#2 - The Impossible Fortress - Jason Rekulak

Source/Version: Netgalley copy - free for honest review

Score: 9/10

When you’re 14, the world seems enormous and choking all at once, the big “one day” plans far more interesting than your current maths class or boring neighbourhood. For Billy, school is a time to be thinking over his next bit of computer programming script, not work, and time at home means programming a strip poker game and hanging out with his best friends Clark and Alf. The guys decide to steal a Playboy magazine from a local shop, and the tale from there is epic – double crosses, castles, single mothers, evil principals, furious guard dogs, princesses in various requirements of saving, and a determined band of thieving heroes.

I cannot remember the last time a book tackled me back to my teens, threw off the years, dug up memories and rode off on its bike laughing. The Impossible Fortress absolutely delighted me, sucked me in from the first page and didn’t let go until I was breathless and checking my face for zits I was so firmly feeling in the 1980s. It’s an incredible ride; clever, honest, unflinching and emotive, perfectly capturing the frets and frisson of being a teen still at home and hungry for the world.

This was the second book I read in 2017, and I can tell that there’ll have to be an astonishingly brilliant story to knock The Impossible Fortress from my “Best of 2017” lists this year.

Literary/wordcraft discussion: The dialogue was whip fast, witty and a delight to read. The characters were well-developed, with human frailties and no stereotypical short cuts (the principal could be seen as overblown, but I’ve known principals like that so I call it believable and move on). The use of hand-drawn maps at points during the story was excellent, as was the programming code at the beginning of each chapter – I didn’t understand it but it added sinews and sweat to the shape and movement of the story. Dialogue and development was organic, deftly woven into the story so that exposition wasn’t necessary, as you felt you knew the guys, their in-jokes and nuances – which then meant that when they were surprised, you were too. The surprises were absolutely unexpected – I’d have to reread the book to identify any foreshadowing, but there was nothing heavy handed about the twists (I certainly didn’t see them coming, and they packed a punch when they landed).

Rated: PG-13 – discussion of sex, physical intimacy, violence and themes of personal responsibility, real-life repercussions, peer pressure, friendships and developing relationships.

Recommended to:

• ·         Anyone who hopes their mother never knew everything they were getting up to as a 14-year-old
• ·         Those who would like to remember their teens again, zits, crushes, frustrations and all
• ·         Teenagers (all those I'm related to will get this book as a gift from me asap!)

Not recommended for:

• ·         Anyone allergic to laughter
• ·         Those still mortified by previous embarrassments
• ·         Readers who think teens don’t think about sex (hint: you're 179008% wrong)

If you like the sound of this book, I also recommend Please Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock (Matthew Quick), The Sun is Also A Star (Nicola Yoon), Illuminae (Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff), The Serpent King (Jeff Zentner) and Exo (Steven Gould).

Pre-2017 Reviews: Love Letters of the Angels of Death - Jennifer Quist

(First published at Segullah)

In every romantic relationship there are unspoken understandings and expectations. Who will do the dishes, who will choose Christmas gifts, who will kill the spiders, who will use all the hot water. Whose heart will be the heaviest at the end.

 “Even though you’re not quite a full year younger than me, neither of us doubts for an instant that you will outlive me. Maybe it’s based on nothing more intuitive than the fact that I’m the male in this marriage. But somehow, we both know that eventually you will be left alone with the two-hundred-pound unanswered question of my corpse.” (p.11)

Jennifer Quist’s “Love Letters of the Angels of Death” is (contrary to the Gothic-sounding title) a lyrical, rich love story between a husband and wife. The characters are full-blooded, incredibly vibrant and above all firmly, undeniably relatable. Nobody has piercing eyes, or heart-stopping features, this is real life. The wife is pregnant in several of the stories told, they argue, sneak kisses when the kids aren’t watching, they each have their pet peeves and morbid fascinations. What they have is each other, and an obviously deep, committed relationship which is their support and anchor through ordinary, difficult, crushingly difficult experiences.

 “He can’t speak but I hear him struggling – all breath and tears – miles and miles away.  And somehow, you know it all even though you can’t hear any of it. You’re leaning over me at the kitchen table while I’ve still got the phone held to my ear. Everyone knows angels lost their wings ages ago – back in the Renaissance, I’m pretty sure. We’ve outgrown the need for them ourselves and we’re each left with two arms in their place. You fold yours around my shoulders. They draw me against you. And you’re whispering my little brother’s name like a warm, wet prayer, your face pressed into the side of my neck.” (p. 55)

In our emailed interview , Quist wrote of the closeness of the relationship between the two main characters: “We talk about being “one” with our spouses but I sometimes wonder if many of us believe it’s something that can happen to us as we exist right now.  I think it can happen and I was hoping to write about what that kind of unity looks and feels like using these characters.  Oneness is among the deepest, most mystical aspects of our beliefs.  It’s a miracle we call down on ourselves.  And it eludes a mere intellectual explanation.  Fiction and storytelling help say what can’t be said.  Maybe that’s what ties them together — a miracle.”

Quist has a deft spin of phrase, humour and evocative imagery which lingers and chews on your imagination long after you have turned the page:

 “As an adult, my brother looks like me only toasted brown and buffed up for skilled manual labour. But as the child you met that afternoon, he was all knees and elbows and no personal space at all. He darted around you like a Cupid celebrating an emerging Venus – my own mildly heat-exhausted Venus, stepping out of the car and onto the grass.” (p. 54)

Quist crafts, builds, and conveys so much in a fistful of words:

 “On the other end of the phone, our Cupid is crashing in a heap of feathers and arrows.” (p. 55)

The story, characters and lushness of prose sucked me deep into “Love Letters of the Angels of Death”, and I read it all in three sittings, begrudging the time spent outside its pages. One question I couldn’t help thinking about while not reading it, was how to describe her novel to someone who would be put off by the title. Quist’s response?

“A team of us agonized over how to write the synopsis on the back cover and I don’t think I could do much better than that.  I would like people to understand it’s not a self-indulgent Gothic fantasy but a love story (though not a romance).  And it’s not a marriage manual either.  There’s no “we interrupt this story to bring you these important messages.””

“Love Letters of the Angels of Death” is an exploration of a couple’s understandings and expectations of each other, shared beautifully – dirt, laughter, quirks, grief and all – through a series of vignettes over the course of many years. We get to learn about the characters as we learn about anyone; in bits and pieces, in jokes and family folklore, in the ordinary and unexpected, in and out of chronological order. Themes dance and rumble through the novel (such as loss, remembrance, dedication and commitment), giving a depth and permanence to the story that is surprising, wonderful and luxurious, and makes the last page difficult to turn.

Quist’s book is a finalist for this round of Whitney Awards, and it is a powerhouse all on its own. For me, “Love Letters of the Angels of Death” is already firmly ensconced as the best book I have read in the last six months, and it will take seismic activity, an alien invasion AND some master-crafted literary marvel to make me even think of beginning to change my mind. Seriously, this is a gorgeous, beautiful piece of lyrical realism.

Read it, and be changed.

Recommended to:

•  Anyone wanting to read a book
• Anyone looking for strong, beautiful, realistic depictions of marriage, men and women
• Enjoyers of gorgeous prose and imagery

Not recommended for:

•  Anyone uncomfortable with the inevitable death of family members
• Those who like their love stories to involve phrases like “His/her eyes were stunning pools of sapphire/molten chocolate/moon dust…”

Rated: PG – themes of death and loss

Pre-2017 Reviews: The Martian - Andy Weir

(First published at Segullah)

Mark Watney is not having a good day.

It started out great: he’s on Mars, part of a manned mission of exploration.

His day got a bit worse: A savage storm blows in, its intensity and size enough to warrant the crew deciding to ditch the mission. Immediately.

Promptly went awful: Mark gets hit by a piece of communication equipment, and his suit is punctured. He flatlines.

Absolute worst: The crew scrambles to evacuate, abandoning Mars and Mark’s body.

Only thing is, Mark is still alive.

But he’s the only person who knows. He has to survive his injury, get back inside shelter, and work out what to do next.

The Martian is one of the few books in the last year that has had me sneaking paragraphs and pages at every opportunity. More telling is the number of times I grabbed whichever son was nearest to read aloud a particularly wonderful snippet – it’s been years since I’ve done that!

While being mostly set on Mars, The Martian  is far more an action filled adventure than science-fiction. There is science, of course – it’s a book about astronauts and Mars, of course there’s science! – but any detailed science is explained smoothly and easily in the course of the story.

“The oxygenator will turn it [CO2] into oxygen in its own time.

Then, I’ll release hydrazine, very slowly, over the iridium catalyst, to turn it into N2 and H2. I’ll direct the hydrogen to a small area and burn it.

As you can see, this plan provides many opportunities for me to die in a fiery explosion.

Firstly, hydrazine is some serious death. If I make any mistakes, there’ll be nothing left but the “Mark Watney Memorial Crater” where the Hab [Habitat] once stood.

Presuming I don’t f*** up with the hydrazine, there’s still the matter of burning hydrogen. I’m going to be setting a fire. In the Hab. On purpose.

If you asked every engineer at NASA what the worst scenario for the Hab was, they’d all answer “fire”. If you asked them what the result would be, they’d answer “death by fire.”

Not only is The Martian a gripping read, told mostly from Mark’s diary entries, but it’s carrying a whole lot of humour, dry wit, determination and emotional impact as well. Mark’s efforts on Mars are interspersed with the fallout on the crew (still months from landing back on Earth) and within NASA. There is some swearing (c’mon, he’s stranded on Mars without means of escape or long-term food supply, who wouldn’t curse?) but there’s also disco, heartache, refusal to give up, adventure and a guarantee that you will never, ever look at a potato the same way again.

Rated: PG – intermittent swearing, survival and mature themes

Recommended to:

• The adventurous (at heart, in reality, in books read)
• Anyone wanting a thrilling, exciting read
• Stargazers, adrenalin junkies, scientific-bent types
• Potato farmers
• McGuyver fans and wannabes

Not recommended for:

• Agoraphobes
• Claustrophobes
• Strictly “romance-only” readers
• Anyone on medical advice to stay calm and relaxed

Murder in Mississippi, by John Safran

It’s been over ten years since John Safran first exploded onto my radar in his hilarious and confronting John Safran’s Music Jamboree. While the brilliance and daring of that show has stuck with me (as well as snippets from his subsequent documentaries and shows) it was with some hesitation that I approached his debut book, Murder in Mississippi. Hesitant not because it was a true crime book, but because my previous exposure to Safran’s work showed a certain bulldozer subtlety when it came to him presenting what he saw as the facts and motivations of those he interviewed.

If Safran’s television work is his wielding of a bulldozer, Murder in Mississippi is his driving through the Dandenong Ranges in a sleek, responsive luxury car; powering through corners, coasting for the scenic reveals, and performing perfect handbrake turns in gravel to get the adrenalin pumping. In short, Murder in Mississippi is exhilarating, stunning and leaves you unsure which way is up or out when you’re done.

It’s an odd premise for a book, summarised succinctly on the cover “The true story of how I met a white supremacist, befriended his black killer and wrote this book.” Already Murder in Mississippi was sounding a little surreal and quirky like Safran’s previous work, but curiosity had me opening the book and fascination had me reading it at 0315 in the morning.

A quick synopsis: Safran met Richard Barrett (the white supremacist) while filming Race Relations, toured his offices, attended an awards ceremony and then pulled a stunt that is jaw-dropping in its intent and bravado. A year later Barrett was murdered by a young black man named Vincent. Murder in Mississippi details the history between Safran and Barrett, and then chronicles Safran’s travel to Mississippi (passive-aggressive airport signs and all); his meeting of key law officials, the accused’s family, white supremacists, black journalists/activists and assorted Southerners, all before he is contacted by the confessed murderer, Vincent. Transcribed telephone conversations between Safran and Vincent are included, and are a source of bafflement and fascination for both Safran and the reader in trying to work out how a man ended up dead and another ended up back behind bars.

Through the weirdness, the zigzagging opinions and lack of easy answers in Murder in Mississippi, Safran’s prose is liquid, sharp, surprising, precise – like cutting your tongue on a piece of ice in your drink. He shares his confusion, amusement and stubbornness at the proceedings and spectacles he is part of in Mississippi – he also presents his own conclusions and observations with a subtlety, clarity, depth, humour and consideration that make Murder in Mississippi an outstanding debut, as well as a phenomenal true crime and humanistic read.

Recommended to:   Bigots, racists and close-minded individuals (wishful thinking, I know)

Humans over the age of twelve (eight with some careful omissions)

Readers of engaging, thought-provoking books

True-crime genre novices to aficionados

Not recommended for:   Bigots, racists and close-minded individuals (realistically and sadly)

Pollyanna-type personalities

People who are allergic to laughing

Anyone who cried during Milo & Otis or any tissue product advertisement

Rated: PG (some vulgar slang, racist comments, and frank, mature discussion of racism and stereotypes)

Note: I was absolutely delighted to be part of a combined interview Q&A with Murder in Mississippi author John Safran and other Murder in Mississippi readers through The Reading Room – watch it here.