One silent novel

So what makes a novel "silent"? Is it the lack of a plot? Is it the boredom that pervade among the characters in the novel? Is it the total ennui that you feel when you read it, which would make you rush to the nearest bookstore and buy the current best-selling thriller? Or is it perhaps the restrained but beautiful writing that permeates throughout its pages?

Adam Foulds's Booker prize shortlisted novel, The Quickening Maze, is indeed a silent novel, but boring it is not. Foulds is primarily a poet, and this is his first attempt at a novel. Naturally, his poetic inclinations are evident in The Quickening Maze. The result is a beautiful and wonderful work of fiction, one that will make you reread some of the passages for their lyrical narrative. Just read the paragraph below and you'll get to see how poetic this novel truly is.

Eventually the singing stopped and a little while after that he felt a blanket placed over him. He opened his eyes to see the rosy fire still breathing at the heart of white sticks. An owl cried its dry, hoarse cry and the bats still scattered their tiny beads of sound around him. He loved lying in its lap, the continuing forest, the way the roots ate the rot of leaves, and it circled on. To please himself, to decorate his path into sleep, he passed through his mind an inventory of its creatures. He saw the trees, beech, oak, hornbeam, lime, holly, hazel, and the berries, the different mushrooms, ferns, moss, lichens. He saw the rapid, low foxes, the tremulous deer, lone wild cats, tough, trundling badgers, the different mice, the bats, the day animals and night animals. He saw the snails, the frogs, the moths, that looked like bark and the large, ghost-winged moths, the butterflies: orange tips, whites, fritillaries, the ragged-winged commas. He recounted the bees, the wasps. He thought of all the birds, the drumming woodpeckers and laughing green woodpeckers, the stripe of the nuthatch, the hook-faced sparrowhawks, the blackbirds and the tree creeper flinching up the trunks of trees. He saw the blue tits flicking between branches, the white flash of the jay's rump as it flew away, the pigeons sitting calmly separate, together in a tree. He was the fierce, sweet-voiced robin. He saw the sparrows. [page 51]

If you're wondering why the paragraph above has a seemingly endless inventory of flora and fauna, it's because The Quickening Maze centers on John Clare, the great nature poet who the English sometimes refer to as the "peasant poet." Set in 1837, The Quickening Maze recounts Clare's stay in a mental institution called High Beach. The institution is run by Matthew Allen, together with his family. We get to read how Clare, in his madness, can't seem to tell reality from fiction. One moment he's Lord Byron; the next, he's Robinson Crusoe. We see how this great poet spirals into madness at the book's closing pages.

John Clare, the peasant poet

Foulds's novel is much about Clare as Matthew Allen, his wife, and his children. Allen's wife, Eliza, is unhappy and dreams of better things for herself. Eliza, one of his younger children, becomes enamored with another poet, Alfred Tennyson, whose brother has just been confined to High Beach. Apparently, having two poets in the institution is big news for the Allens, even though one has gone mad and the other is just a guest accompanying his brother.

One of the things that struck me as I was reading this novel is how some people look down on the poetry of John Clare. Yes, he did write about woodland creatures. And yes, he did touch on mundane topics such as the changing of the seasons, the earth, and indigenous fauna. But does one's choice of a theme in poetry impact the poet's popularity. Unfortunately, it somehow seems so. The Allens and pretty much everyone in High Beach have a higher regard for Tennyson's poems than Clare's. Maybe Tennyson was indeed a better poet than Clare. After all, he is more popular and his collections have never been out of print. I'm not big on poetry, so I'm not going to pass judgment on this topic.

The novel also challenges the reader's perception. On the sections of the book that are about John Clare, one has to be quick to discern whether what you're reading is in fact truth or all part of the madness that is happening in Clare's mind. Sometimes, Foulds offers no distinction and leaves it on the hands of the reader. This technique, I believe, is brilliant.

Despite the novel's tranquil mood, The Quickening Maze remains an enjoyable novel. It's something that you take your time reading. If you're after a thick plot, then you might as well skip this one. But if you're after beautiful prose, intense characterizations, and a rich setting, I'm sure you'll regard this novel as one of the best you've read.

Read this book if:

1. You're into poetry.
2. You've always wondered if you're going mad.
3. You'll read anything that's Booker shortlisted.

Would you be having the specials, today?

For an amateur foodie such as myself, I look forward to reading about restaurants, seventeen-course meals, foie gras, leather-bound wine lists, and Valrhona chocolates. Phoebe Damrosch's memoir, entitled Service Included, about her days as captain of the service crew of Per Se, therefore, was a natural reading choice. I've always been curious about this restaurant; Per Se has been touted as one of the world's best restaurants, earning 4 stars in the New York Times restaurant reviews and 3 stars in the Michelin guide.

Just look at the interior of Per Se. The muted colors and the elegantly simple designs are actually conscious decisions. Thomas Keller, the renowned chef who owns Per Se, wanted an eating establishment where diners focus on the food and not the ambience. There's even none of those annoying pipe-in music. (Somehow, I can't imagine myself eating my light-as-a-feather omelet with truffles while Barry Manilow sings "Mandy" in the background.)


And who wouldn't crave those salmon cornets, which Per Se is most famous for. The cornets are scoops of salmon tartare with chives resting on each cone. The cones are then filled with a red onion crème fraîche. Truly bite-sized pieces of heaven in savory, light pastry.


Anyway, enough about the food and on to the book review. (Notice how I get carried away when I write about food?) Service Included is one wonderfully written memoir. We all know that being part of the service crew isn't at all glamorous. Damrosch goes beyond listing all those brutal truths about being a waiter in a restaurant as well known as Per Se.

In Service Included, Damrosch recounts her training from being a backserver to the only female captain in this restaurant. For those of you not in the know, like myself before I read this book, backservers are people who refill your water glasses, clear plates after every course, and replenish your bread basket. Captains are those who you talk to about the menu and the wine list. Apparently, being a captain is a big deal, as Damrosch recounts in her book. Ultimately, the experience of diners rests heavily on the attention of the captain, other than the food of course.

It's probably Damrosch's background (she has an M.F.A. from Sarah Lawrence) that makes the descriptions of working in a restaurant so vivid. Damrosch's attention to detail is so remarkable that you can't help but imagine yourself in Per Se and being served those delectable chef tasting menu that can last for more than 3 hours.

There are several funny moments in the book. At one time, the famed New York Times restaurant critic, Frank Bruni, drops by the restaurant and strikes a very lighthearted discussion with Damrosch about scrambled eggs. The discussion is particularly enlightening, as you would read how Per Se takes everything seriously, even in its scrambled eggs.

"You look perplexed, I (Damrosch) observed.

"I am. What makes these scrambled egs any different from my scrambled eggs? Why would a restaurant of this caliber serve a whole course revolving around eggs?"

I thought about this for a moment. He was right, really. I had never thought to question the custard course. Some of the more virtuosic egg preparations seemed more appropriate: the white truffle-infused custard served in an eggshell or the pickled hen egg with truffle filling made to look like a deviled egg and paired with a tiny truffle "Pop Tart." But a soft-boiled, scrambled, or coddled egg was simply an egg, no matter how much truffle coulis you added. [page 130]

Mouth-watering, isn't it? For the meantime, I had to content myself with our usual scrambled eggs at home, which has only two ingredients -- egg and salt.

Damrosch writes very interesting information about the restaurant business itself. I never knew that restaurant critics visit a new restaurant three or four times before they write their reviews. Waiters are given seminars on where their ingredients come from, how each dish is prepared, and what wine goes best with each dish. Service Included shows you that, in the end, running a restaurant is analogous to maintaining an art gallery, with the dishes as the artwork to be sold.

And the rules, oh my God, the rules. Damrosch lists very funny points that you should consider every time you eat out:

• Don't try to bribe the host. If there's no table, there's no table.
• Do not pick up your glass when a waiter or sommelier is about to pour something for you. It makes you seem greedy and oblivious.
• Your food is delivered to your table based on where you were sitting when we took your order. When you switch seats, it screws us all up.
• Please don't ask us for cigarettes.

Damrosch has decided to leave the restaurant industry and concentrate more on being a writer. I can't wait as to what kind of book she comes up with next. For now, let's just be content to see the menu at Per Se.


Read this book if:

1. You've been a waiter at one point in your life.
2. You like eating out.
3. You're unfazed when you read a menu in a foreign language.

Those warrior cats

Okay, dear reader, so here's the first blog entry after my long hiatus from blogging. And I decided to write a review about cats. Yes, those feline creatures who refuse to be given baths and nail trimmings. I've never been a cat person, and I guess I never will be. I love dogs too much. I love how fiercely loyal they are. I love that they like to cuddle up next to you. With cats, you just don't know where you stand. I can never imagine getting a cat for a pet. It's just too... creepy. When you look at their eyes, somehow I can feel that they can see my soul.

So I decided to pick up the first book of Erin Hunter's young adult series Warriors. The first installment is titled Into the Wild. The author is a known cat lover, so if I want to know more about these mysterious mammals, I might as well sample her works even though they are fiction. Besides, how can I say no to this book when the first image that came up when I googled cats was this, which I took as something ominous:


Into the Wild is about Rusty, a pet cat who decides to leave the comforts of living with people (who are known in the novel as Twolegs) in favor of being with the cats in the wild. The premise may sound simple, but Hunter provides another dimension to these cats -- how they interact with other cats in the great outdoors. You see, in the world of the Warriors series, a wild cat belongs to one of the four clans. ThunderClan, ShadowClan, RiverClan, and WindClan. Each clan presides over a territory where they can freely hunt their prey.

So Rusty is taken in by the ThunderClan and takes the name Firepaw as a warrior apprentice. Now this is where things get iffy/predictable for me. Of course, I expected Firepaw to prove himself as a worthy member of the Clan despite being an outsider. Also, I was counting the pages as to when he will have the leader of the Clan as his mentor. And yes, all these happened as I expected.

Yes, there are stereotypes in this novel. Firepaw is an outsider who makes a name for himself even while an apprentice. The clans are headed by cats who are imposing, very stately, and tres wise. The clan rulers have deputies who seem to be dubious characters. We've read, heard, and seen these all before. Top of my head, I can think of Star Wars.


Nevertheless, Into the Wild is a fun read. Hunter has written a very engaging YA novel, something that appeals to people who love these furry creatures. While there are no distinct fantastic/magical elements in this book, one can consider Into the Wild a fantasy novel. (Hello, talking cats?!) These cats are magical in themselves. The way they interact with their fellow clan members is fascinating. Who knew that cats can be political? Hehe.

Into the Wild is a good way to start this series. It's not spectacular, but it works. Hunter has even included a teaser storyline for the next book. And I love how the author developed her characters. These aren't your cute cats you see napping under the sun; Hunter's cats are true predators -- they kill not just mice and other small prey, but other enemy cats as well.

Read this book if:

1. You love cats.
2. You feel you've never really belonged in a club.
3. You love YA chapter books.

It's alive!

I'm baaaaack! Forgive me, dear reader, as I've been busy with lots of things. And I've just realized something -- the less I blog, the more books I get to read. Hehe. Oh well, I guess you can't have the best of both worlds.

I can't say that I didn't miss blogging. I miss reading your comments, dear reader. I miss sitting down for two hours and painstakingly composing my thoughts on a book. I miss the whole interactive aspect of blogging -- the wonderful community of readers, bibliophiles, and fellow book bloggers.

So again, my apologies for the lack of posts for the past few weeks. KyusiReader is now back to its usual ranting, praising, and tackling everything that has to do with our love for reading.

The Bookshelf Project #26

And we have an update from Ruth, one of the people who sent their pictures of bookshelves earlier. If you haven't seen her fabulous shelf before, check it here.

Ruth's bookshelves are just awesome. Don't you just love it that the shelves are made of wood? Here's a shelf with all her sewing books. (I am loving the Russian accent at the top of the shelf.


Ruth's bookshelf with her reference books. You can see that Ruth's a bit of a film buff, with a few of her books on film trivia. And that candle holder! What a great piece!


Here's her shelf with all her books on sewing.


And my favorite of them all -- the bookshelf with all her fantasy books and graphic novels. We can see that she does love her Terry Pratchett novels. Ruth, we have something in common -- we both love Star Wars!


So what do you think of Ruth's bookshelves, dear reader?

Venice and Varanasi

Geoff Dyer's novel, Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi, turned out to be one of my most satisfying reads this year. It's a novel unlike anything I've read before. Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi can actually be considered as two novellas -- the first set in Venice and the other, well, in Varanasi, which is supposedly the holiest city in India.

So let's discuss the first part of the novel, shall we? Every two years, the art community (artists, curators, art buyers, art enthusiasts) find themselves in Venice for the Biennale. Here we meet Jeff Atman, a journalist who is tasked to cover this international art event. Atman is the ultimate art insider -- he knows everyone of influence in the art world and gets invited to every notable party during the Biennale.

Jeff forms a romantic relationship with Laura, an American who's a curator of a gallery. Dyer's description of their romance borders on the graphic. It's well handled though. Dyer seems to make the reader feel that everything in Venice is in excess -- the partying, the exhibits, the people, and, yes, even the sex. It is also in Jeff and Laura where Dyer shows that the art community, despite their belonging to the art world, are jaded and embarrassingly have an almost superficial appreciation for artworks.

...she told him about an exhibition she hoped, one day, to curate. Having seen the look of stunned disappointment on the faces of so many gallery-goers, she aimed to take the bull by the horns with a show called 'Is That It? featuring works by some of the most consistently disappointing artists of the day. Soon they were trading titles for a series of related exhibitions:
'This, That and "The Other."'
'Something of Nothing.'
'Next to Nothing."
'Slim Pickings."
'Climaxing with a symposium of curators and critics,' Laura said. 'Something along the lines of "Now Talk Your Way Out of That."' [page 114]

Jeff seems to have found heaven in Venice, especially after meeting Laura. He has this epiphany about "life" in one of the most pretentious and excessive places in the planet. But there's this element of shallowness to Jeff's thinking, a certain contrived manner if you will. In a way, Dyer prepares the reader for the second part of the novel.

And now she'd come and put her arm around his waist. Life was too good to be true! His whole life was validated by the last couple of days in Venice. He'd never made a mistake in his life because everything, even the mistakes, had led to his being here now. That was the thing about life. You couldn't cherry-pick the good bits. You had to say yes to the whole package, all the ups and downs, but if the ups -- the highs -- were like this, you'd sign up willingly to the downs because, by comparison, they were nothing, so irrelevant he couldn't even remember them. [page 121]

But everything will not turn out well for Jeff. Laura leaves him with the promise of keeping in touch, but Dyer makes it clear that what Jeff and Laura have in Venice is temporary.

And so we get to the second part of the novel, which is narrated by a man who may or may not be Jeff Atman. If Dyer's focus in Venice is the superficial, he shifts his theme to one of introspection and meditation in Varanasi. We don't read about parties and displays of wealth and excess in Varanasi. We get to feel how Varanasi becomes the place where the narrator finally discovers himself. Amid the decay, the dirt, and the gloom that pervade in Varanasi, Dyer's narrator comes full circle.

The reason it doesn't feel like renunciation is because it's not. I didn't renounce the world; I just became gradually less interested in certain aspects of it, less involved with it -- and that diminution of interest was slowly reciprocated. That's how it works. The world stops singling you out; you stop feeling singled out by the world. [page 279]

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi, despite its profound ideas, is actually very readable. Dyer has written a novel so beautiful and so atmospheric and evocative of two different worlds.

Read this book if:

1. You're an art enthusiast.
2. You wonder about what goes on during the Biennale.
3. You've always wanted to go to India.
   

Reply not needed

Before Facebook, I never really thought of how I communicated with my friends. I recall calling them, texting them, or emailing them if it's important. Now, deleting your account in Facebook (or in any one of those networking sites for that matter) is analogous to deleting your identify from the world. No Facebook account? You might as well not exist.

Dan Chaon's much-lauded novel, Await Your Reply, focuses on the nature of identity in this modern age of the Internet. Await Your Reply consists of three stories actually. One is on Miles Cheshire, who has spent most of his adult life looking for his twin brother, Hayden. The second is about Lucy Lattimore, who runs away with her high school teacher to carry on their affair. And in the third story, we read about Ryan Schuyler, who decides to leave his university and remake himself. All three stories have one thing in common -- how changing one's identity is so easily done in this world of connectedness.

Await Your Reply is as a "literary thriller," whatever that means. (Is it because Chaon once wrote a novel who was shortlisted for the National Book Award?) Yes, it's a thriller, I would have to agree. But the suspense isn't nail biting. It's the kind of novel that you feel an ominous dread throughout the pages. You know that something terrible is going to happen and you're itching to find out what it is.

Chaon's novel somehow tested my patience. I knew that these three stories were connected, despite the fact that Ryan's, Miles's, and Lucy's subplots feel disjointed. Then Chaon gives these little hints on their common thread. I'm reminded when you start those 1,000-piece puzzles. It takes you forever to just complete a small section. Then little by little, as the puzzle grows and the unassembled pieces diminish, you feel this rush. Everything then becomes a blur, and before you know it, the puzzle it complete. Await Your Reply is just like that. The seemingly slow pace in the first few chapters is so agonizing. But you get a natural high as you read the last few chapters.

I doubt if fans of the literary genre would take to this book. There are no cliffhangers at the end of each chapter. Chaon's technique is to reel you in slowly. The result is an eerily atmospheric novel that is oh so satisfying.

Read this book if:

1. You love atmospheric thrillers.
2. You've always wondered what would happen if someone stole your identity.
3. You've thought about remaking yourself -- wiping the slate clean.