November 01, 2005

Review of Julie Mango

Julie Mango by N.D. Williams. Xlibris Corporation. 300pages. USA. 2000.

Reviewed by D. Gokarran Sukhdeo
(Winner, 1998 Guyana Prize for Literature.)

The last decade or so has seen an immense number of published works emanating from Guyanese writers at home and abroad; some good, some mediocre. One of these works stands head and shoulders among its contemporaries, and certainly ranks among good modern writing. Julie Mangois a collection of short stories by N. D. Williams. It is however surprising and unfortunate that little is known of this author who has written prodigiously before.

Born in Guyana, he was educated at the University of the West Indies and lived a good deal in the islands before migrating to the U.S. Hence, he writes about the West Indian experience �" poverty and astigmatic politics, the astonishing beauty of the Caribbean, and of the anguished peoples sequestered by the sea, their yearning to break out from the limits of their horizons, the opening up of the minds of those who succeed in breaking out, and the sad experiences of those returning to the Caribbean shores.

Good literature is about the purposeful presentation of the lives of people through a language style and structure that will open up the souls of the common man to the reader. It inexorably arouses not just the five senses, but also the deepest emotions, and consequently effects a change in the reader. The reader becomes more informed, more empathetic, more motivated, and more involved. When the good writer describes a desert, the reader must experience a thirst; when he speaks of love, the reader must be ecstatic. The reader must become the protagonist and cry when the hero (or heroine) suffers or triumphs. In the end there must be a lesson to be learned, an example to emulate, or an error to avoid. In effect, good literature, as against the tradition of western popular writings, satisfies a dual purpose �" it represents reality, and promotes morality; or simply put, it both informs and improves the reader. The writer therefore has a responsibility to the reader and to society. He must look beyond the mercenary, as one who is responsible for shaping the mind of his younger brother, one who does not merely strut and fret his hour upon the stage, but also one who must leave social and historical footprints. It is within these parameters that good literature such as
Julie Mango is examined.

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October 30, 2005

Poem:Brian Chan

Dog At Your Door

 

              In her dark house you sisters sleep still unaware

              of this barking hungry dog outside scratching hard

              at the back door through which he smells your mother’s ghost

              burning up your bread  books and  boots in her oven

 

              You wake first and shake Norma wishing she could keep

              sleeping and dreaming of a song without questions

              and Ruth keeps her eyes shut for she will not tell where

              the key to your mother’s house is that would admit

 

              me who won’t ignore her and let out you who would

 

Brian Chan was born in Guyana and now lives in Alberta, Canada. These poems are from his new collection Gift of Screws which will be published by Peepal Tree Press in February 2006.

            


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November Poems

Poems by Brian Chan

 
 Waiting On The Waitress

 

Empty hands need fire

to play with, to burn by,

so as to smoke a new

 

map of the world in her tired

face now shadowing like a cloud

the questions of your open hand

 

Twilight Over Saskatoon

 Out of the blue-jade

     gouache of a smoky sky,

          the perfect batik-dot of a sun

               stares de haut en bas at us riding this bus

          as though neither it nor we must fade,

      nor the earth turn nor the eye

more gradually dark.

 

 

Brian Chan was born in Guyana and now lives in Alberta, Canada. These poems are from his new collection Gift of Screws to be published by Peepal Tree Press in February 2006.

                                       Copyright 2005©by Brian Chan

Posted by Milton Drepaul at 00:18:22 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

October 12, 2005

“The Mystic Masseur”: Enduring Insights

After 40+ years my Penguin soft cover The Mystic Masseur has survived boxes and climate change and interludes of neglect surprisingly well. The cover though stained still hangs tough, but the pages have faded into brownish-yellow. Reading the novel again the other day I found myself lapsing into that earlier excitement at discovering what a master of West Indian prose and character invention Naipaul already was. Then I started skipping pages, not laughing as much; noticing how rather too often the Great Belcher belches.

Then I paid more attention to the parts I'd underlined  for reasons that are still vague, except perhaps it was possible then to identify similar scenarios of existence  in colonial Guiana, analogous behaviours in our villages and townships far away from Fuente Grove, Trinidad. So here for new readers – from the man who would teach us ways of looking at ourselves! from the Knight surveyor of our darkness! from his Mystic Masseur  – 18 lluminations:

Posted by Milton Drepaul at 04:41:32 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

October 05, 2005

October Poem

 

             To A Fish Out Of Water

 
                 You know your loneliness is final

                 when the best words no longer comfort

                 and breath flows neither bitter nor sweet

                 in your indifference of a desert

                 whose cathedrals that match your cool are

                 looming around you like dried cacti.

                 Your despair rhymes with their stark stare but their

                 plainness finds no echo in your skew eye.

    

Brian Chan was born in Guyana and now lives in Alberta, Canada. These poems are from his new collection Gift of Screws to be published by Peepal Tree Press in February 2006.

                                       Copyright 2005©by Brian Chan

 


Posted by Milton Drepaul at 20:37:59 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |
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