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BOOKS 260210
Reviews
Lady Gaga: Just Dance
The Unnamed
Children of the Sun
Everyone’s gone goo goo for Gaga apparently, except me. To say I was sceptical of Lady Gaga’s biography is rather an understatement. I did wonder if I would discover a new admiration for the apparent fashion icon (who doesn’t want to look like they’ve been dragged through Blue Peter’s arts and crafts department?) and supposed talented songwriter (ga ga ooh la la is particularly groundbreaking). I didn’t. As interesting as it was to find out that Baby Gaga was ‘forced’ to play the piano and attend one of New York’s finest Catholic schools (poor thing), it’s difficult to comprehend why a 23 year old deserves a biography. Perhaps the author, music journalist Helia Phoenix, is simply cashing in on the Gaga phenomenon while it’s so prominent. Gaga claims that her school stifled her creativity and is modestly quoted as saying “there were times when I got a lot of attention for being the life and soul of the party”. This continued arrogance and endless name dropping of A-list celebrities makes me feel like I have accidently picked up a copy of Heat rather than the published biography of the extraordinarily unique Lady Gaga. Despite this, the book is an easy read, would be a perfect gift for a Gaga fan and does have some nice pictures of Miss Stefani Germanotta wearing very little. Phoenix has some moderately interesting tales to tell about the creation of Gaga, who is portrayed to be almost an ideology rather than just another popstar.
Like many Great American novelists before him, Ferris has encapsulated the difficulties surrounding modern day life in suburban America, following Tim Farnsworth’s descent into an unnamed illness, which leaves him physically and mentally walking away from his obligations to his family and his job as a partner in a successful law firm. Ferris delves into the surreal to convey Tim’s desperation, loss and loneliness in his suburban prison, in an extended metaphor where Tim finds himself in an almost apocalyptic land, becoming totally lost, abandoned and unable to escape his suburban prison. Ferris’ novel is often disorganised and subplots tend to be left without conclusion (for example the murder of Tim’s client’s wife) but while this makes for frustrating reading, Ferris manages to create a situation like Tim’s in the reader’s mind. We, as readers, are unable to understand the destination of Tim’s journey. We almost join him as he walks to escape his life, as if to subconsciously escape our own by reading a novel exploring the themes of suburban life, from Tim’s overweight daughter to his marital problems. Ferris creates a new generation of ‘Great American novels’, commenting subversively not only on the suburban lives of his characters but also of his readers, forcing them to re-evaluate their own lives and acknowledge their own forms of escapism. A thoroughly compelling and thought provoking read – The Unnamed is a captivating and exciting new novel for 2010.
This remarkable debut novel by Schaefer follows two very different men whose lives gradually become twisted together through the wider narrative of Britain’s Neo-Nazi movement. In 1970, 14 year old Tony becomes seduced, immersed and devoted to this shockingly racial and violent movement. Yet in this backwards world, the biggest crime is to be gay and Tony has no choice but to hide his homosexuality. In 2003, James, who lives with his boyfriend in London, becomes interested in the brutally violent leader of the movement, Nicky Crane, who came out as gay before dying of AIDS in 1993. James becomes dangerously obsessed and, as he delves deeper, he forms risky contacts that soon endanger his world. Schaefer seamlessly and skilfully switches between these two narratives so they mould together. In addition to this, newspaper and magazine clippings from Tony’s era allow the reader to discover how the movement viewed itself, and how outsiders regarded it. The protagonists are two of the most unlikeable characters I have ever read. Tony is a racist and vicious thug with irreconcilable morals, while James is self absorbed, thick skinned and unconsciously cruel. Yet despite this Schaefer manages to make both relatable; at times even Tony comes across as an extremely sad character with rare glimmers of decency. This is one of the most unblinkingly honest books I have ever read. Full of repressed feeling and overwhelming emotion, the novel paints a picture of Britain that is both alien and astonishingly compelling.
words: Rebecca Carr
words: Vicki Mortimer
Helia Phoenix
Joshua Ferris
The Infinites
Max Schaefer
words: Katy Dowden
John Banville
It took Irish author John Banville 60 years and 18 novels to eventually win the Man Booker Prize in 2005, despite being tipped to win awards throughout his prolonged career. His prize winning novel The Sea was always going to be a tough act to follow, but Banville’s latest work, The Infinities, doesn’t disappoint. The narrative, which materialises over the course of a single day in a large house in rural Ireland, revolves around the Godley family, whose patriarch, Adam, a renowned theoretical mathematician, is dying. The characters gathered around Adam’s deathbed are wonderfully crafted, each with troublesome vices, woes and motives. They are not alone, however, as Banville, famed for his fondness of classical mythology, reveals the narrator of the novel to be the Olympian god Hermes, and a host of mischievous Greek gods are surveying the spectacle - that is, until they intrude into the action, in true classical style. The Infinities is a wonderfully styled and rigorous survey of the human condition, characteristically dark and at times touched with playful humour. Perhaps the only criticism to be made of the novel is that it is too heavily saturated with complex themes and intricate allusions. Banville is not one to shy away from the thinly disguised metaphor or overly symbolic imagery, and on occasion it feels like he is compiling a playlist of literary allusions. However, The Infinities has never been advertised as a light read, and Banville amply rewards the persistent reader of this inspired novel. words: Joe Miller
Click on leedsstudent.org for more book reviews every week... This week Hannah Glick reviews Marina Lewycka’s We Are All Made of Glue and Nee Naw, the published blog of Suzi Brent, an ambulance control call taker. You can also read Hannah Astill’s review of The Daughter Game by Kate Long and Dan Lester’s opinion on Mark Kermode’s book from last week’s online issue.