The gift of rain

#+ |9780061374043 |9780061374036 ~ A woman drowns in a pond, and her son is traumatized. SOME silences are caused not by the absence of sound but by sound suppressed, forbidden. These two types of muteness can have the same origin: the psyche, as Freud knew, can be more censorious than any tyrant. In Sadie Jones's first novel, "The Outcast" - set in a constricted London suburb during the late 1940s and the 1950s - the silences barely conceal the tumult. When Lewis Aldridge's father, Gilbert, comes home to Waterford from the war, he instructs his curious 7-year-old son to be quiet: a young child shouldn't be asking so many questions. But Lewis isn't the only one shushed in the interests of propriety. His beloved mother, Elizabeth, is also stifled; unable to adopt an appropriately ladylike, tight-lipped smile, she turns to drink. Even Gilbert finds himself clenching his jaw and submitting when his almost comically cruel boss casually insults him and his family. When Lewis is only 10, he suffers a stupefying trauma: taking a swim after a riverside picnic, his mother drowns, and Lewis is the sole witness. At the inquest, the boy just stutters when it's his turn to testify: "Tell me how it happened! Tell me! Lewis, tell me." "She sh- sh-" "Lewis, you need to try to explain to us what happened to your mother." "It's no good. Look at him." This exchange establishes a pattern of mute bewilderment overlapped with repression. To Gilbert, Lewis's mouth becomes a kind of wound, "open and ugly as if he couldn't close it." When living alone with his son becomes too painful to bear, Gilbert seeks solace with a new wife: a sweet but selfish young woman who isn't prepared to deal with Lewis's grief. Unlike Gilbert, "he didn't seem to want or need her." Lewis turns into a kind of ghost - a numb half person whose very presence upsets the town's phony politesse. Unable to speak much and finding no one to listen, he succumbs to a desperate, inarticulate anger that eventually gets him two years in prison for arson. Upon returning home, he realizes that Waterford represents just another kind of confinement. Only one person seems to understand him: Kit, the daughter of his father's boss and also an outsider. From an early age, she has idolized Lewis, so when he begins to self-destruct she blames the bullies instead of the victim. She suffers for it. Her father beats her; her coquettish and manipulative sister toys with Lewis for the thrill of it; her mother (who quietly endures her husband's abuse) maintains a frigid air of disapproval. But Kit's innocence and sensitivity are so ingrained that even her father's brutal blows can't extinguish them. BEFITTING a novel that explores the consequences of hypocrisy and silenced speech, "The Outcast" is written with economy. Jones's prose is plain, if sometimes mannered. And her influences are clear. "The weather made it look as if the broken buildings and people's coats and hats and the gray sky were all joined together in grayness except for the blowing autumn leaves, which were quite bright" sounds like the opening of Hemingway's "Farewell to Arms." Other passages recall Ian McEwan's "Atonement" and the movie "Far From Heaven." The novel even ends in a classic Hollywood cliché: a lover running after a departing train, breathlessly vowing, "I'll come and get you." And yet, although "The Outcast" doesn't feel original, it's consistently interesting. Jones's portrait of the claustrophobia and conformity of 1950s England is sharp and assured, a convincing illustration of the" dangerous consequences of a muzzled society. In prison, Lewis is convinced there is no place for him, that he is "wrecked." But when he returns to Waterford and tries to resume his life, he comes to realize that "all of the people who managed in the world" are also "wrecked people," that "everybody was in a broken, bad world that fitted them just right." Louisa Thomas has written for The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times and other publications.

This remarkable debut saga of intrigue and akido flashes back to a darkly opulent WWII-era Malaya. Phillip Hutton, 72, lives in serene Penang comfort, occasionally training students as an akido master "teacher of teachers." A visit from Michiko Murakami sends him spiraling back into his past, where he grows up the alienated half-British, half-Chinese son of a wealthy Penang trader in the years before WWII. When Hutton's father and three siblings leave him to run the family company one summer, he befriends a mysterious Japanese neighbor named Mr. Endo. Japan is on the opposing side of the coming war, but Endo paradoxically opts to train Hutton in the ways of aikido, in what both men come to see as the fulfillment of a prophecy that has haunted them for several lifetimes. When the Japanese army invades Malaya, chaos reigns, and Phillip makes a secret, very profitable deal. He cannot, however, offset the costs of his friendship with Endo. Eng's characters are as deep and troubled as the time in which the story takes place, and he draws on a rich palette to create a sprawling portrait of a lesser explored corner of the war. Hutton's first-person narration is measured, believable and enthralling. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

This epic first novel involves the life of Philip Arminius Khoo-Hutton-half-British and half-Chinese, who lives on the Malaysian island of Penang prior to World War II. Feeling like an outcast in his aristocratic British family, he befriends an older Japanese diplomat, Endo-san, who teaches him the art of aikido. A sacred bond grows between student and teacher-"next to a parent, a teacher is the most important person in one's life." When war erupts and the Japanese invade Malaya, Philip finds his loyalty divided between his family and Endo-san. In a series of dramatic events, he discovers support from his courageous Chinese past told through his grandfather, a sustaining friendship with a fellow student of aikido name Kon, and a mysterious association with Endo-san that has been playing out for hundreds of years and can only be broken in a ritual of death. Philip's personal drama unfolds against the backdrop of fascinating glimpses into Chinese culture, British imperialism, and the Japanese occupation that eventually claims the lives of everyone around him. Strong characters and page-turning action make this a top pick for historical fiction.-David A. Berona, Plymouth State Univ., NH (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Though this debut novel of divided loyalties in Southeast Asia during World War II has the epic sweep of a TV mini-series, portentous dialogue and belabored themes undermine its otherwise engrossing plot. Narrating the novel, which was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize, is Philip Hutton, whom the reader first encounters as the Malaysian island of Penang is about to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end of Japanese occupation. As the surviving member of one of the island's leading families, the half-Chinese, half-English Hutton is surprised to receive a visitor from Japan, Michiko Murakami, an aged woman previously unknown to him. She soon reveals that the two have a strong tie through their mutual association with Hayato Endo, a teacher of martial arts and Zen Buddhism, who had exerted a profound influence on both. Much of the rest of the novel finds Philip relating to Michiko (and the reader) how his relationship with Endo had determined his life's course. The narrative structure is a little clunky (Michiko disappears for hundreds of pages at a time, making the reader wonder whether this setup is really necessary), but Hutton's story is frequently compelling. He had become the pupil of the Japanese master as a teenager, when he was already struggling with questions of identity and allegiance. The only child of his British father's second marriage, to a Chinese woman who died when he was a boy, he felt like a foreigner with his father and stepsiblings. The influence of Endo on Philip further complicates familial relations, particularly after Japan invades Malaya during World War II. Was Philip a collaborator who betrayed his own country? Did he do what he needed to protect his family? Or was he a patriot engaged in subversion against the Japanese who had come to trust him? The author makes it clear that issues of treason and patriotism--and fate and free will--defy easy resolution. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.