A Palace in the Old Village (2009 in French, 2011 English translation) By Tahar Ben Jelloun

If the setting were North America, his name would be Jose, but it is not, the story is set in Europe, so his name is Mohammed. 

Several weeks ago I read Leaving Tangier, a novel by Tahar Ben Jelloun telling the story of a young man and his sister who had emigrated from their native Morocco to live in Spain. In this book A Palace in the Old Village he tells the story of Mohammed, an everyman character who had left his home in the Maghreb to become a “guest worker” in an auto plant in France.  He brought his family over as soon as he could afford to.  

  

He was a simple man, a hard worker who never complained about anything, and was appreciative of his ability to make good wages in that new country.  He made a good life for himself and his family.  But after 30 years on the job he reached retirement, which was mandatory in France.   This “tirement” however, was something foreign to him. 

He tried going to the plant for several days afterward, offering to cover for men who were absent for one reason or another. He’d volunteer, they need not pay him he explained.  But it wasn’t allowed.  Mohammed knew not what to do with himself. 

Since he had first arrived in France, he had returned to his village in Morocco each summer during the month long summer holiday, showering his distant relatives and childhood friends with presents.  Now, he was making the decision to return to the village for good. 

Using his entire savings, Mohammed built the largest house in the village.  Keeping with the traditions he had grown up with he wanted his entire family, and their families, to live with him.  He knew this would not happen, but at least all of them would spend their summer holidays with him, he thought.

But time had escaped Mohammed.  His children were independent and modern.  He never sought French citizenship, but all of his children had.  

The Swerve: How the World Became Modern (2011) By Stephen Greenblatt

This marvelous little work of nonfiction has everything: philosophy, theology, history, atomism, mystery and a large dose of irony.  Among other topics, the reader will discover a several page discussion on bookworms (the insects, not the geeks), a short history on the demise of the Great Library of Alexandria, a discourse on the literary circles of William Shakespeare, an overview of monastic life in the upper Germanic provinces of the Holy Roman Empire, and a short history on the creation of Times New Roman typeface – none of which is the main plot of the book.

The main plot is the story of how Poggio Bracciolini, a Vatican scribe and off-hours scholar, brings back from near extinction the tenets of Epicurean (Humanist) Greek philosophy, by rediscovering Lucretius’ poem On The Nature of Things: and how this book hunter’s find in 1417 helped shape the course of -- the swerve of (atoms) -- the Renaissance.   Author Stephen Greenblatt’s book, carries the subtitle of How the World Became Modern, but I’d like to suggest another:  The Crucifixion, Resurrection and Spread of Humanism.  Amen.

Poggio was a major official in the Vatican bureaucracy, serving five Popes during the 15^th century, two of whom were bounced from office for corruption (or more accurately, for having the wrong set of corrupt allies).  That this man would rediscover and reproduce this then controversial masterpiece debunking the core tenets of western theology is the ultimate irony.  That he did this at a time that the Vatican was routinely burning people at the stake for heresy, adds to the story.

Many of the works of the ancient Greek philosophers were lost during the Middle Ages.   Some works were suppressed as Roman culture asserted its control by purposely abandoning what came before; others because Christianity sought to destroy all history of polytheistic thought; and many others succumbed to natural causes, such as bookworms and fire.   Poggio’s intellectual hobby was to find as many lost classics as possible and translate them to Latin, making them accessible once more.   That many of those finds were at remote monastic libraries, adds to the irony.

This book, while short at 263 pages, is not an easy read.  It also contains 263 Notes (the last of which pertains to Thomas Jefferson’s personal library, which included a copy of Poggio’s Latin translation of On The Nature of Things), and a 27 page bibliography.  

The Pillars of the Earth (1989) By Ken Follett

There are chapters in history so complicated one needs a score card to understand them.  Ken Follett’s The Pillars of the Earth provides that score card for the 39-year period of English history (1135 through 1174) marking the end of the reign of Henry I (son of William the Conqueror); the ensuing civil war between Stephen and Matilde; the ascendancy of Henry II; and the assassination of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury.

Even in novel form, it’s a complex story.  Follett masterly crafted a work of fiction to simplify this timeline, yet even his telling of it runs to a tome of 973 pages.   His success at this however is underscored by its international bestseller status.  This is an amazing accomplishment for any book, rather on one on a deeply important yet dry bit of medieval history: the prelude to the eventual break between the Roman Catholic Church and the state-sponsored Anglican Church of England, three Henrys down the road.

This may very well be the most carefully constructed book I’ve ever read, and I use the world “constructed” quite specifically.  The fictional story Follett tell this history with involves the construction of a Gothic cathedral in Kingsbridge, England – a project which spans the entire book.  The parallels between the book’s literary construction and the cathedral’s structure are remarkable; it will be the topic of many Literature PhD projects in the years to come.

The fictional story line at times gets as complex as the historical one with multiple and overlapping plots.  And with so many religious figures in the mix one expects a lot of claims to moral authority, and there are many, many claims.  But in my read, there is only one totally moral person in the book, the character of Ellen, who is, of course, branded as a witch.

My only complaint (and that is really too strong a term) is that if one knows English-British history, then there is no suspense here.  And with the fictional story, one always knows what will happen in the next chapter because the groundwork is so carefully prepared in the current chapter.  That said, it’s a great read.

Leaving Tangier (2006 in French; 2009 English translation) By Tahar Ben Jelloun

Tahar Ben Jelloun is an international bestselling author from Morocco.  He’s written 30 some novels, though he is a “new” author to me.

I picked Leaving Tangier as my first read because it is from one of my favorite genres, immigration stories, in this case that of “los moros” moving northward across the 8-1/2 mile straits separating Morocco from Spain. The story is told through the characters of Azel, his sister Kenza, and a benefactor named Miguel, from Barcelona, who facilitates their exit.  A central theme of the book is the desperation a lack of opportunity breeds among the young in Morocco.  This reality, both economic and societal, is what leads Azel, Kenza and tens of thousands of others to take whatever routes available to flee for the chance at the proverbial “better life” in Europe.

It’s not a new story, change the names of the countries and this is a common history threading through many great works of literature.   The North Africa to Western Europe immigration versions I have read however have always been written by Europeans, patronizing Europeans.  What makes Leaving Tangier different is the knowing perspective brought to the story by Ben Jelloun, a native of Fez, who now divides his time between Tangier and Paris.  His eyes are critical of Morocco mind you, and one must wonder how he has avoided arrest all of these years.  But his eyes are equally critical of Europe, a balance not usually found in discussions on this topic.

The book is written in realism, but also weaves in a few good dream sequences.  For the conclusion, it incorporates a fantasy tract ranking among most amazing I’ve ever read, as both Flaubert and Don Quixote board a ship “of five and twenty.”

I’d also like to comment on the character development in the book, because it is significant and very well done, but alas to say more would entail a spoiler alert -- you’ll have to read it yourself, and yes, that is a very strong recommendation.

The Path to the Spiders' Nests (1947 in Italian; 2000-revised in English) By Italo Calvino

Path to the Spiders’ Nests is the first novel of Italian author Italo Calvino (1923-1985); his other works include Invisible Cities and If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler.   I’ve not read any of his works before, though they are readily available in English. 

A short book, Spiders’ Nests is set in coastal Italy in the middle to late days of World War II.  It does not have much of a storyline, a rather fabricated one actually, which serves as an anchor for several character studies.  It does however have an extremely memorable main character: Pin, a pre-adolescent boy living with his prostitute sister, they have been orphaned by the death of their mother and abandonment by their father.  The story covers about a week of Pin’s life as he is attempting to grow up in the nonfunctioning environment that constituted the Italian State and its coalition-of-convenience resistance movement.  Wise beyond his years, Pin has little association with children his age, and is bewildered by adults … all adults.  I kept thinking of Huckleberry Finn while reading this, yet Spiders’ Nests has a vastly different setting.

Because of Pin this is an interesting read, though the story is not near as interesting as the Wikipedia biography of its author (born in Cuba, moved to San Remo, Italy when he was 2, trained as an agronomist, his masters thesis was on Joseph Conrad).

A Memoir: Happy Accidents (2011) By Jane Lynch

I usually alternate my reads, something heavy, followed by something light.  My last post was on endless warfare and genocide, it was truly time for something light. 

Happy Accidents is a Memoir by Jane Lynch, of Glee fame.  I’m not generally into celebrity autobiographies, something to do with their general tone of self-importance and the always evident self-censorship.  I would not have bought this book.  But, it was gifted to me, and a great gift it turned out to be.  What made it different?

Well, Jane Lynch is a Chicagoan – a product of Thornridge High School, a fan of the Brady Bunch and Happy Days, who paid her dues at Second City and the Annoyance Theater.  I do not know Jane, but I know this woman.  She was a Catholic girl with coming out issues and a related teenage drinking habit.   She had hysterically funny crushes, both real and imaginary.   And to top it off, after she finished college she apparently lived around the corner from me, often drinking the day away at The Half Shell … so that’s who that funny blond woman in the corner was! 

She’s ended up a Hollywood star (The 40-year Old Virgin, Two and a Half Men, and Glee), with a compelling story, worthy of an introduction by the one and only Carol Burnett, and has modestly termed her life a “happy accident” -- as was my decision to read the book.  

Dancing in the Glory of Monsters: The Collapse of the Congo and the Great War of Africa (2011) By Jason K. Stearns

Journalist and human rights activist Jason Stearns has attempted what is perhaps the impossible in trying to decipher the trials that have overtaken the Congo the past several decades, and remain in the world headlines even this week.  His book Dancing in the Glory of Monsters is a compilation of over a decade of research, interviewing victim and perpetrator, discovering that many of the people he has spoken with – from key people to bystanders – are both.

The time period covered includes the civil war in neighboring Rwanda with the accompanying and mind-numbing genocide that spilled over into the east Congo, then known as Zaire; a multi-national war on the scale of World War I which overthrew the post-colonial Mobuto regime, a subsequent civil war in the Congo; with “side stories” of endless independence movements in Uganda, Angola and Zimbabwe coming into play.   These wars have to date claimed an estimated 5 million victims through direct violence and the indirect aftermath of nonfunctioning governments without the organizational wherewithal to provide road building, rather on public healthcare.  This can be best recapped with a quote about Joseph Kabila, the current leader of the Congo, by the President of Tanzania:  “I came to the Congo and saw its leaders.  But I didn’t see a single new road, hospital or school.” 

Throughout the book I kept longing for the chapter titled Conclusion, hoping that it would condense this insanity into something understandable.  Stearns did all he could, providing detail after horrifying detail, and succeeded somewhat in outlining the politics of inflaming ethnic hatred that resulted in circular genocide; but it will take legions of psychologists to provide understanding.  

What is clear throughout however is that most -- not all, but most -- of these wars have been proxy in nature, with the backstage combatants being the Belgians, the French, the English, the Americans, the Portuguese, the Chinese, and even a cameo appearance by Cuba’s famed Che Guevara.  Yet, on the stage itself the fatalities have been provided by Africans.