Deborah Rey’s Short Stories

A few weeks ago, Deborah Rey left a comment on one of my posts. I followed the link to her site and found out that she is a writer with a book coming out in April. The first chapter of the book and some examples of Deborah’s fiction are available on her site. I printed them, but then they got lost in my TBR-pile of articles, short stories and other things that I had printed from the internet (I have two TBR-piles, one with books, the other with things I printed from the internet – I don’t like reading long articles from a screen so I tend to print them at work and take them home to read). This past weekend I finally picked them up again and read both the short stories and the chapter from the book.

I was not disappointed at all. I read all the stories twice and then reread some of them to get a better feel for the language or the story. Deborah Rey has found a very distinct voice, an interesting mixture of directness, sometimes bordering on rawness, and leaving things unsaid. For me, this mixture worked well, but I can see that her writing might not appeal to everyone.

I think my favorite short story was The Last Plane, about the last hours in the life of Tommy, a man dying from AIDS who has decided to take matters in his own hand by dying through euthanasia. The story is sad and somehow funny at the same time. No, I should put that differently: the story itself is sad and touching, but it did make me laugh more than once. There was something about the grace and self-respect in the way in which Tommy and his friend Meg dealt with the last hours of Tommy’s life.

The Last Plane is the second to the last story on the page, the last one is Hello God. It is a glimpse into the life of a married couple and their four year old daughter Tess. One morning Tess crawls into her parents’ bed and starts asking her mother about God. Her Catholic aunt had asked Tess to say a prayer to God once and now Tess wants her atheist Jewish mother to explain who God is. A funny conversation follows in which mom tries to come up with an answer that is satisfying both for her daughter’s curiosity and for her own non-believing self. During a walk in the woods later that day, it turns out that Tess’ mother did manage to get her point across.

Somehow these two stories about a man dying of AIDS and a four year old girl asking who God is, make up a pair to me. I tried to think of why, but I could not find an answer. The closest I got to an answer was that the confrontation between believing and non-believing are a theme in both stories. I don’t know why I feel that these two stories belong together, but they do. To me at least.

Another short story that stood out for me was Lost, Loser, Losing, Lost, about a Jewish woman reclaiming herself from an unhappy marriage. Here is a quote:

When they got married in a civil ceremony, his sister stood between them, held her brother’s hand and answered, “Yes”, before the bride-to-be could open her mouth. The town hall official didn’t notice. “Instead of me, you married your sister,” she told him later that day while bottle-feeding her best friend’s baby – baby-sitting had come in the place of their wedding night – “You married Marge, not me. I think our marriage is a losing game… and we haven’t even started playing yet.”
He told her not to be silly.

During the religious wedding ceremony the rabbi who married them told his sister to stand back. He asked the bride to her place next to her – according to religious law – still future husband. For one short moment it made her feel like a winner but later, while standing alone in the corner of the immense hall where everybody was singing and dancing and celebrating their beloved son, brother, nephew, cousin or friend’s wedding, that feeling soon left and so did she.
She went to the closest cinema and watched ‘The Misfits’ twice. She loved the film, the characters and the actors. All losers, like she.

Strange Breed is a short glimpse of Max in a cage. Who or what is Max and why is he being held in a cage? I found it a fascinating story that tells as much by what is written down as by what is left to the reader’s imagination.

The last short story I want to mention is The Bonsai Liberation Fund, a bittersweet story that left me smiling in the end. A woman who is suffering from (I assume) rheumatic arthritis and her husband create a garden where bonsai trees can grow free without being cut into all kinds of designs. Their private project is one that helps the women carry her progressing illness with resilience and humor.

“I’m beginning to feel like a bonsai tree,” she stated.
He laughed.
“You’re beginning to look like one, my wife,” he joked; together they grinned.
That’s how it all started.

Bonsai…bonsai…the word, and the picture that went with it, didn’t leave her and that’s how she decided to start a fund. A fund for the liberation of bonsai trees: the Bonsai Liberation Fund.

The BLF had two members and a dog, and the three of them took care of everything. Her man bordered off a piece of their garden, turned the ground, put in some good earth and planted a hedge of bamboo.
Grows fast, bamboo does, and by the time she’d bought her first bonsai trees the stalks were high enough to keep anybody from seeing what was behind the hedge. None of their business and we all know how it is with Liberation Funds…before even reading the word Bonsai, people would start screaming!

She bought first one, then two, then fifteen little bonsai trees that – just for laughs – all were between sixty and seventy years old. She, too, was between sixty and seventy, that’s why.

[...]

Do you know what Liberated Bonsai Trees look like?

They look happy, they look healthy, they look contented, and even though their trunks will always remain crooked and malformed, their leaves rustle in the wind and sing along with the murmuring water of the waterfall.
They’re crooked, but they’re free. Like the woman sitting on that little bench. Yes, that one, with the funny hands and funny feet. The one who can hardly walk, but always has a smile on her face. That’s what they look like.

Deborah Rey’s website is here, her blog is here and examples of her fiction are here. I will write a separate post about the first chapter of her upcoming book.

Carnavals and awards

First, the awards.

More than two weeks ago, in her award-fest Bonnie awarded me a Best Blogging Buddies Award for Global Communities. I am so incredibly late for this, but I just didn’t have time to sit down and collect the links. Yeah, lame excuse, I know… But I do so want to pass my award on to some cool blogging buddies around the world, so with the motto “Better Late Than Never”, here are my awards.

And the award goes to……. Tadadadaaah:

My friend Lucy from New Zealand who is now living in Armenia for several years. I first found her blog and then we met in person when she was in town. She’s cool!

Nika who is from Armenia, but now lives in the US. We’ve never met, but I hope we do some day, because I have a feeling we’ll have lots to talk about!

Canadian Kim who is now living in Albania. Her experiences and stories sometimes remind me so much of my life here in Armenia. Besides, she shares her beautiful pictures on her blog!

Last but not least, I am awarding Margaret, a Lebanese-American, living in the US. Her posts and pictures make me stop and think. Visiting her blog is a such an inspiration and a treat! Edit: She has such strong feelings and connections about Lebanon, that I always assumed Margaret was at least part Lebanese, but she mentioned in the comment below that she actually isn’t, but she lived there for a long time during her youth at the time of the Lebanese civil war.

I read many more great blogs that I could all have nominated, but I decided to limit myself to these for excellent blogging women. Thanks all four of you for blogging. You all make my day whenever I stop by and see you have a new post up!

Then we move on to the Carnival.

I am hosting next month’s Bookworms Carnival. The theme is Women in Literature. If you have written any posts on this theme in it’s broadest sense recently, feel free to nominate it by sending an email with the link to your post to me at armenianodar [at] yahoo [dot] com.The deadline is March 14, so there is still plenty of time, but I thought I’d put up a first announcement.

It can be a review of a book by a female author, a review of a book in which the main character is female, it can be a non-review type post in which you discuss a topic relevant to the theme, a post with your favorite female authors or book-characters. Or something completely different. There are plenty of ways your blogpost can fall under this theme, so don’t be shy and nominate your post!

I always plan to advertise the latest edition of the Bookworms Carnival, but most of the time I just plain forget. Shame on me! Blush! I am sure that by now you have all already visited the latest edition hosted by Renay at The Book Ninja. If not, shame on you, because Renay created one special carnival, great map included.

The complete Sherlock Holmes, part 2

I already finished reading the second volume of the complete Sherlock Holmes short stories and novels, even though I vowed not to touch it for a while after I finished the first volume. A while ago, I picked it up anyway, because I was looking for something light and easy to read. The volume that I read, consisted of two collections of short stories and the novels The Valley of Fear and The Hound of the Baskervilles. Usually I read any book from the beginning till the end, even if it is a collection of short stories, essays or of other writings that can be read separately and independently from each other. I am not one for dipping in and out. In this case, though, I made my way through the short stories first, then I read “The Valley of Fear” and finally “The Hound of the Baskervilles”, even though that is not the order in which they appear in the book.

I had planned to finish “The Hound of the Baskervilles” already last weekend, but didn’t manage to. Then every evening this week I installed myself on the couch or in bed intending to finish it. That didn’t happen till Friday evening, because each previous attempt failed as I would fall asleep early after having read only a couple of pages or a chapter. Friday I did manage to finish the book before I actually fell asleep.:-)

In the post I wrote after I finished the first volume, Cliff Burns left a comment about the art of composing and the use of words in the Sherlock Holmes stories. Somehow this got stuck in my head and I read the second volume with that remark always lurking around. I’d say it is mostly true, but especially for the short stories: often there is not a word too many. Every word that is there, has a function.

In “The Hound of the Baskervilles” many words are given to describing the atmosphere and the location, which is essential in the story. I think the setting on moors of Devon is one of the attractions of the story. I had read this book several times before, the last time being ten, if not fifteen years ago. I still remembered the big lines of the story, but not the details or who was the murderer. While reading, the story came back to me and I’d see the clues waving at me like red flags. I’d say to myself: “There’s a clue!” So when the villain was introduced, I immediately realized he was the bad guy. Despite thus knowing fairly early on who was the murderer, I still enjoyed reading the book and letting Arthur Conan Doyle lead me to the conclusion. There was also just enough left to guess to keep the story entertaining. Also, the descriptions of the moor where a part of the book I liked very much.

I had fun rereading all the Sherlock Holmes stories, but now that I am done with them, I don’t think I will take them up again in the next ten years or so. By that time, it might be time for a (partial) reread, but that time will tell.

You can download the free audiobook of here. The texts of all Sherlock Holmes stories and novels are available for free downloading here.

Of elections and other mysteries

Today is a day off in Armenia, because there are presidential elections. I am planning to use this day to catch up on writing reviews and a couple of other blogposts. My boyfriend is off all day working as a translator for the international election observer mission (I had applied, but unfortunately through a bit of a mix-up wasn’t selected), so I have the house to myself. I don’t expect him back till early tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, chances are not imaginary that there will be street protests that could turn violent in the next couple of days. I so hope this won’t happen.

Off to my review.

The Snake Stone by Jason Goodwin is the second in a series with the eunucha Togalu as the private investigator. So far there are only two books, the first being The Janissary Tree. The book is set in the Istanbul of the mid 19th century, where many different nationalities live together. As a eunuch, Yashim has free access to both the exclusively female part of Ottoman society, the Sultan’s harem for example, and to the male part of society.

One day in 1838, a French archaeologist arrives in Istanbul who is determined to find some lost Byzantinetreasure. Coincidental or not, this arrival is accompanied by the murders and attempted of several members of Istanbul’s Greek community. Yashim sets out to investigate these. But when the archaeologist is also found murdered, Yashim’s position becomes complicated because everything points to him being the killer. Yashim has only a few days time to find the real killer until the publication of the official report of the murder.

The Snake Stonewas an entertaining read, not really because of the mystery, but because of the setting and the main character. After finishing the book, the mystery itself left me thinking: “Was that all?” What really made me enjoy the book were the descriptions of Istanbul and all the different colorful characters: Yashim himself, Lord Byron’s physician, the ambassador of Poland (which was a non-existent country at the time), the archaeologist’s wife, the Sultan’s mother…

Strange for a mystery, but this one seems more setting driven, than plot or character driven. On the other hand, many of these characters don’t really develop or grow as you would expect in a character driven book. Their portraits, their descriptions are the strong point.

And don’t forget the descriptions of food being prepared. Yes, really! These scenes are mouthwatering. When you read the book you will understand. In fact, my favorite scene from the book involves Yashim and the widow of the archaeologist (who has unexpectedly showed up at his house and doesn’t know yet that her husband was killed) preparing dinner.

Despite the book falling short of being a nail-biting suspense-filled mystery, I found The Snake Stonea very satisfying read once I got used to the pace and the rhythm of the story and had somewhat adjusted my expectations. I’d certainly like to read the first part of the series and keep up with any following books with Yashim as the investigator.

You can read an extract here.

Another challenge

I gave in to another challenge, the Eponymous Reading Challenge hosted by Coversgirl at Between the Covers. The aim of the challenge is

to read 4 books whose titles are the name of one or more of the characters (e.g. Evelina, Oscar and Lucinda); or a description of one or more of the characters (e.g. The Merchant of Venice, Sylvia’s Lovers).

The challenge runs from March 1 till May 31. Non-fiction and overlaps with other challenges are allowed as are books named after four-legged characters.

These are three books I will definitely read:

* Penelope by Goar Markosyan-Kasper;
* Ali and Nino by Kurban Said;
* The Kite-Runner by Khaled Hosseini.

The fourth will either be Young Stalin by Simon Sebag Montefiore (which will definitely be an overlap with the Russian Reading Challenge) or Tali, The Miracle of Chegem by Fazil Iskander (which I could also count towards the Russian Reading Challenge, though I might chose not to – I’m still undecided about that).

Reading through the Ages

Over the weekend, my dad sent me an email with this painting. It is a fresco from ca. 1464 by Vincenzo Foppa (1427 – 1515) called “The Young Cicero Reading”. It is now in the Wallace Collection in London.

I tried to get more info from the site of the Wallace Collection, but I got an error message every time I went too far in the site. I’ll add the link if I get to the page I wanted to open. This is the blurb my dad sent me, which I believe comes from the museum’s site:

The Young Cicero Reading is the only surviving fresco from the Banco Mediceo, Milan In 1455 Francesco Sforza gave the Palazzo to Cosimo de’Medici, who had it lavishly restyled. Foppa, the leading Lombard master of the quattrocento period, was commissioned to fresco the courtyard. The Young Cicero Reading may have been intended to accompany the Virtues as an emblem of Rhetoric, one of the Liberal Arts. Set in the open courtyard for four hundred years, the fresco was removed, c.1863, framed and extensively retouched, which explains some of the compositional inconsistencies which are now apparent.

Isn’t it a a lovely painting? I just wanted to share it with you.

BTW: I should be back to more regular blogging soon.

On Harry Potter, reading, writing and winning

My brother’s girlfriend lent me her copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows to read while I was in Holland a couple of weeks ago. She figured I’d manage before I’d return to Armenia. She was right (as I knew she would be): it took me all of two days to read the book. I am not a Harry Potter-addict at all: I’ve read three or four books and watched the first two movies. I think that the only books that I haven’t either read or watched as a movie are HP and the Prisoner of Azkaban and HP and the Half-blood Prince. I certainly enjoy the HP-series and I don’t exclude that at some time I will read the books I haven’t read yet. But I don’t feel like I have to, like it is a lack in my reading experience if I don’t read them. Just so you know where I stand on Harry Potter.

One of “my” children here in Armenia (Vardan, a 17 year old boy with severe kidney failure – I have often blogged about him on my other blog) is absolutely crazy about Harry Potter and loves both the books and the movies. Harry is his hero and meeting J.K. Rowling and Daniel Radcliffe (the actor who plays HP in the movies) is one of his biggest dreams. But I digress.

I found the first half of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows rather slow and at one point, about 200 pages in, I felt I’d had enough of the book. I needed a break, because the story was dragging so much. So I put the book away and took it up again the next day. Fortunately, the pace picked up soon and I couldn’t put the book down anymore till I had turned the last page. Since everybody already knows the story (and for those few that don’t I don’t want to spoil anything), I won’t summarize it here.

To be honest, I didn’t even think that the book was that great. It’s certainly not my favorite of series – I think that would be the Goblet of Fire, possibly because that was my introduction to Harry. Despite this, I did want to keep on reading, to find out what would happen next and how things would end. Rowling’s writing is wonderful and I love the alternative world she has created. I especially loved the part of the book set in the Weasly-household, the preparations for the wedding was probably my favorite part of the book.

However, I was continually aware that I was reading a translation (I read the Dutch translation), which was a bit annoying. Not because the translation was bad, on the contrary: the Dutch translator did do a great job, translating the names of people and places mostly in a clever way, keeping the wordplays or the characteristics of the owner of the name in the Dutch version. I tried to find the reason why reading the Dutch translation of HP bothered me, even if there wasn’t really anything wrong with that translation, but I couldn’t.

In general, I prefer reading books in English if that is the original language, and if the book was originally written in a third language, sometimes I even prefer reading the English translation to reading the Dutch. Even if the quality of the Dutch translation is good and generally Dutch translators do a good job. Maybe it has something to do with my general aversion of reading Dutch literature, I mean literature originally written in Dutch by Dutch writers. Though I can’t see the connection between the two, original Dutch literature and books in Dutch translation. I do read books in Dutch, but mostly non-fiction. I just don’t like Dutch fiction. I’ve never liked it. But I am drifting off into completely different areas. I might actually ponder reading in translation and/or my dislike of literature in my native language a bit more and come back to it in one or more separate posts.

It took me some time after finishing Harry Potter, before I realized that I could actually count it towards the Chunkster Challenge, as the book has 500-something pages. I decided not to, simply because the book didn’t feel like a chunkster. For me, reading a book that can be defined as a chunkster needs to take some effort. Not that it has to be a book I am dragging to finish and that takes forever or is difficult or that it has to be a ‘punishment’. Maybe it has something to do with me not being afraid to take on big or difficult books and frequently actually taking them on. Having breezed through Harry didn’t feel like I just finished a chunkster. Long story short: I decided no to count Harry Potter towards the Chunkster Challenge. This actually keeps the counter for my challenges still stuck at 0.

I am halfway through The Whisperers, which will definitely count as a chunkster, but I put it away for a bit to read some other things. Stalin’s terror was getting a bit too gloomy, though the book is very good. I am in the middle of writing a half-way post for The Whisperers, which should be up sometime later this week.

I have quite a few half finished posts and some reviews that I have notes for, but which I haven’t started putting in the computer yet. I lost my writing groove after I came back from Holland. Now you know why it has been so quiet around here. I try to write for an hour or two every morning before I go to work (I generally start at 11am, one of the perks of working parttime ), but I haven’t managed to do that once since I returned home. It’s really starting to bug me, I feel like I am missing something, not doing something I need and want to be doing. This week I want to start writing and getting the rhythm back. While I won’t be able to post something everyday, I want to put up at least three posts per week. Here, I made it public. Now I ‘only’ have to stick to it.

To end this somewhat rambling post (it wasn’t my intention to ramble when I started), there is some good news. I won Michael Cunningham’s The Hours in Alisia’s give-away! More reading fun coming my way!