Alia&#039;s A-List

Memoirs of a Geisha – By Arthur Golden

Fictional Memoir, Historical Fiction, Romance

You may have watched the film, as I had, but forget your judgements – the book is so much more powerful: sad, beautiful, persisting. As I sometimes feel after I’ve finished a treasured book, my life seems altered in a small way forever. This is the story of a young girl’s struggle through life, the goals that she strives for, and her unfaltering – yet unglorified – kindness to the people around her.

Memoirs of a Geisha holds the life-story of Chiyo (who later becomes Sayuri), from her birthplace in the fishing village of Yoroido to her new existence in the Geisha district of Gion. The girl, with her pale blue-grey eyes, is said to have a water-based personality, impotent as she flows towards her destiny. It is true that she holds a strong, unwavering destiny, but she is nonetheless stubborn and utterly determined, staying true to her vows and desires until she eventually achieves them. The protagonist is likeable, thoughtful, kindhearted, but some feel jealousy and resentment towards her, and impede her. When a man, the Chairman, shows her unexpected and unprescribed kindness, she vows to give her life to him in the hopes of one day winning his favour as a renowned geisha. Despite eventually becoming a distinguished geisha, however, her mission proves far more difficult than she imagined. For women, and especially geisha, do not chase after their own destinies or desires; they are expected to accept and appreciate the favour of whomever. It would be forbidden, unheard of, for Chiyo, now Sayuri, to seek out the Chairman’s favour. She continues with her life as a geisha, experiencing great hardships many turns of fate, but never forgetting her love for the Chairman.

I couldn’t stop talking about this book while I was reading it, enthralled as I was by the fascinating Japanese culture, vibrant characters and, most of all, the heart-wrenching love story. Golden writes beautifully and yet not overly elaborately. I can’t recommend this book enough, especially to people who are interested in learning about Japanese culture and modern history, or simply enjoy life-stories of interesting people.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAAA (8)

Writing: AAAAAAAA (8)

Pace: Slow

A break from the stresses of life: Not Working – by Lisa Owens

Fictional Memoir, Romance

It’s three weeks into the term and I’m itching to read something other than a textbook or assigned reading. Usually it’s the tv show de jour that gets in the way of my reading, but for the first time ever, it’s sleep – or rather, school work – that’s stopping me. I need to escape, to be whisked away to another world, another life. But every time I pick up a book, my eyes glaze over as I struggle to stay focused. Even when reading, I can’t escape. I know these are just the tell-tale signs of a book rut, but I don’t see a way out!

That is, until I spot the cheery, bright blue cover in the library practically screaming out for me to pick it up. The title, too, draws me in: ‘Not Working’. Sounds perfect for me – almost eerily so. I turn to the blurb and find that, whilst it seems targeted to a slightly older demographic, I’m nonetheless intrigued and eager to at least give it a go – what do I have to lose, right? The other book I picked up was Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, and I wasn’t about to start on that any time soon (or at least not during term time).

I soon discovered Not Working was the kind of book I could pick up, enjoy, put down and not feel especially drawn to pick it up later. It was, as I’d hoped for, an easy read, a welcome escape, but I didn’t feel invested in the story. As suggested by the blurb, I struggled to relate to the protagonist: Claire, a woman in her late twenties, early thirties who’s just left her job to search for her true calling – whatever that may be. It turns out she really has no idea, and considers careers as offbeat as authoring blue plaques and screenwriting – despite having never previously shown an interest in either. Meanwhile, her neurosurgeon boyfriend continues to work hard; although he supports her completely in her ‘journey’, she nonetheless resents being in his shadow – always ‘Luke’s girlfriend’, she longs to be a person in her own right, someone making a real difference in the world.

Whilst I found it hard to empathise with Claire’s problems, I loved reading about her nonetheless. I increasingly found her voice soothing, like chatting with an old friend: she’s honest, funny, self-deprecating. Unlike so many ‘finding yourself’ books, Not Working features absolutely no meditation, yoga or travel to exotic lands. Claire doesn’t take herself too seriously and it makes for an easy, enjoyable read. She’s an average person – average looks, average intelligence, average character. But whilst that may sound unappealing, that’s exactly what makes her so endearing – she represents so many women who’ve felt inadequate or lacking in purpose. Suffering a quarter-life crisis she searches hopelessly for a job that may not exist: the perfect job for her, tailor-fitted for her talents and desires.

Although incredibly easy to read, especially as the chapters themselves are split up into short sections, Not Working is long and slow up until the last quarter. The writing can be monotonous and uninteresting which, although perhaps accurately depicts Claire’s life, is not especially entertaining to read. And whilst the end is riveting, it leaves much frustratingly unresolved! I have so many questions that I won’t delineate for fear of spoiling, but I can confidently say I was left unsatisfied by this book.

Still, I enjoyed this book immensely; it was exactly what I needed. If you’re looking for the next literary canon book, perhaps this isn’t for you. However, if you love books like Bridget Jones’ Diary you’ll definitely enjoy Not Working.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAA (6)

Writing: AAAAA (5)

Pace: Medium/Slow

Not-too-distant Dystopia: The Handmaid’s Tale – by Margaret Atwood

Classic Literature, Dystopian, Fictional Memoir, Romance

Security and liberty. One is often sacrificed for the other. What measures, what infringements on our liberty would we accept to ensure our security – from terrorist attacks, poverty, unemployment, ideas that we disagree with – is sustained?

The Handmaid’s Tale is an answer. Gilead, the envisaged future of America, initially seems alien from our society; as the book progresses, however, disturbing similarities emerge.

Women are property, kept in the home as either elite wives, ‘Martha’s’ who do the household chores, or handmaids who must produce offspring. Offred is the handmaid in the book’s title, and the book is her story. She vividly describes her life before, during and after becoming a handmaid: her daughter and husband whom she loves and misses painfully; her traumatic yet nostalgic time in the ‘Red Center’ where the ‘Aunts’ (pious women who uphold the regime) labored to inculcate her with the virtues of being a handmaid; her hyper-controlled, mundane life serving her assigned family.

I developed a morbid fascination with Offred’s miserable life (Atwood’s writing is captivating and vivid). Often as Offred speaks to the reader, her narrative devolves into random trains of thought, revealing her mental instability and loneliness. Initially, for the cause of safety from terrorism, people sacrificed their liberties; in time, the authorities expropriated them and became a greater threat than the official fear of terrorism. The repression took two forms: against society as a whole, and much more so against women in society. Atwood unfolds the profound links between Gilead and our world gradually, until the Tale’s glaring warning can no longer be ignored.

Better? I say, in a small voice. How can he think this is better?

Better never means better for everyone, he says. It always means worse, for some.

In fact, the similarity is more poignant than even Atwood suggests, as Egyptian-American activist and author Mona Eltahawy describes in her NYT Op-Ed (here). In it she comments on the similarity between Saudi women’s lives and the lives of women in Gilead. The Handmaid’s Tale remains ever-relevant, thanks not only to its presence in modern-day patriarchal societies like Saudi Arabia’s but also to the popular Hulu series based off the book.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAAA (8)

Writing: AAAAAAAAA (9)

Pace: Slow

Unfiltered Coming of Age: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn – by Betty Smith

Classic Literature, Fictional Memoir, Historical Fiction, Romance

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn follows Francie Rommely as she grows up, living in an immigrant community in Brooklyn at the turn of the century. Her family are poor, eating a limited diet and keeping to a frugal lifestyle. Like so many in their neighbourhood, Francie’s father takes his Sunday suit to the pawnbroker’s every week, and Francie dreams of someday buying a book for herself rather than borrowing one from the library. A Tree, however, does not urge you to pity the poor or feel guilty about your affluence, nor does it romanticise poverty. Francie’s mother, Katie, exemplifies that dignity and hard work are far more precious to many than free hand-outs or sympathy; the strong woman is driven by the desire to better herself and her family, and would never accept charity. This book is about growing up, facing challenges and hardships, and coming to your own conclusions about life and the world. Francie, in all of her flawed, human self, is intelligent, honest and thoughtful; I dream to be half the person she is and becomes.

When I started A Tree, I was distracted, and was not hooked; I forced myself to read it when I had nothing else to do. The book became more engaging once Francie began to experience difficulties – her mother’s evident favouritism for Francie’s brother, Neeley; the death of her beloved father; the teacher who told her to write about beauty rather than her complex life in poverty. (These mentions do not spoil the book, either, as it’s no thriller – A Tree moves at the natural pace of life and memories, and there are few plot surprises.) I found myself moved by Francie’s realisations about how life is passed on and enriched through inheritance of traits and looks, and was inspired by her experience with her teacher and consequent discarding of all things deemed ‘beautiful’ and quaint. These, coupled with her profound and honest insights about life, make Francie wise, insightful and rounded.

For the most part, she lives an ordinary life. But her experiences are richly depicted so they seem real yet fascinating, reminding me of Francie’s comments on story-writing and ’embellishing’ the truth (although I don’t believe that this is what the author did, especially as the story is semi-autobiographical). Some ideas are naive and idealistic, but they’re also heart-warming, hearkening to the nostalgia and familiarity of the American Dream; I don’t believe there is any real harm in believing in the unlikely, especially as Francie herself (and the author) grows up to be successful.

In the old country, a man is given to the past. Here he belongs to the future. In this land, he may be what he will, if he has the good heart and the way of working honestly at the right things.

If you’re looking for a captivating book, do not read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; the power of this book is in its authentic characters and the universal experiences they share. This book is equally suitable for a child as for an adult – enjoy!

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAAA (8)

Writing: AAAAAAAAA (8)

Pace: Medium/Slow

Diary in a dark world: Never Let Me Go – By Kazuo Ishiguro

Dystopian, Fictional Memoir, Romance, Sci-Fi

I was around two-thirds of the way through Frankenstein when I realised I had barely read in a week. I’d enjoyed the book up until halfway, at which point I often found myself re-reading the same paragraphs, forcing myself to go on. I was in a rut. Whether this was due to the book or my state of mind I’m not sure, but I wanted to get out of it. Looking up at my stack of books for inspiration, I realised almost immediately what I should read. I’d bought Never Let Me Go a while ago after hearing about the book and the even more popular film. It’d been sitting on my shelf for a while, and for no particular reason, I had never got around to reading it.

Never Let Me Go is set in a darkly distorted version of our present – too familiar to be dystopian, but not quite true-to-life enough to be realistic fiction. The book centres on three students’ childhood in a picturesque boarding school and their lives after leaving, following their friendships and romances. Written from the near future, the narrative meanders spontaneously as Kathy H, the narrator, recalls memories from her past. It reminds me of a diary – descriptive, but not boring; somewhat digressive, with one anecdote leading on to the next, but not difficult to follow. Although it’s hard to put my finger on how, the book is definitely well written whilst also remaining highly readable – a rare feat.

Before starting the book, I read the cover’s review excerpts; one described the novel’s subject as ‘ourselves, seen through a glass, darkly.’ (Margaret Atwood, Slate.com) When I began reading, however, I was confused – I struggled to recognise any of our society reflected in the book’s skewed world. It was only as more details were revealed, near the end of the book, that the setting stopped being a distant horrific fantasy, but became conceivable, something that I could imagine happening. I was left with a scary thought, a dismal vision for the world’s future.

Overall, Never Let Me Go is a fantastic book – readable, well-written, and a familiar narrative with thought-provoking themes running beneath the surface. I would recommend the book to those who enjoy books largely about relationships; it is also great for people who like dark, somewhat dystopian stories.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAAA (8)

Writing: AAAAAAAA (7)

Pace: Slow/Medium

A Unique Perspective: Nutshell – by Ian McEwan

Crime Fiction, Fictional Memoir

“So here I am, upside down in a woman.”

Intrigued yet?

When I first heard about the plot, I was skeptical. Although I have faith in McEwan’s writing (the esteemed author has written from various perspectives), a book narrated by a foetus sounded tiresome. However, after hearing the author himself speak about and read from his book at an event, there was no question that I wanted to read it (especially my signed copy!).

A foetus is just beginning to develop his first thoughts when he becomes aware that his mother and her lover (who he later discovers is his uncle) are plotting to kill his father. The book is heavily based on Hamlet, from names (Trudy for Gertrude; Claude for Claudius) to the plot itself, and sometimes even quotes:

Hamlet: “I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space.”

Nutshell: “To be bound in a nutshell, see the world in two inches of ivory, in a grain of sand.”

Admittedly, if I hadn’t been told of this ‘influence’, I wouldn’t have recognised it – I haven’t read Hamlet. I also can’t say whether this is effective as a retelling, or if my lack of knowledge about Hamlet affected my experience. After doing some (limited) research, however, I could certainly see the resemblance.

Perhaps surprisingly, the least realistic aspect of this book isn’t the supreme intelligence of the narrator, but in fact the conspirators’ passionate – murderous, even – anger and resentment towards the offspring’s father. It is never explained why they, and in particular Trudy, feel so much hatred for him. Progressively through the book, I was confused about where the mother’s loyalties lay.

The deficit in character analysis (due to the narrator’s circumstances), which is such a crucial element in McEwan’s novels, lets the book down somewhat. Maybe as a result of this, the characters are largely caricatures – not credible, relatable, real. I only hope this is intended, portraying the foetus’ ignorance and inexperience with people.

Although McEwan’ distinctive rhetoric – including his dry humour – is apparent in the foetus’ voice, this is (for the most part) a welcome aspect. The narrator is not believable, but this does not take away from the book’s narrative or overall realism. Sometimes, however, long rants with seemingly tenuous links to the storyline crop up from nowhere, and it’s clear that these are merely opportunities for the opinionated author to express his strong personal views. An example is when he rants about self-sheltered university students and their destructive politically correct ways. I appreciate that an author’s book is their place to do what they want (including communicating beliefs), but this only works if it is appropriate and not dropped in at random.

Finally, the writing style is confusing at times, with action and commentary jumping around. Perhaps this was for effect, but if even if it wasn’t, it was manageable; it didn’t hurt my reading experience.

All in all, I enjoyed Nutshell – hooked from the first page, it is one of the better books I’ve read this year. Compared to McEwan’s other books (at least those that I’ve read), however, it wasn’t his best. The ambitious choice of narrator mostly paid off, although did make for an unusual (and sometimes lacking) read. Read if you love Hamlet and/or Shakespeare retellings, you’re looking for a ‘quirky’ book, or you’re as obsessed with Ian McEwan as I am!

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAAA (8)

Writing: AAAAAAAA (8)

Pace: Slow

A Summer Paradise: We Were Liars – By E. Lockhart

Fictional Memoir, Romance

We Were Liars is about the Sinclairs, an ideal WASPy family: the patriarch, his three daughters, and their families. In summers, the clan retreats to its private island off Martha’s Vineyard. We’re told that ‘no one is a criminal’, ‘addict’ or ‘failure’ in the family; that they’re all athletic, tall and handsome, with their wide smiles and square chins. The narrator, Cadence Sinclair, is the eldest grandchild; she’s sick of being forced to act ‘normal’ and composed, and feels – along with her contemporaries on the island – that the family focuses too much on money and competition.

We Were Liars is a readable, intriguing YA novel; it’s fairly well-written, and is based on an interesting story, which many readers will relate to. At times, I felt the plot was unrealistic; however, I don’t feel this took away from the quality of the book. The narrator’s wry, intelligent voice, characteristic to so many YA books is entertaining, although sometimes tedious. The only aspect of the book that made me cringe slightly was the sweet but annoying voice of Gat, always pondering morality in a naive and condescending way.

Overall, I would recommend this book if you are looking for a solid, good-quality YA book – but don’t expect much of it as an adult book. It’s funny, well-executed and has a clever ending that you won’t expect.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAA

Writing: AAAAAA

Pace: Medium

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The Hours – By Michael Cunningham

Fictional Memoir

The Hours follows a day in the lives of three women: Clarissa Vaughan, known fondly as ‘Mrs Dalloway’ by her closest friend, is planning a party one New York morning; Laura Brown, living in a Los Angeles suburb in the 1950s, struggles to maintain her conventional position as mother and wife to her perfect family; and Virginia Woolf who, recovering in a London suburb after a bout of depression, is writing Mrs Dalloway. The book’s chapters alternate between these three characters, linking them through parallel emotions, themes and details. Although written in the third person, the book seems almost wholly from the perspectives of the protagonists: each character’s consciousness is personably imparted, giving a commentary on the events happening in the book whilst offering an insight into the character’s personality.

The Hours is beautifully, eloquently written; Cunningham adopts extended metaphors that are not only pleasing, but also accurate. Perhaps his writing was influenced by Woolf’s, as it is vivid, metaphorical and slow-paced, reminiscent of her distinctive writing style. This book reveals another dimension of Virginia Woolf, who is not just a famous intellectual figure but was also a troubled woman, battling with depression. The protagonists are ambitious and clever, yet damaged, albeit to different extents. In particular, Brown and Woolf both struggle to act ‘normal’, to effortlessly keep up appearances. At times, they comment in admiration at other women’s abilities to act accordingly in every situation. They obsessively seek perfection, driven to madness by the idea that they are irreparably flawed. The theme of sexuality, as something to be rebelliously explored, is touched on when Laura, and later Virginia, spontaneously kisses a woman; it is described as a ‘forbidden pleasure’. This act of ‘rebellion’ is ironic, as it contradicts the characters’ desire to act appropriately.

This book questions the meaning of life; it ponders what is ‘enough’ for a person to have lived a happy, successful life. Although it doesn’t directly answer this question, it does suggest that the hours in one’s life spent being happy, with someone that they love are ‘enough’; this notion of ‘enough’ is synonymous with happiness and contentedness.

I would recommend The Hours to readers who enjoy Woolf’s writing style, and are interested in her life. They would also enjoy this book if they don’t mind a somewhat slow-paced book about the everyday lives of troubled women.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAAA

Writing: AAAAAAAA

Pace: Slow

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A Modern Classic of Storytelling: The Alchemist – By Paulo Coelho

Fictional Memoir

The Alchemist follows a shepherd boy’s spiritual journey: his dreams, successes, and the obstacles that he must overcome. Santiago, the shepherd boy, has been having a recurring dream in which a girl leads him to the pyramids, telling him of his treasure there. He decides to seek out a gypsy for advice on the dream: she tells him to travel to the pyramids to find the treasure, asking for one tenth of it as payment. Early on in his journey, the boy meets an old king named Melchizedek who urges him to pursue his ‘Personal Legend’ (a common theme in the book), which is to find his treasure. Santiago travels to the pyramids in a caravan, and becomes acquainted with an Englishman who is in search of an old, renowned alchemist. On the way, the caravan stops at an oasis, where Santiago meets a beautiful woman called Fatima. He falls in love with her, and asks her to marry him; she agrees to, on the condition that he finds his treasure first. He later encounters an alchemist who teaches him the ways of the world, and guides him in finding his treasure.

This book is different from any other I have read before. Its childlike simplicity in portraying deep philosophical notions is disarming, and its narrator is convincing, personable and endearing. However, sometimes he is too naive and open-minded, and is often unnaturally matter of fact when describing events: this made him seem less relatable, although this was probably intended to give an understanding, innocent quality to Santiago. The book is purposely metaphorical, so doesn’t need to be taken literally, but instead as an allegory; in this way its implausibility may be pardoned. The novel’s concepts are profound and thought-provoking, albeit far-fetched, and its non-denominational spiritual lessons are uplifting and thought-provoking. Whilst reading this book, I felt compelled to consider things thoroughly, thinking in a more philosophical way; it’s great for self-motivation and guidance.

I would recommend this book if you enjoy a ‘deep’ book that has mythical, magical themes, yet is readable and accessible. At times, it’s very slow-paced, but this doesn’t hinder its magnetism: it’s a book that you’ll feel compelled to pick up at every opportunity.

My Ratings (out of 10 As):

Plot/Story: AAAAAAA

Writing: AAAAAAAA

Pace: Slow

Buy on Amazon

Buy at Waterstones