I've been watching the round the world threads, and the more I've seen them the more I've felt an urge to pack my books and go.

Now, after a few formalities (a couple of library books to read and return before I go), I think I am ready to leave.

Last year while doing the 888 challenge I found out I liked about everything else about the idea of reading challenge except counting books and time. So, this trip may last as long as it will and I will read an undefined number of books while traveling.

Here are my Rules:

* My journey starts from Helsinki, Finland and it will end here.

* I will read the books as I go. I will not list books read earlier unless I read them again.

* I will travel by land, moving from country to a neighboring country or across the sea to a reasonable place on the other side. (Will have to think about this later, especially in the case of the Oceans, I guess.) (Exception: if there is traveling in the book, I may move along and continue where the book leaves me.)

Example: I'll begin with one Finnish book set in Helsinki, then move on to Sweden with a book where a person (luckily for me) moves from Finland to Sweden, then enjoy a couple more bookfuls of Sweden before moving on to Denmark, Germany and on and on...

* Book's connection to a country may be the setting/contents or the author's nationality, place of residence etc.

* I may make exceptions or change the rules if I get stuck.

Not rules but guidelines or goals:

* One book / country is acceptable, but a couple or a few is better.

* I will try to visit all the continents or at least all of them where books have been or are being written.

Here's the map:


visited 14 states (6.22%) (Create your own visited map of The World)

And here is my route book by book.

Message edited by its author, Dec 7, 2009, 9:06am.

This sounds like a very ambitious challenge. I will be watching with interest.

I so enjoyed your 888 Challenge thread last year -- the types of books you selected and your intriguing comments -- and your intro here promises more! I look forward to following your journey.

Hi eairo, I'm looking forward to following your journey. (I'm laughing at your last rule, "I may make exceptions or change the rules if I get stuck" - I have the same rule for myself!)

Thank you all for your encouraging comments.

I have now taken my first staggering step, finishing today the good bye home book, Pussikaljaromaani, which is a one day novel about three not so young men drinking beer and walking around (a very special part of) the city, talking a lot and trying to play dice. Well, eh, the description of the beer drinking and its effects were so vivid that I feel myself a little dizzy.

Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better and more capable to say something constructive about the book.

Or else I'll just step on board and sail to Sweden.

The day after

The book is actually not just about drinking or trying to drink beer, but about friendship, and it is also an ode to Kallio, the old working class district where the book takes place.

The setting has a special meaning to me too, as I lived there seven years. I loved it then and I still miss it sometimes. The places are really well described, only few street and bar names are actually mentioned but one who knows the area can recognize so many spots, shops, parks and houses. I don't know how appealing that would be to someone who doesn't know.

Another strength (or weakness) of the book is its language. It is very much like something that might be spoken by a group of guys living a life in limbo, with nothing else to do than walk and talk (a have some refreshments once in a while): lots of new but recognizable words, creative misuse of language and just having fun with it. Great at its best but gets a bit tiresome sometimes. And is annoyingly contagious, I realized at some point between pages 150 and 250.

All in all a nice book about friendship and a place I love. A good way to say goodbye to my hometown for a while.

Message edited by its author, Feb 5, 2009, 3:20pm.

I love your travelling challenge and will also be following with great interest. Perhaps since you are in Sweden already, this is irrelevant, but it occurred to me that Lenin travelled frequently between Finland and Russia. So if, following your rules, you had a Lenin book, you could then move on to Russia, and from there easily explore Asia, instead of heading to Europe, which would give you more exotic books. But you could also say, "YOU can do it that way, polutropos, but I will do it my way, which is through Europe". :-)

Russia was a tempting option to the last minute. A couple of weeks ago I found in the library a recent translation of Daniil Kharms stories and Let the right one in by JA Lindqvist at once -- and I have to say Swedish horror sounds more absurd than Russian absurdism :).

Plus I just have books from Sweden, Denmark, France, UK, Spain waiting to be read.

Message edited by its author, Feb 6, 2009, 2:12am.

erkko, I will be following your challenge with interest, too! Happy travels!

I like this approach! I am looking forward to seeing it. Are you going around in an easterly/westerly direction or a northerly/southerly direction?

#9: At the moment I think I'll go through Western Europe to Africa and ... I don't know yet. I'll have to find African books and see where they'll take me.

After that I will probably move to South America and read my way back North.

I moved from Finland to Sweden with "Refugee on a Raspberry Boat" (Vadelmavenepakolainen). (Raspberry boats are Swedish winegums.)

Mikko Virtanen is tired of being a Finnish man, especially he does not want to a typical Finnish man. Tough luck! Being Mikko Virtanen in Finland is approximate equivalent of being Mr John Smith in the English speaking world.

Mikko believes in Sweden. He believes it is a social democratic utopia build by O. Palme et al.: a safe, functional and happy society. And safe once more. He wants to be part of it. He wants to be Swedish, a native barefoot Swedish man. Actually he believes he is one. He was just by some error of the nature born in a small town in Finland. He is like a transsexual but nationalitywise.

That is an interesting and fun premise, I think, the relationship between Sweden and Finland being a mixture of envy and admiration, a schizophrenic combination of superiority-inferiority complex it is.

The story of Mikko's making himself officially what he believes he is, is told in a format of a diary. The tone is satirical to the point that one knows from the beginning that anything can happen. And when that anything happens it does not surprise you anymore.

The book turns into a bit repetitive list of all the prejudices Finns have for the Swedes combined with the ones we think the Swedish have against us. (I don't know whether they do or not.) The author gets something fun out of some of them -- I did laugh from time to time -- not so much from others.

The book is, however, well enough, or lightly enough (even the horrendous bits) written so it was easy to read, no problems there. All in all it was just a little less than what I expected based on what I had heard of the book and even after reading the first thirty-forty pages.

I am sure, however, this was a good introduction to my next one: Let the right one in, which is a Swedish book by a Swedish author, and a horror story I suppose is also a story about how Sweden is no longer the utopia Mikko Virtanen believed in.

Message edited by its author, Feb 9, 2009, 1:06pm.

Wonderful review, thanks.

Reminds me of a line I came across recently:

"I want to return to Newark. The problem is that the Newark I want to return to no longer exists."

:-)

Right, polutropos, :) -- though Mikko Virtanen has a problem even bigger: he wants to return to somewhere he's never been to.

But I got there ok. I took my first steps on the blood-soaked ground of Swedish suburbia of the '80s last night. Let the right one in seems promising, though I have to say it's been ages since I last time read any kind of horror, and even longer since my last meeting with vampires; i.e. I am not a specialist.

Hi, eairo, that's a neat way to do the challenge. I'm looking forward to seeing where all you go.

The first two books seem particularly appropriate since they both seem, in their different ways, to be very much about place/country. The last book made me think about I used to have rather romantic notions about Argentina, where I was born but of which I don't have any memories (excepting the few from visiting).

I heard quite a few good things about Let the right one in over on the horror group (Thingambrarians that go bump in the night), so good luck with the vampires.

"Blackeberg. Everything. These houses, streets you walk on, places, people, it all is just so... like one big damn disease, you see? Something is wrong. This place was designed and everything was built to be... perfect. But in some bloody way everything went all wrong."

And the King opens a new bridge somewhere in his kingdom every week.

Like I said somewhere before, the idea of a Swedish horror story was something so absurd it is irresistible. The image of Sweden is so safe one thinks vampires (etc.) would be bored to death in no time in there. But no. This was a refreshing read, it certainly was something new to me, as a vampire story -- genre little known to me; I know Dracula and I've tried Anne Rice (not liking her effort very much), but that's about it.

There is nothing fancy about the vampire (un)life here. Eli is an outcast who lives in the suburbs in the lousiest of flats, she uses the most miserable human beings to survive, and she has to keep on moving due to her murderous habits and need for blood.

The vampires are killers, as usal. Some of them cannot live with it, and even the ones with life lust stronger than the guilty conscience suffer from it. And they are not any worse than the "normal" human beings.

The usual horror stuff is there too: the gory, graphic violence, disgustingly detailed even splatter-like at times. On the other hand there is not much suspense, no sudden frights. The true horror is the fear of the characters. Their fear facing the unknown, unthinkable and most of all their fear facing the fact that people can do and do frightening things to each other.

Let the right one in covers about three weeks of the life of Oskar, an "almost thirteen" years old guy living with his mother in Blackeberg, a suburb of Stockholm built in the 1950s. The story happens in early the 80s, and if the place ever was something special, that has worn off a long time ago.

Oskar is bullied by his schoolmates. He escapes into violent fantasies where he pays them back; he does thieving at local shops to show himself if no one else he is not totally powerless; and he says he likes reading. Then one night he meets Eli who is pretty, smells funny and only shows up after dark -- weird girl, but she wants to be with Oskar. She is also a 200 years old vampire in a body of a 12 years old child. They find out they have something in common, they become friends and allies. That changes their both's lives. And ends a few.

Message edited by its author, Feb 20, 2009, 5:22am.

Next stop Ystad or Sikalat or The Pig houses.

Where there is light there must shadows too. Not even--probably--the most evenly distributed wellbeing mean an equal share of wellbeing for everyone. Where there is variation there is an extreme.

Sikalat by Susanna Alakoski is a stunning book, a coming of age or survival story told by Leena, a daughter of Finnish immigrants in Sweden. She is six years old in the beginning and thirteen in the end. She grows up during those years in many ways, seeing her parents turn from weekend party drinkers into weeks-without-end-of-drinking drunks who hurt themselves and every one who come near enough.

The narrative evolves while Leena grows, she sees things and becomes more able to tell about them, make connections. There are many great short notions that express the girl's impossible situation very well in just a few words: "I grew old but in a way that don't show in the mirror" or "I became unreal." (After several weeks of her parents' continuous drinking.)

There are many many very convincing and eyes opening descriptions of Leena's horrendous family life; shame, guilt, envy, violence, you name it, it's there.

But still maybe the most heartbreaking thing is the way her hope--for there are periods of relative normalcy in their life--fails after each such period. The bad times always come back. It is like the succession of the seasons. Like a law of nature.

This is adark story--no happy ending really, but there is a glimpse of light for Leena on the last pages, so after all this is not a totally depressing read.

(But still, I am quite happy to move on to Denmark next.)

Message edited by its author, Feb 23, 2009, 2:48pm.

I thought "this is something special" when I first read Smilla's sense of Snow in the early 90s. I guess there were others who thought the same. It was a phenomenon. There was so much talk about it. Everyone who reads read it, didn't they?

I don't actually remember much about the book or its story any longer, but the feeling remains. I've read all the book by Peter Høeg available in Finnish ever since, and I've more or less liked them. But still, apart from some of the short stories, nothing has ever felt quite the same since the Sense.

Here I go again, quite happily. I guess I'd read this one sooner or later, but what makes me especially curious is that Quiet Girl was recommended to me by my colleague, a fellow acoustician with whom I've worked for almost fifteen years, and not once have our reading interests coincided (not that I remember anyway) before.

After reading the first chapter of the book I am really intrigued, I have--hopefully not too--big expectations. The idea of using the concepts of sound and voice, music and acoustics turns me on even though I am quite conscious that the use of the terminology or concepts does not have much to do with the "real world" (ah, how boring) acoustics I am normally dealing with.

And hey, now that I am in Denmark: Kelly, I'll be on the Strandvejen on the page 319. Be there.

Message edited by its author, Feb 24, 2009, 4:51pm.

I'm enjoying watching your path fill in, in the map in Message 1. Nice little geography refresher to be reminded how tiny Denmark is.

I a also enjoying your travels. I was wondering, if you can find time and space in message one, could you (one day) post the chain of connections you have followed as well? It would be great to see how your reads lead you around the world, one by one.

This is probably not exactly what you meant, but I added "my route book by book" to msg 1. Does it work as it is supposed to? (I know it works for me now that I set up my view, but how about the others?)

I hope I haven't written my rules too unclearly to make the rest of you expect too much. That "chain of connections" made me think so. I suppose most of the time I will just read books from one country and next from one its neighbors. If I find books that actually connect countries together that will be extra or secondary way of moving around--but I think that such a rule would be too restrictive.

Depressaholic, detailmuse and anyone visiting the thread:

Feel free to recommend me books from the countries I am visiting or in their vicinity. I have a route from Denmark to Algeria in my mind already, with one or two books for each country, but I don't mind extended stays or little detours if something interesting comes up.

I will surely at some point depressaholic's--and others' as well-- around the world challenge threads as a source for book titles. I am following a few of them even though I have not commented.

Lots of good reads from my part of the world (I'm Swedish).

Vadelmavenepakolainen sounds like something I could read - I hope they translate it into Swedish... :)

I'm currently waiting for my mum to send me a copy of Let the right one in in Swedish. I'm not a huge fan of horror, but everyone talks about that one, so I feel I should read it. "The image of Sweden is so safe one thinks vampires (etc.) would be bored to death in no time in there." LOL! I agree - that's what I thought too when I first heard of it!!

I read Svinalängorna (which is what Sikalat is called in Swedish) and it was interesting, but I just found it too darn depressing. There's a bit of light at the end, but I just wish there was a little more - maybe I'm too much of a sucker for happy endings. :)

My first Høeg read was Tales of the Night (at university) which I loved and I tried to read Smilla's when it was published, but I just couldn't get into it. It was quite a while ago, though, so I think I'm going to give it another try! I'd kinda forgotten about it, so thanks for the reminder.

Where are you going after Algeria? If You're going east and end up in Israel, I'd recommend any of Etgar Keret's collections (he writes flash fiction), Meir Shalev's A Pigeon and A Boy (it has some elements of magic realism, which I know some people abhor, so that's a warning...), or Ron Leshem's Beaufort, which takes place during the Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000, but the story is about the soldiers' experiences and their camaraderie.

I'm starring your thread so I can follow along!! Happy reading!

Message edited by its author, Feb 25, 2009, 1:06pm.

Thanks, bookoholic. Israel is not out of question. I was once planning to cross over to South America from Africa, but a tour of Africa and then the Near East might be interesting as well.

One funny thing I realized a couple of days ago. At least in one respect this is like real traveling. I found a few more interesting Swedish book than those to mentioned above. But Sweden is so close. One can visit it any time. Need to move on. Want something more exotic.

Message edited by its author, Feb 26, 2009, 2:43pm.

#25 I think your idea to travel from border to border is excellent - otherwise it's so easy to get stuck in one country as they all have so many interesting books. Just like when people go on interrail and somehow never make it beyond Amsterdam.... :)

The Quiet Girl by Peter Høeg is like a dream: anything can happen and it makes perfect sense while you are in it. The logic is clear, everything is where it is supposed to be. But when you are out of it, when you put the book away, it is like 'what was that?' 'What was going on?'

I like -- no, I love the idea that the basic element of the universe is not matter but sound. And only quietness is greater than sound.

Kasper Krone is a clown, a swindler and he has "a tax debt that would bankrupt a big casino." And he can hear. He can hear the sounds behind ordinary sounds, the tunes and tone of everything. But the quiet is what he wants to find.

There are a lot of musical metaphors and description of feelings or situations in musical terms and using comparison with great classical music. Especially Bach and his work is often mentioned. (And no such book can be bad.) There are also plenty of great ideas, a lot of food for thought in the book. It is almost like a philosophical work or declaration of world view disguised a novel.

And that is also its weakness. A novel needs a story, and the story in this case is ok but it is not great. A mixture of high action thriller, super hero comic and a romance. And even though the book is well written, meaning it is easy to read and the text flows easily, the story is hard to follow two thirds from the beginning due to sudden time shifts back and forth in Krone's life.

There are a lot of great chapters in The Quiet Girl, they just don't come together perfectly.

Message edited by its author, Mar 9, 2009, 1:31pm.

As an afterthought to the Quiet Girl, maybe it would be a bit too much say this a philosophical work, rather a declaration of worldview.

There are a lot of smart and possibly even deep ideas and notions of the goings of the world. Still, the most lasting effect of the book may be that I found a couple of new to me works by Bach. I got some records while still reading the book and there are more waiting thei turn.

After the Quiet Girl I started Seven Gothic Tales by Karen Blixen (Isak Dinesen). Advance has been slow so far -- though it is not just the book, been busy.

On the other hand, I don't know yet what would I like to read from Germany, so I am in no hurry to get out of Denmark.

Ideas? Recommendations?

Message edited by its author, Mar 9, 2009, 1:33pm.

Hurry out of Denmark and get to WWII Nazi Germany in The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Might even be one to read with your daughter.

Thanks for reminder, detailmuse, that's what I'll do! (Except maybe for the hurrying part.)

My wife read The Book Thief late last year, and she liked it so much I bought it for my niece for Christmas. And by now I'd forgotten I wanted to read it too.

Seven Gothic Tales were stories well told. They were not exactly the kind of material I enjoy the most, but I still think the time spent reading them was time well spent. For, like Carlos McRey (*) has said, "Dinesen certainly has a talent for storytelling, which is featured in the frequent stories within stories. The best use is probably in 'The Dreamers' which has an Englishman in the company of two Arabs on a boat tell the story of his ruination, which then becomes several stories which coincide strangely."

I also and especially liked the story about "The Deluge at Nordenay", its mood and the surprise by the end.

The stories are quietly wise, wise without making a fuss about it, or themselves.

Message edited by its author, Mar 16, 2009, 6:30pm.

I am inspired by your travels. I just may have to start out on my own from Baltimore, with Madison Smartt Bell's Charm City. Haven't decided whether it is N, S, E of W from here yet but I plan to be crossing seas and rivers, climbing mountains, etc to get from "here" to "there", wherever "there" is.

#32: Nice! Feels good to hear someone is inspired by something I do. And the more the merrier. Wouldn't it be great to "meet" another person in some exotic place ... or book -- reading the same book at the same time in very different sequences of books. (Hmmm... I'm not sure I get the idea I was trying to express.)

I am in Germany now, the War is about to begin... started The Book Thief last night.

Sweden never feels like really being abroad (even though it is), Denmark is more like that but it is still a nordic country like Finland. Germany is. A foreign country. Something else. Though it is not really far away.

Message edited by its author, Mar 18, 2009, 6:26pm.

to #34 " A foreign country. Something else, Though it is not really far away"...

that can also just be a place a few miles away - a place so different that it feels like a "foreign country".

Happy travels . . .

re 35: And that is especially true in book. Just turn a page or two and you never know where you'll end up.

Thanks catarina and sorry for my slow response, I've been reading :)

Germany. The Book Thief, thanks again detailmuse, and well, is there anyone out there who does not know what the story is about? Life, Death, books, right and wrong, love and hate of many kinds, Germany, WWII, the other side of it all... I don't know, I just finished it today and I cannot yet say anything very coherent.

The story is Great, the book is "just" very good. I don't know if it was just that I expected even more, but I have to say it took me almost 200 pages to really get into it. The Death as narrator felt like a gimmick. It (she, he?) said a couple of good one-liners & made some good points even before that but it was only later in the book I really thought I got the idea. Did this choice of narrator made the good better? I am not sure. And if it did not, was it a good decision? I don't know.

Message edited by its author, Mar 25, 2009, 12:16pm.

I am well into the next book already--Reader by B Schlink, in some ways not so far from this one--but The Book Thief still haunts me, haunts me like the humans haunt the Death of the book.

What mostly gets back to me is how convincing the story is in so many ways. The child's perspective, the superficial naivety of it, and its broadening by the years when Liesel grows and sees what is happening around. And the idea that one thing can be so horrendous and so beautiful at once: words, which Liesel so much learned to love; words which Führer used to seduce the nation.

The Reader (Der Vorleser, Lukija in Finnish), my second German book was a seemingly small one but it turned out to be heavy inside.

The big thing at the background is the holocaust. I guess this tends to make any book heavy. The Book Thief showed a new angle to the theme, and this is also true in this case. Furthermore the book can be approached from many angles. I have read a few other reviews and comments on it and readers have emphasized so different things: pedophilia, holocaust, illiteracy, guilt, shame, vanity... I have now spent more time trying to find my angle of approach than it took to read the book. The Reader provides the reader plenty of food for thought.

The book is dividen in three parts, three different ages, three different phases of Michael Berg's and Hanna's lives that become wound together. Especially Michael's life spirals around Hanna ever since their first encounter. Many years pass from the first to the second contact and more to the third, but they always come together.

Someone sensitive to SPOILERS may want to skip the rest.

In the beginning, some years after the war Michael who is then 15 years old and Hanna, 36, become acquianted and end up having a relationship (of sexual and read-aloud nature). Their involvement lasts a few months. She disappears.

The reader (one reading the book, not the book) knows from the beginning Hanna has a secret, even though part of her mystery can be explained by the youth of the boy at that time.

Hanna turns up again eight years later when he, a law student, is attending a holocaust trial as a part of a class he is taking at his university. She is being accused of her work as a guard in a work camp during the war. She is both co-operative and arrogant at once in the court--the sense of her strangeness grows stronger.

During the trial Michael--who comes to the court every day and not once a week or so like the other students--realizes that Hanna's secret is not her SS-history but her illiteracy. Michael understands that this secret of hers explains nearly every strange twist in Hanna's behaviour, past and present: why she applied to be a camp guard just when she had been offered a better position in her civil job; why she disappered when they first had met (a better position at work again, making it harder to conceal her illiteracy); why she seemingly sabotages her own defence at the court; and it explains why she always enjoyed his (and others') reading aloud.

Or, should I say this is one possible interpretation. The story is told by Michael, as he sees and remembers it--and he often uses phrases like "I am not sure" or "I don't actually remember"--and is open in many ways.

Michael and Hanna do not speak to each other a single time during the trial section of the book, yet both Michael and the reader get more information about Hanna than in the other parts of the book.

As a result of the trial Hanna is sentenced to life in prison. Michael is not ready to encounter her and she slips out of his sight again but not out of his mind.

Later on (in the part three) Michael starts reading for Hanna again. He makes recordings and sends the tapes to the prison. He does not write letters, he does not visit her, he just reads and sends in the tapes. Only later and only once they meet again after the warden of the prison ask him to come to visit her, and to help her back to civil life--she is to be set free after 18 years.

The holocaust is there, and the guilt of the guilty is there, but even more than that, I think, this is about the ones who came after and their life with and among the guilty, who may be their parents or lovers. What should they do with themselves, their mix of anger and love, their (mis/)understandings, rationalizations and their own guilty conscience. When is it the right time to stop pointing fingers? Or is there such time?

The Reader is a strong book.

Message edited by its author, Apr 2, 2009, 3:32pm.

It took me so long to formulate my messy thoughts about The Reader above that I briefly visited Switzerland while doing that.

I found Lastentarinoita (Children's stories) by Peter Bichsel while looking for one more German book at the local library. The author's name looked promisingly German. Well, he is Swiss, but the stories--short ones and there are only seven of them in the book--seemed to be quite fun so I changed my travel plan. (I was first planning to go to Belgium after Germany.)

These stories are written in a very laconic language, quite often starting with a very simple and matter-of-factly statement like "Earth is round" or "Table is a table"--both titles of stories--, advancing with a child-like (and yet not) logic based their (kids) habit of taking words literally, which more often than not leads to total misunderstanding. They also often reveal the absurdity of the adult life, or at least what it may look like to child's eyes.

Nice, fun and at times touching and thought-provoking. Suitable for children but not only for them despite the title.

(I don't know whether this collection has been translated into English, but looking at the book titles at the author page it seems that at least something similar is available.)

Next day thoughts about Children's stories--maybe these aren't so much stories for children, but stories by children... about the funny big people.

After the brief but refreshing visit to Switzerland I am back to Germany again, and it seems I am going to stay for long: started today My Century (Minun vuosisatani) by Günter Grass.

There are one hundred short stories in the book. One for each year of the 20th century. I think that sounds quite interesting, which is why I picked this one even though it has been said this is not one of the very best of Mr Grass' works.

Message edited by its author, Apr 7, 2009, 1:31pm.

My Century is the history of the 20th century told by Günter Grass. One hundred little stories, one for each year of the century. The point of view is often that of a German individual: the author's relatives, the author himself and various other writers, his and others' fictional characters have their say as well as many many unnamed citizen from very different social classes and backgrounds.

I can understand--though I have only read one other book by Grass--that this is not considered as one his best works. But it is still a good read. This is history through German eyes, but it is still universal and generally human enough to be interesting to anyone. Whatever really important happened during that century is there, and only few times it happened that a story left me cold, not knowing anything about the subject of the story in question.

But, there is a but... Like said by the author's mother (dead by then) in the last 'year' of the book: "...now I should tell you all what it was like in the old days and even before that. And what else would it have been but war, war all over and then again with just a little break in between." It truly was. The first half of the century was like preparation for the big one and then the next thirty or so years were spent trying to recover from it all; trying to figure out what on earth happened and what should we do about it.

After three books--The Book Thief and The Reader befor this one--heavily circling around the WWII and its aftermath I needed something else. (I tried to read stories by Heinrich Böll on the side, but it definately was not something else). To move on or to give Germany another chance?

Well, I chose to read one more German book: Strange News from Another Star, and other stories, which I knew would be something else.

And, to be fair, My Century is not just war. There are stories on fashion, sports, developments of the civil technology: graphone, the radio, the television and about a number of other things.

(And yes, I am quite happy now that I did not try to read Les Bienveillantes as one my German books.)

Message edited by its author, Apr 13, 2009, 4:12pm.

>33 Wouldn't it be great to "meet" another person in some exotic place ... or book -- reading the same book at the same time in very different sequences of books

I love this! You conjure an image of shared physicality vs the usual group-read's shared mentality.

And now to add My Century to my wish list ... and pout that I can't find Peter Bichsel's book in English!

#44: I have yet to experience that kind of meeting with another literary traveler in a book. Closest I have managed to get so far: my route and my favourite reading group's reading and discussion schedule will cross in Belgium and the book Samuraisyleily--I don't know the English title--by Amelie Nothomb.

(Tried to fix the touchstones with no success.)

Message edited by its author, Apr 15, 2009, 9:47am.

Strange news from another star did what I hoped it would do. It was something else after the holocaust and war.

The stories in the book are fairytale-like. That is not bad in itself, but reading the stories now made me wonder how come I have been so impressed by Hesse's work before. The stories were ok, not great and the collection was repetitive.

It has been a long time since I've read anything by Hesse, though, so it is possible I have changed, even evolved. Then I found a review of the collection which stated that these stories were quite unlike his novels. So, I don't know which one of us had changed :)

Message edited by its author, Apr 14, 2009, 4:53pm.

eairo -- I haven't visited your thread for a long time and didn't know what I was missing.... Swedish vampires, Danish musician/philosophers and Grass's century of stories! As a fourth generation Swedish American, I am woefully ignorant of anything Swedish past Ingmar Bergman. I must reacquaint myself with the descendants of my ancestors who stayed in Sweden ....

#47: If you know Bergman there is no need to feel sorry for yourself--he and his work is enough for a lifetime. Though he is not the only good thing coming from Sweden.

Samuraisyleily (Ni d’Ève, ni d’Adam or Tokyo Fiancée) by Amelie Nothomb was my first touch with the author. Her work has been on my tbr-list for a while though I do not exactly remember which titles originally made me interested.

I started with this one because it was picked by my reading circle.

I read the book, finished it today, I barely remember what it was like. I was not impressed.

The story is about about a two years relationship of a young Belgian woman, Amélie, and a Japanese young man and all the possible misunderstandings and cultural collisions that kind of a relationship may raise.

Her observations aren't wery original and she does not develop them anywhere.

But it was an easy read. Not too long. I did not feel like quitting.

I will give Nobhomb another chance. The Stranger Next Door is waiting next to me right now.

The Stranger Next Door was my least favourite of Nothombs works. (I have read four)
Nice to see other Finns around here. =)

Kiitos samoin, hauska tavata.

Which ones are those you like more than Stranger Next Door? I ask for possible later use. I read SND today, and that was enough Nothomb for now.

Hauska tavata sinutkin. (Jotenkin tuntuu hassulta tämä kielten vaihtelu =)

Nöyrin palvelijanne/Stupeur et tremblements/Fear and Trembling is the best IMHO so far.I think it´s also the best known of her books.

I guess you are right about Fear and Trembling being the best known, possibly also about it being best. Samuraisyleily/Tokyo Fiancée is, by the way, kind of prequel/sequel to that, telling what happened to Amélie before and little after.

I think I should've believe what others said, but I started with that book because it is the book of the month at Hesarin Lukupiiri.

Message edited by its author, Apr 17, 2009, 7:55am.

Stranger Next Door was more interesting and more ambitious work than Tokoy Fiancée. So much so that it was actually interesting.

An old married couple, a retired teacher of classics and his beloved wife find their dream home or Home at the countryside. They buy it and they move in and they think they are both lucky and happy. Until their new neighbor makes it his habit to visit them every day at 4 p.m. for a cup of coffee.

Ordinary turns into extreme, personalities turn out to be unstable, identities less than clear, the self unknown. That is interesting. The story is.

Still, there is something in the way Nothomb tells her basically interesting story--cynicism, nastiness, something--that turns me off. I can not say I really liked this one. But it is interesting.

One more thing: is there anyone out there who could explain me the original title "Les Catilinaires". It obviously refers to the protagonist/narrator's background and expertise, but everything I found on the net was in French...

Message edited by its author, Apr 17, 2009, 9:24am.

There were not too many options when trying to find more Belgian books. I did not want Nothomb being my only impression--apart from Hergé--on the country.

Most of the titles I found were books on or set in Belgium or not very interesting looking thrillers and then there was The Sorrow of Belgium. Its nearly thousand pages made me hesitate but I borrowed it anyway, and most the reviews I found here at the LT and on the net elsewhere were positive.

Maybe someone reading looooong books might be interested in sharing this experience?

--> 50

...and I simply *loved* The Stranger Next Door. It's been my Nothomb favorite!! I do love to read books that are a bit bizarre, and that one sure takes the cake!!

#56 That shows yet again how wonderfully different we are here in LT. =)

i hope you enjoy The Sorrow of Belgium as much as I did. you may also want to try another Belgian author, Georges Rodenbach who wrote novels set in Bruges, Bruges-la-morte and Bells of Bruges.

re 58: Yes, I like it -- I can say that even though my advance has been slow so far. This book (well, most of them) would deserve a more concentrated read with less interrupts and breaks. The thing called life get on the way, but I think I can't do much about that.

The Sorrow of Belgium is a big book, large as life (and has nearly a thousand pages).

Book is set in Belgium just before, during and little after the WWII and the story is about and told by (more or less) by Louis Seynaeve who during those years grows up from a ten or so years old boy to a young man. It is all there: life from birth to death; love, sorrow, joy and deceit in between ... and, and, and ... The story goes into so many directions it is hard to describe briefly.

But most of all: it is a very enjoyable read. Deep and broad but not difficult.

Message edited by its author, May 5, 2009, 1:28pm.

A look back: I recently saw The Reader the movie, and it definately is one of the better adaptations I have seen. I cannot say it adds anything really important to the experience after reading the book but neither does it miss anything important. And it reminded me again how substantial the book is. How a complex and thought-provoking story it provides in less than 200 pages.

I think I once read somewhere that the best known symbol of London outside the UK is the map of London Underground. Besides, what I remember being the first thing done when visiting London was to get from where I was to somewhere else. From station to station. By underground

Therefore, what could be a more suitable start to my visit to the UK than 253? A seven and a half minutes ride on the Bakerloo line with 253 other people. Also available here.

Message edited by its author, May 6, 2009, 9:31am.

253 characters, 253 words for each of them (+the titles, ads and footnotes (misleading and untrue)), set in a London Underground train on the 11th January 1995 coming to the end of the line.

Interesting to say the least. And it works. (As a book.)

It is morning. Most of the people are going to work, some of the are going nowhere special. Some of the stories, or characters, are linked into beautiful (or not so) chains by acquaintance/geography/random occurrences/most anything, some of them are "loners". Like in life. Some of them are quite uninteresting, some of them are unbelievably interesting. Or just unbelievable. Like in life. Some of them are just jokes, good or bad, some are heart breakers. Variety, variation,

I am a curious person. I look at other people on the underground (even though the one in my home town is quite pathetic one-liner) or bus, wondering and pondering what is going on in their minds and in their lives. I talk with them if they do. And once in a while even if they don't. So, I guess one could say I belong to the target population for this book. Thanks a lot, detailmuse, for telling me about this one!

This is a book of many ways. The stories in the book are ordered according to the sitting order, which is not, however, the optimal reading order. Following the links (the internet version helps here--I found it easier and more convenient to read near a computer and check the links with it, even though I was reading the printed edition) and going back and forth in the book makes it even more interesting, and there is not only one right order: skip one link or choose one before the other and you've got a different book.

Actually I am not even sure I read all of the 253 "stories"--but I did read quite a few of them more than once, so I think that makes it even and I can say I've read the book--so unordered was my reading. Once or twice I followed a link to a section of the book I thought I had read to find out I had not.

Try it at http://www.ryman-novel.com/

Tree and Leaf by J.R.R. Tolkien includes an essay, On Fairy-Stories, a short story titled Leaf by Niggle and and a poem Mythopoeia.

It was nice to read the essay now as I am reading The Hobbit to my daughter (to be followed by the LOTR). To read Tolkien's thoughts about what fairy-stories could be, should be and what they are not. I found ideas I could agree with, some that made me think (twice) and a few new angles too.

The story of Niggle was ok too. Niggle was a painter who was very carefull with the details but he had a problems finishing anything.

And the poen, Mythopoeia, was like the essay in another form and in brief. The themes and ideas were alike.

Message edited by its author, May 15, 2009, 3:43pm.

oh, serendipity! I rarely (till now) looked at my LT connections/recommendations -- but did recently, at the same time you happened to add 253. I'd started it last year from a library copy but had decided I needed my own copy ... and then forgot about it until I saw you'd added it. It's out of print but I found a used copy in new condition. I'm looking forward to it; love your comment above about navigating through the stories: "skip one link or choose one before the other and you've got a different book". Kudos to Ryman for accomplishing something like that.

Another book you might enjoy if you can find a library copy: The Other Side by Istvan Banyai. A short picture book about looking at things from different perspectives: front/back, up/down, inside/outside, this person/that person.

Glad to be of help.

No library luck with The Other Side. It was also out of stock at my favorite internet bookstore.

But that reminded me of one thing you might like to see: Codex Seraphinianus. This is probably the strangest book I have. It is not a cheap book, and hard to find at times, which of course makes it more exciting.

I think this is where I first learned about it.

Next book but still in Oxford where Tolkien took me. One murder, four witnesses, four truths--An Instance of the Fingerpost.

I am halfway through the first part of the book now and I quite enjoy it. The descriptions of the Old England and of the ways and the practises of the "physicks" & other great men of science are both hilarious and horrendous.

Message edited by its author, May 20, 2009, 5:04pm.

The first part of An Instance of the Fingerpost was narrated by an Italian student of medicine, an obedient son of a merchant and a young gentleman of the first class. There is no need or reason imaginable for him to lie on the case of Sarah Blundy or the murder she obviously committed.

But he, like many others, sees what he wants to see, he makes hasty conclusions and he may also remember wrongly.

I am really curious to see what the next (three) part(s) will reveal.

But still, I think I will read something short something else before I go into the next report of the same case.

I decided something else now means short stories by Roald Dahl. This collection titled Nahka ja muita novelleja (Skin and other stories---this Finnish edition if different from the U.S. edition of the same name) contains ten stories from Kiss kiss and Someone Like You. Dark dark humor.

Message edited by its author, May 24, 2009, 2:45pm.

For some reason or the other I had never read anything else by R. Dahl than his stories for children. Now that I have I can only wonder why. I liked the stories a lot, especially "The Sound Machine", "Genesis and Catastrophe", "The Wish" and ... actually I liked most of them.

Most of the stories were of the kind that makes you laugh a little nervous and unsure laugh and wonder if you're all right laughing to these things. A couple of them, on the other hand, get under your skin and and make you ooooh. No laughter.

The only problem I had was that the stories were quite similar: a quite every-dayish setting and then a twist that turns everything out of the ordinary. I might appreciate these stories more if I had read them in slower pace and not one story after another in three sittings.

The second take on the case of Mr. Grove (An Instance of The Fingerpost) was quite a different story.

The narrator this time is a young empoverished gentleman, Jack Prescott, whose father seemingly was the biggest traitor of the cause of the king during and shortly after the English Civil War. The son cannot, however, believe it and he is determined to remove the stain from his father's name and his own as well.

About the first thing he tells us is that the murderer was not the one named in the first part of the book--yes, this section is a commentary on the former. Then he names his own canditate, and then tells his own version (he was mentioned a couple of times in the history by Mr da Cola, the author of the first section) of the events.

People see what they want to see and even after seeing they most often believe what they already believed. That has become clear by now, as is that there is more to the case than it first seemed. One may even start to wonder who is this da Cola anyway, and why did he forget those things out of his story that he did... or is it Prescott who is not telling everything straight...

"Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens" sung the Talking Heads once. Hell, on the other hand, seems to be a place where anything can happen, and happens, and again---at least according to The Third Policeman.

I had expectations when I started the book. Based on what I had heard I thought this were to be a book I would really like. I liked it but the expectations were not fulfilled. Maybe the time was not right.

Two men commit a murder and robbery, for which they have different reasons. They hid the money and then spend three miseralbe years together waiting for the things to settle, says jyugthe one who knows the hiding place of the loot.

When they go to get their treasure something goes wrong and the hell begins.

The inhabitants of hell are friendly folks. The two policemen (and the rest of the lot) are obsessed with bicycles and they have some extraordinary ideas (like peculiar atom theories) and hobbies (like building a series of cascets where the next one always fits inside the previous, ad infinitum). And they know where the Eternity is, and they are ready and willing to take the narrator there.

So far so good. I like bicycles. I like funny theories and I think I have a reasonably good tolerance for nonsense. But, still, I think that this book was really enjoyable just here and there: the cascets building section, some of the de Selby stuff, and the description of the Eternity, and the end, were great. In between the good parts I felt a bit like drinking a soda gone flat.

(Maybe I just don't know enough of Irishness to appreciate the satire related to that, among other things.)

After Ireland I quickly returned to Oxford. The third section of the Instance of the Fingerpost begins intriguingly. It is once more a commentary on the former sections, denouncing with harsh words especially the first testimony by Mr. da Cola.

My stay in Oxford and London has been longer than I expected. Must be the roads of the 17th century England, full of dangers, full of delays.

The third telling of the murder of Grove takes us deeper into the shady side of the politics and the court life and the paranoia within, even though the narrator is not an actual participant in either but rather an informed observer.

Dr. Wallis is a mathematician and especially a cryptographer whose services were used by both sides of strifle. Whoever was in power was equally worthy in Wallis' eyes for it was order he valued, order and stability in the country.

So, he got a lot of information from the both sides. And he claims that one of the two previous narratos was a liar and the other delusional.

And he himself was blinded by his hate---for this matter became personal to him at one point. He, like the others, had his own truth, which in some respects was close to the actual truth, and could not have been farther away from it elsewhere.

It was fun to read the Wallis' account. It became more and more evident that the earlier two were not the whole truth, and even more obvious at the same time, that this definately isn't.

I think I'll skip the in-between-parts-book now and read the fourth part right away.

Message edited by its author, Jun 14, 2009, 3:55pm.

Finally finished the Instance of The Fingerpost last night.

It left me a bit unsure. Basically everything was neatly wrapped up---maybe even too much so. And then again it wasn't. That's fine with me.

What we got? Four narratives, four murderers and four views of what the murder was about. Stories about truth, or what it is that we call the truth. History made alive, interesting characters, shocking events, life, love and death. A fine book.

re >66
Oh yes. Anything connected to McSweeney’s is guaranteed wild, clever, original, mind-bending.

Also, thought of you and the connections within your chosen reads when I saw the 6 Degrees of Separation challenge.

It happens to me sometimes that when I go shopping for the daily groceries, somewhere between the bread and butter I realize "this is not what I want today---not this but something special." Not knowing exactly what that special good should be easily leads to quite random collection of what I think is Good.

If and when the indecision goes on at home when it is time to prepare the Special Meal (hungry already, not at my best at all), the easy way is to put it all together, hoping for the best. The result usually isn't the best. The good stuff is still good, but the result is less than the sum of its ingredients. And you know that all the way.

The Algebraist by Iain M Banks is that meal. There are lots of good things in it. I really admire his imagination, his ability to create societies, cultures and lifeforms, and story (of a search for a secret network of wormholes, the fastest way to move about in between solar systems and galaxies in a universe where hyper space has not been invented) isn't bad either, some of the twists are clever, some feel cheap, and the best are such that you can not decide which one it is.

But I often thought there was a bit too much of everything. There were loose ends, character development that did not develop and a few tedioud descriptions of this or that dwellers of one or other planet. And it all adds up to zero...

The translation was ridden with stupid errors, but I don't blame Mr Banks for that.

The Algebraist finished my stay in the UK---there are a lot of books I should and I'd want to read related to UK but I also feel like moving on.

To France, or something like that: my first French book is actually a Finnish novel, Kadonnut Pariisi, The Vanished Paris.

What if Paris wasn't? What if all the literature, art, streets, cafés, buildings, postcard made in, situatued in and sent from Paris were just a cheat? (Not to mention all the people who thought they were living in Paris...) Plenty of (cultural) history rewritten, I guess. I'll see.

re #76: Thanks for the link to 6 degrees... I am tempted, not signed in yet but I probably will. I think I'll make it some sort of detour to this around the world challenge; that the first and last book should be same for both challenges or something.

Before I forget: Kadonnut Pariisi, which could be translated Paris Lost, was a very nice appetizer for Paris (France): rich with ideas, easy to read and funny in many places.

Not only a "what if" (Paris were lost) but still, maybe, at times, a bit too much of it.

What was good was that not one of the theories for the disappearance of Paris was proven but they were left open. The main characters were likeable but none of them came very close, which is a bit of a problem as I think this was more about the people looking for the lost city, not about actually finding it. And yet there was a little too much about the search and the theories related to the occurence---just a little bit though. Like the book was not sure of its identity.

But the basic idea is great. Paris is an iconic city. This would really be a different world if it did not exist, and more so if it just disappeared one day.

Life A User's Manual is, despite or maybe because of its name, a playful, funny and mostly easy to read big book. So far, at least---I have read about half of it now.

Message edited by its author, Jul 11, 2009, 4:41am.

I was expecting something interesting when I started Life A User's Manual. Beyond that, I was not sure. The book has been labeled 'experimental' and 'a masterwork'. Either one of the attributes alone could mean anything from a finest experience to difficult to frustrating to disappointing.

Life AUM is a network of stories. Its sub-subtitle Novels describes the book well. This 'novels' is divided into 99 chapters, the appendix titled Some stories told in this book names more than a hundred of them; some of the stories are mere anecdotes told in a few sentences and some of them last the book's whole length. This network covers most of the world and several hundred years of history. Everything comes together at 11 Simon-Grubellier Street (an imaginary address) in Paris.

Every chapter begins in one of the rooms (or stairways or storage cabins) of the house but the lives and the histories of the characters or things encountered spread all over the world, or into a painting or a book: there are a few very detailed descriptions of pictures or stories about them, a couple of synopses of other novels, probably fictional, at least one of them written by one of the characters of this book, and some scientific articles and books.

You get the picture? A puzzle. A jigsaw puzzle to be exact. The foreword talks about jigsaw puzzles, jigsaw puzzles have a significant part in one of the longer stories in the book, and the whole structure of the book can been seen as a jigsaw puzzle. There are textual games and references, wordplay, language games and probably a lot more that I didn't recognize or realize. For example, characters have been hunting bears somewhere near Macondo, and the text of the foreword is repeated later in book but in a different context giving the reader a whole new range of possible interpretations.

The lists. There are lots of lists. Short lists and long list. Lists of things in the rooms now (for there is a now in the book), lists of things found in the staircases of the building through its history, things stored in the basement and lists of words as in a dictionary---which reminds me of one my favourite characters (though a minor one) in the book: Cinoc, whose name one one could pronounce, is a word-killer. He works for a publisher of dictionaries and his job is to find words that are not used any more and to be removed from the dictionaries in due time. He boasts he has killed thousands of words during his career--- to realize these forgotten words became dear to him. He is now editing his own private dictionary of lost words.

These lists are a bit tedious at times, exaggeration of the realism, or whatever they represent, and I skipped a few items on the list of hardware manufacturer's catalogue, I must confess. But I read the rest of them and in a strange way they began to feel meaningful at some point, the amount of detail provided a special sense of presence.

Masterwork? Yes, that can be said. Experimental? Surely. Not in a difficult but rather in a reader-friendly way; definately not frustrating, maybe a bit demanding on the reader's memory, the stories and character---and they are many---appearances are scattered all over the 550 pages of the book; a fine reading experience, book full of Life.

Book started: Century Rain by Alastair Reynolds. Still in Paris, though the connection is, again, sort of thin.

The first chapter was like something that might have been Paris some decades ago, but in the second one the story jumped to a so far undefined moment in future where researchers come to Paris from something called Tanglewood which is hanging somewhere above the earth. They come to recover artifacts of the past when people actually lived in Paris.

I am curious to see where this one takes me.

I picked this up because Mr Reynolds recently visited here (Helsinki), and because a friend recommended the book to me knowing I am in Paris.

Message edited by its author, Jul 21, 2009, 1:01pm.

Century Rain was my first touch with Mr Reynolds. I guess I'll give him another chance, though I was not convinced this time.

The setting of the book was great: year 1959 on Earth, there had not been the WWII, the German had failed, France and the rest of the Europe had not been invaded and occupied, the technology had not developed much since the thirties. However, something was going on in Paris, France, something strange; on the other thread of the book the 23rd century (my mistake above) Earth is dead, people live in the Near Earth space, divided into Slashers and Threshers who have a very different view on the advanced technology and its use(fulness). These separate times meet, though it is not about time travel---more imaginative than that, I must say.

That is what was fine, and everything derived from here was cool.

But most of what is related to the characters is not that great. They are annoyingly simple and shallow, the dialogue was ridden with way too many smart one-liners and explanatory techno babble, not to mention the 'romance' bit... Shallow characters are not an exceptional problem in this genre (space opera) but the author makes the reader spend so much time with the characters and their relations it becomes a problem here. Had he stuck with what he's good at, this would be a fine book---now it is just ok. But I've heard this is not one of his best.

I'm a bit late to add my bit to the Nothomb conversation. Having read several of her books which strike me as fiction-lite, I will say I found her childhood memoir The Character of Rain lovely.

I am heading south and to other books but otherwise it is never too late, or not yet, at least; the books are still there for anyone to read.

And thanks for the tip anyway. I wasn't able to decide whether Nothomb is exceptional or exceptionally annoying, so I guess I'll have to return to her one day.

Moving on. For some time I was feeling like a change of scenery, and country, and a bit guilty at once that only one of my French books was actually French.

Solution: Man's Hope, a book on Spain by a French author.

Man's hope was my transition from France to Spain. The road was long and rough, I almost lost my hope with this one ... revolution, rebellion, revolt, counter this and that; unions, parties, syndicates; communists, anarchists, falangistas, recruits, mercenaries, volunteers ... confusing.

I did not find a story in the book but lots of little ones. They were, of course, tied together by the subject matter and the setting, but they still did not come together.

This was more an interesting book than a good book. I guess that is why I actually finished it. There is nothing wrong with the writing. Reading was easy but it was also easy to put the book away. There were exceptions: the fight over Madrid was more than just interesting, and some other shorter sections after that were gripping too.

Another extra interesting point is that this book has been first published in 1937. It ends in March 1937 (starting about eight months before), so it has been written in the middle of the fights it tells about, or at least very quickly after, while the war was still on.

And what strikes me is that the ending is hopeful, and knowing now what happened afterwards, that is nearly tragical, sorrowful at least.

Message edited by its author, Aug 13, 2009, 2:43am.

I didn't think much of Century Rain either. I enjoyed Reynold's Revelation Space and Redemption Ark much more. The stories are much more complex.

That's what I've been told elsewhere too. I think I'll get back to Reynolds when I'll next time want a break from my world tour. Or the time after the next time, at least ... (Just remembered I have another challenge going on too.)

In The Soldiers of Salamis by Javier Cercas an unsuccessful writer Javier Cercas is writing a book titled Soldiers of Salamis, which is not about the battle of Salamis but about an incident that happened a long time ago during last few weeks of the Spanish Civil War.

One of the main ideologists of the Falange (the Spanish fascist party later hijacked by Franco), Rafael Sánches Mazas -- "a good but not great author" says Cercas, by the way --, manages to escape the firing squad and hides in the forest. He is found but the militia man who finds him lets him go -- they look into each other's eyes, and the soldier turns away.

Sánches Mazas tells this story over and over, and his son years later tells it to Cercas (the author in the book, who may or not be the author of the book) who becomes intrigued: what happened? Why? And could this story be the one that saves his literary career?

Cercas starts working on the story, he finds people who were there, he finds more stories, some answers and many questions. Or that's what I found. (I think I'll have to reread this.)

This was my second Cercas book after The Speed of Light (which is a later work). Cercas has an interesting style, he writes long long sentences and very very long paragraphs, not to mention his chapters, there are only three in this book. While I'd say the Soldiers of Salamis is in some ways a better or more interesting book, the author's mastery of style has improved since, for The Speed of Light is easier to read. Now I had to reread a few complex sentences and I was often lost, which did not happen with the Speed of Light.

Roberto Bolaño visits this book, Rafael Sánches Mazas was a real person and I guess Javier Cercas is too. This is interesting, but what is it?

Message edited by its author, Aug 19, 2009, 3:27am.

I just read another review on The Soldiers of Salamis which points out a funny thing I missed:the search for the missing person in the end is so exciting that one waits for the final outcome more than the one of most detective stories, even though now we are looking for the man that did not kill.

One more book in Spain started: The Shadow of the Wind.

I'm not sure whether I was a bit suspicious about this book or afraid of expecting too much from it but at least now after 50 first pages it is clear that the author is a great storyteller.

The Shadow of the Wind is a rollercoaster of a book, one with more speedy downhills than uphills (where do one end up with such a ride?). I am a slow reader but more than once did I realise I had read 60 70 pages in a breeze.

The story is very good, there is mystery, there is love---for books, always a plus, I guess as well as romantic---, colorful characters; all you need for a good fun interesting read, that is. It is well enough written, easy and enjoyable.

Still, it is just a very good book, not a great one.

I never thought I'd write this: the action was good but the slow parts were too much too slow. I started to think while there wasn't happening so much: why does everything turn out so neat? Why does everyone trust Daniel so easily? He's nice but not that nice.

The 450 or so pages built the mystery very well but the following explanatory part was too thorough. No stone was left unturned, no sense of mystery was left at the end.

I'll probably read The Angel's Game some time, but not right now. Enough is enough.

Decided to visit Portugal now though I have plans for one or two more books of Spain.

The Dedalus Book of Portuguese Fantasy is a reader of seventeen stories by fourteen authors. The first one I read tonight did not take my breath away but I hope things will get better.

In #24 bookoholic13 wrote: "Vadelmavenepakolainen sounds like something I could read - I hope they translate it into Swedish..."

Your wish has been granted. See here

Message edited by its author, Sep 1, 2009, 4:46am.

#96

Hallonbåtsflyktingen?!?! That's the best title ever! I love Finnish compound words! I'll be going to Sweden in October and this is definitely on the to-buy-list! Thanks for the heads-up!!!

So what do the titles mean in English? Will it ever be translated thataway?

#98

It means Theraspberryboatrefugee. I'm stringing the words together, because in both Finnish and Swedish you can make these fantastic compound words that just make my heart leap with happiness!

/geekiness

Any connections to lingonberries?? If so, I'll come aboard as a refugee too.

re #100: No, different berries.

But raspberries are even sweeter... and the boat we're talking about are the red things on the book cover here.

Sorry to say but an English translation is not very likely.

#101

The cover is fab! But now I'm craving hallonbåtar... :( I think they have them at IKEA here, but I'm not sure. I don't normally like them, even! :)

#98

I'm with eairo in guessing no English translation forthcoming - I think you have to be Finnish or Swedish to "get" the Finland-Sweden who-belongs-where issue...

The Dedalus book of Portuguese Fantasy is an anthology of 17 stories by 14 authors from 19th to 20th century. Despite the title the stories actually range from pure fantasy to absurd to folkish ghost stories to sort of horror.

Could not finish one, enjoyed four or five, worked through the rest.

Mostly it was the more recent material that I actually liked; the ones worthy a special mention were The Turtle by José de Almada Negreiros, Our Lord of All Seafarers by José Maria Ferreira de Castro and the four stories by Domingos Monteiro and Mário-Henrique Leiria.

Message edited by its author, Sep 8, 2009, 6:14am.

bookoholic13 -
what a hallonbatar? I've tried googling it and only found that it is either a Swedish rock group or some type of candy.

#104

LOL! It's a type of jelly candy (the band is named after the candy). If you have an IKEA around where you live, they should carry them. They're pictured in the link in eairo's message (#101).

#104&105: Oh mine, what kind of a rock band names itself after a candiy? Soft, whimpering jelly candy of all... :)

Just finished Declares Pereira (Sostiene Pereira)---I was impressed how such a little, quiet and understated book can be so strong.

It is 1938, the civil war in Spain is raging, news from Germany are worrying and Portugal is going the same way.

Pereira is an aging Portuguese journalist, working as a sole editor of the cultural section of a "little but respectable" afternoon paper in Lisbon. A man who has lost his wife, who is lost in nostalgia and lost in the world going mad around him. He is gaining weight and his heart is not well.

Pereira over-indugles his sorrow, he eats a bit too much and drinks way too many sweet lemon juices. He would like things remain the same, or rather he'd like things be like they were when he was young (and not so overweight).

But the world changes and not in a good way in Pereiras opinion, and the world won't leave him in peace, for whatever Pereira wants he still lives in this world. All the way he fights an internal fight between his wanting to remain unnoticed and as is and his urge to do the right thing.

In the end he does the right thing, for better or for worse, but he becomes alive again.

The book is narrated in a very interesting double third person way. There clearly is an outside narrator but he quite often adds the words "Pereira declares" or "declares Pereira" so the reader cannot for a moment forget that this is some sort of retelling of a story or a story based on documents, like police interview reports, might one think considering the way of the world back then... but that is not stated and that is not the only possible option.

There is not much action, and the way Pereira is he cannot provide much of that: he's fat, he does not want do anything, he does not want anything to happen. No, there are conversations, thinking, Pereiras slow paced goings and comings---often to and from his favorite café where he eats omelettes and hears the news of the world from the waiter, because "the newspapers don't tell you anything real anymore"---and more conversations with Pereira's friends, boss, the concierge (possibly a police informer), doctors, and quite often with the portrait of his late wife.

Pereira's declarations provide a rich and deep image of a lost man finding himself in the middle of 1930s madness in Portugal, Europe and the World.

(edit: typos)

Message edited by its author, Sep 10, 2009, 9:34am.

Book started: All the Names. Still in Portugal, though moving from the humble editing office to the central population register.

Message edited by its author, Sep 10, 2009, 3:23am.

I enjoyed your review of Pereira Declares: A Testimony. I'll add this to my wish list.

re 109: Thanks to you for visiting my thead: I found several of your reviews enjoyable and quite a few of the books you had reviewed interesting.

You're welcome! I follow your thread pretty closely, and have enjoyed your reviews, but hadn't commented on them previously.

After finishing All the Names I had to check what others have said about it ... I wasn't sure what to think or say. Most of the reviews were on the short side (but positive), so I guess I am not alone.

I could of course write a summary of the story where a next-to-nobody clerk at the Central Registry becomes obsessed with finding an unknown woman whose information card comes to his hands accidentally. He meets obstacles and gets past them. More obstacles, bigger, more absurd and stranger arise, and... but what was this about? Life? Identity? Order vs. chaos, or that they're about the same? And a few conversations with a plaster ceiling...

I liked reading the book, I enjoyed its company. Saramago is a masterful writer---and easy to read despite his quite original punctuation---there are lots of great sections and lines all over the book, as well as hilarious ideas and plenty of material for deep thought.

Somehow, still, I feel no great urge read more Saramago right now. Later.

Good bye Portugal. Back to Spain, my next stop will be the Bay of Arráez where I'll meet The Painter of Battles.

Message edited by its author, Sep 18, 2009, 4:04am.

The Painter of Battles is Faulques, a veteran war photographer who had spent thirty years on the wastelands of humanity all over the world. He has now put the camera away and paints instead. He has isolated himself to a tower near a little village by the Mediterranean where he paints a mural around the inside of the round tower. It is to be the picture he never managed (or never could have) to photograph.

One day one of Faulques' past works comes alive: a soldier from one of his award winning pictures visits the tower. The man, Ivo Markovic, tells the Painter that the photograph that had made him famous also had turned his life into hell. He also says that he has come to kill Faulques.

Markovic does not, however, want to finish his work straight away. He wants to talk, he wants to learn and understand. And he wants Faulques to learn and understand.

And they sure talk, they talk about the mural, about photography and photographs, art, life and deaths, causes and effects, and what they were and what they are, and about the last picture Faulques took during the Balkans' war.

Beside the converstations there are a few sections that are Faulques' memories of his career.

In the end all three things converge: Faulques' memories, the conversations with Markovic and the painting.

"...I don't know if it is good, but it sure makes one think", says Markovic about the mural the Painter of Battles is working on. Same could be said about the book, though it is good. Maybe not a masterwork, but good.

I could point out a few shortcomings in the book if I wanted to make a point being critical. But I don't feel like that now. Find them out yourself. Read the book, I think it makes good to anyone who has even once seen a war photograph. Or any journalistic photograph for that matter.

I don't know if Faulques is based on any real-life photographer, but there are lots of real painters and paintings mentioned that Faulques had used as his learning material and models. I didn't check the all but all that I decided to look up could be found on the net. Seeing them was rewarding in itself---I don't know art history very well so they were mostly new to me---but also helped me to "see" the Faulques' mural more clearly. It enhanced my reading experience, they made a point.

I mostly talked about the food-for-thought -point of view above, but don't let that make you think The Painter of Battles is just that. It is a well enough written and constucted story to be enjoyed that way too, just reading it.

Message edited by its author, Sep 23, 2009, 8:10am.

Izas, rabizas y colipoterras : drama con acompañamiento de cachondeo y dolor de corazón is a small book with text by Camilo José Cela and photographs by Juan Colom. I will not review it or rate this one --- my Spanish being rusty as it is I really can't say I understood too much of the text. It was, however, fun to read something in this way, enjoying the words and the rhythm of the language ... and the photos.

Seems I almost have little treasure at hand: http://www.photoeye.com/auctions/Auction.... I have different, newer, edition of the book though.

I like it here in Spain, so I'll delay my departure, "Partir", to Africa a few days. I have more Cela and El sur seguido de Bene (in Finnish though), a book of two novellas by Adelaida García Morales already waiting their turn.

Message edited by its author, Sep 25, 2009, 5:37am.

The South and Bene are two short stories by Adelaida García Morales---not as in short stories, but short in page count---where the narrator, now a grown-up woman, looks back to her childhood in a dysfunctional family. The tone is conversational, in The South the narrator's father is addressed and in Bene her brother, both long dead.

In The South the girl's life circles around the father to whom she adores and who is close and distant at once, her only ally in the family but still someone with a life and secrets of his own. And his own death -- which he finally chooses and which terminally separates the girl from everything that she once held meaningful. South is where the father was from, South is where the girl looks to to find answers she was never given at home.

Bene is the name of a servant that comes to work for the family, or the what's left of it: the mother is already dead and the father is mostly away; the siblings, the narrator and her brother Santiago, are being brought up by aunts and servants. Bene seems to have a past, and everyone seems to think different things of what that past is what it means. The child hears things but she probably doesn't hear all, and at least she can't understand what the adults are talking about. But she understands she's not being told everything. The brother is older and he is already moving from childhood to the adults' world, and again the child is left alone. Of these pieces she makes up her own story of what's going on with Bene and the family.

The stories are emotionally strong and well written, though I have to admit that at times the same thing happened to me that sometimes happens when reading old stories: the charaters' mindset and sensibilities are so different than mine and their reactions to things is so different from what I think would be 'normal' that I can't relate. Sometimes that means I'm left cold, like studying an alien species --- sometimes it makes me interested. This time it was, more the latter than the former, though.

Victor Erice has directed a film based on The South (El Sur) which is also well worth seeing, one of the really good book to film adaptations, even though it actually uses only about two thirds of the story.

Message edited by its author, Sep 28, 2009, 2:17am.

This is like an adult version of A Series of Unfortunate Events -- in good and in bad -- was what I was often thinking while reading The Family of Pascual Duarte.

I read the first half of the book intensively, my curiousity kept me going on: what kind of maladies will Pascual encounter (or draw over himself) next, and then, and...

The other half was a bit repetitive but still well enough written to finish easily.

Had a quick reunion with Bene of El sur seguido de Bene, "talking" Spanish this time. Enjoyable.

I just now realised it may be more fun reading a book in a language-not-so-very-well-mastered using a translation as a helper rather than a dictionary.

Started my last book for Spain: The Beehive; spending lazy afternoons with the regulars at Café doña Rosa, people who believe that what will happen will happen, and there is no point doing anything to change anything.

The Beehive sounds like my kind of place. Too bad you are leaving Spain so soon. Nada by Carmen Laforet is excellent.

"So soon"? I've been staying here for nine books, liking it all the way, I admit, but still, Africa is waiting...

On the other hand, Nada seems to be easily available at the city library, only a few mouse clicks away, ahhhhhh, this is difficult.

Madrid is The Hive is Madrid, full of buzz and fuss, life in all its forms and ways. People use each other, they are used, they love, they are alone, they get hurt and yet they survive.

Cela doesn't just tell a story, he more like weaves stories together that form this novel. There is no plot, it is more like a view through a window -- you see something but you know that is not all there is. These people walk past your window, some of them do it every day and some of them you see only once.

The novel is made of fragments of a few paragraphs or two or three pages at most. The stories advance a bit and then you'll be taken to another thread, to someone else's life. There are a lot of characters, and they are often referred with different names: first name, whole name, don or doña this or that, or some diminutive form of their names -- I wasn't always quite sure with whom I was. This was, however, the only problem for me. All other thing mentioned before: the fragments, no plot etc were not negatives.

Cela is a good writer. Reading was easy and enjoyable even when I was a little lost. And his characters are real, even though we don't get to know them really well. But that is how life is in a big city.

Well, The Hive was, in my plan, supposed to be the last one for Spain before Africa. But, it--and I don't know exactly what--just happened ... I walked out of library with both Nada and Sefarad.

Finished Nada last night and started Sepharad, my second last book for Spain.

Nada is still on my mind ... working on some comments.

Nada seems to be a modern, though somewhat local, classic in Spain. The front cover has a blurb by Carlos Ruis Zafón and there is a foreword by Mario Vargas Llosa, praising the book, naming it the Spanish equivalent to The Catcher in the Rye.

Andrea comes to Barcelona by train, no one is there for her for she is late. She takes a cab for her relatives' place where she is going to live. The city looks exciting, mysterious, inviting and free to a country girl.

All is well for about a half a page, until she comes to her new home, a wasted apartment in a house that has seen better days (many many years ago), inhabited by a family of Munsters without comedy or humor: two abusive uncles and a not much better aunt, a nasty servant, half-crazy grand mother (nice, though) and Gloria, wife of one of the uncles and their baby boy.

The book covers a year of Andrea's life, most of it not so happy times because of the above, and her poverty and hunger. But there are good days and things too. She finds friends, she finds the Barcelona inviting, exciting and mysterious too. And she survives.

This was and wasn't a book for me: Barcelona was great, Andrea's hunger and hysteria were very well and lively present in the story. But at times the drama was too close to melodrama and the turbulences were a few too many to my tastes.

This was obviously a young author's work in both good and in bad.

Another thing about Nada that may be one of the reasons I did not enjoy it as much as others seem to have: it was an English translation, and I usually avoid reading translations other than Finnish. I think I read English ok, and I have no reason to think that Finnish translators do better job than others, but it is different to read a translation in a language of my own than in some other languaga compared to something originally written in that other languag -- there are more layers of "translation" in the latter case, the second, not so professional, happening in my head. In case of Nada, for example, if read in Finnish, I would not need to think about these things and I'd have more time just enjoying the book.

Alas. eario says nada to Nada.

Well, others have said that "there was nada after Nada" ... had to come up with something else.

All is nada.

I've been a lurker for a while but had to pipe up at the mention of Nada. I had to read that in a Spanish lit class and didn't enjoy it at all. I can't even tell you what it's about anymore. In fact, reading your blurb, it was like I was reading about a whole other book.

I've also read El sur seguido de Bene from that same class and although it was much more enjoyable I can't remember what its about either. Goodness.

Message edited by its author, Oct 20, 2009, 3:48pm.

54 -
"One more thing: is there anyone out there who could explain me the original title "Les Catilinaires". It obviously refers to the protagonist/narrator's background and expertise, but everything I found on the net was in French..."

A catilinaire is a type of hate speech; basically a strong, abrasive speech in the direction of another person.

Obviously post 54 is from a while ago but I hope that answers your question. :)

#130: Thanks, that was the only answer I ever got. An understandable title to the book, by the way.

"One day they disappear, being dead or not, they vanish and their image is erased from our minds like they had not even existed, they change into something else, products of imagination or ghosts in whom the person they once were is no longer recognizable..."

Sepharad consists of 17 chapters or stories, which at first seem to have nothing much to with each other, but this isn't a short story collection. Reading on, at some point comes a feeling that I've heard of this or something very similar somewhere, I know that character, or place, or incident. Paths cross, connections are found, reader is enlightened.

The stories also circle around the themes of exile, alienation, identity and memory; they are about people left their homes and home lands, forced or to find something new; they are about outsiders or ones who become such; they question who am I, what do I think I am and what do you think I am, and what difference does that make?

They circle around the history of Jews in Europe and Spain, since they were expelled from Spain in 1492, the holocaust in the 20th century and years between. But I don't think this is just about them, rather their history and what has been done to them is used as an example of something more general in humanity; not a nice picture, yet it is not a desperate one: anyone with a human heart is potentially evil, but not every one is.

Message edited by its author, Oct 28, 2009, 4:10pm.

I read books from eleven countries to get from Finland to Spain. I have visited nine of those countries in real travels, and funnily, I realize that in many cases I have traveled on train quite similarly as I did now when traveling in books: I rushed through certain countries and stopped in others for more time -- though, I have to say that I spent more time in books in the countries I was just passing through than in the countries I actually stayed when really traveling.

From Finland to UK was mostly just traveling, though I will not forget Let the right one in, The Quiet Girl, Book Thief or The Sorrow of Belgium soon. UK was more like being somewhere, the Instance of the fingerpost being one of the high points on the way so far.

I visited Ireland only for one book, but I read Ulysses just before starting this journey. Enough is enough.

The Algebraist may seem a bit far fetched in the context of Reading Globally but having read other books by Banks the interstellar adventure in this book wasn't really that different from his Scotland material.

France, I don't know why but it has always left me cold, but Life a user's manual didn't. I am glad I read it.

Spain, on the other hand, has always been a special place for me (though I have been there only once), and the eleven books exposure to Spain did not spoil the magic. It is still a special place.

So, I am leaving home ground, not knowing what is ahead. I have never been to Africa and I have also read little African literature, probably more books about or set in Africa, but that is going to change now. Another change from now on: Traveling through Europe was, with only few exceptions, traveling through my TBR list. In Africa I'll probably have to look for books to read and I'll read more books by new to me authors than in ages. I am excited, and I am ready to Partir.

Message edited by its author, Nov 4, 2009, 3:18pm.

Bon voyage!

Message edited by its author, Nov 4, 2009, 2:32pm.

In Africa, Morocco ... Europe is still near. All the characters in Lähtö (The Departure) by Tahar Ben Jelloun are looking at the lights of Spain behind the water, yearning to go. To leave at any price. One's life often becomes the price of the trip, humiliation, misfortune and shame being the other options.

Azel is one of the educated but unemployed Moroccan young men who have nothing to do in their homeland but to make plans how to get away. He sort of succeeds, finding a protector in a Spanish art gallerist who takes Azel with him as his lover. Not being gay this does not work for Azel and the what follows is mostly sad.

Azel is the center of the novel, other stories are told by his sister, friends in Morocco and in Spain and other people he meets.

There are some who can manage holding their head high, they get hurt, they may even die but they can retain some self respect, and survive. There are more of those who bow down low, and they become pushed even lower.

The novel is interesting, even important, due to its subject matter -- pity it isn't a great literary work as well, just ok.

Message edited by its author, Nov 7, 2009, 9:24am.

I haven't read that book by Tahar Ben Jelloun, but I did read This Blinding Absence of Light several years ago, which was very good.

Thanks for the reminder, I'll think of that, or the other works by him after I finish Désert (or Autiomaa in Finnish) by JMG Le Clézio.

Tahar Ben Jelloun is very much translated into Finnish: Lähtö/Partir is or was, according to the cover, his twelft work published here.

From your description, I would guess that Partir is the same book as Leaving Tangier; looking at Jelloun's Wikipedia page in English, it appears as though this is his twelfth book published in English, as well.

I'll be interested to get your impressions of Désert, which I'd like to read this month or next.

Off to USA to spend some time with The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice. I loved her Cry to Heaven. I believe that this is going to be something entirely different and it was recommended by my son who is into everything of a gothic nature.

re #139: ... that surprised me and I felt lost for a moment until I realised it wasn't me off to USA.

I am still thinking of the Désert, though the book just took to Marseille with Lalla.

Oops! Sorry eario if I confused you. Obviously I posted on wrong thread. My profuse apologies.

Wow, this is a great thread. I'll have to read it in more depth. Sounds like you are reading some challenging/long books (Life is a User's Manual, Ulysses, Fingerpost, so an inspiration to me to keep climbing the high mountains.

>133 If you need recommendations for African books, feel free to check out my Profile or the Profile of depressaholic-although there are some great threads with suggestions elsewhere.

#141: That's ok. I was trying to be funny, which, obviously is not one of my strengths.

#142: Thanks! I hope you'll find interesting, even inspiring stuff here. I'll see your profile, recommendations and suggestions are always welcome.

Just finished the Désert and -- I don't now how many times I've said this before -- have mixed feelings. Most of the time that is a good sign, to have feelings, even mixed ones. Very well written book yet I am not sure what to think about the ideas I found in it.

Désert by JMG Le Clézio has two storylines happening in two different times: early 20th century and the present (or what was present in the 70s/80s).

The historical sections are about the last days of the last free nomads in the Western Sahara, People of the wind and the sand, telling their at first hopefull gathering and journey to find a place, a home that turns into a desperate run for their life. It is a clash of different world views or lifeforms, like a head-on collision of a man and a train.

The other story is one of a girl growing up, living in a place that sounds like a slum outside a town. She is a descendant of the people of the other story, what is left of them. She is poor but happy, sort of, most of the time. There is not much happening. The girl's story is more about how she experiences things around her, the wind, the sand, the sea - natural mysticism, poetically written, and very beautifully, but romanticized, which at times turns agains itself. This section of the book is titled 'Happines'.

The other part is 'Life among the slaves'. The girl moves to Marseille, and, well, the title pretty much says it: her happy poverty turns into a miserable one. And what she sees around herself, is mostly worse. Even her brief period of fame as a model does not change that. City life is not for her, not for most anyone - I guess that is one of the things the author is trying to say.

Desert was surprisingly close to Leaving Tangier (Partir), thematically, not in style. The historical story can be seen as an early stage of the development that has led to the desperate situation of the young people in Morocco that the latter book is about. And the modern girl's story, especially the trip to Marseille, could almost be one of the immigrant stories in Leaving Tangier. Desert was, however, better written.

Message edited by its author, Nov 17, 2009, 2:58am.

I already had the Blinding absence of Light in my hand, but even the title felt depressing ... November in Finland is dark, dark, dark ... don't need more absence of light right now. Picked up The Almond instead ...

I'll probably read Désert next month or early next year. Thanks for that nice review.

This Blinding Absence of Light was a pretty grim read from what I remember of it. Good move to put it aside for now.

146: When you get to the Desert, please let me know if you write a review, or post a comment here.

Will do, eairo.

The Almond, subtitled 'an Intimate Story' in Finnish or 'Sexual Awakening of and Muslim Woman' in English.

The woman in question tells her own story, looking back her life from her fifties, interlacing episodes from different times in her life: childhood and youth in Moroccan countryside, and a loveless marriage from which she escapes to Tangier to meet Driss who becomes her lover and the engine of her awakening, and back to where she begun later in life, the last few pages of the book showing peace and serenity found later in life.

During most of the book, or the life of the protagonist and narrator, everything is very sex-centered, and while this is sort of interesting in the sections about the old fashioned country life of Morocco -- hypocrisy is the word -- it is often sad and tedious elsewhere. Liberation becomes obsession, love very hurtful and life empty.

(I have never seen so many expressions and euphemisms for genitals, both male and female, in so little number of pages (around 200, and the lay-out is spacious), so I guess this is, in a way, educative book too.)

Message edited by its author, Nov 21, 2009, 2:16pm.

Found an interesting and critical review of The Almond in the blog by Laila Lalami: http://lailalalami.com/2005/nedjmas-the-...

Meanwhile, I have finished the Women of Algiers in Their Apartment -- processing my thought on that -- and will start The Plague soon.

Message edited by its author, Dec 1, 2009, 8:59am.

Women of Algiers in Their Apartment by Assia Djebar was a serious book, a collection of stories + an essay. The stories were about the women's position in Algerian society before, after and during the National War: being silenced, made invisible and held prisoners in their homes. About how little has changed in 150 or so years. Interesting but reading this was hard work for me. The stories were going many ways, circling around the same subject, having a message, manifesto, a point-to-be-made.

In fact the essay on the background of the stories and the Delacroux painting that had given the title to the book was the part that I liked the best: easy to read, being more 'honestly' what it is yet interesting all the same.

Message edited by its author, Dec 2, 2009, 2:21pm.

I can see why The Plague is a classic. I can also somehow understand why some think it is boring. What surprises me is that someone thinks the writing is "dense" or "hard to follow", which, according to some LT reviews, is the case. To me this was easy and quick read.

There is not much action, the plot is nearly medical, following the development of a plague epidemic from the beginning to the end: people die and people fight against the disease. The fight, and that most of the people do the right thing, is the easiest to get and the most superficial message to "get" from this book, as pointed out near the end: "there is more to admire in human beings than to despise."

I believe there are many more possible interpretations and things to find here, many reasons to return to this story again. Which I think I will do - this being my first time reading.

Additional thoughts related to my world tour

The story is set to Oran, Algeria, but one could say that Algeria, or Africa, is very superficially present: climate and weather are described as what one might think of being African. Arabs, black people are both mentioned once. And that's about it, other than that, this is France.

I guess this is not about Camus not knowing what Algeria is like - he was born there and grew up there. Maybe he thought the story did not need more authenticity (then, why name the city Oran in the first place?), or maybe--more frighteningly--life in a colony was, or could be like that: maybe the indigenous were invisible and could be forgotten ... just a decade before the Algerian war started.

Book started, Sundiata, my entry ticket to Mali.

ahh -- Sundiata is wonderful. Gotta love his mother!

Yes, it is fascinating, made me read a few extra pages after finishing the actual story to become even superficially informed of what I had just read.

Seems there are quite a few different editions (and possibly translations) around.

The legend of Sundiata has been oral tradition for centuries, and the books we are reading may be transcribed from various sources. The Finnish edition I read is compiled from transcriptions and translations of recordings of three griots' versions of the legend, the recording being from the '60s by en English ethnographer (whose name I don't remember).

All this just because I didn't quite get the "Gotta love his mother!" at first. We've read a different book!

The mother had no special part in my Sundiata book. Apart from giving birth to 20 pairs of twins before Sundiata, which of course is an admirable labour ... and being pregnant for seven years with Sundiata.

The legend is fascinating in many ways. The story is good, and it is African and universal at once. Many elements are familiar from other similar legends from all around: the king to come is a cripple and weakling first, but he rises when required; there are tests or qualifications where he must show his greatness yet remain humble; exile, and finally his return to home and the victory.

Sundiata was just the right introduction to Mali, even though this Mali probably isn't exactly what we see on the map today. Another great thing that came up while looking for reading material for Mali was the music. Not to be forgotten when trying to get into the mood for Mali. Check out Amadou & Mariam!

(Another thing that came up all the time were the birds. Field guide to the birds of Western Africa is tagged for each every country around here.)

I've also started Timbuktun hetket, a Finnish science fiction novel set in Mali.

Message edited by its author, Dec 8, 2009, 11:03am.

Just realized that Sundiata was actually the first really non-European read after coming to Africa.

I said above that Sundiata was universal, it had elements familiar from legends of different cultures, yet it is very different in form and the rhythm and narrative were different from the previous four 'African' books. All of them, written by Africans or Europeans, were all the same very similar in many ways. Modern Europe (or western world) was near, the books are all sort talking with Europe, or conscious about Europe somewhere near. They, even the ones by African authors, were probably written to be read by European/non-African readers.

In Sundiata, the influences are older and less recognizable to me. It feels more rootsy, the whole world is near while reading it.

I am not saying one or the other is better thing or reading experience; just different.

Message edited by its author, Dec 9, 2009, 7:46am.

eairo,
Loving your journey so far, and fascinated to see how west africa pans out. There are tonnes of Nigerian writers out there, but many of the other countries in the region are not easy to find books for.

Just a quick thought on your comments in 152 and 156. There are many times that a book from a certain country has failed to match up to my preconceptions about what I expected to find. I have come to view it as a learning experience about that place, and about my attitudes towards it. When you say that your reads haven't been 'African' so far, could it maybe mean that your idea of Africa need tweaking? I have said this on a lot of threads in a lot of different contexts, and don't mean anything insidious by it, but 'Africa' is a continent, not an idea, and bits of it do look very 'European'. That just means that this 'European' idea is part of the African continent too. I think all 5 of your books so far (even the Camus) reflected different faces of Africa.

I am loving reading about your travels. I read Sundiata for Mali earlier this year as well, fascinating legend - I also read up on it after reading. I also read Women of Algiers for Algeria, I loved it, but not as much as I loved her So Vast the Prison.

What are you planning on reading for Nigeria?

157: I agree with what you say. My idea of Africa will probably change, at least if I'll find enough reading material to change it. I will learn.

"European idea is part of the African continent too." I think that was what I was thinking about, or something like that at least, when I wrote above that Europe is near. That should be no news, and it wasn't, but I guess I had forgotten it ... and got a reminder.

Africa is more familiar to me through music but the truth is most of the African music that is available to me is produced for and by European/American market.

Why would it be different for books?

Some of them may even be written primarily for European readers (or buyers) however African they seem to be, which was one of the points made by Laila Lalami in her critique on The Almond (see #150). She shows the lack of authenticity and, more seriously, lack of 'emotional truth' in the book in her writing. I just thought The Almond wasn't very well written. Publishing is business too.

But how am I supposed to learn if my learning material is bad?

But, again, this is not a simple good-bad thing. African authors are not supposed to write 'African' books or something representing their country for me. And I'll gladly see the face of Africa (or the World) through anyone's eyes if (s)he writes well enough.

Above all: this is just one world; the borders are imaginary in many cases, arbitrary in others.

Message edited by its author, Dec 9, 2009, 4:07pm.

#158: I have no detailed plan for Nigeria yet. I know there are lots of books easily available - I'll enjoy the abundance when I get there ... and I actually don't know how to do that without bending my rules. (Buying books is an option of course but I've got this far using mostly library.)

My boyfriend is Nigerian so I've been reading a bit more Nigerian authors this past year. Ben Okri is OK, Chinua Achebe is great, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was my favorite though.

Thank you for the recs ... books by all three authors are available at the city libraries here, in Finnish and in English. I'll see to them when in Nigeria.

You are welcome! There are so many good authors from there, from what I've heard. I am kind of hoping you read something else too so that I can steal ideas ;)

Just an interesting note - Adichie has been living in the US for quite a while. she completed a masters in creative writing here in Baltimore at John Hopkins Univ. around 2003, I think. I saw her at a reading and Q&A at the local Barnes and Noble just about the time Purple Hibiscus was published. And I would second Amchie recs. Of the three writers, I like her best.

#164 ... made me think ... about languages these authors write. English? All these three authors mentioned above seem to write, or at least publish, in English. Is English as in American, or English like something else? Do you, who have read their books, and (I guess) are native English readers, notice any difference between their English and some American or British author's English?

I'm not sure what I am after... maybe it is the idea that I heard some time back that different languages induce different thinking, or something. Translated work is always somewhat different from the source. But if an author masters more than one language, s/he makes a choice when s/he writes in one or the other. Would it be the same book if s/he did the other choice?

Interesting thought. Ben Okri has some Pidgin English in his books which was neat. They all seemed authentic though in the language when comparing to how the Nigerians I know actually speak. English is one of the main/official languages there and is spoken by a lot of people, though with some differences from American English, and some differences from British. Closer to British though.

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There can be huge differences between British and US English translations. It really ruins a book for me when a character from the UK speaks in American English (vise versa also annoys me, but slightly less, for some reason).

166 & 167: Thanks for your comments. I'll try to think these thoughts again when I'll get there. Nigeria will probably be the first African country where I'll have a choice of material (booktitles, authors, translations...).

I've been busy and away so I haven't even written my review of Timbuktun hetket (which was ok).

I have also struggled with Bound to Violence in Swedish - it beat me, I lost, I had to give up somewhere near page 50. Not because of the book itself, which I think might have been an interesting read. I just couldn't get into it due to my not so good Swedish.

I'll start God's Bits of Wood next, traveling to Senegal with it.

Message edited by its author, Dec 26, 2009, 9:37am.