Letter From Boston
Readings in December
Clockwise from top left: Orhan Pamuk, Mario Vargas Llosa. Hilary Mantel.
I was never particularly fascinated by historical novels or “period fictions†as they are popularly known as in the USA, But I have been read a few of late. I just recently started “Bring Up the Bodies†by Hilary Mantel, a tale of Henry VIII, King of England, Anne Boleyn, his queen, and Thomas Cromwell, his deputy. More on the book and my struggles as I plod through it later, but let me confide to my readers that I will need a few more weeks, if not months, to finish this complicated history of 16th century England and Europe! That's partly because my knowledge of the British emperors until now has been very limited, and acquired mostly from watching movies based on Shakespeare's plays or hearsay. My love affair with historical novels started more than a year ago when I decided to read the Nobel Laureate (2006) novelist Orhan Pamuk's acclaimed “My Name is Redâ€, translated from Turkish, “fascinating murder mystery set against the backdrop of 16th-century Istanbulâ€. I had started reading Pamuk's novels earlier inspired by my wife, who gave me his book “The Museum of Innocence†(reviewed in “Love's Pain is Indivisibleâ€, The Daily Star, September 24, 2011) as a Christmas gift. I was aware that Pamuk's books were difficult to finish and was forewarned by bloggers who gave up on his books after struggling through a few hundred pages. However, I finally managed to finish “Museum†and then started his “Snow†while some of my fellow co-conspirators had given up and felt I was finally getting a handle on some of the ingredients needed to taste and savour these masterpieces: patience and concentration. To my readers who might be interested in taking on Pamuk, let me mention that even though “Red†was set in the social and political montage of 16th century Ottoman Empire, the narrative is strong enough to carry a modern reader with very little background or interest in the medieval history of Asia Minor to keep on turning the pages. Emboldened by my experience with Pamuk, I casually picked up another novel of this genre, “Dream of the Celtâ€, by Mario Vargas Llosa, translated from Spanish. Llosa was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2010, but the subject matter of “Dream†was pretty obscure to me. It tracks the life, adventures, and execution of the Irish revolutionary Roger Casement. One again, I found myself trying to make headway through the first fifty pages of a historical novel based on the life of Casement, who was sentenced to death by the British authorities for his role in the Dublin uprising in the early 20th century. I would have probably put the book down if the novel had entirely been about the history of the struggles of the Irish Republicans. However, the narrative is much more nuanced and interwoven with the international settings of the respective periods. Using extensive historical research, Llosa tells the tale of Casement's early life and gives a fascinating account of his travels in nineteenth century Africa in the Belgian Congo and the early twentieth century rubber plantations of South America. Without giving away too much of the storyline, I can mention that even for a casual armchair history buff and definitely for aspiring novelists and story tellers, Llosa's style, attention to details of the happenings in Africa and Amazonia, and his dedication and passion for the exploited indigenous population of the Congo basin and the Amazon basin helps to make it a page turner from start to finish. Since finishing “The Dream of the Celtâ€, I have switched to lighter readings by modern British writers, including Ian McEwan, a Booker Prize winner for his book “Amsterdamâ€. I was able to finish his “Solar†in less than two weeks, which is a record for me. After that, as I was looking for the next novel to start, I searched from my list of Nobel and Booker prize winners. I soon discovered that the American media was abuzz with the latest Booker Prize winner, Hilary Mantel. Her book, “Wolf Hallâ€, received the Booker Prize in 2009 and did so once again for the sequel, “Bring up the Bodies†in 2012. Mantel is a gifted writer who has infused a new element of excitement to a reexamination of historical characters and the genre. But her writing is sometimes heavy and her sentences long. To take an example, in portraying her main character, Thomas Cromwell, she writes, “He has black hair, graying now, and because of his pale impermeable skin, which seems designed to resist rain as well as sun, people sneer that his father was an Irishman, though really he was a brewer and blacksmith at Putney, a shearsman too, a man with a finger in every pie, a scrapper and brawler, a drunk and a bully, a man often hauled before the justices for punching someone, for cheating someone.†Likewise, as Henry VIII goes through his harem of women of queens and ladies-in-waiting in his pursuit of a male heir for the British throne, Mantel writes with a flourish: “All our labours, our sophistry, all our learning both acquired or pretended; the stratagems of state, the lawyers' decrees, the churchmen's curses, and the grave resolutions of judges, sacred and secular: all and each can be defeated by a woman's body, can they not?†As my readers will understand, while I will enjoy reading such flowery prose, I will also find it necessary to pause as I try to digest Mantel's offerings as I make my way through the workings and machinations of Cromwell, Henry VIII and all the king's men and women!
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