The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson
Narcissus and Goldmund by Herman Hesse
Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
Consolation by Anna Gavalda
Rosie Carpe is a novel (by Marie NDiaye) that is supposed to be about the woman of that name – but in fact seems to recount her story in a distant and disconnected way. It could also be said to be about identity, maternal connections, or the lack thereof. Though all of these elements are present it is not easy to make a claim that the book is about any one of them.
Briefly, Rosie, who is in her mid-twenties, arrives in Guadaloupe with her five year old son, Titi, and pregnant with a second child, of unknown paternity. Lagrand, Lazare's purported friend, picks her up from the airport. From him, Rosie learns that much of what she believed concerning her brother and parents is false. Rosie attempts to shape a new identify for herself in Guadaloupe, separating herself from her impoverished, colorless, insensate existence in Paris. In this attempt she seems to fail.
The first two chapters of the novel are narrated by Rosie. The third is split between Lagrand and Rosie and the final chapter is narrated by Lagrand. Of the two narrators, Rosie is both less trustworthy and less sympathetic. The first chapter, 36 pages describing hours waiting in the airport and the car ride home, details Rosie's generalized uncertainty, self-pity, and distaste for her son. The sense that Rosie is either mentally unstable or deficient becomes increasingly clear. Throughout the internal recounting of her life, in the second chapter, Rosie appears to be dull, unreflective, and not a real champion when it comes to decision making. Halfway through the book the reader can not help but feel disconcerted by Rosie's neglect of Titi and fundamental instability.
When Lagrand takes over the narrative role it is a relief since he is not only the only moral character in the book, but also (seemingly) honest about events in the world. He feels drawn toward Rosie, seemingly inexplicably, desiring her company despite sensing that she is lacking in an ethical center.
That Lagrand is a black Guadaloupean, and the Carpe family are white is no doubt significant from the author's point of view. Lagrand, who's mother was institutionalized, grew up with his grandparents and reflects that perhaps he was better off for it. Titi, who is an adult by the conclusion of the book, is also raised by his grandparents, but turns out less well. Lagrand, who became motherless, was able to identify that Titi was in a precarious position with his mother and to rescue him. Perhaps it is because of his own mother's abandonment that he can forgive Rosie and still love her.
Other aspects of the book which seem portentous are the names, Lazare, who disappears and seems to rise from the dead throughout the book; Lagrand, who is a great person; Rose-Marie (Rosie), the sister of Lazare; the family name of Carpe, perhaps. Unfortunately, attempting to find clues justifying the plot of the novel is a futile activity. Perhaps it is an elaborate parable about motherhood, love, and redemption, but it is more likely just what it appears to be – an unhappy novel about pathetic people.
“Get moving! Quick, the ship is going under!”
Down in the hold the pigs were still squealing desperately.
“Save the pigs!”
“Why?”
“One should never go into the sea without a pig!”
Because these animals have an unrivaled sense of direction. They can orient themselves in the sea even during a storm. You throw them in the water and: TAK! They immediately point their snouts in the direction of the closest shore... When they go “OINK, OINK, OINK, OINK!” four times, you're headed to land, and they're never wrong!
And that's why the Genoese people say: “On every ship you should always bring aboard an authentic pig...besides the captain...who's just an ordinary pig.”
If I am ever on a sinking ship I hope there are pigs available! This is just one of many helpful ideas embedded in the narration of Johan Padan and the Discovery of the Americas by Dario Fo. This is an unusual story in that it is told in a nontraditional manner with illustrations, and it is an alternate history, on the small scale, of interactions between Europeans and Native Americans.
Interestingly, the text is intended as a script for a one-man standup performance. It was originally composed in Italian “dialect,” then translated to standard Italian, and then again into English (by Ron Jenkins and Stefania Taviano). The oral nature of the text is illustrated by the use of many words for sound effects. The narrative is told through dialogue and monologue. Despite the fact that this was composed as a script Fo started by drawing pictures to capture his ideas. From these pictures Fo then wrote his story. The line drawings illustrating the story are not high art, but they do show the scenes that were envisioned and mesh closely with the text.
As alternate history, The Discovery of the Americas is a small-scale story about the successful revolt of one group of Native Americans against a group of Spaniards with the help of Johan Padan. Padan, after spending several years with various native groups no longer sees them the same way as Europeans do (or as he did when he first arrived). So, when he encounters Europeans again he is surprised/reminded by their barbarity towards natives and casts his lot with them.
This is a thoroughly recommendable book. Though it is salacious and Eurocentric in parts it seems essential to the character of Johan Padan and the European world/belief systems being portrayed. The unique form also makes this a book that is engaging.
The Summer House, Later: A book about the moment before happiness, is a collection of nine short stories by Judith Hermann. Each story can be said to be distinct, but each is unremittingly depressing, full of meaninglessness, and sadness.
In each story when a character does not know what to do/say he/she will invariably light a cigarette. There is much drinking, drug taking, and a little sex, all starkly described. At no point does anyone seem to enjoy themselves.
My favorite story from the collection is “Hunter Tompson Music” which is set in New York rather than Berlin. Hunter, an elderly man, lives in a seedy residential hotel. His greatest pleasure is listening to his classical music collection. When a young woman knocks on his door and introduces herself he is impressed that she can identify the music playing as Bach. This brief interaction is more human contact then Hunter is used to and when a dinner date is made there is a certain suspense to learn the outcome of an event that is sure to be traumatic. “Hunter remembers that he hasn't eaten out for years, that he doesn't know any good restaurants, that he can't tell her anything about the city, that he knows nothing at all.” In the event the dinner does not take place and the attempt to establish a human relationship has ambiguous results. What I particularly like about this story is the sense of pathos Hermann invokes for Hunter.
It is this same lack of pathos, which I dislike about most of the other stories in the book. The characters seem to be too underdeveloped to be either likable or dislikable in much of the book. This might be due, in part, to the translation. Though it is not fair to be too critical of translators, whose task is nearly impossible, this translation leaves the English reader wondering exactly how the book could have been so well-received. The translator is Margot Bettauer Dembo who is a contributor to Words Without Borders. An excellent site for reading literature in translation.
We, by Yevgeny Zamyatin, is one of the very first science fiction novels. Zamyatin sets the story in a dystopic universe controlled by the One State and led by the great Benefactor. The individuals of the One State are identified not with names but as Numbers. The family as an institution has ceased to exist. The inhabitants of this dystopia live in apartments with glass walls, making solitude impossible though every individual lives alone.
The narrator of the tale is D-503, who is purportedly recording his thoughts as part of a larger social writing project sponsored by the One State. D-503 is the chief engineer of The Integral, a spaceship bound for outer space. This space ship will carry the writings of the many Numbers to other lands and life (though the details of space life forms are left deliberately vague). However, with each entry D-503 adds to his notes, the more his life seems to veer away from the prescribed patterns given by the One State.
The instigator behind D-503's unorthodox actions and thoughts is I-330, a woman who seems to have taken an interest in him simply because he is interesting. She invites him to the Ancient house where she asks him questions and challenges his views of the world. As he is challenged D-503 seems to lose his stability, and to swing back and forth between the official version of reality as given by the One State and alternate possibilities proffered by I-330. The effect is disconcerting as D-503's entries become increasingly confused – reflecting his states of mind. His ability to be confused at all is threatened when the One State decides to perform imagination lobotomies on all Numbers.
The One State is a prefiguring of a totalitarian regime, and many people suggest that it resembles Stalinist Russia which came into existence after the novel. The book is not hampered by being told through D-503's diary entries, but it is limited to the perspective of D-503. As he is an unreliable narrator it would be useful to hear the perspective of another character.
The delineation of individuals is done succinctly (and repetatively) by describing specific features. I-330, for instance, is delineated by the sharp lines of her face. O-90, D-503's assigned partner, is described in terms of circles and roundness. This technique is particularly appropos for the setting of the book where individuals have been shorn of their identities – they are still individualized by features that can not be erased. Originally published in Russia in 1920-21 I read the translated version by Mirra Ginsburg, published in 1972.