Little Jewel

Hello Gentle Reader

“The Telegraph,” recently published an article by John de St Jorre, in where he summarizes and discusses his memoir (“Darling Baby Mine: A Sons Extraordinary Search for his Mother,”) and his search for his mother who had gone missing while he was still a small child, at the tender age of four, during World War II. Her disappearance and absence was only met with silence, as the matter was never discussed by his father; and John and his brother, Maurice, concocted and concluded that their mother had died during the London Bombings, therefore quenching any further inquiries into her whereabouts by curious school mates and other children. John de St Jorre’s early life was not coloured with great warmth. His father was often away on business, leaving John and Maurice in the care of elderly spinsters, and then they distributed Catholic boarding school, where John confesses he and his brother suffered hunger, physical punishments, and of course intense loneliness. It was only later, did their father remarry to another woman, who would become a godsend to both the boys and their father. Their new mother, Edith, removed them from boarding school, and placed them in good solid state run schools. She went beyond this however, she created a home for the two brothers as well as their father, one that was stable and loving. Her only flaw de St Jorre admits: she also remained silent on the matter of the boy’s biological mother’s absence and whereabouts. Life would go on its now newly set itinerary. Though as John de St Jorre puts it, he did not forget about his mother, or neglect the only memory he still had, clinging to it closely; but also confesses that he did nothing to find her in the postwar periods, which all of Britain in its state of displacement and impoverishment shuffled along through. But he never forgot. John and his brother would go on and do quite well in their academics, and achieve success in their own lives. Maurice for instance, would become a mining engineer, and move to Canada; while John would serve in the military for two years (mostly stationed in Malaysia), and would later get a degree from Oxford. In his last year in Oxford, John de St Jorre was recruited into MI6, by his medieval history teacher, who was a ‘talent-spotter.’ Yet, his mother’s absence quickly became more and more pressing, with greater conflicted feelings of guilt. His stint with the secret service was short lived – though in order to be accepted into organization some information was required, and his father needed to release some information about his biological mother, which finally provided a name. Enter the 1960's with its swinging revolution, and his progressive outlook on life, and soon John de St Jorre would revolt with it, the old Victorian eras stringent code of conduct and polite behavior was soon cast aside, and the once taboo subject of his mother would be reopened. Yet the search for his mother was not easy. It was a ten year pursuit – which was as much a painful archaeological dig as it was a relieving exorcism. Needless to say John de St Jorre would find his mother.

John de St Jorre’s story mirrors the themes of Patrick Modiano’s novels; even his life could is similar to that of Patrick Modiano, with adjustments.  Much like de St Jorre’s father, Modiano’s father was often absent because of business. The difference: de St Jorre’s father was a marine engineer, while Patrick Modiano’s father was noted for his black market dealings with the Carlingue (the French Gestapo). Modiano is noted for having a strained relationship with his mother (in the case of John de St Jorre, his mother was absent due to mental illness) who was often absent from his life because she was touring with theatre groups. Modiano’s childhood along with his younger brother Rudy, was often spent in boarding schools. Rudy would later die at the age of nine. Rudy’s death would become a traumatic experience in Patrick Modiano’s life. Unlike John de St Jorre’s memoir, where he finds his mother; or where he finds solace in his new found stepmother who created a warm welcoming and stable home for him, his brother, and his father; Modiano’s world was continuously surrounded by ambiguities and a certain self-absorption of his two parents, in which he (and his late brother) were continuously cast a side. The absence and indifference by his parents and the ambiguities of the Nazi occupation of France, and his father’s dealings in it would later, become hallmarks of Modiano’s fiction, and would later seal his Nobel Laureate status.

Memories for both Patrick Modiano and John de St Jorre, are both powerful driving forces. However, on the contrary they are both ghosts that haunt them. For John de St Jorre, finding the whereabouts of his mother would lead him to finally exorcise his past of the oppressive silence, as well as the fleeting ghosts which anchored the absent figure into his personal reality. Concluding with evidence and attempting to start a relationship would finally wash away the doubts, the questions and the silence. For Patrick Modiano his entire bibliography is his cartographic exploration of the underbelly of memory, amnesia, absence, as well as silence; but also probes the depths of identity in its relation with memory, childhood traumas, absence of people and parents, and the grander indifference of history in itself. In the case of Patrick Modiano, the personal predictions and despair of his childhood and youth would later be the personal way to view how history is overlooked and forgotten by the populace who refuses to acknowledge its own past. In this case: France’s history and its ‘cooperation,’ during the Occupation by the Nazis.

“Little Jewel,” is a hallmark of Modiano’s bibliography; as it follows the similar pattern of most to all of his novels. The disconnected sense of the individual between the past and the present, the sparse sketched prose, and the underlying dread, doom and menace that encompasses the book. Where “Little Jewel,” deviates or dissents from other Modiano novels, is the narrator in this novel is a woman by the name of: Therese. Therese is a young adult (giving her age at nineteen) whose is adrift in Paris. She lives in a one room apartment in a former hotel, and supports herself by working temporary jobs. One evening on the metro though, Therese encounters a troublesome reminder of her complicated and emotionally complex past. On the metro she spots a woman in a yellow coat, who she swears could be here mother. There is just one problem: her mother supposedly died years earlier in Morocco. Therese is compelled to follow this ghostly mirage of her past through the streets of Paris back to her depilated apartment block, but leaves as she cannot compose herself to confront the woman. This surprising encounter is less then serendipitous for Therese, as memories from her childhood come into focus. It is revealed  - or  rather discerned - that her childhood was lonely, as Therese was often left to her own devices; or completely left behind in the rafters of her mother’s life, in the shadows and embrace of abandonment. Her mother came to Paris in her youth with aspirations and ambitions to become a prima ballerina; but this dream was quickly shattered by an unfortunate accident that crippled her ankle. Presumption tells us that Therese was a unplanned child, further more her birth brought further complications of those starlight dreams.  Dreams and ambitions are like grudges, they continuously burn despite the realities of the situation, which beg for forgiveness of acceptance.

Therefore, Therese was treated as a fashion accessory or a beloved pet for show, more so then a child. The lovely little pet name ‘Little Jewel,’ was less out of pure motherly thought or maternal love; but more cold and superficial with layers of conceited embellishment, which is forced upon Therese as she's wrangled into a small television appearance at her mothers maneuvering. For Therese's mother those starlit dreams are still tenable, but they come at the cost of her own daughters well-being and emotional nourishment. 

This period of Therese’s life is riddled with anonymous individuals, as well as names being changed frequently by her mother. It is noted Therese’s only companionship in her childhood was a ‘uncle,’ who would come pick her up and visit her, as well as her beloved dog, who would stay with her during the nights, and who would be disposed of by her mother, who shoed it away, abandoning it to the greater city. Any lasting emotional attachment or stability never existed for Therese. Her childhood came to its conclusion when her mother left for Morocco, abandoning Therese in some French village to be looked after by some friends. There in Morocco it is reported that Therese's mother would die alongside her compatriot, some man - no doubt a director or producer, who would make her a star. Despite her reptilian childhood and dispossessed and aimless early adulthood, Therese forms some emotional connections. One is to a little girl she is contracted to babysit, whose parents are equally as distant and cool as Therese's own mother, as if they are unsure of their own daughter treating her as a foreign entity or alien, or more precisely: an inconvenience. The second is a young man who translates foreign radio programs; and the third is a pharmacist who perhaps offers the most support to Therese. 

“Little Jewel,” is quietly bleak, and a stellar addition to match of all Modiano's novels. However, "Little Jewel," explores new territory in Modiano's grey landscape, it provides a silver streak of hope, in its symbolism of light. Of the three people in who Therese finds comfort and a emotional attachment to, there is a light for them. For the little girl, it is the light of her window beaconing out into the night. For the young translator it is the phosphorescent green light of his radio. As for the pharmacist it is the light from her pharmacy that draws Therese near out of the dark street. 

In this novel Patrick Modiano exorcises the complicated relationship between himself as a child and his parents: his mother’s indifference two her sons, and his father’s black market clandestine business affairs. In "Little Jewel," the relationship between mother and daughter becomes a motif of past and present, and it’s at times strained and irreparable damaged affair. The remnants of Therese’s love for her mother are often overshadowed by her childhood’s punctuated continual abandonment. Silence it seems echoes greater than the faintest ethereal whisper. “Little Jewel,” is indeed a little gem of a book, typical of a Modiano’s previous literary predilections, but with a new narrator’s voice and gender, which leads to a new perspective of the past, its silences, its alienating abandonment, and its persistent loneliness, which continually haunt the individual into the present.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

The Man Booker Prize 2016 Shortlist

Hello Gentle Reader

The six finalists have been named for this year’s Man Booker Prize, with an even split of female to male ratio of the writers. The list includes three English writers (one though born in Canada), two American writers, and one Canadian writer. The shortlist is as follows:

Deborah Levy – “Hot Milk,” (United Kingdom)

David Szalay – “All That Man Is,” (United Kingdom)

Graeme Macrae Burnet – “His Bloody Project,” (United Kingdom)

Ottessa Moshfegh – “Eileen,” (United States of America)

Paul Betty – “The Sellout,” (United States of America)

Madeline Thien – “Do Not Say We Have Nothing,” (Canada)

At first glance the shortlist does not appear unusual or out of place or more daring then recent lists prior. However, the book that stands out the most on this year’s shortlist is Graeme Macrae Burnet’s novel “His Bloody Project.” The novel has been described by some readers and critics as a crime novel; while others view it as a historical novel discussing a crime, and does not follow the typical crime novel pattern. This being said the shortlisted authors have beaten some of the more well-known writers that were included on the longlist, such as two time Booker winner and Nobel Laureate J.M. Coetzee. Deborah Levy once again finds herself on the shortlist since her last novel “Swimming Home.” Her novel “Hot Milk,” examines the toxicity of the mother daughter relationship, while also examining aspects of female rage and sexuality. David Szalay’s novel has also received attention for the questions of its form. The novel has been described some as being nine short stories in a sequence that creates a novel; the judges however have said the book is required to be read in a novelistic format to get a greater appreciation for the work; it’s been called a post-Brexit novel as it looks Europe as it faces greater difficulties and adverse changes. The Canadian writer Madeline Thien tackles the bloody history of China’s Cultural Revolution and the effects of the Tiananmen Square Protests in her novel “Do Not Say We Have Nothing.” While the two American writers on the list, beat out the more well-known writer Elizabeth Stout for their places on the shortlist.

This year’s Booker Prize has been called vigorous and rewarding; as it tackles international concepts as well as taboo subjects. One more mention to the shortlist, there are no doorstoppers this year on the shortlist. Perhaps at long last the ‘meganovel,’ has finally succumbed to some pruning and editing.

The winner for this year’s shortlist will be announced October 25^th. Personal opinion (as I have not read any of the books, and am only acquainted with one) I’d like to see Deborah Levy win this year’s award. This being said: Best of luck to all of the writers!

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

Villa Triste

Hello Gentle Reader

August invites autumn. Now in the waning days of September the oily haze of summer is beginning to burn off. Though the air has not quite turned crisp yet, life is beginning to set back into its routine trajectory. The first day of school has come and past. As a yellow school bus begins to turn its wheels down the street, doors are already opening, and a twelve year question is once again uttered: “how was school today?” The answers given will most certainly vary. Later on, around the dinner table, stories of the day will be exchanged. Stories of the mundane: the office politics, or the idiosyncrasies of new teachers, who are still tanned and fondly remembering the sand of a few months ago. Each one feels and understands that the summer had once again passed them by, too soon and too fast. Summer as a season is a doomed love affair, one which can only be found but never expected to last. It is an unwritten rule that summer love is to be extinguished in September rains; while autumn’s leaves will most certainly sweep its ashes away. The days itinerary are more rigidly set now. There is no room for the languid air of summer, with its day dreams and lazy afternoons. Everything now must operate in its clockwork fashion. The dawns will brighten with bashful virginal weariness. The sun will rise, and will continue to orbit overhead. By late afternoon the day has already turned weary. Come evening its yawning. After twilight and a final wave goodbye, the crone of dusk with lantern and broom in had sweeps it out in preparation for the night. Then the moon takes its place, and the world shifts its aura in a new manner. The nights should have been reserved for the young; but alas the debauched and the depraved require sanctuary; along with the sleepless and the hopeless, the wanderlust dreamers, as well as the posse of philosophers heading home after their soirée of ideas and ideals, as they’ve concocted a way in which to save the world and the human race; which will alas fade into the dreams and be forgotten come the morning.

It doesn’t matter if the scene is sunny; or if it’s drenched in rain; or overcast with clouds – in the world of Patrick Modiano, there is always a constant threat of doom or unsettling menace which creeps in. The characters are foreign to themselves and to each other. They keep their secrets to themselves, and allow others to keep grasping or trying to find a way to break through their facades, in order to gather a greater appreciation of their character. They are always rebuffed. Patrick Modiano turned out to be one of those surprise writers, in which the Nobel was able to elevate beyond the obscurity in which he found himself in prior. Much like fellow Nobel Laureate: Herta Müller, Patrick Modiano became a delectable literary treat upon his recognition, with the Nobel’s assistance. His writing style is deceptively simple. Landscapes are described in brief and spare strokes. Streets, avenues, roads, allies, neighborhoods, are listed, but never defined. This often gives Modiano’s work a sense of tour guide like brochure air to it. Yet the tour of Modiano’s Paris would be less inclined to the city of lights publicly shining portrait. Modiano’s Paris, often has the sense of being a ghost town.  A place habited by the world weary and shipwrecked souls of history; people best overlooked and forgotten in their squandered apartments and hotels. It’s a place of now demolished garages, and seedy café’s which have been rejuvenated with the spirit of youth. Patrick Modiano’s Paris is also inclined to have memory slips, and strong fits of amnesia, as it often overlooks or fails to remember its own part when it was the setting and battleground the for the arbitrary machinations of history. The world of Modiano is one riffled with criminals, black dealings, drifters, and drinkers; but it’s also known for its savvy  writers and theatrical performers; and those poor naïve and often aimless youth who get caught up in their affairs and predilections, and often end up even more dazed and confused when the entire affair is over.

One such naïve youth is the narrator of Patrick Modiano’s novel “Villa Triste,” a certain young man who hides himself behind the name Count Viktor Charma. He flees Paris escaping the dread and doom which encompasses the city, as the Algerian war rages on in North Africa. He finds himself in a swanky spa town situated on Lake Geneva, bordering Switzerland, which is described as mystifying and ethereal, but exhumes its own sense of dread and forbidding menace. 

“The vegetation here is thoroughly mixed; it’s hard to tell if you’re in the Alps, on the shores of the Mediterranean, or somewhere in the tropics. Umbrella pines. Mimosas. Fir trees. Palms. If you take the boulevard up the hillside, you discover the panorama: the entire lake, the Aravis mountains, and across the water, the elusive country known as Switzerland.”

In this small spa town the young Count Charma comes into contact with two unusual acquaintances: the aspiring young actress: Yvonne and her equally existentially afflicted Great Dane; and a homosexual Doctor René Meinthe. All three from Viktor Charma, to Yvonne, as well as the flighty, sprightly and mysterious Doctor, in typical youthful fashion have two much time on their hands as well as a world of wealth to currently waste along with it. It would certainly come to be a memorable summer; but in Modiano fashion the dread of the mundane slowly begins to creep in and infect their world of lazy summer afternoons, day dreams and youthful carefree bliss. The fake Count, Viktor Charma himself has left behind a life dubious life in Paris, and has fled the atmosphere and the possibility of being drafed into the Algerian war. Mentions of his father are often associated with a world which is overcast in dark and seething undercurrents, where one is not entirely sure, what his father did, but it most certainly pertained to unsavory activities, often involving dubious affairs, which had the glamour of a respectable and luxurious life. Questions are raised about Yvonne’s film, and her own past in which she attempts to escape. This comes at the forefront, when Viktor and Yvonne have dinner with her uncle, who runs a garage out in the spa town, and admits the garage’s early days where when it repaired the planes during World War II; but its respectability came to an end when Yvonne’s father had got himself into some ‘trouble.’ Yet it is the flamboyant and odd Doctor René Meinthe who holds the most secrets in the novel. He often travels across the border into Switzerland, and receives odd telephone calls at night, where he is instructed to meet his cohorts on the other side. It turns out Meinthe is also secretly involved with the Algerian War; what exactly it is, is never elucidated upon any farther. Though it should be interesting to noted, René Meinthe’s father was also a doctor, and regarded as a local hero in the community (where he is immortalized with a street named after him) because of his participation in the French Resistance during World War II. Doctor René Meinthe has either failed to reach the same glory of his father, or is indifferent towards the parochial fame of his father.

Summer does not last forever, and no one is ever immune to this seasonal adjustment. The trio of friends soon begins to realize the haze of summer is coming to its seasonal foreclosure, when the spa days, shut up for autumn and winter, and cease to operate until the next season. As summer burns itself out, and the tourists all but dissipate, from which they’ve come, Viktor crafts a plan in which he can remain with Yvonne; but when its released an advertised with enthusiasm, its met with cool detachment. One of the hardest aspects of youth though most certainly is accepting the disposable nature of relationships and that a flimsy fling of a relationship, has no other existence or substance beyond it.

“Villa Triste,” is one of Patrick Modiano’s earlier novels, where he is still coming into his style, which would haunt his more mature works. The novel is still remarkable on its merits. Its depiction of depraved youth in a small spa town during one summer is evocative of youthful indulgence now past; as the youth of the novel is set in summer with its light and lively atmosphere, which is juxtaposed against the cruel winter which is depicted in later years, and where one character’s sorrow reaches its unfortunate conclusion. The novel however, leaves numerous questions left unanswered, which is typical of Modiano; though in prior works the inclinations answers reverberate from the past, and allow the reader to theorize the answers of gaps and lapses of time and memory. “Villa Triste,” is remarkable and noteworthy more for its atmospheric enjoyment of the indulgence of youth now past; and how fleeting and unremarkable it is. The aimlessness and the naivety, all wrapped up in a hypnotic display of a lazy summer frolicking day dream; now tainted with the bitter sting of time now past. This is one of Modiano’s enjoyable earlier novels; the humour is at times a bit forced, but it begins to show the author come into his own with the atmosphere, the dread and the creeping menace of an unseen predator or memory lurking in the rafters or wings of the action.

 Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary 

Tranquility

Hello Gentle Reader

Hell has once been proclaimed as being other people. Then family must be eternal suffering. Family as suffering is a unique form of hell; one in which victim and perpetrator cycle through each other, complete with their own shifts, calendars and seasons, along with an array of new techniques in which to fan the flames. In the dynamics of the game of power and subordination of the family, someone must suffer, their turn equally. A dish must be broken; a door must slam; a threat of divorce must be on the horizon; someone’s home cooked meal must be left untouched and unconsumed on the table, while the others growl in protest on their beds. Some must be scorned, and someone must unleash it. Of course it’s not always the physical actions which are present that makes it help; there is of course the interrogative incantations filled with interloping probes: “where are you going?” or “who are you talking to?” or “what are you eating?” or “when are you leaving?” or “how are you going to get back?” – In preparation for this one has already concocted their own enchantments to dissuade and counteract the onslaught which will descend them: “nowhere,” “no one,” “nothing,” “don’t know,” “no idea.” Each of us in our own way survives the hell of family; as we are continually drawn back to it. We overlook our missteps or mishaps and our mistakes. We forgive (even if it’s not outright) and accept the shortcomings of those we know the best, not by choice, but by obligation. And some of us are foolish enough to transpire and transgress, while following in the shadows and experiences of their parents, by producing their own families, fit with their own stage to begin once again a family theatre of cruelty and absurdity.

Attlia Bartis is an ethnic Hungarian born in Romania. Bartis’s father was a journalist, and before the family immigrated to Hungary in nineteen-eighty four, they were continuously harassed by the State (communism did not apparently over look ethnic differences or oddities in its utopian sense of equalitarianism; at least not under Ceaușescu's view and interpretation of communism; or perhaps it had to do with his father being a journalist.). When the family immigrated to Hungary, they settled in Budapest; and here in the nation’s capital Attlia Bartis would study photography, a profession still practiced alongside his literary endeavors; Bartis’s photographs are noted for being shown in numerous exhibitions. “Tranquility,” is Bartis’s debut novel in English, and was quickly praised by critics and readers alike. The novel would go on and receive “The Best Translated Book Award,” seven years ago (2009). Since then there has been no word of Bartis’s and any future translations. Research though shows that Attlia Bartis is not a prolific writer (as it’s a secondary endeavor to his main interest of photography), where he has a short story collection published, a novella, as well as a theatrical adaption of “Tranquility.” 

           

The co-dependent hell of Andor Weér in “Tranquility,” far exceeds the normal dysfunctional dynamics of a typical family unit, and its inferno punishment. In Attlia Bartis’s novel, the relationship between the son (Andor) and his monster of a mother (Rebeka Weér) is the focal point of the novel. The complex (and oedipal) relationship between mother and son, becomes a battle ground of the obscene, visceral, grotesque, with the faintest slivers of sincerity salt and peppered throughout. In this novel, Attlia Bartis’s observes the power clash and subjection of one individual beneath the domination of another; the roles of the subdued and the dominator often change in the chaotic turbulence of the small apartment in which they freely choose to coincide in. The occupation of Hungary by the Soviets during this period is not the main focus of the novel; but rather a landscape or scene designed to depict the historical backdrop of the period, which is only glimpsed out of the window; and only occasional makes its unwelcome self, known within the house.

The novel opens with the bureaucratic process of death being artfully observed, in which Andor attempts to prolong his mother’s corpse ‘preservation,’ in a freezer for a while longer, so his lover Eszter too can witness the funeral of his mother. The funeral clerk, informs him that cannot be a possibility, and despite the offer of a bribe, she quotes a health regulation and declines. The funeral procession then continues without Eszter present. As the novel progresses forward, we soon begin to have an understanding of Andor Weér and the three complicated women in his life: first his mother Rebeka; second his sister Judit; and third his lover Eszter. Andor Weér is a writer himself; he published a short story collection, and finds himself committed to readings and tours, as well as interviews; where his own neurosis and general misanthropy are advertised towards his fellow human beings. This can all be understood, considering the environment Andor was subjected to. His mommy dearest (Rebeka) was a famous actress, most well known for her rendition of Shakespeare’s Cleopatra in “Antony and Cleopatra.” However, typical of an individual whose used to adoration and praise of critics and theatre viewers, Rebeka was a narcissistic creature who had little to no time left for her family or children; for the ambition of the stage would call first and foremost for her. However, times do change, and dearest mother had fallen out of fashion – at least in the ideological sense; and her acting career was no longer existent. Once the stage was no longer accessible and the lights extinguished, Rebeka had no reason to leave her apartment and resigned herself to her reclusive state. However, her theatrics were anywhere but left behind. As Andor points out the furniture in the crypt like apartment, was stolen from sets and theatres:

“The armchair had once belonged to Lady Macbeth, the bed to Laura Lenbach, and the chest of drawers to Anna Karenina.”

Now a recluse with no contact with the outside world, Rebeka turns her festering resentment and hatred towards Andor. Her probing questions – such as: “wherehaveyoubeenson?” is more an opening argument by the inquisition, then it is a dotting affectionate annoyance of maternal love or care. Yet it is Judit’s fault that Rebeka finds herself alienated and banned from the stage; and withering away in her own theatrical tomb. Judit the talented and prodigious violinist had a strained relationship with her mother; often in passive aggressive remarks, criticizing her mother’s lack of nurture and self-absorption; it is Andor in their childhood who is more forgiving towards his mother. Judit’s talents however take her abroad, and she defects from communist Hungary and her more oppressive mother. Soon Rebeka is placed in a position. The state is well aware of how talented Judit is, and would appreciate those talented fingers, to return to Hungry; and who better to persuade dear Judit to promptly return, but dearest mother. With Rebeka’s attempts falling on deaf ears, she declares Judit dead to her, and in a macabre pseudo-funeral, symbolically buries her daughter. This publicity stunt of mitigation however is not favoured by the authorities and soon Rebeka succumbs to the solitude of her existence. Soon the insanity that engrosses and connects Rebeka and Andor begin to take shape. His accommodations of his mother are frighteningly charged with resentment and deeply rooted affection; which borders on the most obscene thoughts a child could have towards their parent. Then Enters Eszter and the family dynamics and power struggle becomes even more vitriolic with a good seasoning of savagery, in which each one perpetrates on to the next.

“Tranquility,” is both bleak and humorous in it depicting the misanthropy, vitriol, and neurosis of its characters. It is with a great shame though, that I could not get engrossed by the novel because of studying and work often superseded my freedom and allotted time to read the book. “Tranquility,” would not be described as a novel for the impressionable or those of a delicate nature; but as much as one finds the characters deplorable, disgusting, debauched and completely deprived of any human trait; it is humorous and often lightens an otherwise disturbing novel. Though it certainly can be said that hell, no matter what shape or form; ignited or frozen – it most certainly would be best defined that hell resides in the nature that human beings are social creatures, but are capable of consciously inflicting misery and cruelty onto others around them; but also crave the social desires of being around others (even if it’s only for a short time). Hell then resides in the family unit; it resides in the work place; and personal opinion: one of the greatest hells one can suffer and endure is living with other people. Yet it were to seem the root of all hell (this coming naturally from an introvert) resides in the essence and nature of humans being social creatures; and we do require a personalized amount of it. “Tranquility,” is a unique observation of a skewered family dynamics of an extremely dysfunctional family, often seen in the view of an extremely dysfunctional relationship between mother and son. It’s a relationship built on grounds of inherited adoration and narcissistic desire, along with heavy dosages of guilt and grief; all tied together with a codependent need for each other. “Tranquility,” moves between obscenity and sincerity; what the difference is by the end, I couldn’t say.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary