Category Archives: The Book on The Nightstand

There is nothing quite like a Stephen King book.

I was actually nervous when I thought about writing a review for this book. I have bought and read more Stephen King books than I can remember, and yet this is the first review I’m attempting. I almost feel like I’m writing a test paper.

Reading Under the Dome felt like coming home. I get a familiar feeling when I have one of King’s books in my hands, and I’m saying to myself “this is going to be another good one”. Turns out it was.

First I had to get over the fact that Under the Dome is such a HUGE book and I don’t normally like huge books. Only looking at them makes me want to groan inwardly and think “how long is it going to take me to get through that?” And what if the story just drags on and I get bored. On the other hand, this is my favorite author we’re talking about here so the thicker the book, the better.

One thing I’ve always liked about King’s writing was the way he can show the reader exactly what his characters are thinking. It’s almost voyeuristic.

In Under the Dome there are all sorts of characters, and they are put into groups, us and them. From Junior Rennie, he of the huge headache, to the kids and the dogs, they all play their parts in this “experiment” that seems to take over the town all of a sudden as a huge invisible dome slams down around its borders and BOOM!, everyone’s a prisoner. The comparison with an ant nest feels adequate but this time it’s people and not ants that are powerless to act. Things get interesting as old rivalries flare up and new connections are made.

I enjoyed the references to other books, both contemporary and classic. Lee Child’s character, Jack Reacher, was mentioned a couple of times and I was glad I read Nothing to Lose just a few months ago. A Streetcar named Desire was another that caught me by surprise and made me smile.

The end is odd to say the least, considering I was never the one to buy into the “others” concept but then the best part is not the predicament itself but how people react to get out of it. And King is the perfect writer to show us how that happens.

Read between March 30-April 7, 2011

Last year, when I read Killing Me Softly by the same authors, I thought, now that’s an interesting book. It was fast paced but slow compared to this one, a bit creepy (ok, more than a bit) and left me with a lingering thought at the back of my mind that I should read at least another one of their written works. And so I did.

In Secret Smile, there’s a feeling of deja-vu, like Adam Tallis (one of the two main characters from Killing Me Softly) has been resurrected and given another chance at messing people’s lives.

Handsome guy, Brendan, meets nice girl, Miranda, and they start going out. Unfortunately he has one major flaw this particular nice girl doesn’t like: snooping around. She decides to end their barely started relationship and things seem to stop before having a chance to really take off. What she doesn’t know is that he never lets things go. With cunning precision, Brendan insinuates himself into Miranda’s family, makes himself liked among Miranda’s friends while at the same time never losing an opportunity to taunt and harass her. By the time I got halfway through the book I was really annoyed with Miranda for always trying to be the good girl, never fighting back, and with the people around her for not believing her when she told them the truth. A family member and a friend have to die before Miranda takes matters into her own hands and as she tries to find out more about Brendan and in the process becoming more and more frustrated with his actions, she fights back for a change, in a really surprising way. I didn’t see that coming.

The book is a quick read and it has that I-want-to-get-to-the-bottom-of-this feel to it, which made me want to read it as fast as possible just to find out if the bad guy gets his comeuppance in the end.

If I had to choose between the two books, I must say I prefer Killing Me Softly, for the slower action and the gradual build-up of tension. Secret Smile felt a bit too rushed, but in the end I enjoyed reading both.

*Read between 26-29 March, 2011

If anybody asked me what three things I’d like to take with me on an island, I would say  two books and a sunscreen lotion. I had two books with me on my trip to Koh Chang (Elephant Island), and one of them was Thanks for the Memories.

The reason I bought this book was P.S. I Love You, the movie. I just loved that movie (I must confess Gerard Butler helped a lot in that regard) and even though I haven’t read the book this movie was based on or any other book by this author for that matter, I decided it was time to break the ice.

Thanks for the Memories is what I like to refer to as ‘light reading’. After “The Poisonwood Bible” and “The Passage” I felt the need for something different, something romantic and more optimistic.

The story is pretty uncomplicated and even though you can see where it’s going, it’s the journey that counts and not the destination, as the saying goes.

Joyce and Justin (it almost sounds like Jack and Jill, doesn’t it) are two people at a crossroads in their lives and it almost felt like fate said, let’s take these two and put them together, they would do just fine. How that happens is a bit out of the ordinary and without giving too much away I can safely say it was quite fun to read as Joyce decided to follow her instincts and walk the path that would eventually take her to Justin.

Even though the book doesn’t start on a lighter note, there are quite a few scenes and characters too, that soon change that. Joyce’s father spices things up a bit in a very old fashioned and endearing way, followed closely by Justin’s sister in law whose “inch-long leopard print nails and skin-tight leather-trouser-clad hips” brought back to mind Peggy Bundy from the “Married with Children” tv series.

All in all an entertaining read, just perfect for a day on the beach under a big tree with the sun winking cheerfully through the leaves above and the sound of the waves in the background.

*Read in March, 2011

The reason I chose this book, like with other books before, was the title. Just like with The Poisonwood Bible, it felt right, like the right choice at the right time. It was.

Hosseini has that amazing talent to make you believe what he writes about is nothing else than the truth, and even though this is a fictional story, it can very well be real.

The book follows the lives of two women coming from different backgrounds yet forced to accept being married off, even though for different reasons. The action takes places in Afghanistan, a country torn by war, first under the communist regime and later on under the Taliban’s rule.

The narrative is clear, precise, and yet full of emotion and what I love the most about it is that it made me care about what happened to the characters from the first page. The reader is introduced to the unusual circumstances of Mariam’s life, her upbringing, her parents’ relationship and her mother’s hard attitude towards men and life in general (Learn this now and learn it well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always. You remember that, Mariam.)

Mariam, the little harami (you will have to read the book to find out what that means) loves both her parents and yet she will come to a point later in life when she will see things from her mother’s perspective. The sheltered life she leads is shattered when she is given away in marriage to a much older man and goes to live with him in another city. Through her eyes we are introduced to a world dominated by men, where a man’s wife is his property, and she must abide by his wishes.

Laila, the other protagonist of the story, is a spirited young girl who dreams of marrying her childhood sweetheart and playing an active role in the future of her country. Many years will pass, measured in hardships and suffering, before she gets to see her dreams come to life.

There were passages in the book I found difficult to read. I had to put it down and then pick it up again because I wanted to see what happened next. I found myself cheering for the two women, admiring their strength and the sacrifices they had to make.

I cannot praise this book highly enough.

*Note: A friend asked me, not long ago, if I had read any Thai literature. I had to say no. Even though I’ve been living in The Land of Smiles for years, I had never actually read a book by a Thai author. Surely, I said to myself, there must be some translated books out there, but having found them, which should I choose? I picked Letters from Thailand mainly because I liked the title. There’s something very personal about a book based on letters. And so my journey began…

“My Most Beloved and Respected Mother….”

This is how Letters from Thailand begins, simple yet so powerful one cannot help but be instantly moved.

The book is written in the epistolary style, comprised of 96 letters, from 1945 to 1967, all dated according to the Chinese calendar. It tells the story of Tan Suang U, a Chinese immigrant, his journey to Thailand, his hope for a better life, his determination and courage and most of all, his unfailing love and devotion to the mother he left behind.

Luck and a lot of hard work are the keys to Suang U’s fortune. Adjusting to his new life proves to be a challenge he is perfectly capable of overcoming. He has friends who help him and before long he is married and running a profitable business.

His letters are an account of his life in Thailand, from bathing in the khlong at sunrise, to dealing with his Thai employees.

The main theme of the novel is that of the immigrant trying to build a better life for himself, while at the same time holding on to the traditions of his own people. That proves to be very difficult for Suang U, as the times change and he finds himself alone in a world of people who have adapted and try to live with the changes.

Suang U clings to the old ways, trying to instill in his own children the education he was given as a child in the Chinese village of Po Leng. He frequently remembers passages from childhood and thanks his mother for the way in which she has raised him and Younger Brother.

The narrative flows easily and the story is told from a single perspective, that of Suang U, keeping things simple and orderly. The book was translated from Thai and the translator did a very good job, as there are no disparaging paragraphs or ideas, and ties the whole story into a coherent and believable experience.

On a more personal note:

Having lived in Thailand for years, I could relate to a lot of the experiences the main character went through and I found myself laughing out loud in places and nodding my head quite a few times, for many of the stories he committed to paper all those years ago are still valid to this day.

Reading this book made me remember the day I arrived in Bangkok. The heat was the first thing I got to experience. That moment when I stepped out the airport was my first and one of the strongest memories about Thailand. Within minutes my shirt was sticking to my back and my skin felt clammy and hot and I found it difficult to breathe.

Many years have passed since then. I got used to the heat and humidity (not a fan of cold weather anyway) and many other things, like the spicy food, geckos running up the walls in the house, the snakes and monitor lizards in the yard, and the list goes on.

For someone who has never been to Thailand this book can be a good place to start finding out about the country. Even though no amount of reading can compare with the experience of living here, Letters from Thailand is a book I would recommend to anyone who wants to get an idea of what life can be like in The Land of Smiles.

There was something about the size of the book that kind of put me off buying it for a while. I would see it in the bookstores (usually on the first shelves by the entrance), I would even get close enough to read the blurb at the back, then go…nah, maybe later. Until one day I bought it. Sure, a comment from a friend might have actually helped me make up my mind. 🙂

Getting over the fact that it’s almost 1000 pages long (and I thought Stephen King’s ‘Under The Dome’ was BIG) and the slow start – yes, it did take me a while to start caring about the people in it, I can safely say it was an enjoyable read. Besides, I’ve always loved apocalyptic stories, even more so since I watched The Road.

The story had enough elements in it to engage my curiosity. An experiment that takes a wrong turn, a virus that’s supposed to create something The Army (US Army, that is) can use in future wars, but then the proverbial slap on the wrist arrives telling the people involved that no, it’s not ok to play God because it’s just not going to work. A bit too late, though. Hell breaks lose and then humanity has one last chance. Her name is Amy and she has lived for a long, long time. She was the last step in the experiment and she holds the key to the survival of humankind.

The narrative flows nicely, with a few hiccups here and there but given the magnitude of the story (how did he keep track of all those characters is beyond me, but then I’ve always found that pretty amazing in a book) I’d say it’s forgivable. It would be really interesting to see this one made into a movie, I’d watch it for the special effects alone!

As I neared the last pages and the story didn’t seem to get nowhere near the end, I had a flashback of seeing a #1 next to the title and I thought, no, this can’t be PART 1! Alas, it is. Will I read the next one(s)? It’s a very definite maybe. 🙂

– Part II –

Last night I felt as if a thousand nsongonyas were crawling over me, biting the flesh of my arms and torso and I woke up to find it was only partially untrue. The red marks on my skin itched and burned with an urgency that was impossible to ignore and I got up from the bed, completely awake in less time that it took to say “African ant”. Ah, the temptation to draw my nails on the skin, but instead I dug my fingers into my arms, kneading the muscles, trying very hard not to scratch. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. That was not a sight I was prepared for at 3:00 in the morning. I saw red, literally. While thoughts of doctors and medicine were beginning to flicker through my wide awake mind, I saw no other alternative but to go back to The Poisonwood Bible and try to see what happened next. Maybe I could get lost in the pages again, forget about the aching need to scratch my skin open. Sleep was as far from me as the invisible moon.

There is a chapter in the book that starts with the invasion of the nsongoyas, the African ants. The author filters this experience through the eyes of the four Price girls which gives a rather unique perspective on things.

While this can be seen as one of “the plagues” in the biblical sense, a more rational explanation is also given. And it makes perfect sense. “Africa has a thousand ways of cleansing itself.” In a land so luxuriant and wild, man seems almost out of place. You can’t tame the land, it is you who has to change in order to survive living there. That is one other lesson the Price family has to learn the hard way.

How can you teach something new without trying to link it with something old? How can you expect people to give up their ancestors’ beliefs in favor of new ones without first trying to understand those beliefs?

Nathan Price tried to have the children in the Kilanga village baptized in the river, not understanding why people were against it. Not understanding why until he found out about the crocodiles. What kind of religion did the white man preach if this new religion required the lives of the children? This is only one of the misunderstandings that are constantly brought to the surface in the novel, and sometimes told from a humorous point of view.

Without the humor this would have been a very hard book to digest. Half of the novel made me want to laugh and the other half, to cry. To write a short review seemed inappropriate and yet after all these words, I still feel I haven’t said enough. I could take each chapter and analyze it, and still feel coming up short. There is an almost palpable richness in the language and the sadness and the longing are weaved together with the different characters that are like threads in this vibrant piece of cloth that is Africa.

– Part I –

“So much depends on a red wheelbarrow glazed with rain water standing beside the white chickens.”

When I saw that poem-sentence on the page a few days ago, I was immediately transported back in time – somehow it felt like seeing an old friend after a long absence, or a photograph you have taken but hadn’t looked at in years. Familiar.

William C. Williams’ words have a strong echo which carries through time. Was it only a year ago (or two, perhaps) that I sat in the long, narrow classroom, listening to this short poem for the first time, and then to the question that came next:

“What do you think it means?”

There was silence for a while, and he looked at us from his chair behind the teacher’s table, then up at the whiteboard where the poem was written in blue marker ink. His eyes had a twinkle in them, as if daring us to come up with an interesting answer.

“What does it mean?”, I asked myself, and can this really be a poem, it sounds more like a sentence.

Was it summer or spring, that I can’t remember, but then I didn’t pay too much attention to poetry in those days. Thoughts of long dead poets of the 19^th century and there we were, trying to make sense of the words they left behind.

*************

The Poisonwood Bible is the story of an adventure. It is about a family who embarks on a journey of a lifetime, making the transition from the comfort of so many things they take for granted in the 1960’s America, to the very heart of darkness, as Conrad so aptly wrote it.

The Price family embarks on a religious mission to Congo – they are the ones who would bring the Lord’s word into the heart of Africa, and make the natives believe Jesus is their savior. Nathan Price is The Reverend – his faith foremost in his heart, obliterating everything else, his wife Orleanna – the fragile link keeping the family together, a bridge between her husband and their children. Adah – the one who doesn’t speak much but oh, if anyone could read her thoughts…. Leah, desperate to please her father and follow into his footsteps, Rachel, the typical teenage girl and Ruth May, the child full on energy. Five lives whose stories are so different and yet lived at the same time and in the same place. Five voices who speak, taking turns, five perspectives. Oddly enough, the reverend doesn’t have a voice and that’s a pity, for he is left aside (in more ways than one) without a chance to redeem himself.

How do you prepare for a journey of such magnitude? What to take with you and what to leave behind? Is faith enough to make it all worthwhile? How far deep down do you need to change in order to “fit” into the new life, and which part of you does it need to irrevocably transform so you can survive?

There are so many questions I find myself asking, with every page I turn, with every day that goes by in the life of this family.

So much depends on…

So much depends…

So much…

So…

Imagine you are in a small theater, watching a play. The lights are all trained on the stage and you are close enough to see the people whose dramatic lives unfold under your curious eyes. You see a room, four people, a bed on which a man lies down, eyes half closed, telling a story. His body burned black in places, his thin frame fits the bed so well it seems he is molded into it. The other three are listening as if under a spell, because they all want to know who he is. He is the one keeping them together.

The nurse, Hana, young and marked by the tragedies of war, by death and grief and loneliness; the thief Caravaggio, who came because he knew Hana’s father and now she is his only connection with a world he was once a part of; and Kip, the young sapper in the British army, whose life can end with every minute he spends deactivating the mines the enemies left behind. And him, the burned man, the one they all call the English patient, for want of another name.

The setting is a villa in Italy, a place that was once a nunnery, a hospital and then a German defence and now it’s both a refuge and a trap, for within its rooms are hidden mines that can go off at a wrong move. Mines left behind not long ago by the enemy, fighting in the World War II.

Here time is not measured in hours but in the books Hana reads to the burned man, in the ampoules of morphine she administers him for the pain, in the stories that he tells.

There is nothing left for him now but to tell them his story. How he lived in the desert, fell in love, and wandered for years carrying a book in which he kept maps, drawing, clippings of various kinds, personal notes.

The action is fragmented and elusive. Just when you think the mystery starts to unravel, the lights on the stage go off and then a single ray of light appears, trained on a different person. The people on the stage are surrounded by the stories of sand. The Englishman’s tales carry them into the desert, into another life, and they listen, hoping to find a clue to the man’s identity. Has he really forgotten who he is? How come he can remember so much but not his name?

Reading this book was not easy. There are small fragments like miniature gems in their perfection: the eating of a plum, a voice reading poetry in the desert, a caterpillar moving on someone’s cheek, a breath of a sleeping person. It is one of those books that need to be read at least twice and with each time, perhaps, find another clue, another piece in the great puzzle that is the English patient.

P.S. I read the book in about a week, not because of lack of time but because of the unfamiliar and sometimes difficult style. One of the reasons I read it is because I wanted to watch the 1996 movie, starring Ralph Fiennes, and I didn’t want to do that without having read the book first.

Maybe a little too technical, maybe too straight forward, maybe without any poetry even in the encounter our hero has with the attractive officer Vaughan, maybe too skeptical and still managing to entertain in spite of all these maybes, that’s Lee Child’s book in a nutshell. If you want more keep reading.

Jack Reacher is a lone army veteran who walks through America. He’s a combination of modern Batman (without the gadgets) and a backpacker (without the backpack). In a western movie he would have a horse and a gun and a big battered hat and maybe a red bandanna. In this book he makes do with an ATM card, a foldable toothbrush and the clothes on his back. He walks and sometimes manages to get a ride from people who are not scared by his impressive physique and threatening mien.

His travels lead him through two small towns, Hope and Despair. In Despair he is thrown out and made to understand he’s not welcome back but nothing can stand in the way of Reacher’s curiosity. Not the town deputies, not the wealthy Mr. Thurman, and not even the danger he puts himself through time and again. And when young women start to arrive in Hope looking for their husbands or boyfriends, his curiosity is at its peak. There is a reason why nobody is allowed to linger in Despair and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

It was difficult at times to accept Reacher’s self-assurance and the manner in which he sometimes talked but in the end it was a nice change of pace from the romantic storyline of The Thirteenth Tale. The language is uncomplicated, the story believable and the characters while not as detailed as I wished for, still managed to fulfill their roles – the equivalent of a thriller movie.