Review: The Minotaur by Barbara Vine

Title: The Minotaur 

Author: Barbara Vine (a.k.a Ruth Rendell) 

Publisher: Shaye Areheart Books (2006) 

ISBN: 978-0-307-23760-6 

Kerstin (pronounced ‘Shashtin’) Kvist is a Swedish nurse hired to care for schizophrenic John Cosway in an English country house. Soon after her arrival it becomes clear there is little for her to do other than accompany the silent Cosway on his walks and ensure he gets his medication. Living in the house are Cosway’s mother and his four adult sisters and, although it is the early 1960’s, the household is reminiscent of the Bennett’s in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in the way it is run and the obsession with getting at least one of the women ‘married off’. 

Vine/Rendell is a great story teller and here she has weaved a story that, despite not being full of murders or chase scenes, did manage to capture my attention. Told in the first person narrative by Kerstin the tale is an intricate observation of a dysfunctional family and the few outsiders they deal with and is, in its quiet way, absorbing. The characters, though not terribly unique, are interesting enough and I would happily have immersed myself in the goings on at Lydstep Hall with a deal of relish if it weren’t for the fact this is a very poorly written book.

There are some horrendously annoying things here, made all the more difficult to swallow because a writer of Vine’s undoubted talent doesn’t, or didn’t used to, have to resort to them.

Firstly there are the constant, unnecessary reminders within the text that the book is reminiscent of Jane Austen’s England. The story, indeed the writing itself, literally scream Austen-esque. Read the introduction of Mr Dunsford at the start of Chapter 9 and even if your only exposure to Jane Austen has been to see the movie Clueless you’ll get the reference and won’t need to be endlessly reminded with such clumsy methods as the narrator likening herself to Elizabeth Bennett being interrogated by Lady Catherine de Burgh. 

Secondly, and even more annoying, are the vague references about big events still to happen. The narrator’s tale is told in the present day reminiscing about the events of her time spent in the Cosway household. It’s not a spoiler to suggest that the most dramatic event of the book takes place towards the end but until that point there are so many “if only I’d known then what was to come” lines that I would cheerfully have thrown the book at a wall if only it wasn’t so heavy. The written equivalent of a movie-maker’s Da Da Dunnnn has always been a bugbear of mine and what it did to this book was remove the last hint or suggestion of suspense.

Without that it was a pretty humdrum story about some people who were insular, isolated and a little odd but not nearly intriguing enough to carry an entire book of awkward prose.

My rating 2/5

Other Reviews

Mystery Ink (they loved it)

Telegraph UK (they didn’t)

 

Review: The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

Title: The White Tiger

Author: Aravind Adiga

Publisher: Oakhill Publishing Ltd [2008]

ISBN: n/a (mp3 download)

Length: 8hrs, 15mins (unabridged)

I have almost given up following awards for books because, increasingly, my response to the winning novels is something along the lines of “what the….?” It was with some trepidation therefore that I tackled the winner of last year’s Man Booker Prize. I have little faith in this particular prize for several reasons not least of which is the observation that their website is utterly devoid of useful information like which books have won the prize each year. You have to go to Wikipedia for that.  Such technological incompetence (or arrogance or whatever it is) grates on my nerves. More worryingly though is that the prize has been awarded to four of the worst books I have ever read including the indecipherable True History of the Kelly Gang (written deliberately without punctuation or grammar) (or characters or plot or a grain of sense in my humble opinion). The only redeeming feature of the entire exercise is that in 1982 the prize was given to Thomas Keneally’s Schindler’s Ark, a truly beautiful novel, but one decent decision 26 years ago doesn’t fill me with confidence.

In spite of all this I decided to read The White Tiger after hearing the author on a BBC interview. Actually I decided to listen to it (not because I wouldn’t have read it but I happened to have an audible credit and nothing else took my fancy). For once (or for twice if I’m being totally fair) those Booker folks got it right. It is funny and sad and thought-provoking and entertaining and informative. In short it’s a thoroughly great read.

Structurally the book is a work of art. Balram Halwai, an Indian man, writes a series of emails to the Chinese Premier who is due to visit India soon. The letters reveal his personal history, and that of the broader society, in a haphazard but very engaging way. The tale of how Balram went from being the son of a rickshaw driver to one of Bangalore’s most promising entrepreneurs is a kind of modern-day fable explored in the wider context of the massive changes taking place in India in recent history. Balram is a deeply complex character who at times I adored and at other times abhorred. But I always wanted to find out what he would do next. 

There is sadness in this book. If the imagery created by Balram’s description of his father’s death doesn’t touch your heart then it’s quite probable you don’t have one. But, crucially, that emotion doesn’t overwhelm the reader. There is also light and humour and, because of those things, the darker themes of the book, such as the impact of corruption on various strata of society and the gaping chasm between the lives lived by rich and poor,  are more powerful than would be the case if the tone was consistently bleak. I can still recall reading John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath (nearly 25 years ago now) which also tells of the truly awful things that happen to people who live in poverty but does so in such a way as to leave readers (well me) burdened with an overwhelming sense of despair and a desire to never consider the subjects raised by the book again. For me a work of fiction must entertain and engage first and foremost and only then will I consider any broader issues that the author may choose to raise.  

The White Tiger is well-written with rich observational details about a fascinating place in a time of social upheaval. At times it made me laugh and at others made me gasp and sometimes I sighed with sadness. But, most importantly of all, it was absolutely engrossing from start to finish.

My rating 5/5

Audio book specific comments: Excellent narration by professional acress Bindya Solanki. I wondered if I would be be turned off by the fact she’s female given that the story is narrated in the first person by a male but after about 5 minutes I completely forgot about the gender difference.

 

Review: Michael Tolliver Lives by Armistead Maupin

Title: Michael Tolliver Lives

Author: Armistead Maupin

Publisher: Black Swan (2008)

ISBN: 978-0-552-77293-8

This book fills readers in on what’s happened to the Barbary Lane crew from Maupin’s Tales of the City series since last we heard from them in 1990’s Sure of You. As the title suggests Michael (or Mouse as he was known in the early books) didn’t die as a result of AIDS as we might have assumed would happen given where the last book left off. Instead as the book opens Michael’s been married for a few years to Ben, Anna Madrigal is still the centre of an odd but loving family and there have been an assortment of hatches, matches and dispatches. As the book goes forward Michael deals with the things that happen when you’re in your late 50’s.

I thoroughly enjoyed the early books in this series but this one didn’t engage me in the same way. Perhaps it’s partly because in the intervening 18 years I’ve changed and am not so taken with the soap opera-ish style of the book but that’s only part of the story. This book simply isn’t as good as its predecessors. It lacks the wonderful sense of the absurd that the early books incorporated and is far too full of worthy messages to be entertaining. I don’t know if he was trying to push some kind of envelope or achieve something else but all the endless details of Michael’s sex life did for me was induce boredom. They certainly didn’t do a heck of a lot to advance what plot there was. If you take out the sex scenes and the passages that repeat events from the previous books there’s not a heck of a lot of story left and the characters are all very under-developed.

When news of this book first surfaced Maupin insisted it wasn’t the 7th book in his famous series even though it featured a key character, referenced many events from the series and caught us up with all the original characters. Eventually he was forced to concede the book is part of the series but his reluctance to do so sums up what’s wrong with this book. It’s trying to be too many things at once and doesn’t successfully achieve any of them. He either needed to jump right in and update the series in the same style as the original books or write something completely separate (which he’s perfectly capable of doing as The Night Listener indicates). The sequel you have when you’re not having a sequel didn’t work for me.

My rating 2/5