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(Original Review, 1981-05-15)




If you like your novels simple and straightforward, don’t read “Hopscotch”.
If you have an allergy to extended brainy digressions and convoluted debates, you better avoid “Hopscotch”.
If you abhor puns, double entendre and wordplay, I most seriously advise you to stay clear of “Hopscotch”.
If you can’t stand literary, philosophical, musical and artistic references cramming your narrative, I sincerely prompt you to veer off taking “Hopscotch” from the bookseller’s shelf.
If you like your narrative to be free of phrases, expressions and vocabulary from languages you don’t know and don't care for, maybe “Hopscotch” is not a book for you.

 

 

 

If you're into stuff like this, you can read the full review.

Hopscotch - Jane Messer I was so happy to be reading a book about Sydney. I miss her so, I always will, even though leaving her when I did was the right thing to do. Sydney is and always will be an integral part of me and I won't let anyone diss my girl. So I was really excited to be reading a book set in Sydney. And I wasn't disappointed. Messer showed Sydney in all her beautiful, breathtaking, cruel, industrial and highrise harbour glory, right down to one of Sydney's spectacular spring storms. She puts the storm to good use as a metaphor along with other features such as the uprooted tree and the game of hopscotch to name a few. I liked the way Messer didn't describe the different locations in Sydney in slavish detail, but rather used more of an emotional description of the areas, which fitted well with the drama occurring in each of the locations. Consequently, Sydney was a great backdrop to her tale about a family, the members of which are facing what they believe to be their worst fears. Sam Rosen is staring down the barrel of a degenerative disease of the nervous system and his wife Rhonda is coming to terms with what she perceives to be her expected role in this. Their son Mark and his wife Ingrid are dealing with the fallout of the GFC and facing being pregnant and penniless. Their daughters Liza and Jemma are also facing their own traumas and conflicts. They are all what you would probably call 'first world problems'. But that is the setting of this novel and they are bona fide and genuine problems that would be experienced by many of the readers at whom this novel is pitched at. As a result the plot and the characters ring true. The only weakness in the story was Jemma's apparent ability to shrug off three watershed moments in her life almost simultaneously. I thought this could do with just a bit more fleshing out, a bit more of an explanation of how this character managed to keep these emotional balls up in the air at the same time. But, thankfully nowhere does Messer become overly sentimental or melodramatic about her characters' challenges. They are all hurdles that we would all probably rather avoid. Messer's writing, which infuses a subtle humour and empathy into the characters' experiences, always allows the reader to remember that while her characters are being tossed about by events not totally in their control, they nonetheless all possess the wherewithal to deal with these challenges and come out the other side, changed but still thriving and resilient. The reader is reminded that we are more than our income, our investments, our possessions or our address, and that our bonds with our family and friends are more indicative of who we are. Our comfortable middle class life is a valuable buffer against many of life's challenges and traumas and allows us to face them, and the pain that inevitably accompanies them. Each of the characters believes they will be overwhelmed by the unhappy turn of events in their lives, but they are not. And this I feel is the fable of her story.

Pfffff thank god for that!

The majority of South American literary-ture that I've read (sans Borges, Marquez and the other obviousers) has been about bohemians dicking about and occasionally having sex, and Hopscotch is no different. It claims to be two books, one which is read left to right until the end of chapter 56, and another which is read in a crazy order all the way up to chapter 155. I read 1 1/2 of those books, and every time I deviated from the normal chapter order, all I found was a page-long quote which was somewhat related to the chapter I'd just read, and not often anything more- seemed to me to be one book with some glorified endnotes!

Also felt locked out of lots of the content too, just because I'm not South American. From Andrés Amorós' introduction exclaiming that Hopscotch is 'even studied in Spain, now!' to the occasional footnote with a layman's biography of Samuel Beckett, I had no doubt that this was targeted at its natural South American audience. And I can imagine that if I was from Argentina, vicariously dicking about in Paris would be quite a seductive prospect :D

Wouldn't recommend this, but 3* -let it be remembered that a book read in a second language is valuable even in spite of its content, so if you ever want to take a chance on a new author, genre etc, do it in another language if you have the possibility :-)

And if you are in the mood for some South American dicking about with a pseudopostmodern flair, you can't go wrong with [a: Bolaño|72039|Roberto Bolaño|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1260522528p2/72039.jpg]! :)

"Gra w klasy", Julio Cortazar