Sunday, May 27, 2012

A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage






Better late than never, but I've been shilly-shallying as to how to write about Marly's book. I've more or less concluded, after several false starts with long quotes from her equally wonder-filling poems and other ultimately tangential lines of writing, that I'm barely up to the job.

Since being a blogger, I have read all kinds of books - novels, poems long and short, collections of stuff both serious and light - by other bloggers; sometimes already published sometimes not. They  have all been good, some very good, and I've felt very privileged to know the authors of them, if only in an etheric, blog-illusory kind of way, and I've been led to reflect on the vagaries and injustices of who gets published and noted and rewarded for producing books and who doesn't. There's a lot of talent about and these are good times in which there are ways of sharing in and enjoying it; on the other hand with such a proliferation of good writing, and more and more people able and wanting to get a look-in, what stands out, and how? The whole discussion on whither-publishing-and-what-will-become-of-the-author-in-the-age-of-the-internet is interesting and ongoing, and has been thrashed out many times by people cleverer and more articulate than I am.  To me, though, now and then, a book just does stand out.

Of course one is bound to be well-disposed to the work of people one knows and likes; I'd really rather read something that someone I cared about had put their heart and soul into, even if it wasn't a work of dazzling virtuosity, than slog away at some acknowledged classic by some towering person of letters which left me cold.  But this can cut both ways; a friend lately compared reading books by a person one knows well to watching an actor one knows personally performing: a familiar voice, their mannerisms, tics, the whole matter of ordinary acquaintance can show through the artifice and the fiction, and distract and detract from one's appreciation of it.  This isn't only true of 'real life' friends and acquaintances, but can happen when one becomes accustomed to the more relaxed, personal, rather more banal voice that is often heard in blogging.

Marly is an engaging, loyal and very generous member of what's become, over a long time now, a very rich and varied on-line community. Her observations are astute, original and often helpfully constructive. I think I'd know a Marly comment anywhere even if it wasn't attributed, they sparkle in a very special way. She came here very early on and has always been around, much to my delight, notwithstanding that she's not only a Proper Writer, but an extremely busy mother, wife, and member of her earthbound community.  Knowing some of Marly's previous writing, and loving much of her poetry, having formed an impression of her life and vision as she shares them on-line, deepens the experience of reading the novel, but really isn't necessary to an appreciation of it.

It is a stunning book; both cruel and tender, dark and light, but always shot through and stitched with a powerful beauty.  Poetry, character and narrative never get in each other's way, but create a compelling fusion.  The rich period detail, from the lives of the rail-riding hobos to the coloured print of a woman's dress, is riveting, not merely research tacked-on for authenticity, as it can seem to be, but real and known and tangible. Beyond a nodding acquaintance, I'm not steeped in the literature of the American south and of the Depression era, so my mind doesn't reach for parallels and comparisons, which I'm rather glad of, reading the novel for what I think it is, something fresh and remarkable.

So what I'm saying, in short, is: I'm not just recommending A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage because Marly's an on-line friend and fellow-blogger, but because it's an exceptionally fine novel. Happily, it looks more and more as if she is getting the recognition she deserves for it; it has received one award and is in line for more.  She has a neat bouquet of fantastic, intelligent and sincere reviews over at Amazon (stateside), including Dale's very individual, moving, as-he-went-along response to it which he posted in instalments at his place.

I'm aware I'm rather preaching to the choir on this; many of you here will have read, and praised, the book already, but if not, buy it now and read it forthwith.  Only don't make the mistake I did and get it on Kindle (I was impatient to read it and uncertain of being able to buy it in Europe, and couldn't really afford the postage from the US, but it became available at Amazon UK within a couple of weeks ), buy the proper book, because it's one you'll want to have and to hold and to show it to people, and however wonderful and instant and and world-expanding  electronic and on-line reading is, there's no substitute for a proper book.

 A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage  is available at Amazon.com here, and at Amazon UK here, and also at Amazon France here, and surely elsewhere too.  Marly's page for it at hers, with lots of good things about the novel on it is here.

16 comments:

marja-leena said...

This is a most wonderful review, Lucy, one I wish I could have written for it is exactly what I would have liked to have said. You are always way too modest about your writing for you write so well, from the heart.

I hesitated buying 'Camellia' from Amazon US, then the Canadian one finally offered it. Wonderful book in all ways, as you write. By the way, did you know I first 'met' Marly when you collobarated as editors for qarrtsiluni? 'Sparkly' is a perfect description of Marly.

Lucy said...

Thanks ML - not much of it is review really, more is reflections on reading things by other bloggers! I don't actually really like writing reviews; though I love talking about books, I'm very loathe to make judgements in writing or pin down ideas about them. Your comments on the book at Marly's were equally clear and valuable, I'd say.

It wasn't me who collaborated with Marly at Q, in fact, but Ivy, I think. I did submit something to that edition though. I did it a bit later, with Katherine Durham-Oldmixon! I like tracing blogging connections...

Rouchswalwe said...

When good friends recommend a novel, I perk up. I am just finishing Chabon's Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay and will find a copy of this title tomorrow at the local independent bookseller. Thank you so much Lucy!

Lucy said...

R - please do, I think you'll enjoy it. At the page of Marly's I give a link to at the end, there is an independent bookseller finder, if you need it.

Anne said...

How could I not buy this book after such a recommendation?

marly youmans said...

Lucy,

I just arrived after the last 552 miles home from North Carolina (spent last night with a painter friend in Virginia) and decided to peek on the web before toppling into bed--and what a marvelous post to find. I shall now topple and probably dream about it!

Thank you, Lucy. It means a lot, as your Box Elder is special to many of us.

Dale said...

It is a really wonderful book, isn't it? Scenes from it have lodged with me, in a way I'd thought I was done with: the eucalyptus grove, or when Pip runs after the train as though he's going to get revenge on it, or the cold milk on the table that just barely keeps him from running yet again.

Dick said...

This member of the choir is convinced by your enthusiasm, Lucy, so it's off to Amazon directly. Thank you for this eloquent review.

Dick said...

And I agree entirely with Marja-Leena concerning the quality and substance of your writing.

marly said...

Here's the poem and photograph by Lucy that appeared in the Insecta issue that Ivy Alvarez and I edited:

http://qarrtsiluni.com/2007/11/23/cabbage-whites/

She also has many others there as well, and they can be found by clicking on her name at qarrtsiluni.

Waving and yawning, I now go topple!

marja-leena said...

Oops, sorry, my memory failed on the Marly connection at qarrtsiluni - should have checked back! Anyway, blog connections certainly are a wonderful way to meet and make friends. And books by friends.

Lucy said...

Thanks all, I hope every bit of word-of-mouth helps.
Dale - I loved the bit with the milk too. All Marly's writing is vivid and full of colour and texture like that, peoms and prose.

Marly - glad you stopped by and saw, thanks for the link back. I have the impression this feels particularly special to you of all your books, with the commitment you're putting in to readings etc, you certainly seem to be in demand and deservedly. Fingers crossed for the other prizes...

Lucy said...

That was meant to be 'poems'. of course. Though peoms sound quite interesting...

marly said...

Thanks, Lucy!

It does have all sorts of odd connections to my family history (and even to my life in places--I had a 6th grade teacher who thought I must be retarded because I spoke so slowly (Southern drawl must have sounded strange to a Yankee ear back then.)

And I want to do my best by it in the current climate for books, which is rather tumultuous! Because this is my first novel with a university publisher rather than a big city publisher, I do feel that I have to work harder for it...

HKatz said...

I've added this to my list of books to-read. This is just beautiful, and a compelling description:

It is a stunning book; both cruel and tender, dark and light, but always shot through and stitched with a powerful beauty. Poetry, character and narrative never get in each other's way, but create a compelling fusion.

marly said...

Have caught up on a few things (no so many, alas) and linked to you: http://thepalaceat2.blogspot.com/2012/06/ferry-day.html

Thanks for all the lovely comments from you and your followers... and for the time you lavished on writing about the book.