Category: Literature Reflective

Should have Stayed Away

Should have Stayed Away

Certain associations will always spring to mind when discussing any country. For Germany the most popular hits will be efficiency, success with their national football team, sausages, and two World Wars. The latter ultimately brings up thoughts of the Nazis and Adolf Hitler. What doesn’t easily spring to mind is their aptitude for humour. That didn’t stop author Timur Vermes attempting to bring the two together in the 2012 novel Look Who’s Back.

It’s a brave concept, making one of the most diabolical men in history the protagonist of a satirical comedy. Vermes makes it more challenging for himself by setting the story in the modern day. So from the start he is left with difficult subject matter placed in a series of minefields, none more so than the genre itself.

All literature is subjective, comedy more divisive than most. Taking this into account some leeway can be afforded to Vermes. However, accepting it might not be a laugh a minute doesn’t disguise a failed attempt at humour or intelligent derision.

The idea of disarming the monster is nothing new in art or popular culture. In its cheapest form we all laughed at Saddam Hussein in Hot Shots! Part Deux. Vermes isn’t going for the slapstick, he wants a subtle disassembling of Hitler and his beliefs. Instead he creates a character ignorant to the reality of his situation or the true perception of those around him.

We go from Führer to Alan Partridge within seconds, and not in a good way.

Hitler starts the story waking in modern day 2014. His mind has no knowledge of world events following his death in 1945. Still dressed in full Nazi uniform he wanders the streets trying to make sense of his situation. He comes across a newspaper stand and befriends the owner. This chance meeting gives him and abode and serves as a catalyst for his acceptance of the year and time he finds himself.

Despite slowly becoming aware of the new world situation, he continues to reflect and assume that many of the current ways of life are because of Nazi influence. This is an easy way to highlight the ignorance of extreme views and paint Hitler as single-minded. But after an initial period of settling in, it becomes a distraction. Are we supposed to believe a man that must have had intelligence in order to initiate his evil intentions is suddenly so naïve?

As the story unfolds he is seen as a comedic method actor. His rants are seen as a clever way to belittle views that should never been aired seriously. This makes members of extreme movements assume he is a sympathiser and they send him warnings.

When anyone in the world of Vermes’ novel grows a brain and questions what he really stands for, they are removed. Like a national newspaper that ends up being sued by Hitler’s representatives and ends up singing his praises. Again, a nod to manipulation, but how those closest to Hitler fail to see his behaviour goes beyond the talent of an immersed method actor is questionable.

Some conversations take place that rely on the observer’s understanding that Hitler and those he is in dialogue with are coming from two different places. Some of these can be humorous, sadly they wear thin. A clever play on words only works so many times before the characters are reduced to mindless mush.

There is also an effort to show how Hitler won people over with a certain degree of charisma. Even that message fails when you consider in this version he goes from YouTube to TV star. Unless Vermes is trying to say the modern media is as evil as the Nazi war machine.

The actual translation of the German title is, He is Back. Thankfully for mankind, Hitler is dead and will remain so. Unless poorly implemented comedy is your thing, keep him that way and avoid this attempt at resurrection by ridicule.

Sins of the Father

Sins of the Father

Stephen King has inspired many a writer to pick up a pen (or keyboard) and emulate his style. So it’s only fair his son, Joe Hill, is afforded a concession for attempting this. What is also understandable is Hill’s desire to tell an old fashioned horror tale, the type that are no longer attempted. But can the son recapture the former glory of a style often deemed dated?

The quick and simple answer is: yes, he certainly can. A glance at the plot summary makes Heart-Shaped Box sound like it shouldn’t work. And it really shouldn’t. Nowadays most authors or filmmakers opt for some psychological element to build the probability or tension. The idea of a ghost haunting a protagonist should sound too simple.

This should be a nailed on fact when the appearance of the ghost is because said protagonist, aging rock star, Judas Coyne, buys a “haunted” suit from an auction website. And there is little build-up to the spirit making himself known to Judas. This quick reveal means the reader just has to accept it. There’s never a hint Judas could be going crazy. The ghost exists. Accept it, and accept his interaction with the living world is prevalent pretty fast.

Such is the pace of purchase to dilemma, after a third of the book you begin to wonder just how Hill will manage to fill the remaining pages. The ghost, who is revealed as Craddock McDermott, the deceased father of Jude’s former live-in lover who killed herself, appears relentless and unstoppable.

It’s only Coyne’s two German Shepherds (cutely named Angus and Bon in honour of the AC/DC legends) that give him some rest bite from the ghostly attacks.

During this quick start the main characters are coloured in fast. Coyne is the rocker with an unhealthy obsession with the occult and things that are distasteful (his ex-wife left him after coming across a snuff video he owns). But he doesn’t necessarily believe in the dark matters he delves into, it just accompanies a persona he portrays.

His women are young and last no longer than a year. He names them from the state they originated and that’s about as far as he goes into their actual lives.

It’s with current girlfriend, Georgia, who he mounts an escape with which forms into a plan for freedom. It’s in this phase the past and current events intertwine and the true nature of McDermott is revealed while Judas is made to face real, personal demons.

We also learn more about Georgia, the young goth who refuses to be just another conquest Coyne will discard, showing loyalty equal to Angus and Bon’s. She appears unafraid and beyond her years. It enables an alternative take on a love story to develop as they suffer through the incidents that follow.

This female connection also links Coyne’s emotions to the dead daughter that Craddock seeks vengeance for. She was always Florida, the girl that asked too many questions and suffered from bouts of severe depression. His journey to rediscover her is what moves the tale along.

The novel is too gripping to slip into the parody it had the potential to be and Hill doesn’t take too many liberties with the paranormal to get himself out of tight spots. Even when it’s obvious where the story is heading, it’s still a real page turner – surely the sign of a good story.

The comparisons with his father will be an annoyance to Hill (hence his choice of surname) but rather than ignore them and make an elephant in the room, it’s best to address them head-on. Heart-Shaped Box proves he deserves to be judged by his own high standards.

If King was still writing classic horror it may have taken this feel, but one suspects the baton has been passed from one generation to the next, and Hill’s interpretation has shown the old master a few tricks.

And it works so well because he remembered his father’s rule to make the genre work…

Help over Hatred

Help over Hatred

Kathryn Stockett’s debut 2009 novel, The Help, was well received at the time and went on to win several notable literary awards. It has since been adapted for the screen, bringing the source material into further focus. During these times of social segregation, it seems more fitting than ever to review the message it tries to send.

Set in 1960s Mississippi, it closely follows the lives of three very different women. The opening section begins with Aibileen Clark. She is maid and cleaner for the Leefolt family, along with caring for their young daughter, Mae Mobley.

Aibileen’s calm, measured voice is a perfect way to introduce the reader to the town of Jackson. We see the love she has for the toddler. This despite previous experience showing her that when the babies grow up, a treasured bond is often cut forever.

Through her eyes we meet the women of the community. They have their own agendas and have no trouble ensuring the clear boundaries between blacks and whites are maintained. The early saga, revolving around Leefolt’s desire to have an outside toilet installed for Aibileen, is how a revulsion regarding archaic attitudes begins to simmer away with the reader.

Throughout, Aibileen remains dignified. She can ignore how the community ostracises, instigated most of the time by the ringleader of the white women, Hilly Holbrook.

Hilly is a readymade villain, almost a little too pantomime at times. She also acts as a link between the two worlds and lifestyles. The second of the protagonists we follow is Eugenia Phelan, or Skeeter as she is nicknamed for the majority of the scenes.

Skeeter is different from the other women in the clique. She misses her own maid that raised her, Constantine. Her unexpected disappearance which occurred months before Skeeter returned from university, drives her forward for answers. At first she views the common opinions surrounding the help with nothing more than indifference. She doesn’t discriminate out of her own nature.

Over time, when pressed and confronted with the separation between blacks and whites, she educates herself on the appalling laws and strives to make a difference. It isn’t an Oskar Schindler journey of realisation. Skeeter always treated people equally, but she started to see how deep the problem was.

Her and Aibileen first communicate in secret to help Skeeter complete a weekly newspaper column about housekeeping tips. Skeeter’s writing ambition, and the advice from a New York editor, make her look for a real story. And she realises the problem in Mississippi is a tale needing to be told.

The final voice to tell the story is Minny. For every piece of Aibileen’s calm, there is a bit of Minny’s passion. A woman whose mouth has gotten her into trouble more times than she cares to remember. Her anger and distrust is well justified and the fire in her belly doesn’t make her any less likable.

Her journey is forming a slow bond with Celia, a housewife who is seen to be too trashy for the usual social scene. This isn’t a natural fit to begin with but Minny has burnt her employment bridges to such a degree she has to persevere.

Of all the members of white society we meet in the story, Celia is the most naïve to the plight of the minorities. She truly can’t understand why Minny has walls surrounding their relationship and doesn’t see her employer as a potential friend.

Minny has a great comedic role to play in parts but her tale reveals a painful, difficult existence. She also offers herself up as a potential sacrifice to keep the group safe.

Which brings us to the main drive of the novel. When Hilly ensures her maid, Yule May, goes to prison for theft, the fellow maids in the town decide to help Aibileen and Skeeter produce a book detailing their experiences. During transformation and revelation, Aibileen is the cement that keeps everything together.

Stockett should be applauded for creating three strong voices to drive the story. Such is her talent, that at the end of each transition you wish you could stay with the woman you’re with, only to beg a few more chapters with the new voice in the cycle.

Switching to and fro is never jarring, sometimes it’s entirely necessary. The lives of these ordinary people are punctuated with historical moments in the civil rights campaign and the actions of JFK. They give a sense of the times and the social disharmony.

The only criticism is they don’t pound the problem home with enough force. There is never – despite hearing of horror stories – a real sense of fear. That isn’t to say they don’t suffer (you will shed a tear reading this book) but the plight of the people isn’t quite given the justice it deserves.

However, any shortfalls are made up with the execution of the main narrative and its moral points. There is no need to divide and separate. All people are equal. A baby is born without prejudice and loves those that are kindest, it sees no colour.

Hatred is taught and should never be allowed to overrule love.