Book Review: Gone to the Forest by Katie Kitamura

‘The country was in turmoil. And there was besides: sickness and growing and dying. How could they do anything but give in, to what was obvious, rather than what was good? In the face of that accumulation.’

Katie Kitamura’s debut novel, The Longshot, was one of the unexpected delights that come along only too rarely. The story of the final fight by a not-quite brilliant Mixed Martial Arts fighter, it managed to recreate the computer game feeling of having an opponent reach into my chest, pluck my heart out, and holding it aloft, gently squeezing it, from first sentence to final image. It revealed Kitamura as a brilliant writer in her own right; and an air to the minimalist legacy of Hemingway, McCarthy and Coertzee.

Gone to the Forest (The Clerkenwell Press, 2013) confirms such comparisons as entirely appropriate. With sharp, slashing prose and perfectly balanced storytelling, Kitamura explores the death throes of colonialism in a nameless nation.

Tom and his father live on a large rural farm. Ever since he came to the country, the old man has bent everything to him. His unremitting desire, big personality, and ruthless control ensure the farm has been successful, all those around him reliant on him for their safe orbit. But now disruption and native rebellion in the country threatens all he has built, and ill health begins to catch up with him. Tom, cowering in his father’s shadow, has eyes only for the land. It is all he has known. Other farmers circle, danger looms. And when a woman named Carine arrives, the future – whatever it holds – begins to bear down upon them.

In a chapter of pounding intensity, Kitamura brings these man-made tensions together in the midst of a massive volcanic eruption. Fire and brimstone filling the sky. Blocking out the sun. Then covering the land in ash that falls relentlessly. Sending animals wild and driving people to recklessness. It’s a powerful metaphor, the earth purging itself of colonial rule. The cataclysm that births a new age. Identities are questioned, relationships strained.

There’s much Coetzee here, a sort of mix of the wild frontiers of Waiting for the Barbarians and the search for peace away from troubled times of Life and Times ofMichael K. What is particularly clever is the way that Kitamura subtly questions notions of affinity with a landscape. Where much literature associates native peoples with affinity for the land, here it the character of Tom – slow, passive, uncertain; Michael K with privilege – who longs for nothing other than to escape people and live in peace with the landscape. But he is less resourceful than Michael K. Where Coetzee’s character bends a spoon to a natural well and drinks a thimble full at a time – ‘in that way, one can live’ – one does not have the feeling Tom would survive long. And his father’s health is rapidly failing.

On the other hand, the natives here ‘do not believe in property until it is theirs’, at which point they subject it entirely to their will. Cut it up into little pieces. This is the story of the colonialists, but that is not to say that this is a pro-colonial book. It is not pro-anything. Merely presents a series of characters in a fresh light, and the tragedies of upheaval.

Gone to the Forest is a tense, expertly controlled novel. One to read in one sitting. It is short, and the prose races along at a pace not even change can keep up with. Katie Kitamura is one of the most exciting voices in contemporary writing, and this is a marvellous addition to the already heaving realms of colonial/post colonial literature. If writers made swords, Kitamura would be the sort fabled in a Tarantino film. You will not find sharper, finer minimalist prose anywhere. 

Book Review: The Longshot by Katie Kitamura

“There was no ball, no goal, no base. There was noth­ing but air and inten­tion. The two fight­ers made the fight. Together they had to make it real.”

Mixed Martial Arts fighting is not a subject one would expect to find a large readership outside the sport’s loyal fanbase. But in her debut novel, The Longshot, Katie Kitamura mines this tense psychological territory, this ripe and humming ‘air and intention’, and fashions from it an absorbing, intense and terrifically written page-turner. Readers, myself included, who wouldn’t think to try it, emerge amazed at how much they have engaged with the characters and their journey. For the thing about writing and storytelling the world over is that it’s not so much what you write about that makes a story, but how you do so.

The plot follows Cal - once the next big thing, a fighter with the potential, the skill to become champion – and his friend and trainer Riley, as they head down to Mexico for a long-awaited rematch with Rivera, a legendary and undefeated fighter. Four years ago, Cal took him the distance, the first fighter to do so. But it cost him. That defeat, the realisation of his fallibility and the memory of pain. These have left their mark. This time, the fight is all or nothing for Cal.

Set over four days leading up to and including the big fight, The Longshot is a fast paced, insightful and exhilarating work of fiction by a major new talent. Kitamura matches her style to the violent masculine subject matter, producing a taut and convincing tale of two men on the edge of a psychological precipice, a glimpse of the intensity of an athlete/trainer relationship, and a powerful portrayal of the joys and pitfalls of dedicating life to sporting success. Kitamura demonstrates an economy of descriptive prose – take away place names and there are perhaps only a handful of words of more than three syllables in the entire book - but not of either intensity or emotion. She employs her sentences like short sharp jabs and kicks, elucidating the psychological landscape of fighter and fighting in a way that is accessible and attractive both to fans of mixed martial arts and the lay reader. She recreates the rhythms and intensity of a fight. Yet does so in a way that simultaneously conveys violence and the synchronicity of movement characteristic of ballet, of two physical people enacting an age old series of steps that contain narrative and personality and, yes, beauty.

That Kitamura knows her mixed martial arts fighting is unquestionable: intricacies of movement and intention, the significance of a look here or a tactical manoeuvre there, individual styles and possibilities and outcomes. The Longshot grips you by the scruff of your neck and drags you on, dangling the inevitable conclusion before you but intertwining it with moments of hope and expectation that you cling to in the hope of a different outcome. The fight is the book: its outcome will be the books outcome, and like the best sport (and fiction) its drama is created by the gap between what you expect will happen and what actually does.

The Longshot has some of the power and unexpurgated lure of The Call of the Wild by Jack London, speaks both to our primitive and visceral natures and the refined order we expect from sporting contests. There is something of Patrick Ness too, in the power of the narrative voice and concise ability to use punchy, short sentences to supreme effect. More apparently the spare style owes something to the likes of Hemingway and Cormac McCarthy.

It’s not just the fight that packs a punch. There are amazing scenes throughout: the relaxed journey down to Tijuana; Riley watching Rivera train; Cal taking an early morning jog to clear his head before the fight. It’s a complete work of fiction. No chinks in the defence, no wasted sentences. Kitamura writes these men so convincingly that it is impossible for even the most gender focused critic to argue that writers cannot write successfully across gender boundaries.

The Longshot takes readers out of their supposed comfort zones and into the psychological and physical heart of a fight. It hooked me inside the first ten pages and didn’t let go until long after I’d finished. With strong characters one can engage with and a plot that is hard hitting, intimate and raw, it’s an enjoyable and rewarding read. Without a doubt, it’s one of my very favourites of the year.

The Longshot was first published in the UK by Simon & Schuster in 2009. Edition shown was published by Pocket Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, in 2010. ISBN: 9781847395214, pp191

Book Review: The Road - Cormac McCarthy

To celebrate the 200^th review on Books, Time, and Silence, I will be re-posting 10 of my favourite reviews. 

On day two it is The Road by Cormac McCarthy.

Read: October 2007

The Road in one Tweet-sized chunk:

Sparse, understated. The Road is everything good in modern fiction.

They are nameless. The man and his son. But they are us all. Walking The Road because it is the only way they can go. Alone. Heading for the coast. A post-apocalyptic world enshrouding them. Ransacked. Gutted. Ash rain tumbling from the grey blanket that was once called the sky. Perpetual gloom.

It is always there. The threat. From armed cannibalistic gangs, from hunger, from loss of hope. Horror assaulting the eyes behind every corner. And the sun no more to be seen. “He looked at the sky out of old habit but there was nothing to see.”

Polluted. Now the earth is expunging life from itself. But they keep walking the road south, fleeing the winter they know they cannot survive. Sometimes he remembers the before, but those memories are fading. And he will not let himself dream. The boy never even knew the before. But he knows plenty about life.

“He turned and looked. He looked like he had been crying.

Just tell me.

We wouldn’t ever eat anybody, would we?

No. Of course not.

Even if we were starving?

We’re starving now.

You said we weren’t.

I said we weren’t dying. I didn’t say we weren’t starving.

But we wouldn’t?

No. We wouldn’t.

No matter what.

No. No matter what.

Because we’re the good guys.

Yes.

And we’re carrying the fire.

And we’re carrying the fire. Yes.

Okay.”

Sparse, understated. The Road is everything good in modern fiction. It may be bleak and desolate but through the gloom come little chinks of lights: it is life affirming, redemptive. You can taste the ash in the water, feel the gloom and almost reach out and touch the boys terror. It is immediate, visceral, omnipresent.

The Road warrants every acolade accorded it. It will undoubtedly become a global classic.

9 out of 10

The Results Are In...

You voted in your scores (well, a score to be exact) and I can now reveal the results of the Books, Time, and Silence greatest literary achievement of the last decade poll:

In first place, with a whopping 7 (yes seven!) votes is JK Rowling for not only getting people reading, but inspiring fun launch evenings the world over. Given the pressure she was under, just completing the series has to be seen as a pretty big achievement in itself. So congratulations to JK, I'm sure this award will mean just as much to her as the giant cheques she routinely receives from Bloomsbury.

In second place – and my own choice despite holding mixed opinions on A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – comes Dave Eggers. Eggers was shortlisted not just for his writing, but the contributions he has made to literature in a wider context. McSweeneys has established itself at the forefront of literary journals while 826 Valencia is an inspirational model for how to engage young people in writing activities. On their own each of these is a great achievement. Put together they are nothing short of remarkable.

Finally, tied for the bronze medal (there are no medals) we have one of my favourite books of the decade, The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and Carol Ann Duffy becoming the first female Poet Laureate. I'm still more impressed by her popularity than gender, but since they are so linked in her poetry it is difficult to separate one from the other.

Congratulations all. They are achievements worthy of a doffing of the cap.

The full results are:

• JK Rowling - 7 Votes 
• Dave Eggers - 4 Votes
• Cormac McCarthy - 3 Votes
• Carol Ann Duffy - 3 Votes
• Naomi Klein - 2 Votes
• Jonathan Safran Foer - 2 Votes
• Yann Martel - 1 Vote
• The person who designed the jacket for The Da Vinci Code - 0 Votes
• Richard Dawkins - 0 Votes
• David Peace - 0 Votes

A huge thank you to all who voted. 22 votes may not sound a lot, but I treasure each and every one. And if you disagree with the outcome, please comment below. It is always a pleasure to see what other people think.

To summarise: Bill Gates joins Twitter and within 14 hours has 150,000 followers. I get 22 votes spread over one week (and 50 hits in a day!) on my utterly pointless blog. I ask you: which one of us is the richer man?

The Road - Cormac McCarthy

Read: October 2007

They are nameless. The man and his son. But they are us all. Walking The Road because it is the only way they can go. Alone. Heading for the coast. A post-apocalyptic world enshrouding them. Ransacked. Gutted. Ash rain tumbling from the grey blanket that was once called the sky. Perpetual gloom.

It is always there. The threat. From armed cannibalistic gangs, from hunger, from loss of hope. Horror assaulting the eyes behind every corner. And the sun no more to be seen. “He looked at the sky out of old habit but there was nothing to see.”

Polluted. Now the earth is expunging life from itself. But they keep walking the road south, fleeing the winter they know they cannot survive. Sometimes he remembers the before, but those memories are fading. And he will not let himself dream. The boy never even knew the before. But he knows plenty about life.

“He turned and looked. He looked like he had been crying.
Just tell me.
We wouldn’t ever eat anybody, would we?
No. Of course not.
Even if we were starving?
We’re starving now.
You said we weren’t.
I said we weren’t dying. I didn’t say we weren’t starving.
But we wouldn’t?
No. We wouldn’t.
No matter what.
No. No matter what.
Because we’re the good guys.
Yes.
And we’re carrying the fire.
And we’re carrying the fire. Yes.
Okay.”

Sparse, understated. The Road is everything good in modern fiction. It is bleak and desolate. Yet through the gloom come little chinks of lights: it is life affirming, redemptive, real. You can taste the ash in the water, feel the gloom and almost reach out and touch the boys terror. It is a book everyone should read. Yes, it is that good.

Just pick it up and read the six pages of glowing praise from some of the worlds leading lights. You will be salivating when you are finished these. Worried? How can any work live up to such fantastic praise? I don’t know. But The Road does.

And then it ends. And it is an ending to befit the stark beauty of such a shattering novel.


9 out of 10