reading

On reading Maria Dermout’s Tien Duizend Dingen

/ RCRuiz

There is a house on an island and there is a garden around the house and in that garden are the graves of three little girls.

I read Maria Dermout’s De Tien Duizend Dingen in Dutch, so the above sentence is as close as I can get to summing up the opening of this Dermout’s beautifully immersive novel.

What captivated me the most about this novel was the intentional use of language and how through language Maria Dermout pulls the reader into the rhythm of a time and a place. It’s beautifully evocative and not only does the writer make us see the house, but we also see the garden, the leviathan who lives near the edge of the water that is in the garden, and then we are made aware of the graves and the possible ghosts of the three dead girls.

There is also the history of a place and of the first Mevrouw Kleyntjes who lived in this house and the second Mevrouw Kleyntjes who still lives in this house. There is the history of these women and the stories of the lives of the people who have interacted with and lived in relation to the house and around them is the history of place.

Somewhere halfway through De Tien Duizend Dingen, I sent a message to the friend who told me about this book. I told her that it made me think of Virginia Woolf. It’s been quite a long time since I read Virginia Woolf, but I remember a similar mesmerising almost hypnotic use of language in The Waves.

We are immersed in the world Maria Dermout writes about. We are transported to a period in time when the then Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia) is heading towards–an upheaval that will lead to a complete social-political change. Through the manner of telling, we can feel the simmering undertone of imminent change. Something is about to happen. What is about to happen is faintly present at the opening of the novel, but as the novel progresses, so does the sense of danger and precariousness–it is enough to make us recognise that at this point in time, the people in this place are no longer willing to simply accept the authority of Dutch masters. In this world, the woman, the house, the garden and its ghosts are relics of a past that will soon be nothing more than a dream.

De Tien Duizend Dingen was published in 1955 by Querido publishing house. It’s also available in English as The Ten Thousand Things.

What I have read and what I am reading

/ RCRuiz

Now that I’ve regained enough focus to read whole novels, I find myself missing the conversations I used to have with my sister. A lot of our conversations used to revolve around books we’d read and what we thought about the story or how the writer managed to do something well or not well enough. I think my sister was the original bookworm in our family and I simply followed in her footsteps because whatever my sister read, I had to read too. Anyway, I’ve started reading the books I downloaded onto my reader and I thought I would write a little bit about the one I’ve just started reading as well as the one that I just finished reading. I thought I’d switch between fiction and non-fiction. Non-fiction often takes me longer as I like to reflect on what I’ve just read.

Fiction Read:

I’ve just finished Tade Thompson’s excellent Far From the Light of Heaven. I’m pretty sure Tade has written and published a bunch of novels since this one, but I just got around to reading again and the title of Tade’s excellent murder mystery called to me. It took me a week and a half to finish reading (this is my current reading speed for novels) but I never once lost track of the thread of the story. I’m also glad that I decided to get a tablet because it’s made it easier for me to just open a book and read when I’m on the train or when I remember that I am in the midst of reading a book.

I understand the importance of titles now because for some reason, that title just kept jumping out at me each time I clicked on my reader and I decided that once I had enough focus I would read that novel first. Far From the Light of Heaven makes use of elements of space opera and science fiction but at the heart of it, Far From the Light of Heaven is a murder mystery. The stakes are high and I liked how the characters feel real. I have to admit a fondness for Shell Campion’s Uncle Larry. I could relate to that feeling of wanting to protect someone younger who you consider part of your family. I found myself quite intrigued by the Lambers as a race and I want to know more about them. Reading this book, I also had to think about conversations around AI and the use of AI. I like how Tade doesn’t take sides on that, but tries to show how AI can be useful but also how it has its vulnerabilities and can be subverted in a way that it becomes a danger. I don’t know if this was intentional, but it felt very much so.

One of the things I loved about this novel is how we get to see how what happens on and to Ragtime affects the world the characters live in. It’s a reminder of how actions taken reverberate in the world. The question becomes this: do those actions lead to understanding that brings lasting change or do those actions lead to polarisation and division in the society around us? I may very well be putting my own interpretation on it, but this is something I thought about when I got to that part. Another memorable scene for me is the communal rite of grief/processing trauma.

I won’t say anymore as I might spoil the book for those who haven’t read it yet, but if you enjoy murder mysteries that are more than just murder mysteries, this might be just the book for you. Highly recommended.

I have a rather lengthy TBR list and I think I would like to try and write about as many of them as I can. I’m pretty sure there are things I’ve read in the past three years and a half that I forgot to write about.

Current Non-Fiction reads:

As I tend to dip into multiple non-fiction books at one time, I might write about my impressions from those books every now and then.

I’ve started on Karen Barad’s Meeting the Universe Halfway. I don’t even know who recommended this book or why I decided to buy it, but I’m pretty sure the person who recommended it made an impression on me. Anyway, I’ve just started reading it and there’s a line in the preface that just resonates so much with me. In the preface, the author writes about entanglements and how to be entangled is not simply being intertwined but it’s more than that. It’s a really great preface and if you’re interested in quantum physics, it does look like an engaging read.

A recent book I’ve recommended and gifted to fellow community workers is Aminata Cairo’s Holding Space. Aminata was one of the guest facilitators for LIMBO and the workshop she gave was joyful and beautiful and one that opened up space for stories to be shared and told. In this book, Aminata talks not just about holding space, but shares her own journey towards holding space. It’s a book that calls for reading and re-reading and for dipping back into when you feel the need.

Just yesterday, I had a lovely conversation with a friend who shared this line with me from a conversation she had with an older Dutchwoman. In that conversation, the Dutchwoman spoke of her husband, not as passed away or dead, but as someone who had stepped out of this timeline. I rather liked that phrase and it makes me think that entries like these are like missives sent to where my sister now lives–in a timeline that is outside of this timeline. It’s a lovely, lovely thought.

What are you reading now and what from those readings do you choose to keep with you?

Today’s quote

/ RCRuiz

“But writing in our language per se–although a necessary first step in the correct direction–will not bring about the renaissance in African cultures if that literature does not carry the content of our people’s anti-imperialist struggles to liberate their productive forces from foreign control; the content of the need for unity among the workers and peasants of all nationalities in their struggle to control the wealth they produce and to free it from internal and external parasites.”  – Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Decolonising the Mind

Links and things to read

/ RCRuiz / 3 Comments

Movements: Translations, the Mother Tongue and Acts of Resistance is now live on Strange Horizons. Elisabeth Vonarburg’s The Chambered Nautilus also appears in this issue. It’s my first time to read her and I’m so glad Aliette de Bodard chose her story for this curated issue. You can read Aliette’s introduction here.

In the same issue is an essay by Jaymee Goh: Once More with Feeling: A Belated Response.

Fellow Filipino writer, Victor Ocampo has a new story up at Apex Magazine. Blessed are the Hungry is an interesting work which also breaks language hegemony and demonstrates code written into story. I like how it references a famous Filipino movie by Ismael Bernal.

Apex Magazine’s July issue is filled with interesting reading provides the reader with an interesting and diverse line-up. I quite enjoyed Rose Lemberg’s Baba Yaga Tries to Donate Money.

Benjanun Sriduangkaew’s novelette, Courtship in the Country of the Machine Gods, also appears in this issue as a reprint. The Apex Book of World SF 3 edited by Lavie Tidhar features this novelette and is now available.

(I’m thrilled to see that this volume also includes a reprint from Swedish writer, Karin Tidbeck whose work I adore.)

Of the stories published in Clarkesworld Magazine, I’ve only read N.K. Jemisin’s Stone Hunger. I like how the story makes use of the fairytale frame, the familiar becoming unfamiliar, it’s a story I want to read again at more leisure.

I’m working slowly through a post on the Decolonization process and Science Fiction. At the moment I have so many words on the page and I need to group them together so they form a cohesive whole.

Lately, I’ve been reading Leny M. Strobel, Virgil Mayor Apostol and Barbara Jane Reyes. Artists, writers, culture bearers.

busy week

/ RCRuiz / 1 Comment

It’s been a very busy week, and I’ve lagged behind again on quite a number of things. Next week, we’ll be updating the book blog with a review of Sunburnt Faces and with an in-depth interview from Shimon Adaf.

Adaf’s novel is a complex read and that makes it more challenging for the reviewer. Big sis says that this is the first novel she’s struggled with when it comes to reviewing. It’s not that the previous books were simpler or easier reads, but Sunburnt Faces owns a complexity that makes it difficult for the reader to sum-up.

As we discussed this book, I realized that while I, as a writer may look at the technical and craft aspects of the work, and while I am often intrigued by the process the author went through in putting this story together, my sister, who is interested in books because of what she simply enjoys reading will look at this story differently. It’s quite possible that we take away different things from it as well, and that to me makes this reading of a book and talking together about it to be a worthwhile exercise.

I find myself wondering to what extent the experience of writing and engaging craft affects our approach to books and stories. Already, I have become quite aware of my snarky nature when it comes to films (my eldest son refuses to watch a film with me unless I agree to shut up).

How about books?

That’s something that I’ll probably have to think more on.

More thoughts on reading and the diversity issue

/ RCRuiz

My initial reading for the Paul Harland Prize is almost at an end. Only a handful of stories to go and I can send in my tabulated results and then we can all powwow on email and argue about who gets in and who stays out of the top 30 or 40 entries.

Looking at my numbers, I find myself wondering if I’ve been too harsh this year. I think of how adversity and low scores can serve as a winnowing tool as well. Writers who treat this as a hobby or who don’t really care about it will take that low number and probably quit writing. The ones who take those numbers and look at them as a challenge to come back and prove that they can be better than that number are likely to be the ones who will eventually make their mark in the field.

The road to publication is never easy. Even after you get published, the road never becomes easy. There is always a struggle, and there is always something that you have to overcome.

Aside from the Paul Harland stories, I’ve been reading quite a lot. This past month, I read Shimon Adaf’s excellent Sunburnt Faces. We’re reviewing it for the bookblog and we even managed to snag an interview with the author himself.

Last night, I finished reading Berit Ellingsen’s beautifully surreal The Empty City. Berit’s short story collection, Beneath the Liquid Skin has the same quiet feeling, but it’s fascinating to see that voice at work in a full-length novel.

I’ve also read Wesley Chu’s Lives of Tao which is bursting with action and energy. It’s an interesting first novel, and I’m looking forward to seeing what my Big Sis thinks of it.

Another read that I enjoyed a lot is Kaaron Warren’s Walking the Tree. I’ve since purchased quite a bunch of Kaaron’s books.

For the book blog, I’m rereading Karin Tidbeck’s fabulous Jagganath. I won’t do spoilers here, but I remember just what it was about this work that fascinated me so much.

I am reading Hiromi Goto’s A Chorus of Mushrooms and am loving it for so many different reasons. At the same time, I’m thinking yet again of Claire Light’s excellent Slightly Behind and to the Left.

If you haven’t read Claire Light’s book, I suggest you head over to Aqueduct Press and grab a copy. It’s not too pricey and it is a thought-provoking read.

Alongside all these readings, I’ve been sneaking reads and rereads into my favorite poetry books and nonfiction books. I am so grateful for mobile technology that allows me to carry so much on one small device.

I write about these readings that I’ve been doing because I keep on thinking of the discussions around diversity in SFF and how we find ourselves disappointed each time people interpret this as meaning: let me write characters of color or let me include QUILTBAG characters or let me include someone who has a disability in my work.

Yesterday, I had a long conversation with Sean Wright about this for Galactic Chat. I’m not sure how good I am as an interview subject, but basically my thoughts on diversity are summed in this: It’s not about you or your work, it’s about saying: look there’s this fantastic author who comes from this place we don’t hear enough voices from.

Instead of saying, I write LGBTQ characters, encourage and promote the work of LGBTQ writers. Instead of saying, I write brown characters in my novel, encourage and promote the work of writers of color.

Not that writers shouldn’t include a diverse cast of characters in their own work, but I’ve seen the conversation often boil down to people saying: but look at my work. I’m a white writer and I write brown people or I’m a straight writer trying to write QUILTBAG characters.

And yes, I appreciate that people are making that effort to write thoughtfully about us, but what I really really want to see happen is people saying: Oh, you must read so and so. Not because they’re this and that but because the work provides a different perspective from what we usually see.

Which brings me back to my diverse reading. Shifting from Shimon Adaf’s work which is brilliant and burns like the sun to Berit Ellingsen’s cool and surreal work, from Kaaron Warren’s wildly imaginative Walking the Tree to Wesley Chu’s energetic The Lives of Tao–these readings bring home why we need a more diverse pool of writers in the field.

In reading works from writers who reside and know their part of the world intimately, I find myself gaining more insight into the world. An opening happens in my psyche and while I may not understand fully, I am ready and willing to understand. And I think it’s at this place where dialogues and conversations happen.