Reading matters

'Venetian Stories' by Jane Turner Rylands

Fiction - paperback; Anchor Books; 304 pages; 2004.

I am not a great fan of the short story, but I made an exception for this collection, because of its setting. It's no secret that I have a soft spot for Venice, so, when I found Jane Turner Rylands' Venetian Stories in a local charity shop I snapped it up, took it home and then spent the next six months reading it very, very slowly.

All the stories -- there are 12 in total and each is about 20 pages long -- are set in the watery city. They are told from the perspective of the residents, whether new or old, Italian or foreign, rich or poor. Some are even interlinked, but this is done in such a subtle manner that it's not immediately obvious and, to be honest, I wouldn't have even picked this up if it wasn't for the blurb telling me this was the case.

In fact, subtle is the key word here, as the entire collection seems to lack any great impact. There's no "wow" factor in these stories, but they are pleasing and effortless to read, if slightly fey in places. They supposedly provide an insight into real Venetian lives, but I have my doubts because many of the people portrayed here are downright snobs, corrupt or stupid.

There's also a decidedly American feel to everything, which is no great surprise given the author is an expat American. But what concerned me most was the condescending prose style adopted by Turner Rylands; there's no greater turn off than being talked down to, as if I could not possibly be as well travelled or as well connected  as the author.

In my humble opinion, Venetian Stories is not a great collection and has done nothing to make me reassess my usual distaste for the short story, but if you love Venice and consider yourself an armchair traveller (rather than a real traveller) you just might enjoy it.

'The Vienna Woods Killer: A Writer's Double Life' by John Leake

Non-fiction - hardcover; Granta Books; 347 pages; 2007.

Truth is stranger than fiction, and no more so than in the case of Jack Unterweger, a convicted murderer hailed as Austria's greatest example of criminal rehabilitation. While serving a life sentence for the brutal murder of 18-year-old Margaret Schäfer in 1976, Jack developed a flair for writing poetry, fiction and non-fiction. His work was so well received he became the darling of the literary elite who campaigned, successfully, for his early release in 1990.

But despite his apparent reform, everything was not quite as it seemed. When four prostitutes disappeared from Vienna's red light district in the first year of Jack's release he was one of the first to write about the crimes. He ingratiated himself with the local police chief and interviewed many of the city's street workers for articles that were published in the press.

'Voices' by Arnaldur Indriðason

Fiction - paperback; Vintage; 344  pages; 2007. (Translated from the Icelandic by Bernard Scudder.)

Voices is the third Arnaldur Indriðason book to be translated into English featuring the troubled detective Erlunder. Set in the Icelandic capital, Reykjavik, it's a powerful police procedural that pulls no punches in its depiction of a sordid crime and its aftermath.

The story opens with the murder of a hotel doorman in the room in which he has lived for the past 20 years.

The man was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. He was wearing a bright red Santa suit and still had the Santa cap on his head, but it had slipped down over his eyes. A large artificial Santa beard hid his face. He had undone the thick belt around his waist and unbuttoned his jacket. Beneath it he was wearing only a white vest. There was a fatal wound to his heart. Although there were other wounds on the body, the stabbing through the heart had finished him off. His hands had slash marks on them, as if he had tried to fight off the assailant. His trousers were down round his ankles. A condom hung from his penis.

'Venice: Tales of the City' edited by Michelle Lovric

Fiction & non-fiction - hardcover; Little, Brown; 448 pages; 2003.

Venice is one of those wonderfully intriguing cities that has inspired artists and writers alike for centuries. London-based author Michelle Lovric is no exception. She has penned several novels set in the watery Italian city, including Carnevale and The Floating Book, but this time around she leaves the writing to others and selects some of her favourite poetry, fiction pieces and non-fiction extracts and brings them together in this varied collection.

"In this anthology," she writes, "the voices of today's Venetians mingle with those of their ancestors, just as they still do on the streets of the city". And she is right: some of the writings included here date back centuries (several have been translated in English here for the first time) and others were written as recently as the late Twentieth Century.

'Venice' by Jan Morris

Non fiction - paperback; Faber and Faber; 336  pages; 1993.

I am not a great fan of travelogues or travel memoirs, because I often think they don't really make sense, or resonate strongly enough, unless you have been to the places depicted. For instance, it's all well and good to read a travel tome about Australia and how terrible the flies are in the desert, but until you've actually experienced flies swarming around you and crawling into every face crevice it really doesn't mean anything -- you think you know but you really have no idea!

I decided to read Venice in preparation for a week-long stay in the Italian city. I had been to Venice several years ago, so felt I knew a bit about the city and its famous landmarks, which is why I wasn't so bothered about reading this memoir. I'd done the homework already, so to speak.

'The Vivisector' by Patrick White

Fiction - paperback; Penguin; 617  pages; 1989.

First published in 1970, The Vivisector details the life of Hurtle Duffield, an Australian artist, from a four-year-old up until his death as an elderly man living as a recluse in Sydney with Rhoda, his hunch-backed step-sister.

A clever, all-knowing kind of boy, Hurtle shows early signs of creativity, drawing on walls and being attracted to old paintings and leather-bound books. His poverty-stricken parents -- a laundry woman and a bottle collector -- are convinced his intelligence mark him out as a genius and sell him to a wealthy family in the hope he will get the education he deserves.

Thanks to the nouveau-rich Courtneys he enjoys an oh-so comfortable lifestyle and gets to travel abroad.

But there is a part of Hurtle that cannot engage with people on any emotional level -- perhaps because he sees himself as a loner that doesn't fit in  -- and as a young adult cuts himself off from his step-family, finding comfort in the life of a struggling artist.

Later, with the help of a mysterious benefactor, he becomes a comfortably rich artist, but he never seems to take any consolation in his success. In fact, he seems almost embarrassed by his accomplishments, as if it's something shameful to hide away.

All the while he carries on a series of failed love affairs, using women as muses to inspire his painting.  He never invests much of himself into these relationships until, at the ripe old age of 55, he falls in love with a teenage girl -- it is this Lolita-like relationship that serves to shape the rest of his creative life.

'Voyage in the Dark' by Jean Rhys

Fiction - paperback; Penguin Books; 176 pages; 2000.

This is a beautiful, melancholy story about one young woman's voyage from innocence to hard-bitten experience.

Written in 1934, it is, in many respects, before its time, depicting a world in which women are the playthings of men.

Anna Morgan, 18, is a lost ingenue, adrift in a foreign land, exiled from her native West Indies after the death of her father. She has a job as a chorus girl and travels through the dark, dismal towns of Edwardian England, where "everything was always so exactly alike", residing in cold, dank boarding houses, reminiscing about her homeland, where the "light is gold and when you shut your eyes you see fire-colour".

'Vernon God Little' by DBC Pierre

Fiction - paperback; Faber and Faber; 277 pages; 2003

Did I like this book? I honestly can't say. It's certainly weird. And it's very wacky.

It's a bit like Catcher In the Rye updated for the 21st century, except it's slightly more off the wall, and I could never imagine Holden Caulfield, despite all his teen angst, suddenly finding himself on some mind-bending reality show on Death Row where viewers vote who's going to be the next one to meet ol' Sparky. Yes, I told you it was weird.

'The Visit of the Royal Physician' by Per Olov Enquist

Fiction - paperback; Vintage; 309 pages; 2003. (Translated from the Swedish by Tiina Nunnally.)

This historical novel is set in Denmark at the height of the Enlightenment. It tells the story of the half-wit king, Christian VII, whose behaviour swings between outrageous violence one minute and confused innocence the next. His advisors capitalise on the young king's madness to run the country as they see fit, controlling not only the so-called ruler but the nation state as well. This creates many dangerous political battles between rival advisors.

To complicate matters further, the king is unable or unwilling to consummate his relationship with his wife, Caroline Mathilde. She then turns to the arms of another and conducts an adulterous affair with Christian's most trusted advisor, Struensee — the royal physician of the book's title. It does not take long before she falls pregnant to him, risking scandal and expulsion from the kingdom, which, in turn, threatens to undermine the very stability and security of Denmark itself.

All in all this is a dark and somewhat astonishing story reminiscent of Rose Tremain's award-winning Music & Silence but set 140 years apart. The Visit of the Royal Physician is imbued with the same sense of drama, romance, betrayal and political intrigue that characterised Tremain's wonderfully mesmerizing book. But Olov Enquist, a Swedish author, has written it as reportage, which adds an extra layer of authenticity to the story.

If you like your historical novels to resonate with passion and suspense, you won't go far wrong with this one. I thoroughly enjoyed it — though Tremain's foray into Danish history is still the best one I've come across.