The Uninvited Guests - Sadie Jones (Harper, 2012)
2012 wrap-up coming tomorrow-ish, I hope. (If not, at least know that according to my blog count, I read 50 books this past year. Decent enough statistics.) Until then though, what better way to close out the year than a trip to the turn of the last century: Edwardian England.
This book reminded me of two things: a sitcom episode in which events spiral increasingly out of control, and one of those dreams in which you can't ever get to that thing that you desperately need to do, b/c other things keep happening. Now throw in a dash of Gothic ghoulishness.
It's Emerald's birthday. Her stepfather is away, trying to save the "family" home impractically purchased by Emerald's dead father. He - the stepfather - has only one arm, a fact of no major importance, but dwelt upon all the same. Emerald's mother is weird in that way 19th-century English literature mothers often are. Emerald's brother sulks, her younger sister runs around in a dirty nightgown, hatching schemes that only neglected youngest siblings do, and the housekeeper has only one more set of hands to put together a birthday party. And then there are guests: another set of siblings, and a wealthy farmer's son.
And then there are more. A train accident, and for some reason haggard survivors descent en masse to the house. In a series of events fairly reminiscent of Clue, the family shuts the survivors in a room and then tries to get back to the matter of the dinner party. Except increasingly creepy things start happening, and eventually all hell breaks loose.
The novel turns into something of a fever dream, until the fever breaks. And people awake, a little hungover, but really none the worse off, all things considered.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
10 days, 100 stories
The Decameron - Giovanni Boccaccio (trans. G.H. McWilliam (Penguin 1972, orig. 13??)
It may have struck you that I've been reading a lot of lighter fare recently (although now that I have discovered Hart of Dixie on Netflix all my soapy attention may be placed there) but in addition to whatever other books have passed over my nightstand, since around Thanksgiving I've also been working through a "big book."
Yes, nothing says holiday season reading like a fourteenth-century collection of stories themed around a group of young people trying not to succumb to the Black Death. Wooooo!
And yet, I forgot for hundreds of pages at a time that plague lurked around every page of this book. In some respects, this may have been the lightest reading of all. Ten young folk (plus servants) set out from Florence to escape not only the disease itself, but the obsession with it that has struck everyone. To amuse themselves, they wander and frolic, sing and dance, eat... and tell stories. Each day, each member of the party shares a story. Ten days, ten people = one hundred tales.
Most days have a theme. And this is when you learn that Italy in the 1300s was a pretty rocking place. My lingering cold makes me too lazy to go through and count statistics, but stories generally involved one or more of the following: wives and husbands cheating on each other (usually wives); corrupt priests, nuns, or other members of the clergy; people scheming to steal and play tricks on one another; individuals pinballing wildly between extreme wealth and fortune and abject poverty. But really mainly sex. So much sex. And described in such hilariously euphemistic ways.
For the first several (3?) "days" I was utterly enthralled by this, and recounted each story to my indulgent boyfriend. But after a while, I grew accustomed to the return of these same topics, and the remaining days passed by in a strangely soothing rhythm. (This girl likes structure.)
A couple points. Just because I'm not going into the details of the stories doesn't mean that many of them weren't awfully enjoyable. (I have told the First Day, Second Story to probably 10 different people.) And just because it took over a month to get through the 830 pages doesn't mean it was dull or slogging. It was actually a surprisingly quick read. But with holiday stuff and my desire to jump around and experience other stories, it just got spread out across a longer period of time. Anyway, recommended with more enthusiasm than I might have expected. Good work Boccaccio :)
It may have struck you that I've been reading a lot of lighter fare recently (although now that I have discovered Hart of Dixie on Netflix all my soapy attention may be placed there) but in addition to whatever other books have passed over my nightstand, since around Thanksgiving I've also been working through a "big book."
Yes, nothing says holiday season reading like a fourteenth-century collection of stories themed around a group of young people trying not to succumb to the Black Death. Wooooo!
And yet, I forgot for hundreds of pages at a time that plague lurked around every page of this book. In some respects, this may have been the lightest reading of all. Ten young folk (plus servants) set out from Florence to escape not only the disease itself, but the obsession with it that has struck everyone. To amuse themselves, they wander and frolic, sing and dance, eat... and tell stories. Each day, each member of the party shares a story. Ten days, ten people = one hundred tales.
Most days have a theme. And this is when you learn that Italy in the 1300s was a pretty rocking place. My lingering cold makes me too lazy to go through and count statistics, but stories generally involved one or more of the following: wives and husbands cheating on each other (usually wives); corrupt priests, nuns, or other members of the clergy; people scheming to steal and play tricks on one another; individuals pinballing wildly between extreme wealth and fortune and abject poverty. But really mainly sex. So much sex. And described in such hilariously euphemistic ways.
For the first several (3?) "days" I was utterly enthralled by this, and recounted each story to my indulgent boyfriend. But after a while, I grew accustomed to the return of these same topics, and the remaining days passed by in a strangely soothing rhythm. (This girl likes structure.)
A couple points. Just because I'm not going into the details of the stories doesn't mean that many of them weren't awfully enjoyable. (I have told the First Day, Second Story to probably 10 different people.) And just because it took over a month to get through the 830 pages doesn't mean it was dull or slogging. It was actually a surprisingly quick read. But with holiday stuff and my desire to jump around and experience other stories, it just got spread out across a longer period of time. Anyway, recommended with more enthusiasm than I might have expected. Good work Boccaccio :)
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.
Spies and otherwise
What Happens In London - Julia Quinn (Avon, 2009)
I didn't really get the title. I guess there's a lot of intrigue afoot - some gossip, spying, a haughty prince who may have a variety of nefarious plans - but it's not as though anything "stays" in London once the action moves somewhere else. Eh, whatever.
Which reminds me - there aren't any London-themed hotels in Vegas, are there? I wonder why not...
Anyway, it was all very charming. I've got nothing else to add, I'm afraid. Oh, and no fake marriages, sadly.
I didn't really get the title. I guess there's a lot of intrigue afoot - some gossip, spying, a haughty prince who may have a variety of nefarious plans - but it's not as though anything "stays" in London once the action moves somewhere else. Eh, whatever.
Which reminds me - there aren't any London-themed hotels in Vegas, are there? I wonder why not...
Anyway, it was all very charming. I've got nothing else to add, I'm afraid. Oh, and no fake marriages, sadly.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Dream lover
Imaginary Men - Anjali Banerjee (Downtown Press, 2005)
Yet another book that mysteriously made its way onto my "to read" list. But it seems right up my alley. Once upon a time I was reading a lot of South Asian-inflected fiction, and chick lit is my specialty. But to be honest, I'm still not quite sure how I felt about this one.
The premise totally works - Lina is a matchmaker (one of those professions I really only hear about in novels) and in the eyes of her Indian family, an old maid now that she's crossed 30. And to avoid a relative's meddling matchmaking, she claims to be engaged. And hijinks ensue. Mainly because she uses the name of the hot (but terribly conservative) man she just met, and because her family gets SO excited and demands to meet him, and because she's still trying to come to terms with the death of her former fiance.
The plot moves quickly, and I plowed through this book during finals week like it was candy. All good. But I found myself wondering what role Lina's fiance played in the book. People seemed blithely inconsiderate of her loss, and I couldn't quite understand why. And then we have Lina's imaginary man, who is either a)aforementioned lost love; b)her fake new lover; c)the new man she's actually falling for; d)some weird amalgamation. The answer is e)all of the above, but I somehow wanted more from him.
Am I too demanding? Is this why I'm still unmarried?
On the other hand, I really appreciated the ending, which offered a richer, more real portrait of how "happily ever after" doesn't just happen.
Yet another book that mysteriously made its way onto my "to read" list. But it seems right up my alley. Once upon a time I was reading a lot of South Asian-inflected fiction, and chick lit is my specialty. But to be honest, I'm still not quite sure how I felt about this one.
The premise totally works - Lina is a matchmaker (one of those professions I really only hear about in novels) and in the eyes of her Indian family, an old maid now that she's crossed 30. And to avoid a relative's meddling matchmaking, she claims to be engaged. And hijinks ensue. Mainly because she uses the name of the hot (but terribly conservative) man she just met, and because her family gets SO excited and demands to meet him, and because she's still trying to come to terms with the death of her former fiance.
The plot moves quickly, and I plowed through this book during finals week like it was candy. All good. But I found myself wondering what role Lina's fiance played in the book. People seemed blithely inconsiderate of her loss, and I couldn't quite understand why. And then we have Lina's imaginary man, who is either a)aforementioned lost love; b)her fake new lover; c)the new man she's actually falling for; d)some weird amalgamation. The answer is e)all of the above, but I somehow wanted more from him.
Am I too demanding? Is this why I'm still unmarried?
On the other hand, I really appreciated the ending, which offered a richer, more real portrait of how "happily ever after" doesn't just happen.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Did we meet in Capri?
The Overnight Socialite - Bridie Clark (Weinstein Books, 2009)
So, the rain in Spain now falls mainly on the isle of Capri. Or something like that. The novel is billed as a modern retelling of Pygmalion, but it's really far more My Fair Lady, up to and including the moment where I expect our good Pygmalion to dance Eliza around the room.
Lucy is a wannabe designer from the heartland, and Wyatt is the best of Old Money New York as well as a promising anthropologist who never bothered to have a career. So when he breaks up with his It Girl girlfriend, he claims he can train anyone to be a blue blood socialite... and he'll write a book about the process. Lucy just happens to be nearby when he hits on this plan, and besides, she could use the connections to make inroads with the fashion industry.
And the plot is pretty obvious from there, but with some nice minor character plots as well. It's fun to get to know Wyatt's mom, and the "will he propose or won't he?" drama between Wyatt's best friend and his longtime girlfriend is probably the most interesting relationship question of the entire novel. Plus you get a whole bunch of aspirational brand name-dropping, even though the book is set against the collapse of the financial industry. All the chick lit Ts crossed and Is dotted.
And while we are adapting GB Shaw, can I get Arms and the Man?
So, the rain in Spain now falls mainly on the isle of Capri. Or something like that. The novel is billed as a modern retelling of Pygmalion, but it's really far more My Fair Lady, up to and including the moment where I expect our good Pygmalion to dance Eliza around the room.
Lucy is a wannabe designer from the heartland, and Wyatt is the best of Old Money New York as well as a promising anthropologist who never bothered to have a career. So when he breaks up with his It Girl girlfriend, he claims he can train anyone to be a blue blood socialite... and he'll write a book about the process. Lucy just happens to be nearby when he hits on this plan, and besides, she could use the connections to make inroads with the fashion industry.
And the plot is pretty obvious from there, but with some nice minor character plots as well. It's fun to get to know Wyatt's mom, and the "will he propose or won't he?" drama between Wyatt's best friend and his longtime girlfriend is probably the most interesting relationship question of the entire novel. Plus you get a whole bunch of aspirational brand name-dropping, even though the book is set against the collapse of the financial industry. All the chick lit Ts crossed and Is dotted.
And while we are adapting GB Shaw, can I get Arms and the Man?
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.
Friday, November 09, 2012
Runaway Bride!
The Great Escape - Susan Elizabeth Phillips (William Morrow, 2012)
Instead of a fake marriage, we have a wedding that aborts just before takeoff. And if this sounds familiar, it may be in part because it's the other half of Phillips' last novel. There, the runaway bride's best friend finds herself stranded with the just-too-perfect groom. Here, we ditch Texas for the Great Lakes, where the bride ends up after a stint on the back of a motorcycle. (This, btw, is not the first time this scenario has played out in a Phillips' novel.)
Did we mention the bride is the daughter of the former president, and thus this non-wedding is a huge scandal?
Lucy didn't get to sow any wild oats during her teen years. So she's going to do that now. With a reluctant biker named Panda, and some hair dye, and fake tattoos, and whatever else it takes. The love story plays out more or less the way you'd expect. But the B and C plots are delightful. Lucy picks up some girlfriends along the way, and an orphaned boy, and there are some nice lessons learned about resilience, vulnerability, and the ways in which communities can provide for one another. Pretty charming.
(Why did I never set up an "absurd but adorable marriage plot" tag for my blog?)
Instead of a fake marriage, we have a wedding that aborts just before takeoff. And if this sounds familiar, it may be in part because it's the other half of Phillips' last novel. There, the runaway bride's best friend finds herself stranded with the just-too-perfect groom. Here, we ditch Texas for the Great Lakes, where the bride ends up after a stint on the back of a motorcycle. (This, btw, is not the first time this scenario has played out in a Phillips' novel.)
Did we mention the bride is the daughter of the former president, and thus this non-wedding is a huge scandal?
Lucy didn't get to sow any wild oats during her teen years. So she's going to do that now. With a reluctant biker named Panda, and some hair dye, and fake tattoos, and whatever else it takes. The love story plays out more or less the way you'd expect. But the B and C plots are delightful. Lucy picks up some girlfriends along the way, and an orphaned boy, and there are some nice lessons learned about resilience, vulnerability, and the ways in which communities can provide for one another. Pretty charming.
(Why did I never set up an "absurd but adorable marriage plot" tag for my blog?)
Inside magical thinking
An Invisible Sign of My Own - Aimee Bender (Doubleday, 2000)
For me, Bender's novel was alternately a zoomingly fast read, and almost unreadable. This world was too terrifying to me, perhaps because of how much I recognized it. Mona is 20, and an elementary school math teacher. Set the unlikeliness of this aside. Because there's plenty more weird where that came from.
She's fixated on numbers, and their significance. She has help in this from her high school math teacher neighbor turned hardware store owner. He wears numbers around his neck corresponding to his mood - often very low. She sees numbers appear in people's yards, that just happen to herald the age of a resident within who is about to die. When these show up again in the novel, the dread I felt as I waited for Bender to prove the causality untrue was unbearable. I recognize these superstitions, these intuited "meanings," these compulsions. Because I haven't even told you about all the compulsions.
I finished the book a week ago, and have been playing around with some of the themes in my head ever since. They aren't easy. We find clues and significance in coincidence. We believe we have the power to shape outcomes with our thoughts and actions. We believe that if we shout our fears and stay fixated on them, they cannot come to pass. (Or, that at the very least we will court the faceoff and get it over with.) We bind things that make us feel good and connected with things that make us feel sick and alone.
Or do we? I found the actions of the characters to be (generally) exaggerated versions of the ways our own neuroses manifest. But does spotlighting these thoughts and behaviors diminish their power, or merely feed it. I'm still not sure.
For me, Bender's novel was alternately a zoomingly fast read, and almost unreadable. This world was too terrifying to me, perhaps because of how much I recognized it. Mona is 20, and an elementary school math teacher. Set the unlikeliness of this aside. Because there's plenty more weird where that came from.
She's fixated on numbers, and their significance. She has help in this from her high school math teacher neighbor turned hardware store owner. He wears numbers around his neck corresponding to his mood - often very low. She sees numbers appear in people's yards, that just happen to herald the age of a resident within who is about to die. When these show up again in the novel, the dread I felt as I waited for Bender to prove the causality untrue was unbearable. I recognize these superstitions, these intuited "meanings," these compulsions. Because I haven't even told you about all the compulsions.
I finished the book a week ago, and have been playing around with some of the themes in my head ever since. They aren't easy. We find clues and significance in coincidence. We believe we have the power to shape outcomes with our thoughts and actions. We believe that if we shout our fears and stay fixated on them, they cannot come to pass. (Or, that at the very least we will court the faceoff and get it over with.) We bind things that make us feel good and connected with things that make us feel sick and alone.
Or do we? I found the actions of the characters to be (generally) exaggerated versions of the ways our own neuroses manifest. But does spotlighting these thoughts and behaviors diminish their power, or merely feed it. I'm still not sure.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Spirited away
The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern (Doubleday, 2011)
I am going to admit that I held off on reading this book because I was jealous that someone named Erin wrote such a well-received novel. Stealing my thunder and all. But thank goodness I got over this absurdity. Because this book is magical. MAGICAL.
Most of the week I was reading The Night Circus, I spent non-reading time really wishing I were reading. It was transporting. Short chapters (and intros and such) whisk through between characters, times, and places. Which is a little like the circus itself. The circus, which appears as if by magic, runs only at night and only in black & white, and is the venue for increasingly inspired flights of magical imagination.
It is also the venue for a competition of sorts. Two men facing off; their proxies young, well-trained, and mostly ignorant of the rules governing their battle. And can two practitioners of such powerful magic grow to know their opponent so well without falling in love?
The novel is stunning. I reached the climactic scene one sofa over from my boyfriend, who was engrossed in someone on the television. (Fringe maybe?) And when I started silently weeping just because I was too overcome by the emotion of the whole thing, I had to hide it, because how do you explain that you're crying because it's just all too lovely?
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Vaguely disagreeable olde England
Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh (Laurel Edition, 1944, 1945)
It's kind of fun to read old paperbacks. This one cost 75 cents when it was printed in 1965 (I think) and it is falling apart something pretty impressive. I think I'll be its final reader.
That sentiment is probably not true for the novel itself. (Obviously.) I am not crazy about Waugh, and it was a bit of a slog at the beginning. Lots of chummy gay college boys or something. Someone told me to not bother with the read and go straight to the movie, and I was sorely tempted. But I was glad to have stuck it through. Because after a spell it gets easier, and then suddenly, it gets much much easier. And without offering spoilers, I'm perhaps a little troubled by why I might find certain plots more agreeable than others.
That said, I still didn't have much affection or sympathy for any of the characters. It's been a week since I finished reading, and I had forgotten the narrator's name. He seems ... so distant, I suppose.
But! Onto the film adaptations!
It's kind of fun to read old paperbacks. This one cost 75 cents when it was printed in 1965 (I think) and it is falling apart something pretty impressive. I think I'll be its final reader.
That sentiment is probably not true for the novel itself. (Obviously.) I am not crazy about Waugh, and it was a bit of a slog at the beginning. Lots of chummy gay college boys or something. Someone told me to not bother with the read and go straight to the movie, and I was sorely tempted. But I was glad to have stuck it through. Because after a spell it gets easier, and then suddenly, it gets much much easier. And without offering spoilers, I'm perhaps a little troubled by why I might find certain plots more agreeable than others.
That said, I still didn't have much affection or sympathy for any of the characters. It's been a week since I finished reading, and I had forgotten the narrator's name. He seems ... so distant, I suppose.
But! Onto the film adaptations!
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
The absurd marriage makes a lot more sense in books set in the 1800s
His at Night - Sherry Thomas (Bantam Books, 2010)
Ravishing the Heiress - Sherry Thomas (Berkley Sensation, 2012)
And returning to historical romance, which is a far more hilarious genre than I had really given it credit for being. A few months back, I read my first novel by Thomas, which launched the trilogy that RTH picks up. And for a variety of reasons involving book requests, I also ended up with His at Night.
And Thomas doesn't disappoint in the earlier novel, with my favorite "marriage under false pretenses" scenario. Elissande sees unexpected company as her chance to get herself and her aunt out of an abusive home, and swindles a poor, hapless duke into getting caught with her in a compromising position. Of course, he is neither poor nor hapless (just pretending to be) and he sees her trap (which, of course, doesn't stop him falling into it) and hates them both for it.
So again! Everyone's pretending to be something they're not, and lust and romance ensue. Plus there's a scandalous plot involving (more!) secret identities and scandals. Yippie. But again, high on the ZOMG SO CUTE scale.
I was less satisfied by the second read. It's a more ambitious plot - "marriage under forced pretenses" so to speak. Millie is an heiress, Fitz an accidental duke who has to marry well to save his family's land and whatnot. But he has a childhood sweetheart that he really really does not want to let go of. So the book bounces back and forth between the present, eight years after their wedding, and the past, concerning the early days and years of their marriage. It's a lovely testament to the possible success of arranged marriage, as what makes their relationship sparkle is the friendship and respect that have grown over time. But at the same time, you miss the wicked banter and push-and-pull of the romances where both parties are simultaneously attracted and repulsed by one another. But that's coming in the third installment of the trilogy, so huzzah for that.
Ravishing the Heiress - Sherry Thomas (Berkley Sensation, 2012)
And returning to historical romance, which is a far more hilarious genre than I had really given it credit for being. A few months back, I read my first novel by Thomas, which launched the trilogy that RTH picks up. And for a variety of reasons involving book requests, I also ended up with His at Night.
And Thomas doesn't disappoint in the earlier novel, with my favorite "marriage under false pretenses" scenario. Elissande sees unexpected company as her chance to get herself and her aunt out of an abusive home, and swindles a poor, hapless duke into getting caught with her in a compromising position. Of course, he is neither poor nor hapless (just pretending to be) and he sees her trap (which, of course, doesn't stop him falling into it) and hates them both for it.
So again! Everyone's pretending to be something they're not, and lust and romance ensue. Plus there's a scandalous plot involving (more!) secret identities and scandals. Yippie. But again, high on the ZOMG SO CUTE scale.
I was less satisfied by the second read. It's a more ambitious plot - "marriage under forced pretenses" so to speak. Millie is an heiress, Fitz an accidental duke who has to marry well to save his family's land and whatnot. But he has a childhood sweetheart that he really really does not want to let go of. So the book bounces back and forth between the present, eight years after their wedding, and the past, concerning the early days and years of their marriage. It's a lovely testament to the possible success of arranged marriage, as what makes their relationship sparkle is the friendship and respect that have grown over time. But at the same time, you miss the wicked banter and push-and-pull of the romances where both parties are simultaneously attracted and repulsed by one another. But that's coming in the third installment of the trilogy, so huzzah for that.
Saturday, October 06, 2012
All's fair in love, war, and politics
Queen Margot - Alexandre Dumas (Hyperion, 1994)
In high school, my friends and I watched the film adaptation of this novel a whole bunch of times. the people in it were all too beautiful. It was ... well, memorable. So while I found the book at some book sale, I bought it. And it languished on my shelf. Until a couple weeks ago.
"Queen Margot"is Marguerite de Valois, daughter of one French king, sister of two more, and wife (pre-annulment) of a fourth, Henri de Navarre. But the novel, thick as it may be, covers only two years in her eventful life. It begins with her marriage to Henri, intended to settle unrest between Catholics and Protestants, and ends when Henri flees back to Navarre, to stay safe until he can one day assume the throne. In between: the St. Bartholomew Massacre, several assassination attempts (most engineered by the queen mother, Catherine de Medicis), and a couple pretty fantastic love affairs.
The most memorable part of the film (well, to 16-year-old Erin at least) was the love between Marguerite and a lesser noble, La Mole. (There is also an unintentional murder that was pretty amazing.) But in the book, this relationship is almost surpassed by a strange and enduring friendship that extends unto death. And also much more about the machinations of Queen Catherine. In the book, it becomes a point of humor. She started to remind me of Wile E. Coyote, devising ever more certain plots to take out Henri de Navarre, and having each go awry.
I had far too much fun reading this, as I'm sure did the 19th-century audience that first encountered it in serial form. First of all: history! I mean, I'm not sure entirely where Dumas' imagination takes over, but still... And then romance and intrigue and beautiful costumes and and and. Does it come as any surprise that I have the DVD waiting for me to watch this evening?
In high school, my friends and I watched the film adaptation of this novel a whole bunch of times. the people in it were all too beautiful. It was ... well, memorable. So while I found the book at some book sale, I bought it. And it languished on my shelf. Until a couple weeks ago.
"Queen Margot"is Marguerite de Valois, daughter of one French king, sister of two more, and wife (pre-annulment) of a fourth, Henri de Navarre. But the novel, thick as it may be, covers only two years in her eventful life. It begins with her marriage to Henri, intended to settle unrest between Catholics and Protestants, and ends when Henri flees back to Navarre, to stay safe until he can one day assume the throne. In between: the St. Bartholomew Massacre, several assassination attempts (most engineered by the queen mother, Catherine de Medicis), and a couple pretty fantastic love affairs.
The most memorable part of the film (well, to 16-year-old Erin at least) was the love between Marguerite and a lesser noble, La Mole. (There is also an unintentional murder that was pretty amazing.) But in the book, this relationship is almost surpassed by a strange and enduring friendship that extends unto death. And also much more about the machinations of Queen Catherine. In the book, it becomes a point of humor. She started to remind me of Wile E. Coyote, devising ever more certain plots to take out Henri de Navarre, and having each go awry.
I had far too much fun reading this, as I'm sure did the 19th-century audience that first encountered it in serial form. First of all: history! I mean, I'm not sure entirely where Dumas' imagination takes over, but still... And then romance and intrigue and beautiful costumes and and and. Does it come as any surprise that I have the DVD waiting for me to watch this evening?
Friday, September 28, 2012
Struggling with the concept of "never forget"
Sarah's Key - Tatiana de Rosnay (St. Martin's Griffin, 2007)
Let me start with the frivolous. I somehow found myself, in conversation with a friend, comparing this book to The Da Vinci Code. And then feeling terrible. What I meant is that both novels employ the use of short chapters to create a propulsive effect. You're driven to continue reading.
And secondly, I was drawn to the use of font (typeface? I never know when to use which term). The narrative cuts back and forth between a little girl in 1942 - and her efforts to save her brother when all the Jews in Paris were rounded up before being sent to death camps - and a middle-aged American expat reporter in 2002, whose investigation into the events of July 1942 unearths secrets that remained hidden for six decades. Um... where was I before I got caught up in that rambling sentence? Oh, right, the font. Each of these narrative lines employs a different font, which somehow both emphasizes the difference between them and adds internal coherence within each plotline. If that makes sense. (Also, can you do this on an e-reader? I'm guessing yes, but would like confirmation.)
This novel deals with some pretty horrific stuff. (Obviously.) But there's a lot of room for beauty without it being some sort of paean to the triumph of the human spirit. People act out of love, fear, hate, decency, confusion, and pride. Not everyone gets a happy ending. (Again, obviously.) But there's catharsis, and above it all rises American Julia's insistence that the truth should - must - out.
I feel sorta babbly. Like all the above were comments I would make in a book club discussion, rather than forming some sort of coherent reaction to the novel. This book, by the way, has Book Club written all over it. Which reminds me that I want to join a book club. All of which brings me back to the "babbly" point, and leads to the question of whether this is the sort of book that one must talk around, rather than through.
Let me start with the frivolous. I somehow found myself, in conversation with a friend, comparing this book to The Da Vinci Code. And then feeling terrible. What I meant is that both novels employ the use of short chapters to create a propulsive effect. You're driven to continue reading.
And secondly, I was drawn to the use of font (typeface? I never know when to use which term). The narrative cuts back and forth between a little girl in 1942 - and her efforts to save her brother when all the Jews in Paris were rounded up before being sent to death camps - and a middle-aged American expat reporter in 2002, whose investigation into the events of July 1942 unearths secrets that remained hidden for six decades. Um... where was I before I got caught up in that rambling sentence? Oh, right, the font. Each of these narrative lines employs a different font, which somehow both emphasizes the difference between them and adds internal coherence within each plotline. If that makes sense. (Also, can you do this on an e-reader? I'm guessing yes, but would like confirmation.)
This novel deals with some pretty horrific stuff. (Obviously.) But there's a lot of room for beauty without it being some sort of paean to the triumph of the human spirit. People act out of love, fear, hate, decency, confusion, and pride. Not everyone gets a happy ending. (Again, obviously.) But there's catharsis, and above it all rises American Julia's insistence that the truth should - must - out.
I feel sorta babbly. Like all the above were comments I would make in a book club discussion, rather than forming some sort of coherent reaction to the novel. This book, by the way, has Book Club written all over it. Which reminds me that I want to join a book club. All of which brings me back to the "babbly" point, and leads to the question of whether this is the sort of book that one must talk around, rather than through.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
What lies ahead for Mother Earth
The Vanishing Face of Gaia: A Final Warning - James Lovelock (Basic Books, 2009)
Sounds like a cheery topic, no? But books that make their way onto my shelves must eventually be read, and now was this book's time. Lovelock is a major scientist and the man behind Gaia theory, which postulates that the Earth and everything on it together comprise a single, self-regulating, complex system. This is the kind of idea that strikes me as completely intuitive, yet another area in which the ideas I was taught in my childhood turn out not to be as pervasive and widely-held as I realized. Apparently over the years Lovelock has taken a lock of shit for the theory, and in some ways this book is one giant - slightly, but just barely, premature - "I told you so." The idea is that human, through man-made climate change and other activities, have stressed Gaia's self-regulating ability to the max. And in order to survive, Gaia is going to react in ways that won't be so good for us.
But "green" living isn't enough, per Lovelock. And trying to revert to some earlier time, to live with a smaller footprint? Insufficient. This book made waves when it was released because of his full-throated endorsement of nuclear power as both the safest and most effective form of energy. I'm not wholly persuaded, but I also admit that I have no idea what should be done. I often feel that we're very much the dance band on the Titanic, and I'm not actually sure that there are better options that being precisely that.
But before I go too far afield, back to Lovelock, who discusses both potential last ditch efforts to moderate global warming and strategies that will allow mankind to adapt to a future hot state. But what I took away is his exhortation that we not try to be something that we are not:
Sounds like a cheery topic, no? But books that make their way onto my shelves must eventually be read, and now was this book's time. Lovelock is a major scientist and the man behind Gaia theory, which postulates that the Earth and everything on it together comprise a single, self-regulating, complex system. This is the kind of idea that strikes me as completely intuitive, yet another area in which the ideas I was taught in my childhood turn out not to be as pervasive and widely-held as I realized. Apparently over the years Lovelock has taken a lock of shit for the theory, and in some ways this book is one giant - slightly, but just barely, premature - "I told you so." The idea is that human, through man-made climate change and other activities, have stressed Gaia's self-regulating ability to the max. And in order to survive, Gaia is going to react in ways that won't be so good for us.
But "green" living isn't enough, per Lovelock. And trying to revert to some earlier time, to live with a smaller footprint? Insufficient. This book made waves when it was released because of his full-throated endorsement of nuclear power as both the safest and most effective form of energy. I'm not wholly persuaded, but I also admit that I have no idea what should be done. I often feel that we're very much the dance band on the Titanic, and I'm not actually sure that there are better options that being precisely that.
But before I go too far afield, back to Lovelock, who discusses both potential last ditch efforts to moderate global warming and strategies that will allow mankind to adapt to a future hot state. But what I took away is his exhortation that we not try to be something that we are not:
Even if we had time, and we do not, to change out genes to make us act with love and live lightly on the Earth, it would not work. We are what we are because natural selection has made us the toughest predator the world has ever seen. ... It is as absurd to expect us to change ourselves as it would be to expect crocodiles or sharks to become through some great act of will, vegetarian. We cannot alter our natures, and as we shall see the bred-in tribalism and nationalism that we pretend to deplore is the amplifier that makes us powerful. All that we can do is to try to temper our strength with decency.Is this true? I'm not sure. Nor do I know that this will chance what I do in any significant way. But is it food for thought? Certainly.
Thursday, September 06, 2012
My boyfriend plays video games, I read romance novels
Crazy For You - Jennifer Crusie (St. Martin's, 1999)
Hot Stuff - Carly Phillips (HQN, 2004)
Phillips is sexier, Crusie is funnier. Both stories (sort of) revolve around a dog. Everyone's kinda adorable. Battlefield 3 is getting old. :P
Want to read more of these, but will probably turn my attention back to some heavier fare for a little while. At the very least, I don't want to fun through everything by these authors. Not right away.
Hot Stuff - Carly Phillips (HQN, 2004)
Phillips is sexier, Crusie is funnier. Both stories (sort of) revolve around a dog. Everyone's kinda adorable. Battlefield 3 is getting old. :P
Want to read more of these, but will probably turn my attention back to some heavier fare for a little while. At the very least, I don't want to fun through everything by these authors. Not right away.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
We Need to Talk
We Need to Talk About Kevin - Lionel Shriver (Harper Perennial, 2003)
Do you believe me that I picked out this book to read next before Aurora happened? The idea of reading a novel about the aftermath (ish) of a mass shooting seemed a little much to handle, but I pushed on. And was in the thick of it when the Oak Creek shooting occurred. All of which could send me off on a diatribe about violence and weapons and cavalier disregard for the sanctity of human life and and and.
But no. This novel has too much to say on its own. The Post-Birthday World is one of my favorite novels - although no one I've foisted it on has enjoyed it as much as I did - but this one is the award-winner. And it was time to tackle something difficult.
It's November 2000, about 18 months after Eva's son changed their worlds forever by murdering a handful of classmates and two school staff members, about a week before Columbine. And Eva shares her story in epistolary fashion, in a series of letters to her estranged husband. The result is three narratives that unfold over about six months, with the final letter in April 2001. The first is world events; remember that election? and how it dominated everything? The second takes us back in time, as Eva details the couple's decision to have a baby, and the child's early years. The third is also current, about her ongoing relationship with Kevin, her visits to him in the juvenile prison upstate, as she strives to come to terms - to the extent such a phrase even makes sense - with his horrific acts, and her part in them.
Never has anything made me so scared about the prospect of having a child. From even before his birth, Eva was uneasy about Kevin. And Kevin made everyone uneasy except her husband, who desperation to adore his own son is so touchingly naive as seen through Eva's eyes. Whether or not Kevin was really a sociopath from Day One, how terrifying to consider not loving your own child.
And then some sort of trigger switched inside me. Eva does this complicated dance, of assuming all the responsibility for Kevin and his actions, and simultaneously abjuring it in favor of an argument that sort of runs, "I tried to warn you about him." It made me uncomfortable, which I can only assume was Shriver's intent. As are the growing signs that maybe Eva really is to blame, that maybe Kevin has always, desperately, sought his mother's love and affection. That maybe his malicious attacks on people's passions were both a way of destroying what he didn't have and couldn't abide in others. And even more so, a cry for his mom to notice and love him.
I feel terribly inarticulate trying to get at what I mean. Besides, did I really just place the responsibility for all these murders on this poor woman's shoulders? Plenty of people have awful parents who they fear don't really love them, and the vast majority of these people do not become killers at age 15. It's pretty much bullshit to absolve Kevin of any responsibility. And yet, I fear he just wanted to impress her. Although impress isn't quite the right word.
Before I fall too deeply down a rabbit hole, let me just say what I probably should have said in summary from the very start: this novel disquieted me in ways that few novels have. I will be thinking about Kevin for a long time to come.
Do you believe me that I picked out this book to read next before Aurora happened? The idea of reading a novel about the aftermath (ish) of a mass shooting seemed a little much to handle, but I pushed on. And was in the thick of it when the Oak Creek shooting occurred. All of which could send me off on a diatribe about violence and weapons and cavalier disregard for the sanctity of human life and and and.
But no. This novel has too much to say on its own. The Post-Birthday World is one of my favorite novels - although no one I've foisted it on has enjoyed it as much as I did - but this one is the award-winner. And it was time to tackle something difficult.
It's November 2000, about 18 months after Eva's son changed their worlds forever by murdering a handful of classmates and two school staff members, about a week before Columbine. And Eva shares her story in epistolary fashion, in a series of letters to her estranged husband. The result is three narratives that unfold over about six months, with the final letter in April 2001. The first is world events; remember that election? and how it dominated everything? The second takes us back in time, as Eva details the couple's decision to have a baby, and the child's early years. The third is also current, about her ongoing relationship with Kevin, her visits to him in the juvenile prison upstate, as she strives to come to terms - to the extent such a phrase even makes sense - with his horrific acts, and her part in them.
Never has anything made me so scared about the prospect of having a child. From even before his birth, Eva was uneasy about Kevin. And Kevin made everyone uneasy except her husband, who desperation to adore his own son is so touchingly naive as seen through Eva's eyes. Whether or not Kevin was really a sociopath from Day One, how terrifying to consider not loving your own child.
And then some sort of trigger switched inside me. Eva does this complicated dance, of assuming all the responsibility for Kevin and his actions, and simultaneously abjuring it in favor of an argument that sort of runs, "I tried to warn you about him." It made me uncomfortable, which I can only assume was Shriver's intent. As are the growing signs that maybe Eva really is to blame, that maybe Kevin has always, desperately, sought his mother's love and affection. That maybe his malicious attacks on people's passions were both a way of destroying what he didn't have and couldn't abide in others. And even more so, a cry for his mom to notice and love him.
I feel terribly inarticulate trying to get at what I mean. Besides, did I really just place the responsibility for all these murders on this poor woman's shoulders? Plenty of people have awful parents who they fear don't really love them, and the vast majority of these people do not become killers at age 15. It's pretty much bullshit to absolve Kevin of any responsibility. And yet, I fear he just wanted to impress her. Although impress isn't quite the right word.
Before I fall too deeply down a rabbit hole, let me just say what I probably should have said in summary from the very start: this novel disquieted me in ways that few novels have. I will be thinking about Kevin for a long time to come.
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.
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Falling in love under false pretenses, subcategory two
Beguiling the Beauty - Sherry Thomas (Berkley Sensation, 2012)
Second only to "pretending to be married" in my list of amusing romance scenarios that do. not. happen. is "pretending to be someone else." You could make an argument for those both falling under some broader category of "falling in love under false pretenses," but in one you're fooling outside observers and in the other, you're fooling the love interest.
And that's what happens here, when Venetia, 27 and twice widowed, finds herself hurt by public comments made by Lord Somethingorother and decides to make him fall in love with her, and then burst his bubble. (I'm not quite sure how this proves that she's not a Black Widow who uses her beauty to entrap men, but whatevs.) This plot, unbeknownst to her, has the added extra punch that he's been lusting after her from afar for years, since she was a young bride. Aww. So they seduce each other - did I mention she's wearing a veil, so he can't tell it's her? - and manage to fall in love.
Except they're both deceiving each other? How will it ever work out? :)
I'm snarking, which is unfair, because this was really rather charming. And humorous. They were likable characters, and up until the speedy denouement, I was totally down with them. I am pretty sure I made me "ZOMG SO CUTE" face after every chapter. Plus, it's always an added bonus when the heroine is into a "man's" subject like archeology. And Thomas cleverly laid the groundwork for the rest of the trilogy, which will settle the love lives of her younger (twins) sister & brother. In fact, she did such a thorough job that I really thought those were the B and C storylines and was confused that they were left unresolved. Which, of course, means I will have to read them...
Second only to "pretending to be married" in my list of amusing romance scenarios that do. not. happen. is "pretending to be someone else." You could make an argument for those both falling under some broader category of "falling in love under false pretenses," but in one you're fooling outside observers and in the other, you're fooling the love interest.
And that's what happens here, when Venetia, 27 and twice widowed, finds herself hurt by public comments made by Lord Somethingorother and decides to make him fall in love with her, and then burst his bubble. (I'm not quite sure how this proves that she's not a Black Widow who uses her beauty to entrap men, but whatevs.) This plot, unbeknownst to her, has the added extra punch that he's been lusting after her from afar for years, since she was a young bride. Aww. So they seduce each other - did I mention she's wearing a veil, so he can't tell it's her? - and manage to fall in love.
Except they're both deceiving each other? How will it ever work out? :)
I'm snarking, which is unfair, because this was really rather charming. And humorous. They were likable characters, and up until the speedy denouement, I was totally down with them. I am pretty sure I made me "ZOMG SO CUTE" face after every chapter. Plus, it's always an added bonus when the heroine is into a "man's" subject like archeology. And Thomas cleverly laid the groundwork for the rest of the trilogy, which will settle the love lives of her younger (twins) sister & brother. In fact, she did such a thorough job that I really thought those were the B and C storylines and was confused that they were left unresolved. Which, of course, means I will have to read them...
Monday, July 02, 2012
Trying to mix great literature and sunshine
Swann's Way - Marcel Proust (trans. C.K. Scott Moncrieff) (Dover Publications, 1913, 1922, 2002)
So, I finally started on In Search of Lost Time. Or, since it's the Moncrieff translation, maybe I should call it Remembrance of Things Past. This has been hovering around as a thing I should do for years now. But it was a slog. I started on or around Memorial Day, and finished sometime last week.
Why I had problems with the book: for starters, I kept getting sleepy. This was a fun vacation-y month, and the amount of mental power involved in parsing these long loooooooooong sentences was more than I could handle. (By the way, there should be a limit on the number of clauses allowed in a single sentence.) Also, I couldn't really get into the narrator. I kept pushing through, because eventually we were going to go back in time and find out about how Swann fell in love and ended up in this ill-advised (per the narrator's family) marriage. Except that wasn't really any better. Until it was. What does the reader find so reassuring about the idea that love was similar enough a century(ish) ago? Is it just that Proust does such a good job of showing how a lover can persist in reformulating a relationship in his head, again and again, to rationalize and justify staying in a position that grows ever more untenable? At any rate, it was sort of fascinating. And then we jump back to our narrator, as he falls for Swann's young daughter...
And it all made me think maybe I'd keep reading after all. Except I know that I'd just fall back into the part where I was grumping my way through the work. So what do I do? Stop after volume one?
So, I finally started on In Search of Lost Time. Or, since it's the Moncrieff translation, maybe I should call it Remembrance of Things Past. This has been hovering around as a thing I should do for years now. But it was a slog. I started on or around Memorial Day, and finished sometime last week.
Why I had problems with the book: for starters, I kept getting sleepy. This was a fun vacation-y month, and the amount of mental power involved in parsing these long loooooooooong sentences was more than I could handle. (By the way, there should be a limit on the number of clauses allowed in a single sentence.) Also, I couldn't really get into the narrator. I kept pushing through, because eventually we were going to go back in time and find out about how Swann fell in love and ended up in this ill-advised (per the narrator's family) marriage. Except that wasn't really any better. Until it was. What does the reader find so reassuring about the idea that love was similar enough a century(ish) ago? Is it just that Proust does such a good job of showing how a lover can persist in reformulating a relationship in his head, again and again, to rationalize and justify staying in a position that grows ever more untenable? At any rate, it was sort of fascinating. And then we jump back to our narrator, as he falls for Swann's young daughter...
And it all made me think maybe I'd keep reading after all. Except I know that I'd just fall back into the part where I was grumping my way through the work. So what do I do? Stop after volume one?
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!)
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Lad lit
Love & Other Recreational Sports - John Dearie (Plume, 2003)
Without bothering to do my background research, my understanding is that there's a lovely genre of British fiction that is the male equivalent to chick lit, and it's called lad lit. This includes stuff by writers like Nick Hornby.
I think that's what Dearie is doing here. Except I don't know that the genre really exists in America. It certainly doesn't look like that's how it was marketed.
Check out this cover. Does this look like it's being marketed toward men??? (Sorry for the mirror image problem.) Or are women the primary readers of lad lit?
These questions aside... well, actually I'm not sure I am able to place them aside, because they so strongly shaped my reading experience.
I'm battling through Proust (losing) and brought this along as lighter fare for a weekend out in the desert. So I sprawled in 100 degree shaded heat, and read about Jack and his adventures in (or avoiding) the Manhattan dating scene.
Let's compare Jack to a chick lit heroine. He is male, he is successful in the corporate world, he doesn't seem to get too excited about things. Hmm, not doing so well. And yet he has also been burned by a former lover, dresses well and enjoys the finer things, and gets his best advice from his friends and family. Wash.
And here is where I look at the back of the book and see that it was indeed marketed to women, claiming to provide insights into the mind of the dating male. Is this what Dearie had in mind when writing? I'm skeptical.
Without bothering to do my background research, my understanding is that there's a lovely genre of British fiction that is the male equivalent to chick lit, and it's called lad lit. This includes stuff by writers like Nick Hornby.
I think that's what Dearie is doing here. Except I don't know that the genre really exists in America. It certainly doesn't look like that's how it was marketed.
These questions aside... well, actually I'm not sure I am able to place them aside, because they so strongly shaped my reading experience.
I'm battling through Proust (losing) and brought this along as lighter fare for a weekend out in the desert. So I sprawled in 100 degree shaded heat, and read about Jack and his adventures in (or avoiding) the Manhattan dating scene.
Let's compare Jack to a chick lit heroine. He is male, he is successful in the corporate world, he doesn't seem to get too excited about things. Hmm, not doing so well. And yet he has also been burned by a former lover, dresses well and enjoys the finer things, and gets his best advice from his friends and family. Wash.
And here is where I look at the back of the book and see that it was indeed marketed to women, claiming to provide insights into the mind of the dating male. Is this what Dearie had in mind when writing? I'm skeptical.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
But I don't want it
This Beautiful Life - Helen Schulman (HarperCollins, 2011)
Meet the Bergamots. First Liz(zie), a trained art historian who became increasingly mom-first, and now, in NYC, mom-only. Then Richard, whose career in academia seems on an unstoppable upward trajectory. And Jake, the teen son. Finally Coco, the spirited kindergartener. They are transitioning, with varying degrees of success, from life in upstate Ithaca to Manhattan.
And then there's a night with two parties. Liz takes Coco to a sleepover at the Plaza, where she (and the other moms) get totally wasted. Yay. And Jake goes to a party with his friends, gets sad when he sees the object of his affection with her boyfriend, gets drunk, and draws the advances of the young hostess. He allows her attention, until he suddenly doesn't. And handles it like most boys would, which is to say like a jerk.
And there you have it. A Saturday morning with two hungover Bergamots. Except then Jake's make-out partner creates an awfully graphic web video to prove that she's old enough for him. And then all hell breaks loose.
Listening to Slate folks discuss it (here), I was intrigued by their final conversation, a debate over why and how the single click of the "forward" button untethered everything. It's hard to say for sure whether all the fissures of Liz's dissatisfaction and Richard's growing impatience would have been evident had the plot been presented in any other way. The first page (plus) is a description of the video, and it looms over everything that follows, leaving the reader waiting in some amount of anxiety. As a result, I saw how while nothing was broken, neither was it particularly strong. But that's just me.
I grew less enchanted with the book as it went on. The characters just kept so firmly to their established patterns, wearing out some weird groove that made me more and more frustrated. And then, suddenly, Schulman wraps up. She flashes forward several years, so we know what shakes down from the crisis. And ends with a coda chapter, the teen ingenue all grown up, or more grown up. But it's weird, because we've never really met her before. And now, we're not quite sure who she is, or what to think about what she unleashed when she hit record on her webcam.
Meet the Bergamots. First Liz(zie), a trained art historian who became increasingly mom-first, and now, in NYC, mom-only. Then Richard, whose career in academia seems on an unstoppable upward trajectory. And Jake, the teen son. Finally Coco, the spirited kindergartener. They are transitioning, with varying degrees of success, from life in upstate Ithaca to Manhattan.
And then there's a night with two parties. Liz takes Coco to a sleepover at the Plaza, where she (and the other moms) get totally wasted. Yay. And Jake goes to a party with his friends, gets sad when he sees the object of his affection with her boyfriend, gets drunk, and draws the advances of the young hostess. He allows her attention, until he suddenly doesn't. And handles it like most boys would, which is to say like a jerk.
And there you have it. A Saturday morning with two hungover Bergamots. Except then Jake's make-out partner creates an awfully graphic web video to prove that she's old enough for him. And then all hell breaks loose.
Listening to Slate folks discuss it (here), I was intrigued by their final conversation, a debate over why and how the single click of the "forward" button untethered everything. It's hard to say for sure whether all the fissures of Liz's dissatisfaction and Richard's growing impatience would have been evident had the plot been presented in any other way. The first page (plus) is a description of the video, and it looms over everything that follows, leaving the reader waiting in some amount of anxiety. As a result, I saw how while nothing was broken, neither was it particularly strong. But that's just me.
I grew less enchanted with the book as it went on. The characters just kept so firmly to their established patterns, wearing out some weird groove that made me more and more frustrated. And then, suddenly, Schulman wraps up. She flashes forward several years, so we know what shakes down from the crisis. And ends with a coda chapter, the teen ingenue all grown up, or more grown up. But it's weird, because we've never really met her before. And now, we're not quite sure who she is, or what to think about what she unleashed when she hit record on her webcam.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Glittering Despair
Play It As It Lays - Joan Didion (Pocket Books, 1970, 1978)
Things I learned from this novel: the late 1960s and early 1970s kinda sucked. I mean, we glamorize them now, with all the free love and flowers and Woodstock and consciousness-altering drugs and activism and stuff. But there was also a lot of using drugs and sex to mask all sorts of pain, and hiding things away, and being corrupt in Hollywood.
I think I am too far outside the time to really understand this novel, because it seemed like Maria had a shitty childhood, made it to NYC where things were shady, fell for the director who cast her in a film where she was gangbanged, and then he made it big and she really didn't, mainly because her husband insisted on institutionalizing their daughter, and then there were affairs and affairs and affairs and eventually someone gets killed. Or dies of his own hand. Or something.
I can't say that Didion's prose isn't evocative, because it was bitterly painful to read, to go into Maria's desperation. So she accomplished what I believe was her vision. It's a successful book. But 40 years later... I find myself lost.
Things I learned from this novel: the late 1960s and early 1970s kinda sucked. I mean, we glamorize them now, with all the free love and flowers and Woodstock and consciousness-altering drugs and activism and stuff. But there was also a lot of using drugs and sex to mask all sorts of pain, and hiding things away, and being corrupt in Hollywood.
I think I am too far outside the time to really understand this novel, because it seemed like Maria had a shitty childhood, made it to NYC where things were shady, fell for the director who cast her in a film where she was gangbanged, and then he made it big and she really didn't, mainly because her husband insisted on institutionalizing their daughter, and then there were affairs and affairs and affairs and eventually someone gets killed. Or dies of his own hand. Or something.
I can't say that Didion's prose isn't evocative, because it was bitterly painful to read, to go into Maria's desperation. So she accomplished what I believe was her vision. It's a successful book. But 40 years later... I find myself lost.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Dead Tired
Deadlocked - Charlaine Harris (Ace Books, 2012)
We know who Sookie will end up with, right? It's decided. So at this point the series is just taking us down the long winding road that leads us there. Preferably with a whole bunch of new supernatural creatures, all of whom seem to feel the need either to protect Sookie or to do her harm.
But that's fine. It was pleasant enough to rejoin Sookie's world for a few days, and celebrate her birthday with her. Life in Bon Temps is moving forward, and it seems like some loose ends are tying themselves up. Which makes me wonder if the next installment of Sookie will be the last.
We know who Sookie will end up with, right? It's decided. So at this point the series is just taking us down the long winding road that leads us there. Preferably with a whole bunch of new supernatural creatures, all of whom seem to feel the need either to protect Sookie or to do her harm.
But that's fine. It was pleasant enough to rejoin Sookie's world for a few days, and celebrate her birthday with her. Life in Bon Temps is moving forward, and it seems like some loose ends are tying themselves up. Which makes me wonder if the next installment of Sookie will be the last.
Monday, May 07, 2012
Old New York, NOT Don Henley
The Age of Innocence - Edith Wharton (Barnes & Noble Classics, 1920, 2004)
Despite not actually having the same name at all, I spent a lot of my time reading this book while humming along to the mental soundtrack of "The End of the Innocence." And any other Don Henley songs that came up in my head. Also, I saw the movie with Daniel Day-Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer back when it came out. So I had a hard time displacing those characters from my head, even when they didn't feel quite right.
First off, the casting? I bought DDL as Newland Archer. Actually, that seems just about perfect. Pfeiffer I'm a little more meh about. And then there's Winona Ryder as May Archer (nee Welland). Wharton keeps stressing how Archer views her as being like the Goddess Diana. And I can't think of an actress who inspires that thought less in me. On the other hand, from what I remember, she nails the whole forced innocence thing.
But this isn't a movie review, and I really shouldn't be reviewing movies I saw almost twenty years ago, and when I was awfully young too. So, on to the book.
I'm not going to go into too much analysis, possibly because I'm lazy. Instead, going to be sorta solipsistic. First of all, there were ways in which this novel felt very Russian. Maybe just because most of the 19th-century novels I've read in the past several years (that were not Jane Austen) were Russian. (And yes, I know that this was actually written after WWI, so this may be a really weak point.) Or maybe it's that Mme Olenska reminded me of Anna Karenina. I'm not really sure. But more importantly, it was honestly such a pleasure to read this. I forgot how much I enjoyed the classics. I may be adding more of them to my list.
Despite not actually having the same name at all, I spent a lot of my time reading this book while humming along to the mental soundtrack of "The End of the Innocence." And any other Don Henley songs that came up in my head. Also, I saw the movie with Daniel Day-Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer back when it came out. So I had a hard time displacing those characters from my head, even when they didn't feel quite right.
First off, the casting? I bought DDL as Newland Archer. Actually, that seems just about perfect. Pfeiffer I'm a little more meh about. And then there's Winona Ryder as May Archer (nee Welland). Wharton keeps stressing how Archer views her as being like the Goddess Diana. And I can't think of an actress who inspires that thought less in me. On the other hand, from what I remember, she nails the whole forced innocence thing.
But this isn't a movie review, and I really shouldn't be reviewing movies I saw almost twenty years ago, and when I was awfully young too. So, on to the book.
I'm not going to go into too much analysis, possibly because I'm lazy. Instead, going to be sorta solipsistic. First of all, there were ways in which this novel felt very Russian. Maybe just because most of the 19th-century novels I've read in the past several years (that were not Jane Austen) were Russian. (And yes, I know that this was actually written after WWI, so this may be a really weak point.) Or maybe it's that Mme Olenska reminded me of Anna Karenina. I'm not really sure. But more importantly, it was honestly such a pleasure to read this. I forgot how much I enjoyed the classics. I may be adding more of them to my list.
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
More from the Goon Squad
Returning to Egan.... I listened to Slate's discussion and had a couple takeaways.
First of all, I really need to join a book club. I wanted to be able to chime in on that discussion several times.
Second, I learned from them that the PP chapter got a lot of buzz (both good and bad) and I was gratified to hear that it worked for them as well. They also discussed the ways in which we see characters at various points in their lives (and filtered through different perspectives). Where I didn't talk about this before was with respect to the "flash forward." We don't just know what happens to characters by meeting or hearing about them again (or before), even within a story we are suddenly taken years into the future and told what becomes of a person. For example, we get Sasha's story when she's around 30 and again in college, but then we see her at 19 where we find out where she is in her 40s. (This is good, b/c it gives us a foundation to understand the next chapter, written in her daughter's voice.) But the flash forward doesn't always necessarily serve that kind of narrative purpose (the book club's example was finding out what happened to the grandson of an African tribal dancer, who appears as a very minor character much later, which I hadn't noticed) and I found it intensely comforting somehow. More so, I think, than they did.
And finally, not related to the podcast, I couldn't get over the fact that Alex and Sasha are both diminutives of the same Alexand(e)r(a), which made their date seem strangely awkward. (Probably just because I've used both as nicknames.)
First of all, I really need to join a book club. I wanted to be able to chime in on that discussion several times.
Second, I learned from them that the PP chapter got a lot of buzz (both good and bad) and I was gratified to hear that it worked for them as well. They also discussed the ways in which we see characters at various points in their lives (and filtered through different perspectives). Where I didn't talk about this before was with respect to the "flash forward." We don't just know what happens to characters by meeting or hearing about them again (or before), even within a story we are suddenly taken years into the future and told what becomes of a person. For example, we get Sasha's story when she's around 30 and again in college, but then we see her at 19 where we find out where she is in her 40s. (This is good, b/c it gives us a foundation to understand the next chapter, written in her daughter's voice.) But the flash forward doesn't always necessarily serve that kind of narrative purpose (the book club's example was finding out what happened to the grandson of an African tribal dancer, who appears as a very minor character much later, which I hadn't noticed) and I found it intensely comforting somehow. More so, I think, than they did.
And finally, not related to the podcast, I couldn't get over the fact that Alex and Sasha are both diminutives of the same Alexand(e)r(a), which made their date seem strangely awkward. (Probably just because I've used both as nicknames.)
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
Feeling Redundant
Armed Gunmen, True Facts, and Other Ridiculous Nonsense: A Compiled Compendium of Repetitive Redundancies - Richard Kallan (Pantheon Books, 2005)
I'm a huge snob about you're and your. And there are plenty of other written tics that make me crazy. But I think I'm pretty laissez faire about the things that bother the true purists. And so I'm not sure what to make of Kallan's book. Rather than any kind of diatribe about our propensity to include extraneous words, it's simply a list of some of the most frequent offenders. (For example: see title) They come with cute definitions - "Hidden Pitfall: A pitfall unannounced by bells and whistles" - and charming illustrations by 19th-century illustrator George Cruikshank. Also a plus: I learned that these are technically tautologies, which helped me understand that word a bit better. This is good, given that my previous definition was something like "it's like when you define the word illustration by saying something that is illustrated." So yay. On the other hand, I found some of it pretty judgmental. I'll grant you that saying "6 A.M. in the morning" is absurd, but "twelve noon" is not. Please trust me on this one, unless you too have been stuck in an Italian airport because your ride misunderstood and is coming twelve hours from now.
I'm a huge snob about you're and your. And there are plenty of other written tics that make me crazy. But I think I'm pretty laissez faire about the things that bother the true purists. And so I'm not sure what to make of Kallan's book. Rather than any kind of diatribe about our propensity to include extraneous words, it's simply a list of some of the most frequent offenders. (For example: see title) They come with cute definitions - "Hidden Pitfall: A pitfall unannounced by bells and whistles" - and charming illustrations by 19th-century illustrator George Cruikshank. Also a plus: I learned that these are technically tautologies, which helped me understand that word a bit better. This is good, given that my previous definition was something like "it's like when you define the word illustration by saying something that is illustrated." So yay. On the other hand, I found some of it pretty judgmental. I'll grant you that saying "6 A.M. in the morning" is absurd, but "twelve noon" is not. Please trust me on this one, unless you too have been stuck in an Italian airport because your ride misunderstood and is coming twelve hours from now.
Story + story + story = novel?
A Visit from the Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan (Alfred A. Knopf, 2010)
This book won a bunch of awards. (Or a least the National Book Critics Circle Award and the Pulitzer.) And I had been sitting on a Slate Audio Book Club podcast since last August. And fiiiiinally I got around to getting a copy.
Here's where it turns out that I had already read a bunch of the book. Probably a third or so. Damn New Yorker. About three stories in, I found myself really frustrated. None of this was really new. Sigh, grr, etc. But then, this is where the structure of the book kicked in and argued its case. For it's not just a collection of short stories. It's a collection of stories that tie together and interconnect. A character in one story reappears in another. And while it seems like the threads that connect them are weak and few in number, they build upon one another, and you realize that you're getting the rich backstory to a throwaway line from 150 pages earlier.
We start in what is roughly the present, then dive back, then way back, then hang out somewhere between the 70s and now for awhile, and eventually finish in the future. Each story uses its own devices - third person, first person, at least one tale told in the second-person you. Another is an article (of the DFW persuasion) detailing a celebrity interview we already know (from however many stories previous) ends badly. But then there's chapter 12, "Great Rock and Roll Pauses," written by an adolescent daughter of characters we knew before. It's essentially a PowerPoint presentation, and it's tremendously effective for all that it's gimmicky. I waxed poetic about this to my boyfriend, venturing out into a reverie on why all the white space is so meaningful in a story about pauses and what is left unsaid. And so he's taken the fall for you, who only have to know that I had lots to say - of varying coherence - on the topic.
And I love the idea that in the not-so-distant future, this is how I children will tell stories. That in its own way, the PowerPoint can be a surprisingly eloquent medium. And then I lost it in the final story, which takes place roughly in that same period(ish). It's a mildly dystopic future NYC that looks quite a bit like Shteyngart's, in which handheld devices have kinda taken over (with a bit of Brooklyn hipster resistance thrown in too). For whatever reason, this felt overdone. Or at the very least out of place with the rest of the book. Ends get tied together, sure. But I didn't need this final story to feel the heft and power of the whole.
(next post coming after I actually listen to the audio book club podcast, scheduled for tonight's drive home...)
This book won a bunch of awards. (Or a least the National Book Critics Circle Award and the Pulitzer.) And I had been sitting on a Slate Audio Book Club podcast since last August. And fiiiiinally I got around to getting a copy.
Here's where it turns out that I had already read a bunch of the book. Probably a third or so. Damn New Yorker. About three stories in, I found myself really frustrated. None of this was really new. Sigh, grr, etc. But then, this is where the structure of the book kicked in and argued its case. For it's not just a collection of short stories. It's a collection of stories that tie together and interconnect. A character in one story reappears in another. And while it seems like the threads that connect them are weak and few in number, they build upon one another, and you realize that you're getting the rich backstory to a throwaway line from 150 pages earlier.
We start in what is roughly the present, then dive back, then way back, then hang out somewhere between the 70s and now for awhile, and eventually finish in the future. Each story uses its own devices - third person, first person, at least one tale told in the second-person you. Another is an article (of the DFW persuasion) detailing a celebrity interview we already know (from however many stories previous) ends badly. But then there's chapter 12, "Great Rock and Roll Pauses," written by an adolescent daughter of characters we knew before. It's essentially a PowerPoint presentation, and it's tremendously effective for all that it's gimmicky. I waxed poetic about this to my boyfriend, venturing out into a reverie on why all the white space is so meaningful in a story about pauses and what is left unsaid. And so he's taken the fall for you, who only have to know that I had lots to say - of varying coherence - on the topic.
And I love the idea that in the not-so-distant future, this is how I children will tell stories. That in its own way, the PowerPoint can be a surprisingly eloquent medium. And then I lost it in the final story, which takes place roughly in that same period(ish). It's a mildly dystopic future NYC that looks quite a bit like Shteyngart's, in which handheld devices have kinda taken over (with a bit of Brooklyn hipster resistance thrown in too). For whatever reason, this felt overdone. Or at the very least out of place with the rest of the book. Ends get tied together, sure. But I didn't need this final story to feel the heft and power of the whole.
(next post coming after I actually listen to the audio book club podcast, scheduled for tonight's drive home...)
Monday, April 23, 2012
Beer and B&Bs: a recipe for romance
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.
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 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.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Rum and coke
A History of the World in 6 Glasses - Tom Standage (Walker & Company, 2005)
I remember being positively giddy when this book came out. History? Through an element of pop culture so fundamental I don't think you can even call it pop? Love the idea.
Which of course meant I waited years to actually read it. And also possibly built it up a little too much in my head. How can a popular history possibly live up to such expectations?
The premise: six drinks that both reflected and shaped the world (culturally, economically, politically) in which they were dominant. Six drinks which are still pretty bloody popular today, for that matter. First alcohol, then caffeine. Beer in Mesopotamia and wine in ancient Greece and Rome. Distilled spirits in the colonies. Then coffee comes in from Arabia and helps the growth of the professional clerical class, not to mention Habermas's "transformation of the public sphere." And tea, which looked one way in the Ancient Far East, and quite another once the British got ahold of it. And then Coca Cola, which symbolizes everything about the "triumph" of American capitalism (and our political rhetoric). (Although, if put on the spot, I found myself most interested in how carbonated drinks became popular around the turn of the last century. A world without fizzy water seems almost too terrible to imagine.)
So I wanted more rigorous scholarship. (Not saying the research wasn't vigorous, but I could have gone deeper into it with Standage.) But given the intended audience, this was pretty fun. Recommended.
I remember being positively giddy when this book came out. History? Through an element of pop culture so fundamental I don't think you can even call it pop? Love the idea.
Which of course meant I waited years to actually read it. And also possibly built it up a little too much in my head. How can a popular history possibly live up to such expectations?
The premise: six drinks that both reflected and shaped the world (culturally, economically, politically) in which they were dominant. Six drinks which are still pretty bloody popular today, for that matter. First alcohol, then caffeine. Beer in Mesopotamia and wine in ancient Greece and Rome. Distilled spirits in the colonies. Then coffee comes in from Arabia and helps the growth of the professional clerical class, not to mention Habermas's "transformation of the public sphere." And tea, which looked one way in the Ancient Far East, and quite another once the British got ahold of it. And then Coca Cola, which symbolizes everything about the "triumph" of American capitalism (and our political rhetoric). (Although, if put on the spot, I found myself most interested in how carbonated drinks became popular around the turn of the last century. A world without fizzy water seems almost too terrible to imagine.)
So I wanted more rigorous scholarship. (Not saying the research wasn't vigorous, but I could have gone deeper into it with Standage.) But given the intended audience, this was pretty fun. Recommended.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Falling in love amidst a whole lotta plot lines
Secrets of the Lost Summer - Carla Neggers (Mira, 2012)
We've probably established that I am a sucker for novels featuring hockey players. (Too lazy to find supporting links. Bad librarian.) So that's how this book came across my radar. She's back home in her small town licking her wounds and pursuing a new venture; he's a former hockey player who inherited the rundown house down the lane. Sounds simple enough, despite the shocking lack of fake marriages or anything of the like. :)
But then there's more. The house fell into Dylan's lap because of his father, who was hunting for treasure. And the old lady who owned the house for decades before that has a secret. And Olivia's whole family is terrified about an agoraphobic anxiety that may or may not be genetic. And everyone wants to either stay home or escape to somewhere else, or both all at once.
So there's a lot going on, and as someone who struggles to come to terms with her own (different) brand of anxiety, I found a lot of the anxiety sideplot(s) confusing. And the hockey thing..... well, no. There wasn't enough of it to matter. You could probably change his old profession by altering less than 100 words in the book, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the story. But that's okay. Because it was sweet. And it did feel a little like coming home. It was one of those books that made me feel okay about how often I want to embrace the side of me that is a homebody and crafty and bake-y. (The hidden Etsy-er?) Now if only to find the time to let her out....
We've probably established that I am a sucker for novels featuring hockey players. (Too lazy to find supporting links. Bad librarian.) So that's how this book came across my radar. She's back home in her small town licking her wounds and pursuing a new venture; he's a former hockey player who inherited the rundown house down the lane. Sounds simple enough, despite the shocking lack of fake marriages or anything of the like. :)
But then there's more. The house fell into Dylan's lap because of his father, who was hunting for treasure. And the old lady who owned the house for decades before that has a secret. And Olivia's whole family is terrified about an agoraphobic anxiety that may or may not be genetic. And everyone wants to either stay home or escape to somewhere else, or both all at once.
So there's a lot going on, and as someone who struggles to come to terms with her own (different) brand of anxiety, I found a lot of the anxiety sideplot(s) confusing. And the hockey thing..... well, no. There wasn't enough of it to matter. You could probably change his old profession by altering less than 100 words in the book, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the story. But that's okay. Because it was sweet. And it did feel a little like coming home. It was one of those books that made me feel okay about how often I want to embrace the side of me that is a homebody and crafty and bake-y. (The hidden Etsy-er?) Now if only to find the time to let her out....
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
Egyptology, bitches
The Other Guy's Bride - Connie Brockway (Montlake, 2011)
So I'm reading capsule reviews and I see something about turn of the (last) century Egypt. And my ears perk up. And then I see a comparison to Amelia Peabody, and I am sold. Huzzah.
I read very few period romances, so I can't really compare this to other works in the genre, so I ended up comparing it to Elizabeth Peters all the time. And it's not really fair, because no one is going to be Radcliffe Emerson. And NO ONE is going to be Ramses. But I digress. This is cute. Ginny comes from a family renowned in archaeological circles, but she's sorta the black sheep. Until now. She has a plan to make her name, but this means figuring out how to get to the middle of nowhere in the Egyptian desert. Fortunately, this is exactly where another lady on her ship is headed, more or less, to meet her military fiance. So Ginny manages to take her place and get escorted out to wherever, except along the way she has to fall in love with her escort and face a bunch of dangerous situations. And then everyone comes together, and secret identities are revealed and ... etc etc etc.
But it was so fun! Yay. :)
So I'm reading capsule reviews and I see something about turn of the (last) century Egypt. And my ears perk up. And then I see a comparison to Amelia Peabody, and I am sold. Huzzah.
I read very few period romances, so I can't really compare this to other works in the genre, so I ended up comparing it to Elizabeth Peters all the time. And it's not really fair, because no one is going to be Radcliffe Emerson. And NO ONE is going to be Ramses. But I digress. This is cute. Ginny comes from a family renowned in archaeological circles, but she's sorta the black sheep. Until now. She has a plan to make her name, but this means figuring out how to get to the middle of nowhere in the Egyptian desert. Fortunately, this is exactly where another lady on her ship is headed, more or less, to meet her military fiance. So Ginny manages to take her place and get escorted out to wherever, except along the way she has to fall in love with her escort and face a bunch of dangerous situations. And then everyone comes together, and secret identities are revealed and ... etc etc etc.
But it was so fun! Yay. :)
Friday, March 02, 2012
Sometimes you wanna go...
Lucky Girls - Nell Freudenberger (Ecco, 2003)
I'm kinda meh about short stories. I want my fiction in big epic doses, where I can fall into a world and only climb back out when I really must (the occasional New Yorker short story aside). So I put off this highly touted collection for years, delaying the actual pleasure of reading it.
225 pages, 5 stories. So if you're doing the math, these are longer than your typical short fiction. Not quite novella length, but more capable of letting me take a dip into the world, if not quite swim in it. The stories are chiefly about women, but maybe more about displacement. In three, Americans find themselves living in India, but in a way such that they don't quite belong in either land. And they are all at the mercy of relationships - their own, but also ones where they sit on the periphery, and yet still find themselves buffeted by storms.
And yet, for all these thoughtful pensive impulsive characters, I paused at a different line, attributed by the mother of the last tale's narrator: "If you're always thinking about how things are going to be in your life, you can never be happy."She then points out how her mother falls short of this recommendation for living, but the woman has a point. What would these stories be if the characters thought just a little less?
I'm kinda meh about short stories. I want my fiction in big epic doses, where I can fall into a world and only climb back out when I really must (the occasional New Yorker short story aside). So I put off this highly touted collection for years, delaying the actual pleasure of reading it.
225 pages, 5 stories. So if you're doing the math, these are longer than your typical short fiction. Not quite novella length, but more capable of letting me take a dip into the world, if not quite swim in it. The stories are chiefly about women, but maybe more about displacement. In three, Americans find themselves living in India, but in a way such that they don't quite belong in either land. And they are all at the mercy of relationships - their own, but also ones where they sit on the periphery, and yet still find themselves buffeted by storms.
And yet, for all these thoughtful pensive impulsive characters, I paused at a different line, attributed by the mother of the last tale's narrator: "If you're always thinking about how things are going to be in your life, you can never be happy."She then points out how her mother falls short of this recommendation for living, but the woman has a point. What would these stories be if the characters thought just a little less?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tree of Life
Healing Myths, Healing Magic - Donald M. Epstein (Amber-Allen, 2000)
I'm still processing my way through this book, so I don't know that I have anything coherent to say yet. In brief, Epstein touches on one of my favorite philosophical points, which is (although he would say it differently) that we construct narratives and "truths" that shape our lives based on societally-based myths that we accept. Or even if we don't accept them per se, in some way we have fully digested them. As he says, "our culture and its stories largely determine the manner in which we experience the world and our place in it." I personally believe there is a lot of power in the collected constructions that our society holds, and in a good way. I don't think he'd disagree, but it can definitely hinder our ability to live authentically and heal and all sorts of good things.
So, he sets about exploding many of our cultural myths about healing, tackling social, biomedical, religious, and New Age ones in course. For each, he offers a "magical" incantation, a way of reframing healing and our role in it.
Except (almost) all of them are incredibly difficult for me. In part because a lot of the myths privilege intellect and an "I can think my way around and out of this" attitude. Even if that's not the core of the myth itself, in order to let go of it, you sort of have to be able to accept that intellect often hinders healing more than it helps. And that is unbelievably difficult for me. I feel like maybe I need to spend some time with Yoda.
Anyway, so that's where I'm sitting right now, "influenced by all we have been, all that we have done, all that we have believed, and all that we have interacted with," trying to find meaning for me. Or rather, trying to let go of the desire to *find* meaning.
I'm still processing my way through this book, so I don't know that I have anything coherent to say yet. In brief, Epstein touches on one of my favorite philosophical points, which is (although he would say it differently) that we construct narratives and "truths" that shape our lives based on societally-based myths that we accept. Or even if we don't accept them per se, in some way we have fully digested them. As he says, "our culture and its stories largely determine the manner in which we experience the world and our place in it." I personally believe there is a lot of power in the collected constructions that our society holds, and in a good way. I don't think he'd disagree, but it can definitely hinder our ability to live authentically and heal and all sorts of good things.
So, he sets about exploding many of our cultural myths about healing, tackling social, biomedical, religious, and New Age ones in course. For each, he offers a "magical" incantation, a way of reframing healing and our role in it.
Except (almost) all of them are incredibly difficult for me. In part because a lot of the myths privilege intellect and an "I can think my way around and out of this" attitude. Even if that's not the core of the myth itself, in order to let go of it, you sort of have to be able to accept that intellect often hinders healing more than it helps. And that is unbelievably difficult for me. I feel like maybe I need to spend some time with Yoda.
Anyway, so that's where I'm sitting right now, "influenced by all we have been, all that we have done, all that we have believed, and all that we have interacted with," trying to find meaning for me. Or rather, trying to let go of the desire to *find* meaning.
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.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Addressing the void
Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Terror of Death - Irvin D. Yalom (Jossey-Bass, 2008)
One nice thing about having a blog which few (if any!) read is that I can be fairly forthcoming when it comes to self-disclosure. So I can tell you that this book was recommended to me recently as I've been going through a struggle with anxiety that has taken the form - in part - of death panic.
It seems so banal somehow to state "I'm afraid of dying" and so I've perhaps had a difficult time doing that. And my reluctance to just say it gives the fear more power. In this fear, I must realize, I am far from alone. Which is one of the many helpful takeaways from Yalom's work.
Oddly, as I start to try to describe the book, I find it slipping away from me. I'm not sure why that is. But let me try to reel it back in. Yalom explores the prevalence of death anxiety, and ways in which he has found the words of past thinkers helpful. He uses copious examples from his own work as a therapist. He challenges us to consider what about death terrifies us, and in what ways we can find comfort in confrontation.
I was also struck by his emphasis on connection. It's a theme that I've come back to again and again in my life, particularly in challenging times, and in this book I almost felt as though my focus was being validated.
This is almost useless as a book review, so let me try to sum up my reading experience. I struggled at times with this book, finding myself alternately receptive to its message and entirely the opposite. I argued with it, and raged over the places where it seemed to be speaking to someone entirely other than myself. I even found myself wishing for more spirituality, although Yalom very eloquently explains his reasons for the omission. And yet, these experiences enriched the book, because they forced me to ask myself why I reacted so strongly. For an introspective reader, this book offers ample food for thought, and certainly a dose of comfort.
One nice thing about having a blog which few (if any!) read is that I can be fairly forthcoming when it comes to self-disclosure. So I can tell you that this book was recommended to me recently as I've been going through a struggle with anxiety that has taken the form - in part - of death panic.
It seems so banal somehow to state "I'm afraid of dying" and so I've perhaps had a difficult time doing that. And my reluctance to just say it gives the fear more power. In this fear, I must realize, I am far from alone. Which is one of the many helpful takeaways from Yalom's work.
Oddly, as I start to try to describe the book, I find it slipping away from me. I'm not sure why that is. But let me try to reel it back in. Yalom explores the prevalence of death anxiety, and ways in which he has found the words of past thinkers helpful. He uses copious examples from his own work as a therapist. He challenges us to consider what about death terrifies us, and in what ways we can find comfort in confrontation.
I was also struck by his emphasis on connection. It's a theme that I've come back to again and again in my life, particularly in challenging times, and in this book I almost felt as though my focus was being validated.
This is almost useless as a book review, so let me try to sum up my reading experience. I struggled at times with this book, finding myself alternately receptive to its message and entirely the opposite. I argued with it, and raged over the places where it seemed to be speaking to someone entirely other than myself. I even found myself wishing for more spirituality, although Yalom very eloquently explains his reasons for the omission. And yet, these experiences enriched the book, because they forced me to ask myself why I reacted so strongly. For an introspective reader, this book offers ample food for thought, and certainly a dose of comfort.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Hotshots
Hot as Sin - Bella Andre (Dell Books, 2009)
Sometimes library books get misdirected. Like this one which showed up yesterday. So obviously I had to read it before sending it to its rightful destination. In brief:
Sometimes library books get misdirected. Like this one which showed up yesterday. So obviously I had to read it before sending it to its rightful destination. In brief:
- car accidents cause a lot of miscarriages
- all firefighters are hot
- if you run away from love when you're 18, you'll eventually run into the guy 10 years later, and fall in love again
- especially if he flies across states to see you after a second car accident
- and then helps you trek through the woods to save your kidnapped sister
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Institutionalized Injustice
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness - Michelle Alexander (The New Press, 2010)
Alexander provides an impassioned monograph arguing what we - if we're to be honest with ourselves - already know: the criminal justice system in this country has systemic problems that make it racially biased. And our criminal justice system legitimizes ongoing and permanent discrimination against those that fall into its hands. In effect, we have created a new set of structures that mimic many of the effects of Jim Crow.
What I found particularly compelling was Alexander's analysis of the impact of the War on Drugs, and how a "public consensus was constructed by political and media elites that drug crime is black and brown." Furthermore, court decisions have essentially given a green light to racial profiling. And what is especially fantastic about this is that African Americans engage in illegal drug behavior at no greater rate than Caucasians. And yet they are caught and punished so far disproportionately that it becomes a joke.
I might have been precisely the target audience for this book. And yet, in reading, I sometimes got caught up with things that took away from her argument. Like following footnotes to discover sources, and seeing how often the reference was another scholarly work, not the primary source itself. (And then in one case spending a whole bunch of time online trying to look up old Congressional Records in order to figure out whether the cited source attributed a quote to the correct person.) This made me cranky, which seems particularly unfair of me when you consider how few works of popular scholarship offer footnotes whatsoever. But this, I fear, is just who I am.
Give this book a shot. It broadened and deepened my understanding of the incarceration crisis in this country, and made me wonder how taking voting rights away from felons isn't a violation of the Fifteenth Amendment. And so on. Excellent food for thought.
Alexander provides an impassioned monograph arguing what we - if we're to be honest with ourselves - already know: the criminal justice system in this country has systemic problems that make it racially biased. And our criminal justice system legitimizes ongoing and permanent discrimination against those that fall into its hands. In effect, we have created a new set of structures that mimic many of the effects of Jim Crow.
What I found particularly compelling was Alexander's analysis of the impact of the War on Drugs, and how a "public consensus was constructed by political and media elites that drug crime is black and brown." Furthermore, court decisions have essentially given a green light to racial profiling. And what is especially fantastic about this is that African Americans engage in illegal drug behavior at no greater rate than Caucasians. And yet they are caught and punished so far disproportionately that it becomes a joke.
I might have been precisely the target audience for this book. And yet, in reading, I sometimes got caught up with things that took away from her argument. Like following footnotes to discover sources, and seeing how often the reference was another scholarly work, not the primary source itself. (And then in one case spending a whole bunch of time online trying to look up old Congressional Records in order to figure out whether the cited source attributed a quote to the correct person.) This made me cranky, which seems particularly unfair of me when you consider how few works of popular scholarship offer footnotes whatsoever. But this, I fear, is just who I am.
Give this book a shot. It broadened and deepened my understanding of the incarceration crisis in this country, and made me wonder how taking voting rights away from felons isn't a violation of the Fifteenth Amendment. And so on. Excellent food for thought.
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