Nick Hornby: A Long Way Down

I had never read anything by Nick Hornby before, but I had seen various movies based on his books, like the funny High Fidelity and About a Boy, so I pretty much new what to expect when I started this novel - which had been sitting on my nightstand for a long time, always substituted by another book in my to-read list. I guess this isn't my favorite genre to read, and I guess I knew it before I started the book. All the same, it's a pretty good find if you're looking for a fast read that is usually enjoyable and occasionally downright funny. The idea is original enough, with four different people who meet on top of a fifteen-story building in London on New Year's eve, ready to commit suicide for different reasons, and end up walking back down together and spending the next months in each others company, only to realize that they each have something worth living for. This summary actually makes the book sound a lot more sentimental and positive than it really is, but if you know Nick Hornby at all you know that he uses cutting humor and unlikeable characters and has no interest in delivering a warm-hearted deeply meaningful message. I have to say, the beginning bothered me a bit, probably for the light way in which such an important topic is treated (not that I wanted to get depressed reading it, but is wanting to take your own life really such a funny and light hearted decision?). The tone of the narrative has the positive trait of never falling into melodrama or cheap inspirational tones, but it does remain fairly superficial throughout the book. The question of what is worth living for is never actually raised, seeing that the answers the carachters find for themselves - a little self-respect, a couple friends to go out with once in a while - are insufficient to say the least. I came to terms with the tone as I slowly realised that none of the characters were really suicidal to begin with. So the story is just a fun take on how life's problems, big or small, will eventually sort themselves out - or not, but then you'll generally find a way to survive them anyway. I don't think the author really wanted to delve deeper but if he did, then I have to say he failed, since at the most he might have suggested that the meaning of life is in the small things, or something equally banal. The plot does get interesting - as the characters' situations only get more and more complicated - and the absence of glorious moments of redemption in such a comic setting does merit an applause. The idea of narrating everything from the four characters' point of view - alternating from one to the other - is interesting, and shows the author's desire to experiment with different voices. The continuous jump from the perspective of a middle-aged lonely woman to the one of a young foul-mouthed girl, a has-been TV host, and then a failed rock-star wannabe makes the story more compelling, but the voice that the reader hears throughout the novel remains pretty much the same witty and self-deprecating Hornby trademark. Infact, for the most part I could imagine a young John Cusack or Hugh Grant narrating the whole thing - due also to the fact that, given the 4-monologue structure, the book seems a lot like the script for a movie or tv show.

Thus said, if you're a Nick Hornby fan (and I do enjoy him quite a bit myself - at least from the movies I've seen), you'll probably love this book. If you're more like me, you might want to jump straight to the next less tv-comedy type book that's been sitting on your nightstand.

Katherine Mansfield: In a German Pension

This is a collection of short stories published in 1911 and it is Mansfield's first published book. I have mixed feelings about it, since I like her writing style, which is very pre-modernist and minimal, but struggled with its crude cynicism. Most of the stories are written in first person and describe the affectations of the German bourgeoisie at leisure, as seen by the author during her stay at the Bavarian spa town of Bad Worishoven. The voice that comes through is that of a very modern and independent woman, who questions the conventions that she witnesses among the other guests. But the voice is also very bitter and sarcastic, with never a kind word for any of the characters. It's an effective portrayal of the emptyness and snobbery of those around her, who are constantly patronizing the young writer (like the Professor does in The Modern Soul, for instance), and who end up seeming stupid as the events take their course. The Sister of the Baroness, for example, tells of the guests' delight to hear that an aristocrat is going to honor their pension by sending her daughter to stay, and of their dismay when they realize that the Baroness's "sister", who they have idolized, is only a servant. The narrator, who is always extremely polite, quiet and meek is actually not very subtle in mocking these Germans, who are so wrapped up in class differences and yet can't tell a noble from a common servant. Mansfield's look on marriage and motherhood is sour, as well. Her opinion on men appears especially negative, considering their oblivion to the pain of child-bearing, in At Lehman's, or their vulgar nature, in The Swing of the Pendulum. Not that the women seem much better, especially with their weekness-turned-falseness towards men (the cruel and cold Elsa in A Blaze), and with their hardness towards one another. Mansfield is often quite funny in her wry observations, and even the titles and names she gives to the characters are ironic, such as The Advanced lady. One story that stands out is The-Child-Who-Was-Tired. In other stories we witness the desperate fall of any moment of hope or kind thought, but this tragic narrative is the only one in which bitterness is mixed with true compassion, making it a real gem. I've never read anything else by Katherine Mansfiled and would certainly like to, as I did appreciate the collection, and especially since the author herself in later years considered the book "nothing to be proud of" because of its youthful bitterness. And I have found in other authors that the first works are more cynical, as though the bitterness of youth at the realization that not all in life goes as it should weren't yet softened by a deeper understanding of and compassion toward human nature.

Kathleen Kent: The Heretic's Daughter

I devoured this book, recommended by my mother (like many of my books are), in four days. And only because I had a university exam that kept me from spending as much time with it as I would have liked. The Heretic's Daughter is the story of a young girl, Sarah Carrier, who lives in New England during the Salem witch trials. The story actually begins in 1690, two years before the actual trials take place, and gives an in-depth look at two quite different Puritan homes: the Carrier family, with its cold and strict ways, and the Toothakers - the cousins Sarah and her baby sister stay with to escape the smallpox - whose warmth towards the newcomers overshadows a life of superstition and family feuds. As the story unravels we get to know this silent and slightly disturbing protagonist as we see through her eyes the gradual climax of madness. Family going against family, friend against friend in a build-up of malice, superstition and dread. One of the most captivating figures is Martha Carrier, Sarah's mother. Like most characters in this book, she isn't particularly likeable, especially in the beginning, where all we see is her coldness towards her family and her sarcastic attitude towards her neighbors, making life and friendship all the more difficult for her daughter. But gradually her strengh and love seep through, as she bravely faces persecution and death sentenced by the magistrates because of "spectral evidence" of her witchcraft. This isn't a spoiler, because practically from the first pages of the novel (and thanks to the back cover of the book), we know what Martha's end will be and this makes the tension throughout the novel all the more powerful. In fact, a good half of the story goes by without much happening, at least not in the way of withcraft, but since we know what is about to happen every page is like a bomb ticking away under our chair. All the characters are interesting and realistic - not your conventional kind-hearted families, but Puritans made hard by desease, dread, gossip and fear of Indian attacks. The feeling of uneasiness and foreboding grows as we see the first glimpse of what can ensue from a girl's anger and pain, when Mercy Williams joins the Carriers. And the mysterious nature of Sarah's father, with his massive build and hidden past, makes him another source of ambivalent feelings from daughter and reader alike. What makes the novel so powerful, I think, is that it's the true story of the author's grandmother nine generations back. Kathleen Kent's pride and passion show through her re-telling of Martha Carrier's hanging and of the sometimes fierce but always true attachment between her ancestors. That, along with the greatly poetic writing that sets us among the shadows of what seems like a flemish painting, is what makes this not only a great work of historical fiction, but a moving family saga. I detected a trace of bitterness on the author's part, at the possibility of such horror towards dozens of innocent men and women, from a group of people who professed the religion of love and forgiveness (but perhaps for those first harsh Puritans those weren't the two most relevant aspects of Christianity). In fact what Martha tells her daughter before dying isn't a prayer of hope in God's everlasting life, but an entirely earthly and not very Puritan "There is no death in remembrance. Remember me Sarah. Remember me, and part of me will always be with you". This doesn't prevent a deep longing for God and queston about justice, love and truth to emerge from the pages. As well as the tender and kind character of Reverend Dane. He has no power to prevent the hanging, even of his own relatives, but his presence, along with the unyealding love of many others raises the question: o death, where is your victory?