Jane Gardam

God on the Rocks was an earlier Jane Gardam novel and quite good as usual. It was nominated for the Booker back in 1978. A young girl, Margaret, growing up in the 1930's in a very fervent Pentecostal family reminiscent of the family in Oranges are Not the Only Fruit by Jeannette Winterson, only much nicer. Reading an article in the Guardian on Gardam (http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2011/jan/10/jane-gardam-life-writing) I realized that my favorite book of her's, Crusoe's Daughter, is also her favorite.  It's out of print in the states of course.

She is such a clever writer: she always writes little bits from one character's perspective which she later illuminates from someone else's point of view. Her writing is always so smooth and effortless---there are layers upon layers of story which you finally get through to find something resembling truth at the end. Like Margaret's mother's clothes ---layer on layer of flowing fabric which she starts to shed slowly throughout the book until she's running around with nothing on at the beach at the end of the book.  Jane Gardam looks pretty good with nothing on.

The Dew Breaker by Edwige Danticat

I was a little confused at the structure of the book. Was it a novel or a collection of short stories? The transitions between the chapters is never abrupt but they all are going in a different direction. But I realised that close up it is like a portrait by Chuck Close ---all those tiny little photos in different shades but when you pull back it is a portrait of a person or in this case a portrait of Haiti. These stories are of Haitian people---in the United States and in Haiti. The Dew Breaker refers to the TonTon Macoute who used to come in the early morning hours---when the dew was breaking---and take their victims away.  The characters and the stories of Haiti are heartbreaking. Haiti is a heartbreaking country.

I remember disliking Danticat's first book Krik Krak which seemed overwritten and pretentious. But another book Breath, Eyes, Memory , a true story about her uncle was truly moving so I thought maybe it was just her fiction I didn't like. It turns out I do like her fiction and she is an excellent writer. I am going to look for her other work.

Henning Again-ing

More Henning Mankell. This time The Dogs of Riga with Wallender shambling through Latvia. Not as riveting as usual but still good. The translation is odd at times. I am wondering if it's a different person who translated this one, there were some rather jarring idioms used.

Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness

I read Alexandra Fuller's memoir of growing up in Africa Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight a few years back and highly recommended it for anyone who was feeling sorry for themselves thinking they were a bad parent. Fuller's mom was atrociously neglectful---you can only shine in comparison. She's a drunk, the father is mostly absent, the kids are barely supervised and for some strange reason the kids still adore them.

The honesty with which Fuller wrote about the horrific parenting is absent in this next book. Apparently the mother is still alive and angry about how the first book portrayed her so Fuller spends the whole time back pedaling and tries to make the mother's selfishness and narcissism into just wacky lovableness. Too late for me to change my mind but maybe her mother might forgive her?