What Gatsby?

The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald (Scribner, 1925, 1995)

First off, this is a re-read. Once upon a time (high school) I read this book and was profoundly moved to indifference tinged with distaste. (This was typical of the books I read for my American literature class, which may say quite a bit about my teacher.) I couldn't quite figure out what to do with that when I got to college and got interested in the Jazz Age, and when I was enchanted by Tender is the Night. (On the other hand, I was totally unmoved by This Side of Paradise.) When I found a cheap copy, I bought it, figuring that eventually I would give Fitzgerald another try, this time giving him the benefit of how much I wanted to like him.

And here the assist goes to Baz Luhrmann. The story seems right up his alley, and while I haven't particularly liked  his other big films, I am newly fascinated by Leonardo DiCaprio, and have to go see this one. But I wanted to be back in the text first, even if that is likely to hurt my enjoyment of the film.

First and foremost, I was amazed at not only how short the novel is, clocking it at 189 pages, but how quick a read. I blew through it. The events of the novel take place over a single summer, and they pass as quickly as summer always seems to. Nick meets up with Daisy and Tom, meets Jordan, meets Tom's mistress, meets Gatsby, meets Gatsby's business associate, hears a variety of rumors and half-truths and straight up lies about Gatsby's origins and wealth, and watches as a series of love triangles collide. And then it mops up.

Weirdly, while I remembered lots of feelings about the book's characters (Nick is lame, Gatsby naive, Tom terrible, Daisy annoying -- and everyone made me feel vaguely uncomfortable) I had lost a lot of the plot. Like I knew the raw sketch of the climax, but not all the details. How did I lose those?

Oh, and here's what the LA Times had to say back in 1925. I'll approve, but how on earth does the reviewer get away with not only giving away the fate of the characters but what might also be one of the best lines in the whole book, when Nick realizes the truth about Tom and Daisy?

A dish best served....

The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas, translated and abridged by Lowell Bair (Bantam Classic, 1844, 1956, 2003)


My boyfriend and I had the following exchange after he encouraged me to read this book since it was a) one of his favorites, and b) both a movie and (especially) an anime series that he liked quite a bit:

Him: I don't know if you'll like [the anime]. I mean, it's pretty different from the book.
Me: [quizzical]
Him: Like for starters, it's set in the future.

Hmm, in typing this story, I suppose I can see how you the reader would not be quite as tickled by it as I was. I don't know if I'm very good at telling jokes. Anyway, I thought it was hilarious, and I definitely want to see a version of the Count where they travel around in spaceships and he is maybe a vampire. But that isn't the novel, so.....

I felt a little bad about getting the abridged version, but when I realized it weighed in at 531 pages I got over my shame. Fortunately, it is a quick-moving 531 pages. I felt like I got through big chunks of text and events every time I picked up the book. Seriously, so much happens.

Basic premise: poor guy spends years in prison, and when he gets out (and how!), he sets about taking the most intricate revenge on those who wronged him. Along the way, we get to see how often the bad guy finishes first. But we know that the race isn't truly over, because the Count has a different ending in store.

Except.... the Count kinda creeped me out. I think I already get why he is (maybe) a vampire in this anime adaptation. He knows all and does all and has everything and ... I don't know. It's creepy. You start to think that his younger self really did die in prison. He redeems himself for me, but I can't reveal much more than that. Suffice it to say that I appreciate it when passion overtakes a cool, hardened facade.

...and I'm babbling. Anyway, good book. Sad I waited so long to read it. And can't wait to watch it on screen.

A little bit of magic

Howl's Moving Castle - Diana Wynne Jones (Greenwillow Books, 1986)


First of all, the book is pretty different from the Hayao Miyazaki film (which I want to go back and watch again). So you should probably make sure you come across both of them, else you'll be missing out.

This was a book club selection (I finally made it to a meeting!) and received positive-to-mixed reviews from the members. There was some frustration with the abruptness of the ending, and uncertainty about whether Howl was actually a romantic dude.

But first, plot. Sophie has resigned herself to a dull life taking over the family hat shop when a witch's curse turns her into a 90 year old crone and she leaves home to ... well, that's not very clear. But she soon finds herself in the walking castle of Wizard Howl, where she and his fire demon agree to a deal: he'll lift her spell if she can free him from the contract binding him to the castle hearth.

And then adventures go from there. Howl is a dandy rather than an evil eater-of-hearts, everyone seems to have more magical power than they think, and Wales circa 1986 makes an appearance even among the towns in this fantasy land.

I am slightly embarrassed to say that Sophie reminded me very much of Bella Swan (Wow, I barely blogged about Twilight at all. I must have been ashamed) and if Stephenie Meyer didn't use Sophie Hatter as inspiration, both authors were at least trying to do the same thing. Which is? Sophie & Bella don't see their own power. Sophie believes she is plain and destined for a plain life; Bella is plain and awkward and surrounded by creatures far more beautiful and powerful. And yet, the problem throughout is that they don't see themselves clearly; they don't recognize their own beauty and strength. It's a difficult task to carry off, and both books have problems, but the trope is one of the things I like most about YA fiction.

Austen was REGENCY. This is VICTORIAN.

North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell (Penguin Books, 1995 - orig. serialized 1854-55)

A month or two ago, I found out that my friend Jason was going to be speaking at an upcoming service at the church I attend. His topic? Victorian novelist Elizabeth Gaskell and her Unitarian background and the Unitarian themes in her work. My response? BOOKS. Yay!

But I had never actually heard of Gaskell, and wanted to read something by her. And then I forgot, but then his talk got postponed to today, so a couple weeks ago we had the following conversation (paraphrased):

Me: If I were to read just one Elizabeth Gaskell book before you do your thing, which should I read?
Jason: Actually, there's a really good BBC mini-series of North and South.
Me: (offended) What? You think I can't handle reading the book?!?
Jason: (in mild distress) No. It's just... well, the book is long and I don't know if you'll like it, etc.
Me: How about I actually read the book and decide for myself?
[Karen: I love this moment. The writer telling the librarian to watch the movie instead of reading the book.]

I actually understand Jason's reluctance. Recommending books is a slightly treacherous task. Especially when you find yourself recommending a book that is 150 years old and over 400 pages long. But I asked, so I took all the responsibility on myself. It would have been my own problem had I not liked it.

Except I didn't not like it. It was so good. (Today is italics day, btw.) Now that I've taken up all this space with prologue, I will be brief about the actual review. You can go read it yourself - or watch the mini-series, which I saw half of last night. (Book is more fully realized - shock! - but I will admit that Richard Armitage is totally hotter than my imaginary Mr. Thornton.)

So a few of the main things: the title refers to the collision of Northern (industrial) and Southern (more genteel and also pastoral) mores during the period. Margaret (South) and her family move to a mill town when her father gives up his vicarage as a result of his religious doubts. Margaret, as an outsider, finds much to dislike in the North (and vice versa) but grows more fond of the region and its principles through her relationships with a millworker and his dying daughter as well as a mill owner, who is also her father's pupil. There is a strike, and a violent riot, and a love story, and lots to think about philosophically. Or you can just think about the love story, which is quite a bit like Pride & Prejudice if we had actually gotten to know Mr. Darcy a little better. (Also had Elizabeth Bennet been a little less Lizzy-esque and more like the rest of Austen's heroes. But Jason has reminded me multiple times that this is more than a whole generation later, so I really ought to stop making the comparison.)

But I will say that if you like either Austen or Dickens, you will find something to like in North and South. Also, yay for the book, for Gaskell, for Jason, and for the BBC.

Jane Austen lives in my head

According to Jane - Marilyn Brant (Kensington Books, 2009)

I am part of the problem. There are too many Austen-inspired books out there. Imagined sequels (mostly to Pride & Prejudice), modern updates of her plots, modern updates of her plots starring protagonists who are explicitly working though their own relationship with Austen and how she has impacted this expectations regarding love and romance. Enough already!!!!

Except I read them. Not all the time, but I read them. So I am to blame.

But it's not fair to pile all this on Brant, whose book I came across while at the library looking for lighter reading to balance 2666. (Compare to my friend, who chose to balance the same novel with Don DeLillo and Umberto Eco.)

Here's the conceit: Ellie has a close personal relationship with Jane Austen, who "appears" in her head just as her high school teacher assigns Pride & Prejudice and spends the next 20 years as a chatty, eccentric aunt. (One who provides, among other things, romantic advice that Ellie seems most often just to ignore.) As she goes through, trying to find The One, Ellie finds that sometimes Austen is right (re: family in particular) and sometimes Austen is wrong, and that the right guy might be the wrong guy, and vice versa.

Where the book truly succeeds is in set pieces: a pair of high school dances, a tryst in a college dorm, a series of scenes with the hot Russian, a party right before graduation, and the occasional run-in with the guy who broke Ellie's heart when they were kids. They are funny and ridiculous, and identifiable. What they aren't is especially cohesive. And honestly, I'm not sure where Jane in the Brain brings to the table. But that happens sometimes.

I could definitely see this on screen. It has some memorable scenes that a young comedic actress would drool over. And lots of "awwww, don't they see they are perfect for one another" moments. What I can't decide though, is if I'd leave Jane in or let her go...

Behind the Scenes

Wolf Hall - Hilary Mantel
New York: Henry Holt, 2009

I was predisposed to like Wolf Hall for a few reasons: a) I like Tudor history; b) Man Booker Prize!; c) despite all references in the novel to Thomas Cromwell being an ugly, bulldoggish man, in my head he looks like this:


Anyway, I went on a treasure hunt just before Christmas trying to find it at the library, and got lucky (very lucky: at library #3, it was not shelved, but sitting randomly on a table. I looked around like a thief to see if someone had claimed it, then snatched it up and got it to the checkout desk as quickly as possible).

I watched The Other Boleyn Girl earlier this evening, and the experience made me really appreciate Wolf Hall even more than I already had. It (the novel) is textured and complicated, and really makes you feel the passage of time and the machinations that were involved in the dissolution of Henry's marriage. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was a pawn. Cromwell is a sympathetic character, but not entirely. He is conniving, and lucky, and flawed. But you like him well enough, so you root for him. Others have written (no links - too lazy) about how interesting it is that Mantel chose to make Sir Thomas More the great antagonist in the novel, and how this is a gutsy move. I have always found More to be a little obnoxiously holy, so this set up worked for me.

What I still don't understand is the title. Wolf Hall. A place you hear about, as Cromwell takes an interest in the pale and retiring young Jane Seymour (oh, dramatic irony!) but which only makes an appearance after the final pages of the novel. Of course, it's at Wolf Hall that everything changes. For Anne Boleyn though, not so much for Thomas Cromwell, the king's right hand man. Unless perhaps that's where the end begins for him as well...

To sum up, the story of the man who rose from nothing to become as powerful as any man in England is as thrilling as it can be, considering the story has been told again and again, and we all know how it ends. It becomes clear how the forces of popes and princes - making history - are both unstoppable and yet easily swayed by those behind the scenes. I, for one, would rather be a Cromwell.

"World enough, and time"

The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
San Francisco: MacAdam/Cage, 2003

I need to take a break from these books that put me through some kind of emotional washing machine. (Or dryer?) I'm tired, y'all. I'm not saying it's not worth it, but it's getting to be a little much.

There really isn't any way to discuss the things I'd want to discuss in this post without engaging in all sorts of spoilers. And even though the book has been around for years, and the movie was released this summer, and how many people read this anyway?, I like trying to avoid spoilers.

Clare's and Henry's is a love story unlike any I think I've ever seen. He eight years older than she, but she meets him when she is six, and he doesn't meet her until he's 28. It's kind of remarkable, the way it all works out. Because she's in love with him by the time she meets him in real time, but if she weren't in love with his older self, and if she didn't know that's how things would be, would she have loved him? Maybe we're not supposed to dwell on this, and it doesn't really matter because their love is really quite something. But it's evidence of how little control they have - in so many ways - over their destiny. You have to act as though you have free will, but the result is predetermined anyway, and you know this, because Henry's been there, or a future Henry has come back and told you, or given you enough hints. It's dizzying. And puts that metaphysical question in stark relief.

I found myself wondering about Niffenegger's writing process, and how she managed to keep everything straight, since the novel runs in roughly chronological time (but of course Clare's chronology doesn't quite match Henry's, to say the least) and things that happen before also happen after. The decisions about whether to share a moment as it appears in Clare's life or in Henry's... again: dizzying. Before I began reading, a coworker who had just seen the movie asked to borrow the book to check something. She then returned it saying that she was just going to need to read the whole thing over. And I understand - there are moments I'd like to return to, to re-experience or to check for hints - and I don't know really how I would find them. Some are easy, but others would be require essentially rereading large swaths. (This is a real problem with Infinite Jest as well. Even more of a problem there in fact.)

So I regret nothing. But I'm going to try to take a break from books that leave me bruised and battered. Suggestions?

Light & serious reading = Egypt & Afghanistan

I've been trying to trade off between lighter fare and actual literary fiction. So this week I started out with an Elizabeth Peters mystery - Serpent on the Crown - and then moved on to The Kite Runner, the rather well-known book by Khaled Hosseini. I know there was a movie at the end of 2007, but I don't remember the source of the hype before. Was it a big book club selection?

Anyway, I knew what to expect with the Peters, although really I miss having Ramses as a more interesting character. I'm not sure she knows what to do with him as a full-fledged adult. Somehow I managed to not know much about The Kite Runner, except vaguely about one of the climactic scenes. And I think that Hosseini is a doctor, like Chekhov. (Yep.) But this novel seriously wore me down. Every time you think, okay, enough tragedy, something else goes wrong. Yet I think that Hosseini managed to avoid melodrama, which is impressive. The book is famous enough that I don't really feel like I'll have anything to add to the conversation, esp not today, when I am worn out from hiking in Griffith Park and very ready to go to bed. Perhaps next time I read a book, I'll manage to blog about it when I'm more awake...