Weekly Recap August 15-August 20 2021

I regret to inform you, fellow readers, that summer has come to an end. With it must die my summer review format. In this final week of summer reading, I finished six books:

Shadow and Act by Ralph Ellison

The author of Invisible Man reflects on literature, music and society in immaculate prose essays. While not every work is as great as “On Bird, Bird-Watching and Jazz,” which inspired me to pick up this collection, each reveals the internal rhythms of a superb writer and critic.

“In those days it was either live with music or die with noise, and we chose rather desperately to live” (187)

Silence by Shūsaku Endō

During the Tokugawa persecutions, two Portuguese Jesuits venture into the Japanese “swamp” in search of a mentor rumored to have abandoned the faith. The intense, melancholy themes presented by Endō are stifled by a too-conventional translation.

“On the day of my death, too, will the world go relentlessly on its way indifferent as it is now? After I am murdered, will the cicadas sing and the flies whirl their wings inducing sleep…the martyrdom of these peasants, enacted before his very eyes—how wretched it was, miserable like the huts they lived in, like the rags in which they were clothed” (128)

Plays One by Oladipo Agboluaje

A collection of plays exploring the relationship between Nigeria and Britain with sandpaper humor. Agboluaje is clearly smart but the combination of gross, rapid-fire humor and rage just isn’t my cup of tea.

“I am ready for Brixton. Is Brixton ready for me?” (152)

Youth Without God by Ödön von Horváth

A country schoolteacher witnesses the rise of fascism through the disturbed consciences of his students. The chilling and contemplative grandfather of The Secret History, with a translation that only slightly misuses racial slurs.

“On the last day of our camp came God. His coming did not take me by surprise” (89)

Sula by Toni Morrison

The upbring and reunion of two best friends—a respectable housewife and a bohemian pariah—in the dying paradise of Medallion Ohio. The perfect classic for the end of summer, made of fire and water, nostalgia and despair and soulmates to die for.

“She had been looking all along for a friend, and it took her a while to discover that a lover was not a comrade and could never be—for a woman. And that no one would ever be that version of herself which she sought to reach out and to touch with an ungloved hand. There was only her own mood and whim, and if that was all there was, she decided to turn the naked hand toward it, discover it and let others become as intimate with their own selves as she was” (121)

Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel García Márquez

The narrator recounts a murder through the eyes of a small Caribbean town, all of whom knew of the crime before it occurred. As usual, Márquez is a fabulous sociologist, but I’m afraid his romantic and violent anecdotes are too flimsy for me to love.

“‘Shit, cousin,’ Pablo Vicario told me, “you can’t imagine how hard it is to kill a man!’” (118)

If for some reason my literary opinions are important to you, fear not! As I begin the next phase of my education abroad, I will carry my love of reading with me. In fact, I am bringing Swann's Way and The Count of Monte Cristo along for the plane ride! When I arrive in Germany I will resume a much slower pace of reviewing, but these weekly recaps have been fun while they lasted.

Have a wonderful, book-filled week!