Showing posts with label crime fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crime fiction. Show all posts

8 November 2018

Drive your Plow over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk, tr. Antonia Lloyd-Jones

UK cover. Image from the website of publisher Fitzcarraldo Editions.


Review revised March 2019, after Drive Your Plow was longlisted for the 2019 Man Booker International Prize.

Celebrated and controversial Polish author Olga Tokarczuk won the Man Booker International Prize in May 2018 for Flights. Drive Your Plow, published in English that September, was the next volume of Tokarczuk's to be released in Britain by Fitzcarraldo Editions. It was first published in Poland in 2009.

It's a literary crime novel, narrated by Janina Duszejko, an eccentric animal-lover in her sixties, who lives alone in a remote village near the Czech border, and it has been described as an ecological thriller with feminist themes. (She hates her name and tries to avoid using it, so I have said "the narrator" and "the protagonist" more often than I usually would in this post.)

I hadn't read any of Tokarczuk's books before autumn 2018, although I'd owned copies of Primeval and House of Day, House of Night for years before that without getting round to reading them - missing out on the hipster opportunity to say I'd read her before she was famous (famous in Britain that is).

I found this a tricky review to write. The novel's protagonist has strong negative views about Christianity. I'm active in a Goodreads discussion group where a handful of the other frequent posters are practising Christians (I'm not), and some of them didn't like Drive Your Plow. I wanted to find a way to stay true to my own views whilst also being diplomatic about religion. In the preceding weeks and months there had been heated discussions (totally unrelated to religion) about some English-language Booker listed titles, and I wanted to continue smoothing things over, not spark a new bout of partisanship over another book. Months later, after talking about it, it turns out that their dislike of the book isn't directly connected with that, as conservative Polish Catholicism is quite different from their churches. But the background reading was still worthwhile, as I'd found it interesting to read about environmental activism by various Christian groups, some of which are mentioned later in the post.

This review does not contain overt spoilers, but does hint at plot developments and twists, in order to discuss whole the novel.


Drive Your Plow has been described as one of Olga Tokarczuk's lighter novels, written between the experimental Flights and The Books of Jacob (as she said in this interview) - but it's still full of ideas.

Some things were easy to say about the book.

It has gorgeous descriptions of nature.

In this it's similar to the writing of Andrzej Stasiuk, another major contemporary Polish author who, like Olga Tokarczuk, left Warsaw to move to the Tatra mountain border regions. (Although Tokarczuk was born near the area where she now lives.) Both writers incorporate the rural landscape and the culture of the border area into their work. If you are an English-language reader with heritage in the hills of southern of Poland, you are rather spoilt for choice - it's not often that there is such an abundance of translated writing from such sparsely populated areas far from major cities.

Silesian countryside, on the poster for Agnieska Holland's 2017 film adaptation of Drive Your Plow (English title Spoor). Image from radiozet.pl.


Parts of Drive Your Plow contain intensely reflective and philosophical insights. Especially near the beginning, there's a paragraph worth highlighting and remembering on every page. These hint at why Tokarczuk's longer and more complex novel Flights won this year's International Booker, and why The Books of Jacob has been so eagerly awaited by English readers of complex fiction.

Some of the novel, especially after the early chapters, is more of a pacy literary-crime story, and less overtly philosophical. Which makes it a faster, lighter read overall than it may seem from the opening pages - however this may disappoint readers hoping for something more structurally experimental all the way through.

I'm grateful to Katia's review on Goodreads, which I read before the novel itself: it was invaluable in explaining that the narrator of Drive Your Plow is a riff on a 1990s East European trend for light, ironic novels featuring female detectives. I couldn't help but see this through the lens of the English cosy-mystery subgenre, as descended from Miss Marple - but undoubtedly there are differences in the Polish equivalent which an English reader is unaware of. (The queen of 20th century Polish crime writing, the late Joanna Chmielewska, has not been translated to English as yet.) Seeing Drive Your Plow as a satire on old-lady cosy-mysteries made me look forward to reading it - it seemed like an easy way into Tokarczuk's work, more so than Flights, which had been talked up as formidable, or the two other books of hers which I'd already owned for years, and which had become "ought to reads" at least as much as "want to reads".

And, as it turned out, I loved what Tokarczuk added to the cosy-mystery concept: twists, politics, and amplification of traits that popular culture associates with older women living alone but which it does not necessarily respect - including a 'mad cat lady' love of all animals, not just cats, (Pani Duszejko is actually a dog-owner) and a belief in superstitions and the supernatural. The narrator is not as safe and sweet as your typical cosy-mystery heroine. (There is also another feminist twist on crime fiction in general: in Drive Your Plow, the murder victims are middle-aged and older men - not the usual young women or children.)

Pani Duszejko (played by Agnieszka Mandat) at a town noticeboard. Image from theplaylist.net.


In literary fiction, making astrology prominent in a narrative can get people's backs up, as it did with Eleanor Catton's 2013 Booker Winner The Luminaries. I mean, this isn't romance or commercial women's fiction, is it? On a personal level, I find horoscopes pernicious - they can be an insidious nuisance when combined with a phase of OCD-type issues. But when they are used as complex motifs in a literary novel, I think the snobbery they provoke is excessive. (Some have described this snobbery as sexist, although perhaps it is also sexist to align astrology so strongly with women.) I doubt that heavy use of, for example, Renaissance alchemy and its symbolism, in a work of fiction would irritate the same people to the same extent. Astrology is, similarly, a system of symbols and interactions - one well known in current pop culture. It has a place in fiction just like other features of pop culture disliked by some readers of 'serious' novels. I daresay Olga Tokarczuk thought about all this - as well as hardline Polish Catholic clergy's dislike of astrology - when she decided to put it in Drive Your Plow - although she wouldn't have known that the novel would be translated to English at a time when astrology is gaining in popularity among younger people.

The narrator seemed so similar (although not, I hasten to add, in her most extreme actions) to a couple of women whose posts I'd read years ago in pet forums, that I wondered if the translator had read the same forums and taken inspiration from the writing style of these people. She shares other characteristics with them beyond narrative voice: a level of intelligence and expertise in her chosen interests which a lot of people wouldn't think a "mad cat lady" type would have; and anger and hardcore views about animal rights more usually associated with recently-converted young vegans. It turns out that a linguistic similarity, the capitalisation of certain nouns, such as Animals, was present in the original Polish novel (thank you, Goodreads Agnieszka for the info). Later in the book, extended English prose quotations from William Blake (the narrator's favourite author, of whom she makes unpublished Polish translations as a hobby) indicated that he was actually the inspiration behind her capitalisations. He was writing at a time when this capitalisation was more accepted, and not necessarily an indicator of personal eccentricity, corporate brand-speak, or of a story for children, as it is now. [Since reading Drive Your Plow, and this review, I've also read Henry Fielding's Tom Jones (1749), in the Penguin edition that preserves the original capitalisation, and where it is used for every Noun. Blake, writing decades later, was more selective about his use of caps.]


For all its positives, I also thought the book might be shooting itself in the foot while trying to do too many clever things in one go. The plot twist seemed to undermine the novel's causes: greater respect for women like the protagonist, for environmental and animal rights activism and opposition to conservative Catholicism.

This comes to an aspect of the book that I found tricky to write about; I revised draft reviews more than once in the hope of being both true to my own views, and more diplomatic about religion. In the end, the latter became easier. I realised that whilst, historically, the Christian doctrine of man's dominion over the animals can be seen as background to the current environmental situation, the exploitation of nature is nowadays criticised by some prominent clergy. Although this varies greatly by country and denomination, in general there are practices various branches of Christianity used to support, and which they no longer condone. Sweeping judgements about the entire religion are one of the ways in which the narrator goes too far. (Although to an anticlerical Pole reading Plow when it was first published ten years ago - and anticlericalism has a long tradition in Polish intellectual life* - these views may not have sounded unfairly sweeping. Many of these ecologically-minded Christian developments happened since the book's first publication, and in other countries. Traditional Polish Catholicism was, and is, very different church from the 2000s Church of England, with its fair-trade craft fairs; Anglicanism is a denomination for which it has been no great leap to speak out about the environment.)

Drive Your Plow is ambiguous about what is heroism and what is villainy. In this it has similarities to the Channel 4 series Utopia (with its plot relating to human overpopulation). By showing a character whom most would consider to be going too far, it prompts its audience, or at any rate those who agree that there is an underlying issue, to consider where they think lines should be drawn, and what might be done in the real world. I felt that Drive Your Plow, through its ambiguous narrative tone, has potential to appeal to readers who disagree with the narrator's views on animal rights as well as those broadly sympathetic to them - although in practice I am not sure if that has been borne out.

One could say that Tokarczuk was using the novel's ambiguity to protect herself given the far greater conservatism on animal rights issues in Poland, as compared with Britain. But in Poland the novel was not received as ambiguous. It apparently led to new debate about hunting, according to an interview with Tokarczuk earlier in 2018:
Hunting has become a hot political issue in Poland since the novel was published, but at the time few were thinking about it. “Some people said that once again Tokarczuk is an old crazy woman doing weird things, but then this big discussion started on the internet about what we can do about this very patriarchal, Catholic tradition.” (Thank you to Neil's review for prompting me to look at this interview.)

The pro-hunting clerical tradition represented by the priest in Drive Your Plow remains alive and well in Poland, and was influencing political policy seven years after the book's publication, in favour of logging at the once-revered ancient Białowieża Forest:

Sections of the Catholic and Orthodox churches have played a partisan role in the debate, with a passage from Genesis - “be fruitful, and multiply, replenish the earth and subdue it” - often used to justify increased logging.
One orthodox priest from Hajnówka, Leonid Szeszko, recently called for scientific, environmental and NGOs which opposed the logging plans to be banned.
Szyszko, who has championed the logging law, is a regular guest on the ultra-conservative Radio Maria, a Catholic radio station, and appears at conferences with a priest garbed in a forester’s green uniform.


Even if one reads with awareness of this, the prevailing attitudes detailed in the book seem old-fashioned and sometimes downright strange from a British perspective. I doubt it would be generally considered extreme or weird to make meticulous reports about infractions of hunting byelaws in the UK, even if some locals in some areas might not be receptive. And in UK cities it is pretty common to be vegetarian, like the narrator, or vegan. Fur-farming (another sub-plot in Drive Your Plow) has been illegal in Britain for about 15 years now, and was already in decline before that. It was quite eye-opening to see how differently these things were evidently regarded by the majority in Poland. The hunt chaplain's sermon seemed almost medieval.

Nor, in contemporary Britain, would the established church be considered the primary upholder of 'man's dominion over the animals', as the Polish Catholic Church is in Drive Your Plow. The CofE is both less influential, and rather different in its prevailing politics. I wrote in a draft a couple of weeks before posting this review that it was inconceivable that former Archbishop of Canterbury and "national treasure" Rowan Williams, would utter anything like Father Rustle's sermon. Then, emphasising this, in the intervening fortnight, Williams spoke out in support of Extinction Rebellion, a new protest movement calling for more government action on climate change.

It wouldn't be correct, either, to take the book's view of the Polish Catholic church as globally characteristic of Catholicism, even if conservative Catholicism is influential in some countries. (Semantically, being against nature conservation always seems a very poor use of the word 'conservative'.) Famously, there was Pope Francis' 2015 encyclical Laudato si' - a follow-up to Polish Pope John Paul II's 1990 message 'The Ecological Crisis'. There are also smaller initiatives including a number of orders of nuns making active efforts to live sustainably.

In Plow, the conservative Catholicism of Father Rustle and the hunters needs to be set against the narrator as a folkloric/pagan symbol herself. While reading the novel, I had passing thoughts of the crone aspect of the Celtic neopagan triple goddess, but this was a Polish book so it didn't seem terribly relevant, and I left it alone. But Mimi's excellent review on Goodreads points out, among other things, that Janina is a Jungian crone, and also makes a highly plausible connection with Baba Yaga. (I was kicking myself for not having thought of Baba Yaga.) Thus the narrator could also be connected tentatively with Slavic neopaganism, a small movement which tends to be more openly critical of Christianity than is contemporary Western paganism.

(Incidentally, this is the first time since veganism became a major social trend that I've encountered a novel with a narrator who might be on the wavelength of hardcore vegans - i.e. the people who post confrontationally under Guardian cookery articles about meat, or who actively campaign. Actually, have I *ever*? There is surprisingly little about vegetarianism and veganism in novels, considering how common they are among urban creative people in the global North. Anyway, it would be interesting to hear what young vegans who were into astrology thought of Drive Your Plow: the narrator is more in tune with their views than most fictional characters of her age - but is her ambiguity too discomfiting?)

In yet another (!) of her interviews for The Guardian during 2018, Olga Tokarczuk mentioned that Leonora Carrington's The Hearing Trumpet was one of her favourite books, and an influence on Drive Your Plow. I read it not long before Plow - I'd been thinking of reading The Hearing Trumpet for years, and here was a good reason. The parallels between the two books are more evident now (a month after finishing Plow) than they did in close-up, while I was reading Tokarczuk's book. Transparently, both are about older female protagonists who are not taken seriously by many of the other characters - but they are centred and respected by their respective first-person narratives. They are not the kind of unreliable narrators that seem crafted to show up and trip up the protagonists, even if it is evident that the other characters don't see them as they see themselves. Both books are somewhat ambiguous and/or potentially shooting themselves in the foot: they kind of celebrate their heroines as interesting women who don't follow societal norms and who should be listened to more, alongside indicating why many people, even sympathetic people, might disregard their views to some extent. (Tokarczuk has also used ambiguity, or rather tact and subtlety in the allusive matter of the narrator's ailments.)

But this ambiguity is also what makes these books *art* rather than merely socio-political arguments and campaigns. They don't provide the easy arguments one might like them to. As in The Hearing Trumpet, people with dementia may be imagining fascinating worlds inside their heads and they deserve to live in a friendly environment that meets their needs and to be taken seriously … but the dementia can also make it difficult to keep them anchored in the real world and to be sure what they say is real. Old ladies obsessed with animals may be intelligent people who've had interesting, repsonsible jobs, and be driven campaigners … but they might go too far (and occasionally, in more serious ways than in writing endless complaint letters in the proverbial green ink).

I was impressed by the first Olga Tokarczuk book I read - though given that Plow is one of her lighter efforts, and still contained so much, it did not make me much less daunted by the prospect of reading Flights, which had been steadily sweeping 2018's translation shortlists before it.

*e.g. Czesław Miłosz, History of Polish Literature, p.xiv, "a curious dichotomy ... a more or less permanent trait of Polish letters; namely an emotional moralism obviously nourished by a strong residue of Christian ethics has coexisted with anti-clericalism and an utter skepticism as to any dogmas (religious or political)".


(Book read Sept-Oct 2018; reviewed Nov 2018. Revised March 2019 - mostly for clarity and style, and also to add points about Polish anticlericalism and Janina as crone, which emerged from discussion in Goodreads comments. The review and comment thread on Goodreads.)

8 August 2016

His Bloody Project by Graeme Macrae Burnet

Excellent Scottish historical crime novel, shortlisted for the Booker in 2016.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Honestly, "literary crime fiction" can be a bit dull sometimes, can't it? All those chilly, brittle delineations of character and meditations on why. The writing may be absent the tiresome clunks often found in a commercial procedural, but also missing is the compulsive moreishness that means you've read a third of the book before you've even looked up from the page again, perplexed and perhaps worried that something so fucking grim is also so much fun. Not so here. This is a book I'd highly recommend to everyone on my GR friendslist who enjoys superbly-done genre writing. It also has greater depth and interest than much contemporary litfic with more overt pretension.

Among the great fascinations here are the character of seventeen year old Roderick himself and how he is developed - the sort of character whom in the hands of a less skilled author could appear clumsily created to appeal to the typical reader of books, somewhat more solitary and intelligent than those around him, with a few aspie-sounding traits. But he never evoked the heroines or heroes of those cheesy bestsellers about magical bookshops and the like, rather this felt like a completely authentic portrait of the sort of young person who the village schoolmaster wished would go to university, but who had to stay and work the family farm, the ways in which such a person's routine days may have been spent. (I daresay a few of you think of this type as being among your ancestors too.) His blend of thoughts seemed so well chosen it was sometimes hard to believe he hadn't been a real person - the tendencies shared with the men of the Scottish Enlightenment and their intellectual descendants, just communicated more plainly, and others with obvious roots in the remote crofting hamlet (c.f. the miller in the microhistory [book:The Cheese and the Worms|71148]) and his mixture of bolshiness and spartanness that is IMO utterly characteristic of a certain kind of bright Scot. The presentation of multiple accounts of the 'case' leads to a curious co-existence of sympathy and more detached views of Roderick. (The presentation is immersive enough that a few people have tagged the novel as 'true crime' and I felt I should do a search to be completely sure it was fiction.)

This is also a story about religion and class.

The story is set a short while after the major phases of the Highland Clearances, but the same powerlessness in the face of of landowners still exists, and still educated characters from further south just don't get it. His Bloody Project is the type of historical novel that leans far more towards accuracy than towards wish-fulfilment for modern readers, but it has modern concerns about the voices of the voiceless, about well-meaning do-gooders, about snobs and their theories on the degenerate poor. It simultaneously makes one relieved that better checks and balances exist now, but concerned about their erosion. And one may feel we know better than the C19th "criminal anthropologist" in certain of his ideas - but how different are some of our current ones, and can we really know they are correct?

I'd forgotten just how utterly pervasive its puritan fatalism of Scots Presbyterianism can be (a tendency which IMO seeps into the Scots mindset even among the non-religious: where does stoicism and acceptance become passivity, exactly?) - and it's possible I've read an equally good evocation of the way this fatalism held people back in its mind forg'd manacles, but if I ever have I can't remember what it was. This book communicates it so very well to the modern reader without any sledgehammering, using characters who are both within and outwith that frame of mind. It's the great unspoken among the educated characters: have they not spotted its role because it's as pervasive as air, or because it's not yet the done thing to question it? Should I even be blaming it on organised Christianity when its roots in more ancient superstitions are also seen here? It may have been a part of the place for centuries or even millenia before John Knox, no doubt a communal coping tactic in a harsh landscape. It may be ancient, but in Roddy there's something modernist and existentialist about it too.
That which cannot be talked about by the characters is still barely talked about in the book, leaving the reader to draw their own conclusions. [Major spoiler follows.] It is my theory that Roderick wrote his account in good faith, and that the suppression of sexual topics in his environment, especially his own family, was such that he was unable to verbalise or even think coherently about them, betraying them only through non-verbal discomfort. The contrast between his memoir and the PM report was obvious and I was waiting to see if or how this would be dealt with overtly later in the novel. This type of suppression wouldn't be widely acknowledged until Freud, and so it seems fitting to be frustrated by the mixture of insight and its absence from the C19th experts. I consider that religion, plus some kind of idea of vengeance for Broad's treatment of Jetta and her fate, underlay Flora's injuries - but, being deeply conscious of the following as a historically situated viewpoint just as Thomson's was, that it is possible the lad had some sort of propensity to sexual misdemeanours anyway, and it's impossible to tell whether that would have still existed in him had he lived in a time and place with very different attitudes: whether it's all about the suppression as a trigger to or creator of his propensities, or whether they would always have been there full stop. Both of which likewise relate to the suspicion that hangs around the father sleeping in the same room as Jetta after Una's death. Regardless of these details, Roderick was still a dangerous individual. It was interesting that the way he killed the murder victims so closely resembled the way he killed the sheep; a modern liberal interpretation - which I'm sure would not be looked kindly upon those in the meat trade - would be that the experience of killing a fairly large mammal, and the fact that this was a normal thing to do in his world, had removed some of the empathic barriers to killing a person, leaving only fear and self-interest as the main inhibitions.

This is one of the best crime novels I've read (a surprising proportion of those are Scottish), notable for its intricate attention to larger themes and historical setting, alongside being a thumping good read - deserving of the greater audience the Booker longlisting has brought it, and all the more enjoyable in that context because of the way it zips along and focuses on people somewhere far removed from the typical Booker settings of London/New York/Mumbai.

(read & reviewed August 2016; the review on Goodreads.)

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