In which I stack equal numbers of books into piles and hope that nobody notices that I have maxed out the loans on my library card.
But, I hasten to add, I am still reading from my own shelves too. Anyway, all of these are long-time shelf-sitters or TBR-list occupants, with the exception of Ben Philippe’s book, which landed in the stack because it’s reputed to be funny.
Hilarity is much valued because there’s a whole lot of struggle in the rest of these stories.
John Marlyn’s Under the Ribs of Death (1957)
Part of the New Canadian Library of classic fiction, this one is discussed a few times in Margaret Atwood’s classic text on Canadian literature, Survival. Harry is a lot like Duddy Kravitz (a boy you might know from an early Mordecai Richler novel, also reprinted in the NCL series): scrappy and ambitious, well-intentioned but mis-informed.
Mavis Gallant’s Overhead in a Balloon (1984)
Soaring past the halfway mark in my Mavis Gallant reading with a particularly delightful collection of stories, all set in Paris and linked (the first two stories are about a gallery owner and his assistant, and what fun to get such different perspectives on each man’s experience of the world). One story a week until the end of August, In Transit in October.
Timothy Findley’s You Went Away (1996) and The Stillborn Lover (1993)
My annual reading of the remaining Findley works, with this novella and the play pictured at the bottom of the stack. The play I have already begun: a story of an ambassador and his wife and daughter, brought to a safe house, where two government men have questions for them. I know from the flap that a body has been discovered and there is a secret.
Iris Murdoch’s Nuns and Soldiers (1980)
It’s described as a story about “honour and innocence, lost and found, and about the vicissitudes of a deep friendship between two women”. Initially, however, we are plunged into the world of a dying man and a reluctant bedside visitor. You might think this sounds rather dull, but just picking it up to check the cover for this description, I read ten pages of it.
Marcelo Figueras’s Kamchatka (2003; Trans. Frank Wynne, 2011)
Some of this is light: “People say Shakespeare’s soliloquies are contrived but what’s the difference between Hamlet talking to a skull and papá talking to the TV?” But it’s set during the coup in Argentina. And even though our ten-year-old narrator has no opinion about politics (like “a sport that was as loud as it was pointless, a bit like football”, so much happens.
Alaa Al Aswany’s The Yacoubian Building (2002; Trans. Humphrey Davies, 2004)
Constructed in 1934, it has “ten lofty stories in the high classical European style, the balconies decorated with Greek faces carved in stone, the columns, steps, and corridors all of natural marble, and the latest model of elevator by Schindler”: the Yacoubian building is a prized address. On the roof, there are small units designed for storage, which become another world.
Eshkol Nevo’s Three Floors Up (2015; Trans. Sondra Silverston 2017)
The inner flap speaks of the “grinding effects of social and political ills played out in the psyches of his flawed, compelling characters, in often unexpected and explosive ways” and the back cover has Roddy Doyle talking about beauty and wisdom and humour: that’s a lot. Then, consider that there are three interwoven narratives (one character on each floor). Neat, right?
Ben Philippe’s The Field Guide to the North American Teenager (2019)
The story of Norris Kaplan, a black French Canadian moving to Austin, Texas immediately piqued my interest. Flipping through, I spotted quips about there being something in the water here (fluoride and neediness) and a description of a character which included the detail that he wears headphones with nothing playing. So this might be close to home in more than one way.
Manil Suri’s The Death of Vishnu (2001)
Jim Crace says it is “tender, caustic, witty, and inspired”; Andrea Barrett calls it “penetrating, comic, and moving” and she speaks about how it “draws on the best storytelling traditions of both east and west”. (This goes back to her Ship Fever days.) When I first added this to my TBR, it was his debut novel: if I like this, it will add books to my TBR rather than draw one off it.
Hooray, Nuns and Soldiers has pulled you in! I must review that today actually …
I also “rediscovered”, just yesterday, the second-hand copy of The Flight of the Enchanter that I located long after the discussion: I think you said that was your favourite (or, one of?)?
Yes, it’s a really good one that I love. Go for it!! I’m loving how people are adding reviews even after the month – that’s all good. And hope you’re still enjoying Nuns.
Your pile contents are mostly unfamiliar to me this time. That’s a Murdoch title I hadn’t even heard of! I’m one away from my library borrowing limit of 15 at the moment … though I have been known to use my husband’s allotment in a pinch 😉
With one exception, it’s very backlist territory and you are quite devoted in the review cycle of time just now, so that makes sense (although I know each of us dabbles in the other direction too). Yes, I might have to do that actually. hangs head
I love how I can rely on you for some of the Canadian ‘greats’. I’ve never read a Timothy Findley book! I’m ashamed of it. My June book list (and July) is shaping up to be very light, fun beachy reading.
So many books, eh? All we can do is keep reading. I recommend Not Wanted on the Voyage. For the cat. But also for the amazing stories of resistance that you might not expect to find there. But that would be more watery and less beachy. 🙂
Such a great mix of books. I didn’t realize you had an annual reading of Findley – that’s a good idea. I have several of his books that I haven’t read yet.
Overhead in a Balloon has been particularly delightful so far. It seems like such a different tone to most of her other stories. Do you find the same?
Out of the rest, Three Floors Up sounds the most appealing right now.
I haven’t started You Went Away yet, if that’s one of the ones in your stack. What are they? I would love to reread Headhunter and Pilgrim too. Hmmm, I could stand to reread a few of them, now that I think about it.
Balloon seems to me to combine all the artistry and sharpness of the earlier stories with the out-and-out humour of those 1000-word-long New Yorker pieces (collected in Coming Ashore, for the most part) so that you get much more wit overall, without sacrificing any of the other elements of her storytelling. I wonder if she had simply gotten to the point in her career where she felt like she could allow even more of her voice to come through, that she could insert these funny bits without worrying over whether they would distract readers who might already wonder if a woman could be a “real writer” to begin with.
He was at IFOA a couple of years ago and I meant to read it then, but, you know how out-of-hand event-related reading lists get…
The only Findley I’ve read recently is The Wars and The Piano Man’s Daughter. I read Headhunter and You Went Away a long time ago – too long ago to ever remember much about them. I think I might have You Went Away, but it’s not with some of his others on my shelf. I would have to do a search! But the library has it, of course. Imagine… finally reading a book you own but having to get it from the library because you can’t find it! snort
Well obviously what you remembered was that you enjoyed them enough to want to keep them to reread someday and, also, that you wanted to read more. I’m always surprised, whenever I do reread his books, that they stand up very well. Some of that, I think, is because they were historical to start with, so one expects to slip back in time, but his themes are enduring and universal. The Stillborn Lover was very good: I’m glad I read it after so many years. And now I don’t know if I’ll make it to YWA by the end of this month…glancing at the new (and non-renewable) books due on Saturday, I’m thinking noooo. sigh Nice problem to have.
What interesting piles of books. I have read two of them. The Death of Vishnu a long time ago, pre blog. I remember I liked it very much, and I think I still have a copy. I can’t remember anything else. I also read The Yacoubian Building, I wasn’t mad about it however, and found it rather depressing. That was quite a long time ago though. You might get on better.
I am currently working my way through my 20 books of summer piles. I now realise I put too many modern novels on it. Thank goodness for Molly Keane that I am currently reading.
That’s good to know. I’m quite looking forward to the Suri novel, even more so now. There are some moments of humour and lightness to Yacoubian, but watching the decline of the city / building / country, as the Western influence settles, is sometimes hard to take. It’s so sad to think that these tiny structures on the roof were once viewed as only good for storage but are now fought over as living quarters.
A reading project/challenge can be very useful for forcing one to finally pick up books that one doesn’t otherwise choose, but I do think we need rewards along the way: maybe there are some charming vintage detective stories that you can allot yourself as you read through the modern ones on your list, or some short stories by a trusted green-spined favourite to insert?
What a varied and interesting list! I am spending time in Japan at the moment… 😀
For just a fraction of a second, I thought that involved a passport rather than a paperback. 🙂