Mosca Mye, Saracen and Eponymous Clent

When I saw this book on a bookstore shelf, I was instantly intrigued by the description at the back of the book: “Frances Hardinge’s breathtaking debut novel has at its heart an inspiring truth — that the power of books can change the world.”

I instantly added it to my BookMooch wishlist, waited several months for a copy to turn up, and finally mooched one from the UK. I was quite eager to read this book, but it didn’t turn out to be how I expected…

Fly by Night by Frances Hardinge (book #58 of 2009) is set in a world called “The Fractured Realm,” an alternative 18th-century world that is “shattered” by the loss of a ruling monarch.

Mosca Mye is the twelve-year old heroine, an orphan who runs away from her oppressive aunt and uncle, taking with her a snow-white goose named Saracen. Mosca applies for employment under the shady and notorious Eponymous Clent, and as they make their way on a perilous journey, Mosca finds herself at the heart of a dark plot looming over the capital city.

Mosca and Saracen make quite a team — Mosca is spunky and headstrong with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and Saracen can be quite fearsome, known to single-handedly (single-web-footedly?) capture sailing vessels and bring grown men to their knees.

Hardinge’s prose is rich and musical, a cacophony of sounds and textures that roll off your tongue and are a pleasure to savor:

“Around and through the village, water seethed down the breakneck hillside in a thousand winding streamlets. They hissed and gleamed through dark miles of pine forest above the village, chafing the white rocks and learning a strange milkiness. Chough itself was more a tumble than a town, the houses scattered down the incline as if stranded there after a violent flood.”

I think, though, that the nvel was weighed down by too many plot components that made it difficult to understand. I found that there was so much political conflict (and too many pages) revolving around characters that were of no concern to the reader, and the novel suffered whenever the focus was taken away from its heroine, because it became difficult to follow. I couldn’t tell you the details of the political uprising in a way you can understand, because even I didn’t get it… Perhaps a bit more exposition on the setting, and an insight on the other characters and their significance to the story would have elicited more sympathy towards the political cause.

Obviously, I was also looking forward to the part about the power of books, and I was sorely disappointed that it was only vaguely covered (read: huh???) throughout the book.

If the language wasn’t well crafted I would probably have thought less of the book; it was an okay read, although it had the potential to be so much more.

***
my copy: trade paperback, mooched from the UK

my rating: 3/5 stars

A Swashbuckling Thriller

Back in my first semester at my university (don’t ask how many years ago), I took up fencing as a PE (phys ed) requirement, and for someone as “allergic” to sports as I am, I actually enjoyed the class and was passably competent at it.

Arturo Perez-Reverte’s The Fencing Master (book 57 of 2009) appealed to me not only because I find his writing intelligent; I’ve also always found fencing terribly romantic — the proprietary rituals rooted in honor and courtesy; the graceful thrusts and parries combined with a dance of intricate footwork and sprightly movement; the melodic clink of meta foils; and the immense satisfaction of making contact.

In this mystery thriller, the fencing master is Jaime Astarloa, a distinguished gentleman who is a throwback to the olden days, even in 19th century Spain. He is the master of a dying art, upholding the virtues of honorable duel at a time when pistols were fast becoming the weapon of choice and fencing was evolving into a recreational sport.

Don Jaime lives off a modest income from his few remaining students, and leads a peaceful existence, engrossed in perfecting an irresistible sword thrust, until the fiery, violet-eyed Adela de Otero shows up on his doorstep and applies for his tutelage. Grudgingly, Don Jaime takes on his first female pupil, and gets more than he bargained for as he finds himself entangled in a grand web of intrigue and deceit, and he must rely on his old-fashioned values and the ancient art of fencing to keep himself alive.

At 212 pages, The Fencing Master is a fast read, a mix of rich, languid text; highly detailed swashbuckling sequences; and political discourse.

This is the third Arturo Perez-Reverte book I’ve read; I enjoyed The Club Dumas (on which the movie Ninth Gate — starring Johnny Depp — was based) and The Flanders Panel also. I like reading Perez-Reverte’s works because he writes with flowing, florid sentences that take you into the heart of the action. Perhaps this is the Spanish sensibility towards romance showing, similar to Carlos Ruiz Zafon‘s writing, albeit Zafon is the more lyrical of the two.

I also like how Perez-Reverte can write credibly about a variety of subjects — The Three Musketeers and De Umbrarum Regni Novem Portis in The Club Dumas; chess in The Flanders Panel; and fencing in this book, not to mention a host of other novels that carry other motifs. I appreciate the research he undertakes for each novel because they don’t appear halfhearted or contrived.

I love Don Jaime’s character — elegant, refined and upright, never compromising his values nor his genteel ways. I found it sad that he appeared to be born into the wrong era, with his dapper, turn-of-the-century suits; the old house adorned with dusty memorabilia; empty fencing gallery displaying rusty swords; and his passe art.

He laments:

“Duels with foils are rare events, given that the pistol is so much easier to handle and does not require such rigorous discipline. Fencing has become a frivolous pastime… Now they call it a sport, as if it were on par with performing gymnastics in your undershirt.

In this century and after a certain age, dying a proper death is becoming increasingly difficult.”

The hitch with reading Perez-Reverte’s novels in succession, though, is being able to detect a formula in his writing. He likes a lengthy exposition, peaking sharply and falling fast too. He also likes to gamble with shocking twists towards the resolution, which don’t always pay off.

Despite this drawback, I still find Perez-Reverte to be one of the better writers in the spectrum of multiple-book mystery writers. I still have a bunch of his books in my TBR, and I look forward to reading them in the future.

***
My copy: trade paperback, mooched from the UK

My rating: 4/5 stars

The Answers to Life’s Burning Questions

Whenever I go to Book Sale, I usually don’t have a book in mind, because I’ve formulated this theory: the amount of urgency applied in seeking out a specific title at Book Sale is directly proportional to the possibility that it (and multiple copies, too) will turn up when you no longer need it or already have a copy.

Of course, this also means that all my Book Sale purchases are impulse buys. What do I buy at Book Sale? Hmm, let’s see, here’s my laundry list (given that no book should set me back more than a hundred bucks, unless absolutely necessary):

– Books on my wishlist

– Book “upgrades” (e.g. doing a Blooey)

– Picture books for my collection

– Extremely cheap, wishlisted books for mooching (P20, tops)
– Random DIY book (e.g. crafts, painting, etc.) that I figure I’d get to work on someday

– (and finally) Interesting books that catch my eye.

The book I’m reviewing in this post is one from that last category.

The purple vintage cover of The Ladies’ Oracle by Cornelius Agrippa screamed for my attention the minute I spotted it, jumbled with board books in the children’s book bin. I also recognized the author’s name from a chocolate frog card in Harry Potter. It was P40, and in excellent condition and as I thumbed through it, I instantly knew it was a keeper.

I was looking for a book on my shelf that I could review, as my reading rate is dipping at the moment, and I’ve been drawing all night (studies due in two weeks) so I wanted to do a light post for today. I settled on this one because my officemates are currently on a fortune-telling kick, starting with cards, then with the magic 8-ball I brought to work, then the Kokology book I recently reviewed.

This compact hardbound volume from Bloomsbury is based on an original English edition published in 1857 (although it dates back to the 16th century) and is described on the cover as a book that “divines answers to those questions about life and love that inquisitive women have asked through the ages.”

The list of 100 questions is quite entertaining. Some samples: Shall I soon be courted? Shall I cease to be a virgin before I marry? Ought I to forsake the pleasures of the world? Have I to look forward to more sorrow than joy?

The divining part is more complicated. The basic guidelines include avoiding the use of the oracle on unlucky dates (there is a list given in the book) and not trying the same question twice in one day.

So given an auspicious day for fortune telling, you pick out a question from the list.
Today seems to be good; I think I’ll try it out.

#46. Shall I be happy in my enterprises?

The instructions tell me to close my eyes and place my finger on the table given. My index finger points to the box with a symbol of two triangles.

Then I consult the table to find out the page in which I can find the answer to my question. According to the table, my answer is on page 67.

On page 67, I scroll down the page for the symbol I chose, and there’s my answer:


Phew, that’s good to know. It’s also comforting to know I have something to blame when things go awry… hee hee, just kidding.

At the back of the book, there’s a short section of interesting charms and ceremonies — to see a future husband, to know what trade your husband will be, to know if the declarations on a love letter are sincere, etc. , appearing to have ties to wicca.

Here’s one for the road:

Take a candle, and go alone to the looking glass; eat an apple before it; and some say you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your husband will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.

Now that freaks me out so I’m not going to try it, but if anyone makes an attempt, do let me know how it goes :)

I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with this book…

***

My copy: hardcover, bought for P40 at Book Sale Cash and Carry
My rating: 5/5 stars

The return of The Penderwicks

After reading The Penderwicks, I had to move the sequel up my reading list, so I read it yesterday right after I finished the Noli.
The Penderwicks on Gardam Street by Jeanne Birdsall (Book #56 for 2009) did not disappoint, and I think I liked it even more than the first book, even.

The Penderwicks are back with their delightful antics, this time right in their own backyard, on Gardam Street. The girls’ Aunt Claire comes over for a visit, with a letter from their mother (from several years ago, written on her deathbed), encouraging Mr. Penderwick to date so he doesn’t get lonely. The girls are fearful of getting a wicked stepmom, so they devise a “Save Daddy” plan, setting their father up with horrible women to discourage him from dating.

With that premise, you just know there are hilarious episodes that follow: matchmaking mayhem, Antonio’s Pizza vs. Cameron’s Hardware soccer matches, disastrous homework switching, The Sixth Grade Performance Night, Batty’s spy missions, and surprise, surprise: Rosalind’s turn at romance.

The characters are as charming as ever: Martin Penderwick still lapsing into Latin expressions, Batty not as shy on her home turf, Hound as dependable as ever and Skye as tempestuous as ever, and Jane still with her head in the clouds.

Rosalind however, will surprise readers in the sequel as she acts more her age: acting out because her dad is dating again, momentarily tiring of the big sister role, and confused about her feelings for Tommy. To me this normalcy comes as a pleasant surprise; I was afraid she had been growing up too soon.

The return of Churchie and Jeffrey are very much welcome, while new characters — the Geigers (Tommy is so cute!), new neighbors Iantha Rosenberg, baby Ben, and the cat Asimov — make this family romp more fun.

I like the sensitivity and warmth Birdsall puts into her books, and how the Penderwicks uphold family values in the 21st century.

Great for tween girls, the 8-12 bunch.

***
My copy: hardcover with dustjacket

My rating: 4.5/5 stars

Rereading the Noli

I’ve never read Noli Me Tangere (book #55 for 2009, book #10 for the Diversity Challenge : Filipino novel) outside of our class requirements in high school and in college, and so it was at the top of my list for this year; I really wanted to read it for leisure.

Upon the recommendation of my Flipper/BMP friend Czar, I chose the English translation by Ma. Soledad Lacson-Locsin (published by Bookmark) that I got for P100 at the Manila International Book Fair. English because I read faster in English than in Filipino, and this particular translation because I heard it was the most accurate. There is also a Penguin edition, although it’s translated by a Caucasian, so I’m not sure how it pans out, but it should be worth trying out as well.

Re-reading the Noli: perfect with a cup of “Tsokolate Eh”
Lacson-Locsin explains in her introduction:

“Although translations have to be in tandem with the semantics of the age in which they are read to be appreciated, my own personal view is that they should, as much as possible, capture much of the nuances and cadence of the period in which they had been written; even at the risk of sounding awkward or stilted…

It is also my view that the heart and mind need to understand and touch the past close to its pristine form, to sense the pulse of national heritage. If the Filipino cannot truly grasp his own past he may not value his present nor ascertain his future.”

It took me about a week to finish the novel; I had a lot on my plate for the past week and I fear for my reading ratio for the next three months because I’m working on a big illustration project and I can’t exactly read and draw at the same time (unfortunately), but I am determined to get through it, even if I have to read one chapter as a reward for each finished segment of the project.

Anyway, back to the Noli.

Since not all my readers are Filipino, I need to explain. The Noli Me Tangere is one of the two novels written by our national hero, Jose Rizal. A reading requirement for high schools in the Philippines, the novel was originally written in Spanish, and was a great influence on political thinking in the 19th and 20th century. It’s a bit difficult to summarize — you can read about it on Wikipedia.

I like the Noli’s coversational tone, especially in setting the scene for the novel. It starts out with the party at Capitan Tiago’s house, and the narrator, much like a tour guide, quips: “since no porters or servants ask for the invitation cards, let us go up.”

The narrator then goes on to describe the house in detail, from the interiors to the adornments of paintings and the religious statues, the magnificent spread, and even the crowd of partygoers. I love the witty descriptions and succinct observations about society:

“At the center is a long table… which seems to wink temptingly at the freeloaders with sweet promises; and to threaten the timid youth or the unsophisticated lass with two mortal hours in the company of stranger whose language and conversation tend to have a jargon all their own.” “Generally speaking, we mortals are like tortoises: we are valued for our shells.”

Idyll in an Azotea

After all these years, I still have my favorite chapter — Idyll in an Azotea.

Chapter 7, which is forever engrained in my memory as “Pag-uulayaw sa Azotea” (that sounds more romantic!), is, to this day, one of the most romantic pieces I have ever read in print, either in English or Filipino. I remember that day we read it in class, and the classroom resounded with a chorus of schoolgirl sighs, each of us imagining ourselves as Maria Clara in this jesting banter of young lovers, superimposing an image of the crush for the moment against the image of Crisostomo Ibarra. Reading it again, nearly a decade later, I am no less moved.

The chapter captures young love so accurately, from Maria Clara’s heartpounding anticipation of Ibarra’s arrival:

“Each sound from the street, each carriage that passes by causes the maiden’s bosom to throb, and makes her tremble. Ah! Now she wishes she were back in her quiet and peaceful convent among her friends. There she would be able to see him without trembling, without feeling disturbed. But, was he not your childhood friend; did you not play many games together, and even quarrel sometimes? If you who read this have loved, you will understand; if not, it is useless for me to tell you; the profane cannot comprehend these mysteries.”

The pretense of focusing elsewhere other than the object of affection upon the moment of encounter:

“Capitan Tiago and Ibarra were talking animatedly when Tia Isabel appeared, practically dragging forward her niece who was looking everywhere in the room except those at present. What were those two souls saying who were communicating in the language of the eyes, more perfectly than with the lips, a language given by the soul so that sound does not disturb the ecstasy of feeling? In those moments, when the thoughts of two happy beings are blended into one through the eyes, the word is gross, slow and weak; it is like the rude and dull sound of thunder, before the blinding flash and speed of lightning; it expresses an already known feeling, an idea already understood; and if we make use of it, it is because of the heart’s ambition, which dominates all of one’s being, and which overflows with happiness, wishing that all of the human organism with all its faculties, physical and psychic, would manifest the symphony of happiness intoned by the spirit. To a query of love by a glance, brilliant or veiled, the word has no answer: only the smile, the kiss, or the sigh.”

And the fervent reassurance and renewal of undying love:

Ibarra: Can I forget you? Would I be faithless to a vow, a sacred vow?… I took hold of your hand and that of my dead mother, I swore to love you, to make you happy no matter what fate Heaven had in store for me; and this oath I have
never regretted. Now I am renewing it. Can I forgmaet you? Your memory has always kept me company; it has saved me from dangers along the way; it has been my comfort in the solitude of my soul in foreign countries; your memory has negated the effect of the European lotus of forgetfulness, which effaces from the remembrance of many of our countrymen the hopes and the sorrows of the Motherland.

Maria Clara: I have not travelled as you have, nor do I know of a town other than your own, Manila and Antipolo. But since I bade you farewell and entered the convent I have always recalled and not forgotten you, even if my confessor commanded me to do so, imposing many penances…

And then they reveal their precious mementos of each other, Ibarra a bunch of withered aromatic sage leaves that she gathered for him, kept inside his wallet, and Maria Clara, his farewell letter, encased in a satin pouch kept on her bosom (!).

Sigh.

On Sisa

Sisa , a young woman who is a victim of her situation, a long-suffering wife and a loving mother, is one of the saddest characters I have ever encountered.

Even in the chapter in which she is introduced, before she becomes demented, you can already see how she has been reduced to a shell of a person:

“Sisa covered the scanty coals with ashes so as not to extinguish them completely, the same way a man covers up the feelings of his soul– covers them with the ashes of life which are called indifference, so that they are not extinguished by the quotidian treatment of our fellowmen.”

And with the trauma she experiences as the novel unfolds, you really wouldn’t be surprised that she loses her marbles.

On revolution

I promised myself this was going to be a leisurely reading, but it’s hard to separate the novel from its political underpinnings, given the context in which it was written.

I do not have the authority or qualifications to launch into a discourse of the political statements presented by Noli Me Tangere, so I’ll just take a few quotes that struck me, and you can draw your own conclusions:

P.226, Elias: “Woe unto them who are engaged in deception and work in darkness, believing that all are asleep! When the light of day illuminates the monster of the shadows, the terrible reaction will come: so much strength bottled up over centuries; so much venom distilled drop by drop; so much lament suppressed will come out and explode…”

p.231, Pilosopo Tasyo: “If that should happen, if the enterprise fails, what will console you is the thought of having done your part. And even thus, something would be gained: lay the first stone, sow; after the storm is unleashed, some grain of wheat will perhaps germinate, survive the catastrophe, save from destruction the species which would later serve as seed for the sons of the dead sower.”

p. 298, Elias: “In life, it is not the criminals who arouse the hatred of others, but men who are honest.”

p.434, Elias: “Criminals, or future criminals — but why are they such? Because their peace has been broken, their happiness wrenched from them; they have been wounded in their most cherished affections. When they asked justice for protection, they became convinced that they can expect it only from themselves. But you are mistaken, Sir, if you think criminals only ask for it. Go from town to town, from house to house, listen to the silent sighs of families; you will be convinced that the evils the Civil Guard correct are the same, if not less than the evils they continually cause…”

Drawing to the close

I finally finished the book yesterday morning, and found it so sad I cried through the last five chapters, from “Wedding Plans for Maria Clara” right down to the epilogue — crying for the love of Maria Clara and Crisostomo, crying for Sisa’s death in her son’s arms and Basilio’s loss of innocence, and crying for the turmoil yet to come in the 2nd novel, El Filibusterismo, which I have also lined up for this year.

The Noli was even better than I remembered it, especially reading it as a work of fiction and outside of academic requirement. Hopefully this blog entry gets more people to read (or re-read) this Filipino classic.

***
My copy: paperback copy from Bookmark, crying out to be upgraded (hay, someday…)

My rating: 5/5 stars