in which one person's hero is another one's villain: Everland, by Rebecca Hunt

9781905490653
Penguin/Fig Tree, 2014
295 pp

hardcover - from the UK

(kindle version available in the US) 

“If what actually happened and the perceived truth were contradictory, it hardly mattered. No one would ever know the difference.” 

Here's how good this book is: I started it on my vacation, and even though I was stretched out on a balcony overlooking the beautiful Pacific on the Big Island of Hawaii, I could have cared less about the scenery while I was reading this novel.  I have a huge fondness for books about polar exploration, especially in Antarctica, where the action in this novel takes place. Moving back and forth in time across an entire century, Everland is the story of two very different groups of explorers who undertake two very different expeditions. The first, in 1913, is set in the heyday of British polar exploration; the second, marking the centenary of the first, takes place in 2012. Despite the passage of a full century, unmistakeable and eerie parallels exist between both expeditions.

In March, 1913, the captain of the British ship Kismet dropped the mate and two others off in a dinghy to begin their journey for a short stay at an unmapped island the mate christened Everland. The idea was that while the men, Napps, Millet-Bass, and Dinners, were exploring the island, the rest of the Kismet's crew would be sailing around Cape Athena "for a last geologizing excursion," and would meet back up with the team in just two weeks. The Kismet sails off, but immediately problems set in, beginning with a storm that made the four-hour dinghy journey last about six days; unbeknownst to the three explorers, the Kismet had also suffered in the same storm and had to stop to make repairs. It wasn't until April that the Kismet returned to take the three-man team home, but only one badly-frostbitten, nearly-dead man was found on the island. What happened on that island became the stuff of legend. In fact, one hundred years later, in celebration of another three-person expedition that is about to be launched to Everland from the Antarctic base Aegeus, the film night pick is a 60s "classic" called Everland, a movie the group knows by heart about the 1913 ill-fated venture based on the "famous book" written by the captain of the Kismet.  The novel goes back and forth between the two expeditions, chronicling the events during both. The similarities are notable -- the flaring resentments, the tensions, the dangers and ultimately the choices that are made among each team for survival echo across the century.

Both accounts are tension filled and downright distressing in parts. Yet, while there is plenty of action going on,  even more interesting is the idea running through the book of the distortion of reality.  Here the truth is based on collaboration and self-serving motivations, while the reality of what actually happened during these expeditions is left behind forever on Everland -- leaving the altered version of events  to be passed down as  history and fact.    As a result, reputations are made, both positive and negative. In the case of the 1913 expedition, the reader is first given the modern-day understanding of events that coincide with the book written by the captain and then the movie, but throughout the story, the author fills us in little by little about what actually happened to these men.   In the second expedition, the situation is not only manipulated by one of team members,  but after a particularly dramatic scene, a deal to elevate one story over another is tacitly agreed to for reasons particular to and kept secret between the parties.

I bought Everland  thinking it was something along the lines of a Scott or Shackleton type historical fiction novel, but I got so much more. While the stories of both expeditions were intriguing,  for me the 1913 setting  was much more interesting. In terms of survival, both narratives were filled with tension, although the modern explorers came equipped with technology that the earlier ones could never have dreamed of, and they were only an airplane flight away from rescue, so that sort of lessened the drama for me. In setting up the often-striking parallels between the two, I suppose to some readers it might seem contrived (and I suppose maybe it is a little), but it works well.  More than anything, though,  I absolutely loved how the author let the idea of the distortion of reality play out through the novel, even before the reader fully comes to understand why and how it's important.  I also walked away with pity for the so-called "villain" of the piece, as the real truth turned the established history on its head.


I've only offered a bare-bones outline here; obviously there's much more to this book that I ended up absolutely loving.  I have to admit that things started out a bit slowly, but I hung in there and was greatly rewarded.  I also found myself backtracking to the chapter headings to keep the chronology straight, since not only does the book go back and forth over a hundred years, but within the 1913 time frame, it goes back and forth from the expedition to back on the Kismet.   Otherwise, it is  a very engrossing read that left me frustrated whenever I had to put it down. I'll be adding it to next year's book group reads.  Highly, highly recommended. 
 

The Night Guest, by Fiona McFarlane - definitely yes. Go read it now.

9780865477735
Faber and Faber, 2013
241 pp

hardcover

"If one person walks on the beach in the next ten minutes, there's a tiger in my house at night; if there are two, the tiger won't hurt me; if there are three, the tiger will finish me off."


I don't know the last time I've ever been this unsettled by a novel.  I started it, was intrigued, picked it up again the next day and read until just after 3 a.m. when I finished it. Then I couldn't sleep for another hour and a half, mulling over what I'd just read and trying to calm the anxiety this most excellent book had caused me.  The Night Guest is author Fiona McFarlane's first novel and if this is her first outing, I will probably buy every book this woman writes.

Harry and Ruth Field bought a lovely beachside home up the coast from Sydney after Harry's retirement. Sadly, it isn't too long afterwards that Harry dies, leaving Ruth alone. She's 75, with two sons, one in Hong Kong who is always busy and one in New Zealand. Ruth gets through her day through "symmetry," for example, always beginning her journey up a flight of stairs on her left foot, ending it on her right, or believing that if dinner was ready by the six o'clock news, her sons would be there for Christmas.  As the novel begins, Ruth awakens at four in the morning after hearing noises in the house. She'd heard these noises before, at a German zoo: "loud and wet, with a low, guttural breathing hum punctuated by little cautionary yelps, as if it might roar at any moment ... like a tiger eating some large bloody thing..." A phone call to her son Jeffrey in New Zealand puts her mind at rest and reminds her that the tiger was likely nothing more than a dream, but she realizes that "something important" was happening.  The next day, looking out at the sea, Ruth tells herself that "If one person walks on the beach in the next ten minutes, there's a tiger in my house at night; if there are two, the tiger won't hurt me; if there are three, the tiger will finish me off."

It is then that Frida arrives, sent by the government to be Ruth's carer. A quick conversation with Ruth's son Jeffrey establishes how Frida came to be there:

"A state programme. Her name was on file, and a spot opened up...An hour a day to start with. It's more of an assessment, just to see what's needed, and we'll take things from there."

Jeffrey is delighted at the "good use of taxpayers' money," but Ruth is "not sure about this," thinking she's "not doing badly." But then again, Ruth is somewhat assured because Frida is "Fijian," since Ruth spent part of her childhood in Fiji with her missionary medical parents. And, Ruth tells herself, she's only 75, and her mother had been over 80 "before things really began to unravel." 

 Things seem to be going well for Ruth with the addition of Frida into her home. Frida extends her hours, and Ruth seems happy when Frida takes on the shopping, bill paying, cleaning, meal preparation and banking. Soon enough the two settle into a comfortable routine. Ruth tells Frida about her life in Fiji, Frida tells her about her brother and her family, and Ruth comes to depend on Frida's help.  Up against Frida's boisterous personality, Ruth's own fragile state starts to become obvious, and the reader senses that for Ruth it is somewhat of a blessing to be in Frida's boisterous company. But a  visit from a friend from Ruth's past starts a long series of waking nightmares that quickly jolt the reader into realizing that all is indeed not well, and events occur  that bring Ruth's dreams of being stalked by a predator into a waking reality.

 The Night Guest is not an easy book to read on an emotional level.  While I won't give away much, first, a lot of what happens is viewed through the lens of Ruth's mind. It's obvious early on that there's something not quite right with her -- she forgets to wash her hair for weeks, she's let her lovely garden become overgrown to the point where the sand is overtaking it, and chores that used to be done dutifully are also neglected.  As things begin to take a turn for the worse,  it is difficult to pinpoint whether or not Ruth's version of things are anywhere close to lucid and coherent, especially since there is an alternate point of view that gives the reader an impression that maybe Ruth's deteriorating and disoriented mind is imagining things, just as she imagined the tiger in her lounge room.  This constant tug between  versions of reality (and one of the best uses of reader manipulation I've experienced in a long time) is one of the best features of this novel -- the reader is always trying to decide what's really going on here, and in my case, the tension and sheer aura of menace produced by this story continued to grow up until the very end.  Second, this book is incredibly sad and depressing -- there is not one iota of happiness in this book when all is said and done. However, unless the reader's heart is made of stone, the story ultimately should inspire  a deep, beyond--gut-level empathy, and make you want to call one of your aging relatives more often. And even though I'm far far away from Ruth's age,   I also came away feeling like "Oh my god, I hope I NEVER find myself in this position."

The only niggling thing is that explanations at the end come tumbling in a rather rushed manner, but by that time they don't really matter.  As with so many books, in this one, it's more about the journey.  The fact that this writer was able, with only words, to produce so much unease inside of me speaks to how well written I found this book to be. There are relatively few books I've read that move me like this one, that keep me up at night, and that still resonate days after reading them.  I seriously cannot recommend this one highly enough. I loved this book.

Every Day is for the Thief, by Teju Cole

9780812995787
Random House, 2014
163 pp

hardcover

"All people who are far from home have something they hold on to."

Every Day is for the Thief is a story related by a young Nigerian man currently living in New York who has returned to Lagos after an absence of fifteen years.  As this unnamed narrator  notes,  “It feels longer still because I left under a cloud.”  The story behind that cryptic remark  is left nearly until the end. In the meantime,  as he's being driven,  rides on a bus, or walks throughout the city, he notices things at  particular moments that capture his attention and weaves it into his own narrative about the issues he finds facing people there and how the people have just sort of let things happen.  He also considers whether or not he could seriously live here again, especially considering that now he's gazing at his "home" (an ambiguous concept in this book) through the eyes of someone who's been away for so long. The book is structured in a series of vignettes, linked together partially through the discoveries he makes,  partially by the narrator's "inquiry into what it was I longed for all those times I longed for home, " and by his search in this city for hope for its people's future.  I couldn't put this book down -- I was so wrapped up in the city of Lagos that I read this book in one sitting.

His tale begins even before he leaves New York City, where he runs up against corruption and bribery in the Nigerian consulate office while trying to get a new Nigerian passport.  Then once he's in the city and on the way home from the airport, the sight of two policemen arguing over bribe territory on a roundabout sparks a discussion about " 'the informal economy' of Lagos" found everywhere, a thread that reappears throughout the novel.  The view into the gorge from the back porch of his aunt's house takes him back to his past when the gorge was "pristine;" now it's set for housing developments where "white satellite television dishes" cling to the houses "like barnacles."  Internet cafes are everywhere, as are young men who sit and write those emails that turn up in my spam folder from time to time, the 419 scams which are against the law but still flourish.  A chance glance on a bus at a woman reading a novel by Michael Ondaatje brings up discussion about the low Nigerian literacy rate, and the fact that "literary habits are inculcated in very few of the so-called literate."   And there's much more.  There are also some wonderful but often--perplexing photographs which record some of these moments -- and set them down for all to see and to remember.  

One of the main themes  seems to be the idea that people in this country tend have little connection to their national/cultural/historical past. History goes "uncontested" these days in this city where "one has to forget about yesterday," and focus on the needs of the now.    A visit to the CSS Bookshop, a childhood destination, where in the only part of the store there is more than one customer, yields "reiterations of a few themes" including quick money making, discovering God's plan for life, or "how to live a healthy, wealthy, and victorious life" according to the Pentecostal Church.    There is no section for the works of Nigeria-based writers, no "international literary fiction," and an "absence" of poets.   Then, when the narrator visits the National Museum, a "memorial touchstone" for him, he is appalled by a "pitiful" archaeological collection,  "gaps" in the artifact collections, mildewed  plaques that provide texts that are "sycophantic, inaccurate,uncritical,"  leaving him with the idea that "History, which elsewhere is a bone of contention, has yet to enter the Nigerian public consciousness, at least judging by institutions like the museum.”  All is not darkness though:  he does find a couple of places from which hope might spring, places where creativity abounds.

Before I bought it, I saw that there was some sort of controversy as to whether or not this book should be considered to be a novel. It does read like a month-long travel experience, and  there is not really a plot or character development, but if the author says it's fiction,  what's all the fuss?  This was a non-issue for me (since I'm just a casual reader and not a critic)  -- I read it as a fictional novel with a whole lot of truths  to be told, as the narrator's disillusioned "love affair" with the city.

  There are a number of reasons I like Every Day is for the Thief besides the fact that it offers a look at a place I'm never going to be and a place I've been interested in reading about for years because of  how the oil companies have changed this country  and because of the environmental issues.  The main one is that I'm walking away from this book with the idea that there is a lot of life and excitement to be found in Lagos despite  the negatives, which are generally what the media covers.   The narrator notes that the city is a place of "a million untold stories," where "There is no end of fascinations."   But I also believe that the author is  angered or dismayed by the attitudes that have helped  the city (and the country) to become what it is now, and that this book is a vehicle through which he can express both views.

I'd recommend it to people who are interested in Nigeria (like myself); to people who are interested in urban culture, and to people who want something very different in terms of fiction writing.