Posted by Hannah
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
'Serena', by Ron Rash
The book I've been struggling to put down this week is Serena, the latest novel from American poet and author Ron Rash. It's an absolute doorstopper at almost four hundred tall, tall pages, and I must admit the prospect of getting stuck in there wasn't immediately appealing. Apart from anything else, it doesn't fit in any of my bags. How could I be expected to read something that doesn't fit in any of my bags? It just didn't seem right.
Once I f
inally did manage to get past my sizeism, however, it took only a few minutes to realise that while the book may be long, it certainly isn't long-winded. Rash's prose is sparse without being spartan, and as tough and unyielding as the Serena of the book's title. The new bride of Pemberton, a logging tycoon based in the inhospitable mountains of North Carolina, Serena arrives in her new home and instantly takes control of not only her husband's business but of every last person she encounters. Unfortunately, her power over Pemberton has come about nine months too late, and past indiscretions haunt him in the form of his illegitimate baby son, Jacob. Serena is initially as undaunted by Jacob's existence as she is by every other obstacle she comes up against, but when a miscarriage renders her infertile, her thirst for vengence is awakened.
Rash's writing, although stripped back, is beautifully expressive, and his skill for characterisation is truly superb. Serena herself is an utter triumph of the imagination; Rash really does have the courage of his convictions, and unlike many authors he doesn't lose his bottle at the crucial moment when it comes to creating an out-and-out baddie. Marvellously self-serving and calculating, Serena is feared and admired by everyone she meets. The men at the logging company spread - and, to varying degrees, believe - rumours that she is some kind of monstrous superhuman. She trains an enormous eagle to catch snakes and rides around on a majestic white arab with the bird perched on her arm. She confronts death perhaps not joyously, but certainly indifferently, and killing things (deer, bears, people. Lots and lots of people) doesn't phase her at all. In one deliciously overwrought scene she makes love to Pemberton, who is soaked in the blood of a man he has just murdered at her behest, and allows the red to stain her own stomach. If you've been suffering from wishy-washy bad guys lately, Serena is guaranteed to cure what ails you.
If there is a flaw in this magnificent character, it is only that her wickedness is so unremittingly extreme that she does occasionally run the risk of tipping over into campy pantomime villain territory. Fortunately, Rash's ever-controlled, evenly-paced prose acts as the perfect foil to his anti-heroine; no matter what heights of diabolical excess her personality may threaten to soar to, his words never fail to contain her, even as the action gathers towards its explosive climax in the book's final chapters.
Although Serena has been out since 2008, Canongate are releasing a new edition of it which will hopefully help to garner its author the attention he most certainly deserves. You can - and should - pick it up in the UK from the 6th of August 2009.
Once I f
inally did manage to get past my sizeism, however, it took only a few minutes to realise that while the book may be long, it certainly isn't long-winded. Rash's prose is sparse without being spartan, and as tough and unyielding as the Serena of the book's title. The new bride of Pemberton, a logging tycoon based in the inhospitable mountains of North Carolina, Serena arrives in her new home and instantly takes control of not only her husband's business but of every last person she encounters. Unfortunately, her power over Pemberton has come about nine months too late, and past indiscretions haunt him in the form of his illegitimate baby son, Jacob. Serena is initially as undaunted by Jacob's existence as she is by every other obstacle she comes up against, but when a miscarriage renders her infertile, her thirst for vengence is awakened.Rash's writing, although stripped back, is beautifully expressive, and his skill for characterisation is truly superb. Serena herself is an utter triumph of the imagination; Rash really does have the courage of his convictions, and unlike many authors he doesn't lose his bottle at the crucial moment when it comes to creating an out-and-out baddie. Marvellously self-serving and calculating, Serena is feared and admired by everyone she meets. The men at the logging company spread - and, to varying degrees, believe - rumours that she is some kind of monstrous superhuman. She trains an enormous eagle to catch snakes and rides around on a majestic white arab with the bird perched on her arm. She confronts death perhaps not joyously, but certainly indifferently, and killing things (deer, bears, people. Lots and lots of people) doesn't phase her at all. In one deliciously overwrought scene she makes love to Pemberton, who is soaked in the blood of a man he has just murdered at her behest, and allows the red to stain her own stomach. If you've been suffering from wishy-washy bad guys lately, Serena is guaranteed to cure what ails you.
If there is a flaw in this magnificent character, it is only that her wickedness is so unremittingly extreme that she does occasionally run the risk of tipping over into campy pantomime villain territory. Fortunately, Rash's ever-controlled, evenly-paced prose acts as the perfect foil to his anti-heroine; no matter what heights of diabolical excess her personality may threaten to soar to, his words never fail to contain her, even as the action gathers towards its explosive climax in the book's final chapters.
Although Serena has been out since 2008, Canongate are releasing a new edition of it which will hopefully help to garner its author the attention he most certainly deserves. You can - and should - pick it up in the UK from the 6th of August 2009.
Posted by Eilidh
Monday, 6 July 2009
Samuel, Skeletons, and Swine Flu
Last Saturday, on the south bank of the river Thames, I settled down to watch a performance of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner:
I first read Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem when I was ten. The only lasting memory I have of it is the line ‘Water, water everywhere/ Nor any drop to drink’. Quite a pathetically scant memory to have of my first encounter with one the best loved poems of the Romantic period. I can’t blame it on the teachers, they were fantastic, but it’s a long poem to learn to love at ten, especially when you are reading it to yourself. But had I participated in an all singing, all dancing performance of The Ancient Mariner like this one, I’m sure I’d have remembered at least the poem’s story. The primary school children who took part in this south bank performance, I know will remember more than one solitary line.
The performance, which was a
co-production between The South Bank Centre and The Young Vic, incorporated dance, acting, music and a wonderful huge marionette skeleton. It was clear a huge amount of time, preparation and effort had gone into this hour and a half performance. The music was brilliant, the conductor had the children exactly where she wanted them and the whole space around was used. There was flag waving, flare lighting and an ice-cream van – why not?! But the only thing that I found a little disappointing was that the Ancient Mariner was reading from a script. At the time I thought this a little tardy, but then, when googling the performance, I read it was because swine flu had hit the actor cast for the part and a replacement had to be found at the last minute, so all was forgiven. Get well soon, Ancient Mariner.
London Literature Festival runs 2nd-16th July.
Posted by Hannah
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
And he stoppeth one of three.
"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
I first read Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem when I was ten. The only lasting memory I have of it is the line ‘Water, water everywhere/ Nor any drop to drink’. Quite a pathetically scant memory to have of my first encounter with one the best loved poems of the Romantic period. I can’t blame it on the teachers, they were fantastic, but it’s a long poem to learn to love at ten, especially when you are reading it to yourself. But had I participated in an all singing, all dancing performance of The Ancient Mariner like this one, I’m sure I’d have remembered at least the poem’s story. The primary school children who took part in this south bank performance, I know will remember more than one solitary line.
The performance, which was a
co-production between The South Bank Centre and The Young Vic, incorporated dance, acting, music and a wonderful huge marionette skeleton. It was clear a huge amount of time, preparation and effort had gone into this hour and a half performance. The music was brilliant, the conductor had the children exactly where she wanted them and the whole space around was used. There was flag waving, flare lighting and an ice-cream van – why not?! But the only thing that I found a little disappointing was that the Ancient Mariner was reading from a script. At the time I thought this a little tardy, but then, when googling the performance, I read it was because swine flu had hit the actor cast for the part and a replacement had to be found at the last minute, so all was forgiven. Get well soon, Ancient Mariner.London Literature Festival runs 2nd-16th July.
Posted by Hannah
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
