When I picked up my copy of The Post-Birthday World, I also got the audio version of We need to talk about Kevin by the same author.  I have been listening to it when walking and am finding it quite thought provoking. It makes me think of the age old question of nature versus nature and whether personality is learned or ingrained.  Is Kevin the way he is because he did not properly bond with his mother?  Was his personality and desperation simply a part of him from when he was born?

Although the format of the book - letters from the teen’s mother written to her estranged husband - does not allow for you to get in the mind of any of the other characters, you are able to live through the events of her life as she saw them.  Definitely worth a read/listen. 

If you want to read a bit, click here for an excerpt.

So our newest book will be The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver:

In this eagerly awaited new novel, Lionel Shriver, the Orange Prize-winning author of the international bestseller We Need to Talk About Kevin, delivers an imaginative and entertaining look at the implications, large and small, of whom we choose to love. Using a playful parallel-universe structure, The Post-Birthday World follows one woman’s future as it unfolds under the influence of two drastically different men.

Children’s book illustrator Irina McGovern enjoys a quiet and settled life in London with her partner, fellow American expatriate Lawrence Trainer, a smart, loyal, disciplined intellectual at a prestigious think tank. To their small circle of friends, their relationship is rock solid. Until the night Irina unaccountably finds herself dying to kiss another man: their old friend from South London, the stylish, extravagant, passionate top-ranking snooker player Ramsey Acton. The decision to give in to temptation will have consequences for her career, her relationships with family and friends, and perhaps most importantly the texture of her daily life.

Hinging on a single kiss, this enchanting work of fiction depicts Irina’s alternating futures with two men temperamentally worlds apart yet equally honorable. With which true love Irina is better off is neither obvious nor easy to determine, but Shriver’s exploration of the two destinies is memorable and gripping. Poignant and deeply honest, written with the subtlety and wit that are the hallmarks of Shriver’s work, The Post-Birthday World appeals to the what-if in us all.

Click here for a reading guide and here for Lionel Shriver’s biography

And if you would like to browse inside the book, give it a try here

En lisant ce livre, j’étais surtout frappée par les images évoquées par J-D Bauby. Il tisse une toile riche au fil de laquelle on perçoit le contraste net entre “le scaphandre” et “le papillon”, métaphores profondes de l’étouffement physique et de l’exaltation de l’imagination et de l’esprit. Pour moi, c’était un véritable plaisir de lire la version originale (c’est-à-dire en français) telle que conçue par Bauby. Je n’ai pas lu la traduction anglaise, et je n’en ai presque pas envie. . . sauf peut-être d’un oeil linguistique, pour voir si la richesse du langage et des images produisent le même effet dans une autre langue. Voici quelques-unes de la myriade des citations qui m’ont émue:

“Derrière le rideau de toile mitée une clarté laiteuse annonce l’approche du petit matin.” (9)

Cette phrase débute le livre. J’aime bien le soupçon de l’allitération qui fait que la phrase coule bien facilement. L’image de la qualité “laiteuse” de la lumière a une telle précision qu’en lisant cette phrase, je me sens presque éblouie par ce soleil qui perce à peine les nuages de l’aube.

“Le scaphandre devient moins oppressant, et l’esprit peut vagabonder comme un papillon. Il y a tant à faire. On peut s’envoler dans l’espace ou dans le temps, partir pour la Terre de Feu ou la cour du roi Midas. On peut rendre visite à la femme aimée, se glisser auprès d’elle et caresser son visage encore endormi. On peut bâtir des châteaux en Espagne, conquérir la Toison d’or, découvrir l’Atlantide, réaliser ses rêves d’enfant et ses songes d’adulte.” (10-11)

Evidemment, cette citation s’avère significative car c’est ici que Bauby se sert des deux métaphores qui ont donné lieu au titre du livre. J’étais attirée par la métaphore du scaphandre car j’ai une phobie d’être submergée dans l’eau. Je suis assez claustrophobe, et c’est la sensation d’avoir perdu contrôle et d’être sans ressource qui me fait peur. En mettant en parallèle mes propres sentiments vis-à-vis le scaphandre de Bauby (l’espace clos, la solitude devant l’immensité de l’eau qui nous engloutit), je peux imaginer ce que Bauby a voulu communiquer en se servant de cette métaphore.

“D’un seul coup j’entrevoyais l’effarante réalité. Aussi aveuglante qu’un champignon atomique. Mieux acérée que le couperet d’une guillotine.” (15)

Le choc de la reconnaissance de son état et de l’inexorabilité de son destin est rendu si vif par ces deux images: le champignon atomique et la guillotine. J’ai bien aimé la phrase “Mieux acérée que le couperet d’une guillotine” car c’était très “française”.

“Muni d’une tasse de thé ou d’un whisky, d’un bon livre ou d’une pile de journaux, je marinais longuement en manoeuvrant les robinets avec les doigts de pied.” (22-23)

Quelle description luxueuse! Cela m’a vraiment donné envie de prendre un long bain relâchant (ce que, regrettablement, je ne fais jamais. Un simple plaisir presque hédoniste dans son indolence. . .

“[. . .] j’ai enfoui ma tête dans les plis de sa robe de gaze blanche aux larges rayures satinées. C’était doux comme de la crème fouettée, aussi frais que la rosée du matin.” (30)

Un véritable délice des sens, surtout de la touche. J’ai aimé la variété de textures des tissus. Pour moi, c’était une description très sensuelle.

“D’autres lettres racontent dans leur simplicité les petits faits qui ponctuent la fuite du temps. Ce sont des roses qu’on a cueillies au crépuscule, l’indolence d’un dimanche de pluie, un enfant qui pleure avant de s’endormir. Capturés sur le vif, ces échantillons de vie, ces bouffées de bonheur m’émeuvent plus que tout.” (89)

Une fois de plus, c’est l’évocation des simples plaisirs et des activités quotidiennes qu’on a tendance à tenir pour acquis. Oui, c’est un cliché que des choses nous manquent quand on n’y a plus accès, mais Bauby réussit quand même à bien représenter ces tranches de vie. “L’indolence d’un dimanche de pluie” m’a beaucoup frappée, peut-être parce que j’ai passé bien de dimanches de cette manière?

“[. . .] une volée d’enfants arrive en vélo du marché. Des rires illuminent tous les visages. Certains de ces enfants ont atteint depuis longtemps l’âge des grands soucis, mais sur ces chemins bordés de rhododendrons chacun peut retrouver son innocence perdue.” (107)

L’insouciance de la jeunesse est mise en valeur par rapport au fardeau des responsabilités de l’âge adulte. J’ai trouvé beaucoup d’espoir et d’optimisme dans cette description.

Posted by: Manuela Vieira-Ribeiro

ABOUT THIS BOOK
NOW IN PAPERBACK, this masterfully crafted story collection by the author of the internationally best-selling novel Mister Sandman is a haunting book that is certain to both disturb and entertain. With a particular focus on obsession and the abnormal, We So Seldom Look On Love explores life at its quirky extremes, pushing past limits of convention into lives that are fantastic and heartbreakingly real. Whether writing about the dilemma of a two-headed man who attempts to expunge his own pain, the shock of a woman who discovers she has married a transsexual, the erotic delusions of a woman who repeatedly exposes her body to an unknown voyeur, or the bizarre predilections of a female necrophile (a story made into the acclaimed motion picture, “Kissed”), Gowdy convinces us with incisive detail, only to disarm us with black humor. In reviewing the book in the Boston Globe, the novelist Carol Shields wrote, “Barbara Gowdy invites herself, and us, into taboo territory where love and disgust mingle freely. Nothing seems to hold back the narrative flow, not propriety, not politics, not even that ambiguity we once called good taste . . . Gowdy writes about the macabre, but she writes like an angel.”

From The Times Online, UK (Click here for original source)

February 28, 2008

The Other Boleyn Girl’s a ripping yarn: not real history

There’s a fairytale element to forthcoming The Other Boleyn Girl says the historian, and no harm in that

The late great George Macdonald Fraser sprang to the aid of historical movies in a book called The Hollywood History of the World. “A picture of the ages more vivid and memorable than anything in Tacitus or Gibbon or Macaulay,” he said, claiming that inaccuracies simply didn’t matter. We historians might beg to differ (quickly taking the opportunity to ally myself with the Three Wise Men) - but then we would, wouldn’t we?

It remains an interesting question for historians, teachers and all lovers of history whether the creator of Flashman had a point: do the many inaccuracies, not to say travesties, in historical movies matter compared with the general illumination and insight they may bring? The latest offering The Other Boleyn Girl makes a perfect case in point for us to consider the question.

The Other Boleyn Girl is set in Tudor times - and they are times we are getting to know pretty well in film terms these days, what with the successful BBC TV series The Tudors last autumn, as well as Elizabeth: The Golden Age. The story of the new film is taken from Philippa Gregory’s bestselling novel of the same title. It is adapted for the screen by Peter Morgan, celebrated for writing the screenplay about a very different queen, Elizabeth II as portrayed by Helen Mirren.

“The other Boleyn girl” is Mary, Anne’s lesser-known sister who also had an affair with Henry VIII. Basically the film centres on the rivalry between the two sisters, their alternating bouts of love, jealousy, betrayal and support, ending in a dénouement which has Mary trying in vain to save Anne from the scaffold, despite the fact that the predatory Anne took Henry away from her. In case you didn’t notice that the girls are sisters, they repeatedly remind us of the fact throughout the movie, with moments of philosophy such as: “because she’s my sister … she’s one half of me”

function pictureGalleryPopup(pubUrl,articleId) { var newWin = window.open(pubUrl+’template/2.0-0/element/pictureGalleryPopup.jsp?id=’+articleId+’&&offset=0&&sectionName=Film’,'mywindow’,'menubar=0,resizable=0,width=615,height=655′); } The first thing to be said is that the film is extremely enjoyable, partly because of stellar performances by Natalie Portman as Anne and Scarlett Johansson as Mary, one a sultry dark beauty and the other fairytale blonde. In fact there is a fairytale element to the whole story; it’s Rose Red and Snow White for adults, with Eric Bana as a fairly charming Prince, frequently stripping off. (Having become a connoisseur of Henry VIII’s chest, I rather preferred that of The Tudors’ Jonathan Rhys Meyer.) There’s a further dazzling performance by Kristin Scott Thomas as the girls’ mother in which she allows herself - surely - to be artificially aged and looks more beautiful than ever.

Inaccurate? Obviously you can’t expect a film taken from an historical novel to be accurate since historical novelists, by definition, are using their imagination. There are certainly many liberties taken to suit the story: Anne’s early encounter with Henry has no basis in fact. In reality Mary Boleyn also went to France and attended the Queen there, rather than skulking winsomely in the country, and Anne herself was certainly not banished.

As to Mary’s child during her Carey marriage, who is featured as the unquestioned son of Henry, the dates don’t fit historically. Even more to the point, the Carey boy was born at a time when Henry was so desperate for a male heir that he ennobled another bastard by Bessie Blount, Henry Fitzroy, and made him a Duke (of Richmond, a quasi- royal title in those days). Unfortunately Fitzroy died, but there is evidence that in his lifetime the King was contemplating making use of him as a spare male heir in the absence of a legitimate one. No such steps were taken in the direction of the Carey boy; the prominence he gained as Lord Hunsdon in the reign of Elizabeth began with the fact that he was not so much her half-brother as her first cousin; Elizabeth was ever supportive of her Boleyn relations.

My personal experience of historical films has been a happy one. In 2006 I was lucky enough to have my biography of Marie Antoinette made into a film of the same name, written and directed by Sofia Coppola. I say lucky because everything went well from the beginning, starting with the moment when I told her with sincerity: “I have given my vision in my book, and anyone who wants to know what I think can read it. Now you make your movie, give your vision and, as it were, don’t mind me.”I told myself from the start that a book and a movie were two quite different things and as a result I had no problem of emotional possessiveness throughout our five-year association.

I certainly loved the movie, including Coppola’s daring use of rock music to delineate the 18th-century party girl she took the French queen to be. People who expected - or hoped - that I would shudder were disappointed. Inaccuracies? As such there were remarkably few in the story. I remember having a few pangs at the apparently disrespectful way courtiers treated the Queen; Rose Byrne as the Princesse de Lamballe comes to mind, bustling into the royal box at the opera without so much as a curtsey, merely an enthusiastic cry of “Cheree!” But if the film had followed the correct elaborate protocols of Versailles it would have lasted six hours or more.

I had the same problem with the recent Elizabeth: The Golden Age, in which Clive Owen as Sir Walter Raleigh drove me mad by strutting about in front of Cate Blanchett’s queen like Errol Flynn in a white ruffled shirt open to the navel. “Get that man a doublet,” I hissed.

Coppola decided early on to end the story before Marie Antoinette was executed, with her enforced departure from Versailles and the vanishing of the old way of life. So no tragic execution scene. “We know all that,” she told me, leaving me to reflect basely: “And if we don’t, we can always go and buy my book.”

Vivid and memorable, in Macdonald Fraser’s phrase? Certainly the exquisite Oscar-winning costumes and settings conveyed more richly than my hopefully fine descriptions ever could the world of Marie Antoinette. And I find that in my mind’s eye Kirsten Dunst’s wistful face has begun to take over from the portraits as the image of the ill-fated Queen: which is fine because there is a remarkable similarity of type even if the movie star, lacking the Habsburg lip, is much more beautiful - fortunately for us viewers.

Coppola’s strong sense of what she did and did not want to do - this is the “getting of wisdom by a young girl”, not a biopic - saved the film from the tedium of some earlier historical movies: Hal Wallis’s Mary Queen of Scots (1971) comes to mind. Glenda Jackson harrumphed as Queen Elizabeth and Vanessa Redgrave lamented as Mary in thoroughly predictable ways. Furthermore the film featured the notorious scene-that-never-was in which the two queens met, so it couldn’t even claim to be an accurate picture.

This scene was first invented by Schiller in his play about Mary, and later used by Donizetti in his opera Maria Stuarda. It makes a wonderful contest on the stage with Mary finally losing her cool in front of the woman who can save her and denouncing her as the daughter of the “impure Anne Boleyn”: she calls Elizabeth “vil bastarda” (it sounds even better in Italian). But such a major rewriting of history can’t really be justified in a second-rate historical movie, even if Schiller the genius is permitted anything.

Do any of its historical inaccuracies undermine The Other Boleyn Girl? I think not, in what is a rattling good romantic movie. Does The Other Boleyn Girl on the other hand give us something “vivid and memorable”, further to anything historians can do? I think not again. For there is one huge dimension missing from it. I mean a sense of religion, religious turbulence, spiritual conviction and all the immense changes brought about in England by the Reformation. Anne Boleyn was in fact an early “Protestant” to use a modern word, a patron of Lutheran preachers who introduced Henry to certain reformed religious texts. Her intelligence and strong character not only captured Henry but also enabled her to hang on to him by presenting herself as a powerful queenly figure, no longer a mere mistress.

Religion in The Other Boleyn Girl was presumably felt to be a killjoy subject compared to sex (lots and lots of it), realistic scenes of childbirth (maybe one too many - we have got the picture the first time in every sense of the word) and the political use of sex by the nobles surrounding the King. Whether or not Sir Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk really instructed the girls explicitly how to act the whore in the cause of family advancement, the intention to use them politically was certainly there. Only the language is false to history. Furthermore, where language is concerned, there should surely be a lot of leeway given to the screenwriter. We don’t want cod period language, even if there are always a few happily risible moments in historical movies. Genevieve Bujold as a previous Boleyn girl in Anne of the Thousand Days (1969) was responsible for one of my favourites: “Oh Henry,” she cries, “you great big royal booby!”

Here, Richard Burton as a sensational Henry - the part he was born to play - lingers in the mind during the formal court dance in which he captures the reluctant Anne as his partner (she’s currently declining his sexual attentions): “Mistress,” purrs the alpha male, “you will dance to my tune.”

Fanny Ardent as Mary of Guise seducing John Knox with her thick French accent in the first Elizabeth film (1998), is another must for students of the genre. All this is not only fun but infinitely preferable to the laboured information-giving of Nicholas and Alexandra (1971) - alas, another dull movie on an extraordinary subject. I remember a scrap of dialogue that went: “Good morning, Stalin, I’m called Lenin and this is Kerenzsky.” Or something like that.

Peter Morgan makes no such mistake. He has Anne Boleyn respond to a banal question by the King about how she intends to ride her horse, with: “As usual, your Grace, with my thighs.” And why not?

However, the lack of any big idea in The Other Boleyn Girl, other than the fact that sisters are, well, sisters means that it never rises to the heights of the Great Historical Movie such as my all-time favourite in the genre, A Man for all Seasons (1966). This was Robert Bolt’s play about Sir Thomas More and the young Henry VIII transformed into a fabulous movie with help from Paul Scofield and Robert Shaw. The painful dilemma of the individual’s conscience versus his loyalty to the state unrolls before us with colour, drama and truth. You thrill to the movie, you agonise over the message. Compared to this, The Other Boleyn Girl - that’s entertainment.

I felt a little guilty perusing the list and realizing I hadn’t read any of these … there is a full list including the French choices (scroll down a bit) and here is the list of fiction choices:

David Chariandy, Vancouver, for Soucouyant
(Arsenal Pulp Press; distributed by Jaguar Book Group) (ISBN 978-1-55152-226-5)
David Chariandy’s Soucouyant tells us of enormous loss and beautiful memory. A son rediscovers the heritage he has rejected, as his aging mother’s mind disintegrates. The re-creation of the mother’s Caribbean past within the circle of her son’s growing love enfolds the reader in a magnificent story.

Barbara Gowdy, Toronto, for Helpless
(HarperCollins Publishers, an imprint of HarperCollins Canada; distributed by HarperCollins Canada) (ISBN 978-0-00-200846-4)
Barbara Gowdy looks at image and our application of violence, especially against women and girls. We are left writhing with the horror of it all, all the while realizing the ironical softness and accommodation to this urban disease. Helpless, we are left; almost forsaken in Gowdy’s explosive language.

Michael Ondaatje, Toronto, for Divisadero
(McClelland & Stewart; distributed by Random House of Canada) (ISBN 978-0-7710-6872-0)
The seductive, luminous characters populating Divisadero are pulled from the bleakness of their lives by Ondaatje’s astonishing lyricism and whimsical yet meticulous detail. His bold evocation of violence and obsession, regret and tenderness traces the heart with compassion and grace.

Heather O’Neill, Montreal, for Lullabies for Little Criminals
(Harper Perennial, an imprint of HarperCollins; distributed by HarperCollins Canada) (ISBN 978-0-06-087507-7)
In Lullabies for Little Criminals, Baby leads us into her thirteen-year-old life on the impoverished streets of Montreal. It is a world both terrifying and gentle, cruel and yet strangely tender and compassionate. Baby’s astonishing resilience, the way she finds beauty in so much ugliness, makes Heather O’Neill’s novel a triumph of imagination and sensitivity.

M.G. Vassanji, Toronto, for The Assassin’s Song
(Doubleday Canada, a division of Random House of Canada; distributed by Random House of Canada) (ISBN 978-0-385-66351-9)
M.G. Vassanji is accustomed to taking us down crowded, culturally-congested city streets strewn with the richness of people and flowers, people and animals, people and colour. And when we have the power of his narrative, natural as the landscape he describes, we are bestowed with wonder and love and passion.

I want to make a little plug for Jon Krakauer. I recently read “Into the Wild” as well as “Into Thin Air” and they were both fantastic! “Into Thin Air” is my favourite of the two, but he writes both works with such precision and clarity that you are literally drawn into the piece. “Into Thin Air” is Jon Krakauer’s personal account of an excursion up Everest gone wrong with terrible consequences. The story makes one realize how little control we have over the elements and how important it is to be prepared for every contingency when outdoors.

1. The Golden Spruce

2. The Other Boleyn Girl

3. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

4. The Kite Runner

5. Oryx & Crake

6. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

7. In the Country of Men

8. Shake Hands with the Devil

9. One Red Paperclip

10. Suite Francaise

Tim Harford is behind this new book …

“Who really makes money from fair trade coffee? Why is it impossible to buy a decent second hand car? How do the Mafia make money from laundries when street gangs pushing drugs don’t? Who really benefits from immigration? Lookingat familiar situations in unfamiliar ways, The Undercover Economist is a fresh explanation of the fundamental principles of the modern economy, illuminated by examples from the booming skyscrapers of Shanghai to the sleepy canals of Bruges.” (from his website)

And if you love eye strain, read it online here.

-cd

The book I was telling you about is called “World Made by Hand”; the author is James Howard Kunstler. I checked VPL and it is on order - I think it just came out in bookstores very recently. Here is a link to his website which will probably tell you more than you ever wanted to know about him (along w/the book)!

http://www.kunstler.com/

Looking forward to “The Diving Bell & the Butterfly”…