Scan barcode
shimmer's review
4.0
It's remarkable how believably Gillis' short novel renders the politics, history, and culture of his invented island nation of Bamerita. The story is full of heartbreaking frustrations, unexpected twists, and inevitable disasters, all of which make it a fast-paced, riveting read without getting bogged down in the minutia of worldbuilding. Yet there's a great sense of a longer history on the island, both nationally and for individual characters, so the efficient focus on immediate events never feels limited or artificial, and the novel never becomes a straight recounting of the island's complex history.
In fact, it's when the "real" gets inserted that the story sometimes becomes less believable, because references to and quotes from historical revolutionaries can feel like authorial insertions rather than a character's own organic perspective (less specific allusions, however, to historical events from Cuba to Iraq, were really effective and natural). I wondered if there was room here to borrow a page from Kenneth Fearing's Clark Gifford's Body (another multivocal portrait of an imagined revolution with media technology at its center), because one thing that novel does really well is weave in history, "found" documents, and the details of technology so they always feel like part of the story rather than commentary from the author. Not to say that Temporary People shouldn't be the novel it is, because it's a really good one - just that the comparison to Fearing was hard to avoid.
In fact, it's when the "real" gets inserted that the story sometimes becomes less believable, because references to and quotes from historical revolutionaries can feel like authorial insertions rather than a character's own organic perspective (less specific allusions, however, to historical events from Cuba to Iraq, were really effective and natural). I wondered if there was room here to borrow a page from Kenneth Fearing's Clark Gifford's Body (another multivocal portrait of an imagined revolution with media technology at its center), because one thing that novel does really well is weave in history, "found" documents, and the details of technology so they always feel like part of the story rather than commentary from the author. Not to say that Temporary People shouldn't be the novel it is, because it's a really good one - just that the comparison to Fearing was hard to avoid.
tdstorm's review
4.0
I stumbled upon a copy of this book after making a donation to Dzanc Books on Kellie Wells’ behalf for a contest she was participating in. I chose it mainly because of its subtitle, “A Fable.” I’m a sucker for fables. I began reading it with few expectations about what kind of story it is or whether it would be one I’d like, but a few dozen pages into it, I found myself pleasantly surprised. The book got better and better as I proceeded, and once I was in the second half, it whizzed by. I found myself truly caring about the characters; the plot was gripping; it was, ultimately, a moving and authentic tale that gives a human dimension to political unrest (which is so easy to dismiss, portrayed as it often is with such sterile journalistic distance).
Unfortunately, the copy I had was rife with editing errors—though I suspect it was the result of some word-recognition software converting a pdf to ebook format, maybe. There were weird spaces in the middle of words (ar resting) and repeat lines and small punctuation errors in dialogue (“No guards,” Kart handed one sack each to Verne and Anita). Minor stuff, but pretty off-putting.
I had a few other quibbles with the delivery of the story, though. First off, there was the matter of the POV switching from first person (in the voice of protagonist Andre Mafante) to third person omniscient. I’m all for POV experimentation, but this one seemed a bit unnecessary and distracting, especially when the writing moved from 1st person to 3rd person description of the 1st person protagonist (all on the same page), as it did here:
The Captain signals and the guards rush in and drag me off.
(. . . a paragraph later:)
Once the rally collapsed into riot, as the soldiers drove André off and Katima saw only his legs in the rear of the jeep, she ran from the Port up and down the streets, trying to follow. (65)
Secondly, there’s some pretty blatant and unapologetic withholding of information without a clear purpose, a tactic that leaves me feeling cheated. The author sets up a scene wherein a plan is being hatched, then skips over the plan and goes straight to the reaction: “After he told me, I put my hat back on, pushed my sunglasses up over the bridge of my nose and replied as calmly as possible. ‘This is what you’ve come up with?’”
Third, there’s a pretty huge cast of characters. Sometimes, the names are even quite similar (Anita, Tamina, Katima?), but more problematic were those who were mentioned briefly and infrequently (Milton Jabber, Everett Doyle). I found myself sometimes wondering, “When is that doctor guy going to come back into the story?” or “Wait. Everett Doyle? Who is he again? Should we dislike him?”
Fourth, there’s the matter of this tale’s setting out to be a somewhat quirky, magical realist story and ending up being neither. The whole thing takes place on Bamerita, an island that floats around the Atlantic Ocean—a cool premise and all, but one that isn’t matched by other fantastical quirks. So in the end, the island’s floating is this isolated bit of fantasy in an otherwise realist world. True, the dictator’s film-making hobby is a bit too odd to be authentic, but unlike the island’s floatiness, the film-making thing continually reappears throughout the story and provides a pretty ingenious commentary on manipulating the message, on making a farce of state-sponsored brutality, on commercializing culture and the human struggle for survival.
Ultimately, my quibbles are with small things. I finished the book moved by the authentic portrayal of oppression and rebellion, and pondering the morality of violent and nonviolent uprising.
Unfortunately, the copy I had was rife with editing errors—though I suspect it was the result of some word-recognition software converting a pdf to ebook format, maybe. There were weird spaces in the middle of words (ar resting) and repeat lines and small punctuation errors in dialogue (“No guards,” Kart handed one sack each to Verne and Anita). Minor stuff, but pretty off-putting.
I had a few other quibbles with the delivery of the story, though. First off, there was the matter of the POV switching from first person (in the voice of protagonist Andre Mafante) to third person omniscient. I’m all for POV experimentation, but this one seemed a bit unnecessary and distracting, especially when the writing moved from 1st person to 3rd person description of the 1st person protagonist (all on the same page), as it did here:
The Captain signals and the guards rush in and drag me off.
(. . . a paragraph later:)
Once the rally collapsed into riot, as the soldiers drove André off and Katima saw only his legs in the rear of the jeep, she ran from the Port up and down the streets, trying to follow. (65)
Secondly, there’s some pretty blatant and unapologetic withholding of information without a clear purpose, a tactic that leaves me feeling cheated. The author sets up a scene wherein a plan is being hatched, then skips over the plan and goes straight to the reaction: “After he told me, I put my hat back on, pushed my sunglasses up over the bridge of my nose and replied as calmly as possible. ‘This is what you’ve come up with?’”
Third, there’s a pretty huge cast of characters. Sometimes, the names are even quite similar (Anita, Tamina, Katima?), but more problematic were those who were mentioned briefly and infrequently (Milton Jabber, Everett Doyle). I found myself sometimes wondering, “When is that doctor guy going to come back into the story?” or “Wait. Everett Doyle? Who is he again? Should we dislike him?”
Fourth, there’s the matter of this tale’s setting out to be a somewhat quirky, magical realist story and ending up being neither. The whole thing takes place on Bamerita, an island that floats around the Atlantic Ocean—a cool premise and all, but one that isn’t matched by other fantastical quirks. So in the end, the island’s floating is this isolated bit of fantasy in an otherwise realist world. True, the dictator’s film-making hobby is a bit too odd to be authentic, but unlike the island’s floatiness, the film-making thing continually reappears throughout the story and provides a pretty ingenious commentary on manipulating the message, on making a farce of state-sponsored brutality, on commercializing culture and the human struggle for survival.
Ultimately, my quibbles are with small things. I finished the book moved by the authentic portrayal of oppression and rebellion, and pondering the morality of violent and nonviolent uprising.
More...