Related News
Oracle missing some magic
By James Hynes |
February 27, 2011, Sunday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
THE promising opening chapters of Michael David Lukas's first novel, "The Oracle of Stamboul," have many of the appealing features of a fairy tale. A girl of unusual gifts is born in fulfillment of a prophecy, and after her mother dies giving birth, she is raised by a loving but weak-willed father and an oppressive stepmother, while a mysterious flock of birds follows her wherever she goes. But the girl, Eleonora Cohen, is also a Jew born into a specific historical context - the Ottoman Empire in the late-19th century - and on the day of her birth in 1877, her hometown, the Romanian port of Constanta on the Black Sea, is sacked by the Russian cavalry. This juxtaposition of fable and brute history tells us right from the start that we're in the realm of magic realism, and the story's tension, or lack thereof, between magic and realism is an indication of both the ambition and the shortcomings of this ultimately frustrating novel.
Eleonora's battle of wills with her stepmother, Ruxandra, provides the most emotionally engaging scenes in the book, as Eleonora's voracious appetite for literature and her phenomenal memory for what she reads run up against the embittered Ruxandra's hidebound ideas of a girl's lot in life. Finally, at the age of eight, and in the manner of plucky literary children everywhere, Eleonora escapes by stowing away in a trunk when her father, Yakob, a rug merchant, travels to Stamboul (modern-day Istanbul), revealing herself only when it's too late to send her back. Through a plot twist it wouldn't be fair to reveal, she winds up a permanent guest of Moncef Bey, her father's business partner in Stamboul, who not only allows her the run of his extensive library but introduces her to the splendors of the imperial capital.
Meanwhile, Lukas introduces two other major characters: the Reverend James Muehler, an American academic and clandestine agent of the War Department; and the sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Abdulhamid II (a historical figure), who, in the novel anyway, scarcely ever leaves his palace but governs from a suite of painstakingly described rooms, working through his grand vizier and his mother. Eventually, all these characters and plot lines are brought together, as Muehler is hired to be Eleonora's tutor and employs her talents to help break a code, and the sultan, learning of Eleonora's skill at languages and prodigious memory, summons her to the palace to advise him on his empire's conflict with the Russians. At last, Eleonora becomes the titular oracle of Stamboul.
Unfortunately, once Eleonora and the story move to the city, the plot is slowly overwhelmed by the author's lengthy, albeit beautifully written, evocations of the ceiling in the sultan's audience chamber, or Eleonora's explorations of Moncef's spacious house. On the realistic side of the story, Reverend Muehler's activities as a spy are only tepidly dramatized, and when he at last does something sneaky, the only consequence seems to be a stern letter from Moncef. At the same time, the crises that are supposed to preoccupy the sultan are presented only in summary, in his conversations with his grand vizier or his mother. The reader gets little visceral sense of what might actually be at stake in the world outside the palace gates. It's as if "Lawrence of Arabia" were set entirely in Prince Faisal's tent or General Allenby's office in Cairo.
As for Eleonora herself, the portentousness of her introduction never really pays off. The prophecy of the opening chapter is reiterated near the end, but the only truly magical thing about her throughout seems to be the flock of purple and white hoopoes that follows her around. Apart from that, Eleonora comes across merely as an unusually precocious child.
The book too often plays like one of those earnest epic historical films of the 1950s and 60s. By foregrounding the setting at the expense of his characters, Lukas unfortunately saps the story of most of its mystery, suspense and menace. A book that promises both magic and realism is in serious trouble when it doesn't deliver nearly enough of either.
Eleonora's battle of wills with her stepmother, Ruxandra, provides the most emotionally engaging scenes in the book, as Eleonora's voracious appetite for literature and her phenomenal memory for what she reads run up against the embittered Ruxandra's hidebound ideas of a girl's lot in life. Finally, at the age of eight, and in the manner of plucky literary children everywhere, Eleonora escapes by stowing away in a trunk when her father, Yakob, a rug merchant, travels to Stamboul (modern-day Istanbul), revealing herself only when it's too late to send her back. Through a plot twist it wouldn't be fair to reveal, she winds up a permanent guest of Moncef Bey, her father's business partner in Stamboul, who not only allows her the run of his extensive library but introduces her to the splendors of the imperial capital.
Meanwhile, Lukas introduces two other major characters: the Reverend James Muehler, an American academic and clandestine agent of the War Department; and the sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Abdulhamid II (a historical figure), who, in the novel anyway, scarcely ever leaves his palace but governs from a suite of painstakingly described rooms, working through his grand vizier and his mother. Eventually, all these characters and plot lines are brought together, as Muehler is hired to be Eleonora's tutor and employs her talents to help break a code, and the sultan, learning of Eleonora's skill at languages and prodigious memory, summons her to the palace to advise him on his empire's conflict with the Russians. At last, Eleonora becomes the titular oracle of Stamboul.
Unfortunately, once Eleonora and the story move to the city, the plot is slowly overwhelmed by the author's lengthy, albeit beautifully written, evocations of the ceiling in the sultan's audience chamber, or Eleonora's explorations of Moncef's spacious house. On the realistic side of the story, Reverend Muehler's activities as a spy are only tepidly dramatized, and when he at last does something sneaky, the only consequence seems to be a stern letter from Moncef. At the same time, the crises that are supposed to preoccupy the sultan are presented only in summary, in his conversations with his grand vizier or his mother. The reader gets little visceral sense of what might actually be at stake in the world outside the palace gates. It's as if "Lawrence of Arabia" were set entirely in Prince Faisal's tent or General Allenby's office in Cairo.
As for Eleonora herself, the portentousness of her introduction never really pays off. The prophecy of the opening chapter is reiterated near the end, but the only truly magical thing about her throughout seems to be the flock of purple and white hoopoes that follows her around. Apart from that, Eleonora comes across merely as an unusually precocious child.
The book too often plays like one of those earnest epic historical films of the 1950s and 60s. By foregrounding the setting at the expense of his characters, Lukas unfortunately saps the story of most of its mystery, suspense and menace. A book that promises both magic and realism is in serious trouble when it doesn't deliver nearly enough of either.
- About Us
- |
- Terms of Use
- |
-
RSS - |
- Privacy Policy
- |
- Contact Us
- |
- Shanghai Call Center: 962288
- |
- Tip-off hotline: 52920043
- 沪ICP证：沪ICP备05050403号-1
- |
- 互联网新闻信息服务许可证：31120180004
- |
- 网络视听许可证：0909346
- |
- 广播电视节目制作许可证：沪字第354号
- |
- 增值电信业务经营许可证：沪B2-20120012
Copyright © 1999- Shanghai Daily. All rights reserved.Preferably viewed with Internet Explorer 8 or newer browsers.
