Okay, so I know in my previous post I ranted and raved about an amazing quote one of my favorite authors, Yann Martel, had produced. But I came to the end of the book with a much more critical view of him, as an author and as a human being. I've never really given a book critique before, mainly due to the fact that it takes a lot for me to deem a book unworthy of reading. However, this book struck my heartchords, and not in the way that the Poisonwood Bible did, leaving me begging for more, but more so in the way that caused me to literally throw my book down in disgust. Seriously, the bang of the book hitting the coffee table was comparable in extremity to the popping of the sizeable bubble in my head and heart that contained my respect and love for Yann Martel.
Let my begin by giving you a brief synopsis.
Beatrice and Virgil
The book begins with an author named Henry discussing a book he is planning on writing that is both nonfiction and fiction in one book, in the format of a "flipbook". This book is meant to tell a story of the Holocaust in fiction form, due to Henry noticing that fictional accounts of the Holocaust are rare. Then, as you literally flip the book, you are brought to a nonfictional essay outlining facts of the Holocaust. When he meets with his editor, he is shot down, leaves the meeting in a furious state, and bans writing. Time passes and Henry recieves fanmail of the unusual sort. It's a scene from a play along with a note that simply says something along the lines of "I need help", signed Henry. (I'm unsure if their identical names are important or not.) The scene is about a howler monkey, Virgil, and a donkey, Beatrice, talking about a pear. Henry, who by the way is known to the other Henry under a different name to hide is identity (as many authors do), visits the address and comes to find out that the man who sent the play is a taxidermist. Long story short, time goes on, and the creepy, withdrawn, emotionless taxidermist slowly begins to read Henry more scenes of the play. With every scene, Henry notices that the taxidermist is writing a play about the extermination of animals to really tell a story about the Holocaust, which intrigues him. Henry is drawn into the life of the taxidermist, as an amazing story of human nature unfolds blahblahblah.
No. Stop there. Halfway into the book, you are led to believe that it will outline a beautiful series of events, each author helping the other in finding their creative writing abilities. However, 3/4ths into the book, it suddenly takes a grotesque and offensive turn. The taxidermist shows Henry a scene in the play where Beatrice is recalling events in the past where she was tortured by police. These events are nearly a direct copy of what some Jews experienced during the Holocaust. This monologue is very long, the longest monologue of the play that the taxidermist has written, and it is through the eyes of a....DONKEY. An animal. And to understand the utter graphic disturbance caused by this monologue, you'd have to read it yourself. But animalizing the tortures of Jews from the past and going into such detail can only be described by two words: Too Soon. Make it 3: Way Too Soon.
Sadly, I didn't stop there. I continued to the end of the novel to find out that Henry was disturbed by the play, began to leave in anger and was stabbed by the taxidermist suddenly, after throwing the play down onto his desk. He stumbles out of the shop, is seen by people walking the streets, and looks back to the shop to see the taxidermist smile (he has made no facial expression throughout the whole novel) and suddenly disappear into the back of the store. Shorty after, the store goes down in flames. Henry is rushed to the hospital, is healed, and writes for the first time since his "flipbook". Suddenly, the story is not about the Holocaust at all, but about a writer finding his voice after a tragic incident.
I challenge you to read the monologue. And then decide if you want to read the book.
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