The Big ManBooker Bash

Last night's Big ManBooker Bash at Wickersley Library marked the end of our journey following this year's prize. More than 40 people turned out to hear our views on the shortlisted titles; to tell us about their favourite and least-favourite reads; to hear the announcement of the winner and to take part in a literary quiz.

My colleagues and I will be blogging on the experience as a whole (and our eventual winner) but for now, here are a couple of photos to give you the flavour of the event. You can see more at Rotherham's Flickr account at http://www.flickr.com/photos/43351459@N04/



The Four ManBooker-teers with two members of last night's winning quiz team

In a Strange Room by Damon Galgut

Damon Galgut’s short novel has drawn criticism on two grounds: firstly, that it is a work of non-fiction and, secondly, that it is actually three unconnected short stories (they were initially published separately) and not a novel.

The first criticism can be dealt with by pointing out that the book is actually about memory and its inability to faithfully represent something (the narrator often interjects with comments like “I don’t remember what he was wearing”). The second can be dismissed by the fact that the three stories connect more successfully (in terms of theme and how each reflects the others concerns) than most novels.

The novel deals with three distinct journeys made by Damon over a 20 year period, with each one being named after the role the narrator plays in it (The Follower, The Lover and The Guardian).

I found the novel to be an absolute pleasure: the writing was limpid, tight and entirely shorn of fat. His ability to convey a scene so vividly (the shimmering heat, a gathering storm) with such minimal means was very impressive. The fact that Galgut writes in longhand first is a testament to this old-fashioned method as there is clarity to the writing that is rare to encounter. This also seems to confirm Jonathan Franzen’s recent claim that “no-one with a broad-band connection can write good fiction”.

I can imagine that many people would be put off by this work, perhaps seeing it as ‘precious’ or pretentious, but I thought it was a wonderful attempt at portraying a person who is not at home either in the world or with themselves. This is why the author’s switching between I and He is so effective: it serves to highlight how divorced the author is from his own self.

So, although this might be my winner, I don’t think it was enjoyed by the rest of the group, so we must leave Damon alone In a Strange Room.

C by Tom McCarthy

Tom McCarthy’s C is a bildungsroman (a novel that charts the growth of an individual) with a difference: the main character is a cipher, with no attempt made to plunge into his psychology. McCarthy has spoken loudly of his distaste for the humanist novel which goes into great depth about a character’s feelings and emotions. In C he replaces the ‘emoting subject’ with Serge Carrefax, a character who is always present but neither truly there. His life becomes something around which McCarthy weaves his themes of technology (wireless radio, communication, flight), accretes symbol after symbol (silk, insects, and flight) and indulges in word play (Serge's name evokes an electrical surge and the concept of flight and air when pronounced by his French mother).

That the novel works and works extremely well is a testament to McCarthy’s skills, as this could quite easily have become a pretentious exercise. In fact, contrary to all the talk of experimentalism and difficulty, McCarthy has actually written a very readable novel (with frequent attempts at humour). Yes, there are scenes which are quite technical and yes, you have to abandon any hope of sympathising with the empty vessel that is Serge, but the narrative is entirely linear (there is no playing with chronology) and you are always clear as to what is happening. Compare that with novels by Burroughs and Joyce - where one is often struggling to work out what on earth is happening and to whom - and the novel is an absolute page-turner!

Another interesting aspect of C emerges when you consider that McCarthy has declared himself a re-mixer or DJ. Almost every scene in this novel has echoes in previous works of literature: the drug-taking reminds you of Burroughs; the scene in the European spa of Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain; some of the word-play is taken from Joyce. That the novel frequently talks of echoes resounding through time makes this all the more relevant to the McCarthy’s themes.

Is this my winner… well, we’ll just have to wait and see!

The Long Song by Andrea Levy

The Long Song has been one of my favourite Booker Prize reads (note: this does not necessarily make it my choice as the winner!) Andrea Levy has a wonderfully vivid and evocative style of writing and I loved Miss July’s sing-song Jamaican dialect and phrases - I'd love to listen to the audiobook version!

I know the novel has been criticised for being what some people see as a ‘light’ treatment of a serious subject, but I actually read it as a testament to how humour and resolve can get people through the worst of times. As Levy herself has pointed out, we have to remember that this isn’t really a novel about slavery – it’s one woman’s account of living her life during that particular time. This is how Miss July has chosen to narrate her own story. I think in some way Levy was aware that this could be a criticism; note how her son (and memoir editor) tries to get her to focus on some of the more harrowing events she talks about – he’s angry on her behalf and wants her to reveal the true horror of life as a slave. In fact, Miss July’s almost flippant way of describing some of the more brutal occurrences do actually make them more horrific to me, in the sense that she is saying ‘Well, this is how it was. What could we do about it?’

I agree with David's review: I also expected a harrowing and difficult read, but actually found it to be a positive tale of human strength and determination – ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ springs to mind.

The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson

The Finkler Question is Howard Jacobson’s novel about Jewishness in its many forms. Its main character is Treslove, a hollow figure who is obsessed with tragic deaths (his own and his lovers’) and opera (particularly operas which feature scenes of lovers dying tragically). His relationship with two Jewish friends Sam Finkler (a childhood friend and successful TV philosopher) and Libor (an urbane 90-year-old mittel-European who was once Sam and Treslove’s teacher) form the backbone to the novel.

Treslove is fixated with his friends’ success and feels alienated from their passionate discussions on Israel and Jewish life. A bizarre mugging by a woman is interpreted by Treslove as an anti-Semitic event and leads him to attempt to convert to ‘Jewishness’ (not Judaism).

The novel then proceeds to present this as an impossible task: there is no monlithic 'Jewishness' that one can become. Each character is conflicted in their own sense of Jewishness: Finkler’s wife – the most observant Jew in the novel – is actually a convert; Juno, who Treslove sees as the embodiment of female Jewishness, becomes tired of endlessly making gefilte fish and discussing the Torah and just wants to be able to watch TV occasionally; Sam Finkler veers between hating and loving his identity.

Jacobson has much fun playing with/confirming/denying/satirising several Jewish stereotypes and there are lots of in-jokes for those with a working knowledge of Jewish culture/history. For example, The Finkler Question translates as The Jewish Question, which was an essay by Karl Marx that has often been interpreted as anti-Semitic. This becomes all the more relevant to Jacobson's theme of identity when you consider that Marx’s family converted out of Judaism to Christianity – there are many layers here! I also wonder what Alain de Botton thinks of the fact that Sam’s ludicrous pop philosophy books (‘The Existentialist in the Kitchen’ and ‘The Little Book of Household Stoicism’) are quite clearly modelled on his successful publications (‘How Proust can change your life’)?

Unfortunately, it may be that some will be put off by what seems to be ethnic-religious navel gazing of the most arcane sort. This would be a shame as they would be missing out on a powerful examination of male friendship (its jealousies, betrayals and admirations) and some great comic (and tragic) scenes in what is an extremely well-written novel.

My only qualms are that it does tend towards the rant in the final third (and not in the raging, compulsive, sear-the-fingers-from-the-page prose of Philip Roth – a novelist who deals with similar subject matter) , with the early potential just failing to deliver in quite the way I’d hoped.

All-in-all, this isn't my winner, but I do look forward to reading Jacobson's Kalooki Nights (which many proclaim to be his masterpiece).

Room by Emma Donoghue

Of the Booker titles I’ve read so far, Room has proved to be the biggest surprise: I expected to dislike it (fearing that it would be an exploitative and sensationalist attempt to jump on the bandwagon of the recent Fritzl and Kampusch cases) but ended up being thoroughly engrossed in what is an extremely well-realised story. I also had doubts that the novel would be able to sustain a 300-page narrative from the perspective of a 5-year-old, but Emma Donoghue succeeds in making Jack a thoroughly credible and sympathetic guide through what is a harrowing tale. The fact that the novel succeeds in raising several moments of genuine humour without being flippant or callow is all the more remarkable. The scene in which Jack turns on TV to see a panel of learned talking heads discuss him in literary/philosophical terms (“Aren’t we all, in some way, Jack?”; “Isn’t he like Perseus…”) is particularly amusing.

Just like those pretentious talking heads (with who I must share a pretentious kinship), I loved the many literary/mythological references that Donoghue crammed into the book: there are allusions to Adam and Eve, Jack and the Beanstalk, numerous fairy/folk tales (Bluebeard, Hansel and Gretal), Jesus and Mary (alongside contemporary 'myths' like Diana's death and the fall of the Berlin Wall). I also love the fact that Old Nick returns at the same time every day: this is something that could only happen in a fairy tale and makes the first half of the novel read like a long-lost out-take from the Grimmest of the Brothers' Grimm.

Also, more than being a novel about abuse, Room actually proves to be a moving portrayal of the mother/son bond (in the same way that Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic The Road is an in-extremis rendering of the father-son bond). The way the outside world and its vastness begins to chip away at the tight bond begin Jack and his Ma is heartbreaking; with Jack’s insistence on keeping the objects from Room and his constant desire to return there a horrifying yet understandable development.

Donoghue also uses the latter half of the novel to paint a caustic picture of our celebrity-obsessed culture, one where Jack's and his Ma's story becomes another news item for our consumptiom (and ultimately, disposal).

The only section that rang slightly false notes were the escape sequence, but this is excusable for two reasons: firstly, although Old Nick - the captor - seemed a little too unbelievable here, he is a fairy tale villain/ogre/devil and they are always duped in quite unbelievable ways; secondly it is rendered in such a thrilling fashion that this only becomes apparent in hindsight.

Now I’m about to leave Room to find myself In a Strange Room with Damon Galgut…

The Long Song by Andrea Levy

Having never read anything by Andrea Levy I approached The Long Song with a mixture of anticipation (the good reviews, plaudits and prizes) and trepidation (could it be a case of over-hype?). My sense of anticipation soon turned into enjoyment and banished any residual doubts as I enjoyed the talents of this gifted novelist.

The Long Song did provide lots of surprises: given that the novel was one of slavery in 19th Century Jamaica, I expected to be presented with a harrowing and difficult read. But, in a manner similar to Emma Donoghue in Room (which is also a tale of captivity and release), Levy approaches her material with a comic lightness that veers at times towards farce (characters hiding under beds etc). Levy’s decision to present the narrative in such a way is a function of being true to her narrator July (a slave with a white father): this cheeky, resourceful character resolutely believes in happy endings and it is through her educated son’s promptings that we get closer to the harsh reality (he makes her rewrite several portions and chastises her for expurgating unhappy details). The fact that July is constantly rewriting her narrative (she presents us with several versions of her own birth) leads you to ponder how much of the main body we can take on trust. It is this conceit that allows you to forgive what could have been considerable weaknesses: the portrayal of July’s mistress Caroline would be incredibly one dimensional and unbelievable if we were dealing with a disinterested narrator. July, however, has been her servant since a young girl and is in love with her husband: why would she wish to draw a sympathetic portrait of a ‘silly white woman’?

The relative lightness of tone also means that when the harrowing moments (tarring and feathering, public execution, suicides, beatings, brutal treatment of prisoners) arrive, they are all the more powerful.

Levy’s novel also marks a departure from many novels/films that deal with this topic in that it doesn’t seek to portray the slaves as saints. Instead, they are presented as real human beings with all their foibles (one particularly funny scene sees a slave and a free man try to outdo each other through the ferocious expelling of wind), petty quarrels, divisions (they too are locked into vicious modes of thinking as they create a secondary hierarchy in which a place at the top is determined by the possession of white ancestry).

The Long Song is a fine novel: a captivating and vivid portrayal of life lived in extraordinary circumstances, a comment on storytelling and a testament to human perseverance.

Parrot and Olivier in America – a historical 'bromance'

Peter Carey’s historical romp through 19th Century America (via France and Britain with a minor detour to Australia), is a fictionalised attempt to draw the life of Alexis de Toqueville (the French aristocrat who wrote Democracy in America). I have to confess that I knew little of de Tocqueville's life before reading this, but found that that this didn’t hinder my enjoyment of the novel; although - knowing Carey’s love of literary games and intertextuality – some prior knowledge may have enhanced it.

Although I was completely in love with the novel by the time I closed it after 450 pages, I found the initial chapter a struggle. The novel is written from two perspectives: Olivier (Carey’s version of de Tocqueville) and Parrot (Olivier’s English man-servant). They each take a chapter in turn and often provide an ironic commentary or different perspective on what has gone before. The only problem for Carey (and the reason that I found the opening a problem) is that Olivier’s voice is simply a shadow when compared with the rambunctious, wildly creative technicolour of Parrot’s. This comparitive dullness in the Frenchman's narrative is essential in that we have to believe that Olivier is pompous and uptight, but I still found myself longing for a return to Parrot’s perspective in the early stages of the novel. This sense of unevenness balanced out as we got to know Olivier more, with his and Parrot's mutual antipathy transforming into a begruding 19th Century 'bromance' (I even found myself sympathising with Olivier in the latter stages of the novel).

The novel manages to touch on a huge number of themes (democracy vs. aristocracy, the role of art in democracy, forgery, duty, friendship, genius, banking) and Carey has much fun by having the characters say things about America that will prove to be either dead on the mark or ludicrously off-target.

C’est un tour de force and one I would heartily recommend!

The Finkler Question

I was actually looking forward to reading this, and was quite pleased with the opening chapters. Must admit I didn't understand all of the humour (I still don't get the "J'you know Juno" 'joke' - but maybe that's the point. I'm not a Finkler...)

I also found it to be long winded in parts and found myself skimming over the more political/social debates - not because I'm not interested, but maybe I should start with a 'beginners guide to...'.

I didn't really warm to Treslove or Finkler, but I did find Libor interesting, even if he did seem to be a bit of a caricature. I enjoyed his stories about Hollywood starlets and his devotion to his wife.

I can see the humour in this book, and I wish I could appreciate it a bit more, but I'm afraid The Finkler Question was a just a bit too 'clever' for me. Our group did all agree that it does raise lots of interesting questions and invites further debate, so maybe if I was reading it as part of an 'academic' process (versus 'reading for pleasure') I would get more out of it.

I know David really enjoyed this book, so keep a look out for him posting his thoughts here...

The story so far.......

Well the reading has commenced!
Two books under my belt so far, The Finkler Question and The Long Song, very different books although similar perhaps in that both of them can be likened to certain writers. The Finkler Question could be likened to a Philip Roth maybe, though far less intense and likewise The Long Song is reminiscent of Alice Walker or Toni Morrison but again much less intense, in fact I personally think The Long song has more in common with Jane Eyre than The Colour Purple.

I've enjoyed both of them, The Long Song was a pleasant surprise as I wasn't a fan of Andrea Levys previous work and although I perhaps wouldn't have stuck with The Finkler Question if I wasn't reading it for the Booker I've found that it's raised many questions and could be debated for hours and perhaps deserves a reread. This in itself raises the question of "What ultimately is a good read?" Is it the one you enjoy the most and read easily?, or is it the one you can appreciate is well written and can imagine being studied on a syllabus somewhere but actually was a bit of a slog to get through?, or is it simply the book with the characters or story which stays with you the longest and keep resurfacing in your memory? I'm going to ponder that whilst working my way through the remaining books.

My next read is Room by Emma Donoghue which I've heard great things about so I'm intrigued already! I did start In a Strange Room by Damon Galgut but felt like I was in the middle of one of those weird perfume adverts all moody and atmospheric but you don't really understand what's going on, although judging by the title that may be the intention! Anyway I'll start with a simple room and when I'm ready I'll add a bit of strangeness!

The Big Booker Bash

To celebrate our involvement in this year's prize, Wickersley Library will be hosting a Man Booker event on the evening of Tuesday 12th October (8 - 10:30pm).

As well as being a chance for readers to get together and discuss the prize (and who they think should win), attendees will also be able to chat to members of our readers groups; to consign their most hated reads to Room 101 or save them as their Desert Island Book; to take part in a book quiz and, of course, to enjoy a few refreshments!

You don't need to have read any of the Booker titles to come along - just an interest in books and reading.

If you'd like further information, or would like to book a ticket (£1 per person), please contact Wickersley Library on 01709 544134 or The Reader Development Team on 01709 815123 (david.hague@rotherham.gov.uk).

Room

'Room' is the story of five year old Jack and his Ma who live in a 11'x11' hidden room. For Ma, this is a living nightmare after being locked away here ever since her abduction by 'Old Nick' 8 years before. Jack's only contact with the real world is through TV, although Ma has convinced him that the real things he sees on TV are in fact make believe.

Ma finally tells Jack the truth about their situation and convinces a disbelieving and very reluctant Jack that they need to escape. I suppose I took it for granted that Jack would be excited and happy to leave, but we have to remember that he feels happy and safe with his life. It's just him, his Ma, his 'friends' (Duvet, Table, Chair, Rug, Meltedy Spoon...) and the promise of 'Sunday Treats' (although we can guess the full implications of Ma getting these 'treats' from Old Nick.)

What follows is the elaborate plan to escape, subsequent rescue, and life in the outside world.

Donoghue presents the entire story in Jack's voice rather than Ma's (which would've created a
very different novel.) Jack's narrative can therefore only hint at the horrors of being trapped and confined in Room, and it's only by reading between the lines that we realise Ma's motives behind such activities as flashing Lamp through Skylight or the daily screaming and shouting exercise. A game for Jack, but a desperate attempt to be rescued for Ma. Jack's matter-of-fact descriptions of his daily life and routines actually make the book all the more disturbing to read - especially as Jack believes that his life is 'normal'.

It was hard to get used to Jack's language and way of describing things at first, but it was nice to see how his language skills subtly developed towards the end of the book after he had had more contact with people. As we only ever see things through Jack's eyes, it's sometimes easy to forget the full horror of the situation: we only learn how hunched and pale he is from living all his life in a confined space, for example, because of him telling us something about the media.

'Room' was the book I've been most looking forward to reading from the shortlist. I've read some great reviews and was looking forward to a 'life changing' read. I was promised one of those rare books that would stay with me long after I'd put it down. So has it? Well, it has, but not for the reasons I thought it would...

Lots of people have described it as an uplifting read - which it is - but I've actually been left feeling very sorry for Jack. I feel sorry that he begins to lose his simplistic outlook on life. I feel sorry that the strong mother/son bond shows signs of weakening through no fault of his own.

But the thing I find hardest to bear is that Jack now has to come to terms with the fact that his previous reality is actually wrong. I found it quite heart-wrenching that he couldn't bear to be parted from Rug - it becomes his security blanket in the same way other children would use a blankey or teddy as he struggles to hold onto the familiar. And it's strange because I know I should be pleased that Jack and Ma are now free (and I am - I'm not totally heartless!) but my overwhelming emotion is one of sadness. It's only when he goes back to Room after his experience of living on the outside that Jack finally realises that Room was a bad place and that it's OK to 'not remember' his life there anymore, and we get the sense that he's ready to move on.

I'm not sure if this is the winner, but it certainly deserves its place on the shortlist.

By the way, you may be interested in this drawing of Room

Shadowing the Shortlist

So, there we were in a great big room; our collective feet aching due to a tube strike and surrounded by the great and the good: booksellers, publishers, authors, agents, poets, critics, champagne and canapés. How did four Rotherham library staff members get to be at Kensington Palace for the Booker Prize shortlisting party?

The story begins with Julie Hird, Reader Development Officer. Upon hearing that six library reading groups would be selected to shadow the shortlist of the Man Booker Prize, she put in an application to Helen Thomas of Opening the Book. After a tense wait, we were delighted to discover we had been chosen and invited to attend the shortlisting party on September 7th.

Our task now is to read (in our own free time: contrary to popular opinion, we don’t get to read books all day, unfortunately!) the shortlist; promote the prize in Rotherham ; contribute to the official Man Booker debate at http://www.themanbookerprize.com/ and pick a group winner.

So, who are we?


Julie Hird – Reader Development Officer
David Hague – Reader Development Librarian
Rachel Wade – Reader Development Support Officer
Angella Parker – Principle Officer e-library services

We all have different tastes in books and are looking forward to debating the relative merits of each title in a civilised manner. Hopefully there will be no need to resort to threats or physical violence to get our point across!

Keep looking here over the next month as we plough our way through the six shortlisted titles and post our reviews and thoughts.