Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (2016)

Well, what to say?

I love the freedom that comes with a script. The dialogue needed to be a lot tighter and refined than the novels. It is a very well structured play. But the twists are telegraphed and there’s a predictability to who is the cursed child.

The terse friendship between Draco and Harry has a very sentimental feel to it. Though this does leave Ron out of much of most important plot developments. Ron becomes the comical side kick, whereas I had always found him to be a base for Hermione and Harry into the Wizard world as he had always been a part of it.

The best moments came in gaining multiple perspectives of the history of the novels. Albus (the Potter one) and his best friend have only ever read and heard the stories of Harry, Hermione and Ron, but with this, they are taken back and are shown how the world was. 

An easy and enjoyable read. Would love to see it performed! 

  

The Sympathizer, Viet Thanh Nguyen (2015)

Over 40 years since the end of the American war in Vietnam, to find something new and fresh about this period  is rare. Nguyen’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel is not Catch-22, about another war that still echoes through the current wars that seemingly fall from memory. But it will live alongside it. We join our narrator in confession mode:

I am a spy, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces.

Truth is fluid, there is no doubt about that, right? Nguyen isn’t concerned with truth and neither are the people who place our narrator in a situation that sees him as a servant to the failed state of South Vietnam. The vivid recreation of the final push of the North into Saigon is from his prrspective. We all know the images of the evacuation of the American embassy. Most of us don’t know the Vietnamese side.

Evacuated to the US, our narrator continues his double agent path. I was never convinced that he was for either side, simply floating between. Having spent time in the US studying US culture, the narrator is perfectly positioned for both the south and north. 

…all the things I would miss about America: the TV dinner, air-conditioning, a well-regulated traffic system that people actually followed, a relatively low rate of death by gunfire, at least compared with our homeland, the modernist novel, freedom of speech, which if not as absolute as Americans liked to believe, was still greater in degree than in our homeland, sexual liberation and perhaps most of all that omnipresent American narcotic, optimism…there were also many things about America with which I was less enchanted, but why be negative?

We join the narrator as he tries to return to the South, now apart of a greater Vietnam still at war. He is soon captured and thus, his confession. His life is in the balance; what he admits or doesn’t admit will shape his fate: 

Isn’t it frustrating when the answer is right there but one doesn’t know what it is?

Want to learn about war and its effect on the individual, read this today, not tomorrow as it might on the nightly news.

  

The Sympathizer, Viet Thanh Nguyen (2015)

Over 40 years since the end of the American war in Vietnam, to find something new and fresh about this period  is rare. Nguyen’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel is not Catch-22, about another war that still echoes through the current wars that seemingly fall from memory. But it will live alongside it. We join our narrator in confession mode:

I am a spy, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces.

Truth is fluid, there is no doubt about that, right? Nguyen isn’t concerned with truth and neither are the people who place our narrator in a situation that sees him as a servant to the failed state of South Vietnam. The vivid recreation of the final push of the North into Saigon is from his prrspective. We all know the images of the evacuation of the American embassy. Most of us don’t know the Vietnamese side.

Evacuated to the US, our narrator continues his double agent path. I was never convinced that he was for either side, simply floating between. Having spent time in the US studying US culture, the narrator is perfectly positioned for both the south and north. 

…all the things I would miss about America: the TV dinner, air-conditioning, a well-regulated traffic system that people actually followed, a relatively low rate of death by gunfire, at least compared with our homeland, the modernist novel, freedom of speech, which if not as absolute as Americans liked to believe, was still greater in degree than in our homeland, sexual liberation and perhaps most of all that omnipresent American narcotic, optimism…there were also many things about America with which I was less enchanted, but why be negative?

We join the narrator as he tries to return to the South, now apart of a greater Vietnam still at war. He is soon captured and thus, his confession. His life is in the balance; what he admits or doesn’t admit will shape his fate: 

Isn’t it frustrating when the answer is right there but one doesn’t know what it is?

Want to learn about war and its effect on the individual, read this today, not tomorrow as it might on the nightly news.

The Noise of Time, Julian Barnes (2016)

Julian Barnes is one of those story tellers who is able to say so little, yet so much. There are traits of his non-fiction in his latest offering, The Noise of Time,  Barnes captures the life of Russian composer Shostakovich in a slender, tender and vivid novel. The effect of time- on memory, Power and freedom plays out as Russia transcends the Soviet ideals and the contemporary realities. 

This fictional biography – not quite Carey’s True History- seems to be more concerned with what is not immediately present. The ever evolving Power is constantly shadowing Shostakovich. The poignant establishing scenes, with the ‘character’ packing his suit case, standing next to his building, waiting to be arrested is one of the most darkly comical pieces of literature from Barnes.

The internal debates that ravage the composer as he awaits his fate are more than comments on Soviet Russia. They raise questions that the arts face in every society, particularly more so in as extreme capitalism wants to define the economic value of every facet. As Shostakovich faces censorship as Stalin didn’t enjoy his opera of Lady MacBeth, the reality of being a pawn for the regime temps Shostakovich to flee. On the visit to America the darkly comical draws him back to Russia. All through this, he continues to compose, not producing art, but simply being.

The travel through time- every leap year bringing something evil upon our man (as he comes to feel to embody anyone) works brilliantly in the paranoid mind of the brilliant composer. It is those missing pieces, the figures of history, without a voice, marginalised, that makes the novel a special exploration of time and space and the human mind. 

As the novel draws together the events of the past and sweeps into Shostakovich’s mind, the reading does become weighted down with convetion and the scarcity of interaction with over characters. 

It is a stunning novel, one not stagnant or consumed by the contraits of the genre, instead it rejoices in the importance of art, so important that those in Power do their all to wield influence.

The Nest, by Cythia D’Aprix Sweeney (2016)

In terms of debut novels, The Nest is special in its exploration of contemporary America. The flowing, time and perspective changing style is easy to digest and very easy to love. This is an America that has come to value and appreciate all the layers of its’ identity. Centred on New York, the Plumb family, are a microorganism of the a self assured, self confident America. The Bush years are gone, but this is far from a political novel, but the arena of self confidence in the writing is certainly influenced by the pieces of America fabric coming together. 

The novel is one of family. Starting with an insight into the speedy life of Leo, one incident turns the whole family upon each other. Throughout there’s a sense that the family and their resilience on the nest- and the financial security that it would establish, means that the division and bitter family infighting would have been their natural course. 

The intricate family connections and the interconnected ness of the diverse New York character list is expertly handled, skilfully drawn together. Such care and technique makes the story a stunning example of a fresh voice. The actions of Leo are the catalyst for something warm and refreshing, but the insight into his sister Melody and her family in 21st century America is so appealing. Melody’s daughters and their world is brilliantly crafted. 
The ending was the only disappointment. Once it is established that the selfish Leo has left the others to stumble through his mess, there’s an epilogue, with the family gathering, a year later. The family is relaxed, comfortable in their skin, the world settled and the American Dream restored. It was a little contrived and felt rushed, particularly after such a strong character driven novel. I wouldn’t have hesitated to leave the ending and bring the family back in another novel, giving each generation the space and time they deserve. But that is a simple worry considering the stunning style. 

The Infinite Sea, Rick Yancey

A thrilling, sophiscated sci-fi, dystopia novel that plunges between the real and the unreal just enough to build a compelling character driven novel. It is Yancey’s follow up to 5th Wave and his style has grown, with flash points of plot and character being built slowly, as if he is more confident with his characters.

The setting is key. This is America. There’s plenty of heavy weapons just laying around for the group of survivors (or are they aliens too? Implanted many decades ago to learn the ways of the humans?) to use against the aliens. There’s a passion and commitment to the American ideal of freedom (though we know there’s 150+ nations with freedom), yet it is that American zeal for Liberty that drives so much of the novel. Freedom American style involves a lot of violent death; perhaps as Iraq and Afghanistan and Vietnam et al could tell you. 

The interlocking of pre-aliens and post-alien world was hinted at throughout the 5th Wave. Here it confronts Cassie and drives the majority of the narrative. Cassie makes the novel- a young woman, strong, resourceful. Yet, there’s still something immature and unrealistic about Yancey’s representation. In the middle of a war of the worlds, would she be still looking to kiss the boys around her? In contrast, Yancey’s intricate details of the aliens plans, and how embedded they are, drip throughout the novel. 

I’m still not sure about the structure and plays on time and place, or even who the target audience may be- yes, young adult readers would love this, but it is so violent. Though, I’ll grab the third in the series as soon as it is released!

The 5th Wave, Rick Yancey

There’s something about dystopian fiction; the raw selflessness, the isolation and the primitive desire to survive. And why not add in some mind controlling aliens who have been watching the planet for at least 5000 years. War of the Worlds cross with The Road. 

We meet Cassie after the 4th wave. She quickly recounts the first 4 waves; her voice innocent, yet confident. The world has changed and so has she. Her schoolgirl anxieties about crushes and homework are gone. Instead, she must make choices, life or death, trust or paranoia. Yancey handles the flashbacks beautifully. Heartfelt and painful. Cassie and her idealic suburban family are in the perfect place to survive, yet they don’t. The melodramatic moments are balance of the dark elements.

Of course, the whole alien element is farcical. But that doesn’t matter. It is fun, meandering novel that relies more on character than plot (thought there’s plenty of blow ’em action). The relationship between Cassie and Evan is most intriguing. So many questions remain left unanswered. Like a beautiful painting, it is what is left out that is as appealing as what is seen. 

Comfort Zone, Lindsay Tanner

Jack is an Everyman. He drives a cab; lives by himself, from meal to meal, from tv show to tv show, cigarette to cigarette. He’s a man who has been left behind by his world. Melbourne, the most European place in Australia. A place of cultures from around the world. Constant change has a remarkable effect on people- whether that is the weather, or cultures- it can create disenfranchisement, a sense of rejection. 

That’s Jack. On the edge of society, rejecting this new world of people and cultures. A world where everyone isn’t like him. It isn’t that Jack is a bad person; his views of multiculturalism are shard by thousands, it is just that soon the world will come crashing down and Jack will either adapt or get lost.

Lindsay Tanner is one of the more talented politicians of the last twenty years. A member of the left faction, upon the election of the Rudd government in 2007 saw him in a senior role in the first Labor federal government since 1996. He was instrumental in the early period of Rudd’s prime ministership. However, upon Julia Gillard’s ascent to the prime ministership, Tanner elected to return to the backbench. 

Certainly, he can write. His vistas of Melbourne are quirky and heartfelt, a world constantly changing. The astute depictions of Melbourne are measured against some clever positioning of characters. Jack the cab driver, fearful of this new world, is thrown into helping a young Somali woman and her children. Suddenly, after his simple life, he has complications. 

Tanner’s prose is simplistic and cliche in places, something that took away the lovable evolution of Jack into someone more than the Everyman. The message is straight forward: we might hold prejudices, but if we actually spent time with those different to us, we would learn to love the world of many cultures. This is a warm novel, a comfortable novel that never gets the reader out of their comfort zone. 

Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of a Fist, Sunil Yapa

America, what to say about America? For every Britney Spears there’s a Bob Dylan. For every 50 Shades of Grey there’s Infinite Jest. For every Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan there’s a storming of the beaches on D-Day. For every George W.Bush and Trump there’s a Bernie Sanders and Obama. For Las Vagas, there’s New York. The concrete jungle and Yellowstone. 

He heard their sweet angry American voices chanting and singing, saw their American bodies marching and dancing, and he was surprised to feel not fear, or anger, but a kind of happiness. A calm.

My god, man, he said to himself. This is America.

Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of a Fist is a fine piece of America. It is a deeply serious novel, with a faint and heartfelt tone. A seriously clever novel that traces the events of Seattle and the WTO protest of 1999 through the various rungs of American society. It is both a novel of violence and serenity. There are moments of rapid flash points; but it the moments of quiet contemplation that compel and transcend the American setting.

He popped him in the pressure point of the throat. Knocked him behind the ear which was a mistake because then the blood started to flow.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

On one side we see a young protester, having left home at 16, having travelled the world, searching for something to grasp return to Seattle on the eve of the protests. Something has drawn him back. On the other side, his adopted father, the Chief of Police, wanting to take back his city. We move from time and place, to the protesters and the police and the delegates. What isn’t surprising is that each want the best for their side: to show the world they care, to show who is in charge and how they can improve their ‘lot’.

Below him on the TV a scrolling banner read:

VIOLENT PROTESTERS CLASH WITH POLICE.

And then the TV cut to a commercial of a family eating hamburgers in their car.

They looked so happy.

For me the relationship between father and son was well contrived and predictable, but this doesn’t shy away from how Yapa controls the plot, a tightly winding plot that managers to spread across hours and continents and years without effort or literary snobbery. The perspective of Dr Charles Wickramsinghe, a delegate from the small Indian Ocean nation of Sri Lanka, was most perfectly juxtaposed against the protests, police brutality and the raw truth of ‘free trade’.

This is an ambitious, original and beautiful novel. I am going to read everything Yapa writes. 

Rush Oh! By Shirley Barrett

Traversing the far south coast of NSW, the novel centres on the real-life Davidsons, whalers of Eden. The beautiful coast, the habits of the whalers (and whalers alike) are capture with heart. It is from many years past that Mary Davidson reflects upon life relying upon the whale season. Mary is piecing together the family history, a memoir of a people and time almost forgotten. 

It is obvious that Barrett is a skilled story teller; there’s enough mystery and missing elements to draw the reader through the life of a teenager, de facto mother hen. But. There’s a sense of risk minimisation and the middle ground being taken in Barrett’s first novel. The novel is not profound or compelling. 

The research and recounts of the whale hunts are well paced pieces of prose, but the larrikin characters of the town and of the whalers crew are just bland. The most striking features are when Mary’s voice from the present intersects with events of the past. The death of her brother on the Western Front is a mere footnote, so too her father’s passing or even the gradual economic decrease of the value of the slaughter of whales is passed over. The novel tries to be nostalgic; but who’s nostalgic for Australia’s whale industry? Yes, the whale season is a bad one; that’s because their numbers had been decimated by whaling families like the Davidsons. 

The condescending depiction of the Anoriginal crew members- vauled for the physical capabilities- reminds me of many who worship Aboriginal footballers but happily dismiss questions of legal and symbolic recognition of Aboriginal people. While Barrett notes that they worked under the same conditions for the same pay, rare even today, the fact is they were hunting an animal that many of their people found to be spiritually significant. 

If this is what gets published and wide spread release in the ever decreasing Australians literary field, I am afraid for the future of Australian literature.