Vintage Narrow Road to the Deep North the-

A real look into what Australian POWs went through - some parts quite tough to read. Very well written. Would defiantly recommend.

This is an ambitious and interesting novel, with a non-linear structure and some moments of incredible depth. It is also one of the most inconsistent novels I have ever read.The story is plagued by a romantic sub-plot which feels rather conventional, if not cliché. I was almost putting the book down while reading its super-cheesy second part. I simply could not believe that that part was written by the same person who had written the captivating first part of the novel. The love story is forced, inauthentic. I felt as if some editor imposed such a sub-plot to the poor writer, in order to put some romance into an otherwise bleak tale of war, tortures, survival and regrets. I had this feeling because, on developing the absurd romance between the protagonist and a strange girl met in a bookshop (and similar clichés), Flanagan's pen simply does not look inspired as in other parts of the book.And, in fact, the novel manages to redeems itself in its third and fourth part, which are the most choral. In those parts, we are introduced to a little crowd of prisoners of war. We witness how they are tortured and pushed to their physical and psychological limits; we also follow the destinies of the survivors in the aftermath of the war. The stories are human, all too human! It is nearly impossible not to get teary-eyed in some passages. Another interesting aspect of the novel is the investigation into the psychology of the "others": we don't know only the tortured prisoners, we also get some revelations about the torturers, their mentality, their stories, their world-view. The very last pages, once again, fall into a rather contrived rhetorical cheesiness.This was my first Flanagan's novel. I am not sure whether I caught the writer's voice. I am not even sure whether this writer has his own voice. He definitely knows how to write, and (sometimes) he does it very well. However, his writing does not feel unique or recognisable. A writer with a unique voice makes you feel like you want to read all his works. I am not sure whether I will read another novel by Flanagan anytime soon.Despite its stylistic inconsistencies, I am happy I have read 'The Narrow Road to the Deep North'. Some of its parts are really illuminating, deep and moving. I wish the writer would not have gone for some easy, used and abused literary tropics. This story could have been stronger, deeper and more powerful, if only Flanagan had decided to be a bit braver.

Un très beau roman, qui suit son personnage de l'enfance à la fin de vie avec pour centre l'expérience terrible des camps de travail japonais pour prisonniers de guerre. Le héros en devient un malgré lui, tout en considérant qu'il n'est qu'un "fake", ce qui le mine.S'y ajoute une histoire d'amour dont il ne se remettra jamais vraiment. Et l'évocation de tous ces hommes qui sont morts dans la construction de la voie ferrée du nord, qui devait permettre aux japonais d'amener leurs troupes à travers la péninsule indochinoise pour prendre les alliés à revers.Egalement une investigation psychologique très pointue des officiers japonais et de leurs subalternes coréens qui menaient tous ces prisonniers à la mort pour accomplir la volonté de l'empereur.Un très grand roman, qui vous entraîne de bout en bout.

This powerful, sensitive and evocative novel on the human condition, in extremis, which was recommended by a fellow Amazon reviewer (not to mention Man Booker), helped me reconnect with Australian literature after an absence of several decades. I had read a substantial amount of Aussie literature, back when down under beckoned as a viable alternative. Yet my knowledge was stuck in the days when “everyone” was reading Patrick White’s Voss (Penguin Classics). White would go on to rightly win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1973. I’ve been to Australia three times, twice on the American government’s “dime.” And so I was amused when Flanagan had his protagonist, Dorrigo Evans attempting to escape from me (and my kind) since “Sydney was full of American GIs from Vietnam on R&R” (p. 364). Tut, tut. I really was not that unruly; my intentions were easily traced, searching for a mindset that, as Flanagan said much earlier in his novel, wouldn’t object to shocking the patrons of the hotel restaurant, which he said far less banally, and much more suggestively: “And wouldn’t that put some cream in their coffee.”War. Richard Flanagan was never in a war, nor was he apparently ever in the military. But his father was. His father was a prisoner of war who worked on the infamous “death railway” between Thailand (Siam) and Burma. And that experience is the core of this novel. He listened to his father well. And what is depicted is war, in extremis. Virtually no American (or Aussie!) had these experiences in Vietnam. And virtually no Allied troops had these experiences fighting Germany during the Second World War. It was a “perfect storm” of “honor,” “racism,” and the massive collision of the tectonic plates of empires. Flanagan brings all of that out so well. Japan, once so quiet, introspective, simply wanting to be left alone, was dragged onto “the world’s stage” in the 19th century, and assumed it role with a vengeance. The “white man” had no place in Asia. Japan would assume the role of providing “guidance” to the natives there. The last third of the novel is “epilogue,” what happened to the survivors of the Death Railroad after the war was over. Vengeance was dressed up in the robes of judicial proceedings. Nakamura, one of the leaders of the camps who managed to escape that vengeance/justice notes the irony: “they only prosecuted us for what we did to them, never what we did to the Chinese.”This is a novel in “high definition.” There are numerous crisp, searing images that will remain with me for the rest of my life. The structure of the novel, with the foreshadowing of events, and the interconnectivities that resulted from a country/continent which had a population that was less than some of today’s megalopolis, was brilliantly done. The title itself is taken from Matsuo Basho’s work of the same name, a link between the experiences of these two very different countries. And Flanagan’s prose is rich, meaningful, and almost perfectly wrought. Dominant is the theme of personal honor – often a good thing – run amok, to use a word now in English, which was derived from the language of Java, where Dorrigo Evans was captured. The Japanese were intent on building a railway because the white man said it could not be done, all for the glory of the emperor, their own version of the ancient pyramids, an analogy Flanagan makes several times. And there is also the disastrous consequences derived from the personal honor of the ever so mundane attempt to retain one’s own bodily functions.I’ll never be able to look at fish “captured” in an aquarium again, without thinking of this novel. As well as a major betrayal of ethics in the medical field: “Because he thought my white lab coat would help him.” And an issue that seems to unite the survivors of all wars: what to tell the families of the ones who didn’t make it, particularly if they died in futile or foolish circumstances: “What did you say? The right thing. Lies.” Flanagan uses the eternal truths of great literature, so it is no surprise that the homecoming of Ulysses is featured as part of a wedding toast. And medical failures haunt: the repeated grasping for a femoral artery that wasn’t there.It is also a novel about the missed opportunities in love. The book’s cover hints at that also, about a woman who had the “…audacity in wearing a big red flower in her hair…” in the bookstore. She became a haunting obsession. So… if you are going to Sydney… wear a crimson camellia in your hair, though a magnolia blossom might do, along with the pearls, and don’t “walk on by” on that iconic bridge, but stand hand-in-hand, and savor the time that is left. 6-stars.

The wonder of this novel is that this complex story flows seamlessy from the past to the present, from character to character. The interwoven nature of the story does make for a challenging but very enjoyable read. In fact I think the true pleasure of reading this book is that it makes you think. The central character - Dorrigo Evans - is not some stereotypical superhero, rather he is an ordinary person, who has to cope with the pressures and responsibilities of caring for the men under his command all of whom are prisoners of war and have been tasked by the Japanese to help build the Burma - Siam railway.As the narrative moves back and forth between the past and the present we learn how events and decisions - even those of a seemingly minor nature - in the lives of the various characters shapes their destiny. I agree with other reviewers in that the story is complex and if one were to reread it again, you would gleam new insights into the characters, but this makes the novel all the more pleasureable as it makes you think and it makes you want to know more.