Year of the Hare by Arto Paasilinna

Arto Paasilinna's short, entertaining novel, Year of the Hare, was written in 1975. But what better year to read it than 2011, the Year of the Hare in much of the Asian world? It need not matter that this charming novel was translated from the Finnish, not Chinese, Japanese or Korean, and that it all takes place in Finland, except for the main character's accidental trek across the border into Soviet-controlled Siberia.

The story opens with the main character, a journalist named Vatanen, riding in a car with a photographer through the Finnish countryside. I don't recall what story the two were pursuing. It's irrelevant to the story line anyway and, as it turns out, also irrelevant to Vatanen's life. Suddenly -- yes, suddenly -- the car strikes a hare (not those little rabbits hopping about many of our back yards, but a hare, mind you).

The not fully grown, injured creature flees, hopping into the forest. Vatanen, being the gentle soul that he is, gets out of the vehicle to check on the animal, eventually finds it and proceeds to nurse it -- leaving the impatient photographer wondering why his colleague is spending so much time with a hare.

Alas, the photographer gives up and leaves. He calls Vatanen's wife to tell her that her spouse -- indeed, her "better" half -- has apparently become lost in the woods with an injured hare. It's the middle of the night when she takes that call, and she's a bit perturbed, understandably wondering if the photographer is drunk. She hangs up on him and gives the reader an early glimpse into her and Vatanen's marital relationship (not the most romantic on the block).

Meantime, back in the forest, Vatanen realizes his photographer has left and he has no way to town other than walking or hitchhiking. So, with the little hare in his pocket, Vatanen begins a journey that ultimately takes him across Finland and into the lives of one quirky character after another. Suffice it to say, a hare in your pocket is usually a good conversation starter.

Ultimately, Vatanen decides he's fed up with his job, his wife and his general life and flees all -- with hare gently tucked in pocket, of course. The adventures of Vatanen and the hare yield a funny yet symbolic storyline, with the twosome's adventures ranging from a jail stint to near-death experiences with an animal sacrificer not to mention a mighty ferocious bear.

If you've ever thought, I'm sick of my life and I want to start over -- whether with a hare, your dog, a secret lover or just yourself -- (And who hasn't?), this novel will find a place in your heart. It's the kind of book you read and recommend to others. And now, I want to read more books by Arto Paasilinna.

A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cosse'

A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cosse' is a book for book lovers, especially those who appreciate great literature.
Set in Paris, the book tells the story of a bookstore whose owners decide to sell only “good” books. The owners -- a man who has worked in bookshops before and a wealthy woman, the silent, even concealed partner -- select a secret committee of authors to choose the novels they will sell.

The bookstore surprises everyone and at first does a great business but soon faces harsh criticism, even violence from detractors who accuse the owners of literary snobbery and elitism (Sound familiar?) and begin attacking their credibility. Meantime, bizarre accidents start happening to one committee member after another.

I enjoyed the novel, translated from the French by Alison Anderson, but found the ending disappointing. The deus-ex-machina solution was a bit disturbing. Couldn’t Cosse' have come up with something more plausible? Simply leaving the crimes totally unsolved, which Cosse' pretty much did anyway, would have been a better, more realistic ending to an otherwise fine book.

Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog

Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog is both a thought-provoking and moving book, one with a bittersweet ending. I confess that I found the first half or so of the novel, translated from the French, a bit tedious. But it's one of those books I've learned to stick with, for the reward lies just ahead. I also had some trouble at times following who the narrator was and more importantly keeping up with who's who among the supporting characters.

The book deals with two self-taught, closet intellectuals, one a middle-aged concierge and the other a 12-year-old girl who lives in the hotel where the concierge works and also lives. The concierge works hard to maintain the stereotype that concierges are boring non-intellectuals. The child, from the start of the book, reveals her intention to commit suicide on June 16. (James Joyce fans, is it a coincidence that's Bloomsbury Day?)

One passage in the book brought back memories, both fond and sad, of my own. Near the end of the novel, Renee, the concierge, is preparing to get dressed for the wonderful Japanese man whose own life has a profound impact on both her life and the child's. "I smeared my lips with 1 layer of 'Deep Carmine' lipstick that I had bought 20 years ago for a cousin's wedding," Renee says. "The longevity of such a useless item when valiant lives are lost every day, will never cease to confound me."

That passage reminded me of a small, inexpensive perfume stick my paternal grandmother, Mammaw, had. At some point, she either gave it to me, or I found it among her possessions after she died. I held on to it and its fading scent for years and years. I may even still have it somewhere. I don't recall discarding it. I know I couldn't seem to throw it away. It was a memory, a smell, of a loved one long gone, and I didn't want to give up that memory.

Read the book; it's not a cookie-cutter creation. It's just that, a creation and a thoughtful one.