Fiction
A Home page - if you must
Brian Aldiss - Life in the West
Aldiss is, of course, better known for science fiction - in fact, I'll wager that, for most people, he's only known as the author of the Helliconia trilogy, or that story1 which inspired Kubrick / Spielberg's A.I. But he's what many people would consider a 'serious' author, too. In fact, it wouldn't be unfair to say that, at times, he's a bit too serious. This is a novel of ideas. More than that, it's a novel of ideas written in, and set in, the late 1970s, when men were Male Chauvinist Pigs (complete with capitals), and Marxist academics seemed to be on the point of overthrowing the established order. It's also in parts an English Country House novel; a spy thriller; a satire on the workings of what we were only beginning to call the Media; a spirited defence of science fiction; a David Lodge-style academic conference novel; a tale of thwarted and misdirected passion; and a semi-autobiographical family history. Which is, to be frank, over-egging the pudding somewhat. Aldiss has some interesting ideas, and several which have not stood the test of time at all - in the end, it is these which make the book such tough going at times; there is no conscious irony in the earnest way in which Marxism is put forward as a real alternative, particularly in academic circles. None of the characters forsee that the marketplace might be the future for academia, and as a result, it seems somewhat stilted and one-sided. In addition, Aldiss seems determined to present all his characters as unappealing - more than simply flawed, Tom Squire is unpleasant and plain stupid at times; his wife Tess is by turns hopelessly wet and teeth-grindingly obtuse; and all of Tom's friends fall out with him at some point, despite the fact that they must all have come across his obnoxious - in truth, merely irritating, but it's presented as obnoxious - behaviour many times before. Tom has, of course - this is 1979 - a younger mistress who worships the ground he walks on, oblivious to any of his flaws. It just doesn't quite hang together.
And yet, I read it to the end. Aldiss is a stylist, and the story has a clever, elegant structure. And I also desparately wanted Tom Squire to meet his sticky end. In a way, he does, of course, but I think we're meant to see it as a triumphant climax. Anthony Burgess chose this as one of his 99 best novels in English since 1939; I'm afraid I struggled to see why. Perhaps if I had read it in pre-Thatcherite times; perhaps if I had mixed in Marxist academia it would all seem more real. Not yet a period piece, in the end it's a curiosity. File under 'read again in 30 years' - it will surely be a historical novel by then.
1 Supertoys Last All Summer Long
Jasper Fforde - The Eyre Affair
Where to start with a story like this? It's absurd, of course, but it's based in a recognisable reality - or rather, a recognisable version of reality - and that is the source, I think, of my slight misgivings. There seem to be inconsistencies with the way Fforde's world works, and these may actually be explicable, but he doesn't always manage to explain things, and more often than is comfortable, the reader is asking awkward and distracting questions. But there's an awful lot of fun here, and it is a first novel, so let's be genreous.
Thursday Next is a detective in the Literary branch of the Special Operations Network, specialising in what can only be described as crimes against fiction. Someone has stolen Jane Eyre from her eponymous novel, and Thursday has to rescue her. If this has you scratching your head, stop right here. When I get to characters called Millon de Floss and Landen Park-Laine, you'll probably lose the will to live. If you're still reading, and thinking that this sounds quite a lot of fun, well, you're right - it is. Some of the clever devices are both original and funny, which serves the story well; and the Brontë characters are authentic-sounding and fit nicely into the absurdity. There are several nice set-pieces, particularly the raucous Shakesperare performance, and there are pet dodos. In Swindon. Fforde is less certain when it comes to temporal anomalies - I suspect that this is designed to give us an insight into how this alternative universe came about, but it never really sounds convincing - but overall, the whole absurd edifice works well, and may well turn out to be the start of a cult.
Neil Gaiman - American Gods
I came to Gaiman's work 'cold' - and perhaps it would have been better for me to have worked my way through the Sandman books first; perhaps my expectations might have been different. I know that I was unduly influenced and poorly served by the publisher's crass reference to Stephen King on the cover - I will return to this book one day, and read the first part on its own merits. Notwithstanding the fact that I was not in the right frame of mind for reading it, this novel grips. Pacy and punchy, it keeps the reader guessing for long periods, and while you may feel that you have nailed down the course of the plot relatively early - to be honest, the clue's in the title, and if it takes you longer than two pages to work out who Mr. Wednesday is, then you're really not paying attention - Gaiman is adept at subverting expectations. Indeed, one of the main themes is misdirection, and there's as much of it in the structure as there is in the plot. And it is not an exaggeration to suggest that this is a fantasy novel with a philosophy, and one which stands up to reasonable scrutiny.
The premise is that gods require believers, and that America, the repository of a hundred thousand faiths over the centuries is teeming with half-believed-in minor gods, some of whom appear to be fading into oblivion at the hands of the new gods of money, technology, and so on. The one caveat I have is that there are strong, thriving, major gods, particularly in America, who are ignored in this philosophy, and I believe that the story suffers for it. I half-expected (if you'll pardon me) a deus ex machina in the form of the Christian or Muslim god to appear; but Gaiman's philosophy only goes so far. But there is much to enjoy here - a great deal of research has gone into the smallest detail, and the research is worn lightly; some of it is designed, I'm sure, to have the reader reaching for the encyclopaedia, which ensures that the pace is never dragged down by tedious explanations. I enjoyed the 'coming to America' passages, too - what might have been space-fillers in other hands had a direct simplicity and a relevance to the overall story which added colour and depth. In short, a fine story, well told, and a novel which will gather a fanbase of its own over the years.
Haruki Murakami - South of the Border, West of the Sun
A Japanese love story; indeed, a Japanese Casablanca: it doesn't sound too promising, does it? But ignore the blurb - they've got to get people to pick it up after all - and dip a toe into the world of Haruki Murakami. This is, perhaps, the perfect place to start for newcomers - no wells; no sheep; no slightly off-kilter worlds, just a simple, if morally complex story exquisitely told. It's the prose stye (insert here a discourse on the art of translation, but the voice is Murakami) which will seduce you, not the narrator - he is morally ambivalent, and not in a good way. In the hands of such an accomplished writer, however, one is easily drawn in to Hajime's world.
Hajime would like to be a good man, but he has impulses; impulses which cause him to damage those he loves. The simple tale revolves around his childhood sweetheart finding him and endangering everything he's worked for. So far, so predictable; but the way in which Murakami teases out Hajime's character, and faces up to the moral dilemmas without judging his motives - they are simply laid out for us to observe - produces a true feeling of uncertainty in the reader, and compels you through the story wishing that both outcomes were possible. A cunningly crafted tale, carried off with thoughtful aplomb, and the ideal jumping-off point for further exploration of this most intriguing of authors.