Dervla Murphy, The Waiting Land - A Spell in Nepal

In 1965 Dervla Murphy spent seven months in Nepal, a mountainous kingdom in the Himalayas.  The record of her adventures was published soon afterwards as The Waiting Land - A Spell in Nepal.

Quite a spell!  Visions conjured by Murphy's pen are enchanting indeed.  Festivals brimming with colours.  Majestic mountains and exotic wildlife.  The Nepalese, with their curious traditions and habits.  Joys and sorrows of rough travel through a country that only a few years previous had begun its journey towards modernity. 

Once again (see Tibetan Foothold) Tibet and Tibetans feature largely in the book.  Major part of Dervla's stay was spent working in a Tibetan refugee camp.  The mixture of nationalities one encounters in The Waiting Land is actually quite dazzling:  various indigenous tribes are spiced with the citizens of China, India and divers 'first world' countries.  There is no one like Dervla Murphy to observe the quirks and peculiarities of mixing cultures so anyone interested in sociology is in for quite a treat. 

The book does read a bit like a history textbook.  No, don't run, I don't mean to say that it's full of boring academese, The Waiting Land is totally readable.  It's just that plenty of water has passed under the bridge since 1965 and a lot has changed in Nepal.  It's not a kingdom anymore, to name the first shift springing to mind, but I'm sure the transformation goes much deeper.  Dervla provides a good amount of background information AD 1965, so if you happen to know something about Nepal as it is today (I don't!), you'll be able to appreciate the difference. 

To tell you the truth, I'm slowly running out of ideas for creative and original praising of Murphy's writing.  Perhaps the best way to communicate my admiration is this:  The Waiting Land is the 17th book of the author that I've read recently and I still haven't had enough.  One can hardly expect more. 

Dervla Murphy, Tibetan Foothold

Some time ago I realised that I had got as far as I could get on my own in the quest to track all Dervla Murphy books.  It was time to enlist a librarian's help. 

Most librarians in my local book source are sweet, friendly and helpful, but one or two individuals can only be described as intimidating.  Just my luck that I chanced upon a gentleman of the latter kind when I finally got down to serious hunting business...  It took some courage and no small amount of patience, but Dervla Murphy is worth surviving any amount of grumpiness.  To be fair, I got my books and quickly, too - yipee!

I'm working through the list chronologically, so the three titles I've checked out so far are all from the sixties.  Today's book, Tibetan Foothold, was published directly after Murphy's debut, Full Tilt, and it is really the second chapter of the same journey. 

Let me explain.  After the famous cycling expedition from Ireland to India, Dervla found herself in Delhi with much time to spare and the weather too hot to cycle.  She needed somewhere to bunk over until colder part of the year and she chose to fill the gap by doing some volunteer charity work.  Those days India was swarming with refugees from Tibet and Dervla was sent to a nursery for Tibetan children in Dharamsala. 

In contrast to other Murphy travel memoirs, Tibetan Foothold is almost stationary.  Sure, the itching feet took the tireless adventurer on quick treks whenever she could get away from care giving duties, but most of the book was written in the nursery where she worked.  That doesn't mean that the result is in any way inferior to other titles in Dervla's bibliography.  Just the opposite:  it is as fascinating as her most daring expeditions.  Clearly it is the case of beauty in the eye of a beholder...  or huge, huge writing talent.

I couldn't shake the feeling that Dharamsala experiences influenced Dervla for life.  The girl full tilting from Europe to Asia was curious and eager for an adventure, but only in Tibetan Foothold one can observe the emergence of humanitarian activism that became Murphy's trademark later on.  Of course, you'd need to ask the author herself to see if I'm right, but of one thing I am sure:  Dervla Murphy's conscience was alive and kicking almost from the beginning of her writing career.  This is probably the single most vivid detail distinguishing her from other writers:  she cares.  I'm usually sceptical when I stumble against too loudly expressed compassion, but in this case I am convinced.  Murphy is simply too human, too real in her reactions to possibly fake it.  She gets angry, muddles things, doubts, makes mistakes - in short, she's as far from pink-bubblegum-perfect as it is possible to be.  I'm convinced. 

Then again, I've been under a spell since the first encounter with Dervla. 

Two more titles coming soon. 

Nicholas Jubber, The Prester Quest

Prester John, a mythical king of medieval Christianity, never lost the power to fascinate. 

In the 12th century a supposed letter from Prester John reached the court of Manuel Comnenos, Byzantine emperor.  The (then) Pope, Alexander III, took it upon himself to reply, sending the return message with his physician, Master Philip of Venice.  Since postal service was pretty unreliable in those days (read: non-existent) and the addressee elusive, the simple act of delivering a letter was synonymous with a long and perilous journey:  from Venice, through Turkey, Middle East, Egypt and Sudan, all the way to Ethiopia. 

Nicholas Jubber decided to retrace Master Philip's steps and, if possible, deliver the long overdue letter.  The Prester Quest was born.

If the story of Prester John sounds incomprehensible, rest assured - by the end of the book you will know all there is to know about the mythical priest-king.  The Prester Quest is half a history tale, half travel writing, with the two journeys unfolding side by side in front of the reader's eyes. 

Considering that The Prester Quest is Jubber's first book, it is quite a remarkable achievement.  The author shows off with flashing linguistic pyrotechnics.  The story is dynamic and entertaining, good-humoured auto-irony showing all the way through.  I'll hazard a prediction that if Jubber sticks to his travel writing career, he'll be a solid performer within the genre a few years from now, once some maturity is added to his impressive language skills. 

I confess that my mind kept drifting off the text and it took me a good while to get through the book, but it might be due to my own lack of concentration rather than the title's shortcomings.  Summer has come to Ireland, an occurrence unusual enough to make us all slightly light-headed. 

Gotta run.  The beach bag won't pack itself...

Dubravka Ugresic, Karaoke Culture

Dubravka Ugresic is definitely to be filed under 'remarkable' when it comes to essay writing.  I chose Karaoke Culture randomly, not knowing anything about the author, tempted by the title alone and what a wonderful surprise it proved!  I actually wanted to re-read the book right after I finished it and that's a rare thing. 

So what does Ugresic write about?  Contemporary culture, mostly.  The book is very fresh, released only in 2011, so it's up to date with our speeding society.  The author is familiar with all the tech trends you can think of, plus a handful of fads that you probably have never heard about.  I haven't, at least, and Karaoke Culture kept me glued to my browser, checking up on all the leads provided by the text. 

I am yet to come across an essayist who would be as accurate in describing our current cultural climate.  Ugresic's bittersweet, witty comments on pop phenomena of today are simply delicious.  She's not exactly sarcastic but one feels she's silently laughing at all our quirks.  Images, fleeting moments, tiny stories in each essay are weaved together into a sparkling mosaic and somehow a message is transmitted between the lines, clearer and louder than any direct statement. 

Ugresic was born in Croatia (then - Yugoslavia).  She emigrated to the Netherlands after some of her writing made her a target of vicious media campaign during Yugoslavia's break-up, but home country is still clearly visible in her current work.  Karaoke Culture was written in Croatian so it probably wasn't meant for the international public anyway.  Some Balkan references may be a bit hazy to an average consumer, but they don't really impact the book's readability. 

After all, in this age of globalisation and instant communication most of us will recognise the karaoke culture as our own. 

Nadine Gordimer, Telling Times

Usually Nadine Gordimer's writing makes me feel inadequate.  I will never be able to write like her, not in a hundred years, not in a millennium.  Sad sigh, and maybe some mild inner resistance next time I'm to pick up a pen and string some words together.  I write my piece anyway, punctured ambition healing with time and a dose of rational thinking:  if all scribblers gave up on realising they can't achieve Nobel-deserving greatness, we would now have very few books indeed. 

This time was different.  Yes, as I struggled through Telling Times, the usual 'I'll never...' did cross my mind but, for the first time, it was followed by the merciless 'nor would I want to'.  This is not to diminish Nadine Gordimer's mastery of words, depth of analysis (whatever is being analysed), fieriness of emotion, erudition etc. etc.  She's got all these, she deserves her Nobel and any other literary praise anyone wants to claim for her.  It's just that suddenly I realised that Gordimer's style of writing is slowly becoming dated.  Not relevant anymore, certainly not relevant to me. 

Why so harsh a verdict?  To answer that, a closer look at Gordimer's range of subjects is necessary.

Apartheid is an ever-present spectre in nearly all of her essays.  To say that, being a thing of the past, it is not relevant anymore would be at best simplistic if not outright stupid.  As a species, we don't seem to learn from our mistakes but if remembering past monstrosities improves our chances of avoiding repetition even slightly, then cultivation of those memories is worthwhile.  No, apartheid's constant presence in Gordimer's writing is not why I question her relevance. 

Nor do I have any misgivings about her (too scarce!) travel pieces.  Inevitably tinged with politics - it appears that activism follows you wherever you go - and rather conservative when it comes to where and how, they are little gems of wordsmithing nevertheless. 

The third major theme in Gordimer's non-fiction is literary theory and here's where my doubts surface.  The reviews, the musings, the analyses are all very learned and impressive ('I'll never...'), but what is their function?  What, when you get right down to it, is the use of literary theory, especially today?  Will it teach writers how to write?  I don't think so.  Will it teach readers how to read?  'What is the poet trying to say?' is a question that could and should be answered only by the poet him/herself.  Anyone else's attempts smack too much of systemic education that manufactures automatons instead of freethinking individuals. 

Or such, at least, is my belief. 

To tell you the truth, I found Telling Times tedious.  I say that with a touch of sadness because I generally consider Gordimer a great writer.  Even in the most 'irrelevant' essays I was able to find fragments full of visionary insight, simply begging to be turned into a motto for some future opus magnum. 

The book's format is not particularly fortunate.  At first, 700+ pages of Nadine Gordimer's non-fiction seems like a literary feast but once you've put a course or two behind you, you realise that the tastes are disappointingly familiar.  If you've read The Essential Gesture and Living in Hope and History (I have!), the disappointment is almost guaranteed.  I don't have the two books on hand to compare the contents in detail, but I'm sure most (if not all) of the material is simply re-printed from earlier collections, with few extras added.  Gordimer is a writer worth re-reading and Telling Times never claims to be fresh and new but... consider yourself warned. 

Mary M. Luke, Gloriana: The Years of Elizabeth I

The sad thing about historical biographies is that the hero always dies at the end. 

Just imagine:  you follow the life of, in this case, Elizabeth I for seven hundred pages only to see her age and die.  A book with a claim for scholarly accuracy hardly can go any other way. 

I almost felt sad.  Just as well that the author, Mary M. Luke, chose not to dwell on the final years of the great monarch.  None of Elizabeth's biographies that I've read (quite a few by now) treated the subject with any more deliberation.  Perhaps there isn't really that much to tell - the Queen is dead, long live the King.  Maybe, though, various biographers become mildly attached to their heroine too and want to get through the unpleasant necessity as speedily as possible.  Or am I being sentimental?  

Compared to other books about Elizabeth Tudor, Gloriana: The Years of Elizabeth I holds its ground very well.  It's a massive tome but Mary  M. Luke managed to keep a reader captivated all the way through.  The main events and influences in the queen's reign are beautifully balanced, weaved together into a dynamic narrative that reads almost like a novel. 

Almost, but not quite; it is a history book after all.  The writer's creativity may have coloured some events for effect, some of the queen's reactions might be imagined rather than reported, but overall the book sticks to verifiable facts.  Original documents are often quoted to strengthen debatable statements and if some conjecture is inevitable, it is subtle enough not to irritate. 

Gloriana begins with queen's death (Mary's) and ends with queen's death.  For early years of Elizabeth it is best to turn somewhere else, because this particular book offers only glimpses of her years as a princess.  How about A Crown For Elizabeth by the same author, book two in the trilogy in which Gloriana is the final instalment?  I have not read it, nor the book one, but if I ever come across either, I won't hesitate.  Mary M. Luke had impressive skill in bringing Tudors to life, so I bet that her account of Elizabeth's twisting path to the throne is just as unputdownable as the story of her reign. 

Micheal Moore, Dude, Where's My Country?

I confess - I am a sucker for catchy titles.  If you want me to read your book, give it a title that stands out from the crowd and you've got me*.  A title like, for example, Dude, Where's My Country?

Michael Moore is better known for his documentaries (Fahrenheit 9/11, Bowling for Columbine), but he has written a good few books as well.  The books are just like the movies:  verrrry political.  Funny, too, and sparkling with cheeky wit despite - or maybe because of - their language, best described as 'everyday vernacular, uncensored'. 

Dude, Where's My Country?  was published in 2003, when the Iraq invasion was hot news, 9/11 a fresh and painful memory and George W. Bush still in power.  It's full of anti-war, anti-president, anti-republican battle cries.  Read today, it's almost like a history book, but right after publication it must've been a potent motivator to get off the couch and start waving signs on demonstrations. 

I sympathise with most of Moore's sentiments, but after some pages I diagnosed myself with rhetoric poisoning.  I distrust people who tell me how to vote.  Not that I could've obliged - I'm in Europe and US government is none of my business - but the attempt to direct the political actions of anyone makes an author unreliable in my eyes.  Moore is not even particularly subtle about his business:  go and vote. Take your friend, neighbour and dog with you.  Let's get this guy out of office.  Vote for Oprah.  Oh my.  When you dabble in politics, it's difficult (impossible?) not to get smeared with dirt.

Unless you actually live in the US, much of Moore's fiery passion will be wasted on you.  Yeah, sure, everyone likes bitching about America throwing their weight around but as long as they are not trying to actually invade, nobody gives a damn.  That's how I see it, anyway - it's remotely possible that the whole world disagrees and I haven't noticed. 

One aspect of Dude, Where's My Country? is worth attention and praise, wherever you live.  Moore is adamant in his claim that most of US citizens are sane, decent people, even if headlines sometimes make it hard to believe.  Cheers, man, I admit I need the reminder from time to time, and I even feel a twinge of shame when I say so.  No country should be judged by its politicians. 

Oh, and Mike's Quick and Easy Guide to Preventing Future Terrorist Attacks is priceless.  Take heed, America. 


* Unless, of course, your book is a trashy piece of romance.  Or anything for young adults (what sort of genre is that, anyway?).  Or any other literary mistake of the sort.  There are exceptions to every rule.