Summer Reading, Part the First

It's been an eclectic few months of reading, with more globetrotting coming up. Last night I finished "Champlain's Dream," a riveting biography of the man who did more than anyone else to establish and shape "New France." David Hackett Fisher is a historian at Brandeis who won the Pulitzer for his book about Washington at the Delaware and the surrounding events, titled "Washington's Crossing." I was fascinated to read this one, though, because Samuel de Champlain (~1570-1635) not only explored, shaped, (and named!) much of the St. Lawrence valley from Tadoussac, near the Gulf of St. Lawrence, to Montreal and far beyond; his explorations and courageous attacks (with the Huron and other Quebec tribes) to repel the Iroquois took him as far south as present-day Syracuse (Onondaga) and as far west as Lake Huron; he also explored and mapped much of the Atlantic coast, down to Cape Cod. What this means is that he had an influence over all the area where I've spent my life - and in northern Vermont and northern New York, a much greater influence than the New England first settlers we're taught about in history books.

He was also a remarkable man who I've come to admire greatly, not only for his leadership and creative vision but for his great humanity, most obvious in his love and respect for the native Americans which resulted in cooperation, mutual admiration, and a peace that endured throughout his lifetime - a record neither the British nor Spanish can begin to approach. Champlain's humanity was rooted in his catholicism - and I write that deliberately with a small "c" - he was Roman Catholic but much less interested in dogma or the organized Church than in his deep belief that all human beings were equal. He actually encouraged intermarriage between the native people and the French, and like his king, Henri IV (who actually may have been his father) dreamt of a New World free of the sort of religious and cultural strife that had plagued Europe for centuries. I can certainly see lingering effects of his legacy in the Quebec of today, and am anxious to follow out some of the threads that were started by my reading of this book.

At the same time, I'm into another Conrad: this time, "The Secret Agent," set in London. I can't say that I'm wild about Conrad, even though I'm reading most of his books. He is, however, one of the best descriptive writers I've ever read. The problem stems from the fact that none of his characters are people you come to love. Conrad's interest is in exposing the flaws that lurk in every human, and expose them he does, perhaps better than anyone. So it's not pretty, but he has a great deal to say, not only about individuals but about the times and places he's writing about, and this psychological and cultural drama, combined with his remarkable writing, have kept me going through this particular reading project.

Knowing about my interest in Orhan Pamuk and Istanbul, as part of my larger interest in the Near and Middle East, Elizabeth Angell recommended "A Mind at Peace" to me because its author, Ahmet Hamdi Tanpinar, was one of Pamuk's greatest influences.  The book is about a doomed love affair in Istanbul; that is, the love between the man and the woman is doomed, but the entire novel is a love poem to the city itself. It's a wonderful book that I am very glad to have read, not only for its insight into Pamuk but for its own story and the delicacy of Tanpinar's writing. "A Mind at Peace" weaves a sort of spell for the reader, while speaking of the spell cast on the protagonist by his love for a particular woman, and creates an atmosphere and a world that I became immersed in and was sorry to leave.  No wonder Elizabeth said, as she took it off the bookstore shelf in Brooklyn and handed it to me, "If you want to see where Pamuk is coming from, this is the book to read." Pamuk's concept of the city's embodiment of melancholy, or hüzün, clearly comes directly from Tanpinar, but Orhan, while a great storyteller in his own right, has never written about love as convincingly as Tanpinar.

That book led me to two by Louis de Bernieres, "Birds Without Wings," set in a small Turkish village, and "Captain Corelli's Mandolin," winner of the Commonwealth Prize and a beautiful and harrowing story of the occupation of a Greek island by Italian soldiers at the end of WWII, and I'd happily recommend either.

Next up: another Turkish novel by an author I discovered through the recent BBC radio series about Istanbul: "The Bastard of Istanbul" by Elif Shafak. That will complete the little Turkish focus for this spring and summer; it's time, I think, to finally come back home and read (or re-read) some American novels. First will be "The Sound and the Fury" by William Faulkner, and we'll see where that leads. The others on my immediate list are "Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis" by Jose Saramago, recommended by Wah-Ming Chang who has written an excellent essay on Saramago after his recent death; and "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami and "Experiments in Ethics" by Kwame Anthony Appiah, both highly recommended by my friend Bill Gordh (he and another close friend are also reading the Faulkner right now.)

I'm excited -- and we'll see how much of that I actually get through by fall, or will there be an unexpected but serendipitous detour?

(Note: there's already been a detour! When I couldn't get the Saramago or Murakami listed above at the library, I got Murakami's "South of the Border, West of the Sun" instead and immediately read it in two obsessive sessions between 10:00 pm and 8 am. A remarkable, deceptively simple book.)

Comments

[mary]

Very interesting mix. I'm going to try to get "A Mind at Rest" soon. When you wend your way back to Faulkner, try "Sartoris." It's my very favorite Faulkner, the one that got me reading the whole of his books one wonderful winter.

[Pat Temiz]

Great that you are reading books set in Turkey. I haven't yet read Tanpinar but love Elif Safak's 'The Bastard of Istanbul'. I was living in Cihangir at the time Pamuk describes it in his book and so that book is very resonant, I will have to acquire the Tanpinar. By the way I am also interested in the power of translators. Pamuk's success out of his own country was limited until Maureen Freely started translating his books, at least I see it that way. Often think how many authors' works fail because they don't get the 'right' translator.

[Jean]

Since Pamuk's Istanbul, Memories of a City and The Museum of Innocence are amongst my favourite books ever, I'm really going to have to read A Mind at Peace!

I enjoyed the two de Bernieres novels a lot, and learned from them, and they continue to resonate, although I think he is a messy writer of sprawling uneven novels that don't perhaps ever quite reach their potential. Also Elif Shafak's Bastard of Istanbul, in a quite different way - a fairly light read, but with important things to say and saying them vividly. Have not managed to finish anything by Saramago or Marukami - a pretty rare thing for me - although from what I knew of their preoccupations and from the enthusiasm expressed by many readers I expected to. These things are so personal and unpredictable, and therefore every book a new adventure. Enjoy your summer adventures!

[Jean]

Oh, and yes, the largely unrecognised power of the literary translator! I found Pamuk pretty unreadable in English until Maureen Freely became his regular translator. I remember giving up on The Black Book in the first English translation (as noted above, a rare thing for me). But liked it very much (though not an easy book) in Freely's more recent translation. I know very little Turkish, but I gather it is subtle and complex in structure and nuance and very far from an easy language to translate.

[Jean]

Here's an article and audio recording of conversation with Maureen Freely on translating Pamuk: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/03/17/AR2009031701998.html

[Jan]

Thanks for giving me several new books to check out, Beth. I especially appreciated the review of Conrad. I never took to Conrad; could never understand why he was considered great, but you finally explained it in a way that will make me revisit his writing.

[Beth]

Mary, thanks a lot for that recommendation. I've never read it either because, I guess, the big famous novels were the ones assigned in school. I'll try it.

Pat and Jean - yes, this issue of translators is a huge one, and I noticed right away that the Tanpinar didn't have the same flow in English as Freely's translations of Pamuk. She must be a brilliant translator, and Jean, I enjoyed listening to her and to Safak on the BBC which I think you also recommended! Thanks for that additional link, I'll listen to it later. If either of you read Tanpinar, please be sure to tell me what you think of it!

Hi Jan -- yes - his books are surprisingly hard going for me, in the same way as Henry James or Dickens, and I have to appreciate them in a different way from the books I usually like! Good luck with them.

[Marja-Leena]

Beth, I'm particularly fascinated about what you learned about Champlain. I only recall some of the major historical things about him from Canadian history back in childhood! Must put that book on my to-read list. Along with the others.

[Vivien]

I've recently discovered the novels of Donna Leon (American, has lived in Venice for the last c. 25 years). They're set in Venice, among Venetian people, and are "detective" books but of the highest type (like P.D. James, Ruth Rendell, Patricia Highsmith, and Susan Hill's Serailler books). She writes such atmospheric descriptions of the city, the people, streets and interiors, and deals with problems of justice and corruption. Trouble is, they're completely glueing!

I love good descriptive novels, and one of my favourites is "The Secret Agent" (shorter than Conrad's other books!), with its depiction of London's Soho about a hundred years ago, when the streets, now brash and neon-glaring, were rather gloomy, sooty and car-less.

Well done with the sketching - always interesting and lively pictures.

[Vivien]

Just thought - if you like "The Secret Agent" you might like "Riceyman Steps" by Arnold Bennett, if you haven't already read it. It's set in London's King's Cross area, about 1910, a similar rather strange psychological drama, with evocative descriptions of place. (The Steps are still there, though without the houses and shops). Arnold Bennett is one of my favourite writers - he wrote "The Old Wives' Tale", set in the Potteries in the Midlands of England, which I knew as a child, and in Paris, and also the Clayhanger trilogy. A very modern writer for his time, in terms of subtle depiction of character, though he wrote in a traditional way.

[Kim]

I understand just what you mean about Conrad. But I think his penchant for exposing flaws is exactly what draws me in. There is something compelling about the characters, even though they aren't likable. You read so many authors that are unfamiliar to me. I need to pick something you like and read it. Lately, I've been dipping into short little things. I recently read "Rappacini's Daughter" by Hawthorne and "The Time Machine" by Wells. The combination of Oklahoma's terribly hot weather (100 degrees F today) and my boys underfoot all day shorten my attention span!