My family and Other Animals - Gerald Durrell

When Gerry Durrell was 10 years old his family, composed by his mother, 23-year-old Larry, 19-year-old Leslie and 18-year-old Margo, decided to move to the Greek island of Corfu and lived there for five years.
This is an "accurate and unexaggerated picture" of how Gerry saw his family and the animal world which richly populated the island.

Although the book title refers to the author's family I found myself a lot more interested in Gerry's love for zoology. It must have been heaven for a kid with such a passionate interest to live in an island like Corfu. It literally buzzed with life and the book portraits this so well. You can feel just how much the author loved this place by reading the lengthy descriptions of the beauty of its flora and fauna. The natural wonders of the island provided him with all sorts of entertainment and his houses (because the family moved from villa to villa quite a lot) often became the home for the strangest and sometimes scariest pets, including snakes, scorpions and owls.
Some accounts of animal lives were more hilarious than others, like Achilles', the strawberry-loving tortoise, whose favourite pastime was climbing on people in the garden:

If [...] you were lying on a rug, sun-bathing, Achilles would be convinced that you were lying on the ground simply to provide him with amusement. He would surge down the path and on to the rug with an expression of bemused good humour on his face. He would pause, survey you thoughtfully, and then choose a portion of your anatomy on which to practise mountaineering.

Or the over-enthusiastic male swallow's:

He seemed determined to leave no stone unturned to provide his young with the finest nest-lining in the colony. But, unfortunately, he was no mathematician, and, try as he would, he could not remember the size of his nest. He would come flying back, twittering in an excited if somewhat muffled manner, carrying a chicken or turkey feather as big as himself, and with such a thick quill it was impossible to bend it. It would generally take his wife several minutes to convince him that, no matter how they struggled and juggled, the feather would not fit into the nest.

Or the grumpy owlet Ulysses', and the fierce gecko Geronimo's and his epic battle with the giant mantis Cicely.
But really, the whole book was a pleasure to read. The author's family was definitely bizarre, and so were their friends who were invited once in a while, and for whom the family moved villa more than once, just to fit them all in. The matter-of-factly way of recounting the events by the author makes everything even more endearing. That was just what happened, even though sometimes it sounded surreal or just straight out of a slapstick comedy.
I admit I wasn't always comfortable with how Gerry treated the animals he found. He often captured them and brought them home with him, even when they were clearly wild creatures. A couple of time he actually hunts the mother's nest or den and brings the tiny newborn with him. I wanted to shout at him to leave the poor thing alone, but then I had to remember that he was only a kid enamoured with the animal life and way too eager to observe it as close as possible. Moreover, he didn't have anyone to tell him otherwise, so why shouldn't he?
Gerry grew up to be a notable naturalist so I'm sure he learned to respect the wild life in time.
So, despite some occasional criticism, I enjoyed this book very much, definitely one to recommend in the future.

other blog reviews:
BookNAround

Fun Home - Alison Bechdel

I really enjoyed reading this graphic novel memoir. It seems like the only form where I find memoirs entertaining is this. But while I was swept away emotionally by Persepolis, here my appreciation has been more of the intellectual kind.
I can't say how many times I had to write down words I didn't know, to be looked up later, because it would be embarrassing. But it gives you an idea of the richness of the language.

It's a deeply honest, witty and insightful exploration of of the author's complex relationship with her father, of how it shaped her whole being from her early age till her father's sudden death, and how it continues to make her reflect on her personality in relation to his. It's also a very intimate account of her personal sexual awakening, which reaches its peak the moment she realises she is a lesbian. This epiphany is also the trigger to another revelation, which will make her reconsider all her life

I felt like this memoir was a necessity, something it needed to be done, for Alison Bechdel to connect all the dots, to forgive and understand, and to record how her family's life was shaped by a long series of literary allusions, from The Addams Family to The Great Gatsby, from Proust to Joyce.

I can relate on many levels with Bechdel. I too had to grow up with a father whose personality was (and is) bigger than life. He too has molded my early literary loves, and it's him I see in my earliest and most vivid childhood memories, more than anyone else, even more than my mum. He was very controlling and probably depressed too. Although, fortunately, I didn't develop any obsessive-compulsive disorder because of that, as far as I know.
I also related to her freshman year in college, where she was astonished by the need of every English lecturers to find hidden symbols and metaphors in literary works. I laughed my socks off when she mentioned Heart of Darkness's gender interpretation (Congo = vagina, Marlowe's boat= penis), because that was exactly what my first English class in college was about! But I was intrigued by all these new layers of meanings, while Bechdel's reaction was more like "why can't we just read the books?".
As I mentioned, this book is packed with literary references, but what it really made me want to go and read is Homer, both the Iliad and the Odissey. I'm not sure I'm ready for Proust yet and I will probably never be ready for Ulysses.

The art was great. It's detailed, expressive and just perfect to balance the complexity of the text. It has very strong lines which work very well with the gray-green watercolours. As Bechdel said "(this colour) has a bleak, elegiac quality" which suits the tone of the book.

I'd love to re-read it one day, and maybe in Italian to capture all the nuances of the language and of some turn of phrases that I'm sure have eluded me!


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other reviews:
Nymeth
Dewey
Books for breakfast

Angela's Ashes - Frank McCourt

I had no intention to read this. It had been sitting on the pile for more than a year, until I had enough and chose it for the non-fiction challenge. See, I moan about the restrictions of challenges, but sometimes they help overcome some unreasonable blocks about some books we've had for ages. Like Angela's Ashes. In my head I had the notion that it was gonna be an immensely depressive read. I've seen the movie a while ago, and it was, immensely depressive. All the blog reviews I had read agreed. Very sad, unbearable, even boring.
But they must have read a different book, because I ended up enjoying it very much, I even found myself laughing and smiling quite often. It must be because of the language. Even when it recounts the most incredible hardship, it always has its very Irish way of telling it.
You have to get used to it, though. Especially because the prose doesn't use any quotation marks, which I didn't find confusing, but might require some adjusting at the beginning. I thought it added to the musicality and the flow of the narration.
So, the book, as many of you might know, is about Frank McCourt's childhood:

When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, ot course, a mirerable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood

Forget about plot. This is hardship after hardship, in Limerick in the 1930's. Drunk father, depressed mother, constant hunger. While I was reading it I kept thinking how lucky I was that I could eat anytime I wanted! Not something I will take for granted again.
The story recalls Frank's memories from when he was 3 and still in America, to the Limerick years of poverty and rain. McCourt's memories are incredibly detailed, even during the early years. Indeed, you could wonder how he knew that much at only 3. So, I just assumed that at least these early memories were partially fictionalised to fit the story.
I understand that reading about what it is about doesn't sound very appealing. Who wants to read about endless sufferance, dirty rags, cold winters and rainy summers? About queues at the dole, dead babies, stinky alleys and broken shoes? I wouldn't. But again, it's how you say it that counts, not what you say. I wouldn't call it a masterpiece of writing, but it was certainly entertaining.
Few examples: Grandam is a grumpy, hard soul, who never stops going on against protestants. But she managed to make me laugh when Frank's mother had just had yet another baby and there were fears it will die without being baptized.

Grandma is there to help and she says, That's right, no hope in heaven for the infant that's not baptized.
Bridey says it would be a hard God that would do the likes of that.
He has to be hard, says Grandma, otherwise you'd have all kinds of babies clamorin' to get into heaven. Protestants an' everything, an' why should they get in after what they did to us for eight hundread years?
The babies didn't do it, says Bridey. They're too small.
They would if they got the chance, says Grandma. They're trained for it.

Another favourite part of mine was Frank's composition called "Jesus and the Weather" which its last paragraph was:

It's a good thing Jesus decided to be born Jewish in that warm place because if he was born in Limerick he'd catch the consumption and be dead in a month and there wouldn't be any Catholic Church and there wouldn't be any Communion or Confirmation and we wouldn't have to learn the catechism and write compositions about Him. The end.

The conditions in which Frank's family managed to survive were unbelievable. I'm not surprised he left the country as soon as he could and never wanted to come back. If even half of what he tells is true, it would have been enough to drive anyone insane, or bitter at least.
But there was often a comic side of their miseries. Once their house was so cold that Frank and his little brothers Malachy and Michael run out of wood and decided to burn the wall that divided the two rooms in it. When the rent man saw what happened he wasn't pleased:

He says , Great God in Heaven, where's the other room?
Grandma says, what room?
I rented ye two rooms up here and now there's one. And what happened to the wall? There was a wall. Now there's no wall. I distinctly remember a wall because I distinctly remember a room. Now, where is that wall? Where is that room?
Grandma says, I don't remember a wall and if I don't remember a wall, how can I remember a room?
Ye don't remember?Well, I remember. Forty years a landlord's agent and I never seen the likes of this. By God, 'tis a desperate situation altogether when you can't turn your back but tenants are not paying their rent and making walls and rooms disappear on top of it. I want to know where that wall is and what ye did with the room, so I do.
Mam turns to us. Do any of ye remember a wall?
Michael pulls at her hand. Is that the wall we burned in the fire?

I can't help but laugh. The book is full of these tragicomic situations, which make the unbearable even funny, sometimes.
Ok, I didn't find it impossible to put down, but when I did pick it up I enjoyed it. i didn't expect it to, so it was a very pleasant surprise, which should teach me something about prejudices and expectations. Only, I know I would make the same mistake again. It's just too good to be surprised sometimes.

other blog reviews:


Peruse Peach
Well above average
Trish's Reading Nook

Let me know if you've reviewed it too and I'll add it to the list!

The Complete Persepolis - Marjane Satrapi

I've been trying to catch up with my reviews and with the blogging activities in general but since I've come back from holidays I've been so busy, and tired, and then busy again that I still haven't found time to even develop my holiday pics, let alone write proper reviews of the books I've been reading. Even now I have so many things I should do...I'm so stressed!!! anyway, this is supposed to be a review, so here it goes.

I had heard about Persepolis before its film came out. It was mentioned now and again by those graphic novels connoisseurs as a must read, a pillar of the genre, a masterpiece. But it never occurred to me to go and look for it, till the movie was made.

Now that I've read it all I can say is "Wow, what a page-turner!" I know, it's very generic, and it doesn't say much about the book, but that's the first thing that came to my mind after finishing it. Anytime I was reading it on the bus I was at risk of missing my stop, because I was so deeply immersed in it. I never imagined a biography to be so captivating.
The edition I have includes both part I and part II, so it was an uninterrupted journey into Satrapi's life.
In my total ignorance about Iran's history, I didn't know anything of the Islamic revolution and its consequences. About the repression, the tortures, the fear that was part of people's everyday life. One thing is reading history books (which I don't do anyway) and another is reading a memoir of someone who experienced those years personally. I have a tendency of identifying with the stories and the characters I read about. I did the same with this book, and it was extremely emotional.
But don't make mistakes, this is far from being a heavy read. It was tough, it made me shiver and it made me angry, but it made me laugh out loud too. A lot. The shocking and the funny was perfectly balanced and that, I think, is what makes Persepolis unique.
It helped that Marjane was raised by a very liberal family, with a socialist background and an independent way of thinking. It showed the stark contrast between what was going on outside, where you could have been arrested for wearing make up, and inside, where people were risking their lives to throw parties or listening to rock music.

Unfortunately I've left it too late to write a review that would actually make justice to this wonderful book. All I know is that it was one of my favourite reads of this year, and that I couldn't recommend it more. Even if you think you wouldn't be interested, try and read the first few pages. I bet you'll be hooked before you know it.

Other blog reviews:
Thoughts of Joy (part I)
B&B Ex libris
The Book Nest (Part I)
An adventure in reading
Things mean a lot
The Hidden side of a leaf
Rhinoa's ramblings
ReadingAdventures
Katrina's reads
It's all about me

Letters to a Young Gymnast - Nadia Comaneci

This book has a special meaning to me, because I was a gymnast myself and even if I never reached high levels, I’ve always enjoyed it immensely. When I was 12 I watched for the first time the film “Nadia”, about the life and success of Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci. The movie was on this videotape that was passed on among us little gymnasts and every single girl in the gym thought that Nadia was her hero. I did as well. I don’t know how many times I watched it before bringing it back, but I thought about every scene, and sang the music that plays during her legendary uneven bar exercise at the 1976 Olympics, and dreamed about being her, for months and months. It was only after many years that I first watched a real video of her on tape. Short after I bought my first computer and learned how to surf the Internet, I began to trade gymnastics competitions on tape with people all over the world and one of the first competitions that I requested was the 1976 Olympics. It’s a rather boring tape, with no commentary and piano music played for the whole duration. But it still retains its magic, because it was THE competition. When Nadia became legend by earning a perfect 10 for the first time in Olympic history. Not just once, but seven times.

This book is her story, told by her, in the form of a long letter to an imaginary young fan asking for advices. She talks about everything, from her birth, to her childhood, to her first steps in the gym with legendary coaches Bela and Marta Karolyi. She speaks matter-of-factly about her victories and recounts passionately about her defection from Romania in 1989. She answers all the questions that are usually asked to her with honesty and patience. How her life changed after her success, if the stories about abuses from her coach are true, if she was starved by him, if she really tried to kill herself. She answers everything, even though I had the feeling she is not really telling everything, which is understandable. She denies that she attempted suicide, as told in the movie, and that leaves me a bit puzzled, because how could they have make up such a story if none of it was true?
But it was interesting to get an insight perspective from the very person who’s been my hero for so long. I didn’t know anything about her after her last Olympics in Moscow in 1980. That she lived a miserable life under the Ceausescu’s regime, and that she was eventually forced to defect. That she escaped in the night, on foot, with a group of strangers, and that she crossed the Hungarian border scratching herself on wire-fences, risking to be shot anytime by the Romanian police. That was very interesting, and scary.
We’ve lived very different lives, we have very different personalities, but we share one thing, and that is our love for gymnastics. She had the chance to shoot for the moon, I didn’t. But I understand when she says that her hard work didn’t feel like sacrifice, that she loved everything she did in the gym, not because she wanted the medals, but because she loved the feeling of flying in the air, of stretching her body towards impossible moves.

I dreamed of learning new skills. I never saw the bigger picture of international success and fame. I dreamed of running and twisting and double somersaults, and that nothing could tether me to the ground because I was born to fly.

She didn’t give up her childhood, she lived it just like she wanted to.

I enjoyed reading it, even though I suspect she had some help writing it. Her English is a bit too good, and too literary to be truly hers, and that didn’t feel completely real. Beside that, it really is a mandatory read for any real gymnastic fan.
For all the others, I know you might feel left out. So I will add this video, to help you understand what I’m talking about. Enjoy :-)