-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Salt Publishing. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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This-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Salt Publishing. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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This is a book about books that is narrated by a book. Now isn’t that a sentence to chew over? Let me explain.
“My name is John, and I am this book.”
Drawing upon themes Virginia Woolf so eloquently presented in her experimental novel Orlando, Samuel Fisher tells the life story of a book that has existed for centuries. Like the character Orlando, John the book does not grow old and die but instead continues to exist as the ages pass.
Nevertheless, he does change a bit like the title suggests. Chameleons adapt to their environment; they shift colours to best fit their surroundings. His letters are rearranged and his sentences are reconstructed as another story is told through his pages; yet, he remains the same only more suited to his present situation: he changes his appearance to meet the needs of his audience.
John can become any infinite variety of words and letters; he can become any book that has ever been written or will be written, and he can even formulate his own original books. His true power resides with his timing though. He can transform into the right book at exactly the right time. Indeed, the literature he becomes is exactly what the people he belongs to need to read at any given moment. It could be a novel about shifting genders and immortality (like Orlando) or it could be an epic poem about filial grief or simply a guide to help navigate a new country or city. The point is, John the book has you covered without you ever even realising it.
“My flesh itself can change. I can be bound (quarter, case, saddle stitch, side stitch) or unbound; I can be paper and card, I can be vellum (calf, sheep, goat, human), I can be staples, glue, tread or plastic. And with all these changes my flesh speaks to you. These changes I make are to draw you to me, that you might pick me up and take me somewhere new.”
In such a thing I saw a celebration of reading and literature. Not enough people are reading today. They spend too much time on their smartphones and in front of their television sets: they are disconnected from the power of books and the power of words. The problem is increasing as technology continues to advance. Books have the power to change lives, as Samuel Fisher shows us here; reading the right book at the right moment can be very, very, powerful and can move us in a new direction. John the book is not entirely altruistic, though the potentness of books is established regardless of his motives.
Moreover, those that do read do not always do so respectfully. Well, at least, according to John. I suppose he would know best. Readers fold pages instead of using bookmarks (The horror! The horror!) and they eat whist they read leaving crumbs forever wedged between pages (blasphemy.) Books do not like this. They hate it. They like to remain undamaged and to be stored indoors where they cannot become scuffed and torn by constant travel or tarnished by food, stains and the ever shifting weather. Hearing these principles, principles any avid reader ought to hold, from the perspective of a book was rather amusing. It is such a witty device and bespeaks the intelligence and thought that has gone into the writing.
Reading is fantastic and keeping books clean is absolutely the right things to do, though not all books are good. Some are bad. Some lie. And some tell us things we never want to learn. However, books are written to be read; it is up to us to do in a way that shows appreciation for the art of writing. John, and all books in general, provides humanity with an infinite variety of stories and universes. We should experience them whilst we can.
“There is a book for every possible combination of letter- every possible sequence of words. Every thought, act and expression has already been described. It means that the universe was spent before it began. It makes the passage of time redundant.”
In turn, humanity provides John with stories that inspire him to create new worlds. He can become anything, though he can never fully emulate real life. He can present a story, though he can only watch the real thing. You might call such a thing a curse, the curse of being a chameleon.
Samuel Fisher’s debut novel will not disappoint the literati, and its chatty informal tone will make it feel accessible to all readers. The Chameleon is playful and witty; it is a book that presents an argument as to why books are so vitally important, and if you want to hear the case please purchase it here....more
-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Saraband. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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Crumley tak-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Saraband. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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Crumley takes us on an introspective journey, one that explores his own interpretation of winter. In order to discover this, he wonders, he watches and he writes: he examines the glory of the winter landscape.
Winter means different things for each of us. Depending on where we are, and our lifestyle choice, it brings with it many different things. For me, winter brings long distant runs in the cold fresh air of the British countryside; it brings late nights reading in the warmth of my study. For Jim Crumley it brings hikes and nature watching; it brings an interest in observing the changing of the seasons and the effects of the weather on local wildlife: it brings a new aspect of life:
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Man’s insignificance in the face of nature’s beauty and harshness is established rather firmly through the writing. During a brief episode the author considers his own footprints in the winter turf; he looks upon them and realises in just a few hours they will not remain in the landscape. All traces of his presence in the surroundings will be removed, as nature carries on peacefully without his presence: he is quickly forgotten about.
However, climate change alters things. Man’s footprint becomes larger, and it is not so easily removed. Crumley observes its effects on a local scale; he considers how it has altered the wildlife of England. He gives the example of the Egret, a bird he observed too far north of its natural habitat. What seems like an anomaly is just one case among many that the author considers. I have read many other examples. For those with a keen eye, the wildlife is changing; it is adapting to a winter that is also changing and becoming increasingly different to what came before.
As such the books asserts the importance of conservation efforts and, not only that, it also expresses an awareness of how essential correct environmental management is for the future of natural winters: the correct embodiment of the seasons. Here I can only lament how detrimental Trump’s withdrawal from The Paris Agreement, the unifying framework that sought to manage the levels of greenhouse gas admissions on a global scale, is. In a world where the so called “leader of the free world” fails to recognise the biggest threat we face, we head towards a very uncertain future. Crumley is right to worry about the future of winter, about the future of the environment; he is right when he recognises that:
“What is unfolding is climate chaos”
Recently Trump has decided to cut the size of national parks in Utah to allow for more fossil fuel drilling, more oil will be sucked up at the heavy price of ransacking nature. Crumley’s book is a very timely piece; it is a book full of passion and love for a natural world that is being cut back. Although directly addressing the winter landscapes of Britain, it evokes a universal sense of pride in what one day may no longer be there if the world does not collectively see the error of her ways. In Britain the conservative government is no better with the hapless climate change denier Michael Gove as Secretary of State for Environment- a walking oxymoron if ever I saw one.
Despite the undercurrent of powerful environmentalist arguments, the book does not linger on such ideas. It celebrates nature, what’s left of it anyway, in all its glory rather than focusing on the lament of what has gone. Structurally it takes on the form of a literary collage; it does not follow a straight forward narrative, but instead stick bits and pieces together that evoke so perfectly the feel of winter. There are commentaries, diary entries and other musings. I particularly enjoyed the section Crumply inserted form his novel The Mountain of Light. It depicted a wonderer poet (who did not sound at all different form the author) who appreciated nature and found great solace exploring his art during the winter months. Winter, by its very nature, is not something that can be described in a manner befitting its glory; instead it is entirely necessary to show it through a multitude of lenses and experiences to try and discover exactly what is the nature of winter.
Such ideas remind me of the Romantic literary movement, of a time when writes took inspiration from their surrounding and used them to create poetry that reflected the inner-workings of their soul. Although two hundred years out of time, I do not think Crumley is much different. His purpose is the same; he has just gone about it in a very different way.
I was delighted to learn that he intends to continue this series with one book for each season. Next year when the leaves turn from green to yellow, when the winds of September come calling, I shall pick up Crumley’s earlier book The Nature of Autumn to help me appreciate the changing of the season like this one has over the winter period.
Review originally posted here at Disclaimer Magazine....more
-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with And Other Stories. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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In-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with And Other Stories. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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In this wanton riot of individuality, we hear the story of a struggling author who works in a book shop by day and experiments with hard drugs for artistic inspiration by night.
Michelle Tea writes in a fast edgy style that reflects the nature of her character; it is chatty, modern and slightly eccentric. The protagonist, also named Michelle, lives a life with no stop lights. She works. She parties. She writes. She works. She parties. She writes. The cycle continues until Michelle gets a particularly strong dose of recreational drugs and burns out, alienating those that love her most and attracting the attention of friends that are clearly no good for her. In the vein of Jeanette Winterson, the style is post-modern and very self-reflexive in nature. The book clearly alludes to the author, though how much so is never clearly established or definitively defined. The writing is undeniably honest, holding very little back. There is a strong sense of
Freedom of expression, freedom of self
“Being cast out of society early on made you see civilization for the farce it was, a theater of cruelty you were free to drop out of. Instead of playing along you became a fuckup. It was a political statement and a survival skill.”
Redemptive themes are also within the narrative. Michelle is trying to find herself within the concrete jungle of today. She explores her own sexuality and engages in spare of the moment fantasies, again, at the expense of long standing relationships. She does not let anything restrict her or hold her back, but instead wishes to experience, to touch, taste and to feel what life has to offer all to the supposed betterment of her fiction. She wears no labels and is simply herself in a world that wishes for conformity. Identity labels do not bother her. After originally appearing to be a lesbian, she engages in another random sexual encounter and reveals her pansexual nature. Although this is set in the 90s, this book is a product of a modern queer feminist imagination. Such a character blends well to the modern times, a world that is becoming more accepting of gender identities and finally beginning to understand them.
Michelle is well aware of the effects of her drug use and she wishes to quit and start a new life in Los Angeles before her lifestyle destroys her. Towards the end of the first half she gets her wish and seemingly escapes the life she has been living. But when she arrives she gets a similar job and adapts a similar routine albeit one that is a little slower. Why would she do this? It is human nature, the familiar asserts itself and her dreams for a new self are questionable. The thing is, Michelle addresses these contradictions within her writing and recognises the limitations of her own experience. She’s only human after all. The idea of settling down is misleading, moving location and starting again will not necessarily solve all of our problems: one needs to look deeper for solutions, if they really do want them.
A new start?
“Don’t you ever fucking write about me! Andy hollered, and was gone.”
The second half of the novel pulls into question the truthfulness of the first. The writing feels experimental and it’s very hard to ascertain what is real and what fantasy is. Michelle admits to editing out a major lover out of the narrative for the purpose of confidentiality; thus, it feels fragmented and blurred. What we read is not the story as it happened, but a censored version to protect the real people involved. I should imagine names have been changed, but in part I think this accentuates the drug use. So in a way the book manages to carry this forward regardless of the inconsistencies. Once such a thing becomes such a large part of someone’s life, lines are bound to be blurred and experiences confused.
And the book really reflects this, stylistically and structurally. An end of the world type narrative is eventually revealed to show how unfulfilled sexual fantasies can hang over us. It appears out of nowhere and brings the story to a swift close; though reading back key sections shows how the drug usage was filled with apocalyptic imagery. Michelle also has some rather ironic (yet true) comments to make on authorship and genre writing. She refers to her character as “fringe” rather than “out there” whereas a book about a white male going through the same experience would be considered literary fiction because it would be more daring. The bitterness in the words is palpable and such a truism stands with one of the main motifs of the book: it doesn’t matter what you are: as long as you are yourself.
This would be a great book for a reader who loves long drawn out character studies, books that are introspective and revealing about the nature of self and sexuality in a claustrophobic world. The drug culture setting may be off putting to some, but it is a part of human existence and Michelle tea relays her personal experiences with it here. It’s a very honest book, brave and unflinching in the face of a world that will likely judge....more
-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Salt Publishing. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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Life-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Salt Publishing. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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Life is a tricky thing. What is the purpose of it all? Where are we going? Who am I?
These are three questions that bombard the mind of Gameson’s protagonist, Win, as she has an existential crisis of Buddhist proportions.
She undergoes a death of self, a destruction of her memories and personality in order to attain enlightenment. It is the ultimate form of impermanence, a recognition that the soul does not truly exist. Who she is has nothing to do with her past, but is determined only by her mindset and her level of focus in each and every new moment. She stands aloof from her family and utilises an approach of non-attachment to everyone and everything. And as such the dangers of such a mindset are explored with touches of humour and equal measures of seriousness. Win is unintentionally funny; she is cold and completely unable to understand the experience of others because she is so determined on making her own experience as care free as possible. The possible dangers of an impractical approach to a Zen like mind are relayed. With such an approach to life, it is easy to become very self-involved, often at the expense of others.
Win is open to change and advancement in a world that is not. Her family do not understand her lifestyle choices, of how a girl from the west can dream so strongly of eastern culture. She wants to relocate once more and retain her enlightenment in a place she feels is truly her home. She has no sense of belonging in the west. Her family resist such changes, and cling to a world they wish would remain the same. But the world is always changing. Society and politics are always changing and going in unexpected directions, just look at Brexit and the recent receiver of the American Presidency. Buddhism becomes a tool to heal a damaged mind, a means of making Win feel on the right path in a world that is moving forward or perhaps one that is moving backwards.
An assertive study about grieving for the dead
Bursting through the narrative are frequent suggestions of an unreliable narrator. At first these are subtle and almost unnoticeable, at least, in the beginning of the story. Win seems relatively normal, if a little bit detached from the real world, and as time goes on her sense of reality is clearly questionable. Gameson’s prose is simple and has the ability to easily draw you in. The first-person narration is told with a sense of the everyday, with the monotony of a simple life, though underlining it is something not quite right. A sense of uneasiness, of something not said, about Win’s current position in life. Her family see it though Win does not; she is so focused on being mindful, on carrying out each task with perfection and precision, that she has forgotten something incredibly vital about herself.
The novel takes on the form of a character study, of a woman coming face to face with her demons. She has many and they have been unknowingly repressed for a very long time. Piece by piece, it all begins to unravel as Win is hired for her skills with linguistics. As a translator, she has to use her abilities to make sense of a world that feels alien to her. She is asked to research traditional Chinese funeral techniques in the hope of discovering more about a dead man’s life. Supernatural stories she wrote as a young teen may hold the key, but reading them has the potential to reverse all the progress she has made in her life time. In doing so she becomes reacquainted with her old self, a self before she discovered Buddhism and those three questions began to invade her life with potency.
The floodgates are opened and it becomes clear that Win is displacing many repressed and unresolved emotions onto complete strangers. She is also grieving for someone who is not quite dead. The man is her father, who disappeared many years ago, and now Win is convinced he is selling the “big issue” magazine in her local town. What the reality is, in this situation becomes hard to fathom. It’s told with humour and wry perception. Although by the end of the story the questions are eventually answered, and Win’s family do begin to accept her choices, the crux of the novel remains an assertive study about grieving for the dead: the dead self and the dead loved one. Survival becomes the key.
Salt Publishing took a chance with this book, one that has clearly paid off. Marie Gameson’s debut solo novel is highly successful at questioning the nuances of identity fluidity and reality, of life and death. I recommend to this to those looking for a compelling psychological character study....more
-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Seren Publishing. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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The-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with Seren Publishing. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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The lake is crystal blue, shimmering in the summer sun. It is surrounded by healthy trees on three sides. I sit on the fourth, overlooking the Nene Valley nature park with Basic Nest Architecture in my hand. It is poetry written to be read outdoors. It is a celebration of nature and all that she entails.
Indeed, in the Wordsworthian tradition, the poem ‘Lake Fever’ evokes the importance of nature to humans. It is home; it is a refuge: it is where we are meant to be. For Wordsworth the Lake District was the absolute epitome of this; it was his poetic muse; thus, he spent his life there writing. Atkin has followed suit, working with the Wordsworth trust to complete her PhD studies. At the end of her lake poem the speaker considers falling in to the lake, submerging into the waters and returning to her natural home far away from artificial city life. It is an apt metaphor, one very much aligned with the romantic literary movement. The themes discussed by two hundred year old poetry may sound irrelevant today, but the issues it discussed are more important now than ever. It is refreshing to see new poetry written in a similar vein.
[image] -The Lake District
Like Atkin, the poets of the age argued for a respectful treatment of wildlife and the environment; they argued for a more eco-conscious approach to the world. The natural world is under constant threat as the human population continues to grow; it is cut back and reduced and the real tragedy of this is recognised in the words of the poet as she describes a declining world. However, home has a different meaning to different people and different things. For the bee, it is the petals of a flower ready to pollinate. For the moon, it is the shadow of the sun. And for humans it can be many things both internal and external.
Atkin takes this idea much further. As well as recognising that nature can be a nest, she also recognises that the human mind and body can be just as effective refuges. The book is divided into three parts to reflect this idea. The mind can become a sanctuary when it understands its place in nature, that is coexists with other creatures. The poem ‘Rabbit in Twilight’ offers a synchronised view of human and rabbit, of man and animal. No matter how far human society builds, no matter how far we distance ourselves from nature, she can, and always will creep back in. The rabbit squeezes under the wooden fence at the farmyard. The motor way, a construct of human design, is surrounded by grass verges and the creatures that come with it. Within the words there is a sense of optimism, that nature could never fully leave us despite what we may do it. Anxiety is removed with such acceptance; we go beyond our own experience and learn to understand that there is no solid divide. We are all part of one planet, of a greater eco-system: we are one.
The body, in the third part of the collection, returns to it once again. The themes are reused and reinforced in the poem “The Centre.” This time a physical experience is evoked. The blood of man, his instinct, knows exactly where he must go and how he must proceed. It directs him back to the centre in which he must go alone with no gifts, food, or drink. His presence is enough. Nature provides the rest, as he leaves “The painted world” with “dimensions all wrong, perspectiveless, tasting of nothing.” He leaves the suburban world and returns to the rural as per the Wordsworthian tradition.
[image] -Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818- shows that man can never fully conquer nature.
The poems are varied with a plethora of styles and expression, though in each instance the words are permeated with these ideas of nature. As a collection, the poems combine to deliver these recurring themes with potency. They stress the importance of the environment and what it would mean to lose it and become completely disengaged from it. As incompetent government ministers are given the environmental secretary post here in UK time and time again, as renowned climate change deniers sit in the white house in the USA, the environment is under constant and renewed threat. Michael Grove, the current environmental secretary, even wished to remove climate change from the national education system. We become mentally and physical healthier when we are outdoors, an outdoors that is just on a doorstep if we are willing to look after it and trust the protection of it to reliable and sensible people.
Basic Nest Architecture is a collection that is so relevant today. By borrowing these themes from the past Atkin demonstrates not only how important arguments from the romantic literary era are today but also how essential the natural world is to the human psyche. With her keen senses she celebrates it in all its glory. I highly recommend this to lovers of our planet, our home, our nest. ...more
-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with And Other Stories. The original review was posted here
The Review:
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Aut-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with And Other Stories. The original review was posted here
The Review:
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Authors that write novels about their own personal experience insert a new level of emotion and power into their writing. Juan Laurel immigrated to Spain in protest against the government in Equatorial Guinea. Just like the men in this book, he fled his mother country in search of asylum. His is another story against the backdrop of many who have wished for a better life away from the horrors of corrupt governments.
The novel begins with a group of men gathered around a campfire, and despite their very varied backgrounds and personal beliefs, they share a sense of kinship based upon the idea of immigration, of finally finding refuge in Europe. They are all fleeing from something, something that is haunting their steps. They gather at Mount Gurugu, and gaze at the Spanish enclave that is in the distance: their road to freedom. They tell stories and play football to pass the time, hoping for an opportunity to come their way. The stories are diverse in content; however, they all rest on the theme of escape, of a desire to enter a new land. The truth appears stretched at times and in one case the story sounded more like a moral allegory rather than a man’s personal experience. By doing so Laurel recognises that desperation brings men together: it makes them want to help each other and find freedom.
In the vein of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, Laurel demonstrates the power and individuality associated with the African voice. Pseudo-cultures have formed within their gathering, and each story told at night reflects in the eyes of the listener. They have heard the story before because it is also their story: it is the story of the asylum seeker who has had to escape and is now being thwarted in an unjust world. Despite this though, they have no collective identity and as such often struggle to communicate with each other because they do not all share one unifying language. What Laurel shows is the individuality behind each member of the gathering; they share the same purpose but they have not all come from the same place with the same experience: they each have their own unique voice, and cannot be reduced down to a single label.
One question the men begin to ask themselves is one every immigrant must ask eventually: are they welcome in the new country? The locals around Gurugu treat them rather coldly. Some are kind, but some are completely fed up with what they perceive as a nuisance living on their doorstep. Europeans would be even less friendly by this logic. In this we see a distinctively African perspective on the situation. The aftermath of the European colonisation of Africa in the nineteenth century has allowed such political upheaval to arise, but the European powers are doing nothing to recognise it. By giving the African’s such a perspective here, Laurel touches upon humanitarian themes. His writing suggests that it is time to stand up and help rather than closing the doors.
And such a thing is so relevant today
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In a Europe that allows the first country of contact to front the financial cost of refugees as per the outdate Dublin regulation, in a Europe that is clearly not unified, change needs to happen. These first countries are often the poorest, and simply cannot afford the refugees. They become unwelcoming and frustrated. In actual fact, Europe takes active efforts to prevent refuges form entering, effectively diverting them elsewhere with little thought of the consequences. What Laurel represents he is the need for change, a need for a wider aid effort and relief system. He represents the experience of the refugee who lacks such a thing. It is one thing to discuss the financial cost of immigration, but it is another thing altogether to speak of the real cost: the cost paid most dearly in human life.
Thus, the desperation of the men begins to speak for itself. I found it rather touching that each man secretly wished to get noticed for hid skills at football and as such get signed on to a major team, though the naivety of such a wish is testimony to the urgency of his situation. They want escape but they are penned up at Gurugu, and a tempest of emotional rage, anger and frustration is building up within them. Ever so slowly, and subtly, the tension is built upon as the novel progresses and by the end the dam is ready to burst. Laurel delivers the final push to freedom with dramatic urgency, once again demonstrating the need for change.
As ever the publisher And Other Stories have provided another excellent voice in translation, allowing its readers to understand the experience of others with a bit more clarity. I recommend this book to those interested in postcolonial theory and literature, and especially those who wish to understand the experience of the refugee in a world that refuses to help....more
-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with And Other Stories. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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T-A review copy was sent to me from Disclaimer Magazine in association with And Other Stories. The original review was posted here.
The Review:
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The west often dreams about the east, but this relationship is reciprocated as the orient also dreams of the occident. We all look for a sense of meaning in life, a reason to carry on, and for the little Buddhist monk here the reason is a dream of the west. He wishes to relocate; he believes such a thing will make him happier in life and more content.
A random encounter with a French couple sets him on such a path; however, as Aira shows us so eloquently perception and reality are two separate things altogether. The monk begins to guide the couple to various cultural landmarks that help to define Korea. As the narrative progresses, he realises that their vision of the east is somewhat distorted. It is generalised, completely lacking in individual character and undiscerning in regards to the rest of the orient. The monk is put on his guard; he becomes fiercely defensive of his culture; he even goes as far as to play with language and letters, with the names of things, to represent his country in the best possible way. This novel, though short, is nonetheless powerful with the ability to recognise universal truths. Aira’s playful prose dances around themes of misconception, ignorance and latent racism.
Edward Said writes in his ground breaking book Orientalism (1978) that the west perceive the east in a very reductionist and falsifying way. The occident views the orient as a parent would a child; it is a patronising relationship in which the west assumes their culture is superior, more intelligent and developed. The east is seen as childlike, primitive and simple in comparison. The monk seeks to debunk such assumptions by providing an image of Korea that is rich in diversity and individuality. In a world of globalisation, where all civilisations are supposedly connected, they are drastically unconnected based upon these ignorant misconceptions. The postcolonial themes poor out of the writing as the monk begins to capitalise on the situation, using it as a basis to educate the ignorant western couple.
He takes them to a traditional Korean Buddhist temple rather than the standard tourist traps that most people visit. Napoleon Chirac wishes to photograph the scene, but the monks confuse him with their behaviour. They tease him, disrupting his efforts at trying to capture an essence of their lives through a lens. They engage in distinctively western behaviour; they drink Coca-Cola and listen to western pop music as he attempts to put a label on their existence, a photograph that would define them in an instant and for an eternity. Such a thing comes with a stark realisation for Napoleon: it is better to live in the moment, to experience the now, rather than try to immortalise it on photography paper. Culture cannot be simplified. The essence of Korean Buddhism cannot be represented in its entirety in such a way. Any attempt to do so would be nothing short of insulting.
‘How strange, commented Napoleon Chirac, that a translation should need a translation.”
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Such is seen with the scathing sarcasm the monk directs at Napoleon. Napoleon reads a sign, and the monk mocks him by telling him he can learn the Korean language in just a few hours. The arrogance of the westerner demands chastisement as he stomps into unfamiliar territory and expects to be able to define it in a matter of moments with his camera. The didactical message the monk imparts is one aimed at the heart of such cultural stereotypes, and, incidentally, he also learns his own lesson in the process.
Central to this story is a sense of longing. It does not matter what your geographical location is, the soul will always long for more whether that be the occident or the orient is immaterial. It is how life works, and it is how the mind works, but what the Buddhist monk realises is that true peace comes from within. Contentment, the ability to recognise that such longing is only temporary (a state of impermanence), is the highest of truths. As he attempts to impart some wisdom, a situation only brought about by sheer chance, he begins his own spiritual journey. Although the couple were those in need of the most guidance, his actions make him understand the similar folly he once harboured to the west.
The journey left me considering exactly what is real within life and the importance of trying to find it. The narrative is interposed with themes of Buddhism; they are used extremely effectively to show that longing for the other, for the orient or the occidental, does not necessarily mean the fruition of such a goal will equal happiness. Something higher must be attained. Aira’s novel will undoubtedly be of particular interest to those invested in the Buddhist philosophy and those looking to hear another contemporary postcolonial voice in translation; certainly, a voice not to be ignored....more
Sean Barrs
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Books:
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