Life in miniatures

My first read for 2015 arrived with a lot of hype riding on it. Unfortunately, Jessie Burton's debut novel, The Miniaturist, doesn't live up to it. It's entertaining, yes, but I got a feeling of want after turning the last page. And my immediate reaction was, "That's it?"

Burton's novel concerns itself with one Petronella Oortman, a 17-year-old who arrives in Amsterdan to join her husband, the wealthy Johannes Brandt, after their arranged marriage. Johannes doesn't have that much time for Nella, being a busy merchant trader that he is, and leaves her to the company of her spinster-ish sister, Marin Brandt.

Nella and Marin don't hit it off. Ah, the usual in-law rivalry. So what is Nella to do to while away her days of ennui? Apparently, nothing. Just go through with being a trophy wife. But then Johannes gifts her with a cabinet-sized replica of the Brandt home. Nella decides to hire the services of a mysterious miniaturist, who has an uncanny ability to produce miniatures that mimic what is happening in real-time in the Brandt household.

My first read for 2015

Who is this miniaturist? How come he or she somehow predicts events through the miniatures that he or she creates? When one of their dogs gets killed, for example, the replica has a blood stain on it. And what the hell's the matter with Johannes and his non-ability to consummate the marriage? And how about Marin? Why is she so bitchy all the time?

The Miniaturist does provide answers to these questions. But the way it does so has the feel of lazy storytelling. The miniaturist turns out to be a woman, who has the supernatural ability to "see." Sounds simplistic? It is. Oh, and Johannes turns out to be gay, which explains his inability to keep it "up" even when Nella attempts to cop a feel. Marin turns out to have been involved with a man who seems to be Johannes's nemesis in the heavily enterprising world of 17th century Amsterdam.

The clichés continue to pile up on top. Marin becomes pregnant with their black servant. When Johannes find himself imprison for the crime of sodomy, it is Nella who takes over the business. Somehow, we're made to believe that Nella acquires her business acumen overnight. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why Nella feels to have this deep connection with her husband even when they've hardly spent any time together. It's a mystery.

The Miniaturist could've been a beguiling piece of historical fiction. All the elements are there—manipulative in-laws, nosey househelp, devious businessmen and their wives, and nail-biting courtroom drama. But Burton just skims over these aspects. What you get is just a watered-down atmosphere of Amsterdam in the 1600s, which just feels damp and cold all the time.

Read this book if:

1. You find doll houses creepy.
2. You're into historical fiction.
3. You're curious about the hype.

The Rosales Saga Book #2: Tree

When your book club has a read-along, you do your best to catch up with. No questions. Never mind that you missed out on the discussion of the first book. There are still 4 more books anyway. And that's what happened to me when the book club decided to do a read-along of F. Sionil's José's 5-novel historical epic called "The Rosales Saga." Work kept me from participating initially, but I couldn't pass this up. It was just this weekend that I got to read the 2nd book in the saga. No worries though. Fortunately, the books are stand-alone works.

So, the 2nd book—Tree. A lot of things struck me as I finished the book. First is what I would call texture. Sionil José's description of setting is so detailed that you feel you're right at the center of events. Aside from the nuances of the place, there's a certain lyrical quality to the writing even when he simply describes the places the unnamed narrator goes to. Lots of atmosphere, vivid on the details, a keen eye even for the mundane and the prosaic.

As the rains subsided and the fields turned green, the mud settled and the river  acquired a clear, green hue. It would no longer be swift and it flowed with a rhythm, broken by small ripples in the shallows. It was at this time that we bathed in it and dove to its depths to discover what secrets it held. Now, too, the women took their washing to the banks and they would squat before wide tin basins, and whack at clothes with wooden paddles.

Another is how episodic the chapters seem to be. The book is really a coming-of-age tale of a boy, whose privileged family play a huge role among the townsfolk of a small town in Ilocos. Mostly, it is about the unravelling of the boy's relationship with his father, a powerful person under the employ of one Don Vicente. As a character, Don Vicente appears briefly in the novel, but his influence can be felt looming on every page. It's as if I were reading a local version of The Godfather, with Don Vicente as the head of the mafiosi and the boy's father, Espiridion, as his consiglieri. Espiridion is a character difficult to like. He has his fingers on all the comings and goings in town. Hardened, ruthless, with very few soft spots.

The chapters can indeed be likened to individual episodes. In one chapter, we read about a travelling circus who visits the town. In another, the unplanned marriage of two relatives who find themselves spending the summer in the house of Espiridion. In one chapter, there's an anecdote about a relative who finds out that the townsfolk have been cheated of their land and is determined to set things right. And in other chapters, we discover the unfortunate lives of the family's household help. A lot of these episodes don't end well. The righteous man commits suicide, the star of the circus show has an accident and never performs again, the help die from poverty. And the boy? He doesn't really come to terms with his father.

The book's spirit is not really an upper. Tree is a sad read. It shows you that the poor want for justice, and that a small impoverished town so far removed from the nation's capital can appear chaotic despite its calm veneer. The town may be picturesque, based on our unnamed narrator's eye, but it's rotten to the core. Peel the eggshell and what you get are centuries-old problems brought about by the corrupt feudal system of our colonists. And what stinks really bad is that these problems are no longer being wrought by white people but by the very same brown-skinned Filipino who doesn't think twice about making life bitter for his fellow citizen.

One closes Tree with a feeling of unease. Our ancestors never had an easy life. It was even more difficult during wartime. But what makes it even more uncomfortable is that a small town, without even knowing it, is waging its own war. The rich prey among the poor. The poor futilely fighting back and eventually accepting their sad circumstance. It's one picture that's very painful to see—people swimming upstream against forces of history, of terrible human nature, of the cruel fates, only to be swept away by the current, helpless, quietly sobbing, and eventually drowning.

Read this book if:

1. You have a thing for historical epics set in the 1940s.
2. You love unconventional coming-of-age stories.
3. You know that sad books can be beautiful reads.

Of collaborators and resistance fighters

I guess I spoke too soon when I posted my 10 favorite reads for 2013 in the previous post. I never knew that I'd be making a late addition to it, and it's this debut novel by Laurent Binet—HHhH. Somehow, I'm glad that this would probably be the last book that I'll be reading for the year, for HHhH is one truly glorious read.

HHhH is Laurent Binet's debut novel, but it doesn't feel like it. This historical novel really makes other books in the genre feel like they've been written by history undergraduates who are just too lazy with their research. If there's anything that Binet pulls off in this novel, these are the meticulous details that make HHhH very richly textured.

HHhH stands for "Himmlers Hirn heisst Heydrich" or Himmler's brain is called Heydrich." Now, Heydrich: If there's one man more feared that Hitler during WW2, it was this blond who was responsible for carrying out the Jewish solution, the systematic killing of Jews. I can't imagine how one person can think of all those gruesome ways just to exterminate a group of people. But Heydrich was able to do it, until he died of an infection after an assassination attempt.

So HHhH is about how two exiled operatives living in London were able to change the course of this dark period in our history. And these two are Josef Gabcík and Jan Kubiš, a Slovak and a Czech, resistance fighters extraordinare. I have much admiration for these men after reading the novel. I wouldn't have the courage to go into enemy territory and plot to kill a person so close to Hitler. You know that if you've been tasked to do this mission, there really is no coming back.

Most of the chapters of the novel focus on Reinhard Heydrich though. It provides details from his youth up to his quick rise leading to Hitler's cabinet. The Blond Beast, everyone called Heydrich, for he really had those "prized" Aryan features—he was tall, had blue eyes, and striking blond hair. But what makes Heydrich truly Hitler's soldier is that he shared the Führer's plan—to rid all of Europe of Jews.

The novel's very postmodern in its narrative. Oftentimes, the narrator strikes a conversation with the readers, telling us how such and such detail were arrived at. And the narrator can be funny too, especially when he mentions how certain dialogues by famous men in history can never be truly confirmed. When the narrative makes way for conversation, the narrator is quick to point out this caveat. In a way, this technique seems to be quite endearing, as if the author makes fun of himself or at least criticizes the way he presents his story.

Because HHhH is about an assassination, it reads like a thriller and adventure story. How can it not be, no? At the part where the actual assassination is described, the reader is left breathless. And during the hair-rising climax when the resistance fighters were trapped in a church surrounded by Nazi stormtroopers, you can't help but root for them, even though you know that that's one situation where it's impossible to get out of.

I just wish that there were many historical novels written this way. History is exciting. We shouldn't be forced to read boring texts about events that influenced how we are now. I think this is why I loved HHhH so much. It shows us that history was made by people, and that these people thought of us when they risked their lives or did remarkable things.

Read this book if:

1. You love historical fiction.
2. You want to give postmodern novels a try.
3. You are, like I am, fascinated by all things related to WW2

A little bit of book thievery on a weeknight

One of my favorite young adult novels is Markus Zusak's I Am the Messenger. I guess this is why it took me this long to read his later (and more popular) work, The Book Thief. I thought that for all the hype The Book Thief got, it couldn't live up to the brilliance of I Am the Messenger. So when the book club decided to read TBT and have an unofficial discussion about it, I thought to myself that it's about time I get this book over with. Besides, the movie's coming out soon, right? And The Book Thief is that kind of book that everyone seems to like.

(I say "unofficial" because The Book Thief isn't really part of the book club's official roster of books to be discussed this year. So basically it just served as an excuse for us to read a book, gather around to talk about it, and talk about it over good food. Oh, and usually, unofficial discussions happen during a weeknight. But looking back, with the kind of preparation that went with it, i.e., the bookmarks, the loot bags, the carefully thought-of discussion questions, and the number of members who attended, the discussion might as well have been an official one. This "unofficial" thing would probably need another post.)

Anyway, the novel is really difficult not to like. Zusak has a character, 11-year-old Liesel Meminger, who comes of age during the turbulent period in Germany during World War II. She has communist parents, and she was set up for adoption by this German couple, Hans and Rosa Hubermann. You just know that things won't turn up all daisies and sunshine for the characters. How can it? You're in Nazi Germany. And add the fact that the couple and Liesel hide a Jew in their basement. There are air raids often, too. We just know how indiscriminate bombs are as killing tools.

As I said, The Book Thief is a novel that's so easy to like. I can list a few points why this is so. First, Liesel is a bibliophile. Well, she isn't technically one at the start of the novel. She didn't even know how to read. But when she does, she develops a passion for the printed word. So much this passion is that she sometimes resorts to stealing books.

The novel also has a very strong anti-war message. Yes, we've all read how war has devastating effects on the parties involved in one. But Zusak manages to show us how war can affect families. And that, sometimes, people are forced to do things just to survive during wartime. We read about how difficult it is to find food, to get paid work, and to feel safe. We learn how one act of compassion can be interpreted as being a traitor to the nation's cause. We see how families are oftentimes separated and displaced. We see how it's all terrible, and we are made to feel uncomfortable. There's no hint of romanticizing any of these unfortunate scenarios in Zusak's novel.

The Book Thief is also about keeping promises. Hans owes his life to a Jew who somehow saved him during the first world war. And that Jew's son, Max, goes to the Hubermann household to escape the Nazi persecution. Hans never thinks twice about helping the boy, even though he's putting himself and his family at risk.

There's a bit of a romance going on between Liesel and a golden-haired boy named Rudy Steiner. The scene where Liesel, now 14 years old, finally realizes that she loves Rudy so much is just heartbreaking. I've always thought about an alternate scenario wherein Liesel agrees to be kissed by Rudy at the start of the novel. But that would not show the funny and heartwarming dynamic between Liesel and Rudy when they were just friends. In the end, the shy, bookish, and obedient girl falls for the rebel.

Oh, and the novel is narrated by Death, and what a glorious narrator he is. The novel presents Death as someone just doing his job. The war has kept him busy, and he's just your everyday omniscient being going about his business. He can be funny, amoral, and very objective with the things going on around him. But sometimes, Death appears to be someone capable of feeling and states that, sometimes, humans confuse him. He oftentimes spills the beans early in the chapters (who will die, what will happen in the end, etc.) but I didn't really mind these spoilery bits. For me, it was all about the story—how it will unravel in the book's 500+ pages.

I like The Book Thief. I probably didn't like it as much other people did. I'd still recommend it to young adults and adults alike. There's something in it for everyone. I guess what turned me off a bit was the idea that the novel was trying to be a very dramatic work, one that sets out from the start to elicit tears in the reader. The novel succeeds on this aspect though, but I feel that some of the scenes border on the overly melodramatic.

Read this book if:

1. You love YA historical fiction.
2. You're both fascinated and horrified by this terrible period in our history.
3. You know that there is indeed a being named Death.

In 14th century England

Historical novels written for children and young adults are tricky. At times, they feel like history textbooks, wearily feeding their readers with large helpings of historical facts. Sometimes, history is used simply as a vehicle, providing the right time and place for the events to unfold. Thankfully, Avi's Crispin: The Cross of Lead is the latter. It's a beautiful children's story set in 14th century England.

However, I do feel that I'm just tasting a dish I've been served before, instead of being offered with an exciting novelty that assault my senses. Our main character, Avi, becomes an orphan and is accused of stealing. He is advised by the village priest to run away to England's more prosperous cities. Along the way, he meets Bear, who teaches him the art of performing to a crowd.

It's not Avi who manages to get my empathy in this novel. Rather, it is Bear who becomes the character you root for. Underneath the big frame is a man who believes in an England free from the corrupt feudal systems that plague it. Of course, Avi becomes an unwitting member of this rebellion as well. And it turns out that he's more than just your poor orphan; he has noble blood and an heir.

At its heart, Crispin: The Cross of Lead is an adventure story set in a historical context. But Avi does not people his Newbery-winning work with actual historical figures. In fact, there's just one: John Ball, one of the leaders of the revolt of the peasants, and his role isn't even a major one in the novel. The story is still Crispin's and Bear's.

One of the things that I love about children's books is the straightforward narrative and the crisp writing. While I do appreciate novels that "push the envelope" in terms of literary style, I keep coming back to books for children and young adults because of the elegant stories. Crispin: The Cross of Lead is one such book. From page 1, it's an adventure until you flip the last page.

Read this book if:

1. You like historical fiction.
2. You'll read anything that won a Newbery.
3. You're a sucker for people known by one names only (e.g., Avi).

A very heartbreaking love story

Hmmm . . . love stories. Just the thought of holding a book about love is enough to make my teeth ache. It's a good thing that I didn't know that Madeline Miller's debut novel, The Song of Achilles, is rooted on love, and a very different kind of love at that.

The Song of Achilles, at its core, is about the bond between two men -- Patroclus and Achilles. The novel opens during Patroclus's childhood, when he was exiled to the land of Phthia. The son of a lesser king, Patroclus meets Achilles during his exile, for Phthia is the land of Peleus, an honorable king and the father of Achilles. It is in Phthia where Achilles decides to take Patroclus as companion. Patroclus even follows to Mount Pelion, where he and Achilles are taught by the centaur Chiron.

Of course, as the novel is rooted in mythology, there will be prophecies. And one such prophecy is the death of Achilles after he slays Hector in the siege of Troy. Achilles, having been known as the best of the Greeks, take part in the campaign to get Helen and return her to her husband, Melanaus.

We all know that Achilles dies, but Miller chooses to focus instead on the sacrifice made by Patroclus. In Patroclus, we have a character who embodies the concept of unselfish love. He knows that Achilles will die, he knows that there can be no redeeming aspect in the war against Troy. Still, Patroclus does take part in the battle, causing him his life and Achilles's despair.

He weeps as he lifts me onto our bed. My corpse sags; it is warm in the tent, and the smell will come soon. He does not seem to care. He holds me all night long, pressing my cold hands to his mouth. [page 340]

The Song of Achilles is one tender love story involving two very different characters -- Patroclus, the disgraced and clumsy son of a lesser king, and Achilles, the golden hero and the son of a goddess. I'm not sure if this romantic concept is based on the Iliad, but I couldn't care less. The novel is such a joy to read.

The author has a background on Latin and Ancient Greek, and she's been known to make modern adaptations of classical tales. Yay! Maybe this means that she'll be writing another captivating novel soon! But for the meantime, I think I'll be reading the Iliad, after having been inspired by The Song of Achilles.

Read this book if:

1. You love mythology.
2. You want a different take on the siege of Troy.
3. You're into debut fiction.

And all that jazz

Of the 6 Booker-shortlisted novels this year, I have read only 2, even though I have all of them in my shelf. The reason I somehow make it a point to get my hands on them is that these books are usually good reads. Esi Edugyan's novel, Half Blood Blues, is no exception. In fact, it's one of the best novels I've read this year.

As the novel focuses on jazz musicians during WWII, it becomes evident that Edugyan knows her jazz. But Half Blood Blues is more than just jazz as it is about friendship, betrayal, and the plight of blacks in Europe during the war. It's very fascinating, I tell you. I'm not at all interested about the music nor the artists of this musical genre, but Edugyan uses jazz as a backdrop, as a playing ground where her characters can fully develop themselves.

The novel's narrative alternates between Europe (Berlin and Paris) during the war and Berlin in the 1990s. In Berlin in 1939, just before the war erupts, we get to know three of the major players of the popular jazz band, The Hot Time Swingers: Hieronymus Falk, its very talented trumpet player, is even better than Louis Armstrong, as some people say, and Sid Griffiths and Chip Jones, who are Americans from Baltimore. For these three characters, it's a dangerous time to be in Berlin, for they are all black.

The band escapes to Paris with the help of a woman who is also connected with Louis Armstrong. In Paris, the band plans a collaboration with Louis Armstrong to make a record, which is disrupted when the Germans eventually conquer France and march into Paris to the tearful faces of the Parisians. One night, Sid and Hiero decide to go to a French cafe where Hiero is arrested by the Germans. He is never seen nor heard of again.

The novel's denouement takes place in the 1990s, wherein Chip has invited Sid to go to Berlin to watch a documentary about Hiero. It is in this part of the novel where Edugyan makes you feel the conflicting emotions going on in Sid. It's evident in the earlier part of the novel that Sid could have done something to prevent Hiero's arrest. Trust me, dear reader, when you discover how Sid betrayed his friend, it's almost too painful to bear.

The characters speak in a broken kind of English which takes getting used to. Once you get over it, the language makes the story richer, as if you're reading a diary or journal of sorts. Half Blood Blues did convey a lot of emotions -- the joy of being part of a group of friends with the same interest, the fear of finding yourself in hostile territory, the frustration for the things that should've been, among others.

Edugyan's subject matter is rarely touched among historians, much less by novelists -- blacks in Europe during WWII. There are parts in Half Blood Blues that portray horrific realities brought about by the Nazis. But in the end though, one feels lucky to have read such a fantastic piece of historical fiction.

Read this book if:

1. You read all the Booker-shortlisted novels every year.
2. You're into historical fiction.
3. You love jazz.

Good, historical fun

I had no idea why I bought Caroline Lawrence's The Thieves of Ostia, which is the first book of a series called The Roman Mysteries. It could have been the cover, as there's something about diversity among people that's very much appealing. I'm glad I bought it though, for it gave me a couple of hours of pleasant enjoyment, without the cheese.

In The Thieves of Ostia, someone is mysteriously killing the dogs in first century Ostia. It becomes up to four young people -- Flavia, Jonathan, Nubia, and Lupus -- to look for this murderer.

While this storyline seems innocuous enough, the circumstances of each of these four main characters is anything but. Flavia is free born and daughter of one of the notable sea captains at that time. Jonathan is Christian and son of a very competent doctor. Nubia is a slave bought by Flavia on her birthday. Lupus, aside from being a child of the streets, is mute.

Lawrence clearly shows her knowledge of classical Rome in this first novel. I have no doubts that the other novels would also present wonderful facets of Roman life during the first century. The Thieves of Ostia is also funny and has its warm, fuzzy moments. Its perfect to give to someone whom you want to instill the value of history, family, and responsibility even at a young age.

Reat this book if:

1. You'll read anything that has something to do with classical Rome.
2. You know that there's beauty in diversity.
3. You have the stamina to read the rest of the series. (So far, 17 novels compose the series.)

My favorite book this year (so far)

One can never go wrong with an excellent storyline, a well-developed character, and super writing, no? All these I found in this year's Newberry winner, Clare Vanderpool's debut fiction Moon over Manifest. I would have to say that, well, this is my best read so far this year.

Vanderpool has come up with a novel that combines history, mystery, and one girl's coming of age in one beautiful story that I devoured in one sitting. Vanderpool took me back in the year 1936 in a small town in Kansas called Manifest, where Abilene Tucker has been sent by his father over the summer for reasons he just won't disclose. Abilene and his father, Gideon, are somewhat of a nomadic duo, never staying too long in one place. Manifest, however, is Gideon's hometown.

Abilene then lives with a middle aged pastor named Shady, who also took care of Gideon during his childhood years. It is in Gideon's house where Abilene discovers a hidden cigar box once owned by a boy named Jinx. Abilene learns about the childhood years of Jinx when she makes the acquaintance of the town diviner, one Miss Sadie. It is this person who provides us with the stories of Jinx childhood way back in 1917 at the start of the first world war.

Like any good novel, Moon over Manifest eventually provides the connection among Abilene, Gideon, Jinx, and the good people of Manifest. It is a story that has given me goosebumps because it is just that good. Not a missing thread, not a gaping hole in the narrative, not a contrived circumstance. It made me realize that historical fiction, true historical fiction written with meticulous research, need not be boring.

There are a lot of characters to root for in this novel. Miss Sadie, for all her apparent negativity around Abilene, is an angel. The nun who's also a school teacher, Sister Redempta, turns out to have a very pivotal role in the novel. Even Hattie Mae Macke, the town's journalist, is never two-dimensional. We don't get the nosey reporter who's always covering up things from the main character.

To be honest, I wasn't really prepared to like Moon over Manifest as much as I did. I couldn't care less about Kansas in the 1930s. But of course, I just had to get this book since it won the Newberry after all. Imagine my wonderful surprise when I discovered that I've been reading this nonstop for almost 5 hours and that I was almost crying at the end. Read it! Read it! Read it now!

Read this book if:

1. You like historical fiction.
2. You always think about your hometown.
3. You'll read anything that has won the Newberry.