Speak, Memory: An Autobiography Revisited - Vladimir Nabokov (Wideview/Perigree, 1966)
I have really mixed feelings about Nabokov. I am pretty sure I like his fiction, although I find it challenging. I definitely don't like his opinion that it makes no sense to try to translate Eugene Onegin in verge (why is Pushkin so popular on this blog lately?). And I am not a fan of his decisions on how to transliterate. Ys in confusing places, and the rendering of the Cyrillic "Х" (normally "kh" as in "Khrushchev") as "H," the decision to just use the masculine form of the last name for women (Anna Karenin, instead of Karenina).
Oh wait, I'm digressing. In his autobiography, he also just doesn't seem like the most pleasant guy to be around. Arrogant, homophobic and with a clearly complicated relationship with his gay brother (11 months his junior), and certainly convinced he was the smartest guy in the room (which, unfortunately, he usually was). Plus early in this autobiography (composed of a series of essays and revised over time) he discloses that he read and wrote in English before he did in Russian. So English was virtually a native tongue to him, and my awe of his prowess has to be played down just the teeniest bit.
All that said, this is a masterful work. I've seen it said (and of course I can't provide citations, bad librarian) that this is the best autobiography of the twentieth century. I'm willing to believe it. What he does with language... I'm not sure anyone can beat him. In whatever tongue. But while I admire him all the more for having read this memoir, I'm not sure I like him.
(Not mentioned above but also worth noting: a glorious look at late imperial aristocracy/intelligentsia, and a vivid portrayal of how those folk fled for their lives as the Bolsheviks took control)
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Friday, February 14, 2014
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
How we go on
Tell the Wolves I'm Home - Carol Rifka Brunt (The Dial Press, 2012)
Some books seem to drain you completely, drawing out all sorts of emotional and psychic energy and replacing it with a sort of melancholic emptiness. And of course they tend to be beautiful, because I don't think that trick would work if there wasn't beauty.
It's the mid-1980s, and AIDS is a mysterious and terrifying scourge. And adolescence - as in pretty much every time people - is mysterious and terrifying. So June has it rough, and enters into a relationship with the only person who could possibly have loved her lost uncle as much as she did.
Except what makes the book work is that it's about a whole host of other relationships too. June and her uncle, sure, in flashbacks to the moments before he knew he was sick, or before she knew, or before the end came. And June and Toby, of course. But siblings are maybe more important - June and her sister, and June's mother and uncle. Growing up and changing puts more pressure on those relationships than perhaps any others.
All of which is a weak description of some of the forces that left me so wrung out. Not in a crying way, although it probably would have helped to weep, but in the way that stresses how much more beautiful are the souls that were cracked and broken, and then stitched and glued back together.
Some books seem to drain you completely, drawing out all sorts of emotional and psychic energy and replacing it with a sort of melancholic emptiness. And of course they tend to be beautiful, because I don't think that trick would work if there wasn't beauty.
It's the mid-1980s, and AIDS is a mysterious and terrifying scourge. And adolescence - as in pretty much every time people - is mysterious and terrifying. So June has it rough, and enters into a relationship with the only person who could possibly have loved her lost uncle as much as she did.
Except what makes the book work is that it's about a whole host of other relationships too. June and her uncle, sure, in flashbacks to the moments before he knew he was sick, or before she knew, or before the end came. And June and Toby, of course. But siblings are maybe more important - June and her sister, and June's mother and uncle. Growing up and changing puts more pressure on those relationships than perhaps any others.
All of which is a weak description of some of the forces that left me so wrung out. Not in a crying way, although it probably would have helped to weep, but in the way that stresses how much more beautiful are the souls that were cracked and broken, and then stitched and glued back together.
Friday, January 11, 2013
What happens when the story takes over
The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon, trans. Lucia Graves (Penguin Books, 2004)
The word that keeps coming to mind is "virtuoso" - this novel is pretty stunningly crafted. It's got plenty of melodrama, plot twists, hints of something just shy of magical realism. It's the sort of thing where you sort of think to yourself: well, of course it was written in Spanish. Whatever I mean by that.
There is a boy, Daniel. He is the son of a bookseller. He gets captivated by a book. But the book has enemies - someone is trying to destroy every book written by the author. And as he grows older, what seems like a cascade of sinister events start occurring, and they all seem caught up in the uncertain fate of the novel's author, Julian Carax. And as Daniel and a cast of other characters interact, each bringing together some threads of the story, you start to wonder if Daniel is actually living out Julian's fate. And if so, that is bad bad news for them both.
If that's a poor synopsis, that is at least in part because this isn't the kind of work that lends itself to synopsis. The beauty is in the lushness of the details and the longing in the voices of the characters.
As much as anything, this portrait of postwar Barcelona made me want to revisit the films of Pedro Almodovar and Julio Medem. Perhaps another project for one of these days...
The word that keeps coming to mind is "virtuoso" - this novel is pretty stunningly crafted. It's got plenty of melodrama, plot twists, hints of something just shy of magical realism. It's the sort of thing where you sort of think to yourself: well, of course it was written in Spanish. Whatever I mean by that.
There is a boy, Daniel. He is the son of a bookseller. He gets captivated by a book. But the book has enemies - someone is trying to destroy every book written by the author. And as he grows older, what seems like a cascade of sinister events start occurring, and they all seem caught up in the uncertain fate of the novel's author, Julian Carax. And as Daniel and a cast of other characters interact, each bringing together some threads of the story, you start to wonder if Daniel is actually living out Julian's fate. And if so, that is bad bad news for them both.
If that's a poor synopsis, that is at least in part because this isn't the kind of work that lends itself to synopsis. The beauty is in the lushness of the details and the longing in the voices of the characters.
As much as anything, this portrait of postwar Barcelona made me want to revisit the films of Pedro Almodovar and Julio Medem. Perhaps another project for one of these days...
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Something old, something new
The Singles - Meredith Goldstein (Plume, 2012)
This novel dips into two of my favorite genres: the chick lit (naturally) and the college-friends-in-their-lives-after-college that has the potential to cross into literary fiction.
And it's set at a wedding (a commonplace venue for the latter type mentioned above) - a time of hubbub and ridiculousness that feels familiar smack in the midst of the holiday season.
It's Bee's wedding. Don't get too attached to Bee though, because although there are all sorts of interesting hints about her and her relationships to the people around her, we really don't get to meet her much. It's really about the group that at most other weddings would be tossed together at the "singles" table, but for some reason aren't here: three college friends (one of whom is a bridesmaid), an uncle, and the groom's mother's friend (or rather, her son).
Chapters skip from the perspective of one to the next. Over the course of the evening, each undergoes a crisis (or two or three) and as they bump into each other, you get hints of the ways they might yet come to be one another's saviors. Although there are plenty of red herrings thrown in. And in the end (spoiler? I guess?) each emerges from Bee's wedding ready to enter a new stage of life, perhaps even more so than Bee herself.
Maybe I've done it wrong, but I've never had quite this experience at a wedding. But then again, that's probably for the best.
This novel dips into two of my favorite genres: the chick lit (naturally) and the college-friends-in-their-lives-after-college that has the potential to cross into literary fiction.
And it's set at a wedding (a commonplace venue for the latter type mentioned above) - a time of hubbub and ridiculousness that feels familiar smack in the midst of the holiday season.
It's Bee's wedding. Don't get too attached to Bee though, because although there are all sorts of interesting hints about her and her relationships to the people around her, we really don't get to meet her much. It's really about the group that at most other weddings would be tossed together at the "singles" table, but for some reason aren't here: three college friends (one of whom is a bridesmaid), an uncle, and the groom's mother's friend (or rather, her son).
Chapters skip from the perspective of one to the next. Over the course of the evening, each undergoes a crisis (or two or three) and as they bump into each other, you get hints of the ways they might yet come to be one another's saviors. Although there are plenty of red herrings thrown in. And in the end (spoiler? I guess?) each emerges from Bee's wedding ready to enter a new stage of life, perhaps even more so than Bee herself.
Maybe I've done it wrong, but I've never had quite this experience at a wedding. But then again, that's probably for the best.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Snakes and snails....
This Boy's Life: Tobias Wolff (Harper & Row, 1989)
In short: a memoir of a kid growing up in the school of hard knocks during the 1950s and 60s. Tobias and his mom move around a lot, as she tries to get away from an abusive boyfriend and eventually form a new family. (Meanwhile his dad and brother are living among the wealthy on the East Coast, although heaven knows we get enough hints that this situation isn't without its perils.)
Toby becomes Jack, and dreams big dreams, but along the way he is a liar, a thief, a truant, and a general hoodlum. Possibly nothing really outside the ordinary boundaries of being a working-class boy at the time, but it was hard for this girl reader to identify.
Also, I was completely distracted by marginalia. This copy previously belonged to someone who read the book for school - guessing high school. And she had plenty to say about the book. She was very troubled by the men in the story (with good enough reason, I'll admit) and had plenty of smiley faces for the mom. Marginalia tells you so much about a reader and the times in which that reader lives and ... well, anyway, it was fun.
The best part of the book (for me) came at the very end, with this line:
In short: a memoir of a kid growing up in the school of hard knocks during the 1950s and 60s. Tobias and his mom move around a lot, as she tries to get away from an abusive boyfriend and eventually form a new family. (Meanwhile his dad and brother are living among the wealthy on the East Coast, although heaven knows we get enough hints that this situation isn't without its perils.)
Toby becomes Jack, and dreams big dreams, but along the way he is a liar, a thief, a truant, and a general hoodlum. Possibly nothing really outside the ordinary boundaries of being a working-class boy at the time, but it was hard for this girl reader to identify.
Also, I was completely distracted by marginalia. This copy previously belonged to someone who read the book for school - guessing high school. And she had plenty to say about the book. She was very troubled by the men in the story (with good enough reason, I'll admit) and had plenty of smiley faces for the mom. Marginalia tells you so much about a reader and the times in which that reader lives and ... well, anyway, it was fun.
The best part of the book (for me) came at the very end, with this line:
When we are green, still half-created, we believe that our dreams are rights, that the world is disposed to act in our best interests, and that falling and dying are for quitters. We live on the innocent and monstrous assurance that we alone, of all the people ever born, have a special arrangement whereby we will be allowed to stay green forever.This quote struck such a chord for me. My teenage reader, on the other hand, let it slide by unremarked.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
How we learn to be ourselves
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2001)
The Second Summer of the Sisterhood - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2003)
Girls in Pants: The Third Summer of the Sisterhood - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2005)
Forever in Blue: The Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2007)
Sisterhood Everlasting - Ann Brashares (Random House, 2011)
I've been moving! Which meant that I was very excited when a friend had a book swap and I was able to bring over all the books I had been saving up. It also meant that despite my best efforts, when I saw 3 of the Sisterhood novels, I picked them up. Years ago, a friend recommended them (or the movie?) and I had vaguely planned to read them. So in the midst of packing, I started reading the first one. Because really, what is better than YA as an escape from stress?
And then the second, and the third. And then I started looking online to see if there were more. All told, I think I read the five in about 4 weeks? Everyone already know the story, right? Four friends, and a pair of jeans that magically fits them all, and not just fits, but makes them look extra hot. The Pants become the way they "stay together" when summer takes them to different places. The Pants bear witness to their struggles to cope with change, and growing up, and love and loss. The first summer, the girls are a summer away from their 16th birthdays, by the third they are about to leave for college. The fourth finds them after their freshman years, and the last novel comes a decade later.
Reading them in the span of a month rather than over ten years, as they were written, it really jumps out at you how much the girls have to learn the same lessons over and over and over. How to be brave, how to be open to change and to forgive those who change around you, how to see past surfaces and accept the love that's offered, how to be vulnerable. And then to return to them, as young women about to turn 30, with years more of experience, the lessons are still there to be learned.
And that tore me up. It was an unexpected sucker punch. Maybe because it threw into such stark relief that fact that the lessons I have learned over the years need to be learned again and again and again. You don't just reach an epiphany and get to happily ever after. Or even to the next level, like some sort of video game. Or perhaps, to play with the video game analogy some more, you do, but you just repeat the same level again and again, in slightly different guise. You have to reach that epiphany, defeat the same boss, time and again. And that's a tough realization.
But no one reads the same book. We bring so much of ourselves - our past and especially our present - to what we read. I'm curious to know how others found Lena, Carmen, Tibby, and Bridget.
The Second Summer of the Sisterhood - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2003)
Girls in Pants: The Third Summer of the Sisterhood - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2005)
Forever in Blue: The Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood - Ann Brashares (Delacorte Press, 2007)
Sisterhood Everlasting - Ann Brashares (Random House, 2011)
I've been moving! Which meant that I was very excited when a friend had a book swap and I was able to bring over all the books I had been saving up. It also meant that despite my best efforts, when I saw 3 of the Sisterhood novels, I picked them up. Years ago, a friend recommended them (or the movie?) and I had vaguely planned to read them. So in the midst of packing, I started reading the first one. Because really, what is better than YA as an escape from stress?
And then the second, and the third. And then I started looking online to see if there were more. All told, I think I read the five in about 4 weeks? Everyone already know the story, right? Four friends, and a pair of jeans that magically fits them all, and not just fits, but makes them look extra hot. The Pants become the way they "stay together" when summer takes them to different places. The Pants bear witness to their struggles to cope with change, and growing up, and love and loss. The first summer, the girls are a summer away from their 16th birthdays, by the third they are about to leave for college. The fourth finds them after their freshman years, and the last novel comes a decade later.
Reading them in the span of a month rather than over ten years, as they were written, it really jumps out at you how much the girls have to learn the same lessons over and over and over. How to be brave, how to be open to change and to forgive those who change around you, how to see past surfaces and accept the love that's offered, how to be vulnerable. And then to return to them, as young women about to turn 30, with years more of experience, the lessons are still there to be learned.
And that tore me up. It was an unexpected sucker punch. Maybe because it threw into such stark relief that fact that the lessons I have learned over the years need to be learned again and again and again. You don't just reach an epiphany and get to happily ever after. Or even to the next level, like some sort of video game. Or perhaps, to play with the video game analogy some more, you do, but you just repeat the same level again and again, in slightly different guise. You have to reach that epiphany, defeat the same boss, time and again. And that's a tough realization.
But no one reads the same book. We bring so much of ourselves - our past and especially our present - to what we read. I'm curious to know how others found Lena, Carmen, Tibby, and Bridget.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
On a quest
The Lightning Thief - Rick Riordan (Hyperion Books, 2005)
First of all, I'm moving!
And Percy Jackson provides just the right kind of story. I remember thinking when the series first came out that is sounded like a way of cashing in on the success of Harry Potter, and truth be told it's difficult to avoid that feeling. But kids who are "different" at some sort of boarding school is a children's literature trope that long predates JK Rowling.
I'm getting off topic. Percy is just finishing sixth grade at the start of the novel, and trouble always seems to find him. Which is why he gets sent from school to school. Turns out this is because he is the son of a human woman and an god from Olympus. Oops. And not just any god.... So while a huge part of the story is about Percy's attempts to fit in and find his place in the world - difficult even in a camp filled with half-bloods like him - what drives the plot is his efforts to, well, save the world by taking on an almost impossible mission. And in so doing, clear his name and gain his father's recognition. Plenty going on, and pretty much all the kind of themes that resonate with kids Percy's age.
But readers of all ages can find enjoyment in Percy's story. I struggled a bit with the 12 y.o. male narrator and a writing style that I found too much that of a 12 y.o. male. So my problem, not the book's. But once I accepted Percy's voice for what it was, I had a great time in his world. I'll be looking for the rest of the series. (And Riordan's series involving the Egyptian gods, I believe!)
First of all, I'm moving!
And Percy Jackson provides just the right kind of story. I remember thinking when the series first came out that is sounded like a way of cashing in on the success of Harry Potter, and truth be told it's difficult to avoid that feeling. But kids who are "different" at some sort of boarding school is a children's literature trope that long predates JK Rowling.
I'm getting off topic. Percy is just finishing sixth grade at the start of the novel, and trouble always seems to find him. Which is why he gets sent from school to school. Turns out this is because he is the son of a human woman and an god from Olympus. Oops. And not just any god.... So while a huge part of the story is about Percy's attempts to fit in and find his place in the world - difficult even in a camp filled with half-bloods like him - what drives the plot is his efforts to, well, save the world by taking on an almost impossible mission. And in so doing, clear his name and gain his father's recognition. Plenty going on, and pretty much all the kind of themes that resonate with kids Percy's age.
But readers of all ages can find enjoyment in Percy's story. I struggled a bit with the 12 y.o. male narrator and a writing style that I found too much that of a 12 y.o. male. So my problem, not the book's. But once I accepted Percy's voice for what it was, I had a great time in his world. I'll be looking for the rest of the series. (And Riordan's series involving the Egyptian gods, I believe!)
Monday, February 20, 2012
Could this be love?
I Think I Love You - Allison Pearson (Alfred A. Knopf, 2011, advance reader's edition)
I had quite the crush on NPH (I mean, obviously) in his Doogie Howser days. And I seem to remember several months of adoration for Christian Slater. But my teen passion was for an athlete, which somehow felt much different (to me) than loving a teen heartthrob. I jealously guarded my love for Paul Kariya, and didn't have to share him with the other hoards of teen girls.
But then, I could still identify with Petra and her girlfriends, and the way they felt about David Cassidy. That feeling that somehow he was reaching out directly to you, even as - in their case, at least - it was about the connections you make with the girls around you as well.
Anyway, so Petra has a new best friend, and they hover on the orbit of one of those stereotypical queen bees, who existed even in Wales of the 1970s, it turns out. Their bond: Cassidy, who helps them weather the storms of adolescence. The greatest storm though, arises from their misadventures trying to see him in concert. At the same time, young college grad Bill turns out to *be* David Cassidy, or rather to channel his voice for one of those teeny-bopper magazines. This is hugely embarrassing, and yet it's his life.
Fast forward a quarter-century. Petra is mourning her mother, her failed marriage, and her inability to protect her teen daughter from the hurts that plagued her. But then she finds a lost letter, and a chance to go back in time, and maybe let her teenage self have the experience of a lifetime.
It's not just a love story between a man and a woman, or a man and millions of girls. It's also about love between friends, the complications of familial love, and the ways we tie ourselves in knots trying to be the "right" thing for the ones we love. I didn't know what to expect when I picked this up, but it was warm and comforting. A good find.
I had quite the crush on NPH (I mean, obviously) in his Doogie Howser days. And I seem to remember several months of adoration for Christian Slater. But my teen passion was for an athlete, which somehow felt much different (to me) than loving a teen heartthrob. I jealously guarded my love for Paul Kariya, and didn't have to share him with the other hoards of teen girls.
But then, I could still identify with Petra and her girlfriends, and the way they felt about David Cassidy. That feeling that somehow he was reaching out directly to you, even as - in their case, at least - it was about the connections you make with the girls around you as well.
Anyway, so Petra has a new best friend, and they hover on the orbit of one of those stereotypical queen bees, who existed even in Wales of the 1970s, it turns out. Their bond: Cassidy, who helps them weather the storms of adolescence. The greatest storm though, arises from their misadventures trying to see him in concert. At the same time, young college grad Bill turns out to *be* David Cassidy, or rather to channel his voice for one of those teeny-bopper magazines. This is hugely embarrassing, and yet it's his life.
Fast forward a quarter-century. Petra is mourning her mother, her failed marriage, and her inability to protect her teen daughter from the hurts that plagued her. But then she finds a lost letter, and a chance to go back in time, and maybe let her teenage self have the experience of a lifetime.
It's not just a love story between a man and a woman, or a man and millions of girls. It's also about love between friends, the complications of familial love, and the ways we tie ourselves in knots trying to be the "right" thing for the ones we love. I didn't know what to expect when I picked this up, but it was warm and comforting. A good find.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Not Alone
Midlife Crisis at 30 - Lia Macko and Kerry Rubin (Plume 2004)
I really wish I had read this 3 years ago, when it first came into my life via a bookswap. Because despite all the differences and things that "make me unique" and whatnot, I often felt like I was reading my life story.
So Macko & Rubin explore what seems the feminist mystique for my generation: that the promise that "you can do anything" turns into the expectation that "you should be everything" ... and inevitably, guilt and panic when we're not. It's a little frustrating to travel back to 2003 and 2004. Man, I wish I were building my career then; I'd happily take that economy over this one.
Anyway, a couple moments of deep identification:
- "a sense of bewilderment about why their lives felt so out of sync with their expectations, as well as a deep fear that the paths they had chosen were leading them in the wrong direction"
- "Despite my best intentions, I ended up exactly where [I did not want to be] at 30."
- "I feel like I just got divorced without ever being married." [This one. So. Much.]
- There's still plenty of time.
- The difference between a B and an A often isn't worth the extra effort and struggle. Sometimes it's okay to settle for that B-plus.
- and from Lt. General Claudia Kennedy: "There are times in your future when you will be more beautiful than you are today; you need to get old enough to be that beautiful."
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Aw, it's blue because... well, you'll see
Something Blue - Emily Giffin (St. Martin's Griffin, 2005)
Have I mentioned anything about liking John Krasinski? Maybe once or twice?
Anyway, I'm so glad he's (I presume) going to be playing Ethan when they film this follow-up to Something Borrowed.
Um, there's really no way to talk about this book without spoiling the end of the earlier novel, so we'll have to deal with that. Darcy has spent 30 years as the golden girl, who always gets what she wants. And who is always wanted. And suddenly she finds herself alone, dumped by friends and loved ones, and pregnant. So she does what any woman would do - flee to London.
I preferred this book to the first, which I didn't expect. I never really got over my discomfort with Dex. I kept wondering... if I were Rachel's friend, wouldn't I tell her she's too good for him? That she deserves someone more willing to take a stand? In this novel, the ick factor was different. Darcy is a bitch, but she's also our first-person narrator, and it's nice to remember from time to time that shallow and selfish people aren't only shallow and selfish, that they often believe they are trying to be good, and that often enough, they are capable of growing up.
So we grow to like Darcy. And we are awfully fond of Ethan, the childhood friend who finds himself a sucker for Darcy's damsel in distress. And so it works. And works enough that I devoted an entire Saturday to devouring the book essentially in a single sitting.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Starting Over
The Season of Second Chances - Diane Meier (Henry Holt & Co., 2010)
(advance reader's edition)
Something I always seem to forget when I am sick or depressed is that I find narrative healing. So while I was spending a week fevered and coughing, I couldn't manage to read any of my New Yorkers. Why didn't I try a novel at the very start?
Finally I picked up Meier's, a reader's edition that I came into possession of somewhere along the line. It's about a middle-aged woman who leaves her teaching job in NYC when she is recruited for a new project at Amherst. She seems to have no spontaneity, no rich inner life, and yet there is already a promise of it, when she begins by buying this ramshackle Victorian house near campus. She gets drawn into a world of color and possibility, dragged slowly by her handyman - if such a term really gets at his talent for not only fixing a house, but unearthing its true potential - and her officemate. And a supporting cast of characters. Joy is, what? I think 48, when the novel opens, but she blossoms almost like a teenager, finding that there is strength in vulnerability, and freedom in tying yourself to a community.
Joy grows into herself in ways both expected and not, and loose ends maybe don't knot as nicely as one might like. But this book was a lovely break from my life, and even from the West Coast. And it made for a good reminder that life doesn't necessarily work on a schedule, and that maybe I don't need to worry so much about missing my chances or running out of time. We grow when we are ready to grow.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The freshman years of life
Commencement - J. Courtney Sullivan (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009)
I am a sucker for books about recent graduates of elite colleges and universities, and how they adjust - in their different ways - to life outside of that bubble. Often enough this means constructing different bubbles, but that is of plenty of interest to me as well.
In this version, four women become best friends at Smith College, Sullivan's alma mater. And the narrative is interspersed with recollections of their time as students. And then they go in separate directions, and their friendships are stretched and challenged. For better and for worse.
Early on, the novel won me over with one of my favorite ever descriptions of Irish dance: "which Celia now credited with her perfect posture and complete inability to dance like a normal person." Love it :)
There was also a lovely description of the ways in which powerful relationships develop in college: "Back then, they had expanses of time in which to memorize one another's routines and favorite songs and worst heartaches and greatest days. It felt something like being in love, but without the weight of having to choose just one heart to hold on to, and without the fear of ever losing it."
And maybe it's for that that I keep reading these novels...
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
July 15
One Day - David Nicholls (Vintage Books, 2009)
One day a year.... on one day a year, starting in 1988, we check in on Dexter & Emma. That first time, they have just hooked up, right as they're graduating from college. It looks an awful lot like a one-night stand. But it's the beginning of a really powerful connection.
I'm a girl, and I've loved unrequitedly, so maybe I'm especially sensitive to how much work Emma puts into the relationship in its first years. (They actually reminded me a lot of Carley & Hunter in this book, which worried me.)
But I love the way it works. I love the development, how seeing them just once a year makes it so clear how much (and how little) they change - and how we never really end up where we think we are going.
I also starting thinking about the choice of dates. Mid-July... I can start in college, and realize that give-or-take a little, you would see a lot of me if you checked in on me then: getting on a plane for a solo trip to Italy, starting a long-term relationship that would shape me considerably, sitting on a beach wondering what on earth I was going to do now that I had a degree, feeling miserable in a job that didn't challenge me, signing the lease on my DC apartment (1999-2003). So my own life was in strange ways very close to the surface as I read, because it all felt so tangible.
You can't really talk about the plot without spoiling the whole thing. You just can't. Which is frustrating, because I really have a lot to say. I need to find someone else who has read it - hello anyone? this is a popular book based on circulation at my library, so I know you're out there - so I can vent and work through the difficult emotions. And the ways that I was prepared for a whole variety of plot twists, but unprepared perhaps precisely when I needed to be. I had troubled dreams last night because of you, David Nicholls. I just thought you should know.
One day a year.... on one day a year, starting in 1988, we check in on Dexter & Emma. That first time, they have just hooked up, right as they're graduating from college. It looks an awful lot like a one-night stand. But it's the beginning of a really powerful connection.
I'm a girl, and I've loved unrequitedly, so maybe I'm especially sensitive to how much work Emma puts into the relationship in its first years. (They actually reminded me a lot of Carley & Hunter in this book, which worried me.)
But I love the way it works. I love the development, how seeing them just once a year makes it so clear how much (and how little) they change - and how we never really end up where we think we are going.
I also starting thinking about the choice of dates. Mid-July... I can start in college, and realize that give-or-take a little, you would see a lot of me if you checked in on me then: getting on a plane for a solo trip to Italy, starting a long-term relationship that would shape me considerably, sitting on a beach wondering what on earth I was going to do now that I had a degree, feeling miserable in a job that didn't challenge me, signing the lease on my DC apartment (1999-2003). So my own life was in strange ways very close to the surface as I read, because it all felt so tangible.
You can't really talk about the plot without spoiling the whole thing. You just can't. Which is frustrating, because I really have a lot to say. I need to find someone else who has read it - hello anyone? this is a popular book based on circulation at my library, so I know you're out there - so I can vent and work through the difficult emotions. And the ways that I was prepared for a whole variety of plot twists, but unprepared perhaps precisely when I needed to be. I had troubled dreams last night because of you, David Nicholls. I just thought you should know.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
ugh, depressing
So I read a novella last week when I decided to take the bus to work. This book was on my dresser, and I honestly don't remember how it came into my possession. Based on the handwritten notes inside, it belonged to one of two friends (was it you, Jen?) and was from some course or another.
What was this mystery book? Ellen Foster, by Kaye Gibbons. It is a coming-of-age tale of sorts. Really more just a girl's look back at how she survived a seriously f-ed up situation. And fortunately for her - and even more so for us as readers - we know that she survived. And has created/found a safe space for herself.
I found Ellen's voice fascinating. But I couldn't get into this book. I just wanted to escape. And to take Ellen with me. Too much of a downer for July. But I think it probably makes for excellent young adult fiction (for girls, at least).
What was this mystery book? Ellen Foster, by Kaye Gibbons. It is a coming-of-age tale of sorts. Really more just a girl's look back at how she survived a seriously f-ed up situation. And fortunately for her - and even more so for us as readers - we know that she survived. And has created/found a safe space for herself.
I found Ellen's voice fascinating. But I couldn't get into this book. I just wanted to escape. And to take Ellen with me. Too much of a downer for July. But I think it probably makes for excellent young adult fiction (for girls, at least).
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