'The Fall of the Stone City' by Ismail Kadare (Review - IFFP 2013, Number 14)

Today's book introduces the blog to a new country and a very famous writer I really should already have tried.  While the writer and country are new though, the topic is very familiar: once again, we're heading back to the Second World War.  Let's see if this book can find a new angle...

*****
The Fall of the Stone City by Ismail Kadare (translated by John Hodgson - from Canongate)
What's it all about?
We begin in Albania, in 1943, where the colonising Italians have abandoned the country and the Germans are about to fill the Imperial void.  A bilingual leaflet drop promises that the Wehrmacht will merely be passing through, and that Germany respects Albanian independence.  Of course, that all changes when shots are fired outside the stone city of Gjirokastër...

After the unprovoked attack on his troops, Colonel Fritz von Schwabe plans to raze the town to the ground in revenge - until, that is, he realises that an old university friend, Dr. Gurameto lives here.  In a bizarre twist, the good doctor holds a dinner party for his old friend, all to uphold the tradition of Albanian hospitality, and not only is the town saved from destruction, but all the hostages taken (including a Jew) are released.  It's an amazing story, and one which comes back to haunt the doctor ten years later.  You see, the Communist authorities are very keen to find out exactly what happened on that night...

The Fall of the Stone City is a superb book, short but packed with intrigue and interest.  It's divided into three sections: the first looks at the events of the fateful dinner in 1943; the second takes us quickly through the happenings, political and otherwise, of the following decade; the third part takes place in 1953, when the past catches up with Big Doctor Gurameto (so-called to distinguish him from his colleague, the shadowy Little Doctor Gurameto).  Despite its brevity, the novel provides the reader with an excellent overview of the situation in Albania at the time.

The story takes a look at how people had trouble walking the political tightrope in areas with successive rulers, and the discussions before the arrival of the Germans show the decisions the locals had to make:

"Nonsense," said others.  "This visiting card business is precisely the worst possible insult to any country, especially a brave country like ours. 'Albania, I'm coming tomorrow morning.  Come out to welcome me at ten o'clock.  Never mind what people say about me.  Take no notice of my artillery and tanks, because Germany is good, and brings culture and bouquets of flowers.'  Are you witless enough to believe this twaddle?"
     "At least visiting cards are preferable to bombs," said the others in self-defence."
p.7 (Text Publishing, 2012)

The problem with appeasing an invading force is that if they eventually leave (as the Germans will), the people who take over next may not look kindly upon your behaviour.  When the communists take over, it is inevitable that those who were pro-German will have a few questions to answer.

As the quotation above shows, while the subject matter may be a little heavy, the language used to discuss it can be as light as a feather.  I loved Kadare's witty, sarcastic, flowing style (it's not often you have demonstrators in the streets crying 'Down with soil erosion'!), and parts of The Fall of the Stone City reminded of something Kundera or García Márquez might have written.  There is a superb cast of fascinating characters in addition to the two doctors: a blind poet, several foreign investigators and a mad, drunk gambler, Remzi Kadare (a cheeky cameo, perhaps...) - and that's not including all the characters who show up for just one scene:

"Meanwhile, taking advantage of the turbulent times, the Romany guard at the Hygiene Institute known as 'Dan the TB Man' produced a song in memory of his girlfriend, who had been run over that April by the night-soil cart.
     I'm the gypsy of the institute
     In an awful plight
     Since the girl I loved
     Fell under a load of shite." (pp.83/4)

Ah, poetry...

While there's a broad streak of humour running through the book though, when we get to the third section (where the doctor has to account for the events of the dinner party), matters turn a little darker.  It is here that Kadare's mastery of the plot becomes evident, as details which may have been overlooked at first glance are unearthed and re-examined, forcing characters and readers alike to rethink their version of what actually happened.  There's even a hint of a ghost story, an old wives' tale which becomes eerily relevant.

Yep, there's a lot more to this book than meets the eye ;)

Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
Absolutely.  I loved this, even if I got the feeling that this might not be his best work.  Kadare is definitely a writer I need to read more by.

Why did it make the shortlist?
Well-known, successful writer - tick.
Excellent translation - tick.
Fascinating story - tick.
Familiar, popular topic - tick.

That is all :)

*****
For the next leg of our journey, we'll be heading north, to Finland via Russia.  I've learnt a fair few languages in my time, but I'm not sure any of them are going to help me this time around...

'In Praise of Hatred' by Khaled Khalifa (Review - IFFP 2013, Number 12a)

Recently, we took a trip to Lebanon in the early 80s to see how life was during the civil war, and today's story takes us back to a similar time, this time just across the border.  Syria is today's port of call, and it's time to see how life is lived behind the veil...

*****
In Praise of Hatred by Khaled Khalifa (translated by Leri Price - from Doubleday)
What's it all about?
The story takes place in the historical Syrian city of Aleppo in the early 80s, where we meet a young girl who goes to live with her aunts in her dead grandfather's house.  Her presence is required as the aunts feel lonely in the big old house - and because their strict beliefs prevent them from doing much about it.

Maryam, the eldest of the girl's aunts, is a devout follower of the minority Sunni Muslim sect, and her life is spent in prayer and rejecting outside influences.  In a house of death and gloom, it is little wonder that the young newcomer follows in her aunts' footsteps, and as she grows up, she dreams of helping her religious group win back their rightful place in control of the city.  In doing so, she gives herself up to hatred...

In Praise of Hatred is one long narrative, a monologue in three parts with occasional digressions.  It details a descent into hatred (and a slow path out...), a life spent denying the pleasures of the flesh and the importance of human interaction.  The nameless narrator allows herself to be taken over by her hatred of the governing minority, hoping to help the insurgents attempting to bring down the government.  Unsurprisingly, it's a book which is banned in Syria.

The main character, an intelligent young woman with ambitions of becoming a doctor, is corrupted by twisted logic and false words.  She is driven by fear, emptiness and sexual frustration towards a life of martyrdom (and she is quite willing to become a martyr too).  From a young age, she has been conditioned to fear the approach of men, and in a city where modern values have begun to take hold, she feels disgusted by what she sees:

"When I saw uninhibited girls undoing their bras and showing off their cleavage to the breeze and the sun in the small square, or for the titillation of the young men crowding around the entrances of the girls' schools, I felt rage at their filth."
p.17 (Doubleday, 2012)

However, it is the narrator and her friends, hidden beneath their unflattering, all-covering clothes, who are the real objects of attention - they are the ones who stand out.

Khalifa does a great job of describing life in the city of Aleppo during an era of unrest.  Outside, it is a time of death and destruction, whole communities slaughtered by one side or the other.  The Sunni Mujahideen, the holy warriors, carry on guerilla warfare against the military police, the Mukhabarat, hiding out in safe houses and fleeing the country when things get a little too hot.  Neutral observers (if there are any) must be careful to avoid the war zones - and the atrocities carried out by both sides...

So much for the men - for the women, it's a different story.  The narrator wants nothing more than to help the cause, and she does join a cell which passes out information and propaganda.  However, the reality is that she's a caged bird, forced to do the bidding of any male relative who bothers to show up at her grandfather's house.  Her inability to get out of the house (or her restrictive clothes) makes the reading experience somewhat claustrophobic, deliberately so.  Having struggled with it for 300 pages, I'm not sure how she managed it for so long...

This sense of claustrophobia is partially due to the picture the writer creates of her house.  More a mausoleum than a place of residence, it has remained unaltered since the days of its former owner, the only addition a collection of butterflies in glass cases - a fitting allegory for the narrator's life.  She is well aware of this, at times lamenting the restricted life she leads:

"I felt my predicament when she looked at me as if she were saying, 'How miserable you are,' and relief because I had let her into my stagnant world, like a lake forsaken by breezes, ducks and fishing hooks." (p.77)

A sad portrait of times gone by?  Yes and no.  The book does take a twist in the third section, a kind of redemption through suffering for the poor young woman.  However, the country has not been quite as fortunate.  A quick look at the news will tell you that history has a funny way of repeating itself - plus ça change...

Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
I'd have to say no.  After the first 75 pages, I thought this might be right up there, but the more I read, the slower it got.  The claustrophobic style, and the lack of chapters, made this a hard book to get into.  Eventually, it just appeared to be more of the same, inner turmoil and outer suffering repeated over and over again.  It's an interesting book, and a fascinating glimpse into Syrian history, but I was pretty happy to make it to the end.

Why didn't it make the shortlist?
I actually thought this might squeak in, but the panel obviously had similar thoughts to mine.  While the topic was interesting, the writing didn't really sparkle or stand out, and the story lacked focus a little.  Good, but not quite there...

*****
It's time to leave the Middle East, as we have a dinner appointment in Albania.  Our host?  Well, all I know is that he's a doctor - and a big one at that...

IFFP 2013 - Two Shortlists

The Independent foreign Fiction Prize shortlist is now out, and there are a few surprises in store (nothing new there then).  Of the sixteen longlisted titles who entered the race, only six remain - ten have been sent back to the sheds to contemplate their shortcomings.  In around a month's time, one of these six will be standing on top of the pile, but for now, it's time for all six to enjoy their moment in the sun - drum roll, please...

Official Shortlist for the 2013 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize

Bundu by Chris Barnard

The Detour by Gerbrand Bakker

Dublinesque by Enrique Vila-Matas

The Fall of the Stone City by Ismail Kadare

Traveller of the Century by Andres Neuman

Trieste by Daša Drndić

Of course, another small group of people has been reading the same collection of books, and recently we on the Shadow Panel announced our own shortlist!  The Shadow Panel consists of our esteemed chair, Stu, along with Mark, Gary, Lisa and me :)  I know you're just itching to compare the two lists, so..

Shadow Panel Shortlist for the 2013 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize

Satantango by László Krasznahorkai

The Detour by Gerbrand Bakker

Dublinesque by Enrique Vila-Matas

The Fall of the Stone City by Ismail Kadare

Traveller of the Century by Andres Neuman

The Last of the Vostyachs by Diego Marani

So, the lists...  Well, we've chosen four of the six the real panel have chosen, and I have to say that, on the whole, it's a better shortlist than was the case in 2012.  A couple of caveats though...  While I haven't yet read Satantango, I'm very surprised that it hasn't made the cut.  It did make the shortlist of the BTBA (the American version of the IFFP), and it was touted as a potential winner of both prizes - obviously not ;)

The big shock though is the inclusion of Bundu.  While I'm all for difference, this is the one book I hadn't even considered putting on my shortlist.  Of course, for those with long memories, IFFP panels obviously love Alma Books a lot!

Oh well, onward and upward.  For a list of all the Shadow Panel's reviews so far, please check out this page on Lisa's blog which pulls them all together - happy reading :)

Bundu by Chris Barnard (Review - IFFP 2013, Number 12)

It's always nice to try something a little different, and today's book is certainly not the usual translated literature fare.  We're heading off to South Africa, for my first book in Afrikaans, and we'll be going out into the African wilderness.  A word of warning - watch out for hippos...

*****
Bundu by Chris Barnard (translated by Michiel Heyns - from Alma Books)
What's it all about?
Brand de la Rey is an ecologist living in the bundu (the South African equivalent of the outback).  Working hard on his projects, he prefers to keep himself to himself, but a visit to the local mission station brings an unwelcome interruption to his routine.

After years of drought, the land is bare, and refugees come flooding across the border from Mozambique, hoping for some food and help in South Africa.  The doctor and nurses at the station try to help the newcomers, but the more they do, the more people congregate outside the buildings.  The South African army, regarding the far-flung province as part of Mozambique, refuses to help, forcing Brand and the mission staff to think of an alternative plan - which is where a crazy man and an old plane come in...

Bundu is an interesting adventure story, with an exotic backdrop and a love interest thrown in too.  The text is peppered with Afrikaans and Swahili, and when you read Barnard's stories about a hunt for an injured hippo and donkeys trekking to the nearest settlement, you can almost feel the stifling heat and the dust.  Oh, and let's not forget Malume, the enigmatic leader of the baboons...

While the main focus of the story is the plan to save the dying refugees, one of its strong points is its depiction of the strains and stresses on the mission staff.  The overworked nurses collapse from exhaustion, only to get right back up again - they have no choice.  Death is all around, yet there is no villain here, just the harsh reality of a land without rain.  As the ordeal draws on, the characters become painfully aware of the fragility of human existence:

"Julia and I were standing washing our hands and faces in a basin in front of her back door.  I stood watching our hands and our arms while we were washing; I saw her bare shoulders and her neck, the tongue brushing the lips, and realized that under Julia's tanned skin, under all the youthful softness and unblemishedness, there was a pale white skeleton washing along, participating invisibly, a skeleton preparing itself slowly but surely for the day when it could cast off the winding sheet to show its true face."
p.178 (Alma Books, 2012)

Of course, times of trouble often have the effect of breaking down barriers, and it isn't long before Brand and Julia, one of the nurses, seek comfort in each other's arms...

Bundu is also a novel which explores the concept of communication and silence.  People go to the bundu to avoid human contact, and many of the characters (Brand, Julia, madman Jock Mills) are running away from something.  Even when they do talk, they often prefer to be sparing with their words, and in a country of many languages, conversation can become even more complicated.  Several of the characters conveniently fail to understand when talk becomes too involved, while others switch languages to better express themselves (or, in one case, to swear more strongly!).  Of course, mere words are the least of the walls preventing mutual understanding:

"Vusi's Afrikaans was even more limited than my stunted and stilted Zulu and that in itself was enough reason to put a damper on a natural exchange of thoughts.  But in addition we were both still victims of the society in which we'd grown up and in which black people and white people had to coexist on either side of an invisible wall, like fish in the same pond but separated by glass.  It went much deeper than a language problem or a superficial prejudice - it was a blind assumption that the other one thought, felt, experienced things in a different way, was different." (pp.109/110)

Bundu is an entertaining read, an interesting glimpse into another world, but if I'm honest, it isn't really my kind of book.  On the whole, it read more like genre fiction than a novel from a literary fiction longlist, and it definitely favoured plotting (and romance) above the writing, especially in the first half of the novel.  I also thought that the first-person point of view led to a lot of info dumping, especially regarding Julia's back story.  While the old chestnut about showing, not telling, isn't always appropriate, I definitely felt that Barnard could have introduced the information more subtly.

Which is not to say that it's a bad book - far from it.  I enjoyed it, and I think most people would get something from it.  I honestly can't say though that it's one which will stay in my memory for long...

Do you think it deserves to make the shortlist?
Not really.  It's a nice story,and there's more to it than the first half would suggest, but the writing is nothing special.  Many people will like it, but that doesn't make it a book to shortlist.

Will it make the shortlist?
I wouldn't think so - I think the longlisting was probably a surprise.  A word of caution though: I was very negative about an Alma Books entry last year, and we all know what happened there...

*****
By the time you read this, the shortlist will finally have been announced, and my predictions will (I'm sure) have been shown to be the ramblings of a deluded, bitter old man.  Join me next time for a commentary on the choices - and we'll continue with our journey next week :)

IFFP 2013 - Shortlist Predictions

We started out with sixteen titles longlisted for the 2013 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, and tomorrow will see ten of the works fall by the wayside, leaving us with six heavyweights to battle it out for the prize.  In a longlist which I believe to be stronger than was the case in 2012, there are bound to be a few surprises - and I'm sure some of my early favourites will be hitting the canvas before the final bell...

Anyway, so far I've managed to get through fifteen of the sixteen longlisted titles (sadly, I'm still waiting to get a copy of Satantango), so I have a good idea of who I think deserves to progress to the next stage.  Now, as for other people (including the real jury), I'm not quite so sure ;)

Today, I'll be announcing two shortlists: one made up of the books I think deserve to make the cut; the other composed of the titles I suspect the real judges will opt for.  Not having read Satantango (which I'm expecting to make both lists), I'm adding a reserve title, just in case Krasznahorkai's novel doesn't live up to expectations.  And the nominees are (links to my reviews, where available):

Tony's Preferred Shortlist

Dublinesque by Enrique Vila-Matas

Traveller of the Century by Andres Neuman

The Detour by Gerbrand Bakker

The Fall of the Stone City by Ismail Kadare

Silent House by Orhan Pamuk

Satantango by László Krasznahorkai

Reserve - A Death in the Family by Karl Ove Knausgård

Tony's Predicted Shortlist

Dublinesque by Enrique Vila-Matas

Traveller of the Century by Andres Neuman

HHhH by Laurent Binet

Trieste by Daša Drndić

A Death in the Family by Karl Ove Knausgård

Satantango by László Krasznahorkai

As you can see, three of the books appear on both lists, so expect those to be the ones that miss the cut ;)  Was I right?  Well, we'll soon find out...  Later this week, I'll be having a look at the real shortlist, and (as if that wasn't exciting enough) I'll also be comparing it to the six chosen by our collective Shadow Panel!  As was the case last year, we will be choosing our winner from our own shortlist, not the official one (and last year, the two lists were very different...).  The finish post is in sight...

'Black Bazaar' by Alain Mabanckou (Review - IFFP 2013, Number 11)

Important as it is to look back at history, sometimes it's good to just relax and chill out with some friends.  Time to head off to Jip's Bar then to meet a man who likes to watch the world (and women) pass by - in style, bien sûr ;)

*****
Black Baza(a)r by Alain Mabanckou (translated by Sarah Ardizzone - from Serpent's Tail)
What's it all about?
Our entry into Mabanckou's world is an aspiring writer from the Congo ('the little one') living illegally in Paris.  He's a happy soul, enjoying life in the French capital - until, that is, he is deserted by his partner, who runs off with their daughter (and a Tom-Tom player...) back to his home country.  What's a man to do...

Fessologue, as our friend is known (because of his elevation of considering women's derrières to a science), copes with it all by sitting in Jip's café, talking rubbish with other African immigrants and visiting a writer friend who gives him advice.  Eventually, he decides that the best way to cope with his issues is to buy a clunky old typewriter and start writing a book about his experiences - a book called Black Bazar...

Mabanckou's novel appears at first glance to be just a series of events and anecdotes, fun stories about the African diaspora in Paris.  However, they soon become more personal, exploring the relationship between Fessologue and his partner, Couleur d'origine ('Colour of Origin'), perhaps in an attempt to understand why it went wrong.

Don't get me wrong though - this is not a book of regrets and tears.  Fessologue is a dedicated follower of fashion, a man who is just as at home choosing Italian hand-made suits as discussing the relative merits of female posteriors.  He heads out into the Parisian night, on the prowl for fresh arrivals from his home continent to (as he says) "chasser sans merci les gazelles sauvages" ('mercilessly hunt down the wild gazelles').  It's easy to conclude that he deserved everything he got...

Black Bazaar though is also a novel about writers and writing.  The book begins with a great prologue in which a friend interrogates Fessologue at the bar, referencing famous novels in an attempt to pin down what exactly it is the writer is planning to write.  Frustrated by the rejection of ideas about white sheep, old men and fishing, and love in a time of cholera, Roger the Franco-Ivorian dismisses his friend's ability to ever get a story down on paper:

"Écoute, mon gars, sois réaliste!  Laisse tomber tes histoires de t'asseoir et d'écrire tous les jours, y a des gens plus calés pour ça, et ces gens-là on les voit à la télé, ils parlent bien, et quand ils parlent y a un sujet, y a un verbe et y a un complément.  Ils sont nés pour ça, ils ont été élevés dans ça, alors que nous autres les nègres, c'est pas notre dada, l'écriture."
pp.13/14 (Éditions du Seuil, 2009)

"Listen up, my boy, be realistic!  Drop your sitting around and writing every day, there's people much better at it, and those people, you see them on telly, they talk well, and when they talk there's a subject, there's a verb and there's an object.  They're born for that, they're raised in that, while us blacks, it's not our thing, writing."***

I wonder how autobiographical this conversation is...

Black Bazaar reminds me of a Russian book I read last year, Happiness is Possible.  Both deal with a writer in a big city, telling stories about life there for someone who was born elsewhere.  Both have been left by their partners and use their writing to deal with the hurt, gradually moving from humorous sketches of daily life to more personal stories.  Were it not for the snappy clothes and the Pelforth beers, Fessologue would fit in well in Moscow ;)

As it is, he's another writer in (self-imposed) exile, able to look at matters from a distance, from a different perspective, and it's a point which isn't lost on our Congolese friend.  He muses:

"Est-ce qu'un écrivain doit toujours vivre dans un autre pays, et de préférence être contraint d'y vivre pour avoir des choses à écrire et permettre aux autres d'analyser l'influence de l'exil dans son écriture?" (p.182)

"Must a writer always live in another country, and preferably be forced to live there, in order to have things to write and to allow others to analyse the influence of exile in their writing?"***

Hmm.  Perhaps I should read some of Mabanckou's other books, set in his home country, to find out ;)

In the end though, this is a book about our friend Fessologue.  It's an enjoyable romp, a welcome change from the tone of the rest of this year's longlist, and I don't think I'm spoiling anything by saying that it has a relatively happy end.  But even this ending is a little ambiguous - what constitutes a happy ending for our African immigrant?  Is it keeping a firm hold on his roots, or adapting to life in a new country?  Or is there a middle ground?  One to consider for all the ex-pats among us...

***All translations into English are my sorry efforts...

***** Do you think it deserves to make the shortlist?
Possibly.  It'll be there or thereabouts, a book which is entertaining and thought-provoking at the same time.  On finishing this one, I ordered two more of Mabanckou's novels - which shows how much I liked it :)

A couple of points...  I'd love to see a woman's take on this work, as I occasionally got the feeling that old Fess was a touch on the chauvinist side.  Would a female reader relate with him enough to enjoy the book?

Also, I read this in French, so I have no idea how good the translation is.  The only thing I know is that the protagonist's name was translated as 'buttologist'/'buttocks man' - which I dislike for many reasons (my preference would have been to leave the name in French!).

Will it make the shortlist?
Possibly not.  I'd love it to make the final six, but I'm not sure the judges will be able to squeeze this past some of the doom and gloom stories - and the shortlist will be a dourer place for it ;)

*****
Another one done and dusted :)  From an African story, next time we'll be looking at a story in Africa.  Buckle up - we're going off road...

'Contemporary Brazilian Short Stories' by Word Awareness (ed.) (Review)

While I've mostly been occupied with the IFFP longlist recently, I have had a few other works waiting to be read and reviewed.  One of these is a book I was asked to review a while back, something a little different.  So, how's your Portuguese?

*****
Contemporary Brazilian Short Stories is a collection which comes from the web-site of the same name.  Word Awareness (run by translator Rafa Lombardino) invited writers from Brazil to submit short pieces of fiction which would be translated into English and published on the web-site.  It's a project which hopes to give young Brazilian writers more exposure to an international audience - and perhaps more success too :)

The collection contains twenty-two stories, the majority of which are fairly short (some coming in at a little over a page) with only a few stretching to more than five pages.  Almost all of the stories are translated by Lombardino, but for those of you who do know a little Portuguese, there's an added bonus.  Just as at the site, you can also read the stories in the original version...

But what is it actually like?  Well, as you can imagine in an anthology of this sort, there is a variety of moods and styles.  While the majority would fall under the umbrella of literary fiction, there are a few stories which you could label as genre fiction.  Kariny Aciole's 'Return to Shantra' is a fantasy tale, with a hint of erotica thrown in for good measure, while Elisabeth Maranhão's 'Glass and Porcelain in the Garden', a story about a woman uncovering her husband's affair, could (possibly!) be considered chick lit.

There are also some rather short, poetic pieces, stories which need to be reread several times to get the idea behind the words.  Ludmila Barbosa is described in her blurb as a poet, so it is no surprise that her 'Notes on Dreaming' reads a little like a poem.  I also enjoyed Lorena Leandro's short work 'Relationship', in which a woman's unconditional love is shown to have a rather unusual object...

A few of the stories have an aspect of Brazilian culture as their focus, and some of these were perhaps among the more successful stories in the collection.  Roberto Denser's 'The Chick Who Read Clarice Lispector Too Much' is a clever story set at a bus stop, in which the dangers of being a book snob are on display for all to see.  'Eternally Lying in a Splendid Cradle' by Simone Campos, the longest story in the collection, is an intriguing look at Brazilian culture seen through the eyes of a foreigner.  As for Gui Nascimento's 'I Love São Paulo', well that's just a few pages of two friends talking drug-influenced nonsense about the great city ;)

For me though, the best stories here are also fairly simple and universal ones.  José Geraldo Gouvêa's 'The Girl Who Liked Listening to Stories' is a tale which will resonate with anyone who remembers discovering the beauty of words.  My favourite story in the collection though is the very last one, by Paulo Carvalho.  A man thinks back to the day he discovered love, a story of riding bikes down hills and finding new feelings for a girl.  The title? 'Simple'...

The book is available on Amazon (in both paperback and Kindle format), but the stories are also available for browsing on the CBSS web-site.  Two new stories are published each month (on the 1st and 15th), and there's a wide range of stories to explore.  Anyone interested in what's coming out of Brazil (which may well become the next big thing in translated fiction) should definitely check it out :)

*****
One last thing I'd like to comment on is the translation, as it's rare that I have both the original and the translation in front of me at the same time.  While my Portuguese is fairly poor (just a year of wasting time while at university...), having studied most Romance languages, I can get a feel for the original from the translation.  There was a distinct difference in style between the two versions, one which came across in many of the stories I compared.

One story I'd like to focus on is Wilson Gorj's ' The Black Mulberry' ('Amora negra'), and I'll just give you one paragraph from each version:

"Deliciosa, porém pequenas.  Havia, sim, uma bem grande, mas esta amora pendia na ponte de um dos galhos estendidos sobre a agua." (pp.121/2)

"They were delicious, but too small.  There was a very big juicy mulberry hanging from one of the branches right above the water." (p.23)

With a bit of luck, you'll be able to see the differences in style between the two versions.  The English gets across the content of the original, but I'm not sure that the rhythm and style of the Portuguese is captured, and that means that the story comes across as a little prosaic in English, where the Portuguese (to my untutored ears) seems more melodic.  If it had been translated like this, would the meaning have been lost?

'Delicious, but small.  There was, it's true, a very big one, but this mulberry hung from the end of one of the branches extending over the water."

The word 'delicious' was mentioned in the previous sentence, so I don't feel the need to add the pronoun 'they'.  I also think that there is no need to alter the Portuguese sentence structure in the second sentence...

You can tell that I'm a frustrated translator, but I think that perhaps content wins out over style occasionally in this collection, especially in the simplification of sentences.  English is less tolerant of long, rambling, comma-filled sentences than the Romance languages (except, of course, when I'm on a roll in my blog posts!), but I enjoy reading this style of writing.  I hope Rafa takes this as a comment on, and not a criticism of her translation style :)

'Trieste' by Daša Drndić (Review - IFFP 2013, Number 10)

We're back to WW2 fare today, this time along Italy's Adriatic Coast.  However, the book we'll be examining looks at things from a slightly different angle from usual.  So, where are we exactly?  Well...

*****
Trieste by Daša Drndić (translated by Ellen Elias Bursać - review copy from MacLehose Press)
What's it all about?
In 2006, Haya Tedeschi, an elderly lady, sits at home in Gorizia, near Trieste, surrounded by piles of papers and newspaper clippings.  The mounds of paper scattered on the floor all have to do with the events of the war, stories of atrocities and biographies of some of the heroes and villains of the era.  It may seem to be history to many people, but for Haya the war is still very real.

We then move back in time to the start of the twentieth century and are introduced to the Tedeschi family and the region around Trieste.  It is a European crossroads, a city on the borders of Empires, a multilingual cultural melting pot - great for music and literature, very bad when the great European powers decide to go to war...

The writer takes us carefully through the first part of the 20th century until we reach the main focus of the novel, the Second World War.  It is here that Haya meets SS officer Kurt Frank and has a secret affair.  The result of the relationship is a son, Antonio Tedeschi - a boy who one day goes missing, leaving his mother with a sixty-two year wait for his return.

Trieste is a heavy book on a weighty subject.  Drndić uses the novel to discuss what happened during the war in and around the title city, an area many people would know little about.  We learn about the death camps in the region and the men who ran them (and what happened to them after the war...).  We read about the post-war trials and how some of them were conducted in the absence of the accused, empty procedures which had no consequences.  In short, we are reminded of the past, a past which the writer wants to make sure is not forgotten.

Eventually, the focus shifts to the Lebensborn project, a Nazi plan to ensure the dominance of their Aryan super race.  Homes were opened all over the German Reich, where suitable women gave birth to children who were then to be brought up in a manner deemed fit for the heirs of the master race.  When Himmler realised that the numbers weren't impressive enough, he decided to order the removal of suitable children born to inferior races in the region (including little Antonio Tedeschi...).

The final section of the book is devoted to Hans Traube, a man who knows that his name and upbringing is a lie, and his quest to uncover the truth.  Like his birth mother, Hans has been searching through documents in the vain hope of finding his true identity, in the process finding out much more about his possible biological father than he would like to know.  The Lebensborn children are doomed to live with uncertainty, hoping they might some day uncover their true origins, but also scared of what they might find:

"Then, when I least expected it, the Past jumped out at me in a flash, Hop! like a carcass, like some rotten corpse it draped itself around my neck, plunged its claws into my artery and it still isn't letting go. I'd like to shake it off, this Past, but it won't let me, it swings on me as I walk, it lies on me while I sleep, it looks me in the eye and leers, See, I'm still with you."
p.339 (MacLehose Press, 2013)

Of course, it's not just the Lebensborn children who have to worry about the burden of the past.  Drndić contrasts their fate with that of the children of the SS officers, the men and women responsible for crimes against humanity.  They also struggle to live with the legacy of the past...

Trieste is minutely researched, comprising a dizzying collage of fact and fiction, stories and interviews.  In its inclusion of photographs and original documentation (and even forty pages of the names of Italian holocaust victims), with a narrative frequently shoved aside in favour of a tangent, there is something almost Sebaldian in its structure.  We are taken on a tour of WW2, from Aushwitz and Treblinka to Reinhard Heydrich at the Salon Kitty brothel in Berlin (for the second time in a week...), with anecdotes about concentration camp guards shooting prisoners for fun, and convoys of the doomed through Switzerland, where locals think they are helping by providing blankets and warm soup...

What comes through very clearly though is the mass slaughter, the senseless, deliberate waste of human life on a grand scale.  One of the more interesting features of the novel is the occasional Q & A with both holocaust victims and their captors, giving insights into what happened - and how.  As one guard says:

"When I was on a trip once, years later in Brazil, my train stopped next to a slaughterhouse.  The cattle grazing in the pens trotted up to the fence and stared at our train.  They were very close to my window, one jostling the other, looking at me through that fence.  I thought then, This reminds me of Poland.  That's how the people looked at me there: trustingly, just before they went into the... I couldn't eat tinned meat for a long time after that.  Those big cows' eyes staring at me, those animals who had no idea that in no time they'd all be slaughtered...

So you didn't feel the camp inmates were people?

Cargo.  They were cargo." (p.206)

Trieste is certainly an ambitious, expansive work, but if I had a criticism to make, it would be that it is a little over-ambitious at times.  The main story, what little of it there is, is frequently pushed into the background, seemingly only there to serve as an excuse to write about the history.  As with HHhH, the reader is left wondering what the actual focus of the work is, and whether it might have been better left as non-fiction...

Do you think it deserves to make the shortlist?
Possibly not.  It's a worthy book on an important subject, but it wanders a little (OK, a lot), and I was never quite sure what the focus was meant to be.  The last section, centred on Hans Traube and his search for the truth, is excellent, and I would personally have preferred a much narrower focus on the Lebensborn project.

Will it make the shortlist?
Despite what I said above, I think it has a good chance.  I don't think I'm the best judge of literature dealing with the Holocaust, and other readers seem to appreciate books like HHhH and Trieste a lot more than I do.  I suspect that one of those two will make the cut, and this one is much weightier and better written. 

*****
Moving on, and we're (finally) lightening the mood a little; it's time to head off to Paris for some drinking, dancing and writing in the park.  Whatever you do, make sure you dress for the occasion - suit up, everyone ;)

'The Iraqi Christ' by Hassan Blasim (Review)

A new Comma Press publication of translated fiction is always exciting, and another collection has just been released.  It is a second group of stories from Iraqi-in-exile Hassan Blasim, whose first collection (The Madman of Freedom Square) was longlisted for the 2010 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize (and, apparently, banned in Jordan...).  It will be interesting to see how this one goes - both critically and politically...

*****
The Iraqi Christ (translated by Jonathan Wright, review copy courtesy of the publisher) is a series of tales set both in Iraq and overseas.  It is a collection set against the chaos of life in a country where normal rules seldom apply and people get on with matters as best they can - easier said than done when money, jobs, electricity and water are in short supply.  A mixture of realistic and slightly-more fantastic tales allows Blasim to paint a vivid picture of his mother country.

From the very start, we know we are in dangerous territory:

"People were waiting in queues to tell their stories.  The police intervened to marshal the crowd and the main street opposite the radio station was closed to traffic.  Pickpockets and itinerant cigarette vendors circulated among them.  People were terrified a terrorist would infiltrate the crowd and turn all these stories into a pulp of flesh and fire."
p.1, 'The Song of the Goats' (2013, Comma Press)

It is a stunning start to the collection, one which sets the scene for much of what is to follow in later stories.

This start to the collection introduces two concepts which the writer will expand upon throughout the book: the importance of stories and the constant presence of death.  The first story, 'The Song of the Goats', has a radio station set up a competition to tell the best story about life in the war-torn country (hence the long queues...).  This is closely followed by 'The Fifth-Floor Window', in which a group of sick men tell stories to pass the time as they see the chaos unfolding from the window of their room.

From here, the stories increase in intensity, with the writer painting images of violence and madness, with the crudeness of the language at times matching the events depicted.  Many of the stories abound in sex, drinking and (very) black humour, whatever it takes to make the pain go away.  In 'The Killers and the Compass', a psychopath roams the suburbs of what could be described as post-apocalyptic Iraq.  There is certainly more than a hint of Mad Max here (this is a man who is definitely dangerous to know).  'The Iraqi Christ', the title story of the collection, then introduces us to an ex-soldier with a sixth sense for danger - on the very day his luck is about to run out...
 
There is more to The Iraqi Christ than news from Iraq though.  Blasim, who now lives in Finland, also looks at what happens to people who leave their homeland behind.  'Dear Beto' chronicles a tale of depression in Finland, narrated by an emigrant (albeit a rather unusual one...) while 'Why Don't You Write a Novel, Instead of Talking About All These Characters?' is centred on refugees in Hungary and the ordeals they face in getting to their new home.  It also features a certain writer, who appears to be travelling under a pseudonym...

...and in fact this slice of meta-fiction is just one of a series of excursions out of realism and into something more akin to Magical Realism.  Many of the stories are slightly more fantastical than you would imagine, again perhaps an attempt to escape the disappointments of everyday life.  In 'The Hole', a soldier falls down a hole and makes the acquaintance of a 'Djinni' (not something that occurs on a daily basis, even in Baghdad), and 'A Wolf' is a tall tale about cruising bars for sex, Jehovah's witnesses, mosquitoes... oh, and a wolf ;)  For fans of Kafka or Murakami (like yours truly), these stories are actually some of the most entertaining in the collection.

The Iraqi Christ then is a mix of different styles of stories, all trying to make sense of a chaotic society where the past has been thrown out of the window and where the future is uncertain, a world of madness and constant noise:

"Applause at the Peace Prize award ceremony at a time when new wars are breaking out in new hotspots,the sound of cars crashing, car bombs exploding, the cars of thieves, an ambulance, a bank truck loaded with bundles of banknotes, a fire engine.  The sounds of mosques and churches, of Friday sermons and homilies, of group sex and glass breaking, sounds coming in the right ear and sounds going out the left ear."
p.73, 'Dear Beto'

What can you do in the face of a reality like this except drink, sleep around, surrender to the madness - and tell stories...

March 2013 Wrap-Up

March is coming to an end, and a busy month it's been round these parts.  I've been frantically racing through the books on the IFFP longlist, hoping to get through the twelve I hadn't previously read before the shortlist is announced.  I think I might just about make it - but it'll be close ;)

Anyhow, all this means that the numbers are well up this month on my fairly slow start to the year - shall we?

*****
Total Books Read: 12
Year-to-Date: 26

New: 12

Rereads: 0

From the Shelves: 1
Review Copies: 3

From the Library: 8

On the Kindle: 0

Novels: 12
Novellas: 0

Short Stories: 0

Non-English Language: 12 (2 Arabic, 2 French, Spanish, Norwegian, Dutch, Turkish, Croatian, Afrikaans, Albanian, Italian)

In Original Language:1 (1 French)

Aussie Author Challenge: 0 (0/3)

IFFP 2013 Longlist: 11 (15/16)

*****
Books reviewed in March were:

1) The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope

2) Stone in a Landslide by Maria Barbal

3) The Sound of Things Falling by Juan Gabriel Vásquez

4) White Masks by Elias Khoury
5) A Death in the Family by Karl Ove Knausgaard
6) The Detour by Gerbrand Bakker
7) HHhH by Laurent Binet
8) Silent House by Orhan Pamuk

Tony's Turkey for March is: nothing

While HHhH didn't really grab me, it was far from being a turkey - and that's as close as it got this month :)

Tony's Recommendation for March is:
Gerbrand Bakker's The Detour

Bakker's slight novel was easily my favourite of the five IFFP longlisted books, but the other books I posted on in March were all good too.  I was tempted to give the prize to Trollope's magnus opus, and Khoury's and Barbal's books gave me pause for thought.  However, I couldn't really go past The Detour, an excellent example of why we read these longlists - to discover great books and great authors :)

*****
A couple more from the IFFP and then the pace is off (thankfully).  Well, as far as the reading goes anyway - there'll be plenty of IFFP reviews for you all to enjoy in April :)