Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Review: "Deep River" by Karl Marlantes


It’s been a little while since I have read a book as immersive as Karl Marlantes’ Deep River and at 716 pages, it better be. Thankfully, there is enough in this book to keep even the most disengaged reader busy and entertained, offering a story of late 19th/early 20th century Finnish immigrants who carve out their piece of the American Dream that has the epic feel of something akin to John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. Although its core message is not nearly as left wing as that book’s (a little more on that later). Marlantes has put a lot into this book, having researched his own history as well as that of the region and it really shows. There is nothing about this book that does not feel inauthentic, from the culture and customs of the Koski’s homeland in Finland, to the tools used for logging and even the feelings of unrest as the world around three siblings changes dramatically, leaving some familiar faces behind. The book begins at the tail end of the 19thcentury and finds the Koski family in the throes of grief as they watch helplessly as three of the six children die from cholera. It is this event that casts a long shadow over this close-knit family, as it takes something this terrible to set the three remaining children on a path to America, more specifically the Pacific Northwest, barely explored and totally untamed in that time period. The oldest, Ilmari, at the dawn of the 20th century leaves home and travels to America to work as a logger. The two others, Aino, arguably the center of the book and Matti, her younger brother get caught up in the dangerous political climate in their home country. It is Aino, who is most active, becoming obsessed with the idea of a socialist revolution after a local teacher staying at their house gives her a copy of The Communist Manifesto. Matti, on the other hand, is passionate in other ways, quick to romance and even quicker to violence, evidenced by when he pulls a knife on a Russian officer who brutally kicks the family dog to death. A series of events take place, highlighted by a betrayal whose ramifications and poignancy echo rather deep into the book, that lead Aino and Matti to America, Aino bringing her left-wing ideas to obviously unwelcoming logging companies and Matti his desire to make something of himself. The Koski family can’t help getting caught up in the shifting waves of history, such as Aino’s relationship with socialist martyr Joe Hill and Matti’s involvement with bootlegging during prohibition, but the greatest influence over their lives is the personal realm, the quiet moments at home, the not so quiet moments at dancehalls and bars, the loss of life and the creation of it. It would sound corny in any other book, but here, it is totally earned. Another part of the book I found interesting and refreshing was its treatment of Aino’s revolutionary attitude. In any other book, especially now, she’d be regarded as a hero, but here, it begs the question as to whether or not her actions are noble and necessary or selfish and short-sighted. It’s just one of the many qualities that makes this book special
Rating: 5/5

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Review: "Nothing to See Here" by Kevin Wilson


The one thought I could not escape while reading Kevin Wilson’s third novel Nothing to See Here was that of his recent short story collection Baby, You’re Gonna Be Mine and the short story within titled “Wildfire Johnny”. It is the best thing Wilson has written and it is just as high concept as this story of flaming children, but it is so, so much better. There is rarely a paragraph in these 254 pages that does not feel derivative or a turn of phrase I have not seen done better somewhere else. Besides the relationship between the two central women in the book, every character feels thinly drawn plot devices and in one case a single dimensional villain, so when it tries for an emotional payoff. It totally does not earn it. I do not think if this were a short story rather than a full-length novel it would change anything, but it would be a start. Taking place in the mid-90s (seems like a pattern in 2019 book) it opens with Lillian receiving a letter from her former friend Madison. Lillian is a woman on the verge of her 30’s who has been beset by a series of external miscalculations stemming from when Madison, a daughter of a wealthy family. Had her take the fall for a stash of drugs while they attended boarding school. Now, Madison, now married to Jasper Roberts, a presidential hopeful, asks for her help in babysitting Jasper’s kids from a previous marriage who just so happen to burst into flames when they have a tantrum. It is never explained, and in a good story it would not have to be so here it feels shoehorned in and takes time away from Lillian and Madison’s story and how much (or little) their relationship has changed. And the eventual actions of Jasper seem predictable and kind of lazy, making for a swift novel that still, somehow, overstays its welcome. 
Rating: 3/5

Sunday, November 10, 2019

Play Review: "Prospect Hill"


If you find yourself around the Mass Ave, area in Indianapolis this coming weekend and you hear the sounds of a hammer smashing into a liquor cabinet, the bounce of an oversized yoga ball or cloying discussion of Joseph Campbell’s 6 part PBS documentary, they are most likely coming from the nearby Basille theater as it will be the second week’s run of local playwright Bruce Walsh’s play Prospect Hill, put on by Fat Turtle Theatre and directed by Aaron Cleveland . Utilizing only three characters and one setting the audience will be taken on a wild journey through addiction, guilt and the precarious balance between faith and desire and overcoming the worst aspects of ourselves. The show opens with Jacob Stichter, played with a frayed intensity by local actor Zachariah Stonerock, sitting in his apartment while his boyfriend, Rex Isaak, played by Craig Kemp, is busy trying to renovate the house, the drill he holds being a shifting motif in the play, a tool for both change and destruction. Jacob is a therapist but a very successful one we sense, and it would not surprise us if Ethan, a troubled Pepsi employee played with skittish aplomb by Evren Wilder Elliot, is his only patient. Throughout the course of the play, events such as Jacob’s pleas for his father’s acceptance through Skype calls, Ethan’s false promise for a better future and Rex’s confidant but scatterbrained advice bounces off the three characters in a series of escalating emotional intensity that feel raw and authentic. Stonerock is a joy to watch in his quest for the courage to change his disappointing life, as is Elliot, who acts as his mirror image of Jacob as a person who is smart enough to talk themselves out of recognizing their own shortcomings. The only real loose piece of this puzzle is Rex’s character. Kemp is having fun with it, whether he is (accidently) dropping his power drill or challenging someone to an arm-wrestling contest, and in doing so, the audience has fun to, with his scenes getting the most laughs in this drama. But on closer inspection, his character is not really well-defined within the plot. For instance, it was really hard for me to figure out who he was until his relationship with Jacob is brought up most of the way through the first act. Maybe it was the uniform he wear while drilling holes in the wall, or my recent Hulu subscription, but I was getting Janitor from Scrubs vibes from him early on, thinking he might be a total figment of Jacob’s imagination. This is really a criticism of the writing and not of acting, as the play came alive during his scenes, as did the audience I saw it with, and provides a bit of levity to contend with the play’s more somber moments. By the end, the problems of three may not be solved, but the complexities of their lives and the possible ways they can fix it are laid bare, with the help of a clever script, Cleveland’s pared-down direction and a trio of delightful performances.  
Rating: 4/5

Friday, November 8, 2019

Review: "Northern Lights" by Raymond Strom


Raymond Strom’s debut novel Northern Lights is the kind of self-assured debut novel we get about once or twice a year. Loaded with skill that is easily seen by anyone who reads it and with the one of the year’s most incredible and memorable leading characters at its center, it is an easy book to like and get behind despite some of its glaring short comings, which I will get too. While reading it and thinking about the things I did not like about this book (which there were very few instances of), I kept reminding myself that it is supposed to take place in the late 90’s, a fact that helps this book in the short term but overall hurts it as well. Thankfully, most of the time those feelings of apprehension are quelled every time we are in the presence of Shane Stephenson, the fraught, sensitive youth at the novel’s center. As the book begins, he is reeling after the death of his father. His grief, and a rather cold goodbye from his uncle, bring him to the town of Holm, Minnesota in search of his mother who abandoned him and his father when Shane was very young. Androgynous, asexual and non-binary long before that term was popular, Shane is not an easy fit for the failing small town, but finds a job at a local breakfast place and a familial bond with the town’s outcast, the main one of which, Jenny, provides him with the love he is seeking after the death of his father. As I said, the time period helps explain some of the clunky interactions, especially with the book’s defacto villain Sven Svenson, as one not and unoriginal as his name. But when I thought of its time period, it made me realize how informed the book is by the here and now and it took me out of the story. It’s last hundred pages, which include Shane’s nightmarish and sad reunion with his mother and the predictable but gut-wrenching finale, make this a rather memorable debut novel. 
Rating: 4/5

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Review: "Machines Like Me" by Ian McEwan


I think I am more familiar with the work of Ian McEwan than with any other author with the exceptions of Paul Auster and Haruki Murakami, although I do not have the love and appreciation for his books as do for the two that I mentioned. With the exception of Enduring Love (his best book, in my opinion) and Atonement, with special mention of his first two novels during his Ian Macabre phase, there is very little he puts out that I find great or even good, so I approach his work out of duty and with great apprehension. Sometimes they are forgettable, like Sweet Tooth, dismal like his most recent novel Nutshell and sometimes they are pretty good like his most recent novel Machines Like Me. This is another strange leap forward after the failure of Nutshell, dealing with an alternate Great Britain where Alan Turing is alive, and robots can purchase for large but reasonable amounts of money. The focus of the story is Charlie Friend, a 30-year-old man whose prime duty in life are wild schemes and even wilder failures. He is in love with Miranda, a student ten years younger than he is and once Charlie comes into a sum of money, he buys Adam, a human like robot with a tight moral compass that comes into conflict with both Charlie and Miranda. The bests parts of this book are the small scenes between two or three characters, whether it is the three central ones where an odd love triangle blossoms, with Mark, a foster child Miranda becomes attached to or Gorringe, a man from Miranda’s past who hold the key to a horrendous secret. The alternate history reads like microwave directions for anyone not familiar with what really happened, but the profound truths McEwan touches on with Adam and a late scene with Turing are among the richest McEwan has achieved. 
Rating: 4/5