The Island of Sea Women: leaving-home water-work

Everyone liked Lisa See’s, The Island of Sea Women, and were in awe of these incredible women, their diving capabilities, and their adaptability—their costumes, diving while at near term pregnancy and post partum in Vladivostok. We were introduced to a totally unknown culture. The book was a big learn containing an immense amount of well researched information delivered in an authentic way.

One member commented that she was aware of abalone farming, but had never heard of the haenyeo. Another, who grew up knowing little of Korea or Vietnam, was very glad to have read this book. Another reflected on how this was another example of the deleterious effects of the territorial divisions made at the end of World War II. For most, there was the realization that the suppression of the stories of the Jeju uprising and subsequent killing and punishment of its veterans and sympathizers finds a parallel in the Canadian residential school stories. Additionally, there was fascination with Shamanism and its hundreds of female deities and the rituals for death, the Jeju islanders’ reconciliation process, and the question of betrayal and forgiveness.

The book made it clear that it was only at a superficial level that this was a matriarchal society. Owing to the specifics of taxes imposed by the Japanese on the Jeju Island fishery, women had become the fishers and prime breadwinners, and men the child minders. However, the responsibility for ancestor worship still resided with males, property was still owned by males and females were not educated.

Some liked the book format with present day events triggering a recounting of the past. There was a comment that the story was interesting but quite contrived. Another comment was that there was a repetitiousness and occasional patchiness in the quality of the narrative—bursts of imagery tagged onto rather pedantic passages—almost suggesting more than one author for the section.

Rating

A Burning: So much said in so few words

A depressing but worthwhile read—that was the bottom line on A Burning by Megha Majumdar for our Book Club. Why?

The writing was incredibly powerful and the plot well-structured. The reader was grabbed by the book immediately and the story moved forward quickly. The prose was spare—almost delivered with the voice of a child, i.e., stripped of social veneer—and contained beautiful metaphors. The end is extremely poetic “Know that I shall return…”

The author delivered an incredible sense of place—the smells, poverty as a lived experience, the blessed but beggar Hijra, the Eve teasing and the struggle of the have-nots to better themselves.

Although the story is set in India, the themes, albeit in hyperbole, resonate in North America where the impact of social media and right-wing extremism on democracy is a growing concern.

The story is appalling! Corruption appears widespread and implies that the modern world enables things to happen quickly. A lot happens. Some things work out but in a morally repulsive way. Morality is presented on a sliding scale. Within a short time, Lovely becomes a star through YouTube; PT Sir rises from teacher to Education Minister and Jivan goes from Facebook comment to hanging.

The main characters are well drawn—each had a distinct voice. Neither PT Sir nor Lovely appeared psychopathic but they allowed self-interest to prevent them from doing the “right thing”. While those two clearly compromised principles, it is less clear for Jivan: she felt guilt about walking away from the man asking her to take his child—a child that likely could not be rescued. However, Jivan, betrayed by the journalist, held out hope for the system and trust in humanity to the end.

What is the author’s purpose? Is she putting us on notice about how money can undermine democracy?

A Gate at the Stairs

 

 

 

 

 

A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore is a challenging read.  One member of our Book Club asked “what was the point?” This is an interesting question. One can respond to it from many perspectives.  When I considered her question, I stripped down the narrative to its key events – like one might if writing a screenplay or a libretto. The plot revealed that a young woman encountered a series of overwhelming personal tragedies from which she emerged a stronger person. This was an important point for me!  For much of the novel I was distressed by the author’s failure to get on with the story. However, by the end I was overwhelmed by her ability to presence this young person’s grief.  It brought me nearer to an appreciation for the distress that may be driving youth to suicide.

This book delved into many aspects of contemporary existence other than ascending tragedy –  ­ God/religion in modern life, racism/anti-racism, cuisine, deceit, and birds/flight. The author served up a potpourri of modern issues without providing any moral guidance. She simply provided a ‘life as it is’ narrative that buried  the critical events.

Was there a message? Or is the only message “learn from experience” – yours and others!

The author provided three quotations in her epigram. The first two are most understandable.  They reflect on what transpired in the story. The third must relate to my question about the message! I think it might mean ­ we should all be able to see how things work! Assuming you can afford the price of admission!