The Cone-Gatherers by Robin Jenkins.

"She could not pray, but she could weep; and as she wept pity, and purified hope, and joy, welled up in her heart."

Originally published in 1955, The Cone-Gatherers by Robin Jenkins is being republished by Canongate Classics in their new series of "Canon" titles. I was offered a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review, and I am so happy I said yes.

On its surface, the book wasn't something that really jumped out at me. But once it arrived on my doorstep, I was intrigued. Maybe it was the minimalist cover, but I sat down, flipped it open, and began reading. And immediately I was transported into a story that I cared about.

I should back up a second and tell you a little background. The novel is essentially about a small community of people on an estate in Scotland during WWII. The landowners have a large amount of trees on the property that are going to be cut down for the war effort. Two brothers are hired on as cone-gathers-basically to gather seed and cones from the trees so the forest can be replanted in the future.

The brothers, Neil and Calum, are incredibly close. Calum is a bit deformed and slow, so Neil cares for him and protects him. In many ways, their relationship was very close to that of George and Lennie in Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men (in fact, the book mentions this relationship on the back cover). It is obvious from the first instant the reader meets the brothers that they have struggled to find and keep work. With Calum's deformities, Neil has his hands full in protecting and caring for him. When the reader meets them, we learn that the two brothers are living in the woods in a rundown hut. They spend all of their days up in the trees harvesting for their masters. Most of the other people who are also on the estate either ignore them or look down on them. They are very much the bottom of the barrel.

Another man, Duror, is the gamekeeper on the estate. He also lives in the woods. At the beginning of the novel, we learn that he hates the two brothers. He is bothered by Calum and his deformity. He seethes in anger whenever he sees the two brothers and sets things in motion to drive the two men off the estate and away from his home.

The other two characters that I really need to mention are Lady Runcie-Campbell, the woman of the estate, and her son, Roderick. She is very much of the upper-class and in her few encounters with the two brothers, she acts superior to them and their work. It is obvious from the way she speaks with both of them that she is bothered by their poverty. Her son, on the other hand, is the shining little piece of hope in the entire novel. He feels for the men and doesn't understand why his mother looks down on them for making a living in their own way. She chalks up his feelings to immaturity and a lack of proper education, but it seems obvious that he is the only one with any sense of social justice.

So it is with these characters that the novel unfolds over the course of just a few days. The reader learns the grievances of the two brothers as they seem to be cast aside by the rest of humanity. Roderick attempts to understand what his place is in the upper class as his mother continually instructs him on how to behave by treating those around her as if they are less than her. And Duror...he lurks and hides in shadows. The chapters and scenes with him make your skin crawl as he plots and watches the brothers working.

The whole novel is smooth and haunting from the very beginning. Jenkins drew me in from the first page with lush descriptions of the forest and trees that the cone-gatherers called home,

"Single stars appeared, glittering in a sky pale and austere. Dusk like a breathing drifted in among the trees and crept over the loch," (2).

The forest was also a character in all of this, providing a sense of gloom in the backdrop of the characters' interactions, since it was also doomed (the threat of being cut down to aid the war effort). But Jenkins also gave this sense of despair in his descriptions of the characters and their actions, from Duror,

"Hesitating there in the hallway, he felt himself breaking apart: doomed and resigned he was in the house' still yearning after hope, he was in that miserable hut," (23)

to Lady Runcie-Campbell's musings on Duror's ailing wife,

"By merely enduring, she could have acheived a superiority over any earthly visitor: even a queen in her resigned presence must be humble. Instead, monstrous and feeble, she would fawn and simper and suggest obeisances almost obscene," (134)

to Roderick's own despair over not being able to change things,

"Coached by his grandfather, Roderick knew that the struggle between good and evil never rested: in the world, and in every human being, it went on...Good did not always win," (145)

and to Neil's doubts about his own abilities to continue to protect Calum in an ever-harsher world,

"Wherever that light had shown from, it had not been from heaven. There was no such place," (150).

All of it leads to the final 20 pages and the decisions that change the land and the quiet, peaceful nature of the woods where the story takes place.

In many ways, the story IS similar to Of Mice and Men, so that comparison on the cover is correct. But where I find Steinbeck's novel to be harsh and garish, I found Jenkins' story to be simmering and smooth. While I knew, from the tone and descriptions I shared above, that something would happen, he never pulled me from the beauty of the Scottish woods. He also made me understand Duror in a way that I never could understand Curley. Where Curley was just a gross example of a man...I could see why Duror would be filled with such hate and anger.

I think it is safe to say that I preferred this one over Steinbeck's novel, if only for the beautiful language and the ultimate climax of the novel. This, quite simply, was an amazing read. It drew me in from the very beginning and sank in. The complex balance between good and evil, right and wrong, the old way and social niceties...it was all in perfect balance before the scales tipped at the very end. It gave me much to think about and as I closed the book, I found myself thinking about all the moments when that own balance in my life has been tipped.

This is definitely one I would recommend, especially if you didn't enjoy the harsh nature of Steinbeck's tale (don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of Of Mice and Men, but this was done so much better). I am certainly going to seek out more of Jenkins' work in the future, as well as other titles in this collection of books.

Volcano by Shusaku Endo.

I was lucky enough to be offered a copy of two of Shusaku Endo's novels. After I got the offer, I had to do a little research into who Endo was, since I had never heard of him. What I learned is that Endo is a modern-classic Japanese writer (he passed away in 1996), and he wrote a great deal about the conflicting ideals happening in Japan in the modern era. Many of his novels focus on Japan's role in the modern world after World War II.

The first novel I read was Volcano. The novel was originally published in 1959 in Japanese. From what I read online, it was one of Endo's lesser-known works.

The novel focuses on two characters-Jinpei Suda, a researcher on his city's volcano (he works for the Weather Bureau at the beginning of the novel), and Durand, an ex-French priest. Both men have fallen from their high statuses near the beginning of the novel.

The novel alternates between their two stories until they run into each other on the side of the volcano. It is an interesting structure that I was at first put off by. When I began, I preferred Suda's storyline-finding it far more compelling than that of Durand. But then those roles flipped by the end, so I am sure that was Endo's doing.

What really worked for me in this book was how the two characters were so similar, while being at very opposite sides of a belief system. Both are struggling with illness and their own encroaching deaths, but they tackle it in different ways. Suda seems to be off-put by how those around him really perceive him in his old age, while Durand doesn't care at all. He just does.

The result is an interesting little novel that compares the lives and passions of men to a once "dormant" volcano.

And, to be honest, while the story was compelling and interesting, I didn't really love it. At different points, I really hated the characters. It was hard to sympathize with either of them when I learned more about who they were and what they had done in their lives. But I could still appreciate Endo's ability to craft the story. It is dark, deep, and dormant, just like the volcano. I am curious to see what he does in the other work I was sent (When I Whistle-haven't started it yet) to see if it is more to my liking.

Has anyone else read anything by Endo? Since this is a minor work, I'm curious about his better known titles!

"A volcano resembles human life. In youth it gives rein to the passions, and burns with fire. It spurts out lava. But when it grows old, it assumes the burden of those past evil deeds. It turns deathly quiet as we now behold it. Nevertheless, a human being is not entirely like the volcano. When we grow old, will cast a backward glance upon our lives, becoming fully aware of our mistakes."

*I was sent this title for review*

An Uncommon Education by Elizabeth Percer.

"'It's like this, Naomi,' he said, settling down next to me. He was unshaven and wore a tattered sweatshirt. There was some chocolate smudged just outside his mouth, and his eyes were bright with excitement. 'It can be dangerous to look forward too much, to think always of what should be instead of accepting what is'" (30).

I rarely accept books for review, but when I was offered a copy of An Uncommon Education by Elizabeth Percer, I was intrigued by the synopsis. I love the idea of coming-of-age stories. And I love that they aren't just limited to certain time periods in our lives, but across our entire life. Because really, I'm coming of age throughout my entire life, right?

In any case, I was anxious to get to this one, and I picked it off my pile as soon as I could. I wasn't disappointed.

Naomi is the only child to two parents that struggle with their own identities and relationships. Her father is a loving a caring man, taking Naomi with him on trips as often as he can, allowing her the freedom to choose her future, and being a support to her whenever he needs to be. Naomi's mother is a little more distant from her daughter. She battles chronic depression and her role as a wife and mother. She converted to Judaism and seems isolated from the person she once was.

Naomi grows up in a house where her mental capabilities are cherished and with the loving support of her parents, she is allowed the opportunity to do whatever it is she wishes to. She is gifted and talented and after her father has a heart attack, her deepest wish is to be a doctor, so that she can take care of him in the future.

She eventually finds her way to Wellesley College, where after being isolated for a year, she joins the Shakes, a society for women like herself. It is only after she is a part of their group that she begins to learn who she is and what she is made of. She slowly goes through this transformation while at school, and as life events begin to spiral away from her, she learns who she really is and what really matters.

Naomi was a character I was drawn to. She was so isolated in her childhood. She focused so completely on her family, her friend Teddy, and the knowledge she gained from books. She has this intense focus from childhood on who she will become and what she is supposed to do with her life.

Perhaps that is why I was so drawn to her. Like Naomi, I have been a bit one-sighted in my ambitions. Whereas she wanted to be a doctor, to help her father, I have always seen myself in education. And like Naomi, other opportunities have presented themselves to me, and perhaps my path isn't as clear as I would like it to be.

Watching Naomi struggle with her identity and her chosen path just showed me that even though you may want something, even though you may think something is what you want to become, it may not be what you need. One of the biggest things I have learned in my struggle is that there is a large difference between wanting and needing. Sometimes there are things out of reach...and for a purpose. We can't control that, and while we might fight it, we shouldn't.

I was touched by the simple beauty of Percer's writing. She drew me in slowly, showed me who Naomi was, and allowed me to acknowledge who Naomi was supposed to become. So when Naomi disintegrates, because she doesn't know who she really is, I sometimes wanted to yell at her and say, "Why are you screwing this all up?" But, by the end, everything was at it should be, and Naomi seemed to have found peace with who she really was and what she was meant to be. Her story was an inspiring journey, and one that moved me immensely.

It was a lovely book, and I am so glad I had the opportunity to read it when I did. I've said it before-books have a time and a place, and sometimes, they just strike you in the right moment when you need them most.

This was one of those books.



*I received this book for review from HarperCollins.