Something bad happened two years ago

Chris Cleave writes beautiful fiction. His Incendiary was, well, incendiary. His Little Bee is anything but little. It's so full of emotion, detail, character, and drama. It's so wonderfully readable and yet it makes you uncomfortable in some parts, especially with the brutal bits. There's no sugarcoating in Little Bee.

People have been wary about giving too much away concerning the plot of Little Bee. The blurb of my book even warns that "the magic is in how the story unfolds." When you read the novel, you know that this apparent secrecy about the plot is warranted. It has something to do with one nightmarish event that happened during a British couple's vacation in Nigeria. (When you read this part, you'll never believe that these things can still happen in this day and age.)

Little Bee is a Nigerian illegal immigrant who has just been released from the British detention center after two years. With no place to go, she ends up on the doorstep of the O'Rourke's, the couple she met on a beach in Nigeria. Andrew O'Rourke has just committed suicide , leaving his wife, Sarah, alone to take care of their son, Charlie, who refuses to get out of his Batman costume. Sarah, the head of fashion magazine, decides to keep Little Bee in her home. Andrew's suicide has something to do with Little Bee, but you'll have to read the novel to find out.

Cleave's novel undeniably has a wide readership appeal. I also find it admirable that a male novelist can write fiction about two strong-willed women (Sarah and Little Bee) and develop these female characters to the fullest. Cleave also tackles very sensitive issues -- Britain's treatment of illegal immigrants, the effects of globalization on a grassroots level, and the terrible plight of the refugee. But in the end, Little Bee is about Little Bee. You'll love Little Bee. She's far from perfect. Yes, she may seem precocious for her age (she's only 16), but her naivete is understandable. She's the ultimate fish-out-of-water persona. And you'll admire resilience.

"We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived." [page 9]

Somehow, Chris Cleave reminds me of Ian McEwan. You just know that something bad is going to happen in the story. But one difference is that, in Little Bee, the bad thing has happened two years ago into the story, and you keep on reading to find out its consequences on the lives of Little Bee and the O'Rourkes. You may not like what really happens in the story, but you keep on reading nonetheless because, like any good work of fiction, Little Bee touches you.

Read this book if:

1. You're ambivalent about the effects of globalization.
2. You love strong female characters.
3. You want to find out what happened to Sarah's missing finger.

A whiny SOB

Forgive me, dear reader, if I haven't been uploading KyusiReader lately. It's been a very busy week, and I've been working 14-hour work days lately. And it was also the week I turned 36 (I'm a St. Paddy's day baby), so I was busy consuming tons of cake. Forgive me again, dear reader, that my next review isn't about a good novel, well in my opinion anyway. This isn't a review; it's a rant.

So my book club decided to have a discussion on Nick Hornby's debut novel, High Fidelity. It's a novel about music (and music lists), relationships, and basically just trying to grow up even though you're 35 and own your own record shop. High Fidelity was first published in 1995, and it has still endured until today. I guess this has something to do with all those top 5 lists found on every chapter of the book. There's a list for practically everything -- your top 5 songs that you should have with you if ever you get stuck on a deserted island, your top 5 movies of all time, your top 5 failed relationships.

High Fidelity's main character is Rob, a 35 year old who's so into music. Naturally, he opens his own record shop and employs Dick and Barry, two slackers who are music snobs. Rob has just ended a relationship with Laura, a lawyer and the only girl he's been serious with. To say that Rob is still in love with Laura is an understatement. In the novel, we see how Rob lists all his break-ups and overanalyze what exactly went wrong. Eventually, Rob and Laura do get back together, but it isn't the same. Laura has become more cosmpolitan, and Rob, well, Rob's still the same -- still insecure, still whiny, still in the search for "who he really is and what he wants out of his life."

The novel is really more of a celebration of music. I think readers get a kick out of agreeing with Rob and Barry's tastes in music. And it is music that Rob uses to make an analogy on life. Just read the following paragraph that compares making a mixed tape with the workings of a relationship:

I spent hours putting that cassette together. To me, making a tape is like writing a letter -- there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again, and I wanted it to be a good one, because . . . to be honest, because I hadn't met anyone as promising as Laura since I'd started DJ-ing, and meeting promising women was partly what the DJ-ing was supposed to be about. A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You've got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention ... oh, there are loads of rules. [page 89]

I read High Fidelity on the week I was turning 36, which is incidentally the same age as Rob who was also turning 36. I kept on thinking if it's really possible that people in their mid-30s are still hung up on their past relationships. I do understand how Rob gets too preoccupied thinking of his career. His record shop isn't doing well and he feels a high degree of unaccomplishment. (I also have sleepless nights thinking of my career. A friend who's the same age as me told me that, in a few years, we wouldn't be "marketable" anymore.)

There's not much of a plot in High Fidelity though. A couple of my book club buddies also had a difficult time finishing this novel. I think we're not used to reading a male character with too much introspection. High Fidelity is basically your chick lit with testosterone.

Read this book if:

1. You're passionate about music.
2. You spend hours of your day thinking of your past relationships and what went wrong with them.
3. You like lad lit.

I love this graphic novel

If there's one graphic novel that you have to read, it must be David Mazzucchelli's Asterios Polyp. After reading it last week, I realized that I will never look at graphic novels the same way again. To say that Asterios Polyp pushes the boundaries of graphic novel is an understatement. Mazzucchelli's masterpiece even puts most novels to shame.

The graphic novel focuses on the failed life of Asterios Polyp, a well-renowned, award-winning professor of architecture whose designs have never been actually constructed. He's all talk and is so full of himself that he considers his opinions about everything to be true. We get to read how he meets his future wife, Hannah, who eventually leaves him after being fed up with his superiority. The graphic novel chronicles Asterios's downward spiral -- from losing his academic tenure, to working as an auto mechanic, to finally asking for his wife's forgiveness.

Don't let the simple plot fool you though. Asterios Polyp touches on a lot of themes that many experienced graphic novelists wouldn't attempt to include in their graphic novels. For one, AP is a meditation on the importance and relevance of artistic styles and design theory. Mazzucchelli switches to different artistic styles to match the mood of the panels. He even limits his color scheme to blues and purples, with the occassional splashes of yellows. The result is brilliant. Every panel, despite its minimal elements of line and color, speaks volumes.

Asterios Polyp even pays homage to the myth of Orpheus. There's a sequence that shows Asterior going down the depths of hell to rescue his wife. For those who know Orpheus Underground, you just know that the ending of this sequence doesn't go well for Asterios and Hannah. Still, the panels that form this sequence is one of the highlights of this masterful graphic novel.

Humorous, profound, trivial, introspective, important -- words that I never thought I would use to describe just one work of fiction. Asterios Polyp is all these. What's even more amazing is that you can see these attributes in one page as your eyes move effortlessly from one panel to the next. Yes, the narrative constantly jumps from the present to the past, but you're seldom left confused. I think this is why this technique works best in graphic novels. You have visuals to help you note minor details.

Asterios Polyp is -- literally and figuratively -- a huge graphic novel. I read somewhere that it took Mazzucchelli several years to produce this work, and it shows. The layout doesn't scream at you; every color, shape, and line has been thought of. It's one of those books that you discover something new every time you reread it. It's just too beautiful.

Read this book if:

1. You're getting tired of your usual graphic novels.
2. You love minimalist artwork.
3. You like blue and purple.

The perfect book for bibliophiles

I've been seeing this book in bookstores for over a year now but was so afraid to pick it up. I've always though that it would be cheesy, sappy, and too melodramatic for my taste. Yesterday though, I finally grabbed a copy The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (TGLAPPPS, from now on) by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. It's a book about the love of reading and belonging in a book club -- two things that I can really relate to.

The novel is set in post-war England in 1946, when Juliet Ashton receives a letter from Dawsey Adams, a resident of Guernsey, which forms part of England's Channel Islands. Dawsey starts a correspondence with Juliet, who is a writer herself and in search for the topic of her next book. Dawsey begins to tell Juliet how the residents of Guernsey formed the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society to cope with the hostile German Occupation of the Channel Islands during the war. Eventually, more and more members of the society write letters to Juliet; each character telling personal stories during the Occupation and recounting how the book society nurtured their love for reading.

Juliet does become more involved with the lovable characters of the island. She eventually decides to visit Guernsey, as she feels a deep affinity for the members of the society. As Juliet becomes an accepted resident of Guernsey, she forms profound relationships with the society members. She decides to stay on the island and adopt an orphan of Elizabeth, one of the society's founding members.

TGLAPPPS is a love story of sorts. First it's about how people love reading. There are passages in the book that spoke to me as a bibliophile. Some of them are a bit cliche, but any book lover, or bookseller for that matter, would appreciate reading about them.

I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. How delightful if that were true. [page 10]

I love seeing the bookshops and meeting the booksellers -- booksellers really are a special breed. No one in their right mind would take up clerking in a bookstore for the salary, and no one in his right mind would want to own one -- the margin of profit is too small. So, it has to be a love of readers and reading that makes them do it -- along with first dibs on the new books. [page 15]

TGLAPPPS is an easy read. It's perfect for those lazy afternoons when you absolutely have no plans and you just want to stay in bed curled up with a good book. The writing style of Shaffer and Barrows is "breezy"; the novel takes almost no effort to read. You just turn the pages one after another to find out what's in store for Juliet and the members of the book society, which are as diverse in personality as their reading preferences. The authors also manage to throw in a romantic angle between Juliet and Dawsey, something which is definitely inspired by Austen's Pride and Prejudice. (I still haven't read P&P though. I'm forever stuck on page 47.)

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society isn't a great novel, but it sure is a good one. It's written in an epistolary style; letters just fly back and forth between the characters. Unfortunately, some of the characters lack a distinct voice, despite the interesting stories they convey in their letters. Nevertheless, I was happy to have read TGLAPPPS.

Several questions though kept running in my mind as I was reading this novel. We live in an age of emails, Facebook, and Twitter, yes? While I love these high-tech communication tools, I kept thinking that we won't be reading any more of the letters of our favorite authors because of them. How would email change the way we find out how our well-loved novelists and writers communicate with their friends and families? Would a compilation of emails have the same effect as those personal letters? Also, haven't you noticed that you see fewer small and independent bookstores? I just love them and the highly personalized service that they provide. Are small bookstores really on their way out?

Read this book if:

1. You belong to a book club.
2. You love letters.
3. You've always wondered how a potato peel pie would taste.
   

I just move on

I saw a brand new hardback of the latest Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's Pendergast novel, Cemetery Dance. And since it was only 99 pesos (a little over $2), I had no second thoughts of buying it. Don't you just love bargain bins? I can spend an hour just browsing the titles.

The Pendergast novels are my guilty pleasure. I think I've read them all. They're so entertaining and requires no major effort to comprehend. You couldn't help but fall for Pendergast -- the stoic, über-intelligent, and esoteric FBI agent. Preston and Child aren't even clear if Pendergast is really an FBI agent, or if he was, what happened to him that he had to leave the bureau. And the Pendergast novels also have a touch of the fantastic to them. They're basically mysteries and thrillers involving archaeological elements. They can be really addicting.

I was into page 101 of the novel when I noticed something. I was reading it quite fast but I was finding it lackluster. Somehow, it wasn't that engaging anymore. Sure, all the techniques of Preston and Child were there -- the chapter cliffhangers, a murder involving (possibly) a zombie, and the weird investigative methods of Pendergast.

The more things change...

Ever heard of the saying, "The more things change, the more they stay the same"? It's something I will never figure out; it's so zen koan. I do want to offer an alternative -- the more things change, the more you want things to stay the same. We all want change, but only if it's for the better. But any unwelcome, sudden changes that happen to our lives, the more we long for the "good old days."

Consider Zachary King, the 32-year old main character of Jonathan Tropper's novel, Everything Changes. He lives in a luxurious rent-free apartment in Manhattan courtesy of his millionaire best friend, Jed. He has a beautiful fiancee, Hope, who comes from a very rich family. He has a fairly stable job. Overall, Zach lives a pretty much uneventful and uncomplicated life, one that is free from any major responsibilities. But within the next few days, Zach's life becomes more interesting.

First, Zach may have bladder cancer, after seeing that he's pissing blood and undergoing a series of tests including a very uncomfortable biopsy. (I cringed reading about this very descriptive part.) Second, he feels that he's not that in love with Hope anymore. He's falling more and more in love with Tamara, the widow of his other best friend, Rael, who died in a car accident. Third, his long-absent father, Norm, suddenly appears at his doorstep, making amends. Norm left his family almost 20 years ago. And let's just say that Zach, his two brothers, and their mother, Lela, aren't too pleased about this.

What happens in the novel as Zach learns to face these changes is so funny that you tend to forget how serious some of these problems appear to be. I think that's why Tropper is brilliant, and why he's my current favorite novelist. Despite the humorous scenes in Everything Changes, Tropper doesn't trivialize his themes. You feel that Zach is your troubled best friend and you just can't help but root for him and wish that everything turns out well. But this is a Tropper novel; there's no silver lining for every problem, which makes this novel a very pragmatic one.

What is it with Jonathan Tropper's novels that make them so addicting? Is it the wit? Is it the lovable but flawed characters? (Families, especially dysfunctional ones, are a major element in his novels.) Is it the hysterical scenarios that have been so graphically described? Is it the engaging narrative? It could be all of these. I do love the fact that Tropper's novels are all heartwarming. I think Tropper is our new John Irving. Everything Changes is one satisfying read. It is by turns serious, profound, and honest.

A fellow bibliophile introduced me to a new term -- lad lit. It's a genre of novels, such as those of Nick Hornby, that have a broad appeal among men. Everything Changes (and all of the novels of Tropper for that matter) may be considered lad lit. But women would still definitely find Everything Changes enjoyable as the novel can allow them to find out what men think when faced with unusual circumstances.

Read this book if:

1. You want to sample lad lit.
2. You find it difficult coping with unwanted changes.
   
3. You just like a rollicking good read.
   

A love story, a fairy tale

Have you ever read a book that you couldn't decide whether you like it or not? Ali Shaw's debut novel The Girl with Glass Feet is one such novel that I'm feeling very ambivalent about. I first heard this novel when it was included in the Not the TV Book Club at UK. I thought that if it was good enough to be selected, then it would probably be a good read. Besides, it's basically a love story, so it's the perfect read on Valentine's Day. So yes, I was prepared to get all sappy and cheesy should the novel decide to go in that predictable direction. Thankfully, it didn't.

The Girl with Glass Feet is a novel that is part love story, part fairy tale, and part mystery set in a small island in Europe called St. Hauda's Land. Based on Shaw's description of the island, St. Hauda is a bleak, desolate place. It's a place described in the novel as "incestuous," where everyone knows one another. (With all the romantic entanglements among the different characters, I kept thinking that St. Hauda's Land was one big Melrose Place.) Apparently, there's something magical about this place. You can see thumb-sized winged cows and white dragonflies the size of your hand. St. Hauda's Land is also where people have strange illnesses.

And one of these people is Ida Maclaird, a character who has returned to the island searching for a cure for her unusual condition. Ida Maclaird's feet have turned to glass, and it looks like this condition is slowly spreading throughout her body. She meets Midas Crook, a photographer who'se a long-time resident of the island. Midas eventually discovers Ida's condition and decides to help. This romantic relationship is too flawed to be sappy and cheesy. Shaw probably didn't want his characters to fall into a cliche: the sick but strong-willed woman and the awkward man who'll do anything for her. In fact, Midas never fully becomes comfortable with his relationship to Ida till the end of the book.

The Girl with Glass Feet, aside from being a love story between Ida and Midas, focuses on the past relationships: the infatuation of Ida's uncle on Ida's mother, and the relationship between Midas's mother and Henry Uwa, a man who breeds the small magical creatures. The novel somehow establishes that Henry has something to do with Ida's condition, but it's never fully revealed. I found this disappointing. There are just too many unanswered questions.

I wouldn't recommend Shaw's debut novel to anyone looking for a book to feel good. For one, The Girl with Glass Feet touches on depressing topics -- suicide, missed connections, and failed relationships. This is not something you read while on vacation. Shaw's writing, however, is wonderfully atmospheric and vivid. I ended up empathizing with Ida and Midas, and totally believing that a seemingly ordinary island can have magical elements. Shaw is indeed a talented writer. He depicts scenes in detail and probes each of his characters' feelings and personality.

The Girl with Glass Feet is definitely not a page-turner. You take your time with it. You savor each lyrical sentence, so that you fully appreciate Shaw's prose. I felt that the love story could have been more redeeming for both characters though. But, all told, Shaw's debut is a joy to read and a wonderful novel to get lost into.

Read this book if:

1. You want to read a magical love story.
2. You love atmospheric reads.
3. You've experienced missed connections at one point in your life.