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Nicholai Hel, born in the ravages of World War I China to an aristocratic Russian mother and a mysterious German father, and raised in the spiritual gardens of a Japanese Go master, survives the destruction of Hiroshima to emerge as the world's most artful lover and its most accomplished and highly paid assassin. Genius, mystic, master of language and culture, Hel's secret is his determination to attain a rare kind of personal excellence, a state of effortless perfection--shibumi. Now living show more in an isolated mountain fortress with his magnificent Eurasian mistress, Hel faces his most sinister enemy, a super-monolith of espionage and monopoly. The battle lines are drawn: ruthless power and corruption on one side, and on the other, shibumi. show lessTags
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This is a masterpiece of the genre. OK I don't read spy thrillers very often - what, one a decade maybe? But this thing is marvelously put together. Nikko is what James Bond wishes he were. The whole thing is so over the top - it definitely crosses into being a spoof or satire, but it doesn't just stay there. It's got multiple facets that all fit together wonderfully.
I like wearing a beret... I have a couple walking sticks, but maybe I need a makila, a Basque walking stick. That's one facet, just a lot of nice cultural description - Basque and Japanese mostly. Then there is caving - a rich description of the exploration of a particular cave in the Pyrenees. I've done a bit of caving - this felt very real.
Nikko is an assassin and the show more bodies do pile up a bit here, but there is not much gore here at all. It's like one of those monster films where the monster is mostly off-screen.
There is a kind of social philosophy angle here that reminds me of maybe Julius Evola, a kind of traditionalist verging on fascist - contemptuous of modern democratic enlightenment ideals.
All this in a page-turning thriller! What a delight! show less
I like wearing a beret... I have a couple walking sticks, but maybe I need a makila, a Basque walking stick. That's one facet, just a lot of nice cultural description - Basque and Japanese mostly. Then there is caving - a rich description of the exploration of a particular cave in the Pyrenees. I've done a bit of caving - this felt very real.
Nikko is an assassin and the show more bodies do pile up a bit here, but there is not much gore here at all. It's like one of those monster films where the monster is mostly off-screen.
There is a kind of social philosophy angle here that reminds me of maybe Julius Evola, a kind of traditionalist verging on fascist - contemptuous of modern democratic enlightenment ideals.
All this in a page-turning thriller! What a delight! show less
I first read SHIBUMI when I was around fifteen, and then I read it again a few years later. Almost thirty years later, I found a copy of the same paperback edition I'd first read, and opening the book was like opening a window to my earlier reader-self.
In many ways, SHIBUMI is a messy thriller. The first half of the novel jumps back and forth between third-person-limited points of view and between its modern storyline (late 1970s), 1930s Shanghai, and then pre- and post-WWII Japan. It has some ludicrous plot elements, like an early Bond film without the sense of self-aware camp just underneath the surface. Its protagonist, Nicholai Hel, has almost mystical powers of perception. It contains gross ethnic generalizations (maybe a polite show more way of saying "racist"), particularly about Arabs.
And yet...
While at fifteen I was already aware of stories with supposed good guys who were revealed to be corrupt or evil, those characters were generally the exceptions that proved the rule that the U.S.A. was good and fought a necessary and morally just war against evil, particularly the Soviet Union. SHIBUMI rips this view to shreds. It was the first novel I read that portrayed America and the Western world in such a cynical light. The real world power is the Mother Company, a monolithic conglomeration of corporations with a monopoly on the energy sector. The Mother Company essentially runs governments. Whatever it cannot influence or corrupt, it removes from the board, often messily. The CIA is a group of blundering fools under the thumb of the Mother Company. The PLO is a ridiculed but necessary ally of convenience. Israel and the Arab states are pawns on a chessboard, maneuvered in the interests of oil. The Soviet Union is hardly mentioned at all, surprising for a book published a year before the election of Ronald Reagan. Think of Enron or Halliburton running the world.
With the advantage of hindsight, I can see how this novel portrays the post-Watergate suspicion of government. There are no good guys, no tarnished heroes who strive for some sort of nobility in a dirty world of compromise. Instead, the story opens with a CIA cowboy and a giggling PLO liaison watching on film the assassination of a hit squad of Jewish agents in the Rome airport. The agents were on their way to take out a group of Black Septemberist terrorists who participated in the notorious murders of Israelis at the 1972 Munich Olympic games. The CIA and the PLO operating together, killing four of their five targets and several civilians in the process? Maybe I was very naive when I was fifteen, but the novel made this idea both shocking and believable within the parameters of a thriller.
But this is all window dressing. The real story of SHIBUMI is the story of Nicholai Hel, described as the world's greatest assassin. His back story of growing up on the streets of Shanghai in the 1930s, then later in Japan before, during, and after WWII, is fascinating, dramatic, and philosophical. The child of a Russian mother and a German nobleman he never knew, Hel is a mongrel, a man of no nation. One might think he would then become American, which after all is a nation of immigrants, but Hel's view of the United States is formed by his view of American-made bombers leveling Shanghai as the Chinese and Japanese armies fight over the city, and later confirmed by the post-WWII Occupation of Japan. Americans are "merchants," loud child-men with money on their minds and a fascination with collecting and possessing objects. In contrast, Hel is "culturally Japanese," valuing the intellect, the spiritual and philosophical, and desires to attain a rare aesthetic state of paradox: an elegant simplicity. Along the way, as it were, Hel becomes a master linguist, a mystic capable of meditative transport that leaves him rested and refreshed, and the possessor of a "proximity sense" through which he can not only find his way through utter darkness but can also detect the presence of others and their emotional thoughts and intentions. Jedi meets ninja.
This all could easily be overblown mumbo-jumbo, and in the hands of a lesser writer, it would be. But Trevanian can write scenes of violence and cynical dialogue as well as clear and beautiful scenic descriptions, inner turmoil, and philosophical abstraction. His portrayal of the Mother Company operatives and their access to virtually complete knowledge of anyone via their computer system, Fat Boy, rings uneasily true today in an NSA world. Hel becomes our hero almost by default, but his desire for achieving "elegant simplicity" is an attractive goal, especially when compared to the Mother Company. Trevanian keeps all of these balls more or less in the air.
There's a lot more I could mention--the stark beauty of the Basque country; the author's apparent fascination with and incorporation of the Japanese game of Go; the tragic diminishment of pre-war Japanese life and ideals; Hel's beautiful courtesan Hana; his bombastic Falstaffian friend Le Cagot; the detailed scenes of Hel engaged in his hobby of caving or spelunking, which I found fascinating (and, at times, terrifying). But I'll end by saying that a few scenes from this book have stayed with me from the first time I read it three decades ago: the opening scene of the hit in the Rome airport; the first time we see Hel's mountain estate in the Basque region of France; Hel and Le Cagot negotiating treacherous caves far underground; a fatal encounter in the fog-shrouded Basque mountains. How many thrillers stay with you like this?
If you like THE BOURNE IDENTITY, you should read SHIBUMI. show less
In many ways, SHIBUMI is a messy thriller. The first half of the novel jumps back and forth between third-person-limited points of view and between its modern storyline (late 1970s), 1930s Shanghai, and then pre- and post-WWII Japan. It has some ludicrous plot elements, like an early Bond film without the sense of self-aware camp just underneath the surface. Its protagonist, Nicholai Hel, has almost mystical powers of perception. It contains gross ethnic generalizations (maybe a polite show more way of saying "racist"), particularly about Arabs.
And yet...
While at fifteen I was already aware of stories with supposed good guys who were revealed to be corrupt or evil, those characters were generally the exceptions that proved the rule that the U.S.A. was good and fought a necessary and morally just war against evil, particularly the Soviet Union. SHIBUMI rips this view to shreds. It was the first novel I read that portrayed America and the Western world in such a cynical light. The real world power is the Mother Company, a monolithic conglomeration of corporations with a monopoly on the energy sector. The Mother Company essentially runs governments. Whatever it cannot influence or corrupt, it removes from the board, often messily. The CIA is a group of blundering fools under the thumb of the Mother Company. The PLO is a ridiculed but necessary ally of convenience. Israel and the Arab states are pawns on a chessboard, maneuvered in the interests of oil. The Soviet Union is hardly mentioned at all, surprising for a book published a year before the election of Ronald Reagan. Think of Enron or Halliburton running the world.
With the advantage of hindsight, I can see how this novel portrays the post-Watergate suspicion of government. There are no good guys, no tarnished heroes who strive for some sort of nobility in a dirty world of compromise. Instead, the story opens with a CIA cowboy and a giggling PLO liaison watching on film the assassination of a hit squad of Jewish agents in the Rome airport. The agents were on their way to take out a group of Black Septemberist terrorists who participated in the notorious murders of Israelis at the 1972 Munich Olympic games. The CIA and the PLO operating together, killing four of their five targets and several civilians in the process? Maybe I was very naive when I was fifteen, but the novel made this idea both shocking and believable within the parameters of a thriller.
But this is all window dressing. The real story of SHIBUMI is the story of Nicholai Hel, described as the world's greatest assassin. His back story of growing up on the streets of Shanghai in the 1930s, then later in Japan before, during, and after WWII, is fascinating, dramatic, and philosophical. The child of a Russian mother and a German nobleman he never knew, Hel is a mongrel, a man of no nation. One might think he would then become American, which after all is a nation of immigrants, but Hel's view of the United States is formed by his view of American-made bombers leveling Shanghai as the Chinese and Japanese armies fight over the city, and later confirmed by the post-WWII Occupation of Japan. Americans are "merchants," loud child-men with money on their minds and a fascination with collecting and possessing objects. In contrast, Hel is "culturally Japanese," valuing the intellect, the spiritual and philosophical, and desires to attain a rare aesthetic state of paradox: an elegant simplicity. Along the way, as it were, Hel becomes a master linguist, a mystic capable of meditative transport that leaves him rested and refreshed, and the possessor of a "proximity sense" through which he can not only find his way through utter darkness but can also detect the presence of others and their emotional thoughts and intentions. Jedi meets ninja.
This all could easily be overblown mumbo-jumbo, and in the hands of a lesser writer, it would be. But Trevanian can write scenes of violence and cynical dialogue as well as clear and beautiful scenic descriptions, inner turmoil, and philosophical abstraction. His portrayal of the Mother Company operatives and their access to virtually complete knowledge of anyone via their computer system, Fat Boy, rings uneasily true today in an NSA world. Hel becomes our hero almost by default, but his desire for achieving "elegant simplicity" is an attractive goal, especially when compared to the Mother Company. Trevanian keeps all of these balls more or less in the air.
There's a lot more I could mention--the stark beauty of the Basque country; the author's apparent fascination with and incorporation of the Japanese game of Go; the tragic diminishment of pre-war Japanese life and ideals; Hel's beautiful courtesan Hana; his bombastic Falstaffian friend Le Cagot; the detailed scenes of Hel engaged in his hobby of caving or spelunking, which I found fascinating (and, at times, terrifying). But I'll end by saying that a few scenes from this book have stayed with me from the first time I read it three decades ago: the opening scene of the hit in the Rome airport; the first time we see Hel's mountain estate in the Basque region of France; Hel and Le Cagot negotiating treacherous caves far underground; a fatal encounter in the fog-shrouded Basque mountains. How many thrillers stay with you like this?
If you like THE BOURNE IDENTITY, you should read SHIBUMI. show less
I've read this book a few times and I only wish I could give it more stars. Each time I find more interesting and thoughtful aspects to the story. Nicolai Hel is a man of no citizenship who speaks multiple languages. He tries to achieve shibumi (a particular aesthetic of simple, subtle, and unobtrusive beauty) in all aspects of his life. He is a professional assassin and is proficient in Naked-Kill. He is a master at the Japanese game of Goo (or Go, as we might call it) and pursues his hobby of caving in mountains around the world, especially in the Basque region where he now lives.
He is, as his friend the Gnome describes him a culturally Japanese medieval anti-hero:
"Only in Japan was the classical moment simultaneous with the show more medieval. In the West, philosophy, art, political and social ideal, all are identified with periods before or after the medieval moment, the single exception being that glorious stone bridge to God, the cathedral. Only in Japan was the feudal moment also the philosophic moment. We of the West are comfortable with the image of the warrior priest, or the warrior scientist, even the warrior industrialist. But the warrior philosopher? No, that concept irrirtate our sense of propriety. We speak of 'death and violence' as though they were two manifiestations of the same impulse. In fact, death is the very opposite of violence, which is always concerned with the struggle for life. Our philosophy is focused on managing life; yours on managing death. We seek comprehension; you seek dignity. We learn how to grasp; you learn how to let go. Even the label 'philosopher' is misleading, as our philosophers have always been animated by the urge to share (indeed, inflict) their insights; while your lot are content (perhaps selfishly) to make your separate and private peace."
Trevanian writes what are labeled 'thrillers'; his best-known work is "The Eiger Sanction" which was made into a movie with Clint Eastwood. However, while there are spies and action in his stories, there is also much more: ideas, philosophies, different worldviews not always comfortable or compatible with American values. I believe that reading Shibumi stretches the reader's mind in ways far beyond a simple thriller.
The writing is also superb. The author is able to portray each culture with all its strengths and weaknesses. In Shibumi, he covers Japanese, American, and Basque mostly though most Western countries, as well as Russia and China, are treated with his acerbic wit and descriptive dialogue.
The book was written a while ago and takes place from World War II to the 70-80s, but I've found it holds up well in rereads. The computer stuff isn't too dated, certainly not enough to take away from the enjoyment of the book. I noticed in the reviews that most people have reread the book several times; it's that kind of book. I expect that sometime in the future, I'll pull it down off my shelf and read it once more. show less
He is, as his friend the Gnome describes him a culturally Japanese medieval anti-hero:
"Only in Japan was the classical moment simultaneous with the show more medieval. In the West, philosophy, art, political and social ideal, all are identified with periods before or after the medieval moment, the single exception being that glorious stone bridge to God, the cathedral. Only in Japan was the feudal moment also the philosophic moment. We of the West are comfortable with the image of the warrior priest, or the warrior scientist, even the warrior industrialist. But the warrior philosopher? No, that concept irrirtate our sense of propriety. We speak of 'death and violence' as though they were two manifiestations of the same impulse. In fact, death is the very opposite of violence, which is always concerned with the struggle for life. Our philosophy is focused on managing life; yours on managing death. We seek comprehension; you seek dignity. We learn how to grasp; you learn how to let go. Even the label 'philosopher' is misleading, as our philosophers have always been animated by the urge to share (indeed, inflict) their insights; while your lot are content (perhaps selfishly) to make your separate and private peace."
Trevanian writes what are labeled 'thrillers'; his best-known work is "The Eiger Sanction" which was made into a movie with Clint Eastwood. However, while there are spies and action in his stories, there is also much more: ideas, philosophies, different worldviews not always comfortable or compatible with American values. I believe that reading Shibumi stretches the reader's mind in ways far beyond a simple thriller.
The writing is also superb. The author is able to portray each culture with all its strengths and weaknesses. In Shibumi, he covers Japanese, American, and Basque mostly though most Western countries, as well as Russia and China, are treated with his acerbic wit and descriptive dialogue.
The book was written a while ago and takes place from World War II to the 70-80s, but I've found it holds up well in rereads. The computer stuff isn't too dated, certainly not enough to take away from the enjoyment of the book. I noticed in the reviews that most people have reread the book several times; it's that kind of book. I expect that sometime in the future, I'll pull it down off my shelf and read it once more. show less
Oy. If I hadn't been reading this for a bookclub I would have thrown it in the garbage after the first chapter or two. The female characters are objectified and then disposed of. It gets slightly better later on (mostly because there aren't many female characters at all), but that was a major turn off for me and will prevent me from recommending it. If you're able to ignore that major flaw, the rest of the story is pretty engaging.
I know that the book was intended as a spoof of the genre, but I get the sense that the author takes much of what he's attempting to spoof very seriously. The revealthat the Mother Company is run by a woman seems intended as a wink that the other blatant sexism and misogyny is just part of the genre he's show more spoofing, but it's a gross part that could have been omitted without cost. show less
I know that the book was intended as a spoof of the genre, but I get the sense that the author takes much of what he's attempting to spoof very seriously. The reveal
"Shibumi has to do with great refinement underlying commonplace appearances. It is a statement so correct that it does not have to be bold, so poignant it does not have to be pretty, so true it does not have to be real. Shibumi is understanding, rather than knowledge. Eloquent silence. In demeanor it is modesty without pudency. In art, where the spirit of shibumi takes the form of sabi, it is elegant simplicity, articulate brevity. In philosophy, where shibumi emerges as wahi, it is spiritual tranquility that is not passive; it is being without the angst of becoming. And in the personality of a man, it is...how does one say it? Authority without domination? Something like that."
Nicholai Hel aspires to shibumi, though his accomplishments show more make its attainment somewhat of a challenge. He is fluent in seven languages (although, having learned Chinese on the streets of Shanghai as a child he speaks but doesn't read or write it, and having taught himself Basque from books while in prison he maintains some pronunciation flaws the he can't shed, even after years of living in Basque country). He is a Go master. He is a mystic, who reads auras and has an unusual "primordial perception system" known as proximity sense, which enables him to know not only when someone is coming or has entered a building he's in, but, often, to know who that person is. He's a trained killing machine (and highly paid professional assassin), versed in many types of hand-to-hand combat and martial arts but, most frighteningly, he is master of the art of Naked/Kill and can kill using any ordinary object--a pencil, a paperclip, a folded piece of paper--at hand. And--oh yes--he's a Stage IV lovemaker.
Does he sound too good to be true? Who cares! Nicholai Hel is one of the most fascinating and intriguing characters ever written. His father was a German count, one of his mother's many short-lived boytoys, discarded before Nicholai ever knew him. His mother was an exiled White Russian, a baroness. But despite his genetic Western heritage, Nicholai Hel is Japanese to his core, having been raised in large part by a Japanese General who was quartered in his mother's house during the war. Later, after his mother died and his Japanese foster father reassigned, Nikko was sent to live and study with a Go master, where he mastered strategy, discovered the meaning of his mysticism, and strove to get closer to his aspiration to achieve a state of shibumi.
Shibumi is truly one of the most unusual spy novels I have ever read. There is killing, lots of it--bloody, violent, and in many cases quite creative killing. But in this violent novel, full of terrorists and war criminals and an evil corporate conglomerate that runs the world, giant swatches of gorgeous narrative are given over to Hel's fascinating background, from boyhood on. The story moves between Hel's past (Shanghai, Japan, three years in an American war prison) and his present. The reader is offered extended insight into Japanese culture and character and Basque history and traditions. There are also several long chunks that are devoted to the machinations of "The Mother Company," the aforementioned corporate conglomerate (which--ah, my paranoid heart beats faster at the thought--holds sway not only over all of the oil companies, but many government agencies as well).
Trevanian, like his creation, is a master of many things, not least among them the art of storytelling. He has crafted a beautiful, flowing narrative, rich in detail and intrigue, with characters who--over the top though many of them may be--are convincing. This book shouldn't work. It's impossible to describe it without making it sound cartoon-y and superficial, and yet Shibumi is neither. It deserves to sit on the shelf with the best of the best in the genre, John LeCarre, Charles McCarry, any of the too-few writers who use the framework of a genre to create works of literature. show less
Nicholai Hel aspires to shibumi, though his accomplishments show more make its attainment somewhat of a challenge. He is fluent in seven languages (although, having learned Chinese on the streets of Shanghai as a child he speaks but doesn't read or write it, and having taught himself Basque from books while in prison he maintains some pronunciation flaws the he can't shed, even after years of living in Basque country). He is a Go master. He is a mystic, who reads auras and has an unusual "primordial perception system" known as proximity sense, which enables him to know not only when someone is coming or has entered a building he's in, but, often, to know who that person is. He's a trained killing machine (and highly paid professional assassin), versed in many types of hand-to-hand combat and martial arts but, most frighteningly, he is master of the art of Naked/Kill and can kill using any ordinary object--a pencil, a paperclip, a folded piece of paper--at hand. And--oh yes--he's a Stage IV lovemaker.
Does he sound too good to be true? Who cares! Nicholai Hel is one of the most fascinating and intriguing characters ever written. His father was a German count, one of his mother's many short-lived boytoys, discarded before Nicholai ever knew him. His mother was an exiled White Russian, a baroness. But despite his genetic Western heritage, Nicholai Hel is Japanese to his core, having been raised in large part by a Japanese General who was quartered in his mother's house during the war. Later, after his mother died and his Japanese foster father reassigned, Nikko was sent to live and study with a Go master, where he mastered strategy, discovered the meaning of his mysticism, and strove to get closer to his aspiration to achieve a state of shibumi.
Shibumi is truly one of the most unusual spy novels I have ever read. There is killing, lots of it--bloody, violent, and in many cases quite creative killing. But in this violent novel, full of terrorists and war criminals and an evil corporate conglomerate that runs the world, giant swatches of gorgeous narrative are given over to Hel's fascinating background, from boyhood on. The story moves between Hel's past (Shanghai, Japan, three years in an American war prison) and his present. The reader is offered extended insight into Japanese culture and character and Basque history and traditions. There are also several long chunks that are devoted to the machinations of "The Mother Company," the aforementioned corporate conglomerate (which--ah, my paranoid heart beats faster at the thought--holds sway not only over all of the oil companies, but many government agencies as well).
Trevanian, like his creation, is a master of many things, not least among them the art of storytelling. He has crafted a beautiful, flowing narrative, rich in detail and intrigue, with characters who--over the top though many of them may be--are convincing. This book shouldn't work. It's impossible to describe it without making it sound cartoon-y and superficial, and yet Shibumi is neither. It deserves to sit on the shelf with the best of the best in the genre, John LeCarre, Charles McCarry, any of the too-few writers who use the framework of a genre to create works of literature. show less
Advertised as an 80s-style international spy thriller, Shibumi has surprisingly little of the type of action expected from that genre, although there is some. Contrasting with pre-World War II Japanese traditional values and culture, Trevanian delivers an utterly damning, contemptuous critique of Western (i.e., developed world) mores and attitudes; he is particularly scornful of American culture, although Germany, France, and the British certainly come in for their share. The vehicle he uses for his story is Nicolai Alexandrovich Hel, the son of a White Russian mother and a Prussian father. Born in Shanghai, Nicolai is still a young, though street-wise, boy when the Japanese invade China and take over Shaghai . Brilliant, he comes under show more the protection of a Japanese general, who sends him to Japan to be educated by a Japanese Go master. Hel comes in contact (more like massive culture shock) with American culture when, after the war, he is forced to work for the Americans as a translator, and comes to hate everything American culture is.
There is a long section on caving, Hel’s favorite “sport”, which is interesting even to someone like me who has never had nor ever will have any desire whatsoever to cave. It’s a fascinating look into that world--what it takes to explore and to claim discovery of a new cave system.
I enjoyed the book a great deal, agreeing with much of what Trevanian has to say about the sterility of American values. While I’m not sure that was what was intended, I found the scenes involving the CIA to be funny; the whole organization from top down is portrayed as a sort of 80s Keystone Kops.
This is a stand-alone book, not any part of a series, but I am intrigued enough by Trevanian’s attitudes that I intend to read more of his work just to see what he does in other genres. Don’t look for tremendous character development; this book is more philosophy well-disguised as fiction, but to my mind, entertaining while thought-provoking.
Highly recommended. show less
There is a long section on caving, Hel’s favorite “sport”, which is interesting even to someone like me who has never had nor ever will have any desire whatsoever to cave. It’s a fascinating look into that world--what it takes to explore and to claim discovery of a new cave system.
I enjoyed the book a great deal, agreeing with much of what Trevanian has to say about the sterility of American values. While I’m not sure that was what was intended, I found the scenes involving the CIA to be funny; the whole organization from top down is portrayed as a sort of 80s Keystone Kops.
This is a stand-alone book, not any part of a series, but I am intrigued enough by Trevanian’s attitudes that I intend to read more of his work just to see what he does in other genres. Don’t look for tremendous character development; this book is more philosophy well-disguised as fiction, but to my mind, entertaining while thought-provoking.
Highly recommended. show less
Fuck. I have to retract two stars and my rave review. I mean, clearly it was a rave. I'd say this book loses the plot about half way through, but to be fair, there isn't really a plot. Once the book leaves Japan and finds its home in Basque land, it rapidly becomes close to unbearable. I am afraid that whilst I savoured the first half, the second I ended up just skimming. I have way too many good books on the shelf to be spending precious time on this one.
I am leaving my half-cocked first discussion of this as it, testimony to my idiocy. It follows.
I’m only half way through, but my opinion will not change. This is a clear-as-day 5-star book and that’s from a fussy star attributor.
After having to read – or start, at least – show more popular best sellers of late which are so badly written: Harry P., the third volume (and the others?) of Northern Lights, the Dragon Tattoo trilogy – it is a vast relief to be reminded that a book can be both finely written and unputdownable fun, thrilling and thoughtful. It can even be propagandist, if it is done the right way.
Now that I think of it, is this a pattern: HP, NL, DT are all volumes produced ad infinitum. Shibumi could easily be like that, dragged out for ever, but instead it is one, standalone book. And boy, does it stand alone. Class of its own.
This, quoted from Trevanian’s own site:
Does this mean that HP, NL and DT had to be badly written? That although Shibumi was a best seller in its day, late seventies, now it would not survive, it is too intelligent and well written? The point is not that they are reading blockbusters, but that once upon a time these blockbusters were well crafted things, at least if this book is any guide. In fact, Shibumi has been an eye-opener for me. I have been sticking up for some of these books lately when clearly I should not have been. But if Manny is correct in suggesting, as Trevanian is also observing, that English is going through a period of simplification and that this is the consequence, badly written tripe being lapped up by the reading public, what a tragedy. I can’t imagine a world in which we have lost the capacity to say interesting things, because we have had the linguistic skills necessary to do so taken away by generations of illiterate facebookers and smsers.
I expect there will be more to come here after I have finished the book, but for now, I thought it was interesting to read what the author had to say later about his opinion on Israel and its neighbours:
I wonder when this was written, it shows an unlikely trust in the United Nations, which in my opinion, is shamefully bereft of moral purpose.
Oh, and this: I must take issue with all my friends who have reviewed this. It is not just a fun book, or a thriller. It is a very strongly felt position about how we are living and how we should live. This book manages to hammer and hammer and hammer this message home, whilst making you feel like you are 'just reading a best seller'. That he has managed to write something so entirely enjoyable whilst doing this is such a feat, I am completely in awe of it. show less
I am leaving my half-cocked first discussion of this as it, testimony to my idiocy. It follows.
I’m only half way through, but my opinion will not change. This is a clear-as-day 5-star book and that’s from a fussy star attributor.
After having to read – or start, at least – show more popular best sellers of late which are so badly written: Harry P., the third volume (and the others?) of Northern Lights, the Dragon Tattoo trilogy – it is a vast relief to be reminded that a book can be both finely written and unputdownable fun, thrilling and thoughtful. It can even be propagandist, if it is done the right way.
Now that I think of it, is this a pattern: HP, NL, DT are all volumes produced ad infinitum. Shibumi could easily be like that, dragged out for ever, but instead it is one, standalone book. And boy, does it stand alone. Class of its own.
This, quoted from Trevanian’s own site:
Q: Americans are reading lots of books, but at least anecdotally it appears they are reading blockbusters and that smaller, literary titles are being pushed to the margins. Do you see a similar trend in Europe, and what impact will this have?
A: Alas, yes, it’s coming to Europe as well and it’s a great pity. A lot of excellent new writers will never get read. This is hardest on the story-tellers of America, because writers of attractively-packaged fact and history are still doing fairly well, although even these readerships are dwindling, captured by the internet and by the electronic games that consume so much of the time of the kinds of kids who used to read history and science.
The shadow of ‘literary globalization’ is falling across all of western Europe, and will hit the English-writing countries first, as English is the language of commerce, and therefore it’s the foreign language of preference for the teeming populations whose five hundred word vocabularies limit them to language on a comic book level. Hence Barbara Cartland is still the most popular English language writer in India. And I’ve heard there is a similar dumbing-down impulse at home, where a series of children’s books by a very canny English writer is the most popular read on American campuses.
Does this mean that HP, NL and DT had to be badly written? That although Shibumi was a best seller in its day, late seventies, now it would not survive, it is too intelligent and well written? The point is not that they are reading blockbusters, but that once upon a time these blockbusters were well crafted things, at least if this book is any guide. In fact, Shibumi has been an eye-opener for me. I have been sticking up for some of these books lately when clearly I should not have been. But if Manny is correct in suggesting, as Trevanian is also observing, that English is going through a period of simplification and that this is the consequence, badly written tripe being lapped up by the reading public, what a tragedy. I can’t imagine a world in which we have lost the capacity to say interesting things, because we have had the linguistic skills necessary to do so taken away by generations of illiterate facebookers and smsers.
I expect there will be more to come here after I have finished the book, but for now, I thought it was interesting to read what the author had to say later about his opinion on Israel and its neighbours:
Q:Since I first read Shibumi and then reread it twenty years later, my opinion of the Israeli-Palestinian situation has changed entirely, as a result of becoming much better informed...Has your opinion in this regard at all changed since Shibumi has been published?
A:I hope there are many Americans who can remain flexible through the fog of prejudice and fear about this issue.
Things have changed almost entirely in Israel/Palestine over the nearly thirty years since I wrote Shibumi: the underdogs have become the bullies, and intractable fundamentalists call the shots in Israel; what in Shibumi we called the Mother Company (the Petro-chemical Mafia) have inserted their creature into the White House; and the greatest potential for ecological disaster is no longer man's lazy thirst for oil, but rather his soaring over-population.
Nicholas Hel would not have lent his support to the current leaders of Israel. He would have wished the current rational leaders of Palestine all good fortune in negotiating towards peace with justice, now that Arafat is no longer in the way. (Footnote: Arafat's end has all the marks of an inside job, almost surely with the assistance of the second bureau. Israel, of course, knew what was going on, and it's likely that they informed the United States, but that's not sure. It's hard to put limits on the incompetence of American intelligence services. Each time we find a lower value, they prove they can fail even that; so Israel might not have informed us early enough for us to get our clumsy hands into things and mess them up.)
What should America do now? Using such tatters of even-handedness as we still possess, we should guide (drag, if necessary) the Israelis into as fair and honest a sharing of land and water as is possible. Then we must open our hands and carefully step back, out of Middle East affairs, turning them over to the United Nations.
I wonder when this was written, it shows an unlikely trust in the United Nations, which in my opinion, is shamefully bereft of moral purpose.
Oh, and this: I must take issue with all my friends who have reviewed this. It is not just a fun book, or a thriller. It is a very strongly felt position about how we are living and how we should live. This book manages to hammer and hammer and hammer this message home, whilst making you feel like you are 'just reading a best seller'. That he has managed to write something so entirely enjoyable whilst doing this is such a feat, I am completely in awe of it. show less
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- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)It was time now to take the tea he had prepared for them.
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