Review: Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

This is the first graphic novel I’ve read. There, I’ve admitted it. I can’t explain why it has taken me so long to read one. It’s not that I think they’re childish or ‘not real literature’ or anything like that; it had just never occurred to me to read them and until I started blogging I didn’t even realise how popular they were. When I did decide I’d like to try one I thought a graphic memoir might be the best to start with and as I’d seen Persepolis reviewed on so many blogs it seemed a good choice. And it was, because I loved it.

This edition is actually two books in one: The Story of a Childhood and The Story of a Return. They can be bought separately but you really need to read the first book before the second.

These two books are the memoirs of Marjane Satrapi. In The Story of a Childhood she tells us what it’s like to be a child growing up in Iran during the 1970s and 80s. Due to the Islamic Revolution and the Iran-Iraq War, Iran becomes an oppressive and often dangerous place to live, particularly as Marjane develops into a rebellious teenager. Her concerned parents eventually decide that the safest option is to send their daughter away to start a new life in Europe.

Before beginning this book, I didn’t know very much at all about Iranian history and politics. I found that seeing things through a child’s eyes was fascinating and informative. Marji is an intelligent, imaginative girl and like all children she’s always curious and full of questions, so for someone who knows very little about Iran, this book offers an opportunity to learn along with Marji.

In the second volume, Marji is living in Austria, struggling to adapt to life in a country with an entirely different culture. This second book is more about the personal problems she faces with relationships, drugs and money and although I had a lot of sympathy for the situation she was in, I didn’t enjoy reading this book as much as the first one. I did find it more interesting towards the end when she finally returns to Iran several years later and finds she has as much trouble fitting back into her old life as she’d had fitting into life in Austria.

Although this was definitely a new experience for me, I was quickly able to forget that I was reading a ‘graphic novel’ and become absorbed in Marjane Satrapi’s story. The simple, stark black and white drawings were perfect and made it easy to understand what was happening. Rather than just illustrating the text, the pictures played an equally important part in telling the story.

I enjoyed this book much more than I expected to. It was a powerful and moving story, with some moments of humour too. So, if you are also new to graphic novels and unsure where to start, I have no hesitation in recommending this one to you!

Review: Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker

When I started to notice these Bloomsbury Group books appearing on other blogs, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist reading them too. Not just because the covers are so pretty, but also because the stories all sound so intriguing! Miss Hargreaves (pronounced Hargrayves as we are told in the author’s note) was the one that appealed to me the most and the one I’d heard the most about – and it was the right choice because I loved it. It’s a charming tale about the power of imagination and how it can lead to an unusual and unlikely friendship.

“Henry,” I moaned, “she is exactly as I imagined.”
Limping slowly along the platform and chatting amiably to the porter, came – well, Miss Hargreaves. Quite obviously it couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

Norman Huntley has always allowed his imagination to run away with him. On a trip to Ireland with his friend Henry, they amuse themselves by inventing an imaginary eighty-three-year-old woman called Constance Hargreaves. They make Miss Hargreaves a poet and a musician; they give her a dog called Sarah and a cockatoo named Dr Pepusch – and Norman writes her a letter inviting her to stay at his home in Cornford, Buckinghamshire.

Never expecting her to accept his invitation (how could she – she doesn’t exist!) Norman is stunned when a little old lady arrives at the train station accompanied by a dog, a cockatoo, a harp – and even her own bath. It seems that Norman’s creation has come to life – and with even Henry convinced it’s all a practical joke, how will he explain Miss Hargreaves to his parents, his sister and his girlfriend Marjorie?

As the story continues, it gets more and more bizarre. I can safely say this is one of the most original and unusual books I’ve read for a long time! Miss Hargreaves is an unforgettable character – endearing and eccentric, yet ever so slightly sinister – and Norman is torn between a fatherly pride in his creation and frustration at the way she’s taking over his life. Somewhere in the middle of the novel, a gradual shift of power from Norman to Miss Hargreaves takes place, resulting in an almost Frankenstein-like situation where the creator begins to lose control of his creation. And yet Miss Hargreaves seems to be aware that there’s something different about her and that some kind of invisible bond exists between herself and Norman.

I was expecting the story to be funny and entertaining – and it is. However, there are also some very moving and poignant scenes, making the book a perfect mixture of dark and light.

There was only one aspect of this book that I could maybe have done without and that was the music. With Norman Huntley’s church organ, Cornelius Huntley’s violin and Miss Hargreaves’ harp, the musical elements of the book became a bit too much for me. However, I’m sure other readers will enjoy the organ playing scenes and they certainly add to the quirkiness and originality of the book.

Recommended

Pages: 317/The Bloomsbury Group/Year: 2009 (originally published 1940)/Source: My own copy

Review: Miss Ranskill Comes Home by Barbara Euphan Todd

Barbara Euphan Todd was best known as the children’s author who wrote the Worzel Gummidge series about a scarecrow who comes to life. Miss Ranskill Comes Home, first published in 1946, was her only adult novel.

Shortly before the start of World War II, Nona Ranskill was swept overboard whilst on a cruise and was washed up on a desert island. The only other inhabitant of the island is a man known as ‘the Carpenter’, who had also fallen overboard on an earlier occasion. At the beginning of the book, the Carpenter has died and we first meet Miss Ranskill as she’s digging his grave. Before his death however, he had managed to finish building a boat with which he had intended to sail himself and Miss Ranskill to safety. After burying the Carpenter, Miss Ranskill makes an attempt to escape from the island on her own. Luckily, before she becomes hopelessly lost at sea, she is rescued by the British Navy. Returning to England after almost four years, Miss Ranskill discovers that it’s not the England she left behind: in her absence, World War II has begun…

This may all sound very far-fetched, but Todd actually makes it seem believable. I thought the whole idea of someone being cut off from the world and returning home only to find themselves suddenly thrown into the middle of a war was absolutely fascinating. I particularly enjoyed the first half of the book which deals with the first few days of Miss Ranskill’s arrival in England, when everything feels strange and surreal. Even the English language seems different and full of unfamiliar words. When she tries to buy food she can’t understand why she’s asked for her ‘ration book’, or why she needs ‘coupons’ to purchase clothes. This leads to some very amusing situations but at the same time you can’t help but feel sorry for poor Miss Ranskill.

Although he’s dead before the story even begins, the strongest character in the book is the Carpenter. He is constantly in Miss Ranskill’s thoughts and his presence is there on almost every page in the form of flashbacks and memories. Although Miss Ranskill’s friends found it scandalous that she had spent four years in the company of a strange man – particularly a man they consider to be of a lower social standing – I think anyone who has read this book will agree that if we were stranded on a desert island, the Carpenter is exactly the type of person we would like to be stuck there with.

Makes it more homely-like, Miss Ranskill, see.
That had been one of his favourite expressions. He used it as he arranged stones round the smoky fire, and when he handed her a shell.
Saucer, see, Miss Ranskill. We mayn’t have cups, but we’ve plenty of saucers. Makes it more homely.

His optimism and words of wisdom had helped to sustain Miss Ranskill during her time on the island and continue to give her comfort on her return to wartime Britain. However, the years on the island and the company of the Carpenter have given her a new outlook on life and she finds it difficult to adjust. Unlike her friends and family who are all absorbed in their war work, Miss Ranskill feels detached from what’s going on and spends most of the book remembering the island and even feeling nostalgic about the fact that she had to eat fish for every meal and wear the same clothes for nearly four years! England may have changed, but Miss Ranskill has changed even more.

This book has the perfect blend of humour and poignancy and gives us an opportunity to explore World War II from a unique perspective. Recommended.

Pages: 328/Publisher: Persephone Books/Year: 2003 (originally published 1946)/Source: Library book

Review: The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier

What would you do if you came face to face with yourself? That’s what happens to John, an Englishman on holiday in France, when he meets his exact double – a Frenchman called Jean de Gue.  John agrees to go for a drink with Jean but falls into a drunken stupor and wakes up in a hotel room to find that Jean has disappeared, taking John’s clothes and identity documents with him!

When Jean’s chauffeur arrives at the hotel, John is unable to convince him of what has happened – and ends up accompanying the chauffeur to Jean de Gue’s chateau, where the Frenchman’s unsuspecting family assume that he really is Jean de Gue.  Naturally, they expect him to continue running the family glass-making business and arranging shooting parties – things that John has absolutely no experience in.  Before long, it starts to become obvious that Jean is using John as a scapegoat; Jean’s family and business are both in a mess and he wants someone else to have to deal with them.

Throughout the book, I was forced to revise my opinions once or twice about what was really going on. If everything in the book is supposed to be taken literally, then we need to suspend belief at times: could two men really be so identical that even their mother, wife and daughter can’t tell the difference? There is also another way to interpret the story, one which goes deeper into the psychology of identity – I won’t say any more about that here, but if you have read the book this theory may have occurred to you too.

As usual, du Maurier’s writing is wonderfully atmospheric. She has a way of making you feel as though you’re actually there in the hotel room in Le Mans, the grounds of Jean de Gue’s estate in the French countryside and Bela’s antique shop in the town of Villars.

When John first arrives at the de Gue chateau, every member of the household is a stranger to him but we (and John) are given enough clues to gradually figure out who each person is and what their relationship is to Jean de Gue.  From the neglected pregnant wife and the hostile elder sister to the resentful younger brother and the religious ten-year-old daughter, every character is well-drawn and memorable.

Another thing I love about Daphne du Maurier’s writing is her ability to always keep the reader guessing right to the final page (and sometimes afterwards too).  This was a fascinating and unusual story, one of my favourite du Maurier books so far.

Highly recommended

Pages: 320/Publisher: Virago Press (Virago Modern Classics)/Year: 2004 (originally published 1957)/Source: Library book

Review: Under a Blood Red Sky by Kate Furnivall

Unfortunately I was unable to finish this book – which is not something that happens to me very often. I hadn’t heard of Under a Blood Red Sky (also published under the title The Red Scarf) until I saw it in the library and I thought I’d give it a try as I love historical fiction set in Russia.   It sounded interesting:

Anna and Sofia are two women who meet whilst imprisoned in a Soviet labour camp in the 1930s and become best friends. When Anna becomes ill, Sofia comes up with a daring plan to run away from the camp and find help. Anna has told her about a childhood friend, Vasily, who is now living under an assumed name in the town of Tivil. After successfully escaping, Sofia heads for Tivil to look for Vasily and ask him to return to the camp with her to save Anna.

However, right from the beginning of the book I felt we were being asked to accept things that weren’t plausible.  The whole plot was just too far-fetched for me.  The other (bigger) problem I had with this book was that I couldn’t connect with any of the characters. Although they were constantly putting their lives at risk and facing unimaginable horrors under Stalin’s communist regime, I found I didn’t really care what happened to them. Sofia was one of those model heroines – beautiful, brave, intelligent and perfect. Everybody seemed to be captivated by her and I couldn’t really understand why. She just didn’t feel like a real person to me. Of course, there were some situations that even Sofia couldn’t deal with – that’s where the gypsy Rafik came in, using mesmerism and mind-control to overcome obstacles.  I thought the whole magical aspect of the book seemed a bit out of place.

I tried to keep reading, thinking the book might get better but when I found I was almost halfway through and still wasn’t enjoying it, I decided not to waste any more time on it and put it down with a sigh of relief. I’m glad I had borrowed this book from the library instead of spending money on it – at least I didn’t lose anything apart from a couple of days when I could have been reading something else.

Genre: Historical Fiction/Pages: 512/Publisher: Sphere/Year: 2008/Source: Library book

Review: I’ll Never Be Young Again by Daphne du Maurier

I’ll Never Be Young Again was Daphne du Maurier’s second novel, written when she was only twenty three years old. It’s different from the other books of hers that I’ve read so far. It doesn’t have the suspense or the gothic feel of some of her other works – this is more of a psychological, character-driven book. It’s the story of Richard, a young man who has grown up in the shadow of his famous father, and his struggle to find his own identity. I’m not really a fan of ‘coming-of-age’ novels, but I’m glad I chose to read this one. It certainly seems to be one of her least well known novels –  and I was concerned that this might mean it wasn’t very good. Well, I can tell you that it is good and I enjoyed it a lot more than I was expecting to.

The book opens with Richard – or Dick as he prefers to call himself – standing on a bridge, preparing to jump. Immediately the reader is intrigued, wondering what has happened to drive him to suicide.  At the last minute Dick feels a hand on his shoulder – this is Jake, a complete stranger who saves his life and becomes his closest friend. The first half of the book follows the adventures of Dick and Jake as they leave England and sail to Scandinavia together in search of a new life. The second half is the story of Dick’s relationship with Hesta, a girl he meets in Paris.

The whole book is written in the first person from Dick’s perspective, which is significant as it was apparently the first time Daphne du Maurier wrote from a man’s point of view – and I thought she captured the male voice perfectly. The only problem I had was that I just didn’t like Dick very much. I found his immaturity and whining very irritating – although I understood that the point of the book was to follow his development from an insecure, selfish youth into a sensible, mature adult. Eventually he does begin to grow up and want different things out of life, but this comes too late in the book for me to be able to warm to him. However, the book is so well-written I could still enjoy it even with such an unsympathetic narrator. Her writing is absolutely beautiful and quite dreamlike, as she lets us get right inside Dick’s head and share his thoughts and emotions. There are also some vivid descriptions of the mountains and fjords of Norway and the other places that the characters visit, particularly Paris with its cafés and boulevards.

This would probably not be the best Daphne du Maurier book for a newcomer to begin with, but it’s a good choice for someone who wants to venture away from Rebecca and read one of her less popular novels. A word of warning, though – if you’re going to read the Virago Modern Classics edition, leave the introduction until last as it gives away the entire plot, including the ending (this is good advice with any book – I’ve learned from experience never to read the introduction first).

This is my first book for the Daphne du Maurier Challenge hosted by Chris at Book-a-rama. I wasn’t planning to take part in this challenge until I discovered my local library had almost all of her books. I’m looking forward to reading some more of her work during the next year, as there are still a lot of her books I haven’t read yet. This book also counts towards the 1930s challenge as it was a contemporary novel published in 1932 and set in 1930s Europe – and also the Typically British challenge.

Pages: 304/Publisher: Virago Press (Virago Modern Classics 515)/Year: 2005 (originally published 1932)/Source: Library book

Review: Wild Swans by Jung Chang

Wild Swans is the story of three generations of women in Jung Chang’s family.  The first is her grandmother Yu-fang, who grew up in pre-communist China, a time when women had their feet bound as children and could be given to warlords as concubines.  The second is Chang’s mother, De-hong, who became a senior official in the Communist party following their victory over the Kuomintang.  The third is Jung Chang herself and the longest and most compelling section of the book is devoted to her own experiences during Mao’s Cultural Revolution of the 1960s and 70s.

Before beginning this book I didn’t know very much at all about Chairman Mao, but I’m obviously not alone in that.  As Jung Chang says in her introduction to the 2003 edition, ‘the world knows astonishingly little about him’.  This book helped me understand why the Chinese people initally welcomed communism and how millions of children grew up viewing Mao as their hero and never dreaming of questioning his regime.   It also explained why many people eventually became disillusioned and why the system started to break down.

Reading Wild Swans made me realize how important books like this one are.  Wild Swans presents almost the entire 20th century history of China in a highly personal way that makes it so much more memorable than just reading the same information in a text book would have been.

One of the most horrible things in the book occurs within the first chapter when Chang describes her grandmother’s footbinding.  It’s so awful to think of a little girl being forced to undergo this torture just because tiny feet (or ‘three-inch golden lilies’) were thought to be the ideal.  Soon after her grandmother’s feet were bound the tradition began to disappear.  However, this is just one small part of the book and the first in a long series of shocking episodes the author relates to us.  For example, during the civil war between the Kuomintang and the Communists, inflation rose so quickly that currency became worthless and people began to take desperate measures to get food, with beggars trying to sell their children in exchange for a bag of rice.

Jung Chang’s parents both worked for the Communists during and after the civil war, rising to high positions within the party.  Chang’s father was completely devoted to the Communist Party, putting it before his wife’s welfare.  Every time she found herself in trouble with the party for some trivial reason, her husband would side against her.  However, this attitude extended to the rest of his family and friends too – he refused to do anything which could be construed as showing favouritism.

Some parts of the book made me feel so angry and frustrated, such as reading about the senseless waste of food when peasants were taken away from the fields to work on increasing steel output instead, as part of Mao’s ‘Great Leap Forward’.  There are some shocking accounts of starving people being driven to eat their own babies.  The famine shook a lot of people’s faith in the Party and afterwards even Jung’s father was less inclined to put the party’s needs before his family’s as he had done in the past – in fact during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s, he found himself denounced and arrested, and eventually emerges as one of the most admirable people in the book, at least in my opinion.

“I thought of my father’s life, his wasted dedication and crushed dreams…There was no place for him in Mao’s China because he had tried to be an honest man.”

The descriptions of the Cultural Revolution are horrific; it went on for years and resulted in countless deaths.  One of the most frightening things about this period was that nobody was safe – people who had been high-ranking Communist officials before the revolution suddenly found themselves branded ‘capitalist-roaders’ or ‘counter-revolutionaries’ (sometimes by their own children) and some of them were driven to suicide.

Some of the parts I found most fascinating were Jung’s accounts of how the Chinese viewed the ‘capitalist countries’ in the west.

“As a child, my idea of the West was that it was a miasma of poverty and misery, like that of the homeless ‘Little Match Girl’ in the Hans Christian Andersen story.  When I was in the boarding nursery and did not want to finish my food, the teacher would say: ‘Think of all the starving children in the capitalist world!’

The book is complete with a family tree, chronology, photographs and map of China – all of which were very useful as I found myself constantly referring to them and without them I would have had a lot more difficulty keeping track of what was going on.

As you can probably imagine, it was a very depressing book, as Jung and her family experienced very few moments of true happiness.  She only really sounds enthusiastic when she’s describing the natural beauty of some of the places she visited – and the pleasure she got from reading books and composing poetry, both of which were condemned during the Cultural Revolution.  However, it was also the most riveting non-fiction book I’ve ever read – I kept thinking “I’ll just read a few more pages” then an hour later I was still sitting there unable to put the book down.

I don’t think I need to explain why this book counts towards the Women Unbound challenge.  All three of the women featured in Wild Swans – Jung Chang herself, her mother and her grandmother – were forced to endure hardships and ordeals that are unimaginable to most of us, but remained strong and courageous throughout it all.  However, Wild Swans is not just the story of three women – it’s much broader in scope than that and is the story of an entire nation.  So much is packed into the 650 pages of this book that I’ve barely scratched the surface in this review and if you haven’t yet read the book I hope you’ll read it for yourself – no review can really do it justice.

Highly Recommended

Genre: Non-Fiction/Memoir/Publisher: Harper Perennial/Pages: 650/Year: 2004 (originally published 1991)/Source: My own copy bought new