Alexander Solzhenitsyn – Ivan Denisovich

Posted on | January 22, 2009 | Comments Off

Won a Nobel Prize. 'Nuff Said.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about society: we increasingly just train people to do tasks efficiently – an education whose returns are short-term and obvious. We train young people to be efficient, ruthless multi-taskers, ambitious for progression up careers which expose them to responsibilities which are not quite understood. Unfortunately we don’t train them to consider long term sustainability (unless it’s in fashion), ethics or general courtesy. The results are consumer products bought in their millions, the production, consumption and disposal of which have endless, unconsidered, consequence.

We train the graduate to be able to sell products in their millions- to research, prototype, develop, manafacure, market, deliver and sell, (thinking of a job doing this kind of thing?). When did we ever train them to ask “is this sustainable? is this ethical? in 10 years time, what will be the wreckage from the packaging of this foodstuff? what will be the social fallout of this computer game which conditions children to kill?” – and once they’ve asked the question, have we equipped them to deliver an answer?

The answer is: utterly, utterly, no.

I had a job interview this morning- I was asked about my efficiency, my ability to sell, to learn new technologies quickly. I was not asked about ethics. About sustainability. About troubles of conscience I may have encountered when forcing a product, service or decision on an un-witting punter.

Although my background is scientific (I am cheekily writing a book review after having read only about 12 of the things), with this realisation I am forced to expound the merits of an education which may not necessarily be exclusively artistic, but engages with literature and the arts. (Gulp). Here we go.

The Human Condition

Greek tragedies and myths in cartoon pictures taught us nothing of the Greeks’s technology, but it did teach us about the perils of temptation (Sirens, anyone?), the virtues of bravery (Hercules), and everything in between. From this, through Shakespeare’s poetic exhortation to “beware my Lord of Jealousy”, Tolkein’s fantastic explorations of honour, effort and loyalty, and Dostoyevsky’s harsh questions about a world in which babies are fed to wolves (brothers Karamazov), to Huxley’s Brave New World, we are taken in by prose or poetry and forced to ask these questions. Some works are intentionally moralistic, or written to provoke the discussion (Jekyll and Hyde). Others ask us questions more subtlety, as a character portrayal incites our hatred and we ask ourselves why.

But all the way through, we are faced with the curse of every English undergraduate’s wretched education, the human condition.

Not always by design, I might hasten to add. The literary devices of everything from Shakespeare to the Bible are scrutinised far more than any moral enlightenment they might deliver. But nonetheless, there is nought in all human experience; from solidarity to squalor, intoxication to enlightenment, Bolshevism to bravery, which has not been treated by the pen. Exploration of which, if you’re like me and missed out entirely on any kind of historical education- is pure gold.

Perhaps the best bit is, you never realise you’re learning. You go through all your English degree and never twig it’s actually all about life. Or maybe you do. Either way, it’s just about whether it’s a good book or not.

Which brings us onto…

The book

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich did not win Alexander Solzhenitsyn the 1970 nobel prize for literature for its length, its plot turns, or colourful portrayal of a multitude of characters. It won it because of the light it brought upon Stalin’s gulags. It won it for its revelations of the systemic cruelty possible under the organised rule of man. Equally it proclaims the strength of human character, as Ivan goes about his day.

It could not, of course, have done this, if the novel was crap. The simplicity of the story reminds you it is probably more a collection of personal memories, a compressed autobiography. It is candid, readable, interesting, descriptive: all of these things. But never sensationalist, and never self-indulgent. I picked it up, I learned, and enjoyed the process. (Now that never happens in science!).

In summing up what I thought of the book, it’s probably easiest to say that it’s astutely and intelligently written, and deserved to win the prize as a suitable signpost for this book’s importance. And if you read it, I’m sure you’ll agree it’s darn well good enough for you not to begrudge it for winning it either. (Or if you do, suck it up, it was forty years ago).

The verdict

I was given this book at Christmas with a note on the title page from Dobson which read: “Read + Grow”

I have read it. I thoroughly enoyed doing so.

And I have learned: more about history than in all the excuses for history lessons I once had, about ethics (perhaps more than 20 years of church attendance), about character and hope, about politics, about literature and what it can do. I even learned a little about the average day of Ivan Denisovich.

Now, comes the growing part.

(Thanks Dobs).

Rating: (9/10)

Aldous Huxley – Brave New World

Posted on | January 8, 2009 | Comments Off

The 1932 edition

Everyone in this brave old world (well, my Dad and Mary) raves about the importance of this inter-war philosophical novel. So, never wanting to be left in the shade, I picked it up.

I’d heard that this book was packed with exciting predictions about future technology which had now come true, terrifying incitements of the handbasket the world is going to hell in, and a little bit of a novel to hold it all together. All of these were correct.

I’d also been told that to read it is to love it. And that wasn’t quite true.

It’s important to get straight that this book is written with a purpose: to wag a scornful nostalgic finger at what Huxley saw as the depravity of modern society, and by depicting the depths of  shame it would inevitably bring about, incriminate it. This book, in direct contrast to Elton’s, is very much about the context and the questions it raises. Issues of sexual promiscuity (although, reflecting its era, it doesn’t mention homosexuality or Huxley’s opinions of it), politics and the rise of Bolshevism as well as the English class system, feminism and gender equality (the book doesn’t mention any differences in male and female employment). It’s easy to take for granted how much he predicted has come to bear, especially without a clue of what the 30′s were like (which I don’t).

The beginning of the book is well enough written, but I’m not quite sure what I think of the interweaving of London landmarks and place-names into the story. I guess the idea is to enhance the relevance and plausibility of the story. But the occasional cynical links between current and future are a little too cynical, and I think I just don’t have the right sense of humour for it all. The characters are good, if a little too exaggerated, the constant settings pointing out the downfalls of the progress we are to expect. Use of interweaving dialogues with tiny paragraphs are a nice device and convey the claustraphobic world well. It’s definitely an easy book to read quickly.

Where the book really kicks in is when the Savage turned visitor to the new utopian society sits down to discuss the controller of the new world, and the book’s questions are unavoidably presented- the dispensation of the arts, true science, religion, even struggle, passion and emotion in favour of a drug induced, television addicted utopia, where the able are terribly smug about it, and the unable are not wise enough to know it.

Huxley asks all the right questions- despite an unhealthy dose of cynacism, despiar and general grumpiness he is obviously intelligent and his prescient words beg of you deep questions that are good (if not ‘fun’ to ask).

Which is why I was all the more disappointed when John, the shady character lazily introduced mid-way through as a first generation savage, born of a utopian mother into an uncivilised clan became the focus of the story. Inevitably his nature is equally exaggerated to mirror the modern characters, but the gross asceticism, encyclopedic Shakespeare knowledge and comical chastity make him too removed a character for you to care when he is found hung on the final page.

(Whoops, there should have been a spoiler warning there).

Verdict

Yes, I did get asked those deep questions about society (and would agree this should be required reading for the policy makers of today) and yes, Huxley is a very capable writer. But did he make me love his classic novel? Not quite.

Rating: (7/10)

Ben Elton – The First Casualty

Posted on | January 7, 2009 | Comments Off

The nice cover

Ben Elton gets up to a lot. As well as writing books he’s also an actor, comedian and director, and recently wrote a musical. I picked up The First Casualty not as a result of his pedigree in any of these things. I picked it up because I was bored.

The book opens in a trench amidst the carnage of Ypres, where all flesh is grass, and sets the scene for the outplaying of the novel with the death of a soldier who is unceremoniously drowned in the mud. The book doesn’t do this to make a point of the horrors of war, to depict how callously lives were discarded for the sake of petty pride and 5 yards of worthless mud, but to get down to the business of a good, interesting novel, with adequate doses of suspense, intruige, romance, and everything else a railway station paperback needs. That’s the purpose of this book through and through- and it succeeds. It’s easy to read, it maintains your attention and would happily get you through a train journey or a wait at an airport. Once you’re done it will also prop up a book shelf, mop up coffee, or anything else you’d want from a five quid thriller.

This isn’t a book to keep on your shelves to remind you of the revelations it brought, or to make you look less stupid when the neighbours come round. It’s just an enjoyable read, and that’s why I liked it. End of the matter.

Or is it?

The thing with all literature is that it makes you think. In some way, every book has to- it makes you empathise with characters and consider viewpoints, or educates you of history, culture or geography by neccessity of its context. Elton’s novel is sufficiently well researched, and has sufficient subtlety to make you consider what the Great War was really like. It does this purely to set a good story- but by accident- and only if you wish it- it brings up all the questions of the British class system, the role of the wars in changing gender roles, the transition from empire building to empire buying, and the ethics of war.

Elton’s doesn’t have his protagonist arrested as a conscientious objector to proove some mighty point- rather to serve the plot. But the virtue of literature is there is the chance to ask these questions. The love interest isn’t a feminist on the edge of the line to proove some point about gender roles- those questions are ripe for the picking but never enforced on the reader.

I enjoyed this book twice- once reading it as a distraction and a good way to while away the East coast mainline. And a second time when I stopped to consider, and discuss, the nature of our society, class and gender as affected by the war- in my own time.

Verdict:

Well recommended for a good long train journey. And if you want a book-club book, there’s still plenty to discuss afterward.

Rating: (8/10)