Review: A Thousand Farewells

For the past two months, I made slow progress through a book called A Thousand Farewells. The book is a memoir of sorts written by Nahlah Ayed, a Canadian freelance journalist working from the Middle East. It follows Ayed from her arrival in Pakistan following the September 11 attacks, through a number of conflicts, uprisings and protests, to her return to Canada at the time of the book's completion.

There is no flattering way to put it; the book is a dry, heavy read through most of its 339 pages. Aside from the occasional anecdote that reads as more personal and reflective, it presents like a never-ending run-on news story written in the first person. However, this style does seem to serve a purpose.

While the stories may come off as cold, removed and overly objective at times, the dry journalistic style does an effective job of shifting much of the reader's focus away from Ayed's personal experience, toward the stories of others and the places and events at which she was present. Assuming this was the goal, it was accomplished in full and with careful tact. At first, I found the tone and execution of the narrative to be unengaging and impersonal, but as I began to consider the stories of the people and places above her own, I came to appreciate it for what it was.

On one hand, I would have liked to have seen more of her personal reflections on and reactions to her experiences. As it stands, she saves most of this for the end of the book, with only a few comments on very major experiences actually placed within the stories. However, I can see that the choice was intentional, and I believe it works.

The stuttering barrage of seemingly irrelevant names, places and qualifying details was the only thing about the book that I have yet to find justification for. I found it very difficult at times to process the stories when I was trying to either sound out or cross-reference half a dozen names and locations within the space of a few paragraphs.

Part of my school assignment on this book requires me to describe what a journalist might learn from this book. Aside from the obvious value to a journalist potentially working in the Middle East or amidst some sort of uprising, I found the book to be surprisingly lacking in journalistic relevance. The main lesson that a journalist could (and should) take from it is spelled out near the end: "People are not quotes or clips," Ayed writes, "used to illustrate stories about war and conflict. People are the story, always."

She also talks about the value of living in a place in order to really become immersed in the stories, and the importance of connecting with people at length and off camera. These ideas are backed up by the rest of the book, to be sure, but are also not strikingly original or unintuitive. To a journalist, I imagine the book would simply serve as a tool to strengthen existing values and instincts rather than to impart new ideas.

Another piece of the assignment asks for a comparison to another work of non-fiction. I haven't been a consumer of much non-fiction lately, but I believe an interesting comparison would be to Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine. Klein, also a journalist, presents an extensive essay on what she calls "disaster capitalism," or the forced conversion of a society to extreme capitalism in the wake of a major disaster.

While the subject matter and purpose of the books are completely different, I would have expected more similarities in the style and delivery. However, Klein's book manages to feel decidedly more personal, despite the academic nature of her subject. The Shock Doctrine contains only a handful of interviews - in fact, very little human interaction at all - but portrays a warmth and humanity that persuades the reader to adopt her view

This is very intentional; Klein's book is, after all, a persuasive essay of sorts, while Ayed's chooses to remain as objective as possible. A stark juxtaposition is formed: Klein creates an impassioned argument from research, history and a few personal interactions, while Ayed coolly and objectively tells the story of her own interactions and experiences with a bit of history thrown in.

In the end, I came away from reading A Thousand Farewells with a greater understanding of some Middle Eastern conflict, as well as a strong appreciation for foreign correspondents dealing with stories of major conflict. Beyond this, the book did not affect me to any great degree.

50 Years of Heartache & Heartbreak

It occurred to me yesterday that this week's episode of The Dark End Of The Street would fall on Valentine's Day. I'm a bit slow on the uptake, I realize, but I considered it a very appropriate revelation nonetheless.

In light of the convenient overlap, I decided to create a Valentine's Day special of sorts, entitled "50 Years of  Heartache & Heartbreak." I'll be playing 15 of my favourite songs about lost love and loneliness, running chronologically from 1963 to the present. The playlist includes Bob Dylan, Al Green, The Guess Who, Nazareth, R.E.M., and some modern-day favourites as well, and covers each of the last five decades. The crowning jewel though, in my humble opinion, will be Foreigner's "I Wanna Know What Love Is":

So, if this sounds enticing to you, tune in here from 8-9 tonight and prepare to wallow the night away. If you're reading this and you missed the broadcast, have no fear! You can find the podcasts here, and tonight's episode should be up early next week.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Christmas Comes Late

The past week has been a kind of slapback-echo of Christmas for me, as I rounded up the gift cards I received over the holidays and picked out what to buy. I'm sure many people blow any credit-related Christmas spoils on Boxing Day, when prices are low and the high of the holidays is threatening to fade. However, I quite like waiting until long after the holidays to relive some of the magic.

My birthday is in January, so I have the unique opportunity to spread the gifts and festivities over a rather long period of time. Only now, long after Christmas and several weeks after my birthday, I finally decided to redeem my final set of gifts, ending my extended holiday season. So I went to the record store.

Into The Music was my destination - a vast trove of vinyl old and new, in Winnipeg's historic Exchange District. After combing through nearly every new record in the store and searching hundreds of used records in the soul and rock sections, not to mention a lengthy stay in front of the bargain bin, I came away with my treasures.

I picked up the soundtrack from The Kids Are Alright by The Who, Play Deep by The Outfield, Moe Koffman's Greatest Hits, and a few intriguing selections from the bargain bin. However, the crowing jewel was Antony & The Johnsons' Cut the World. Here's a sample (although it's not the same as vinyl - and I know how hipster that sounds):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNBUGxBpHbQ

Cut the World is a live album recorded with the Danish National Chamber Orchestra, and gives stunning reinterpretations of some of the band's more popular songs, as well as the previously unheard title track. The recording itself is superb - this was no afterthought re-editing of a board mix. This was obviously a staged event, organized for the purpose of recording this beautiful collaboration. It's an absolute must-hear for any Antony & The Johnsons fan.