Read Around the World: Brunei!

For Brunei, I read Written in Black by KH Lim. Poor Brunei. It had the bad luck of following Brazil and The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas, which was one of the most effervescent experiences I ever had reading a book. Machado de Assis is one of the most incredible writers I’ve ever read. Then there’s the people of Brazil. OMG Brazilians are the most loving, enthusiastic, vibrant people on the internet. Everyone should have the pleasure of going viral in Brazil at least once in their life, plus I am so excited to read more Brazilian literature–

Crap, I’m supposed to be writing a post about Brunei.

The book I read suffered from Wrong Coveritis. Here’s the cover I got:

And here’s the sentence from the Amazon blurb that grabbed my attention:

Jonathan escapes his grandfather’s wake in an empty coffin and embarks on a journey through the backwaters of Brunei to bring his disowned brother back for the funeral and to learn the truth about his absent mother. 

Between the cover design and the book blurb, I thought the protagonist was going to travel by coffin on a river, and holy shit, how cool does that sound? Sign me up!

Spoiler alert: the coffin is never used as a boat. And there’s no travel by river either. Instead, Jonathan hides in a truck with a few empty coffins and then at some point, he hides inside one of the coffins, but most of his journey takes place on foot or by car. Also, we never actually learn the truth about his absent mother. There are just some vague insinuations AND THIS WAS FRUSTRATING.

As a reader, I felt like I’d been sold a bill of goods. This is an important lesson for writers: writers need to manage their readers’ expectations. Do not show a coffin being used as a boat on a river unless your story involves a coffin being used as a freaking boat on a river! (But as a writer, I’m taking a mental note and saving this idea for a future book….probably dark fantasy, yeah?)

I had a few other problems with this book. There was way too much scatological humor. I’m all for a good fart joke, but there is a limit on how many descriptions of diarrhea that I can read. The characters were unlikeable, and no one seemed to grow in a meaningful way. And then suffered from a bunch of scenes that built up tension that ultimately went no where. For example, at the beginning of his journey, Jonathan happens upon an abandoned house with a room of voodoo dolls and obituaries including an obituary for his grandfather. I was on edge, waiting to see where the story was going … and then there were some bats, Jonathan ran away, and we never again heard about the obituaries in the abandoned house. What the actual fuck? Yes, stories need some mystery but this was just bizarre and emotionally unsatisfying. Maybe I’m missing something from Brunei culture?

The book did, however, give me a fascinating glimpse into life in Brunei. The story’s center is the death of Jonathan’s grandfather, and the writer described the mourning rituals beautifully. The funeral was unlike any I’ve ever experienced, and it was a good reminder that although grief and death are universal experiences, there are different ways to process them.

Am I going to be recommending this book to everyone I know? Nope. But was it a good reminder of why I embarked on my Read Around the World quest? Absolutely. I experienced a completely different part of the world and got out of my comfortable American bubble. Although I did not love the story, I did enjoy the insights into life in Brunei.

Read Around the World: Brazil!

For Brazil, I read The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas by Machado de Assis, and holy shit, I think this is my new favorite book. Or at least top five. But probably my favorite. (Sorry, Jane, Pride and Prejudice will always hold a special place in my heart, but if you’ve read this book, you’ll understand.)

Poor Jane Austen, indignant that Pride and Prejudice

has been bumped from my number one slot.

Bras Cubas was published in 1881 and written in Portuguese. I read the English translation by Flora Thomson-DeVaux. I might have to read other translations to compare, but I thought this translation was superb. (Coincidentally, I’m currently reading the audiobook for Babel by R.F. Kuang, a fantasy novel about a translation student, and I’m currently fascinated by the subject of translation. But that’s another blog post.)

The book is told from the perspective of Bras Cubas, a disagreeable aristocrat who is recently deceased. He’s decadent, self-absorbed, shameless, flippant, and callous, yet he’s the sort of anti-hero I love and adore. (What does that say about me? Let’s not dive into that today…)

The writing style is fresh, witty, engaging, and utterly original. You could tell the author had a lot of fun writing this book and gave approximately zero fucks about writing like everyone else. Here are a few samples:

Yes, I was that handsome, graceful, wealthy lad; and one may easily imagine that more than one lady inclined a pensive brow in my direction, or raised a pair of covetous eyes to meet mine. But of all of them, the one who captivated me straightaway was a … a … I’m not sure I should say; this book is chaste, at least in its intentions; in its intentions it is supremely chaste.

The posthumous memoirs of bras cubas by machado de assis, pg. 42.

I went on my way, unfurling countless reflections, which I’m afraid I have forgotten entirely; they would have made for a good chapter, perhaps a cheerful one. I like cheerful chapters; I have a weakness for them.

id. at 148.

The years slipped away, but not her beauty, for she had never had any to begin with.

id. at 157.

Just typing out those quotes makes me want to curl up with this book and begin rereading it now, but I’m going to wait. After all, I do have a Read Around the Journey quest to continue… But I’ll definitely be rereading this book, partly to delight in its writing, but also because I suspect that every time I read it, I will experience The Posthumous Memoirs a little differently. This time, I felt an intense surge of joy and zest for life, and I kept thinking that if everyone read this book, they would appreciate the utter joy of reading.

Seriously. Why didn’t I read this book in high school?!?! It should be part of the Western canon. I slogged through so many books in my high school English classes that I have long forgotten, but The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas? My friends and I would have been obsessed.

I majored in history in college, but if the English class I took during my freshman year had included Bras Cubas, I probably would have majored in English and written a thesis on Brazilian literature.

Okay, yes, I am obsessed! I’m obsessed with this book, with the excitement of reading more Brazilian literature, and with this project. I do want to continue my Read Around the World quest and discover other literary treasures, but I also want to stop now and read everything Machado de Assis published.

Dearest Bookworms, please get your hands on a copy of The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas immediately, if not sooner, and curl up in your favorite chair with a cup of tea and clear your schedule of all distractions. You are in for such a treat!

Read Around the World: Botswana

For Botswana, I read Call and Response, a collection of short stories by Gothataone Moeng. Moeng was born in Serowe, Botswana and the stories take place in her home village and the capitol city of Gaborone.

I cannot say enough good things about this book.

The writing style was engaging and sucked me in. I could–and did–sit for hours with this book, losing track of time and my surroundings.

Each short story was captivating on its own. The author is working on a novel, and although I was satisfied by each story, I could also have read an entire novel about each character. But as a collection, the stories hung together with tiny links. In one story, a girl is upset that her dying aunt has moved into her bedroom, and in another, an aunt who was living abroad moves into her niece’s bedroom. A widow mourns her young husband who was killed when his car struck a cattle in the road, and in a later story, a wife tells her husband to be careful and watch for cattle on the road. I kept thinking about how we are all linked together despite our differences.

The stories explored a rich array of themes mined from the lives of women, including grief, duty to one’s elders, the bonds of family, the role of tradition in a changing Botswana, and the effects of colonialism. It made me think about the universal issues that affect all women, but also made me keenly aware that women in Botswana are dealing with traditions and social mores I can only imagine.

I learned a lot about life in contemporary Botswana, glimpsing the rites and traditions surrounding birth, marriage, and death. The setting was described so well, that when I looked up photos of Botswana, they matched the movie in my mind. There were familiar details, like social media and Kentucky Fried Chicken, and there were issues I have never experienced, like the water being turned off in a city neighborhood or men leaving town to visit their cattle. It was the perfect book for my Read Around the World quest.

Read Around the World: Bosnia and Herzegovina

For Bosnia and Herzegovina, I read The Bridge On The Drina by Ivo Andric–and holy crap, this book caused a bit of an uproar on my TikTok channel. Two days ago, I posted a video about The Bridge On The Drina and casually mentioned it was my pick for Bosnia and Herzegovina, and then fighting erupted in the comments. Does Ivo Andric, a Nobel Prize winner, “belongs” to Bosnia and Herzegovina? Many TikTokers insisted he’s Serbian. Others said he’s Croatian. There are strong feelings all around, but this comment might be my favorite:

The comments threw this lady in the Balkan fire with no warning. 😅 Welcome to the spicy part of Europe. We are spicy but great. Hope you get a chance to visit to experience it. This book is a great choice for Bosnia and Hercegovina. Many great writers and books from ex YU countries. Hope you enjoy some more of them. Greetings from one book lover to another from Belgrade!

@AlexDante

I’m not going to attempt to summarize the arguments about Ivo Andric’s national identity because there are so many varied and intense opinions. I could spend ten years studying the matter and still only scratch the surface of the debate. Suffice to say, I picked Ivo Andric for Bosnia and Herzegovina (1) because he was born in Bosnia and (2) The Bridge On the Drina takes place in Bosnia, and I’m going to stick with this as my pick for that country.

I should note: I do not mind the deluge of comments. They were fiery but very educational and for about five minutes, I was trending in the Balkans. Some people in that part of the world are very unhappy with my book choice for this Read Around the World project, but you can’t make everyone happy about even the simplest things. This quest is expanding my horizons, and I’m so glad I decided to share my journey on TikTok. (Besides, the people who hated my pick will probably never visit my TikTok channel again. At least, until I read Bulgaria…)

The Bridge On The Drina is historical fiction about an actual bridge in Bosnia. It begins with the building of the bridge in the mid 1500’s and ends in 1914 with the partial destruction of the bridge during World War I. It’s not a traditional novel with a clearly identifiable hero, villain, and plot. Instead, it’s the story of the life on and around the bridge. Going into it, I was highly skeptical. Sure, Ivo Andric won the Nobel Prize for Literature, but how good could a book about a bridge be? But I was quickly drawn in.

The stories about the people living their lives around the bridge are compelling, and the descriptions created a movie in my mind. This one book transported me from the Middle Ages to the Industrial Revolution, and the bridge, oh the bridge! I could imagine myself sitting on its kapia, sipping a strong cup of coffee, watching the green sparking river flow underneath and eavesdropping on the swirl of life around me.

Andric’s insights about human nature felt timeless and universal. Here are a few of his observations:

Men who do not work themselves and who undertake nothing in their lives easily lose patience and fall into error when judging the work of others.

Bridge on the drina, pg. 62.

For every woman has some reason to weep and weeping is sweetest when it is for another’s sorrow.

id. at 171.

Every human generation has its own illusions with regard to civilization; some believe that they are taking part in its upsurge, others that they are witnesses to its extinction. In fact, it always both flames up and shoulders and is extinguished, according to the place and the angle of view.

id. at 233

The Bridge On the Drina is an epic masterpiece that dances between fiction and history with generous doses of philosophy, anthropology, and sociology. It’s a meaty book and required a lot of attention while reading, but when I was done, I felt as if I had eaten a rich sumptuous feast that would sustain me for years to come. I could read this book again and again, and always learn something more, and I know a lot of this book went over my head since I know very little about the Balkans.

I would recommend The Bridge On The Drina to anyone interested in the Balkans–but if you post about it on TikTok, be prepared for some fiery comments.

Read Around the World: Bangladesh

For Bangladesh, I read Revenge: A Fable by Taslima Nasrin and WOW, this was the perfect book to read after Yummah, my pick for Bahrain. Both books dive deeply into a Muslim marriage but where Yummah romanticized and exalted the ideal of a subservient wife, Revenge burnt the institution of Muslim marriage to the ground. And then took the ashes of Muslim marriage and put them in a box and dropped that box in a dormant volcano. But the volcano was so offended by the ashes of this toxic institution, it erupted and sent them into the atmosphere.

No points for guessing which book I preferred.

(It’s Revenge. I’m a feminist if that’s not obvious.)

Taslima Nasrin is also a feminist and an absolute bad ass. She is known especially for her writing about women’s oppression and criticism of Islam, and some of her books are banned in her native Bangladesh. She was born in Bangladesh in 1962 and forced into exile since 1994, with multiple fatwas calling for her death.

I don’t want to say too much about the plot of Revenge. It starts with a newly married woman who thinks she is pregnant, but her husband does not believe her and then… well, let’s just say that I felt like I myself was trapped in a suffocating Muslim marriage and felt All the Feelings. I didn’t know where the story was going but the ending delivered a very satisfying catharsis and I mentally high-fived the author.

Taslim Nasrin is on my list of favorite authors from my Read Around the World quest, and I’d recommend her works to anyone on a Read Around the World quest.

Read Around the World: The Bahamas!

For The Bahamas, I read Uncertain Kin, a collection of short stories by Janice Lynn Mather. I don’t read short stories very often, but this collection reminded me that a well-crafted short story can be as emotionally satisfying as the best novel–and these were masterfully crafted short stories.

One of the stories detailed a woman’s struggle with adapting to life in Vancouver after immigrating there with her family, and in just a few pages, Mather helped me understand the immigrant experience on a whole new level. The rest of the stories were set in The Bahamas, and Mather picked the right details to bring that world to life.

The stories are about women and girls and dive into issues ranging from coming of age to the responsibilities of parenthood. This feels like cheating, but the description on the book jacket says its better than I can:

Tinged with folklore and the surreal, Uncertain Kin is grounded by its emotional richness and breathtaking insight into our relationships with others–and ourselves.

How do you cite the book jacket? lol

I loved this book. It submerged me in feelings of grief, abandonment, and betrayal without making me feel depressed. Sometimes, books that dive into the darker corners of humanity leave me feeling wrecked, but this one left me feeling blessed and a little more connected to humanity. Perhaps I need to read more short stories. I certainly intend to continue reading around the world.

Read Around the World: Azerbaijan

For Azerbaijan, I read The Orphan Sky by Ella Leya. Ella Leya is a musician who was born in Azerbaijan and grew up Muslim in the U.S.S.R. She and her young son Sergey received asylum in the United States in 1990. NPR has a nice piece about her here.

The Orphan Sky is a novel about a girl named Leila who is a classical pianist and devoted to being a good Communist. The story begins in Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan, and Leya’s descriptions bring the city to life. The reader also travels to war-torn Afghanistan, remote parts of the Soviet Union, London, and California.

In my Read Around the World quest, Azerbaijan follows Austria, so I read The Orphan Sky immediately after finishing The Pianist. Both books are steeped in music, but they could not be more different. The Pianist is dark and punishing, and the protagonist’s relationship with music borders on sadistic. While reading it, I’d look up from the pages, look at our piano, and shudder. In The Orphan Sky, however, the author’s descriptions of music are ecstatic and uplifting and inspired me to sit down at our piano and play a few songs. (I’m not very good.) (But playing the piano is still cathartic and lovely.)

The story dived into a myriad of complicated issues arising from being an artist during the Cold War in a country torn between religion and communism. I felt the protagonist’s grief and despair, her hope and longing, her confusion and the eventual clarity that came from questioning the world she was born into. It was a transportive and transformative novel.

This is the author’s only novel. I know she’s a musician, but damn, I hope she is someday called to write at least one more book.

Read Around the World: Bolivia

For Bolivia, I read American Visa by Juan de Recacoechea, which was beautifully translated by Adrian Althoff.

Seriously, can we take a moment to appreciate all the bad ass translators of the world? The further I get into this project, the more I realize how important their work is. I am fascinated by the artistry and technique that goes into this process.

Back to the book. There are two ways I can describe American Visa:

  1. If The Hangover and Kafka met in Bolivia, and had a book baby, and then abandoned it, that orphan would grow up to be American Visa.
  2. The Eagle’s song Hotel California, except it’s a book set in Bolivia.

The second is probably the better description as the protagonist stays at a hotel in La Paz, Bolivia called Hotel California, and with all the madcap bizarre adventures, and the protagonist’s struggles to get an American Visa to escape Bolivia, I have to believe the author deliberately named the book’s hotel after the aforementioned song.

American Visa was an excellent choice for my Read Around the World quest. Aside from being a very entertaining and brilliantly written book, the story ruminated upon what it means to be a Bolivian in the 1990s. There were miners on strike, references to the altitude, descriptions of the city and countryside, and one man’s desperate quest to obtain an American visa.

I’ve read a lot of Latin American books that were seeped in magical realism. American Visa, however, is gritty and defiantly grounded in reality. When I reach the C’s, I’ll be rereading Isabel Allende (Chile) and Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Columbia) and I’m excited to compare those authors to de Recacoechea.

I had two concerns with this book.

One, I do not know if its descriptions of ethnicity are “candid” or “racist.” According to Wikipedia, 68% of Bolivia’s population is Mestizo (mixed White and Indigenous), 20% Indigenous, 5% White, 2% Cholo, 1% Black, and 4% other/unspecified. There are A LOT of characters in American Visa, and the author describes many as “half-breeds.” At the time this book was published in 1994, was that considered racist? Or was that just the term being used? It certainly felt racist to me, but I’m far from an expert on this.

Two, the author’s descriptions of female characters were highly sexualized. Females were either sensual or revolting–was this misogny? Or was this just part of the first person narrative? Ultimately, I processed these descriptions of women as the product of male fantasy. For example, the protagonist meets a prostitute named Blanca, and when they have sex, the main character thinks Blanca is enjoying sex for the first time. This felt like a glimpse into the straight man’s mind. Women fantasize about being so desirable and so loved, they break down the walls of the Mr. Darcy’s of the literary world. Do men fantasize about being so desirable, they can give a hooker her first proper orgasm?

For me, American Visa was so witty and so engaging that I was able to look past these two issues, but those are caveats I’d give to anyone considering this book. Overall, American Visa is a madcap adventure that is both tragedy and comedy, and I was sad when I finished the last page.

Read Around the World: Austria

For Austria, I picked The Piano Teacher by Elfriede Jelinek, who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for “her musical flow of voices and counter-voices in novels and plays that with extraordinary linguistic zeal reveal the absurdity of clichés and their subjugating power.”

I agree with that statement from the Nobel Prize Academy. You could also describe The Piano Teacher as Fifty Shades of Grey: The Nobel Prize Edition.

Did I enjoy this book? No.

Was it intellectually stimulating? Yes, very much.

Would I recommend this book to someone on a Read Around the World quest? If you are willing to plumb the darkest depths of humanity and get super uncomfortable for 280 pages, have it. If you are looking for a cozy romance, please run screaming in the other direction.

Would you recommend The Piano Teacher for my book club? That depends on how much you like the members of your book club.

Did this book make you want to visit Austria? Fortunately, I’ve already visited Vienna, and I thoroughly enjoyed the food, music, people, and architecture. This book dove into the seedier parts of Vienna which I have no interest in visiting.

Does the book talk about music? Yes! The discussions of music, and the titular character’s relationship with music, were some of my favorite parts of the book.

So this is one of your favorite books? I didn’t say that.

So you hated this book? I didn’t say that either. This was a tough, chewy read, and I will never forget it, but this is not the sort of book that I’m going to thrust into anyone and everyone’s hands and insist that they absolutely must read it. I was challenged, and I’m glad I picked it–but I can’t read books like this very often.

Read Around the World: Australia

For Australia, I picked The Secret River by Kate Grenville, a novel that starts in London in 1806 with a man who is about to make a mistake that will send his family into exile in New South Wales. This was an excellent pick for my Read Around the World quest.

(Quick side bar: I’ve read most of Liane Moriarty’s works (she is one of my favorite authors) and I’ve also read The Thornbirds by Colleen McCullough. These would also make great choices for anyone reading around the world. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming!)

This was a captivating novel. I truly felt like I was transported to the early 1800s and could really imagine what a British settlement in Australia was like. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the conversations, the outfits–this book is my new benchmark for historical fiction.

Grenville dedicated this novel to “the Aboriginal people of Australia: past, present and future” and she deftly showed the tensions between the people who had inhabited Australia for 65,000 years and the new arrivals from England. I found myself rooting for both sides, then wondering why I had to root for anyone at all, then wondering how we reconcile ideas of “civilized” settlements with nomadic peoples.

This book made me think.

A LOT.

The Secret River made me think about the power and allure of land and whether any person can ever truly own it. But if land can be owned, and it is stolen, what do the descendants do? What way of life is right? Aren’t they all?

I kept thinking about The Little House on the Prairie books which I read and reread as a child, and I questioned the expansion of the United States. I own a house in Pasadena, California. But is my house built on land stolen from other people? What does that mean for me? For my country?

And it’s more than just ownership of land. What is a country? Why do we have countries? Is humanity moving toward something greater that we can’t even imagine in 2024?

The Secret River was so much more than a work of beautifully written historical fiction. It was a story that opened my mind to a lot of uncomfortable questions.