The Music Of War

When I was in highschool we were encouraged to read Canadian authors, and in those days it seemed like there were only four: Margaret Atwood, Alice Munroe, Margaret Laurence, and Pierre Burton. No doubt there were others, but I didn't really know who they were and truth be told, I didn't do much to enlighten myself. Something tells me that I wasn't the only one ignorant of my own country's numerous authors, as in 2002 the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) inaugurated a new annual event - Canada Reads. For the 2014 version, the process began with the public voting for up to 10 books from a list of 40 (though I'm not certain where the 40 come from) and this list is whittled down to the top ten, whereby the public got to vote again for the top books. Of these, 5 are selected and a few months later they are each defended by a Canadian public personality/celebrity. The public then votes 'off' one of the books per week, until there is a winner. I became familiar with Canada Reads only a few years ago, while at University where I didn't have time for pleasure reading. This time though, I've decided to participate and in the first round I voted for nine: one a professor at Uni had loaned me to read over summer break; two I already had on my list to read; and the other six were books I'd never heard of but appealed to me. Of those nine, only one made it to the top five. This review is about one of the two I had already wanted to read.

Set during the Siege of Sarajevo in 1992, Steven Galloway's Cellist of Sarajevo was inspired by a cellist who played a particular piece at the same time, everyday for twenty-two days after a building was mortared killing twenty-two people. The story itself is about the meaning behind this action and how news of it spread in the streets by people who were attempting to get a food and water while doing their best to avoid being shot at. It shows the difficulty of individual movement, the need for compassion even while so very difficult to give, and the internal battles each individual must face daily simply to exist.

This isn't a love story amid the detritus of war, nor is it a survivor's tale. It is about honouring those who are killed without real cause. It is allegorical of what is still going on today. How bombs fall to make a point, but kill those who would rather just get on with their day - peaceably. What I particularly like about this novel is how different types of violence are portrayed. Everyone understands the physical violence that comes from war, but there are other types of violence, structural, daily and political - all of these are woven into the tale, through the few characters described, and how they push through it, either by acceptance or rejecting it.

While this story is set during a siege, I would not call it a war story in the sense that war is described. This isn't a military tale, it is the story of those besieged and attempting to live another day. Therefore, I recommend this for anyone interested in both military fiction and literature. I give this book 4 dogs crossing the street out of 5.

Serious Comedy

Occasionally as readers we stumble across a work that we can't put down despite how it picks away at the deepest parts of our being and pinpoints the spots where we are most sensitive. This becomes doubly so when considering that the reader selected the book for two reasons: she enjoyed the author's prior novel; and the author is a comedienne. There's no argument that comedy often identifies uncomfortable truths about ourselves and we learn to laugh through it, but one should not expect that just because a comedienne wrote a book, that novel is going to be humorous.

In Oh Dear Silvia, Dawn French explores how family, friends and employees cope and adapt to the loss of someone who was, decidedly, a force of nature in their lives. Silvia Shute is in a coma, and the reasons why she is that state and how it effects those around her is slowly revealed throughout the novel. The story exposes loves and hates, successes and disappointments, as well as the subtle sacrifices one makes to prevent loved ones from coming to the worst of harms.

If, as a reader, you are expecting 'French and Saunders'or 'The Vicar of Dibley' type comedy, then you're in for a disappointment. That isn't to say there aren't any witty or funny scenes, expressions, or characters. Just that it is not a 'humour' book per sé . If you're seeking a book that is brilliant for its own merit then this might be a great fit, especially if you've no fear of crying. The realities of how differently each individual reacts to the loss of a loved one, even if temporary, is brilliantly achieved and written.

I suppose that I'd describe this book as one that ensnares the reader's emotions long before she realises they should even ensure an escape route or has time to lock them away. Perhaps this will scare some potential readers off, which is not my goal. I reckon everyone should read it, but not everyone will like it. It's probably one of those books one has to be open to reading, rather than a question of taste.

For the sheer pleasure of the encounter I give this book 5 beech trees out of 5.

The Struggle Of Joining In Late

Long, long ago (pre-world wide web) I read a book that I enjoyed immensely. It was an epic novel called Stonehenge. I liked it so much that over the years I purchased most of the author's other works, but did not read any of them until about five years ago when another one off entitled Azincourt was published. I've no idea why I didn't crack open any of Bernard Cornwell's other books even though they decorated the better part of one shelf. This year, an online book group that I belong two offered up three of the books as options: one being the aforementioned megaliths; and the other two the first book in a series. All three won for their respective months, forcing me to finally crack some spines (figuratively speaking, we don't literally crack spines - ever). The first was the much loved beginnings of Uhtred of Bebbanburg - The Last Kingdom.

There were high expectations for this novel, as most people I know who have read it not only love the series, but feel a personal attachment to the protagonist Uhtred. Many of these individuals weren't particularly fond of Azincourt, whereas I quite liked that work. However, I hadn't the years of reading Cornwell's other series, so perhaps that affected my opinion. I had no real expectation or points of comparison since I'd only ever read his epic, not his shorter novels.

As it turns out, I don't love Uhtred as others do. I don't dislike him either. I didn't really feel much empathy toward him, or any of the other characters for that matter. This might have more to do with having only read the first book, while those who are fond of the main character have the benefit of having read the entire series. Perhaps that is why they are very enthusiastic in their encouragement to get stuck in - because as a whole it's a fab series. That isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the book; I did. It was a well laid out tale of a young man who must face the changes around him and make decisions to ensure his survival regardless of how incongruous those choices may affect his own personal moral and ethical codes.

Despite my indifference to Uhtred, I do very much enjoy Cornwell's ability to transport the reader through time and place. When an author details a landscape and era in such a way that evoke the grittiness of fear, war, and politics while simultaneously allowing a waft of sea air to punch through the pungent scents of sweat and death, then you know you have a book worthy of your time. The power struggles between Danes and English is clearly the focus, the secondary and equally dangerous battle between church and traditional worship appear to be explored only marginally. However, I expect that in the end, this will be the glue that keeps the series moving along. With the advantage of nearly a thousand years, we know that the ultimate battle between church and state is ever present and dominant throughout.

Not only because I own the rest of the books in the series, but because of genuine interest, I will read the next installment. Perhaps, given more time to woo me, I might even learn to like Uhtred as more than just a device that moves the story along. Therefore, I give the book 3.5 burning ships out of 5.