(I had hoped that my two copies of Divisadero would arrive at the bookstore today, but they didn’t. You can also see my review here)
"Divisadero" by Michael Ondaatje (Knopf, ISBN 9780307266354, $25.00)
"Divisadero" is Michael Ondaatje's first novel in almost seven years – and I've had the hardest time trying to write this review. I could go on about how good I think it is, or I could stand back and treat it like an extension of my master's thesis. Writing a summary of its intricate plot would be like trying to unweave individual threads from a Persian rug, so, I've given up trying to decide.
I've given up because I'm not sure anything I say can do justice to the book I've recently finished reading. I've tried speaking of addiction. I've tried speaking of the combination of prose and poetry – drawing in quotes from writers like David Malouf ("In every novel there are a hundred lost poems.") and Charles Baudelaire ("Always be a poet, even in prose."). I've even tried being snobby. None of it really works because, well, I'm conflicted. I wish everyone would read "Divisadero" and the rest of Ondaatje's work. I wish everyone would love it as much as I do. And yet, I want these books all to myself and a few select people: an elitist secret.
Despite all of that, however, I am compelled preach the gospel of Ondaatje...and make snooty references.
"Divisadero" begins in the late 1970's with a patchwork family in California. Anna, Claire, and Cooper are being raised by Anna's father on his large farm. Cooper is only a few years older than the two girls when he, after he moves into a small cabin on another section of the farm, has a brief affair with Anna. When Anna's father discovers them, the family is shattered by their startling, violent confrontation.
Afterwards, Anna runs away, never to see any of them again. Years later, she travels to France where she falls in love with a man named Rafael (who, if my guess is correct, is the son of David Caravaggio, the thief who has previously been a central character in both "In the Skin of a Lion" and "The English Patient"). Cooper runs away as well and later becomes a gambler in Reno where he brazenly scams a circle of dangerous crooks. Claire stays with her adoptive father for a time before moving to San Francisco to work for a lawyer. Each of these stories is juxtaposed with the story of Lucien Segura, a mysterious French writer, whose life Anna is researching. In Segura's story, Anna begins to see parallels to her own life, especially in regards to tragedy and violence and the way such things separate people from feelings of belonging.
All of Ondaatje's novels contain characters who have been separated geographically, chronologically, and emotionally. They are foreigners to the locations, or times, in which they find themselves, and each one carries some internal damage – a heartbreak, a betrayal, a knowledge of violence – for which they desire redemption, and forgiveness. This rocky geography of the character's inner lives is usually set against some historical figure or event (Billy the Kid, Buddy Bolden, Toronto's massive public works projects, World War
II, Sri Lanka's endless civil war). In this book, the five interwoven stories use the entire 20th Century as the back-drop. In the hands of a traditional novelist, this could have easily turned into a sprawling epic, thousands of pages long, but Ondaatje is a poet first, who happens to write novels. Like all poets, he expects his readers to be able to fill in the empty spaces with their own imaginations, and then live with the characters there even after the last page of the book.
That is one of the reasons why I adore his books. Reading Ondaatje is not at all like reading anyone else: I don't simply look at the words on the page and receive what has been put there. The mind has to interact with the words and engage what one of my instructors would call its "native intelligence." That same instructor once described her experience while reading Ondaatje's "The English Patient" by saying it seemed as if she were imagining the next word, the next sentence, the next image a split-second before she read it. I had a similar
experience, and have been addicted ever since.
Review by Jason Malott, May 17, 2007
"Divisadero" by Michael Ondaatje (Knopf, ISBN 9780307266354, $25.00)
"Divisadero" is Michael Ondaatje's first novel in almost seven years – and I've had the hardest time trying to write this review. I could go on about how good I think it is, or I could stand back and treat it like an extension of my master's thesis. Writing a summary of its intricate plot would be like trying to unweave individual threads from a Persian rug, so, I've given up trying to decide.
I've given up because I'm not sure anything I say can do justice to the book I've recently finished reading. I've tried speaking of addiction. I've tried speaking of the combination of prose and poetry – drawing in quotes from writers like David Malouf ("In every novel there are a hundred lost poems.") and Charles Baudelaire ("Always be a poet, even in prose."). I've even tried being snobby. None of it really works because, well, I'm conflicted. I wish everyone would read "Divisadero" and the rest of Ondaatje's work. I wish everyone would love it as much as I do. And yet, I want these books all to myself and a few select people: an elitist secret.
Despite all of that, however, I am compelled preach the gospel of Ondaatje...and make snooty references.
"Divisadero" begins in the late 1970's with a patchwork family in California. Anna, Claire, and Cooper are being raised by Anna's father on his large farm. Cooper is only a few years older than the two girls when he, after he moves into a small cabin on another section of the farm, has a brief affair with Anna. When Anna's father discovers them, the family is shattered by their startling, violent confrontation.
Afterwards, Anna runs away, never to see any of them again. Years later, she travels to France where she falls in love with a man named Rafael (who, if my guess is correct, is the son of David Caravaggio, the thief who has previously been a central character in both "In the Skin of a Lion" and "The English Patient"). Cooper runs away as well and later becomes a gambler in Reno where he brazenly scams a circle of dangerous crooks. Claire stays with her adoptive father for a time before moving to San Francisco to work for a lawyer. Each of these stories is juxtaposed with the story of Lucien Segura, a mysterious French writer, whose life Anna is researching. In Segura's story, Anna begins to see parallels to her own life, especially in regards to tragedy and violence and the way such things separate people from feelings of belonging.
All of Ondaatje's novels contain characters who have been separated geographically, chronologically, and emotionally. They are foreigners to the locations, or times, in which they find themselves, and each one carries some internal damage – a heartbreak, a betrayal, a knowledge of violence – for which they desire redemption, and forgiveness. This rocky geography of the character's inner lives is usually set against some historical figure or event (Billy the Kid, Buddy Bolden, Toronto's massive public works projects, World War
II, Sri Lanka's endless civil war). In this book, the five interwoven stories use the entire 20th Century as the back-drop. In the hands of a traditional novelist, this could have easily turned into a sprawling epic, thousands of pages long, but Ondaatje is a poet first, who happens to write novels. Like all poets, he expects his readers to be able to fill in the empty spaces with their own imaginations, and then live with the characters there even after the last page of the book.
That is one of the reasons why I adore his books. Reading Ondaatje is not at all like reading anyone else: I don't simply look at the words on the page and receive what has been put there. The mind has to interact with the words and engage what one of my instructors would call its "native intelligence." That same instructor once described her experience while reading Ondaatje's "The English Patient" by saying it seemed as if she were imagining the next word, the next sentence, the next image a split-second before she read it. I had a similar
experience, and have been addicted ever since.
Review by Jason Malott, May 17, 2007
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7 Notes to the Editor:
Jason, unexpectedly for you, perhaps, your review have made me laugh so hard at its very beginning, I had hard time finishing it. It's just that your description of Ondaatje addicts is so precise... And I must know, being one of them. I (like you) wrote my thesis on Michael Ondaatjee, and I also translated Running in the Family into Czech. All the time I was reading Divisadero, my heart just ached, you know, with that special "lyrical intellectual ache". And when I finished it, I wished nothing else then start reading it all over again, and again, and again ... to trz and find all (haha) there is to that book. Anyway, drop me a line, if you ever think we have a common interest (hanicka19@hotmail.com)
Oops, I was so eager to post my comment I never even checked it for typos. My deepest apologies...
Welcome Hana, I'm glad you found me.
You know, the worst part about Divisadero is that we'll have to wait a few years for something new. It's worth it though, isn't it?
I am also an Ondaatje addict, and in the midst of writing a novel. Throughout the writing process Divisidero has been a touchstone, a place where whenever I am stuck I can dip into. I will open to any page and be awakened by the liberation there. I look for what constitutes that special quality we seem to find in Ondaatje's writing, as though it were an equation to be deciphered, foolishly. I think now, though this might change over time, that one element of this quality, and maybe the most important, is that Ondaatje has an great and equal trust, both in the reader and in himself.
Welcome, Liam. I'm glad you stopped by and commented.
I believe you are right about Ondaatje's trust in himself and his reader. It's the same kind of trust I see in John Berger's work. If you haven't already discovered Berger (booker prize winner for the novel "G.") hunt him down.
Interesting what you say about Berger & Ondaadje. I collect both authors. Add Rebecca Solnit, and let's hope Alberto Manguel writes one of his superb essays on these writers!
Ditto Hanna Z. Typo: Ondaatje. Apologies! Sarah
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