Showing posts with label neighbors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label neighbors. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

The Slap / by Christos Tsiolkas

An Australian author of Greek extraction, Christos Tsiolkas is a lifelong resident of Melbourne. He was the editor of his student newspaper in both high school and college and penned his first novel, Loaded, in 1995 at the
 age of 30. The novel was later made into the film Head On, a piece which won several AFI (Australian Film Institute) awards and gained international notoriety for both its controversial subject matter and riveting performances. In addition to his six full-length novels, Tsiolkas has written a number of plays and screenplays, many of which, like his fiction, have held worldwide acclaim. The Slap, his latest novel published in 2008, examines the conflict-driven sequence of events following a publicly controversial incident at a neighborhood barbecue.


"He bloody broke it. He should be punished."

At a family get together, an obnoxious three-year-old named Hugo acts aggressively toward another child without intervention. When the father of the victimized child sees nothing being done by the parents of the perpetrator, he slaps the kid across the face. Everyone is so horrified by the incident that, after a brief pause, the families disperse. A day later, the parents of the slapped child have the slapper arrested. The event is conflicted and complicated enough but their are deeper issues among the adult party-goers themselves. Hosts Hector and Aisha, a childless interracial couple, have their own private secrets just as they feel conflicted, caught in the middle as they are, about the incident. The slapper is Hector's hot-headed cousin, Harry, their original family having immigrated from Greece a generation previous. Harry defends his actions, feeling he was justified to discipline another couple's unruly offspring, and is defensive about the whole thing along along with Hector's mother and father who also witnessed the event. Hugo's parents are Rosie and Gary, a hippie-ish Anglo-saxon couple who say they never intervened because they believe in a more "naturalistic" resolution to matters of this sort, preferring to stand back and let any repercussions develop without a third party. Both Rosie and Gary--but especially Rosie--are simply outraged at Harry's act and are planning to press charges in full despite the uproar from the other side. As the trial approaches, furious Rosie and defensive Harry put more and more pressure on Aisha and Hector to testify on their behalf.

This book isn't really about child abuse or proper modes of discipline or anything like that. The slapping incident is really just a way to examine the dynamics of family and friendship connections, originally at the barbecue to look at how people of different backgrounds come together and then into a more privatized world of individual families and relationships. It's not an easy book to summarize. Tsiolkas uses his premise, a not uncommon everyday incident, to stabilize his larger structure. But his real talent is for exploring the inner lives of his eight primary characters, four women and four men, ranging in age from 18 to 70, all from different perspectives, family situations and ethnic origins. There are no stock characters in Tsiolkas' story. Each individual is a sharp observer with a particular personality, a personalized opinion. As things happen in the lives of the characters that have nothing to do with the case and are far more interesting, the audience is introduced to the truly idiosyncratic stations of all involved. No one is necessarily evil, no one deserves to be hit, or even judged negatively though all are distinctly flawed. Everyone means well, and everyone is doing the best he or she can; but then again, everyone is awfully angry. (FIC TSIOLKAS)

Monday, July 25, 2011

The End of Everything / by Megan Abbott


There has never been a time that 13-year-olds Lizzie Hood and Evie Verver weren't best friends. Nextdoor neighbors, in the same class at school and always in the same clubs and sports teams, they've been inseparable their entire lives. So when Evie suddenly disappears one day without a trace, it goes without saying that Lizzie is more than a little devastated. No one can think of a reason why anyone would want to kidnap or harm Evie. But is there? Evie's disappearance has coincided with another disappearance, that of Mr. Harold Shaw, a neighbor and parent from up the street. Days then weeks pass by and it becomes obvious that this is more than just a coincidence. Lizzie too starts to put the missing pieces together of her own puzzle together, recalling subtle hints and vague clues to how such a thing could have culminated. As the mystery continues without much evidence, it provides Lizzie with an odd and very curious opportunity to reflect on just how the bond of friendship can promote a trust which conceals hidden secrets.

Abbott, author of the Edgar nominated Bury Me Deep about a peculiar depression-era crime, takes an odd angle here with a shocking but not-all-that-uncommon story told in first person by the victim's best friend. It works well enough although some part linger a little too long on less important material and not enough attention is given to other, seemingly more pertinent aspects of the story--why Lizzie's own father left for one and accounting for Evie's real relationship with her older sister Dusty. Sometimes Lizzie's little revelations and discoveries aren't as authentic as they come across--possibly what Abbott intended--and at times there's a little too much melodrama driving the narrative. Attempting with the semi-reliable narration by the young protagonist to reveal a child 'growing up' through a crisis is a solid concept and the author displays her keen insight and intuition. Yet it's hard to dismiss the fact that most of Lizzie's personal growth comes not from her own inner voice and self-analysis but from interpersonal encounters with other characters, namely Dusty and Mr. Shaw's only son Pete, storylines which may be a bit too marginalized. (FIC ABBOTT)