Auteur's library

Jack London

White Fang

1906

That one was a beautiful book, lavished with imageries of nature to ravish our heart and take it away. Strange to think this is all about a wolf, but while other books take great pains to tell you of humans, London managed in a single, supple, easy stroke to make us feel at all points and in all ways exactly as a wolf would, in his mind, in his body, in his feelings. From the moment White Fang is introduced, we go from observers of nature unravelling before us, eyes strained at the immensity of it, to a conscious part of it. Nature is judged, characterised, and, in true Naturalist fashion, given all the power. We’re a wolf and we never go out of it, just like White Fang can only be what he is and what he is shaped to be by his environment. I rarely met with a book that could get me as close to an unnegotiated animal character and as far from the humans dealing with him as this one (except for the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies and I wonder whether there isn’t some influence there. Would be interesting to look that up). And as attached. It’s not an emotional attachment as much as survival instinct instructing us poor human readers to cling to White Fang’s coat as fleece might, never dare to let go. Of course, this is all about us. It’s always about us. But while the metaphor was explicitly laid out, it never ceased being about the wolf either.
And the novel is so well written, in a straightforward, Spartan sentence style, but with a digging of the one true word not unlike the style of haiku. London says it exactly as it is, yet he only speaks poetry. Albeit a sorrowful and heartbreaking poetry. It is a very wise book and one that aims to be so; not telling you a story as much as using the background of a story to explore living beings’ heart and soul. I was enthralled with the first page and if my enthusiasm sometimes wavered when the tale turned too cruel or too repetitive (London has the tendency to hammer the point in when he explains something. But his style is so clear, so knowing, that these further elaborations only encumber the book), it found me again only a few pages later. Clearly, Jack London knew how to write, so that I’m suspecting what he wrote about was not as important as his gift of writing to us. His style is like an adventurer: the persona takes over the nature of the adventure. And all that matters is that writing here is an adventure you just have to hop on.

P.S. As I understand it, London was a partially racially-prejudiced man conscious of his prejudices and striving to rise above it; hence, it’s difficult, when he qualifies the white men at the fort as “superior” to the Native Canadians, to understand whether he truly sees them as their superiors or is simply representing in White Fang’s terms the relationship of hierarchy existing between the two at the time. His depictions of the Native Canadians camp were also picked upon by people for its featured cruelty, but the white men were portrayed just as badly so I did not find any offense in it. It was rather as humans that readers could take offense.

Tags: late late legacy of the 19th century, the Klondike Gold Rush, poetry as philosophy and living beings' heart and soul laid bare, natural observation more than a social or cultural one but can any of those two ever be devoid of nature?, the human race as the sum of the worst of every race (and a little good, still), survival and instinctive quest, heart-wrenching serfdom between animals and men, Canadian industrial revolution, life in the late 19th-century Canadian wild, hurt and hurt again, and hurt some more hero or the case of the lone wolf, three-quarter wolf, one-quarter dog, and man made wolf (into dog), the savage in the wild

Auteur's library

Ngῦgῖ wa Thiong’o

The River Between

1965

A small but important book, full of truths that have aged somewhat if you’ve studied all this before, but pertinent nonetheless. The River Between rests on a dual vision of the world (here, limited to the tribe) and what happens when these two collapse and drown in the river instead of meeting on its banks. Yet, following a character who is an enlightened man before his time (and his people) and lacks the means to enlighten in return, the book systematically falls into the trap of Waiyaki’s mind and fails to escape precisely the dualism it set out to criticize. The point is not so much to reconcile Christianism and the tribe’s old way in a sort of meeting of traditions and religions without colonisation, as to question why Christianism is pervading the tribe in the first place. For a book on colonisation, it almost never addressed the question of race and kept faithfully to that of culture and religion, which limited the debate to just a difference of opinions that refuse to bend. We end up like the people, furious to see things going this far and turning against the messiah’s lament for moderation. Life and death are no matters of moderation; but how could the tribe know, then, that defending their ways was defending their life? Waiyaki is the most enlightened man of Kameno and Makuyu, yes, but not necessarily the most enlightened person (Muthoni, for one, has some things to say that will effectively forever be silenced), and, unfortunately, not enlightened enough. Since he cannot listen, he has a hard time to teach. The book is fully aware of that; in fact, it exposes those weaknesses early on. But where is the answer?
It is dark tale, full of atmosphere, diffusing it as the book’s weather diffuses rain drops: consistently and unflappably. Standing with, rather than above, his characters, the author dives into their minds, showing you how they come to think like that but not how they could get out, because the truth is: it’s unlikely they could get out, then. You feel the drama coming, though you’re unsure where it will come from, and you know you can’t escape it. A good tale, in terms of fiction, an interesting look into the prevention of colonisation from a socio-cultural and intellectual perspective, and a strong, seductive book in terms of the written word, relying more on the force of simple words and sentences positioned at the right place than on a long and complex narration. Ngῦgῖ unfolds the tale as a storyteller: he doesn’t develop characterisation more than is needed to say what he must say in order for the tale to make sense and grow roots deep within its readers. Then, the last page closes, and that is all you’ll have.
Don’t expect to approach the characters too closely, they (and their writer) are ferociously defensive of their own privacy and you feel like a child peeping through the keyhole to witness a discussion which is not yours to participate in, to begin with (and I’m of African origins, too). Keep behind that keyhole and you’ll be pleasantly surprised, awakened somewhat, and saddened. Try and force entry, wanting to know more, and you’ll come out vexed and frustrated. This is a book from which you learn. You can enjoy it, in fact it’s hard not to for the sensual writing pulls you in; but I don’t see how one can love it. 

Tags: spiritualism, spiritism with a hint of magic and philosophy…a lot!, the tribe’s way vs. Christianism as part of colonisation, political intertribal war, the religious fight, a mask for a political fight, not enough questions of race but perhaps they were irrelevant then, prophecy of a messiah based on the origin of the Gikuyu people, an interesting love conflict or jungle fever due to a river, real African socio-cultural and political struggle of the early 20th century, Waiyaki’s tragic destiny, Joshua’s wife and daughters, change and revolutions in the 1920s, misunderstood prophet, life within the tribe

Socio-cultural and political Africa

Auteur's library

George R. R. Martin

A Song of Ice and Fire

A Clash of Kings II.

1998

Simply better quality.
A Clash of Kings doesn’t just tell a story, it finally unfolds it, with a writing style still fairly raw and accessible, but actually fitting the tale, providing just the necessary build-up and setting for each scene to occur. If in A Game of Thrones Martin’s writing style felt at times as if it attempted to get rid of the scenes it had to show_ each scene tumbling on the precedent, as it were_ instead of building them up, A Clash of Kings has let loose of that “one chapter = one scene” pattern which downplayed the first book: we get to see characters’ lives, their “routine” instead of just the scenes where they impact on the story. The book feels more written. The added landscape and weather depictions (except for Sansa’s and Tyrion’s chapters which still cruelly lack in room and city descriptions), the setup, the fluid passage from one day to the next or from days to days, all of that draws us in. We can feel Martin knows exactly what he has to say in this book and takes more time to say it, which in turn allows us to feel simultaneously as the characters do. And perhaps because there is less to say, it is better said. Lots happen in its own way as Martin takes more care to set up the necessary conditions for things to happen. His characters are not moving very far, but we see them get there (Arya’s wandering, for instance) and that’s all the better. We get to discover them in more depths, get to know and understand them better.
A Clash of Kings was a harder story to write, what’s with the war facts Martin had to introduce as a background and all (Arya’s detailed chapters; Qhorin and Jon attempting to survive in the Skirling Pass), yet_ or perhaps because of that_ one that ends up displaying significantly stronger storyteller skills than in A Game of Thrones.
Size shouldn’t be a put off for the book reads easily. Each storyline follows its path without too much concern for the others_ allowing for interaction to take place between them, yes, but without ever sacrificing their own subject matter and quality in the process. Thus, as characters' motivation unfolds and finds its fate, the reader’s attachment to them often equally and gradually grows. Renly’s and Robb’s wars meet, then part again; Arya’s, Robb’s and Tywin’s progresses cleverly cross or replace each other at Harrenhal. And this here constitutes the strength of A Clash of Kings: its ability to lead characters all throughout the Riverlands and The Reach, all the while knowing where and when stopping at keeps and fortresses becomes necessary. It uses the given maps proficiently, directing its characters quite like each king is directing his troops along the map of Westeros. We move around but none of it is mere filler; on the contrary, these journeys provide the sheer core of substance to the book, literal representations of the mental journeys the characters undergo.
Some downers among all the storylines, though: the war itself threatens to put you off from reading on, but effectively gets shoved back to the wayside. Theon’s insufferable mental make-up is difficult to believe and to read through (I mean, he’s a child, right: “I wasn’t given as good a toy as the others, so I kept on sulking, so I got less and less good toys, so now I must steal back all those toys… Aheuh!”). And Sansa’s plotline suffers heavily from the absence of plot. She’s only there to tell us what The Hound, Cersei, Littlefinger, Varys and Tyrion are up to. In her chapters and through her voice we hear more about the ever-changing Kingsguard than about her. Her emotions we get easily enough, but what was her story before this endless captivity? Given their lack of happenings, her chapters would have been perfect occasions to introduce Sansa’s link to the North: memories, ties to her family, culture; instead we only get “Sansa the victim,” which rapidly comes to weigh too heavily on us. You literally dread reading her chapters (which might have been Martin’s intention).
On the other hand, characterization benefits from the notable additions of Meera and Jojen Reed, surrounded by an aura of mystery which further contributes to the fantasy side of the book; of Davos Seaworth (as a POV character) and of Brienne of Tarth_ two strong characters. The Night’s Watch also gets more exposure, allowing us to interact (and to bond) with the various brothers. On Stannis, the verdict is still hanging in this second installment; we can’t say that, reader-wise, he’s a strong player in the big scheme that is ASOIAF yet, but we feel that this is a character whose importance will reveal itself in the future. The prologue, however, is overlong and a predictable case of a good person displaying unusual, and stupid, bravery, and getting himself humbled back to his place by somebody more powerful, cooler and, of course, eviler.
More emotionally mature than A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings is also noticeably better written, more credible, more intense, and displays a closer, tighter grip on characters. No doubt characterization is better achieved here than in its predecessor because this second installment benefits from Martin’s experienced hand perfecting itself all throughout the first book. Quite aside from the heavy-handed treatment of the war, the emphasis on its impact on characters’ journeys, rather than on the political nest of dramas, renders a simply stronger book; finally in touch with the things of life that truly matter (emotions, fights, causes, the Others), A Clash of Kings ironically gets the reader a little away from the pettiness of the game of thrones (with the noted fall from prominence of Littlefinger), and comes out all the better.
It promised, and it delivered.

For a more personal and detailed review, click here. Careful, if you read on, get ready for spoilers. 

P.S. The map of King’s Landing could have been more detailed, even if only to show little boxes representing houses and shops.

Tags: the threat of the Others and the genial concept of the wall as an in-between between life and death (a literal and a metaphorical one); the war everywhere, the war all the time; Stannis' ships; the Lord of Light fanatics; torture, rape and bruises or the never-ending round of "heroes" = victims; a lot of well-researched and credible political questions, strategies and thinking centred around the war vs. weirwood, weirwood: a little "what the hell are we doing here question" via Bran's eyes, Jojen’s greensight, and the Starks in general; a little bit more fantasy than inthe first installment and Gosh we’re thankful for that!; direwolves and dragons; Craster Craster…naughty? Dirty, yeah! I'll say...; countless legends, heroes, songs, foes, swords, banners, customs and manners, a little more world depiction, but still too much textile overflow; very well-researched look into knights, lordlings and vassals, though they're all a little too evil to be credible; too many kings for the realm's own good (I'm on team Varys, by the way!); a rapid look into the beauty and the beast concept with Sansa and the Hound; life beyond the Wall; Arya the mouse, Arya the ghost, and Arya's needle; is it fate or Martin's ruthless quill?; grey keep, red keep, a few towers, a lot more names (some not on the map) and Harrenhal ; Cersei or the cliché; direwolves or the figure of the loyal companion by the hero's side

George R. R. Martin

A Song of Ice and Fire
A Game of Thrones I.

1996

We all know it for its enormous character cast, its rich intrigue, its wealth of details. A Game of Thrones kicked off what would become a franchise with a list-long series of strong points. But what if we took a look at the first book itself, without considering the TV show or the following volumes, for once?
Let me first establish the following point: the strengths of A Game of Thrones shine best with the Night’s Watch and Jon Snow’s progress among them. Here, Martin’s talent at crafting a gripping tale results in a storyline so well-rounded, invested with, that it by far overshadows all other chapters. A whole book on the Night’s Watch would have been fine by me! But if we must extend the praise, then, Martin, Bran, Tyrion and Arya make further combinations with which other characters, for all their high opinion of themselves, pale in comparison. 
Still, you’ll get ensnared in the plotlines which creep up with every other chapter, no matter what. If the growing number of characters pushes readers away at first, around page 200 the tale goes from intriguing to extremely well-plotted and you start getting into it because Martin is fully at ease with it, now, and you can feel it. Overall, the intrigue is so carefully woven that you cannot help but care about how it will all end, even if you must wait decades for the seventh book (seven gods, seven books…). With this first installment, Martin sets himself up as one of the leaders of epic fantasy with a strong political edge. He thinks on a grand scale, clearly devoting all his efforts to A Song of Ice and Fire; he writes on a grand scale; and he produces a first work which can only be qualified as ‘grand.’
So, the story is thrilling and greatly developed. Greatly, pff! what am I saying? it’s immense, yeah! And the characters feel real and often in 3D. We know, we know. But both take so completely over that you won’t remember A Game of Thrones for the beauty or strength of its words. Having to juggle with fifty characters, each carrying their own motivation and past, and keep all those balls up in the air for the next installment, Martin spends little time trying to suffuse an atmosphere or tone that would linger on well after you’ve closed the first book.
Subtlety is not the point of A Song of Ice and Fire; it never was, I think, and you won’t find it. This is no book that you can approach with a mind bent on emotional outburst or wise enlightenment, but neither is it a pure tale of escapist fantasy. It stands midway between a clever and often (though not always) credible tale of political drama set in historically-relevant Medieval Ages and a popular (and heavily marketed) feast of intense plot twists and turns, strong characters, sexposition and cruelty, the latter both too often gratuitous, irrelevant and verging on downright melodrama.
Too bad that, as will be said by Stannis in A Clash of King, a good deed does not erase a bad one; well, neither can the strengths of A Game of Thrones, which are rare in fantasy and laudable here, buy back the flaws of its rendering. If the point-of-view chapters successfully manage to tame an immense beast into a structured story, they come to constitute in themselves as many stories, and the ever-growing number of epic characters equally enthralls, confuses, and disturbs our reading. You get the story, you want more of it, but between the two of you names keep popping up with little use to the present narrative and great deeds of forgotten heroes who won’t even appear in the story keep coming out of the mouths of characters who are the ones we actually care about. It is an epic, as it was meant to be, and that makes the reading journey equally as epic. A challenge, and not always one you care to take up.
I love long stories, I love dense and massive books and, if anything, I’d say that A Game of Thrones wasn’t long enough. Some moments in this first installment needed more time to occur, needed to be reflected upon; some characters needed more digging into. The suspense is well diffused, beating faster and faster as the pages turn; yet, all that under the rule of a pacing all too rapid. A situation gets set up, you come to face it and, as soon as it is exposed, the chapter closes and when you meet the character again the situation has already moved on_ and so does your emotional reaction. With all there is to say and show in this first book, the narration has to go quick, so quickly, in fact, that there is no time for reader’s investment. That will happen after reading, when you come to think about it.
Reading A Game of Thrones is like swallowing a dose of ‘too much’; the digesting part takes some time which the narration itself does not allow. You don’t devour A Game of Thrones. It devours you. An addictive read, but still not the best everyone makes it to be. 

P.S. The prologue is one kick-ass piece of writing!

For a more detailed, full spoilers on, and personal look into A Game of Thrones, click here.

Tags: the threat of the Others and the genial concept of the wall as an in-between between life and death (a literal and a metaphorical one); torture, rape and bruises or the never-ending round of "heroes" = victims, good = lame; a lot of well-researched and credible political questions, strategies and thinking rooted in King's Landing vs. weirwood, weirwood: a little "what the hell are we doing here question" via Bran's eyes and the Starks in general; more fantasy, less politics! or magic limited to the Night's Watch, dragons, direwolves and a three-eyed raven; direwolves and dragons; a less good rendering of race than expected; naughty? Dirty, yeah! I'll say...; countless legends, heroes, songs, foes, swords, banners, customs and manners, too little world depiction, but way too much textile overflow; very well-researched look into knights, lordlings and vassals, though they're all a little too evil to be credible; too many kings for the realm's own good (I'm on team Varys, by the way!); a quickly-dispatched look into the beauty and the beast concept with (white) Daenerys and (brown) Drogo and the establishment of a future beauty and the beast dynamic with Sansa and the Hound; life at Castle Black; beginning of a war; Arya's needle; is it fate or Martin's ruthless quill?; grey keep, red keep, a few towers, a lot more names (some not on the map) and Castle Black; Cersei or the cliché; direwolves or the figure of the loyal companion by the hero's side