Prawiek i inne czasy

Prawiek i inne czasy by Olga Tokarczuk
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Tytuł książki jest dwuznaczny.
Z jednej strony oznacza - prawiek - czasy prehistoryczne. W tym kontekście możemy się spodziewać jakiejś historycznej powieści z początkiem w bardzo dawnych czasach.
W rzeczywistości Prawiek to nazwa wioski. Wiosce poświęcony jest pierwszy rozdział - Czas Prawieku. Następnie są inne czasy - każdy rozdział, a jest ich blisko 70, to jest czyjś czas.
Po przeczytaniu kilku rozdziałów/czasów czułem się zaczarowany, musiałem zrobić przerwę. Gdy powróciłem do książki nie czułem potrzeby kontynuacji, zmiany czasów, byłem całkiem usatysfacjonowany ponowną lekturą tych przeczytanych poprzednio. Dlatego czytanie zajęło mi tak długo.
Wyznam się, że w miarę czytania początkowy czar wyparowywał.
"Bóg chciał być doskonały i zatrzymał się. To, co się nie porusza, stoi w miejscu. To, co stoi w miejscu, rozpada się."
W moim przypadku było odwrotnie - w momencie gdy narzuciłem sobie dyscyplinę czytania, nie wracałem do przeczytanych czasów, zauroczenie książką zaczęło się rozpadać.
Według mnie to samo stało się z bohaterami książki. Oni ruszają się i w tym ruchu rozpadają się.
Zastanawiło mnie, że jedyna rodzina, która nie rozpada się, przeciwnie - jest pozytywna, idzie do przodu, to rodzina feudalnego dziedzica.
Czyżby autorka miała jakieś klasowe preferencje?

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Król

Król by Szczepan Twardoch
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Brutalna i okrutna strona przedwojennej Warszawy.
Obogi Żydowski chłopak wrzucony w wir gangsterskiego świata.
W tle dramatyczne konflikty społeczne, antysemityzm, działalność gansterska, budzące się ruchy faszystowskie, walka polityczna na naiwyższych szczeblach.
Zaskoczyło mnie w jak wielkim stopniu książka opowiada autentyczne wydarzenia opisane w książce J. Rawicza "Doktor Łokietek i Tata Tasiemka, dzieje gangu" (rok 1968) - patrz tutaj: https://culture.pl/pl/dzielo/jerzy-ra...
Wydaje m się, że stopień podobieństwa jest tak wielki, że nie zaszkodziłoby podać książkę J. Rawicza w liście źródeł.
Jeśli chodzi o niekwestionowany wkład autora to jest nim niewątpliwie niezwykle intensywna narracja a prócz tego pewna przesada w opisie brutalnych scen, wulgarnym języku, stopniu motoryzacji.
Jednak mój główny zarzut w stosunku do autora to ostateczne całkowite zagubienie narratora opowieści. Po prostu, nie wiadomo czy on istniał.


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The Tattooist of Auschwitz

The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Very colourful story of life of a Slovakian Jew, Lale Sokolov, imprisoned in German concentration camp in Auschwitz and given duty of tattooing serial numbers on prisoners' forearms.
In an afterword, the author mentions importance put by the story teller to the credibility of his story.
He might have justified concerns that his story might look too good to be true.
Just few points: since being nominated a tattooist he got allocated a separate room, moves freely about the camp, his SS guard treats him as a mentor, he is allowed for privacy with his beloved girlfriend, got access to substantial amount of jewelry, which in turn enables him trade in food and other essentials.
On one hand I see it as a story of great human character, strength and enduring love. On the other hand as I had a chance to meet few Auschwitz survivors and read a number of Auschwitz-centred stories I somehow instinctively reject any optimism growing in this place.

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Life before Man

Life Before Man by Margaret Atwood
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Three very different people in a toxic relationship.
I liked very much authors approach, presenting to the reader a starting point for decisions made by the main characters.
But then what?
From the beginning I was not interested in the outcome expecting, that it will only make things worse.
I feel really sorry for them, but I do not find a place for myself in this book.
So I left it somewhere in the middle

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Art of Soviet cooking

Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking: A Memoir of Food and Longing by Anya von Bremzen
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Very little Soviet cooking in this book.
The book starts with preparation of some very traditional Russian food, not in Soviet Union but in Queens, New York.
Actually I am not sure if there is practical mention about Soviet cooking in this book.
The book says a lot about some 90 years of history of Russia and Soviet Union, but food is secondary in this story and actual cooking is barely mentioned.
It may be worthwhile to mention, that the book is written from the perspective of extremely privileged Soviet family. As such, this family had access to special government food shops with products not available to normal mortals.
As for an express review of Soviet Union history it is written in quiet exciting manner, but as for me it was too fragmented and lacking consistency.

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Gadfly

 Title of a Soviet movie popularized by D. Shostakovitch' music.

I remember it from the roots.

Year 1955. In Poland, the ices of Cold War began to crackle a little, the thaw was approaching. It was on this wave that the book by the English author E. Voynicz - Gadfly - entered the market. The reviews mentioned that the book was controversial in the West. And here it is - the Polish reader can check for himself what is nurturing the "free West".

The author's name sounded a bit Russian, but my mother caught the hook.

We lived in a one-room flat without heating, so on winter evenings we were warmed by discussions about books, and my mother experienced it very intensely.

The story in a nutshell runs like this: Italy, 1848, the independence uprising against Austria. The protagonist is a young revolutionary who takes the pseudonym Gadfly. Carelessly, during confession, he reveals data about his organization. Arrests follow. The case goes to an Italian cardinal who supports harsh sentences for the conspirators. Severe, means the death penalty for leaders including Gadfly.

On the eve of Corpus Christi, the sentence is carried out, and at the same time the cardinal learns that Gadfly was his biological son.

The procession of Corpus Christi, the cardinal carries the monstrance and is being traversed by comparisons to God the Father - they both condemned their sons to death, but the cardinal cannot accept the fact that God the Father treated this tragedy so lightly. The dilemmas are so intense that the cardinal throws the monstrance to the ground.

My very religious mother was shocked.

(God) Father condemned his son to death !? I realized that she could not accept it, she would not have sent her child to death, rather she would have condemned herself. The atmosphere in our tiny room has become very dense.

Few months later the movie with D. Shostakovitch music was screened.
We found it saturated with anti religious propaganda and that somehow lessened impact of the book.

Only recently I got idea to check credentials of the author - where from this Russian-sounding name?

Easy to check - Ethel Voynich was born Boole - yes THIS Boole - creator of zero-one algebra, foundation of computer technology.
Professional career of her father is amazing - LOOK!

Daughter followed him...

Ethel Lilian Boole (born 1864) was orphaned by her father at the age of 5 months and had a difficult childhood. At the age of 18, however, she gained the right to access the inheritance left by her father, she abandoned her family, and went to Berlin to study music.

In Germany, she came into contact with the Russian circles, which fascinated her enough to learn the language and look for a job as a governess in St. Petersburg. There she made contacts with Russian anarchists and revolutionists. After two years, she returned to England, where she was a co-founder of the Society of Friends of Russian Freedom.

In 1890 she met there the Polish revolutionist Michael Habdank Wojnicz and they lived together. Ethel took the surname Voynich, and in 1902 they got married.
Full biography HERE.

I save you the life story of Michael, I think Ethel is more than enough.

In 1895, she met in London British spy, Sidney Reilly, and hepersuaded her to travel together to Italy. This trip, plus possibly the facts from S. Reilly's life, inspired the book.

The book, published in 1897, gained considerable publicity in England. So much, that Ethel asked her friend George Bernard Shaw to turn it into a play and thus prevent attempts of fakes and plagiarism. G.B. Shaw complied with this request.

As the years passed, the book was forgotten, but not in the Soviet Union.

Already in 1928, a film based on this novel was produced in Georgia. However, the real renaissance came in 1955.

The book became a literary hit, 2.5 million copies were sold. Similar popularity has gained in China, over 2 million copies.

Even more people watched the movie.

Soviet publishers and filmmakers believed in 1955, that the author of the book published almost 60 years earlier had long been dead.

Nothing could be more wrong. Ethel Voynich was alive (in the US) and doing well. In 1955, a Soviet diplomat visited her and expressed his appreciation. An American diplomat also visited her and paid $ 15,000 for missed royalties.

Each country has its way of honouring artists.

She died in 1960 at the age of 96.

P.S. I apologize for so many links in this post, but I can't help but add one more - Sidney Reilly, associate of Scotland Yard.

Born as Rosenblum, maybe in Odessa, maybe in the vicinity of Grodno (Belarus). The rest of his life is much more tangled. Apparently he was a model for the character of James Bond. Impossible to take full advantage of, as his career as a special agent was much more complicated.

I will only mention that he died in 1925 in the Soviet Union, tricked by the OGPU under the pretext of assassination of W.I. Lenin. Details HERE.

When I am... Meeting the Snow Queen

I woke up in the bed after the afternoon nap.

First Sunday of March.  I looked at a wall at a blue diploma with a silhouette of the brave King Gustav.

Yes, Vasaloppet is held today. 

It reminded me THIS day, 23 years ago...

My host knocked to the door at 3 am. I jumped up, did not sleep anyway. Quickly devoured hot porridge and soon my host drove me to the town limits. 

Streets were closed to the traffic. I walked to the town centre on well-frozen, squeaky snow. From many streets dark shadows were coming out and hurried in the same direction. Goretex coats rustled like medieval armours. Sometimes one could hear clicking of skis or stocks. Great army of skiers came to the embarkation point.

In the town square long row of buses waited for us. Organizers gathered us in groups of fifty and packed into buses. And soon the bus started for a 2 hours journey, and the next one, and the next… 

I fell asleep. I was awaken by some noises. There were police lights blinking outside, sharp whistles. Get out!

With a black crowd I hurried towards the start area. Looked like a battlefield. Thousands of skis and stocks laid evenly on the snow. At the back, powerful blowers pumped hot air into some shapeless balloon. I found my section and placed skis on the snow. 

On a small wooden tower an aerobic instructor led some simple exercises. Loud music of ABBA. Thousands of skiers jumped and waved arms together with the instructor. Suddenly the music changed to Let’s the sun shine from Hair.

- Greet the rising Sun! - shouted the instructor.

I turned my head back and gasped in awe. Behind us towered 20 metres high great Red Horse, a symbol of Dalarna province. 

And behind him, there was a pinkish light in the black sky. 10 minutes to start – announced loudspeakers. Quickly I put my outer layer of clothes into a plastic bag marked with my starting number and threw it on the side of the course. Army and volunteers feverishly collected bags and loaded them into tracks. Will I see my clothes again? Around me clicking of ski bindings and shuffling of skis in the tracks.

START! 

Loud cry from 15 thousands lungs. I looked back. Great Horse wavered in the wind, leaned forward like it was to go with us, like a great war machine.

Faster! – shouted somebody behind me and stepped on my ski. 

Oooops, I was too slow, there was a gap of few meters ahead of me, I pushed strongly with my poles. 

Vasaloppet started. Long, easy climb. Bark on the birch trees had a pink hue. After one hour I got to the high plains. The sun was already well above the horizon. Fog in the valleys was still pink but the snow under my feet was getting gold. 

What a joyful day! I got a feeling that I waited for this day for a long time. And now it came. I was doing, what I always wanted to do. I felt so happy. 

The racecourse was made of 6 parallel pairs of tracks. Unending row of skiers in each track. 

When we climbed up I got impression we were in ancient Egypt pulling stone blocks for pyramids. And from the hill the serpent of skiers looked like Chinese Great Wall. 

Every dozen kilometres we came to a food station. Few cups of blueberry soup. For next half kilometre the snow was blue. And later again, whiteness, rustle of the snow, clicking of ski poles.How many hours I‘ve been in the race?

Noon passed. Shadows grew longer and deeper. The course narrowed, line of skiers stretched thinner. That’s good. I was already tired with this crowd. 

Suddenly I heard a tone of violin.  Was I hallucinating? I slowed down, tried to move quieter. No, it was not a hallucination, violin for sure. I passed a turn of the track; there was no skier around me. 

At the side of the course stood small, maybe 9 years old girl and played some Swedish folk song on the violin and her even younger brother was sitting on the stool and kept on his knees a towel and some candies on it.

I slowed down and stopped. I wanted to ask who they were, if they will find their way home. Then I met the eyes of the girl. She looked into my eyes intensely, like only children can look. 

- Skier from the faraway country. Why did you stop? You came long way for this royal race. And I am playing for you. Because this is your truth. Be faithful to it. 

And she brought violin to her chin and ordered: 

GO! 

Obediently I straightened skis in the tracks, took a deep breath and pushed with ski poles as strong as I could, until I felt pain in my ribs, like now. But I still managed to shout: 

- Little girl! And what is your truth? 

-To play for you – answered the pure voice - .. to play for you – repeated echo in the woods. 

I did not notice when I passed the finish line. Young girl ran next to me pulling my arm to stop me. Another girl embraced me while another one was taking off my skis. I came back to reality, collected a ticket for skis and another one for a hot soup.

- What a great service - I remarked.

- Oh, we have to stop you older guys - answered the girl - otherwise you would ski forever. She waved a hand towards a dark wall of trees.

I found my clothes, ate the soup and asked for a taxi. If you haven’t booked earlier you’ll have to wait more than one hour.  

There was 6 kilometres to my home. I better go, maybe will catch some lift.
I reached quickly the town limits and stepped on the road. I did not walk too far when I heard something stopping behind me and an order issued in strong female voice: 

- Get in! 

I turned back. There was a sleigh of a Snow Queen.

I looked into her eyes, were dark blue and deep as an ocean. One short spasm of shivers and suddenly I did not feel any cold nor tiredness. The sleigh moved on and took off in the sky. 

- Where are you taking me? - I asked.
- Where would you like to go? - asked the Snow Queen.
- Maybe, to Hokberg, to check if this girl and her brother returned safely home.

The sleigh turned back towards the ski trails. There was night around us and I could see only the racetrack marked with thousands of torches placed in the snow. 

We approached settlement of Hokberg. The sleigh lowered and stopped in front of a little house. I got of from the sleigh. I could hear the tone of violin coming from the house. Same violin I heard during the race, this time however it was simple minuet by J.S. Bach. I sat on the snow and listened. The music ended. Out of sudden I felt terribly tired and sleepy. 

- Get up, we go home. – I heard the voice of the Snow Queen. 

- Home? – I awoke like from the sleep. 

- Yes, your home. 

- So this is the end? - I asked feeling somehow helpless and lost.

- You may still come here.

-  Here? To listen to the music? 

- To listen the music and to ski the race. 

- And laughing girls will stop me again at the finish line? 

- No, this time nobody will stop you; this race never ends.

I stretched in the bed, turned around and I heard a noise of a book falling on the floor - Julian Barnes - The Lemon Table.

Story of Mats Israelson... about Anders Boden, the man who waited 23 years before he invited Ms Lindvall for a long excursion.

23 years, like today.

I got out from the bed and walked in the street.

After few steps I recognized a familiar melody of J.S. Bach's Menuet.

Of course, it was a daughter of our neighbours at the corner.

I passed the music and walked up the street.

At the corner I noticed a girl waving to.

Snow Queen? - a thought struck me.

Not this time - it was a girl from corner house, who usually does some gardening around.

She waved again - come closer, I have something to tell you.

I made a step forward.

- You ate garlic - frowned she. I stepped backwards.

- Come, I have something important to tell you.

- I stepped forward, but not too far, I already knew her story.

- Did you notice, there are many cars driving up and down the strret, without any purpose, very strange.

- Very strange, I confirmed.

The girl stopped talking and I moved forward.
Soon a dark wall of trees was ahead of me..

Wall of trees?

Wattle Park, just narrow line of trees and then an oval, playground.

Definitely not a place for the Snow Queen.

Where is she?
Maybe she was in those cars driving up and down the street?

Maybe the garlic repulsed her?

What a joke!

The Zone of Interest

The Zone of Interest by Martin Amis
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

After reading some 60 pages I got impression, that it is a story written by some lunatic and I was ready to give it back to the library.
I waited few days to get some distance from the story and started again.
Some background info... I am an old man, born and grown up in Poland. Few of my close relatives were killed during the war, few survived German concentration camps. I met quite a number of survivors of concentration camps and read few book about them and about Holocaust.
This might explain that The Zone of Interest shocked and repulsed me.

Now is the time for my second opinion.
First point - most of reviews mentioned, that love is one of the subjects of this book.
Well, in my opinion it is lust not love.
Second point - I was shocked with many cases of factual nonsense.
Few examples -
One of main characters, the commander of Auschwitz Concentration Camp, lives in a street in Warsaw's Old City, very close to the Old City Square.
Well, it is 315 km from place of his work in Auschwitz.
Next one - Kommandant's Doll family lives in Dzilka St.
Again, there is Dzika St in Warsaw (Dzika means Wild), quite close to former Umschlagplatz where inhabitants of Warsaw Ghetto were loaded into trains destined for extermination camps. There is also Dzielna St nearby (Dzielna means Brave) crossing Ghetto area.
But Dzilka?
Anyway, any of these streets was not suitable for a living place for highly ranked German official.
Then misspelling of names of few Polish names and places. Just these were quite easy to spell and pronounce.
On my second reading attempt I came to conclusion, that these inaccuracies were not mistakes, but deliberate deformations made on purpose.
But on what purpose?
I thought that the key lies in Kommandant Doll thoughts and words. I have to say that I enjoyed the mixture of English and German text and unexpected placing of numerals in his texts.
Another interesting point were numerous quotations from some German propaganda about character and destiny of glorious Aryan race.
I appreciated effort and skill of the author in constructing these texts, but the question returned: for what purpose?
Somewhere near page 190 I came conclusion, that I will not get answer and gave up.
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The lemon table

The Lemon Table by Julian Barnes
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Like with all J. Barnes books I got very mixed feelings.
For me the main topic of the book is ageing. In majority of cases it does not look good, in some cases - disgusting.
For me the question was - do people change to worse when they grow old or it is just that in this age their weak points are more obvious?
Here is my disappointment with the author - it looks that these people exist and function quite well in their own, familiar environment. It is just the author with his spying glass, who makes them repulsive. Not nice approach Mr Barnes.
P.S. Of all stories I liked most these two which took place in Scandinavia - Mats Israelson story - Sweden, and Silence - Finland (I know that it is not exactly Scandinavia ;). First one - there was nothing wrong with the person getting old. Second one - the story moves along full life of the main character and shows him as a difficult one all the time, not just when old.

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Corpus Christi

Corpus Christi  - last Thursday I watched on SBS the Polish news and there it was - relation from celebrating Corpus Christi in Poland.

It is a public holiday and in every town or village there is a ceremonial procession.

It goes quite a distance in main streets of the town. The priest carries all the way a monstrance with a host, there are 4 altars on the way. At each of altars the procession stops, there is short reading from the Gospel, blessing of the faithful and the procession continues.

Here are links to 2 video clips from last Thursday taken in small towns:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjDG1u50ovw 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOn_45f2VjQ

Here comes my story...

The celebration was held in Poland even during hardest Communist rule. 

I remember clearly one such event.

We got day off from school on Thursday, but we were offered a mandatory excursion to some attractive location. Food and entertainment provided.

I announced it to my mother, she looked at me - but you will not go because tomorrow is Corpus Christi.

But, it is mandatory, they will request clear explanation.

So you will tell them, that your mother ordered you to go.

And we went.

At the procession I noticed one of my school colleagues with his mother.

She approached us and whispered to my mother:

Do you want a medical certificate for your son? My husband is a doctor, he can provide you with one.

But THEY see us here - replied my mother - you husband takes unnecessary risk. Thank you very much.

I was devastated.

My mother shook her head - what a nonsense, to cheat about your religion. THEY probably would be satisfied - it would mean we practice our faith in fear.

Next day, just when I entered school, there was young activist waiting for me.

Why you did not join us at the excursion?

Because my mother ordered me to go to procession.

The activist almost choked on such an answer.

So tell your mother, to shift you to some school teaching practical trade because we will take care that you will not be accepted to any university.

I wandered till evening around the city being afraid to bring this to my mother.

Eventually I came home and told her.

I could see that she was shaken, but she said.

We did not deny our God, our God will not deny us. Even without university degree you may have a decent life.

1.5 years later (October 1956) there was a shake up of Communist system and significant relaxation of policy.

In 1958 I was accepted to the university without any problems.

Machines like me

Machines Like Me by Ian McEwan
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Machines like me.
What does this title mean?
Machines are like me, or they feel well about me?
There is second line of the title: ...and people like you.
Same thing - are like me (the reader) or like me.
Together it gives a number of combinations:
- machines are like me and people are like you,
- machines have liking to me and people have liking to you,
- machines have liking to me and to people like you.
First two separate worlds of humans and machines. The third one bring them together, but only for people like me - the owner or the reader.
I selected the third option and from this moment I felt part of the book.
From the title we know that the book will be about people and humanoid robots.
And here comes surprise.
Year of action = 1982.
Futuristic book placed in year 1982?
This alone made me feeling comfortable.
This is very subjective of course, but I do not like books placed in too remote future.
Simply I feel cheated - author wastes my effort on reading his/her drivel on unknown future reducing size and contents of the main story.
Year 1982 - what happened in England that year - similarities with current Brexit chaos and confusion are obvious.
Charlie, the main character is a person a bit below average - did not complete studies, has no proper job. From the beginning we see that his property - Adam - is superior to him.
There is also a bit of the challenge to the reader - can you follow Adam's considerations on various subjects - artificial intelligence, literature, etc.
I appreciated it, remember - I felt being part of the story.
But then comes a crunch - Adam falls in love.
I reread the motto of the book:
But remember, please, the Law by which we live,
We are not built to comprehend a lie... -- Rudyard Kipling - Secret of the Machines.
I checked the next line of the poem: ...We can neither love nor pity nor forgive... - full text HERE
Alarm bells ringing. Ombudsman, help! - we, humans, have been cheated!!
Can robot love?
There were 25 humanoid robots in this series - 12 Adams and 13 Eves. There are rumors, that some of them fell into deep depression, committed suicides. For me the reason was obvious - totally disenchanted with their owners/masters.
From this point of view "our" Adam is a very promising case, an amazing opportunity of future mutual cooperation of people and machines.
But here comes the ultimate power - the Author - and brings order, obeying statement in the motto to the letter.
Great disappointment for me, here I dropped one star from the rating.


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First Sunday of June

Means - MS Walk - already for the ninth time.

MS - Multiple Sclerosis - a terrible disease attacking mainly young women.

This year the event looked as withdrawn a bit - I easily found a space in the car park, there were not so many people as usual, the rest was fine.

Albert Lake...

Start... looks like I am getting smaller and smaller

But on the other hand looks like medical procedures of last year helped. I did not notice when we made a full circle around the lake.

Few steps more and we reached the end

My companion was, like in many previous years, Gudrun, my friend from skiing club - thank you Gudrun for constant support.

Looking around I found that, despite not so many people at the start, financial result of the event was quite satisfactory

Together with similar walks in Sydney and Canberra, MS Society gained over $1 mln.

And then the sun shone

I left Albert Lake to its traditional owners

My personal input: I received donations of over $400 - thank you very much all supporters. It makes close to $6,000 in these 9 years.

Beware, I will be there in 2020.

My fundraising page HERE.

The only story

The Only Story by Julian Barnes
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

"Would you rather love the more, and suffer the more; or love the less, and suffer the less? That is, finally, the only real question.
You may point out- correctly - that it isn't a real question. Because we don't have the choice."
I think these opening sentences well summarize the book.
There is a story, but - in fact - there is no story.
Well, there is a skeleton of a story followed by storyteller considerations how he looked at it in various stages of his life.
Typical for this author, but I still like him.

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Preselection

Today we had elections to Federal Parliament.
Almost a month ago I presented HERE  two candidates one of whom will get the seat, so today I had to make decision.
My basic reasoning was as follows:
Labor got bigger chances, so vote for Liberal so that the winners feels the presure. Maybe it will result in better work.
Additional factor was intensity of harassment - for some time I was receiving phone calls and sms from both main parties and also from UAP. Actually in the last days Labor was more aggressive which meant leaning towards Liberal.

But then, just as I was driving to the shopping centre, I received a sms. I stopped the car expecting some addition to shopping list, but no - it was from Liberals.
No! I will vote for Greens, they never breached my privacy.
Then, as I was passing a voting point, I noticed 2 bikers pulling large billboards calling for Green vote. They were riding their bikes on very narrow footpath forcing pedestrians to step on the lawn.
What a hypocrisy!

I thought a while and decided to vote for Animal Justice Party.

I returned home in full peace of mind and then, in our garden, I noticed birds, indian mynah, pecking or rather massacring our cherry tomatoes.
Enough!
I returned to my original concept. At least I knew that it was well thought over decision.

Teresa Raquin

Thérèse Raquin by Émile Zola
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I read this book to get some touch of Emile Zola writing, not expecting too much from the story itself.
From this perspective it met my expectations - Zola can write - what a discovery.
But the story... it looked to me as if author would like to prove something, to demonstrate something, not to tell the story.
But what?
Possible answer is - naturalism, showing the dirty, cruel, sick side of life and surrounding. There is a lot of this in the book.
My main complaint is that two main characters - Laurent and Therese - were for me absolutely not convincing, some paper caricatures.
As there was not too much to write about such dummies, there are pages, and pages, and pages of descriptions of nightmares they both experienced. Sorry, but I could not stand it.

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Only China can save us!

Few days ago I found in my mailbox some information flyers about coming elections to Federal Parliament.
In my electorate (Chisholm) a winner will come from one of these two ladies:

On Good Friday I noticed a presence of one of above candidates on Way of the Cross in neighboring parish.

Today I learned that leaders of our two main political parties have accounts on Chinese social platform WeChat. Interesting thing is, that this platform is available only to Chinese citizens so our otherwise honest and candid politicians apparently hired some Chinese citizens to open fictional accounts under false names.

Luckily Chinese authorities discovered this fraud and are considering closing these accounts.

Details HERE.

Question: is there any honest politician in this country?

Thanks God we have enough people of Chinese origin who do not pretend to be someone else.

Double - Dvoinik

The Double by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Disturbing book for me.
Very detailed insight into thoughts and nightmares of mentally unstable person.
Disturbing, because the style of narration is quite ironic and exhilarating. It made me feeling uncomfortable - I am watching a mentally disturbed person and instead of compassion I just chuckle like some moron.
Which brought association with Gogol - it is definitely Gogol's writing style and result is exactly "gogol'ish" - what are you laughing at? you are laughing at yourself.
I noticed a high number of 1 star ratings with a comment - boring, put away after few pages.
I consider this reaction quite justified. For me it was quite exhausting reading with the knowledge, that my patience will not be rewarded.
I lasted to the last page, but had some attention breaks.

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Passa Passenta

Passa by Daniel Passent
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Spory zawód.
Masa, istny katalog, nazwisk i detali - mnie brakowało spojrzenia z pewnej perspektywy jak również jakiegoś podsumowania kolejnych etapów. No i może jeszcze nieco bardziej osobistego spojrzenia na sławne osoby, z którymi autor się spotykał i na istotne wydarzenia, których był blisko.
Przedstawioną w książce drogę życiową autora doskonale podsumowuje nazwa jego blogu - En passant - czyli w przelocie. Wszędzie był, wszystkich poznał, wszystko spłynęło po nim bez śladu.
Może jedynym wyjątkiem jest rodzina - tu jego postawa jest wręcz wzorcowa.
Uwaga techniczna - niezbyt staranna edycja. W książce wspomniana jest obecność autora na igrzyskach w Hamburgu (?), raz czy dwa wspomina coś stosując rodzaj żeński: zobaczyłam.


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Nightmare in Berlin

Nightmare in Berlin by Hans Fallada
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Firstly I am amused a bit with discovery of H.Fallada last books in English speaking world. I read the last book written by him - Every man dies alone - some 65 years ago (in Polish). Forgive me using a translation of original version of the title, but I find it much better.
Strange thing was, that this book had to wait 60 years for discovery by English speaking world.
I suppose the main obstacle was, that the book was written on suggestion and with great support of Johannes Becher, a devoted communist, Culture Minister in German Democratic Republic - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johanne...
He is presented in Nightmare in Berlin as Granzow.
Secondly... I wondered why Nightmare in Berlin was not translated into Polish around same time as Every man dies alone.
My guess is - because it is not good book, it is nowhere near other books of this author.
One of reviews in German press at the time of publishing reads: "Thinly disguised biography difficult to read with any pleasure".
Hans Fallada himself, in the Introduction, makes some sort of apologies: "A medical report, then, and not a work of art - I am sorry to say".
I read this book with some sort of disbelief - it was not Fallada whom I know, although I have to admit some parts of the book were unmistakably in his style.
I clearly saw 3 streams of the story.
1. Woes over a state of German society. Cruel discovery, that actually all people have been corrupted by 12 years of Nazi rule and that this corruption remained after the end of the war.
There is a lot of long deliberations of general nature and few pitiful cases described in detail.
2. Main character dr Doll's and his young wife Alma's fight for survival. There I find some of Fallada's style.
3. Addiction to morphine - it reminds me the best scenes The Drunkard. Here I can see that Fallada knows what he is writing about.
Additional point - some efforts to please his benefactor - minister Becher and his Soviet principals. In opening chapter Dr Doll and his young wife are full of trust and sympathy towards Soviet liberators.
I strongly doubt if anybody in Germany shared this attitude. Actually Fallada's first wife Anna Ditzen was able to hide the 11-year old Lore from the Soviet soldiers, but she herself was raped and injured severely enough that she had to be hospitalised. And it happened in the same town where H. Fallada lived with his young wife.
Summarizing my personal reception of this book - I read it with some affection towards an old friend, who honestly tells me about his terrible experience. But if it were someone else I would have put this book away after first 2 chapters.


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The Tenth Man

The Tenth Man by Graham Greene
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

France during the II World War. Hostages imprisoned in German jail. Last night there were 3 casualties of French Resistance action so 3 hostages will be shot dead.
They draw lots.
One of death lots is drawn by a quite affluent person. He makes an offer - I will give my whole fortune to the estate of anyone who will take my lot.
There is a candidate, they prepare proper documentation.
The war ends, the man who bought his life does not dare to return to the society. He tries to find some job, but fails and falls into poverty. He gives in to temptation to visit his estate pretending to be a accidental survivor from the hostages prison cell.
At that point I expected quite a lot. It looked me as a favourite territory of Graham Greene - dubious character in strange environment.
And here came total surprise.
Well, kind of disappointment for me although I cannot resist smile .

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The Zookeeper's War

The Zookeeper's War by Steven Conte
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

I was tempted to read this book by its title. There was obvious connection with The Zookeeper's Wife, which I rated quite high. Actually I preferred the movie over the book.
It looks, that reading the book about Warsaw Zoo and knowledge of some facts about its connection with Berlin Zoo completely disqualified Zookeeper's War.

Main character of Zookeeper's War is Alex Frey, a director of Berlin ZOO. He looks with sentiment at the portrait of his Father, who preceded him in this position.
So far, so good, I looked into Wikipedia to check what I remember from Zookeeper's Wife - director of Berlin ZOO during the war was Luck Heck. Yes, his father preceded him in this position.
And then... Mr Heck joined Nazi Party in 1937, but even before this he was enthusiast of National Socialism. He was personal friend of Herman Goring crazy about idea of reconstructing some mythical old German animal species.
As a Director of Berlin Zoo, in 1938, he passed a rule which prohibited Jews from visiting the zoo. On occasion of Hitler's birthday he was appointed a Professor.
During the war he was instrumental in pillaging the Warsaw Zoo, this is a role in which we can see him in Zookeeper's Wife.
More about Heck Luck achievements here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lutz_Heck

I was quite surprised that an Australian author choose as a topic of his book such exotic theme as Berlin Zoo during the II World War. But I cannot comprehend why he did not bother to check the most essential facts.

No wonder I read the book with some dismay and great suspicion.
Well, I got some negative satisfaction - the book is not only based on totally false foundations, it is also terribly boring. Pages and pages of descriptions of city landscapes after carpet bombing.
It looks to me that the only reason for writing this book was to show some intramarital issues, I have to admit there is some sense in it.
I was interested in final chapters - encounter with Red Army.
Disappointment again, generally not convincing and the final episode involving the main character I found simply disgusting.

P.S. The book was awarded a Prime Minister award in 2008.
2008, then Kevin Rudd was our Prime Minister. He was the only one of Australian Prime Ministers known to me, whom I could suspect for reading books. But it looks he accepted carelessly an award for a very dubious project.

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Monsignor Quixote

Monsignor Quixote by Graham Greene
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

As the title suggest a story based on M. Cervantes book.
A extremely honest and naive catholic priest and his friend, deposed city mayor with communist conviction, travel around Spain.
Place and time of action - Spain, around year 1980.
Timing is quite significant. In 1975 general Franco, autocratic ruler of Spain died and the country tried to move in democratic direction. The move was observed closely in Europe.
Now, 40 years later, very few people remember these events. Another point are changes in Catholic Church in early 1960 of which even less people are concerned now.
And one more - communism - ideas and political system almost forgotten.
As the result, quite substantial part of the book might be completely alien to many readers.
What remains? Humanly personality of main characters and few funny encounters. Not much.



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The Confidential Agent

The Confidential Agent by Graham Greene
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

In the Introduction to the book Graham Greene mentions, that he wrote it only for money while his main project at this time was The Power and the Glory.
To increase productivity he wrote the book in rented flat and under influence of Benzedrine.
The effect was obvious, he managed to write 2,000 words a day while his normal output was 500 words. Benzedrine took its toll. Late afternoon he returned home feeling very tired and smallest thing could upset him. He feels that in long term it was a main factor in his marriage breakdown.
But then, a next day came, he took a morning pill, sat in front of the blank page and the words started flowing on the paper.
The final effect? Graham Greene was so disappointed with the book, that his first idea was to publish it under different name.
My judgement is quite opposite, I prefer The Confidential Agent over The Power and the Glory.
The book was written in 1939, aftermath of the Spanish civil war. Graham Greene mentions, that the Munich Agreement of 1937 was also affecting his thoughts.
The book - Mr D. an agent of a revolutionary government of the country in the state of civil war comes to England to buy coal, which is essential to his government survival. From the very start he is plagued with innumerable misfortunes, troubles and oppression. Some imaginary, some real.
He reaches London where he meets his local contact and realizes, that nobody trusts him and that he cannot trust even people nominally representing his government.
Finally he arrives at the meeting with coal mines board of directors, negotiates a feasible deal and then discovers, that somehow his credentials disappeared, have been stolen. The contract is taken over by anti-government opposition.
This is too much, he converts into a hunter thirsty for blood of his oppressors. His hunt turns into a comedy of errors. He resigns and resorts to the last resort - meet coal miners' trade union and appeal to their solidarity with working class of his country.
The result is predictable.
And then, when everything failed, he is miraculously rescued.
I think, that the effects of Benzedrine are obvious - enormous density of actions and counteractions and the miraculous ending. On the other hand I liked the book, main reason was the main character fighting and ready for an ultimate sacrifice for a cause which is alien to him.

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Stamboul Train

Stamboul Train by Graham Greene
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I am glad that G. Greene first books I read were The Heart of the Matter and Our Man in Havana. If I had started with Stamboul Train, there is a chance I wouldn't finish the book and did not look for other books by this author.
My very first impression was that most of the characters in the book did not look realistic to me. Actually only Miss Warren, a very dynamic journalist, looked to me as a person with blood and bones.
Second strong impression and surprise was emphasis of Jewishness of one of the main characters.
In many reviews of this book I found comments about antisemitism of the author.
I do not share this opinion, actually my opinion is opposite.
Firstly it is gentiles who somehow recognize that Mr Myat is Jewish and it sends a signal , that this person should pay extra tips and charges.
Secondly, Mr Myat is shown as a generous person, somehow accepting, that he has to pay more.
In my opinion it shows the rising of antisemitism in Europe of 1932.
I wonder what was the aim of G. Greene? Was antisemitism so obvious in Europe, that he felt obliged to address this issue?
The story. I have to admit, that due to my disappointment with all the characters in the book I was not very interested with the plot. It was my loyalty to the author whom I rate very high, that I read the book to the last page. And then, retrospectively, I thought that it was quite well designed plot with typical "Greenesque" twists of motives and actions of main characters.

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