Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Mother Mary comes to me by Colm Tobin

Mother Mary comes to me

This story was first published in The Straits Times on Sept 17, 2013

 
 
Remind Irish writer Colm Toibin that he has won almost every major literary prize in the West and he immediately says: "I haven't won the Booker Prize."
He is up for the £50,000 (S$100,680) award for the fourth time this year for his play-turned-novel The Testament Of Mary, a retelling of biblical events through the voice of the mother of Jesus.
The roughly 100-page volume, possibly the slimmest in Booker history, is on a shortlist of six including former Booker winner Jhumpa Lahiri's newest, The Lowland. The winner will be announced on Oct 15.
In a telephone interview from his home in Ireland, Toibin, 58, refuses to speculate on his chances of winning.
He coolly recounts how he received the news that he was on the longlist. "I didn't know what day the announcement was coming, so I just opened an e-mail and I said: 'Oh wow'," he says, the exclamation at odds with the even tenor of his voice.
A subtle dry wit underlies his measured vocalisations. Toibin may answer questions with the bare minimum of words, but all are carefully chosen, echoing the taut elegance of his prize-winning prose.
Given that almost every work of his fiction has won some award, there may not even be room on his shelf for a Booker.
Among others, he took a coveted Costa Award for the Booker-longlisted novel Brooklyn (2009), about an Irish immigrant in America. Considered among his bestsellers, it has sold more than 1,000 copies in Singapore since 2010, said distributor Penguin Books.
Toibin also won one of the world's richest book prizes, the ¤100,000 (S$168,630) International Impac Dublin Literary Award for The Master (2004), a reimagining of the inner life of novelist Henry James. It was shortlisted for the Booker but never took the gold.
Another early contender on the Booker shortlist was The Blackwater Lightship (1999), about three generations of Irish women caring for a young relative dying of Aids. It was made into a Hallmark movie in 2004, starring Angela Lansbury.
The Testament Of Mary comes to print from another direction. It was originally a monologue written for Irish actress Marie Mullen at the 2011 Dublin Theatre Festival, and performed again this April on Broadway by Fiona Shaw, known for playing Harry Potter's evil aunt Petunia in the movie franchise.
Toibin's play closed early on Broadway because of poor attendance but was nominated for several Tony Awards. It did not win any.
An audio version of the novel on sale now is read by Meryl Streep, completing the trifecta of strong female voices in the part.
Giving Mary a voice was the reason Irish-Catholic Toibin wrote the play.
"I know the prayers. They're in my bones," he says, adding that he has long been fascinated with the depiction of the Virgin Mary in art.
"Since I was 22, I'd been going to Italy every year and spending time in the galleries. The best pictures are the morning of the Annunciation and the night of the Crucifixion," he says, referring to the moment when Mary is told by an angel that she will give birth to Jesus, and when she and other women weep at the foot of the cross.
Moved by the paintings, he began to wonder what Mary's voice would sound like. "If you think of how she was painted, the painting is always silent. I was also listening to a lot of mezzo-sopranos."
While reading Greek tragedies centred on women, such as Electra and Antigone, he realised: "If you grafted that onto the story, it had all the same elements, also the impending doom and chorus."
Last year, Toibin's publisher suggested he adapt the play to be a novel and rather than adding to the text, the writer decided to prune it ruthlessly. "There was a lot of calling back. It had to be very sharp. I didn't think it would bear slackening or side plots," he recalls. "The problem was, some of the sentences are so ornate."
It is impossible not to be moved by the raw anguish in the novel, and The Testament Of Mary is equally testament to Toibin's ability to see into a woman's heart.
However, compliment him on this skill displayed also in books such as Brooklyn and The Blackwater Lightship, and he counters that he is equally able to, and fond of, writing about men. Apart from The Master, there is The Heather Blazing (1992), his award-winning second novel about a Dublin judge whose life was shaped by the early loss of his father.
Toibin also lost his father, a teacher, when he was 12, and the resulting void did shape many of his novels, as did the fact that he and his younger brother spent their youth surrounded by their mother, aunts and three sisters.
"I know what women talk about when they're alone," he says. "Clothes."
After graduating from University College Dublin, the openly gay bachelor taught English for three years in Barcelona and returned to a journalist's life in Ireland in 1978. His first gig was covering nightlife - "Discotheques," he says - for a friend's magazine, though he would go on to write about politics, current affairs and the 1982 Falklands War.
In 1982, he became editor of current affairs magazine Magill, leaving three years later to travel and write.
His first two novels, The South and The Heather Blazing, won awards for first and second novels, encouraging him to write full time.
His output is prodigious: Apart from seven novels, two plays, two collections of short stories and more than a dozen works of non-fiction, he contributes short stories and essays to newspapers such as the Guardian and magazines such as Esquire.
While writing, he prefers a serviceable but less cushy seat that provides physical incentive to finish the work. "I write in long hand in ink. It just means that you get the thing done in a more direct way, you're closer to it and you can touch it."
On leave from his post as professor of humanities at Columbia University in New York, he is close to finishing a new book set in Ireland in the 1960s, even as the deadline looms for the final Booker announcement.
Asked whether he feels under any pressure, he pauses before answering. "I've been up for the Booker a lot. The problem is, if you think about that, that I'm going to win a prize - no, no, no," he says finally. "No, no, no."
Colm Toibin's books are available at major bookstores.
This story was first published in The Straits Times on Sept 17, 2013
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Must-read Toibin

The South (1990)
Scribner reprint/ Paperback/240 pages/$17.15/Amazon.com
In 1950, an Irish woman walks out of an unhappy marriage to pursue painting in Spain, finding new love and heartbreak along the way.
Toibin's first novel, about art and exile, was drawn from his own experience living in Barcelona from 1975 to 1978. It won the Irish Times/Aer Lingus First Fiction Award.

The Master (2004)
Scribner/Paperback format/338 pages/$14.60/Amazon.com
Toibin excels at describing the inner lives of geniuses and here, he takes on master writer Henry James.
The book follows James from his failure as a writer for theatre to the completion of great works such as The Wings Of The Dove, contrasting his talent with words with his emotional inadequacies. It won the Impac Dublin award.

Mothers And Sons (2006)
Pan Macmillan/ Paperback/324 pages/ $17.98/Books Kinokuniya
These nine stories about family are beautifully written to illuminate the complex relationships between mothers and sons, depicted here as more tense than heartwarming. Especially unnerving are stories such as A Priest In The Family, in which a mother learns her son is accused of sexual abuse.

Brooklyn (2009)
Penguin/Paperback/256 pages/ $18.14/Major bookstores
A tender and tense romance about the Irish immigrant experience in America, this is one of Toibin's best-selling novels in Singapore and it has won the Costa Novel Award.
Ireland in the 1950s holds no chance of work or love for Ellis Lacey, so she sets sail for New York and a new life. Her evolution from homesick ingenue uncomfortable in her own skin to a person in her own right is riveting.

The Testament Of Mary (2013)
Penguin/Paperback/104 pages/ $19.80/Major bookstores
Mary, mother of Jesus, tells her version of events depicted in the Bible in what is one of the shortest novels ever up for the Man Booker Prize.
The slim volume was adapted from a one-woman play Toibin wrote in the style of the Greek tragedies and packs a powerful emotional punch that exceeds the page count.
Readers will be ripped apart by the raw and fierce words of a woman devastated by the death of her son, and eagerly anticipate catching the dramatic version some day.

The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman and Hotel Libraries

Book an adventure in hotel libraries

Raiding the collection of tomes is also a great getaway

 
 
On a cruise to Phuket recently, I accidentally found myself in Australia.
Shortly after boarding the ship Mariner of the Seas, I made my way to its library with plush carpet and leather armchairs. There, I ran my finger along the spines of the usual Sue Grafton crime novels and Tom Clancy thrillers, until I lit upon something promising.
The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman, spelt the letters in gold on the cover of the dark-blue paperback. I flipped to the first page and began skimming through the initial paragraphs. April 27, 1926, Western Australia: A lighthouse keeper and his wife find an infant in a boat washed up at a deserted island. Despite their gnawing conscience, the childless couple decide to keep the baby girl.
As I read on, the prose of this unknown (to me) author with the androgynous initials washed soothingly over me: "From this side of the island, there was only vastness, all the way to Africa. Here, the Indian Ocean washed into the Great Southern Ocean and together they stretched like an edgeless carpet below the cliffs..." Chugging along in the South China Sea, in a diesel-electric vessel of 138,279 gross tonnage, the novel evoking the majesty of the seas tugged at me. I checked it out.
For the next six days, save for shore excursions, I had my nose buried in that book. On a wind-lashed deck under the stars, I devoured page after page, while bingo games and line-dancing sessions went on in the depths of the ship. In our stateroom, as our two boys peered out the porthole, I read the lyrical bits aloud to my husband, about the paradise in having - and hell in losing - a child: "Like the wheat fields where more grain is sown than can ripen, God seemed to sprinkle extra children about, and harvest them according to some indecipherable, divine calendar."
I had brought with me my own book to prevent boredom on the high seas - Donna Tartt's latest, The Goldfinch. Now, it lay abandoned in my luggage. The Light Between Oceans - set in a town still haunted by Anzac veterans and the ghosts of young men lost in Gallipoli and beyond, with its air of lonely desolation - suited an ocean crossing better. Like meeting an intriguing stranger in the night, stumbling upon Stedman's (the "M" in the nom de plume, I later discovered on land with Google, stands for "Margot") elegant first novel led to a tandem voyage in my mind.
Such is the allure of resort libraries and the unexpected journeys they offer. Musty, trashy and often boring, my love affair with them has led me on many parallel sojourns.
As a primary school child, stuck on Pulau Tioman with my deep-sea-diving dad, sun-averse mother and a collection of tanned, noisy cousins, I sought refuge in the basic beach resort's library - and promptly stumbled on a stash of Carter Brown pulp fiction, their pages edged in yellow.
The pen name of England-born Australian Alan Geoffrey Yates, Carter Brown opened up a world of racy, noir-tinted escapades for me. By day, I was a seashell-picking tween on a snorkelling holiday; by night, I was with Brown's Bond-esque but more risque gumshoe, investigating mysteries while bedding cocktail waitresses and femme fatales.
On a trip to Bali last year, I checked out a paperback of Balinese short stories from the Ubud resort's modest library - a teak-wood cabinet filled with carefully selected books about the area. I can no longer remember the names of the authors in that anthology. But I remember the themes of past and tradition colliding with progress and prosperity; of how villagers had to wrestle with the choice of selling ancestral land, to build resorts like the one I was staying in.
In the tea room of our hotel at Borobudur, when we visited the ancient Buddhist temple earlier this year, I was thrilled to find a copy of Baedeker's Great Britain guide - referred to in classics by George Eliot and E.M. Forster. Alas, I could not read the old German edition with its crumbling spine.
Not all hotel libraries yielded treasures, of course. But the disappointment of finding a lousy library was also revealing, and became part of my experience of a place.
In China's trendy boutique Kapok Hotel, a stone's throw away from the Forbidden City, I bounded excitedly to the amphitheatre-like library with bubble-shaped white seats, only to find that the shelves were tragically bare. It was not the only place in the world where I would find that the grand infrastructure had yet to be matched by the intellectual content and variety.
In a lovely resort in Thailand, the edgily designed library was filled with coloured Murano glass sculptures and curvy iMac terminals. Even as I was thrilled to see the tomes on display, all rewrapped carefully in white dust jackets (for a pristine, uniform look), I was bored with the offerings - mostly glossy coffee-table books on island photography. It brought home to me the difference between superficial jet setting and actual exploring.
No wonder hoteliers are waking up to the commercial draws of a well-curated library. Last month, The New York Times ran a piece on many new hotels making sure that they have spaces for travellers to feed, as well as rest, their heads. The Fogo Island Inn in Newfoundland, Canada, has at least 1,000 books on the region's culture and history, while the W London Leicester Square has a (W)riters' Library, with books selected and annotated by authors such as Bret Easton Ellis and Geoff Dyer.
Going on holiday to read might seem weird to some, but I want, one day, to stay in the Library Hotel in New York, where the rooms contain books according to the Dewey Decimal System. Or there is Gladstone's Library in Wales, an actual library with more than 250,000 books, which also offers beds and meals.
As Harvard classics professor Richard F. Thomas puts it: "One of the powerful functions of a library - any library - lies in its ability to take us away from worlds that are familiar and comfortable and into ones which we can neither predict nor control, to lead us down new roads whose contours and vistas provide us with new perspectives."
Substitute the word "library" in the quote above with "travel", and the meaning still stands. Some people want hotels to be their home away from home. In the hotel library, I seek another gateway. Or should that be a getaway?

Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Giver

Chapter 1.

Reminds me of the Sci-fi movie Serendity. The movie showed the failed attempt by a group known as the Alliance that set out to build a Utopian society made up of compliant people. They chose to gas the populace on earth-like planets that had been terra-formed to achieve this goal. However, it all goes horribly wrong when 90% of the 30 million people on the planet die literally on the spot. The plot thickens when investigations show that the remaining 10% due to aggressive genes they possess, mutate and become an unstoppable rabble of ferocious cannibalistic nomads not unlike Genghis Khan's Mongols. They do retain the capacity to operate sophisticated spaceships and devise strategies to wage war with the Alliance. They are given the name Weavers

The Giver has some in-house language like "released" where one is cast out into oblivion for not toeing the line or a major infraction. In the first chapter, this happens to a rookie pilot who actually flies over the community which is a 'No Fly'zone twice.

There is some ironic wit in this chapter with regard to the pilot's infraction 'NEEDLESS TO SAY, HE WILL BE RELEASED' (page 2)

There is a mandatory sharing of feelings in Jonas' family made up of exactly two parents, a boy and a girl. This family setup is mandated by law. At least the authorities in the book got it right about the importance of family when it passes into law that all families are to share their feelings among themselves every day. It is interesting way to gain insight into the Jonas' family. His father is a Nurturer who is disturbed that a child who seems to suffer from developmental delay might be turned out. The mother is highly placed in the court system and actually presides over cases. She seems rather despondent that a man was willing to be released despite being given a second chance. Lily, her younger sister, relates an incident in her playground where visitors did not queue to use a particular playground equipment. This became a teachable point that her parents used to show tolerance for differences in practices and perspectives. For Jonas, it was a feeling of uneasiness and apprehension of having been selected over many others to came under the tutelage of the Giver. This sets things up quite nicely for Chapter 2 to explore Jonas' sense of uneasiness.

Friday, October 11, 2013

Alice Munro's Short Stories

Alice Munro a notable short-story writer. The name is vaguely familiar like Margaret Atwood's. Both are Canadians and despite having studied in Canada, never took the opportunity to read their works. 

Though I have pretensions of wanting to write short stories, I sometimes feel my writing is a little contrived. I would certainly want to read Munro's works to see how she wrote based on her eclecti background

Alice Munro and what her Noble Prize really means