Darryl Samaraweera

This is the sort of book that makes me want to write. Yes, that's a double-edged sword. Although it was captivating enough for me to keep reading, it also came across in parts like the product of a creative writing course. The descriptions are neat and well handled, with sufficient variation in simile, metaphor, and other literary tricks. The overall narrative voice is individual, steeped in an informed authorial background. And yet the reach seems somewhat restrained. A touch of humour tries to break through occasionally, but it is strangely muted, perhaps self-censored. Eventually, it seemed to me to be two-dimensional. Well crafted, worth dipping into, but nevertheless two-dimensional.… (meer)

"Vicky slipped into the coma at 2.30 on Sunday afternoon, after having cooked a beautiful 8lb chicken."

Samaraweera's novel starts with Vicky's lapse, and follows her family as they adjust to life keeping vigil over their formerly vibrant matriarch as she is shuffled from hospital to hospital. Interspersed with these scenes, we are also given the view from Vicky's perspective - although aware of her surroundings, she isn't very interested in them: her main focus is on the journey she is making inside her own head, suddenly 6 years old again and following a magical path.

This is certainly not an easy read. It's very consciously stylised: there isn't a single line of direct or reported speech in the entire book, something that is very deliberately done, perhaps to try to both honestly convey the reality of the situation and remain faithful to what is "believable" in fiction. There are odd asides in the book referring to the craft of writing, and one passage references a conversation between 'Vicky's eldest' (who is the main focus of the book, and from whose perspective we see much of the action - or rather inaction) and his professor at college:

And still they needed dialogue. It was getting harder to agree. It wouldn't sound right word by word. After all, who would imagine telling jokes and laughing? It would be too difficult to believe on the page.

The absence of names in Vicky's immediate family also contributes to this sense of claustrophobia: everyone in the family is defined by their relationship to Vicky, and only outsiders have "real" names. At a sentence-by-sentence level, this can cause some problems - there are too many "hes" and "shes" flying around and I found I had to re-read a lot to be clear as to who was addressing who.

I wouldn't really be able to say I enjoyed this - it's definitely a book you have to read slowly and carefully, but in the end I didn't feel adequately rewarded for that investment of time. An interesting book nonetheless.… (meer)