A big sigh of relief

Well, I passed my final defense, so unless the graduate school outright rejects my application and thesis, it looks like I'll be getting my M.A. after all. There are no words to express how relieved I am to finish this (which is ironic, since I'm getting an English degree...). Somewhere embedded in the back of my mind is an old German proverb that basically says, "The heart speaks loudest when the lips move not." I think that says it all.

The Bookseller of Kabul, by Asne Seierstad

My book club has already reviewed this book here, but I thought I'd add a few of my own thoughts on my personal blog. Since the start of all of the recent conflicts that the "West" has had with Islam--and particularly with the extremists of Islam--I'm glad to see that there are authors who present a more human picture of Muslims, not because I'm a big fan of embracing everyone and everything in the name of some misguided definition of "tolerance," but because I refuse to believe that all Muslims are wild extremists. The Bookseller of Kabul offers an excellent picture of people who are very much like people I can relate to, without the author attempting to make them more perfect or even more likable than they really are. Seierstad explains from the beginning that she is simply telling a story about the people that she knew. She lived with the bookseller's family for a number of months and is presenting a picture of a specific way of life in Kabul, among people who are still reeling from all of the changes that have occurred in their nation in the last few years.

One of the most interesting elements of the story is the changing relationship that the Afghan people have toward Islam. For a good number of years, they have existed within the unyielding grip of the Taliban. Now that the Taliban has been driven out and the people have been essentially "freed" from this, they have to discover what freedom really is as a Muslim. It was fascinating to me that the women are, in many cases, less eager to embrace freedoms such as pursuing education and getting rid of the burka. I did a little further research and discovered that one of the reasons for this is that the burka and the traditions that have become embedded in the culture offer these women a kind of protection in the midst of war. I suspect that as times change, so will these traditions, but during the time period of the book (around 2002/2003), this was what the people were living with. It is tragic in so many ways, and while the author attempts to remain reasonably unbiased (as in, she doesn't have a radical feminist ax to grind), I could sense her frustration as well. Her heart goes out to these young women who are afraid to go to school and get a job, even though they are technically allowed to; to the women whose only destiny is being married off (whether or not they like the suitor) and starting a family. Yes, marriage offers safety for them and an escape from living at home, but for many it also offers a dead-end.

The bookseller himself--who goes by the name Sultan in the story--is unexpectedly progressive. He believes that the Taliban merely pushed Afghanistan back several centuries by refusing to allow women to get an education and work (and thus contribute to the improvement of both culture and economy). He is, at the same time, a thoroughly patriarchal man who is the unquestioned head of his house, who takes a second wife when his first wife begins to grow old, who raises his sons to believe that women are inferior and that there is nothing wrong with taking advantage of them. It's a strangely contradictory picture, but that's reality, isn't it? People are seldom just one way or the other; contrasts seep in, and it can be difficult to categorize anyone clearly. If nothing else, this book conveys that very clearly.

For all of these reasons, this is definitely a book that I recommend highly. It's poignant without being sentimental and honest without being ruthlessly so. It's also a pretty quick read and worth the day or two that is required to complete it. My thanks to the member of the book club who recommended it.

The Bourne Identity, by Robert Ludlum

This is another book that isn't on my reading list for the year, but it caught my eye at the library, and I couldn't resist. I love the movie, so I wanted to see how the book compared. I'll confess that I didn't exactly read it word-for-word. That's the problem with a page-turner/thriller: I get so immersed in the story that I can't even wait to read the full page, and I find myself skimming through just to find out what happens.

Most of the time, I'll be the first to admit that the book scores well ahead of the film version, if only because a book can provide a more in-depth story with better explanation and the complexity that few films can offer. In this case, I'm not so sure. Perhaps it's that I know the movie so well and wanted the book to be like it. Oddly enough, the book was almost nothing like the movie, in story or in character. The movie was more or less a pale reflection of the book but a far more interesting one.

The problem, I decided, is related to several significant elements. For one, The Bourne Identity (book version) was first published in 1975, making it a story very much of its day. It would have been unreasonable for the movie makers in 2002 to have the story be the same as the one in the book. The intelligence community is different; the terrorist issues are different; the technology is different. In short, the world is different. The Soviet Union has long since collapsed. Vietnam is no longer fresh in everyone's mind. Everything that is related to high-level intelligence is now different, as anyone might expect. So unless the director of The Bourne Identity (movie version) wanted his 2002 film to look something like Three Days of the Condor (complete with 1970s hair), he had little choice but to update the story. And with that updating came a complete overhaul of plot.

Perhaps I'm just a product of my generation, but it seemed like some of the plot elements of the book Bourne were a little silly. The whole issue of this unknown but extremely dangerous and extremely well-connected assassin named Carlos just felt ridiculous. Honestly. I wasn't buying it at all. I'm betting that it worked great in 1975, but today? I like the movie maker's substitution of the United States government as the real "ultimate assassin." I can accept that. But then again, this is the 21st century. Times have changed. Regarding other plot elements, I'm not sure if I like them or not, but I can understand the need to update them. The book Marie is a high-level Canadian economist who has banking connections and a solid understanding of how banking works internationally. It's very useful in the book, because it allows her to point out the need for Jason to trace the money in order to understand who is doing what. In the movie, Marie is a German woman, with no real job and a sketchy background. That works far better in today's world as it allows Jason to hide better. Since her connections are basically unknown, she can duck under cover more easily. Also, she can live the Gypsy life with him far better than the book Marie can. I like both Maries, so there's no real preference in this case--just an understanding of what the movie screenwriters and director were up against when they put the film together.

Another element that I think is far more problematic in the book is that of action. This is an action book, which means that there are very detailed action sequences described for the reader. With all respect to Mr Ludlum, who is a very good writer, it didn't work for me at all. To me, following written-out action sequences is somewhat akin to answering those spacial reasoning questions that appear on standardized tests: "If the front of the cube is shaded, which side will be shaded if the cube is rotated first twice to the right, three times to the left, over, under, sideways...etc." I usually skip those. I haven't the faintest idea how to follow them, and that's how I felt with the action as it was described in the book. I would by far rather see Matt Damon kicking derriere than try to picture the book Bourne doing so.

As far as the characterization is concerned, I have to admit that I also liked Damon's Bourne better than the character in the book. Perhaps it's just that I now see Damon as the Bourne portrayed in the movie and have a difficult time picturing him as the Bourne described in the book, but there is, surprisingly enough, a little more completion to the character that appears in the movie. Yes, Bourne is tough, but he's also vulnerable, and Damon does a good job with indicating this. I liked the movie Bourne, but I couldn't really warm up to the book Bourne. Again, it might just be the problem that comes with trying to connect a movie to a book too closely, but if given the chance I'd certainly watch the movie again (like, tonight), whereas I don't think I'd read the book again.

This being said, I still recommend the book for people who like good spy thrillers. The Bourne Identity (as a book) is fun, interesting, and has some good twists. But it just wasn't as cool (if I dare) as the movie, and maybe that was the problem. But if that's the case, it's my problem and not the book's, so I'll have to leave this one up to individual readers.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie

This book isn't on my reading list for the year, but I've been so out of shape with my reading lately (who knew you actually just skim in order to read for a thesis?) that I decided to get back into it slowly with something easy to read. And I love mysteries, so this was a great opportunity for me to read something that is both simple and enjoyable.

As I began this book, I had the distinct impression that I might have read it before. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about it seemed a little familiar. A comment, a characterization. It was something. But when I picked it up at the library to read the summary, it didn't look at all familiar. It just goes to show that I'm really quite stupid. Dress it up a little differently, and I don't recognize it at all. It turns out that I have read this one before, but it was a long time ago. And it wasn't until I was about three quarters of the way through that I recognized it for certain. Oh, well. I enjoyed it the second time around.

The basic premise of the story is very simple, even to the point of being simplistic. Mrs Ferrars commits suicide, surrounded by the suspicion that she murdered her husband the previous year. She is being blackmailed and can no longer bear the strain of the financial burden, much less her own guilt. She is also rumored to be close to Roger Ackroyd and even expected to marry him, but she decides to tell him the truth and--knowing he will never marry her after he knows what she did--kills herself. As the title suggests, this element of the plot is primarily a setup for the real story, which is the murder of Roger Ackroyd once he discovers the identity of her blackmailer. Mrs Ferrars has left him a letter, telling him the name of the person who has been taking money from her; Roger Ackroyd dies as he is reading it or at least within a very few minutes of reading it, stabbed by a rare Tunisian dagger.

All of this is pretty much the typical Christie mystery (and this one is a Poirot mystery, so it bears the hallmarks of that specific genre as well). There is an immediate suspect, and while all the evidence points to him the reader is made to feel sympathy for him and given the hints that he won't be the killer after all. In this story, such a plot device is made somewhat unique in that the reader doesn't really get to see this suspect or determine potential for guilt through interaction with him in the story; instead, there is only information about him via third party. For the most part, though, there isn't anything terribly unique about the story until the very end. Despite the fact that I've (apparently) read this book before, I didn't see it coming, which made it all the more interesting to me. I have to admit that Christie did a very good job with this one. Generally, I can spot the murderer before Poirot performs his grand monologue at the end of the story. In this case, I even thought that I remembered who it was but discovered that I'd been picking up on red herrings all along.

This, I'm afraid, is where my summary must end, or I will be giving away too many clues. Suffice it to say, the story is very clever and kept me turning the pages. It is a fascinating study in point of view and makes for an excellent argument about the role of narration in storytelling. Overall, a fun story with a great lesson in perspective. Highly recommended for mystery lovers.

Getting the Mind Back in Shape

I'm going to have to give up on The Brothers Karamazov at this time. I really wanted it to be an interesting book, but I can't focus on it. Part of the problem, I think, is that I'm a little out of condition for such large scale reading and more in condition for the kind of quick-moving read required for my thesis work. I went to the library today to pick up some books that are a little shorter and that should help me get my reading mind back in shape. Perhaps later on, I'll try to finish and review Karamazov. For now, it's becoming my nemesis, and I need to put it away.