People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks

Like a lot of the books I've read recently, People of the Book grabbed my attention because of the possibility of finding a story like The Shadow of the Wind. Some disappointed (351 Books of Irma Arcuri) and some provided similar entertainment, like People of the Book.

The premise of the story is nothing short of amazing, especially when you consider that it is based on a true story. A Jewish haggadah--a religious book that sets the order of the Seder--makes its way from Spain to Italy to Bosnia to Israel, with mishaps and large chunks of its history missing. It is illuminated--that is, it has illustrations--which is unheard of for Jewish texts. Also, it is saved multiple times not only by its Jewish owners but also by Muslims who recognize its beauty and importance.

Brooks tells it in a reverse order, with the Bosnia scene first and then working back to Spain. Interspersed in all of these histories is the story of Hanna Heath, an Australian book conservator who is called to Sarajevo to restore the newly rediscovered text. Five trace clues (a butterfly wing, a white hair, wine stains, silver clasps, and salt crystals) drive Hanna's multicontintenal investigation into the history aspect of the book. For Hanna, what ensues is a pretty predictable, rather unimaginative love story and finding of herself.

All in all, People of the Book is a good story that had great possibility. The telling of the story and the language used in that telling just fall short. Hanna's voice is just fine; it is straight and to the point, much how you would imagine Brooks' own journalistic voice. Unfortunately, that voice carries over to all of the historical parts too so that a story that is supposed to be told in the 1500s sounds like it is told today. Thus it loses a lot of the magic it could have held. That voice worked when Brooks was writing her article for the New Yorker on this very subject, but it doesn't work for the novel. While I don't expect her to change language or change her writing style, some sort of differential writing would have made the book a lot stronger.

Inglourious Basterds

I like a little violence with my hangover. Nothing like it to jolt you out of your self loathing than some good old-fashioned scalping, Tarantino style, in Inglourious Basterds.

He does with violence what fellow Michael Haneke, the Austrian director also known for his penchant for gore, does not. While Haneke makes you squirm and wince at his violence in movies like Funny Games, Tarantino makes you outright laugh at it, which may actually make you squirm just a bit more.

Not only does this violence uphold the Tarantino trademark but so do the overdone and overdramatic characters. In short, they are awesome. But before we go any further, the only thing you must know about the loosely constructed, multi-narrative plot is that it occurs in World War II and follows a few different groups attempting to bring down the führer himself.

Back to the characters... First, Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) and his band of avenging Jews. I truly want to hate Brad Pitt but he’s just too damn good, even with a ridiculous Tennesee accent.

I would say that Diane Kruger’s German accent for her character, actress Bridget von Hammersmark, was impeccable but of course a quick Wikipedia-ing of her would let you (well, me) know that she is indeed German. So it was nice to see her in her native tongue.

The other female lead is simply stunning. Shoshanna Dreyfus is the sole surviving member of her family who is hellbent on avenging their deaths, much like Lt. Raine's men. Mélanie Laurent, the French actress who plays Shosanna, is quirkily yet mesmorizingly beautiful in her role as femme fatale.

And now for who they are all talking about: Colonel Linda (Christoph Waltz). He’s suave, he’s slimy, he’s slightly gay. Basically everything I’d imagine in a Nazi commander. (Especially after watching all those History channel specials about their superstitions.) Worth his hype.

The only tempered character is the dairy farmer from the opening scene. I'd like to see some more of this Liev Schreiber-esque gentleman, Denis Menochet.

But characters and violence aside, what I found most intriguing about Inglorious Basterds is the liberty that Tarantino took with history. I won’t ruin the ending for all of you, but suffice to say I’d be more than intrigued to see what he would do with a sequel. Or the prequel. Or with the John Brown biopic. It’s making my head spin…