suicide, when the Russians have taken over Eastern Germany. In search of her mother, the young woman travels to the eastern sector, survives possible imprisonment and near rape, before abandoning her husband to return to the west to be with her family.

So much of the adventure found in All Because of Him is the dream of Hollywood movie-makers. Usually, the form that such memoirs take are fantastic experiences, yet the inability of the person to put pen to paper effectively. This is not a flaw known to Andersen (the name picked due to sharing a link with the great story teller, Hans Christian Andersen). Furthermore, her talent strikes further with her numerous sketchings illustrating the pages.

However, despite an obvious skill of story telling, the book suffers from lack of editing: both from minor mistakes as well as shaping the memories into a tighter, more satisfying read. For instance, much is omitted: her sister’s death and the coming of war. As such, All Because of Him, is 3 nodder book; filled with fantastic and genuine 5 nodder memories.

Down Under: Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson – Down Under (2000)
Travel – 400 pages – my copy (paperback; 2001) bought for £3 from the Book Cupboard in Plymouth
- 4 nods

Bill Bryson made his name as an author of travel fiction; an odd thing for a man who initally wrote books and articles on the English language, admitting his reluctance and pains as a traveller. From the lost continent of America, to zigzagging across Europe to our own small island, right up to the end of the twentieth century Bryson made his readers laugh and then cry….with more laughter.

Down Under is his take on the land of Australia; his impressions formed from several visits to the country in a short space of time. He travels across the railway from Sydney to Perth, he visits the major cities in the south-eastern corner, he sees the coral reef, Alice Springs and the large rock named Uluru. Throughout all, the reader has a convivial, funny and insightful host. As always, Bryson is a fan of the forgotten fact, of the quirks and eccentrics in history; of which, Australia has many. Such as adventurers liked Robert O'Hara Burke who tried to find a route across the desert contintent (and failed); as well one of his 'minor heroes', a geologist named Reginald Sprigg who found rocks that linked us to our pre-historic past. He continually comments on the vast amount of ways in which a person could be killed (spiders, large bugs, sharks, tidal waves), whilst being blown away by the richness of the fauna as well as disheartened by the plight of the Aborigine.

Down Under is not a full blooded travel book, as in the vein of Paul Theroux. Bryson doesn't hike with his back pack, away for months on end: travel is strictly upon his own terms, both enjoyable and hilarious. And to be more exact, it is not 100% "travel", with Bryson writing about history, about society and about his own views (the bibliography confirms his vast background reading). His observations are a delight to read (such as those on the sport of cricket, p.145); including his view on being alone in a cafe in Australia:

‘It always amazes me how seldom visitors bother with local papers. Personally, I can think of nothing more exciting – certainly nothing you could do in a public place with a cup of coffee – than to read newspapers from a part of the world you know almost nothing about. What a comfort it is to find a nation preoccupied by matters of no possible consequence to oneself. I love reading about scandals involving ministers of whom I have never heard, murder hunts in communities whose names sound dusty and remote, features on revered artists and thinkers whose achievements have never reached my ears…’ (p.99)

Always convivial, always a laugh: this is Bryson near his damned best. Don't miss it.