Books read in February

The following are short reviews of the books that I read in February. The marks I have given them in the brackets are out of five.

The Cellist of Sarajevo – Steven Galloway (4.2)

The siege of Sarajevo was the longest city siege in the history of modern warfare, stretching from 5 April 1992 to 29 February 1996. The United Nations estimates that approximately ten thousand people were killed and fifty-six thousand wounded. Snipers lined the hillsides and took pot-shots at the citizens below as they went about their daily business, collecting water from a tap at the brewery and queuing for bread. On 27 May 1992 several mortar shells struck a group of people waiting to buy bread and killed twenty-two of them. For the next twenty-two days Vedran Smailović, a renowned local cellist, played Albinoni’s Adagion in G minor at the site in honour of the dead.

Steven Galloway has taken these facts and woven them into a fictional account, told through the voices of three individuals; Kenan, Dragan and Arrow. Although Kenan is a young man with a family and Dragan is an old man with nothing but his memories, there is little difference between their tone and they seem very similar. Arrow is a female sniper with a twisted sense of morality who is given a mission to guard the cellist and shoot anyone who looks to be aiming for him – get to them before they get to you. She justifies her hatred for the men on the hills, because they were the ones who taught her to hate in the first place.

Daily life is unconscionable as people race across the streets. Hiding from snipers, ducking and dodging bullets has become normal. The nature of death is random and arbitrary and all anyone can do is try and keep going. Kenan keeps going for his children who ask why this war is happening, and Dragan stays because he is an old man who doesn’t want to leave his city. They realise that no one from the outside world is coming to help them and they try and cling to their humanity. Life is reduced to the fundamentals and extremes. There is a strong sense of defiance as the people of the city long to have something that is worth saving when the dust finally settles.

This novel is an elegy to that besieged city and the people who survived it. It weaves the narrative strands together with a mournful beauty that resonates like the timbre of the cello. It is hauntingly beautiful, full of despair and a glimmer of hope.

On Top of Everything – Sarah-Kate Lynch (3)

For this novel, Sarah Kate-Lynch explores the world of cosy tea rooms, and the shabby but chic side of London. Florence’s husband leaves her (he’s gay but he still loves her) the same day that she gets bought out of her antiques shop. All she has to look forward to is her son, Monty who is due back from his gap year in Australia. When he returns with a much older wife in tow, Florence is devastated and seeks to rebuild her world.

She realises that she put everything into her family and now they no longer need her, she has no one to talk to. “What had happened to my friends, my life outside being a wife and mother? When had I stopped making an effort to keep in touch with the outside world? When had I become so wrapped up in myself, in ourselves?” She decides she is going to renovate her house into a teashop and serve afternoon teas. In her quaint and naïve imagination, she will enjoy this because of the people contact.

Of course she meets a new man – Will is the handsome and capable builder in charge of the renovations who has a past that he has learned from.

Assumptions that everyone else is stronger and happier are proved wrong as each of the characters has a chapter or two written in their own voice. Crystal, the Australian wife is not as confident as she originally appears and is a compulsive list maker. Poppy, the sister, is an imbecilic but loveable hippy who tries to kill herself because she hasn’t got a boyfriend and is too weak to face the world.

A lot of the dialogue is trite and clichéd, but there are still a few flashes of the rambling humour of her early work. Sarah-Kate Lynch is the Kiwi queen of comfort novels, but with On Top of Everything, she moves away from Maeve Binchy and strays into Freya North territory. It’s not a good development.

The Last Dickens – Matthew Pearl (3)

There is an endorsement on the cover of this book from Dan Brown. I’ve never read any Dan Brown but I suspect that people who appreciate his action romps through faux-cultural worlds would enjoy this tale. When Charles Dickens dies without completing his final novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, his American publishers set out to discover if he may have hidden the final instalments or if there are any secrets to be revealed. Of course there are.

Mysteries and murder abound in this wild ride from Boston and New York to the streets of London and the opium dens of China and India, with several trans-Atlantic voyages and secret passages en route. Osgood, the publisher, uncovers the fact that Edwin Drood is based on a real shady character who faked his death, set up an opium empire, and is determined not to let anyone discover his true identity.

It soon degenerates into a mediocre thriller littered with improbable coincidences and perfunctory dialogue and description. The story hurtles along at a rapid pace incorporating dramatic chase scenes, a plunging elevator car, and a man who simply won’t die. There are discourses on duty, conscience and moral motivation, and conflict between the old and new worlds in the different expectations of society.

In some respects one could say this is similar to Dickens’ own work, but this is Dickens-lite at best and the writing couldn’t be further apart. It doesn’t impede the action, but nor does it stand out, and Pearl clearly has no understanding of women. The ineffective female side-kick who gets to play hostage and shriek a lot is set up with one eye on the film rights.

The interest in this novel comes from the focus on the publishing trade and the art of writing. The constant urging for the next big thing in the underhand consumer-orientated world of publishing questions whether we should have more faith in the reader. For all his vapidity, Matthew Pearl is a great fan, and The Last Dickens is his tribute to the great author. As an airport pot-boiler it probably fits the purpose, but if you want something challenging and well-written with great characters, a gripping yarn and a social conscience, stick with the master himself.