Review of THE CUT LINE by Carolina Pihelgas (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This novella is a translation from Estonian.

Liine has left an emotionally abusive 14-year relationship with Tarmo, a man 15 years her senior. She retreats to Tsõriksoo, a virtually abandoned farmstead owned by her family. She spends the summer of self-imposed isolation doing physical work around the property as she reflects on her relationship with Tarmo and her mother.

The book focuses on Liine’s inner life. She experiences a gamut of emotions: grief, self-blame, fear, bitterness, doubt, and anger. She knows she needs time to come to terms with the toll her past has taken on her self-worth and to rebuild her life: “I need to stay beneath the soil, in the ground, here in a safe remote place until I find the strength within me to sprout new shoots.” Yet she worries about what will emerge: “I want to shake my body, throw off the pressure that’s accumulated on my skin, scrub off all the muck. What will be left?” There are steps forward but her journey of growth and healing is not easy or straightforward: “I’m building a new shell, but how long will it take? I’m crackling, I’m expanding, and I’m afraid of getting hurt.”

Though the focus is on Liine, there are repeated references to threats from the outside world. The farm is located next to an ever-expanding NATO base, on the border of Russia, so almost daily she is exposed to the sounds of military exercises suggesting a conflict is looming. There are also several references to climate change and the heatwaves and drought Estonia is already experiencing. All of this creates a claustrophobic atmosphere.

The title is perfect. Liine describes living on the cut line: “I’m swaying on the cut line that separates my previous life from what’s to come.” She wants to linger on the fine line between the past and the future, hoping that she will eventually step firmly into the future. There is hope as, at the end of the summer, she states, “My legs are strong from the groundwork, and I’m not easily bowed.” The title also suggests creating new boundaries as she takes up “more and more space.”

There is no action-packed plot. Very little actually happens. It is a slow-paced, detailed examination of the emotional aftermath of a woman’s escaping a toxic relationship. Though bleak and repetitive, it seems authentic. The ending is predictable.

The prose is lyrical: “Doubt is like a cobweb – very delicate, but when you touch it, it clings to your fingers. Gray and sticky.” The descriptions of nature are especially poetic: “At night I walk to the edge of the forest. The sky’s still glowing the color of sunset, but the forest’s already almost dark. The mosquitoes whine. . . . The shadows of the trees are long and a little lonely. . . . I rustle through the scrub, dry branches crackling under my feet.”

This book is not for everyone. Those who enjoy introspective books will find much to admire.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of THE HOPE by Paul E. Hardisty (New Release)

3.5 Stars 

This is the last of The Forcing Trilogy which begins with The Forcing (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2023/02/review-of-forcing-by-paul-e-hardisty.html) and continues with The Descent (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2024/02/review-of-descent-by-paul-e-hardisty.html).

The novel is set in 2082 in Hobart on the island of Tasmania. It’s a dystopian world where most live miserable, fear-filled lives with no freedom and under constant surveillance. Sixteen-year-old Boo Ashworth, her Uncle Kweku, and their friend Raphael collect whatever books they can find and hide them in a secret library; their goal is to preserve human knowledge in a world where information is heavily censored and people are kept illiterate. Boo, who loves to read, has the ability to instantly memorize entire texts. When the library is destroyed, Boo manages to escape. She sets out to find her family and ends up drawn into a plan to overthrow Eminence, the tyrant who maintains absolute control through the use of AI and threats of extreme punishment.

Interspersed regularly throughout Boo’s narrative are extracts from Kweku’s latest manuscript which documents his interviews with a man “at least partially responsible for more deaths than almost any other person in the history of the human race.” This manuscript, Kweku writes, “would form the third part of our family story spanning three generations, a tale of the perils of unconstrained greed, the cost of cowardice, and, perhaps, the power of hope.”

The title of the book, of course, points to its theme of the power of hope. This message is repeated again and again: “’Even when things are darkest, you can still care, and keep trying. As long as there is hope, there is a chance’” and “’there is always a pathway to a better future, even if you can’t see it. You have to keep hope alive. It’s what keeps you going. But you have to have courage in order to hope. You need to be brave. Because it’s a lot easier not to hope.’”

Though these comments are made to people of the future, there is no doubt that they are also intended to those of us who have “spectacularly wilful blindness.” Events of our time are described: “’The confluence of conditions unlike humanity had ever seen before. The rise of robotics and artificial intelligence, the largest population of human beings the Earth had ever borne, the heaviest burden. Technological prowess unmatched in our history, the ability to edit and extend life, to plunder the planet like never before, to fundamentally alter the climate. The rise of autocrats and strong men, of fundamentalist religions, the use of social media and disinformation to control minds and erode the democratic dream.’”

Reading about the aftermath of the election of President Bragg feels like reading a current newspaper about life after the election of President Trump: “’the civil service at every level in America had been completely dismantled and replaced by a phalanx of Bragg loyalist institutions. Everything – the courts, the senior military brass, local law enforcement, government agencies, the CIA and the FBI – everything was stacked with Bragg’s appointees. . . . Congress became nothing more than a group of old men taking turns holding a rubber stamp. The courts had long since been cowed, rendered impotent. All the so-called guardrails had been removed. . . . Environmental protections of all kinds had been wound back. The National Parks service was dismantled and the major wildlife refuges and areas protected for over a century were opened up for commercial exploitation – lumber, mining, oil and gas. Science agencies that studied climate change, the atmosphere and the oceans were gutted. Foreign aid was suspended. The right to protest was eliminated. Taxes on corporations and the rich who owned them were cut to the point where most billionaires paid nothing.’”

I got goosebumps as I read about Bragg suspending elections, citing the need for stability in a time of crisis, around the time Trump “joked” about cancelling midterm elections. And so many people feel overwhelmed by Trump’s chaotic shock and awe approach to governance: “’People walked around in a permanent state of disbelief. We were literally stunned. Shell-shocked. It had happened so fast, on so many fronts and with such ferocity, that there was simply too much to process.’” Much in this novel is unsettling because of its realistic depiction of our times; the possible consequences hypothesized are certainly not far-fetched.

Boo is an interesting character. Love for and loyalty to family define her. She is intelligent and possesses a maturity beyond her years. She is strong, yet at times is paralyzed by fear. Her relationship with Leo bothered me; because we see little of Leo, for much of the book it is difficult to understand the reason for the strength of her feelings. I understand that her love serves as a motivation and is necessary for the revelation in the last paragraph, a revelation not in the least surprising.

Tension is not lacking. Boo and various family members are often in danger. The scenes in the palace are sometimes difficult to read. The only light-hearted moment is the reference to “a plastic bag full of novels from a publisher called Orenda.”

I’d advise readers to begin with the first two books in the trilogy for a more complete understanding of what happened. There are returning characters and many references to earlier events. Unfortunately, the reader may end up feeling overwhelmed. I understand the importance of imagining a “just and fair future for humanity” and a pathway forward is prescribed, but are there enough people brave enough to hope and fight with love in their hearts?

Review of MISSING SAM by Thrity Umrigar (New Release)

 4 Stars

This novel, set between July 2019 and March 2020, focuses on Aliya (Ali) Mirza and Samantha (Sam) O’Malley, a gay couple living in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

After an argument with her wife the previous night, Sam goes for a morning run and disappears. Ali reports Sam missing but as a gay and Muslim daughter of Indian immigrants, she can’t escape the suspicion of both acquaintances and strangers. As she contends with guilt and fear, Ali is isolated and vilified online.

The novel alternates between the points of view of Ali and Sam. Besides describing their current circumstances, they reveal their difficult pasts. Ali’s mother died and her father (Abba) remarried a woman who disapproves of homosexuality, so Ali and her father have been estranged. Sam’s abusive father disowned her for the same reason, and her relationship with her mother has been affected by her mother always deferring to her husband.

Pacing is uneven. The first part, focusing on the search for Sam and her fate, is fast-paced and suspenseful. The second half is much slower because it centres on whether/how it’s possible to return to “normal” life after such a trauma.

The emotional lives of both Ali and Sam are clearly described. Both are fearful, though for different reasons. Both feel guilty about their contributions to their often tempestuous relationship. Both feel alone, Sam because no one knows of her whereabouts and Ali because she has little support in face of public scrutiny and mistrust. I sometimes felt very frustrated with Ali: some of her choices seem foolish and only add to her troubles, though I admit to never having been in her situation so perhaps I’d behave similarly. I did appreciate that both undergo some personal growth; their traumatic experiences bring lessons, especially about understanding other people and their behaviours.

This is not a light read. Besides describing trauma and its effects on people, the book highlights racism, homophobia, Islamophobia, and xenophobia. The author clearly suggests that the political climate created during Trump’s first term contributed to these problems in society. The book, however, is a worthwhile read.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of DEPARTURE(S) by Julian Barnes (New Release)

 4 Stars

Julian Barnes turned 80 on January 19, the day before this book was published. And it is so very much a Julian Barnes book, one difficult to categorize as either fiction or non-fiction, which the narrator’s friend would undoubtedly dismiss as “’This hybrid stuff you do.’”

The narrator is a writer named Julian Barnes who states that what we are reading will be his last book. He begins with a lengthy discussion of memory, how it works and its fallibility. Promising that there will be a story, or a story within the story, he eventually tells the story of two friends, Jean and Stephen, for whom he played matchmaker, once in the 1960s and again 40 years later. This narrative feels less of a plot and more a device for examining love. The latter part of the book is a reflection of the narrator’s life (his writing career, the deaths of his wife and friends, his diagnosis with blood cancer, the ravishes of aging, and his eventual death). The book closes with a farewell to his readers.

I’ve really liked several of Barnes’ novels and this one was no exception. I enjoyed reading his thoughts about memory, love, grief, and death. Perhaps because I am only a decade away from his age, his reflections resonated with me. I especially liked his way of accepting life’s vicissitudes and one’s inevitable death: it’s just the universe doing its stuff.

At the end, the narrator addresses the reader directly and imagines the writer and reader sitting side by side at a cafe, watching and musing at the lives passing by. Throughout, the narrator speaks in a relaxed voice as if indeed the reader and writer are having a conversation – though he admits to seldom catching the reader’s mutterings since he imagines the reader sitting on his deaf side. As such conversations between companions do, this one meanders with digressions touching on both serious and trivial topics.

The serious topics outnumber the inconsequential, but there are definite touches of humour. The discussions about Jimmy, a Jack Russell, are often hilarious. I chuckled at Julian’s description of his triage fantasy: imagining that during Covid, he’d be dismissed as an old geezer relegated to end-of-life care until someone notices his lapel badge announcing his winning of the Booker Prize. And I loved his jabs at Trump, commenting it would be appropriate if he’d sworn on a copy of the Wicked Bible which commands “Thou shalt commit adultery.”

The title is perfect. The narrator has experienced the departure of memories, has had some people in his life leave temporarily and some die, and he gives more than passing thought to his own departure from life. And is he saying goodbye to his writing career? The narrator emphasizes how writers lie and don’t keep promises, like the one he made to Jean and Stephen to never write about them. So should we take Barnes’s statement, about this being his last book, at face value?

I hope this is not his last book, but if it is, it is a good one to mark the end of his career. And though I won’t stop looking at “the many and varied expressions of life,” I’ll miss his “sturdy presence” and “conversational mutterings.”

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of GOOD GUYS by Sharon Bala (New Release)

 4 Stars

I read Sharon Bala’s debut novel, The Boat People (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2018/05/review-of-boat-people-by-sharon-bala.html), which I loved and which I don’t think received enough recognition. I was equally impressed with her sophomore title.

Claire Talbot is a publicist for Children of the World, an international aid charity. The organization is on the verge of bankruptcy so Claire is thrilled when she is able to arrange for Dallas Hayden, a well-known actress, to volunteer at their orphanage in Central America. Dallas documents everything on social media so the exposure brings in much needed donations. Then Dallas decides to adopt a baby and promises a massive donation. But a journalist, Emmanuelle Clemmons, digs into the charity’s operations and uncovers a shocking crime which could ruin its reputation.

The novel explores philanthropy and international charity organizations which are often ineffective if not even exploitative. One of the characters remembers how as a teenager she’d worked with an inner-city ministry “traipsing downtown to save the souls of fallen women.” She now realizes “What did she, a middle-class virgin, know of homelessness and pimps . . . She’d been so bloated with arrogance, so secure in the righteousness of all her actions, the delusion that she knew what was best for complete strangers.” Her conclusion applies to several people who have good intentions but it’s obvious that these do not guarantee good outcomes.

The book emphasizes how philanthropy is an expression of power: “philanthropy was an act of supremacy, the giver forcing their desires on the unwilling recipients.” Donations are often given with expectations: “There was no such thing as a gift; there were only strings donors could yank to make recipients do their bidding.” And the wealthy demand fanfare: “Stamping their names on hospital wings and law schools, like dogs marking a fence.” Such donations can be problematic: “Every millionaire wanted to stamp their name on a new building, but once the ribbon was cut, mundane expenses, like payroll and hydro bills, were left to the charity, stretching operational budgets thin, necessitating more fundraising to attract more major donors who demanded more buildings. But hey! The robber barons got to jack off their egos.” Is it a stretch to argue that “’It’s a threat to a nation’s democracy when the people calling the shots and deciding how to solve a country’s biggest problems are outsiders with deep pockets and no stake in the outcome’”?

Some organizations use philanthropy as a distraction and to rehabilitate tarnished reputations: a grocery chain is embroiled in a price-fixing scandal and the charity’s founder tells a representative, “’I think we can work together to make customers think differently about your brand’” though a director argues she doesn’t want the charity to become “’a laundromat for dirty corporations.’” And it’s unfair that “glamorous causes monopolized attention and resources, leaving others orphaned.” In the novel, for example, there’s a boy who could use the actress’s help but would “anyone want a nine-year-old boy when there was a baby girl in the picture.” Employers sometimes have employee campaigns, and Emmanuelle complains about “the employer’s fingers in her pocket, skimming her meagre salary to pad the coffers of the VP’s pet charity.” And why should stores get the credit for donations made by customers at the till?

The book is replete with deeply flawed characters who may want to do good but also have self-serving hidden agendas. Claire, for instance, is looking for redemption after years of helping wealthy corporations escape the consequences of wrongdoings. Emmanuelle wants to reveal the truth but there is no doubt that she wants to advance her career. Dallas is hoping that the positive vibes of her adopting a child will help her get an Oscar nomination. Everyone makes ethical compromises to achieve their goals. One woman admits to ignoring “her better judgment, lured by the false promise of yet another big cheque.”

The author does make suggestions as to what would improve charity organizations. She implies that it would be best to put money into people’s hands instead of setting up an “elaborate middleman scheme.” One of the director’s says, “’The problem with foreign aid is foreign aid. No one is saying How can we give people a hand up and, once they’re on their feet, let them take charge?’” Emmanuelle argues, “’Interventions should be dictated by local needs, not foreign whims.’” Even Claire asks, “’Why do we have orphanages anyway? Why does anyone? Especially if it would be cheaper to give families money and let them keep their kids at home.’” In her Gratitude notes, the author mentions family members who “quietly change lives, without strings or fanfare, exactly the way good deeds should be done.”

There is so much in this novel. I think it would be a great choice for a book club because there’s so much to discuss. The book is sometimes an uncomfortable read because the reader knows things cannot end well, but it is very thought-provoking and so I have to recommend it.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of EVELYN IN TRANSIT by David Guterson (New Release)

 3 Stars

David Guterson is best known for his debut novel, Snow Falling on Cedars, which, like most people, I loved. Over the years, I’ve read other of his novels like Ed King (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2017/10/archival-review-of-ed-king-by-david.html) and The Final Case (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2022/02/review-of-final-case-by-david-guterson.html) but have been less impressed. His latest book, Evelyn in Transit, was also not a page turner for me.

There are two storylines set in very different parts of the world. Evelyn Bednarz is born in Indiana. From the beginning she feels like a misfit. She’s tall and large and very physically strong. Restless and fiercely individualistic, she is unsuited to life at school. At the age of eighteen, she leaves home and travels across the American West, taking odd jobs and living life on her own terms. She becomes pregnant and gives birth to a son she names Cliff River Bednarz. The other story is set in Tibet. Tsering Lekpa, a young boy believed to be the reincarnation of a high lama, is taken from his home and raised as a Buddhist monk.

The two stories merge, two-thirds through the novel, when a trio of Buddhist monks arrives at the Bednarz home to announce that 5-year-old Cliff is the reincarnation of a high lama. Evelyn is forced to question whether she believes in reincarnation and whether she should relinquish her young son to a monastic life.

The ending is so predictable. First there’s the title. Then there’s Evelyn’s desire “to live the right way”; she says, “’from my earliest memories, I’ve felt like something’s wrong, something’s missing, something isn’t right.’” Her attitude to life seems to be that of a Buddhist: she’s detached and aloof, showing little emotion, and lives mindfully in the present, not needing to control the future. Her love of nature and her nomadic lifestyle can only be foreshadowing. Of course, if readers know little about Buddhist practices, they will not perceive the inevitable narrative direction.

I did not enjoy the narrative style. Evelyn and Tsering’s lives are described through a series of vignettes. This episodic style feels disjointed. And the predominance of short, simple sentences makes for tedious reading. In addition, there is little plot. For the longest time the plot just meanders: something happens and time moves on and something else happens. The lack of momentum means a lack of tension which means a lack of interest. The narrative just feels aimless, especially because the two storylines intersect late in the book.

Because of the style, much is not explained. For instance, the political situation in Tibet leading to Buddhist monks fleeing the country should be explained. Much of Tibetan culture and Buddhist tradition is described vaguely or left unexplained. It is by fortuitous chance that I just finished reading The Last of Earth by Deepa Anappara set in Tibet; this novel describes much about Tibet. Were it not for this reading, I would have been confused for large parts of Evelyn in Transit.

I’m afraid this slow-paced novel about spiritual quests was not for me.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via Edelweiss.

Review of THE LAST OF EARTH by Deepa Anappara (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This novel is set in 1869 on both sides of the India-Tibet border. At this time Tibet was closed to Europeans, this policy of isolation intended to preserve Tibet's culture, Buddhist traditions, and political independence.

The novel follows two European explorers venturing into the Forbidden Kingdom from India. Fifty-year-old Katherine, the illegitimate child of an English father and Indian mother, can pass as Indian. She hires Mani, a young man, to pretend to be her son as he guides her into Tibet. She intends to be the first European woman to reach Lhasa and thereby perhaps secure a place with the Royal Geographical Society. The other explorer is an Englishman called Captain who, disguised as a monk, undertakes a surveying expedition. He hires Balram, an Indian teacher who has periodically worked as a surveyor for the British, to lead him into Tibet where he wants to chart the course of a major river. Balram, however, has his own agenda: he is intent on rescuing his friend Gyan who went missing on a previous expedition and is rumoured to be imprisoned in a Tibetan monastery. Both parties encounter various obstacles on their treks: storms, bandits, soldiers, illness, injuries, and wild animals.

I kept expecting the two expeditions to meet, but there is virtually no interaction. I’m not certain what the point is of two parallel stories that barely intersect. Midway through the book, Katherine sees the captain but “she hurried away, afraid he would look in her direction and see her for who she was as clearly as she saw him.” This avoidance creates some suspense, but a subsequent meeting is certainly anti-climatic. In fact, the conclusion of the entire book is unsatisfying.

Katherine and Balram, the two characters whose perspectives are the focus of the book, are well developed with interesting backstories. Katherine has always felt like an outsider and this may account for her restlessness. Haunted by her sister’s death, she is seeking redemption and hopes to find it in Lhasa. Balram’s thoughts reveal that he feels responsible for Gyan’s fate, that he is an inept guide and an unsatisfactory father, especially to his son, and that he has unresolved feelings for his friend. Though both he and Katherine have positive qualities, I didn’t particularly like either of them. Katherine’s treatment of Mani, her prejudices, and her falsehoods in her journal don’t make her admirable. Balram pretends to follow the Captain’s orders but is not above theft and manipulation.

There are many minor characters. Balram is in charge of a team of men who are individually identified, but there are so many of them, it is difficult to remember who is who. Each remains a flat character. Then there’s Chetak, a mysterious figure who appears, almost like an apparition, whenever his help is needed. He interacts with both sets of travellers, but his motives are obscure. His behaviour towards Katherine, because of his dislike of the English, is particularly strange.

I was not enamoured with the writing style. There are poetic descriptions of the landscape: “Walking alone under clouds silvered by the sun, past fields yellow with rapeseed and pewter mountains striated with snow, he felt his heart beat to the rhythms of the world: the lapping of the waves of a river, the wind whistling down hills, even the snorts of a yak or the rustle of grass as a startled hare leaped toward its hiding place.” Unfortunately I found that the many descriptions really slow down the pace of the novel. Then there is the piling on of sentences like “The captain invited . . . Chetak and the young guide seemed . . . Samarth went to sleep. Balram looked up at the sky.” When I read I visualize the action, but I had difficulty doing that because the action sequences are described vaguely.

Of course there are elements I enjoyed. I liked how Balram often imagines what his wife or Gyan would say in reaction to something. I appreciated how the discrepancies between Katherine’s journal and reality reveal her character. Colonial attitudes, characterized by a sense of cultural and racial superiority, are clearly emphasized in a way that cannot but affect the reader. I also enjoy learning about Tibetan culture and religious practices.

I loved the author’s debut novel, Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2020/02/review-of-djinn-patrol-on-purple-line.html), but was not as impressed with this one.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.