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Griefwork is set in the time period immediately following World War II and encompasses a lyrical and detailed character study of Leon, a brilliant, eccentric, self-taught curator of Palm House, a large greenhouse in the botanical gardens of the capital city of an unnamed Northern European country. Leon struggled against near-impossible odds to preserve Palm House throughout the Nazi occupation of the city and is now engaged in a battle against city authorities who would like to close the garden and develop the land on which it sits.
Hamilton-Paterson tells the story of Leon's life in flashbacks, slowly exposing the loss that serves as its defining factor and catalyst for his now slowly encroaching insanity. The son of a North Sea fisherman, Leon is irrevocably changed when, as a teenager, he spends a summer as an assistant to a visiting naturalist, one who recognizes Leon's talents and encourages him to make full use of them.
More importantly, Leon becomes obsessed with Cou Min, the young daughter of the scientist's Asian servant. Even though he never again sees her, her loss affects Leon so deeply that it becomes the backdrop of his life; the reason for all he does thereafter.
Leon's obsession is complicated by the events of WWII when he rescues a young gypsy from a Fascist mob and enters into a strange and haunting relationship with a beautiful Asian princess who wants to hire him to create a botanical garden in her own country and who may or may not be interested in him personally. This lyrically meditative story slowly spins a web that eventually catches everyone involved in ultimate disaster.
The book is not without its own stylistic devices, however, and some of them border on the pretentious. Leon is so attuned to the plants in Palm House that, at times, he can even hear them speak to him, just as they speak to the reader in a pseudo-Greek chorus at the end of each chapter. This can be disconcerting at first, especially as the plants are possessed of some of the wittiest dialogue in the book, certainly more so than Leon, whose grimness is unrelieved.
Hamilton-Paterson, however, is a master at writing about the natural world, so this particular stylistic device eventually works and we are keenly aware of Leon's frustrations in evoking a "natural" world that can only exist under the protective barrier of glass.
In a world where popular fiction is usually fast-paced and brutal and literary fiction cool, ironic and postmodern, Hamilton-Paterson can be seen as an anomaly or as a phenomenon. A private man, fifty-something, and with no institutional affiliations, he may be seen by some as far too artistic for his own good. Defying the brand-name classification many publishers demand of today's novelists, all of Hamilton-Paterson's novels, despite a similarity of style and theme, are wildly different books.
Readers who are intelligent enough, or lucky enough, to discover this wonderfully versatile author however, will find themselves richly rewarded. For James Hamilton-Paterson is a wonderfully versatile author and a passionate writer. His narratives are richly imagined, his themes odd and knotty but filled with subtle and compassionate characters we come to care about deeply. And, as always, he tells his stories in gorgeous, haunting and wonderfully precise prose. Who could ask for anything more?
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Manila is such a different city now. In the book, it was terrifying. People were getting killed left and right, and it was the work of the government, so no one could do anything. Kids of prominent dissidents were kidnapped and tortured. Women were raped. It was not a good time to be living in Manila.
Much credit must be given to James Hamilton Paterson, who has managed to portray a city so haunting and scary, it scared even me, a true blue Filipino, residing in Manila. I might know the streets and places in this book, but I am sure glad I did not live through these horrible events. If Manila's walls could talk, they would probably tell this story.
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how good it is. this book is not only about the underwater
world but also about the goings-on in a typical barrio in
the philippines. it has a socio-economic aspect to it that i
found quite realistic, having been born and raised in that very
same third world country. it amazed and pleased me that a
foreigner like hamilton-paterson could,quite accurately, capture
the very essence of filipino rural life---like the old woman who
he suspects isnt so aloof and taciturn as she seems
and the children of the barrio who frolick in the water and
in their humble amusements, oblivious of the shortcomings of a
third world upbringing. the book is an unusual stew of underwater
adventure and an unpatronizing account of a life among the natives.
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The sea is a key element in most of Hamilton-Paterson's work. The house in the waves, a children's book written in 1970 when he was twenty-eight is about a 14 year old orphan. Martin lives in a fantasy world where nobody can enter and nothing can hurt him. The boy is slowly losing all contact with reality and is send to a special home close to the shore. He is inexorably drawn to the sea and one day runs away to find it. On his quest he finds a strange balloon with a note which starts the dark adventure which ultimately leads him out of his isolation. This is a wonderful story which can be read on many levels and I think, will specifically appeal to Harry Potter readers.
I also recommend The Great Deep, a meditation on man's relationship to the sea and the semi-autobiographical Playing with Water. William Gass wrote in his NY Times book review of the latter, "I was reminded of those intense and aimlessly happy hours spent in the pages of books before I became a professional skimmer and scanner and interpreter of texts, and how immersed my soul was in the superior spirit of another."
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I have visited the Philippines at least six times in my life. I have seen, witnessed, and can testify to the unequal society which is very poor, very impoverish, very disillusional. Marcos did not only control and exploit the Philippines but he did so with the Filipinos approval, consciously or subconsciously. Mr. Patterson discusses at lenghth Marcos and does discuss the Philippines, especially for someone with at least twenty years of experience with the Filipino culture.
It is virtually hard, if not outright impossible to not think in terms of Marcos and expoitation, Marcos and martial law, Marcos and his fabricated war hero lie, Marcos and all the money. Yes, I firmly believe he did a lot of injustice to the Philippines. But the Filipinos did not opppose, protest, or attempt to stop Marcos until the twenty one year hour. Therefore, a pressing question is why did Filipinos wait, wait, and wait so patiently? Because they believed in him just as many still believe in him posthumously
.
I agree with Mr. Patterson ending piece. Marcos did not do this alone. Yes, his wife was involved; yes, his crony circle of elite friends were involved; yes, our tax dollars were involved in this; and yes, the people remained sedated with television hoopla, the electronic drug, and all the show biz illusions of what is reality or what they socially constructed to be their reality.
Yes, I have compassion for the Philippines. For the people who want to raise their human dignity. And there are many, I am sure, who believe in self respect and honor. But there is a growing "Americanistas," who refuse to revist history, politics, colonialism theory, and how much this has impacted and perhaps hindered their own personal and country's development.
The Philippines is a country were the rate of poverty is rampant. It is also the place that people are still dreaming "America," instead of the Philippines. How can they develop their own ideas and their country? This is a puzzling question.
Most of all, the people have had to succumb to not only Marcoses, Aquinos, and others, like Joseph Estrada who continue to ride the backs of the poor. When will enough be enough?
For any country to develop it must grow in ideas. In the Philippines many ideas are borrowed from America. America no longer has a major interest in the Philippines, at least not for now. What will keep the ship afloat?
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Satirizing the eclectic "industry" of religions and cults in the impoverished town of Malomba, the author effectively parodies the spiritual/physical healing quest of Mrs. Hemony, towing along her daughter, Zoe, and son, James. Zoe, in particular, is an appealing character (raised chiefly in an Italian commune, she is told by a representative of their entrepreneurial guru, "you'd be a sensation in California!") who drifts from her mother's well-intentioned control to the more secular/sexual appeals of Malomba.
The book takes a few too many cheap shots at the Westerners, and Laki, the hotel's poorly-paid concierge, is written somewhat too broadly. Laki is eventually punished after his successful courting of the Hemodys, and this denouement seems contrived, as if to make up for the oh-so-loveable portrait previously drawn. However, enjoy it for the farce, and the sensual descriptions of the author's holy-city fantasy!
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The expedition members, based in the U.K., chartered a Russian ship, the Keldysh, which is the mothership to a pair of deep-sea manned submersibles that can dive to deeper depths than virtually any other craft on the planet. (This ship was involved in dives on the wrecks of the Titanic and Bismarck.) Unfortunately for Orca, the salvage expedition, the Keldysh is a research vessel, and it was only because the Russians were strapped for cash that they were willing to lease out their ship and crew. The crew, composed of oceanographic scientists, took a rather dim view of Orca's mercenary intent and was constantly trying to break out of the charter to wander off and examine black smokers and other exotic underwater sites in the mid-Atlantic.
The author deliberately focuses on the personalities and the human conflicts and cultural clashes between crew and expedition, rather than the technological details of the search. This may be because ultimately, the search turned out to be rather disappointing. (A separate American expedition found one of the targets after Orca had given up on it, although as of 1999 it had not recovered any gold.) While the portrayals are for the most part sympathetic, the expedition members come off as rather flawed, as does the chief Russian scientist.
The laidback tone of the book is occasionally interupted when the author feels an abrupt and jarring need to wax literary and to proffer untranslated epigrams in foreign languages as proof of his sophistication. He also gets a little too impressed with his fabulous globe-trotting adventures and general wonderfulness.
Those flaws aside, however, the book shows a side of salvage expeditions that is not often seen, and provides some details on the little-known Italian submarine campaigns of the war. For those who enjoy reading about the discovery of sunken wrecks, this would be an acceptable choice.
Oh, by the way, the Keldysh remains active to this day, although it seems to be devoting more of its time to money-making tourist charters for dives on famous wrecks rather than pure science. Somewhere, the author of this book is weeping.
Griefwork is set in the time period immediately following World War II and encompasses a lyrical and detailed character study of Leon, a brilliant, eccentric, self-taught curator of Palm House, a large greenhouse in the botanical gardens of the capital city of an unnamed Northern European country. Leon struggled against near-impossible odds to preserve Palm House throughout the Nazi occupation of the city and is now engaged in a battle against city authorities who would like to close the garden and develop the land on which it sits.
Hamilton-Paterson tells the story of Leon's life in flashbacks, slowly exposing the loss that serves as its defining factor and catalyst for his now slowly encroaching insanity. The son of a North Sea fisherman, Leon is irrevocably changed when, as a teenager, he spends a summer as an assistant to a visiting naturalist, one who recognizes Leon's talents and encourages him to make full use of them.
More importantly, Leon becomes obsessed with Cou Min, the young daughter of the scientist's Asian servant. Even though he never again sees her, her loss affects Leon so deeply that it becomes the backdrop of his life; the reason for all he does thereafter.
Leon's obsession is complicated by the events of WWII when he rescues a young gypsy from a Fascist mob and enters into a strange and haunting relationship with a beautiful Asian princess who wants to hire him to create a botanical garden in her own country and who may or may not be interested in him personally. This lyrically meditative story slowly spins a web that eventually catches everyone involved in ultimate disaster.
The book is not without its own stylistic devices, however, and some of them border on the pretentious. Leon is so attuned to the plants in Palm House that, at times, he can even hear them speak to him, just as they speak to the reader in a pseudo-Greek chorus at the end of each chapter. This can be disconcerting at first, especially as the plants are possessed of some of the wittiest dialogue in the book, certainly more so than Leon, whose grimness is unrelieved.
Hamilton-Paterson, however, is a master at writing about the natural world, so this particular stylistic device eventually works and we are keenly aware of Leon's frustrations in evoking a "natural" world that can only exist under the protective barrier of glass.
In a world where popular fiction is usually fast-paced and brutal and literary fiction cool, ironic and postmodern, Hamilton-Paterson can be seen as an anomaly or as a phenomenon. A private man, fifty-something, and with no institutional affiliations, he may be seen by some as far too artistic for his own good. Defying the brand-name classification many publishers demand of today's novelists, all of Hamilton-Paterson's novels, despite a similarity of style and theme, are wildly different books.
Readers who are intelligent enough, or lucky enough, to discover this wonderfully versatile author however, will find themselves richly rewarded. For James Hamilton-Paterson is a wonderfully versatile author and a passionate writer. His narratives are richly imagined, his themes odd and knotty but filled with subtle and compassionate characters we come to care about deeply. And, as always, he tells his stories in gorgeous, haunting and wonderfully precise prose. Who could ask for anything more?