Monday, 18 December 2017

Minerva's top picks for 2017

In what may become a new tradition, Minerva, in its 30th year, decided to try something different at the end of the year - ask each member to vote on her top three picks of the books we read as a group this year. Would there be definite winners we wondered? Well yes, there are, so read on...

All eleven of our currently active members voted, resulting in 32 votes cast. (One person nominated only 2). Here are the results:

1. Pachinko, by Min Jin Lee (our review) (7 votes)
2. The museum of modern love, by Heather Rose (our review) (6 votes)
3. Black rock white city, by AS Patrić (our review) (5 votes)

Highly commended were Nutshell, by Ian McEwan (our review) (3 votes), and Our souls at night, by Kent Haruf (our review) (3 votes).

Of course, this is not a scientific survey. Votes were all given equal weight, even where people indicated an order of preference, and not everyone read every book, which means different people voted from different "pools". If we'd all read every book Pachinko may have had even more votes!! (Seriously, because my suspicion is that every one, or almost everyone, who read it voted for it.)

Some observations on our votes:

Kate voted for the three books which ended up being our winners, while several of us voted for two of the top three, suggesting a high level of accord in our reading likes?

A few, including yours truly, tried to sneak in some extra "votes" but they were rejected by yours truly! The extra "votes" proposed were for Stan Grant's Talking to my country, Kent Haruf's Our souls at night, Kim Mahood's Position doubtful and AS Patrić's Black rock white city.

A few commented that there wasn't one book in our schedule that they didn't enjoy! Now, that's an achievement!

Some comments on our top five choices:

"the history of Korea and Japan and their people was so interesting and so unknown to me. The story was told so very well without pathos but with sympathy for the victims. Excellent read." (Sylvia)
"fascinating cultural stuff" (Celeste)
"I really enjoyed learning about the Korean/Japanese history" (Anne)
"for the insight into South Korea and Japanese history" (Kate)
"for the background into the Korean experience in Japan, so engagingly written" (Sue T)

"specially coupled with the movie which was rivetting" (Celeste)
"it was almost perfect. It satisfied on so many levels" (Deb) 
"A revealing look at Abramovic the artist and the relationship with her audience" (Kate)
"for so thoughtfully exploring the meaning of art, love and home" (Sue T)

"I wasn't really expecting to enjoy it but found I was totally absorbed very quickly" (Anne)
"a fabulous and quirky story related to the migrant experience" (Kate)
"I started with low expectations and his beautiful writing won me over" (Deb)

"beautiful writing and a very innovative theme, makes me look at foetuses in a different way" (Denise)
"clever, quirky and a lot of fun" (Sue B)

"a real gem" (Celeste)
"very moved" (Janet)
"deceptively simple with big themes and big heart" (Deb)

Let us know what you think, in the comments!

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Caroline Moorehead's Dancing to the Precipice: Lucie de la Tour du Pin and the French Revolution

Our last book of the year was Caroline Moorehead's biography of Lucie de la Tour du Pin, who has been described as the Pepys of her generation. The biography, titled Dancing to the precipice: Lucie de la Tour du Pin and the French Revolution, chronicles her life from her birth in 1770 to her death in 1853, a period which covers some of Europe's and, in particular France's, most tumultuous times. The aristocratic-born Lucie de la Tour du Pin saw most of it up close and personal.

As always, we started by each of the seven members present giving her impressions, which are summarised as follows:
  • A couple noted that the book was "solid going" and perhaps included more detail than was needed. Most of us felt that a time-line [there is one in the Kindle edition] and family trees for Lucie and her husband Frédéric would have helped.
  • We varied in our knowledge of the French Revolution, and some wondered whether knowing the history would have helped their enjoyment. However, everyone - at least those who had finished it - were glad they'd read it, and most of those who hadn't finished it said they would keep reading it!
  • Most of us found it a interesting story, and thought Lucie must have been "quite a person" to survive what she did. Resilient was the word most of us used for her. We all admired her for what (and how) she survived.
  • Some found the book harder going at the start, feeling there was not much substance to her in the beginning, while others liked the beginning and felt it got bogged down in detail as the book wore on.
  • One of those who liked the book's beginning did so because of Moorehead's introduction of the 18th century philosophers, such as Voltaire, Diderot, and Rousseau.
  • Most found the book well-written, but some felt that it could have been a little tighter or more focused which might have seen some more extraneous detail omitted.
  • While some found the amount of detail - particularly the huge cast of characters - overwhelming, we did enjoy the details about life at the time. Moorehead paints, we all felt, a vivid picture of France of the period. We liked the description of the huge hats, the smells, the food, and so on.
  • A couple noted that they particularly enjoyed reading about Lucie's time in America, with one wondering whether that's because Lucie was particularly happy there.
  • One member commented on parallels to modern life - such as the challenge of taxing the rich, and the idea of "fake news". She felt the book had a modernist feel.
  • The member who recommended the book would love to read Lucie's memoirs, from which much of the biography was drawn, and which, apparently have never been out of print. 
Overall, one member said, and we all agreed, it is a "dizzying" read.

We commented that the book's title comes from Lucie's own words about the period leading up to the storming of the Bastille: "Amid all these pleasures we were laughing and dancing our way to the precipice." Moorehead writes that Lucie added that while this blindness was pardonable among the young, it was "inexplicable in men of the world, in Ministers and above all, in the King". Not surprisingly, then, we spent some time discussing the politics of the time, including Lucie's aristocratic leanings. Moorehead presents Lucie and Frédéric as having strong moral values, but as nonetheless believing that aristocrats should be in control, that they were the best people to govern. They supported a more English-style of constitutional monarchy, rather than a republic.

We discussed Frédéric's diplomatic work for Napoleon in Brussels, his refusal to carry out some of Napoleon's harsher orders, and his recognition that the nobility was often happier to give up their sons to Napoleon's cause than their money! We noted that, although Lucie was a monarchist, she was fascinated by Napoleon, and managed to win his approval. She was astute about people - managing to retain powerful friends like Talleyrand - and this, together with some lucky decisions about when to leave France, ensured their survival through tumultuous times, despite their royalist leanings.

We were fascinated to meet various characters we've heard of - but didn't know or had forgotten where they fit into history - such as writer and diplomat Chateaubriand, bishop and diplomat Talleyrand, and salon leader Mme Récamier (who was depicted by many artists of the time, including Jacques-Louis David.) We also enjoyed references to American and English figures like Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and Lord Wellington.

We liked Lucie's describing her life, in a letter to god-daughter Félicie, as being like "a chest of drawers" with each drawer representing skills she could draw on when needed. When she needed those of being a lady or ambassadress, for example, she would close the housewife drawer, and so on. Lucie proved herself again and again to be resourceful, practical and a hard-worker, skills she had to learn as a young child growing up in the emotionally cold home of her grandmother Mme de Roche.

A couple of members liked Frédéric's throughts on history, which Moorehead described as follows:

He now spent much of his time in his room, reading and writing to [grandson] Hadelin, long letters mulling over his own life and urging the young man to study, to think on serious matters, to develop a taste for reflection. He should turn, he wrote, towards ‘the vast questions of humanity: there you will find true riches’. More than anything Frédéric ever wrote, these letters to his grandson revealed a thoughtful and liberal man, intelligent, full of fears and doubts about the future, and intensely clear about the nature of responsibility. It was in history, he told Hadelin, that he should seek to find ways of understanding the world, and to learn how to make his mark on it; for it was to history that ‘one must look to discover motives and judgements, the source of ideas, the proof of theories too often imaginary and vague’. Reflection, he added, was ‘the intellectual crutch on which the traveller must lean on his road to knowledge’.

Other aspects of the book that we enjoyed were its portrayal of the life of France's émigrés (a term which was created during this time), many of whom left and returned to France more than once over the decades of upheaval. We enjoyed reading about the ways they supported themselves while away from their estates - making hats, cooking, teaching dancing, and so on.

We were surprised to discover that the idea of "the left" - referring in this case to the "anti-monachicals" - was first used during France's revolutionary period. We also talked about about other historical figures who were born around the same time, such as Beethoven (in 1770) and Jane Austen (1775).

One member said she'd read that the book is "novelistic"* but another strenuously disagreed, arguing that the book reads as straight biography rather than as belonging to those non-fiction writings sometimes described as "creative" or "narrative" non-fiction. Yes, there is a narrative to the story, but it is in the form of a typical chronological biography, and yes, there are some lovely descriptions, but most of these stem from Lucie's own writing. Moorehead, she argued, has not had to fill in gaps in knowledge, for example, by using the sort of narrative techniques found in novels/fiction and which might justify the use of "novelistic" to describe this book.

Those of us who didn't know were surprised to discover that author Caroline Moorehead is the daughter of Australian journalist and war correspondent Alan Moorehead and his English wife.

Overall, we agreed that Dancing to the precipice was an interesting book that either taught us, or reminded us, of a fascinating time in European history.

* POSTSCRIPT: After the meeting, I found that one reviewer described Lucie's life as being like one you might find in historical fiction. It may have been this rather than the style of writing which prompted the "novelistic" description.

Tuesday, 28 November 2017

Some suggestions for 2018, Pt.1

Some ideas for our next six months organised by category
(most from the side-bar, but I've dropped some that have been there for a while)


Alameddine, Rabih An unnecessary woman
Howard, Elizabeth Jane (one by her)
Robinson, Marilynne (One by her: Housekeeping or Gilead or Home or Lila)

Indigenous Australian

Cobby Eckermann, Ali Ruby Moonlightand/or Inside my mother and/or Too afraid to cry
Coleman, Claire Terra nullius

New books from Aussie favourites

de Kretser, Michelle The life to come
Flanagan, Richard First person
Laguna, Sofie The choke
Miller, Alex The passage of love


Blackman, Barbara All my Januaries
Griffiths, Tom The art of time travel


Nguyen, Viet Thanh The sympathizer (Pulitzer Prize 2016)
Saunders, George Lincoln in the Bardo (Booker 2017)
Stow, Randolph The merry-go-round by the sea (Past Miles Franklin, could also be our Classic)

Recent suggestions from members

Harper, Jane The dry
Harper, Jane Force of nature

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

Stan Grant's Talking to my country

It is a particularly pertinent time for Minervans to be reading this challenging work.  Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people’s issues have been much in the news in the last few days: knockback of their idea of a consultative assembly by the Federal government,  their banning of climbing Uluru from 2019, and in the ‘Conversation’ recently an article on a project to correct a huge omission in the Australian Dictionary of Biography by the addition of many articles about prominent Indigenous members of Australian society since 1788.

Before we started discussing Stan’s book we were shown the literary site called: Writing black.  Edited by Ellen van Neerven, this anthology was developed by the black&write! Indigenous writing and editing project at the State Library of Queensland. We were also encouraged to visit the current exhibition at the NMA called Songlines: Tracking the Seven sisters—a journey into the heart of Australia.

Stan Grant’s polemic is that Aboriginal people have faced a very tough life in the last two hundred years and are still finding it extremely difficult in 21st century Australia. He is a proud Wiradjuri man from Western NSW (ie. Canowindra and region). He discusses his life, his parent’s and grandparent’s struggles with poverty, as well as his teachings and thoughts about his own son’s appreciation of his Aboriginal heritage. He discusses the great hardship and discrimination suffered by his father and grandfather in particular. He remembers fondly his paternal grandmother (a white woman) who struggled greatly with poverty but was always very loving. He intersperses his family history with ponderings on Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australian history and discusses the many assumptions held by the European society since 1788.

The main assumptions:
  • Aborigines and Torres Strait islanders would die out in the 19th century
  • Modern Aborigines should just ‘move on and forget their history’
  • There was aggression between Aborigines and the invaders from the beginning and his Wiradjuri and Kamilaroi people are still fighting a battle against injustices but it has not been properly recognised by non-Indigenous Australians
  • Aboriginal love of country is a dominating feature in Stan’s life (as it is for most Indigenous people), no matter where he is in the world.  
  • Lack of formal recognition that Indigenous people have lived here for over 60,000 years is still an issue
  • Aborigines have to accept non Indigenous people as they are so few and have no choice (see page 6)

The book is divided into 10 chapters (and unfortunately they are not labelled by theme). There is a structure, however some of us found it hard to categorise. It is not chronological as he has already written a memoir called: The tears of strangers. Here is a review

Grant’s book is a challenge to read as it made many of us very angry with our ancestor’s treatment of Indigenous people. However racism is still active in 2017 Australia and we all felt very emotional when he talks about the shocking incident in 2015 when the footballer Adam Goodes’ suffered constant ‘abuse and humiliation until he could take no more’ (page 5).  We spent a little time discussing this incident and Goodes’ treatment.

Many of the group discussed incidents where they too had seen open displays of racism against Aborigines. One member made us realise that there is a terrible antagonism held by some Australians who cannot tolerate hearing anything about Aborigines or their issues. Overseas, people are more interested in Aboriginal life in modern Australia but there is great resistance here.

Another member working in a government department has recently done a course in cultural awareness of Indigenous issues and she drew our attention to the ‘sorry’ speech by Kevin Rudd and how that was a significant step in reconciliation. Many Aboriginal people are prepared to forgive us – they do not want to blame us. However that is often not the view of some Australians. Canberrans possibly react in a different way about this issue, possibly because we are more educated.

Stan’s book reminded us of the many other books and speeches over the last 25 years which talk about some of these issues. Such as Carmel Bird’s The stolen generation their stories which is based on the report, Bringing them home.  Also we were reminded of John Howard’s refusal to apologise to the stolen generation and Kim Beazley’s approach – for instance see this ABC report.

We also briefly talked about Eddie Mabo and the 1992 decision: ‘The judgments of the High Court in the Mabo case recognised the traditional rights of the Meriam people to their islands in the eastern Torres Strait. The Court also held that native title existed for all Indigenous people in Australia prior to the establishment of the British Colony of New South Wales in 1788.’

One member has recently been reading Robert Hughes’ Fatal shore and the impact of the convicts on Aborigines and their lifestyle. It was pretty devastating to say the least.

I talked about our recent interaction with the Adnyamathanha people of the Flinder’s Ranges and our enjoyment and education from them in the welcome to country ceremonies and the tours we attended. The welcome to country is becoming much more accepted and recognised as part of normal beginnings of meetings at universities and other institutions too.

Many members had stories to tell of their interactions with Aboriginal people. Some of the memories evoked are not good, such as memories of humpies in the 1960s. Others are more positive, such as a lady known by Deb who was a warm and friendly person in Deb’s early life in country New South Wales.

One difficult idea was raised by a member who mentioned that writer Kim Scott is worried about books in Aboriginal languages. He is worried that the languages may be appropriated by non-Indigenous writers, representing another dispossession. However non-Indigenous scholars and researchers have been working in this area since the beginning of white settlement.

We all admired the language used by Grant in this book. He is angry but the language is not unreasonable. He is trying to explain his emotions in the simplest way possible so that all Australians can understand his feelings. On the dust jacket it states: ‘the book that every Australian should read’. That is a difficult aim for any writer.

We particularly discussed some of the points raised by Grant on page 148:
how many times have I heard that we should forget our history and move on ?…Long term conflict may never have been a viable option for us and this country has been spared the internecine warfare of other lands, but the impact on us is no less real ... I grew to understand that conflict doesn’t end when the guns stop, that its legacy is passed through the generations. 

(This is Epigenetics according to one member.)

Such terrible injustices were suffered by some Aborigines, such as losing their families and even their identity through being part of the stolen generations and taken to missionary establishments and other institutions.

We also discussed some of the present day challenges for Aborigines such as poor hearing and how that impacts upon their whole lives – often preventing them from a good education and subsequent jobs and satisfactory lives.

A difficult read because of the subject matter but very worthwhile.

Monday, 30 October 2017

Resources relevant to our discussion of Stan Grant's Talking to my country

Here are some resources - books, songs, film/video - that are relevant to Stan Grant's book Talking to my country:
  • Archie Roach's song, "They took the children away", set to scenes from Rabbit Proof Fence 
  • Bob Randall's song, "My brown skin baby (They take him away)". Randall is a Yankunytjatjara Elder and a traditional owner of Uluru (Ayers Rock). This song from the early 1970's became an anthem for the Stolen Generations. There was a Chequerboard program on Randall and his story in 1970 (the link is to some notes and a couple of clips).
  • Carmel Bird's anthology Stolen children: Their stories 
  • Ellen van Neerven's anthology Writing black
  • Frank Hardy's Unlucky Australians: a story of the 1966 strike at Wave Hill Station by Gurindji stockmen & their families, available on iView (until 1 August 2018)
  • Kanyini: Living Black. Here’s a program about the movie (which seems to be about the above-named Bob Randall)
  • Stan Grant's speech on racism and the Australian dream.
There's a lot more of course ... but these are a start.

Thursday, 28 September 2017

Heather Rose's The museum of modern love: What is art, what is love?

We met this month at Muse Restaurant/Bar/Bookshop. As we did last year, we started an hour earlier than usual, dined first, then discussed the book, and followed that with coffee and dessert. Nine attended, and although noise (to which we contributed!) was a concern early on, the evening went well. We appreciated Muse staff's considerate service in organising for us to dine upstairs in the restaurant and then move to a circle of chairs in the bookshop for our discussion.

So now the book, Heather Rose's The museum of modern love. It was inspired by performance artist Marina Abramović, and particularly her 75-day performance piece at MoMA, The artist is present, and its narrative comprises two main parallel strands. One features the real artist Marina, and the other the fictional composer Arky Levin, who is at a crossroads in his professional and personal life.

We started with everyone sharing their overall impressions:
  • Most loved the book, one calling it fabulous.
  • A couple took a while to get into the writing, but enjoyed the different voices, the description of the various sitters, and the characters and their relationships.
  • One launched into reading without having read the blurb, and wondered initially what it was all about: was it about the purpose of art or perhaps about Levin's journey?
  • Those who had seen the documentary film, Marina Abramović: The artist is present, before, during or after reading the book, found that it enhanced understanding. For one it pretty much reversed her assessment from initially seeing performance art, particularly Marina's, as narcissistic, sado-masochistic, exhibitionist, to being something of interest and value.
  • One said that for a book with no real plot, it was fantastic, and enjoyed the way Rose presented the parallel lives of Marina and Arky Levin.
  • Several had little experience of performance art and/or found it confronting, if not stomach-turning, but enjoyed Rose's exploration of art (of all sorts, including music), and her analysis of people's feelings (including the conversations among the observers at The artist is present.)
  • One was fascinated by the whole "business" of art, and the number of people who "feed" off the artist's work.
  • One saw Marina as fragile, until she saw the documentary showing her to be a strong, powerful woman.
  • One commented how privileged we are to be able to spend time discussing such issues as art and love.

What is it about?

Having said all this, was there anything more to discuss? Surprisingly, yes! There were the themes. Is the book is essentially about the meaning of art. Some felt it was a major theme, others less so.

The meaning of art?

We talked about how Marina's performance art pares art down to its very minimum. What does this mean? We shared different ideas about art as presented in the book, including that art:
  • gets to "the heart of life",
  • is about being able to see the world differently, 
  • is about making connections, 
  • needs to be about changing ideology, and
  • explores what it means to be human. 
The book explores all of these, through a wide variety of art forms - performance, music, architecture and of course fiction.

This led, naturally, to some discussion of the artist, which both Marina and Arky Levin represent. For a performance artist, they are the work. In The artist is present, Marina is the connection, the focus. She wants, we felt, to be loved (see next theme!!), has a big ego, which is something we agreed you probably need to be an artist. Artists can't get bogged down in daily life, but need to be selfish. There is an irony here because to create great art you have little time for love, but without love you (and your art) can be empty. Is this the choice Levin must make at the end?

The importance of love?

Given the title, the book is clearly about love. We talked about Arky Levin and his wife Lydia, about how hopeless/weak Levin seemed to be. His daughter Alice is disappointed that he passively accepts Lydia's instruction - her court order - that he not visit her once she enters the final stages of her hereditary blood disease. However, some argued that while he does seem passive, it's also clear that Lydia liked to be in control. Regardless, we agreed that Levin is stalled, and needs to do something.

Romantic love (of which there are several examples in the book) is not the only type of love explored. Other forms include mother love. Marina's mother, Danica, appears in the book in ghost form. We thought Rose was courageous (see next theme!) to throw in a ghost. Rose suggests that this very tough mother did love Marina (in her own way). We also discussed the fact that, while Marina probably got her spiritual/emotional side from her grandmother, Danica's harsh treatment likely gave her the discipline and endurance she needs for her art! (Is the pain of a harsh childhood worth the art though? An age-old question.) 

We discussed the open ending. What does it say about love versus art? Does it mean that love has triumphed over art? Or something more complex about the relationship between love and art? In the final paragraphs Levin, in choosing his love for Lydia, embraces uncertainty and 

his heart responded to the blank canvas.


Another theme is courage. It is also the subject of Part Six, which starts with the ee cummings epigraph: 

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.

Many characters display courage, from Marina's doing what she does to Levin's having to make a decision, from those who choose to sit opposite Marina to others, like the warm-hearted Jane who doesn't sit but nonetheless makes her own decision at the end. 

We felt that Rose, the author, was also courageous in choosing to write about a living character, and that Marina was courageous in giving Rose unconditional permission to write about her. (We would expect nothing less of Marina though, having seen the documentary.) 

And the writing

We all enjoyed the writing, from the opening sentence:

He was not my first musician, Arky Levin. 

Not only is it attention-grabbing but it suggests an intriguing narrator, who turns out to be a sort of artist's muse, a "good spirit, whim ... House elf to the artists". Another courageous act on Rose's part, but it works. This narrator is not overdone, becoming less visible through the middle part of the novel, and reappearing near the end to guide us to the conclusion.

The main narrative is carried by the various characters - Arky Levin; the (loved-by-us-all) recently widowed Jane who comes to New York and is quickly captivated by Marina's performance; art critic Healayas; Dutch PhD student Brittika; and a host of others. Between them they tease out ideas about art and love, and they create a vivid picture of The artist is present and what it meant to those who were there. It clearly was something! We all wondered whether we'd have been brave enough to sit (as over 1500 people did, including Heather Rose) or just been one of the 850,000 spectators!

Such a beautiful book - to read and discuss. We all learnt something.

Thursday, 7 September 2017

Pachinko: gripping Korean family saga

The book for this month: Pachinko, by Min Jee Lee was recommended by a member who unfortunately couldn't get to the group. The 6 members there all enjoyed it immensely. The story of a Korean family living in Japan, began in 1910 concluding in the 1970's. Initial comments said they could not put the book down, describing it as a superb epic covering the tragedy and heart breaks of Koreans who lived in Japan since the 1920's. The characters were engaging and very believable. It was told in clean simple prose, a lot of the action happened off camera. While it focussed on the resiliance and gutsiness of the characters it was not melodramatic.

Anne told the story of visiting Korea and visiting the demilitarised zone. South Korea has one of the lowest birth rates in the world. There is a lot of prejudice towards North Korea.

A couple of members had read the interview with Min Jee Lee: she was inspired to write the story by hearing a lecture of the story of the Korean diaspora in Japan, and specifically the story of a young Korean student who had suicided following his bullying by his Japanese peers.

The main character in the book is Sunja, a woman from a small village, not a great beauty, but hard working honest family woman. Hansu, the yakuza (Japanese gangster) is attracted to this classic Korean woman. We loved seeing Sunja negotiating with the pawnbroker to sell her watch, and repay the debt for Yoseb. She was tough and determined. Her marriage to Isak saves her, but results in her living in Japan.

There are a number of marriages in the story, and the women play a key role. Parent child relationships are key in this book too, with a lot of emphasis on education for the next generation. The sacrifice of the parents to build a future for their children, is a classic migrant tale. Some of these relationships are challenging, such as Etsuko and her wayward daughter Hana. The challenge of keeping families together grows as the young generation becomes more mobile.

The themes identified by Min Jee Lee are forgiveness, loss, desire, aspiration, failure, duty, faith. Forgiveness was one we could identify. Noa for instance was unable to forgive his mother that his biological father was Hansu. He wanted to be Japanese, to overcome his Korean heritage. However, he could not match his ideals with reality. He was imbued somewhat with the 19th century novels he studied at University. His reading tastes were similar to those identified by the author.

The notion of home was very important in the book. One of the two epigraphs was by Charles Dickens:
'Home is a name, a word, It is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit answered to, in strongest conjuration.'
Home often being a construct, especially for these people who cannot go back to their own country. A number of characters in the book had returned to North Korea, but were not heard off again; the worst was feared. The fate of immigrants is to try and create a home in an alien environment.

We wondered how the Japanese would see the book. In Japan the acknowledgement of Korean comfort women was very controversial, so acknowledgement of the poor treatment of Korean citizens would be unlikely. Citizen registration for 'Koreans' in Japan continued til 1993.

Title : Pachinko: life like the game, looked fixed, but really chance and it's stacked against you. It's interesting that gambling is technically illegal in Japan, but the Pachinko Parlours get around this by offering prizes which can be exchanged elsewhere for cash. Pachinko parlours and associated businesses are one of the few ways Koreans can get ahead. And most of the family end up working or being supported by this shady business. Kim collects rents for Hansu, who describes him as 'clean wrapper for a filthy deed.'

So there was a lot to like about this epic novel, leading us into a world very few of us knew about. It was a life project for its author Min Jee Lee who has crafted a very readable and thoughtful novel, based on her interviews, research and family experience. It has one of the best opening sentences we have come upon:
'History has failed us, but no matter.'
Highly recommended.