You wouldn't expect stories like this still to be written in the 21st century, especially not by such a literary celebrity as Colm Toibin. This novel You wouldn't expect stories like this still to be written in the 21st century, especially not by such a literary celebrity as Colm Toibin. This novel is simple and classic in every way: written from a third narrator's point of view, concentrated around 1 protagonist (Eilis Lacey), nicely following the chronology, and zooming in on the well-known theme of the migration of the Irish to America. Classic, indeed, and beautiful, without further ado, almost the ideal film script (in the meantime I saw that a film has actually been made of it). Toibin clearly shows his craftsmanship here.
Thematically, it is clear that the very popular theme of identity is central to this novel: is Eilis still Irish or already American, and what is that American identity, given that there are so many different communities with their own face. Occasionally themes like race and gender are touched upon, but seemingly light-hearted. Toibin doesn't impose anything, but lets the story take its own course, up to and including the quite surprising ending. And if you are nevertheless looking for a moral: one can postpone important decisions, or leave essential messages unspoken for a while, but life will catch up with you, inexorably. In a way Toibin has produced a very soft (more introspective) version of the harsh 19th century naturalist novels....more
I could cut this short and leave it to the dry conclusion that this was quite nice and entertaining, nothing more. This primarily is a coming of age aI could cut this short and leave it to the dry conclusion that this was quite nice and entertaining, nothing more. This primarily is a coming of age and family novel, the story of the young Gogol Ganguli, a guy with a Russian first name but of Indian descent, living in America. He's finding his way through life, especially struggling with his origins. So, he is an 'ABCD', an American Born Confused Deshi. Lahiri regularly zooms in on the difficult adaptation process of his Bengali parents (especially his mother), on the prejudices that Gogol himself faces and on his struggle with the specific Indian environment in both the US and in Calcutta. This search for his identity has crystallized around his strange name, 'Gogol', the name his father gave him after the famous Russian 19th century author.
These are all ingredients for an interesting story (and apparently also a reasonably successful film). But I must honestly admit that it didn't captivate me. Gogol in particular is not an endearing protagonist, his struggles seem rather artificial, and the whole fuss about his name is rather dragged out. To be honest: I was more captivated by the struggle of his mother, Ashima. Lahiri also pays quite a bit of attention to the materiality of things, especially food, drinks, clothes, furniture etc. She has clearly aimed at the better-off audience that appreciates such stuff (is a reference to Eat, Pray, Love inappropriate here?). Not bad, certainly, but not more than that (at least for me). Rating 2.5 stars....more
By far the best book I've read so far, this year. But also difficult to put a label on. It surely is an evocative work on the horrible migration problBy far the best book I've read so far, this year. But also difficult to put a label on. It surely is an evocative work on the horrible migration problem in the south of the United States, especially with the influx of minors from Mexico. At the same time, it is a travelogue, a classic road novel, with a man and a wife, their children in the backseat, driving from New York to the Southwest, including the shabby motels. And regularly it contains stories on the expulsion and partial extermination of Apache Indians in the Southwest of America, at the end of the 19th century. Finally, it is a philosophical-reflexive book about a marriage in crisis, about the interaction between parents and children, about how children have a different take on the world, and about the ambiguous relation between past, present and future. So that's quite an impressive package.
The ingenuity of Luiselli's writing process is that for each of these themes she mixes narrative genres: internal monologues, dialogues, lists of the contents of their suitcases, reflexive passages and purely descriptive scenes. A very important input is given by excerpts they read from a fictional novel about migrant children being smuggled across the border, 'Elegies of the Lost Children'. The narrative voice is mainly that of the mother, which gives the impression that this is an autobiographical book (like the woman, Luiselli is of Mexican descent).
There are two connecting themes. In the first place, there's the issue of the 'Lost Children', which concerns both migrant children crossing the American border through the desert or riding above train wagons, the children in the backseat of the car (a boy of 10 and a girl of 5), the parents themselves, and by extension also people who seem lost in their own lives. The second theme is that of registering, describing and mapping reality, summarized in the notion of 'documenting'; it is a clever find by Luiselli that her two main characters (the father and the mother) are sound scape artists, constantly recording all kinds of sounds, the father passively (he’s called a documentarist), the mother more intrusive-probing (documentarian). Again, the author constantly mixes up these different approaches and themes. This gives this book a clear postmodern feel, evoking the constantly shifting, elusive character of reality, only to capture in narrating: “the only thing to do is tell it over and over again as it develops, bifurcates, knots around itself.”
The thoughtful narrative tone, the different layers, the constantly changing form and ultimately also the change of perspective, impose a slow reading pace. Occasionally, Luiselli seems a bit repetitive, or engages in musings that get stuck, but isn't that inherent to the way we all reflect? Formally, the penultimate chapter in particular is a masterful piece of prose, with just one sentence over 26 pages, in the style of Joyce and Woolf. In it, the story of the couple's son and daughter magically entangles with the story of the migrant children from the 'Elegies' novel.
I suspect that I have by no means fathomed all layers of this rich and multiform book, which certainly asks for a rereading. What also really appealed to me is how Luiselli clearly settles scores with a number of 'cult' road novels, such as Kerouac's On the Road, and more implicitly also with Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values. And at the same time the book evoked memories of the reflexive style of Siri Hustvedt and Rebecca Solnit, just to illustrate on what level Luiselli plays. With ‘Lost Children Archive’ she indisputably has written one of the most remarkable novels of the early 21st century....more
This is a very rich and highly specialized book that aims to provide insight into the first migratory movements in human history, starting from the eaThis is a very rich and highly specialized book that aims to provide insight into the first migratory movements in human history, starting from the earliest human species up to and including the first agricultural peoples. Bellwood uses three methodological instruments to gain insight into these migration patterns: classical archeology, linguistic studies and genetic research. His chapters and paragraphs on the latter two in particular are quite specialized, which at times makes them difficult to read. This book certainly has the merit of being very thoughtfully written, giving timely nuances, as well as having a globalist view of history: the entire planet is involved in Bellwood's story. Unfortunately, due to the rapid developments in genetic research, it has already become obsolete on a few points. See my review in my History account on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... (rating 2.5 stars)...more
"I’ll keep on trying to cross" This certainly not is a book that gives you happy feelings. I mistakenly thought it was a novel, but this is docu-fi"I’ll keep on trying to cross" This certainly not is a book that gives you happy feelings. I mistakenly thought it was a novel, but this is docu-fiction, apparently based on the author's own experiences. Francisco Cantu focuses on the border between the United States and Mexico, and how little people are grounded by it, both the Mexicans desperately trying to enter the US and the border guards who are "in the system". Cantu himself is of Mexican descent, and is mesmerized by that border, to the extent that, even with a university degree, he’s going to work for the Border Patrol, the American border police, for 4 years.
This produces harrowing scenes of ragged refugees in the desert, abused by the drug criminals and often harshly dealt with by the border guards, although they also appear to have their human side. Cantu not only brings the small and big stories of misery, but also introduces brief arguments about the history of the border, about the terror of the narco-mafia in Mexico, and about the inexorable logic of the American migration laws. All very shocking.
Personally, I had an issue with Cantu's own story, his obsession with that border, which often also manifests itself in very intense dreams, and where he brings in Jung, among others, to analyze them. That personal focus didn't quite convince me, it seemed a bit forced.
He concludes with the touching and poignant story of his Mexican friend José, who has lived illegally in the US for 30 years and started a family there, but ends up in a great deal of misery when he returns to Mexico to stand by his dying mother. Cantu registers it all with growing bewilderment and a an inner conflict that tears his soul apart. (rating 2.5 stars)...more
Let me start with the positive feedback. You can read this booklet in little more than an hour, and it really captivates you. As the title and the bluLet me start with the positive feedback. You can read this booklet in little more than an hour, and it really captivates you. As the title and the blurb immediately give away, it’s based on a true story of a Moroccan migrant who was smuggled over the Strait of Gibraltar. Wieringa brings this story in a swirling style with a lot of attention to mood and ambiance. And the way that migrant, Murat Idrissi, perishes is indeed downright tragic.
But contrary to what you would expect, the book lacks focus. The emphasis is only partly on this incident and not at all on the person and background of Murat. Instead, Wieringa zooms in on how the young people involved in the drama deal with it. Protagonist Ilham, a Dutch-Moroccan girl with a rather hesitant character, is nicely drawn: her internal struggle of how to handle the matter (the corpse in the trunk) gets a lot of attention. Unfortunately, all other characters are made of cardboard and respond to all common clichés: Ilham's girlfriend is an unscrupulous slut, their Moroccan friend a charismatic thief, and all Moroccan boys and men (both in Morocco and in the Netherlands) are constantly horny. The way the plot is sketched is also hardly credible.
It seems to me that Wieringa has written this exciting but superficial booklet in a haste and has hardly thought through both the composition and the drawing of the characters. So despite the stylistic swirl, to me this was worth only 2 stars....more
It is sometimes argued that, in order to remain attractive, literature must keep far away from current events, from themes that are in the spotlight tIt is sometimes argued that, in order to remain attractive, literature must keep far away from current events, from themes that are in the spotlight today. That may be true, but not entirely. Over the past few weeks I have read two novels that focus on the migration theme, the theme that nowadays rivals with that of globalization, identity and the climate crisis to claim our full attention. The result, my appreciation of the books was mixed. Materiaalmoeheid, 'Material fatigue' by the young, Czech author Marek Sindelka describes the hallucinatory and degrading journey of 2 Syrian brothers through Europe. That book disappointed me, not so much because of the subject, but because of the clinical style. But this book, Jenny Erpenbeck's "Go, went, gone" has made a great impression on me.
Erpenbeck also focuses on refugees, this time on African migrants, but in a completely different way. She uses the perspective of a somewhat unworldly, freshly retired professor who lives near Berlin and is almost accidentally confronted with the refugee problem. Richard (we don't get a family name) is intrigued by the stubbornness with which the Africans stand up for their rights; to his own amazement he’s eager to find out more about them and gradually gains their confidence. Piecemeal we get the stories of the traumatic experiences of the refugees, both in their home country and on their journey to and through Europe. And we are also introduced to the sometimes absurd European regulations on asylum law, to the well-intended but often counter-productive support of aid organizations and individuals, and of course also to the resistance and (racist) prejudices against the refugees.
This seems like a very documentary book, full of information about the refugee problem, and indirectly it is. But Erpenbeck has made a real literary gem out of this, mainly thanks to her protagonist Richard. He listens to all the stories and looks at the situation of the migrants with increasing wonder. This refers both to his own ignorance (as a professor he led a very sheltered and orderly life), as well as to the hopeless fate of the refugees and their perseverance. Erpenbeck makes a nice link with an entirely German dimension of the migration story: Richard himself is a child of Sudeten Germans who had to flee after the Second World War, he ended up in the eastern part of Germany and spent 40 years there, living in the "GDR myth". And then in 1989 the Wall came down, all his certainties evaporated and he ended up in another country from one day to the next, thus in a way also ending up as a migrant.
The confrontation with the refugees makes our Richard very reflexive, becoming aware of his own privileged existence. In a rather ‘Sebaldian’ way he constantly links back to his own life, things that he did wrong and that he got away with without having to flee. From his background as an expert in ancient literature he also refers to the interaction of Western cultures with others (‘barbaroi’). The novel is full of references to Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Goethe, etc. A new light is shed on the classic quotes. It's as if Richard only now discovers the real world in the confrontation with the stories of the Africans. In that sense, "Go, went, gone" is curiously more the coming-of-age story of an almost 70-year-old man than a real refugee book. “Much of what Richard reads on this November day several weeks after his retirement are things he’s known most of his life, but today, thanks to this bit of additional knowledge he’s acquired, it all seems to come together in new, different ways. How many times, he wonders, must a person relearn everything he knows, rediscovering it over and over, and how many coverings must be torn away before he’s finally able to truly grasp things, to understand them to the bone? Is a human lifetime long enough? His lifetime, or anyone else’s?”
And there are a few other layers that Erpenbeck has submerged the refugee issue with: that of temporality, the perception of time, for instance. His retirement is an important cut-off in Richard's life: after a busy academic life he suddenly falls into a black hole. This reflects perfectly the situation of the refugees, who have to wait endlessly for what will be decided for them, are not even allowed to accept official work, are left to their fate, and therefore also have fallen into a time gap. Hence also the constant references to the German lessons that the refugees receive and in which the conjugation of the irregular verb 'to go' keeps recurring: "gehen, ging, gegangen/go, went, gone", which expresses their entire existence, and by extension that of every human being and perhaps even of all humanity.
This stratification of multiple layers is the great power of this novel. And that is most symbolized in the metaphor of the lake that Richard lives on. Erpenbeck has a thing with lakes: her most important book Visitation is also about a house on a lake in Potsdam. Lakes seem to stand for timeless reality: the lake is there and it stays there, no matter what happens in the chaotically teeming human world around it, in other words, the lake stands for the indifferent cosmos. But that too is not completely innocent, as is clear from this book. In Richard’s lake, a man drowned in the summer, and the corpse has never been found, it is still there; which means that for the time being no one ventures into or on the water. It is clear that Erpenbeck uses the 'curse' on this lake as a metaphor for the volatility of fate: even timeless reality has a threatening character.
So this is another very impressive novel by Erpenbeck. "Go, went, gone" is perhaps less condensed and imaginative than "Visitation", some passages are a bit too instructive and preachy, and the end even a little melodramatic. But as a layered reflection on human existence, with current affairs as a topic, this has been done really well. In my opinion, Jenny Erpenbeck is the most important German author of the moment. (rating 3.5 stars)...more
Graphic Novels are not my thing, but I have already read the first 3 books of this series; it must be that it has sufficient ingredients to remain curGraphic Novels are not my thing, but I have already read the first 3 books of this series; it must be that it has sufficient ingredients to remain curious and start this 4th part. And to my relief, we finally see some resistance from the Riad's mother against the ever more reactionary behavior of the Syrian father; it looks like she has reached her limit and is formally going for the divorce. Another interesting development is that Riad is reaching puberty, whichs results in languorous dreams about girls, but also in asking questions about his identity: is it Western(French) or Arabic, and why does he have such difficulties in connecting to other boys and girls? Again, I’m looking forward to the next part. But I cannot help it: graphic novels still appeal less to me than real novels....more
Lanoye is a virtuoso in the Dutch language; that he shows (once again) in this novel. "The third marriage" contains unmatched passages which testify oLanoye is a virtuoso in the Dutch language; that he shows (once again) in this novel. "The third marriage" contains unmatched passages which testify of brilliant word invention and ingenious layering, coming close to the master of the Dutch literature Jeroen Brouwers. In his Monster-trilogy Lanoye had already found his own voice: a sharp-sarcastic voice that puts his lavish language skills at the service of merciless slamming the civil conventions that thrive in the once poor, now wealthy Flanders, and with principle and supporting characters that are so grotesque and caricatured that they breathe new life into the genre of the ‘opera buffa’.
On that momentum Lanoye is thriving in this book. Maybe more subdued and less burlesque, but some passages once again go in that direction; and I must confess that this excessive abundancy is not really to my taste. And again there is that link with the current Flanders, this time the Flanders that is overrun by people with a different skin color, of African or Arabic origin, who come to find their luck here (the intrigue revolves around a marriage of appearance); interesting, but it doesn't seem to be the focus of this novel. Instead, even more than in previous works Lanoye focusses on the "household" of the gay man. He does so in really negative terms and with lots of explicit scenes (really squalid, on purpose I think). You certainly get the impression that Lanoye (himself a prominent gay) holds up a very wry mirror to the gay society, with a message that swallows between overt ridicule and warm human sympathy. What is left is a picture of the smallness of (gay) man, which hides his uncertainties and shortcomings behind a wall of outward appearances and futile illusions.
In lots of ways this novel reminded me of 'De asielzoeker' by Arnon Grunberg, with a similar theme and very wry look on things. For similar reasons 'The Third Marriage' did not resonate with me: neither Grunberg's nor Lanoye's view on man and world will ever be mine; hence only 2 stars. But darn, Lanoye surely can write!...more
What I Loved by Siri Hustvedt was a revelation for me. That's why I wanted to read this collection of earlier published essays. Hustvedt shows she is What I Loved by Siri Hustvedt was a revelation for me. That's why I wanted to read this collection of earlier published essays. Hustvedt shows she is a very self-conscious observant of the world (cf the essay about New York, 1 year after Nine-Eleven), but foremost a gracious observer of herself. I especially liked the opening essay "Yonder", about the unreachable space between here and there, that she relates to her migration background (Norwegian), but also to her literary work. The title essay "A Plea for Eros" is a well-thought-out warning at puritan feminism to not underestimate or neglect the fundamental ambiguity and ubiquity of sexual feelings. In the final essay, Hustvedt gives us a self-analysis that to my taste is a bit too exhibitionistic, and thus a rather uncomfortable read. I didn't read the literary essays that are included in this collection. (rating 2.5 stars)...more
Wow, 24? Was Zadie Smith really only 24 when she wrote this? Hats off! "White Teeth" is indeed a well-constructed, in a sense even a kaleidoscopic novWow, 24? Was Zadie Smith really only 24 when she wrote this? Hats off! "White Teeth" is indeed a well-constructed, in a sense even a kaleidoscopic novel that you would expect from a much more mature author; also the psychological portrayal of the characters is quite impressive, and then there is the list of themes she has integrated in her novel, like the integration/acculturation of immigrants, genetic engineering, the nature versus nurture debate, generational conflicts, the role of chance in life, etc.
Zadie Smith is often compared to Rushdie, and I understand where that comes from, both in style and content. But Smith is much closer to real life, and her stories are so much easier to read, with humor too, so that you can guess who has my preference. On the plus side there also is a remarkable focus on the milieu of islamic fundamentalism, just a few years before the dramatic bombs in London. Occasionally her tone a little too sarcastic and some passages earned a bit more editing, but this book remains impressive. It is a pity that Zadie Smith, judging by the reviews of her other books, could not maintain this level afterwards. (this one: 3.5 stars)...more
In al mijn naïviteit (ik kende Benali absoluut niet) dacht ik dat dit een zoveelste boek was van een auteur gericht aan zijn pasgeboren dochter, een uIn al mijn naïviteit (ik kende Benali absoluut niet) dacht ik dat dit een zoveelste boek was van een auteur gericht aan zijn pasgeboren dochter, een uiting van de euforie, maar ook de angst en onzekerheid die altijd gepaard gaan met het prille vaderschap. En deze lange brief aan de baby Amber is dat natuurlijk ook, en in die zin aandoenlijk en absoluut herkenbaar. Maar dit boek is zoveel meer. Benali geeft ook een portret van de wereld waarin Amber terecht zal komen als ze opgroeit, en van het eigen traject dat hij zelf als migrantenkind heeft afgelegd en dat haar onvermijdelijk ook zal tekenen.
Abdelkader Benali (°1975) is zoals zovelen met zijn ouders vanuit het armoedige Rif-gebergte in Noord-Marokko naar Nederland geëmigreerd. In korte flashes schetst hij hoe dat gegaan is, en hoe hij opgroeide in Amsterdam, daarna Rotterdam, en er het problematische milieu leerde kennen van wat later in racistische hoek ‘kutmarokkaantjes’ is genoemd. Benali gebruikt die term natuurlijk zelf niet, maar schetst wel heel duidelijk hoe dat milieu is ontstaan, niet alleen vanuit een gebrek aan perspectief en als gemakkelijkheidsoplossing voor ‘straathelden’ die binnen de kortste keren schimmige instrumenten werden van drugsdealers. Interessant vond ik vooral hoe hij het psychologisch klimaat schetst van de onrealistisch hoge verwachtingen van de Marokkaanse ouders, hun ongelofelijke schrik dat hun kinderen in de problemen zouden komen, het angstregime dat daar het gevolg van was, en uiteindelijk de onkunde die ze hadden om hun kind echt te helpen om te gaan met de maatschappelijke werkelijkheid waarin het terecht kwam. Het is aandoenlijk én revelerend hoe hij aan zijn pasgeboren dochter schrijft: “Wees gerust, Amber, je mag bij ons falen. We helpen je opstaan. We doen het samen”.
Benali blijkt natuurlijk niet zomaar een doorsnee-Marokkaanse migrant, dat zet hij zelf voortdurend in de verf. Door zijn temperament, de studies die hij heeft kunnen doen, zijn taalvaardigheid en een soort roeping om op het publieke forum op te komen voor de eigenheid van de Marokkaanse migrantengemeenschap, is hij naar eigen zeggen regelmatig met het gezicht tegen de muur gelopen, en blijkbaar, geeft hij ruiterlijk toe, ook door zijn eigen fouten.
Dat maakt van deze brief een langgerekte biecht, maar ook een pamflet en een apologie, met af en toe vervelende narcistische trekjes, door die focus op zichzelf. Maar uiteindelijk charmeert dit boek wel, door de ontwapenende naïviteit die ervan uitgaat, de altijd klassieke ouderlijke reactie om in het pasgeboren kind een brandpunt van hoop te zien, een nieuw begin. Zoals gezegd, dit is voor elke ouder heel herkenbaar, en wellicht voor migranten des te meer. (2.5 rating)...more
Dit boek zou verplichte lectuur moeten zijn voor elke beleidsmaker en voor al wie een preciezer beeld wil krijgen van hoe onze maatschappij er echt uiDit boek zou verplichte lectuur moeten zijn voor elke beleidsmaker en voor al wie een preciezer beeld wil krijgen van hoe onze maatschappij er echt uitziet. Want in de praktijk lijken politici en media de aardverschuivingen die aan de gang zijn nog altijd te negeren of te minimaliseren. Geldof schetst trefzeker hoe de "migrantenkwestie" is uitgegroeid tot een superdiversiteitskwestie: vooral in onze steden is het al lang zichtbaar dat een meerderheid van de inwoners hun wortels elders hebben. Maar zelfs achter die meerderheid gaat een ongelofelijke diversiteit schuil, zowel in etnisch-culturele achtergronden als in leef- en samenlevingspatronen. In het bijzonder het begrip transnationaliteit was een eye-opener voor mij: deze "nieuwkomers" hebben een eigen netwerk dat onze landsgrenzen ruim overstijgt, en het is dus hopeloos achterhaald om die kwestie vanuit een nationale of lokale invalshoek te benaderen.
De auteur pleit er terecht voor dat deze nieuwe situatie in de eerste plaats erkenning nodig heeft, en vervolgens een beleid dat uitgaat van respect voor die diversiteit. Ik vind het knap dat Geldof, voor iemand die toch lang zijn sporen heeft verdiend (en nog) in de partij Groen (vroeger Agalev) afstand neemt van het idealistische "verrijkingsdiscours" van de jaren '90 en trefzeker de problemen van de superdiversiteit blootlegt. Af en toe bezondigt de auteur zich aan het typisch getheoretiseer van sociologen, en ook zijn kritiek op een eenzijdig culturele benadering volg ik niet helemaal, maar ik deel zijn oordeel dat er geen weg is naast een verdere groei in diversiteit en dat die een weloverwogen, evenwichtige aanpak verdient. Uiteraard met aandacht voor rechten én plichten. (rating 3.5 stars)...more
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