Reviews: de Jongh, Eipe, Parker and Scull

Today’s roundup includes a graphic novel set during the U.S. Dust Bowl, a Dylan Thomas Prize-shortlisted poetry collection infused with Islamic imagery, a book about adaptive technologies for the disabled, and a set of testimonies from the elderly and terminally ill.

 

Days of Sand by Aimée de Jongh (2021; 2022)

[Translated from the Dutch by Christopher Bradley]

Dust can drive people mad.

This terrific Great Depression-era story was inspired by the real-life work of photographers such as Dorothea Lange who were sent by the Farm Security Administration, a new U.S. federal agency, to document the privations of the Dust Bowl in the Midwest. John Clark, 22, is following in his father’s footsteps as a photographer, leaving New York City to travel to the Oklahoma panhandle. He quickly discovers that struggling farmers are believed to have brought the drought on themselves through unsustainable practices. Many are fleeing to California. The locals are suspicious of John as an outsider, especially when they learn that he is working to a checklist (“Orphaned children”, “Family packing car to leave”).

“The best photos have an instant impact. Right away, they grab our attention. They tell a story, or deliver a message. The question is: how do you make that happen?” one of his employers had asked. John grows increasingly uncomfortable with being part of what is essentially a propaganda campaign when he develops a personal fondness for Cliff, a little boy who offers to be his assistant, and Betty, a pregnant widow whose runaway horse he finds. The deprivation and death he sees at close hand bring back memories of his father’s funeral four years ago.

Whether a cityscape or the midst of a dust storm, de Jongh’s scenes are stark and evocative. Each chapter opens with a genuine photograph from the period (de Jongh travelled to the USA for archival and on-the-ground research thanks to a grant from the Dutch Foundation for Literature), and some panes mimic B&W photos the FSA team took. It’s rare for me to find the story and images equally powerful in a graphic novel, but that’s definitely the case here.

With thanks to SelfMadeHero for the free copy for review.

 

Auguries of a Minor God by Nidhi Zak/Aria Eipe (2021)

This debut poetry collection is on the Dylan Thomas Prize shortlist. I’ve noted that recent winners – such as Lot by Bryan Washington and Luster by Raven Leilani – have in common a distinctive voice and use of language, which chimes with what Thomas was known for (see my recent review of Under Milk Wood) and clarifies what the judges are looking for.

The placement of words on the page seems to be very important in this volume – spread out or bunched together, sometimes descending vertically, a few in grey. It’s unfortunate, then, that I read an e-copy, as most of the formatting was lost when I put it on my Nook. The themes of the first part include relationships, characterized by novelty or trauma; tokens of home experienced in a new land; myths; and nature. Section headings are in Malayalam.

The book culminates in a lengthy, astonishingly nimble abecedarian in which a South Asian single father shepherds his children through English schooling as best he can while mired in grief over their late mother. This bubbles over in connection with her name, Noor, followed by a series of “O” apostrophe statements, some addressed to God and others exhorting fellow believers. Each letter section gets progressively longer. I was impressed at how authentically the final 30-page section echoes scriptural rhythms and content – until I saw in the endnotes that it was reproduced from a 1997 translation of the Quran, and felt a little cheated. Still, “A is for…” feels like enough to account for this India-born poet’s shortlisting. (The Prize winner will be announced on Thursday the 12th.)

With thanks to Midas PR for the free e-copy for review.

 

Hybrid Humans: Dispatches from the Frontiers of Man and Machine by Harry Parker (2022)

I approached this as a companion to To Be a Machine by Mark O’Connell and that is precisely what I found, with Parker’s personal insight adding a different angle to the discussion of how technology corrects and transcends flawed bodies. Parker was a captain in the British Army in Afghanistan when an IED took his legs. Now he wears prostheses that make him roughly 12% machine. “Being a hybrid human means expensive kit – you have to pay for the privilege of leading a normal life.” He revisits the moments surrounding his accident and his adjustment to prostheses, and meets fellow amputees like Jack, who was part of a British medical trial on osseointegration (where titanium implants come out of the stump for a prosthesis to attach to) that enabled him to walk much better. Other vets they know had to save up and travel to Australia to have this done because the NHS didn’t cover it.

Travelling to the REHAB trade fair in Karlsruhe, Parker learns that disability, too, can be the mother of invention. Virtual reality and smartphone technology are invaluable, with an iPhone able to replace up to 11 single-purpose devices. Yet he also encounters disabled people who are happy with their lot and don’t look to tech to improve it, such as Jamie, who’s blind and relies only on a cane. And it’s not as if tools to compensate for disability are new; the book surveys medical technologies that have been with us for decades or even centuries: from glass eyes to contact lenses; iron lungs, cochlear implants and more.

Pain management, PTSD, phantom limbs, foreign body rejection, and deep brain stimulation for Parkinson’s disease are other topics in this wide-ranging study that is at the juncture of the personal and political. “A society that doesn’t look after the vulnerable isn’t looking after anyone – I’d learnt first-hand that we’re all just a moment from becoming vulnerable,” Parker concludes. I’ll hope to see this one on next year’s Barbellion Prize longlist.

With thanks to Profile Books/Wellcome Collection for the free copy for review.

 

Regrets of the Dying: Stories and Wisdom that Remind Us How to Live by Georgina Scull (2022)

A medical crisis during pregnancy that had her minutes from death was a wake-up call for Scull, leading her to rethink whether the life she was living was the one she wanted. She spent the next decade interviewing people in her New Zealand and the UK about what they learned when facing death. Some of the pieces are like oral histories (with one reprinted from a blog), while others involve more of an imagining of the protagonist’s past and current state of mind. Each is given a headline that encapsulates a threat to contentment, such as “Not Having a Good Work–Life Balance” and “Not Following Your Gut Instinct.” Most of her subjects are elderly or terminally ill. She also speaks to two chaplains, one a secular humanist working in a hospital and the other an Anglican priest based at a hospice, who recount some of the regrets they hear about through patients’ stories.

Recurring features are not spending enough time with family and staying too long in loveless or unequal relationships. Two accounts that particularly struck me were Anthea’s, about the tanning bed addiction that gave her melanoma, and Millicent’s, guilty that she never went to the police about a murder she witnessed as a teenager in the 1930s (with a NZ family situation that sounds awfully like Janet Frame’s). Scull closes with 10 things she’s learned, such as not to let others’ expectations guide your life and to appreciate the everyday. These are readable narratives, capably captured, but there isn’t much here that rises above cliché.

With thanks to publicist Claire Morrison and Welbeck for the free copy for review.

 

Would you be interested in reading one or more of these?

10 responses

  1. Oo – I want to read the Parker – naturally. The graphic novel looks amazing too.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ooh I loved Harry Parker’s novel Anatomy of a Soldier, and you know how I felt about To Be A Machine, so that sounds like one for me!

    The ‘regrets of the dying’ is an interesting concept to me. I’ve not read Scull’s book so I don’t know how she handles it, but some articles I’ve read in the Guardian etc. are a bit troubling to me re how they reinforce certain societal expectations. e.g. the cliche ‘nobody ever wished on their deathbed they’d spent more time at work’. Really?? And also, why does what you want on your deathbed inevitably trump what you wanted earlier in life? Anyway, sorry for these ramblings, I haven’t really sorted out my thoughts yet!

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    1. Whoops, your comment went to spam for some reason! I’m glad to hear Parker’s novel was good, as I couldn’t get a sense of what his style would be like in fiction. I’ll look out for it.

      Yes, it did go along with that cliche about spending too much time at work. I preferred the accounts of regrets that were more specific, e.g. not joining a friend on an adventurous cruise, or not informing the police about witnessing a murder.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I wondered where it had gone! Ha I love the specific regrets – intrigued by the murder one 🙂

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  3. I’d definitely be interested in reading the graphic novel – sounds and looks striking and powerful.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s a fun way to learn — I would never pick up a history book about the Dust Bowl, for instance.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. The graphic novel looks great. I like Laura’s point about deathbed regrets – why are they more important? Aren’t you probably forgetting or glossing over the reasons you made the choices you did? I see viral social media posts about the same thing and they’re always just the cliches!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Hybrid Humans sounds fascinating – when my husband bought and applied blood glucose testing implants when he was diagnosed with diabetes, I was fascinated with how the interaction between machine and person helped him gather information in order to live better with the condition even though the squeamish side of me was a bit challenged by having a husband with a plastic disc on his arm!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I know a couple of people with T1D who have found an insulin pump life-changing.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. […] Days of Sand by Aimée de Jongh: This Great Depression-era story was inspired by the work of photographers such as Dorothea Lange. John Clark is following in his father’s footsteps as a photographer, leaving NYC for the Oklahoma panhandle. Locals are suspicious of John as an outsider, especially when they learn he is working to a checklist. Whether a cityscape or the midst of a dust storm, de Jongh’s scenes are stark and evocative. It’s rare for me to find the story and images equally powerful in a graphic novel, but that’s definitely the case here. […]

    Like

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