People of the Book

People of the Book

By Geraldine Brooks

This isn't a great book. It's good, but not great. It's uneven, sometimes uninspired and its characters are often un-engaging. Some bits have all the drama of a visit to the Pottery Barn on a Sunday afternoon. I'll get to that in a moment, but first I want to defend this novel against a critical travesty. People of the Book, despite what critics would lead you to believe, is not The Da Vinci Code. So I find it unfair to see this novel being compared incessantly to a lesser novel everywhere I look. Even a friend of mine who saw the book sitting on the table when we met earlier in the week noted that it was an academic's Da Vinci Code, a comment that made my head hurt all the more. First, because a friend who espouses critical thinking was echoing back a comparison that has been made ad nauseam throughout the literary world and second, because if this is what passes for academic literature, we are in for a bumpy ride.

As far as I'm concerned, the fact that both People of the Book and The Da Vinci Code are slightly less-than-average historical fiction is the beginning and end of the comparison. If that were enough to merit comparison why not Gore Vidal's Lincoln or the collected works of Bernard Cornwell or Ken Follett? Why? I'll tell you why... because they are all different! That's why!

Whereas the Da Vinci Code is a crap pseudo-history of the Catholic Church, its marginal weirdoes, Gnostics, creepy Freemasons and virtually every other dusty European secret society mentioned in Foucault's Pendulum trying to pass bad fiction off as solid history (or at the very least conspiracy theory on a millennial scale), People of the Book is a pretty honest attempt at a fictionalized history that remains within a manageable time frame and nothing more. While it often fails, it doesn't do so on the scale of the Da Vinci Code.

People of the Book examines the possible history of an illuminated 14th century Jewish manuscript called the Sarajevo Haggadah, a very real and very famous codex. Scholars agree that the book was copied and bound in Spain somewhere around 1350 and has spent the past three quarters of a millennium avoiding destruction at the hand of the Inquisition, Nazis, the Ustache, Tito, the Bosnian War and various other European catastrophes that have made Europe so popular. It is a literary survivor if there ever was, and the people of Sarajevo (rightfully) have a great sense of pride in this particular manuscript. Here. Take a look. It really does have striking illustrations:

Brooks' novel examines the possible history of the book as it travels from Spain to Bosnia (via Italy) over the centuries. The over-arching story unfolds as an infuriating Australian book conservator is called in to do some work on the recently rescued (from the Bosnian War) manuscript. She happens to find several interesting things hidden within the pages (an insect wing, a wine stain, crystalized salt and a white hair). Each of these things is a catalyst for an ever more intriguing history of the book that continues to reach backward in time to its earliest days.

Brooks' fictionalized history of the book is interesting and a wonderful insight into the life of Jews and Muslims in Christian Europe during the late Medieval period, through the Renaissance and into the Modern Era. The contemporary story ties the histories together (that of the grating Australian book conservator and her even more grating mother). It is so painful to read, I found it hard to get to the next bit about the actual book. That's how much I didn't care about Brook' protagonist.

I like the idea of using a modern story to stitch the history together. It has been done well in other books and I suspect will continue to be done well in books in the future. It is, however, very important to make the over-arching story interesting enough to carry the novel. Since the reader will not revisit the characters involved in the history of the book, it's important to make us care about the contemporary characters.

This is where People of the Book ultimately fails. Hannah Heath is as interesting as warm milk and her globe trotting dramas involving her family history, a slightly swarthy Bosnian lover with a dying child, an auto accident and her relationship with her beast of a mother completely miss the mark. It all plays out like a bad weekday soap opera, which only serves to trivialize the rich history Brooks is trying to illuminate. Her modern day characters do nothing to honor Haggadah and its ability to survive the centuries. Perhaps if Brooks had concentrated on one of these elements rather than trying to accomplish too much, too fast, this could have been a great book. It's a shame, too. The history of the codex is wonderfully rendered and left me doing a bunch of research on the manuscript. If only her modern characters could carry that feeling.

I can see where the comparisons to Dan Brown's book come from, but they don't really stand up. People of the Book is a slow-paced account of a possible history of a single book. there are no conspiracies. No Freemasons. The papacy doesn't get involved. People of the Book actually has a few compelling characters and, unlike The Da Vinci Code, Brooks has the capacity to bring history to life, something Dan Brown only wishes he could do. While I won't go out on the limb and recommend People of the Book, I won't condemn it either. It has its moments and sometimes a few moments is all a book needs.

Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go

By Kazuo Ishiguro

It's odd which books leave a permanent impression. I read great books that usually fade off into obscurity again soon after reading (Water for Elephants). Others I remember in bits and pieces. I can tell you the basic plot, maybe even remember a character's name or two and perhaps a few specific points in the narrative that I felt were particularly memorable (Shalimar the Clown). Still others are so terribly bad that I recall them simply because it offended my sensibilities so much (Twilight). Then there are the rarest books of all. The ones that leave an indelible mark. The ones that refuse to go away, even long after reading. These books simmer just under the surface and are always the first books I recall when people ask me about my favorite books.

This is not to say that these ARE my favorite books, but for whatever reason they have imprinted themselves onto my brain. Plot, tone, mood, characters, setting, pacing.... everything is right there for immediate recall as if I read them yesterday. But it's not fair to say they are necessarily among my favorites. Midnight's Children is one of my all-time favorite books but I struggle to remember the details (I should probably re-read that one one of these days) as is Creation by Gore Vidal but I don't remember them as well as say, Late Night on Air by Elizabeth Hay. Some books just won't go away. Here are the ten books that I recall vividly long after finishing them (note that many of these have very specific gimmicks. That probably says a lot about the sort of books I enjoy):

1. Barney's Version by Mordecai Richler

2. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

3. Replay by Ken Grimwood

4. Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins

5. Fall On Your Knees by Anne-Marie MacDonald

6. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

7. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

8. Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo (Chapter 10 especially)

9. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

10. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

Kazuo Ishiguro's Booker Prize nominated novel Never Let Me Go has all the criteria to squeeze onto this personal list. It is a haunting novel lush with details that makes the reader want to flip back to page one and start all over again immediately after finishing the last page. It's one of those books that I will forcibly foist upon friends when it is within my means. The fact that it does have a particular gimmick only adds to it's appeal for me.

Never Let Me Go is a sterling example of what can be done with science fiction in the hands of a talented novelist. I am not suggesting that Isaac Asimov or Ray Bradbury or the likes are bad novelists... far from it... but they were often limited by their genre. Ishiguro, like Margaret Atwood, is not strictly a science fiction writer and therefore brings fresh elements to the table. He applies a softness, compassion and, indeed, quirkiness to the genre that allows it to broaden it's scope without being weighed down by the conventions of science fiction.

Furthermore, Ishiguro is a writer entirely in command of his work. He leads the reader through his finely sculpted world one step at a time, opening the door a little at a time. Da Vinci Code Brown should take some notes. This is the way to write cliffhanger chapters. The revel is slow and methodical but at the same time relentless and tragic. Dan Brown has been wrongly commended on his talent to keep readers turning the pages. When you read Ishiguro you realize how clumsy Brown is as a writer.

I've often read books nominated for the Booker and thought to myself: "Who voted for this?" In the case of Never Let Me Go the question switches to "Who didn't vote for this?" No disrespect intended to the 2005 winner John Banville or his novel The Sea... until I read it, of course.