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I love it when my reaction to a new novel catches me by surprise -- and this one, frankly, knocked me over. How is it possible that reading story whose ending I know as well as Othello's kept me up all night reading because I wanted to know how it was going to turn out?
Oh, I already knew what was going to happen -- as, I suspect will most potential readers. Most of us know the basics, right? General Othello and the lovely Desdemona are in love, Iago convinces Othello to become madly jealous, and the stage quickly becomes littered with corpses. So I was not precisely expecting to be astonished by the story. So why was I, Iago the proverbial book I could not put down?
For a very simple reason: this retelling of Othello not only seduced me into liking the villain -- something I would not have thought possible -- but feeling by the tumultuous last quarter of the book that by having empathized with his increasingly warped sense of right and wrong, I had become enmeshed in his fate. Somehow, by not shouting no early enough to stop the inevitable, the story made me feel complicit in his plot.
That's right: the reader is the unindicted co-conspirator here. How refreshing to have a novel take the reader's involvement and intelligence so seriously -- and to repay it so well.
And to do it so subtly, thank goodness. At first, Iago seems merely sensitive and observant, a boy not born into a social class that would permit him the luxury of self-determination, but increasingly determined to set his own course despite a demanding father's demands (especially well-drawn) and a frivolous social order not given to recognizing real worth. He has to fight hard to remain honest, and it frequently costs him dearly.
So when he begins to feel just a bit resentful of others' advancement, who can blame him? Why shouldn't he gain the wife he wants, the promotion he craves, the spot at the exotic newly-minted general's side? Shown through Iago's eyes, his wants seem so reasonable, even moderate, and his opposition so privileged that we cannot help but cheer him on as he navigates the complex world of Venetian military and social politics.
By the time he starts to display enough sharp-edged jealousy to startle us, the reader is already implicated in what gradually emerges as a slow-acting, closely-observed madness from the point of view of the madman. Iago genuinely wants to believe he is doing the right thing as he continues to do more and more egregiously wrong ones.
The thing is, his justifications remain insidiously plausible, right up to the point when not even he can believe what he has done. But by then, as in all great tragedy, self-knowledge can no longer save him -- or anybody else. The die is cast.
An unexpected fringe benefit that friends of the Bard will love: this story is so steeped in the Shakespearean ethos that small hints of his other works seem to have been built into the very plaster of the ballrooms and steel of the swords. Here is an image plucked from a sonnet; there is descriptor reminiscent of Juliet. And could that possibly be a reference to Pericles, Prince of Tyre?
It is, in a word, fun -- not word I generally associate with tragedy. If I have a critique (other than having lost sleep to this story), it's that I would have liked to see both Desdemona's very genuine wit and Othello's descent into overwhelming paroxysms of jealousy in a bit more detail. Why was this great mind so easily overthrown?
But that's a minor quibble. As an established fan of Nicole Galland, naturally, I expected to be charmed by the writing, and I definitely was, but I have to say, I think this is her best book to date. She's a wonderful historical novelist, deft in her wit, incisive in presenting long-ago social dynamics, thorough in her research, and gifted at bringing a bygone era to life.
If only I didn’t feel so guilty for having tricked the Moor.
When's the last time any of us saw a baby name book that was actually interesting to sit down and READ? Believe it or not, this one actually is.
THE AFRICAN BOOK OF NAMES is so intelligently put together, treating both the reader and the subject matter with respect. Unlike the vast majority of baby name books out there, it's not just a straightforward list of names and meanings -- which, let's face it, is fairly readily available on the Internet, if you're looking for only common names -- but a thoughtfully-constructed examination of the significance of naming in various African and African-American cultures.
Yes, there are indeed lists, but such lists! Arranged by categories of meaning, the names are also presented by region of origin and circumstance under which a particular name might be applied. And we're not just talking about names that translate as Daisy or Strong One here -- names like the Azanian Nothango (one who forms a buffer against the enemy), the Ugandan Nangila (born while the parents were traveling around), and the Camaroonian Akam Bowho (one who does not have a problem) abound in this book.
This book belongs on the desk of any writer even considering including African or African-American characters in her work, Many writers use baby name books to help them find interesting and meaningful monikers for their characters, but speaking as a writer who has made her way through a lot of them, this is quite simply the best-organized one I've ever encountered.
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A writer who reads has commented on (2) products.
I, Iago by Nicole Galland
A writer who reads, May 13, 2012
I love it when my reaction to a new novel catches me by surprise -- and this one, frankly, knocked me over. How is it possible that reading story whose ending I know as well as Othello's kept me up all night reading because I wanted to know how it was going to turn out?Oh, I already knew what was going to happen -- as, I suspect will most potential readers. Most of us know the basics, right? General Othello and the lovely Desdemona are in love, Iago convinces Othello to become madly jealous, and the stage quickly becomes littered with corpses. So I was not precisely expecting to be astonished by the story. So why was I, Iago the proverbial book I could not put down?
For a very simple reason: this retelling of Othello not only seduced me into liking the villain -- something I would not have thought possible -- but feeling by the tumultuous last quarter of the book that by having empathized with his increasingly warped sense of right and wrong, I had become enmeshed in his fate. Somehow, by not shouting no early enough to stop the inevitable, the story made me feel complicit in his plot.
That's right: the reader is the unindicted co-conspirator here. How refreshing to have a novel take the reader's involvement and intelligence so seriously -- and to repay it so well.
And to do it so subtly, thank goodness. At first, Iago seems merely sensitive and observant, a boy not born into a social class that would permit him the luxury of self-determination, but increasingly determined to set his own course despite a demanding father's demands (especially well-drawn) and a frivolous social order not given to recognizing real worth. He has to fight hard to remain honest, and it frequently costs him dearly.
So when he begins to feel just a bit resentful of others' advancement, who can blame him? Why shouldn't he gain the wife he wants, the promotion he craves, the spot at the exotic newly-minted general's side? Shown through Iago's eyes, his wants seem so reasonable, even moderate, and his opposition so privileged that we cannot help but cheer him on as he navigates the complex world of Venetian military and social politics.
By the time he starts to display enough sharp-edged jealousy to startle us, the reader is already implicated in what gradually emerges as a slow-acting, closely-observed madness from the point of view of the madman. Iago genuinely wants to believe he is doing the right thing as he continues to do more and more egregiously wrong ones.
The thing is, his justifications remain insidiously plausible, right up to the point when not even he can believe what he has done. But by then, as in all great tragedy, self-knowledge can no longer save him -- or anybody else. The die is cast.
An unexpected fringe benefit that friends of the Bard will love: this story is so steeped in the Shakespearean ethos that small hints of his other works seem to have been built into the very plaster of the ballrooms and steel of the swords. Here is an image plucked from a sonnet; there is descriptor reminiscent of Juliet. And could that possibly be a reference to Pericles, Prince of Tyre?
It is, in a word, fun -- not word I generally associate with tragedy. If I have a critique (other than having lost sleep to this story), it's that I would have liked to see both Desdemona's very genuine wit and Othello's descent into overwhelming paroxysms of jealousy in a bit more detail. Why was this great mind so easily overthrown?
But that's a minor quibble. As an established fan of Nicole Galland, naturally, I expected to be charmed by the writing, and I definitely was, but I have to say, I think this is her best book to date. She's a wonderful historical novelist, deft in her wit, incisive in presenting long-ago social dynamics, thorough in her research, and gifted at bringing a bygone era to life.
If only I didn’t feel so guilty for having tricked the Moor.
The African Book of Names: 5,000+ Common and Uncommon Names from the African Continent by Askhari Hodari
A writer who reads, June 30, 2009
When's the last time any of us saw a baby name book that was actually interesting to sit down and READ? Believe it or not, this one actually is.THE AFRICAN BOOK OF NAMES is so intelligently put together, treating both the reader and the subject matter with respect. Unlike the vast majority of baby name books out there, it's not just a straightforward list of names and meanings -- which, let's face it, is fairly readily available on the Internet, if you're looking for only common names -- but a thoughtfully-constructed examination of the significance of naming in various African and African-American cultures.
Yes, there are indeed lists, but such lists! Arranged by categories of meaning, the names are also presented by region of origin and circumstance under which a particular name might be applied. And we're not just talking about names that translate as Daisy or Strong One here -- names like the Azanian Nothango (one who forms a buffer against the enemy), the Ugandan Nangila (born while the parents were traveling around), and the Camaroonian Akam Bowho (one who does not have a problem) abound in this book.
This book belongs on the desk of any writer even considering including African or African-American characters in her work, Many writers use baby name books to help them find interesting and meaningful monikers for their characters, but speaking as a writer who has made her way through a lot of them, this is quite simply the best-organized one I've ever encountered.
(1 of 1 readers found this comment helpful)