Author: thepassionatereader

When I noticed a rave review of this new book in some magazine, I knew that I had to take a closer look. I had so thoroughly enjoyed reading his biography Long Walk To Freedom that I was sure this one would be educational and enjoyable. I then made the mistake of mentioning it to my wife, and a few days later the book showed up in our mailbox. Buying this book was a big mistake.

To begin with, the format of the book is far from reader-friendly. The letters are logically laid out chronologically for the whole time he was incarcerated, from 1962 until 1990. But a quick glance at any book that includes a Foreword, an Introduction, and a ‘Note on the Letters’ at the start, very extensive footnotes in impossibly small print on almost every page taking up to 1/2 of the page, with those footnotes in turn referring to an eighteen page Glossary at the back, and an eight-page small print index should alert potential readers that this is not going to be an easy read.

An easy read, it certainly is not, but is it educational or worth the effort?

It sheds a bit more light on the great man’s humility, (he vows in one letter to never write an autobiography -(“…through me the Creation intended to give the world an example of a mediocre man.”), idealism, family loyalty, stamina, determination and morality than does the earlier biography, but not by a lot. And it exposes the cruelty and deviousness of the apartheid regime in detail. Most of the letters were never delivered and remained out of the public’s reach until the diligent editor found them in various archives. And it is certainly not his fault that the letters are often addressed to or discuss numerous relatives, friends, acquaintances, tribal chiefs, administrative officials, and fellow freedom-fighters all referred to with peculiar multiple unpronounceable names in several different local languages. His use of names, words and phrases in isiZulu, isiXhosa, Afrikaans, and Bantu may justify some of the footnotes, but were still distracting to this anglophone. The average reader will find it impossible to keep track of the hundreds of names. I counted up thirty unfamiliar names in one two page letter, but I was impressed with the number of people Mandela must have known personally and the huge social network he maintained. There are many letters that relate exclusively to family matters that will be of limited interest even to historians. Other letters are duplicated in both (often illegible) handwritten and typed formats.

In spite of the careful editorial work and notes between some of the letters setting out the background, there are some peculiar inconsistencies. In a letter to the Minister of Justice dated February 12, 1975, Mandela discusses in the past tense a conversation they had had on December 27th, 1975. And in a letter to Winnie dated Sept 1, 1976, he refers to her letter of September 29th, and then one paragraph later notes that on September 26th she will be turning 42.

I struggled though this book, tolerating only small doses a few times a day, looking for nuggets. But the best nugget was on the dust cover of the hard copy, a quote that I had earmarked within the text before discovering that someone else had also dug out this gem: “A new world will be won not by those who stand at a distance with their arms folded, but by those in the arena, whose garments are torn by storms and whose bodies are maimed in the course of the contest.” The following prescient insight was in a 1971 letter to a friend. “The trouble, of course, is that most successful men are prone to vanity. There comes a time in their lives when they consider it permissible to be egotistic and to brag to the public at large about their unique accomplishments.”

For academics researching the history of apartheid, this book will be an invaluable resource. But I am disappointed that the editor and the publisher have crassly capitalized on the great man’s name to pitch this book to the general public. There is a deceptive Barrack Obama quote praising Nelson Mandela on the back cover as though he was praising the book, which he probably has not read. And at least some professional book reviewers, who may not have read it in its entirety either, seem obliged to play along. Don’t be, like me, deceived by this hype into buying this book; but be sure to read The Long Walk To Freedom

I was browsing in the fiction section of the library when I recognized this author’s name on the jacket of this book, from her stories in The Atlantic and The New Yorker, so I signed it out. I am glad I did. This epic first novel is a treasure of extensively researched historical fiction, a War and Peace for modern times. Set in New York, Moscow, Washington, and numerous other places, the complex plot covers the era of 1933 to 2008; families are torn apart by blind loyalty to political beliefs, best friends are betrayed amid the paranoia, duplicity and distrust of the Stalinist purges, and moral dilemmas, family loyalties and eternal truths are delicately explored.

An idealistic young educated American woman leaves what she sees as the corrupt U.S.A. in the 1930’s for the utopian Soviet Union. In spite of deprivations, deceptions, loss of family ties and almost losing her life in a Siberian labour camp, she ever wavers in her loyalty to Marxist ideals. Life in the cruel, paranoid, antisemitic world of the Stalinist era U.S.S.R. is graphically depicted. In many ways, this reminded me of Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago. But the plot is much more complex, including the abandonment of U.S. citizens in Moscow by the U.S. government, the fate of U.S. prisoners of war in the Korean War, the convoluted relationship of U.S. entrepreneurial industrialists with corrupt Russian oligarchs as they plan to cooperate in developing oil fields in the Barents Sea after the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the problematic relationship between Russian Jews and the birth of the state of Israel.

Each of the 43 chapters starts with an official-looking slightly smudged stamp of the year and the location. The chapters are not sequential, jumping back and forth between 1933 to 2008, and from Moscow, New York, and Washington D.C. to Siberia. Nor is there one narrator- some chapters are related in the first person singular, others from the viewpoint of a disinterested third person. This makes it a bit of a challenge for the reader to keep the characters and their relationships straight, as does the usual Russian practice of using multiple names for individuals, depending on the circumstances. The first few chapters need to be read slowly and carefully (or reread, as I did) in order to keep track of who is who in what follows.

There is a lot of introspective analysis of motives and moral problems by various characters, but this never comes across as sappy sentimentality; rather it infuses the story with depictions of universal human weaknesses and dilemmas.

Among many memorable lines, I chose two. “A memory is a difficult thing to judge from a distance” and, in relation to the unfairness of life, “Fair is a place where pigs win ribbons.”

Inevitably, this work will be compared to A Gentleman in Moscow, which I reviewed last week. This story’s plot is much more complex, and there is much more suspense and intrigue. I am ambivalent as to which one to recommend if you only have the time or the inclination to read one Soviet-era historical novel, but on balance I would recommend The Patriots, which I just finished this week. I changed the order of the reviews I had planned to post this week, in the hope that readers will enjoy this book as much as I did. And no, I have no relationship to the author or the publisher. This is not a paid plug.

A Gentleman in Moscow. Amor Towes  2016  480 pages

In 1922, an aristocratic count from the tsarist era is accused of writing a poem critical of the newish Bolshevik government, and a Soviet tribunal sentences him to house arrest in the famous and luxurious Metrpol Hotel on Red Square across from the Kremlin for the rest of his life. The description of his adaptation to this restriction over the next forty years by maintaining his dignity, tolerance, loyalty, and good manners is striking and heartwarming. The changing lives of various guests and workers at the hotel, and the pervasive political atmosphere of suspicion, intrigue and fear as they interact are central features of this epic historical novel. 

Do not read this book for the action or suspense-there is very little of either. What there is is a powerful depiction of one human being’s resilience and adaptability. The ability to find some tiny exquisite pleasure in the midst of extreme hardship, betrayal, and persecution may be a feature of the Russian character, or just those portrayed in Russian historical novels, but it is carefully portrayed here. In this respect it reminded me most of Solzhenitsyn’s A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, and his The Gulag Archipelago, and Pasternak’s Dr. Zhivago, among others.

There are many memorable quotes in this beautiful story. Among my favourites it this:  ‘For what matters in life is not whether we receive a round of applause; what matters is whether we have the courage to venture forth despite the uncertainty of acclaim.’ Or perhaps:  ‘If patience wasn’t so easily tested, then it would not be a virtue.’ Or even ‘It is a fact of human life that one must eventually chose a philosophy.’ 

The author has pointed out that the doubling of the time intervals between chapters in the first half of the story and the halting of them in the second half is a metaphor for the way we seem to experience the evolution of our lives. This was lost on me until he pointed it out, although it is, in retrospect, very apt.

Amor Towes’s background as a former New York City investment banker makes him an unlikely novelist. He has said that the inspiration for this book came from his familiarity with the lives lived in luxury hotels around the world in his former occupation. Unlike most novelists who turn to writing in midlife and turn out a bestselling debut, his first novel, Rules of Civility is quite bland and unimaginative compared to this one, his second. 

Kenneth Branagh is to produce and star in a movie adaptation of this story. I will certainly watch it when it arrives, although I have often been disappointed in film adaptations of great novels. Do not wait for the movie, but be sure to read this beautiful story.

A Higher Loyalty. James Comey. 2018. 277 pages

This book gives the reader a very enlightening, informative perspective on recent U.S. politics, from a high profile dedicated Republican insider. I struggled to find any meaningful criticism, but I usually can win that struggle. I was not amused by his conclusion early in the book and apparently early in his life that he could do more to benefit society by becoming a lawyer than as a doctor.

The characterization of many public figures who are household names is interesting, particularly Cheney, Ashton and Mueller, though he says little about Rumsfeld and seems to have blind spot for George W. Bush’s many faults. His comparison of Trump’s modus operandi to that of the Mafia dons he previously prosecuted is particularly apt. The best quote among many good ones is “The most dangerous place in New York is between Rudi Giuliani and a microphone”.

He seemingly adequately explains his reasoning as FBI Director in reopening the investigation into Hilary Clinton’s email usage close to the 2016 election, although I suspect that there is in this and some of his other tough decisions, a bit of post hoc justification. And others have argued that he was influenced by a campaign of Russian disinformation in the first place to override protocol and make public announcements about the email investigations, rather than leaving that decision to the attorney-general, Loretta Lynch.

Now for some negatives that I did manage to dredge up. Like most U.S. authors of nonfiction, he rarely acknowledges that there is a world beyond their borders. He never divulges any personal guiding life philosophy or anchor for his ethics. Is it based on some religious creed, secular humanism or some inborn moral compass without any unifying philosophy of life? Does it matter? Probably not, but It would be of interest to readers to know. His reverence for the U.S. constitution, a deeply flawed document, is common to almost all Americans but is hardly justified in my opinion. He seems to accept without reservation that more and better laws will automatically lead to a better society, a far from obvious relationship. To quote Mr. Bumble in Oliver Twist, “the law is an ass.”

The unfortunate fate of this book is that no hard-line Trump supporter is ever likely to read it.

Continue reading Full Disclosure. Beverly McLachlin. 2018 341 pages

The Best Laid Plans. Terry Fallis. 2007, 312 pages.

This self-published first novel by an Ottawa area native is a delightful, funny, light read with some serious messages. Fallis despaired of finding a publisher for it and initially read it on a podcast. But it went on to win the Stephen Leacock award for Canadian humor. He has since written a sequel and five other novels, all fun to read, but this one is still my favourite. I was disappointed in the film adaptation.

The central character is an elderly eccentric, exacting widowed  Scottish professor of engineering, a rare breed of academic who expertly straddles C.P. Snow’s two cultures of science and humanities. He enters into what he is sure is a winning contract with his young single English Department boarder, the narrator of the story.  With no real interest in politics, he agrees to run for parliament as a Liberal in a very safe Conservative riding, planning to do no campaigning and certain to lose. In exchange the English professor agrees to teach the obligatory  ‘English for Engineers’ course that the perfectionist engineering prof finds agonizing to teach because the ‘cultural pygmies’ in the engineering class are disinterested and ignorant of the nuances of English linguistics. I won’t give away more of the twisted plot, but let’s just say that the Best Laid Plans of several characters go unpredictably awry.

The humour is wry, the political messages are still relevant eleven years later, and the characters are all slightly exaggerated but believable caricatures. They include devious and corrupt politicians (one caught with his pants down- how timely), eccentric retirement home feminists, and tree-hugging hippie environmentalists. The sex is subtle, not graphic or vulgar, and the nuances of the English language are use to their fullest.

Besides, what other novel has ever featured an engineer as the central character?

Next week, another Canadian novel Full Disclosure.

This is the first of my book reviews, if/ when I ever get used to navigating the WordPress site.

Nine Parts of Desire. Geraldine Brooks. 1995, 244 pages.

No, this is not a porn book, although in a way it is about sex or at least gender roles in Islamic cultures. Geraldine Brooks is an Australian-American journalist, author, and investigator who spent several years in the Middle East investigating ‘the hidden lives of Islamic women’ which is also the subtitle of this enlightening book. She seems to have a unique ability for a secular westerner to befriend and become a confidante of Islamic women from a wide variety of countries, including almost all of those with Muslim-majority populations except for those in southeast Asia, and some parts of Africa. In Egypt, Eritrea, Jordan, Palestine, Israel, Iraq, Iran, and The United Arab Emirates, she somehow gains access to humble illiterate subservient Muslim women and those in the upper echelons of societies including Queen Noor of Jordan. Her knowledge of the history of Islam in its multiple mutually incompatible flavours,  and the life of Muhammad with his multiple wives is impressive.

The title comes from an Arabic saying attributed to Ali Ibn Abu Taleb, a son-in-law of Muhammad. “Almighty God created sexual desire in ten parts; then he gave nine parts to women and one part to men.” This quip might be humorous if it were not so obviously ludicrous from a scientific biological point of view- and if it had not been used over almost twelve centuries to repress women and deny them the right to almost any sexual pleasure, with forced painful genital mutilation, and multiple other humiliations. And if women are by nature nine times as desirous of sex as men, why does Islam allow and even encourage polygamy which lets them experience only at most a small fraction of the pleasure that their husbands are provided? 

This book very powerfully documents the denial of basic human rights to women inherent in the Islamic faith, at least as currently practiced, not just in matters of sexual satisfaction, but in every facet of their lives. But it also paradoxically documents the vociferous defence of Islam by the majority of those oppressed women. The apologetic women hide behind the hijab, cannot even speak to a unrelated male because their voices might be too seductive, cannot leave the home without a male relative, and cannot be allowed any say in the choice of their husbands. This seems to me to be a system-wide example of the Stockholm Syndrome in action.

This  picture is very depressing, although Brooks sees some faint rays of hope. It is surprising to me that she sees this in the somewhat more progressive attitudes of her Shi’ite Iranian friends than in the Egyptian or Jordanian Sunni women. She became a close friend of Queen Noor (Now Dowager Queen) of Jordan whose vocal advocacy for women’s right to an education and equality is unusual in Islamic countries. But the Islamic credentials of the queen are suspect as she was an upper class secular American civil engineer prior to marrying the late King Hussain. It seems clear that any progress in granting rights to Islamic women will need to involve the influence of prominent wives of the ruling men. And some disturbing trends are also documented, such as the Saudi development of all-female universities designed specifically to avoid the exposure of Saudi women to Western higher educational institutions. And certainly coed institutions of higher learning where women might benefit from discussions with men are anathema to the Saudi Mutawain, the sadistic religious police of the Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, uncontrolled by even the Saud family.

The expectation of one borderless Islamic state that is going to solve all the world’s problems, expressed by some of the men Brooks interviewed, is fortunately an unrealistic dream, as events since this book was written clearly show. The interminable wars between different factions of Islam  are hardly to be lauded, but at least make this dire future unrealistic.

Returning to the supposed sexual theme, the widespread legal Iranian practice of Sigheh warrants separate comment. Obtaining this ‘temporary marriage’ permit (available to most men but only widowed women) with terms and conditions like a western prenuptial agreement) is apparently easy and seems specifically designed to satisfy the sexual urges of both men and women in an acceptable arrangement in that society. It can theoretically even be coupled (sorry for the pun) with polygamy. Although this practice is and always will be widely condemned in prudish western Judaeo-Christian cultures, is it really very different from the norm of Hollywood’s serial overlapping monogamy?

A personal hang-up. The author  of this book converted from some wishy-washy Christianity to Judaism to marry her husband, as did Marilyn Munroe to marry Arthur Miller and Ivanka Trump to marry Jared Kushner. Queen Noor of Jordan converted to Islam from Christianity to marry King Hussain. Some of my friends and relatives have converted from one religion to another to obey the dictates of a restrictive religion regarding marriage, not because of any conviction about the authenticity of the dogmas. I can understand ‘converting’ or at least faking it, if the alternative is death, as it often was in centuries past. But if religion means anything worthwhile it should be teaching universal truths. And how can these great truths change depending on the hormones and neurotransmitters that develop in an individual’s response to another human being?

In spite of a brief Afterword written after 9/11, this book is somewhat dated. An even more pessimistic assessment of modern Islamism is to be found in Nomad by Ayaana Hirsi Ali published in 2010, but even that is now dated. This will be my next review. With her extensive experience and contacts in the Middle East, it would be interesting to read Brooks’s views about more recent developments. Unfortunately she has turned her considerable writing skills to publishing several historical novels instead.

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