I read Michael Ondaatje in literal rapture. Loved it. His stories engulf you completely.

4 Stars Warlight is a lyrically written novel that is haunting but perhaps lacking in focus. It is written memoir style about growing up in post WWII London. It is a coming of age story that explores how the past defines us and whether or not we are destined to follow in our parents’ footsteps. “You return to that earlier time armed with the present, and no matter how dark that world was, you do not leave it unlit. You take your adult self with you. It is not to be a reliving, but a rewitnessing.” The story seems straight forward at first. The narrator, Nathaniel, starts the story from when he was fourteen-years-old. WWII had just ended, and Nathaniel and his older sister had been left behind in London when their parents moved to Singapore. But it is quickly apparent that there is more going on. The story alludes to a mysterious past and a sketchy future. What role did their parents play in the war? Where are their parents now? Who are these strange and shady characters that they have been left in the care of? Because this is written as a memoir, there are some chronology issues. This story is far from linear. But the author convincingly assumes the voice of someone haunted by their past and desperate to get it all down on paper. So there are many hints at the future when Nathaniel forgets his audience and heavily foreshadows what is to come. “We find ourselves in a ‘collage’ in which nothing has moved into the past and no wounds have healed with time, in which everything is present, open and bitter, in which everything coexists contiguously.” There are a lot of elements in Warlight that often annoy me. It’s a faux-memoir written in first person; it’s nonchronological with heavy foreshadowing; the narrator is unreliable; the story is nebulous and rambling. And yet, I still enjoyed it because the writing was expressive and beautiful. I can’t say much more about the story without spoilers. There were some confusing elements. I think Ondaatje deliberately left things foggy. But I’m conflicted about the ending. The story had such an open-ended and bleak tone that I wouldn’t really call this a “satisfying” read, nevertheless I am glad I read it. Ondaatje is a talented writer, and I’m sure I’ll read more of his work in the future. RATING FACTORS: Ease of Reading: 4 Stars Writing Style: 4 Stars Characters and Character Development: 4 Stars Plot Structure and Development: 3 Stars Level of Captivation: 4 Stars Originality: 4 Stars

Trying to stitch together your life and remember just what happened when and who you hurt and who you helped is difficult for anyone. But throw in war and secretive parents and then you really have a hard task. War not only wreaks havoc on the lives of the people who live through it, it also affects worms, the cows, the dogs, the wrens, the fish, all the natural world. This book is full of references to animal life: wren, darter, moth, greyhounds, the forest, the lakes. Who does this nasty world of war hurt? Who do we hurt by our actions? Who do we love? What do we know about them? So much is covered and so much is left unexplained. War is just another complication to already complicated problems. The War light only muddies and clouds memories and understanding of ourselves.

While this book did not garner a fantastical 4-star rating for me (that's about the highest I give for fiction, mostly), Michael Ondaatje is one of those writers that makes me want to read his book even though he's writing about a stinking cooking recipe. Or a dictionary entry. Warlight gives the reader a bird's-eye view of post-World War II England and its quest for revenge through the eyes of an affected, first-generation participant. The young man that narrates the plot for us gives a story that unfolds as a mysterious whodunnit that is more of a whoisit. Nathaniel experiences life with dubious characters who do not explain anything to him and take him through life in a kinesthetic way of instruction, leaving the theory behind all of the practice for him to figure out in his autonomy. The end gives all the answers, but read carefully. They are subtle and overpowering at the same time. It could be a depressing ride for some readers. The English Patient didn't make me want to shake pompoms, either.

It’s World War II in London and Nathaniel and his sister are left by their parents in the care of a mysterious and somewhat dubious figure known as the Moth. His acquaintances are unusual, varied and often rather suspicious and the two children soon come to the conclusion that their soft-spoken guardian is a criminal. But why would their parents leave them under the eye of such a man? Why did they leave so suddenly for Singapore? Why is their mother’s inexplicable return surrounded with fear and violence? As an adult Nathaniel tells us his story and he has few of the answers himself and we learn along with him as he searches for explanations for the strange and unsettling things he recalls from his childhood. It’s a story full of those things that have made Ondaatje famous, the complex non-linear narrative, the unreliability of memory and recounted events, the nature of guilt, particularly in war where the ends may be said to justify the means. They’re the things that worked so perfectly in the English Patient but just don’t quite come together here, at least not with the same force. It’s a book to that will leave you thoughtful and mildly confused but it fails to resonate the way that his most famous work does. For me this is not a consequence of the style, which many other reviewers have found frustrating, at least not in the main. It goes without saying that the prose is wonderful but I also loved the non-linear, circuitous route that the story took. This way of circling back to events to offer new thoughts, new details and new complications is one of the best, if most difficult, forms of the first-person voice. It mirrors more closely how we think and how we remember and also how we lie. The same is true of the gaps and the answers that we never get; the readers’ frustration is deliberate because in life sometimes there are no answers or those that keep them refuse to give up their secrets. For the majority of the novel this worked with all of the effectiveness and precision that I expect of Ondaatje. Where it faltered was the sudden change to the third-person when we were given such a large portion of Nathaniel’s mother’s story without any real idea of where these revelations came from. The problem was not the complexity of the narrative or the omissions but this odd section where an omniscient, unidentified narrator offered up so much information for free when we had had to work so hard to piece together the fragments of information revealed thus far. I kept waiting for an explanation as to why this happened, expecting it to be revealed as another unreliable element but it seemed to be utterly straightforward and I just couldn’t integrate it with the rest of the narrative or even what I had imagined were the key themes of the story. Why offer all of this information and leave the other gaps, the other problems so unsolved? This conspicuous deus ex machina destabilised the whole story but for no discernible reason, not even as a reflection of fractured unbalanced of life itself. This episode left me unmoored from the story and I was never able to fully reconnect, not least because it returns to its earlier formulation leaving this strange protuberance casting a shadow over the rest of the narrative. It could almost have been excised completely and the story would have been better for it. Give me no answers rather than easy answers any time.

3.5