Again. again and again.

Matt Freese is a retired psychotherapist and in his latest work, he turns the focus towards himself. Putting his life under the lens of examination, he writes with passion and transparency of his journey through life. This book cannot be called a true autobiography but it is certainly autobiographical. In any case, Freese does speak of himself in third person a lot, in his stories.

Almost all of these stories have a theme or backdrop. Some of these are highly nuanced, interesting and will be a takeaway for most readers. Take, for example, the story of Michaelangelo’s Moses and the subsequent essay by Freud on it. The author peels away layers of history, mistruths and linguistic farce to talk through the experiences of his own life.

I also enjoyed the running thread of mental health throughout the book. The author examines questions of the state of mind of a writer who is writing. Does a writer have to be inherently serious? But then again, is seriousness perceived by some as depression, as his housekeeper later reveals her opinions? These and more thought provoking analyses fill the pages of musings.

As an indie work, this book stands on its own, or with Freese’s other prior books. In reading through them all, it is possible to get a sense of the man himself, but also the nature of man. And in that, lies the success of this work.

A Thousand Acres … a review

I read this book by Jane Smiley for three reasons. It came recommended by my friend Liz, who knows my style well. I also had to read something for the April Motif Challenge, which was ‘Read a book that has won recognition or a literary award’, which this book has. It won the 1992 Putlizer. And the final reason was that I hadn’t read anything set in America for a while. And I was thoroughly impressed!

This books spans the lives of three sisters of the Cook family. Their father, Larry Cook, is an ageing farmer who decides to incorporate his farm, handing complete and joint ownership to his three daughters, Ginny, Rose, and Caroline. When the youngest daughter objects, she is removed from the agreement. I loved this part of the novel, where this event sets off a chain of long lost dark truths and forgotten lies. As a family, their true dysfunctionality comes to light. There is some very dark bits to be unearthed as well, which I wont speak of here because that would spoil it for you if you wanted to read it. There is also a subplot around the eldest daughter Ginny and her troubled marriage and difficulties in bearing a child.

What I was interested to know was that this is a modern day retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear. Now, to be honest, I think I read that play over ten years ago and I cannot remember anything. But this book has meant that I will have to go an reread that again, now. So while I go and do that, you be sure to pick this one up.

Motif Challenge Mar

For the March bit of this challenge,

“MARCH- Take a Trip
Time Travel or read a book set in a country different than where you live”

I read Air, by Caroline Allen, a couple of months ago. This book is mainly set in Japan,although some parts of it cover the protagonist Pearl  travelling to/from Missouri. But I have been to neither of those two countries. So I am just sharing the review,

HERE

The Secret Life of Bees … a review

What a book! What a tremendous piece of literature that I had not come across until now. I couldn’t recommend this book highly enough, if you haven’t read it, you must do.

Set in 1960s South Carolina, this book is the coming of age story of 14 year old Lily Owens. She is white and her nanny of sorts, Rosaleen is black. When the latter gets into trouble for being vocal about black peoples’ rights and ends up in jail, Lily decides to do the inevitable – leave her abusive father T Ray and escape with Rosaleen. The only place that they know to go to is to August Boatwright’s  honey bee farm. This is from the only semblance of Lily’s mother’s life she has, a honey jar label with a black Mother Mary on it.

The honey farm takes these fugitives in and so begins Lily’s journey of self-awareness, love, honey harvesting, religion, and lessons of people reading. The greater part of the book shows the entwining of Lily and Rosaleen’s life with those of the Boatwright sisters – May, June, August. There are many instances of racism but none of them are as horrible as, say, The Bluest Eye. Rather, the distinction between white and black is presented through Lily’s eyes and is a poignant reminder of the differences that are made by man.

The book also has a happy ending. There are times when I thought that once the entire truth about why Lily’s mother was in Tiburon would come out, they would both be maybe sent back to the police or even worse, back to the father. And after all, the father was looking for his daughter in anger. But the book brings a lovely resolution at the end. So for a tender account of love and life and colour, this is one of the most uplifting books I have read. Must read!

The True Deceiver … a review

I picked up another Scandi noir, this time, set in Norway. Really, their harsh winter landscapes with piles and piles of snow make for such good murder mystery backgrounds. I’m struggling with a blurb here, so I’ve lifted this straight from Goodreads:

“Snow has been falling on the village all winter long. It covers windows and piles up in front of doors. The sun rises late and sets early, and even during the day there is little to do but trade tales. This year everybody’s talking about Katri Kling and Anna Aemelin. Katri is a yellow-eyed outcast who lives with her simpleminded brother and a dog she refuses to name. She has no use for the white lies that smooth social intercourse, and she can see straight to the core of any problem. Anna, an elderly children’s book illustrator, appears to be Katri’s opposite: a respected member of the village, if an aloof one. Anna lives in a large empty house, venturing out in the spring to paint exquisitely detailed forest scenes. But Anna has something Katri wants, and to get it Katri will take control of Anna’s life and livelihood. By the time spring arrives, the two women are caught in a conflict of ideals that threatens to strip them of their most cherished illusions.”

I am not very sure what I felt about this book. It is a very well-written book. So much so that as a reader I was hooked even if no action was taking place. The descriptions of Anna’s ‘rabbit house’ of the dog with no name and of the boat ties the parts in quite effortlessly. Katri reminded me of Mrs Danvers, and that’s never a bad thing. But I was a little disappointed in the climax appearing almost at the very end. Then again, it is not a very long book. So it wasn’t like I had to wait ages for it. I finished the book in two evenings of reading so overall, I would recommend it as a trialling of this new author I haven’t read before.

Earth … a review

Earth is the debut novel of author Caroline Allen, and in it we found a connection to one of the elements. The protagonist of the story is a thirteen year old farm girl from Missouri, who has visions of turning into a tree. While on the surface, that seems to be the case, the novel is actually about what it means to be ‘different’. The family is slightly dysfunctional – the mother is aloof and detached, the older sister has run away, and the father is abusive and strict. All our protagonist Pearl has, is religion and a vague notion of growing up. There is an aunt too, who is referred to as having visions, but in true style of a mob, she is ostracized by the rest of the family.
What I liked about this book was the atmospheric scenes of the visions; it is reminiscent of Adiche, who I quite like. I liked the theme too; it is unusual in its mix of modern day with the elements of Pearl’s relation with The Osage, an ancient tribe that she feels a connection with, for their portrayal and respect of the elements. Te visions and their aftermath dealt with many emotions all of us have felt – confusion, a sense of injustice, the anger of having been different, and the fear of what this all means. Being thirteen is not easy for anyone, let alone someone struggling to find meaning in a rural farm in mid-century America. There is some sense of mystery that runs through the entire novel and as a reader, I could not quite put my finger on the cause of my sense of uneasiness.
The style of writing is slightly halting, in my opinion. Of course, it is the author’s first novel and no doubt, there is the potential for lucidity. It was just not my style. It possibly also did not help that I was down with the flu, but this made for a good in-bed read with a bowl of soup.

#writing201 #fingers #prosepoem #assonance

A Week In-sanity

day 01
The webbed fingers of lotus leaf veins, move outwards, and quiver along the surface of water. When the breeze makes them gently sway, they send ripples out, like a thought stream that has just entered my mind.

day 02
The bile yellow light of the bulb spills out of the windows and onto the fingers of the roof thatch. A cricket sings, a flog croaks, and hot summer sweat runs down the back of the woman in the kitchen, making rotis.

day 03
When she sang out loud, all he wanted to do was run his fingers down her neck, the back of it, her spine, and the small of her back. He thought he was in love, until he met her… now he is obsessed with her voice.

day 04
On a cold, blue morning, as the sun tried to come up the horizon and push out through the clouds like the birthing of a child, dull gold sunlight crept in through the blinds in slanted fingers of honey.

day 05
Cycling down the steep slope, no brakes, pedals freewheeling… the wind cuts through her hair and makes it blow past her ears in dark black fingers of freedom… she comes to a slow halt as the slopes die down.

day 06
In a glade within a dark, deep forest, a lone flower grows, with finger-like scarlet petals. A sudden stillness is disturbed by a sensational flurry of butterflies, as they twine up in turrets and go higher, higher.

day 07
On his palette, an explosion of colours. I asked him, ‘What are you going to draw for me?’ ‘Your hands,’ he said. ‘All those colours, friend?’ ‘So I can trace the outline of every finger as I see it in my head – different.’

#writing201 #fog #elegy #metaphor

Elegy for Edinburgh

On this night in February,
I watch pinprick starlight
faintly disturb darkness.
The moon, sublime,
not quite round yet,
not quite white, hangs low
and you weave your black magic
over me.
O city of sights
and gothic architecture!
O city of the 56th North!
You fill me with the memories
of days lost and lyrics
lying scattered
on the sidewalk…

When the haar* rolls in
from the Firth
and covers all of your
presence –
the stars, the moon –
all snuffed out candles,
I feel as though
a curtain has been pulled over
the eyes of my mind.
Rest now, good night.

*Scots word referring to a cold sea fog on the east coast of Scotland.

I Truly Lament … Author interview

A few words from Matt Freese, whose book I enjoyed a lot. I’ve also enjoyed the banter I’ve shared about the holocaust, his writing, and various other things. Enjoy…

BM: The role of fantasy and fairy tale as a tool for the human mind to process trauma… is the mind trying to pass it off as unreal and distant?

MF: I imagine fantasy is useful for the reader in that it provides a psychological distancing, safer that way, more digestible. If I can have the reader grasp or understand the humorous and not so humorous workings of a golem, his concerns as the protector of Jews, of being a monster and a grim reaper as well, I then can have him mirror back all kinds of reflections (pun intended) about the people who have called upon him for help. In “The Disenchanted Golem” I raise more questions than I could ever answer, but it is in the questioning that I can deepen if not enrich the tale I am writing. When Kafka begins his short story with a young adult who turns into a bug, we are off and running. One of Freud’s great teachings is how the human mind makes use of fantasy for all kinds of conscious and unconscious purposes. I have no significant attachment to golems, but the concept intrigued me for the purposes of my own story telling, especially when one Jew finds that the golem is really useless and all that counts is his own existential self – as it should be.

The golem is a vast projection of a persecuted people, a people that historically have been quite rational in their approach to life and living and yet they, too, collapse into a mystical belief. An unremitting and historical condemnation will do that to you. The story goes of three men of differing religious backgrounds, one of whom is Jewish, who visit a doctor and each is told that his condition is terminal. One man breaks down and says he will go back to the old country to live out his last days. The second man leaves the office and runs purposefully in front of a bus and is killed. The Jew is left. And the Jew, hearing his fate, says “I’d like to see another doctor.” Alas, reason goes so far as some of my stories depict. I was intrigued as a writer in playing the role of the golem. It tested my imagination and my skills. When I write, I leave spoor and I leave it up to the reader to follow this or that trail. I am not that anal that I know exactly what each ”dropping” means. I like to leave the reader and myself guessing. I have found that this approach gives dividends to me as a story teller and perhaps to the reader who doesn’t need everything spelled out.

Consequently the golem is a projection and as we know we place all kinds of stuff on others as we project. On one level, all stories are Rorschach tests.

BM: A little bit of background to your life and inspiration for writing about the Holocaust.

MF: I am a product of lower middle class parents who just managed to get by; I lived in housing projects; I had toys and clean clothing and ate well. I didn’t know we were far from well-to-do. I was a reader as a child, passive, inert, non-assertive, introverted and shy. High school was a horror; I didn’t wake up until the age of 32. I had a few anti-Semitic experiences growing up and I had an acute awareness of being Jewish and very proud of the heritage. Like Freud, I am a godless Jew but fully aware that if you forget you are a Jew, the world will quickly remind you of that. Reading about the Holocaust and Jewish history in general made me ask questions. It was decades later I sat down and began to write what it must have been like in one of the camps. It took decades for the book to write itself and so when I began to write I did not have to stop. It was channeled. Imagination, fantasy, anger, rage and resentment flowed. I counted on my unconscious to guide me, it always does.

BM: Do you research using conventional ways? Past records of events etc., or do you pick an incident and revolve the fiction around it?

MF: I look up words or terms as I go by. I stay away from non-fiction accounts because I have imbibed enough to know what I want to portray in fictional terms. If I want to know what a blochfuher is, that’s readily available. To the point, I research me. I am the source.

BM: Folklore and the Holocaust? Where did that come from?

MF: I happened upon it, it is in my background. I did not read extensively about golems, for that is not my way. I dip my writer’s pen into the inkwell and then go on. After all, there are only three golem stories in the book and their purposes vary. The Disenchanted Golem, an editor has said, really sums up the entire book. You look at that, make of it what you will.

BM: What are you hoping readers will take away from this book?

MF: I haven’t the slightest idea. It is true that after you write a book it is no longer yours and that goes a long way to say that is why there are hundreds of acting interpretations of Hamlet. Sam Goldwyn had a telling line when asked about his most recent movie’s theme: “If you want a message, send for Western Union.” After all, what we take away from a book may be fleeting, passing or a sensibility. I am not teaching. I am exploring. Come excavate with me, if you choose.

BM: What further writing projects are you working on or planning to work on?

MF: I am working on a memoir of two summers, 68 and 69, I spent in Woodstock and the long range impact it has had on me to this day.

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Other blogs participating:

Jan. 16 – Mathias @ Mathias B. Freese: A Writer’s Blog

Jan. 20 – Fran @ Just Reviews

Jan. 21 – Bobbie @ Nurture Your BOOKS™

Jan. 23 – Mathias @ Mathias B. Freese: A Writer’s Blog

Feb. 3 – Rachel @ Leather Bound Pounds

I’m sure they will all be good reads.

Link to the Author’s website: http://www.mathiasbfreese.com/

See you around! And here’s a gorgeous picture from just now

Friday Find (July 25)

Nighttime city lights, view from the balcony

Gurgaon, Haryana, India