Macbeth | clever, bloodthirsty, corruptive

Review: 3 stars

My good friend Patrick, with whom I exchange books every Christmas, recently became a father! In advance of being sucked into the black hole of parenthood, he gifted me ‘Macbeth’, a very apt selection given I’m a fan of Nesbo’s “Harry Hole” series.

‘Macbeth’ is a modern day retelling of Shakespeare’s tragic classic - this time set in a drug-plagued 1970s small Norwegian town. The main players are all present, from Macbeth (a high-performing “SWAT” team leader), Banquo (his “trusty” sidekick), to Duncan (head of the police force). Nesbo makes clever reference to the original cast and circumstances, while ensuring his own story maintains its fidelity. For example, Hecate is now recast as the lord of a mysterious drug ring, selling “brew”, and his workforce is comprised of blind Chinese workers - an interpretation on the other blind witches who cast Macbeth’s fate. Lady Macbeth, assumes the mononym “Lady”, and as the fiery proprietor of a high-end casino in town, propels her lover Macbeth to maddening heights of power.

I last studied Macbeth in ninth-grade English class, so it was truly nostalgic to read Nesbo’s version. His elaboration on each character’s back stories created much rounder characters of the secondary cast - Duff, Lady and Banquo are each imbued with noble ambitions and self-destructive flaws. I found myself constantly shifting allegiances to the characters as I learned more about the regrets and motivations that defined each. This made it difficult sustain my sense of “true North”, which Nesbo offers to define as the betterment of the town and its people. The novel also poses the central question of what does “good” truly look like, when leaders trade one gang for another and claim victory for one population while sacrificing another. A question of democracy and transparency vs. efficient autocracy also arises - when is it rational for a leader who can truly effect change, to turn to mercenary means to achieve them? Does that in and of itself negate that leader’s progress towards good?

I thoroughly enjoyed this read. As always, Nesbo delivers high-octane plot development and careless bloodshed in this “game of thrones” thriller. HIs descriptive writing heightens the readers’ senses - placing us firmly in the rain-drenched chill of the Fife container yard, or in the backyard after a family’s massacre; the wet laundry still listing in the breeze, pockmarked with bullet holes. There are a few flaws - for example, the positioning of the various antagonists in the final battle scene is difficult to render, the interjections of the supernatural feel tangential, and the repeated missteps of a modern, well-equipped police force are not credible. However, by in large, ‘Macbeth’ gave me several days of engrossed, page turning escape, which was exactly what I was looking for.

Home Fire | incendiary, daring, unexpected

Review: 4 stars

I walked into BMVQ over the summer, and was immediately taken by the stunning cover of ‘Home Fire’. I’m a fairly risk averse reader - I try not to judge a book by its cover, and I rely heavily on awards, reviews and ‘best of’ lists before affirming my choices. Luckily, Home Fire was a Top 100 pick of 2017 by the New York Times, so I happily bought it.

‘Home Fire’ is the story of three siblings - Isma, Aneeka and Parvaiz, who are ostracized from their Pakistani community in Britain because of their father’s legacy as a jihadi fighter. The novel is told in four voices - one for each sibling, with the final reserved for Karamat Lone - the father of Aneeka’s love interest, Eamonn, and Britain’s Home Secretary.

Isma fatefully meets Eamonn while studying abroad in America, igniting a collision course that leads to fatal consequences. Three parallel plot lines weave in and out, steadily ratcheting up the novel’s tension. The first - Isma’s blossoming friendship and affection for Eamonn, which is countered by Aneeka and Eamonn’s passionate love affair. The second - Aneeka and her family’s burning disdain for Karamat, born from his rejection of his Muslim community and refusal to help resolve their father’s death. The third - Parvaiz’s seduction by ISIS and his subsequent journey to Syria to honour his father.

Shamsie’s writing is poetic and heartbreaking. The novel reads as a thriller at times - so compelling are the plot and the protagonists’ struggles. She employs mixed media to evoke the realism of how public opinion is presented (tweets, hashtags, news headlines), how youth communicate across oceans (texts, skype messages), and also how ISIS guides their pilgrims to the frontline (poems, Quran verses).

The ending is one of the most moving and shocking conclusions to a novel that I’ve come across. It requires re-reading to fully absorb the enormity of each person’s actions, and to fully bear witness to all-consuming love. Shamsie wields the perspective of a removed onlooker in the final scene to create an immutable newsreel of horror and beauty, and to allow the reader to pass judgement and propose motives.

I recommend this book to those looking for a moving, ambitious exploration of the intersection of political and private agendas, and the wide spectrum of Muslim expression.

Killers of the Flower Moon | thrilling, provocative, sickening

Review: 4 stars

'Killers of the Flower Moon' was the February pick for the 'Now Read This' book club that I've been following. After a long binge on fiction, I felt I was due for some nonfiction reading. Luckily, I walked into the BMVQ bookstore, and saw the hardcover edition of this novel for over 50% off - I seriously love that bookstore. 

This book got me fired up. I was surprised by how outraged and indignant I felt as I read about the chilling conspiracy that led to a near-decimation of the Osage Indians during the 1920s in Oklahoma. The novel follows Tom White, a detective assigned by J. Edgar Hoover to solve the onslaught of mysterious Osage Indian deaths. What makes the murders all the more curious, is the fact that the Osage Indians were the wealthiest people per capita in the world at the time, given the proceeds from their headrights.

This book is meticulously researched, and enriched by the interviews, photographs, press clippings, and recorded conversations that Grann stitches together to evoke the Wild West atmosphere of the times. Justice was often taken into one's own hands (particularly rich, white hands), and meted out carelessly, with the exception of White's hunt for the Osage murder masterminds. Grann paces the plot masterfully, raising pulses when key witnesses and enforcement officers are conveniently dispatched just as they uncover vital clues. The cast of characters - the Osage, their white spouses and guardians, cowboy vigilantes, doctors, and nascent law enforcement - are dynamic, and Grann keeps you guessing until the end as to who the villains truly are. 

One fact that infuriated me was how many of the Osage Indians, despite their supposed riches from oil, were in fact quite destitute. This is because many Osage were assigned white guardians to manage their money and to dole out their meagre allowances, if they were deemed incompetent (which many were, just by way of their ethnicity). This transgressive appropriation of wealth was not secreted away - rather, it was a oft-stated goal amongst notable white society men to amass as many guardianships as possible, as a means to substantially increase their personal wealth. Marriage was another means to wealth. Ernest, the husband of Mollie, one of the main Osage characters, says in a statement: 'I don't work. I married an Osage'. It is hard to believe that this massacre - dozens of Osage - was swept under the rug of American history and unearthed only now for mainstream consumption. 

This book prompted me to consider the state of Aboriginals in Canada, and in what ways their stories are still untold to this day. We read headlines about how a teenage couple, the first in their families to graduate high school, were murdered by a jealous cousin, or how First Nations populations are more than three times likely to die prematurely due to drug or alcohol-related causes than non-Aboriginals. So much tragedy is already in the public sphere, but how many countless injustices have been conveniently forgotten, with no historian to archive or give weight to them? 

I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a sobering, real-life thriller. Grann has done a mighty service by sharing this convincing, riveting story with us.