Reviews Archive: Pre-Execution Novels - "The Execution of Noa P. Singleton" by Elizabeth L. Silver and "Burial Rites" by Hannah Kent

I mentioned in a blog recently that I viewed the film The Stoning of Soraya M. about an Iranian woman being stoned to death.  The film reminded me that I have read two books about women awaiting execution:  The Execution of Noa P. Singleton by Elizabeth L. Silver and Burial Rites by Hannah Kent.  Here are my reviews of those two novels.

Review of The Execution of Noa P. Singleton by Elizabeth L. Silver

3 Stars

   Thirty-five-year-old Noa is on death row; six months prior to her execution, X-Day, Marlene Dixon, a high-powered attorney and mother of the woman Noa was convicted of murdering, decides to petition for clemency and has hired a young lawyer, Oliver Stansted, to assist in having Noa’s sentence commuted. Through a series of flashbacks, we learn about Noa’s childhood, her single mother’s serial monogamy, her friendship with Persephone Riga, her very public miscarriage, her reconciliation with her absentee father Caleb, and the murder of Sarah Dixon. These flashbacks alternate with Marlene’s letters to her dead daughter.

Noa is not a likeable character. She feels alienated and expresses that alienation in a cynical attitude. Her voice is brusque and unemotional. The real problem, however, is that she doesn’t behave as a supposedly intelligent person would. She is the salutatorian of her graduating class and is accepted to Princeton, yet she makes terrible decisions that are illogical. For instance, her initial involvement with Marlene makes little sense. During her trial, she also refuses to participate in her own defense. Her passivity may be the result of latent guilt over an incident involving a childhood friend, but her motivation is never clarified.

The development of Marlene’s character is more interesting than the revelation of Noa’s background. Marlene is initially sympathetic: she is a grieving mother and cancer survivor. Gradually, however, she emerges as a master manipulator who bullies people into doing her will. One of the major questions throughout is why Marlene is in favour of clemency for her daughter’s killer when she spoke in favour of capital punishment at Noa’s sentencing hearing. Does she have a hidden agenda? There are several possible explanations for her behaviour (i.e. learning the truth of what happened when Sarah was killed, alleviating her guilt in her daughter’s fate or in Noa’s death sentence), but, again, there is no real clarification of motivation.

The book examines guilt. Noa mentions at the beginning that she is guilty of shooting Sarah: “I was lucid, attentive, mentally sound, and pumped with a single cup of decaffeinated Lemon Zinger tea when I pulled the trigger.” Although she does not contest her guilt, there is a suggestion that there are degrees of guilt. In one conversation with Oliver, Noa says, “’Everyone’s got something [to feel guilty about].’” And there is certainly the suggestion that others may bear some responsibility in what happened to Sarah and that she may not be the only victim.

Certainly, the reader is left to question the appropriateness of Noa’s punishment. The author uses Noa as a mouthpiece to express her opinion on capital punishment. Noa discusses the inequality of the law and judicial system: “The law has created a protected class of individuals. People who, on the basis of their age or status, are more valuable to society. If they are killed . . . the party responsible must die. . . . A nation that prides itself on equality treats its victims ever so inequitably in ritual. . . . Some states have gone so far as to codify capital murder, applying the sentence of death somewhat less haphazardly. . . Aggravating factors, they call it. Like murder can be any more inflamed than, well, what murder already is.”

At one point Noa accuses Oliver of “linguistic foreplay,” an apt phrase for that of which the author is occasionally guilty. At times there are awkward metaphors which jar: “My hands were cuffed, facing each other like confused children outside the principal’s office” and “My eyes pickpocketed the room” and “[Perfecting the art of the guilt trip] is isolating, like a termite scuffling up your innards” and “even his voice was typecast to match his hairstyle and choice of wardrobe: docile as a prostrated ocean” and “His moans lubricated the phone lines like a sexually transmitted disease. Whirls of tornadic subjugation seeped through the little holes of the telephone receiver” and “[The sun’s] talons skewering the clouds beneath. That elongated stretch through the clouds; that beam downward, pointing like a strict schoolteacher” and” [The clumsy excuses of unwilling jurors are] melodious sacraments to my dissonant entr’acte.” Such affected prose does not work.

Despite its occasional florid, overwrought style, the book is sufficiently entertaining and does provide food for thought. As a companion piece, I would recommend Burial Rites by Hannah Kent, another debut novel which also features a woman awaiting her execution.

Review of Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

4 Stars     

  This is a fictionalized account of the final months in the life of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, the last person to be executed in Iceland. It is 1829 in northwestern Iceland; Agnes is placed in the custody of a farmer in the months leading up to her execution. As she awaits her end, she helps with the farm chores and comes to know the family who are her custodians. She also meets with a clergyman, Thorvadur “Tóti” Jónsson, who is to serve as her spiritual guide but who becomes her confidant; it is to him that she relates much of the story of her “miserable, loveless life” (211).

Agnes emerges as a fully realized character. There is a great deal of sympathy for her since her life was nothing but “a dull-eyed cycle of work . . . nothing but chores, chores, chores . . . the stifling ordinariness of existence” (210). There is also much to admire about her: intelligence and compassion. She even shows compassion towards a woman who spreads gossip about her. She is not perfect, however. Because her life was circumscribed by isolation, loneliness and abandonment, she naively fell in love with a man who paid her some attention: “For the first time in my life, someone saw me, and I loved him because he made me feel I was enough” (210). And she was certainly slow in realizing the truth about her relationship with this man.

One of the themes is that truth is not simple and straightforward, but open to interpretation. Agnes herself claims that there is “’No such thing as truth’” (105) because different people think different things are important, and for her, “There is only ever a sense that what is real to me is not real to others” (106). Agnes tells Tóti “’All my life people have thought I was too clever. . . .If I was young and simple-minded, do you think everyone would be pointing the finger at me’” (126). She believes she is not believed because, “’how other people think of you determines who you are. . . . People around here don’t let you forget your misdeeds. They think them the only things worth writing down’” (104).

Agnes tells Tóti her version of the crime, but it does not tally with what the officials believe happened. Does she tell him the truth or is the District Commissioner correct when he says, “’I do not doubt that she has manufactured a life story in such a way so as to prick your sympathy’” (162)? Does she choose a “young and inexperienced” churchman believing that she can manipulate him into appealing her death sentence? Certainly her thought that, “I will have to think of what to say to him” (97) could suggest forethought and planning.

There is no doubt that being an audience “to her life’s lonely narrative” (158) influences the listeners. At the beginning everyone is reluctant to have anything to do with Agnes; Lauga, the younger daughter, is openly hostile. Margrét fears for her family’s safety with a murderess in the house, and Jón worries about the influence Agnes might have on his daughters. Their attitudes change gradually. Margrét, who initially speaks of Agnes as a murderess and a criminal, later tells Agnes, “’No one is all bad’” (259) and “’You are not a monster’” (307). Margrét realizes that her relationship with Agnes has become “more natural and untroubled” but what is also interesting is that “Margrét worried at this” (192).

Tóti’s reaction to Agnes is also interesting. Agnes tells him that they had met years previously when he had helped her ford a river, yet he “couldn’t remember meeting a young woman” (78). Later, however, he “thought again of their first meeting . . . a dark-haired woman preparing to cross the current . . . Her hair had been damp against her forehead and neck from walking. . . . Then, the warmth of her body against his chest as they forded the foamy waters on his mare. The smell of sweat and wild grassing issuing from the back of her neck” (200). Does he really remember this first meeting?

The Icelandic setting is almost another character in the narrative. The descriptions of the harsh climate, the increasing darkness as winter looms, and the barren landscape certainly reflect Agnes’ feelings of loneliness. There is also no doubt that such an environment can have an influence on people’s actions. At one point, Margrét says, “’It’s hard to be alone in winter’’’ (260). As winter advances so do the reader’s feelings of dread about what will happen to Agnes.

It is evident that the author did considerable research and she gives a vivid picture of rural life in Iceland in the early 19th century. I was not aware of the high level of literacy amongst Icelanders as far back as that time period. The inclusion of historical documents provides some facts about the case and stylistic contrast to Agnes’ interior monologues.

There is much to like about this book. It is not perfect because some of the minor characters, especially District Commissioner Björn Blöndal, are stereotypes, but it does have much to recommend it: suspense, a great mystery, a wonderfully atmospheric setting, and interesting character development.

Review of "His Whole Life" by Elizabeth Hay

4 Stars

   Having read virtually all of Hay's previous fiction, I rushed to the bookstore on the release date of this, her latest book.  It did not disappoint.

Covering a period of about five years, the novel is set in the mid-1990s, around the time of the Quebec referendum.  The protagonist is Jim Bobak who is 10 years old at the beginning.  He lives in Manhattan, where his American father George feels most at home, but spends summers in the Ottawa Valley cottage country where his Canadian mother Nancy is most comfortable.

This is not a plot-driven novel.  The major events are those encountered by most families some time in their lives:  illness, happy times, rivalries, disputes, reconciliations.  Familial relationships evolve.  The feelings and motivations of the characters are those experienced by everyone:  guilt and regret because of past actions, frustration with oneself and others, the need to be loved, the desire for forgiveness, conflicts between loyalties.

Conflicting choices serve as the framework of the novel:  Quebec, “a place torn between staying and leaving, and therefore always dissatisfied” (226), must choose between sovereignty and unity; Nancy must choose living in Canada or living in the U.S.; Jim is torn between rural life and urban living; Nancy must decide whether to stay with George or to leave him; Lulu, Nancy’s best friend, and George must both choose between reconciling with a brother or continuing the estrangements. 

The observations about family I found interesting.  The relationship between a parent and a grown child:  “Fragility itself, the construction of camaraderie between a parent and child after the child leaves home.  Blown down by the least rebuff” (20).  And the pain of family estrangement:  “the old family loneliness – that immeasurable desolation – and looking for some way in” (136).  Who wouldn’t agree with this comment:  “How strange and unknowable families were.  Relatives could be so savage with one another and so caring at the same time” (345)?   So why do we love our family members?  Maybe “People love others not because they are lovable necessarily but because it takes such a weight off the heart” (308).

Forgiveness in families is also touched on.  Nancy quotes an Alice Munro story: “’”Forgiveness in families is a mystery to me, how it comes or how it lasts”’” (47).  She makes the observation that apologies may take different forms:  “’In the way he accepted your affection, he was saying he was sorry’” (234).  Keeping faithful to the framework of the novel, the author even studies the dual nature of forgiveness:  Nancy questions whether forgiveness is “in some terrible, overeager way a lack of curiosity.  It was a big, powerful hose that washed everything away. . . . Forgiveness was the premature end to the story.  She had skipped to the last page instead of reading the book through” (82).  Or is forgiveness “a kind of movement in one’s chest that made it easier to breathe” (350)?

The novel examines how people make choices.  It can be difficult to make choices because of divided loyalties.  Nancy even says to George, “’you can be loyal to what disappoints you. . . . Who’s to say we can’t have many loves and many identities?  We can hold more in our hearts than we think’” (193 – 194).  And the novel also examines how people can move forward after they’ve made poor choices.  Jim begins this theme by asking his parents, “’What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?’” (3) on the opening page.  Nancy understands that her son is asking what to do after doing something bad, though he chooses not to tell her what he did.  Nancy also understands that decisions made with the best of intentions may turn out to be horribly wrong:  “But what was admirable in the moment became inexcusably self-serving in hindsight.  It must happen to others, she thought.  You think you’re doing something brave.  Only later does it seem so baldly wrong that it’s hard to understand what you were thinking at the time” (286).  The answer seems to be “’Don’t rush’” (276) when making decisions, but it’s never too late to correct a bad choice (206).  Most importantly, we should remember, “’Doing something terrible doesn’t define you for the rest of your life’” (300).

The characterization of Jim is wonderful.  He is sensitive, intelligent, observant, and curious.  He thinks about his own behaviour:  “Jim knew he had the same effect on people sometimes, trying too hard and not knowing how to quit” (90).  He wants to learn how to live:  how to defend himself without being nasty (81).  In this regard, the best advice he receives is, “’Be firm but don’t yank’” (236), just like when walking a dog on a leash.  It is often Jim’s comments about the behaviour of adults which are most perceptive; for example, George makes a particularly nasty comment about Lulu in Jim’s hearing though shortly after he complains that Jim does not respect him.  Jim thinks, “he respected [George] enough to believe he meant what he said, and if he meant what he said, then how could he respect him?  A father who wants to be admired should think these things through” (292).

This is a book for readers who are willing, like Jim is advised, to be patient and not to rush.  It resonates with issues about life and its complicated, conflicted, and confused relationships.  It is definitely worth reading and probably more than just once.

All That THIS Book Lover Wants in Life . . .

A list of what a book lover wants in life has been making the rounds on various social media (Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest).  I decided to make my own list:

1.     Books

2.     Time to read books

3.     Books

4.     A library with shelves and shelves of books (but with some room for more)

5.     Books

6.     A comfy chair to read books

7.     Books

8.     Money to buy more books

9.     Books

10.   A partner who supports my love of reading and books

11.   Books

12.   A reading lamp to allow for comfortable reading of books

13.   Books

14.   A cozy quilt (preferably handmade just for me) for comfort when reading books

15.   Books

16.   Friends with whom to discuss books

17.   Books

18.   A cup of tea or a cappuccino or a glass of wine or a glass of Bailey’s (depending on my mood)         to drink while reading books

19.   Books

20.   Godiva chocolates to nibble on while reading books

21.   Books

22.   Appropriate music to listen to while reading books

23.   Books

24.   A never-ending list of recommended books

25.   Books

Hmmm . . . I think I have all of these – though, of course, I could always use more of #8.

Review of "The Hired Man" by Aminatta Forna

Earlier today I listened to Eleanor Wachtel’s interview with Aminatta Forna on Writers and Company on CBC (http://www.cbc.ca/player/Radio/Writers+and+Company/ID/2673177555/).  I have read her most recent book The Hired Man.  Here’s my review:

  

4 Stars

The novel begins in 2007 in the Croatian town of Gost. The narrator, Duro Kolak, is a middle-aged handyman who gets himself hired to help Laura, an Englishwoman, restore “the blue house” which she and her husband have purchased. Past and present unfold at the same time: Duro tells the story of the present (working on the restoration of the house and getting to know Laura and her teenaged children, Grace and Matthew), but he also flashes back to several time periods in the past: his childhood, his first love, his military experiences, his return to the village, etc. Gradually it becomes obvious that Gost is not the pastoral ideal it might seem to the undiscerning.

One of the strengths of the novel is the slow buildup in suspense. As Duro drops subtle hints about what lies hidden, the reader experiences curiosity and then unease because of a growing sense of something evil lurking. For example, how is it that Duro knows the blue house so well? Who created the mosaic which adorned the front of the house? Why was the mosaic plastered over? How did Duro’s father and sister come to die at the same time? Why is there such animosity between Duro and his childhood friend Kresimir around whom he feels “the chill of unfinished business”?

The blue house functions as a metaphor for the village and its mosaic functions as a symbol of the past which the villagers have tried to bury. Just as Grace exposes the mosaic from beneath a thin layer of plaster, Duro exposes the not-so-distant past of the village and its inhabitants. Grace removes the whitewash from the house’s façade and Duro works at removing the whitewash covering the past. It is noteworthy that though the façade of the house is repaired, there are still problems indoors, specifically a “patch of rotten plaster.”

The use of foil characters is very effective. Duro is very much aware of the town’s history and its secrets, whereas Laura is totally oblivious; when she is first introduced, Duro describes her assurance in speaking “to a stranger in a foreign land in her own tongue and [expecting] to be understood. Clearly she enjoyed the luck of the innocent.” Her outlook and that of Duro are clearly contrasted: “To Laura’s way of thinking the past is a place of happiness, of safety and order . . . the past was always better. But in this country our love of the past is a great deal less, unless it is a very distant past indeed, the kind nobody alive can remember, a past transformed into a song or a poem. We tolerate the present, but what we love is the future, which is about as far away from the past as it is possible to be.” When fifteen-year-old Grace asks her mother about the civil war in the former Yugoslavia, Laura naively tells her that nothing happened in Gost: “’Nowhere near here, darling. . . . It’s not even the same country any more. None of those sorts of things happened here . . . Anyway, it was for ever ago. You were only just born, it’s all long forgotten now.’”

Of course it is this civil conflict that is very much a part of Gost’s past. Interestingly, the author gives virtually no background information about this ethnic conflict; even the words “Serb” and “Croat” are never used. The novel examines how people had to survive the war and then survive living with the knowledge of what they and their neighbours did during that war. Duro speaks of events “of which I’d found a way to live with. I’d had no choice, none of us had, though some were better at it than others.” He feels that “somebody must stand guard over the past” so he rejoices when the house and the past are resurrected: “Something that had been neglected and left to wither was being restored.” He is not above using Laura and her family to recreate the past in order to send a message to his neighbours in Gost. He believes that people must not forget the truth about the past and must come to terms with it: “Probably you wonder how we all stand each other as I do sometimes, but the truth is we have no choice. In towns like this there is nothing to do but learn to live with each other.”

The novel is not flawless. Though Duro emerges as a multi-dimensional character and the portrayal of Laura’s two children is very realistic, Kresimir and Fabjan remain rather flat. Sometimes the cryptic nature of the conversations between Duro and his former friends becomes annoying. Also, the transitions between past and present are abrupt in some instances, although the discomposure felt by the reader is probably intended to reflect Duro’s.

Nonetheless, the strengths of the book far outweigh its weaknesses. Its examination of how people try to establish a sense of normalcy after finding themselves in the midst of an ethnic conflict may leave the reader feeling disconcerted, but that consequence speaks to the power of the novel.

Harper Lee and Truman Capote Friendship in a New YA Novel: "Tru & Nelle"

   Truman Capote and Harper Lee were childhood friends in Monroeville, Alabama.  Truman was supposedly the model for Dill in To Kill a Mockingbird, and Harper was the model for Idabel Thompkins, a character in Capote's first novel, Other Voices, Other Rooms, published in 1948.  Harper also did a lot of research for In Cold Blood. 

Now, Greg Neri, an American YA author, has written a book based on that friendship; the book, entitled Tru & Nelle, is scheduled for release in March of 2016.  

There is that wonderful biographical film about Truman, entitled Capote and starring Philip Seymour Hoffman, in which Nelle Harper Lee is portrayed.  Harper is played by Sandra Bullock in another film about Truman entitled Infamous.  Will there one day be a film about their childhood?

Review of "The Stranger" by Harlan Coben

 

2 Stars

I have heard of Harlan Coben but never read any of his books, so I finally decided to read his latest.  It was a disappointment.  I don’t know why he is so highly regarded by so many readers.

Adam Price learns from a young stranger that his wife lied to him about something significant a couple of years earlier.  Adam confronts Corinne but before she can give him a complete explanation, she vanishes.  Adam sets out to find her on his own, but soon other secrets about Corinne emerge and eventually the police become involved. 

The opening certainly caught my attention.  The inciting incident (being told a secret kept hidden by a loved one) is interesting, but shortly after that I started rolling my eyes at the improbable events.

Adam is a lawyer and so would have investigative resources at his disposal, but he chooses to go solo.  He does things he would warn a client never to do.  When his wife goes missing, he doesn’t seem to be particularly worried and, though he claims to know her so well, he accepts strange behaviour on her part as natural?  He lacks personality so it was difficult to identify with him.

There are other characterization issues.  Corinne we get to know only through Adam and through accusations made against her, so the ending does not have the impact it should.  Adam and Corinne’s two sons, Ryan and Thomas, don’t behave convincingly:  their mother is missing yet they just carry on as normal.  Then there are so many minor characters, none of whom is really developed, that it is difficult to differentiate among them. 

Then there’s the plot.  I expect plot twists, but there are just too many coincidences.  So many people are simultaneously looking for one person, all for different reasons?  Johanna, a police chief from Ohio, travels to New Jersey “on [her] own dime” to question Adam.  She leaves, but then is back at a crucial moment to assist Adam?  Actually, she charges in more than once!  And the incident at the log cabin in Pennsylvania is just not believable.

Adam may wish he had never met the stranger, and I too am left wishing I had not met The Stranger.  Weak character development and improbable events are not the elements of a good book.

The Meaning and Beauty of Libraries

   I’ve been coming across reviews of The Meaning of the Library:  A Cultural History edited by Alice Crawford.  The Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/books/what-to-read/the-meaning-of-the-library-ed-by-alice-crawford-review/), Kirkus Reviews (https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/alice-crawford/the-meaning-of-the-library/), and Maclean’s (August 10, 2015 issue) have had reviews.  I think I will buy this book.

  These reviews had me browsing through a book in my library which a friend gave me as a gift a few years ago:  The Most Beautiful Libraries in the World by Jacques Bosser.  It is a photographic tour of 23 of the world’s historic libraries from 12 countries. 

Of course, there are a number of websites offering photos of the world’s beautiful libraries.  I like http://mentalfloss.com/article/51788/62-worlds-most-beautiful-libraries  and http://www.bestvalueschools.com/50-most-beautiful-libraries-in-the-world/, both of which feature two Canadian libraries:  the Library of Parliament in Ottawa and the Vancouver Public Library. 

But my favourite library is still Schatje’s Shelves!