Kärlek het som chili
(Como aqua para chocolate)
Laura Esquivel
Translated by Inger Fahlander
217 p.
Natur och Kultur, 1999.
(First published in Mexico 1989.)
Back cover blurb:
På släkten De la Garzas stora lantegendom i Mexico styr änkan Elena sin familj med järnhand. När Pedro friar till hennes yngsta dotter Tita, avvisas han eftersom Tita enligt uråldrig tradition måste förbli ogift och ta hand om sin mamma.
För att få vara i den älskades närhet gifter sig Pedro med hennes äldre syster. Och Tita finner ett sätt att ge uttryck åt sina heta känslor: hon gör sig till kökets härskare. Hennes underbara kokkonst påverkar alla i familjen, oväntat och dramatiskt.
Kärlek het som chili är en ångande het berättelse om kärlek och mat, om fantasi och passion.
This is yet another novel I’ve read for school. Most people who read this before me hated this novel with a passion, and I thought that, seeing as it seemed quite “easy”, I would hate it as well. But I didn’t. My main problem with this novel is not the fact that it is full of strange and unrealistic happenings; my main problem is that I simply did not believe in the love Tita and Pedro held for each other. Throughout the novel I hoped that Tita would get over Pedro, or Pedro would get over Tita, and Tita would get married to Doctor Brown, a lovely kind man who falls for her the first moment he sees her. Needless to say, this doesn’t happen. Pedro and Tita’s love is, apparently, the truest love ever. And I just don’t believe in that. It’s not that I don’t believe in love, what I don’t believe in is the fact that there is only ever one love for you - ever.
The book we read in class before this was Crime & Punishment. This novel is obviously less difficult to read, and I more or less flew through it. The only parts where I feel a little lost is where they start talking too much about Mexican food, which I am very bad at. I can identify enchiladas, tortillas and tacos, but that’s it. The long-winded descriptions of how to make the foods I skimmed through, even though I felt that it would be quite fun to make the food, even if it seems to be, on the most part, impossible. Where on earth would I be able to find those coffee beans you need to make the chocolate cakes which, in turn, you make hot chocolate with? I will have to investigate this further.
With this book I have realised that I have serious problems with the endings of books. The ending of this book made me groan aloud - not that! A dissatisfying ending leaves me with a bad taste in the mouth, much like sour milk. Or, more like milk which is slowly turning sour throughout the course of the novel. Kärlek het som chili is by no means a bad book. Its problem is merely that the ending isn’t very good. In fact, if you want a nice and happy openended ending, don’t read the last chapter. At least if you root for Tita and Doctor Brown, which I did. If you hope Tita and Pedro will be able to relish their love, do read the last chapter. (I kind of spoiled the ending there, didn’t I? However - there are surprises to be had!)
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May 6th, 2008
Filed under Fiction, School reads, Swedish
7287pwkr
Mumintrollet på kometjakt
Tove Jansson
156 p.
Sörlins förlag, 1956.
Back cover blurb:
De stora äventyren började egentligen samma morgon, som Sniff hittade sin hemliga grotta. Mystiska och svårtydbara tecken började visa sig överallt. Tecken, som såg ut som en stjärna med svans efter sig. Varken Mumintrollet eller Sniff visste riktigt vad de skulle tro, men som vanligt hade Mumintrollet sina aningar. För säkerhets skull frågade han Bisamråttan, och han visste på råd; en ondskefull komet var på väg mot Mumintrollens fridfulla lilla dal.
För att få reda på mera begav sig Mumintrollet och Sniff på väg mot Observatoriet i Ensliga Bergen. Efter en tid slog de följe med Snusmumriken och de tre vännerna fick uppleva både hemska och roliga äventyr. Och under tiden var kometen på väg… allt närmare, och närmare kom den som ett ondskefullt öga.
På hemväg träffade de på Snorkfröken och hennes broder, som Mumintrollet med sin rådighet räddade från en hemsk köttätande Angostura. Så efter många äventyr kom de slutligen hem igen till det lilla blå Muminhuset i dalen, lagom för att rädda sig och Mumintrollets mamma och pappa från den stora kometen som kom svepande med sin långa glödheta svans…
This blurb tells about everything that happens in this book, but with fewer words. That is a little strange, I think, but I guess that might have been the way blurbs were written in the fifties. I was definitely not alive back then, so how could I know? (I assume I could do an investigation, but I am extremely lazy, and you can’t expect me to be bothered doing that!)
This novel is the first version, so to speak, of the story which later would be published under the name Kometen kommer. I think the latter title is a lot more dramatic, but as I haven’t read that book, I can’t really compare them, plotwise. (if I understood correctly from reading a bit about it on the internet, one of the major differences is that what is a monkey in this version, is a kitten in the other version.) The writing style is the happy and simple style Jansson uses and it makes me so happy.
And, um. It really really makes me happy. It is like Prozac. Or metaphorically so, because I’m not at all so into medicines. But you get the gist of it.
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April 29th, 2008
Filed under Children, Fantasy, Fiction, Swedish
7287pwkr
Trollkarlens hatt
Tove Jansson
164 p.
AWE Gebers, 1956.
Back cover blurb:
Den här berättelsen börjar med trolldom en tidig vårmorgon och slutar en varm augustinatt som aldrig kommer glömmas i mumindalen. Däremellan ligger mumintrollets långa sommar, full av solsken och åskväder. Den kunde ha varit som en vanlig sommar, med upptäckter av nya öar, med långrevsfiske i duggregn och lyckliga bad i bränningarna och hemlighetsfulla nattvandringar - men så hittade muminfamiljen trollkarlens hatt. Och efter det var ingenting som vanligt längre. Farlighet och spänning hade kommit in i dalen och tassade hotfullt kring deras hus, varje dag hände otroliga och upprörande saker. De hade med andra ord aldrig haft så roligt förr. Det här är historien om små och stora kryp och om glada händelser och hemska händelser som alltid måste vara hopblandade för att ens sommar ska bli riktig och underbar.
Looking through the first few pages of this book, I realised that this is from the second print run, which made me feel a little uncomfortable - maybe I shouldn’t have carried it around as I did! I carried this book around for a near week, which, for such a short volume, is maybe a bit ridiculous. However, it was interesting to see how people reacted to it. People often went “Moomin!” in an appreciating way, but others went “..Moomin!” which made me think that maybe they thought it was ridiculous. If they did, I don’t care. Moomin might be considered a childrens’ book, but it is so much greater than a childrens’ book. (Earlier today I actually went to see a couple of short Moomin films at a cinema. The ticket girl looked a little strangely at me when I said I wanted to buy a ticket.)
It’s such a wondrous story. This novel has a few things I missed from Farlig Midsommar, most notably Mårran (The Groke in English). I love the concept of Mårran - something that’s evil because she’s unloved, but you can’t love her, because then she only gets cross. It is fantastic, and I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared of any character as I was Mårran. At one place Jansson writes: “I det frusna gräset satt Mårran och glodde på dem” (132, roughly translated to “In the frozen grass sat the Groke and stared at them”). The choice of words chills my blood. I never thought I’d be as scared of someone who “glor”. (I realise this sounds really strange, but nevermind!) She is a truly extraordinary character.
And all the other characters! Oh, how I love them! Had I the opportunity, I would definitely marry Snusmumriken (who I believe is called Snufkin in English). He wouldn’t be a very good husband, I believe, but no one is perfect. I mean, at least he wears a pretty hat!
All in all, it was a very good book. I don’t really think I’ve said much about the actual content of the book, but, well, it’s obvious that I’ll like it - it’s Moomin. Whoever doesn’t like Moomin is mentally unwell.
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April 20th, 2008
Filed under Children, Fantasy, Fiction, Swedish
7287pwkr
Nineteen Eighty-Four
George Orwell
326 p.
Penguin Classics, 2004.
(First published 1949 by Secker and Warburg.)
Back cover blurb:
Hidden away in the Record Department of the sprawling Ministry of Truth, Winston Smith skilfully rewrites the past to suit the needs of the Party. Yet he inwardly rebels against teh totalitarian world he lives in, which demands absolute obedience and conrols him through the all-seeing telescreens and the watchful eye of Big Brother, symbolic head of the Party. In his longing for truth and liberty, Smith begins a secret love affair wtih a fellow-worker, Julia, but soon discovers the true price of freedom is betrayal.
This is another one of those books I’ve been reading for school. I’ve read it before now, a couple of years ago or so. Strangely enough, I remembered barely anything. Most of the things came as surprises this time again, which shows what a truly dreadful reader I am. Seeing as I might be asked about this in my finals next year, I do hope I’ll remember more this time around!
Despite being more than fifty years old, it’s a very lively book. When Winston towards the end was tortured, I flinched because the description were so violent and I almost felt a little ashamed at how much these descriptions affected me. Though, I guess I should applaud Orwell for being such a talented writer. Not many writers make me react to books like that.
Apart from Winston Smith, the other protagonist - if we should call her that - is Julia. I hated Julia. I really, really hated her. She never ceased to annoy me, because her entire rebelling against the Party felt so pointless. She often just made me angry. Winston, however, was rather sweet. I quite liked him.
Though, in line with the attitude to language in the novel, all we need to say is: Nineteen Eighty-Four is doubleplusgood.
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April 12th, 2008
Filed under English, Fiction, School reads
7287pwkr
Farlig Midsommar
Tove Jansson
143 p.
Awe/Gebers 1987.
(first published 1954 by Nordstedts Förlag, AB.)
Back cover blurb:
Vattnet bara stiger och stiger och allting börjar flyta. Där kommer n teater på drift och med den driver Muminfamiljen in i en midsommarnatt som är full av trolldom och överraskningar, av nya vänner och fiender. Vet ni att hatifnattar kommer ur frö och att man måste så dem på midsommarnatten? Har ni nånsin borrat hål genom ert eget golv eller sett en självlysande parkvakt? Och är ni medvetna om hur hemskt farligt det är att vissla på teatern? Det här är berättelsen om vad som hände i den magiska månaden juni samma år som det eldsprutande berget rörde på sig och mumintrollets mamma gjorde sin vackraste barkbåt.
Tove Jansson is, together with Astrid Lindgren, the most well-respected Swedish authors for children. I really don’t like Astrid Lindgren all that much, but Tove Jansson? I completely adore her. Her novels are so completely surreal and beautiful, and simple brilliant. For some reason I’ve only read one of her novels by myself before, and that was a few years ago. Then I came to discuss Lord of the Rings together with a few people, and one of these people said that he thought that if you were supposed to read proper fantasy, you should read Tove Jansson. This was of course an over-simplified version of the conversation, but it made me think. Seeing as I was sadly unfamiliar with her world - what I know is from when I was very tiny - I decided to read a novel of hers, and make some sort of comparision. And if I decided that the comparision is too far off, I would still have read a good book.
What a good book this is. As a fantasy world it can’t really be justly compared with Lord of the Rings, but with The Hobbit it is clearly comparable. And, I must admit, Farlig Midsommar made me feel a lot more than The Hobbit did. Now, Tolkien’s novel is seventeen years older, and is most definitely inspirational for Jansson, who, after all, has illustrated The Hobbit. I don’t know if it’s my skewed sense of feeling, or if it is actually better, but I could feel more for the mystical creatures in Farlig midsommar than in The Hobbit. Moomin, Snufkin and all of those amazed me with their simple ingenuinity.
The fact that the characters weren’t one-dimensional, which often people in childrens’ novels are, felt very nice. There was a passage where Snufkin, together with twenty-four children he has happened to adopt, are going to the theatre. Here Snufkin thinks that he hoped that nobody would think that the children were his - that would be a bit embarrassing. At another place Moomin promises The Snork Maiden that he has kidnapped her, and that she screamed terribly. What kind of pure childrens’ book is this? This is amazing, that’s what it is.
I really hate the fact that I am more or less the busiest I’ve ever been this week, and that I will have no time to read another Moomin book quite yet. It breaks my heart. But on Friday, when everything’s calmed down a few degrees, I am going to an exhibition with original art from the Moomin novels. I am going to be over the moon.
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April 7th, 2008
Filed under Children, Fantasy, Fiction, Swedish
7287pwkr
Nice Work
David Lodge
384 p.
Penguin Books 1989.
(first published 1988 by Secker & Warburg.)
Back cover blurb:
When Vix Wilcox (MD of Pringle’s engineering works) meets English lecturer Dr Robyn Penrose, sparks fly as their lifestyles and ideologies collide head on. What, after all, are they supposed to learn from each other? But in time both parties make some surprising discoveries about each other’s worlds - and about themselves.
The copy I read had neither a back cover blurb, nor the cover up there. However, seeing as I couldn’t find that cover anywhere, I had to do what well I could. Also, I have always wanted to have read one of Lodge’s books, just because all of them seem to have such uniform and lovely covers. You can imagine how disappointed when I found, digging this out of one of our bookshelves, that the cover had to real persons on it. The back cover was merely full of reviews, and I have never liked reviews tagged onto books. However, this did little to the way I found this book.
Nice Work is both terrific and slightly boring. We follow the English lecturer and the factory manager, so extremely different. But, they aren’t that different. I assumed, when starting this book, that Wilcox was going to be completely devoid of figurative language, but that isn’t the case. He frequently uses metaphors and such - maybe not extremely elegant such, but metaphors none-the-less. Somehow I felt as though this great difference was a bit muted by that simple fact. There were also a few other things that annoyed me slightly. Most prominent were the discussions Robyn held with her on-off-boyfriend. They discussed literary things with too big words and too much highbrowness. This shouldn’t actually be a problem, but I must be allergic from it, because I really did not like it. Actually, this is a bit strange, seeing as I am considering studying English Literature come University, and ought to be all for the literary jargon. However, I’m one of these people who doesn’t want to see symbols and metaphors in everything. Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar, as Freud said. I honestly do not believe that every novel has an underlying meaning. Some things can just be coincidences. Of course, I don’t say this during class! But enough is enough.
Despite these small things that disturbed my reading, I really liked it. I enjoyed the fact that they didn’t get each other in the end and that they were happy anyway, and that the changes were subtle and believable. I read it as part of research for a big essay I’ve to write, but I don’t think I’ll be using it as any kind of reference. Not because it was bad, but because it doesn’t really fit in with what I am investigating. In a way, I wish it would have. Lodge’s language is quite beautiful.
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March 28th, 2008
Filed under English, Fiction
7287pwkr
[there was a quiz here, but I deleted it. BECAUSE I DID. It said I was 80% book nerd.]
That is quite the dashing portrait of me (not). I, I barely look like that at all. The glasses are almost correct. But not really. I am quite the book nerd, whoo.Now, a meme I was tagged for ages ago.1. Write your own six word memoir
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere
4 .Tag five more blogs with links.
My memoir is as follows:
More books! More tea! More life!
I am also not tagging anyone because, um, I don’t know who reads this. Plus, I am lame. (: Oh yes, I was tagged by Love.
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March 21st, 2008
Filed under Other
7287pwkr
Den klassiska romanens Ryssland
Lennart Kjellberg
187 p.
Almqvist & Wiksell, 1964.
Back cover blurb:
Denna bok riktar sig till de läsare av den klassiska ryska litteraturen vilka stundom känner sig desorienterade i dess förbryllande värld av civila generaler, adelsmarskalkar, kollegieregistratorsänkor, köpmän av första gillet och herrar som omväxlande kallas Aleksandr Petrovič och Saša.
Den söker förklara sådana företeelser som de ryska författarna förutsätter som bekanta: Petersburgs och Moskvas topografi, ståndsindelning, förvaltning och rättskipning, kyrkliga förhållanden, namn- och tilltalsskick, myntväsen, mått- och viktsystem, tideräkning m. m., allt med utgångspunkt från klassiska romaner, noveller och skådespel.
Boken är rikt illustrerad med teckningar av arkitekt Per-Olof Olsson efter gamla gravyer och litografier.
There isn’t really that much to say about this book. It is a book about what Russia looked like during the nineteenth century, when most of the great Russian novels are set. It is a very practical book, but never very hilarious. In fact, the only thing I can remember off by heart now is that the smallest streets in Petersburg were FIFTEEN METRES WIDE. And that’s the smallest ones! Just think about the larger ones! It’s crazy.
I don’t feel like this is a book benefits you in a moment, but I believe that all the passive knowledge I (hopefully) got now is going to be useful in the future, when I finally find the time to read all those great Russian novels. On and on!
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March 21st, 2008
Filed under Non-fiction, Swedish
7287pwkr
New Moon
Stephenie Meyer
594 p.
Atom, 2007
(first published 2006 by Little, Brown and Company.)
Back cover blurb:
For Bella Swan, there is one thing more important than life itself: Edward Cullen. But being in love with a vampire is even more dangerous than Bella could ever have imagined. Edward has already rescued Bella from the clutches of one evil vampire, but now, as their daring relationship threatens all that is near and dear to them, they realize their troubles may be just beginning…
Okay, I am going to admit it: what the fuck is up with everyone being head over heels for Edward bloody Cullen? Apart from being an insensitive jerk, he is stupid as well as heartless. Every time he was in the page I got a slight urge to rip out the pages. That should say a bit about my feelings for him. I almost committed book-massacre, and that is more or less forbidden to say in my house. But I withhold: I hate Edward. As an effect all I felt for Bella was that she was being stupid and self-destroying by letting someone so stupid so easily destroy her life. Now, the concept of being messed up after a break-up is completely understandable - after all, it is something I well recognise - but it is twisted and exaggerated, beyond any kind of belief. Or any kind of belief I possess, anyway.
Too add to this dislike, it isn’t even a particularly well-written novel. If I hadn’t been so extremely annoyed with the majority of the characters, I would have finished it in two days, tops. That’s with school work included. It is seemingly written without much thought about the beauty of the language. What metaphors and similies there are are pushed too far or too blunt. And the plot itself? Seriously, give me a break. A girl breaks up with her vampire-boyfriend, angsts about it forever and gets a best friend who turns out to be a werewolf. It then turns out that the vampire-boyfriend tries to kill himself from grief, and that the girl is the only one who can save him. SERIOUSLY. This is not Nobel prize material. It isn’t even acceptable plot. Had I written something like that people would look at me as though I was retarded and declare it the sovereign state of Stupidity.
I think I can name three things I actually liked in this book. Firstly, the part where Bella is too depressed to do anything. That was a little nifty, I must admit. Secondly, the vampire Aro was really funny. He was so over-the-top and ridiculous, reminding me rather of the vampires of The Saga of Darren Shan. (overall, though, I got Anne Rice-vibes from the coven overall. I have admittedly never read anything by her, but the point is that it is a little lame.) Thirdly, JACOB. To begin with, I was more than slightly in love with Jacob, because he was a dear. He seemed to genuinely care. However, then he turns into a bleedin’ werewolf and undergoes a very dodgy psychological shift, which, well, I don’t buy. But I guess you would understand that already? Still, occasionally he glimpes back again, which is very nice.
Admittedly, I might be a little too harsh - it’s half eleven in night. But I must admit that I… I more or less enjoyed it, but it wasn’t good. And I don’t know if I will read the later books. It’s not unlikely I will, because I’m a bit of a masochist, but honestly? If I didn’t, I wouldn’t suffer. And if I do, it won’t be in the next few months. I have got enough of Bella Swan as it is.
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March 13th, 2008
Filed under English, Fiction, Young Adult
7287pwkr
Now & Then
William Corlett
346 p.
Abacus, 2007.
(First published 1995.)
Back cover blurb:
Now, Christopher Metcalfe returns to his family home in Kent after the death of his father. Sorting through a box of memorabilia from his days at public school, Chris is suddenly confronted by the face that has haunted him for thirty years.
Then, as a callow fifth former enduring the excesses of a school system designed to run an Empire that no longer existed, a most extraordinary thing happened amid the thrashings and cross-country runs: he was seduced by Stephen Walker, a prefect two years his senior with whom he went on to share a brief but intensely passionate affair. Now, again, alone, approaching the age of fifty, Christopher is painfully aware of the price he paid for letting go, and resolves to find Stephen, and discover what became of the only person he has ever loved.
Before Love was simply ecstatic over it a few weeks ago, I had never heard of this book. (I was under the belief I had never heard of the author, either, but it turns out he wrote the novel the tv-series The Magician’s House is based on - fancy that!) I naturally assumed that it was a new book, strengthened by the “Winner of the Dillons First Fiction Award”. I also assumed that the book was set roughly nineteen-ten, all due to the hats of the boys in the picture. The fact that people wore them after that time was unthinkable! So, naturally, when I opened it up and saw it was from nineteen-ninetyfive, I was a little surprised! When I started reading and there were all sorts of new things, I smelled a rat. Or, really, I didn’t smell anything; it was so lovely.
I read a rough twenty pages in the morning, before being called away to do something or another. Late at night, when I was going to bed, I decided to sneak in a few pages. Need I say I finished it before turning out the lights? I less than four hours sleep (compared to my usual seven to nine), so it is peculiar I am not seeing things. Apart from the things I should see, of course. One of the things I see is that this is a terrific book. Really top-notch. It is a bit like E.M. Forster’s Maurice and how I imagine Alan Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty would be. (I’ve not yet read the latter, due to lack of time and my father exclaiming something about what bastards they were when he had finished it. Plus my sister nicked it.) It is witty, calm, beautiful, at some places down-right terrifying. A lot of the time, it is really funny. The following bit had me in fits at one o’clock in the morning:
‘Actually, [Roger, the protagonist's nephew] isn’t my type. But I don’t expect you to believe me. I go for the older man. Now, if Richard [Roger's father] was in my room, you’d have every right to be worried.’ For a moment I could see that she was almost pleased. My words confirmed her unerring taste - even in me. ‘I also, of course, go for the older woman,’ I continued. ‘No, not you, Angela, but Mother. You really wouldn’t be safe from me, darling, so don’t dream of sharing a room with me. You know that incest is all the rage at the moment. I could be your toy-boy son. Would you have me?’
‘Certainly,’ Mother replied gaily. That’s settled, then. Chris will sleep in my bed and Roger can have the room to himself.’
‘What are you both talking about?’ Angela said, looking and sounding bemused.
‘Incest, darling,’ Mother told her. (pp. 190-191)
Of course my laughter was very quiet, not to disturb any sleeping person within a hundred yards around me, but I could’ve awoken the entire neighbourhood - they would surely laugh as well! This quote, too, shows the loveliness of both the main character Chris and his mother. During the first fifty-odd pages his mother annoyed me a little, but then I grew to love her. She might be in her seventies, but she still jokes about incest!
This novel is a reminder for me just how lovely gay lit is, even though I guess it is dreadful to niche it in there. (in an ideal world there shouldn’t be any categories of that kind, should there? But, well! It is such a lovely genre!) Unfortunately, there isn’t all that much I’ve read that is as good as this. I will have to look for a lot more, and I will be glad to. And if it is as good as this, I don’t mind if I sleep four hours a night.
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February 25th, 2008
Filed under English, Fiction, Historical, LGBT-related
7287pwkr
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