20 July 11 | Chad W. Post | Comments

The latest addition to our Reviews Section is a piece by Taylor McCabe on The Last Brother by Nathacha Appanah, which is translated from the French by Geoffrey Strachan and available from Graywolf Press.

Taylor McCabe (aka “Intern #1”) is a student here at the University of Rochester where she’s majoring in French and English and is on the Fencing Club. She’s also hard at work editing the “Best of Three Percent” book that we’re putting together . . . (More info about that in a few weeks.)

Nathacha Appanah is a French-Mauritian of Indian origin, and this is the first book of hers to make its way into English. Appanah was a guest at this year’s PEN World Voices Festival and participated in the “Great Books: An Inheritance of Literary Wealth” event, which you can listen to here. Books: An Inheritance of Literary Wealth

Taylor wasn’t 100% sold on this book, which nevertheless sounds like it will appeal to a lot of readers. (And for a slight contrast, this review from the NY Times is a bit more positive.)

Indian-born Nathacha Appanah’s The Last Brother is clearly meant to be touching. The story, told in flashback, revolves around Raj, a nine year old boy who lives with his mother and abusive father on a remote island in the Indian Ocean, and David, an orphaned Jewish refugee who has been indefinitely detained on the island of Mauritius while on a pilgrimage between Nazi occupied Europe and Palestine. After a brief meeting on opposite sides of a fence at the jail where David is contained and Raj’s father is guard, the two boys become friends (despite a language barrier that seems to become inconsequential later in the book) while Raj is in the camp’s hospital after a vicious beating from his father.

Shortly after Raj is sent home, an enormous storm causes a breach of security at the jail, and the boys orchestrate an escape. Raj brings David to his home, where he and his mother conspire to hide the young escapee from Raj’s father and the prison officials sent to track him down. Raj begins to see David as a replacement brother—thus the title—for the two brothers he lost in a mudslide approximately a year before meeting David.

I think of The Last Brother in a touching movie-trailer montage: cut from the scene of the old man in the graveyard to two young boys on the opposite sides of a jail yard fence, then flash to the bewildered boys wandering around amidst overgrown trees. Think The Boy in the Striped Pajamas meets Slumdog Millionaire.

Click here to read the complete review.

20 July 11 | Chad W. Post | Comments

Indian-born Nathacha Appanah’s The Last Brother is clearly meant to be touching. The story, told in flashback, revolves around Raj, a nine year old boy who lives with his mother and abusive father on a remote island in the Indian Ocean, and David, an orphaned Jewish refugee who has been indefinitely detained on the island of Mauritius while on a pilgrimage between Nazi occupied Europe and Palestine. After a brief meeting on opposite sides of a fence at the jail where David is contained and Raj’s father is guard, the two boys become friends (despite a language barrier that seems to become inconsequential later in the book) while Raj is in the camp’s hospital after a vicious beating from his father.

Shortly after Raj is sent home, an enormous storm causes a breach of security at the jail, and the boys orchestrate an escape. Raj brings David to his home, where he and his mother conspire to hide the young escapee from Raj’s father and the prison officials sent to track him down. Raj begins to see David as a replacement brother—thus the title—for the two brothers he lost in a mudslide approximately a year before meeting David.

I think of The Last Brother in a touching movie-trailer montage: cut from the scene of the old man in the graveyard to two young boys on the opposite sides of a jail yard fence, then flash to the bewildered boys wandering around amidst overgrown trees. Think The Boy in the Striped Pajamas meets Slumdog Millionaire.

This is not to say that the book, translated from the French (Appanah has lived in France since 1988), is necessarily bad—it reads like a summer blockbuster waiting to happen, the movie everyone goes to see (whether to beat the heat with theatre air conditioning or because it actually looks good, it’s impossible to tell), and that leaves a lot of moms sobbing at the end and clutching their squirming twelve year old sons.

In fact, the main issue, I felt, with this novel was that most of it was simply so unmemorable—or, to be more exact, that it felt like a reproduction of any other book I had ever read before, either about an impoverished childhood in India or about the plight of the Jewish refugee during the Nazi occupation. The end of the book, however, takes a turn for the better, when the tragic downfall of the boys comes purely through their own stupidity: David’s malaria, which was being treated while he was at camp, cannot be dealt with when he is roaming the island with Raj as the boys attempt to make it back to the village where the bodies of his two brothers were lost.

On the ground, I clung to him and I wept and pleaded, as I have never had the chance to do with those others whom I have lost. There is no need to dwell on what I said. Irrespective of country, language, age, social status, what we say at such times is no more than a variation on the same phrases, the same words. Don’t leave me. I ached everywhere, there was a taste of blood in my mouth, but I went on pleading, I was begging him to wake up. After a moment I laid his head on my shoulder and stroked his hair with the flat of my hand. I knew this action made one feel better. My heart was bursting with grief, it is as simple as that and amid the sultry heat of the trees and ferns I wept, I wept like the child I was.

While this style of Appanah’s was definitely interesting, her attention to the old man telling this story in flashback often felt like the disembodied narrator, popular in film, was lending his voice to describe the actions I could already clearly see unfolding. So if you want to read The Last Brother, more power to you—after all, it’s charming enough, and an incredibly quick read—but don’t expect to become too attached, because a month from now you won’t even remember you read it in the first place.

....
In Times of Fading Light
In Times of Fading Light by Eugen Ruge
Reviewed by Phillip Koyoumjian

The historian John Lukacs observed, “Fictitious characters may represent characteristic tendencies and potentialities that existed in the past” and thus “may serve the historian under certain circumstances—when, for example, these are prototypical representations of certain contemporary realities.” Eugen Ruge’s In. . .

Read More >

The Antiquarian
The Antiquarian by Gustavo Faverón Patriau
Reviewed by P.T. Smith

Gustavo Faverón Patriau’s The Antiquarian, translated by Joseph Mulligan, is a genre-blending novel, a complete immersion that delves into a lesser-used niche of genre: horror, gothic, the weird. There are visual horrors, psychological ones, and dark corners with threats lurking.. . .

Read More >

Elsewhere
Elsewhere by Eliot Weingerber (ed.)
Reviewed by Grant Barber

What a wonderful, idiosyncratic book Weinberger has written. I say book, but the closest comparison I could make to other works being published right now are from Sylph Edition’s “Cahiers Series“—short pamphlet-like meditations by notable writers such as Ann Carson,. . .

Read More >

The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly
The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly by Sun-mi Hwang
Reviewed by Chris Iacono

Early in Sun-mi Hwang’s novel The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly, the main character, a hen named Sprout, learns about sacrifice. After refusing to lay any more eggs for the farmer who owns her, she becomes “culled” and released. . .

Read More >

Sankya
Sankya by Zakhar Prilepin
Reviewed by Kseniya Melnik

When Sankya was published in Russia in 2006, it became a sensation. It won the Yasnaya Polyana Award (bestowed by direct descendants of Leo Tolstoy) and was shortlisted for the Russian Booker and the National Bestseller Award. Every member of. . .

Read More >

Stalin is Dead
Stalin is Dead by Rachel Shihor
Reviewed by Tiffany Nichols

Stalin is Dead by Rachel Shihor has been repeatedly described as kafkaesque, which strikes a chord in many individuals, causing them to run to the bookstore in the middle of the night to be consumed by surreal situations that no. . .

Read More >

Paradises
Paradises by Iosi Havilio
Reviewed by Andrea Reece

Paradises by cult Argentinian author Iosi Havilio is the continuation of his earlier novel, Open Door, and tells the story of our narrator, a young, unnamed Argentinian woman.

The very first sentence in Paradises echoes the opening of Camus’s The Outsider. . .

Read More >