Matthew

Hiroshima Diary

Revisado: 10-22-16

I specifically read this in preparation for my visit to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. And yes, it obviously enriched my experience. For anyone planning to visit Hiroshima I would make this an essential pre-visit read.

The tone of the writing is fascinating. Extremely unemotional; a little detached even. Which, in itself, is a really curious window into the mind of the author. It’s hard to say this one man represents the fortitude of the entire population of the time… but through Dr. Hachiya’s lens the Japanese people definitely do seem stoic. Interestingly, most of the anger for their plight seems to be reserved for the Japanese armed forces with very little animosity toward the United States.

For those with any kind of scientific or medical bent… a good percentage of the diary describes the clinical symptoms of those “survivors” suffering from radiation poisoning, which is both mesmerizing and horrific. I say “survivors” but in reality, many of those who survived the blast but were exposed to radiation, eventually died.

"There is only one way in which one can endure man's inhumanity to man and that is to try, in one's own life, to exemplify man's humanity to man."
-- Alan Paton

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Disappointing

Revisado: 10-22-16

I can’t recall a more disappointing book-reading experience. I rarely give up on books after the half-way point — so close to the end! just finish it! — but this was too torturous to finish.

Tsukiyama has a very distinctive writing style that will either appeal or not. In my case, it did not. What others may hear as minimal and beautifully unpretentious, in my ears was weak, flat and lifeless. So there was a fairly significant style problem right from the beginning.

I also hated that Japanese words were thrown into the story, but then explained… along the lines of: “She put on her kimono – a kind of traditional robe – and went outside”. This is an exaggerated example but definitely representative. It kept taking me out of the story and reminded me that this is a story about Japan, for non-Japanese, and there was something really irritating and irksome about that.

To describe the two protagonists, Hiroshi and Kenji, as characters is an undeserved compliment… they were actually caricatures. Hiroshi is a first-class sumo wrestler and Kenji is a first-class Noh theatre-mask master… two of the most stereotypical and impossibly niche career choices imaginable. I’m trying to imagine a story set in 1940’s Australia with one brother as a famous kangaroo wrangler and another as the architect of the Opera House. Actually that’s a bad example… that in fact sounds like a good book. I think this sounds like a petty criticism, but you’re just going to have to trust me – they seemed like caricatures. And I couldn’t decide if they were meant to represent some kind of fantasy parable of distilled Japanese culture, or if Tsukiyama was genuinely trying to tell an everyday story about a normal family but lazily reverted to recognizable typecasts.

It’s one thing to dislike a book, but another altogether to have high expectations that are then dashed. I really wanted to like this, as it was recommended in Japan (Lonely Planet Country Guide) as one-of-two novels to read before visiting Japan. The other recommended novel was Hiroshima Diary… I hope that’s more my scene.

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The best narration I've ever heard

Revisado: 10-15-15

This was possibly a perfect narration performance. I'm so impressed with the quality of this audiobook.

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Haunting, heartbreaking and incredibly powerful

Revisado: 02-26-14

I’ve seen the destructive influence of unchecked depression, and this short play — in its simplicity and honesty — is so accurately painful.

If there is such a thing as “beautiful tragedy” I don’t think you’ll find anything closer than the dialogue between Jessie and her mama.

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Delightful

Revisado: 02-02-14

Eeh! I mun say th’ little book be a right s’prise. Aye, true capt.

I think the word “delightful” is overused, but it’s deserved in this case. I — and my three kids aged from five to nine-years-old — really, REALLY enjoyed The Secret Garden and every character in it.

Mistress Mary (in all her contrariness) and Master Colin (in all his despicable tantrumness) are somehow exactly what the other needed, and able to bring transformational healing and hope where no other could. Some elements (especially in the beginning) are a bit politically incorrect for 2014, but the heart of this story is pure.

This particular narration by Vanessa Maroney is incredible. There is a lot of Yorkshire dialect in this book, and choosing the right narrator is very important. Maroney does a great job bringing all the characters to life, and switching back-and-forth between the incredibly broad and common Martha and the uppity Mary.

I know this is not a film review, but I can’t help mention the 1993 film adaptation directed by Agnieszka Holland. It is almost as wonderful as the book. Apart from a few pointless-but-forgivable plot changes (and the total absence of my favourite character, Mrs. Sowerby) it’s delightful — that word again — to see the stunning secret garden come to life. And the incomparably gorgeous Yorkshire moor feels less like a locale and more like an important character.

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Two teenagers I actually liked

Revisado: 01-30-14

I loved this book. And I’m afraid all efforts to explain why will sound corny or gushy. You see… I shouldn’t even like this book. The two protagonists are teenagers who—despite their relative intelligence and maturity—are teenagers. Teenagers. Who actually likes teenagers? John Green apparently, but not me. I didn’t even like myself when I was teenager.

But Hazel and Gus are not normal teenagers. They are a delight; the kind of kids you’d be proud to call your own. And the kind of characters I found myself thinking about as if they were real. Yes the dialogue is a bit trite, but teenagers are inherently trite.

I’m not proud of my love for this book, but I’m not going to deny it either.

Hazel and Gus disoriented me and broke my heart right in two. In the best possible way.

And Kate Rudd’s narration is—literally—perfection. I haven’t read the text version, but my biased opinion is that Rudd’s narrated version is better.

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A wasted opportunity

Revisado: 01-27-14

***
*** CONTAINS SPOILERS ***

First a confession: I am a total sucker for anthropomorphism. You could dish me up the most pathetic, pointless drivel and I’d lap it up as long as the main character is a cat who thinks like a human. Or it could be a fox. Or a lion. My affliction is not speciesist. I spent the entirety of Christmas Day 1986 weeping and hitting replay on Charlotte’s Web—it was a real bummer for the rest of the family. This ridiculous Achilles Heel has continued to this day, and I can barely mutter the words “That’ll do pig, that’ll do” without tearing up. Don’t even get me started on Watership Down—“Briiiiiiight eyes, burning like fiiiiire”.

I’m so bad I couldn’t even finish the first chapter of “Art of Racing” without having a bit of a blub. But I quickly learned—and I would’ve never predicted this—this is NOT a story about a dog. It’s not even really a story about this particular dog’s (Enzo) relationship with this particular dim-witted owner (Denny). This is a story about the destruction of Denny’s family, and it just so happens that the narrator was his dog. But that narrator could’ve just as easily been Denny’s budgerigar… or his table lamp.

I couldn’t tell if Enzo’s naïve, platitudinal world-view was a brilliant character study, bringing to life the type of delusional person who refuses to see fault in their chosen idol—or just a lazy way to tell this specific story with these specific characters.

And speaking of characters—what a bunch. Dear old dense Denny, who sends his dying wife (and grieving daughter to boot) to live with her parents for—what was the reason again? And then invites a horny, up-for-it teenager for a sleepover. Sheesh. He’s not a bad person. He’s just bad at life.

And the twins! What a pair of bitter and evil old sods. Or was that just the perspective of the unreliable narrator? I guess that’s the root of my critique; was Denny really a bumbling fool and all we saw was “Denny the Superhero” through Enzo’s idol-worshipping, love-addled eyes? If that was Stein’s intention, kudos to him for writing a novel way more subtle than I’ve given him credit for. Or was “Art of Racing” really just a bunch of stale self-help —“that which you manifest is before you” — dressed-up in messy, Hollywoodesque story-telling.

I wish Stein asked my opinion on his first draft. I would’ve told him to cut it half and introduce a second act: the same story told completely from the perspective of Eve’s cat who looks on with disdain and questions every idiotic decision made by the whole jolly lot. I guess I could be speciesist after all.

For what it’s worth, the narration was pretty good.

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Not For Me

Revisado: 01-21-14

Why David, why? Why don't I like you? I really tried, honestly I did. After I panned "Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls" everyone told me I'd started in the wrong place. Everyone told me your very best work was actually “Me Talk”, so I dutifully went back for a second round with fresh hopes and a forgiving heart.

Oh David. The uneven but occasionally funny “Diabetes” was actually better than the extremely even (i.e. never-once-interesting) drivel in “Me Talk”.

David, David, David. We really should've hit it off, but I'm afraid your anecdotes are just a little too pointless, laughless and — dare I say — truthless for me to bother with Round 3. If this is the best you have to offer, let's just agree to go our separate ways. It's not me, it's you.

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It gets better

Revisado: 01-17-14

Blahblahblah for the first two-thirds — the entire beginning part of this book felt like an amateur piece of pseudo-journalistic historical biography with no theme and nothing important to say. NPR’s Heller McAlpin reckons Nemesis has an “odd secondhand quality” and I couldn’t say it better.

But then — thank God — something changes. For those who’ve read the book, the turning point I’m referring to may be different to your own, but I thought things got interesting when Roth gave Bucky the impossible choice to either stay in the relative luxury and safe-haven of the Poconos summer camp [with his horny, nubile fiancé noless] or return to the sweltering, disease-ridden Newark [with its terrified kids and heartbroken parents].

At this point I was immediately reminded of the confronting themes of Ash Barker’s “Sub-merge: Living Deep in a Shallow World”. I’m talking less about the God of Sub-merge, and more of its themes: having a personal call to be countercultural; gaining our lives by losing them; taking up a “socially downward journey" among the urban poor.

Of course, this moment is just a springboard. The last third of the book explores some even more interesting themes of control, choices, community, commitment, betrayal, loss, theology and — in my opinion, most compellingly — deciding which of the burdens from our past we choose to yoke ourselves to and which we choose to cast aside.

It is this shift in Roth’s narrative that eventually saves Nemesis from itself, gives it something important to do and makes it a worthwhile listen.

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Gosh I love Julian Barnes

Revisado: 01-14-14

Yes, I’ve been living under a rock—I only recently discovered Barnes through his most recent novel, "The Sense of an Ending" (2011). I couldn’t wait to dig into his back catalogue, and thought a sensible place to start would be the very beginning i.e. "Metroland".

Thematically, Barnes doesn’t seem to have strayed too far from his sweetspot over his 31 year career… my review for "Sense" noted themes of “memory, remorse, history, philosophy, secrets and lies” and this could literally be copy-pasted into my review of "Metroland" without arousing suspicion.

For my money, "Metroland" was more of a slowburner—a little sluggish to get moving but deeply satisfying by the end. It was profoundly uncomfortable to recognise some cringey parts of myself in Chris. But even more so to recognise bits of me in the incredibly prickly Toni.

Now that I’ve experienced Barnes’ bookend novels, I’ve concluded his true gift is in creating mundane and disappointed worlds with overt lack of sympathy that—somewhat paradoxically—leaves the reader with a sense of gentle optimism. Not a small feat.

Can’t wait to throw myself into "Flaubert’s Parrot".

As for this specific audioversion, Greg Wise is fantastic and sublime.

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