The Finishing Touches - Hester Browne (large print edition, Wheeler, 2009)
Remember how I said "No more chick lit for a while"??? Somehow this didn't stop me from leaving the library last Friday with yet another one. This one is British though, which I kind of think should be a separate category.
And I really enjoyed it. The storyline is sort of absurd: this baby is abandoned on the doorstep of a London finishing school (the morning of/before Princess Di's wedding) and raised by the lord and lady who run the place and two old maid employees. Flash forward to the present. Betsy's adoptive mother has died and Betsy returns from Scotland for the memorial service where she discovers that the school is in shambles. (Duh, b/c who goes to finishing school in 2008?) Betsy got a math degree instead of going to the school herself - she is bitter about this actually - and is recruited to save the place and her mother's legacy. High jinks ensue. [That is my standard ending for pretty much ever plot summary, if you haven't noticed.]
But here are the things that make it work: British heroines are almost always more self-aware and hilarious than their American counterparts, and the supporting cast is just better. The four students - crazy rich young women - are adorably written, and I got a kick out of how they and Betsy interacted. It was over-the-top, but it also seemed real. And the love story was well-crafted. Browne sets it up so you're like, oh, it's this cliche. And then immediately something else happens, and you're like, oh nevermind, it's this cliche. And then sends you tripping back and forth between them for quite a while. Well played.
(On a side note, I ended up with the large print edition, which made the book almost 600 pages long and more importantly often made me feel like I was reading a kids' book. I understand why a lot of people who don't need the large print refuse to read it. It probably took well over 100 pages to get used to it.)
And now, seriously, I'm going to try to take a break from the chick lit. I swear.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Wrapping Up: Peace, after War
War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy (trans. by Richard Pevear & Larissa Volokhonsky) (Alfred A. Knopf, 2007)
Volume Four & the Epilogue
How much do I love that Tolstoy writes a two-part epilogue almost 100 pages long? (Not a lot actually. It's so him, and that I love, but if I were his editor, part two of the epilogue would be long gone.)
Volume Four is mostly about what happens to the French (and Russian) armies after Napoleon occupies Moscow and then up and leaves, retreating all the way back to France, army in tatters. Tolstoy has a LOT to say about this, and about what caused the retreat, and how the Russians "won" by losing. This all can be mostly summed up here: "Only unconscious activity bears fruit, and a man who plays a role in a historical event never understands its significance. If he attempts to understand it, he is struck with fruitlessness."
This also gives him a chance to do what he seems to love best, which is to make fun of historians. He also shares his opinions on doctors, and on "intelligent" women - who are juxtaposed with "real women, endowed with the ability to select and absorb all the best of what a man has to show." (Yes, I almost threw my book across the room here.)
But you forgive Tolstoy. Because he is big and expansive, creating a whole world that is larger than life. Sometimes when I think of him, I think of Whitman.
Other things happen too. There are a few major deaths, a couple marriages. The epilogue takes us into the future and lays the groundwork for what I understand was the original plan for W&P: understanding how the Decembrists (not these guys) became the Decembrists.
I was dissatisfied with how it all worked out when I read it at 17. This time around, I get it more. It somehow seems more appropriate and right. I don't really begrudge the characters their actions anymore, although I wish I could have seen the alternate world where you'd get my happy ending. It probably wouldn't have been especially happy, after all.
And the last of the Twittering, where it's clear I lost a lot of steam:
Volume Four & the Epilogue
How much do I love that Tolstoy writes a two-part epilogue almost 100 pages long? (Not a lot actually. It's so him, and that I love, but if I were his editor, part two of the epilogue would be long gone.)
Volume Four is mostly about what happens to the French (and Russian) armies after Napoleon occupies Moscow and then up and leaves, retreating all the way back to France, army in tatters. Tolstoy has a LOT to say about this, and about what caused the retreat, and how the Russians "won" by losing. This all can be mostly summed up here: "Only unconscious activity bears fruit, and a man who plays a role in a historical event never understands its significance. If he attempts to understand it, he is struck with fruitlessness."
This also gives him a chance to do what he seems to love best, which is to make fun of historians. He also shares his opinions on doctors, and on "intelligent" women - who are juxtaposed with "real women, endowed with the ability to select and absorb all the best of what a man has to show." (Yes, I almost threw my book across the room here.)
But you forgive Tolstoy. Because he is big and expansive, creating a whole world that is larger than life. Sometimes when I think of him, I think of Whitman.
Other things happen too. There are a few major deaths, a couple marriages. The epilogue takes us into the future and lays the groundwork for what I understand was the original plan for W&P: understanding how the Decembrists (not these guys) became the Decembrists.
I was dissatisfied with how it all worked out when I read it at 17. This time around, I get it more. It somehow seems more appropriate and right. I don't really begrudge the characters their actions anymore, although I wish I could have seen the alternate world where you'd get my happy ending. It probably wouldn't have been especially happy, after all.
And the last of the Twittering, where it's clear I lost a lot of steam:
- Turns out that if your sister is engaged to a dude, it's not okay for you to get involved with the same dude's sister.
- On the other hand, if then that guy were to die....
- "The war was being conducted against all the rules (as if there existed some sort of rules for killing people)."
- "But pure, perfect sorrow is as impossible as pure and perfect joy."
Filthy Rich Girls
The Dirty Girls Social Club - Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez (St. Martin's Press, 2003)
Perhaps I should take a break from the chick lit.
I ended up just finding this to be fairly mediocre. And then I felt bad about not enjoying it. Valdes-Rodriguez has a sunny, conversational style that was a kick, and really worked with the story. Plus I really loved the ways in which she complicates America's overly simplistic view of what it means to be Latina. What you look like, where your family comes from, what foods you eat, what languages you know. But I just felt unsatisfied. Why? you ask...
Las sucias. The girls themselves were fine, and I like how much they judge and often don't really like one another. It made their friendships and connections seem real. But seriously? There was so. much. money. They are rich, or their boyfriends/husbands/benefactors are. Or they're not, but then they become Shakira or something. Too much wealth. I know this is a problem with all chick lit, but it's somehow amplified when you have six main characters.
Speaking of six main characters... this meant I never really got to know any of them as well as I wanted to.
Plus. And this is probably actually where I lost my ability to suspend disbelief. Passage of time and chronology are all over the place. I think the novel takes place over 6 months, between sucia dinners. But maybe it's a year? And it just doesn't work that one character can be in the hospital for weeks, and then have so much happen post-release. Or that another can put together a whole record, have it produced and released and go on tour. Or that a woman signs the papers to buy a house and enters escrow one night, is supposed to go to Maine that weekend, and then has moved in by the time the Maine weekend comes along. ETC ETC ETC. Maybe I'm being purposely daft, but I just don't really get it. Sorry. :(
And I wanted to like this book. So now I feel kinda bad about it.
Perhaps I should take a break from the chick lit.
I ended up just finding this to be fairly mediocre. And then I felt bad about not enjoying it. Valdes-Rodriguez has a sunny, conversational style that was a kick, and really worked with the story. Plus I really loved the ways in which she complicates America's overly simplistic view of what it means to be Latina. What you look like, where your family comes from, what foods you eat, what languages you know. But I just felt unsatisfied. Why? you ask...
Las sucias. The girls themselves were fine, and I like how much they judge and often don't really like one another. It made their friendships and connections seem real. But seriously? There was so. much. money. They are rich, or their boyfriends/husbands/benefactors are. Or they're not, but then they become Shakira or something. Too much wealth. I know this is a problem with all chick lit, but it's somehow amplified when you have six main characters.
Speaking of six main characters... this meant I never really got to know any of them as well as I wanted to.
Plus. And this is probably actually where I lost my ability to suspend disbelief. Passage of time and chronology are all over the place. I think the novel takes place over 6 months, between sucia dinners. But maybe it's a year? And it just doesn't work that one character can be in the hospital for weeks, and then have so much happen post-release. Or that another can put together a whole record, have it produced and released and go on tour. Or that a woman signs the papers to buy a house and enters escrow one night, is supposed to go to Maine that weekend, and then has moved in by the time the Maine weekend comes along. ETC ETC ETC. Maybe I'm being purposely daft, but I just don't really get it. Sorry. :(
And I wanted to like this book. So now I feel kinda bad about it.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Things Fall Apart
Lima Nights - Marie Arana (Dial Press, 2009)
This slim novel is about one man - Carlos Bluhm - and two relationship crises, separated by twenty years. It's nicer to think of the first half as actually the coming together, the initiation of a relationship. But in light of the second part, Carlos and Maria twenty years later, the first starts to feel more like the dissolution of his marriage to Sophie.
Our cast: Carlos is of German descent, as is his wife and his group of friends, but he has fallen from the heights of wealth that his family once enjoyed. Maria is the young teen who beguiles him with her skin color, her dancing, her strange combination of innocence and knowingness. But there is also the wife, Sophie; the mother, Dorothea; the sons Fritz and Rudy; the men: Oscar, Willy, and Marco. And Maria's family. Arana keeps the book spare and focused, but the minor characters actually beg for more space - another author would have created a sprawling saga. (Yes, I still have Tolstoy on my mind.) And I might have preferred that book. This one - tight, sad - left me feeling as much hopeless as anything.
This slim novel is about one man - Carlos Bluhm - and two relationship crises, separated by twenty years. It's nicer to think of the first half as actually the coming together, the initiation of a relationship. But in light of the second part, Carlos and Maria twenty years later, the first starts to feel more like the dissolution of his marriage to Sophie.
Our cast: Carlos is of German descent, as is his wife and his group of friends, but he has fallen from the heights of wealth that his family once enjoyed. Maria is the young teen who beguiles him with her skin color, her dancing, her strange combination of innocence and knowingness. But there is also the wife, Sophie; the mother, Dorothea; the sons Fritz and Rudy; the men: Oscar, Willy, and Marco. And Maria's family. Arana keeps the book spare and focused, but the minor characters actually beg for more space - another author would have created a sprawling saga. (Yes, I still have Tolstoy on my mind.) And I might have preferred that book. This one - tight, sad - left me feeling as much hopeless as anything.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Paranormal Romance
Kiss & Hell - Dakota Cassidy (Berkeley Publishing, 2009)
The post title refers to the official genre designation that Penguin gives for this book, according to the back cover. I've been writing a paper on genre classification - and whether libraries should shelve books separately by genre - so this sort of thing is on my mind. For example, paranormal romance is quite possible the right classification for Ms. Sookie, although maybe paranormal suspence w/ lots o' sex is more accurate.
Anyway. Somehow this book made it into my book list. I hate this. Sometimes I remember exactly when I heard about a book and it stuck well enough to make me get out my little notebook and pencil. But sometimes I clearly am acting on whim and titles just seem to appear in there. K&H is chick lit with ghosts. Or demons. Well, both. Delaney is a medium, who has dedicated the last several years to helping the newly departed clear up whatever's going on so that they can go into the light (instead of getting swayed to hell by demons out to collect souls). Except her best friend is a demon. And she doesn't have much of a social life, unless you count her motley crew of dogs.
So when a sexy nerdy demon shows up and tells her he's been assigned to seduce her and take her back to hell, except he's not really going to do that because he ended up in hell by mistake, she proceeds to let him go right ahead with the first part of his plan. Because he's hot. Anyway, the plot twist holding this whole thing together is beyond ridiculous, but the set-up is kinda fantastic. Lots of adorable humor.
Cassidy has a couple stylistic tics that I both like and find utterly frustrating about chick lit. The one that leans more toward the like is her tendency to end sections/chapters with incomplete sentences, usually laced with sarcasm. Like "And that meant hard core" or "End of." This is part of a broader trend toward highly idiosyncratic, contemporary slang. It felt awkward and sloppy rather than natural, and I think that Cassidy fully capable of a more interesting writer. Maybe I'm not representative of her target readers, but I think they could handle some more sophisticated prose.
Totally fun, breezy, and often sexy. It was in my beach bag for a barbecue, and I found myself recommending it to the ladies. How could I resist?
The post title refers to the official genre designation that Penguin gives for this book, according to the back cover. I've been writing a paper on genre classification - and whether libraries should shelve books separately by genre - so this sort of thing is on my mind. For example, paranormal romance is quite possible the right classification for Ms. Sookie, although maybe paranormal suspence w/ lots o' sex is more accurate.
Anyway. Somehow this book made it into my book list. I hate this. Sometimes I remember exactly when I heard about a book and it stuck well enough to make me get out my little notebook and pencil. But sometimes I clearly am acting on whim and titles just seem to appear in there. K&H is chick lit with ghosts. Or demons. Well, both. Delaney is a medium, who has dedicated the last several years to helping the newly departed clear up whatever's going on so that they can go into the light (instead of getting swayed to hell by demons out to collect souls). Except her best friend is a demon. And she doesn't have much of a social life, unless you count her motley crew of dogs.
So when a sexy nerdy demon shows up and tells her he's been assigned to seduce her and take her back to hell, except he's not really going to do that because he ended up in hell by mistake, she proceeds to let him go right ahead with the first part of his plan. Because he's hot. Anyway, the plot twist holding this whole thing together is beyond ridiculous, but the set-up is kinda fantastic. Lots of adorable humor.
Cassidy has a couple stylistic tics that I both like and find utterly frustrating about chick lit. The one that leans more toward the like is her tendency to end sections/chapters with incomplete sentences, usually laced with sarcasm. Like "And that meant hard core" or "End of." This is part of a broader trend toward highly idiosyncratic, contemporary slang. It felt awkward and sloppy rather than natural, and I think that Cassidy fully capable of a more interesting writer. Maybe I'm not representative of her target readers, but I think they could handle some more sophisticated prose.
Totally fun, breezy, and often sexy. It was in my beach bag for a barbecue, and I found myself recommending it to the ladies. How could I resist?
Sunday, August 08, 2010
Sense and Sensibility, updated
The Three Weissmanns of Westport - Cathleen Schine (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010)
I decided to read this modern retelling of S&S after hearing about it here and there, and then having it pop up on Slate's Double-X Book Club. I held off on listening to the podcast for 4 months until I could read the book, and finally it's all come to pass.
I found myself underwhelmed both by the book and the discussion (more on the latter later). It's clever, and I loved identifying the characters who pop up and remembering their Austenian counterparts. Marianne and Elinor as 5o y.o. women is an interesting twist, and Betty Weissmann is a far more fun Mrs. Dashwood. But then things get all wonky in the second half - and I can't even discuss it here without engaging in major spoilers.
And this is what I wanted to hear about on the book club podcast. How much can you change the template of Austen's original? Does it matter if the original seems utterly implausible in today's world? Or is Schine arguing that there might have been a better way to plot Austen all along? I don't know, and the Double-X ladies skirted around this, when for me it was the central point. Oh well. Also, they referred to the novel as chick-lit - or rather "hen lit" (clever) - which jagged me off on a tangent about genre fiction and the very specific potential definitions for women's genre fiction. For me, this is definitely a woman's novel, but it's not chick lit, which has very specific conventions about the female protagonists as well as the plot.
Oh well. The novel was still a fun read, even if occasionally infuriating, and it was often funny. A couple memorable moments:
Miranda the literary memoir agent has a client who writes about her (fake) childhood in Rhodesia. This was entirely too close to Alexandra Fuller for me and I was confused as to what Schine might have been trying to say (the Slate ladies noticed this too).
Annie the librarian through her sister's eyes: "Miranda sometimes thought of Annie as a kind of desiccated opium addict, stretched out in a smoky, sweet-smelling den with her fictional strangers, cut off from the noisy circus of life, uncaring, inaccessible, eyes closed in someone else's dream." Harsh.
There are young twins named Juliet and Ophelia. NO. No matter how pretentious you are, you do not name both of your girls after Shakespearean heroines that go a little (or a lot) crazy and off themselves.
But mainly I was caught up with trying to work out how I felt about the plot.
I decided to read this modern retelling of S&S after hearing about it here and there, and then having it pop up on Slate's Double-X Book Club. I held off on listening to the podcast for 4 months until I could read the book, and finally it's all come to pass.
I found myself underwhelmed both by the book and the discussion (more on the latter later). It's clever, and I loved identifying the characters who pop up and remembering their Austenian counterparts. Marianne and Elinor as 5o y.o. women is an interesting twist, and Betty Weissmann is a far more fun Mrs. Dashwood. But then things get all wonky in the second half - and I can't even discuss it here without engaging in major spoilers.
And this is what I wanted to hear about on the book club podcast. How much can you change the template of Austen's original? Does it matter if the original seems utterly implausible in today's world? Or is Schine arguing that there might have been a better way to plot Austen all along? I don't know, and the Double-X ladies skirted around this, when for me it was the central point. Oh well. Also, they referred to the novel as chick-lit - or rather "hen lit" (clever) - which jagged me off on a tangent about genre fiction and the very specific potential definitions for women's genre fiction. For me, this is definitely a woman's novel, but it's not chick lit, which has very specific conventions about the female protagonists as well as the plot.
Oh well. The novel was still a fun read, even if occasionally infuriating, and it was often funny. A couple memorable moments:
Miranda the literary memoir agent has a client who writes about her (fake) childhood in Rhodesia. This was entirely too close to Alexandra Fuller for me and I was confused as to what Schine might have been trying to say (the Slate ladies noticed this too).
Annie the librarian through her sister's eyes: "Miranda sometimes thought of Annie as a kind of desiccated opium addict, stretched out in a smoky, sweet-smelling den with her fictional strangers, cut off from the noisy circus of life, uncaring, inaccessible, eyes closed in someone else's dream." Harsh.
There are young twins named Juliet and Ophelia. NO. No matter how pretentious you are, you do not name both of your girls after Shakespearean heroines that go a little (or a lot) crazy and off themselves.
But mainly I was caught up with trying to work out how I felt about the plot.
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