Historical Fiction

Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes

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PREMISE: Following a soldier during his time in the Vietnam war.

Yeaaaaaah…I kept that premise short and sweet so we can get to the juicy stuff. Before we visit Goodreads Island, where twats, bellends and utter nob-jockeys live in sweet harmony, let me start by saying this book is amazing. I first read it a fair few years ago and it’s just as good the second time around. Nothing explains what it’s like to be a soldier – and in this case, in a completely pointless and fucked up war – like this. It’s written as a fictional story but it’s essentially true. It’s long and detailed and all-encompassing and addictive and unlike any other book involving conflict that I’ve ever read. Cannot recommend it enough.

And I cannot recommend enough having a browse of the Goodreads 1-starrers for this baby. They really are on another level. And, perhaps more so than any other book I’ve ‘researched’ (hehehe…I laughed at that term too) it exemplifies why the 1-star ratings are absolute horseshit.

As at writing, there are 976 1-star reviews of Matterhorn. Of the first 45 that appeared on my screen, 21 admitted to not having even finished it. Using a complex system of mathematical extrapolation, I make this almost 50% of reviewers who rated this book 1 out of 5 haven’t even finished it. What is the point of them leaving a ‘so-called’ review? It’s not a review as they’ve ultimately nothing to review…because they haven’t read it. Similarly, how can they give a rating to something they haven’t finished? That’s like me baking a cake and someone rating me on how good it is while I’m still in the mixing stage. For some reason that I can’t fathom, it annoys the shit out of me.

And at the same time, I’m glad they choose to write something as I get to ridicule them here. If they’re at liberty to write shit about a book they haven’t even had the decency to finish reading then I’m at liberty to take the piss and call them names. Just like adults should.

I’m starting with the (frankly unbelievable) ‘review’ by Rebecca Curtis, where she admits “I did not actually read this”. Yep, you read that right. WTF? She writes a couple of lines and gives a 1-star rating to a book that she hasn’t even read. RC, you are a moron. Several people commented that they either hate war (who doesn’t?) or hate war books. Or both. Which begs the question, why are they even contemplating reading this then? Sado-masochists of the world unite. Surely they’ll have more fun just flogging themselves or running their genitals over a cheese grater? A couple of people commented on the bad language, like that is the worst thing that Marlantes could have included. Forget the violence, genocide, brutality, utter devastation and the lasting effects that this war – any war, really – has on people…the language that was involved was just too much. It’s okay for soldiers to shoot each other in the face, but absolutely unacceptable to accompany that with a swear word. “Take that, you brute”…”Oooh, you nasty rotter, you shot me in the goolies”…”Excuse me, my good man, why are you hacking my arm off with a machete?”. All of these would have been much more acceptable and, dare I say it, realistic? Come on Marlantes, what the fuck is wrong with you and your potty mouth?

One of my favourites comes from Marco3x (3 times as big a bellend): “This is garbage. The author has watched too many war movies”. Karl Marlantes is a Vietnam veteran. He was there. As opposed to Marco3x, who, judging by his picture, wasn’t. Another was from Mark, who read between 1/3 and 1/2 (two fifths would have worked there Mark) and then “found out it was just going to be another “wow, this war in Vietnam really sucks” book and returned it”. He’s got a point; where are all the positive books that don’t focus on the death and violence but talk about how well the helicopters performed. Or how much money was made by people who had shares in bullet-making companies? Or how many annoying weeds were destroyed by napalm?

Weirdly, the one that has me scratching my head (and simultaneously pulling my hair out) the most is this doozy by Heather Doherty: “I couldn’t read it. War sucks”. I may be wrong on this, but I don’t think Karl Marlantes is to blame for the Vietnam war. And Heather dear, what you’re actually rating with your 1 star is war itself, not this novel. And if this is the case, why are you even giving war 1 star? Surely every war is a no-star affair? And you didn’t even read it. So, what you’ve done is saddled Marlantes with a 1-star rating for a book you didn’t even read because (and rightly so) you think war sucks. How is this the author’s fault? And have you done this for every other fictional war book out there? It seems only fair.

So, once again I’m back to my contradictive point; you shouldn’t be allowed to rate a book you haven’t finished (and certainly not one you haven’t even read!). However, I’m glad that it is allowed, as it gives me blog fodder. Which I shall now refer to as ‘blodder’ and copyright for monetary purposes.

A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James

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PREMISE: On December 3, 1976, just before the Jamaican general election and two days before Bob Marley was to play the Smile Jamaica Concert, gunmen stormed his house, machine guns blazing. The attack nearly killed the Reggae superstar, his wife, and his manager, and injured several others. Marley would go on to perform at the free concert on December 5, but he left the country the next day, not to return for two years.

Deftly spanning decades and continents and peopled with a wide range of characters—assassins, journalists, drug dealers, and even ghosts—A Brief History of Seven Killings is the fictional exploration of that dangerous and unstable time and its bloody aftermath, from the streets and slums of Kingston in the 70s, to the crack wars in 80s New York, to a radically altered Jamaica in the 90s.

I know I said I’d never write anything negative on here but in my defence, this isn’t about books. And it’s very difficult to sustain a holier-than-thou stance across so many posts before my natural childishly sarcastic tendencies kick in. Anyway, I hate reggae music. Well, hate is a strong word. But if I’m ever jailed at Guantanamo then my captors should eschew Megadeth and Slayer, plop a red, green and yellow bobble hat on my head and torture me with Jimmy Cliff and Aswad. I’d turn snitch and spill the beans on everyone.

What I do like, however, is a fictional story based around factual events and containing real-life characters (see American Tabloid for the ultimate example of this). Particularly when there’s an air of the unknown around the specific details. I love the speculative aspect of it. The ‘this-could-easily-be-the-truth-you-know’ of it. The idea that you’re somehow learning something additional about a piece of history, whether it’s ultimately true or not.

This book, very much like American Tabloid, is pretty mind-blowing in terms of its scope and ambition and what it ultimately achieves. It’s the sort of book that leaves you so grateful that people as smart and eloquent as Marlon James are out there and devote so much of their time to writing something as breathtaking and gargantuan as this.

Oh, and it’s the 2018 Portland Award winner. ‘Nuff said.

The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka

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PREMISE: Colombo, 1990. Maali Almeida—war photographer, gambler, and closet queen—has woken up dead in what seems like a celestial visa office. His dismembered body is sinking in the serene Beira Lake and he has no idea who killed him. In a country where scores are settled by death squads, suicide bombers, and hired goons, the list of suspects is depressingly long, as the ghouls and ghosts with grudges who cluster round can attest. But even in the afterlife, time is running out for Maali. He has seven moons to contact the man and woman he loves most and lead them to the photos that will rock Sri Lanka.

Weird one, this. No idea if I liked it or not. Well, I did. But I also didn’t. Or did I? I don’t think I did, but I may have done. In fact, I know I did, but I’m actually not sure if that’s true or not. I guess it may be. In fact, it’s absolutely true. As far as I know, anyway. Which isn’t much so the chances are it’s completely false. So, to sum up…this may or may not be a cracking book. I’ve no idea.

Well…I’ve some idea. This book is hugely readable and features real-life characters and events, which I love in fiction. And provided me with a shit-load of history on Sri Lanka of which I wasn’t aware, so all-in-all, a win on all fronts.

The Silence Factory by Bridget Collins

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PREMISE: Audiologist Henry Latimer is sent to the home of industrialist Sir Edward Ashmore-Percy and tasked with curing the man’s young daughter, Philomel, of her deafness. But Henry, eager to escape a troubled past, quickly becomes obsessed with the fascinating nature of Sir Edward’s business: spinning silk with a rare and magical breed of spiders. The extraordinary silk shields sound, offering respite from bustling streets and noisy neighbors. The result is instant tranquility, as wearers experience a soothing calmness. Yet, those within earshot of the outward-facing silk are subjected to eerie murmurs that amplify with proximity. Bystanders suffer the consequences of this unnerving phenomenon, manifesting in physical and mental afflictions ranging from headaches and drowsiness to severe cases of madness.

As Henry becomes entangled in the allure of the silk and Sir Edward’s charm, he glimpses a more sinister family history. The closer he ventures into the inner circle of Carthmute House, the more he unravels the horrifying underbelly of the silk business.

One of the reasons I love reading is due to the relationship you can have with a book. Providing it’s a belter, it becomes something you love and get totally lost in while you’re reading it and something you miss when you’re not. Which is exactly what this book is. As are Bridget Collins’ other two books. Loved it.

American Tabloid by James Ellroy

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PREMISE: We are behind, and below, the scenes of JFK’s presidential election, the Bay of Pigs, the assassination—in the underworld that connects Miami, Los Angeles, Chicago, D.C….

Where the CIA, the Mob, J. Edgar Hoover, Howard Hughes, Jimmy Hoffa, Cuban political exiles, and various loose cannons conspire in a covert anarchy…

Where the right drugs, the right amount of cash, the right murder, buys a moment of a man’s loyalty…

Where three renegade law-enforcement officers—a former L.A. cop and two FBI agents—are shaping events with the virulence of their greed and hatred, riding full-blast shotgun into history….

My all-time favourite book. Read it more times than I can remember and it’s an absolute fucking monstrous ride through America’s shittest period every time I read it. Follow it up with The Cold Six Thousand and Blood’s A Rover and you have the finest body of non-fiction fiction ever written. Totally masterful and, for me, something everyone should read if you want to understand even a little more of the assassinations of JFK, RFK and MLK, the Bay of Pigs, Vietnam and the utter corruption of the United States. This may be fiction, but it’s likely right on the money.