Nieputtcitron! - english literature

Operation Clear Backlog: Episode 4

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 19:45:18 +0200

Nota Bene: BiLLet MULtilinGUE / mulTILINgual PoST / MEHRsprachIGER EinTRag / FlerSPRÅkigt inlÄgG

And finally, the last part of this splendiferous excavating operation which already saved so many books – or rather what I had to say about them – from the jaws of oblivion... Without further ado, today's extraordinary selection:

Johan Kling: Människor helt utan betydelse

Människor helt utan betydelse
Johan Kling
Norstedts 2009
165 s.

Johan Klings debutroman har ofta presenterats som ett slags samtidsflanörlitteratur och de är Människor helt utan betydelse faktiskt. Sommaren 1998 i Stockholm: Magnus, som frilansar i mediabranschen, promenerar genom staden. Han tänker hela tiden på en kvinna som inte verkligen passar till honom och träffar människor han känner men inte vill vara med. Magnus söker jobb. De som kunde ha uppdrag åt honom vet värför han kommer. Till de andra, vänner, kollegor osv., säger Magnus att allt är bra. Och de säger precis samma sak. Världen är helt utan betydelse, människorna helt toma, bara skal. Till och med – eller framför allt – denna, vars namn upprepats och åter upprepats (till ex. Andreas Beckholt). De står som begrepp för meningsförlust. Stämningen är viktigast i boken. Det händer nästan ingenting, men då, vad skulle hända när alla ljuger om sig själva? Alla figurers favorituttryck är ju „det är bra“, „inte så farligt“ och „ingen fara“.
Det som ger charm till romanen är distansen som finns mellan det som Magnus tänker på och det som han och hans kompisar och kollegor pratar om. Kontrasten är ibland väldigt rolig. Magnus kanske är en loser, men han är också den enda som ifrågasätter världen, den enda som kämpar om sin individualitet. En elegant debut.

Bokhoras recension.
Människor helt utan betydelse publiceras av Norstedts.

Renée Vivien: La Dame à la louve

La Dame à la louve
Renée Vivien
Gallimard 2007 (1904)
141 p.

Changement radical de style et de sujet avec La Dame à la louve de Renée Vivien, un recueil de nouvelles „fin de siècle“ de 1904. Aventurières, prostituées, déesses, voyageuses solitaires, êtres androgynes, voilà les héroïnes que privilégie Renée Vivien dans ces textes au féminisme d'avant-garde. L'ambiance y est tour à tour fantastique, exotique ou mystique, le style toujours plein de panache et de lyrisme – parfois à la limite du kitsch.
Si bien sûr la découverte d'une auteure ayant exploré de bonne heure (pour le 20e siècle, j'entends) les questions de genre et l'homosexualité féminine m'enchante, je regrette cependant que ses personnages constituent plus des variations de certains archétypes/stéréotypes que des individus à la psychologie plus élaborée. En gros c'est femme forte voire insensible et cruelle contre homme primitif et lâche. Seuls les décors et les noms changent. Les textes du recueil étant très courts, je veux bien lui accorder le bénéfice du doute et croire que le format est en partie responsable de cette impression. Il faudrait que je tente de lire le roman autobiographique, Une femme m'apparut, de cette Anglaise d'expression française, grande voyageuse et traductrice de Sappho, pour voir si celle-ci se confirme ou non.

„Au fond de notre amitié, pourtant réelle, croupissait une vase corrompue de soupçon, de haine même. Elle se défiait de moi, et je n'oubliais pas mon ressentiment féroce de mâle dédaigné. Les hommes sont des cochons, voyez-vous, de simples cochons : c'est d'ailleurs leur unique supériorité sur les femmes, qui ont parfois la faiblesse et le tort d'être bonnes... Je ne pardonnerai jamais à Nell de ne point avoir voulu être ma maîtresse... Je ne le lui pardonnerai jamais, non, pas même à mon lit d'agonie...“ (p. 97, Brune comme une noisette)

La Dame à la louve est publié chez Gallimard en collection folio 2 €.

Jeanette Winterson: The Stone Gods

The Stone Gods
Jeanette Winterson
Hamish Hamilton 2007
207 p.

I'll say just enough about this book to tease you. The rest you'll have to discover by yourselves, for I believe it is how it should be read: without too much preparation. The Stone Gods is science fiction at its best – whatever Jeanette Winterson herself might say about her work, yes, this is science fiction. The kind that understands that it's not so much the depiction of potential technological progress that's important, than the exploration of a society's response to this progress. What kind of new social phenomenon will arise from it? What unforseen or unwanted tendencies will grow out of it? Such are the questions found at the core of truly thought-provoking SF.
The Stone Gods is a tale of the birth and death of worlds, an exploration of both the past and the future, and, as always with Winterson, of gender, sexuality, consciousness, and storytelling as such. Beautifully served by Winterson's imaginative prose and featuring a heroine, Billie Crusoe, who is quite the sort of standoffish female character with a rough sense of humour and a keen mind that I like so much – think Thursday Next, Smilla Jaspersen or Daria Morgendorffer –, The Stone Gods is an absolute must read.

„This new world weighs a yatto-gram.
But everything is trial-size; tread-on-me tiny or blurred-out-of-focus huge. There are leaves that have grown as big as cities, and there are birds that nest in cockleshells. On the white sand there are long-toed clawprints deep as nightmares, and there are rock pools in hand-hollows finned by invisible fish.
Trees like skycrapers, and housing as many. Grass the height of hedges, nuts the swell of pumpkins. Sardines that would take two men to land them. Eggs, pale-blue-shelled, each the weight of a breaking universe.
And, underneath, mushrooms soft and small as a mouse ear. A crack like a cut, and inside a million million microbes wondering what to do next. Spores that wait for the wind and never look back.
Moss that is concentrating on being green.“ (p. 3)

Lazy loved it, too (in Swedish).
The Stone Gods is published by Hamish Hamilton (Penguin).

English Romance Goes Japanese: Tentacle Monsters Invade Devonshire!

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 23:01:58 +0200

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters
Jane Austen/Ben H. Winters
Quirk Classics 2009
344 p.

Opinions differ about the pertinence of classics' reinterpretation or sampling: some are horrified at the mere idea of THE CLASSIC being altered, others find it amusing and many simply don't care. Being neither a Jane Austen enthusiast nor even a reader of her works, I wasn't going to rave about the unholiness of this sea monsters invasion. And given my love of postmodern literary weirdness, I certainly wasn't going to stand by and pretend not to be interested. So being amused it was, and indeed I had to laugh directly at the first page:

„The late owner of this estate was a single man, who lived to a very advanced age, and who for many years of his life had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister. Her death came as a surprise, ten years before his own; she was beating laundry upon a rock that revealed itself to be the camouflaged exoskeleton of an overgrown crustacean, a striated hermit crab the size of a German sheperd. The enraged creature affixed itself to her face with a predictably unfortunate effect. As she rolled helplessly in the mud and sand, the crab mauled her most thoroughly, suffocating her mouth and nasal passages with its mucocutaneous undercarriage. Her death caused a great change in the elderly Mr. Dashwood's home.“ (p. 7)

A very promising start, I should say, for this augmented steampunk/horror version of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood's youthful search for the ideal match. Or so I thought but I was soon to be proven wrong. The world in which the Dashwoods live is under constant threat of sea creature attacks and the Devonshire coast is known to be one of the most dangerous places in Great Britain. It's been like that since the Alteration took place, what- and whenever that may exactly be.* But at the same time, the whole of humanity and especially the wealthy part of it seem to be unable to restrain from exploring the seas and engages in risky behaviour all the time, be it walking along the beach, or living on small, unshielded islands or even building a submarine station. So it comes that Barton Cottage, the new home to the Dashwood sisters after the cohabitation with their half-brother Sir John Dashwood and his wife in the family house proved impossible (daddy got half eaten by a shark, leaving the sisters not much money and John the house) is situated on a tiny island off the Devonshire coast; while the place to be seen at isn't London but Sub-Marine Station Beta, a city built on the bottom of the sea, under a giant glass dome, off the Welsh coast. And this kind of alterations goes for the characters as well as the places. Being a good swimmer for example is a bonus for women willing to marry a good party. Colonel Brandon isn't only old but also afflicted by tentacles on his face, while Willoughby the libertine is a treasure hunter, never to be seen without his diving helmet and flippers. And the favourite topic of conversation, besides who is going to marry whom and to what conditions, is pirates and shipwrecks.

Well, some of you will probably hate me for saying this but the Sense and Sensibility-part of the novel is utterly dull! The Dashwood sisters (and the rest of their family, and Mrs Jennings, and Willoughby, and Edward etc. etc.) are unsufferable. I mean, how self-absorbed can one get?! And don't try to blame that on the sea monsters because they actually made the story better for me (I checked many scenes in the original version and it was even worse). All that marriage/how-much-money-will-(s)he-get-blahblah is the most boring topic there is. The only character I did care about (a bit) was Colonel Brandon, which means the one who was the most tormented by the whole sea monster addition! The tentacle-thing was indeed delightful in its sexual character:

„Colonel Brandon, who had a general inivitation to the docking station, was with them almost every day. He came to look at Marianne and talk to Elinor, who often derived more satisfaction from conversing with him than from any other daily occurence. At the same time she saw with much concern his continued regard for her sister. She noted that his appendages at times seemed to stiffen a bit when he chanced to glance upon Marianne, as if excess blood were flowing into them. It grieved her to see the earnestness with which he often watched Marianne, and discomfited her to see the aforementioned tentacle-stiffness; his spirits were certainly worse than when at Deadwind.“ (p. 157-158)

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters had some truly hilarious moments – whenever the characters' response to sea monster threats was completely inappropriate – but the rather fun b-movie horror was blunted by the dreadfully uninteresting romance that bored me to death.

*There is no real explanation of how it actually came to the Alteration or when. The book refers to legends, theories and studies about its origin but nothing conclusive. One possibility though is to interpret it as a sign of metaficition: it's not just meant as an alteration of animal behaviour and so on but as the very alteration by Ben H. Winters of Jane Austen's work, which of course would be quite clever!

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters is published by Quirk Classics.

„Kaboum !“ a dit le volcan...

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sat, 17 Apr 2010 16:03:08 +0200

Puisque l'Eyjafjallajökull nous empêche Mo, Fashion, Karine, Caroline, Stéphanie et moi de nous retrouver à Berlin pour un week-end de folie hautement culturelle, j'ai trouvé qu'une petite bibliographie volcanique était de rigueur. Et la liste est ouverte aux suggestions donc n'hésitez pas à en faire :

Romans:

Edward Bulwer-Lytton The Last Days of Pompeii (1834)
Shusaku Endô Kazan (Volcano) (1960)
Robert Harris Pompeii (2003)
Malcolm Lowry Under the Volcano (1947)
Maja Lundgren Pompeji (2001), disponible en français chez Actes Sud
Susan Sontag The Volcano Lover (1992)
Jules Verne Voyage au centre de la terre (1864/1867), Le Volcan d'or (1899)

BD:

Hergé Vol 714 pour Sydney (Les Aventures de Tintin et Milou t. 22)
Roger Leloup La Forge de Vulcain (Yoko Tsuno t. 3), Le Matin du monde (Yoko Tsuno t. 17)
Hugo Pratt Mû (Corto Maltese t. 12)

De tout cela j'ai lu le Tintin, bien sûr, les deux Yoko Tsuno (Le Matin du monde est l'un des meilleurs albums de la série), le Corto Maltese (très onirique !) ainsi que le roman de Maja Lundgren, dans lequel on apprend que le Vésuve et le Krakatoa ont un jour été amants et que les tigres peuvent communiquer avec les volcans...

Update : Et une addition hautement scientifique et en images proposée par Caroline :

Minéralogie des volcans, ou Description de toutes les substances produites ou rejetées par les feux souterrains. Par M. Faujas de Saint-Fond. Paris, 1784. Ce texte est même disponible en ligne ici.

I couldn't get used to the colour of the walls

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 15:06:47 +0100

SkyPoint
Phil Ford
BBC Books 2008
256 p.

Once again defying the laws of chronology, I find myself reviewing Phil Ford's SkyPoint, read this weekend, before Almost Perfect and Beautiful Chaos, the two other Torchwood/Doctor Who novels I got from Karine as part of the Doctor Swap and swallowed instantly, back in December. Oh well, what fun would life be without a bit of challenge and creative chaos?

SkyPoint is the name of a brand new and exclusive apartment block in Cardiff Bay, in which Rhys would very much like to live. Unfortunately, the place has two major drawbacks, apart from being quite expensive, as revealed right away during Gwen's and Rhys's visit: first, there lives Besnik Lucca, an archcriminal against whom the police, to Gwen's dismay, has never been able to prove anything; second, sudden disappearances out of closed, windowless rooms seem to be quite a trendy activity in this part of Cardiff... how strange! To investigate the matter more closely, Toshiko and Owen move in together, pretending to be happy newlyweds, and discover that walls not only have ears but also a huge appetite...

So, where shall I start the massacre... 'cause this one was, unlike The Twilight Streets and, to a lesser extent, Almost Perfect, quite a bad one. The plot became too obvious way too soon while the Torchwood team struck me as particularly slow on the uptake on this one and it can't exactly be praised for its originality as it drew heavily on those of some Torchwood episodes (Owen's death all over again). It also suffered from minor continuity errors – the alien lock-opening device – or at least inconsistancies – the pestilence of decomposing human organic matter in the ventilation ducting is bound to cause inconvenience to the whole building, right? Well, apparently, no – as well as from a lot of redundancies. Despite the fact that the action of SkyPoint has to be taking place between Something Borrowed (S2 E9) and Out of the Rain (S2 E10), the novel shows disturbing overlapses with Fragments (S2 E12): Either you haven't seen Fragments before reading the book and thus the episode will be somewhat spoiled for you or you read it afterwards and will find these passages quite superfluous. Even more so as some of them (mainly Owen's and Toshiko's pasts, as those are the characters most explored in this book) are mentioned several times. Sadly, redundant is also one of the terms that describe Phil Ford's style best – alongside naive and formulaic. For example the Torchwood team seems to have a lot of trouble „getting used to“ things, be it marriage, death or lack thereof, sometimes even twice or thrice a page. And it was as annoying as Bella's incessant bouts of „Oh my god, oh my god, Edward, I still can't believe that you're mine, and so beautiful, and so perfect, and so cold, and so made of marble!“ (on a partly related note: the beginning of Breaking Dawn was so dreadful that I couldn't got past p. 94), though without the excuse of Gwen, Jack, Owen, Toshiko and Ianto being still stuck in the throes of teenage angst. Actually, all the psychological descriptions had something Stephenie Meyeresque and immature to them, which did flaw the interaction between Owen and Toshiko that I was so looking forward to. Had Phil Ford shown the same talent for humour as in Something Borrowed, the hilarious Torchwood episode he wrote, it wouldn't have been that bad. Unfortunately, he didn't: The book almost completely lacks good dialogue and the few attempts at being funny don't really work, being neither subtle nor outrageous, but simply flat.

On the upside – yes, I do have a few positive aspects to point out – the story was, apart from the aforementioned repetitions, rather fast-paced (and you keep reading because it's Torchwood, after all). And although I had understood what was actually going on in SkyPoint long before the showdown, I found the let's-use-Torchwood-the-super-team-as-a-security-system-tester idea in the second half of the book quite entertaining, the best part of it being probably Owen's extensive tribute to MacGyver.

Thanks again, dear Karine, for sending me SkyPoint and please don't be upset about me not liking it as much as I would have wanted to (I would have bought it anyway, if I hadn't got it through the Doctor Swap ).

Phil Ford's SkyPoint is published by BBC Books.

Christmas Special

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 14:43:14 +0100

God Jul, mes petits rennes (mes agneaux ça marche mieux à Pâques, j'y peux rien) ! Oui, je sais, c'est la honte de ne poster en décembre qu'un billet Doctor Swap et un billet de „Joyeux Noël sans Daleks ni chute de Titanic“, mais, que voulez-vous, cela a au moins le mérite de conclure cette année bloguesquement modeste et sporadique de manière cohérente (le premier que j'entends glousser „non sans dèc' !?“ ou „no shit Sherlock !?“ se verra servir en guise de dernier repas l'intégrale des aventures à l'eau de rose des Vikings en traversée intertemporelle (si si) de Sandra Hill – tiens d'ailleurs, Fashion et Mo si vous ne connaissez pas encore, j'ai le vague soupçon que cela pourrait vous amuser... et non, ce n'est pas moi qui lis ça, c'est une histoire compliquée... non vraiment c'est pas moi, moi j'ai hurlé au bout de deux pages (ben oui, esprit scientifique oblige, j'y ai quand même jeté un oeil, après tout, les Vikings c'est mon domaine)). J'espère bien bloguer plus l'an prochain (c'est la quantième fois que je prononce ces voeux pieux ?). Avec l'aide du Doctor et celle du Captain peut-être même que j'y arriverai . D'ailleurs Noël est cette année placé sous leur signe (No shit Sherlock!?), la preuve en images:

La BO de Torchwood, une carte Torchwood fabriquée avec amour et un cutter par le geekus favoritus, Trace Memory, l'intégrale Torchwood et The Undertaker's Gift. Rien que ça.

Allez, amusez-vous, faites-vous péter la panse, décimez vos PAL et pour ceux et celles qui ne connaissent pas encore Doctor Who ni Torchwood: vous attendez quoi au juste ?

Tout vient à point à qui sait attendre, même un Tardis à la dérive

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 17:22:58 +0100

Après des jours (beaucoup de jours) passés à guetter le facteur, à courir lui ouvrir la porte en me réjouissant d'avance – c'est le Tardis, c'est le Tardis ! – pour immédiatement être déçue – et grumpf, encore un colis pour les voisins –, mon colis Doctor Swap est enfin arrivé hier matin en provenance „indirecte“ du Canada... ma swappeuse de choc est donc Karine ! Je dis provenance indirecte car figurez-vous que ce paquet, digne d'un Tardis errant un jour de caprice, a vécu des aventures extraordinaires avant de pouvoir me rejoindre en Allemagne du Nord. Tout débuta ainsi par une erreur de code pays dans le système informatique du bureau de poste canadien. Devinez-donc quelle destination l'ordinateur a attribuée au colis censé rallier l'Allemagne... *gingle débile*... l'Albanie ! Ben oui, parce que ALlemagne/ALbanie c'est quasiment la même chose. Une fois le colis arrivé en Albanie, la poste locale s'est bien rendu compte qu'il y avait un souci mais, au lieu de rediriger l'envoi vers l'Allemagne – après tout, le colis était déjà du bon côté de l'Atlantique –, elle l'a renvoyé au Canada... Heureusement, Karine la Vaillante semble être une célébrité locale à son bureau de poste, ce qui a grandement accéléré et facilité le troisième passage du colis au-dessus de la mer océanique. Cette fois-ci donc, le Tardis avait bien atterri dans le bon pays mais c'était sans compter sur le zèle de la douane allemande (j'exagère un peu pour les besoins de l'histoire, elle ne faisait que son travail) qui l'a retenu cinq jours ! Ce qui, en période de fêtes, est somme toute assez peu mais a suffi à nous faire stresser toutes les deux, Karine et moi (je n'étais pas censée être au courant, bien sûr, mais je l'étais quand même parce que la situation était tellement rocambolesque et les indices quant à l'identité secrète de ma swappeuse nombreux). Karine m'a confié depuis qu'elle s'inquiétait d'avoir par inadvertance glissé quelque chose d'interdit dans le colis, et moi je me voyais déjà obligée d'ouvrir mes paquets à moitié déchirés devant un douanier patibulaire et suspicieux armé de sa calculette et d'expliquer la valeur matérielle des différents items. Parce que c'est ça qui intéresse la douane dans ces cas-là, le paiement potentiel d'une taxe à l'importation. Je fus donc extrêmement soulagée lorsque le facteur sonna hier matin avec, cette fois-ci, un gros colis pour moi ! Sauf que le colis avait visiblement été éventré et rescotché par la douane (au moins, ils utilisent un scotch à leur nom, ce qui balaie toute possibilité d'incertitude). Je priai donc le Docteur Donna que les paquets n'aient pas été trop malmenés... disons que le douanier par les mains duquel le Tardis est passé connaît son boulot: il a massacré le papier cadeau (cf la photo ci-dessous) sans abîmer le contenu du colis.

Mais bon, c'est un détail. L'important après tout, c'est le contenu du paquet que j'ai découvert un grand sourire aux lèvres – Christopher Eccleston n'a qu'à bien se tenir ! – et une expression d'admiration béate et passablement débile sur le visage – mais personne ne m'a vue alors tout va bien . Et là, je dois dire que Karine m'a gâtée plus que de raison, comme vous pouvez le constater par vous-mêmes (je m'excuse de la qualité médiocre des photos: ne possédant pas d'appareil numérique j'ai dû les prendre avec ma webcam):

L'objet Torchwood confectionné par Karine est un magnifique sac en toile à l'effigie de notre équipe d'investigation préférée qui sera parfait pour transporter mes livres :

En parlant de livres justement, il y en avait cinq ! Et Karine a réussi le tour de force de ne m'offrir que des choses susceptibles de me plaire – qui a déjà essayé de m'offrir des livres sait à quel point c'est une entreprise casse-gueule. Elle a pris en compte tout ce que j'avais indiqué dans le questionnaire, c'est une swappeuse formidable . Elle a donc sélectionné deux romans Torchwood, Almost Perfect et Skypoint, que j'avais très envie de lire. D'ailleurs j'ai commencé Almost Perfect dès hier soir, décidant spontanément qu'une soirée au chaud en compagnie du Captain était bien plus passionnante qu'une fête organisée à mon institut à laquelle j'ai déjà participé countless times et qui m'aurait forcée à sortir par un temps de cochon pourri qui pue du groin. Mais je m'écarte du sujet... Comme Jack serait tout tristoune sans le Docteur, Karine a aussi mis un roman Doctor Who, Beautiful Chaos, choisi spécialement parce qu'il met en scène le grand-père de Donna, l'un de mes personnages préférés . A ce programme déjà copieux, elle a ajouté Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, auquel je réserve une place de choix dans mon cabinet des curiosités littéraires, ainsi qu'un roman de science-fiction québécoise, Les Voyageurs malgré eux d'Elisabeth Vonaburg, que je ne connaissais pas du tout mais qui m'intrigue fortement, m'étant mise récemment avec le plus grand bonheur à la littérature québécoise. Ces alléchantes lectures étaient également accompagnées de plusieurs marque-pages Torchwood/Doctor Who, une excellente initiative étant donné que je suis chroniquement en manque de marque-pages .

Comme objet ayant traversé le temps, Karine m'a envoyé un éteignoir à chandelle – avec deux bougies pour m'entraîner –, objet qu'elle associe fortement à des souvenirs d'enfance. C'est donc tout autant un ustensile au charme fou d'une époque révolue qu'une histoire très personnelle qu'elle me confie là: merci beaucoup !

Côté friandises – un sujet encore plus casse-gueule que les livres –, Karine a fort judicieusement opté pour axes principaux: thé, chocolat et sirop d'érable. Autant dire en plein dans le mille ! J'ai goûté le délicieux thé à l'érable dès hier et vais me garder le thé noir aux épices pour Noël et le thé vert aux bleuets (j'adore les myrtilles !), qui sent divinement bon, pour le printemps.

Le chocolat a malheureusement un peu souffert durant le transport même si cela aurait pu être bien pire si l'on considère les péripéties auxquelles le colis a survécu. Les petites cuillères en chocolat – une seule d'entre elles a perdu la tête – sont tellement jolies que j'hésite à les manger. Quant à la mappemonde en chocolat, c'est une idée merveilleuse, même si la plaque asiatico-océanique s'est découvert des tendances séparatistes en cours de route (elle se fera dévorer en premier, et toc ). Mais je crois que là où Karine a fait le plus fort, c'est avec La palette à Paul. Cette petite tablette de chocolat à l'effigie d'un personnage de bande dessinée n'a pas cessé de me faire rire et sourire hier, je n'arrêtais pas de répéter „la palette à Paul, la palette à Paul“ au geekus favoritus un tant soit peu paumé parce que ne parlant pas français et à qui donc la beauté de la chose échappait complètement. La palette à Paul, aaahhhh ! Oui je sais, un rien m'amuse, même la plus basique des allitérations et l'une des variantes lexicales les plus transparentes du français québécois... C'est comme le nom si poétique de la chocolaterie où Karine a été faire ses achats: Bon délices et péchés ! Fantastic !

Dernier groupe de friandises au combien canadiennes: les bonbons au sirop d'érable. Il y a les petites feuilles au sirop cristallisé, trop mignonnes dans leurs godets en papier rouge pour être mangées tout de suite, les grains de sirop que j'incorporerai dans un dessert (en déco sur une mousse au chocolat par exemple) et les jolis bonbons ambrés, à sucer très lentement tellement ils sont bons .

Je remercie infiniment Karine pour ce so brilliant colis. Ma chère, tu as tapé juste sur toute la ligne . Merci aussi, ainsi qu'à Fashion, d'avoir organisé de main de maître ce formidable Doctor Swap, introduction pour moi plus qu'enthousiasmante à l'univers des swaps. Sur ce, je vais aller me faire un thé et me replonger dans les aventures du Captain .

Neither Excalibur nor Blizzard: Torchwood

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 19:14:49 +0200

I presume every single one of you, dear readers, has heard of Torchwood by now. And rather than trying to write yet another detailed summary of the three series of this Doctor Who-spin-off featuring the oh-so-gorgeous Captain Jack Harkness I'll let the show's opening speak for itself (the less you know, the better) and tell you why you really, really should watch it:
(Series 1) „Torchwood: outside the government, beyond the police. Tracking down alien life on earth and arming the human race against the future. The 21st century is when everything changes – and you've got to be ready“ (Series 2: „Torchwood: outside the government, beyond the police. Fighting for the future on behalf of the human race. The 21st century is when everything changes – and Torchwood is ready.“)

So why should you watch it? Because:

- Torchwood is a smashing combination of science fiction thriller and crime, drama and a dash of fantasy and horror
- revolving around a whole team of very different characters, it's got great dynamics and explores every aspect of the human nature: love, lust, jalousy, deception, grief, despair, doubt, you name it
- the characterization is great, detailed and not static... it's hard to pick a favourite – apart from Captain Jack, of course
- it is sexy, dark, witty, mature and fast-paced
- they made the most of a small budget and hired excellent actors and writers

- the female characters are as smart and able as the male ones and everybody is more or less bisexual or at least quite sexually open: this is so liberating and empowering!
- the Jack/Ianto storyline is pure yaoi-stuff and it is so rare to see that in Western shows (OK, this one is kind of special interest, I'll give you that)
- it is set in Cardiff, which means lots of this lovely Welsh singsong English
- Captain Jack is an amazing, flawed tragic hero, who looks breathtaking in his WWII military coat
- each series has its own particuliar feel.

In a word, it is BRILLIANT! Watch it and you'll laugh and cry and fall in love and mourn. I've already re-watched all three series – some of my favourite episodes* up to six times – and still haven't had enough of it.

The Twilight Streets
Gary Russell
BBC Books 2008
256 p.

Actually, the craving for more was so strong that I went to listen to the four audioplays (Lost Souls, Golden Age, The Dead Line and Asylum) and even bought one the novels, The Twilight Streets by Gary Russell. I've never been much into crossmedia fan-fiction and spin-offs until now, be it on the internet or as published novels, and apprehended it a bit. But then again, my love of anime and manga – and especially yaoi – has severely weakened my defenses and my urge for more torchwoody material being so overwhelming, I gave in and read it on the spot. And I must say, that I have absolutely no regrets: this novel is a treat! Set sometime during the second half of the second series it focuses on the long-term consequences of what happened in Captain Jack Harkness and End of Days. Which means – if you've seen the show, you might have guessed already –, that Bilis Manger is back, more enigmatic than ever (for those of you who haven't seen the aforementioned episodes, you should know that Bilis Manger is the epitome of enigmatic). As I wouldn't like to spoil it for you, dear Torchwood lovers, I will only say, that a forlorn and spooky district of Cardiff and its renovation are at the center of the plot, a place connected to Jack, who finds himself suffering from a mysterious ailment. Things aren't what they seem to be and time is not exactly linear... And so is the narrative structure of the novel as well, constantly alternating between different times, worlds, narrators and sources. As a result of this quite clever choice, the reader is left wondering all the more what is going on and enthralled till the end.

Furthermore the style was rather good and enjoyable – I had feared much worse –, with maybe a few dispensable descriptions but also, and that is a huge plus, some absolutely fantastic dialogues. You'll have no trouble picturing the Torchwood team joking around with each other or discussing the most serious issues. And this is probably the second of three major arguments – the first being the narrative structure – in favour of this novel: it is completely in-character and respecting the Torchwood spirit of danger mixed with a hint of wicked humour, moral considerations, complicated feelings and lust. Thus you'll find some very nice Ianto/Owen/Toshiko/Gwen/Rhys character development here, and Jack's trademark habit of appearing and disappearing without explanation alongside his general secretiveness as well as him being such an impenitent flirt aren't just meaningless motives mentioned because „well, you have to, otherwise it wouldn't be Jack, right?“, but rather fully integrated elements of the storyline. Add to this a nice and nasty exploration of the idea, that the future is a tricky thing coupled with a thorough examination of the moral dilemmas posed by the protection of the Earth and you get a genuine bit of torchwoody awesomeness! I've got to get my hands on the other novels .

Of course, it isn't my place to make any judgement about the canonicity of this plot. Nonetheless, I do find it to fit neatly into the series as it is rather consistent with what happened in series 1 and 2 as well as in Doctor Who and doesn't contradict anything that happens in series 3. And it would have made a fantastic TV-episode...

Torchwood is a BBC Wales production created by Russel T Davies. Gary Russell's The Twilight Streets is published by BBC Books.

Other Torchwood-fans: Fashion, Karine, Chimère and many more.

All Torchwood novels:

Another Life by Peter Anghelides
Border Princes by Dan Abnett
Slow Decay by Andy Lane
Something in the Water by Trevor Baxendale
Trace Memory by David Llewellyn
The Twilight Streets by Gary Russell
Pack Animals by Peter Anghelides
SkyPoint by Phil Ford
Almost Perfect by James Goss
Into the Silence by Sarah Pinborough
Bay of the Dead by Mark Morris
The House that Jack Built by Guy Adams
Risk Assessment by James Goss
The Undertaker's Gift by Trevor Baxendale
Consequences by Joseph Lidster, James Moran, Andrew Cartmel, David Llewellyn and Sarah Pinborough (to be released on October the 15th)

* Series 1: Countrycide, Out of Time, Combat, Captain Jack Harkness, End of Days
Series 2: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Adam, Reset, Something Borrowed, Fragments, Exit Wounds
Series 3: Day One, Day Two, Day Five.

A monk, a fox and the King of Dreams

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 22:31:08 +0200

The Sandman: The Dream Hunters
Neil Gaiman/ Yoshitaka Amano
Vertigo 1999
128 p.

I have a confession to make. Before reading The Sandman: The Dream Hunters I had never read anything by Neil Gaiman. As Fashion so accurately remarked a while ago, it is a shame. I am aware of it and I ought to feel dreadful about it, even more so as my favourite geek owns a copy of many of his books and I would perfectly be able to name most of them. But you know the saying „So many books, so little time“ and so it came that The Dream Hunters, which I purchased in Sweden at my beloved SF Bokhandeln, was my first Gaiman. „But why?“, you probably wonder, dear readers, „didn't you pick the first volume of the Sandman series instead? It would have been more logical, if you really wanted to discover the Sandman-world.“ So true, so true, dear readers, it is a excellent question to which I can provide a simple answer. I'm extremely sensitive to artwork and colours and, as much as I like many mangaka and French or Belgian bande dessinée illustrators, I've always disliked the combination of realistic lines and primary or flashy colours so often encountered by artists of the American comic tradition. Of course, there are exceptions – such as Bill Watterson for instance, whose work I truly love – but the illustrators who worked on The Sandman unfortunately don't belong to them. „And what is so different about The Dream Hunters?“, you probably want to ask next. Well, first it is an illustrated novella rather than a graphic novel, and it is illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano, who is Japanese and whose artwork I enjoy very much. And it is a spin-off, which can be read on its own without any further knowledge of the series, and it is inspired by Japanese folktales, which particularly appealed to me.

The Dream Hunters tells the story of a young Buddhist monk living a quiet life on a mountainside until a fox and a badger make a wager and try to make him leave his temple so that either the fox or the badger can take it over. But tricking the monk isn't an easy task and so it sometimes happens that the trickster somehow gets tricked as well. The monk and the fox, who has the ability to metamorphose into a beautiful young woman, thus fall in love with each other and the badger eventually has to give up. But when the fox finds out that a powerful onmyōji, a master of divination and magic, and a prophecy threaten the life of the young monk, she decides to go ask for the King of All Night's Dreaming's help and to sacrifice herself for him. I won't give you any further details about the plot as I wouldn't like to spoil it for you.

Neil Gaiman has written an exquisite and enchanting Kunstmärchen („a literary fairy tale“ as opposed to Volksmärchen „folktale“, which isn't the work of one person in particular but the product of oral tradition) about fear, love, fate, revenge and dreams. In his afterword to The Dream Hunters he claimed that he had retold a Japanese legend but later stated that it actually was a story of his own invention. Be as it may, this novella does blend traditional elements of the folktale such a linear narrative and the three attempts of the fox and and the badger to trick the monk into abandoning his temple with more modern ones like the ambiguous character of the King of All Night's Dreaming and the motivation for the onmyōji's actions. The fox and the badger themselves are two of the most important legendary creatures of Japanese folklore – kitsune and tanuki, actually a raccoon dog rather than a badger –, who often play the role of tricksters, and fox spirits are indeed known to transform into beautiful young women.

But Neil Gaiman isn't the only one who combines traditional and personal elements here, so does Yoshitaka Amano as well. While most of his pictures clearly are influenced by Japanese woodcut prints and brush painting, others reminded me of Gustave Moreau, Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac or Gustav Klimt – who themselves have drawn part of their inspiration from Japanese art –, some are quite abstract and gothic fashion seem to have played a important role in the King's design (just like other depictions of Morpheus in the regular Sandman series). His chromatic range varies widely from bright orange and red tones over light blue, green and pink shades to deep browns. He also uses a lot of gold, black and white. As far as the technique is concerned, most illustrations are either watercolour paintings or charcoal drawings, which probably explain why even the most detailed ones remain so fluid. Yoshitaka Amano's artwork is sophisticated, suggestive and gorgeous and he was definitely the ideal artist for such an illustration job.

The tone of the story is a tragic yet strangely calm one and Neil Gaiman's elegant and evocative prose manages to convey all the otherworldliness of the setting without becoming confusing or unsteady. Add to this the enigmatic beauty of Yoshitaka Amano's sumptuous illustrations and you get a timeless and entrancing but sad love story.

I'm well aware of the fact that it probably wasn't a „classical“ introduction to Neil Gaiman's work, but I nonetheless took great pleasure in reading The Dream Hunters and do intend to read further books by this author (Fragile Things, his short-stories collection, could be a good second step).

N.B.: This book is definitely an evening companion and it probably would have been wiser to wait until autumn to enjoy it fully, but oh well, one can't always have everything (I can already schedule a re-reading for september or october though). And I would suggest Tōru Takemitsu's In An Autumn Garden as an appropriate musical accompaniment.

The Sandman: The Dream Hunters is published by Vertigo (DC Comics).
Neil Gaiman also has a blog and Yoshitaka Amano a website with lots of pictures of his wonderful art.

Let me tell you my story! It is old but dressed in new garnments

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 19:02:10 +0100

One may often be disappointed or even dispirited by publishers' choices – by what they sometimes do publish or do not publish – but one must also admit, that these people too sometimes have brilliant ideas. Canongate for instance, an independent Scottish publisher of great quality (brings out, among others, Michel Faber's and Yann Martel's books), launched two years ago a magnificent, still ongoing literary project: The Myths series. I've been looking for the right occasion to tell you about this series for months and now I've found it: I've just finished one of the latest books in the series so here we go!

The Myths is an international project involving 39 publishers around the world and reknown authors from many countries. The principle of the project is that every author picks a myth he or she likes or is interested in and re-tells ist in his or her own way. While the first three volumes of the series were published simultaneously by all the 39 publishers, each of them has now established its own particuliar issuing order and frequency.

The books of this series are always a source of literary delight for me and I cannot stop marvelling at the variety of shapes that myths can take when recounted and somehow reinvented by contemporary writers. Myths do appeal to most people, no matter how they are told, because they are universal stories, but this rewriting renders them even more compelling and easier to relate to. Even the one opus I enjoyed least still managed to be interesting and thought-provoking.

Finally, these books are beautiful objects – at least in the export edition from Canongate that I always purchase. The cover design is very original and artistic, the text layout attractive and the paper – nice thick and mild white paper – and print quality both are great.
Here follows a short presentation of each title already published by Canongate:

A Short History of Myth by Karen Armstrong. 2005, 159 p.

First volume of the series. A non-fiction work explaining in a very clear and nice way what a myth is, what its function is, which types of myths there are and how they evolve through time. I enjoyed it very much and really should reread it someday.

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. 2005, 199 p.

In Homer's Odyssey, Penelope lives in her husband's, Odysseus, and her cousin's, Helen, shadow and only plays the part of the faithful wife awaiting her husband's return. Not so here, for Penelop herself is the narrator of the retelling of her story. And her maids, who get killed by Odysseus after he has finally found his way back home, assume the role of the choir, chanting their judgements alongside the main story. Atwood's approach to this myth is deliciously feministic and her words, both powerful and poetic, melt on the tongue, leaving there a bittersweet aftertaste of desillusion.

Weight by Jeanette Winterson. 2005, 151 p.

Winterson's retelling of the myth of Atlas and Heracles is a must read! Alongside Atwood's and Vickers' books I'd say that it is my favourite in this series by now. She manages to write intimistic but still universal prose, mixing together very personal and individual parts and general cultural and scientific references. Her prose as well as the pictures she evokes are overwhelming, which can be cruel and cute at the same time. Her book is imaginative and haunting and its ending scene one of the most beautiful I've ever read.

The Helmet of Horror by Victor Pelevin. Translated from the Russian by Andrew Bromfield. 2006, 274 p.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a book for literary-inclined geeks! Pelevin has indeed chosen to retell the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur in the form of an internet forum, creating a virtual maze and somehow a new literary form at the cross-section of novel and play – for it is only meant to be read, not to be enacted, but nonetheless doesn't have a narrator – and letting Ariadne create the discussion thread... Lots of nerdy subcultural references here and a very original and challenging read, which I did enjoy but I'm not sure everybody would.

Lion's Honey by David Grossman. Translated from the Hebrew by Stuart Schoffman. 2006, 155 p.

This one is tough and I coudln't enjoy it as much as the others. Don't get me wrong, it was definitely worth buying and reading, but as Grossman recounts and interprets the story of Samson – actually it is more of an essay than anything else – he quotes copiously from The Old Testament and I have big problems with The Bible in general and especially The Old Testament. The Bible is probably the only book I've ever read – in parts only, I will certainly never be able to read the whole of it – that manages to make me sick and to disgust me so strongly and so quickly (one page is all I need to feel bad). It is just so full of hatred and so commanding – I don't like being commanded by anyone and I make no exception in this case either – that I simply can't take it. That said, Lion's Honey is still very interesting and Grossman's analysis of Samson's myth and the parallel he sees between Samson and modern terrorists was extremely thought-provoking. All in all a good if somewhat different opus but flawed for me.

Dream Angus by Alexander McCall Smith. 2006, 173 p.

As the title already gives away, this book retells the myth of Angus, the Irish god of dreams and love. I wasn't familiar at all with this figure so it was a very nice initiation for me. Being a god who will let you see only glimpses of possibilities and thus giving you no real things, Angus is an unpredictable and somewhat unreliable figure. He is known to appear to people when they lower their guard and thus are more receptive – typically when half asleep – and to vanish as suddenly as he came. In McCall Smith's recounting of this story Angus and his influence appear in many forms and the very structure of the text itself, made of different episodes apparently not linked to each other, illustrates his inconstancy. Even if McCall Smith's style didn't appeal to me as much as Atwood's or Winterson's, it was still very nice to read.

Where Three Roads Meet by Salley Vickers. 2007, 197 p.

I've just finished reading this one and, believe me, it's one of the best in this series! Vickers, who has worked as a psychoanalyst, has chosen to rewrite the myth of Oedipus, appointing the seer Tiresias as her narrator and letting him tell his and Oedipus' story to Sigmund Freud himself! I am absolutely no fan of psychoanalysis but this setting is a brilliant idea. Although you know what's going to happen from the start – Freud, extremely weakened and diminished by cancer and terribly afraid of death, will die in the end and Oedipus will kill his father and sleep with his mother no matter what they do to try to prevent it – Vickers manages to write a thrilling story. Her language is subtle and delicate and she spreads hints of humour every now and then, lightening this tragic tale with a playful approach of Freud's methods and obsessions – Tiresias simply rocks as Freud's last patient! Philip Pullman said about Salley Vickers that „She's a presence worth cherishing in the ranks of modern novelists“ (quoted from the bookcover). I couldn't agree more .

Binu and The Great Wall by Su Tong. Translated from the Chinese by Howard Goldblatt. 2007, 291 p.

Still to be read by your favourite book-nymph .

Girl meets Boy by Ali Smith. 2007, 164 p.

Soon to be read too. Retells the myth of Iphis.

En France la série des Mythes est publiée chez Flammarion. Titres parus à ce jour: Karen Armstrong Une brève histoire des mythes, Margaret Atwood L'odyssée de Pénélope et Viktor Pelevine Minotaure.com.

In Deutschland erscheint die Mythenreihe beim Berlin Verlag (gebundene Ausgabe) und dtv (Taschenbücher). Schon erhältlich sind: Karen Armstrong Eine kurze Geschichte des Mythos, Margaret Atwood Die Penelopiade, Jeanette Winterson Die Last der Welt, Viktor Pelewin Der Schreckenshelm, David Grossman Löwenhonig, Alexander McCall Smith Der Gott der Träume, Ali Smith Girl meets boy, Su Tong Die Tränenfrau, Olga Tokarczuk AnnaIn in den Katakomben und Drago Jancar Der Wandler der Welt.

I Sverige publiceras Mytserien av Albert Bonniers förlagen. Följande titlar finns redan: Karen Armstrong Myternas historia, Margaret Atwood Penelopiaden, Jeanette Winterson Tyngd, David Grossman Lejonhonung, Alexander McCall Smith Drömguden och Klas Östergren Orkanpartyt.

Petit jeu pour les lecteurs de Pullman

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 17:56:39 +0100

Je viens de trouver chez Lazy un petit test bien sympathique qui vous permet de déterminer quel serait votre daemon dans l'univers de À la croisée des mondes (His Dark Materials) de Philip Pullman.

Voici donc ma bête:

Un tigre, ça le fait quand même pour une végétarienne .

Bonne chasse ... euh non pardon ... rencontre .

Beware of the ghosts lurking in your heart and nagging at your bones.

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Sat, 03 Nov 2007 16:06:20 +0100

The Thirteenth Tale
Diane Setterfield
Atria Books 2006
(Simon & Schuster)
406 p.

Most of the time I come across books that I might like to read on my own. But since I've started visiting and reading blogs – and then writing my own – I've found a number of interesting books on others' blogs and sometimes even got „personal advice“ from fellow bloggers. One of these books is The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, which I discovered on Cuné's blog quite a while ago.

The Thirteenth Tale tells you the story of Margaret Lea, a young bookseller and biographer, who has more to do with books than other human beings and never reads contemporary fiction, and Vida Winter, a famous novelist finally wanting to tell someone the truth about her life after lying for more than fifty years to every journalist, critic or biographer that has interviewed her, managing to invent a new story each time. As you probably already have understood, dear quick-witted reader, Vida Winter asks Margaret to become her biographer, which, of course, isn't an easy task. Her story involves dark family secrets, the special relationship between twins and ghosts lurking in every corner and slowly damaging your health and sanity (and a mysterious manuscript), all of which are also present in Margaret's life as she has been fighting off similar demons for many years herself. This strange correspondence between the author's life and her biographer's creates a special and powerful bond between them, which, in turn, is doubled by their love of fiction and favouring of the same books and authors (the Brontë sisters' novels, especially Jane Eyre...).

While the main story was enjoyable yet quite classical – with twists of course but, in my opinion, predictable ones – the reflections about fiction, its power and the relationship passionate readers have with books were very accurate and nicely put. This one about the transition between two reads for example made me nod enthusiastically:

„Do you know the feeling when you start reading a new book before the membrane of the last one has had time to close behind you? You leave the previous book with ideas and themes – characters even – caught in the fibers of your clothes, and when you open the new book, they are still with you.“ (p. 289-90, paperback edition)

That is actually the problem I had when I started reading this novel: I was still somewhere else, in a completely different universe. Perhaps it is the reason why I seem not to have enjoyed this book as much as other bloggers did (don't get me wrong, I did like it. But it isn't going to be one of my favourite novels ever). The thing though that kept me reading was the language. Diane Setterfield has a wonderful style and a real gift for storytelling that keep you turning the pages. Her language is graceful and supple, spellbinding and powerful. Her sentences show great strength and rhythm and she definitely knows when to use which word. As a short further example of her mastery, this two sentences:

„I took a lock of hair and snipped at it nervously. An orange snake slithered to my feet, and Miss Winter began to speak.“ (p. 284, paperback edition)

Superb!

I found some technical aspects of the narrative very interesting, which would need further investigation: the use of different narrators in Vida Winter's account of her story, the recurrence of the number 3, the relation between Vida's ideal of chronological order in the storytelling and the structure of the novel itself, the different forms of intertextuality used in the book, metafictional elements of the narrative and what differences there are between this novel and classical victorian novels.

Finally I would recommend this book to everyone looking for a comforting read (definitely an autumn/winter read) and/or fond of victorian literature or sensitive to well-used language and effective storytelling. But if you are more into clearly experimental novels or looking for a very original story, then you might be disappointed.

The Thirteenth Tale is published by Simon & Schuster.
The official website of The Thirteenth Tale where you can find an excerpt of the audiobook, an interview of the author and many more things.

L'avis de Cuné et celui de Lou, toutes les deux conquises.

"Det är bara nya konstellationer som gills."

nospam@example.com (Niessu) — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 08:21:03 +0200

Enhet
Ninni Holmqvist
Norstedts, 2006
270 s.

Never Let Me Go
Kazuo Ishiguro
Faber & Faber, 2005
272 p.

I svenskkursen där jag upptäckte Sara Stridsbergs Drömfakulteten läste vi också två noveller ur Ninni Holmqvists samling Kostym. Jag tyckte väldigt mycket om hennes knappa stil och om hur hon strukturerar sina noveller (särskilt Kostym som påminde mig om Haruki Murakami), och då beslöt jag att läsa hennes nyaste bok och första roman Enhet.

Enhet är en dystopi som undersöker vad som händer när nyttotänkande blir drivet så långt det bara går, och dessutom förklätt till omsorg, och när människoliv blir helt rationaliserade. I romanen finns å ena sidan de behövda, dvs människor som har barn (egna eller adopterade) eller åtminstone är nödvändiga för samhället (läkare, lärare...), och å andra sidan de umbärliga, alltså kvinnor vid 50 års ålder och män vid 60 års ålder som fortfarande har inte något barn och inte verkligen anses vara viktiga för samhället (konstnärer, människor med låg inkomst...). Är man umbärlig, som Dorrit Weger, romanens jag-berättare, så blir man hämtad och körd till Enheten eftersom där behöver man människor som andra ute i samhället inte kommer att sakna. På Enheten måste de umbärliga ställa upp på medicinska och psykologiska tester och donera organ tills de anmäls för ”slutdonation”. Eftersom det handlar om ett „civiliserat“ samhälle (nära framtidens Sverige) som inte vill få dåligt samvete, ska människorna på Enheten ha det mycket bra och så roligt som möjligt. De får god mat och vackra lägenheter, det finns en vinterträdgård, ett bibliotek, en idrottsplats osv och dessutom är det alltid sommar på Enheten. Men viktigast är kanske att det bara finns (alltså utom vårdpersonalen förstås) umbärliga där, dvs bara människor som kan förstå en, möjliga vänner. Samhällets tryck känns alltså inte längre och man kan äntligen bli behövd på något sätt, så att allt detta anses som omsorg och inte som tortyr och mord.

Vad som händer med Dorrit på Enheten vill jag inte berätta här (jag vill inte spoila allt ).
Ninni Holmqvists roman påminde mig väldigt mycket om Kazuo Ishiguros roman Never Let Me Go som jag läste för två år sedan (och tyckte väldigt mycket om) och som också handlar om „andra rangens“ människor (även om det är en annan grupp hos Ishiguro) som används som levande organreservoarer. Därför vill jag jämföra båda romaner här.

Samtidigt som de behandlar samma grundtema innehåller båda romaner andra gemensamma element. I båda spelas en kärlekssång (fast de är olika sånger) som kommer att få en stor betydelse för huvudpersonerna. Dessutom betonas både hos Ishiguro och Holmqvist att konst representerar en slags räddning, i båda världar kanske den enda som finns. Konstverken betraktas som uttryck av själen och gör det möjligt för människor att överleva sin egen död på något sätt.
Både i Enhet och i Never Let Me Go finns ingen riktig motståndsrörelse av de vederbörande figurerna mot systemet. De är alla för osäkra för att verkligen göra någonting. Det visas alltså hur man får människor att ge upp sin frihet och hopp. Det sista är kanske tydligare hos Holmqvist eftersom hennes figurer, i motsats till Ishiguros figurer, redan hade varit fria (alltså mer eller mindre) en gång. I Never Let Me Go finns det trots allt människor som försöker att rädda systemets offer. I Enhet däremot kan man inte alls vara säker om det finns såna figurer eller inte eftersom berättaren visar sig vara opålitlig i detta avseende.
En sista fråga som berörs i båda romaner är det om att få eller inte få barn, fast det behandlas på olika sätt.

Trots alla gemensamma element finns det stora skillnader mellan Never Let Me Go och Enhet. Ishiguros stil och sätt att berätta är mer empatiska än Holmqvists, som skriver väldigt sparsamt (båda är okej för mig ). Men den största skillnaden mellan de två romanerna är förmodligen hur berättelsen handskas med temat. Hos Ishiguro får man vänta länge innan man verkligen förstår vad det handlar om. Hos honom fattar läsaren först misstankar och spänning byggs långsamt upp (men det är ingen thriller heller) medan man hos Holmqvist vet från början att hon har skrivit en dystopi här. Hon visar bara hur hela saken fungerar, hennes berättelse är sakligare.
Eftersom de är, trots det gemensamma temat, så annorlunda kan man väl läsa båda romaner utan att det blir långtråkigt. Har ni läst och tyckt om Enhet, borde ni kanske också läsa Never Let Me Go och tvärtom .

Till slut kan jag säga att Enhet är väldigt cynisk och inte särskilt optimistisk. Även om den visar hur viktiga vänskap och kärlek är, är den väldigt mörk och föklarar med vilka medel människor kontrolleras bäst. Den är bra skriven och jag tyckte om den, men både revolutionären och optimisten i mig blev arga.

Enhet publiceras av Norstedts och Never Let Me Go av Faber & Faber.

Erika har också recenserat Never Let Me Go.