The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco)
I was directed to this mammoth of a book by a Jasper Sharp review of a
completely unrelated one. It was nothing to do with my Catholicism or Connery-ism.
It's not something that I would normally choose - a novel set in a medieval
monastery - though for some reason I did.
Adso, a young monk (or whatever), German, I believe, follows his
mentor, an elder Geordie monk (so I'm imagining the guy Sean Connery played in
the film, yeah?) to a monastery in Italy to investigate the mysterious death of
one of its number. After their arrive, further deaths occur as the duo try to
piece the puzzle together, with all pieces pointing to the library, for which
entry is barred.
Eco, being a semiotician, writes extended descriptions throughout the
work, with all details of significance, in what turns out to be a long read.
Each chapter starts with a brief summary of what is about to come, showing that
it is not necessarily revelations in the story with which he wants to draw you,
but the significance and meaning behind them.
There is a lot to take in, with what could be a straightforward
whodunit turned into something much more, making the book's conclusion that
much more significant. It's a challenge, with much going over your head or
passing you by, with Eco's own summation at the end, to an extent, necessary.
Days to read: 51
Days per book: 15.3
Mainlander (Will Smith)
No, not that one. English mainland-born, Jersey-raised (not that
Jersey) comedian and writer, Will Smith.
Colin (and I want to say 'as played by Smith,' as he seems very much a
character based on his own image, from the stand-up/writing of his I have seen)
in an English teacher on the island of Jersey, though he is originally from
mainland England, thus a 'mainlander'. One evening while escaping his wife,
driving to the sounds of Eighties power-pop, he comes across one of his pupils
hanging by a cliff edge. Feeling he should do the right thing, it's something
he chooses to raise the next day at school, the boy himself now absent. His
private investigations into the matter win him no friends on an island where
people simply believe things will put themselves right.
Smith is no stranger to including an irreverent look at his adopted
homeland in his work, with his impressive, yet obsessive, '6 Degrees of
Bergerac', and with 'Mainlander' he chooses to lampoon the small islander
mentality of Jersey-folk. While starting from the perspective of Colin,
chapters soon switch to other inhabitants of the island: Colin's wife; her ex,
with whom she is now having an affair; and a local detective. Though Smith
chooses to include two further mainlanders: a Scouser working on the islands;
and, interestingly, a Frenchman acting as right-hand man of local playboy Rob -
the ex with whom Colin's wife is having an affair.
The locals paint a picture of an island where nothing happens, as
everyone knows everyone and there's no chance of escaping gossip. Though
'Mainlander' pooh-poohs (hehe) this idea, unearthing a catalogue of crimes,
secrets and mysterious pasts.
This is a very likable read: the sort of book you can devour at will,
easy as it is to read, progressing well, with the switching of focus
maintaining your attention. As a first attempt at a novel it is a strong
showing, focusing on a subject matter with which Will Smith is well-versed and
it'll be interesting to see how further efforts turnout.
Days to read: 10
Days per book: 15.3
War and War (Laszlo Krasznahorkai)
My promises of attempting to watch the seven-hour film adaptation of
'Satantango', my first attempt at a Krasznahorkai novel, have not yet come to
fruition, though I did buy a copy for my wife for her birthday...it's a start.
From my previous experience, and reading that the man himself states,
and I paraphrase, 'only God can use full stops,' I was expecting 'War and War'
to be another slog. Though after something light, airy and Jersey-based, like a
cow, I was up for something hard and Hungarian, like a hussar. Most of 'War and
War' is set in New York.
Korin is an archivist in a small Hungarian town, uncovering a
manuscript while at work. With no identifiable source on it, he begins to read
it, and its revelations change his world forever. Verging on madness, he feels
compelled to give up everything and go to New York to upload the manuscript to
that most modern of inventions: the Internet (it was the 1990s) before his
demise.
Each sentence is numbered and is anything from a paragraph to three
pages in length. You have to really think when reading this, therefore. It's no
simple read. But once you get over this fact after the first few pages of
turning tear-soaked paper, you realise that the rambling writing structure is
very much to the benefit of the reader. Rather than being a struggle, it can
help the text flow in one's mind. It also serves to get the reader in the head
of the rambling, bumbling Korin, with the answer to all life's questions locked
in his mind, though the key of comprehension is missing. What appears a
daunting read can become quite satisfying.
When focusing on Korin, his internal processes and his discovery when
gazing around the skyscrapers of New York, the books flourishes. It struggles
in the middle, in Korin's daily relaying of the manuscript to the non-Hungarian
lover of the interpreter he lodges with on arrival in New York. The manuscript
jumps through time at will, acknowledged by both Krasznahorkai and Korin alike,
though you do not find yourself taking the same journey with the characters as
Korin does. The journey you are on is with Korin.
Krasznahorkai makes you work for the conclusions, and you're not quite
sure you get to them yourself, though Korin's revelations from the manuscript
of humanity switching from a state of war to a state of war, never peace, is
one that lingers, bringing meaning to the book's opening: 'Heaven is sad.'
Days to read:16
Days per book: 15.3
Silence (Shusaku Endo)
Rather than watching Martin Scorsese's recent re-make of the
aforementioned, I thought I'd actually read the original text first. Catholic
that he is, Scorsese often talks of the impact this book has had on him and his
faith, with the film thirty years in the imagining, and ten years in the
making.
In all honesty, I can't say I'm too fussed about watching the film,
other than my unnecessary attempts to see every film starring Tadanobu Asano,
even the really bad ones - you know the ones I mean, Keanu Reeves! I'd probably
much rather watch the 1971 Masahiro Shinoda version, adapted by the Endo
himself.
Well, enough about audio-visuals, what of textual eye intake? Well, for
a book about incredibly difficult internal struggles and revelations, this is a
particularly easy read. Despite switching in its styles and approaches -
starting as letters sent home, moving into conventional narrative and then to
diary entries - the story flows very well and can be breezed through at quite a
pace. Though that is where ease ends with Endo's 'Silence'.
Rodrigues is a priest from Portugal who wants to locate his former
mentor, considered lost in Seventeenth Century Japan - a place and time
dangerous for Christians. Journeying via ship around Africa, he and his
companion Garrpe, stopping off in Macao before sneaking into Japan, with the
aid of a drunk Japanese, Kichijiro. Locating some local underground Christians,
the Portuguese soon serve as missionaries in their new land. But once settled,
the persecution of Christians becomes apparent, with the local authorities
arresting local Christians, and eventually Rodrigues. Imprisoned and burdened
with the suffering of his new-found flock, his faith is tested to its limits.
As a Japanese Christian, Endo is keen to see the arguments for
Christianity's place in Japan from both sides: the Christians want to spread
their message of truth; the Japanese wanting to remove foreign influence and
the bickering factions of the religion brought by different Europeans. Dialogue,
therefore, is typically theological debate between Rodrigues and his captors.
The arguments from both sides don't always fall on deaf ears, with the Japanese
simply wanting Rodrigues to commit apostasy to undermine his power to Japanese Christians.
The Japanese commit despicable acts upon those captured, placing the
blame at the feet of Rodrigues for not renouncing his faith. As the screams
continue, Rodrigues suffers without a sign from his God, soon unable to
maintain his position. Throughout, the concept of God's 'silence' is plainly
spelt out, with use of the word, in the translation at least, frequently made.
This does dumb down and lessen the impact of the revelations, as well as not
feeling like that great writing to an extent. Though this is toward the middle
of the book only, the end coming on strongly.
The Japanese argue that Christianity cannot blossom in the 'swamp' of
Japanese land. The God Japanese Christians follow is a confused version of the
European God. As such, 'Silence' is as much about cultural differences as
anything. As ideas migrate, they will be adopted by the locals in their own
image, either misunderstood or rejected. To the Japanese authorities,
Christianity is a war between the Protestant Dutch and Catholic Portuguese; a
warring religion the Japanese do not want in their land, with the faith of the
individual less important.
Parallels with today show that we have not come that far, and
unwittingly, Scorsese's finally-realised piece couldn't have been more
timely...
...If he stays faithful to the novel, of course. I wouldn't know.
Days to read: 9
Days per book: 15.3
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