I know this is a book blog, but I was at the Canadian Idol concert tonight, at the Fredericton Playhouse, and it was wonderful. Theo Tams is my hometown boy... went to the same school, same church, grew up the same way. I was at his first public performace, a school concert where he sang the first verse of the hymn 'Freely, Freely'. I remember looking at my fellow classmates, shocked that this eight-year-old kid could have such a mangificent voice. If you would have told me then that, fifteen years later, I'd be spending $40 on a ticket to see him sing again, I'd have believed you in a heartbeat. And it was worth every penny.
The Canadian Idol Top 3 are Theo Tams, Mitch McDonald, and Drew Wright. Theo won the competition, Mitch came in second, and Drew third. Canadian Idol was different this year, in that the contestants were allowed to bring in their instruments. Theo came on at the right time, because he's something absolutely magical on that piano. Watching him play tonight, his body, his shoulders, his arms, his hands, his fingers on the keys, was like watching silk, or water flowing over rocks. He joked about the instrument being his best friend, but the fact of the matter is, it's an extension of himself. He's pure grace, and it's a sight to behold.
The concert began with all three guys singing 'In My Life', which Mitch sang on the show. Over the weeks since the show ended, they've learned to harmonize even better, and it was apparent. Theo did an initial riff on the keyboards, which wasn't magnificent, but I think the instrument was on the wrong setting. His voice, of course, was gorgeous.
After the initial trio, Drew Wright did a set, which featured his signature hat and rock-n-roll style. He did a U2 song, Where the Streets have No name, which is one of my favourite, and Crazy by Gnarls Barkley, as well as a few others. Mitch joined him onstage for his last song, and then it moved into Mitch's set. I didn't like Mitch much as an Idol contestant; I found him boring, but he's interesting to watch live. His charisma shows through, and he really can work those guitar strings. He did a few rock-n-roll songs, though I do prefer the quiet, quirky ballads that formed his signature sound during the show. There was a funny moment, when an overwhelmed fan screamed 'I Love you, Mitch' loud enough for Mitch to hear, and he happily waved. Theo came on third, and, in my opinion, best. He did a few soul tunes, a genre I'd never really thought he could pull off, until I saw him hit that Joss Stone song 'You Had Me' during the Idol competition. He's classically trained, with a rich, buttery voice that can tear up and down the scales with impressive ease. Thankfully, he did a few of the power piano ballads that made him famous to begin with, including a rendition of 'Weak in the Knees' that literally made me want to do something I've sworn I'll never do again - fall in love. I've heard him called a young Elton John, and he really is. All he needs is that piano, and maybe a funny pair of sunglasses.
The guys ended with a soul medely that got the whole playhouse to their feet. I happily spent forty-five minutes waiting in line for their autographs; knowing the star of the show gave me a little shot of fame on my own, and I got to hold court, telling stories of the performances I've seen Theo give through his school years. And here is my shout-out to Steve, the absolutely gorgeous merchandise vendor at the concert, who sold me a poster and a t-shirt. Theo recognized me right away, and signed my poster, and gave me a sweet hug. He was glad to see me, glad that someone originally from his hometown was there at the kickoff concert of this tour. I was glad to be there.
It was a great night. I'm glad I could go, and witness the start of what I know is going to be a magnificent career.
Way to go, Theo.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - Stieg Larsson
Comparative Literature afficionados will be absolutely drooling over deceased Swedish journalist and social activist Steig Larsson's English debut novel The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the first in his Milennium series. I know I am. And now I can't wait for the second book, The Girl who Played with Fire.
Larsson, who died in 2004 of a massive heart attack after delivering three of the Milennium books, leaving a fourth unfinished, writes one absolute head-fuck of a story. Beginning with a disgraced financial journalist, Mikael Blomkvist, who has just been successfully sued for libel, the novel quickly gathers a host of other characters, including Dragan Armanksy, the head of a security company, and the proverbial girl with the inked Leviathan with whom he is a little bit in love. Mikael Blomkvist is hired by ageing, wealthy industrialist Henrick Vanger to investigate the disappearance of his niece Harriet, who vanished nearly forty years previously. Blomkvist digs into the tumultuous history of the entire, scattered Vanger clan, whose underground lives reveal chilling secrets, long-simmering hatreds, links to Nazi extremist groups, and horrifying violence. Though he's reluctant to take the assignment, Vanger bribes him with the opportunity to redeem himself to the world of journalism - he will recieve the concrete evidence he needs to prove himself innocent of the libel case.
As Blomkvist becomes more deeply entrenched in the Vanger family, the case grows more complicated and he needs help. He seeks out Lisbeth Salander, pierced, tattooed, deeply emotionally disturbed and utterly ingenius as a computer hacker and a researcher. Together, the two of them uncover the truth, which is even more disgusting and horrifying than either could imagine.
It's an engrossing mystery. I stayed up all night reading it. It's obvious Larsson's a journalist... the info dump gets a little much at times, and he 'tells' rather than 'shows' much of the story, but he gets into the character's heads so well it feels fairly natural. If I have a major complaint, it's that the element that drew me to the book to begin with - the Nazi connection, is the weakest part of the plot. I see that Larsson was trying to draw a line between Naziism and sadism, but it doesn't quite get there. The Nazi character, one of the Män som hatar kvinnor (Men who Hate Women) of the original Swedish title, really could be anything, a Communist, an anarchist, even just your run-of-the-mill sadist and the plot would not have changed in the least. I was disappointed, especially considering Larsson's journalistic expertise was in Fascist extremist groups.
This is a mind-fuck story. You leave frustrated. The perpetrator of the lesser crime - that of the financial misdealings, recieves a vast amount of his just desserts, while the greater crime goes unspoken. It leaves a person wondering exactly what Larsson himself saw as the greater wrong. Though Lisbeth Salander is supposedly a genius, Larsson pushes it too far at times, throwing her into a plan of vengeance that makes very little sense and seems unlikely considering her inability to function socially.
That part is written well. Lisbeth Salander is trapped in the mental-health system, under the care of court-appointed guardians because she's considered mentally incompetent, and she's utterly unable to understand why. Larsson does an incredible job of explaining her damaged mind and charting her growth.
I'm hoping that, since this novel is the first in a trilogy, possibly a quartet, the questions and issues I have with this text will be resolved. However, this is one incredible mystery, and I sincerely hope that Larsson's next text hangs on to the momentum of the first, because flaws and all, this is a good read.
Recommended for a long afternoon when you have time to sit down and focus. Takes some mental energy, but well worth it.
Larsson, who died in 2004 of a massive heart attack after delivering three of the Milennium books, leaving a fourth unfinished, writes one absolute head-fuck of a story. Beginning with a disgraced financial journalist, Mikael Blomkvist, who has just been successfully sued for libel, the novel quickly gathers a host of other characters, including Dragan Armanksy, the head of a security company, and the proverbial girl with the inked Leviathan with whom he is a little bit in love. Mikael Blomkvist is hired by ageing, wealthy industrialist Henrick Vanger to investigate the disappearance of his niece Harriet, who vanished nearly forty years previously. Blomkvist digs into the tumultuous history of the entire, scattered Vanger clan, whose underground lives reveal chilling secrets, long-simmering hatreds, links to Nazi extremist groups, and horrifying violence. Though he's reluctant to take the assignment, Vanger bribes him with the opportunity to redeem himself to the world of journalism - he will recieve the concrete evidence he needs to prove himself innocent of the libel case.
As Blomkvist becomes more deeply entrenched in the Vanger family, the case grows more complicated and he needs help. He seeks out Lisbeth Salander, pierced, tattooed, deeply emotionally disturbed and utterly ingenius as a computer hacker and a researcher. Together, the two of them uncover the truth, which is even more disgusting and horrifying than either could imagine.
It's an engrossing mystery. I stayed up all night reading it. It's obvious Larsson's a journalist... the info dump gets a little much at times, and he 'tells' rather than 'shows' much of the story, but he gets into the character's heads so well it feels fairly natural. If I have a major complaint, it's that the element that drew me to the book to begin with - the Nazi connection, is the weakest part of the plot. I see that Larsson was trying to draw a line between Naziism and sadism, but it doesn't quite get there. The Nazi character, one of the Män som hatar kvinnor (Men who Hate Women) of the original Swedish title, really could be anything, a Communist, an anarchist, even just your run-of-the-mill sadist and the plot would not have changed in the least. I was disappointed, especially considering Larsson's journalistic expertise was in Fascist extremist groups.
This is a mind-fuck story. You leave frustrated. The perpetrator of the lesser crime - that of the financial misdealings, recieves a vast amount of his just desserts, while the greater crime goes unspoken. It leaves a person wondering exactly what Larsson himself saw as the greater wrong. Though Lisbeth Salander is supposedly a genius, Larsson pushes it too far at times, throwing her into a plan of vengeance that makes very little sense and seems unlikely considering her inability to function socially.
That part is written well. Lisbeth Salander is trapped in the mental-health system, under the care of court-appointed guardians because she's considered mentally incompetent, and she's utterly unable to understand why. Larsson does an incredible job of explaining her damaged mind and charting her growth.
I'm hoping that, since this novel is the first in a trilogy, possibly a quartet, the questions and issues I have with this text will be resolved. However, this is one incredible mystery, and I sincerely hope that Larsson's next text hangs on to the momentum of the first, because flaws and all, this is a good read.
Recommended for a long afternoon when you have time to sit down and focus. Takes some mental energy, but well worth it.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Paul Gross - Passchendaele
November 11 is going to be a toss-up for me: stay home and watch the Gillers, or head to the theatre for Passchendaele, the Paul Gross war epic that debuted to rave reviews at the Toronto International Film Festival. Gross, aka Benton Frasier from Due South, or Chris Cutter from Men with Brooms, or any other number of terrible or wonderful, but always memorable roles, wrote, directed, produced, and starred in this film, which was made on an astonishing shoestring of 20 million (for a war epic!).
I like Paul Gross. I like that he's proudly and happily Canadian, I like that he's smart enough to capitalize on those things we in the Great White North love so much (hello, curling season!), and I am thrilled that he's helping preserve the memory of the Canadian presence in the First World War. Vimy Ridge has always been held up as an example of our grit and courage in battle, but after reading this book, and researching the backstory of this little-known event, I know that Passchendaele should be up there, too. More than just a war epic, this story is about soldiers and nurses, the people who dug their heels in and fought, at home and abroad. Michael Dunne is a shell-shocked achoholic former soldier whose memory loss has left him vulnerable to charges of desertion. Stuck in a recruitment office, he refuses to enlist David Mann, who he knows is too young. He does it partially for the boy's own sake, and partially for his older sister Sarah, a troubled nurse with whom he is falling in love. David manages to enlist in spite of his youth and dubious family history, and Michael, desperate for the chance to redeem himself, follows. Both soldiers end up at Passchendaele, where a small troupe of 60 Canadians must hold back a large German battallion. Though Dunne is a fictional character, what happens at Passchendaele, a small Belgian town, is true.
Gross's writing itself turned me off at first. He's very direct, very one-two-three. This happened, because of this, and he felt this way about it. It feels a little dry. I'm not certain if the writing and descriptive processes improved throughout the text, or if I simply got used to the style, but by the climactic battle scene, I could feel the driving rain, smell the dirt and acrid gunsmoke, feel the hot blood. I was sorry to see it end. In all the bluntness, there is an underlying brilliance, a painful juxtaposition of noble ambition, raw courage, moral ambiguity and an overarching sense of no resolution at all, which becomes the resolution itself. If it's meant to capture the spirit of war itself, he does it.
This is Paul Gross's first novel, and if he does publish a second, I'll be first in line to buy it.
Recommended.
I like Paul Gross. I like that he's proudly and happily Canadian, I like that he's smart enough to capitalize on those things we in the Great White North love so much (hello, curling season!), and I am thrilled that he's helping preserve the memory of the Canadian presence in the First World War. Vimy Ridge has always been held up as an example of our grit and courage in battle, but after reading this book, and researching the backstory of this little-known event, I know that Passchendaele should be up there, too. More than just a war epic, this story is about soldiers and nurses, the people who dug their heels in and fought, at home and abroad. Michael Dunne is a shell-shocked achoholic former soldier whose memory loss has left him vulnerable to charges of desertion. Stuck in a recruitment office, he refuses to enlist David Mann, who he knows is too young. He does it partially for the boy's own sake, and partially for his older sister Sarah, a troubled nurse with whom he is falling in love. David manages to enlist in spite of his youth and dubious family history, and Michael, desperate for the chance to redeem himself, follows. Both soldiers end up at Passchendaele, where a small troupe of 60 Canadians must hold back a large German battallion. Though Dunne is a fictional character, what happens at Passchendaele, a small Belgian town, is true.
Gross's writing itself turned me off at first. He's very direct, very one-two-three. This happened, because of this, and he felt this way about it. It feels a little dry. I'm not certain if the writing and descriptive processes improved throughout the text, or if I simply got used to the style, but by the climactic battle scene, I could feel the driving rain, smell the dirt and acrid gunsmoke, feel the hot blood. I was sorry to see it end. In all the bluntness, there is an underlying brilliance, a painful juxtaposition of noble ambition, raw courage, moral ambiguity and an overarching sense of no resolution at all, which becomes the resolution itself. If it's meant to capture the spirit of war itself, he does it.
This is Paul Gross's first novel, and if he does publish a second, I'll be first in line to buy it.
Recommended.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Giller Prize Shortlist
It's been announced. We have some newcomers on the list this year, though I am surprised to see 2006 winner David Bergren absent. If the pattern from last year follows, these five novelists will enjoy a 400% spike in their sales over the next month, at least if Canadians aren't so worried about the election to read and enjoy something a little less vicious. If I get a better job in the next week or so, I'll buy all five and review them, if not, I can't.
The 2008 Scotiabank Giller Prize finalists are:
Joseph Boyden for his novel Through Black Spruce, published by Viking Canada
Anthony De Sa for his collection of short stories Barnacle Love, published by Doubleday Canada
Marina Endicott for her novel Good to A Fault, published by Freehand Books/Broadview Press
Rawi Hage for his novel Cockroach, published by House of Anansi Press
Mary Swan for her novel The Boys in the Trees, published by Henry Holt/HB Fenn
The 2008 Scotiabank Giller Prize finalists are:
Joseph Boyden for his novel Through Black Spruce, published by Viking Canada
Anthony De Sa for his collection of short stories Barnacle Love, published by Doubleday Canada
Marina Endicott for her novel Good to A Fault, published by Freehand Books/Broadview Press
Rawi Hage for his novel Cockroach, published by House of Anansi Press
Mary Swan for her novel The Boys in the Trees, published by Henry Holt/HB Fenn
Monday, October 6, 2008
The Giller Longlist
Yay, it's Scotiabank Giller Season again, and that means great news for a bunch of Canadian authors. The 'Scotiabank Giller Effect', as its known, is a goldmine for the longlisters, even more so for the shortlisters, as every Canadian bookseller publishes the list in their store or online, and all those self-identified intellectuals and Canadian literary afficionados run out and buy the books and judge for themselves which one will get the prize originally named as a tribute to someone's much-loved, literary-minded wife, and is now named after a large bank with customer relations issues.
The shortlist comes out later today, but here's the longlist:
David Adams Richards for his novel The Lost Highway, published by Doubleday Canada
David Bergen for his novel The Retreat, published by McClelland & Stewart
Joseph Boyden for his novel Through Black Spruce, published by Viking Canada
Austin Clarke for his novel More, published by Thomas Allen Publishers
Anthony De Sa for his collection of short stories Barnacle Love, published by Doubleday Canada
Emma Donoghue for her novel The Sealed Letter, published by HarperCollins Canada
Marina Endicott for her novel Good to A Fault, published by Freehand Books/Broadview Press
Steven Galloway for his novel The Cellist of Sarajevo, published by Knopf Canada
Rawi Hage for his novel Cockroach, published by House of Anansi Press
Kenneth J Harvey for his novel Blackstrap Hawco, published by Random House Canada
Patrick Lane for his novel Red Dog, Red Dog, published by McClelland & Stewart
Pasha Malla for his collection of short stories The Withdrawal Method, published by House of Anansi Press
Paul Quarrington for his novel The Ravine, published by Random House Canada
Nino Ricci for his novel The Origin of Species, published by Doubleday Canada
Mary Swan for her novel The Boys in the Trees, published by Henry Holt/HB Fenn
I haven't read any of them, I'm ashamed to admit. Every year, I tell myself, I'm going to do it, the shortlist and the longlist, but this year, it's going to be the shortlist if it's anything. And yes, I will be watching on November 11, though I have to wonder, if it's respectful to do that on Rememberance Day. I don't think it is.
The shortlist comes out later today, but here's the longlist:
David Adams Richards for his novel The Lost Highway, published by Doubleday Canada
David Bergen for his novel The Retreat, published by McClelland & Stewart
Joseph Boyden for his novel Through Black Spruce, published by Viking Canada
Austin Clarke for his novel More, published by Thomas Allen Publishers
Anthony De Sa for his collection of short stories Barnacle Love, published by Doubleday Canada
Emma Donoghue for her novel The Sealed Letter, published by HarperCollins Canada
Marina Endicott for her novel Good to A Fault, published by Freehand Books/Broadview Press
Steven Galloway for his novel The Cellist of Sarajevo, published by Knopf Canada
Rawi Hage for his novel Cockroach, published by House of Anansi Press
Kenneth J Harvey for his novel Blackstrap Hawco, published by Random House Canada
Patrick Lane for his novel Red Dog, Red Dog, published by McClelland & Stewart
Pasha Malla for his collection of short stories The Withdrawal Method, published by House of Anansi Press
Paul Quarrington for his novel The Ravine, published by Random House Canada
Nino Ricci for his novel The Origin of Species, published by Doubleday Canada
Mary Swan for her novel The Boys in the Trees, published by Henry Holt/HB Fenn
I haven't read any of them, I'm ashamed to admit. Every year, I tell myself, I'm going to do it, the shortlist and the longlist, but this year, it's going to be the shortlist if it's anything. And yes, I will be watching on November 11, though I have to wonder, if it's respectful to do that on Rememberance Day. I don't think it is.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Claire's Head - Catherine Bush
When I arrived at UNBF three years ago for my Honours year, I was thrilled to discover that the writer-in-residence was none other than Rules of Engagement author Catherine Bush. Claire's Head had just come out, and as a longtime Bush fan and migraine sufferer, the whole thing seemed rather ideal. I did have some wonderful conversations with Catherine over the course of that year, and she did give me some guidance over the manuscript that became my master's thesis.
Claire, a thirtysomething cartographer living in Toronto with her partner Stefan, has tight, intense relationships with her two sisters, particularly the oldest one, Rachel, who suffers from the same debilitating migraines as Claire. Both Claire's and Rachel's lives are essentially structured around their migraines, creating between them a connection that leaves others in their lives, including their middle sister Allison, outside, unable to even look in. Rachel's pain has, over the years, driven her to a series of desperate acts, including abandoning her own child to Allison's care. Now, as the primary narrative begins, Rachel has disappeared completely. Though others, including Stefan and Allison, dismiss this as another stunt by an unstable woman, Claire embarks on a cross-world journey to find her sister. She finds Brad, Rachel's former lover, a diary entitled 'Rachel's House of Pain', and increasing evidence that pain has, in fact, driven her sister to madness.
Bush has been criticized in this work for extended, overly scientific descriptions of migraine pain but I disagree. Anyone who has actually experienced the agony of a full-blown migraine will find the passages evocative, and at times, downright agonizing in their sensual familiarity. Migraines are, at heart, an experience that makes enemy of the senses, yet at the same time demands only sensual experience as relief, and those who suffer them understand this completely. Rachel's and Claire's pain radiates off the page, and those brief moments of relief they find - protien-rich sashimi, acupuncture, a massage - literally send a shock wave through the body of the reader.
As with all of Bush's works, it's not just about the story at hand. As Claire crosses the globe, her own pain intensifies, and she's journeying not only forwards, towards her sister, but backwards, into the tragic, and utterly random accident that killed their parents. Unlike Rules of Engagement, Claire's Head does not provide vivid and extended discussions of this past event that is still so painfully colouring the present, but rather quiet, subtle moments of reflection, just enough for the reader to understand that it's not just about now.
There is no laughter here. You don't even walk away smiling, just thinking - what is pain? How much pain can a body, my body, endure before I, too, will do what seems unthinkable? When Claire discovers Rachel's radical solution, she is left at an impasse - does she reach out, yank her sister back into the world, back into the shared pain they're so codependent upon, or does she let her go? Bush's graceful, delicate prose vividly paints a picture of pain, love, obsession and grief.
Highly Recommended.
Claire, a thirtysomething cartographer living in Toronto with her partner Stefan, has tight, intense relationships with her two sisters, particularly the oldest one, Rachel, who suffers from the same debilitating migraines as Claire. Both Claire's and Rachel's lives are essentially structured around their migraines, creating between them a connection that leaves others in their lives, including their middle sister Allison, outside, unable to even look in. Rachel's pain has, over the years, driven her to a series of desperate acts, including abandoning her own child to Allison's care. Now, as the primary narrative begins, Rachel has disappeared completely. Though others, including Stefan and Allison, dismiss this as another stunt by an unstable woman, Claire embarks on a cross-world journey to find her sister. She finds Brad, Rachel's former lover, a diary entitled 'Rachel's House of Pain', and increasing evidence that pain has, in fact, driven her sister to madness.
Bush has been criticized in this work for extended, overly scientific descriptions of migraine pain but I disagree. Anyone who has actually experienced the agony of a full-blown migraine will find the passages evocative, and at times, downright agonizing in their sensual familiarity. Migraines are, at heart, an experience that makes enemy of the senses, yet at the same time demands only sensual experience as relief, and those who suffer them understand this completely. Rachel's and Claire's pain radiates off the page, and those brief moments of relief they find - protien-rich sashimi, acupuncture, a massage - literally send a shock wave through the body of the reader.
As with all of Bush's works, it's not just about the story at hand. As Claire crosses the globe, her own pain intensifies, and she's journeying not only forwards, towards her sister, but backwards, into the tragic, and utterly random accident that killed their parents. Unlike Rules of Engagement, Claire's Head does not provide vivid and extended discussions of this past event that is still so painfully colouring the present, but rather quiet, subtle moments of reflection, just enough for the reader to understand that it's not just about now.
There is no laughter here. You don't even walk away smiling, just thinking - what is pain? How much pain can a body, my body, endure before I, too, will do what seems unthinkable? When Claire discovers Rachel's radical solution, she is left at an impasse - does she reach out, yank her sister back into the world, back into the shared pain they're so codependent upon, or does she let her go? Bush's graceful, delicate prose vividly paints a picture of pain, love, obsession and grief.
Highly Recommended.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Book of Negroes - Lawrence Hill
The Hill family has become part of the Canadian cultural landscape. Daniel G. Hill was a longtime Canadian civil rights activist and public servant. His son Dan Hill is a fantastic singer/songwriter, and Lawrence Hill is a speaker and author of fiction and nonfiction. I've been following Laurence Hill's work since I was in my teens, fiction and otherwise. Hill has done huge amounts of sociological research for his nonfiction works, and his research comes out too heavily in his first fictionalized work, Any Known Blood. It's difficult to ascertain there if you're reading a history book or a novel. The Book of Negroes (HarperCollins) shows Hill's growing maturity as a novelist, as he draws the reader into the life of Aminata Diallo, a young woman born in Africa, kidnapped at age eleven as a slave, and sent across the ocean in a slave ship. She makes her way from North Carolina all the way to Nova Scotia as a Black Loyalist during the years prior to the Revolutionary War, and eventually to Sierra Leone in the back-to-Africa movement, then finally to England to take part in the move towards Abolition. History is there, glaringly apparent, as Hill is one of those writers who is beautifully meticulous in his research, but it's so naturally woven through the text that I know I'm reading a story, not a history lesson.
I missed the opportunity to see Hill speak last year around this time, and I literally cried, I was so disappointed. The Book of Negroes stands as an impressive achievement of fiction. Slave narratives, both fictional and autobiographical, are one of my main areas of interest, and this one is well worth studying. I can see myself including this in the doctoral dissertation I eventually hope to start.
If I'm to find a complaint about this text, it would be that there are a few too many good strokes of luck and coincidence for Aminata Diallo. Her mother has trained her as a midwife, even though she's just a child when they're separated, and this skill helps her to survive. She realizes, immediately upon arriving in the States, that learning to read will be helpful, and she manages to learn, even though it's almost unheard of for a slave. I can't give away more for fear of spoiling the book, but it is the only thing about the text that suspended the willing suspension of disbelief for me. I literally did not believe it. Arguments can be made, however, for this lineup of miracles... Hill is telling the story of the strength of a people, so the character of Aminata Diallo can be taken somewhat allegorically. This element is not a deal-breaker for the text. It's still well worth reading. The story would not be so compelling if Aminata Diallo had the luck of the average slave.
The Book of Negroes is published in the States as Someone Knows My Name, because the original title was considered to be inflammatory. I'm rather disappointed, as the original name seems to mean so much more. The Book of Negroes is an actual historical document, a British military ledger that held the name and physical descriptions of some 3000 Black Loyalists that made it to Canada before the Revolution, 1200 of whom made it back to Africa. Changing the title seems to change some of the meaning of the book, take away some of the intensity. This is an extraordinary read for anyone who is interested in American history, slave narratives, the Revolutionary War, or anyone who wants to find out more about this brutal period of history.
Highly Recommended. And if you get the chance to see Lawrence Hill speak, go. His website http://www.lawrencehill.com/ has a list of his engagements and more information about his writing.
I missed the opportunity to see Hill speak last year around this time, and I literally cried, I was so disappointed. The Book of Negroes stands as an impressive achievement of fiction. Slave narratives, both fictional and autobiographical, are one of my main areas of interest, and this one is well worth studying. I can see myself including this in the doctoral dissertation I eventually hope to start.
If I'm to find a complaint about this text, it would be that there are a few too many good strokes of luck and coincidence for Aminata Diallo. Her mother has trained her as a midwife, even though she's just a child when they're separated, and this skill helps her to survive. She realizes, immediately upon arriving in the States, that learning to read will be helpful, and she manages to learn, even though it's almost unheard of for a slave. I can't give away more for fear of spoiling the book, but it is the only thing about the text that suspended the willing suspension of disbelief for me. I literally did not believe it. Arguments can be made, however, for this lineup of miracles... Hill is telling the story of the strength of a people, so the character of Aminata Diallo can be taken somewhat allegorically. This element is not a deal-breaker for the text. It's still well worth reading. The story would not be so compelling if Aminata Diallo had the luck of the average slave.
The Book of Negroes is published in the States as Someone Knows My Name, because the original title was considered to be inflammatory. I'm rather disappointed, as the original name seems to mean so much more. The Book of Negroes is an actual historical document, a British military ledger that held the name and physical descriptions of some 3000 Black Loyalists that made it to Canada before the Revolution, 1200 of whom made it back to Africa. Changing the title seems to change some of the meaning of the book, take away some of the intensity. This is an extraordinary read for anyone who is interested in American history, slave narratives, the Revolutionary War, or anyone who wants to find out more about this brutal period of history.
Highly Recommended. And if you get the chance to see Lawrence Hill speak, go. His website http://www.lawrencehill.com/ has a list of his engagements and more information about his writing.
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