Love in a Nutshell - Janet Evanovich & Dorien Kelly (St. Martin's Press, 2011)
My very first Janet Evanovich. (Awwwww.) Such a cheerful read. Such a cheerful read. I feel a little weird about that, considering there is a very real "mystery" element to the plot, including several moments where poor Kate's life was in danger. And even when it wasn't, poor girl was dealing with the fact that she was definitely going to lose the family summer home, behind on payments and facing an ever-growing list of necessary repairs. And does it help or hurt that the man holding the mortgage happens to make her weak in the knees?
And yet, there is something so nice and comforting about reading this, and knowing that things will all sort themselves out. And I had a long reverie concerning the role of small exurban towns in these kinds of contemporary romances. Why are so many set in places where "everyone knows everyone else" and is going to be all up in their business? Is it a matter of plot convenience? Is it simple fantasy in the sense of trying to be as different as possible from the urban/suburban world of most readers? I feel like it has more to do with a nostalgic longing, although I'm not sure if it's more for a simpler time and more Etsy-ish pursuits or more about the close-knit communities and bonds that are so frayed in our world.
Have I digressed? The love story was sweet, the dogs were awesome, the setting pretty fun, and even the mystery worked. I wasn't particularly impressed with the climax (the villain's dialogue made me sad) but that was okay since the lead-up was so enjoyable. I suppose now I'll have to give Stephanie Plum a try.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
It was the best of times...
Golden Days - Carolyn See (University of California Press, 1996, c1987)
The 80s were different. In a bunch of ways. Feminism and New Age mysticism and not-helicopter-parenting were all less under attack than they are now. On the other hand, the threat of nuclear annihilation was a real thing. And so, this twice-divorced mother seeking financial security - oh, and happiness! - recounts the days and years leading up to the other Big One that loomed over California during that wild and decadent decade.
The last pages, about what happens after the bomb falls.... they take up a lot of mental space, blocking my view back of the first 150 pages of this slim novel. And those pages are a wonder in themselves, of the remarkable and unremarkable, and of the meaning of women's friendships, and the omnipresence of men as a force to be defined in relation (often in opposition) to, and of moments that seemed so terribly dated ("That was what it was like back then?") and ones that seemed so current that I couldn't believe the book was 25 years old.
I don't know that I would recommend this book per se. I feel like it spoke to its time more effectively than it speaks to us. And I'm not sure of its potential audience today. But that doesn't mean it deserves anything less than my respect. And a significant measure of awe.
The 80s were different. In a bunch of ways. Feminism and New Age mysticism and not-helicopter-parenting were all less under attack than they are now. On the other hand, the threat of nuclear annihilation was a real thing. And so, this twice-divorced mother seeking financial security - oh, and happiness! - recounts the days and years leading up to the other Big One that loomed over California during that wild and decadent decade.
The last pages, about what happens after the bomb falls.... they take up a lot of mental space, blocking my view back of the first 150 pages of this slim novel. And those pages are a wonder in themselves, of the remarkable and unremarkable, and of the meaning of women's friendships, and the omnipresence of men as a force to be defined in relation (often in opposition) to, and of moments that seemed so terribly dated ("That was what it was like back then?") and ones that seemed so current that I couldn't believe the book was 25 years old.
I don't know that I would recommend this book per se. I feel like it spoke to its time more effectively than it speaks to us. And I'm not sure of its potential audience today. But that doesn't mean it deserves anything less than my respect. And a significant measure of awe.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Lyricism
Handwriting - Michael Ondaatje (Vintage International, 2000, c1998)
Damn I love Michael Ondaatje. (Note to self: must read/watch English Patient again.) I just wish I loved poetry as much. I am learning things about poetry, like that you can't (well, I can't) just sit and read it where you might read a book or magazine. Poetry requires some level of solitude, and the ability to speak it aloud, to feel the words on your tongue. Poetry also excels at intimacy, and I've been aware of the way my voice changes when sharing verse with a lover.
See folks? This is what Ondaatje does to me. I meant to tell you about how frustrated I felt at my difficulty entering the poems, and instead I went down some wholly other road. So back to this slim volume of poems, set mostly in Sri Lanka, or at least the feeling of Sri Lanka. (They written both there and in Canada.) Like his prose, they are lush and rich. But so challenging.
I found myself captivated by the second part (of three) - a single poem cycle (?) called "The Nine Sentiments," as sexy as most of his writing tends to be. And a line from the final poem, "Last Ink":
Damn I love Michael Ondaatje. (Note to self: must read/watch English Patient again.) I just wish I loved poetry as much. I am learning things about poetry, like that you can't (well, I can't) just sit and read it where you might read a book or magazine. Poetry requires some level of solitude, and the ability to speak it aloud, to feel the words on your tongue. Poetry also excels at intimacy, and I've been aware of the way my voice changes when sharing verse with a lover.
See folks? This is what Ondaatje does to me. I meant to tell you about how frustrated I felt at my difficulty entering the poems, and instead I went down some wholly other road. So back to this slim volume of poems, set mostly in Sri Lanka, or at least the feeling of Sri Lanka. (They written both there and in Canada.) Like his prose, they are lush and rich. But so challenging.
I found myself captivated by the second part (of three) - a single poem cycle (?) called "The Nine Sentiments," as sexy as most of his writing tends to be. And a line from the final poem, "Last Ink":
I want to die on your chest but not yet,Sometime in the 13th century of our love....
she wrote, sometime in the 13th century
of our love
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
So that other thing that happened during the Russian Revolution....
Enchantments - Kathryn Harrison (Random House, 2012)
I knew I had read a book by Harrison before, except it turns out I had things all sorts of confused, and the book I knew I had read (Envy) wasn't the book I thought it was. Oops. Anyway, here's what I said about that novel: in progress, and completed. And this answers all the confusion I had about how the same author was responsible for books with such different fingerprints.
But I digress, which is what I do. Enchantments is mostly set in the months following the February Revolution and the tsar's abdication. Masha is the son of the recently murdered Rasputin; in the wake of his death, she and her sister move in with the Romanov's, quite possibly the least awesome place in Russia that they could have been.
Except..... the tsarina thinks Masha has some of her father's healing power, so she spends most of her time with the hemophiliac tsarevich. And in this weird purgatory, young love blossoms. It's a strange, mostly innocent love between teenagers - Alyosha is just barely 14 - but made poignant by the fact that they are just sitting around waiting to die or to be saved. (A state Alyosha has experienced for pretty much his whole life.)
Masha and Alyosha fall in love amidst stories, woven by Masha to pass the time and occupy the prince. She creates a future world, retells stories of her father's past and of his parents' love story, visits scenes from her home, from Petersburg, from wherever. And when they are inevitably separated, the royal family sent East and finally executed, the novel continues with moments from Masha's life in the years to come (during which a young boy continues to hold her heart and stay 14 forever) and through Alyosha's journal from the months before his death.
At the end of the novel, a time when I was feeling particularly melancholy and sad to leave Harrison's world, there are acknowledgments, less that two pages. It explained a little, but left open several historical questions. And reminded me that while I've read broadly about this era - history, literature, etc - I haven't spent much time with the doomed royal family, or the exiled Whites who managed to eke out existences in Germany, France, America. It's enough to drive this girl back to the history books....
I knew I had read a book by Harrison before, except it turns out I had things all sorts of confused, and the book I knew I had read (Envy) wasn't the book I thought it was. Oops. Anyway, here's what I said about that novel: in progress, and completed. And this answers all the confusion I had about how the same author was responsible for books with such different fingerprints.
But I digress, which is what I do. Enchantments is mostly set in the months following the February Revolution and the tsar's abdication. Masha is the son of the recently murdered Rasputin; in the wake of his death, she and her sister move in with the Romanov's, quite possibly the least awesome place in Russia that they could have been.
Except..... the tsarina thinks Masha has some of her father's healing power, so she spends most of her time with the hemophiliac tsarevich. And in this weird purgatory, young love blossoms. It's a strange, mostly innocent love between teenagers - Alyosha is just barely 14 - but made poignant by the fact that they are just sitting around waiting to die or to be saved. (A state Alyosha has experienced for pretty much his whole life.)
Masha and Alyosha fall in love amidst stories, woven by Masha to pass the time and occupy the prince. She creates a future world, retells stories of her father's past and of his parents' love story, visits scenes from her home, from Petersburg, from wherever. And when they are inevitably separated, the royal family sent East and finally executed, the novel continues with moments from Masha's life in the years to come (during which a young boy continues to hold her heart and stay 14 forever) and through Alyosha's journal from the months before his death.
At the end of the novel, a time when I was feeling particularly melancholy and sad to leave Harrison's world, there are acknowledgments, less that two pages. It explained a little, but left open several historical questions. And reminded me that while I've read broadly about this era - history, literature, etc - I haven't spent much time with the doomed royal family, or the exiled Whites who managed to eke out existences in Germany, France, America. It's enough to drive this girl back to the history books....
Monday, April 09, 2012
The United States: A User's Manual
Give Me Liberty: A Handbook for American Revolutionaries - Naomi Wolf (Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2008)
Over the last few weeks, I've come to a realization about the value I place on gifts. As I work to overcome some of my hoarder instincts, I find I hit a much harder wall when it comes to items given to me by others.
This tangent has a point, which is that this book was one of those gifts. I've sadly moved on from my more politically-active 20s, and am not quite ready for a leadership role like the one this book encourages its readers to take. And I feel a little guilty about this fact on the best of days, and much guiltier while actually reading the book. So this wasn't the book I would have picked out for myself. But it came in a shiny bow, so read it I (eventually) would.
I struggle with what I view as the stridency of many political activists. I wish I didn't. It clearly brings me face to face with some of my own issues. But since this isn't a psychoanalytical session, let's set all that aside and just acknowledge that I faced this book with some amount of trepidation.
Big takeaways from the book:
Over the last few weeks, I've come to a realization about the value I place on gifts. As I work to overcome some of my hoarder instincts, I find I hit a much harder wall when it comes to items given to me by others.
This tangent has a point, which is that this book was one of those gifts. I've sadly moved on from my more politically-active 20s, and am not quite ready for a leadership role like the one this book encourages its readers to take. And I feel a little guilty about this fact on the best of days, and much guiltier while actually reading the book. So this wasn't the book I would have picked out for myself. But it came in a shiny bow, so read it I (eventually) would.
I struggle with what I view as the stridency of many political activists. I wish I didn't. It clearly brings me face to face with some of my own issues. But since this isn't a psychoanalytical session, let's set all that aside and just acknowledge that I faced this book with some amount of trepidation.
Big takeaways from the book:
- Democracy is not just a right, but a responsibility.
- We are complicit with the forces (career politicians, political parties, corporations) that want to keep us from remembering and exercising these rights and responsibilities.
- This sucks.
- But there is a lot that we can do, and a lot that people are doing. The Constitution was designed to get and keep us involved.
- And lots of "how to" stuff, most of which made me feel a little bit exhausted.
Monday, April 02, 2012
Oh dear
A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon (Vintage Contemporaries, 2006)
Reading this book was either a fantastic idea or a kinda terrible one, I'm not sure which. Haddon is the The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-Time author - and this was a book that I liked less than everyone around me. Which meant I hemmed and hawed about this one. But amid all the ways I get distracted from my bookshelf, I'm really trying to make an effort to clear out those shelves and make room for something new. So here we go.
It's your typical dysfunctional British family, I think. Dad's retired and trying to figure out what to do with himself, Mum is working in a shop (and that's not all), and the kids are both in bumpy relationships. Katie decides to get married, and this makes everyone crazy, b/c the man in question is considered a working-class dolt, more or less. Except "makes everyone crazy" brings me to pause, because the bigger story in this book - for me at least - is whether or not George (Dad) is indeed going mad.
One day coming out of the shower, he sees a rash of sorts on his hip, and immediately diagnoses himself with cancer and undergoes an ever-escalating set of measures to distract himself from the question, to avoid getting it looked at, to get it treated (maybe) by a doctor, to keep it hidden, to tell everyone, etc. In short, George's condition looks quite a bit like mine. Which made him as a character particularly touching. And infuriating.
He makes lists, he passes out, he makes decisions that run the gamut from "sure, I can understand that" to "God no, please someone stop his brain right now." What's sort of fun though, although "fun" is probably the wrong word (although the book is funny too, don't get me wrong), is that his family members are each engaged in the same sort of mental gymnastics. Which makes me think that maybe I'm not alone. On the other hand, they also have no time or space for sympathy for his plight, which pushes right up against the reassurance of my last sentence. Sigh.
And here, a fairly spot-on description of one of the (many) mental processes that accompany this kind of panic attack: "He assumed ... that he was going to suffer some kind of organ failure. It seemed inconceivable that the human body could survive the pressure created by that kind of sustained panic without something rupturing or ceasing to function."
But on the other hand, the whole book isn't one prolonged exposure to the howling fantods (oh and go here for more). It's also several lovely moments of self-realization, self-delusion, and joining and rejoining of bonds between family/lovers/etc. Like this happy little moment: "We're just the little people on top of the cake. Weddings are about families. You and me, we've got the rest of our lives together." And not to give too much away, but George.... I think he's going to be okay.
Reading this book was either a fantastic idea or a kinda terrible one, I'm not sure which. Haddon is the The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-Time author - and this was a book that I liked less than everyone around me. Which meant I hemmed and hawed about this one. But amid all the ways I get distracted from my bookshelf, I'm really trying to make an effort to clear out those shelves and make room for something new. So here we go.
It's your typical dysfunctional British family, I think. Dad's retired and trying to figure out what to do with himself, Mum is working in a shop (and that's not all), and the kids are both in bumpy relationships. Katie decides to get married, and this makes everyone crazy, b/c the man in question is considered a working-class dolt, more or less. Except "makes everyone crazy" brings me to pause, because the bigger story in this book - for me at least - is whether or not George (Dad) is indeed going mad.
One day coming out of the shower, he sees a rash of sorts on his hip, and immediately diagnoses himself with cancer and undergoes an ever-escalating set of measures to distract himself from the question, to avoid getting it looked at, to get it treated (maybe) by a doctor, to keep it hidden, to tell everyone, etc. In short, George's condition looks quite a bit like mine. Which made him as a character particularly touching. And infuriating.
He makes lists, he passes out, he makes decisions that run the gamut from "sure, I can understand that" to "God no, please someone stop his brain right now." What's sort of fun though, although "fun" is probably the wrong word (although the book is funny too, don't get me wrong), is that his family members are each engaged in the same sort of mental gymnastics. Which makes me think that maybe I'm not alone. On the other hand, they also have no time or space for sympathy for his plight, which pushes right up against the reassurance of my last sentence. Sigh.
And here, a fairly spot-on description of one of the (many) mental processes that accompany this kind of panic attack: "He assumed ... that he was going to suffer some kind of organ failure. It seemed inconceivable that the human body could survive the pressure created by that kind of sustained panic without something rupturing or ceasing to function."
But on the other hand, the whole book isn't one prolonged exposure to the howling fantods (oh and go here for more). It's also several lovely moments of self-realization, self-delusion, and joining and rejoining of bonds between family/lovers/etc. Like this happy little moment: "We're just the little people on top of the cake. Weddings are about families. You and me, we've got the rest of our lives together." And not to give too much away, but George.... I think he's going to be okay.
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