Book Review: The Blocks by Karl Parkinson

Few books made me feel like this one did. I absorbed every word, every moment, every chapter of this unflinchingly, violently visceral journey. I smiled, laughed, cried and found myself re-reading the same paragraph over and over again in awe, immersed in the slangy dialogues I could almost hear in my head.

Karl Parkinson/Kenny Thompson is the storyteller we gradually get to know, taking us on a guided urban tour around O'Devaney Gardens (and a few more locations I won't disclose), just down the road from my place, where he spent his bleak yet imaginative childhood and teenage years, somehow managing to escape a dreary fate and inspiring us all to step forward and never look back. You see, I too grew up in the blocks, only in Portugal instead. No goals, no future, no dreams, no hope (which this book restored). I recognised a few voices from this realm of lost souls and doomed shadows, some characters were strangely familiar.

With raw and intimate honesty, this harsh odissey shakes one to the core (I speak for myself). This book is a memorable urban fable embellished with lyrical wit; a tragicomedy written in Northside Dub dialect, an inspiring inner-city banshee tale, gloriously gutwrenching and bittersweetly heartbreaking, where a very tormented truth triumphs through love, friendship, family, freedom and survival. Stories of self-destruction, doom and gloom, addiction, death, misery, unemployment and loss collide with love letters to music, poetry, Literature, Dublin and life itself - there's a very distinct Trainspotting-esque "Choose Life" message at some point. Anti-heroes coexist with unreal creatures in this trippy battle of contrasts. The narrative incorporates a memory lane-worthy soundtrack, including Liam and Noel Gallagher's voice and lyrics as the gospel of a generation, Bob Marley as a music God of the blocks, Michael Jackson and Madonna before a night out, The Pogues and UB40's while drinking tea and getting high on whatever was available.

Reading this book was a ravishing sensorial experience, a one-way ticket to Kenny's universe. I could smell the cheap batter burgers, the greasy fry ups, the stale beer, the smoke, the sweat. Petrichor and prostitute's perfume. I could listen to Britpop tunes and Garda sirens and loud slagging. The atmospheric portrayal of The Blocks haunts the reader and the author's peculiar turn of phrase steals the show.

Karl Parkinson, you neo-Beat poet from the Blocks, thanks for letting us readers enter your elegiac galaxy and witness your epic antics. Your words will live forever in places we pass by - Drumalee, Infirmary Road, Parkgate Street, Fatima, Phoenix Park. This book has stayed with me - the words, the sounds, the voices of the blocks will forever echo with the demolishing power of an anthem for the working class, the unheard, the misunderstood and the unprivileged. Not every dead end means game over.

What I've Been Reading

The Woman Who Went to Bed for a Year by Sue Townsend » Not everyone agrees with me but this book is highly enjoyable, hilarious and it never fails to entertain. The first page had me hooked, mostly due to Sue Townsend's delightful sense of humor. The story is about a middle-aged mother, Eva Beaver, who decides to climb into bed and stay there for a year. That's right, a year! The question is why. Eva's family, friends and neighbours witness her self-exile and her emotional response to everyone's reaction. Funny, bittersweet, thought-provoking, sarcastic, comical... More than 400 pages of pure wit! I found myself understanding Eva's frustrations - an unfaithful husband and two selfish twin teenage kids who see her as a burden. The end was a bit disappointing though, I was expecting something more surprising... Townsend's illustration of today's society felt incredibly realistic: Eva becoming an Internet celebrity, different concepts of happiness, emotional detachment, women reduced to the role of housewives, prejudice, etc. For those who miss Adrian Mole, here's Eva Beaver to fill the gap.

The Herbalist by Niamh Boyce » I loved this book! Niamh Boyce's first novel won the 2012 Hennesssy XO Award for New Irish Writing - I'm not surprised. The author captures the mood of 1930s rural Ireland (where respectability and reputation meant a big deal for everybody), feeding our imagination with exquisite storytelling. Everything changes in a small town loaded with gossip, judgemental narrow minds and scandal, when an exotic man appears out of nowhere and starts selling lotions and potions - the so-called herbalist, a very questionable healer. The land of banned books, abortions, broken hearts and catholic morals turns into an intriguing revelation of secrets, crime and misfortune. This beautifully written and engaging novel is mysterious and sometimes revoltingly shocking, with layers of romance  and tragedy embroided in its lyrical prose. The story is narrated by four women: dreamer Emily (I love her obsession over Hollywood glamour and dresses), unhappy Carmel, charming Sarah and the good-hearted charismatic prostitute who lives in a barge, Aggie - all of them connected by the arrival of The Herbalist. I stayed until 5am reading this book because it's such a vivid page turner! Slow-paced, evocative and absolutely memorable. There are some Irish words too every now and then, it was nice to know their meaning.

Crime by Irvine Welsh » I warn you: this is not a book for the faint of heart. Every page will bring you disgust and unease. It might even give you nightmares. This is the third Irvine Welsh's novel I read and once again, the author does a great job in this story infused with sickening details, exploring the darker corners of human psyche in this thrilling journey into instinct, protection, redemption, guilt, conscience and duty. The reader is introduced to Detective Inspector Ray Lennox of the Edinburgh PD, a tormented man recovering from a mental breakdown, on holiday in Miami with his fiancée. Haunted by demons he's trying to escape, Lennox eventually ends up facing them, after a coke binge in a stranger's apartment, when he finds himself alone with Tianna, a 10-year-old sexually abused child. The way Welsh describes the landscape, environment and weather in Florida contrasts with Lennox's uncomfortably grim flashbacks of his last case and his own childhood back in Scotland. Disturbing and shocking, yes... but brilliantly written. Despite the horrifyingly enraging subject matter, give this book a chance.

Nightwalking

Bathed in rain and dressed in cashmere, there she was, walking around neon-drenched alleys and boulevards. She was not sure if she wanted what she wanted. Not being able to tell what we want is far much worse than being absolutely sure of what we deserve. That was her first and last thought that night. The crisp evening was gone and now all she had ahead was dawn, with its confronting sunrise, the promising so-called starting over, isn’t what they say? There was nothing left to lose. Life gets so much easier when one gets to decide exactly how to end it. She smiled, soothed by that idea.

Currently Reading: "Mrs Dalloway" by Virginia Woolf

I've just started reading Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. I find the way she describes every single thing utterly fascinating - it's a shame that this is the very first time I'm reading a book by this incredibly brilliant writer... But oh well, better late than never, right? Did any of you read this book? What are your thoughts about it? Reviews and recommendations are welcome!

For some reason, I notice I've been more inspired since I started reading Mrs Dalloway. Last night, around 4am, I grabbed a pen and a notebook and wrote these words:

We are rapture and ecstasy

Ribs wide open

Heart exposed

Begging to be broken

Ravished, overdose

Sinfully committed or committedly sinful?

The crows screech everytime they witness

The tidal wave melting into the dirty shore
Even if you were enough, I'd still want more

Dry flowers still bleed
From memories which will proceed

Reading it loud makes it sound slightly ridiculous but at least I can tell the words came out naturally, which is positive. As you might know, a writing block can be beyond tragic and even lead ourselves into a spiral of pessimism and despair.

Comecei a ler Mrs Dalloway, por Virginia Woolf. A maneira como ela descreve cada coisa é imensamente fascinante - é uma vergonha que esta seja a primeira vez que eu leio uma obra desta escritora incrivelmente brilhante... Mas pronto, mais vale tarde que nunca, não é? Já leram este livro? O que acharam? Aceitam-se críticas e sugestões!

Por motivos que me ultrapassam, reparei que tenho andado mais inspirada desde que comecei a ler Mrs Dalloway. Ontem à noite, por volta das 4 da manhã, agarrei-me ao bloco de notas e à caneta e saiu-me isto:

We are rapture and ecstasy

Ribs wide open

Heart exposed

Begging to be broken

Ravished, overdose

Sinfully committed or committedly sinful?

The crows screech everytime they witness

The tidal wave melting into the dirty shore

Even if you were enough, I'd still want more

Dry flowers still bleed

From memories which will proceed

Ler isto alto soa vagamente ridículo mas pelo menos posso constatar que as palavras brotaram naturalmente, o que é positivo. Como devem saber, um bloqueio de inspiração pode ser trágico ao ponto de nos levar numa espiral de pessimismo e desespero.

Currently Reading: "Invisible Monsters" by Chuck Palahniuk

Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk