A Review of Three Books.

The three books that I will be reviewing is John Boyne's The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, Andrea Alban's Anya's War, and Patrick White's The Vivisector.

The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, John Boyne 

Told through the eyes of a young German boy named Bruno, The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas chronicles the unfolding friendship between two unlikely characters - the son of an Auschwitz commander and a Jewish prisoner-child, Shmuel. Bruno returns home to find that a family relocation was eminent thanks to a promotion his father was unable to refuse. Upon arrival at their depressing new home, the boy manages to somehow befriend a Jewish prisoner-child. They hang out, Bruno does not realise that his father is ordering the prisoners to be shot/burnt/gassed, and Shmuel does not seem particularly interested in enlightening him on the matter. They have some sort of awkward let’s-not-go-there chatting - and before you know it, they’re both in a gas chamber.

Boyne seems to have deliberately chosen to write in a simplistic fashion, mirroring, perhaps the manner in which one would expect a nine-year-old boy to speak and think. Perhaps he intended to juxtapose the innocence and naivety with the horrors of the war - serving to emphasise the stark reality of those dark days. And perhaps the simplistic language serves to be accessible to a wide range of readers - after all, the more people know that fences are bad, the better, right? I can see why some schools have opted to use the book. It focuses on a popular historical topic - World War II - and it’s easy for students to read. With an accompanying motion picture to boot! What a gem eh? (I had the (mis)fortune to see this film. It is unspeakably awful - and I’m not referring to the war crimes.)

This is a good example of when educators have the idea that literary merit is unimportant in Literature, and that only the big ideas count. Don’t get me wrong - I’m a huge fan of the Big Ideas concept. But I also believe that it ought to be taught alongside good literature. In fact, often times, good literature tends to touch on the Big Ideas and be written in a beautiful way. Even if one does not subscribe to the view that good literature involves aesthetic measures, however they are defined, I hope that the critical reader will not deny me the premise that at the very least, a text ought to have a good, strong plot. One that does not have glaring plot loopholes, like those evident in Boyne’s work. Some of which I have taken the liberty to list:

1. How is it an 8-year-old boy who goes to school, who can read books independently, is unable to verbalise, correctly, the names of the camp? Or even The Fuhrer? The kids were taught to worship this guy!
2. In line with 1), how is it that Boyne’s 8-year-old, who apparently can’t speak properly and can’t seem to make any inferences, is able to form a coherent opinion, regarding Shmuel, contrary to all the blasted propaganda he should have received, not only as a German schoolboy, but also as the son of the Commander? 
3. Moreover, how is that he and Shmuel are able to conduct a clandestine friendship for months without anyone noticing despite the fact that they were sitting by the fence?! This was Auschwitz for crying out loud.

And so on and so forth. The ending is also obvious. The blatant moralistic nature of the book offends me to no end - I am appalled that I have subjected myself to such a book. I know it is meant to be a fable, but considering the jacket says that this book is not meant for children - did Boyne really think so little of his audience? Really? There are libraries full of books that deal with a similar subject matter - and at least half of them are way better reads.

Anya’s War by Andrea Alban, Feiwel and Friends, New York, 2011.

Anya Rosen is in Shanghai. Fleeing from the murderous threats of the Russian Communist Party as the second world war looms large, the Rosengartners of Odessa find themselves in the French Quarter, amidst Coco Chanel dresses and gutter babies. The novel follows the plucky fourteen-year-old, who has to peddle along the thin line that separates her Judaic identity and her Chinese surroundings. On the eve of the Shabbat, Anya finds an abandoned baby - a Chinese girl, dumped - and can not longer avert her eyes.

It is difficult to find much fault with the charming book. Whilst it may deal, as did Boyne’s work, with the popular topic of WWII, it is a refreshing reminder that there were many narratives in the complications that accompany war, and that these narratives are not black-and-white as many are led to believe. Instead, what we see is the daily struggle in fighting the accepted norms of society - where the German populace allowed the horrors to escalate, where the Chinese people accept the blatant destruction of female offspring, where the Jewish people of Frenchtown close their eyes to the suffering of their new home, until someone says no. Perhaps such topics are too mundane - it does not deal with famous symbols of division, nor are there exciting combat scenes - but I think it was tastefully rendered. Alban has not made the classic mistake of assuming a mindless audience either. It is no good perpetuating false dichotomies of Good-Bad in literature anymore.

Despite having a teenage protagonist, the book does not alienate a more mature audience. In fact, Anya is a particularly strong character - she reminds us that we are all trying to do our best. She struggles to understand the realities of nature - why her father still loves her sharp-tongued mother, why her brother is favoured by the family, why the Chinese would throw away perfectly good babies. But whilst she may not always like what she sees - she does not simply turn away, sulking or pretending. Instead, she throws herself into the fray of things in a bid to do the right thing. 

It is moreover, the first YA war novel that I have seen, that has touched on the troubling topic of self-harm as a society - There is a bombing scene at the Great World Amusement Park, where one discovers that the planes roaring overhead were Chinese. Most novels shy away from this - it is far easier to depict an ugly, hateful Other than to be reflective and see the damage one has done to oneself, as society seems to do. 

I would recommend the text to be taught at the Lower Secondary level, at the very least. I’m unsure as to whether it would qualify as an O Level text - what guides that decision for the curriculum planner/exam board officers? Is there an arbitrary number of strong characters/themes that have to be addressed in the book? Although considering Fasting, Feasting made it on to the O Level list, perhaps I am being a little harsh to Anya’s War. I think the book deserves a lot more attention than other YA war novels. It’s definitely a harder read than Striped Pyjamas, and a lot more complex with regards to issues. 

The Vivisector by Patrick White, Penguin

The Vivisector focuses on the creative process through the eyes of its protagonist, and antihero, Hurtle Duffield. His cold, calculating manner cuts through social ties, analytically destructive and painful for those involved. It is pitiful to witness the people around him clamouring for his affection, and disconcerting to consider his self-absorbed manner which exemplifies the insightful artist. One realises soon enough that perhaps art isn’t as civilised as aristocrats would have you believe - instead, the manipulation of people, the dissection of their idiosyncrasies and, ultimately, their disgustingly naked portrayal, is a most cruel affair. It is perhaps only on acquiring a kindred spirit muse, in the form of a narcissistic teenager, that Duffield is given a taste of his own medicine.

White uses several modern literary devices in his writing - perhaps the most obvious being the stream-of-consciousness slips he inserts into the novel periodically. It brings the reader closer to the text, to Duffield’s thoughts and feelings, and also increases the discomfort in reading the text. The occasional slips into taboo areas - Duffield’s thoughts of his mother’s breasts, observations of Rhoda’s deformity, his inner struggle with keeping up social pretences with Nance, and casual references to various sexual acts one finds distasteful - prods at the reader, causing one to reflect inwardly at the sometimes random, possibly inappropriate thoughts that occur to oneself on a day-to-day basis - the inward swearing when stuck behind a slow-moving lump of flesh on the daily commute, or even the observations of the desperate actions that people go to to achieve social validation. 

Perhaps it’s all the more disturbing for someone who is familiar with, and is regularly involved in, the creative process. I rarely ever read psychological thrillers - well, fiction in general - but this really hits it home. The awareness of how cruel reality is, makes one wonder whether art ought to leave it alone and focus on sunny orbs, triangle roofs and stick men throwing sticks for their out-of-proportion dogs.