The Sirens of Baghdad by Yasmin Khadra

I personally believe that some novelists who use their craft as an outlet for their views on social and political issues are better off being strictly journalists. Oftentimes a novel centered on a political issue—as opposed to a storyline—lacks characterization and substance. While the same can be said for author Yasmin Khadra and The Sirens of Baghdad, this is nonetheless an effective and timely novel that gives readers an inside look into a society in which human beings become collateral damage in the crossfire of war.

The Sirens of Baghdad takes place during the Second Gulf War and centers on an unnamed male protagonist who inhabits a Bedouin village in Iraq. He has returned to his home village after a US bombing closed off access to the university he was attending. When his village is attacked by thrill-killing GIs, the man vows to avenge his family, and he travels to Baghdad to join forces with a terrorist group.

From then on, the novel alternates somewhat clumsily between being a psychological study and a political thriller. There are no characters; rather, there are thinly-drawn archetypes whose dialogue reveals Khadra’s political stance rather than the characters’ individual views. Khadra could have simply channeled this content into political essays rather than through these fictional cardboard cutouts.

Khadra is consistent, however, with providing striking visuals reminiscent of the cinematography of an art film, and oftentimes as I was reading, I believed this novel would translate well onto the screen. Descriptions of landscapes and atmosphere provide more depth and substance than anything else the novel has to offer, and ultimately that is what remains in the readers’ mind longer after the novel is closed. In fact, it’s the imagery that gives a haunting quality to the novel’s end.

Ultimately, The Sirens of Baghdad succeeds where it counts. It gives an enlightening look into the psychology of terrorism and the prejudice and xenophobia that leads to it. Its portrayal of terrorists is that they are not mere villains, but human beings with missions they consider noble and beneficial to their own countries. In my opinion, understanding how terrorism is borne is the only way to stop it; therefore this is an important book that could be a real eye-opener to the mainstream reader.

The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff

Among the miracles of literature is its ability to transport readers to a world unlike their own; in this case, one in which men collect wives as property. David Ebershoff delves into this world with The 19th Wife, a vivid and startling account of the frightening religious tyranny and exploitation that transpires behind the walls of a polygamist sect.

The novel, which takes place in the fictional town of Mesadale, Utah, shifts between the past and the present as it alternates between two primary narrators. The contemporary portion is narrated by Jordan Scott, a twenty-year-old man who was banished by his sect at fourteen and forced to live on his own. Upon hearing that his father has been murdered by his nineteenth wife—Jordan’s mother—he returns to Mesadale to confront his past, as well as the mother who betrayed him. The other narrator is historical figure Ann Eliza Young—nineteenth wife of Brigham Young, the second Prophet of the Mormon Church—who would launch a campaign to end polygamy in the United States during the 19th century.

The portion of the novel dedicated to Ann Eliza Young never failed to absorb me. She begins with the story of her parents: their courtship and marriage, their religious conversion and the rift between them caused by polygamy. This would color Ann Eliza’s own perception of the institution and, combined with her time spent as one of Brigham’s many wives, prompt her to tour the United States to speak out against polygamy and Brigham Young himself. This courageous heroine makes for an inspirational and utterly transfixing story that transports readers to another place and time, and lucidly portrays all sides of the issue from the perspectives of Ann Eliza’s family, including her parents, her brothers and her son. The result is a sweeping portrait of polygamy’s effects on women and men and alike—the sexual tyranny, the loss of personal identity and the use of religion to govern and manipulate, to name a few—that is as gritty as it is poignant.

Jordan Scott’s story, however, starts off promising before veering off into cheap gimmicks and a rushed, anticlimactic ending that leaves loose ends untied. The murder mystery begins to falter once Ann Eliza’s story begins, and Jordan’s story seems merely an afterthought, as if Ebershoff neglected it in favor of the other storyline, which undoubtedly required more research and effort. The characterizations are so thinly drawn that I stopped caring about what would happen and became impatient to get back to Ann Eliza’s narrative.

Ultimately I attribute this novel’s worth to its riveting depiction of an important historical figure, characterized as a flawed yet bold and resilient woman who spoke out against men in power during a patriarchal era. My advice: read it for Ann Eliza Young and don’t expect much out of the other plotline.

Collapse by Jared Diamond

It’s pretty rare for me to recommend one of my textbooks—from a science class, no less—as recreational reading, but UCLA professor and Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jared Diamond has written a crucial piece of nonfiction on the past and present condition of our environment and economy; one that should provoke introspection into humanity’s duel capabilities for progress and self-destruction. Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed combines science, history, geography and personal experience to shine light from every angle on the formula that leads to a civilization’s breakdown.

Collapse is divided into four parts, the first of which describes the environment and economic history of the state of Montana, from the Native American hunger-gatherers to the individual stories of current farmers and their agricultural methods. Part Two examines past societies that have collapsed, describing the factors of their failure in terms of a five-point framework, while Part Three takes on modern societies, such as the Rwandan genocide and the developing nation of China. Part Four wraps it up on a wider scale, taking on corporations, globalization and the merits of the polder model, the Dutch version of economic consensus policy.

What is both revealing and frightening is Diamond’s portrayal of civilizations that collapse into themselves, such as the ancient society of Easter Island. While it is generally believed to have been torn apart by European colonizers, who conducted slave raids and infested the natives with disease, Diamond’s claim is that the society was well on its way to collapsing before the arrival of colonizers, due to environmental damage and the ensuing civil war that erupted over resources versus the growing population. Such factors also contributed to the collapse of the ancient Mayans, and the more recent genocide in Rwanda was due in part to overpopulation. The parallels drawn between ancient and modern societies are a resounding call to action to keep history from repeating itself, and provide a haunting and thought-provoking exposé on humanity’s slow-motion murder-suicide involving the planet we call home.

This is certainly no typical textbook of bone-dry facts; Diamond presents his subject matter in a voice that is both scholarly and conversational. He gives the impression of a pleasant conversationalist who is both intellectual and approachable, and he injects an entertainment factor among the disheartening accounts and statistics. Therefore it comes as no surprise that he ends the book on a high note, declaring his cautious optimism for the future.

Collapse is a glaringly relevant book for today’s world; a means of opening our eyes to the downfall in progress we are currently living within. If Al Gore’s campaign for the environment didn’t convince you, Jared Diamond certainly will. You don’t need to turn to sci-fi for a good apocalypse-based story—just pick up a copy of Collapse and discover the apocalypse happening in our own backyard.

White Oleander by Janet Fitch

Made all the more impressive by the fact that this is her first novel, Janet Fitch captivates readers with the labyrinthine scope and visceral beauty of White Oleander, a story of survival and endurance in an uncertain world. While too heavy for a summer beach read, this fierce, provocative and tragic novel inspires awe, and is better suited to be read at home on the couch, in solitude, with limited outside stimulation (maybe a little Leonard Cohen in the background).

A white oleander is a beautiful but poisonous plant, and a metaphor for Ingrid Magnusson, a seductive, sociopathic poet convicted of murdering her lover, leaving her preteen daughter Astrid to a series of foster homes. The novel chronicles Astrid’s coming of age from a lonely, misguided girl down a self-destructive path to a hardened, independent eighteen-year-old who can hold her own against her mother’s domineering hold.

In a manner befitting The Odyssey, Astrid survives a variety of trying environments, from the trailer park to the slums, from poverty to luxury and back again, fighting abuse, hunger, harassment and personal loss, while grappling with the authority she gains and loses in her own sexuality. Though initially lacking in her own identity, Astrid develops into a hybrid of the various maternal figures who govern her life, resulting in a mesmerizing character study that pits nature against nurture. Her desire for stability, her yearning to be loved, her disillusionment and fatalism, all resonate in this stunning portrait of the human condition.

At times the narration is bogged down by the fact that Fitch epitomizes the indulgent writer; she’s a lover of the English language and a very verbose narrator who piles on similes and metaphors the way Picasso piled on bright colors, or the way Gertrude Stein favored repetition. At times this makes for beautiful, vivid imagery and great psychological depth; other times it is simply exasperating, and the readers’ five senses are overwhelmed. In this way, Fitch is both a master of language and an amateur, who has yet to learn that sometimes, less is more.

However, the story does emerge triumphant, as the characters drive the story and engage readers both mentally and emotionally, and the ending provides satisfying closure. So, needless to say, don’t be turned off by the Oprah sticker. It’s actually a splendid book.

A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah

Anyone can watch the news or read an article, but none of that compares to experiencing the horrors of a war-torn region firsthand. It’s the power of storytelling that can transport readers into another world; a world in which children graduate from toy guns to AK-47s before they’re old enough to drive. In his powerful, riveting memoir, entitled A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, Ishmael Beah relates his experiences at the frontlines of Sierra Leone’s civil war, and his transformation from an ordinary teenager into a drug-fueled killing machine.

At twelve years old, Beah is a happy, carefree kid, a serious student and a rap and reggae music enthusiast, until an army of rebels target his village, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. Beah and his friends go on the run survive, wandering from village to village before turning to weapons to avenge their families. These boys become militiamen and are given cocaine and amphetamines by their lieutenant—an effective means of brainwashing them into carrying out mass slaughters in a blind rage. The novel goes on to chronicle Beah’s transition back into civilized society at age fifteen; a transition made possible by the humanitarian efforts of UNICEF.

Beah is a pleasant, conversational narrator, and at once relatable, so that his experiences feel vivid and real to readers. His story is an account of universal human struggle, and easily accessible to anyone, regardless of native origin or personal experience. Not only does he shine light on the socio-political crises of his native country; he also narrows his scope to give a firsthand look into individual accounts of the civil war and how it affected his friends and family as well as himself.

Also poignant is the determination of UNICEF officials to rescue these boy soldiers from a life of senseless violence. Once transferred from their base to the rehab center, the boys rebel, sneaking in knives and grenades, breaking out in fights and at times assaulting the officials themselves. Beah, however, bonds with the center’s nurse and is thus rehabilitated, thereby paving the way for his future as a UN spokesman and children’s rights advocate.

A Long Way Gone is hard-hitting yet engaging, heartbreaking yet ultimately triumphant. While this will likely be Beah’s only novel, I would gladly read anything else he may write in the future, as he has proven to be an excellent storyteller as well as an inspirational success story to those who have been affected by war.