2015 Greatest Hits

Booking Through Thursday's New Year question (late again, I know) is:

What were your favorite books of 2015?
How many books did you read this year? Are you happy with the amount of reading you got done? Wish you’d had more time? (I know I always do!)

In 2015 I read 32 books, if you count those overlapping year boundaries. I do wish I'd read more, I always do.

In terms of favourites, I'll pick out some in chronological order:

A Corpse at St Andrew's Chapel by Mel Starr (read 12/02/2015-21/02/2015)
The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever by Stephen Donaldson (read 03/04/2015-10/05/2015)
Les Liaisons Dangerueses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos (read 20/06/2015-15/08/2015)
Thank You, Jeeves by P G Wodehouse (read 10/10/2015-11/10/2015)
Nymphomation by Jeff Noon (read 12/10/2015-17/10/2015)

May 2016 bring some equally good reading!

The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever - Stephen Donaldson

It's taken me a long time to finish, but it was worth every minute. On the cover, The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever is described as a “classic epic fantasy trilogy”, but it's so much more than that. Yes, it is an epic fantasy, with rolling hills, suspiciously elf- and dwarf-like human tribes, giants, orc-like twisted creatures of evil, and learned Lords who wield magical staves. I expected that much from the cover and blurb.

However, the first chapter begins with Thomas Covenant, previously successful author with wife and child, who was recently diagnosed with leprosy and as a result lost his family, his respect and his health. We have an incredibly vivid and moving account of the discovery of his disease and his sudden change to pariah in his own home in small-town America. It isn't until Covenant is hit by a police car and concussed that the 'fantasy' part of the story begins.

Covenant was warned on diagnosis that many lepers retreat into self-induced hallucinations to try and escape from the harsh reality of his disease, and so when he is plunged into a fantastic, beautiful land where his nerves are healed and he can function as a healthy adult once more, he doesn't believe any of it. One of the most fascinating aspects of this trilogy is the narrative viewpoint – instead of a hero, or even an anti-hero, we have almost a non-participant, a man who doesn't believe that any of what he's experiencing is real. Another thing that really sets The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant apart is the psychology of disability, which is so deeply and accurately portrayed; the foreword tells us that Stephen Donaldson's father worked with lepers in India in the 1940s and 50s, and that the author lived with him as a child when he was performing this work. His personal knowledge of the subject is obvious from the poignant, nuanced but brutally honest portrayal of Covenant's leprosy.

Gender equality was an unexpected but pleasant surprise, too. In most male-written fantasy universes sexual division is rife, but in The Land the council of elders who form a kind of parliament are all referred to as 'Lords', regardless of their gender. Similarly, when a couple marries, the wife takes the husband's name, but the husband also takes the wife's name – for instance, one couple Covenant meets are named Trell Atiaran-mate and Atiaran Trell-mate. Women are expected to be just as competent as men, and in fact the High Lord who leads the council in the second novel is a relatively young woman who is respected for her personal abilities.

Donaldson's unusual use of adjectives gives a lurid, dreamlike quality both to the fantasy Land and to the real-life sections, and he describes scenes using all of the senses, including touch, smell and taste, not just sound and vision. He builds a world rich with detail and background lore, my only criticisms being that he uses certain odd adjectives a little too often so that they start to jar ('extravagantly' and 'anile' being a couple of examples) and that I find his characters' habit of bursting into song or poetry during solemn, ceremonial occasions a little cringe-worthy.

That said, this is a story full of contradictions and moral ambiguity, and Donaldson is a master of the cliff-hanger chapter – many times when reading this I decided to just finish the current chapter and put it down, but found myself compelled to continue to find out what happened. I can't recommend this too highly – it has so much more depth and poignancy than your average fantasy novel, and is a very good epic fantasy story on top of that.

Next up: Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy by Helen Fielding

Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu - Honoré de Balzac

Balzac's short story Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu (The Unknown Masterpiece) was followed by a bonus even shorter story, La Leçon de Violon (The Violin Lesson) by E T A Hoffman.

I found Le Chef-d'oeuvre innconnu quite heavy going to begin with – it mostly seemed to be a discussion on artistic philosophy disguised as a conversation between Frenhofer, an elderly, gifted artist, and two younger painters, made even denser by the language barrier. Until the last few pages I thought that would be it, but the surprising and touching ending made up for it.

The two young painters are intrigued by their older friend's enthusiastic talk of his masterpiece which has taken him 10 years to complete, but which he won't allow anyone to see. When he finally allows them to view it, it turns out that spending so long on one picture has completely distorted his view, and that what was once a wonderful painting is ruined. When the young friends break this to him, he collapses down in misery. One of them returns the next day to check on him, and it turns out he passed away in the night, after having destroyed his entire works.

Having pushed through and finally finished the story, I could see that the rather dull majority of it was necessary for the effect of the final scene. However, I can't help but feel that a smaller quantity of the philosophical discussion would have been fine for building up the suspense for the final reveal.

La Leçon de Violon was more approachable, if also rather shrouded in artistic philosophy. A promising young violinist is introduced by his tutor, Haak, to Haak's own patron, a baron who was once one of the foremost violinists of the age. After an extended theoretical and philosophical speech (again), the baron allows the narrator to try out his own antique violin. Frustrated with his lack of technique, he shows him how it's done – except that his ability to play has completely disappeared, and only his belief in his own genius remains.

Both stories were interesting studies of human nature, although I can't help feeling they'd be more interesting if I actually cared much about artistic theory.

Next up: The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever by Stephen Donaldson