Triple Choice Tuesday on ‘Reading Matters’- My Selections

I have been following Kim’s wonderful blog ‘Reading Matters’ for many years now. So when she kindly invited me to participate in Triple Choice Tuesday, I jumped at the chance. Why not head over to her blog to check out the three books I have selected? Click here.

Image Source: Reading Matters (https://readingmattersblog.com/)

Two Months of Reading – March & April 2024

March and April were hectic months for me – I travelled to Kashmir with family and was also quite busy setting up our new home and getting it ready to shift soon.  As a result, my reading and blogging have been a bit patchy – in between bouts of reading consistently, there were days when I didn’t read a single page. But I did read some stellar books during these two months. Of these, two were part of Kim’s #NYRBWomen24 reading project and they were very good, while the rest were a mix of translated literature, short stories, and 20^th-century literature written by women.

So, without further ado, here’s a brief look at the nine books…You can read the detailed reviews on the first eight by clicking on the title links, with a review on the Moore to follow soon.

THE ENLIGHTENMENT OF KATZUO NAKAMATSU by Augusto Higa Oshiro (Translated from Spanish by Jennifer Shyue)

Laden with poetic despair and immersed in a sea of swirling sentences, Augusto Higa Oshiro’s The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu is an elusive, enigmatic, and intense tale of death, madness, isolation, and identity; a brilliant walking novel drenched in dreamlike vibes as it evocatively captures the pulse of Lima, its myriad sights and sounds, making it a deeply haunting reading experience.

We meet Katzuo Nakamatsu on the very first page standing on a pebbled path one August evening mesmerised by the magnificence of the sakura blossoms. If this conveys an aura of peace and tranquility, then it proves short-lived, because Katzuo is immediately gripped by an unnamable anguish, “the weight of consciousness, unseeing affliction.”

The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu is replete with an array of sights, sounds, and rich imagery lending the novel a very tonal and visual quality that only enhances its strange beauty. The lyrical, labyrinthine, looping sentences not only convey the complex pathways of Katzuo’s disturbed mind but also the contours of the city on his walking jaunts – a place of contrasts alternating between sumptuous gardens, hypnotic beaches, quiet affluent neighbourhoods on one side, and the squalid, forbidden corners depicting degradation and filth on the other.

A CRACK IN THE WALL by Claudia Piñeiro (Translated from Spanish by Miranda France)

I love how Claudia Piñeiro employs the framework of crime to explore relationships and social issues, and in this aspect, A Crack in the Wall is no different; it’s another excellent tale of cowardice, ruthless ambition, moral ambiguity, deception, and precarious relationships.

The novel opens with an image of our protagonist Pablo Simó, sitting at his desk “drawing the outline of a building that will never exist.” Pablo works as an architect in the offices of Borla and Associates, a firm engaged in construction and real estate. Borla, a greedy, ambitious man willing to cut corners, is at the helm of things ably helped by his secretary Marta Horvat (with whom he’s having an affair), a beautiful woman Pablo secretly desires. Pablo has worked for Borla for more than a decade but there’s a sense that both Marta and Borla don’t treat him as an equal, and Pablo seems to have resignedly accepted this. The monotony of his days is not lost on Pablo until a stranger walks into their offices one evening deeply disturbing their fragile sense of calm, and evoking deeply hidden memories of a crime committed in the past. In this novel, Piñeiro’s superb storytelling skills are on full display as she artfully combines the finer elements of plot development with astute character portraits that make for an utterly riveting narrative.

QUARTET IN AUTUMN by Barbara Pym

Quartet in Autumn was Barbara Pym’s penultimate novel published before her death and in terms of tone and subject matter, it’s a different book because of its haunting, sorrowful quality quite unlike her earlier works which displayed her masterful comic flourishes to full effect. And yet it is a lovely, restrained, poignant novel on the heartaches of growing old, deepening loneliness, the sense of emptiness felt post retirement, and unconventional friendships. 

We first meet Edwin, Norman, Letty, and Marcia working in a nondescript London office where they are placed in a common room. The nature of their work seems nebulous, we aren’t exactly sure what they do, maybe they are clerks? But this vagueness is deliberate and gives a flavour of the heightened loneliness of these characters particularly when the spectre of retirement begins to flash before them as they are gripped with a feeling of life passing by and a gnawing sense of emptiness. The comedy we are so used to in earlier Pym novels is muted though not absent, and despite its melancholic mood, the ending can be construed as hopeful. I loved it!

A DARK CORNER by Celia Dale  

Based on the one Celia Dale novel I’ve read so far (the superb A Helping Hand), I knew that Errol Winston is headed for doom from the opening pages when he lands up one evening on the doorstep of the Didcots, a white, elderly couple. It’s raining cats and dogs, and Errol seems soaked to the skin while also coughing badly. Mrs Didcot, shuffling to the door peers at the paper he thrusts at her, which contains an advertisement for a room on rent. It appears that Errol has made a mistake, and has arrived at the wrong address, there’s certainly no room to let at the Didcots. Errol prepares to leave, but Mrs Didcot takes pity on him, particularly concerned with his hacking cough, and invites him inside to warm himself by the fire, while Mrs Didcot prepares a pot of tea. Deeply exhausted, Errol settles on a chair and falls asleep, and it is during this time that her husband, Arthur Didcot walks in.

In A Dark Corner then, we find ourselves in classic Celia Dale territory, where we are given a glimpse of pure evil that lurks beneath an outward façade of respectability. The overarching premise is pretty similar to A Helping Hand – a couple taking in a lodger in an act of altruism which they believe sets them on high moral ground in the perception of society; how can their kindness be questioned?

KÄSEBIER TAKES BERLIN by Gabriele Tergit (Translated from German by Sophie Duvernoy)

Set in 1920s Berlin, Gabriele Tergit’s Käsebier Takes Berlin, is a lively, zesty satire of the excesses of the period highlighting the power of the press, the transitory nature of the latest news and fads, overhyped personalities, consumerism, and the inevitable downfall fuelled by the Great Depression and the rise of fascism. A novel bursting with a slew of characters, it is difficult really to focus on any one, but the essence of the plot is essentially this:

In the newsroom of Berliner Rundschau, on what has been a slow news week, editor-in-chief Georg Miermann pushes one of his key reporters, a sarcastic man, Emil Gohlisch to publish his article on an upcoming folksy singer. Gohlisch initially haws and hums, but eventually gets his story on Käsebier printed as front page news. Soon, another noted journalist but struggling poet Otto Lambeck writes his piece on a Käsebier show and the breadth of his talent in a rival newspaper, Berliner Tageszaitung, and in the blink of an eye, Käsebier becomes a raging sensation.

In a pace that’s intensely frenetic, Tergit captures the pulse of the period brilliantly in her prose – light and airy, comic and satirical, but also dark and profound. The novel particularly becomes absorbing in the second half when the focus narrows down to certain plot points and is not all over the place.

NOT A RIVER by Selva Almada (Translated from Spanish by Annie McDermott)

Set in a rural region of Argentina, Selva Almada’s Not a River is a brilliant, spare novella about male friendship, trauma, encroaching boundaries, unexpressed guilt, grief, and violence. There’s a cinematic feel to the opening pages as we are presented with the image of Enero Rey standing on the boat in the vast river, poised with a gun. He is not alone, accompanying him is his good friend El Negro and a young kid called Tilo.

The three have come to this island on a camping trip, to spend quality time together, for some much-needed male bonding. Tilo’s father, Eusebio, also a good friend of Enero and El Negro died many years ago, drowned in that very river. On this particular fishing expedition, the three are in pursuit of a large, beautiful sting ray; Enero, dazed by the wine and heat, fires more bullets than is necessary to bring it in. Their activities attract the attention of the island inhabitants – first, a coterie of boys to be followed by a mysterious man called Aguirre, who seems offended by the presence of the three and the manner in which they catch the ray. The sense of tension between the men is immediately palpable, glints of latent menace that fill Enero, El Negro, and Tilo with a sense of foreboding.

Written in a spare, lean style, and impressive in the way it manages to pack the weight of its themes into these slim pages, Not a River is another excellent work by Selva Almada, although The Wind That Lays Waste and Dead Girls remain my favourites. 

LAST WORDS FROM MONTMARTRE by Qiu Miaojin (Translated from Chinese by Ari Larissa Heinrich)

Last Words from Montmartre begins on an ominous note signaling the author’s intention to commit suicide, evident not only from the title but also from this epigraph – “For dead little Bunny and Myself, soon dead.” Deeply confessional and an intense, lyrical book about betrayal, heartbreak, passion, breakdown, and death, the novel is structured as a series of letters and diary entries addressed by the unnamed narrator to various lovers, friends, and family members, offering an intimate glimpse into the protagonist’s inner world. Based on the subject matter alone, it is not always an easy read, but the fierce tone and richness of the writing make it pretty compelling.

Qiu Miaojin mysteriously committed suicide after writing Last Words from Montmartre but before its publication fueling discussions about the ‘autobiographical” nature of the novel. This ambiguity is further heightened by these cryptic words at the beginning of the novel – “If this book should be published, readers can begin anywhere. The only connection between the chapters is the time frame in which they were written.” Don’t be fooled by the length – though short, this isn’t a novel that can be breezed through but rather like wine is meant to be sipped slowly and savoured. A book I’m very glad to have read and would recommend!

ONE AFTERNOON by Siân James  

One afternoon, our protagonist, Anna accidentally bumps into Charlie, a theatre actor who sweeps her off her feet and the two embark on a whirlwind affair. Anna, we soon learn, is a young widow with three daughters married to Giles who was a Director of the very theatre company which employs Charles and was considerably senior to her. Her daughters, delightfully, welcome this new man in their mother’s life, and while Anna is at first enchanted by his company, soon some insecurities and pangs of jealousy begin to filter in. To make matters complicated, Anna will soon learn of secrets in her deceased husband’s past, of which she had nary a clue, but will change her perception of her marriage and the man she married; factors that will also influence how she views her current relationship with Charlie, and another stodgy man with a tragic air about him who has also taken a fancy to her. This is an intelligent, lovely novel about romantic love, marriage, new relationships, fresh beginnings and finding your feet, and challenging conventional social mores, and the easy, loving relationship between Anna and her three daughters is so beautifully conveyed. The highlight of the book for me was the voice – there’s a charming openness to Anna’s personality as she narrates her story with such refreshing candour. Here’s a quote from the book that I posted on social media…

“However, Giles worked until he’d got everything exactly as he wanted it, including all the furniture. By this time I realise what a marvellous job he did; I’ve never wanted to alter a thing, not even a picture or ornament.

When all the work was finished, he completely lost interest in the house. I could tell that he was surprised by this, but with my vast childhood experience of playing house, I wasn’t at all. The joy was always in planning the rooms, arranging the furniture, finding the right boxes for table and chairs, searching out the kettle, the teapot and the ubiquitous jam jars. Once that was done, the game was deadly dull.”

EASTMOUTH AND OTHER STORIES by Alison Moore   

I loved these atmospheric, moody, beautifully written stories. Moore has a flair for unsettling her readers like she did in her superb novels Missing and Death and the Seaside. Again, I plan to put up a review of this collection soon, but here’s a quote from one of her stories called “Seabound” that I posted on Instagram…

“’I’ve spent my whole life here,’ said May.’ All my memories are here. All my things are here.’ She felt at home, in that house on the cliff edge against which the sea beat. Daisy phoned every few days to see how she was, and May said she was fine.

Except sometimes she was troubled in the night. All alone in the big bed that had once belonged to her parents, May dreamt she stood in the shallows at the edge of the sea, which sucked the sand from beneath her feet. She went deeper. Vast and cold, the sea climbed her bare legs. It was rough, but she stood her ground. Sometimes, when she woke from these dreams, the sea was so loud it could have been right there in her room.”

That’s it for March and April. In May, I’ve been reading Life with Picasso by Françoise Gilot as part of #NYRBWomen24 which is excellent so far, the combination of art and memoir is too irresistible and compelling. Plus, I’m also enjoying Lars Gustafsson’s A Tiler’s Afternoon which has a haunting, dreamlike quality to it.  

Käsebier Takes Berlin – Gabriele Tergit (tr. Sophie Duvernoy)

I’m on a break from blogging for a week starting tomorrow and thought I’d squeeze in one more review. This piece is on Käsebier Takes Berlin by Gabriele Tergit, an “NYRBWomen24” book I began reading in March but spilled over in April…

Set in 1920s Berlin, Gabriele Tergit’s Käsebier Takes Berlin, is a lively, zesty satire of the excesses of the period highlighting the power of the press, the transitory nature of the latest news and fads, overhyped personalities, consumerism, and the inevitable downfall fuelled by the Great Depression and the rise of fascism. A novel bursting with a slew of characters, it is difficult really to focus on any one, but the essence of the plot is essentially this:

In the newsroom of Berliner Rundschau, on what has been a slow news week, editor-in-chief Georg Miermann pushes one of his key reporters, a sarcastic man, Emil Gohlisch to publish his article on an upcoming folksy singer. Gohlisch initially haws and hums, but eventually gets his story on Käsebier printed as front page news. Soon, another noted journalist but struggling poet Otto Lambeck writes his piece on a Käsebier show and the breadth of his talent in a rival newspaper, Berliner Tageszaitung, and in the blink of an eye, Käsebier becomes a raging sensation.

On the face of it, Käsebier is an unremarkable man performing on a cheap stage in a kind of vaudeville, but the series of news articles on him in these leading publications catch the fancy of the upper-class set. Soon he is invited to perform at the prestigious Wintergarten, and the who’s who has begun to sing his praises. Thereafter, follows a champagne party held by wealthy socialite Margot Weissman that becomes a fertile ground for discussing murky business ideas, all centred on the aura of Käsebier.

In the spirit of the happening, buzzing nature of news, the vast stream of characters flit in and out of the novel’s forty chapters, and it is often difficult to keep track of them. But as translator Sophie Duvernoy, in her introduction writes, this book is more about the medium of the press, and taken in that context, it perhaps makes sense that this vast array of characters only adds to the buzz and noise of the novel as Tergit intends them to rather than dwell on deeper character development.

But even then there are some notable characters presented here – the tongue-in-cheek Gohlisch, the lovelorn young Miss Kohler in love with a flighty man with commitment issues, the dubious and opportunistic Frachter who eventually takes over the reins of Berliner R and alters its personality from a newspaper publishing serious political views and essays to one now showcasing the banality of the everyday, the cautious, risk-averse but profit-seeking banker Mr Muschler who gets embroiled in the financing of a construction project of luxury apartments despite not having a nose for business; the beautiful Kate, an independent woman with her own business and numerous lovers, and the intellectual and culturally inclined Miermann, a man of the old school and at the helm of things at Berliner R for a larger chunk of the novel. Ironically, Käsebier despite his name being the talk of the town is barely visible as a character as he is away most of the time on shows; it’s as if the phenomenon has eclipsed the person.

The novel is an evocative portrayal of 1920s Berlin – wining and fine dining, pearls and champagne breakfasts, theatre and dancing, the vibrant café culture, the frivolity and insouciance that envelops the chic and stylish jet set crowd.

The asphalt shimmered. The street lamps cast a haze of light over the spring trees. The longing of the many couples lounging on benches drifted from the Tiergarten. Ladies in fresh pale suits sat in front of cafés, wearing little hats on their little heads, drinking iced coffee and iced chocolate with straws. They were superbly manicured and massaged and creamed and rouged and whitened. Lambeck took in the air scented with freedom, brashness, and benzene.

Berlin is very much a character in the novel, a city that transitions from the excesses of the 1920s to depression and the alarming rise of fascism in the 30s; in one fell swoop we see something of the aura of Vicki Baum’s Grand Hotel being felt here in the early pages, and then maybe a wee bit of the somber nature of Lion Feuchtwanger’s The Oppermanns in the final few chapters when the Nazi party begins to gain ground.

Some wonderful set-pieces elevate the novel – the one in which Otto Lambeck indulges in a bit of people-watching sitting at a cafe to get a feel for the spirit of Berlin; another one which singularly focuses on the last-minute frenzy of Gohlisch’s Käsebier article getting published; a later Kafkaesque chapter where one of the minor characters experiences the full force of government bureaucracy as he flits from one room to another asking for some important set of documents, and a slew of chapters that dwell on the discussions between Muschler, and a set of architects and builders as they try to construct a theatre for Käsebier on Muschler’s plot of land, a project characterised by incompetency, cost cutting, bad design, and numerous delays. Meanwhile, throughout the novel, different characters converse on a variety of topics ranging from business and politics to art, culture, and feminism, from declining work ethics to the expensiveness of real estate in Berlin. 

“There’s poverty, and otherwise there’s just a big old march to bed. We’ve been let down. No, don’t deny it—we’ve all been let down, all of us who longed for the education, knowledge, and skills of men. We learned how life can open up when the search for truth becomes your guiding star. The next generation is a disappointment. Every day I see it in my office hours. I don’t miss anything, I feel fulfilled, but the generation after us forgot everything. It’s rotten.”

In a classic case of “the emperor’s new clothes”, we see how the viral quality of news catapults mediocrity to unforeseen heights so much so that most people prefer to swim with the tide rather than speak out the truth. The economics of undertaking construction projects is also spot on – corrupt builders, nebulous negotiations, rampant bureaucracy, and cost cutting mean quality work is given the boot. We see the proliferation of excesses and crass consumerism – once Käsebier becomes a sensation, everybody wants to cash in on his name from building theaters, and publishing books to manufacturing cheap merchandise and products. But history often uncannily repeats itself, what rises meteorically must eventually fall, old fads make way for new ones, and the Käsebier aura, unsurprisingly, begins to fade…a cycle that has repeated endlessly throughout the centuries highlighting the prescience of Tergit’s themes, how relevant they are today as they were in the early 20th century.

In a pace that’s intensely frenetic, Tergit captures the pulse of the period brilliantly in her prose – light and airy, comic and satirical, but also dark and profound. The novel particularly becomes absorbing in the second half when the focus narrows down to certain plot points and is not all over the place. Overall, Käsebier Takes Berlin is an excellent novel well worth reading.

Feminist Themes: Ten Favourite Books

In this themed post for April, I have chosen ten favourite books strong on feminist themes. In these books, the women yearn for independence, to break away from the conventional roles of marriage and motherhood, to focus on creative pursuits, to rise from the depths of obscurity, to challenge, question or fight against societal constraints placed on them, and to live on their own terms.

So without further ado, here are the ten books. Barring one, you can read the detailed reviews on the rest by clicking on the title links…

BASIC BLACK WITH PEARLS by Helen Weinzweig

Here is the intriguing blurb from NYRB Classics – “Shirley and Coenraad’s affair has been going on for decades, but her longing for him is as desperate as ever. She is a Toronto housewife; he works for an international organization known only as the Agency. Their rendezvous take place in Tangier, in Hong Kong, in Rome and are arranged by an intricate code based on notes slipped into issues of National Geographic. But something has happened, the code has been discovered, and Coenraad sends Shirley to Toronto, the last place she wants to go.”

Told from Shirley’s point of view, it quickly becomes clear that things are not what they seem, and we are left with a narrative that is surreal and disorienting, but all in a good way. Is this then a straightforward espionage tale or something deeper and complex? Weinzweig’s idea for this multi-layered novel was inspired by the Canadian artist Michael Snow’s Walking Woman sculpture series – the concept of a one-dimensional woman moving nowhere.

MY DEATH by Lisa Tuttle

Lisa Tuttle’s My Death is a wonderfully uncanny, subversive tale of artists and creativity, identity, and the erasure of women in the world of art.

A writer by profession, we are told how our unnamed narrator has lost her mojo for conjuring up stories, especially since her beloved husband, Allan’s death. Utterly adrift but realising the need for change, she sets up a meeting with her agent Selwyn in Edinburgh. On the appointed day, our narrator visits the National Gallery where a painting stops her in her tracks. Titled “Circe” and painted by the artist W.E. Logan in 1928, we learn that Logan’s muse for this painting was the young art student Helen Ralston who, flattered by Logan’s interest in her, leaves America to study art in Glasgow. Our narrator is suddenly inspired to write a biography on Helen Ralston about whom not much is known or written, and is pleasantly surprised to learn that Ralston is still alive albeit quite old.

However, when the meeting between the creator and her subject takes place, things take a peculiar, unsettling turn, when uncannily the lives of Helen Ralston and our narrator begin to intertwine…

MARY OLIVIER: A LIFE by May Sinclair  

Published in 1919, but set in the late 19^th century, May Sinclair’s Mary Olivier: A Life is a delicate and restrained portrayal of a woman’s struggle for selfhood and fulfillment, an exploration of her inner consciousness, while also brilliantly depicting her complicated relationship with her mother, her longing for intellectual pursuits, and the burden of being bogged down by family tragedy and societal expectations.

Autobiographical in tone, the book is divided into five sections – Infancy, Childhood, Adolescence, Maturity, and Middle Age – charting Mary’s life right from her childhood to the years when she is approaching fifty and in many aspects mirrors much of Sinclair’s own life. The Oliviers are a dysfunctional family, and we learn how Mamma, a strict Catholic, is openly critical of Mary, of her lack of religious fervor, and always contemptuous of Mary’s bookish leanings. The father is a tyrannical figure, particularly in the way he treats his sons, while Mary’s brothers are also a disturbed lot struggling for independence and to break away from the shackles of family ties.

By turns, heartbreaking, poignant, intelligent, introspective, and wise, Mary Olivier brilliantly touches upon myriad themes such as complex families, mothers and daughters, solitude and independence, fear and madness, the tussle between religion and philosophy, the tension between duty and personal fulfillment, the restricted roles for women in Victorian and Edwardian England, and the mysterious passage of time.

HER SIDE OF THE STORY by Alba de Céspedes (Translated from Italian by Jill Foulston) 

After the resounding success of Forbidden Notebook, Her Side of the Story is another excellent novel by Céspedes – ambitious, intense, richly layered but also longer at 500 pages.  Packed with astute observations, this is an absorbing internal drama of a deeply conflicted woman complete with her memories, reflections, turmoil, hopes, and frustrations. It’s a story that records her path to self-awareness as it satisfyingly hurtles towards a Ginzburg-reminiscent ending.

For Alessandra, our protagonist, the crux of her story is her unhappy marriage to Francesco Minelli, but to get to that core she feels it necessary to give the reader a flavour of her childhood, her upbringing, and the neighbourhood she grew up in. We learn of Alessandra’s adoration of her mother Eleanora trapped in a tumultuous marriage to a man they both despise, and which leaves scars on both women. When she grows up into a young woman herself, Alessandra marries Francesco, but her fate disturbingly begins to blend with that of her mother, although it must be said that while Eleanora falls out of love with her husband, Alessandra remains passionately and perhaps frustratingly devoted to Francesco. Set against a background of days leading up to the Second World War, the war itself, the rise of resistance, the fall of Mussolini, and the signing of the armistice, Her Side of the Story explores an array of themes centred on the stifling stronghold of patriarchy, the net it casts over the relationships between men and women ensnaring them in its fold, the concept of romantic love, feminism, alienation and also increasing resistance.

THE WALL by Marlen Haushofer (Translated from German by Shaun Whiteside)

This is a powerful book about survival, self-renewal, and the capacity to love. While holidaying in an Alpine hunting lodge, our unnamed narrator wakes up one day to an unimaginable catastrophe. She is possibly the last living person although she is yet to grasp the significance of this.

Against such a terrifying backdrop, the bulk of the book is all about how the narrator fights for survival and ekes out a living in the forest. The deep bond that she forms with her coterie of animals is very sensitively portrayed and is one of the highlights of the book. And there are some wonderful passages on existentialism and the meaning of life, love and caring, and the evolution of the physical and metaphysical selves. Ultimately, the narrator’s strength of will to forge ahead is what makes the book so beautiful.

COLD NIGHTS OF CHILDHOOD by Tezer Özlü (Translated from Turkish by Maureen Freely)

Cold Nights of Childhood, then, is an unflinching portrayal of a woman’s quest for independence, freedom, sex and love, as well as her struggles with mental illness told in a writing style that is cinematic and impressionistic without conforming to the rigid structures of conventional storytelling.

At barely 70 pages and set between 1950 and 1970, the novella is divided into four chapters and begins with a flavour of our narrator’s childhood and school years in the Turkish town of Fatih. Later, we move on to the time our narrator spends in Istanbul and Ankara, and abroad in Europe’s great capital cities (Berlin and Paris). We learn of her string of lovers, her unsuccessful marriages, and above all her incarceration in mental asylums. This predominantly forms the essence of the book, and yet the narrative is not as linear as it seems. Moody, evocative, teeming with rich visuals and a palpable Jean Rhys vibe, Cold Nights of Childhood is a beautifully penned novella that I’m glad to have discovered. 

MRS CALIBAN by Rachel Ingalls

Mrs Caliban is a tale of the disintegration of a marriage, love and sexual freedom, grief and loss, friendship and betrayal, and the re-invention of a woman having hit rock bottom. Our protagonist is Dorothy, a housewife residing in the suburbs of California stuck in a stagnant, loveless marriage. With the unexpected death of their son, Scotty, during a routine operation as well as a miscarriage thereafter, Dorothy is tormented by grief and despair. Her relationship with Fred has reached a breaking point. Resentment brews between the two as they silently blame each other for these twin tragedies. The sense of hopelessness has reached a stage where both are too tired to even divorce. And so they stumble along…staring into an uncertain future.

When one day, Larry, the frogman, lands in Dorothy’s kitchen, her life alters unexpectedly and in ways she has not imagined. The reader immediately senses the perceptible shift in Dorothy’s circumstances; a chance for excitement, love, and adventure…

What makes Mrs Caliban unique is not just its unusual premise but also how rich the novel is in terms of themes explored. Within the broader strange outline of its plot, the novel has an interior logic all its own. Mrs Caliban is a testament to Ingalls’ excellent storytelling ability in the way she blends the fantastical with the mundane to greater effect, and on the strength of her assured writing, the reader is willing to be led along in whichever direction she takes us. 

THE DAYS OF ABANDONMENT by Elena Ferrante (Translated from Italian by Ann Goldstein)

When Olga’s husband Mario suddenly decides to opt out of their marriage, her life turns upside down, and so begins her downward spiral into depression and neglect.

What stands out in The Days of Abandonment is Olga’s voice – she is brutally frank in conveying her thoughts and feelings, minces no words, and is almost always angry, sometimes uncomfortably so. At its core, the novel touches upon the themes of how absurd conventional definitions of womanhood can be, while also highlighting the trials of motherhood. 

LOLLY WILLOWES by Sylvia Townsend Warner  

Lolly Willowes is a wonderful tale of a single woman looking to lead an independent life by breaking away from the controlling clutches of her family. Till her late twenties, Lolly is shown to lead a pretty sheltered life in the country where her father has a brewing business and an estate called Lady Place. But once she is in her mid-forties, Lolly feels trapped and stultified and longs for a change. During one of her shopping trips, she chances upon a flower shop and learns of a village in the Chilterns called the Great Mop. Soon she begins poring over books and maps on the place. It’s a region that tickles her fancy and on a whim, she decides to establish herself there and live independently.

The first half of Lolly Willowes proceeds conventionally as Lolly sinks into domestic routines both at Lady Place and in London, her role in both these houses being taken for granted. It’s in the second half that the novel slips into a bit of whimsy and magic as ‘witches’ come into play, but it’s all quite charming, and more importantly, Sylvia Townsend Warner pulls it off. Not only does Lolly refreshingly choose to defy conventional societal roles, but the novel is also a statement that even in the mid or late forties, it is never too late for a woman to entirely change her course of life if she really wants to.

THE AWAKENING by Kate Chopin

First published in 1899, The Awakening is a remarkable book and is widely seen as a landmark of early feminism. Set in Louisiana, Edna Pontellier is married to a conservative New Orleans businessman. Feeling increasingly stifled by the conventional role of a housewife, the dull existence of a society woman, and the demands of motherhood, Edna yearns for freedom. Until one day she meets Robert Lebrun and is floored by his devotion towards her. Their passionate, furtive encounters unleash in her the desire to chart a new life for herself and pursue her passion for art.

It’s a beautifully penned novel that encapsulates Edna’s inner thoughts as she struggles to find a balance between her duties as a wife and mother, and her newfound path of independence. Gender roles and societal constraints as well as a woman’s need for solitude and finding time for herself are some of the central themes explored in this unforgettable book.

And that’s it! I plan to write more such themed pieces in the future so watch this space.

A Month of Reading – December 2023

I barely read in December but what I did read was very good indeed. I was busy with work, our new home, and spending time with family, so reading took a backseat. Managed three excellent books this month of which one made it to my Best Books of 2023 list, while I’m still reading the other two as I write this (to be finished today on the last day of the year).

So without much ado, here’s a brief look at the three books…

THE OPPERMANNS by Lion Feuchtwanger (Translated from German by James Cleugh, revisions by Joshua Cohen)

One of my best books of the year, Lion Feuchtwanger’s The Oppermanns is a haunting, powerful story charting the rise and fall of a rich, cultured, liberal German Jew family during the years leading up to and during Hitler’s rise to power. The author takes his time setting up his cast of characters while simultaneously juxtaposing their situation with the broader grim political developments sweeping throughout the country making it an incredibly immersive read right from the very beginning.

The Oppermanns comprise the three brothers – Martin, Edgar, Gustav, and their sister Klara, married to the East European Jew Jaques Lavendel who is an American citizen but chooses to live in Germany. Established in Berlin, the family’s furniture venture is largely run and managed by Martin. Edgar is an eminent and respected doctor with a thriving practice of his own, while Gustav, the eldest brother, is relatively naïve and sentimental; a man of letters, Gustav is absorbed with his world of books and writing a biography on Lessing, fine dining and women, while oblivious and uninterested in matters concerning politics or economics.

As the Nazis come into power, the Oppermanns are shocked by the scale of the country’s moral breakdown while also unable to fathom the precariousness of their existence in this dramatically altered landscape of their homeland. In this volatile situation, the three brothers are faced with a terrible dilemma – should they flee Germany, or should they stay back?

TWICE LOST by Phyllis Paul

Another terrific book reissued by McNally Editions who is quickly turning into one of my favourite publishers. Phyllis Paul was a very private, reclusive writer who nearly died in obscurity. Although she has written eleven novels, these books seem to have sunk into oblivion and are incredibly hard to find, and based on how good Twice Lost is, I hope more of her books are reissued in the future.

On a summer’s day after a carefree tennis party, eighteen-year-old Christine Gray and her friend Penelope are helping a young girl Vivian Lambert find a piece of jewellery that she seems to have lost. The girls hunt in the overgrown, menacing, and shadowy garden in vain and halt the search altogether as dusk descends upon them. Promising to help her look for it the next day Christine accompanies Vivian and leaves her as soon as they are close to Vivian’s home; Christine is reluctant to speak to Vivian’s dad and stepmother.

Vivian unsettles Christine greatly; she is a neglected, needy child and Christine is uncomfortable around her wanting to get away from her as soon as possible. That very night though Vivian mysteriously disappears, and this tragedy goes on to haunt Christine in her adulthood.

Meanwhile, we are introduced to an ensemble of eccentric, fascinating characters – the Antequins, Thomas and his son Keith; newly established residents at Carlotta House, the same house with the garden where Vivian lost the piece of jewellery and was also possibly last seen. Thomas is a successful author whose gothic fiction is selling well led by the persuasive skills of his son, a leech or parasite of sorts. Keith is an unremarkable man but with a talent for networking that helps catapult his father’s fame and writing career to new heights, no mean feat given how dull and simple Thomas’s personality is. We also meet the Lamberts, Vivian’s parents: the self-absorbed Mr Lambert whose obsession with old junk particularly cars and seemingly worthless items of jewellery borders on the irrational completely ignoring his daughter’s well-being in the process. His wife Rosalie, Vivian’s stepmother, is too engrossed in her social life to care about Vivian and for this, she is subject to her neighbours’ backbiting and insults, a scenario that only worsens after Vivian’s inexplicable disappearance. There’s Christine’s mother, a gentle dreamy soul who having led a contented married life is distressed by Christine’s tragic circumstances.

I’m still reading Twice Lost (will finish tomorrow with a detailed review in the coming days), but so far it has been stunning; a wonderfully odd and compelling novella about deception, control, guilt, neglect and ostracization, the trappings of an artistic career (fame, ambition and failure), and dysfunctional families.

Deeply atmospheric and unsettling, there’s poetry to Paul’s flowing, baroque sentences whether she’s describing the beauty and languor of the pastoral surroundings or capturing the interior dramas of her unique characters. An element of mystery, suspense, and creeping dread punctuate the story as the central characters struggle with disturbed dreams and hazy, distorted memories, stalled in a state of limbo as the enigma of the young girl’s perplexing disappearance continues to haunt them. More on this book later, but I’ll leave you with the following quote that will give a flavour of this novel…

“She listened to a sighing wind. A melancholy dream with strange features, a sense of contacts, very unusual in dreams, of physical sounds, weeping, broken words, a pursuing sense of lamentation. She felt troubled.”

DAYS AT THE MORISAKI BOOKSHOP by Satoshi Yagisawa (Translated from Japanese by Eric Ozawa)

Devastated by the end of a romantic relationship, Takako quits her job and slips into depression, until a surprise phone call from her uncle Satoru rouses her from her state of perpetual sleep. Satoru now runs the Morisaki bookshop located in the Jimbocho neighbourhood, the world’s largest place for second-hand bookstores.

Takako is at first suspicious and skeptical but the offer of a free board above the bookshop in exchange for part-time work there is too good to miss. Gradually, Takako falls in love with the bookshop, a haven that ignites her joy for reading voraciously; she opens up to her uncle, makes new friends, and welcomes the peace and calm she craves and even a sense of closure after the turmoil of being treated badly by her ex. This is a lovely novel about books and the pleasures of reading, healing and starting afresh, and making new connections. Perfect light reading to end the year. 

That’s it for December and I’ll put up my last post later today (a photo feature of the books I read this year). 2023 has been wonderfully rich in terms of reading and I hope that streak continues in 2024 too!