Tuesday, October 23, 2012

A look at books. The Casual Vacancy.

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The Casual Vacancy

By Lara Robinson


It doesn’t matter that J.K. Rowling is the author of the Harry Potter blockbusters. This is her debut novel in adult fiction, not to be compared with middle grade fantasy. Yet before the first page is turned (or stroked, if you are a kindle reader) we have certain expectations. This is J.K.

The novel is set in the little town of Pagford and opens with Barry Fairbrother, (in his early forties.) He has just written, finished and sent an article to the local paper and is going out to dinner with his wife for their anniversary. He dies on page five and I can tell you this, he is the nicest person in the book. By nicest, I mean we never get to see his bitter, petty and narrow-minded side. We will however, explore in much detail and with heavy narrative, the minds of every other citizen of Pagford affected by the divide that Barry’s death propels. Barry’s vacant seat on the council becomes the center of a downward spiral and eventual implosion of the class struggling Pagford.

The cast and plot center round the efforts of those who wish to oust the rundown, drug infested, crime-riddled housing estate called The Fields. Giving its welfare responsibility to the bigger, neighboring town, of Yarvil. Along with freeing themselves of the social burden of a welfare estate, they wish to rid themselves of a much used drug rehabilitation center - a building owned by the town of Pagford. They are pitted against those that want to follow in the footsteps of Barry Fairbrother to help, encourage, and change the dark and dreadful lives of the residents of The Fields.

The reviews have been mixed. Credit is given to J.K. Rowling for tapping into the emotions, and motivations of the teenagers as they struggle to find their identity and value in their family and town. Rowlings has taken on just about every social sickness known in today’s society. From incest and rape to drug abuse and hatred, she tackles it all. Some say, maybe too much without any hope or light.  In one triumphant moment at the end of the novel, written in flashback, there is hope. But it is undeniably, too late.

Overall, she has written a book that is as deep and complex as Zadie Smith’s White Teeth, and while “White Teeth revels in the ecstatic hodgepodge of modern life, flirting with disaster, confounding expectations, and embracing the comedy of daily existence,” JK does not flirt. She goes all the way and brings this town to the stark reality, that when given the choice to ignore, indeed cast off, all moral and social responsibilities, the benefits, benefit no one.

I recommend reading this book on a kindle, you will be highlighting and sharing all the way. If not, have a dictionary on hand. It can be heavy and laborious, and certainly gives you much to mull over.
If you have read the Casual Vacancy and would like to comment, please do, books, like art are subjective and I would love to hear all your thoughts and revelations.  Loved it or couldn’t read it, let me know!

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Addiction to Fiction.

This blog post was published on June 30, 2012 at 12:00 pm.
Local Voices

Addiction to Fiction

I’ve become a book junkie. When I think of all the addictions in the world, it has to be the most luxurious and the most intriguing. It can take you anywhere. It’s a habit that has developed like a roller coaster; a rapid start as a pre-teen, a slowing in the mid twenties as life took on it’s own fast pace and now, as my third child turns six, I find it has taken an insatiable pace that I seem to have abandoned control over.

I have become a book guard. I watch over the book I read, like gold. The very carefully chosen, next book, is near at hand, in its reading order, close to my bed. I am cautious of the authors that enter my circle. It is a love affair.

Love affairs take time! I don’t have much time. I have three kids, so, my body, not my alarm clock takes to waking in the small hours of the morning to steal some moments of reading. I need to know what the next page brings.

I cannot turn the light on for fear of waking this gentle man, my husband. He does not share my addiction to fiction. I’ve not had time to get a night-light that clips to your book, nor have I got a Kindle. So, I creep from the bed like a nocturnal creature with a pitter-patter across the hard woods and sneak my guilty luxury into the spare bedroom.  I am stealing time and gaining pleasure. I read.
When I look over the last 17 years of my marriage I see that the brightest gems  given to me, have been the classics. I am not a seeker of old. I want new and fresh and young, the bright diamonds. As a younger woman, I did not look to far back in time for gems of wisdom, but of course, they came to me, and these musty, dusty, books have become my greatest gifts.

One Christmas my husband and son bought me Ernest Hemmingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls. They put it beside my bed. I woke Christmas morning to see it and picked it up. I spent Christmas in that book, in and out. Turkey, card games and Hemmingway. I binged. It was Christmas after all. I remember it well. It was great.

He gave me Steinbeck, Updike, and Mark Twain. Twain’s Books for Bad Boys and Girls, sits on my bedside locker. I love a cheeky child, preferably, someone else’s child. Mark Twain was a cheeky writer; he made light of what we now consider inappropriate, unacceptable behavior. “Let us swear while we may, for in heaven it will not be allowed.” His advice to young people is hysterical.
My husband gave me great authors of efficient words and deep soul. I interchange my authors. I mix up the genres. I pick who enters my boudoir now with consideration, not any old words will do!

I recently read Roddy Doyle’s, A Greyhound of a Girl. It’s a YA book that crosses over to all generations. It is a beauty.  I loved it so much I got on-line and ordered every book he ever wrote. I own most of them already but not his books for children. I will give my children stories written by great authors as my husband did for me. Irish, American, and everything in between, authors who peak your curiosity and interest in seeing the world, and living life to the fullest.
I read Doyle’s The Giggler Treatment to the youngest child last night. It’s about how gigglers, little gremlin type characters, plant big piles of poo in the path of any adult that has been in some way mean to a child.
She laughed so hard, out loud, she had to put her hand on her belly. I laughed with her, mostly I laughed at her. We fell off the bed. It was great!

J. Flood

Roddy Doyle is a favorite, and I've read a lot of his published work. I completely understand the "laugh out loud" aspect of his novels, and have done just that many, many times. RD has the ability to engage the reader to the point where laughing out loud while in a public place/on public transportation is merely an involuntary reaction, and the reader should be forewarned! This reaction is frequent and contagious!
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Lara Robinson

I know J, I can't get enough of him. He is capturing many of the old Irish expressions that we grew up with but are dying out. He's brilliant!

Ciara Collins

I love Roddy Doyle also. I also have a lot of his books. Sad to see all the bookstores going out of business because of technology. I hope the next generation will be able to buy books for their children like we did for our kids. I think the next book I am going to read is fifty shades of grey and I believe we should be passing it on to the hubbies also. Will keep reading your stories they make my heart sing.
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Lara Robinson

Hi Ciara.
I hear fifty shades has sold out in Ireland. A new found revolution is in place. I'd say the Irish hubbies may look out! But we can bet on Roddy for a bit of a laugh, any time.

Veronica Stack

Lara, I love your writing. You have a true talent.
I also was addicted to fiction from an early age.
I remember trying to steal a few extra chapters of a book, hiding
Under my blankets with a flashlight as a child. As for Roddy
Doyle, I think I nearly cried, because I laughed so hard
Reading it. Keep the writing up Lara, I look forward to reading your
Next piece.
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Lara Robinson

Ah Vee, you're a gas woman. Thanks for the kind words. You'd love "A greyhound of a girl,' you being a nurse on a cancer ward. It's all about letting go. I had just finished it and my own grandmother passed away and was buried Monday last. She was great, 95 and playing bridge up to her passing. They'd a good ol session down in Wicklow for her. Thanks for posting Vee.
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