Remembering Hughes and Mantel

 This year we lost two wonderful authors, particular favourites of mine: Shirley Hughes and Hilary Mantel. Each woman was a master in her own way - the former created the most beautiful characters through her warm, swirling, colourful drawings, and the latter dazzled us with her rich, imaginings of past worlds and happenings. Hughes's depiction of Dogger is just as unforgettable as Mantel's Cromwell - and through their stories, we will forever remember the women who brought them to life. 

My bookshelves are full of the words, drawings and books of Mantel and Hughes, and while I am sad to think that they have written their last, I am cheered by the stories that they have left behind - and am forever grateful that they were so prolific and hard-working while they were with us. Their legacies are their characters, the very ones who kept them up long into the night and to whom they gave their precious time.  In their turn, these characters will help breath life anew into the memory of Shirley and Hilary as they sail away from this temperal realm.

And one last thing... Mantel's books are full of ghosts and the undead. If by any chance she would like to haunt this author from time to time, she'd be very welcome. Just knock twice! 

Lessons in Chemistry ~ Bonnie Garmus

If, like me just 24 hours ago, you haven't read Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus, please stop reading this post and go get yourself a copy. I haven't been this excited about a book in some time.  Maybe it is just the time of year - though I doubt it - but I've been thinking a lot about the past, and this book fits my mood entirely. Set in the mid 1950s to early 60s in America, the book should describe the glamorous lifestyle of the modern woman, newly liberated from the kitchen, survivor of the Second World War, sisters of Doris Day and Audrey Hepburn, whose independent spirit could make any girls' dream seem a possibility. But instead, it details the numerous, ridiculously prevalent barriers to success and equlity that women and girls had to endure all their lives, and may still do.  I think this is what gripped me from the first page: this book is not set in the past. It is the story of women and girls today: the inequality persists, though perhaps not so openly.

One notable motif in the book is the idea that women need to take some time for themselves, if they are to stay in touch with who they really are.  I am reminded of Virginia Woolf's notion, that every woman needs a room of her own if she wants to fulfill her potential and Garmus is elaborating upon this idea here, for certain. Indeed, Elizabeth Zott transforms her kitchen onto a labratory, a room of her own, as she experiments with being a single mother and independent scientist. Even her coffee maker is a machine that she has invented, made up of test tubes and chemistry implements.  She literally takes a sledgehammer to her kitchen - destroying the ultimate symbol of domesticity - only to find herself working in a new kitchen as a television cooking instructor.  It seems escaping the confines of the kitchen will be harder than she thought!  

Like Ibsen wrote in his play 'A Doll's House', in 1879, the roles women play can be extensive yet exhausting, but at some point, a woman must be true to herself - or lose her sense of self entirely - and that requires her to be selfish with her time, her talents. In this text, the brilliant and forthright Eizabeth Zott, knows this to be true, then forgets it, and embraces it as a truth once more. She is a scientist and despite her gift, has to deal with relentless attacks on her character and career from numerous men, women and teachers! I spent much of the novel passionately hating the characters who got in Elizabeth's way, gritting my teeth as I endured, as did Elizabeth, their attempts to blight, burden, and abuse her. Garus's brilliance lies in her ability to make us care so much about this character. I suppose I cared so much about Elizabeth because I empathised with her.  I recognise misogyny in the workplace, in society: inequality in the law and the legal system.  Aren't we done with sexism already?  It's almost 150 years since Ibsen wrote his play, but still these themes are relevant.  

While Garmus has chosen to set her book in the middle of the last century, these themes still ring true. The reader roots for Elizabeth and the 'family' of characters that surround her. Each one is as endearing as she is, each villain is as toxic as any that splattered onto the page from Dickens's quill, and like Dickens, Garmus takes every opportunity to explain the psychology behind their cruelty, even allowing some to move from the dark side into the light. 

But more than anything, I found this book to be inspiring. It felt like a healing balm, the antidote to the craziness of modern living. There must be something ironic in that - how a book about the restrictions of life in 1950s America can be liberating in the early 20s in Ireland.  And, at this time of year, when reflecting on the past 12 months, seeing how unfair the world can be and looking ahead to 2023 with some uncertainty, Lessons in Chemistry reconfirmed my faith in humanity and the belief that all will be well. This is not a book that must be read at Christmas time, in fact, I think that it is an especially great book to read at the beginning of a new year.  It reminds us how far we have come in the world, and that we should not sit on our laurels: there is much that needs to be changed in the world, but with good people by our side we can accomplish anything. 

As a teenager I studied Chemistry in school - an extra subject- where a determined and formidable teacher took us during lunch breaks and free classes. She managed to squash a two year course into one, for the simple reason that about five of us girls asked her - the alternative subject was Ballroom Dancing (I kid you not). When I think of it now, she was an amazing teacher to take that onboard - for no extra pay, no extra credit. Elizabeth Zott reminded me of her, her frankness, her certainty - after all, the equations never lie. This book made me want to dig out my old Chemistry notes and become a scientist, or at least appreciate the importance of cracking open the shell of an egg with a knife when cooking and not whacking it off the side of the counter.  If you have read the book, you will understand what I mean...

If you haven't read Lessons in Chemistry yet - well, what are you waiting for?

Grey Bees ~by Andrey Kurkov

I knew I would love this book when I was only a few pages in - there was just something so familiar about this wonderful book set in a world between things. The main character - Sergey - lives in a little town in the Grey Zone between the battle lines of the Ukrainian forces and the Russian backed Separatists. With only an old school friend/enemy for company, Sergey lives a lonely existence, winding his clock, drinking honey vodka and tending to his bees.  Like the protagonist waiting for this bees to wake up and the honeycombs to fill, I spent most of my time reading this book with my knuckles clenched, waiting for something dreadful to occur. There are dangers at every turn - you never know who can be trusted. Will the knock at the door be a friend or foe? Who is creeping outside his tent and whose footprint are those in the snow? That sense of fear is lurking on each and every page - and is purposely done, I believe -as Kurkov tries to capture the reality of what life was like in war-torn Ukraine, in 2015. Of course, as the current Russian attack in Ukraine focuses on Donbas, the Russian speaking regions of Eastern Ukraine are much in our thoughts, giving extra poignancy to this novel first published in 2018.  Yet despite the palpable trepidation the overwhelming mood of this book is positive and life affirming. 

While Sergey leaves the Grey Zone to find greener pastures for his bees, he never really leaves his 'in-between' world very far behind. He cannot easily commit to relationships, such as the one with his wife, Vitalina and daughter, Angelica. They have moved away, leaving Sergey to his beekeeping. Yet when he phones them, his wife's voice seems warm: she reaches out to him, asking him to come to her. But Sergey cannot. He is used to the war zone which is paradoxically a place where he finds peace. As such, Kurkov presents us with the predicament of the Ukrainian people - they fight for peace, remain in a theatre of war because it is their beloved home. 

Nor can Sergey move on and form new relationships. Gayla welcomes her into her home and life, but somehow, he is caught between words - this time in terms of relationships. He cannot move away from the family unit he formed with his wife and daughter. He is stuck again in a no man's land, not married yet not completely separated either. 

His acquaintances Pashka and Petro are not strictly friends - one a Russian speaker, the other a Ukrainian soldier, but they are not strickly enemies either. Like him, they live in the Grey Zone, and share an understanding of the hardships they have all endured.  But Pashka was his enemy at school, 'borrows' from him and bring strangers in the night, while Petro gives him the gift of a hand granade. He travels with his bees, seeking a place where they can gather nectar safely, but wherever he goes, he does not belong. The people look at him strangely when he tells them he is from the Grey Zone - a refugee in his own country. They cannot understand what he has been through or what binds him to his home in no man's land. In a way, this book is really a study into the ties that bind us to country and place, and what it means to be home. What makes home a home when there are no other people there that you love?  No street names, no utilities, no power and not even any post. Kurkov uses the simple character of Sergey Sergeyich to puzzle out these complex questions. 

The use of colour in the book is also really interesting. For much of the text, we are shown a monochrome winter world, where snow covers the earth for miles and miles. There are dots of colour: a blue haversack, a green Lada, a pair of purple slippers - all important objects in this story.   But the sparcity of colour mirrors the shortage of food, electricity and human companionship that epitomises Sergey's world - that is until he re-enters Ukrainian territory on the outskirts of The Grey Zone. He sees miles and miles of sunflowers - the national flower of Ukraine. The colour stretches out across our imaginations like the Ukrainian flag - yellow ground against blue sky - creating a landscape that is incredibly moving. Through this blazing colour drives Sergey in his windowless Lada. The glorious colour is almost heartbreaking: it momentarily captures a sense of nationalistic pride without pomp and ceremony. It's only a man driving home - but it feels like the land itself is welcoming him. The moment is profound and endlessly memorable. If this were Yeats, he'd be sailing on to Innisfree, if it were Tennyson he'd be riding down to Camelot. The feeling of home-coming is eternal and universal. One cannot help but be reminded that, as I write, millions of Ukrainians have been forced to flee their homes, to say goodbye, maybe forever, to the sunflower-filled fields of Ukraine. Kurkov's tale has even more poignancy now, with a pathos that increases daily as Ukraine hemorrhages its people as a result of Putin's war. 

Read this book - I loved every line like I knew I would. 

By Michelle Burrowes