Will you make the right choice?

Publisher: Pinter & Martin
Pages: 151
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-905177-66-0
First Published: 6th September 2013
Date Reviewed: 9th September 2013
Rating: 5/5

Sam and her brothers are staying at their grandparents’ for the summer holidays, and when oldest sibling Tony gets bored he prefers subjecting his sister and brother to somewhat nasty games, often dangerous. Sam doesn’t like it and worries about the effect on young Jeff, but she hasn’t the confidence to stick up for what’s right. Kate, their aunt, gets through boyfriends like there’s no tomorrow, always managing to ruin the relationship. This time, with a holiday booked for her and her newest boyfriend, who has lasted 2 months so far, things will be different. And then there is Richard, the step-grandfather who has sent a letter and ordered a package sent from his homeland to England. He’s not sure he should be showing it to anyone.

Deutschland is a fantastic short book that deftly combines the lives of three sets of people, albeit that they are related, to create a solid overarching study. Focusing on the themes of free will and choice, the book jumps back and forth between Sam, Richard, and Kate in a way that few authors master.

This is down to the suspense in the stories (‘stories’ here means the particular version of the few days for each character). Each story rests on an element of suspense so that the reader does not feel disappointed when the focus shifts – you want to read about Kate, yes, because her story is intriguing and you can see that there’s the possibility she’s going to ruin yet another relationship and you want to see what happens, but you want to find out what Richard is hiding just as much. And likewise with Sam and her brothers. What is especially interesting is that the stories by themselves are very much in the genre of the short story – separated they are concentrated character and theme studies that may or may not conclude perfectly and may end a little ambiguously – but due to the linking and the family ties the stories also work as one novel. This is perhaps the strongest aspect of the book, the strength in the structure and storytelling.

But the use of themes is up there, too. It may take a while for the reader to work out that this isn’t your standard story to get lost in, that there is a particular concept that Wagner hopes you’ll take away. The ending of the book is the most obvious sign, but as you read through the chapters (a couple of pages each) it’s easy enough to identify them. Every character in the book has a choice to make – sometimes it is one bigger choice, for others it’s a combination of multiple decisions that will align later on – and there is very much a sense of free will, too. This second theme is a little blurred, so to speak, not so obvious, but the atmosphere of the stories and choices are not adequately described by the word ‘choice’ alone.

As for the writing it fits the ‘literary fiction’ category and is rather lovely. It is at understandable and intriguing odds with the contents, and there is much attention to detail. The book has a grittiness to it, a certain darkness that affects each story, but if the cover is quite alarming rest assured that there is no horror or gore in it. The characters are written well enough that despite the short time you spend with them you feel you know them as well as you would in a 400 page novel, and there is a lot of mileage remaining in the book after you finish it and think about how different choices could have helped/destroyed the week or so it is focused on.

Deutschland is a fine novel that is sure to be loved by anyone who likes a bit of suspense with their top-notch writing.

I received this book for review from Pinter & Martin.

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Rations versus cuisine.

Publisher: Crown (Random House)
Pages: 294 (324 including recipes)
Type: Non-Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-307-88681-1
First Published: 12th September 2013
Date Reviewed: 7th September 2013
Rating: 4/5

Von Bremzen chronicles the culinary history of Russia from the 1910s to the present day, interspersing it with political and social history as well as her own.

Mastering The Art Of Soviet Cooking is an intriguing book that blends to a smooth mixture memoir, history and, of course, food. Set up as a project between the author and her mother to visit each decade of Russia’s history via a meal, the book soon devolves into an overall look at the way food was used and consumed in the USSR.

There is a lot of general Russian history in the book, and it will ‘work’ best for the reader if they approach it already familiar with the beginnings of the Soviet Union. Whilst Von Bremzen explains a lot of the reasons for various choices and so forth, she does not introduce the initial change itself. Beyond this, the history is very well described and the reader will come away with a good amount of knowledge about the role of food in Russia.

Well described, too, is the food itself. Due to the limits present in writing about meals (in other words you are of course only reading about the food without tasting or picturing it) it may not be as memorable as the rest of the content, but Von Bremzen’s success is necessarily in the way she links food to the regime itself. For example she explains how the regular person ate, and then details what those who said ‘everyone is equal’ ate.

It is hard not to become fond of Von Bremzen’s family. As the author’s mother played a part in the creation of the book, this is whom you are likely to be most fond of, especially as Larissa comes across as the sort of person you wish would grace more books. Von Bremzen’s mother saw the reality in situations at a young age, so in her daughter’s story you get to see both versions of the history – what it looked like and what it was, and you get this from day one rather than in hindsight. Von Bremzen’s childhood antics are fun, but it is undoubtedly Larissa who steals the show.

The recipes described are contained at the back of the book, and due to their placement the not-quite-concluded final narrative chapter feels strangely fine. In any other book the lack of a conclusion would be a negative, but it really doesn’t matter here and just goes to show that history is still in the making. Indeed if Von Bremzen had left it just a few more years, a whole other decade would have had to have been included.

The one potential downside is the writing style. Von Bremzen has chosen an extremely colloquial language that on many occasions can be difficult to understand. (This is separate to her use of Russian words which is of course a completely different matter – and everything is translated.) In some ways the text reads as though it were a casual speech rather than a book. Slang words and phrases are used, such as ‘cheapo’ (‘cheap’ is never used), aka, and ‘egg thingies’.

The writing has the potential to be a drawback, as does the amount of political history if the reader is expecting food all the time, but overall Mastering The Art Of Soviet Cooking is an informative book with a fascinating cast of real characters. The recipes are introduced well with enough prior information on them for anyone intrigued to want to give them a go, and there is a fair amount of humour and personality in the book.

A good introduction to Russian food history, Mastering The Art Of Soviet Cooking is likely to appeal to anyone who likes the idea of a meal and memoir mix.

I received this book for review from Crown Publishers.

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Beware your attitude.

Publisher: N/A
Pages: N/A
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: N/A
First Published: 1936
Date Reviewed: 28th August 2013
Rating: 5/5

Scarlett O’Hara is vain, ignorant and arrogant, and is proud to be so. She steals other girls’ sweethearts and does whatever she pleases. Her rebellious nature suits her very much – until the north wages war against the slave-owning south. Suddenly she finds herself looking after people she does not like and being forced into roles she couldn’t care less about. She needs money, she needs food, but she most certainly does not need Rhett, the man in whom she met her match.

Gone With The Wind is the epic story of the early life of a woman ahead of her time, against the backdrop of the American Civil War. Comprising a great many pages, the book is just as much about society as it is Scarlett, and it provides information about the period in general.

It’s probably best to talk of Scarlett first, before anything else. Scarlett is selfish and always out for money, but it is difficult to say she is altogether bad. Going against the grain, she is a confident and intelligent woman (at least in some respects), and takes what she wants with little thought for others. She is hampered by her society’s views about women, and this, to the modern reader (and indeed likely Mitchell’s contemporaries, too), makes her easy to relate to, in that ahead-of-her-time way. Not so good is the way she views herself, beauty over everything, and how she steals the attention of men from every other girl. Of course there is a lot to be said about the fact the men could have been more faithful to their women, but there are nevertheless times when Scarlett manipulates a situation to the extent that the man can do nothing about it.

Undoubtedly Scarlett’s biggest issue is her lack of understanding for others. Intelligent in business matters, she is nevertheless ignorant when it comes to people’s feelings. She loves a bookish, academic man, but does not understand his nature and sees nothing foreboding in this. Even Rhett Butler, the hero, is a mystery to her.

As for Rhett, he is selfish and manipulative, too, but he possesses an element Scarlett does not that leads him to care when others are genuinely nice to him. And unlike Scarlett he learns from his mistakes. The two have near explosive chemistry, and for this it is a pity they do not share more episodes together than they do. The relationship provides much needed relief, via its modernity, to the stuffy historical society.

Mitchell’s writing of Scarlett enables the reader to see the bad side of society, and how people would act towards someone who didn’t fit the accepted mould. What is interesting here, however, is that ultimately dignity and goodness prevails. Yes, it’s bad that society washes its hands of Scarlett as Scarlett, for all her selfishness, does have a very hard time during the war and does offer to help others, but Mitchell shows that if her heroine would just be nice when she ought, she would be accepted. And she wouldn’t necessarily have to change her nature to do it. She would be accepted back into the fold – society values honesty and loyalty beyond all else – and whilst it may seem silly that it preferred ill health to ill-gotten wealth, the community was strong and helped one another. The reader can understand Scarlett’s desire for money, but it isn’t long before the reader equally understands society’s feelings towards her, too.

Inevitably one cannot think of the community without bringing Melanie into the picture. Melanie is the complete opposite of Scarlett. Quiet, supposedly and perhaps truly oblivious, but strong at heart, Melanie wins support that Scarlett can not understand. The good thing about Melanie is that the reader can always be assured that there is more than meets the eye – which is particularly interesting as Mitchell never really lets you into Melanie’s head.

A lot of the reason why Gone With The Wind is so long is due to the amount of history included in it. Truly there is a great deal and it may prove frustrating to the reader who is more interested in the characters. Not only does Mitchell place her characters in the south at the time of war, whole pages are filled with descriptions of what was going on. In a way it’s necessary, as Scarlett is not interested in the war and therefore you learn little about it when Mitchell focuses on her. The only issue is that the detailing slows the narrative down substantially.

Yet the information provided about the effects of war is worth its weight in gold. As the book is told from the southern perspective, all talk of evil slave ownership is confined to the northerners. This enables Mitchell to concentrate on those southerners we view as in the wrong. Mitchell’s characters are, in the main, good to their slaves, and Mitchell shows how true loyalty and affection between slaves and owners could arise. Of course this is idealistic and there were many more families that were cruel, but the light that shines on this other side of the story is somewhat revelatory, and it is always important to consider the other side.

And consider it Mitchell does. The author shows how many couldn’t understand the ‘problem’ the north had with slavery, and whilst the southern characters do see their slaves as childlike, there is a caring atmosphere surrounding them. In Mitchell’s story, house slaves are part of the family, the field hands are to be looked after.

It’s poignant that Mitchell explores the thoughts of the north. They wanted abolition, but when it comes down to it, the northern women Scarlett meets are incredibly prejudice of the ‘darkies’ and would never consider hiring them due to a lack of trust. This is contrasted by Scarlett’s stating that the darkies were good at their old jobs. What Mitchell infers is the lack of understanding both sides had of each other. And she puts the north under scrutiny, showing how they were all for blacks voting and setting them free – in many ways because they wanted to humiliate the southerners. It is interesting that despite abolition no true respect occurs and the darkies are manipulated still, if in a different way.

But perhaps the most interesting aspect about the book, from a historical perspective, is the exploration of the views of the slaves for one another. Mitchell demonstrates the hierarchy that existed between people who were, at heart, in the same situation. She shows how snobbishness grew in those who worked in houses towards the ‘field-niggers’. Her narrative of the field hands being those who joined the northerners supports the constant theme of loyalty amongst the house slaves. For example Scarlett’s servants remain with her, free but technically shunning freedom. They even show contempt for freed slaves, seeing themselves as more respectable and intelligent. And, to further comment on the north’s lack of care for the slaves, many freed people returned to their owners.

Now this is interesting, because the context supports the idea that uneducated and poor, a slave would rather be looked after and owned than have to learn to fend for themselves. But what it shines a light on is the way the northerners let people go without really thinking about them. Because whilst those first Africans who landed in America knew another way of life, working for white masters was all these newer generations knew. Of course it inevitably transpires that those who owned slaves look like the ‘good guys’ in this book, but in a way it is hard not to see Mitchell’s point that abolition could have been conducted in a far better manner.

Mitchell puts her black characters in a fine light. In fact the only negativity is stereotypical of the role no matter the person’s colour, for example Scarlett’s Mammy’s strictness towards children. Talking of Mammy, the reader should be aware that dialogue is written in accents that, due to issues in transliterating, can sometimes be hard to decipher.

So to the war. Due to Scarlett’s choice to remain ignorant, a lot is glossed over, even if Mitchell does spend sections telling you what was happening ‘abroad’ at the time. The book is both rose-tinted and horrific, and Mitchell has no qualms in discussing uncomfortable subjects.

Gone With The Wind is a book that deals with many themes, least not the ignorance and misunderstanding that accompany vanity and selfishness. It is often poignant, often humorous, and certainly very long. And as much as it could be said that it could have been shorter, it can’t be said that Mitchell was careless – there is real reasoning behind the length of the text, and Mitchell wants her reader educated.

Gone With The Wind presents a heroine who is hard to like but is far from being an anti-heroine. It presents a woman who is aptly detailed and criticised by her author when required, and lauded when expected. Its classic nature whilst being historical fiction in itself creates ample opportunity for discussion, as you’re getting the 1936 perspective of the 1860s war. And its lessons about love and the self are eternal.

Scarlett O’Hara is as memorable as they say, and Mitchell’s work a masterpiece.

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Should the throne have passed to James Stuart?

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 190
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-490-42556-6
First Published: 2013
Date Reviewed: 2nd September 2013

The Duke of Monmouth has had many mistresses and children, but when he sees Henrietta he falls in love for the first time. He is determined to have her, despite her status and later betrothal.

His Last Mistress is a brief look at the relationship between Charles II’s eldest illegitimate son and Henrietta Wentworth.

Zuvich’s research is excellent. There is no compulsion to fact-check, and speculation is accounted for in the acknowledgements. The sticking to history here is wonderful and the author even uses original sources in her work. Her wish to educate and create interest in the people she has written about is obvious and endearing.

But unfortunately the book reads as though the author was in a rush, few elements are explained or given reason, and the text really needs to be edited and proof-read. The writing style leaves a lot to be desired.

The reader never gets a feel for the characters – beyond the historical facts, there is nothing to the people who grace the pages. There are plot points such as a baby being given away to someone without the reader being told who the person is in relation to the parents and why they were chosen. This is made more apparent by episodes during which past chapters are needlessly referred to. It must be noted that the ending is particularly violent – this is not a negative point as the history is accurate, but it may prove difficult to read.

His Last Mistress has some solid research behind it, but it needed to undergo more drafts and checks before publication. Those interested in the period may find it useful.

I received this book for review from the author for Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tours.

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You might not become vegetarian after this, but you’ll definitely think twice before consuming most foods again.

Publisher: Bloomsbury
Pages: 411
Type: Non-Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4088-1218-1
First Published: 2006
Date Reviewed: 1st August 2013
Rating: 5/5

Pollan looks at three methods of creating food – industrial, natural farming, and hunter-gathering, in order to find the ‘perfect’ meal. Following some of the foods from field to table, he explores the effects the different methods have had on our world and our health and aims to make his reader aware of the entirety of what they are eating.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma is an in-depth book written in a casual, friendly, style, that seeks to inform.

Besides the obvious information, the best aspect is undoubtedly Pollan’s style, his approach to the work. Humorous, unbiased in general and open when not, he comes across as both an expert and layman and the book is enjoyable and engrossing.

The biggest ‘takeaway’ from the book is surely Pollan’s detailing of the industrial food industry. Albeit that the book concerns America and therefore may not be so relevant elsewhere, the details of unnaturally fed cattle, of drugged-up animals, petrol-filled pigs, and cruelty, is enough to make you want to put the book down for a moment to clear your mind. Some of what’s written is hard to read, especially when you know your digestive system depends on the very food discussed – both meat and vegetables are described in equal ‘ickiness’.

This is balanced by Pollan’s second study, natural farming. ‘Beyond organic’ (organic as a completely natural method having been debunked earlier), this is where Pollan introduces the reader to the farmers who work entirely with nature. Of particular interest are the sections that deal with natural farming being easier because the farmers are working with nature instead of trying to change it.

The hunter-gather sections aren’t quite as historic as you might expect, but as you learn, it is as good as Pollan can get within the limits of present life.

Pollan isn’t out to turn people into vegetarians, but nor is he comfortable with changing the mindset of vegetarians, either. There is an inherent bias towards the omnivore, naturally, and many vegetarians who are such for reasons of principle, may find the latter sections of the book hard to comprehend. But Pollan doesn’t debunk vegetarianism or denounce it as silly, he provides unapologetic and undefended reasons why and in what circumstances it is okay to be a meat eater.

And he doesn’t ever condemn those who like fast-food, instead simply cautioning against it.

At times the book can be repetitive and Pollan’s choice of words and phrasing is strange, but overall this is a very solid book with a fair amount of research. Easy to read, it is accessible to anyone and should inspire an admiration of Pollan, if not of his work per se, then certainly his approachable style.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma is an important book that contains knowledge everyone ought to have. As much for what it doesn’t say – perforce, as Pollan speaks of not being allowed inside industrial slaughter houses – it is recommended to everyone who so much as ponders what they’re putting in their mouths at meal times.

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