I was originally tempted to give this four ☆s because the ending just didn't ring true to the story told. (I'm not sure how the ending could be improved, however.) But the book has gripped my intestines and rattled my imagination so much so that since finishing it nine days ago, I'm still struggling to put into words the complexity and beauty and shear power of this story. (I will blog that extended reaction soon — I hope.)
There are passages in the book with prose as beautiful as anything I've ever read. For example:
BEATRICE: As for the other quality that gives Virgil his name, how to put into words something so astounding to the ears? Words are cold, muddy toads trying to understand sprites dancing in a field—but they're all we have. I will try.
A howl, a roar, a howling roar, a deafening roar— these barely hint at the reality. To compare it to other animals' cries becomes a kind of zoological one-upmanship that addresses only the aspect of volume. A howler monkey's roar exceeds in volume the cry of a peafowl, of a jaguar, of a lion, of a gorilla, of an elephant—at which point the inflating of hulk stops, at least on land. In the ocean, the blue whale, which can weigh well over one hundred and fifty tons, the largest animal ever to grace this planet, can put out a cry at a volume of one hundred and eighty decibels, which is louder than a jet engine, but this cry is at a very low frequency, hardly audible to a donkey, which is probably why we call the whale's cry a song. But we must, in all fairness, grant the blue whale top spot. So there, if they were lined up side by side, between the massive bull elephant and the colossal blue whale, involving a serious dropping of the eyes, stands Virgil and his kind, without a doubt the most noise per kilo of any life-form on earth (88-9).
Scene from LoP
At my prompt my friend RT — a huge fan of Life of Pi — read the book, albeit with some hesitation because I'd warned her that there are some brutal bits. When she finished it she thanked me and said that it has become her number one favourite book. She told me she was going out the next day to buy her own copy so as to read it again. My other friend, TR — a voracious reader — also read it at my prompting, and thought it great too. And I just finished talking with AG, the friend who prompted me to read it, and she too found it impressive and complex and challenging, and tough.
Since I loved Life of Pi I was skeptical that Martel could surpass it. I would have been overjoyed if he could even have matched it. But to my shock, Beatrice and Virgil is a better book than LoP for many reasons: B&V was a far tougher story to tell, and it was told very well; it followed a brilliant book; Martel used animals again, but kept it new and fresh; he successfully explored the limits of text to express emotion in a multilayered, contra textual way about an emotionally, psychologically and historically sensitive subject.
Last weekend my friend AG visited and when our conversation turned to books she said she was reading Beatrice and Virgil. She said that she was enjoying it. I remembered that it was somewhat controversial when it was published, as it had something to do with The Holocaust.
When I did not find it at my local used book store, I took advantage of an unexpected stop near my library to borrow the book. When I began reading it Saturday, I was bemused that a howler monkey
was a character because on Friday I stumbled into the interesting 2004 film "The Blue Butterfly" on TV. I don't remember having heard of this movie before Friday, when I read the TV station supplied synopsis that it was about a grouchy butterfly scientist. I turned to it primarily because of the presence of Pascale Brussières,
Pascale Brussières
an intriguing Canadian actress whom I associate with interesting independent films.
As it turned out, there are several 'nature' shots of
Spider Monkey
spider monkeys, which have a similar albeit thinner profile to the howler monkey. Okay, that is only barely amusing. It does get more interesting.
So I was surprised when I read in B&V, following a long listing of the contents of a taxidermist's store:
Next to the table stood a glass cabinet with an array of insects and colourful butterflies arranged in different display boxes,
some featuring a single, spectacular speciment — a large blue butterfly or a beetle that looked like a small rhinoceros — others filled with a number of species playing on variety (60).
This surprised me because not only was the Blue Butterfly (Blue Morpho) central to the story, obviously, but at one point Hurt's character picks up a giantRhinoceros beetle.
And, today, the final straw. Martel writes about his character's own fushigis.
The taxidermist nodded and continued [to read from his play]:
Virgil: Pity there's no coffee. Beatrice: Pity there's no cake.
...
Henry was struck by the irony of the timing. Just as coffee and cake were being delivered to them, Virgil and Beatrice mourn their absences. And earlier Beatrice had said how the sun had gone, leaving them both without faith, and here they were basking in sun. It also struck him how naked and alive Virgil and Beatrice were, so much more revealing of themselves than their author (125).
And this amuses me, because this kind of observation and writing is something I do. I have rarely seen it alluded to in fiction let alone in this manner, which mimics mine almost exactly. Does that constitute a fushigi? Hmmmm. Probably not, but it is amusing.
And Martel is being very clever here, because he continues to use that kind of irony as a mirror:
As soon as the question had left Henry's lips, the irony of it leapt to his mind. It was the same question the historian had asked him during that terrible lunch in London nearly three years ago, the question that had gutted and silenced him. And here he was aksing it himself (134).
And this is, I think, a fundamental structure of the book as it relates to writing about the Holocaust. I expect that will reveal itself later in the book.
But there are parts of this book that are beautifully written.
I will be citing some of them on my 'finished' post. I expect to finish the book in the next day or two.
Oh! I forgot to include a picture of Beatrice. So, here it is — with Bridget Hall. I tried to find one with Virgil sitting on her back, but this was kind of the closest I could find to a monkey sitting on a donkey.
I have written and teach Economics Debunked and Banks Skanks. These courses critically examine the ideological nature of what passes for economic 'thinking' and action. Economics has become our most pervasive religion, proselytizing faith while it gaily fails to serve the needs of the many to the benefit of the few.
Economics Debunked and Banks Skanks will be scheduled to run again in the early 2014.
