Go Tell It on the Mountain, James Baldwin
Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin
I was introduced to the work of James Baldwin in the 1970s when studying American Literature as part of my first degree. I was initially unenthused at the prospect. I couldn’t imagine being interested in anything written by a black, male, homosexual American. I can no longer remember what that first book was, but I do remember being so taken by Baldwin’s work that I went straight to the library and checked out Go Tell It On The Mountain, his first and highly autobiographical book. It’s no exaggeration to say this novel is a tour de force. Ostensibly, it tells the story of one day in the life of fourteen year old Johnny Grimes. In actuality, it encompasses the histories of his immediate family, delving into previous generations to document their trials, shortcomings and small triumphs as they migrated north to New York in search of a better life. A lot of their stories are rooted in despair and disgrace, yet an optimism for a better future persists, buoyed up by a fierce belief in the religion that holds them together. Not an easy read, in any sense of the word, but powerful, raw and honest.
Giovanni’s Room was ground-breaking at the time of its publication, telling the story of a young man in Paris, struggling to deny his homosexuality, refusing to acknowledge the very real love he feels for the eponymous Giovanni. As homosexuality was illegal at that time in America (although not in Paris) the book was treated as pulp fiction and published with a lurid cover picture of a half-naked man in the background. Again, Baldwin leaned heavily on his own experiences, although portraying the main character as a young, white man.The story doesn’t quite hold together in terms of structure and parts were a bit rushed but, nevertheless, it
is both haunting and tragic in places.
Fox, Joyce Carol Oates
Oates has always been one of my go-to authors. She can be savage, even brutal – she tore Marilyn Monroe to shreds in Blonde – but I admire her writing style and she’s certainly not afraid to grasp the nettle. However, I came really close to DNFing Fox. It wasn’t so much the subject matter, which has been done many times before – a paedophile teacher abusing his young pupils – but rather the heavy handed repetition that robs the book of its impact.
There are multiple characters whose stories are expertly woven into the plot and, in parts, Oates can tug at the heartstrings but, ultimately, the whole thing needed a swingeing edit to remove at least thirty per cent of Oates meandering.
My Dark Vanessa, Elizabeth Russell
This novel has an almost identical theme to Fox, this time written from the victim’s point of view in two different timelines. Initially, I thought I had picked up a YA book by mistake until I listened to an interview with the author in which she explained that the book had been many years in the making and the early chapters had been written in her mid-teens. These chapters are heavy with references to books, poems etc. – and, yes, Lolita is instanced many times, as is quite a lot of Nabokov’s other works. Vanessa, as a young girl, is extremely well portrayed although the plot stretched credulity at times. The chapters in which she is an adult are slow and lack energy. A bit of a disappointment in view of the many positive reviews.
The Long Walk, Stephen King (as Richard Bachman)
As far as I recall, King wrote four of the Bachman books about fifty years ago. Already a successful author, he wanted to see if he could get published as an unknown author. Turns out he could, but the books bombed – until he was outed and then they sold like hotcakes. I had planned to revisit them but The Long Walk has cured me of that notion.
One hundred boys, aged fourteen to eighteen, walk for five days and nights without stopping. The winner gets everything his heart desires for the rest of his life. If a boy falters, for even a moment, he gets a warning. After the third warning, he gets shot. Dead. Only one boy makes it to the finishing line. So, basically, it’s a story of ninety-nine boys walking until they’ get killed. The ending makes no sense whatsoever.
Whatever reason King had for writing the Bachman stories, he did prove one thing with this dreadful, depressing book – only Stephen King could get away with it.
Adrift, Will Dean
Penny and Drew live in a narrow boat on a canal and it’s obvious from the very beginning that he is a nasty piece of work, controlling both Peggy and their fourteen year old son, Samson, by a toxic mixture of fear and gaslighting. Depriving them of food, moving the boat further and further away from amenities and human contact. In addition to the unremitting misery of his home life – he doesn’t even have bed – Samson is being bullied at school.
Dean sketches in his characters in so much gruelling detail that they become caricatures of themselves as Drew piles on evil deed after evil deed and his wife and son abjectly accept everything he throws at them. And yet Peggy works in a library and has written a novel while Samson is highly intelligent with a wealth of knowledge on a variety of subjects. I couldn’t get behind any of the characters apart from wanting to shake Peggy and Samson for submitting to the ludicrous cartoonish Drew.
Of Books and Blind Spots 