The Down Side

Putting The Misery Into Tragedy

As my last blog was a bizarre shout at the planet to both slow down and get better I thought I would need to make the next one more upbeat… So I’m going to tell you about two of the most depressing books I’ve read. Be warned there are SPOILERS coming, I’ll try and keep them at a minimum but when blogging about a book’s tone you may need to refer to the end… just saying. If you want to know no more turn back now… otherwise “Abandon hope all ye who enter here.”

To be honest I’m not a misery and of course it’s not true that drama is tragedy; but try telling a compelling story where bad things don’t happen. It is so much harder to write anything with soul and heart that is upbeat. I don’t mean it’s impossible, I’m sure I’ll blog about my favourite upbeat books later (there is no real plan to what I do here), but it’s just harder. I guess this is why most people at the start of their writing experience, when charged with writing a story, go for tragedy over comedy.

Again I’m not saying that I think any less of the two books which follow, in fact they are both top quality writing, that’s not just my opinion, both writers have highly prodigious awards to prove it. My point is, although tragedy and depressive things aren’t necessary for a good story, we are kind of drawn to them and done well they will effect your soul.

I’ve waxed lyrical about my love for Les Misérables elsewhere (the book; I’ve not, and refuse to, access any other format of the story at this point), and my goodness it deserves the title. That nice lady with nice hair and teeth! But even then I wasn’t rendered stunned reading that as I was by the time I’d got to end of The Grapes Of Wrath.

Taking it’s name from the book of Revelation, John Steinbeck’s novel about a family trying to survive in the American Depression is what made me love this author. It was the second of his books I’d read and I am now on a mission to read them all, but sparingly. I really can’t say too much as the concept of what happens as we follow the Joads is the whole point of the plot and you really need to discover that as you read it. The Joads are a family who move from their farm in Oklahoma, which is no longer viable for them to survive, to California as they believe a better life awaits them. The book follows their journey, incorporating others who are doing the same. It’s not just them, these events happen to most of the characters. The fact is it’s not just a story. Whilst the events are fiction real people, real human beings like you and me, were making this journey as the book was being written in the 1930s and very similar challenges to the ones the Joads were facing were the life experiences of many many people who were around at the time of publication. When you know that it takes on a far more bitter taste.

So why read it? Why put yourself through the harrowing events? I could state it’s about greed and and how it’s a scream at the injustice happening back then which is still happening today, but we all know about that at this point, we’re not going to learn anything new. Instead the book is a master class in how to write tragedy to a very high standard, to invoke pathos without going too far. It’s human, it’s real, it’s gritty without needing any of those terms in the way that films bandy them about to make them look like they have depth. I said writing tragedy is easier, but to do it on this level is a gold standard I’ll try and aim for, but will fail at each time..

“I seen fellas like you before. You ain’t askin’ nothin’; you’re jus’ singin’ a kinda song. ‘What we comin’ to?’ You don’ wanta know. Country’s movin’ aroun’, goin’ places. They’s folks dyin’ all aroun’. Maybe you’ll die pretty soon, but you won’t know nothin’. I seen too many fellas like you. You don’t want to know nothin’. Just sing yourself to sleep with a song—‘What we comin’ to?”
― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

The other reason you should read it is because it’s a great book. Ok when I finished it, pushing on through the last pages to see how it ends, desperate to know, I did actually go into a decline for a few days after. The images at the end, the implications, the meaning of it all ghosted me for a good while after. I couldn’t get them out of my head which no other book has done. I still say this is one of the best books I’ve read just because of what it did to me.

The other book I want to recommend is A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. Set in India in the 1970s and 1980s this is the story of a small group of people who, through events, form a community just to be able to continue to exist. Everything is against these people. They each have a story of their own and they are constantly fighting their own worst outcomes. Then they find each other. It doesn’t matter how the book ends, I don’t need to refer to anything in the second half of the book, to say it’s grim. This could very well pick up and work out well, it could not or it could be somewhere in the middle, discover that yourself, but as you reflect on what pushed the characters to get into the plot, to become part of the community in the first place, even that is enough to make anyone lose hope in any kind of reliability of the stability of their own life. Then you have the stories of the fringe characters… I will say no more, read the book, then we’ll talk.

I read this novel on a short break to the paradise of Placencia in Belize. Whilst I was sat on the beach looking out at the glorious Caribbean Sea I was slowly sinking into despondency… yeah I should have chosen another book to take with me. As the bars were alive with music and fun I was sat weeping into my cocktails and hot wings… well not quite.

“But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be recreated – not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.”
― Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance

I did really enjoy reading the book though. When I say that it feels like I’m taking pleasure in other’s misfortune, even if they are fictional. Don’t judge me you’ve done the same. I guess being inside the mind of people who aren’t real but are feeling things we’ve felt and thinking things we’ve thought somehow helps us process we’re normal? Or at least that there is someone out there who understands.

Tragedy done well can do more than change a reader’s emotions, it can make them think without preaching, this is a skill I wish I had. Upbeat books are harder to write than misery… but writing quality misery is a skill that should be prized because life is neither totally comedy nor tragedy and it won’t ring true unless it’s done well.


Buy The Grapes Of Wrath by John Steinbeck
Buy A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry

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The Travel/ Reading Dilemma

Confusing cultures.

One of the things I love about going on holiday is it gives me so much time away from normal life and I have so many more opportunities to read. Especially true is this if I’m flying. I have the bus to the airport, the long wait in departures (the OCD in me can not cope unless I am through security at least two hours before the gate closes), and then the flight. Perfect time for reading if I don’t fall asleep (put me on an aeroplane and I can be out before the safety announcement and probably not wake until we land – at which point I get annoyed about the missed opportunity to read).

I’m not a beach or pool person. I like exploring and wandering so I spend most of my time away drifting down random streets and wishing I was still a photographer (a heart breaking story I’ll put you all through on a blog one day).

A book and a raki after a day exploring.

Then there is the inevitable café time. I love sitting with a cup of tea in a café, if it’s warm I need to be outside; it’s a mixture of people watching, writing my own stories in my head and just being one of those people I am jealous of when I’m running around like a mad thing at home.

There is also travel within the country if I get bored of looking out the window and, because I tend to travel alone, evenings. I don’t go to bars or clubs when I’m away, nightlife to me is sitting reading a book somewhere – maybe with a beer.

But here comes the problem. I love travel; to see new places and experience new things. I’ve just come back from Albania and there is a very rich history and culture there and I loved exploring it.

Albania

The people are so nice! On a few occasions I would ask if I was on the right bus to get to where I wanted and they would come with me to my destination and make sure I didn’t get lost; I didn’t really need them to but it was really nice of them and I got to chat to a lot of locals this way. One of them even paid for my ticket (40 lek = about 25p) when I only had a big note to pay with.

As always I took books with me and so I found myself in the middle of Tirana reading about Yorkshire in the 1940’s or surrounded by old castles but my head was full of 1920’s Oxford. This can be a little jarring.

Last summer I took a road trip through south west England. I was reading about a man who moved to a foreign country and was having difficulty fitting in with the culture and was trying not to let his English mannerisms upset the locals. Eventually I got it into my head because I was in a different place I had to be careful not to let my Englishness upset the locals – regardless of the fact this was my country and we were all English!

One of the most bizarre culture clashes I experienced was when I was reading Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk To Freedom as I was travelled through India. It’s quite an absorbing and intense (though thoroughly enjoyable and informative) read. Mandela goes to some detail explaining the culture and traditions he grew up with as well as the atmosphere in the country he lived in later in life. At times I would look up and expect to be in South Africa and then have the double jolt of realising not only was I not but I was also not at home and in a very different climate. It’s like reading books set in the winter during summertime or the other way round.

I suppose the solution is to make my reading material match the environment of where I am, but this is not so easily done. I was in San Marino last year…

I did take East of Eden to North California with me and had the joys of passing Salinas as I read, with one eye out the window and one in the book. It was a really good experience to see the landscape I was reading about albeit many years later. Just looking at the undulating golden countryside and the farm land made me imagine that these events could be happening just the other side of that hill (although some if not most of them you would hope were not). I love Steinbeck anyway but it did add something special to be there, of course when I went to Cannery Row I then regretted I’d brought the wrong book. Me, I can never be happy.

But for as long as I love immersing myself in different cultures, either in reality or on the written page, there will always be this clash and at the end of the day that’s ok by me.

Buy Long Walk To Freedom by Nelson Mandela
Buy East Of Eden by John Steinbeck

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