The Secret Supper by Javier Sierra

(In which I embark on a journey to solve a timeless mystery.)

***

One of my former colleagues from the academy once told me her experience when she took an international standardized examination. In her speaking test, she was asked by the examiner if she agrees that a picture paints a thousand words. She answered, “No, because if a picture paints a thousand words, then we need to speak a thousand words to prove that.” And the examiner beamed at her.

The question and her answer must have been something that Leonardo da Vinci wanted to reconcile when he painted The Last Supper. He created a painting that is innocent on the surface but controversial deep within, so that those who see it would contemplate on all its possible cryptic messages and then talk about it for centuries.

Among the many baffling irregularities depicted in Leonardo’s masterpiece includes the missing halos, the, missing meat on the table, Simon Peter holding a dagger and a rather feminine Apostle John, some of which were attributed with Da Vinci’s veganism, an ancient confusion of theological teachings, Mary Magdalene and ultimately, Leonardo’s heresy – the angles that Javier Sierra wishes to give light in his originally-Spanish novel, made readable to English readers through the translation by Albert Manguel.

This historical thriller is narrated by Agostino Leyre, the Chief Roman Inquisitor and Master General of the Secretariat of Keys as an account of his search of the true identity of The Soothsayer, the secret Hermes who warns Rome of the Milanese Duke Ludovico Il Moro’s heretic plan to revive the ancient Athenian philosophies right under the nose of the Papacy, and the huge part played by Leonardo da Vinci in this heterodoxy. Furthermore, The Soothsayer speaks of the disturbing symbols in Leonardo’s mural in Santa Maria delle Grazie. Assisted by the Domican monks of Santa Maria and fascinated by Leonardo’s genius, Fra Agostino becomes part-witness, part-investigator as a cycle of deaths flows and more revelations surface. The narrator moves from being the man convinced that he is the Sherlock Holmes of this mystery, then later on finds himself as a part of the mystery, then as a victim. Finally, he realizes that the true enigma is not that of The Soothsayer’s but Leonardo’s. And the solution to the latter leads to a more painstaking search.

I am still leery of religious-tainted fiction. But this reading experience opens up something anonymous in me. I could, for the time being, let my reading self not be hindered by matters of conflicting doctrines, or the darkness of every religion’s past, or by the fact that all religions’ claim for truth and supremacy doesn’t seem to end. We read to let our minds be opened, and/or our logic to be sharper, and/or our faith to be rejuvenated.

I feel so free I penned Dan Brown down on my TBR list. But for the meantime . . .



Currently reading

Saving Fish from Drowning by Amy Tan






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The Secret Supper
Saving Fish from Drowning

Leonardo’s Swans by Karen Essex

(In which history is a knot woven by art and blood.)

***

Karen Essex’ Leonardo’s Swans seems to be a modern answer to Joanne Brown’s question asked more than a decade later regarding whether this literary genre is Historical Fiction or Fictionalized History, discussing the problem of truth, balance, accuracy and the necessity for a well-grounded research. Essex’ novel was like saying “Why choose between history and fiction when you can have both?”

The novel traverses the life of illustrious women in Italian history – Isabella d-Este, the high-brow Marchesa of Mantua and her sister Beatrice d’Este, Duchess of Milan; the mistress of Beatrice’s husband, Cecilia Gallerani; and Lucrezia Crivelli, the duke’s later mistress. Most apparent was the central women of the novel, the Este sisters whose prominence and patronage of arts and literature, especially in their outward appreciation of the genius that was Leonardo da Vinci, were historically recorded, but not the possibility of a complicated sibling rivalry that could have encompassed not only their artistic purposes but the attention of the men around them.

Written with prefatory references to dates and excerpts from da Vinci’s notebooks in each chapter provides a channel from then to now and vice versa. It was like peeking at the magnificent labyrinth that was the master’s brain, and then being pulled out to see the old world as it makes his ideas come to pass. All those and intriguing political scandals combine to create a tale worth reading.



Currently reading

The Secret Supper by Javier Sierra





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Leonardo’s Swans
The Secret Supper

In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Dunant

(In which hope outlives death.)

***

To begin with, there was only sleep, a great, deep well of it, our bodies greedy for the oblivion that comes with safety. . . I think sometimes now about that sleep, for I have never felt anything like it before or after; it had such sweetness that I might be tempted to trade Paradise for the promise of such profound forgetfulness. But we were not ready to die, and on the morning of the third day, I wake to spears of light through broken shutters and a stabbing hunger in my gut. I thought of our kitchen in Rome; its roasted fish, its skin crisp and bubbling from the oven, the thick taste of capon stuffed with rosemary and garlic, and the way the warm honey oozed from [the cook’s] almond cakes, so that you almost had to eat the tips of your fingers to be satisfied. . .

– page 44

Such were the thoughts that filled the mind of a courtesan’s dwarf, Bucino, on their first days in Venice, after they escaped death’s claw at the second sacking of Rome. He travels to Venice together with his bald lady Fiammetta Bianchini who, like him, is bloodied and penniless and whose stomach is empty of food but not of precious gems they had to swallow in order to salvage. And in that great and prosperous city, they work so hard to bring back the fortunes that they lost in the other city, with Fiammetta as the charming courtesan and Bucino the clever pimp. But the way to the lost fortune is not to be taken without the help of an old caretaker, an old friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend-again from Rome and a blind and crippled healer. All of whom are actually threats as much as they are succors.

With In the Company of the Courtesan, Sarah Dunant once again shows her magic with descriptive details akin to The Birth of Venus that it is almost impossible for a reader not to be enslaved by the charm of the characters and places in this unforgettable historical novel. If one finds himself/herself salivating over the picture of a sumptuous meal created retrospectively, then the conflicts due to complicated human relationships can appear as truthful as real life.

Being a story about a woman whose morals and virtues were already sold as part of a training scheme to become successful in the business of male desires, it is noteworthy that the novel speaks of trust, friendship, camaraderie and most astonishingly, love, all throughout. It reminds us how easily friendships can crumble at the sight of jealousy and mischief, how lives were wiped away by lies and deceit. But in the end, the most valuable lesson lies in not what it is seen, but felt.


Currently reading

How To Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster



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In the Company of the Courtesan
How to Read Lit

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie

(In which wars cannot kill dreams.)

***

This is the first time I read a historical novel written by an African writer. It was lent to me by my boss who apparently and fortunately tolerates reading in the workplace and upon reading the blurbs, I was almost convinced that she just handed me a treasure.

And then I realized that the book would not only convince – it would enlighten.

In a carefully researched and internalized novel, Adichie narrates the life of Ugwu, an Igbo houseboy of Odenigbo who is a revolutionary teacher in Nsukka University; Olanna, his lover; Richard, a British man who aspires to become a writer and is in love with Olanna’s twin sister Kainene. Just like most war-time historical fiction, the characters’ life was peaceful and quiet regardless of Nigeria’s political instability. The British is still powerful in the country and there lies sensitive tribal divisions until a coup, for which other tribes blame the Igbo people, arises. Then the massacre of the Igbo follows, leading the way to a secession that separates the southeastern territory from the rest of Nigeria. And thus was the birth of the Republic of Biafra. And after a three-year war, it ceases to exist, but the violence continues.

In this moving and inspirational novel by Adichie, she proves how ruthless and insensible wars are, how it turns men into beasts and how fragile life is, all the while promising that choices are plenty and dreams are immortal. It is a touching story of life, hope, betrayal, forgiveness, death and the unending cycle of all these. In her patient narration and realistic characterization, Adichie holds the readers attention and never lets it go. And if one expects death as the most hair-raising conclusion a war story could have, then its conclusion could be an unforgettable surprise.



Currently reading

In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Dunant




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Half of a Yellow Sun
In the Company of the Courtesan

The Wayward Muse by Elizabeth Hickey

(In which another scandalous artist takes the limelight.)

***

“Poor Jane!” he said when she had finished, but he said it merrily, not pityingly. “All that is needed is three wicked stepsisters and a pumpkin coach.” – p. . 46

It is almost a Cinderella story. That typical poor, abused girl whose fate started to take a better course after attending a party where she meets her Prince Charming. But Jane Burden’s tale somehow breaks away from this fairy tale convention in the sense that she isn’t only a poor, abused girl. She is the ugliest girl in a slum in Oxford, England and she lives in a house near the public privy. She has a brother and a sister who are not as wicked as the cinder girl’s siblings but are equally annoying. She isn’t taken by a pumpkin coach to a party; she walks her way to the theater where she meets her Prince Charming who happens to be a rather charismatic artist with an Italian surname. He doesn’t make her wear the other pair of a glass slipper, but a beautiful moss green velvet gown for his painting of Guinevere. And that luxurious gown was designed and delivered by her other Prince Charming. Yes, this Cinderella is quite lucky at that part. But, this is where the fairy tale stops – the ending isn’t as happy as fairy tales should be.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t expecting a fairy tale. I was just struck by the interesting comparison. Of course, Hickey’s second novel is about art. And remarkably, she was able to connect the lives of the members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood founded by Daniel Gabriel Rossetti. Hickey laid out the foundation of an initially romantic future between Jane and Gabriel, until the latter is spirited away from her life by an emergency. Then she was rescued by William Morris, also an artist, from both her parents’ decision that she marries a neighbor’s son and from the pain Rossetti has caused her when he left. Everything goes on reasonably well. Jane ceases to live a life full of hardships and starvation. She is introduced to the grand and scandalous society of artists and poets and writers and receives praises for her beauty which both humiliated and humbled her. She has a grand mansion, a workaholic husband and two beautiful daughters when Rossetti comes back. And then the passion between them also returns with a vengeance.

Reading Elizabeth Hickey’s The Wayward Muse is a concoction of varying emotions and opinions. However, this time, the experience is not entirely about sentimentalism due to a poignant narration. It rather sounded as if I overheard friends chatting over coffee one afternoon. The narration was awkwardly hasty. And it took me 84 pages before I came across a time indicator, a rarity in historical fiction. But of course, the writer is not supposed to start the tale with a mentioning in what circa the story took place. But due to the quick story-telling, I barely had time to relish the setting that the story could have happened in a more contemporary time. The idea was promising, though. Having a protagonist who defies popular esthetic standards as a model for paintings verifies the truth that beauty cannot be measured by general criteria. And though the novel didn’t really focus on the artists at work but the scandal that ruined them, they were presented well as real humans with real flaws and vulnerability. It was pretty much the same pattern Hickey used in The Painted Kiss, which I, by the way, will surely remember more fondly.

Oh wait, that made me think: What’s with Hickey and hedonistic and irresponsible, albeit talented male artists who were reduced to invalids until their death? And luckily for them, one has a faithful woman who remained unmarried and the other a loyal mistress but an unfaithful wife who never left!



Currently reading

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie



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Wayward Muse
Half of a Yellow Sun

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber

(In which everything is surprising.)

***

“Watch your step. Keep your wits about you; you will need them”, goes the introductory warning in Michel Faber’s novel about a nineteen-year-old prostitute named Sugar and his patron, the future owner of Rackham Perfumeries, William. The speaker of this warning leads the reader down to dark alleys slimy with muck and noisy with yells of mongers and pathetic pleas and offers of beggars and prostitutes competing for the attention of passers-by. This is where the 895-page tour starts.
The first itinerary is Church Lane, St. Giles, in the house where Caroline, Sugar’s friend and also a prostitute, lives. It only needs several minutes of being guided through all the external and internal filth of the place for the reader to realize that this is not the place one wants to stay in. Luckily, Caroline takes us to a more decent (compared to St. Giles, of course) Silver Street where Sugar is to be met. Sugar then takes the visitor to Mrs. Castaway’s house of ill repute and to The Fireside, a tavern Sugar frequents in search for customers. From here, the course of an unusual romance between a man who had been refusing to manage a perfume empire and therefore has been suffering an increasingly unbearable financial torture from his father, and a whore whose only dream is (well, apart from publishing her rather gory novel which depicts her desire to be the female version of Jack the Ripper) to escape the embarrassing and disgusting life in a whorehouse run by her own mother, begins to take shape.
The affair started out of William’s curiosity regarding a very inviting article from More Sprees in London – Hints for Men About Town, with advice for greenhorns which features Sugar as the most sought-after girl in Mrs. Castaway’s. After a night of being with her, William decides that Sugar is to be his and only his. And for that to materialize, he needs to elevate from a distressed husband with a blurry future to a man of great consequence. He eventually becomes able to afford exclusive patronage of Sugar, and later on, a luxurious lodging at Priory Close as their love nest. Their dangerously clandestine relationship takes the visitor to omnibus and carriage rides to William’s mansion at Chepstow Villas, Notting Hill to his vast lavender farms; to the shabby house of William’s brother Henry to the Catholic church that Agnes, William’s sickly wife, thinks was miraculous as well as to her own delusional Convent of Health and to the secluded quarters of their daughter Sophie. In fear of losing William, Sugar armors herself not only with facts about perfume-making through painstaking determination but with intimate knowledge of the Rackhams and goes as far as stalking them to parties and theaters. It is an enjoyable trip – intriguing and amusing and stressful all at the same time. But, of course, the novel doesn’t start with a warning for nothing.
The Crimson Petal and the White is unique in the boldness of using the subjects of sex and filth with such a smooth artistic refinement. The scenes he painted are not the usual places one reads in historical novels. Instead of massive, grand hallways where wealth reigns and ladies in fashionable clothes speak in hushed voices, he describes pathetic makeshift houses with pathetic inhabitants compared to a mansion teeming with servants but holds a young girl captive in fear of a superstitious mother. The characters are not noblemen but mere businessmen and a prostitute. The peripheral characters include a doctor, a clergyman and widows and widowers. And the picture of poverty! The novel taps the social and religious state of the era so hard one would thank the novelist cum tour guide for the cautionary introduction of this novel within a novel.
Dark, sexy, dirty and mysterious with all the comparisons and contrasts and the fearless blending of all those, The Crimson Petal and the White proves any reader initially daunted by its weight wrong. In fact, its dimensions are designed to make one scream for more. For after reading a tale of only a hundred and five pages short of a thousand, the tourist will be caught stranded in the same street where the journey started, watching Caroline disappear in the darkness amidst the sound of a carriage leaving, with the guide ending the trip with this:
“But now, it’s time to let me go.”
Currently reading:

The Wayward Muse by Elizabeth Hickey




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Crimson Petal and the White
The Wayward Muse

The Books of Rachel by Joel Gross

(In which we are all brothers.)

***

I saw the book just before heading for the counter to pay for the books I have chosen. It was hardbound; protected by a jacket whose edges were already torn and frayed. If it’s the artistic vines and flowers on the jacket or the name in the title that got me interested, I don’t know. But I bought it for the promise of a good read that the blurb gave as well as its incredibly cheap cost.

And the promise was never broken. The book is excellent.

The Books of Rachel is a collection of stories from a Jewish clan that spanned 50 decades. Alongside the expansion of a family is the expansion of their wealth brought by the diamond industry they control as well as tthe passing of the legacy of a diamond – Rachel’s diamond.

The birth of a girl after the death of a Rachel means a new heiress of the diamond and the name. Each Rachel is a heroine – a strong and virtuous woman amidst the cruelty of the world to her people. The novel relates how each Rachel defended her philosophies, her love and dreams. It tells how she fought for her family and brothers and for her being a Jewess.

Chapter One: Rachel of Zaragoza

When Judah Cuheno saw the diamond in its dull covering, he already knew the beauty it possesses and decided to cut and polish it himself as a present for his sister Rachel. But before he even completed the task, Spain has already fallen to The Inquisition. And Rachel, in the attempts of saving the man who protected her was executed as well as the some other members of their wealthy clan.

Chapter Two: Rachel of Venice

With the kind of life that she experienced in the ghetto of Venice, Rachel Cuheno couldn’t imagine that she might have belonged to a rich family in Spain. His father loathed the story. They were never going to be a part of that clan. Or better yet, it is better to think that his possible connection with Judah Cuheno of Spain is nothing but a myth. Rachel’s family lived in so much poverty that her sister accepted the offer of being a courtesan in the palace and left her with her gambler of a father and her mad mother.

But fate has other plans. A distant relative discovered Rachel and her sister and brought them to the place where they belong.

Chapter Three: Rachel of Berlin

If the other bearers of her name were proud of being Jewish, Frau Rachel Meier wasn’t. She wished she had descended from artists with a Christian name. She treated the thought of being brothers with filthy beggars and superstitious peasants with utmost repugnance. Not until she fell in love that she willed to face danger, even death. And she decided that whatever happens, she will never deny her true identity – she is Rachel and she is a Jew.

Chapter Four: Rachel of Jerusalem

What seemed as a religious pilgrimage turned to be an intense eye opener for Mademoiselle Rachel Cohn. She sees the poverty and desperation of Jews in the Holy Land, breathed the fetid air of the city and heard tales of fighting and death. She wouldn’t want to go back to her privileged life and leave her people to suffer. She intended to improve their lives and she is willing to do everything she can to help - even if it means fighting against death.

Chapter Five: Rachel of England

The seventeen-year-old Rachel Kane was an impulsive young girl who had people throwing their hands up in exhaustion from her inappropriate remarks and thoughtless speech. To them she was just another spoiled kid. Yet she knew more than wanting to be a painter and read. She fell in love with a man who lost his mother because of a war that is starting to take place. She married herself to him before he died. But he didn’t die in vain. With his death was the death of a Nazi economist. Rachel went to Vienna to help save the Jews but failed. On the way to the concentration camp in Auschwitz, she was shot dead.

***

When I found out that the author spent more than a year to research this novel, I felt a huge respect for him. And the respect is heightened after I finished the novel. The way he wrote the story made me feel like I belong to the era being presented. It blended history and fiction very well that I almost thought the entire novel really happened.

Another interesting factor is the force that love brings. The five Rachels in the novel were all young, thus incapable to fully comprehend what was happening, or why they were being persecuted. But after they experience love, not only in the romantic context but also humanistic, they understood that they have to make an action. They understood that not only the Jews need fair treatment and freedom – everyone does.

***

I have once read that reading history means understanding life using natural light; reading literature is understanding life with an artificial light. The difference is that you can direct an artificial light anywhere.

I don’t know how to describe reading historical fiction, though. Could it be maneuvering an artificial light in a garden one beautiful afternoon?



Currently reading:

Last Voyage of the Valentina by Santa Montefiore

Slayer of Gods by Lynda S. Robinson

(In which I really changed my mind.)

***

After reading The Flanders Panel by Arturo Pérez-Reverte, it dawned on me that reading mystery is not as uninteresting as I used to think. Now that was a hasty generalization, I know. And to further accentuate my hasty behavior, there was a time when I picked up a book from a tall pile in my favorite bargain store and read the synopsis inside the jacket. The mere fact that it deals with ancient Egypt was enough for me to clutch it really close. After having it covered with plastic, I reread it and discovered it was the sixth and the last book in an Egyptian-inspired series. I was still thankful it wasn’t somewhere in the middle, though.

Lynda S. Robinson’s Slayer of Gods concludes the Lord Meren series. A concoction of ancient Egypt, detective mystery, murder and heresy, the novel opens up with an annoying, old duck loitering in an elaborate palace of Lord Meren, the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh Tutankhamen and the determined investigator in search of Queen Nefertiti’s murderer. The duck belongs to Satet, a witness who is killed as she searches for her pet. Satet’s murder starts the series of clues and traces and danger of finding the culprit responsible for the great Queen’s untimely demise more than a decade ago.

If there’s one thing that amazes me with this novel is the old-fashioned ways of tracking a criminal – which nonetheless work. During the time when CSI-like investigations and astonishing forensic science don’t exist, detectives rely on spies, rumors, plain common sense and some chance of luck. And when it comes to squeezing information, instead of the polygraph test there is the confess-before-I-count-to-ten method which works too, however ruthless that sounds. But the ruthlessness doesn’t stop there, of course. For a criminal, once found guilty has only two (because I don’t consider exile a merciless punishment) choices– a slow or quick death.

The novel is filled of lessons about trust, loyalty, the threat of a woman’s charm and the horrifying power of religion. Oh, I could have easily used a biblical allusion had it not been for my dislike of spoilers!

Regardless of the novel being a fragment of a series, it is written well enough to stand alone. The references made in the reigns of the previous pharaohs as well as other events relevant to the present crime do not result to a painfully curious mind or a reader’s disappointment for not being able to read the earlier books. The pace was fast enough but not too hasty to leave gaps in the narration, thus crafting a solid, smooth flow to the conclusion that twisted my heart and made me sigh.

Currently reading

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber

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Slayer of Gods
The Crimson Petal and the White

Girl with the Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier

(In which I got a peek of what he might have thought of.)

***

Tracy Chevalier’s art fiction bursts with surprises as she uncovers the possible root of a masterpiece branded as the Dutch Mona Lisa. No one is sure who the girl was, as no one is certain about how the real Vermeer worked or lived. In her treasure of a novel, Chevalier presents a story behind the painting that seems to be so real that it must have been true.

Girl with a Pearl Earring is also the basis of the 2003 film under the same title starring Scarlett Johansson, Colin Firth, Tom Wilkinson and Cillian Murphy. The novel takes off as the seventeen-year-old Griet was introduced to the painter Johannes Vermeer and his wife, Catharina, when the two visited her house. She understands then that she is to be their maid as a consequence their family needs to face when her father, a skilled tile painter lost his vision in an accident. On top of the eccentricities she has to deal with each family member including the other maid, Tanneke, Griet faces bigger challenges as her role shifts from being an all-around servant girl to an artist’s assistant.

Unlike other art fictions, the other captivating thing about this novel aside from the beautifully imagined plot is the narration. In other works that feature the life and work of an artist, the narrator is usually either the artist himself or an omniscient one with above-sufficient knowledge about art and its creation. In Chevalier’s novel, however, the narrator is Griet – an innocent maid ignorant of the world let alone art. But since the novel is expected to develop, Griet’s description moves from describing a palette knife as “a knife with a diamond-shaped blade“ to calling it what it is; from addressing van Leeuwenhoek’s camera obscura as a box with a diabolic magic to confidently calling it a camera obscura.

Chevalier reiterates the importance of knowing one’s place and maintaining one’s self all throughout the novel, which is as necessary and life-saving as knowing etiquette. For while it’s hard to be a maid in a household sinking in debts and serve a family full of inappropriate pride and to assist a reticent, emotionally unstable and selfish artist, it’s easy to get lost in the entire mayhem.

Currently reading

Slayer of Gods by Lynda S. Robinson

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Girl with the Pearl Earring
Slayer of Gods

Spring Moon by Bette Bao Lord

(In which I dare post an excerpt of my mediocrity.)

***

The night was still. Soon only moonlight stirred, unveiling cliffs and the giant reclining Buddha, smiling for eternity. They sat for a while in silence, and then Glad Promise spoke.

“We have been happy, you and I – despite of all – have we not, my wife?”

She squeezed his hand, “I have never known such happiness.”

“And if it could not last, would you regret becoming my wife?”

. . . “My husband, why do you ask if I would regret our marriage? Why do you ask such a thing?”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. “Because . . . “

“Because, my husband?”

“Because you should never have regrets. You should never change.”

“Why would I change?”

“Ours is a time of change,” he said gravely, looking toward the Buddha. (Lord, 1981, pp. 152 – 153)

It is the nature of historical fiction, or literature in general, to mirror how change transpires in the lives of men; for it is the nature of men, of time and of life itself, to change. Along with the changes comes danger, the severing of ties, the throwing away of the old and of starting anew. History records changes for posterity; literature depicts changes for uplifting humanity. The combination of both must aim to awaken among its readers a passion to know and understand the past and link it with the present and future along with a heightened sense of culture and of self. Seldom is it achieved successfully, though. For the reconciliation of fact and fiction is not an easy feat. So when one encounters a historical fiction that can serve the purpose with style, it is treasured, just as Bette Bao Lord’s Spring Moon is.

Bette Bao Lord, in her highly celebrated 1981 debut novel, Spring Moon, writes of change as it swept the history of China from antiquity to its enlightenment and its opening to the modern world. Chronicling the lives of several generations of the Chang clan in Soochow, China, the novel takes off in 1892, during the Ch’ing dynasty, when Spring Moon once again offends good manners as she searches for her slave girl, Plum Blossom. A spoiled and innocent child of nine, Spring Moon grows up among the illustrious members of the House of Chang and enjoys privileges exclusive to their era’s elite. It is at this tender age when she learns one important virtue prevalent in the traditional Chinese culture – to yield. That self-same virtue she carries on in her transformation as years went by. From a rather domestic, albeit incompetent, girl, she becomes learned under the tutelage of her eldest uncle, Bold Talent. From a blind follower of wedding traditions, she becomes an accomplice of her husband in defying them on their first night. From the insensitive, tactless brat, she seeks wisdom both in reticence and in peaceful arguments. She learns to work hard and shed the aristocracy of the names she bears for she also learns to shoulder the consequences of her actions and decisions without bothering her slave let alone the elders in her clan.

As a transition literature, Spring Moon remarkably covers not only one historical metamorphosis to the next. Its vastness stretches from the final dynasty of Imperial China to the Communist nation the modern world saw emerged. Yet events flash as if in a motion picture – fast, vivid, smooth. Apparently, it is Bette Bao Lord’s powerful narration and realistic characters from which the strengths of the novel emanate. Every chapter opens with a reference from written literature, oral tradition or history, thus laying out a background for the events soon to unfurl – a clever maneuver of tenses, all linked and interrelated. Epistolary narration is also employed, creating variety so as not to fully adhere to conventional storytelling. Also, the omniscient narrator’s generosity for details doesn’t compromise the narration’s need to be challenging, barring the readers from getting too close too soon, thus allowing the story flow smoothly.

Bao Lord’s creative use of English translations of the character’s Chinese names as well as their realistic presentation provides variety and ease in reading. Her characterization makes the people in the novel real – with all the vulnerability and darkness innate to human beings. Their humanity allows readers to read their story and identify themselves to be like one of them, or perhaps to be like people they know, as if they were reading the history of their own people. It was as if Jews were reading Joel Gross’ Books of Rachel, or the Filipinos Jose Rizal’s El Filibusterismo or Azucena Grajo Uranza’s Bamboo in the Wind. For while China was facing changes, so is the rest of the world. People reacted to these changes in the same way as the Chinese did. When threatened by war, people exhibit the same terror and pain. When reforms were introduced, people manifest the same inimical attitude and skepticism. When oppressed and abused, people succumb to the same anger and revolt.

Realistically portrayed in the novel is the fact that with the effort to bring social and political change comes the vicious cycle of the impermanence of things. Enemies do not remain enemies in the same manner as friends do not. Promises aren’t all kept let alone meant. In times of political crisis when personal interests are top priority, loyalties can be bought and sold.

Another noteworthy strength of this novel lies in the balance of presentation. Bette Bao Lord’s narrative style is careful enough not to be impartial as shown by \the juxtaposition of conflicting ideas in the novel. Spring Moon and Lustrous Jade being the symbols for old and new China, respectively, basically show how the new wave of information both threatens tradition and hopes for a national rebirth. The author shows the strong impact of tradition to the flow of the story by using an oracle as a foundation for the story’s plot. She depicts the tyranny of the Empress Dowager but also mentions her capacity to govern. She speaks of the soldier’s valor and dedication, yet portrays him as human enough to be subjected to disillusionment and fear. She also discusses the need to move forward and adoption of new ideologies for the sake of national development yet is audacious enough to write about its dehumanizing effect.

I learned two important things from this novel, the first one dealing with history and change. History documents times of changes since the emergence of the earliest signs of humanity and civilization, the rise and fall of empires and religions, the establishment and abolition of laws and the start and end of wars. History keeps on being written, even repeated. Indeed, the wind of change doesn’t cease from blowing, from sweeping lands and seas, hence the necessity of yielding to it as elucidated by Spring Moon. And the second one is about something that remained, astonishingly, almost undisturbed throughout the entire novel – one’s sense of family.

Currently reading:

Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich

Lord, B. B. (1981). Spring Moon. NY: Avon Books. pp. 152 – 153.

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Love Medicine

The God of Spring by Arabella Edge

(In which it takes more than talent to be an artist.)

***

Reading art fiction has always been a good experience in feeding the artist in me, and the frustrated one at that. To discover how masterpieces were made, how big sacrifices were done in their creation makes me swell with respect to the trembling hands that wielded brushes of colors to last centuries and make people relive pasts and memories. Their lives, these artists, make me believe even more to the proposition that artists are indeed born. I haven’t read much yet and I don’t know a lot of names whose signatures appear on famous paintings. But through pages of biographical, albeit a little fictional, account of their lives, I am able to know and understand how artists pursue their greatest artistic dreams. I thought I knew and understood enough. Until I read The God of Spring.

The God of Spring is one of the most subtle art fictions in my book pile, i.e., it’s not easy to quickly discern its inclusion to the subgenre. Having found it on a tall pile of cheap books in a bargain bookstore, the only thing that I could heavily rely on is the title printed on the book’s spine. The God of Spring. It doesn’t ring a bell. Nothing to immediately indicate that it’s about a painter and his famous masterpiece. But perhaps it’s the glimpse of what appears to be a small fraction of a painting that compelled me to pick up the book and read the blurb, much to my glee.

The novel opened with the arrival of the French painter Théodore Géricault from Rome. Welcoming him were his benefactor-uncle Monsieur Caruel and his lovely young wife, Alexandrine –whom Géricault had an illicit relationship with. His uncle was oblivious to this betrayal and even commissioned him another portrait of his lovely, philandering wife to show his support and appreciation for the artist’s previous work. And in return, Géricault made love to his aunt with a feverish desire that tormented him abroad.

In the house of his friend (and rival) Horace Vernet, Géricault learned of a political scandal that shook France when he was away – the tragedy of the frigate Medusa. Driven by an intense desire for a magnificent tableau and an opportunity to reel away from Alexandrine and his lustful thoughts of her, Géricault set forth in tracking down the survivors of the shipwreck for the narrative. Then he found out the horrible stories of murder, betrayal and cannibalism that led to the creation of The Raft of the Medusa, the painting that made him known as the Father of French Romanticism.

The painting, with its huge scale of 24 feet long by 18 feet high, dramatically depicts a mass of bodies lunged forward with a great desire to live, their weakened arms waving signals to the blurred vision of their last hope at the first sighting of the Argus, one of the convoy ships to the frigate Medusa. The first sighting. For it will disappear again, leaving the survivors two hours away from rescue. (See the Louvre site for a larger image.)

Deeply moved by this tragedy, Géricault was even more eager to paint. He hired the ship’s carpenter to make a replica of the raft; he studied cadavers in morgues to observe the texture and color of death and even went so far as taking home corpses to observe the deterioration of human flesh. His obsession for his tableau made him able to resist Alexandrine and lose her forever. No distractions and detractions stopped him from completing his life’s work. During a hard emotional blow, he displays an impressive determination by choosing the glory of art over giving in to human pain.

There, it is done, he said aloud, staring at his shaved head in the mirror, proof that he would renounce all society, friends and pleasure of any sort until he had completed his tableau.

He too would incarcerate himself behind thick stone walls. Never venture outside except for the purpose of his work.

– page 210 – 211

At the completion of his work, he didn’t just paint a scene of a shipwreck. He made viewers share the suffering of the wretched men in the raft. His painting offered no redemption. What it showed was a constant battle and struggle for survival. When most artists in his generation painted reclining nudes and Napoleon’s victories in wars, Géricault painted people who fought, not as national heroes for they fought for themselves, strengthened by hope and weakened by the sudden loss of it. How else can an artist show truth? How else can an artwork be more human?

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Photo Sources:The Raft of the Medusa
Classic Christmas