Ines of My Soul by Isabel Allende

Have you ever been so engrossed in a book that when you turned the page, there was nothing on the next one? That you had finished the book without noticing it? That is what happened to me when I finished Isabel Allende’s Ines of My Soul. When I turned the page and noticed there was nothing left, I really felt disoriented for a bit. I hadn’t even noticed I had reached the end of the book. Now, one the one hand it says something good about the book: that the story was so captivating, but on the other hand it says something about the ending, that that may not have been the right moment or way to end the book. The end was a bit too sudden for my taste.

I had already felt that the last chapter was as if Allende was rushing towards the end and I already found it the weakest part of the book. On the other hand, this rushing also fitted the story, because the narrator, Ines Suarez, was dictating her life story and she felt she was close to her death, so she wanted to finish her work before she died. The rushing in the final chapter was actually the thing I liked least in an otherwise great book. I was absolutely captivated by the story of Ines and the conquest of Chile by the Spaniards in the sixteenth century.

Ines Suarez is a seamstress from a south-Spanish town in the mid-sixteenth century, who follows her first husband to the new Spanish colonies in South-America. When she reaches Peru, Ines finds out her husband had died not too long before her arrival. She starts a passionate relationship with Pedro de Valdivia, whom she accompanies on his trek across mountains and deserts to conquer the lands of Chile for the Spanish Crown. The book focuses on this part of Ines’ life, the difficult trek south and the following years of war against the natives and colonization in which Ines plays an important role. Ines Suarez was actually a historical person, about whom not much more was known than that she was the mistress of De Valdivia and later the wife of the next governor of Chile, Rodrigo de Quiroga. This gave Isabel Allende the opportunity to use her imagination when filling in Ines’ life.

Ines of My Soul covers many themes that are familiar to readers of Isabel Allende’s work: Latin-America, a hint of magical realism her and there (but not very much), destiny, and strong female characters. About the latter, I loved this quote from the book:

“Why must people gossip and be so mean-spirited, Ines?” Cecilia asked.

“It bothers them that instead of taking on the role of the abandoned lover, I have become a happy wife. They relish seeing strong women like you and me humiliated. They cannot forgive us that we have triumphed where so many others fail,” I explained.
[...]
“Courage is a virtue appreciated in a male but considered a defect in our gender. Bold women are a threat to a world that is badly out of balance, in favor of men. That is why they work so hard to mistreat us and destroy us. But remember that bold women are like cockroaches: step on one and others come running from the corners,” I told her.

This brings me to one other minor thing I didn’t like about the book: I found almost all characters, except for Ines herself and to a certain extent Pedro de Valdivia and Rodrigo de Quiroga a bit two-dimensional, but even the latter two were not that fleshed out. There were two secondary characters especially, about whom I would have loved to read more. One is Cecilia, who is mentioned in the quote above. She is an Inca princess who married one of the Spaniards and follows her husband on the trek south to Chile and becomes a good friend of Ines. The other one is Catalina, also a native Inca woman who becomes Ines’ servant and best friend. She knows all about herbs and medication and is a healer. I found both women quite interesting and would have loved to find out more about them, what drives them, what made them give up their original way of life and adjust to that of the Spanish conquistadores, how they felt about the Spaniards barging in and destroying their own civilizations. etc. Unfortunately, their characters remain somewhat underdeveloped in the book, even though they are major secondary characters.

The last time I read anything by Allende must have been more than ten years ago. I have a love-hate relationship with her books. I very much enjoyed her shorter works The Stories of Eva Luna and Of Love and Shadows, but I hated The House of the Spirits and The Infinite Plan, both books (coincidentally or not) about twice the size of the first two. I actually only managed to finish The House… because I had seen the movie just before I read the book (or rather, I read the book because I had seen the movie). I gave up on Allende after The Infinite Plan, because I hated that book so, so much! Actually, my loving Ines of My Soul confirms my theory: at slightly over 300 pages it is closer in size to The Stories of Eva Luna and Of Love and Shadows than to The House of the Spirits and The Infinite Plan.

I loved Ines of My Soul very much and might actually pick up another of Allende’s books if I come across them. Depending on the size that is…

You can read an excerpt from Ines of My Soul here.

Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith

Ever since this book started appearing on the bookblogs early this year, I have had my eye on Child 44. This only increased once it made it to the longlist of the Booker Prize and got quite a lot of criticism for that. Reviews have been very mixed, ranging from great to ‘This book sucks!’ and everything in between, making things even more interesting. Then, a few months ago, I won a copy of Child 44 in a giveaway at Kirsty’s blog Other Stories. Her own review was at the negative side of the scales: She didn’t even finish the book.

Initially, it was the premise of the book that got me interested. Child 44 is a thriller/detective set in 1953 in the Soviet-Union, at the end of the Stalin-era. Secret service officer Leo Demidov becomes involved in the murder of a child, who was found dead near a Moscow train track with dirt stuffed in his mouth and his stomach cut out and missing. When Demidov is demoted and transferred to a town hundreds of kilometers away from Moscow in the Ural mountains, he finds out that in that town as well two children have recently been found murdered in exactly the same way. This is too much of a coincidence in a country where crime is officially non-existent – the authorities want the population to believe that crime is something that happens in the capitalist world, not in their communist country. Formerly a loyal servant to the state, Demidov decides to get to the bottom of this at whatever cost.

I did finish Child 44, but honestly, I was not that impressed by the book. I am not sure at all why it ended up on the Booker longlist. I was not at all convinced by the setting or the characters and there were too many fortunate coincidences, loose ends, somewhat unlikely Russian names and, to top it all off, grammatical errors (a then/than one made me absolutely cringe) and missing words.

I mentioned in my review of Russka, that I have come across very, very few (if any) non-Russian/Western writers who successfully pull off writing fiction set in the Soviet era and especially who get people’s mindset and the atmosphere right. Russka initially made me think about this and following that up with Child 44 kept the subject in my mind. In retrospect, compared to Child 44, Rutherfurd did an excellent job with the characters in Russka. I have been thinking a lot about how to explain this and I am not sure I even get close to putting it into words the right way, it is something of a hunch, something that doesn’t sit right with me while reading a book.

For me, Leo Demidov (Leo, by the way, is not a Russian name, the Russian version of Leo is Lev. I don’t really understand why Smith didn’t call his main character just that, it isn’t that difficult a name for English speakers) was essentially too un-Russian in his way of thinking. I was not convinced by his character, why he would all of a sudden change from a loyal and unquestioning servant to the state and employee of the MGB (the secret service), arresting and interrogating people assuming their guilt beforehand to a questioning, critical, doubting, initiative-taking guy with a conscience. If he was like that before, then how on earth would he have ended up working for the MGB in the first place? Why would he want to work there and why would the MGB have accepted him if there was even the slightest doubt about his views?

Demidov is sort of upset when he realizes that the subject in the case he is working on, Brodsky, is innocent (this happens early on in the book and is not a spoiler, also because it has nothing to do with the child murders as such), but if he has been arresting people before as part of his job, why would Demidov all of a sudden be surprised or even care? I found his reaction to Brodsky’s interrogation and execution somewhat strange. At the same time Demidov has no scruples having his wife Raisa tagged when he suspects her of adultery, so his conscience has its limits.

I was interested in how Raisa and Leo’s relationship would develop once they were sent to Voualsk, the small town in the Ural mountains, and once the “foundation” of their marriage disappears. Unfortunately, there too there were changes that were somewhat unlikely or remained unexplained. This would have been a storyline that could have been much better developed in my opinion, but then again: that would make the book a different kind of story altogether, not a thriller.

The story is set around the time of the death of Stalin in March 1953. Right before he died, Stalin had started up a new campaign known as the Doctors’ Plot, mainly targeted at Jews. I would assume that this would have its influence on Demidov’s work for the MGB, increased activity, etc. But nowhere in the book does this show. Neither does the death of Stalin show, other than in the page and a half when Demidov and his wife Raisa are attending the grieving for Stalin. From what I know of that period, I would expect that the influence of Stalin’s death on the people would be much larger. As it is, including this event doesn’t add anything to the story, it could have been set almost at any time during the Stalin era. Another thing I found missing in the book was fear, fear of being arrested, of being overheard, etc. From what I know, fear was fairly prominent in society at that time. It is mentioned in the book, but it is there somewhere in the background, if at all. All in all, I found that the setting of Stalin’s final days didn’t add that much to the story. Too bad, because I think that could also have played a bigger part in the story, in creating atmosphere.

The first 250 or so pages were fairly slow reading. I only read a chapter or so before putting the book away again, mostly being annoyed at the unconvincing setting and characters. I don’t know, maybe I was too critical, too nit-picking. Then, from the moment the reader finds out who the murderer is, I raced through the last two hundred pages in one evening. Not because the story all of a sudden became really, really good, but because the pace picked up, things got more interesting and possibly just because I temporarily suspended my disbelief or at least didn’t let it take over like before.

I think that the very bare premise of the book has potential (it is inspired by real events) and Smith’s writing as such is very readable and engaging, but the book has too many loose ends, unlikely twists and developments, unconvincing characters and setting for my taste. I don’t know, maybe it has (once again) to do with my knowledge of this part of the world. If you don’t have that baggage, maybe reading this book is different and more convincing, I don’t know. In many ways Child 44 feels like a missed opportunity, because the premise really is not bad. I cannot help but wonder what the book would be had it been written by a Russian writer.

The list of books that helped him in his research Smith gives at the end of the book is interesting and I definitely want to read some more of those books. Some I have read already, some are on my wishlist already, some are new to me.

Here is a list of other reviews. If I have missed yours, leave a link in the comments and I will add it.
Asylum
Dovegreyreader
Booklit
Other Stories
An adventure in reading
The Mookse and the Gripes

Furry kids and reading

I am still alive, am woefully behind with writing and posting my reviews. I just don’t have time and patience enough to sit down and write at the moment.

Because it’s been a while since I posted cat-pics here, I figured it was time for another one of me and my furry kids. This one was taken last night. Nirvo (on the right) and Archy (the one with the scary eyes – sorry about that! )came to keep me company each on one side of me when I was reading on the couch. About a year ago, I posted this picture of me and Archy. That was when Archy was still small and cute. Now he is huge and (still) cute.

As far as books go, I seem to be out of the reading rut I was in recently. The last two books I have finished were very good and I am currently very much enjoying Ines of My Soul by Isabel Allende.

I am also working my way through a collection of short stories by Australian writers, one story a day. It was published in the Soviet Union in 1975 and the more stories I read, the more (I think) I can see an ideological bias in the selection of writers and stories (let’s say lots of working class characters and writers who have connections with the communist or worker’s movement in Australia). This actually makes reading the book more interesting. I plan to do a bit more digging into the authors represented to find out if my hunch is correct.

Russka: The Novel of Russia by Edward Rutherfurd

This was the third time in about sixteen years that I read Russka by Edward Rutherfurd, a saga of four families originating from the village of Russka in the heartland of Russia. The book spans more than 1800 years, from 180AD till 1992 and is a bit reminiscent of the books James Michener wrote, though Rutherfurd’s style is different. The size of the book is similar to that of Michener’s: Russka clocks in at 940+ pages. Actually, when I did some ‘research’ for this post, I found out that Michener is a direct influence on Rutherfurd.

Each chapter (most are about a hundred pages long) centers on an important moment in the history of Russia and how historical events influence the lives of the Bobrovs, Romanovs, Karpenkos and Suvorins. Each chapter basically centers around a clash between the old and the new, between change and ’staying put’, be it the invading Tatars in the 13th century, the reigns of Ivan the Terrible, Peter the Great or Catherine the Great, or the Bolshevik Revolution in 1918. For each timeperiod Rutherfurd introduces characters who represent both sides of the clash, those who embrace or support the new and those who do not. Also, Rutherfurd introduces characters who represent quintessential Russian types, such as the Russian peasant or the Oblomov-type lazy guy, who does nothing and lazily wastes away his life at home. Some major historical figures such as Lenin, Ivan the Terrible or Catherine the Great make cameo appearance in the story. In between the story-lines, Rutherfurd describes (in at times large sweeps) in a very readable way the history of the land and the state.

I very much enjoyed this book and it is certainly worth reading if you are interested in Russia, but for some reason with each reread I am enjoying it less. Besides, I still much prefer Rutherfurd’s Sarum, a similarly set up saga about the English town of Salisbury. I like some parts of Russka a lot better than others. the first chapter I could have kind of done without, though I also understand its function. The later chapters set at the end of the 19th and beginning of the twentieth centuries on the other hand could have lasted longer in my opinion. I think the characters of the latter chapters were given more pages in the book and thus more time to form themselves and for me to relate to them. For me, the big problem with these kinds of historical saga-like books is that you only get to spend maybe a hundred pages with each set of characters before you move on to a new period and a new set of people. Basically, each chapter is a novella-like story which is connected to the larger whole not through the characters themselves, but through the location and the characters’ family-trees in which almost all characters in the book find a place over the centuries. As a result, most characters are likable enough, but stay distant, you don’t really get to care for them.

This may also be connected to something else that I was thinking of while reading Russka and even more while reading Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith after that. Both are novels about Russia written by a non-Russian and in both books I feel something is missing that is present in books written about Russia by Russian writers. I can’t put my finger on it just yet, but I think it has something to do with Western or non-Russian writers not getting or describing the Russian mentality in the way that Russian writers do. In both Russka and Child 44 (and I am trying to think if other fiction by Westerners set in Russia that I have read has the same ‘problem’), something is somehow off. Maybe it is the combination of writing style and setting and mentality. I will definitely get back to this in my review of Child 44 because in that book it is even more striking and annoying than in Russka. The further I progressed in Child 44, the less it bothers me in Russka in retrospect. I have written a first draft of my review for Child 44, but I need some more time to crystallize my thoughts on this and see if I can put my finger exactly on what I am trying to say. The review for Child 44 should be up later this week.

Rusland voor gevorderden: Berichten van een overlever by Jelle Brandt Corstius

Another book about Russia and the Former Soviet countries by a Dutch media reporter. Jelle Brandt Corstius works in Russia for a large newspaper and TV channel. In this fairly short book (about 180 pages) he writes about the mostly absurd situations he encounters while living in Moscow and traveling around Siberia, the far north of Russia, Kazakhstan and Armenia. Brandt Corstius writes with a sense of humor, but one that works best for me taken in smaller doses.

In general I kind of enjoyed the book, recognizing quite a few of the things Brandt Corstius wrote about as having had me raise my eyebrows in wonder at some point: the Russian version of the TV-show Wheel of Fortune (which involves giving presents to the presenter, participants’ offspring showcasing their singing ‘talents’, etc); the ladies sitting in a glass booth at the bottom end of the escalator to the subway from time to time shouting something inaudible into a microphone (yes we have these ladies in the Yerevan subway too); beer not being regarded as an alcoholic beverage but as something like Coke or some other soda beverage; Caucasian hospitality; barbecue-parties where the men do their “Manly” things and the women their “Womanly” things (this being the oh-so-true-and-recognizable way in which Brandt Corstius describes it).

After a while, though, his writing style got on my nerves. Brandt Corstius at times writes almost as if he is the “better knowing”, “patronizing” Westerner, making fun of the local inhabitants. On the other hand, by the time you finish Rusland voor gevorderden:Berichten van een overlever (transl: Russia for Intermediates: Messages from a Survivor) , you also realize that Brandt Corstius loves living in Russia and that these absurdities an important reason for that. Rusland voor gevorderden is definitely not a bad book, but it probably needs to be taken in in smaller doses of one chapter a day or so.

Or maybe I have just been living in a somewhat similar situation for too long. Often, when I am around non-Armenians, I realize that I don’t raise my eyebrows anymore to some of the more unusual situations or ways of thinking (though there are definitely things here that I will raise my eyebrows about till the day I die). I guess I got used to this country and the way things go here. Though there are still plenty of times when I am amazed at the way some things are done or the unexpected things that can happen in Armenia. There are plenty of Diasporan-Armenians and non-Armenians living here who find it difficult to deal with the ‘absurdities’ of life in Armenia, but I try to not get too upset (especially not about those things or situations that I cannot change anyway) and try to laugh about them, take them in stride. Some things just work differently here than they do elsewhere on this planet… One of the reasons I do like living in Armenia are exactly the unexpected and sometimes strange situations I find myself in from time to time. Just like life in Russia for Jelle Brandt Corstius, life in Armenia for me is just slightly less predictable than life back in Holland. I guess one needs to have certain character traits to be able to appreciate that.

Jelle Brandt Corstius has a blog in English here.