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100 Years of Vicissitude
"First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man. I have meagre proof, no framed- up certification, nothing to toss in a court of law as evidence of a rapid departure from the mortal coil. I recall a gun was involved, pressed up against my skull, and a loud explosion followed."
Thus begins our narrator in a purgatorial tour through twentieth-century Japanese history, with a ghostly geisha who has seen it all as a guide and a corrupt millionaire as her reluctant companion.
Thrown into the milieu are saké, B-29s, Lewis Carroll, Sir Thomas Malory, Melbourne, 'The Wizard of Oz', and a dirigible - along with the allusion that Red Riding Hood might just be involved.
Thus begins our narrator in a purgatorial tour through twentieth-century Japanese history, with a ghostly geisha who has seen it all as a guide and a corrupt millionaire as her reluctant companion.
Thrown into the milieu are saké, B-29s, Lewis Carroll, Sir Thomas Malory, Melbourne, 'The Wizard of Oz', and a dirigible - along with the allusion that Red Riding Hood might just be involved.
268 pages, Paperback
Published October 16, 2012
17 people are currently reading
726 people want to read
About the author
Andrez Bergen
31 books87 followersAndrez Bergen is an expat Australian writer, journalist, DJ, artist and ad hoc saké connoisseur who's been entrenched in Tokyo, Japan, for the past 15 years.
Bergen has written for publications such as Mixmag, The Age, Australian Style, VICE, and the Yomiuri Shinbun. He has published six novels, wrote and illustrated three graphic novels, and published five comic book series.
Bergen's fiction previously appeared through Perfect Edge Books, Shotgun Honey, Snubnose Press, All Due Respect, Roundfire Fiction, Dirty Rotten Comics, Crime Factory, Open Books and Another Sky Press, and he occasionally adapts scripts for feature films by the likes of Mamoru Oshii (Ghost in the Shell) for Production I.G in Japan.
He also makes music as Little Nobody.
Bergen has written for publications such as Mixmag, The Age, Australian Style, VICE, and the Yomiuri Shinbun. He has published six novels, wrote and illustrated three graphic novels, and published five comic book series.
Bergen's fiction previously appeared through Perfect Edge Books, Shotgun Honey, Snubnose Press, All Due Respect, Roundfire Fiction, Dirty Rotten Comics, Crime Factory, Open Books and Another Sky Press, and he occasionally adapts scripts for feature films by the likes of Mamoru Oshii (Ghost in the Shell) for Production I.G in Japan.
He also makes music as Little Nobody.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
November 13, 2012
Though not a sequel in the traditional sense, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is built around the character of Wolram E. Deaps, last seen in Bergen's Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat. When we last saw him, however, things weren’t going too well for Deaps, so much so in fact that Vicissitude begins with the following observation on his part: “First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man.” He suspects correctly.
Not the nicest man in life, Deaps finds himself wandering aimlessly in a sort of limbo world, endlessly walking but never actually getting anywhere. The landscape which greets him is remarkable only in its absence; no cities or towns, rain or sun, color or sound, only barren trees on the edge of a diminishing horizon. Deaps is on a road to nowhere, surrounded by nothing. Until one day, with no warning and no recollection of getting there, Deaps finds himself outside a cottage. Wondering if the cottage is meant to symbolize the end of his journey, Deaps approaches only to discover his journey is just beginning, as the cottage’s resident, a Geisha named Kohana, has many wondrous things, both beautiful and terrifying, to show him.
Though she initially appears to Deaps as a fifteen-year-old, Kohana informs him that she in fact lived for nearly a century, and is actually a fellow resident of the limbo world. They are Gaki, she explains, “hungry ghosts” whose lot is to suffer for eternity with an insatiable hunger for the things in life they once most coveted. Kohana proceeds to take Deaps on a spectral journey back through the one hundred years of vicissitude which made up not only her life, but that of the country of Japan as well. Jumping back and forth through time Deaps and Kohana revisit the tumultuous events, both large and small, which shaped a life and a nation.
Along the way author Andrez Bergan treats the reader to an enchanting melding of fact and fiction, one which magically weaves together a tapestry of history and pop culture with references to everything from Lewis Carroll and The Wizard of Oz, to the leveling of Asakusa during World War II and the legendary Graf Zeppelin’s only visit to Japan, to James Bond and noir cinema. In this regard, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is absolutely epic in scope and lushly cinematic in its settings. And yet, when boiled down to its essence One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is first and foremost an intimate look at the relationship between Deaps and Kohana.
It’s a strange one, one which initially makes little sense to either the reader or Deaps. There is a method to Bergen’s madness however, and the patience of both Deaps and the reader is richly rewarded with a deeply satisfying journey of self-discovery, one arrived at by traveling through humor and horror, joy and sorrow, enrichment and loss. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is an achingly poetic reminder that life is about the journey, not the destination, and that with that journey necessarily comes change. Sometimes the change is for the better, other times for the worse, but to be alive is to embrace both, for it is only through the vicissitudes of life that one truly lives.
Andrez Bergen is unquestionably one of the most creative, original authors I’ve ever had the pleasure to read, and his ability to take such wildly disparate pieces as those which appear in Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat and One Hundred Years of Vicissitude and assemble them into a cohesive puzzle is simply awe-inspiring.
Not the nicest man in life, Deaps finds himself wandering aimlessly in a sort of limbo world, endlessly walking but never actually getting anywhere. The landscape which greets him is remarkable only in its absence; no cities or towns, rain or sun, color or sound, only barren trees on the edge of a diminishing horizon. Deaps is on a road to nowhere, surrounded by nothing. Until one day, with no warning and no recollection of getting there, Deaps finds himself outside a cottage. Wondering if the cottage is meant to symbolize the end of his journey, Deaps approaches only to discover his journey is just beginning, as the cottage’s resident, a Geisha named Kohana, has many wondrous things, both beautiful and terrifying, to show him.
Though she initially appears to Deaps as a fifteen-year-old, Kohana informs him that she in fact lived for nearly a century, and is actually a fellow resident of the limbo world. They are Gaki, she explains, “hungry ghosts” whose lot is to suffer for eternity with an insatiable hunger for the things in life they once most coveted. Kohana proceeds to take Deaps on a spectral journey back through the one hundred years of vicissitude which made up not only her life, but that of the country of Japan as well. Jumping back and forth through time Deaps and Kohana revisit the tumultuous events, both large and small, which shaped a life and a nation.
Along the way author Andrez Bergan treats the reader to an enchanting melding of fact and fiction, one which magically weaves together a tapestry of history and pop culture with references to everything from Lewis Carroll and The Wizard of Oz, to the leveling of Asakusa during World War II and the legendary Graf Zeppelin’s only visit to Japan, to James Bond and noir cinema. In this regard, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is absolutely epic in scope and lushly cinematic in its settings. And yet, when boiled down to its essence One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is first and foremost an intimate look at the relationship between Deaps and Kohana.
It’s a strange one, one which initially makes little sense to either the reader or Deaps. There is a method to Bergen’s madness however, and the patience of both Deaps and the reader is richly rewarded with a deeply satisfying journey of self-discovery, one arrived at by traveling through humor and horror, joy and sorrow, enrichment and loss. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is an achingly poetic reminder that life is about the journey, not the destination, and that with that journey necessarily comes change. Sometimes the change is for the better, other times for the worse, but to be alive is to embrace both, for it is only through the vicissitudes of life that one truly lives.
Andrez Bergen is unquestionably one of the most creative, original authors I’ve ever had the pleasure to read, and his ability to take such wildly disparate pieces as those which appear in Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat and One Hundred Years of Vicissitude and assemble them into a cohesive puzzle is simply awe-inspiring.
February 9, 2014
Good & bad, making me have a hard time coming up with a rating.
Not sure if this is considered surreal, post-modern, or just a choppy book. I suspect it’s the latter. The writing issues with this novel bugged me & pulled me out of the story numerous times; there were brief snatches of snappy wording, glimpses of some thought-provoking settings, appearances by some intriguing characters. But, they were all too brief & none of it is ever really developed -- argh. I can see so, so much more for this story, but the author just didn’t pull it there. Plus, the author is a bit lazy (imo) in that the main characters (who are already dead) can just seemingly pop up at any time, in any scene from their lives. There’s no real explanation of how or why this happens (which is ok), it’s just a convenient way to stop one vignette & start another one. And it happens constantly (which is not ok). One of the main characters complained about too much popping about like that & I agree. Stop already.
Why did I keep reading? I’m not completely sure. Part of it was that it’s my first Nook book & I’m still trying to see how much I like reading e-books. So, I persevered. There were some interesting tidbits (many related to Japanese history over the past century); humorous, snide comments; some beautiful & horrifying settings (some of which will definitely give you pause). The ending, while still not well-written, had a nice (if sentimental) touch.
At the end of the book, there is a page from the publisher, Perfect Edge Books. I find their statement fascinating:
So, did the book meet the publisher’s criteria? Yes, I think so. Was it well-written? No. Does it have potential? Yes & that was agonizingly frustrating because, had this book been well-done, it could have been so much more. The glimpses of a greater work were there, but the greater work never put in an appearance. Did it make me think? A couple of times. I don’t want to give it a rating as low as 2 stars, yet it’s almost too jumpy & poorly-written to deserve 3 stars. Ultimately, I’ll give it 3 (grudging) stars.
Not sure if this is considered surreal, post-modern, or just a choppy book. I suspect it’s the latter. The writing issues with this novel bugged me & pulled me out of the story numerous times; there were brief snatches of snappy wording, glimpses of some thought-provoking settings, appearances by some intriguing characters. But, they were all too brief & none of it is ever really developed -- argh. I can see so, so much more for this story, but the author just didn’t pull it there. Plus, the author is a bit lazy (imo) in that the main characters (who are already dead) can just seemingly pop up at any time, in any scene from their lives. There’s no real explanation of how or why this happens (which is ok), it’s just a convenient way to stop one vignette & start another one. And it happens constantly (which is not ok). One of the main characters complained about too much popping about like that & I agree. Stop already.
Why did I keep reading? I’m not completely sure. Part of it was that it’s my first Nook book & I’m still trying to see how much I like reading e-books. So, I persevered. There were some interesting tidbits (many related to Japanese history over the past century); humorous, snide comments; some beautiful & horrifying settings (some of which will definitely give you pause). The ending, while still not well-written, had a nice (if sentimental) touch.
At the end of the book, there is a page from the publisher, Perfect Edge Books. I find their statement fascinating:
“We live in uncertainty. New ways of committing crimes are discovered every day. Hackers and hit men are idolized. Writers have responded to this either by ignoring the harsher realities or by glorifying mindless violence for the sake of it. Atrocities (from the Holocaust to 9/11) are exploited in cheaply sentimental films and novels.
Perfect Edge Books proposes to find a balanced position. We publish fiction that doesn’t revel in nihilism, doesn’t go for gore at the cost of substance – yet we want to confront the world with its beauty as well as its ugliness. That means we want books about difficult topics, books with something to say.
We’re open to dark comedies, “transgressive” novels, potboilers and tales of revenge. All we ask is that you don’t try to shock for the sake of shocking – there is too much of that around. We are looking for intelligent young authors able to use the written word for changing how we read and write in dark times.”
So, did the book meet the publisher’s criteria? Yes, I think so. Was it well-written? No. Does it have potential? Yes & that was agonizingly frustrating because, had this book been well-done, it could have been so much more. The glimpses of a greater work were there, but the greater work never put in an appearance. Did it make me think? A couple of times. I don’t want to give it a rating as low as 2 stars, yet it’s almost too jumpy & poorly-written to deserve 3 stars. Ultimately, I’ll give it 3 (grudging) stars.
July 6, 2012
One Hundred Years of Vicissitude by Andrez Bergen will be out later this year by Perfect Edge Press, put it in your diary, don't forget.
Vicissitude - it's all about change, how your life can change, how your fortune can change. Change is a sloppy beast to hold onto, it slips through your fingers sometimes before you've even realised, you wake up at 3am one morning and you suddenly wonder about your life, how you got to this point.
OK, so maybe this is something you do more as you get on in years, before that, you're just too busy living to even notice change as it segues so invisibly from one scene to another.
I finished One Hundred Years of Vicissitude after midnight, didn't sleep much after that, my past flicking behind my eyelids like some old cine film, my mind trying to make sense of the choices I've made over the years, the changes that have occurred.
Would you, if you got the chance, like to revisit your life? Would you want to stand beside your younger self, invisible, and watch your key moments, your mistakes, your lost loves, your bereavements?
In One Hundred Years of Vicissitude, the life of Kohana, a Geisha, now dead, leads Wolram E. Deaps (killed at the end of Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat), through her long life. The pair make an odd couple with no obvious connection (that is discovered later), other than they are both dead whilst Deaps' confusion and irritation with the enigmatic Kohana, trailing after her as they flash from location to location, decade to decade, mirrored my increasing impatience to discover where Kohana was leading him to and for what reason.
The exquisite writing and structure produced by Bergen is alone an excellent reason to read this book but the developing relationship between the two main characters is incredibly touching and devastating in its beauty by the end. And it is only then that Wolram discovers the truth as he reaches the very end of the path with Kohana. Everything makes sense, the beginning comes into focus and the pieces fit together.
So I lay in bed as the images from my life passed before me, somewhere in there, there must be sense too. Hopefully the pieces will eventually fit together.
I now need and want to read 100 Years again, my tears are still wet but my heart is singing.
Vicissitude - it's all about change, how your life can change, how your fortune can change. Change is a sloppy beast to hold onto, it slips through your fingers sometimes before you've even realised, you wake up at 3am one morning and you suddenly wonder about your life, how you got to this point.
OK, so maybe this is something you do more as you get on in years, before that, you're just too busy living to even notice change as it segues so invisibly from one scene to another.
I finished One Hundred Years of Vicissitude after midnight, didn't sleep much after that, my past flicking behind my eyelids like some old cine film, my mind trying to make sense of the choices I've made over the years, the changes that have occurred.
Would you, if you got the chance, like to revisit your life? Would you want to stand beside your younger self, invisible, and watch your key moments, your mistakes, your lost loves, your bereavements?
In One Hundred Years of Vicissitude, the life of Kohana, a Geisha, now dead, leads Wolram E. Deaps (killed at the end of Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat), through her long life. The pair make an odd couple with no obvious connection (that is discovered later), other than they are both dead whilst Deaps' confusion and irritation with the enigmatic Kohana, trailing after her as they flash from location to location, decade to decade, mirrored my increasing impatience to discover where Kohana was leading him to and for what reason.
The exquisite writing and structure produced by Bergen is alone an excellent reason to read this book but the developing relationship between the two main characters is incredibly touching and devastating in its beauty by the end. And it is only then that Wolram discovers the truth as he reaches the very end of the path with Kohana. Everything makes sense, the beginning comes into focus and the pieces fit together.
So I lay in bed as the images from my life passed before me, somewhere in there, there must be sense too. Hopefully the pieces will eventually fit together.
I now need and want to read 100 Years again, my tears are still wet but my heart is singing.
June 19, 2012
It is hard to quantify Andrez Bergen's book One Hundred Years of Vicissitude. It is a strange mixture of science fiction, fantasy, and literary fiction and as such may have a hard time finding its audience. To be honest, it took me quite a bit to get into this story, having to reread the first couple of pages a few times before being able to process them. In fact, I was having such a hard time getting into the story, I actually doubted whether I'd get through the story, as I just couldn't find my footing; only the fact that I'd promised to read and review it and that I blamed my having a hard time getting with the program on having a massive head-cold, kept me from actually doing so and moving on to a new book. In the end, I'm glad I stuck it out, because while it was hard to get with the narrative voice, once the story got going and I got beyond the first twenty pages or so, when we meet Kohana, I was on board and got sucked into the novel.
One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is a rather fragmented narrative, as the story consists of Kohana and our narrator, Wolram E. Deaps, flitting from memory to memory. Although this manner of narration is quite interesting, it does tend to form a bit of a barrier to the text; due to the fragmented memories it is hard to see where we are at any given moment and it took a while and some thought to understand the point, as it were, to this story. Not that every story has to be easily understood, but this one really took some work, since it's not a linear story. While moving through her memories, Kohana goes off on tangents, sometimes because of questions Deaps asks, other times seemingly by free association. Of course, this is how memory works; memories are evoked by the senses, by associations and by their connections to each other. However, this seemingly random recollection can be confusing, until the reader can discover a pattern.
Unfortunately, there are some loose ends: Kohana's father, who is referenced throughout the text, but never shows his face, feels like somewhat of an unidentified cipher who, it seems, should have been confronted at some point of the story for Kohana to be able to finally move on. Similarly, there is the narrator's daughter and his battle against established medicine. His story is tantalisingly unfinished which is both frustrating and maybe the point—this is not his story and his time to tell it has yet to come. I can just imagine him sitting in Kohana's hovel waiting for the next soul to show up and have them accompany him through his memories and give him his own absolution and redemption.
We do not learn a lot about our narrator's history, this is mostly Kohana's story. And hers is a story about love and forgiveness, forgiveness of her own trespasses and forgiveness of trespasses against her. It's only after Kohana has forgiven herself for moving on after losing her first love and losing her twin sister that she is able to move on from purgatory. Surprisingly, there is no forgiveness for her father, only a dismissal, and of her rather awful relationship with her daughter, nothing is said beyond the daughter's conception and the fact that their relationship was very bad, perhaps due to Kohana's regard of her. I'd have expected both these things to play a bigger role. In a similar vein our narrator needs to forgive himself for how he lived his life and the loss of his daughter.
There are a lot of allusions to different works of art, both books and films, but also other expressions of art. The author acknowledges this at the end of the book and I had a lot of fun finding them throughout the story. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is an interesting story and according to the afterword would probably have gained more depth and clarity if I'd read his previous novel Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat. Despite this, I was quietly engaged by this story of love, forgiveness and redemption. Its author's love of Japanese culture rose from every page of the book. If this is only Bergen's second novel I look forward to seeing where he goes in the future. If you're not in the mood to take a gamble and put in some work, then it would be wise to give this book a pass. However, if you like interesting, non-conventional literature, whether it is literary, science-fiction, fantasy, or any other genre, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude might be just the book for you. It is an interesting look at what purgatory might look like and how it functions and it's thought-provoking to say the least.
This book was sent to me for review by the author.
One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is a rather fragmented narrative, as the story consists of Kohana and our narrator, Wolram E. Deaps, flitting from memory to memory. Although this manner of narration is quite interesting, it does tend to form a bit of a barrier to the text; due to the fragmented memories it is hard to see where we are at any given moment and it took a while and some thought to understand the point, as it were, to this story. Not that every story has to be easily understood, but this one really took some work, since it's not a linear story. While moving through her memories, Kohana goes off on tangents, sometimes because of questions Deaps asks, other times seemingly by free association. Of course, this is how memory works; memories are evoked by the senses, by associations and by their connections to each other. However, this seemingly random recollection can be confusing, until the reader can discover a pattern.
Unfortunately, there are some loose ends: Kohana's father, who is referenced throughout the text, but never shows his face, feels like somewhat of an unidentified cipher who, it seems, should have been confronted at some point of the story for Kohana to be able to finally move on. Similarly, there is the narrator's daughter and his battle against established medicine. His story is tantalisingly unfinished which is both frustrating and maybe the point—this is not his story and his time to tell it has yet to come. I can just imagine him sitting in Kohana's hovel waiting for the next soul to show up and have them accompany him through his memories and give him his own absolution and redemption.
We do not learn a lot about our narrator's history, this is mostly Kohana's story. And hers is a story about love and forgiveness, forgiveness of her own trespasses and forgiveness of trespasses against her. It's only after Kohana has forgiven herself for moving on after losing her first love and losing her twin sister that she is able to move on from purgatory. Surprisingly, there is no forgiveness for her father, only a dismissal, and of her rather awful relationship with her daughter, nothing is said beyond the daughter's conception and the fact that their relationship was very bad, perhaps due to Kohana's regard of her. I'd have expected both these things to play a bigger role. In a similar vein our narrator needs to forgive himself for how he lived his life and the loss of his daughter.
There are a lot of allusions to different works of art, both books and films, but also other expressions of art. The author acknowledges this at the end of the book and I had a lot of fun finding them throughout the story. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is an interesting story and according to the afterword would probably have gained more depth and clarity if I'd read his previous novel Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat. Despite this, I was quietly engaged by this story of love, forgiveness and redemption. Its author's love of Japanese culture rose from every page of the book. If this is only Bergen's second novel I look forward to seeing where he goes in the future. If you're not in the mood to take a gamble and put in some work, then it would be wise to give this book a pass. However, if you like interesting, non-conventional literature, whether it is literary, science-fiction, fantasy, or any other genre, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude might be just the book for you. It is an interesting look at what purgatory might look like and how it functions and it's thought-provoking to say the least.
This book was sent to me for review by the author.
October 23, 2012
When I first read Andrez Bergen's debut novel earlier this year I was quite excited as I found it to be a great read and I was even more stoked when I discovered that a second novel, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude would be coming out in October and I have been eagerly awaiting it's release since.
I certainly have not been disappointed, One Hundred Years is one of the more profound and moving books I have read in a very long time and combined with Mr Bergen's unique writing style this novel is really something special.
This novel could be viewed as a historical narrative, a love story or a journey through time and different cultures and is a stand alone novel despite the presence of characters from previous works (although reading his debut novel, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat may help add some clarity or perspective to the storyline).
The two main characters that feature in this novel are well developed and the author uses his unique sense of humour and wit to draw the readers in but it is not in-your-face styled humour, rather a subtle insertion that perfectly adds to the power of the tale being told.
The same can be said of Andrez Bergen's influences, he introduces us to numerous movies, books, comics, music and actual historic events
and rather than this be overbearing it adds another layer to a novel that is so much better for being multi-layered and faceted.
I haven't written many reviews of books I have read before and found it somewhat difficult to write this one, I actually noticed that some of the other people who also have reviewed this novel found themselves in a similar position. This could perhaps be attributed to the fact
that One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is the kind of novel that isn't pinned down to any particular genre and the author has taken the reader on a genuine journey with pain, laugh out loud moments, a sense of melancholy, happiness and even moments where I myself found myself getting a bit teary eyed (I cannot recall the last time that happened when I read a book!)
Overall I am so pleased that I have discovered this author and read this book, it was a genuine pleasure to read and I am sure to revisit it many times in the future. Would highly recommend this to anyone who enjoys a fantastic book and isn't compelled to read something that is pigeon-holed into a particular genre and is simply happy to be taken on a wonderful ride.
I certainly have not been disappointed, One Hundred Years is one of the more profound and moving books I have read in a very long time and combined with Mr Bergen's unique writing style this novel is really something special.
This novel could be viewed as a historical narrative, a love story or a journey through time and different cultures and is a stand alone novel despite the presence of characters from previous works (although reading his debut novel, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat may help add some clarity or perspective to the storyline).
The two main characters that feature in this novel are well developed and the author uses his unique sense of humour and wit to draw the readers in but it is not in-your-face styled humour, rather a subtle insertion that perfectly adds to the power of the tale being told.
The same can be said of Andrez Bergen's influences, he introduces us to numerous movies, books, comics, music and actual historic events
and rather than this be overbearing it adds another layer to a novel that is so much better for being multi-layered and faceted.
I haven't written many reviews of books I have read before and found it somewhat difficult to write this one, I actually noticed that some of the other people who also have reviewed this novel found themselves in a similar position. This could perhaps be attributed to the fact
that One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is the kind of novel that isn't pinned down to any particular genre and the author has taken the reader on a genuine journey with pain, laugh out loud moments, a sense of melancholy, happiness and even moments where I myself found myself getting a bit teary eyed (I cannot recall the last time that happened when I read a book!)
Overall I am so pleased that I have discovered this author and read this book, it was a genuine pleasure to read and I am sure to revisit it many times in the future. Would highly recommend this to anyone who enjoys a fantastic book and isn't compelled to read something that is pigeon-holed into a particular genre and is simply happy to be taken on a wonderful ride.
April 18, 2013
Mr. Wolram E. Deaps mentions early in 100 Years of Vicissitude that “there is no neat beginning with which to start things.”Since Wolram is the central character and narrator of the story, I wondered what was to come. As this mysterious, thoughtful, and occasionally horrific story unfolded, I realized that while a neat beginning was never promised, the sum of a life can be tidily bundled into packets of time, which provide a workable method to scrutinize one’s existence.
We meet Wolram after his death. He’s understandably confused and having trouble putting everything into context. What he doesn’t yet know is that he’s about to start a journey through time and memory, pausing long enough at each scene to ponder what transpired and the effects that point in time had on the future.
Wolram is joined by a companion in what he assumes is his afterlife, named Kohana. She’s an intelligent, willful, beautiful, sassy, stubborn enigma of a woman who, we will learn, has lived an incredible life as she survived pivotal points in the history of Japan.
It is her life that Wolram explores, soundtracked by a breathtakingly detailed narrative provided by Kohana. Throughout the journey, changes of memory-locale arrive crisply and frequently, drawing protest, fear, anger, and a growing sense of curiosity from Wolram towards his companion. It’s not quite Ebenezer Scrooge and Jacob Marley, but one can’t help but recall that classic tale. Although, with old Scrooge and Marley, it was always clear who was calling the shots–not so with our deceased duo. While one definitely knows what is going on, we are left with just enough vagueness to question the ultimate goal of the Grand Tour. Was this a mutual benefit for two souls leaving this world? Was this an endurance test or an exercise in acceptance?
While the book delivers a satisfying ending, it leaves the reader wide open to questioning much about their own existence and place in history. I defy you to read this book and not think about your own past–as well as your present actions, which stack up like cordwood, defining your future. Will this book alter your future? I believe it may have already altered my own –why should I wait till the end of my lifespan to ponder the worth of my actions and choices? Why not truly live in my moments? And perhaps, one day, when I revisit my life on my final journey, I can take satisfaction from and comfort in the choices I’ve made.
( Review originally written for Steampunk Magazine http://www.steampunkmagazine.com )
We meet Wolram after his death. He’s understandably confused and having trouble putting everything into context. What he doesn’t yet know is that he’s about to start a journey through time and memory, pausing long enough at each scene to ponder what transpired and the effects that point in time had on the future.
Wolram is joined by a companion in what he assumes is his afterlife, named Kohana. She’s an intelligent, willful, beautiful, sassy, stubborn enigma of a woman who, we will learn, has lived an incredible life as she survived pivotal points in the history of Japan.
It is her life that Wolram explores, soundtracked by a breathtakingly detailed narrative provided by Kohana. Throughout the journey, changes of memory-locale arrive crisply and frequently, drawing protest, fear, anger, and a growing sense of curiosity from Wolram towards his companion. It’s not quite Ebenezer Scrooge and Jacob Marley, but one can’t help but recall that classic tale. Although, with old Scrooge and Marley, it was always clear who was calling the shots–not so with our deceased duo. While one definitely knows what is going on, we are left with just enough vagueness to question the ultimate goal of the Grand Tour. Was this a mutual benefit for two souls leaving this world? Was this an endurance test or an exercise in acceptance?
While the book delivers a satisfying ending, it leaves the reader wide open to questioning much about their own existence and place in history. I defy you to read this book and not think about your own past–as well as your present actions, which stack up like cordwood, defining your future. Will this book alter your future? I believe it may have already altered my own –why should I wait till the end of my lifespan to ponder the worth of my actions and choices? Why not truly live in my moments? And perhaps, one day, when I revisit my life on my final journey, I can take satisfaction from and comfort in the choices I’ve made.
( Review originally written for Steampunk Magazine http://www.steampunkmagazine.com )
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 9, 2012
This novel is, in certain ways, more a history lesson than it is a narrative. It's quite an interesting novel, though, both linguistically and structurally. It's a journey through the afterlife and through memories, both personal and cultural.
A dead woman leads a dead man through her memories of the tragedies forced upon the japanese people during the 20th century. It illustrates the decimation of japan at the hands of western powers and the way that effected culture and people and lives. At many times this felt more like a collection of essays on japanese history aimed at westerners than it did a novel. Also, while it recounts the horror that descended upon japan, it largely ignores the horrors the japanese spread abroad to places like Korea and China, and I guess I only think of that because of the way the novel is told. The narrator has an interesting voice. Sort of old world scholar with that wry kind of wit. He's sometimes a bit much and the narration could be reigned in a bit, but he's also an entertaining fellow to listen to.
While it's an easy read that propels you forward, there's a connection that seems to be missing through a lot of it. I didn't realise until I reached the end of the book [the page after the novel's end] that this is a sequel of sorts. I think that would have helped my reading a great deal. It was hard to connect with the narrator or care much about him, partially because his story already ended, being dead and so on. Nothing ever felt at stake and so I think it would've helped a great deal to have already known who he is, which, I imagine, is established in Bergen's previous novel.
Anyrate, as a stand alone novel, it feels as if something's missing at many times. I plan on reading Bergen's previous novel, Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, in the near future. Possibly this will fill in some of the gaps I felt in the novel. As it stands, this is a solid novel. It's not perfect, but it's worth a look.
A dead woman leads a dead man through her memories of the tragedies forced upon the japanese people during the 20th century. It illustrates the decimation of japan at the hands of western powers and the way that effected culture and people and lives. At many times this felt more like a collection of essays on japanese history aimed at westerners than it did a novel. Also, while it recounts the horror that descended upon japan, it largely ignores the horrors the japanese spread abroad to places like Korea and China, and I guess I only think of that because of the way the novel is told. The narrator has an interesting voice. Sort of old world scholar with that wry kind of wit. He's sometimes a bit much and the narration could be reigned in a bit, but he's also an entertaining fellow to listen to.
While it's an easy read that propels you forward, there's a connection that seems to be missing through a lot of it. I didn't realise until I reached the end of the book [the page after the novel's end] that this is a sequel of sorts. I think that would have helped my reading a great deal. It was hard to connect with the narrator or care much about him, partially because his story already ended, being dead and so on. Nothing ever felt at stake and so I think it would've helped a great deal to have already known who he is, which, I imagine, is established in Bergen's previous novel.
Anyrate, as a stand alone novel, it feels as if something's missing at many times. I plan on reading Bergen's previous novel, Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, in the near future. Possibly this will fill in some of the gaps I felt in the novel. As it stands, this is a solid novel. It's not perfect, but it's worth a look.
July 27, 2014
Our chief protagonist Wolram E Deaps, first seen in the scifi noir TOBACCO STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT, has past away and now resides in the hereafter; a strange halfway home between life and death - a place where memories are relived in all their gore and glory.
Accompanying him is a geisha, Kohana, having also past away following an innings of 100 (or there abouts). Despite the triple figure, Kohana resembles a teenager - one of many mysteries that enthralls Deaps. Initially there seems to be little to link these two vastly different characters, however as the story unfolds their lives become intertwined in more ways than one.
I've not read a book like ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE before. It has no distinct genre, rather borrowing elements from many to form a literary tale that transports the reader through a sticky strange web of nostalgia ingrained in the lives and deaths of Deaps and Kohana.
Rich with fact and equally engaging fiction, ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE is an imaginative beast that is nothing short of all consuming.
Author Andrez Bergen has got to be one of the most diverse authors I've read, each of his novels is unique and top shelf and ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE is no different.
Review first appeared on my blog: http://justaguythatlikes2read.blogspo...
Accompanying him is a geisha, Kohana, having also past away following an innings of 100 (or there abouts). Despite the triple figure, Kohana resembles a teenager - one of many mysteries that enthralls Deaps. Initially there seems to be little to link these two vastly different characters, however as the story unfolds their lives become intertwined in more ways than one.
I've not read a book like ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE before. It has no distinct genre, rather borrowing elements from many to form a literary tale that transports the reader through a sticky strange web of nostalgia ingrained in the lives and deaths of Deaps and Kohana.
Rich with fact and equally engaging fiction, ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE is an imaginative beast that is nothing short of all consuming.
Author Andrez Bergen has got to be one of the most diverse authors I've read, each of his novels is unique and top shelf and ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE is no different.
Review first appeared on my blog: http://justaguythatlikes2read.blogspo...
May 19, 2013
Exquisite writing, this Ghost-of-Christmas-Past tour of the events of 20th-century Japan through the eyes of a geisha dragging along a crusty old tyrant in a purgatorial afterlife. Took me a long time to get into, with all its Japanese terminology and fragmented scenes, but it picked up about halfway through as the threads began tying themselves together. The two have an interesting rapport, her ageless beauty and endless romantic encounters contrasted with his elderly impotence in being forced to observe them. She needles and bewitches him, as is her professional companion nature, living much more freely, despite being thrust from one tragedy to the next—a survivor.
Being a fan of the author’s previous novel (in which said tyrant is the “final boss” antagonist, albeit a mysterious one), I’d hoped we’d explore more of his past in this book, but it’s 90% hers. Him being the narrator, of course, we do get to pull back the curtain on his personality, sad as it may be. Bergen exhibits his diverse skills here, as I’d never have guessed these two books were written by the same person.
Being a fan of the author’s previous novel (in which said tyrant is the “final boss” antagonist, albeit a mysterious one), I’d hoped we’d explore more of his past in this book, but it’s 90% hers. Him being the narrator, of course, we do get to pull back the curtain on his personality, sad as it may be. Bergen exhibits his diverse skills here, as I’d never have guessed these two books were written by the same person.
February 26, 2013
I read it through in one evening, which is a testament to the novel's readability. After the first few pages, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude settles down into a pleasant meandering through the memories of Kohana, a Japanese Geisha. The narrative is told from the point of view of Wolram E. Deaps, last seen as the antagonist of Bergen's earlier Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat. Kohana and Wolram are dead, apparently, and they re-live scenes from both of their lives (but mostly Kohana's), taking in the firebombing of Tokyo in 1945 and a couple of murders. At times the reality of these memories is called into question, and toward the end we get snippets of Wolram's own childhood in suburban Melbourne. The book starts off in William Burroughs territory but ends up somewhere altogether more wholesome. It was a pleasure to read and I recommend it to anyone. You don't need to read Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat first, but it possibly helps a little, at least with Wolram's character.
March 2, 2014
The transition from Bergen's first book, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, to this second book, is pretty ingenious: . The Australian Wolram meets a Japanese geisha in an alternate reality, and an adventure across time and memory ensues. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude starts as a slow boil, then fragments into a shocking story of betrayal, revenge, destruction, love. It's very striking technically because the book is arguably one scene, and Bergen's wealth of knowledge of pop culture/film/art adds to its mindbending development. This is a writer unlike anyone else.
March 11, 2014
Were it not that someone asked to hear what I thought of 100 Years I would not have persevered. I'd read the first few chapters and was struggling to make sense of things - frankly, it was a bit too Philip Marlowe for me (and I LOVE Philip Marlowe). I started again and am glad I did!
A passage which sits with me refers to Wolram E as he acknowledges how little he knew of Japanese history (WW2 in particular) - the winner writes the history, his lack is my lack. Only way to address that will be for me to add more Japanese works to my TBR.
December 10, 2012
(review forthcoming)
October 31, 2013
The kind of quirky book that I enjoy. Will be reading more from this author.
April 23, 2014
Weird as shit. But oddly intriguing and strangely hard to put down. If you're looking for something out of left field, this book comes recommended from Thefoundingfields.com
July 8, 2012
Finished promotional manuscript this morning. Wonderful.
July 17, 2013
“First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man. I have meagre proof, no framed‐ up certification, nothing to toss in a court of law as evidence of a rapid departure from the mortal coil. I recall a gun was involved, pressed up against my skull, and a loud explosion followed.”
Thus begins our narrator in a purgatorial tour through twentieth-century Japanese history, with a ghostly geisha who has seen it all as a guide and a corrupt millionaire as her reluctant companion.
Thrown into the milieu are saké, B-29s, Lewis Carroll, Sir Thomas Malory, Melbourne, The Wizard of Oz, and a dirigible - along with the allusion that Red Riding Hood might just be involved.
Some of the most rewarding books I read over the years proved to be the ones that didn’t come with too many recommendations or from the authors I picked in the whim of my reading caprices. One such novel was “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”, a wonderful novel for which I didn’t have any recommendation and implicitly with any expectations from my part. Of course, after the initial encounter with an author it proves to be very difficult to read the writer’s next work without any expectation and only with the anticipation of opening a door to a new world. There is no wonder then that it was impossible for me not to set the bar of expectations high for Andrez Bergen after his debut novel, but if that changed the way I perceive his future works it also made me await them with eagerness. The first in line, Andrez Bergen’s new novel, “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”.
“First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man.” What the main character only suspects in the beginning becomes obvious immediately after that. Wolram E. Deaps is dead and he finds himself in a limbo. A transitional situation for which he has no explanation or from which he has no escape yet. But the state Wolram E. Deaps is in it’s not completely cut off from the state of living Wolram is familiar with. Along the story of “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” Wolram learns on his own that the state of transition in which he is found comes with childhood dreams reflected on this limbo, with significant physical needs, for instance cold and hunger. But nb also is a place with new possibilities, such as meeting new people. And Wolram E. Deaps meets Kohana. Together they begin a journey through the memories of the former geisha, a pilgrimage to the significant moments of her life, the events that shape Kohana’s character and her former existence. Is the recounting of a life, with the good, the bad and in between, a flash of an existence before death exerts its final toll.
With the only two main characters on the scene “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” is similar in many aspects with a play. Much of the story’s magic consists in the relationship between these two characters, but without neglecting the story in the least. Each act of the story takes place in a different setting, the props are changed from one moment in Kohana’s life to another, with the necessary revisiting of the most important ones. The entire odyssey is made in the accompaniment of witty dialogues, delightful characters and captivating story. Or little stories, since the entire picture of “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” is made by smaller parts that could easily make a tale on their own. But the characters do not make solely a voyage through Kohana’s life memories, it is also an expedition through a certain era of Japan’s history. It is a hymn brought to this wonderful country and to some of the elements that define its individuality. Customs, history, legends, literature, music and pop culture receive homage in Andrez Bergen’s novel. The ritual of drinking saké, geishas, kabuki, monster movies, yakuza or sumo are some of the things that find their way into the novel one way or another.
There are only two characters in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”, but one of them makes a connection between Andrez Bergen’s two published novels. Wolram E. Deaps is a character from the authors’ debut novel, “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”. As a matter of fact, he is the antagonist of that book, ambitious and greedy. However, not in a single moment I could see Wolram E. Deaps as the character with an unsated appetite for power and money. He even becomes an agreeable character in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”. I would not register this aspect as complaint however, because until I experience a state of limbo or any other post-mortem situation first-hand I cannot rightfully affirm how such an instance affects the character of a human being. Wolram E. Deaps not only makes a connection with “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”, but he also gives both Andrez Bergen’s novels metafictional qualities. It is early on in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” when Wolram spots a book among others with certain characteristics: “On a small round table next to the sofa was a pile of books, at the top of which sat a hardback titled Dead Yellow Women. Peeking out beneath that was a cartoonish goat with a cigarette, on a dirty brown cover.”
I said that after reading an author for the first time it is almost impossible for me to start the writer’s other works without some expectations. Such was the case with Andrez Bergen too, but nothing I expected based on “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat” could have prepared me for what I found in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”. Yes, both novels have witty, intelligent and delightful dialogues, both show a mastering of language and an assured writing technique from Andrez Bergen, both with various odes brought to the things I can only guess that the author loves at personal level. But “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” reveals new qualities of Andrez Bergen, in particular a warm and wonderful sensibility. The description of Asakusa 1945 firebombing and the reminder of the cruelties of Nanking massacre are touching and emotional. These would have been enough to show Andrez Bergen ability to create emotion, but there many more sensible moments. Distinctly, two scenes from the end of “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” bring the reader close to tears.
Globalization is very far from the milk and honey heaven we are led to believe it brings, but I am thankful for the possibility it gives me to discover writers such as Andrez Bergen, an Australian, living in Japan and enchanting the readers across the globe, such as myself, with the stylish noir post-apocalyptic “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat” or this little gem that is “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”.
Thus begins our narrator in a purgatorial tour through twentieth-century Japanese history, with a ghostly geisha who has seen it all as a guide and a corrupt millionaire as her reluctant companion.
Thrown into the milieu are saké, B-29s, Lewis Carroll, Sir Thomas Malory, Melbourne, The Wizard of Oz, and a dirigible - along with the allusion that Red Riding Hood might just be involved.
Some of the most rewarding books I read over the years proved to be the ones that didn’t come with too many recommendations or from the authors I picked in the whim of my reading caprices. One such novel was “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”, a wonderful novel for which I didn’t have any recommendation and implicitly with any expectations from my part. Of course, after the initial encounter with an author it proves to be very difficult to read the writer’s next work without any expectation and only with the anticipation of opening a door to a new world. There is no wonder then that it was impossible for me not to set the bar of expectations high for Andrez Bergen after his debut novel, but if that changed the way I perceive his future works it also made me await them with eagerness. The first in line, Andrez Bergen’s new novel, “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”.
“First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man.” What the main character only suspects in the beginning becomes obvious immediately after that. Wolram E. Deaps is dead and he finds himself in a limbo. A transitional situation for which he has no explanation or from which he has no escape yet. But the state Wolram E. Deaps is in it’s not completely cut off from the state of living Wolram is familiar with. Along the story of “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” Wolram learns on his own that the state of transition in which he is found comes with childhood dreams reflected on this limbo, with significant physical needs, for instance cold and hunger. But nb also is a place with new possibilities, such as meeting new people. And Wolram E. Deaps meets Kohana. Together they begin a journey through the memories of the former geisha, a pilgrimage to the significant moments of her life, the events that shape Kohana’s character and her former existence. Is the recounting of a life, with the good, the bad and in between, a flash of an existence before death exerts its final toll.
With the only two main characters on the scene “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” is similar in many aspects with a play. Much of the story’s magic consists in the relationship between these two characters, but without neglecting the story in the least. Each act of the story takes place in a different setting, the props are changed from one moment in Kohana’s life to another, with the necessary revisiting of the most important ones. The entire odyssey is made in the accompaniment of witty dialogues, delightful characters and captivating story. Or little stories, since the entire picture of “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” is made by smaller parts that could easily make a tale on their own. But the characters do not make solely a voyage through Kohana’s life memories, it is also an expedition through a certain era of Japan’s history. It is a hymn brought to this wonderful country and to some of the elements that define its individuality. Customs, history, legends, literature, music and pop culture receive homage in Andrez Bergen’s novel. The ritual of drinking saké, geishas, kabuki, monster movies, yakuza or sumo are some of the things that find their way into the novel one way or another.
There are only two characters in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”, but one of them makes a connection between Andrez Bergen’s two published novels. Wolram E. Deaps is a character from the authors’ debut novel, “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”. As a matter of fact, he is the antagonist of that book, ambitious and greedy. However, not in a single moment I could see Wolram E. Deaps as the character with an unsated appetite for power and money. He even becomes an agreeable character in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”. I would not register this aspect as complaint however, because until I experience a state of limbo or any other post-mortem situation first-hand I cannot rightfully affirm how such an instance affects the character of a human being. Wolram E. Deaps not only makes a connection with “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”, but he also gives both Andrez Bergen’s novels metafictional qualities. It is early on in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” when Wolram spots a book among others with certain characteristics: “On a small round table next to the sofa was a pile of books, at the top of which sat a hardback titled Dead Yellow Women. Peeking out beneath that was a cartoonish goat with a cigarette, on a dirty brown cover.”
I said that after reading an author for the first time it is almost impossible for me to start the writer’s other works without some expectations. Such was the case with Andrez Bergen too, but nothing I expected based on “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat” could have prepared me for what I found in “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”. Yes, both novels have witty, intelligent and delightful dialogues, both show a mastering of language and an assured writing technique from Andrez Bergen, both with various odes brought to the things I can only guess that the author loves at personal level. But “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” reveals new qualities of Andrez Bergen, in particular a warm and wonderful sensibility. The description of Asakusa 1945 firebombing and the reminder of the cruelties of Nanking massacre are touching and emotional. These would have been enough to show Andrez Bergen ability to create emotion, but there many more sensible moments. Distinctly, two scenes from the end of “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude” bring the reader close to tears.
Globalization is very far from the milk and honey heaven we are led to believe it brings, but I am thankful for the possibility it gives me to discover writers such as Andrez Bergen, an Australian, living in Japan and enchanting the readers across the globe, such as myself, with the stylish noir post-apocalyptic “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat” or this little gem that is “One Hundred Years of Vicissitude”.
February 15, 2013
One of my favourite Indie books that I read last year was Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, by Andrez Bergen – a clever mix of Blade Runner and Mad Max style Sci-Fi with a touch of old school Humphrey Bogart Film Noir, all neatly blended with an Austrialian sense of humour. It was one of the most original reads I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing and one that I’ve been highly recommending to a lot of friends.
So when the author approached me, stating that he had another book out, I said yes without needing any time to think about it! I didn’t know what to expect – but I enjoyed what I read!
One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is a little bit different than Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, in the sense that’s more of a spiritual journey – but it’s by no means any less enjoyable to read!
I had to admit I actually had to look up the word Vicissitude to learn what it meant before reading. And I was most interested to learn the definition of the word (or at least the definitions that I got read as follows).
1. Regular change or succession from one thing to another, or one part of a cycle to the next; alternation; mutual succession; interchange.
2. (often plural) a change, especially in one's life or fortunes.
Ok, now I was interested. So I read on.
The story is actually a sort of spiritual successor to Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat as it features the villain of the piece – Wolram E. Deaps. (SPOILERS for TSMG ahead). Having been killed by Floyd at the end of the book, Wolram finds himself in a sort of purgatory with Kohana, a geisha with a story to tell.
And so Wolram goes on an amazing journey with Kohana, as she shows him her life through her memories, her past, and the history of 1940’s Japan as they relive some of the most horrific moments from the country during its war-torn time. As they delve deeper and deeper into this journey, Wolram’s life starts to interconnect with Kohana’s – and he soon learns that he must understand Kohana’s life in order so that he can forgive himself for sins committed in his own life.
First of all, I think it’s fantastic that Wolram was the central character – it’s not often a writer takes who was essentially the antagonist of the last story and makes them the protagonist in the next book. It’s a daring twist that works well and we get to understand a lot more of the character of Wolram and learn that his hatred of Floyd wasn’t entirely unjustified. However, much like Floyd in Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, Wolram has a quick wit and is well versed in the art of literature and film. Kohana is also a great character, well versed and full of wisdom – yet she can be quite sardonic and wicked at times. The dynamics between the two of them are great and I love the way they play off each other. It kinda reminds me a little of Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox – the way they try to constantly outdo each other and prove to the other one that they know it all. Both of them are a joy to read about and you just can’t help but love them, despite their foibles.
The story is laced with elements of mythology as well as history, creating a dreamlike world that is constantly shifting, mixing reality with fantasy. Much like with Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, the book is loaded with references to other mediums – everything from Shakespeare to Manga. But don’t worry if you don’t get the references, the book does keep you up to pace with what they are talking about so you don’t get lost. But what is REALLY clever is how sometimes they can take a reference to one thing, and then mention a few other titles with the same name! One example of this is when Kohana mentions the character Akuma from the Streetfighter series – and then goes onto mention several other titles with Akuma in the title. We then realise that Akuma was a nickname for her – as it means Devil or something to that effect.
The scenes are constantly shifting from one memory to the next – sometimes in just a second. Sometimes the memories jump in and out of sequence and from one time to the next. We never get the full story at once, but gradually piece it together as it goes along. It feels like a jigsaw puzzle that you just want to complete and see what the image is. And the most pieces that are added, the more we come to understand why this journey was needed. It all leads to a really emotional climax that, I gotta be honest, I did find quite moving.
But for all its intelligence and emotion, this is not something that a casual reader will want to dive into without preparation. The book is almost like Inception in a way, in that the plot is fairly complex and does require your full attention to get the best out of it. I often found myself going back and re-reading chapters to make sure I got the understanding of what was happening. But even though I got lost now and then, it was by no means a chore to read. And in fact it was amazing to discover little things that I missed the first time.
For me, 100 Years of Vicissitude is a story about looking back over your past and learning from your mistakes. And whilst I haven’t given too much about the plot away to support this statement, I feel that doing so would diminish the enjoyment of reading it yourself. Whether you have read anything else from this author or not, I highly recommend this one in your collection. It’s a magical journey, with wit and heartfelt emotion at its core.
So when the author approached me, stating that he had another book out, I said yes without needing any time to think about it! I didn’t know what to expect – but I enjoyed what I read!
One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is a little bit different than Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, in the sense that’s more of a spiritual journey – but it’s by no means any less enjoyable to read!
I had to admit I actually had to look up the word Vicissitude to learn what it meant before reading. And I was most interested to learn the definition of the word (or at least the definitions that I got read as follows).
1. Regular change or succession from one thing to another, or one part of a cycle to the next; alternation; mutual succession; interchange.
2. (often plural) a change, especially in one's life or fortunes.
Ok, now I was interested. So I read on.
The story is actually a sort of spiritual successor to Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat as it features the villain of the piece – Wolram E. Deaps. (SPOILERS for TSMG ahead). Having been killed by Floyd at the end of the book, Wolram finds himself in a sort of purgatory with Kohana, a geisha with a story to tell.
And so Wolram goes on an amazing journey with Kohana, as she shows him her life through her memories, her past, and the history of 1940’s Japan as they relive some of the most horrific moments from the country during its war-torn time. As they delve deeper and deeper into this journey, Wolram’s life starts to interconnect with Kohana’s – and he soon learns that he must understand Kohana’s life in order so that he can forgive himself for sins committed in his own life.
First of all, I think it’s fantastic that Wolram was the central character – it’s not often a writer takes who was essentially the antagonist of the last story and makes them the protagonist in the next book. It’s a daring twist that works well and we get to understand a lot more of the character of Wolram and learn that his hatred of Floyd wasn’t entirely unjustified. However, much like Floyd in Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, Wolram has a quick wit and is well versed in the art of literature and film. Kohana is also a great character, well versed and full of wisdom – yet she can be quite sardonic and wicked at times. The dynamics between the two of them are great and I love the way they play off each other. It kinda reminds me a little of Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox – the way they try to constantly outdo each other and prove to the other one that they know it all. Both of them are a joy to read about and you just can’t help but love them, despite their foibles.
The story is laced with elements of mythology as well as history, creating a dreamlike world that is constantly shifting, mixing reality with fantasy. Much like with Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat, the book is loaded with references to other mediums – everything from Shakespeare to Manga. But don’t worry if you don’t get the references, the book does keep you up to pace with what they are talking about so you don’t get lost. But what is REALLY clever is how sometimes they can take a reference to one thing, and then mention a few other titles with the same name! One example of this is when Kohana mentions the character Akuma from the Streetfighter series – and then goes onto mention several other titles with Akuma in the title. We then realise that Akuma was a nickname for her – as it means Devil or something to that effect.
The scenes are constantly shifting from one memory to the next – sometimes in just a second. Sometimes the memories jump in and out of sequence and from one time to the next. We never get the full story at once, but gradually piece it together as it goes along. It feels like a jigsaw puzzle that you just want to complete and see what the image is. And the most pieces that are added, the more we come to understand why this journey was needed. It all leads to a really emotional climax that, I gotta be honest, I did find quite moving.
But for all its intelligence and emotion, this is not something that a casual reader will want to dive into without preparation. The book is almost like Inception in a way, in that the plot is fairly complex and does require your full attention to get the best out of it. I often found myself going back and re-reading chapters to make sure I got the understanding of what was happening. But even though I got lost now and then, it was by no means a chore to read. And in fact it was amazing to discover little things that I missed the first time.
For me, 100 Years of Vicissitude is a story about looking back over your past and learning from your mistakes. And whilst I haven’t given too much about the plot away to support this statement, I feel that doing so would diminish the enjoyment of reading it yourself. Whether you have read anything else from this author or not, I highly recommend this one in your collection. It’s a magical journey, with wit and heartfelt emotion at its core.
January 6, 2022
Weird.
September 7, 2013
“The death of a broken-down old man is, unquestionably, the least poetical topic in the world.”
First up, a disclaimer. I suspect this is the strangest book I have ever read. I have no morsel of proof, nothing to waive around in a court for all to gawk at. All I remember is the words on the paper, and a surreal feel from the reading.
Right from the get-go, Bergen launches us into his weirdest book yet.
"First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man. I have meagre proof, no framed‐ up certification, nothing to toss in a court of law as evidence of a rapid departure from the mortal coil. I recall a gun was involved, pressed up against my skull, and a loud explosion followed."
As said, the beginning really hooks you. It’s strange, funny, serious, and actually starts with action that jumps backwards. I mean, if an author can pull THAT off, I’m sold. However, the loose thread of a plot might be to the dislike of some readers.
We witness a murder finished, a man and woman smoking over the corpse all nonchalant. Then we jump foreword to the first chapter where our narrator gives a deluge of internal monologues about life and likes. This punctuates the fact that I thought Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat was verbose. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is the very definition of verbosity.
And I fear a tad bit could’ve been cut to help the pace brisk along. While it does move fairly fast for a novel just a tad over two hundred pages, it sometimes dwelled on descriptions rather than actions. That’s not to say the former wasn’t needed. No, it very much was to establish the beautiful Japanese history, but sometimes, rarely but just enough, it felt like padding.
Nevertheless, if I ever became bored with some trivial matter, too much wordage or not a hint of tension, Bergen dropped a completely new scene on me.
His plot was very jumpy which creates a distorting, somewhat rollicking story and, to a lesser extent, pace. Yes, it’s all becoming confusing, right? Well, that best defines Bergen’s second novel. It’s a befuddling mess of a story.
“I don’t exactly recall how I arrived.”
However, Bergen’s second novel is better than the first, as expected.
Whereas in Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat the author tried to balance character, world-building, and plot, here he focuses almost solely on character. To that, I cannot congratulate him enough. Wolfram was such an annoying character as time went on, seeming to bicker at every shred of information his guide presents him. But this could be made out to be passive aggression, seeing as he’s a dead man.
What I really enjoyed was that this isn’t the story of our narrator, Wolfram, but of the guide, Kohana.
She’s an enigma, shooting off random history and sarcasm at every turn. We learn her past from memories they experience, like A Christmas Carol but not. And from these incidents do we see the shell being peeled away, making a sympathetic and almost tragic woman.
It would be a disservice to mention Bergen’s extreme love of pop references.
He litters the story with mentions of Alice in Wonderland, Charles Dickens, World War 2 from the Japanese side, and numerous bands that I don’t have a clue are. Yes, if there’s one thing that Bergen can pull off in every novel, it’s the dialogue and name drops.
If there is one way to best describe this novel, it’s taking a taxi through the streets of some major city. Possibly Tokyo. Only, the taxi is speeding without traffic, and when there is, he doesn’t stop. Oh, and he speaks in a foreign language the whole time. But what about the sharp curves, barely seen until you’re already turning them? And by the time he’s placed you at the steps of your exit, the beat in your chest is about to explode.
Yes, that is what to expect. Except, nothing is that straight-forward. It's a post-modern story with the wheels inside the wheels analogy, save that Bergen gives you the much needed support of spokes in the guise of brilliant characters.
While it may be my least favorite of the three, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude will appeal to any reader who loves a, simply put, wonderful tale.
“In that story Sutherland gives chase to another child-sized fugitive in red. He presumes this is his recently deceased daughter, but it turns out to be a homicidal dwarf. Nothing is what it seems.”
First up, a disclaimer. I suspect this is the strangest book I have ever read. I have no morsel of proof, nothing to waive around in a court for all to gawk at. All I remember is the words on the paper, and a surreal feel from the reading.
Right from the get-go, Bergen launches us into his weirdest book yet.
"First up, a disclaimer. I suspect I am a dead man. I have meagre proof, no framed‐ up certification, nothing to toss in a court of law as evidence of a rapid departure from the mortal coil. I recall a gun was involved, pressed up against my skull, and a loud explosion followed."
As said, the beginning really hooks you. It’s strange, funny, serious, and actually starts with action that jumps backwards. I mean, if an author can pull THAT off, I’m sold. However, the loose thread of a plot might be to the dislike of some readers.
We witness a murder finished, a man and woman smoking over the corpse all nonchalant. Then we jump foreword to the first chapter where our narrator gives a deluge of internal monologues about life and likes. This punctuates the fact that I thought Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat was verbose. One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is the very definition of verbosity.
And I fear a tad bit could’ve been cut to help the pace brisk along. While it does move fairly fast for a novel just a tad over two hundred pages, it sometimes dwelled on descriptions rather than actions. That’s not to say the former wasn’t needed. No, it very much was to establish the beautiful Japanese history, but sometimes, rarely but just enough, it felt like padding.
Nevertheless, if I ever became bored with some trivial matter, too much wordage or not a hint of tension, Bergen dropped a completely new scene on me.
His plot was very jumpy which creates a distorting, somewhat rollicking story and, to a lesser extent, pace. Yes, it’s all becoming confusing, right? Well, that best defines Bergen’s second novel. It’s a befuddling mess of a story.
“I don’t exactly recall how I arrived.”
However, Bergen’s second novel is better than the first, as expected.
Whereas in Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat the author tried to balance character, world-building, and plot, here he focuses almost solely on character. To that, I cannot congratulate him enough. Wolfram was such an annoying character as time went on, seeming to bicker at every shred of information his guide presents him. But this could be made out to be passive aggression, seeing as he’s a dead man.
What I really enjoyed was that this isn’t the story of our narrator, Wolfram, but of the guide, Kohana.
She’s an enigma, shooting off random history and sarcasm at every turn. We learn her past from memories they experience, like A Christmas Carol but not. And from these incidents do we see the shell being peeled away, making a sympathetic and almost tragic woman.
It would be a disservice to mention Bergen’s extreme love of pop references.
He litters the story with mentions of Alice in Wonderland, Charles Dickens, World War 2 from the Japanese side, and numerous bands that I don’t have a clue are. Yes, if there’s one thing that Bergen can pull off in every novel, it’s the dialogue and name drops.
If there is one way to best describe this novel, it’s taking a taxi through the streets of some major city. Possibly Tokyo. Only, the taxi is speeding without traffic, and when there is, he doesn’t stop. Oh, and he speaks in a foreign language the whole time. But what about the sharp curves, barely seen until you’re already turning them? And by the time he’s placed you at the steps of your exit, the beat in your chest is about to explode.
Yes, that is what to expect. Except, nothing is that straight-forward. It's a post-modern story with the wheels inside the wheels analogy, save that Bergen gives you the much needed support of spokes in the guise of brilliant characters.
While it may be my least favorite of the three, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude will appeal to any reader who loves a, simply put, wonderful tale.
“In that story Sutherland gives chase to another child-sized fugitive in red. He presumes this is his recently deceased daughter, but it turns out to be a homicidal dwarf. Nothing is what it seems.”
February 10, 2013
I can honestly say I've never read a book like this before. I picked it up when it was the Kindle Daily Deal back in January because I have an interest in history and Japanese culture, but also because I wanted to try something new. "100 Years" was definitely something new.
The book is witty with a cinematic scope. I could almost envision scenes of this book playing out in my head like scenes from a movie. Bergen does a great job of capturing the essence of a location without unneeded exposition. This is helpful given the speed at which Kohana and Deaps are propelled through time and space.
The story does not move in a linear fashion though at the end of the book the reader does feel as though the protagonist, Deaps, has reached the end of a journey. So in that sense, the book has a trajectory though like Deaps, the reader may not realize it until the conclusion.
The blurb mentions subtle nods to James Bond, the Wizard of Oz, and Godzilla, but the biggest reference point to me was Dickens. Only at the end does Deaps make the important comparison between Kohana and Jacob Marley, though in my mind she was more like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Like Dickens, Bergen uses the evolution of an individual's life story, in this case Kohana's, to demonstrate the many intersections of personal decisions, history, and a touch of fate.
Ultimately this book was refreshing for its lack of convention. But at the same time I couldn't help feeling like it was trying too hard... too hard to make a point, too hard to be "outside the box," too hard to be meaningful...
The book is witty with a cinematic scope. I could almost envision scenes of this book playing out in my head like scenes from a movie. Bergen does a great job of capturing the essence of a location without unneeded exposition. This is helpful given the speed at which Kohana and Deaps are propelled through time and space.
The story does not move in a linear fashion though at the end of the book the reader does feel as though the protagonist, Deaps, has reached the end of a journey. So in that sense, the book has a trajectory though like Deaps, the reader may not realize it until the conclusion.
The blurb mentions subtle nods to James Bond, the Wizard of Oz, and Godzilla, but the biggest reference point to me was Dickens. Only at the end does Deaps make the important comparison between Kohana and Jacob Marley, though in my mind she was more like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Like Dickens, Bergen uses the evolution of an individual's life story, in this case Kohana's, to demonstrate the many intersections of personal decisions, history, and a touch of fate.
Ultimately this book was refreshing for its lack of convention. But at the same time I couldn't help feeling like it was trying too hard... too hard to make a point, too hard to be "outside the box," too hard to be meaningful...
December 18, 2014
Another finish in one day job!
Great book, a nice insight into the mindset of Tobaccos arch nemesis and as usual a beautiful examination of topics which clearly Mr Bergen feels passionate about.
I could, as usual, talk about the beautiful characters or the vivid pictures that are once again painted but that goes without saying. The tension in this book at times is knife edge and the emotional highs (and lows) are gut wrenching.
Two points which stood out most for myself. Firstly, the examination of Japanese history and their reaction/coping with the bombing of their homes has always fascinated me. It's been something I have always meant to read up on (and never had the time) but there seems to be a distinct lack of ill will for some quite serious acts by the Americans during the war. It was an interesting insight and suggests almost a pragmatism that surprised me. I know Mr Bergen has a close relationship with Japan and the passion he shows to the topic is clear.
Secondly some of the quotes I have taken from the book are lovely. It's a toss up but my favourite must be;
"There's rarely a case of black and white. Only the grey, between both. Terrible people are capable of wonderful deeds, and good people can stoop to the lowest level"
Lovely stuff, keep up the good work!
Great book, a nice insight into the mindset of Tobaccos arch nemesis and as usual a beautiful examination of topics which clearly Mr Bergen feels passionate about.
I could, as usual, talk about the beautiful characters or the vivid pictures that are once again painted but that goes without saying. The tension in this book at times is knife edge and the emotional highs (and lows) are gut wrenching.
Two points which stood out most for myself. Firstly, the examination of Japanese history and their reaction/coping with the bombing of their homes has always fascinated me. It's been something I have always meant to read up on (and never had the time) but there seems to be a distinct lack of ill will for some quite serious acts by the Americans during the war. It was an interesting insight and suggests almost a pragmatism that surprised me. I know Mr Bergen has a close relationship with Japan and the passion he shows to the topic is clear.
Secondly some of the quotes I have taken from the book are lovely. It's a toss up but my favourite must be;
"There's rarely a case of black and white. Only the grey, between both. Terrible people are capable of wonderful deeds, and good people can stoop to the lowest level"
Lovely stuff, keep up the good work!
July 8, 2014
Truly a one-of-a-kind novel like Andez Bergen himself only know how to write them. It's such a peculiar experience, I had to stop about 10% into it and go read reviews to double check if I was understanding properly. Bergen's stacatto delivery is surprising and be difficult to adapt to. Although it features character of TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT Wolram Deaps, it's not a sequel, per se. It has very little narrative ties, explores its own themes and has its own identity altogether.
Speaking of exploration, it's pretty much what ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE is: an exploration of several narrative and non-narrative themes by Andrez Bergen. Deaps and a geisha named Kohana are talking a tour of her memories, who is only vaguely interrelated to his. Inside the fourth wall, it's an exploration of the chaotic series of events that is the life of a human being and outside of it, it's a tour through 20th century Japan with a mischievous guest and a witty hostess.
It's also a beautiful testimony that from whatever perspective you want to see it, the sacred is deeply human. Very good novel.
Speaking of exploration, it's pretty much what ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF VICISSITUDE is: an exploration of several narrative and non-narrative themes by Andrez Bergen. Deaps and a geisha named Kohana are talking a tour of her memories, who is only vaguely interrelated to his. Inside the fourth wall, it's an exploration of the chaotic series of events that is the life of a human being and outside of it, it's a tour through 20th century Japan with a mischievous guest and a witty hostess.
It's also a beautiful testimony that from whatever perspective you want to see it, the sacred is deeply human. Very good novel.
July 31, 2012
One Hundred Years of Vicissitude is the second novel of author Andrez Bergen. It both is and isn’t a follow-up book to his first novel, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat. I say it both is and isn’t, because the novel takes a path less traveled as far as sequels go; it follows along what happens to TSMG’s protagonist, Wolram E. Deaps, after the end of that tale, rather than continuing on to tell more of the story of Floyd and Nina. It is difficult to review this book – or indeed, discuss it at all – without spoiling a bit of the end of TSMG, so if you have not yet read that book and plan to, I would suggest reading it before reading further about this book. That said …
See my full review on AllwaysUnmended at http://allwaysunmended.com/2012/07/31...
See my full review on AllwaysUnmended at http://allwaysunmended.com/2012/07/31...
February 27, 2013
This book was a weird read for me. There is too much context left out of the book for the choice of narrators to make much sense. Why these two characters? The book is a bit hard to follow and the choice of scenes that are portrayed is never explained. You are hopped from time period to time period without much connection in between and no explanation as to why the scene is important. There is a hint of how we might regret some of the choices we make in life but there is no real story in that. There are a lot of good ideas in this book, but they were not connected in a very meaningful way. This book came to me highly recommended. It is very well written. For me, however, the story fails.
September 28, 2019
At the beginning of this book three people are killed. Two of them, Wolram Deaps a geisha, Kohana. He’s 79 and she’s 100, although she looks like a young woman. They are ghosts. The go through scenes of her life and then go through a few scenes of his life. They get to know each other well as they recall memories of murder and misfortunes. I found Wolram and Kohana to be interesting characters and I enjoyed their banter. And I found it entertaining enough to now try to find Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat to see if I can find out more about this story.
February 16, 2013
It took me a while to get into the book and didn't really like it at first. It's an adventure - if you will - of an older man who dies and meets up with a Japanese woman in the afterlife. They visit memories from her past and then start visiting ones from his. Most of them were sad memories as if they needed to reflect on what had happened.
March 4, 2013
I struggled with this at first. There was something about the first chapter that almost made me toss it aside and move on. To anyone who may also be thinking this, just hold on! After chapter 1 it picked up quickly for me. I found Kohana and the story of her past very interesting and well worth reading.
April 14, 2012
Privy to the manuscript version and loved the story. Differs greatly from Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat but still very much Bergen's style.
August 14, 2012
Simply outstanding.
I'm already hungry for Bergen's next book.
I'm already hungry for Bergen's next book.
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