ZapTown

The books section in the newspaper I read has shrunk. It’s a sad state of affairs. Every Saturday, they used to receive their own oversize magazine-style pamphlet, thirty-two pages of reviews and articles and ads and wordplay. Great stuff, often in-depth and interesting, turned me on to books I might not have otherwise noticed in the bookstore, and a great format to sit and read next to a pot of coffee. Of course, we live in an age where not just books but newspapers are struggling, and a few months ago, the books section was folded, with as little fanfare and possible, into ‘focus/books’. Now it’s sixteen pages, eight on books, eight on other stories, in-depth, about what’s happening in the world. Not as much there. It’s a shame, but what can you do?

One of the effects of this is that when the editors spotlight a book or two, give it a large in-depth write-up with an author profile and a couple of reviews, that book probably is going to get the lion’s share of the coverage for the week, now. And most of the other books mentioned are lucky to get a paragraph. So it’s important that the book covered have something of interest, some hook, broad appeal. The latest example? A massive, near-thousand page novel called THE KINDLY ONES (by Jonathan Littell, not the Sandman story by Neil Gaiman), focusing on the life of a Nazi S.S. Officer who escapes to France at the end of World War Two and lives a quiet life. I haven’t read the book, which has strongly divided North American critics, but it’s been front and center in review sections lately, taking heavy criticism for having an unsympathetic protagonist who essentially gets away with his evil acts, and a plot which reads like a laundry list of atrocities. I’m not sure if I want to read the Littell book or not, but as a fan of books who tries to follow the news and discussion of them, not just in papers or on the internet, I’ve had little recourse but to notice it—which is ironic, as apparently the novel was published, and won much acclaim in France three years ago. To those outside North America it’s old news.

Anyhow, I’ve been feeling Nazi’d out, and I haven’t even read the darn thing, so I turned to something very different a few days ago. Farley Mowat’s A WHALE FOR THE KILLING. Farley is the Canadian who has written NEVER CRY WOLF, among other books dealing with nature, and the relationship between humans and other species. A WHALE FOR THE KILLING is a true story, the 1972 account (later made into a movie) of a Fin whale trapped in the bay of the small Newfoundland town where Mowat and his wife have made their home, and of Mowat’s quixotic efforts to protect the whale from the locals and keep it alive. Just like Moby Dick, there are lengthy digressions on the whale-killing trade, and on whales themselves, but Mowat is a gifted storyteller, and his story always maintains its momentum toward the end, even as it becomes increasingly bleak. The book is, like so many literary works, effectively a meditation on the darkness of human nature and our willingness to kill for no reason. In the years since Mowat wrote it, there have been some advances in the protection of whales, but also new and disturbing developments. More than anything, though, it serves as a vivid account of a man at odds with the world he finds himself in, a man who suddenly realizes that the place he called home is filled with strangers he does not understand.

I’m hoping that next week’s books section has some ideas for upbeat, cheerful novels though—all this chewing on the darkness of human nature feels like it’s wrecking the muscles in my jaw. And the headlines still aren’t that much better.