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Book summaries - 2017
1933 WAS A BADA YEAR - John Fante BEETHOVEN: THE MAN REVEALED - John Suchet IN THE DARKROOM - Susan Faludi AN UNNECESSARY WOMAN - Rabih Alameddine THE LOOKING GLASS-SISTERS - Gohril Gabrielsen
from Margaret 29/11/2017 I don't really feel qualified to write my comments about this book, chosen by Tatiana, as everyone except me found positive things to say about it. I simply did not enjoy it. I did not like the formula of a string of short stories, linked (very loosely) together as I kept losing the thread. I was also put off by the many episode of graphically described violence and by the pessimistic tone of much of the book. I felt the author was pretentious and that his book seemed to me a studied formula deliberately aimed at commercial success Having said all that, the others were not so negative and some really liked it. Tatiana greatly admires the writer (naturally, it being her choice). Some thought it very cleverly put together and were impressed by Mitchell's undoubted breadth of culture. Nothing remains for me but to read it again and see what I missed! from Laura 15/12/2017 After reading two of his books now, I think I can say David Mitchell is one of my favourite authors. Although they were published five years apart, Ghostwritten and Cloud Atlas are quite similar in concept and style. The plot is not a simple one, you have to focus your whole attention to not miss interconnected details, citations, hidden links, etc. It looks complicated in the beginning but after a while your brain adjusts and you enter this alternate universe, where life is described in many different ways, one historical, one socio-political, one philosophical, one magical, surreal, extra-sensorial, etc. Each character has a different voice and you wonder how is it possible they share the same author. Some of them you can perfectly relate to, depending on your experience. I could especially relate to the asian characters (having visited China and Japan several times) and to their way of living and thinking. The book is divided in short stories but in the end is like one multifaceted big story, as if you are looking at them from outer space, seeing the “big picture”, so to speak. Maybe this is the perspective we need when we look at the world today, a mixed multi-racial, politically and socially messed up society where the meaning of single individual lives should be read from a distance. from Tatiana 22/12/2017 I apologize for this late entry but things have been beyond hectic here – mostly good but time consuming nonetheless. There is, however, absolutely nothing I would like to add regarding our discussion of Ghostwritten. Both views have been perfectly expressed by Margaret and Laura, heading the two camps, as it were, of those who really liked the book and those who did not. I, for one, could not have said it better than Laura, who hit on absolutely everything I adore about Mitchell generally and this book in particular – and then some, making observations that in a quieter time I may have formulated myself but now find I am grateful to her for having expressed. All I can say is Hear, Hear!! A thousand times! 1933 WAS A BAD YEAR - John Fante from Tatiana 31/10/2017 We met today at Eva’s and before discussing the book had a wonderful lunch perfect for Halloween, with pumpkin soup and quiche (what does quiche have to do with Halloween, you ask – nothing that I know of but it was just all so perfect once you started out with pumpkin soup!). Eva had chosen 1933 Was a Bad Year because she loved the author and seeing as her first choice had not been translated into English, went with the tried and true. While many of us were acquainted with John Fante (except for me) either from other books or movies based on his work, this title was new to everybody and met with positive reviews from us all. Though Fante set this story in depression-era America and the circumstances both outside the family and within it were grim, still he succeeded in writing a gentle work that explored family dynamics in a poor, working class, immigrant family, allowing the reader to see the kind, poignant and tender moments between brothers, friends and even within fraught family relations. There was humor in despair, and pie-in-the-sky hope befitting the American dream, which made the characters and their experiences genuine. Without fancy word choices or sledgehammer emotions Fante succeeded in giving the reader a sense of being there and grasping far more than is actually on the page, just as real life is so much more complex than any black and white retelling. from Margaret 3/11/2017 This must have been one of our most successful book choices! We all loved it without reservations. Nevertheless, we still had a lively discussion, focussing on various aspects of the book that had appealed to us. We were impressed with the fact that such a short book (about 100 pages) managed to pack in so much information about the characters, their motives and feelings. We also loved the language – Fante's gift of turn of phrase and unusual metaphors. It did leave a bit of a cliffhanger....an abrupt ending where we would all have liked to have been told if the prospective baseball champ with “the arm” actually made it into the team of his dreams. It was up to the reader to decide if he was going to make it or not! It is sad to think that this novel was published posthumously after Fante died in 1983. It did remind me of Salinger's “Catcher in the Rye” (published in 1951), which had the same kind of dialogue flow and leitmotiv of teenage restlessness and difficulties of adaptation and I wondered if Fante had been inspired by it. However, Fante's touch was softer and gentler and you could feel real sympathy for all the characters and their various dilemmas. Thanks to Eva for her choice and also wonderful lunch. Why don't we re-christen this the Castelli Gourmet Book Club? Just an idea...... BEETHOVEN: THE MAN REVEALED - John Suchet from Tatiana 23/9/2017 On September 22 we met at Margaret’s and enjoyed a thoroughly Scottish meal – comfort food at its finest – before settling down to discuss Suchet’s book. On the whole we enjoyed the book, though for many it was certain aspects of this biography with several reservations. Some of us found the historical context interesting, the ins and outs of the patron/composer dynamic and the various difficulties even a genius like Beethoven had to overcome in order to make his mark. Others were intrigued by the events in Beethoven’s life that influenced his work, from Fur Elise, written so that a mediocre student he was infatuated with could play it, to his Sixth Symphony Pastoral, the likely result of his many walks in the countryside. Most of us, however, were put off by the massive presence of the conditional tense: he might have, could have, should have. While it is admirable that Suchet was clear about the suppositions he was making and the fact that accounts written by people many years after Beethoven’s death could not be verified, it was off-putting to realize how very little of what we were reading can actually be proven. There were some, however, who very much liked the book, conditionals notwithstanding, and felt that it helped them appreciate even more a composer who overcome a difficult life and fateful deafness to write music that has withstood the test of time. Not all of us would recommend this book to others, but most felt it was worth our time since none of us knew much of anything about this man’s life and considering his importance in the Western musical canon, it is knowledge we appreciate. from Jill 13/10/2017 John Suchet, a well respected TV journalist who now hosts a classical music radio programme, admits in the first pages that his book is not a musicologist’s discussion of the music of Beethoven. As the title suggests his aim is to explore the man behind the music and by means of diligent and thorough research as such he surely achieved this aim. As a lover of classical music myself, I was fascinated by the story of Beethoven’s life and the paradox of his astonishing behavior, a mix of humour, lack of humour, generosity combined with the despicable treatment of his sister-in-law and nephew Karl - all of which lies behind the production of some of the most beautiful music ever written. In view of the limitations of direct evidence (Thayer, the first biographer wrote almost 50 years after Beethoven’s death), Suchet uses his imagination to bring the story to life, correctly making quite clear to the reader by means of “One can imagine that…” or “ It is possible that…” that in this instance he is speculating. This technique seems to have irritated several of our members to such an extent that not much more was said about the book, which was a shame. It was very interesting to learn of the background to some of the music. For instance, his sojourn in the small village of Heiligenstadt where he could be seen taking long walks in the countryside throwing his arms about and shouting, as he presumably (there I go!) formulated parts of the Pastoral Symphony in his head as he walked. I was also touched by Suchet’s musical description of the very beautiful Cavatina. Beethoven himself confessed that nothing he had written so moved him almost to tears as he heard it in his head, and one could well wonder that he was inspired to write such sorrowful music as he realized that the fight to control his nephew was over and he was finally losing Karl. Beethoven’s personality seems inevitably to have been much influenced by several misfortunes: his deafness, his lack of success in love and what we would now call his irritable bowel syndrome. Sadly it seems he was not a very likeable person, and I have to admit that in some ways I’d rather not have known that composer of some of the music that I love so much was frankly a bastard. from Tatiana 13/7/2017 On July 3 we met at Jill’s to enjoy the gorgeous view and wonderful lunch, and discuss The Ginger Tree. Jill could not remember why she had chosen this book but was glad she did as we mostly found it to be an engaging read. We unanimously considered the historical aspect very interesting, both in terms of the cultures described and the events that occurred during that period in time. Less unanimous was the viewpoint when it came to the main character herself. Some of us found her a realistic rendition of a woman slowly sloughing off the straight laced conventions and limitations of her day, maturing and establishing her own, individual persona as she faces various disappointments and disasters during her sojourn in the Far East. Others felt her character was obviously not written by a woman as her actions and considerations did not strike us as those a woman would actually exhibit. There was also some divergence in terms of the asides found throughout the book which demonstrate knowledge of a future she could not have known or even contemplated but overall the story was interesting and the setting fascinating and, depending what camp you were in, the ending was either perfectly in sync or completely unnatural. A good discussion and a lovely afternoon. from Margaret 21/7/2017 Jill's choice, “The Ginger Tree” was universally enjoyed, although some members expressed doubts about the heroine's passivity regarding her Japanese lover, especially as she seemed to be a dynamic and independent woman in every other respect. She faced the difficulties of travelling from her native Scotland to China to marry a man she merely knew and adapted to the trials of ex-pat colonnial life. Personally, I thought that she seemed a typical Victorian woman. It was an era where woman had few rights – even in Britain – and yet it produced heroines, explorers and intellectuals, admittedly almost exclusively among the upper and moneyed classes. Women like the heroine of the book were kept in total ignorance regarding sex, even when they were about to marry, and literature abounds concerning the misery that this often caused. In “the Ginger Tree”, the heroine was brought up in rigidly moral Presbyterian Edinbugh, in a household of women, without even a brother who could have given her a glimpse into the male psyche. She married a man who was obviously cold (probably as ignorant as she was – the same rule applied to young boys as to young girls), so when she stumbled upon a brief affair with the Japanese prince, she was overwhelmed by the discovery of sex. The prince was really a dream lover – she hardly knew him and she attributed his harsh treatment of her to the impositions of his upbringing, background and social position. He was, in fact, not too bad, in the circumstances. He seemed to continue to take an interest in her wellbeing – if maintaining considerable distance. The story of her subsequent successes and her career in Japan gave us an uplifting feeling – we were rooting for her, of course! I found the end slightly disappointing, when she was reunited briefly with her son – but so briefly and so formally. I'd hoped the Japanese mask would crack ever so slightly and that her son would manage some out-of-protocol gesture. Others of our group did not agree. They felt that the reunion could not have gone any other way, given the Japanese sense of propriety. The most interesting parts of the book were the descriptions of life in China and Japan, with which the author was obviously very familiar. We also appreciated the gentle humour that permeated the heroine's letters. All in all, a really good read! from Jill 27/5/2017 So sorry I can't be with you this weekend but you will all be in my thoughts, and I long to hear how it all went. I haven't even had time to write the review of your lovely book as I had intended. I found it a really delightful read. The story spanning across the three generations was very sensitively thought out. There are complex descriptions of almost all the family members, their strengths and weaknesses: the grandfather, grandmother Lia etc, though much less about the musician parents, about whom I'd have liked to know more, especially the pianist father. The grand daughter's search for information about her grandmother was touching and well handled as we learn more and more slowly, and begin to wonder - until the final chapter leaves us wondering even more! Descriptions of Sardinian life and the countryside were, I thought, beautifully written. I would like to read another of her books. Can anyone recommend one? I actually saw the film on the plane and I guess you will be watching it at the weekend, so I won't go into that. Suffice to say that the book has so, so much more to give than the film can even hope to include. Have a lovely weekend, all of you!! from Tatiana 03/6/2017 On the week-end of 27-28 June we met at Laura’s for our yearly pilgrimage to Pescolanciano. This has become a highlight for us for so many reasons, all due to Laura’s hard work to prepare for our arrival and make the time memorable in every way. We ate like kings, took wonderful walks in gorgeous surroundings, enjoyed the countryside and the weather and each other and, oh yes, discussed Mal di pietre, by Milena Agus. As often happens, there were those of us who quite enjoyed this story and others who felt rather “nyeh” about it. Nobody appeared to be much inspired by the writing, though we read it in the original Italian so the flat prose was not due to translation difficulties. It was simply that some of us got more involved in the characters than others. This may be because there’s no accounting for taste or because one sometimes has to be in a certain frame of mind to appreciate certain things, but those of us who enjoyed the book thought it was an interesting look at some unusual people during a certain time and place. The fact that the entire story may have been totally fabricated (alluded to in the final pages of the book) struck some as intriguing and others as annoying. The movie, on the other hand, disappointed absolutely everybody. In fact, we didn’t even wait to see the end. The fact that it was set in a totally different place and time was already disconcerting but to have it in French, with out-of-sync subtitles, made it not worth the effort. Mal di pietre has inspired some to look for more of Agus’ work while others are not likely to be interested in exploring this author further, but it was a good basis for discussion, begun in the kitchen after a fabulous outing as Laura prepared our dinner, and carried through to past midnight when we finally called it a day. from Margaret 05/6/2017 Our annual treat – visit to Laura in magical Molise, enjoying once more the magnificent scenery, the woods and uncontaminated Nature, and, of course, our hostess' unrivalled hospitality. We all had a great time! So thank you again, Laura! I really enjoyed this book – short and sweet. The author tells the tale of her grandmother and her (mal di pietre) kidney stones in a chatty manner. I had the feeling she was sitting opposite me, telling me the story over a cup of coffee. I liked her descriptions of life in Sardinia and her illusions over the Reduce (never named) she had fallen in love with. In this day of grim events and grim books, it was refreshing to read a story where there were no nasty characters. Everyone seemed to be innocent and well-intentioned. The grandmother's parents tried to do their best by their seriously disturbed daughter by searching out a pleasant mental clinic where she would not be subjected to the kind of treatments that were common at that time. The Reduce was a noble character, treating her with the utmost respect during their brief relationship. The husband was a saint of patience and tolerance. We spent quite a lot of time discussing the “prestazioni” - the weird sexual games the grandmother claimed to indulge in to please her husband. But even the descriptions of these variations of the oldest game in the world were recounted with a light touch, avoiding morbid titillation. Some of us thought that the book had enjoyed its unprecedented success due mainly to these graphic descriptions, unusually for a woman writer. But I thought instead that these passages (which only occupied a couple of pages in the entire book) were recounted with such gentle humour that – dare I say? - no modern male writer would have been capable of. My only criticism was that the story got a bit muddled in the middle when the author started switching to the following generations. I had to read it twice to get everyone sorted out. I also thought the pages towards the end, dedicated to the other grandma, jarred a little. They gave me the impression they had been added on, maybe to increase the number of pages, which were in fact few for a modern novel The film turned out to be a big disappointment. Not only was it set in Provence, instead of Sardinia,which disorientated us, the sub titles did not fit the action on the screen so only those proficient in French really got what was going on. However, it was extremely slow and boring and we gave up before the end. IN THE DARKROOM - Susan Faludi from Tatiana 24/4/2017 I am ambivalent about this book. On the one hand, I found recent (and legendary) Hungarian history extremely interesting as I have been to Hungary, and it impressed me that some of what I gleaned from the people and the place (and had catalogued under “you can’t know this after only 4 days”) turned out to be on the mark: lots of racism, anti-Semitism and cry-in-your-beer views of the past. As it is politically incorrect to spout anti-Semitism to strangers it was the Rom that people generally railed against, though unguarded quips alerted me because there had been a demonstration sponsored by some Jewish group commemorating the Holocaust shortly after we arrived. On the other hand, Faludi’s inability to come to some clear, clean conclusion about her father depressed me. I think we have been conditioned by books and movies (as well as pop psychology) to believe that if we were to wholly know a person’s background we would be perfectly capable of wholly knowing the person. As this book shows us, not only is a person’s past not entirely knowable, so their person is always an unknown, no matter how hard we try. We can never be inside a person’s head or psyche, can never truly understand how events have shaped who they are, and thus can never believe we have a complete picture of the people in our lives. I don’t think Faludi’s literary style is engaging, nor did I feel that she shed any real light on questions of identity or culture but I fear that that is, perhaps, the point of the book. There is no clear line to follow, nothing that will explain everything, because we cannot be privy to a person’s thoughts. As Viet Thanh Nguyen writes in “The Refugees”, recounting the story of a Vietnamese professor, a refugee that came to America in the eighties and is suffering from early onset dementia, the man thinks his wife is his first love, from when he was young, and, as he writes in his journal, documenting the loss of his memory while he still can: “Memory worsening. Today she insisted I call her by another name. Must keep closer eye on her … for she may not know who she is anymore.” I guess we not only can never know another person but probably never really know ourselves or fully comprehend the forces in our lives that shaped us. We will always perceive those we share our days with, and our own selves, through a self-correcting, self-censoring lens. Something about this makes me feel sad, though I take heart in knowing that the one relationship none of this matters for is with our kids. We probably will never really know them, either, but we don’t care, and love them with our every breath just the same. It may be what keeps many of us sane. from Margaret 24/4/2017 Disappointing small attendance at this meeting at Margie's home! There were only four of us, plus our youngest member Chiara, who came along with her mother Lena. Unfortunately, this had turned out to be a problem month with some of us away and others with health problems involving their families. On the upside, that meant there was more time for discussion …...and all the more strawberry cake to enjoy! The book was not on the whole described as enjoyable, but it was thought provoking. The story was complex with many interwoven themes, but all mainly centred on the problem of identity. The sex-change father somewhat baffled us....At his age? Why go through all that? And did his character really change and become more feminine? Was that what he wanted? Why was he so anxious to share the gruesome details of his operation with his daughter? There was also the Jewish issue. What does being Jewish really mean in the present day? What defines the Jewish identity? The Hungarian people came in for a bad press. Did the writer have some personal issue? The book was probably too long and drawn out. In parts, it risked being boring. Most of us did not care for the writer's rather dry journalistic style, which excluded any emotional involvement. from Jill 8/5/2017 A really interesting theme for sure. I found the first few chapters fascinating where the author first gets to know her father again, flashing back to him as a dominating father when she was a child. At a certain point the story began to drag, as she turns to academic research to define more clearly the transgender identity. The story pulled itself together again during the last part of the book where the relationship between the author and her father matures as he gets older and eventually lapses into dementia. However he is an unattractive bully both as a male and female; he/she shows little affection for his daughter and is only interested in himself from start to finish, with the result that it is hard to feel much sympathy towards his predicament and consequently little sympathy towards transgender people generally, which is a shame since I think they deserve much understanding and respect. The historical aspect of anti semitism in Hungary, and the position of Hungary during and after the war was both shocking and surprising. I found myself continually googling to learn more about it all, and would have been really interested in how much Margie was able to identify with the Jewish, Hungarian aspect of the book, not the trans gender! The medical aspects of the surgery were fascinating even if a trifle ghoulish, and very topical, given how common transgender operations have become. It was interesting to compare this situation to the Danish Girl many years previously. I am really glad that I persevered with the book – I had been tempted to abandon it half way through; there was much to ponder on. The author herself comes out of it with shining colours; she perseveres with both her father and her research despite humiliation and rudeness. She makes every effort to understand and to empathise with both her parents, and perhaps one can only agree with Stefanie - she should get pregnant and have her own children; she would make a wonderful mum. AN UNNECESSARY WOMAN - Rabih Alameddine from Tatiana 8/4/2017 On March 28 we met at Francoise’s house as nearly a complete group (plus my friend from the U.S.) to enjoy a wonderful lunch, each other, and discuss An Unnecessary Woman by Rabih Alameddine. By and large, most of us enjoyed this book and its look into life in Beirut, which not many of us knew about. While the protagonist and her take on existence did not strike many chords of recognition it was interesting to read about a life and a place quite unlike our own. A number of us found the author’s many references to writers both obscure and famous pretentious but I, for one, having grown up with that kind of grounding for opinions and education did not and fully intend to use these citations as spring boards for learning about writers I have never heard of. And while we did not relate all that much to the protagonist, her dedication to translating works that would never be read got us talking about what, in human endeavour, has value. Is it only those things that inform, entertain or somehow enhance the lives of others or is it enough to derive nothing but personal pleasure (and, in her case, sustenance and a reason for living) from creative work? We appreciated the way the book ended, with her neighbours coming to her rescue despite the fact that she had never much wanted to interact with them, and her realizing that even the coffee tasted wonderful when shared like that. On a personal note, I was touched (and not the least surprised) at how our group expanded and welcomed my friend, making her feel like she’d been with us forever and never exuding the cliquish cohesion that can make a person feel like an outsider. She asked me to thank you all for giving her such an enjoyable afternoon and definitely plans to have her next trip here coincide with another meeting. This is what makes us more than a book club I belong to. You are my friends and the reason the club is such an important element in my life. (T) from Margaret 16/4/2017 Francoise's choice turned out to be quite a controversial book. Some of us found it illuminating and erudite, while others thought it was pedantic and tedious. It was a book of subtle layers which could be read at different levels, with its underlying theme of loneliness, self-sought exclusion and the difficulties of adaptation. Sketched out in the background we get a picture of war-torn Beirut, the social customs of a traditional Arabic family and Aaliya's difficult relationship with her mother and brothers. The scene near the end when she finally makes the effort to be reconciled with her mother comes as a surprise. She performs the humblest possible act of contrition by washing her mother's feet and cutting her nails. However, even the most touching episodes in the book come over as rather cold and unemotional, as when she recounts the suicide of her friend Hannah. The story of Hannah runs like a thin thread through the narrative but it is recounted factually, without emotion No pathos is ever evoked. We never get to know why Aaliya's mother initially rejected her or why Hannah decided to kill herself. Those of us who didn't like it complained of the slow pace and lack of action. Practically nothing happens for three quarters of the book. The main character, Aaliya, is a recluse who lives among books and shuns company after the failure of her arranged marriage to an impotent bore. She fills her time by the fruitless task of translating books she has no intention of publishing. Aaliya speaks in the first person, in a seemingly endless monologue of name-dropping. She quotes from the most prestigious international authors and obscure works. After the first few pages, when the reader is impressed by her learning, it tends to become tiresome. The book ends with the hint that she may finally emerge from her isolation with the help of the three neighbours she has always shunned and looked down on. They come to help her salvage some of her translations which have been soaked due to a leak upstairs and are obviously generous women who accept Aaliya with all her eccentricities. Will that be enough to coax her out of her shell? (M) from Margaret 25/2/2017 I found this book an easy and pleasant read. The writer stuck to the point, avoiding contorted figures of speech or obscure thought meanderings. Although the story of the protagonist, Nikhil-Gogol, centred around the problems he had with his name (Gogol), I was more attracted to the underlying theme of nostalgia. This Hindu family, emigrants, who were totally unable and did not even wish, to adapt to their new environment, lived among other Hindus like themselves and stuck doggedly to their culture and traditions. They were there by necessity and really only lived for the long holidays they were able to spend in their native land. This created more of a conflict for the second generation. Gogol found himself with a foot in both camps, with great pressure put on him to study and be successful. It might have been interesting to compare his sister's reactions to the situation, but she remained a shadowy figure throughout the book. I mostly enjoyed the descriptions of the Hindu culture – their great sense of hospitality, the marriage customs, the food (the parents never seemed to eat Western food). Our discussion led to personal accounts of adaptation, as most of us were not born or brought up in Italy and have had to cope with adapting – even if to a much lesser degree, I wondered if the refusal of the Hindu family to adapt depended on a misplaced sense of inferiority, sprung from the experience of colonialism, and a need to safeguard themselves from what were perceived as overwhelming and almost threatening outside influences. Meeting at Lena's house almost complete turnout. Lena complemented the book's theme by serving Indian food. Hey, members! How long will we be able to keep this up? (M) from Tatiana 26/2/2017 February 21st we enjoyed an Indian lunch at Lena’s to get us in the right frame of mind for a discussion of The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri’s book exploring the American experience of transplanted Indians. We unanimously felt the beginning of the book was excellent, true to life and interesting as the reader delves into the myriad obstacles and vicissitudes of an immigrant family navigating its way through the changing American landscape, from the parents’ high hopes for integration while tenaciously holding on to their own cultural identity to their children’s wholehearted efforts to “be Americans”. Some of us have lived this experience in one way or another and we felt that the perspective offered by Ashima Ganguli, the mother, rang true in every way. For some, however, the focus on her son, Gogol, was disappointing as he seemed to lack character (which, of course, could have been intentional on Lahiri’s part, giving him a truncated personality because he was, and was not, of two worlds). Overall we found the book interesting as it was for many of us an education into some aspects of the Indian culture, and the writing was clear cut and effective in conveying the various states of mind of the characters involved. Time was short, however, and the food excellent, making it hard for us to stay on subject and not relapse into simply enjoying each other’s company. It seemed to me that would the occasion arise we would willingly read something else of Lahiri’s as she seemed to us to be an author with much to say that is relevant in today’s multicultural world. (T) THE LOOKING GLASS-SISTERS - Gohril Gabrielsen from Tatiana 13/1/2017 On Monday, the ninth, we met at Grazia’s house for the first time to enjoy lunch together and discuss The Looking-Glass Sisters. Grazia had chosen the book based on a recommendation from a friend but because it was so grim she became worried, as she read it, that we would find it too depressing. While we all considered the book quite harsh it was, nonetheless, a good springboard for an interesting discussion because it tackles a subject many of us have either experienced first-hand or closely – long-term care of a family member. While the book dramatizes the inherent rancor, helplessness and frustration of such a relationship to a degree not commonly experienced by any of us (nobody that we know has been left to die, after all), these elements are all present when one person has to take care of another (who cannot take care of him/herself) to the detriment of his/her own life. It was interesting to consider how being helpless can sometimes mean being extremely powerful when it comes to the control exerted over the caregiver, and how working in daily assistance of another into a personally satisfying life can often be so difficult as to seem impossible. Having the story set in the cold, isolated barrens of the north gave greater weight to the clash of wills between the two sisters, making us wonder about the effect of the environment on the people living there. Somehow it seemed unlikely that this kind of animosity could thrive equally well in sunny, warm climates. In the end, far from being simply a depressing book it resulted in interesting connections, though I personally feel that only in a group such as ours discussing it could these various paths be followed. Left to my own devices, I would have classified The Looking-Glass Sisters as a downer and never given it another moment’s thought. (T) from Margaret 17/1/2017 This book was Grazia's choice and she heroically entertained us in her wheelchair while convalescing from a foot operation. This book had been recommended to her by a friend and she hadn't read it beforehand – proof that proposing an untried book can be a big risk! We all found the book very depressing. The lame sister (who is not named) is the narrator, so we only get her side of the story. Even so it was obvious that she was riddled with jealousy and malice and set out deliberately to ruin her sister Ragna's life. Ragna had always looked after her but she did this unwillingly, with reluctance and resentment. However, the relationship more or less worked until Ragna's suitor (and ultimately husband) came on the scene and brought the situation to crisis point. The book ends on an uneasy note with the suspicion that the couple are leaving this nuisance of a sister, who is doing her best to ruin their lives, to die of thirst and starvation since the more humane solution of a nursing home has been sabotaged. Not exacly a laugh a minute! It did bring up interesting debates about dependency. What can happen to a person's character if they are deprived of the use of their limbs or other faculties, putting them at a disadvantage in the world? Is he/she forced to become demanding and selfish in order to survive or to avoid being pushed into a corner and ignored? I did appreciate the descriptions of this remote corner of northern Norway, with its bleak landscape and endless winters and the writer's skill in delving into the nightmare reaches of the mind. (M) from Laura 18/1/2017 Well. I missed the meeting thanks to the snow storms that ravaged Molise and left us stuck in ice for days. I read the book while in bed with influenza, so you can imagine how depressed it made me feel. I kept wondering why it seems we just can't find more cheerful subjects lately, and God knows how we need to lift our spirits up with all the ugly surrounding us ! All kind of different reactions kept pulling me from one side to the other while reading. Only when I reached the end of the book I was able to form a feasible opinion. You can't really believe what the narrator is describing, cause it's her own twisted version of reality. There's no way to determine who is the good guy/bad guy here. Some of the scenes are so surreal you can't help feeling that you're stuck in a E.A. Poe's story. For instance, when the lame sister is in the attic she hears Ragna and Johan digging a deep hole in the garden and then dragging something heavy they finally bury and cover with earth, you could think the narrator is already dead and buried, her spirit actually talking to us. Of course you can sublimate the subject into a discussion about long term care of a family member, so I totally agree with Tatiana, our minds are so quick and open we can always find some path or other to follow, and give a purpose to any book we read. Thank God for our bookclub ! (L) |