Dog-eared, bookmarked, or piled underneath coursework, Lily Page asks students what they’re reading.
Dog-eared, bookmarked, or piled underneath coursework, I asked UofG students what books they’ve been flipping through at the beginning of the academic year.
I’ve spent the last few days of September finishing V. V. Ganeshananthan’s heartbreakingly sensational novel Brotherless Night. The book is from the perspective of a young Tamil girl named Sashi and her personal account of growing up in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, during the Civil War. With dreams of being a doctor, Sashi is forced to make crucial moral decisions that shape her personal and professional life. Ganeshananthan beautifully captures the complexity of girlhood set against the fraught political climate of the time. I wouldn’t describe myself as a big fan of historical fiction, as I often feel distant when reading it; however, the author bridges the gap between accuracy and sentiment in such an astounding way that I found myself tearing up on multiple occasions.
In an interview with WomensPrize, Ganeshananthan admits her biggest struggle writing Brotherless Night was depicting the brutality of the war: “without either sensationalising it or diminishing it”. I argue she accomplishes this impressively. As a story set far from home, I felt the author’s narration on Sri Lanka’s history was comprehensible to even those who live in a glorified shoebox in Glasgow’s West End, like me. Ganeshananthan’s work particularly resonated with me through her use of the second person address. By pointing the finger directly at the reader, she reminds us that we too have a moral duty not to be complicit in today’s social quandaries.
The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai
Rosie, Immunology
Titled as one of the best 20th-century writers of Japanese Literature, you may recognise Osamu Dazai for his popular novel No Longer Human. It is no surprise, then, that his work is circulating amongst Glasgow’s students. Rosie is currently reading one of Dazai’s lesser-known works called The Setting Sun. “The book explores themes of class, family, and grief through the main character, Kazuko, as she grapples with her changing life in post-war Japan,” states Rosie. Published in 1947, the novel is a semi-autobiographical mesh of fictive storytelling and the author’s own lived experience. Curious about the representation of women in The Setting Sun, I asked Rosie how she found Kazuko’s characterisation. She replied, “I didn’t feel like she was oversexualised, rather she was real and relatable.”
“For a short read, it is delightfully insightful and emotional. I find myself completely unable to put it down.”
The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
Gracie, English Literature
After studying Scottish Literature at UofG, Gracie has been “quite taken by Scottish authors, especially when they’re writing specifically about [her] homeland.” Her newfound interest has inspired her current read, a widely renowned horror fiction called The Wasp Factory by Fife-born author Iain Banks. Celebrated, or rather acknowledged for its oddity and sadism, Bank’s debut novel was met with a wave of literary criticism after its release in 1984. The novel focuses on an eccentric boy’s unconventional life on an isolated island off the coast of Scotland. The author successfully bundles up core themes of toxic masculinity, broken family archetypes, and superstition to form his macabre contemporary gothic novel. Gracie claims that, “despite the uncanny air and often unclear plotline”, she “thoroughly enjoys Bank’s casual, vernacular writing and look[s] forward to the big reveal” that the plot slowly builds towards. Most notably for Gracie, the backdrop of rural Scotland plays an essential role in her enjoyment of the text,
“I can really see the landscapes the main character lets his mischief loose upon, from the rolling dunes to the small-town pubs with quintessential local characters.”
Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin
Euan, International Relations
Recommended to him by his friends who study English Literature, Euan has been reading the literary sensation Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin. Acclaimed by many as one of the most influential texts in the queer canon, Giovanni’s Room explores what it means to exist in two worlds at once, as the protagonist, David, fights an internal tug of war between truth and image. Desiring to belong to the social milieu of heteronormativity, David is forced to face his inner duality when he meets Italian bar worker and future lover, Giovanni.
“I think everyone could see the relevant benefit from understanding different perspectives of people, past and present, the broad spectrum of ideological differences throughout the world and this book allows us to comprehend just how small we are, and how important it is to speak up and grasp a deeper understanding of humanity.”
The Bookseller of Kabul by Åsne Seierstad
Aaron, Psychology
Aaron is currently reading The Bookseller of Kabul. For him, the crux of this novel centres around “the sheer fear felt about a possible Taliban coup but also the deeply rooted cultural differences of extreme patriarchal overreach, in day-to-day life, from family to family.”
Written by Norwegian Journalist Åsne Seierstad, The Bookseller of Kabul follows the story of bookseller Shah Muhammad Rais and his defiance against the extreme strictures his profession faces. Seierstad shines a light on the story of a family in Kabul, giving the reader a glimpse into the individual fight for freedom among Afghanistan’s people. Aaron acknowledges this accomplishment, saying, “her writing style made me feel like a silent witness inside the characters’ home, offering a humanised perspective on a place and people historically reduced to headlines.”
With that being said, Aaron, among an onslaught of other sceptical readers of the book, questioned Seierstad’s literary integrity in writing about Afghanistan’s history: “Why would anyone care about a Western woman and her flimsy colonial cultural appropriation alongside her opaque desire to make a quick buck?”.
There’s no denying this question still looms over the non-fiction that is shaped by Seierstad’s angled recall of her three-month stay in Kabul. While still being a valuable read, to better inform your understanding of the decades of war in Afghanistan, I suggest pairing this book with some literature by Afghan writers. Whether it’s A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Housseni or Dancing in the Mosque by Homeira Qaderi, the options are endless.
From exploring questions of identity and belonging to engaging with narratives around global conflict, it seems we are witnessing a shift towards more reflective reading. Are today’s reading choices increasingly shaped by the political climate and the urgency of current affairs? Whilst a small cross-section of UofG students can’t provide a definitive answer, it seems apparent that what we choose to read is increasingly influenced by the world beyond the page.
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