The Return: Fathers, Sons, and the Land in Between

Hisham Matar

Hisham Matar’s The Return: Fathers, Sons, and the Land in Between is a poignant memoir about his quest to learn the fate of his father. It includes background on Libya’s fight for independence from Italy and Ghaddafi’s emergence as Libya’s brutal dictator.

The memoir opens in 2012 with Hisham returning to his native Libya after Ghaddafi’s ouster. He reconnects with his extended family and seeks information about his father, Jaballa Matar. Hisham’s father had been a prominent political activist who used his money, influence, and voice to fight the Ghaddafi regime. The family escaped to Egypt when the situation became too dangerous for them in Libya. They lived in Egypt for several years until Jaballa was kidnapped and returned to Libya to be incarcerated in the notorious Abu Salim prison. That is the last his family knows of his whereabouts. In 2011, Hisham’s uncle and cousins are released from prison after serving 21 years for opposing the Ghaddafi regime. His father is not.

Hisham returns to Libya after an absence of thirty years. In the interim, he has acquired fame as an author. He was a finalist for the Man Booker Prize and National Book Critics Circle Award. His fame and outspoken political activism earn him global recognition and garner influence with the British authorities by calling attention to the horrendous plight of political dissidents under Ghaddafi. He causes such turmoil for Libya that he is eventually able to extract a commitment for Ghaddafi’s son to reveal the fate of his father. Promises are made; promises are broken. And it is only after his return to Libya in 2012 that Hisham concludes his father was probably murdered by the Libyan authorities and that his body will never be found.

Matar’s diction is lyrical and emotionally gripping. He moves seamlessly between Libyan history to stories about his father’s incarceration, the brutality of the regime running as a common thread. Matar has been caught in a liminal phase since his father’s disappearance. He occupies a space between his adopted home in England and his homeland in Libya, feeling like an exile wherever he goes. He lives simultaneously in the past and present. His memoir consists of frequent flashbacks to the past, recalling incidents with his father, his life in Egypt, and the day of his father’s disappearance. He is trapped in the in-between space of not knowing whether his father is alive or dead. Should he continue to hope, or should he abandon all hope?  He fluctuates between anger and despair. This in-between psychic space has plagued Matar since his father’s disappearance and fuels his memoir.

Matar’s haunting memoir shows the perpetual impact of the disappeared on family members left behind. The agony of not-knowing permeates every aspect of Hisham’s life. He and his family share a common plight with family members of the disappeared all over the world as they desperately try to learn the fate of their loved ones.

A powerful memoir that depicts in meticulous and harrowing detail the emotional and psychological trauma of the search for truth and justice on behalf of the disappeared and their families.

Highly recommended.

Writers and Lovers

Lily King

Writers and Lovers by Lily King unfolds in the first-person narrative of Casey Peabody, an aspiring author who has been struggling to write a novel for six years. This is a coming-of-age story of a thirty-one-year-old finally finding her place in life.

Casey faces a lot of challenges. Still grieving over the sudden death of her mother, she works as a waitress, is burdened with student loans, and lives in a virtual hovel. She struggles daily with her writing, work, cramps, relationships, and a health scare. She is in survival mode as she goes through the motions of her daily routine while clinging to writing as a life jacket that will somehow rescue her from her emotional and financial crises. Having recently broken up with her boyfriend, Casey becomes involved with two very different men, unable to decide between the two. The novel ends on a happy note with things finally working out in Casey’s favor.

This is a light, easy read. The pace, which is very slow going in the first half, finally picks up. King’s portrayal of Casey’s introspection and life struggles feel contrived—as if she threw all possible challenges at her protagonist before allowing her to emerge as a resilient and empowered female with a strong voice. The novel has the feel of a made for television show—light, entertaining, but lacking in depth, and with a conclusion leaning heavily on the happily-ever-after fairy tale variety.

The Celestial Hunter

Roberto Calasso; trans. Richard Dixon

Translated from Italian by Richard Dixon, The Celestial Hunter by Roberto Calasso moves at a dizzying pace reflecting the dizzying speed of Calasso’s thoughts. Calasso credits the activity of hunting as the source of rituals, cults, and myths, which, in turn, formed the basis of religions and the pursuit of all areas of human knowledge. Hunting, as represented by the celestial hunter Orion, permeated the divine, human, and animal realms, bleeding from one realm to the other through porous boundaries.

Hunting fundamentally transformed man’s relationship to his environment. Calasso traces the progression from man as the hunted to man as the hunter and beyond. Killing and eating what one has killed precipitated a momentous shift in human consciousness that informed man’s relationship with animals. When humans made the shift from prey to predator, when they changed from the hunted to the hunter, they began to see themselves as distinct from the animal kingdom, possessing a unique ability to exert power over nature.

Each time a hunter wore the skin of the animal he hunted, he experienced a metamorphosis. He straddled both worlds by “becoming” the animal. Accordingly, he developed rituals to merge with the animal, to kill the animal, to separate from the animal after a successful hunt, and to atone for killing the animal through libations and blood sacrifice. These rituals formed the foundation of all religions. From metamorphosis, humans shifted to reliance on a “prosthesis”—an arrow, a javelin, a remote-controlled drone—to become the most formidable species on the planet, the only species able to kill without touching.

Calasso’s knowledge of his subject matter is extensive. He moves with alacrity all over the map, weaving Greek and Egyptian mythology and statuary; Hinduism; the Eleusinian Mysteries; the words of Plato, Ovid, Homer, Nietzsche, Herodotus, Henry James, James Frazer, and a host of others including anthropologists, archaeologists, historians, and academicians, all in a dizzying display of erudition. His process is non-linear, labyrinthine. His chapters encompass the breadth and scope of his vast knowledge as well as his sense of humor. His technique, akin to stream of consciousness, consists of leaping to whatever associations and anecdotes come to mind even though the connections may be centuries and worlds apart, and not evident to a general reader. It is a daunting task to keep up with his breathtaking pace and to follow his train of thought.

Calasso’s theory is fascinating; his insights are stimulating; his analysis is brilliant; his tone can be irreverent. At times, his mental leaps are baffling. One doesn’t quite know where he’s going or why. But always, always, the depth, breadth, and immense scope of his knowledge is evident.

A challenging book, but one that attests to the presence of a brilliant mind at work.

Highly recommended.

The Hunger Angel

Herta Müller; trans. Philip Boehm

Translated by Philip Boehm, The Hunger Angel by the 2009 recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature, Herta Müller, captures in minute detail the horrors of life in a Soviet Union labor camp in 1945. Her novel is based on the true story of Oskar Pastior, a poet who survived the labor camp and described his experiences to her.

The novel opens when Leo Auberg, an ethnic German, is deported from his home in Romania and transported to a labor camp in the Soviet Union where he spends the next five years. Leo is an astute observer of human behavior. He chronicles in painstaking, minute detail his life and work in the camp. The smallest, most mundane tasks assume huge significance. Leo doesn’t just shovel coal. He describes the different types of coal and explains how to shovel each type in meticulous detail. He has an ongoing battle with cement. He provides step-by-step instructions on the best way to carry cinder blocks. He communes with insects. He flashes back to incidents in his past and hallucinates about flying home on a pig. He lists the different types of lice feeding on his body and the bed bugs that plague him at night. And threaded throughout every aspect of his life and activities is the hunger angel.

Hunger is personified in relentless detail. It permeates every aspect of Leo’s life. He calculates each load he shovels earns him 1 gram of bread. He chews his food, spits it out, and hides it to savor it later in the day. He exchanges pieces of bread with is fellow inmates, always suspecting they came out ahead. He rummages through garbage to eat potato peels and anything else he can forage. He goes to the village to exchange bits and pieces of his meager belongings in exchange for food. He avoids looking in a mirror because he feels ashamed of the skeletal appearance he has in common with his inmates. The images and the insatiable hunger continue to plague Leo for decades. Even decades after leaving the camp, he feels a social misfit and is unable to quell the constant feeling of hunger.

The novel is in short chapters with headings that enumerate Leo’s musings and the mundane objects which assume major significance in his life. Told in simple, almost lyrical prose, the accumulation of minute details and litany of daily activities convey an authentic picture of what life must have been like in a forced labor camp.

This is not an easy book to read. It is, however, a powerful and compelling narrative illustrating man’s inhumanity to man packaged in the words of a very talented writer.

The Last Hours

Minette Walters

The Last Hours by Minette Walters is the first book in a historical trilogy that takes place in Dorsetshire in 1348 when the area was first afflicted with the Black Death. It focuses on Lady Anne of Develish and her struggle to save the serfs and others under her care when her husband dies of the plague.

 Lady Anne is an anomaly among women of the period. Educated by nuns, intelligent, and politically astute, she is married to the licentious and brutal Sir Richard. She treats serfs with compassion and humility, teaching them literacy and the importance of maintaining strict personal and public hygiene. When news reaches of her husband’s death, she welcomes the serfs to the moat surrounding the Manor House to protect them from the pestilence, denying entry and exit to all others to prevent the spread of the disease. She has the support and loyalty of the serfs but must contend with hostility and aggression from her daughter, Eleanor. Her husband’s Norman steward distrusts her actions due to her insistence on empowering the serfs. Anxiety, food shortages, and the suspicious death of a young boy add to the problems facing this isolated community.

The historical research for the novel is impressive. Walters drives home the inequality of the period in which serfs are treated as chattel while their masters grow fat by exploiting their labor. The social hierarchies and class discrepancies are omnipresent and especially evident in the contrasting views of the serfs expressed by Lady Anne and Eleanor. Walters immerses the reader in the sights, sounds, and smells of the plague. She shows how the pestilence spreads suspicion and shatters the established norms of society by destroying lives, eliminating status, and modifying codes of behavior.

The novel’s strength lies in generating the atmosphere of isolation and fear pervading the communities suffering from the plague in 14thC England. But the character portrayals were weak. The characters were one-dimensional—either too good to be true or too wicked to have a single redeeming quality. They lacked subtlety and nuance. Lady Anne was so far ahead of her time in attitudes and beliefs that she stretched plausibility to the limit. The excessive amounts of telling and too little showing slowed the pace, dragging the narrative down unnecessarily. This was very evident in Thaddues’ ramble through the countryside in search of food and supplies. Many of the redundancies and repetitions could have been edited out, making for a much tighter construction and shorter novel. The novel lacks a satisfactory resolution as it ends with an abrupt cliffhanger in preparation for the next book in the series.

Recommended with reservations.

The Annotated Arabian Nights: Tales From 1001 Nights

Yasmine Seale, trans.; Paulo Lemos Horta, ed.

The Annotated Arabian Nights, translated by Yasmine Seale with an introduction and annotations by Paulo Lemos Horta, is a 700-page tome that is a visual and intellectual delight. The research is extensive, exploring the Arabian Nights from its beginnings; its translators; its various permutations and translations; its literary and artistic offshoots; and culminating with a selection of retellings. Its pages are adorned with the beautiful illustrations the stories have inspired throughout the centuries, including the enchanting illustrations of Edmund Dulac and the contemporary illustrations of Dia al-Azawi. This magnificent piece of scholarship includes a Foreword by Omar El Akkad, an Afterword by Robert Irwin, and an extensive bibliography.

The volume is in five parts: Part I is Tales from Arabic; Part II is Tales from French; Part III is Hanna Diyab Tales; Part IV is Translators of the Arabian Nights; and Part V is Retellings of Arabian Nights. Paulo Lemos Horta’s Introduction places the Nights in its historical, cultural, and social context; critiques previous translations; and explores its many iterations in art and theatre. His invaluable annotations appear on the margins of each page. These provide commentary, context, analysis, geographical locations, and explanations of the social and cultural mores of the time. They also include how a particular passage, theme, character, or event has re-surfaced in the work of subsequent authors and artists.

Yasmine Seale’s translation has a contemporary feel. She strips the tales of the archaism, exoticism, and Euro-centric lens of previous translations, which had claimed authenticity by presenting the tales as embodying the life and customs of the Arabs. Whereas Victorian translators routinely undercut female characters, Seale re-introduces strong female characters missing from previous translations. She captures the rhythm, ambiguity, irony, and spirit of the Arabic while giving voice to a Shahrazad who is intelligent, courageous, and a formidable warrior for justice. Shahrazad reminds us stories can be powerful transformational tools. Her use of storytelling to educate others and to fight oppression and injustice has inspired countless generations of storytellers to do the same.

The Annotated Arabian Nights is a remarkable piece of scholarship. The volume is a visual feast for the eyes and an inspiring feast for the mind. It should be savored slowly, allowing the eye and the mind to pause, linger, and treasure.

Very highly recommended.

Latitudes of Longing

Shubhangi Swarup

Latitudes of Longing by Shubhangi Swarup consists of four novellas in which one or more characters in each novella forges a latitudinal connection with a character in the subsequent story, thereby linking the stories. The four sections, labeled Islands, Faultline, Valley, and Snow Desert, spread across the Andaman Islands, Myanmar, Nepal, and Antarctica.

The first section on the Andaman Islands is the strongest. It follows the life of Girija Prasad who studies plants and trees, while his wife, Chanda, talks to trees and sees ghosts. The diction is lyrical and sensuous, weaving myth, flora, fauna, and magic in prose that is lush and immersive. Girija Prasad’s character is realistic and enchanting. He displays a love for Chanda that is tender, patient, and fused with wonder at her mysterious abilities. The second section abandons the lush prose and thrusts the reader into graphic scenes of imprisonment, torture, and the brutality experienced by a political prisoner during the military dictatorship of Myanmar/Burma. Sections three and four are stories of love and longing.

Elements of magical realism weave throughout the sections as do folktales, stories within stories, and flashbacks of the characters’ lives. Nature is depicted in a state of continuous flux with its monsoons, tsunamis, shifting glaciers, receding oceans, and rising and shrinking mountains. The scenic backdrop serves to reinforce the view that humans are just tiny specks within the vastness of geological time and an ever-morphing nature.

Although this debut work shows a lot of potential, unfortunately, it loses steam after the first section. The remaining sections ramble and become increasingly incoherent. Swarup’s apparent effort to articulate a vision that unites politics, culture, and spirituality with the natural environment is commendable. But it fails in execution primarily because of the fractured nature of the stories. She overshoots her mark by being too ambitious. Her overwriting is evident; her attempt to philosophize smothers. Despite these flaws, Shubhangi Swarup shows she is capable of writing spell-binding prose so long as she doesn’t overreach.

Recommended with reservations.

The Girls of Slender Means

Muriel Spark

The setting for The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark is a London hostel for young women called the May Teck Club. The year is 1945 at the closing of World War II. Rations and coupons are in high demand. The women residents discuss lovers, food, jobs, coupons, diets, who gets to wear the much sought-after Schiaparelli gown, and who is thin enough to sneak through the upstairs lavatory window to have a clandestine meeting with a lover on the roof.

The women are seemingly oblivious to the political events of the time and conduct their lives as if all is normal. Their superficial concerns are humorous against the backdrop of a world in ruins. The narrative flashes back and forth in time. Among those at the hostel is Joanna, an elocution teacher whose overheard poetry recitations frequently interrupt the narrative. Meanwhile, Jane who works in book publishing, demands quiet while she performs “brain-work.” This consists primarily of fabricating fan letters to famous people in the hope of cashing in on a signed reply. Selina is the beauty in the group who attracts men with ease. Throw into the mix several girls who giggle a lot and a couple of young men who frequent the club, one of whom is married and having an adulterous affair with one of the women; the other is Selena’s lover and an aspiring author.

The narrative drifts from one character or situation to the next. It is peppered with humor, witticisms, and sarcasm but there is no plot, little continuity, and sparse character development. Perhaps its strength lies in depicting the post-war atmosphere as consisting of young people aimlessly drifting while engaging in superficial dialogue to avoid confronting the horrors of war. If so, the narrative echoes the aimless drift in so far as it seems to meander along without much rhyme or reason.

The White Book

Han Kang; translated from the Korean by Deborah Smith

The White Book by Han Kang, translated from the Korean by Deborah Smith, is an autobiographical meditation using fragmented images of objects in the color white to serve as the backdrop for the narrator’s grief at the death of her older sister who died two hours after her birth.

The narrator opens the novel by listing items in the color white, many of which connect to her baby sister: swaddling bands, newborn gown, moon, shroud, etc. She describes snow, blizzards, frozen lakes, a white bird, a white dog, and other manifestations of white. Also included is her mother’s narrative of being alone while undergoing the premature birth and subsequent death of the infant. The fragmented images serve as catalysts for meditation.

While on a writer’s residency in Warsaw, the narrator observes how the remnants of bombed out buildings have been incorporated into new structures as permanent reminders of the past. She entertains a parallel thought that she has incorporated her sister into her being. She circles back to the scene of her baby sister’s birth and death several times and projects various scenarios incorporating her sister had she survived. By integrating her sister into her life and her writing, the narrator asserts her as a living presence.

Kang’s language is poetic and delicate; the tone elegiac and reflective. Each image invites contemplation. Some images are only a few lines long. The format is unusual in that there are blank pages and copious amounts of white space between images. This suggests the narrator offers the reader empty space to contemplate the image and/or to project meaning on the blank screen.

The cumulative impact of fragmented images, sensitive musings on the color white, and grief at a sibling’s death accentuate the transience and fragility of life. The narrator is haunted by her past, by her guilt at surviving when her sister did not. Her pain is evident, as is her longing to transcend that pain through language and imagery. What emerges is a compelling narrative in an unconventional format capturing the poignancy of dealing with loss.

The Lemon Tree: An Arab, A Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East

Sandy Tolan

The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East by Sandy Tolan is a work of non-fiction chronicling the four-decade old friendship between Bashir Khairi, a Palestinian, and Dalia Eshkenazi Landau, an Israeli Jew. Sandy Tolan, a professor of Journalism, includes the history of the formation of Israel and its increasing encroachment on Palestinian land.

The book opens with Bashir and two of his cousins traveling from the Palestinian town of Ramallah to the Israeli town of Ramla to see their former homes now occupied by Israeli families. Completion of Bashir’s home, built decades ago by his father, was commemorated by the planting of a lemon tree in the back yard that has since grown and blossomed. Bashir knocks on the door and when Dalia opens it, he explains this was his family’s home and he asks permission to see it. Dalia graciously lets them in and allows the three men to look around. So begins an unlikely friendship between Dalia and Bashir.

Tolan gives an overview of world events, including the two world wars, that led to the formation of Israel and the partitioning of Palestinian land. He provides the backstories of the respective families. Bashir’s family was expelled from their homeland by the Israelis; Dalia’s family, who fled from Bulgaria to Israel during World War II, moved in to what they were told was an abandoned home. As Dalia and Bashir become friends, visit each other’s homes, and share their respective histories, Dalia realizes a terrible injustice has been perpetrated on the Palestinians. As her husband, Yehezkel, says, “ . . . you are the only ones who have a legitimate grievance against us. And deep down, even those who deny it know it.”

The tension between the two friends is palpable when describing their conflicting positions. Dalia recognizes the injustice while simultaneously trying to explain to Bashir what the land has meant to Jews for centuries. Bashir reminds her the land belonged to Palestinians for generations and insists that because it was stolen, it should be returned. He argues it is unjust to punish Palestinians for the atrocities committed against the Jews by the Europeans. Their relationship is interrupted when Bashir is suspected of being a terrorist and is beaten, tortured, and incarcerated in an Israeli jail for over a decade. Eventually, Dalia and Bashir agree on a compromise and turn the home into a school for Arab and Israeli children.

Sandy Tolan is to be commended for giving a human face to one of the world’s most intractable conflicts. Bashir and Dalia recognize they have a shared history of oppression and persecution. Both were forced to flee their homes to preserve their lives. Despite individual efforts, however, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is far too complex for individuals to solve alone. The solution must come through the unbiased and fair-minded intervention of powerful people in positions of authority. The irony is that it was powerful people in positions of authority who generated the conflict in the first place through the decisions they imposed. Those same individuals are no longer alive to bear the brunt of pain, anguish, and suffering their actions have caused and continue to inflict on subsequent generations.

Purple Hibiscus

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Set against the backdrop of civil unrest and a military coup in Nigeria, Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is a coming-of-age story of fifteen-year-old Kambili. The story unfolds in Kambili’s first-person voice.

Kambili lives at home with her father, mother, and brother. Kambili’s father, Eugene, is affluent and well-respected in the community. Kambili tries to reconcile her father’s esteemed position in the community with the father she experiences at home. Eugene is a fanatic Catholic, determined to stamp out even the slightest whiff of indigenous traditions. He runs his household like a prison camp, always on the lookout for behavior he considers deviant. His punishment is swift and cruel. He physically abuses his wife and children if they do not meet his unrealistic expectations. His family lives in perpetual fear, treading carefully around him and saying only what they think he wants to hear.

The extent of their oppressive home life becomes apparent to Kambili and her brother when they visit their Aunty Ifeoma. Although living in poverty, Aunty Ifeoma and her children are happy. Their home is infused with laughter, songs, and unrestricted chatter in a relaxed atmosphere. They exhibit pride in their Nigerian heritage, indigenous traditions, and spirituality. The experience of a healthy home atmosphere prompts Kambili and her brother to rebel against their father. He punishes Kambili so severely she is hospitalized. After her mother commits a desperate act to protect her children, it falls upon Kambili’s shoulders to assume responsibility for holding the family together.

Adichie’s characters are rich with ambiguity. On the one hand, Eugene is a generous man. He donates regularly to charitable causes, feeds the hungry, pays tuition for children whose parents are poor, gives to the church, and lives up to his reputation as a leader in the community who can be counted on to help. On the other hand, he is intransigent, cruel, violent, dictatorial, and brutal towards his family.

Kambili struggles with the conflicting images of her father. She desperately wants to win his approval and savors his praise and attention. But she also lives in abject fear of his violent temper. As the novel progresses, her voice strengthens and becomes increasingly discerning. She recognizes her father has suffocated any hope of a healthy home environment with his fanatic religiosity and iron-fisted control of his family’s daily activities.

Kambili is shy, fragile, and vulnerable. Her voice is authentic. At first, she discloses her father’s acts of violence through hints and innuendo as if to indicate a reluctance to acknowledge his cruelty. Her stay with Aunt Ifeoma exposes her to a way of life free of violence and fear that she never knew existed. Initially embarrassed by her ignorance of the outside world, she eventually bonds with her cousins and learns to adapt. She blossoms. She experiences first love. She grows in strength and aptitude.

Adichie delivers a sensitive coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of political and domestic violence. It ends on a hopeful note with Kambili as a mature, self-assured young woman who assumes the role as head of the family.

Highly recommended.

At Night All Blood is Black

David Diop; translated by Anna Moschovakis

Winner of the 2021 International Booker Prize, At Night All Blood is Black by David Diop, translated from the French by Anna Moschovakis, chronicles the descent into madness by a Senegalese soldier fighting with the French in the trenches in World War I.

Unfolding in the first-person point of view of Alfa Ndiaye, the novels opens with a shocking image and revelation. Alfa Ndiaye’s “more-than-brother” childhood friend, Mademba Diop, has been fatally wounded. With his guts sprawled outside his body, he pleads with Ndaiye three times to put him out of his misery. Ndaiye can’t do it. He lies next to him and waits for him to die. As soon as Mademba takes his last breath, Ndaiye experiences a profound sense of guilt for not honoring his friend’s last request. He carries his friend’s body back to the trench for burial. And that is when he begins to unravel.

Ndaiye embarks on a gruesome ritual of capturing German soldiers to torture and mutilate. He slits open the stomach of each soldier he captures, pulls out his insides, and lies next to him to watch him die. He severs the soldier’s hand and takes it back to the trenches as a trophy. Initially, his comrades congratulate him for his bravery and ingenuity. But after he brings back the seventh severed hand, they begin to fear and avoid him as a devourer of souls. Eventually, Ndaiye is sent to a field hospital to recuperate.

A series of flashbacks about his childhood and his friendship with Mademba convince Ndaiye he is to blame for Mademba’s death. Consumed with guilt, he circles back to his childhood, his first sexual encounter, and he contrasts his impressive physique with that of Mademba. His conviction that a young French nurse in the hospital physically desires him leads to rape. His constant refrain that he speaks “God’s truth” is ironic since he is far from being a reliable narrator.

The contrast between Ndaiye’s childhood and his touching first sexual experience to the brutal, torture-loving man he becomes is horrific. His descent into madness is replete with graphic images of female sexual organs as metaphors for the trenches. Ndaiye recognizes the insanity of war which expects the savagery and madness be switched on or off with the flip of a switch at the captain’s command. He also sees that exploitation of the “chocolat” soldiers is reinforced by the French captain using racist stereotypes to urge the African soldiers to behave with excess brutality on the battlefield.

The language is visceral and graphic; the translation sounds authentic, capturing Ndaiye’s rhythmic diction. The novel opens with the words, “ . . . I KNOW, I UNDERSTAND, I shouldn’t have done it.” Done what? The question is open-ended since there is so much he shouldn’t have done. Desperate for atonement, Ndaiye’s struggle and descent into madness graphically illustrate the savage consequences of war and its horrific impact on the psyche by stripping it of compassion and humanity.

Depicting the intersection of racism, masculinity, violence, and war, this is a compelling novel. But it may not be for everyone because of its graphic description of violence.

Crimes of Conscience: Selected Short Stories

Nadine Gordimer

Crimes of Conscience: Selected Short Stories by Nadine Gordimer, the 1991 Nobel Prize laureate, is a collection of eleven stories set in South Africa. The stories vary from first person point of view to third person point of view. They all have in common characters who are put in the position of having to make a difficult choice, one which frequently leads to a crime of conscience and its concomitant feelings of guilt.

Gordimer’s characters are caught up in a South Africa in the grip of the violence and political turmoil of apartheid. With depth and breadth, she explores the subtleties and nuances of her characters’ emotions against this background. Her characters face a moral quandary and must choose. Why they choose to do what they do is sometimes not clear even to them. But in one form or another, they are all plagued with guilt for the choices they make.

The situations vary. A wife betrays her husband’s friend to the authorities. A white farmer’s son murders the infant daughter he has fathered with a black farm hand. A former guerilla leader remembers only too late how much he owes to the white lawyer and his wife for opening their home to him. A village chief reports the presence of strangers in his village with devastating consequences. A man reveals to his lover he has been sent to spy on her. The destruction of termites and their queen under the floorboards of a home takes on symbolic significance, haunting a child well into her adult years. A refugee grandmother must choose between saving her spouse or her grandchildren.

Gordimer’s movement from one situation to another, from one setting to another, and from one voice to another seems effortless. Her characters are authentic. They are complex and deeply felt. Her observations on people in morally complicated situations are honest, astute, and depicted with a sensitivity to their predicament and their weaknesses.

There are no easy answers to the dilemmas posed in these stories. Set against the background of an apartheid South Africa where systemic racism is the rule of law, Nadine Gordimer’s stories remind us that living under an oppressive government takes a tragic toll on people’s lives and thrusts them in moral dilemmas where they feel they have no choice but to commit crimes of conscience.

Very highly recommended.

Nature Obscura: A City's Hidden Natural World

Kelly Brenner

Nature Obscura: A City’s Hidden Natural World by Kelly Brenner explores the microflora and microfauna of an urban landscape that many of us either don’t see or simply take for granted.

Brenner, a naturalist blogger, organizes her book around the seasons. She visits the same location, even her backyard, at different times of the year to record the changes in plant and animal life brought about by the changes in weather. She is meticulous in her explorations, recording and documenting what she sees and hears in the minutest details. Her reverence for all living organisms, including the microscopic ones, is evident. She gently lifts a piece of bark or a rock or a shell so as not to disturb the habitat of what lies beneath. And what she doesn’t know or can’t identify, she solves by soliciting the help of experts.

Not all her locations are urban since she visits nature reserves, parks, shores, wetlands, forests, and graveyards. Her curiosity, sense of wonder, and enthusiasm at what she discovers is palpable. Who would have thought that mold, fungi, moss, and lichen could generate such excitement or have a multitude of varieties? Brenner shows the same level of enthusiasm for the hummingbird as the hardy but minuscule tardigrade that is so weird-looking, it might be a suitable candidate for a science fiction movie.

In writing that is accessible and conversational, Brenner’s work is full of interesting insights and observations. Above all, it is a meditation on the connectedness of all living things, from the most minuscule creature whose presence and movement can only be detected with a strong microscope to the majestic trees and the flora and fauna who inhabit them. Through her explorations and discoveries, she shares the wonder of nature and introduces us to the scientists who have advanced our knowledge about the natural world. She invites her readers to conduct their own explorations by providing instructions and tools for those harboring urban naturalist aspirations.

Recommended.

The Book Smuggler

Omaima Al-Khamis; translated by Sarah Enanny

Winner of the 2018 Naguib Mahfouz Medal for Literature, The Book Smuggler by Omaima Al-Khamis, translated from the Arabic by Sarah Enany, recounts the adventures of Mazid Al-Hanafi as he journeys to various capitals in the Middle East and Spain in the 11th Century CE. His journey coincides with a time of transition when political and religious conflicts were ubiquitous in the Islamic world. Rivalry between the factions was rampant with different sects having the upper hand across the region.

Mazid leaves home with a thirst for learning and exploration. He is a bookseller with a passion for books at a time when certain books were considered blasphemous and could land a person in prison or dead were they to be found in his possession. Undeterred but cautious, Mazid devours books of Islamic thinkers and Greek philosophers, determined to preserve them for future generations. His travels take him to Baghdad, Jerusalem, Cairo, Granada, and Cordoba.

While in Baghdad, Mazid is initiated into a secret society of books smugglers, individuals who risk their lives to preserve and disseminate books containing scientific and philosophical knowledge. He is given a chest of books and tasked with distributing them on his travels to individuals who will benefit from and appreciate them. The work is dangerous. He approaches each city cautiously and does not reveal the controversial books until he has satisfied himself that the selected individual can be trusted and is worthy of receiving the precious gift. He also connects with other members of the secret society by using code words to identify himself.

Al-Khamis’ detailed and vivid description immerse the reader in the zeitgeist of 11th Century Islam. Mazid attends the mosques in each city to pray and to attend discussion circles of the various sheikhs. He learns about the politics of the city, which faction/sect is fermenting dissent, who is accusing whom of blasphemy, and the ubiquitous conspiracies at court. He becomes embroiled in political intrigue everywhere he goes and is obliged to make a hasty exit with his treasury of books.

The novel is steeped in the history of the time, perhaps more so than it needs to be. Although a table of historical figures, dynasties, people, and terms is included in the beginning of the novel, the amount of detail and references to various historical individuals, quotations, poems, tribes, caliphs, different sects, and who is fighting whom coalesce to bury the reader in a morass of confusing detail. It was hard to keep track of who, what, where, how, when, and why.

Mazid’s growth from a naïve young man to one intimately involved in the political and religious struggles of the day was compelling. His journeys on the caravans and his sojourns in various cities vividly immerse the reader in the sights, sounds, and smells of traveling through deserts and experiencing the atmosphere of a medieval Arab city. But the many references to religious and political individuals, the excessive detail of sectarian rifts and debates can be bewildering to someone with little more than a cursory knowledge of the historical intricacies of the period. Their presence clouds what would otherwise have been a much stronger novel.

Miss Benson's Beetle

Rachel Joyce

Miss Benson’s Beetle by Rachel Joyce is a quick and easy read about an unlikely friendship between two very different women as they set sail for a scientific expedition.

The central character is Margery Benson, a single school teacher in her mid-forties. World War II has ended, but England hasn’t fully recovered from the bombings, shortages in supplies, and rationing. Conscious of her shabby existence and shabby appearance, Margery is lonely and alone in the world. And then, one day, she snaps. Confiscating a particularly unflattering sketch of her drawn by one of her students, Margery does something uncharacteristically spontaneous. She runs out of the school, stealing the deputy’s new boots along the way. She has never stolen anything in her life.

Convinced it’s a matter of time before the police catch up with her, Margery decides to leave the country. She will indulge her lifelong fascination with insects by escaping to New Caledonia in quest of the elusive golden beetle to present to the Entomology Department at the Natural History Museum. She advertises for an assistant, and after a series of bumps and starts, she hires the young and flamboyant Enid Pretty. Their adventure begins.

The women are a study in contrasts—Margery in her dowdy brown outfits and sensible boots and Enid in her tight outfits, pom-pom sandals, and flaming blond hair. Their personalities couldn’t be more different. Margery is methodical, organized, prefers to remain unobtrusive and quiet. Enid is garrulous, charismatic, ostentatious, and with a flair for attracting male admirers. They travel together by sea, plane, boat, and car; survive cyclones and torrential rains; navigate challenging terrain; collect and document rare insects; share meager supplies; and experience unexpected dangers. As a result of their adventures and misadventures, they experience growth and cement a close friendship based on mutual respect, acceptance, support, and love.

Joyce excels in describing the natural environment. Her descriptions are rich with sensory detail and immersive. The reader is transported to the rain forest of New Caledonia and walks alongside Margery and Enid as they hack their way up the mountain through dense foliage while mosquitoes nibble away at them. But the novel also has its weaknesses. Although there are moments when the characters are portrayed realistically and show some depth, for the most part, they border on being caricatures. The events are far-fetched; the humor leans toward slapstick. But this plot-driven novel is a quick, easy, and entertaining read if approached with reduced expectations in terms of character depth and plausibility.

Windswept: Walking the Paths of Trailblazing Women

Annabel Abbs

In Windswept: Walking the Paths of Trailblazing Women, Annabel Abbs retraces the steps of exceptional women who had a passion for walking. Her selection of women is international: Frieda Lawrence, the German wife and muse of D.H. Lawrence; Gwen John, a Welsh artist; Clara Vyvyan, an Australian author; Daphne Du Maurier, an English author; Nan Shepherd, a Scottish author; Simone de Beauvoir, a French writer and feminist theorist; and Georgia O’Keeffe, an American artist.

Abbs provides brief sketches of the lives of each of these women and conducts extensive research on their writing to determine where they walked, when they walked, why they walked, and how walking impacted their lives. Some ventured to exotic locations far from home, while others preferred to walk closer to home. But they all experience the same exhilaration of simply putting one foot in front of the other and walking.

Their reasons for walking primarily had to do with the need to assert themselves, take pride in their physical prowess, and claim their autonomy. Unfortunately, some of them had latched on to men who dominated and confined them while toying with their affections. Walking became a release, a freedom from the cloying atmosphere of male domination.

The book is also part memoir since Abbs interjects details about her personal life and the challenges she faces as a mother whose children will soon be leaving home. She uses the lives and walking experience of these women to serve as her platform for sharing her experiences, exploring her thoughts, and working through some of her challenges. Although these interjections can be interesting and insightful, they interrupt the narrative flow. One minute we are experiencing Frieda’s exhilaration in the Alps; the next minute we are invited to observe the Abbs’ family quibbling about toads in a concrete bunker. The effect is jarring, the juxtaposition incongruous.

Abbs performs a valuable service by focusing her lens on these extraordinary women. To learn about their lives, to hear them speak in their own voices, to applaud their accomplishments, and to witness the transformative impact walking had on their lives make this an interesting and worthwhile read. It’s unfortunate the effect has been marred somewhat by personal interjections.

Recommended with some reservations.

All's Well

Mona Awad

All’s Well by Mona Awad is a wild romp into magical realism. The novel opens with Miranda Fitch lying on her office floor. An assistant professor in theatre, Miranda is determined to direct Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well. But there’s a problem. Miranda suffers from chronic pain, the result of falling off the stage during one of her acting performances. The pain is so debilitating she can barely move. So she lies on her office floor, swallowing pain killers while ignoring repeated knocks on the door reminding her students are waiting.

Eventually, Miranda gets up and hobbles on to the stage to announce to the class they will be performing All’s Well. The students are disappointed since they had set their sights on performing Macbeth. The tug-of-war begins between Miranda and Briana, a student whose parents have donated generously to the theatre department. Making full use of her parents’ influence, Briana stages a coup in favor of Macbeth. It appears as if she will get her way, that is until Miranda steps into her local pub where she encounters three men. And that’s when the fun begins.

These are no ordinary men. They have mysterious powers, talk in riddles, are aware of Miranda’s predicament, assure her all will be well, and offer her a gold-colored miracle drink. Miranda drinks up only to find the chronic pain in her leg and hips has dissipated. The next day she learns anonymous donors have given generously to the theatre department and insist on seeing a performance of All’s Well. And that’s not all. The three men have bestowed on Miranda the trick of transferring her pain to others, which she does by simply touching Briana’s wrist. She brims with health while Briana’s condition deteriorates.

The further we get into the novel, the more surreal it becomes. Miranda hyperventilates words, thinks and speaks in staccato sentences, hallucinates, conducts conversations with people who aren’t there, and exhibits manic behavior. Meanwhile, she radiates energy, vitality, and sparkles with physical health. The play is eventually performed to an over filled theatre, the crowd demanding entrance as they wave the wrong theatre tickets. Briana miraculously recovers her health during the performance while Miranda chases a vision of her ex-husband.

The novel’s strength lies in its realistic portrayal of Miranda’s interiority, her chronic pain, and how others react to her invisible pain. A central focus is the way in which the medical profession refuses to acknowledge the reality of female pain. Miranda’s male physicians and therapists condescend, patronize, and dismiss her pain as if it is all in her head. Her desperation to alleviate pain makes her comply with their directions even when they pull, tug, stretch, prod, and poke her body while blithely ignoring her tortured cries of agony.

This excursion into magical realism borrows heavily from Shakespeare, as well as Christopher Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus, and echoes Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. The three men are the witches to Miranda’s Lady Macbeth. Her pact with the three men is Faust’s pact with Mephistopheles. Miranda is Shakespeare’s Miranda, the beneficiary of Prospero’s magic. And the transmission of her debilitating pain to Briana while she radiates physical health and vitality is a nod to Dorian Gray.

In the end, all’s well that ends well. Or is it? Is Miranda cured of her chronic pain? Was it all in her head, after all? Is she having some drug-addled hallucination? What exactly happened? The conclusion offers no clear answers. But what a roller coaster ride it was!

The Manningtree Witches

A. K. Blakemore

It is 1643 in Essex, England. The civil war is raging between the Puritans and Royalists. The time is rife with superstition and fear. Neighbor turns against neighbor. Scapegoats for life’s tragedies are hunted and persecuted. This is the setting for The Manningtree Witches by A. K. Blakemore, a blending of fact with fiction of the Puritan witch trials in which several women were executed for witchcraft in 1645 in the village of Manningtree. The protagonist is Rebecca West, the 19-year-old daughter of Beldam West, the ostensible ring-leader of the witches.

Life was never easy in Manningtree, but it takes a turn for the worse when the mysterious Matthew Hopkins, “the witchfinder,” moves into the village. Hopkins is on a mission to ferret out witches and bring them to trial. He gives full vent to his misogynism under the guise of doing “God’s work,” sniffing here and sniffing there until he finds a suitable target. His laser-sharp focus pinpoints weak, vulnerable, impoverished, elderly widows living on the margins of society who are easy prey. Through Rebecca’s eyes, we see the patriarchal hunting machine in full force as it singles out these women, solicits testimony against them, examines their frail bodies for evidence of satanic activities, uses their poverty as a sign of weakness, demonizes their pets, tortures them to solicit confessions, and twists their words to obtain a conviction and execution. Logic and common sense are in short supply. Rebecca, caught in the web of conspiracy against these women because of her mother, is temporarily incarcerated with them but obtains her release by telling the patriarchal court what it wants to hear.

The novel unfolds primarily through Rebecca’s first-person point of view. But it shifts sporadically to third person to describe scenes and events in which Rebecca is not present. These unnecessary shifts can be jarring and confusing. Rebecca’s diction is detailed and evocative. Replicating the idioms of 17th century England, it is replete with graphic descriptions, pungent odors, and immersive imagery. The diction is generally effective but can occasionally veer toward being too flowery and obscure.

The novel’s strength lies in its realistic character portrayals and in its lyrical description of the sights, sounds, smells, squalor, and poverty of 17th century England. Superstition, fear, Puritan fervor, lies, petty jealousies, and betrayal coalesce to scapegoat destitute women living on the fringes of society. The tension gradually builds up as layer upon layer of “evidence” against the women accumulates until the unthinkable happens.

The portrayal of the misogynistic Matthew Hopkins, clothed head to toe in black, is particularly effective as he sniffs around for vulnerable, elderly women to victimize. He is simultaneously sexually aroused and repulsed by a woman’s flesh. Rebecca’s mother, the fearless Beldam, emerges as the most powerful female. She is a crone in every sense of the word—a woman who refuses to be intimidated by the patriarchy, who will not submit to male domination regardless of the consequence to her personal safety, who exercises agency, and whose voice is not silenced until the patriarchy puts the noose around her neck to silence it.

An atmospheric plunge into a tragic period in English history. Highly recommended.

The Wrong End of the Telescope

Rabih Alameddine

The Wrong End of the Telescope by Rabih Alameddine explores the plight of refugees arriving on Lesbos. The narrative unfolds in the first-person voice of Dr. Mina Simpson, a transgender Lebanese-born doctor estranged from her family for decades. The short chapters and their quirky titles reflect Mina’s musings, sensitivity, and dry humor.

Mina, born Ayman, has been living in the United States for over thirty years. An experienced physician, she answers the call for help from a friend with a Swedish NGO assisting refugees arriving in Lesbos. Being so close to Lebanon conjures up memories of her childhood and family, the conflicts she had with her abusive mother for being trans, and her ensuing estrangement from her siblings except for her brother, Mazin.

Interspersed with flashbacks on her childhood and her life with her partner in America, Mina encounters refugees and hears their harrowing tales of oppression and escape. She is particularly drawn to Sumaiya, a Syrian wife and mother with terminal liver cancer. Sumaiya wants her condition kept secret for fear it might jeopardize her family’s chance of going to Europe.

While in Lesbos, Mina encounters a gay Lebanese author she had met and admired in the past. He is in Lesbos, presumably interviewing refugees for his novel. She addresses him as “you” in her narrative and includes his back story. But this unnamed author, possibly based on Alameddine, himself, has been severely impacted by the scale of human tragedy. He has become disillusioned and reclusive, hiding in his hotel room to avoid interaction. Mina and her friends temporarily draw him out of his self-imposed shell.

Mina describes the two groups in Lesbos with an acute eye for observation. The first group are the volunteers, some of whom come with genuine concern and desire to serve refugees; others come primarily prompted by a desire to be seen in an altruistic light. They take selfies while posing with refugees and behave with shocking insensitivity. The second group are the refugees, themselves. And, here, Mina’s description is at its strongest. As an Arab and a volunteer, Mina straddles between the two groups. She speaks the language of refugees and understands their culture in ways American and European volunteers do not.

The media posits refugees as a group of indistinguishable individuals hoarded together en masse. Mina gives each refugee she meets a unique identity and background, ranging from the crotchety, grumbling grandmother; to the Iraqi child who holds her hand and guides her through the camp; to the young newlyweds who can barely keep their hands off each other; to Sumaiya and her family; and to countless others. They are unique, well-rounded human beings with a story to tell. All are portrayed with sensitivity, empathy, and compassion. And all are depicted as struggling to make the best of a horrendous situation, waiting patiently in long lines for documents and food amid the squalor and the mud.

The seamless blend of fact with faction grounds the novel in real events. Rabih Alameddine reverses the customary lens. He looks through the wrong end of the telescope to shine a light on the volunteers and journalists as they are perceived by the refugees. In the process, he portrays refugees as complex individuals who have embarked on a heroic struggle to survive after losing their homes, livelihoods, and families. He bears witness to their struggle without being maudlin or creeping toward sensationalism. No matter how brief the encounter, each refugee discards anonymity, assumes a unique identity, is presented as fully fleshed-out and as well-deserving of our sympathy.

Recommended.