Janine Di Giovanni, The Quick and the Dead

I do like Janine Di Giovanni's reporting style.  She's compassionate without being sentimental, her images vivid but not overly dramatic.  Compared to other books about wars in the former Yugoslavia, hers truly shine.

The Quick and the Dead is a tiny booklet, only 177 pages.  It is fully focused on the infamous siege of Sarajevo.  Between 1992 and 1994, Di Giovanni made repeated trips to the suffering city.  As you can probably imagine, her reports are not too happy.  War doesn't paint beautiful pictures.  Still, stories of ordinary people in exceptional circumstances are very powerful.  Sure, fear and horror were omnipresent, but if you looked hard enough, you could also find defiance, dignity and courage.  The bittersweet mixture, when described by a skilled writer, touches the heart. 

Funny thing, if I were to label The Quick and the Dead as a single genre, I would choose travel writing.  The good travel writing, I hasten to add, like Dervla Murphy's, not some magazine-sponsored holiday-in-the-sun gibberish.  Di Giovanni is an active participant in the events, always on the move from one location to the next.  She shares her worries, fears, heartbreaks, and if the story she's about to relate is somebody else's, she describes where and how she met the source. 

By the way, one of Janine's sources went on to write her own book.  Atka Reid, the author of Goodbye Sarajevo, makes a quick appearance in Di Giovanni's memoir.  As you can see from my review, I don't much value Reid's literary efforts, but at least here's someone confirming her story :)

Charles Panati, Panati's Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things

Things are happening slowly in the Bookworm's Cave these days, for which I apologise.  Life has been hectic recently:  new jobs for me and mine, urgent family matters and a new hobby firing up my imagination.  To add insult to injury, I've hit a patch of really boring books, readable but only just. 

Touch wood, it looks like some free time is coming my way so the days of neglect are probably over now. :)

I wish I could start my outburst of blog activity with a rave, but unfortunately Panati's Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things does not merit such kudos.

First and foremost, I absolutely hate titles like Someone's Something.  The author's name is already on the cover, goddamnit, why on Earth would you want to put it there twice?  A bloated ego?  Some misguided marketing advice?  Nah, I'm not buying this, Mr Panati. 

The 'extraordinary' part is somewhat exaggerated, too.  What's so extraordinary about inventing a dishwasher?  A lawn mower?  A hand mixer?  An inventor wants to make some money and tinkers away in his garage until he finds something patent-worthy, end of story.  Where's the amazing part?  Sure, the book contains some good anecdotes, but when it comes to the 'wow factor' it's a definitive oversell.

Most of Panati's Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things is focused on modern inventions.  Items of ancient or medieval pedigree are far outnumbered by Victorian/early twentieth century innovations.  I'd prefer it the other way round but ok, that's just one girl's opinion. 

As to reliability - ouch.  I've found a good handful of factual mistakes, some of them pretty glaring, without looking too hard.  NOT a serious source of information, please double check every sentence before passing it on as true. 

If I were to pick one word to best describe Panati's creation, it would be 'tabloidish'.  Gossip, sensation, and lots of verbal photoshop. 

Having said all that, the book doesn't read too bad.  Easy on the brain, it's a bit repetitive but smooth.  I can wholeheartedly recommend it for bathroom literature.  One-sitting-size chapters are simply perfect for the job...

Sarah Gabriel, Eating Pomegranates

I wish I had no reason to learn more about breast cancer, but unfortunately that is not the case.  I chose Eating Pomegranates as a gentle introduction to the topic.  You see, I thought it will be one of those 'got cancer, ate wonder food (whatever is currently in fashion), right as rain twenty years on' books. 

Guess what, I was wrong.  Sarah Gabriel's pomegranates are the mythological ones: six grains that sentenced Persephone to spend half her existence in the underground kingdom of Hades.  Accordingly, the book is not about the latest fads in cancer-fighting foods.  It's much heavier than that, dark, almost depressing and painfully realistic. 

The author was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2006, while still in her forties and with two young children in the house.  The journey from diagnosis through treatment to (hopefully!) health was a nightmare.  Gabriel is honest about her experiences:  there were no pink ribbons and uplifting slogans, only fear, worry and sorrow while family life was crashing down all around her. 

Eating Pomegranates is not really the best proposition if you want to learn about technicalities of treatment or the illness itself.  Some basic data are there, sure, but this definitely isn't a textbook.  If, on the other hand, you want a peek at the emotional landscape of a cancer patient - bingo.  NOT something a sane person would choose to read for fun but I imagine that women going through similar hell will find plenty of reassurance in Sarah Gabriel's diary.  While happy ending is not exactly the leitmotif, it must be a relief to see that it's ok to be scared, to be sad, to break down under the disease.  After all, heroes crop up only on motivational posters, the rest of us are simply human. 

Diana Wynne Jones, Reflections

I'm not a great fan of children's literature and I positively hate teenage fiction*.  Why, then, would I choose to read Diana Wynne Jones's Reflections? 

Because it's an essay collection, that's why.  Ok, maybe not exactly essays, it's a mishmash of various papers, commissioned articles, speeches and the likes, but it feels like an essay collection.  Oh, and it's subtitled On The Magic of Writing.  No aspiring writer could resist THAT, am I right?

Reflections are pleasant enough.  Wynne Jones was a graceful wordsmith, her stories are easy to read whatever the subject.  Pieces collected in this particular volume are most definitely not meant for children.  They are more serious than that, concerned mostly with theory of children literature and changes in publishing business throughout decades.  There's also a lot of musings on the process of writing itself, and a handful of tips for other writers, potential or not.  Serious matters are illustrated with delightfully quirky anecdotes, mostly from Diana's childhood (about, for example, tiny Diana's inability to distinguish between Germans and germs...  Set in wartime England, the cameo is hilarious). 

Wynne Jones surely wielded some kind of magic:  for a good while after reading Reflections, I actually felt like tracking down some of her books and immersing myself in kid's lit.  Me!  The urge quickly passed - I've limited myself to watching Japanese cartoon adaptation of Howl's Moving Castle - but I still might end up with Diana's book sometime in the future. 

One (unfortunately massive) flaw of Reflections is the book's repetitiveness.  You start delighted, but when anecdotes are repeated again and again, the enchantment breaks.  Some later chapters are simple re-writes of the previous ones and while Wynne Jones usually talked sense, I wouldn't sign up for hearing it once (twice, thrice...) more.  Obviously some issues (such as writer's freedom) bothered her more than others.  I suspect the publisher is to blame, pressing for a book when there's no sufficient material to fill it.  See, the pieces are perfectly fine if you keep in mind they were to be delivered singly, one paper per one audience.  Collected, well... 

Cut the volume to half the size, please.  It might work then. 


*I suspect that deteriorating quality of YA lit has something to do with general dumbing down of society - it's just that I'm not sure which is the cause and which is the effect...

Richard Dawkins, The Magic of Reality

Some books don't appear too gripping at first sight.  Usually the first impression holds;  the book may be tossed aside after a few pages if it proves completely unreadable, or it may be dutifully struggled through with more discipline than enjoyment.  Sometimes, though, an exception happens.  A book, seemingly unremarkable, turns out to be amazing.

To tell you the truth, when I first saw Richard Dawkins's The Magic of Reality, I was not impressed.  Stuff for kiddies, I thought.  Possibly gibberish.  Possibly boring or outright silly. 

I was wrong, on all counts.  Well, ok, it is suitable for bright kids, but that doesn't mean that adults won't enjoy it. 

The Magic of Reality is a beautifully illustrated primer in sciences.  It explains the very basics:  how evolution works, why seasons change, what are things built of, how rainbows form and many, many other phenomena.  Nothing too advanced - a smart ten year old shouldn't have any problems in comprehending the book.  A reasonably educated adult is not likely to find much new knowledge here, but you never know.  I, for example, have finally learned how astrophysicists find out what distant stars are made of.  I had always thought that scientists' claims are somewhat dubious;  after all, we can barely see faraway galaxies, so how can they be so sure about their composition?  I'm not dubious anymore, I've learned the trick, or at least the theory - as will you if you read the book. 

Illustrations are another praiseworthy aspect of The Magic of Reality.  They are beautiful, unconventional, sometimes bizarre, very artsy.  Science turned into a fairy tale - brilliant!

I particularly loved Dawkins's treatment of Christianity and other leading religions.  He often tells mythological stories to show how people explained natural phenomena before the advent of science and he throws Christian myths into the same drawer as Indian or African tribal stories.  There's a strong message there, probably not much to the believers' liking:  it's all fiction.  Moreover, with clear and logical explanations, it's difficult not to see how RIDICULOUS it is to believe e.g. that someone could turn water into wine (without any yeast or fruit, that is.  And some time.  Everyone could manage THAT).  It's not that Dawkins is disrespectful, oh no.  It's just that he absolutely refuses to give religion the reverence that is so common in more politically correct (or sales oriented - there's no point in pissing off potential customers) publications. 

In short, I expected nothing much and ended up with a delightful book.  Such surprises I could definitely use more of!

Chris Patten, What Next?

Twenty first century, being so young, is a great source of inspiration for writers.  Depending on our age, we are fairly likely to see a good part of it and with the world changing faster than ever the question 'what next?' is pretty much inevitable.  So inevitable, in fact, that Chris Patten used it as a title for his book of predictions for near future.

When I say 'predictions', I don't mean anything like scrying or gazing into a crystal sphere.  Oh no, Chris Patten is an educated man, with a career of responsible, high-level jobs to his name (e.g. he was the last governor of Hong Kong), he wouldn't have anything to do with the superstitious.  His predictions are 'learned', more or less supported by facts, and, on the whole, pretty reasonable.  He's surely very accurate when it comes to enumerating dangers that might be in store for us.  Yes, What Next? is a pretty scary book.

What should we be afraid of, then?  Let me see.  Nuclear war.  Arms proliferation.  Terrorism.  Deadly pandemic.  Oil running out.  Water wars.  All those, and more, are closely analysed by the author, together with themes such as drug abuse, poverty and globalisation.  Whatever else can be said about What Next?, it is definitely packed with information. 

While most of Patten's ideas seem reasonable, I suspect that when it comes to political views he's as far from mine as possible, or nearly there*.  The Economy (capital letter intended) is the king, with Bigger Picture and Efficiency its close attendants.  Usually, if confronted with a 'politically suspicious' (from my point of view) book, I would start fuming somewhere around the page 20, but not this time.  Patten has an extraordinary gift of presenting his views calmly and sensibly, to the effect that I don't feel like throwing eggs in his direction even if I don't agree with him very often. 

Patten also happens to be a decent writer.  Even if global economy and politics are not exactly in the thrill and adventure department, he manages to hold reader's attention throughout all of the book's 400+ pages.

Despite the author's relative optimism as to our prospects, I'm not convinced that the future looks bright.  Admittedly, I'm a gloomy little creature so my view might be somewhat skewed.  True or not, if you read What Next? you'll be better equipped to judge for yourself. 


* I'm working on a new concept called 'Tom Friedman test of political orientation'.  Friedman, a New York Times columnist, is a very talented writer whose political position I absolutely despise.  He's often quoted or mentioned by other non-fiction writers and for some reason he tends to evoke pretty extreme emotions:  people either love him or hate him.  Patten, for example, seems to like him very much.  Tell me what you think of Tom Friedman and I'll tell you who you are...

John Simpson, The Wars Against Saddam

Checking back through my old posts I notice that I positively raved about John Simpson's Not Quite World's End.  I can't remember the book too well now, but it must have left quite an impression because I chose The Wars Against Saddam on the strength of the author's name alone.  This time around I'm not so unconditionally enchanted, but I'm not disappointed either. 

One look at the title, combined with the knowledge that Simpson is a BBC journalist, gives you quite a good idea what sort of book this might be.  If I were to label it more precisely, I would say: war reporting, combined with elements of travelogue and political commentary.  A decent combination, at least for my tastes. 

Scores of authors worldwide really should thank Saddam Hussein for providing such a rich source of material.  Not only did he wage three massive wars (Iran-Iraq, First and Second Gulf War), but he was also kind enough to play the villain with a flair worthy of Anthony Hopkins.  Whatever else you can say about the guy, you have to admit that he caught the world's attention and held it (even if the Western propagandists did their best to help).  I bet a huge number of journalists have made a lifelong career out of reporting Saddam's misbehaviour and John Simpson is one of them. 

Reading The Wars Against Saddam so soon after Robert Fisk's massive The Great War of Civilisation was a bit of an anticlimax.  On its own, Simpson's book is really tasty:  witty, balanced, evocative.  Compared to Fisk's fiery diatribe, it comes across as somewhat mild.  It might be a lifetime training in 'objective' journalism, but Simpson avoids too strong opinions and hardly ever points a finger.  He definitely couldn't be accused of taking sides, and maybe this really is what journalism is all about, but it felt slightly toothless.  It might be a question of perspective - blame Fisk - but if I received a lasting injury from trigger-happy American troops, I wouldn't be so goddamn polite about this!  (Possibly I'm being bloodthirsty and irrational here while John Simpson is behaving like a mature, balanced gentleman.  Could be...).  I have a feeling - mind you, it's only a feeling - that he chose to conceal a lot of what he witnessed, for elegance's sake.  Or, perhaps, for politics' sake.  Would the BBC kick him out were he more drastic, I wonder? 

(I feel inclined to say here that it's ok, I wouldn't like to be kicked out of the BBC either.  Or is it...?)

Anyway, The Wars Against Saddam is a decent read.  Simpson knows how to write and a lifetime spent on the front line cannot but force you to become an expert in international power struggles.  An eyewitness's view adds colour to his reporting.  He's been there, he's seen it, now he gives the world his professionally polished version of what happened. 

Good enough for me.