Thursday, October 27, 2011
The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown
To be honest, I found this sort of boring. I trudged on til the end, because it was on the edge of saying something profound a time or two, but it never quite made it.
Nightwoods by Charles Frazier
Disappointing. I really loved 'Cold Mountain' and enjoyed 'Thirteen Moons' a lot, but this book just didn't do anything for me. Even the sections that should have been exciting felt tired. Maybe Mr. Frazier should stick to historical fiction, because his heart certainly didn't seem to be in this more contemporary novel.
Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez
Please don't compare this book with 'The Help', because "Wench" is far superior to that book, both in quality of writing and historical background.
"Wench" is the story of four women, who each represent an aspect of the life of a female slave,used for sex. One imagines herself in love, one tolerates her master, one is a fighter, and one is worn out after years of abuse. Regardless of their personal experiences, all are 'wenches', women who are sexual partners (and mothers of children) of the men who own them. Though they come from different areas of the south, the four women meet once yearly at an Ohio resort, where for the first time, they are exposed to free Blacks and Northerners. As Ohio was a 'free' state, thoughts of running away begin to occupy their minds, and each has to make a decision about going, staying, and the role of family in their lives.
I found this book fascinating. It is not often that one reads an account of slave life juxtaposed with free Blacks and Northerners that is set pre-Civil War. Dr. Dolen Perkins-Valdez has done a beautiful job of period research, making it easy for the reader to slip into the minds and lives of these women, particularly Lizzie, the protagonist. The first and third sections of the book take place in successive summers in the Ohio resort (which actually existed), while the center section focuses on Lizzie's life from the year she first caught her master's eye until the year before the main action of the book takes place. Perkins-Valdez uses this section to begin to illuminate the complexity of the choices, few though they were, that a slave had to make. I particularly enjoyed the moral complexities illuminated: is a mother's responsibility to her children to make them recognize the reality of their status, or to let them grab whatever joy they can from life? Is it better to turn in a prospective runaway, earning them a whipping, or chance a dead friend when the runaway is almost surely re-captured? Can love exist between individuals when one has absolute control over the other? Dr. Perkins-Valdez never gives us the answer; she lets us make our own determination. Thus, this is not an easy book.There are beautiful things and harsh things that happen, and we're not allowed to flinch from either one. In that way, I think it's more than fair to compare Dr. Dolen Perkins-Valdez to Toni Morrison. Though I'm sure her style isn't as polished, there is that same aspect of "LOOK. SEE. KNOW." that I enjoy in Morrison's best works.
What "Wench" shouldn't be compared to is "The Help". Yes, I know that book is America's darling right now, but "Wench" is leaps and bounds ahead in storytelling ability and believability. No schmaltz. No easy answers. No crap. AND "Wench" is far more historically accurate than "The Help". Please read this book if you think that one was pivotal. You won't be sorry you did.
"Wench" is the story of four women, who each represent an aspect of the life of a female slave,used for sex. One imagines herself in love, one tolerates her master, one is a fighter, and one is worn out after years of abuse. Regardless of their personal experiences, all are 'wenches', women who are sexual partners (and mothers of children) of the men who own them. Though they come from different areas of the south, the four women meet once yearly at an Ohio resort, where for the first time, they are exposed to free Blacks and Northerners. As Ohio was a 'free' state, thoughts of running away begin to occupy their minds, and each has to make a decision about going, staying, and the role of family in their lives.
I found this book fascinating. It is not often that one reads an account of slave life juxtaposed with free Blacks and Northerners that is set pre-Civil War. Dr. Dolen Perkins-Valdez has done a beautiful job of period research, making it easy for the reader to slip into the minds and lives of these women, particularly Lizzie, the protagonist. The first and third sections of the book take place in successive summers in the Ohio resort (which actually existed), while the center section focuses on Lizzie's life from the year she first caught her master's eye until the year before the main action of the book takes place. Perkins-Valdez uses this section to begin to illuminate the complexity of the choices, few though they were, that a slave had to make. I particularly enjoyed the moral complexities illuminated: is a mother's responsibility to her children to make them recognize the reality of their status, or to let them grab whatever joy they can from life? Is it better to turn in a prospective runaway, earning them a whipping, or chance a dead friend when the runaway is almost surely re-captured? Can love exist between individuals when one has absolute control over the other? Dr. Perkins-Valdez never gives us the answer; she lets us make our own determination. Thus, this is not an easy book.There are beautiful things and harsh things that happen, and we're not allowed to flinch from either one. In that way, I think it's more than fair to compare Dr. Dolen Perkins-Valdez to Toni Morrison. Though I'm sure her style isn't as polished, there is that same aspect of "LOOK. SEE. KNOW." that I enjoy in Morrison's best works.
What "Wench" shouldn't be compared to is "The Help". Yes, I know that book is America's darling right now, but "Wench" is leaps and bounds ahead in storytelling ability and believability. No schmaltz. No easy answers. No crap. AND "Wench" is far more historically accurate than "The Help". Please read this book if you think that one was pivotal. You won't be sorry you did.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Still Life with Husband by Lauren Fox
Oh my goodness... how to rate this book?
'Still Life with Husband' is Emily's story. She's a thirtysomething freelance journalist with a job she likes, a nice home, good friends, and a husband who loves her completely. What's wrong with all that? She gets bored. She gets stressed by the thought of living in the suburbs. She is irritated by her husband's requests that she consider having the child they'd agreed that both wanted.
So what does she do? She starts an affair with a slightly younger, slightly 'edgier' photographer. And slowly throws her life away.
First, let me say that this book hooked me at the library. I picked it up and giggled my way through the first couple of chapters. Emily talks and thinks (at that point) much like I do with my friends. So I took it home, read the rest... and by the end would have cheerfully slapped her face right off of her head. After starting a hitman fund for her husband. Before helping him hide the body.
The woman who was funny and slightly cynical at the beginning is revealed to have depths of self-centeredness and self-interest that truly shocked me. I don't want to give away too much here, but suffice to say that I was upset about this book for a few days--hell, it makes me mad thinking about it right now.
...And there's the rub. Despite my intense NEED to trash this book, neither it nor Fox deserves that. For her to create a character that I hate with the burning passion that I hate Emily... well, that takes TALENT. I haven't hated a character like this since 'The Great Santini' (Pat Conroy), and I read a LOT of books.
Being fair, Lauren Fox is a fine writer. Her characters are true, in the finest sense of the word. How tempting must it have been to have Emily's character redeemed at the end, how easy and reader-satisfying? I admire Fox so much for not doing that. Emily is at the end as she was in the beginning. People don't change much, after all. The dialogue in this book is just spot on, an evocation of the way real women speak (at least in my world). And each situation, every damned one, is plausible.
I still don't like this book, but it isn't because of the writing. If you can admire that without getting personally involved with the characters (and I couldn't manage that), this really is a lovely, well-written book.
Which I intend on forgetting as soon as I can. Two coffee cups out of five.
'Still Life with Husband' is Emily's story. She's a thirtysomething freelance journalist with a job she likes, a nice home, good friends, and a husband who loves her completely. What's wrong with all that? She gets bored. She gets stressed by the thought of living in the suburbs. She is irritated by her husband's requests that she consider having the child they'd agreed that both wanted.
So what does she do? She starts an affair with a slightly younger, slightly 'edgier' photographer. And slowly throws her life away.
First, let me say that this book hooked me at the library. I picked it up and giggled my way through the first couple of chapters. Emily talks and thinks (at that point) much like I do with my friends. So I took it home, read the rest... and by the end would have cheerfully slapped her face right off of her head. After starting a hitman fund for her husband. Before helping him hide the body.
The woman who was funny and slightly cynical at the beginning is revealed to have depths of self-centeredness and self-interest that truly shocked me. I don't want to give away too much here, but suffice to say that I was upset about this book for a few days--hell, it makes me mad thinking about it right now.
...And there's the rub. Despite my intense NEED to trash this book, neither it nor Fox deserves that. For her to create a character that I hate with the burning passion that I hate Emily... well, that takes TALENT. I haven't hated a character like this since 'The Great Santini' (Pat Conroy), and I read a LOT of books.
Being fair, Lauren Fox is a fine writer. Her characters are true, in the finest sense of the word. How tempting must it have been to have Emily's character redeemed at the end, how easy and reader-satisfying? I admire Fox so much for not doing that. Emily is at the end as she was in the beginning. People don't change much, after all. The dialogue in this book is just spot on, an evocation of the way real women speak (at least in my world). And each situation, every damned one, is plausible.
I still don't like this book, but it isn't because of the writing. If you can admire that without getting personally involved with the characters (and I couldn't manage that), this really is a lovely, well-written book.
Which I intend on forgetting as soon as I can. Two coffee cups out of five.
Robopocalypse by Daniel H Wilson
'Robopocalypse' is another in the list of dystopian fictions that are wildly popular right now. Set in the near future, it is the story of what happens when the robots we created become smart enough to want to get rid of us (Cue AC/DC's 'Who made Who'). Focusing on a few people in different locations around the planet, 'Robopocalypse' is written as a supposed series of first person narratives, collected and transcribed by a third party.
First, let's talk about the name. It's dumb. The story, though... that's a different story. I found 'Robopocalypse' to be an entertaining, enjoyable read, from the first page to the last. Though it's structure is clearly modeled on Max Brooks' zombie apocalypse novel 'World War Z' (soon to be a film with Brad Pitt, and a fine book in itself), it is not a clear derivative. Where 'World War Z' kept fairly stringently to a third person omniscient point of view, 'Robopocalypse' is far more personal in the narratives of each person. In fact, that damages the conceit of the novel, the device of the stories having been harvested by a robot and transcribed by a single individual--how would either come up with the very personal points of view of each story? It would have been better to have dropped that idea and just gone with a series of interlocked first person narratives (which these are, anyway), without the 'outside voice' of the transcriber.
Never mind that though (I just tuned it out eventually). It becomes unimportant as the novel steams along. It's entertaining as hell! I don't know if plans are already in motion, but if the rights to this novel isn't bought by a studio by the end of the year, I will be very surprised. Wilson creates both characters and storylines that kept me eagerly reading and wondering... is this possible? He makes a convincing argument. I really enjoyed 'Robopocalypse'. If you like dystopian fiction, so will you.
First, let's talk about the name. It's dumb. The story, though... that's a different story. I found 'Robopocalypse' to be an entertaining, enjoyable read, from the first page to the last. Though it's structure is clearly modeled on Max Brooks' zombie apocalypse novel 'World War Z' (soon to be a film with Brad Pitt, and a fine book in itself), it is not a clear derivative. Where 'World War Z' kept fairly stringently to a third person omniscient point of view, 'Robopocalypse' is far more personal in the narratives of each person. In fact, that damages the conceit of the novel, the device of the stories having been harvested by a robot and transcribed by a single individual--how would either come up with the very personal points of view of each story? It would have been better to have dropped that idea and just gone with a series of interlocked first person narratives (which these are, anyway), without the 'outside voice' of the transcriber.
Never mind that though (I just tuned it out eventually). It becomes unimportant as the novel steams along. It's entertaining as hell! I don't know if plans are already in motion, but if the rights to this novel isn't bought by a studio by the end of the year, I will be very surprised. Wilson creates both characters and storylines that kept me eagerly reading and wondering... is this possible? He makes a convincing argument. I really enjoyed 'Robopocalypse'. If you like dystopian fiction, so will you.
The Family Fang By Kevin Wilson
'The Family Fang', by Kevin Wilson, was a troubling read for me. It is the story of the Fang Family, two parents and two children. Mr and Mrs Fang are performance artists, staging 'shocking' spectacles in public places in the name of 'art'. Their children are both pawns of their art and sometimes willing, often unwilling participants. The book shifts perspective between the 'growing up' years of Annie and Buster (the kids), and the present of their adulthood. This book seems to be asking the question, "Will he kids be alright, no matter what, as long as they're not abused in a traditional sense?" The answer is a resounding, "No."
Buster and Annie are profoundly not okay. Not at all. Both are addicts, both sabotage their careers, both undervalue themselves except in so far as how they are viewed by others, neither has a stable relationship. After each having their individual lifequake, they find themselves in the last place either ever wanted to be again: home.
I wanted to like this book, and there were definitely shining moments of comedy and pathos that kept me from closing the cover, never to return. It was close, though. The problem is not so much Wilson's writing as the fact that it was so difficult to find a genuine moment in the book, something that caught my attention and especially emotion, making it possible for me to give a damn what happened to these characters. Look, I'll be honest: this book is derivative as hell, of both John Irving (master of the dysfunctional family-remember 'The Hotel New Hampshire'?) and of Wes Anderson (remember 'The Royal Tenenbaums'?). Many of the events seemed to have been pulled out of the 'I gotta do something WACKY now' hat, and in a way that was not at all believable. Irving can do these things, because he has the ability to make all the insane events that occur in his novels BELIEVABLE. He ties them into the narrative in such a way that they seem inevitable, rather than random. Anderson has this same ability. Wilson, unfortunately, does not, at least not yet. He does seem to have a genuine talent hiding under his borrowed plumage, and I'd love to read something by him when he finds his OWN voice.
I give this two coffee cups out of five, and a fervent hope that in the future this author gives us something from his heart. Mr. Wilson, I'm eager to read that something.
Buster and Annie are profoundly not okay. Not at all. Both are addicts, both sabotage their careers, both undervalue themselves except in so far as how they are viewed by others, neither has a stable relationship. After each having their individual lifequake, they find themselves in the last place either ever wanted to be again: home.
I wanted to like this book, and there were definitely shining moments of comedy and pathos that kept me from closing the cover, never to return. It was close, though. The problem is not so much Wilson's writing as the fact that it was so difficult to find a genuine moment in the book, something that caught my attention and especially emotion, making it possible for me to give a damn what happened to these characters. Look, I'll be honest: this book is derivative as hell, of both John Irving (master of the dysfunctional family-remember 'The Hotel New Hampshire'?) and of Wes Anderson (remember 'The Royal Tenenbaums'?). Many of the events seemed to have been pulled out of the 'I gotta do something WACKY now' hat, and in a way that was not at all believable. Irving can do these things, because he has the ability to make all the insane events that occur in his novels BELIEVABLE. He ties them into the narrative in such a way that they seem inevitable, rather than random. Anderson has this same ability. Wilson, unfortunately, does not, at least not yet. He does seem to have a genuine talent hiding under his borrowed plumage, and I'd love to read something by him when he finds his OWN voice.
I give this two coffee cups out of five, and a fervent hope that in the future this author gives us something from his heart. Mr. Wilson, I'm eager to read that something.
A Jane Austen Education by Willian Deresiewicz
'A Jane Austen Education' was a revelation and a treat to read. This non-fiction memoir is about a male doctoral candidate (Deresiewicz) who is 'forced' to read Austen's novels, which he has assiduously avoided thus far, as part of a graduate seminar. Grumbling and jaded, he takes up 'Emma', finding it as dull and repetitive as he'd already decided it must be... until something about it catches his attention. He starts to see himself and a life lesson he needs to learn within the pages of this 'domestic novel'-eighteenth century chick lit, as it were.
Over the course of his graduate and doctoral career, Deresiewicz then makes a point of reading each of Austen's novels, and by doing so learns more lessons from this simple, home loving woman than he's made room for in the life paradigm he'd constructed for himself. In short, they made him a better, more compassionate person. In the end, they made him ready for the relationship for which he'd yearned, and had even 'helped' him choose his wife.
I have to admit, I am something of an Austen lover. However, I found this book astounding for the depth of information about each novel that he is able to impart in a casual, non-teachery book. For each chapter and each novel, Deresiewicz gives the reader not only a wonderful overview of each book, he also gives us an overview of Austen's life, thought processes, and influences that fed into each book. Then he relates what he read to his own life and mind in an honest way that had me cheering for him more than once. Even from the single book that he never came to like (Mansfield Park), he drew a lesson that seems obvious... once he's pointed it out. Having never been able to get through that book myself, I thoroughly enjoyed having an Austen scholar admit that to not liking the book, yet STILL gaining wisdom from the pages.
Which brings up an important point: for a reader who is intimidated by Austen, this book would be a powerful tool. Deresiewicz's breakdowns of each novel are spot on, and the historical information he appends make the novels themselves even more appealing, as they put events in the books in historical and social context. Who knew that 'Northranger Abbey' was a spoof on popular Gothic novels of the day, novels that Austen was jokingly admitting to having read at a time when such an admission would take her status as an author (already precarious, as she was female) even lower? I sure didn't, but his thumbnail sketch made me want to read it again.
I truly, truly enjoyed this book, and would love to own a copy. I give it four coffee cups out of five.
Over the course of his graduate and doctoral career, Deresiewicz then makes a point of reading each of Austen's novels, and by doing so learns more lessons from this simple, home loving woman than he's made room for in the life paradigm he'd constructed for himself. In short, they made him a better, more compassionate person. In the end, they made him ready for the relationship for which he'd yearned, and had even 'helped' him choose his wife.
I have to admit, I am something of an Austen lover. However, I found this book astounding for the depth of information about each novel that he is able to impart in a casual, non-teachery book. For each chapter and each novel, Deresiewicz gives the reader not only a wonderful overview of each book, he also gives us an overview of Austen's life, thought processes, and influences that fed into each book. Then he relates what he read to his own life and mind in an honest way that had me cheering for him more than once. Even from the single book that he never came to like (Mansfield Park), he drew a lesson that seems obvious... once he's pointed it out. Having never been able to get through that book myself, I thoroughly enjoyed having an Austen scholar admit that to not liking the book, yet STILL gaining wisdom from the pages.
Which brings up an important point: for a reader who is intimidated by Austen, this book would be a powerful tool. Deresiewicz's breakdowns of each novel are spot on, and the historical information he appends make the novels themselves even more appealing, as they put events in the books in historical and social context. Who knew that 'Northranger Abbey' was a spoof on popular Gothic novels of the day, novels that Austen was jokingly admitting to having read at a time when such an admission would take her status as an author (already precarious, as she was female) even lower? I sure didn't, but his thumbnail sketch made me want to read it again.
I truly, truly enjoyed this book, and would love to own a copy. I give it four coffee cups out of five.
The Pale Blue Eye by Louis Baylor
'The Pale Blue Eye' was a fascinating read! Set in the 1850s, this is a historical mystery of epic proportions.
The book is set at West Point. The Academy is still in it's relative infancy, still trying to prove itself as a producer of quality military officers. In a shocking turn of events, a cadet is found dead. Though it is still a scandal, the initial judgment that it is a suicide is somewhat of a relief to the leasers of the school. Imagine their horror when the cadet's heart is stolen from his body after it is discovered,thus making it fairly clear that his death was neither accident not suicide.
Enter Gus Landor, a retired New York City police detective who is renowned for his observational and crime solving skills. He is coaxed into working the case; because he needs eyes and ears within the closed-mouthed troop of cadets, he finds himself in need of assistance from a student. In an interesting twist, he asks for and is assigned an older cadet, one Edgar Allen Poe. Together they work the case, taking clues and extrapolating theories in a most entertaining and absorbing manner, until we are eventually presented with a murderer and motive. The ending of this book took me completely by surprise, which is not easy to do.
A book with the device of using a known and loved historical figure shouldn't (and usually doesn't) work. Most often, the historical figure is mythologized or torn apart to such an extent that the book becomes a parody at best and a shoddy mess at worst. Baylor, though... Baylor pulls this off delightfully. His story is neither a paeon to the genius of Poe, nor a scourgement of his character; Poe is recognizable, but still a fully realized, human character. Many reviews will lead you to think that he is the center of this book, but that is not, in fact, the truth. The real character and fascination of The Pale Blue Eye is the character of Landon. I've not found myself liking a character quite so much in quite a while. His wry sense of humor, intelligence, and flashes of vulnerability captured me utterly.
Aside from the strength of his characters, Baylor shows a finesse in story construction that is inspiring. I know little about him, but I'd judge him, by this book, to be a very experienced, mature writer. Each page, by necessity, has the responsibility of building logically and completely upon the previous page, letting the reader know just enough (but not too much) to lure us along the path of the story... so he can drop us thrillingly to the bottom.
I don't read mysteries. EVER. This book, though, with it's fine balance of mystery, history, and well-rounded, believable characters captured my imagination. Very well done! I give this four coffee cups out of five, and I'll definitely read it again. though I know who the killer is now, I can still savor Baylor's use of language and the wonderful characters he's created.
The book is set at West Point. The Academy is still in it's relative infancy, still trying to prove itself as a producer of quality military officers. In a shocking turn of events, a cadet is found dead. Though it is still a scandal, the initial judgment that it is a suicide is somewhat of a relief to the leasers of the school. Imagine their horror when the cadet's heart is stolen from his body after it is discovered,thus making it fairly clear that his death was neither accident not suicide.
Enter Gus Landor, a retired New York City police detective who is renowned for his observational and crime solving skills. He is coaxed into working the case; because he needs eyes and ears within the closed-mouthed troop of cadets, he finds himself in need of assistance from a student. In an interesting twist, he asks for and is assigned an older cadet, one Edgar Allen Poe. Together they work the case, taking clues and extrapolating theories in a most entertaining and absorbing manner, until we are eventually presented with a murderer and motive. The ending of this book took me completely by surprise, which is not easy to do.
A book with the device of using a known and loved historical figure shouldn't (and usually doesn't) work. Most often, the historical figure is mythologized or torn apart to such an extent that the book becomes a parody at best and a shoddy mess at worst. Baylor, though... Baylor pulls this off delightfully. His story is neither a paeon to the genius of Poe, nor a scourgement of his character; Poe is recognizable, but still a fully realized, human character. Many reviews will lead you to think that he is the center of this book, but that is not, in fact, the truth. The real character and fascination of The Pale Blue Eye is the character of Landon. I've not found myself liking a character quite so much in quite a while. His wry sense of humor, intelligence, and flashes of vulnerability captured me utterly.
Aside from the strength of his characters, Baylor shows a finesse in story construction that is inspiring. I know little about him, but I'd judge him, by this book, to be a very experienced, mature writer. Each page, by necessity, has the responsibility of building logically and completely upon the previous page, letting the reader know just enough (but not too much) to lure us along the path of the story... so he can drop us thrillingly to the bottom.
I don't read mysteries. EVER. This book, though, with it's fine balance of mystery, history, and well-rounded, believable characters captured my imagination. Very well done! I give this four coffee cups out of five, and I'll definitely read it again. though I know who the killer is now, I can still savor Baylor's use of language and the wonderful characters he's created.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The Master By Colm Toibin
"The Master" is a novelization of the life of the writer Henry James, author of classics like "The Turn of the Screw" and "Portrait of a Lady". In the course of the novel, Toibin takes the reader through James life: his fascinating, talented family, his travels, hints about his sexuality, his work, drawing a portrait that is deft and quite moving at times.
Toibin is a fine writer of contemporary fiction, one of the best out there. His prose is clear, delicate when it needs to be and blunt when it suits the topic and character. He draws his characters well; they shine fron the page like people you could know in your everyday life... and maybe that is the downfall of this novel.
I didn't like "The Master" nearly as well as I'd anticipated. Toibin's other books have moved me, largely because of his characters and the lives he creates for them. In this case, though this is clearly a novelization of James' life, it seems that Toibin is hampered by detail. It's difficult to see his own light underneath the research he has clearly done on the life of the famed writer--the prose becomes quite stilted at times, which is a disappointment.
There is also the issue of working with a known subject. While James died in 1916, that date is recent enough that he's a known quantity, if you will. It would be difficult to play with his character (as many a writer has done with historical figures from further in the past) when so much is chronicled about him already. This hampers Toibin's characteristic subtlety when creating his own people.
Finally... the approach to James' sexuality. This is a touchy point when the subject has not been forthcoming, at the best of times. Toibin seems to have tried to take the high road and walk the fence (to mix metaphors terribly). Does he come down clearly on the side of James being homosexual (which really seemed to me to be the subtext) and risk antagonizing the relations? Does he deny the rumors and use James' relations and obsessions with certain females (Scandanavians who die young, disturbingly) as justification? He does neither. To give him credit, perhaps it was to avoid being any more invasive about the life of a real person as he had to be. Regardless, it didn't work. By leaving this area vague, he's created a 'flat spot' in the narrative. Perhaps it would have been better to take a side, clarify in author's note that this IS a work of fiction, and let the book into the world.
"The Master" is an interesting exploration of James' life, in much the same way as a biopic of someone you like is interesting. If you want the best of TOIBIN, though, look at his fully created novels. Those are where he shines. I give this three coffee cups out of five, and encourage you to read his other books.
Toibin is a fine writer of contemporary fiction, one of the best out there. His prose is clear, delicate when it needs to be and blunt when it suits the topic and character. He draws his characters well; they shine fron the page like people you could know in your everyday life... and maybe that is the downfall of this novel.
I didn't like "The Master" nearly as well as I'd anticipated. Toibin's other books have moved me, largely because of his characters and the lives he creates for them. In this case, though this is clearly a novelization of James' life, it seems that Toibin is hampered by detail. It's difficult to see his own light underneath the research he has clearly done on the life of the famed writer--the prose becomes quite stilted at times, which is a disappointment.
There is also the issue of working with a known subject. While James died in 1916, that date is recent enough that he's a known quantity, if you will. It would be difficult to play with his character (as many a writer has done with historical figures from further in the past) when so much is chronicled about him already. This hampers Toibin's characteristic subtlety when creating his own people.
Finally... the approach to James' sexuality. This is a touchy point when the subject has not been forthcoming, at the best of times. Toibin seems to have tried to take the high road and walk the fence (to mix metaphors terribly). Does he come down clearly on the side of James being homosexual (which really seemed to me to be the subtext) and risk antagonizing the relations? Does he deny the rumors and use James' relations and obsessions with certain females (Scandanavians who die young, disturbingly) as justification? He does neither. To give him credit, perhaps it was to avoid being any more invasive about the life of a real person as he had to be. Regardless, it didn't work. By leaving this area vague, he's created a 'flat spot' in the narrative. Perhaps it would have been better to take a side, clarify in author's note that this IS a work of fiction, and let the book into the world.
"The Master" is an interesting exploration of James' life, in much the same way as a biopic of someone you like is interesting. If you want the best of TOIBIN, though, look at his fully created novels. Those are where he shines. I give this three coffee cups out of five, and encourage you to read his other books.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
One Day By David Nicholls
I'm angry.
Really freaking angry.
I finished this book yesterday, and I'm still pissed off.
I'll try to do this without spoilers.
The basic storyline is this: Emma Morley and Dexter Mayhew have known each other since early University. On the evening of graduation, they have an unconsummated make out session that leads to a lifelong relationship. The central conceit of the story is that it revisits them on the anniversary of that date each year for twenty years.
All well and good so far. The glimpses of their lives that we as readers are treated to are sometimes enlightening, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, and often frustrating. Imagine taking the events of your any given day and relating them to a disinterested observer, once a year. Just that day, and no other. Even given the context that would eventually develop, could you fairly expect them to know you or care about what happens to you? If you're lucky, and if you're a very talented storyteller (as Nicholls clearly is), you might be able to create some relationship with that observer, even of the most tenuous sort. But if you can't quite make that connection... not so good.
I was really looking forward to reading this book, as I found Nicholls' earlier novel, "Starter for 10" to be a funny, heart tugging slice of real life. This book has that charm as well. The narrative (most of it-I'll come back to this later) is clear, the dialogue believable, and the characterizations consistent (even given he changes that can be expected over twenty years' time). Nicholls sketches locations in a way that brings the reader right inside the rooms, on the streets, in the moment. I enjoyed that aspect very much. He has a power to his writing that captures the imagination. As a writer as well as a lifelong reader, I really appreciate that Nicholls' secondary and tertiary characters are drawn with the same sureness as his protagonists. That makes for so much more enjoyable a read than the now-popular habit authors have gotten into of 'shorthanding' the side characters--most often they are nothing more than cardboard cut outs, with only the barest hit of life. Not so these minor characters.
So we come to the main characters. Emma first, because I came to like her quite a lot. It's gratifying to see her grow from an angry, self-conscious college graduate into a strong,confident woman. She is by no means perfect: she has her moments of preachiness and self-satisfaction, of self-pity and judgmentalism. They are balanced by her good points, though: she's kind and self-sacrificing, brave and open-hearted. In that way, she's a very realistic character. At the end of the day, despite her faults, you like her.
No so with Dexter, at least not for me. In Dexter we have a most inadmirable character. He's a cad. He's a bit of an elitist. He's selfish and self-centered. And when he's not being all these things, he's self-pitying and whiny. I understand Nicholls' heart for the unsympathetic character--he did some of the same things with the character of Brian in "Starter for 10". Brian was a bit of a wanker at the beginning of "Starter", and it was almost refreshing that he was still a prat at the end. In the middle, though... we come to understand him. We can connect. I remember cringing as I saw myself in some of the asinine things he did, and I think that situation wasn't limited to me. There is none of that with Dexter, though, and it's a pity. At no point did I like or feel any sympathy for him. That's a difficult thing to pull off for an author, especially when the character isn't supposed to be evil (think Humbert Humbert in 'Lolita'). Emma refers to Dexter's good points several times in the novel, but the problem for me is that I saw very, very few of them in action. Maybe if we were treated in the course of the narrative to more instances of those qualities Emma talks about, I could have cared what happened to him at the end.
And the end... well, here's where it gets the hardest not to spoil. Suffice to say that I hated it, and not because it wasn't what I expected/wanted. I don't go into a book looking for a certain ending. What I do expect is for the ending to make narrative sense, no matter if it's happy or sad. The ending of this book seemed to me to be a massive shark jump, from a realistic, if wistful, ending to one of hyper-drama. Maybe I'll look back on it later and see something different... maybe I'll see the departure point from reality as a good thing, a honest jarring of the senses. Maybe.
But right now, I feel like Annie Wilkes in "Misery": "It's a dirty cheat."
I give this three coffee cups out of five, because I do truly like Nicholls' writing style, and I admire his way with words and capacity to create believable situations and characters. I may read this again in future and 'get it'. But not now.
Really freaking angry.
I finished this book yesterday, and I'm still pissed off.
I'll try to do this without spoilers.
The basic storyline is this: Emma Morley and Dexter Mayhew have known each other since early University. On the evening of graduation, they have an unconsummated make out session that leads to a lifelong relationship. The central conceit of the story is that it revisits them on the anniversary of that date each year for twenty years.
All well and good so far. The glimpses of their lives that we as readers are treated to are sometimes enlightening, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, and often frustrating. Imagine taking the events of your any given day and relating them to a disinterested observer, once a year. Just that day, and no other. Even given the context that would eventually develop, could you fairly expect them to know you or care about what happens to you? If you're lucky, and if you're a very talented storyteller (as Nicholls clearly is), you might be able to create some relationship with that observer, even of the most tenuous sort. But if you can't quite make that connection... not so good.
I was really looking forward to reading this book, as I found Nicholls' earlier novel, "Starter for 10" to be a funny, heart tugging slice of real life. This book has that charm as well. The narrative (most of it-I'll come back to this later) is clear, the dialogue believable, and the characterizations consistent (even given he changes that can be expected over twenty years' time). Nicholls sketches locations in a way that brings the reader right inside the rooms, on the streets, in the moment. I enjoyed that aspect very much. He has a power to his writing that captures the imagination. As a writer as well as a lifelong reader, I really appreciate that Nicholls' secondary and tertiary characters are drawn with the same sureness as his protagonists. That makes for so much more enjoyable a read than the now-popular habit authors have gotten into of 'shorthanding' the side characters--most often they are nothing more than cardboard cut outs, with only the barest hit of life. Not so these minor characters.
So we come to the main characters. Emma first, because I came to like her quite a lot. It's gratifying to see her grow from an angry, self-conscious college graduate into a strong,confident woman. She is by no means perfect: she has her moments of preachiness and self-satisfaction, of self-pity and judgmentalism. They are balanced by her good points, though: she's kind and self-sacrificing, brave and open-hearted. In that way, she's a very realistic character. At the end of the day, despite her faults, you like her.
No so with Dexter, at least not for me. In Dexter we have a most inadmirable character. He's a cad. He's a bit of an elitist. He's selfish and self-centered. And when he's not being all these things, he's self-pitying and whiny. I understand Nicholls' heart for the unsympathetic character--he did some of the same things with the character of Brian in "Starter for 10". Brian was a bit of a wanker at the beginning of "Starter", and it was almost refreshing that he was still a prat at the end. In the middle, though... we come to understand him. We can connect. I remember cringing as I saw myself in some of the asinine things he did, and I think that situation wasn't limited to me. There is none of that with Dexter, though, and it's a pity. At no point did I like or feel any sympathy for him. That's a difficult thing to pull off for an author, especially when the character isn't supposed to be evil (think Humbert Humbert in 'Lolita'). Emma refers to Dexter's good points several times in the novel, but the problem for me is that I saw very, very few of them in action. Maybe if we were treated in the course of the narrative to more instances of those qualities Emma talks about, I could have cared what happened to him at the end.
And the end... well, here's where it gets the hardest not to spoil. Suffice to say that I hated it, and not because it wasn't what I expected/wanted. I don't go into a book looking for a certain ending. What I do expect is for the ending to make narrative sense, no matter if it's happy or sad. The ending of this book seemed to me to be a massive shark jump, from a realistic, if wistful, ending to one of hyper-drama. Maybe I'll look back on it later and see something different... maybe I'll see the departure point from reality as a good thing, a honest jarring of the senses. Maybe.
But right now, I feel like Annie Wilkes in "Misery": "It's a dirty cheat."
I give this three coffee cups out of five, because I do truly like Nicholls' writing style, and I admire his way with words and capacity to create believable situations and characters. I may read this again in future and 'get it'. But not now.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Georgia Bottoms by Mark Childress
Georgia Bottoms has problems. The family fortune is a myth, her mother is slowly succumbing to an Alzheimer's like fog, her brother is a drunk and a petty thief, and her carefully constructed house of adultery cards is starting to tumble down. To top it all off, her illegitimate half African-American son has come back into her life. Did I mention that her best friend (and female mayor of the quaint little town of Six Points) is in love with her? What's a Southern belle to do?
I'd heard how funny Childress' books were, so I picked this up at the library; what a disappointment. For me, there were very few laughs in 'Georgia Bottoms', and no heart at all. Childress definitely has ability--his dialogue is well done, and the story does eventually come to a sort of believable end. The problem is that he takes a very round about way of getting there. That's normally not an issue for me (two of my favorites are John Irving and Stephen King, and Lord knows they go all Dickens at a drop of a hat), but the byways in Georgia Bottoms aren't all that interesting, not do they lead naturally to the ending. To tell the truth, it looks like Childress was forcing 'wackiness' in place of actual story. I got frustrated by the meandering side stories because they seemed to be mainly in the service of time worn cliches about the South and Southerners, rather than actually enhancing the story. Childress is no Flannery O'Connor (as he is dubiously compared to on a jacket blurb), no Jan Karon--hell, he's no Fanny Flagg.
In Georgia Bottoms, he's created one of the least likable characters I've ever read: she's self-absorbed, self-centered, a hypocrite, and an unabashed racist (though she'd deny both of the last to the death). Her world is... unappealing. I 'get' that perhaps that's something that's supposed to make the reader feel wise--the fact that we see these things about Georgia and she doesn't. David Nicholls does the same thing with his main character, Brian, in the fine 'Starter for 10'. The difference between Georgia and Brian, though, is that we can see ourselves within Brian (even while seeing what a prat he can be); there is no such point of connection with Georgia.
I give this two coffee cups out of five--it was ok--because I can see that Childress really does have talent. I'll definitely try another one of his novels, to see if he got it 'right' in another story. Georgia Bottoms is not unstomachable... but I wouldn't read it again.
I'd heard how funny Childress' books were, so I picked this up at the library; what a disappointment. For me, there were very few laughs in 'Georgia Bottoms', and no heart at all. Childress definitely has ability--his dialogue is well done, and the story does eventually come to a sort of believable end. The problem is that he takes a very round about way of getting there. That's normally not an issue for me (two of my favorites are John Irving and Stephen King, and Lord knows they go all Dickens at a drop of a hat), but the byways in Georgia Bottoms aren't all that interesting, not do they lead naturally to the ending. To tell the truth, it looks like Childress was forcing 'wackiness' in place of actual story. I got frustrated by the meandering side stories because they seemed to be mainly in the service of time worn cliches about the South and Southerners, rather than actually enhancing the story. Childress is no Flannery O'Connor (as he is dubiously compared to on a jacket blurb), no Jan Karon--hell, he's no Fanny Flagg.
In Georgia Bottoms, he's created one of the least likable characters I've ever read: she's self-absorbed, self-centered, a hypocrite, and an unabashed racist (though she'd deny both of the last to the death). Her world is... unappealing. I 'get' that perhaps that's something that's supposed to make the reader feel wise--the fact that we see these things about Georgia and she doesn't. David Nicholls does the same thing with his main character, Brian, in the fine 'Starter for 10'. The difference between Georgia and Brian, though, is that we can see ourselves within Brian (even while seeing what a prat he can be); there is no such point of connection with Georgia.
I give this two coffee cups out of five--it was ok--because I can see that Childress really does have talent. I'll definitely try another one of his novels, to see if he got it 'right' in another story. Georgia Bottoms is not unstomachable... but I wouldn't read it again.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Perfect Copy by Judith Gaines
I received "Perfect Copy" through the Indie Book Collective, with the promise of a review, so here goes:
"Perfect Copy" was fast moving and fairly interesting. I found the story involving and the characters realistic. It was a pleasant surprise to find that it was not a re-hash of the Kubrick/Spielberg movie, "A.I.". I liked the way that the author made the scientific aspect accessible for the average reader. As a mom, my heart went out to Roman from the beginning.
Despite all the positive aspects of the novel, though, here were serious issues with grammar, sentence structure, and word choice. A good, substantive editor would do a world of good for "Perfect Copy". I read widely (as well as writing and editing), in many genres, and these issues seem to crop up quite often in self-published romance and sci-fi manuscripts. Some scenes could stand with fleshing out, as well.
Bottom line: "Perfect Copy" had enough interesting matter in the story to make me keep reading, despite the technical shortcomings. With a good edit, this could be mainstream publishable. But until that edit is done, "Perfect Copy" is not.
"Perfect Copy" was fast moving and fairly interesting. I found the story involving and the characters realistic. It was a pleasant surprise to find that it was not a re-hash of the Kubrick/Spielberg movie, "A.I.". I liked the way that the author made the scientific aspect accessible for the average reader. As a mom, my heart went out to Roman from the beginning.
Despite all the positive aspects of the novel, though, here were serious issues with grammar, sentence structure, and word choice. A good, substantive editor would do a world of good for "Perfect Copy". I read widely (as well as writing and editing), in many genres, and these issues seem to crop up quite often in self-published romance and sci-fi manuscripts. Some scenes could stand with fleshing out, as well.
Bottom line: "Perfect Copy" had enough interesting matter in the story to make me keep reading, despite the technical shortcomings. With a good edit, this could be mainstream publishable. But until that edit is done, "Perfect Copy" is not.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
A Mercy by Toni Morrison
Can Toni Morrison write a bad book?
I don't think it's possible. "A Mercy" will certainly not be the book to challenge that belief, either.
In this novel, Morrison helps the reader journey back to the earliest days of what would become the United States, when both the budding nation and her slave trade were young. The nominal heroine of the book is a young slave girl, Florens, who is given to a reluctant farmer/merchant as partial payment for a bad debt. Through the eyes of her owner's wife, older slave woman, and ward, as well as Florens' own thoughts,we see Florens change from a young girl who is devastated by what she sees as her mother's betrayal in giving up her own daughter,to a bitter woman betrayed by a man she thinks she loves.
That's the top story, and it's a good one.
The reality, though, goes much deeper. The story of one woman's loss and betrayal by a system that belittles her humanity is sorrowful, but even more important is Morrison's clear-eyed revelation of the sorrows of being a woman at that time, in general. Florens' story is painful and shameful, but Morrison brings the point home sharply that all of the women in this story are chattel. Florens is born a slave to a lascivious master; Lina, the older slave, is sold into into slavery by men of a neighboring tribe after her own tribe is destroyed by smallpox (brought to Africa by the white invaders); Sorrow, the owner's ward, comes to the family after having been kept as a pet and virtual slave on her father's ship and having been abused to the point of near insanity by a the sons of her Protestant minister 'saviour'. Even Rebekkah, the master's wife, is effectively 'sold' to him by her father, for the price of passage to the new world and the satisfaction of one less mouth to feed. As the merchant master travels, these untrained women are left behind to run the farm that is their backbone and failsafe if his sales are unsuccessful. And they do it. They make it work, beyond all expectation, only to all face homelessness, misery, and privation upon his death.
As much as I admire Morrison's characterizations of all involved, two characters that we seldom see have the biggest impact: the free African blacksmith that captures Florens' attention and admiration, and her mother. Though he plays his role in creating the bitter woman Florens becomes, I can't stop thinking about his definition of slavery, where it really exists. I won't tell you what that is, because I want you to read this excellent book, but know that I've thought about it a lot. And Florens' mother... her actions are finally explained at the end of the book. It won't come as a surprise to any mother, but my heart ached for Florens. If only she'd been old enough to understand.
THIS is what makes "A Mercy" powerful, especially if you're prone (as am I) to bring the lessons of any given story into the modern day. I look around me, at the children and women in want, and I have to wonder: have things changed all that much?
I give this four coffee cups out of five. And I'll read it again. And again.
I don't think it's possible. "A Mercy" will certainly not be the book to challenge that belief, either.
In this novel, Morrison helps the reader journey back to the earliest days of what would become the United States, when both the budding nation and her slave trade were young. The nominal heroine of the book is a young slave girl, Florens, who is given to a reluctant farmer/merchant as partial payment for a bad debt. Through the eyes of her owner's wife, older slave woman, and ward, as well as Florens' own thoughts,we see Florens change from a young girl who is devastated by what she sees as her mother's betrayal in giving up her own daughter,to a bitter woman betrayed by a man she thinks she loves.
That's the top story, and it's a good one.
The reality, though, goes much deeper. The story of one woman's loss and betrayal by a system that belittles her humanity is sorrowful, but even more important is Morrison's clear-eyed revelation of the sorrows of being a woman at that time, in general. Florens' story is painful and shameful, but Morrison brings the point home sharply that all of the women in this story are chattel. Florens is born a slave to a lascivious master; Lina, the older slave, is sold into into slavery by men of a neighboring tribe after her own tribe is destroyed by smallpox (brought to Africa by the white invaders); Sorrow, the owner's ward, comes to the family after having been kept as a pet and virtual slave on her father's ship and having been abused to the point of near insanity by a the sons of her Protestant minister 'saviour'. Even Rebekkah, the master's wife, is effectively 'sold' to him by her father, for the price of passage to the new world and the satisfaction of one less mouth to feed. As the merchant master travels, these untrained women are left behind to run the farm that is their backbone and failsafe if his sales are unsuccessful. And they do it. They make it work, beyond all expectation, only to all face homelessness, misery, and privation upon his death.
As much as I admire Morrison's characterizations of all involved, two characters that we seldom see have the biggest impact: the free African blacksmith that captures Florens' attention and admiration, and her mother. Though he plays his role in creating the bitter woman Florens becomes, I can't stop thinking about his definition of slavery, where it really exists. I won't tell you what that is, because I want you to read this excellent book, but know that I've thought about it a lot. And Florens' mother... her actions are finally explained at the end of the book. It won't come as a surprise to any mother, but my heart ached for Florens. If only she'd been old enough to understand.
THIS is what makes "A Mercy" powerful, especially if you're prone (as am I) to bring the lessons of any given story into the modern day. I look around me, at the children and women in want, and I have to wonder: have things changed all that much?
I give this four coffee cups out of five. And I'll read it again. And again.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Cupboard Full of Coats by Yvvette Edwards
Jinx is a woman in crisis, though she doesn't know it.
A child of an older father, who died before his daughter really got to know him, and a loving (if needy) mother, Jinx had a child hood of loneliness and loss. Her single school friend is more of a 'frenemie'. Jinx is a young woman who is at loose ends and unsure of her place in her world. At sixteen, her loss becomes complete when her mother is murdered after a short, mostly unhappy relationship. Jinx decides from then on that she can depend on no one but herself, and her relationships with her estranged husband and four year old son are collateral damage. Fourteen years later, her mother's friend, Lemon, returns to Jinx' London home, determined to make things right with the young girl he felt he'd wronged. In the course of one weekend, Lemon and Jinx exchange stories of their pasts, trying to put to rest the ghost of Jinx's mother and to determine how much each is culpable in her death.
I had a hard time getting into this book, frankly. Jinx is initially a very unsympathetic character, self centered and bordering on cruel to her young son (Ben). I have a son of a similar age, and my heart just hurt for him when she cuts him off and ignores his young need for attention. However, things became clearer and clearer as the story went on. Seeing Jinx' relationships with her mother and her only friend torn apart, both by a spectacularly bad choices in boyfriends, it became easier to see how Jinx came to guard her heart so closely. Lemon, too, develops beautifully as a character as his story unfolds, from his childhood friendship with Jinx' mother's murderer, his own marriage and fatherhood, and his relationship with Jinx's mother, culminating with her final night alive.
Characterization, in fact, is a huge strength of Edwards' writing. All of the characters, even those that play smaller roles (such as Jinx's estranged husband, Red) are clearly drawn and full-fleshed. I found myself wanting to know about Red, about their brief marriage, and how he made the decision to leave. I had similar interest in her only briefly seen father, and her friend. Unfortunately, those stories are a outside the scope of this story, and I respect Edwards for keeping her eyes on the prize, never deviating in her slow peeling back of the layers of the fortress around Jinx' heart.
I truly liked this book, when all was said and done. The writing was sharp and clean, the characterizations on point, and the language spot on. I give this four cups out of five, and I'd dearly love to read whatever Edwards next writes.
A child of an older father, who died before his daughter really got to know him, and a loving (if needy) mother, Jinx had a child hood of loneliness and loss. Her single school friend is more of a 'frenemie'. Jinx is a young woman who is at loose ends and unsure of her place in her world. At sixteen, her loss becomes complete when her mother is murdered after a short, mostly unhappy relationship. Jinx decides from then on that she can depend on no one but herself, and her relationships with her estranged husband and four year old son are collateral damage. Fourteen years later, her mother's friend, Lemon, returns to Jinx' London home, determined to make things right with the young girl he felt he'd wronged. In the course of one weekend, Lemon and Jinx exchange stories of their pasts, trying to put to rest the ghost of Jinx's mother and to determine how much each is culpable in her death.
I had a hard time getting into this book, frankly. Jinx is initially a very unsympathetic character, self centered and bordering on cruel to her young son (Ben). I have a son of a similar age, and my heart just hurt for him when she cuts him off and ignores his young need for attention. However, things became clearer and clearer as the story went on. Seeing Jinx' relationships with her mother and her only friend torn apart, both by a spectacularly bad choices in boyfriends, it became easier to see how Jinx came to guard her heart so closely. Lemon, too, develops beautifully as a character as his story unfolds, from his childhood friendship with Jinx' mother's murderer, his own marriage and fatherhood, and his relationship with Jinx's mother, culminating with her final night alive.
Characterization, in fact, is a huge strength of Edwards' writing. All of the characters, even those that play smaller roles (such as Jinx's estranged husband, Red) are clearly drawn and full-fleshed. I found myself wanting to know about Red, about their brief marriage, and how he made the decision to leave. I had similar interest in her only briefly seen father, and her friend. Unfortunately, those stories are a outside the scope of this story, and I respect Edwards for keeping her eyes on the prize, never deviating in her slow peeling back of the layers of the fortress around Jinx' heart.
I truly liked this book, when all was said and done. The writing was sharp and clean, the characterizations on point, and the language spot on. I give this four cups out of five, and I'd dearly love to read whatever Edwards next writes.
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Blackwater Lightship by Colm Toibin
The Blackwater Lightship is a lovely book. Set in Ireland in the early 1990s, it's the story of three women (Helen, Lily, and Dora), come together to care for their brother, son, and grandson (Declan) as he suffers perhaps the end of his struggle with AIDS. Along with two friends of Declan, the six of them spend the week together, telling stories of their lives and putting old demons to rest.
This sounds like a serious book, and it is. Matters of life, death, and especially family history, shape who the characters (and we) are to a huge extent, and that's serious business. However, real life is not all drama, and neither is this book. There are very funny parts as well--Dora learning to drive a car jumps immediately to mind.
Toibin is a lovely writer. I envy his command of language; the words are chosen precisely-there is no doubt at any point what idea or feeling he is trying to convey. I love that his characters feel so very real. Lily, mother to Helen and daughter to Dora, and unrepentant homophobe, could have been an easily disliked and unsympathetic character... but she's not. Toibin makes the reader think by also making her a determinedly loving mother and daughter. She has flaws, large ones, in fact, but her redeeming characters make her difficult to hate. By contrast, as the main character, Helen would have been very easy to write as heroine: she lives as urban life, with a varied list of friends, she knew her brother was gay and didn't care, she feels herself betrayed by her mother's actions in the past... but she's also unbending in her prejudices vis'a'vis her personal past. She accepts that her brother is gay, yes... but why didn't he tell her that he had AIDS? She holds her husband and children back from her while simultaneously clinging to them. Helen is allowed to be a real woman with her own issues.
The beauty of this story is in the backstories of the characters and how the lessons of their individual pasts are either recognized or unrecognized by the character him/herself, and how those lessons are interpreted by the others. Especially helpful is seeing a situation through multiple eyes: Helen's father's death, many years before, was formational in the lives of many of the characters, and seeing that time through multiple sets of eyes is sobering. What seems to be a given to Helen is viewed very differently through Lily's eyes, or Dora's, and is a sharp reminder that our personal perceptions aren't reality.
One thing that I'm only noticing now is that we 'hear' stories from everyone except Declan. I wonder why that is? Now I have to re-read, and it will be a joy. There are layers of meaning in this slight, 273 page book. It is a marvel. I give this an enthusiastic four coffee cups out of five.
This sounds like a serious book, and it is. Matters of life, death, and especially family history, shape who the characters (and we) are to a huge extent, and that's serious business. However, real life is not all drama, and neither is this book. There are very funny parts as well--Dora learning to drive a car jumps immediately to mind.
Toibin is a lovely writer. I envy his command of language; the words are chosen precisely-there is no doubt at any point what idea or feeling he is trying to convey. I love that his characters feel so very real. Lily, mother to Helen and daughter to Dora, and unrepentant homophobe, could have been an easily disliked and unsympathetic character... but she's not. Toibin makes the reader think by also making her a determinedly loving mother and daughter. She has flaws, large ones, in fact, but her redeeming characters make her difficult to hate. By contrast, as the main character, Helen would have been very easy to write as heroine: she lives as urban life, with a varied list of friends, she knew her brother was gay and didn't care, she feels herself betrayed by her mother's actions in the past... but she's also unbending in her prejudices vis'a'vis her personal past. She accepts that her brother is gay, yes... but why didn't he tell her that he had AIDS? She holds her husband and children back from her while simultaneously clinging to them. Helen is allowed to be a real woman with her own issues.
The beauty of this story is in the backstories of the characters and how the lessons of their individual pasts are either recognized or unrecognized by the character him/herself, and how those lessons are interpreted by the others. Especially helpful is seeing a situation through multiple eyes: Helen's father's death, many years before, was formational in the lives of many of the characters, and seeing that time through multiple sets of eyes is sobering. What seems to be a given to Helen is viewed very differently through Lily's eyes, or Dora's, and is a sharp reminder that our personal perceptions aren't reality.
One thing that I'm only noticing now is that we 'hear' stories from everyone except Declan. I wonder why that is? Now I have to re-read, and it will be a joy. There are layers of meaning in this slight, 273 page book. It is a marvel. I give this an enthusiastic four coffee cups out of five.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Between the Bridge and the River by Craig Ferguson
Spotted this at the library and was surprised: who knew the Scottish comedian was also a writer? So, I checked it out, took it home, and started to read.
*sigh*
There's a reason that he's not known as a writer. This book definitely had it's funny, roll on the floor laughing moments, but they were disjointed. Some types of verbal patter work in books, but his doesn't. Ferguson is a master of witty asides, and they definitely show up here. It seems clear that he's gone, through use of footnotes, for a style similar to Terry Pratchett, and while I find Pratchett hilarious, Ferguson isn't quite up to comparison. The chapters and scenes have little natural flow and thus the laughter ends up episodic.
I give this two coffee cups out of five. Ferguson's funny, when it's on, is really on; when it's not... it's boring.
*sigh*
There's a reason that he's not known as a writer. This book definitely had it's funny, roll on the floor laughing moments, but they were disjointed. Some types of verbal patter work in books, but his doesn't. Ferguson is a master of witty asides, and they definitely show up here. It seems clear that he's gone, through use of footnotes, for a style similar to Terry Pratchett, and while I find Pratchett hilarious, Ferguson isn't quite up to comparison. The chapters and scenes have little natural flow and thus the laughter ends up episodic.
I give this two coffee cups out of five. Ferguson's funny, when it's on, is really on; when it's not... it's boring.
Caleb's Crossing by Geraldine Brooks
Caleb's Crossing is a historical novel told in three parts. It tells a highly fictionalized tale of "Caleb Cheeshahteaumauk, a member of the Wopanaak tribe of Noepe (Martha's Vineyard), born 1646, and the first Native American to graduate from Harvard College." (from the Author's Note). The story is told in three parts, through the eyes of a female colonist and friend of Caleb's, Bethia Mayhew.
The first part takes place in 1657, and relates how Bethia comes to be acquianted with the young brave. In Bethia, we have a girl who is strong and brave, but straitened by the times in which she lives. Her family came into possession of the island through what they consider fair dealing with the native tribes (rather than the land grabs that were more common). Her grandfather is the magistrate of the island, and her father the minister. Bethia longs to know everything. She's learned to read and write (English, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew) through a combination of lessons from her father and through sly listening in on his more advanced lessons to her older brother. She's learned the language of the natives through the same manner. Feeling strangled by the society in which she lives, Bethia often wanders the island, searching for sustenance for her family. In this manner, she comes unexpectedly upon Cheeshahteaumauk (who she quickly renames Caleb), and they become fast, though secret, friends. Her father's zeal to convert the native islanders to Christianity is given a boost when smallpox sweeps he tribe after he is humiliated by Caleb's uncle; the tribes consider the pox perhaps a punishment from Mayhew's God. Caleb is sent to live with the Mayhews.
In part two (1661), Bethia's world is shattered when her beloved baby sister dies (her mother died in that child's birth), quickly followed by her Father. In order to assure her brother's acceptance at a school in Cambridge that will complete his preparation for Harvard, Bethia is bound into a four year indentured servitude to the headmaster. She journeys hence with her brother, Makepeace, Caleb, and another Native American boy, Joel, to find privation that she'd not imagined before. Her master is kind, but the treatment of the Native boys that she calls friend is deplorable. We meet a female Native scholar here, as well, Anna, and suffer miscarriage of both a child that was unknown to all, and of justice, when the father fails to be brought to justice. A love triangle, of sorts, is introduced at this point, as Bethia must choose between her friend/former suitor back on the island, and the Harvard educated son of her master. We finish this section with the impending graduation from Harvard of Caleb and Joel (Makepeace has long since dropped out of the picture).
The third, and weakest, section begins in 1715. An aged Bethia is reminiscing about her marriage (I won't say to whom), early married life, and the ultimate fate of Caleb and Joel. The weakness of this section is in it's very disjointed nature. It jumps back and forth in time, perhaps indicating the mental state of the aged narrator, but I found it nonetheless jarring.
I enjoyed this book, as I've enjoyed all of Brooks' books. Her prose is spot on, as is her grasp of the times and the language of the times. Brooks is a historian, and it shows in each of her novels. I ended wanting to know more about the real Caleb, but, sadly, there is very little factually known about him. The biggest weakness, as in all of Brooks' novels, is her 'romance'. In no book, including this one, is it ever believable, nor does she seem comfortable writing such scenes. It's almost as if an editor (or perhaps Brooks herself) said, "This is a novel and you're a woman, so there has to be some romance." As insulting as that is to female readers and writers, more insulting is the perfunctory and uneasy way she deals with 'The Luv'. I'd far rather she skipped that and gave us more of the fabric of her characters' lives, because she excels in that sphere.
All in all, I enjoyed Caleb's Crossing, but I would have junked the romance and tightened up the third act. I'd give this three coffee cups out of five. Enjoyable, but not a don't miss.
As a post script to make you think, the second Wopanaak tribesmember to graduate from Harvard is Tiffany Smalley. She just graduated this year.
The first part takes place in 1657, and relates how Bethia comes to be acquianted with the young brave. In Bethia, we have a girl who is strong and brave, but straitened by the times in which she lives. Her family came into possession of the island through what they consider fair dealing with the native tribes (rather than the land grabs that were more common). Her grandfather is the magistrate of the island, and her father the minister. Bethia longs to know everything. She's learned to read and write (English, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew) through a combination of lessons from her father and through sly listening in on his more advanced lessons to her older brother. She's learned the language of the natives through the same manner. Feeling strangled by the society in which she lives, Bethia often wanders the island, searching for sustenance for her family. In this manner, she comes unexpectedly upon Cheeshahteaumauk (who she quickly renames Caleb), and they become fast, though secret, friends. Her father's zeal to convert the native islanders to Christianity is given a boost when smallpox sweeps he tribe after he is humiliated by Caleb's uncle; the tribes consider the pox perhaps a punishment from Mayhew's God. Caleb is sent to live with the Mayhews.
In part two (1661), Bethia's world is shattered when her beloved baby sister dies (her mother died in that child's birth), quickly followed by her Father. In order to assure her brother's acceptance at a school in Cambridge that will complete his preparation for Harvard, Bethia is bound into a four year indentured servitude to the headmaster. She journeys hence with her brother, Makepeace, Caleb, and another Native American boy, Joel, to find privation that she'd not imagined before. Her master is kind, but the treatment of the Native boys that she calls friend is deplorable. We meet a female Native scholar here, as well, Anna, and suffer miscarriage of both a child that was unknown to all, and of justice, when the father fails to be brought to justice. A love triangle, of sorts, is introduced at this point, as Bethia must choose between her friend/former suitor back on the island, and the Harvard educated son of her master. We finish this section with the impending graduation from Harvard of Caleb and Joel (Makepeace has long since dropped out of the picture).
The third, and weakest, section begins in 1715. An aged Bethia is reminiscing about her marriage (I won't say to whom), early married life, and the ultimate fate of Caleb and Joel. The weakness of this section is in it's very disjointed nature. It jumps back and forth in time, perhaps indicating the mental state of the aged narrator, but I found it nonetheless jarring.
I enjoyed this book, as I've enjoyed all of Brooks' books. Her prose is spot on, as is her grasp of the times and the language of the times. Brooks is a historian, and it shows in each of her novels. I ended wanting to know more about the real Caleb, but, sadly, there is very little factually known about him. The biggest weakness, as in all of Brooks' novels, is her 'romance'. In no book, including this one, is it ever believable, nor does she seem comfortable writing such scenes. It's almost as if an editor (or perhaps Brooks herself) said, "This is a novel and you're a woman, so there has to be some romance." As insulting as that is to female readers and writers, more insulting is the perfunctory and uneasy way she deals with 'The Luv'. I'd far rather she skipped that and gave us more of the fabric of her characters' lives, because she excels in that sphere.
All in all, I enjoyed Caleb's Crossing, but I would have junked the romance and tightened up the third act. I'd give this three coffee cups out of five. Enjoyable, but not a don't miss.
As a post script to make you think, the second Wopanaak tribesmember to graduate from Harvard is Tiffany Smalley. She just graduated this year.
Dale Loves Sophie to Death by Robb Forman Dew
I picked this book up at the library on a whim, and ended up reading nearly the whole thing while standing in the aisle. Weighing in at a slim 217 pages, Dale Loves Sophie to Death is a quick read... but not a light one.
From the jacket blurb:
"Dew's astonishing debut illuminates the varieties of romantic love and the unexpected rewards of family life as it tells the story of a woman whose husband stays behind in New England while she and their three young children return to her midwestern town to spend the summer. "
Interesting enough, but that's just the beginning. As the story begins, we meet Dinah, the first protagonist, and learn that this trip is one she's taken each summer for the past eight years, using the time away from her 'real life' to reconnect with childhood and family. We meet her mother, a decidedly unsympathetic character, and her father (who is even more unsympathetic), and wonder where this woman who is trying so hard to be the 'good' wife and mother came from.
Her 'other half' is Martin, her husband of many years. In him, we find a good man and husband, but one that occasionally finds himself unmoored in life, searching for who knows what.
Dinah and Martin have come to rely on the two weeks apart as a time to recharge and remember how and why they originally came together. We see their separate journeys on this particular summer, as Dinah deals with a crisis of faith in her family, and Martin deals with a crisis of faith in his marriage.
I've often looked for a story about a real marriage, dealing with real emotions and the tiny things that make up every day life. This is that book. Though the writer's style is a little bit pedantic at times, she's got the petty irritations and everyday joys of marriage life down. Upon parting, both partners have a similar feeling: From Martin,
"...and these summers they parted mute with bewildered misery, feeling at once that they were being forced apart and yet each anxious to be away from the other."
From Dinah:
"She looked at his clean head, silhouetted against the car window, and she wanted to weep at the misunderstanding between them. There was no one, no others but the children, to whom she was more tied."
Do those sentiments sound familiar? They do to me. And they're just the tip of the iceberg of, "Good God! I know exactly how that feels!"
In the course of the book, Dinah comes to a sort of truce with her parents and a serenity with her own life that rings so very true, while Martin's brief foray into infidelity (one that didn't even horrify me as much as such scenes often do, because it is written and explained so well) ends with his realization of how very blessed he really is. From the last page:
"...with the children in the back seat and his wife beside him, he realized with wonder and relief that he was happy."
Dew's style is a little stiff, at times, but she fills her story with the little details of family life that ring so very true. She also never flinches at the truth of a long term relationship: the push/pull of parting and the awkwardness of reunions after a long separation are dealt with honestly. I loved this line:
"But always at the end of their summer separation they could only simulate, at first, their remembered affection, because, inescapably, there was a trace of shyness between them."
YES! Truth! The thing is, though, they do make that effort, knowing that life will return to normal.
This book was a welcome surprise. I'd not heard of story, nor author, but found it absorbing. In fact, I found myself, days later, worrying about one of their children (that was not a normal flu, I just know it!).
That, my friends, is writing. I give this four coffee cups out of five.
From the jacket blurb:
"Dew's astonishing debut illuminates the varieties of romantic love and the unexpected rewards of family life as it tells the story of a woman whose husband stays behind in New England while she and their three young children return to her midwestern town to spend the summer. "
Interesting enough, but that's just the beginning. As the story begins, we meet Dinah, the first protagonist, and learn that this trip is one she's taken each summer for the past eight years, using the time away from her 'real life' to reconnect with childhood and family. We meet her mother, a decidedly unsympathetic character, and her father (who is even more unsympathetic), and wonder where this woman who is trying so hard to be the 'good' wife and mother came from.
Her 'other half' is Martin, her husband of many years. In him, we find a good man and husband, but one that occasionally finds himself unmoored in life, searching for who knows what.
Dinah and Martin have come to rely on the two weeks apart as a time to recharge and remember how and why they originally came together. We see their separate journeys on this particular summer, as Dinah deals with a crisis of faith in her family, and Martin deals with a crisis of faith in his marriage.
I've often looked for a story about a real marriage, dealing with real emotions and the tiny things that make up every day life. This is that book. Though the writer's style is a little bit pedantic at times, she's got the petty irritations and everyday joys of marriage life down. Upon parting, both partners have a similar feeling: From Martin,
"...and these summers they parted mute with bewildered misery, feeling at once that they were being forced apart and yet each anxious to be away from the other."
From Dinah:
"She looked at his clean head, silhouetted against the car window, and she wanted to weep at the misunderstanding between them. There was no one, no others but the children, to whom she was more tied."
Do those sentiments sound familiar? They do to me. And they're just the tip of the iceberg of, "Good God! I know exactly how that feels!"
In the course of the book, Dinah comes to a sort of truce with her parents and a serenity with her own life that rings so very true, while Martin's brief foray into infidelity (one that didn't even horrify me as much as such scenes often do, because it is written and explained so well) ends with his realization of how very blessed he really is. From the last page:
"...with the children in the back seat and his wife beside him, he realized with wonder and relief that he was happy."
Dew's style is a little stiff, at times, but she fills her story with the little details of family life that ring so very true. She also never flinches at the truth of a long term relationship: the push/pull of parting and the awkwardness of reunions after a long separation are dealt with honestly. I loved this line:
"But always at the end of their summer separation they could only simulate, at first, their remembered affection, because, inescapably, there was a trace of shyness between them."
YES! Truth! The thing is, though, they do make that effort, knowing that life will return to normal.
This book was a welcome surprise. I'd not heard of story, nor author, but found it absorbing. In fact, I found myself, days later, worrying about one of their children (that was not a normal flu, I just know it!).
That, my friends, is writing. I give this four coffee cups out of five.
These is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine 1881-1901 By Nancy E Turner
What a wonderful book!
These is My Words is the sprawling, funny, sad, heart-racingly good story of a settler in the Arizona Territories. The book begins when Sarh Prine is seventeen. Her family tries a misbegotten trip East, ultimately ending with the death of a younger brother. They decide to return to the Arizona Territories, in a wagon train guarded by Army regulars.
It is there that Sarah meets the man who will be the love of her life, the dashing Captain Jack Elliott. Through Indian attacks, illness, more deaths, and shatteringly terrible weather, the Prine family perseveres and settles on new claims in Arizona.
And then the action really begins!
Sarah is a heroine for our age: feisty, capable, and stronger than the mesquite of her home, she faces horrors that most of us can only imagine. Through her eyes, we see the incredibly difficult process of taming an untamed land, building a life there, and raising children with honesty and similar strength. She endures a loveless first marriage and rebuilding her life afterward, as well.
Re enter Captain Elliott. Through the years, he's kept track of the Prines and kept a hand in their lives, enjoying a cantankerous relationship with Sarah over the years. It's clear to all but her that Jack is her other half, though she finally comes to recognize that fact. Some of the best repartee and scenes in the book are between her and her Army love ( and his love letter... *sigh*), but this book is not a historical romance. Though her relationship with her first husband and Jack are important parts of her life, they are only parts. Through her journal, we see the scope of pioneer life.
I can't say enough about this book. The prose is wonderfully written, and the characters believable. I'm a history nut, and so have read my share of true accounts of pioneer life. This story rings true. I give this four coffee cups on a five cup scale.
These is My Words is the sprawling, funny, sad, heart-racingly good story of a settler in the Arizona Territories. The book begins when Sarh Prine is seventeen. Her family tries a misbegotten trip East, ultimately ending with the death of a younger brother. They decide to return to the Arizona Territories, in a wagon train guarded by Army regulars.
It is there that Sarah meets the man who will be the love of her life, the dashing Captain Jack Elliott. Through Indian attacks, illness, more deaths, and shatteringly terrible weather, the Prine family perseveres and settles on new claims in Arizona.
And then the action really begins!
Sarah is a heroine for our age: feisty, capable, and stronger than the mesquite of her home, she faces horrors that most of us can only imagine. Through her eyes, we see the incredibly difficult process of taming an untamed land, building a life there, and raising children with honesty and similar strength. She endures a loveless first marriage and rebuilding her life afterward, as well.
Re enter Captain Elliott. Through the years, he's kept track of the Prines and kept a hand in their lives, enjoying a cantankerous relationship with Sarah over the years. It's clear to all but her that Jack is her other half, though she finally comes to recognize that fact. Some of the best repartee and scenes in the book are between her and her Army love ( and his love letter... *sigh*), but this book is not a historical romance. Though her relationship with her first husband and Jack are important parts of her life, they are only parts. Through her journal, we see the scope of pioneer life.
I can't say enough about this book. The prose is wonderfully written, and the characters believable. I'm a history nut, and so have read my share of true accounts of pioneer life. This story rings true. I give this four coffee cups on a five cup scale.
Friday, July 1, 2011
The Passage by Justin Cronin
Wow. This is one hell of a big, complex book!
At it's outset, it is set in a not-so-distant future. Scientists have made a discovery that they think could be used to save the terminally ill; their research is co-opted by the military, in hopes of creating a 'super soldier'. Using prisoners on death row as the guinea pigs, what is actually created is an entirely new being who best resembles an armor covered vampire that can influence minds. Of course, in the tradition of great monster movies, such an abomination cannot be contained for long. Our mega-vamps escape and wreak havoc, destroying first Colorado (where they are housed), and then most of the US (and maybe the rest of the world-Cronin is cagey and never really clarifies that).
Skip ahead a century, and we're suddenly plopped into a dystopian future, where the few remaining humans live in walled compounds, constantly on alert for incursions from 'dracs' or 'smokes', as they call the failed experiments and their 'children'. The plot thickens when a mysterious girl appears, and we get hints that the 'dracs' are influencing the minds of the colony's leaders.
This is a bold novel. Cronin takes on great swaths of time; some sections he handles better than others. However, I have to admit that even the sections that falter a bit are absorbing. Apparently this is intended the first in a series (and there is the requisite ugly cliffhanger at the end of the book to ram that point home); still, I wonder if the author started out intending to tell a complete story and had to stop to avoid having a 1k page book. Very few authors can sell a book like that, because it has to priced prohibitively to cover publishing costs. 'The Passage' feels like an unfinished book to me, unfortunately--the end is forced in a way that a planned series ending rarely is.
Before you get to that end, though, the ride is delightful! Cronin surprised me more than once, which is golden. As a long time reader of Stephen King, whose works this reminds me of very strongly (and who is one of the few that could sell the aforementioned 1K page book), I've seen a lot in the way of twists and interesting characters, and I've learned to anticipate and predict 'what happens next'; it's refreshing to be startled!
'The Passage' is an ambitious novel that doesn't quite live up to all the promises it makes; the ride is enjoyable enough, though, for me to give it four stars (despite the ending). I'm looking forward to the sequel.
At it's outset, it is set in a not-so-distant future. Scientists have made a discovery that they think could be used to save the terminally ill; their research is co-opted by the military, in hopes of creating a 'super soldier'. Using prisoners on death row as the guinea pigs, what is actually created is an entirely new being who best resembles an armor covered vampire that can influence minds. Of course, in the tradition of great monster movies, such an abomination cannot be contained for long. Our mega-vamps escape and wreak havoc, destroying first Colorado (where they are housed), and then most of the US (and maybe the rest of the world-Cronin is cagey and never really clarifies that).
Skip ahead a century, and we're suddenly plopped into a dystopian future, where the few remaining humans live in walled compounds, constantly on alert for incursions from 'dracs' or 'smokes', as they call the failed experiments and their 'children'. The plot thickens when a mysterious girl appears, and we get hints that the 'dracs' are influencing the minds of the colony's leaders.
This is a bold novel. Cronin takes on great swaths of time; some sections he handles better than others. However, I have to admit that even the sections that falter a bit are absorbing. Apparently this is intended the first in a series (and there is the requisite ugly cliffhanger at the end of the book to ram that point home); still, I wonder if the author started out intending to tell a complete story and had to stop to avoid having a 1k page book. Very few authors can sell a book like that, because it has to priced prohibitively to cover publishing costs. 'The Passage' feels like an unfinished book to me, unfortunately--the end is forced in a way that a planned series ending rarely is.
Before you get to that end, though, the ride is delightful! Cronin surprised me more than once, which is golden. As a long time reader of Stephen King, whose works this reminds me of very strongly (and who is one of the few that could sell the aforementioned 1K page book), I've seen a lot in the way of twists and interesting characters, and I've learned to anticipate and predict 'what happens next'; it's refreshing to be startled!
'The Passage' is an ambitious novel that doesn't quite live up to all the promises it makes; the ride is enjoyable enough, though, for me to give it four stars (despite the ending). I'm looking forward to the sequel.
Monday, June 13, 2011
"The Bronze Horseman" by Paullina Simons
This book came so close to being better than 'good'. I'm not often interested in traditional 'romance' novels, but the author's grasp of Russian history kept me involved and turning the pages. I greatly enjoyed her evocation of the pre war, and interwar eras. She had a strong grasp of the times and a wonderful way of bringing the characters to life, as well as a way of creating a believable family dynamic. Her picture of the post war era was not as clear, nor as compelling, largely because she jettisons her strength in favor of lengthy descriptions of sex.
Yeah, yeah... I know that is part of the bread and butter of modern day romance novels, but at this aspect she failed for me. Part of how this novel fails is that the sex is frankly overblown and told in eyerollingly purple prose. Our heroine (who has her own issues-back to that in a sec) goes from virgin to 'oh my God' screamer in record time, and rocks it like a porn star. And one twist near the end had me banging my head on my desk and yelling, "Can't you just be happy? After all you've been through?"
The real weakness of his book is the heroine. She vacillates between dull and silly, and ultimately brings the story to a weaker level. It's clear that the author has more respect and admiration for her hero, as he is a much more clearly defined character, and much more human.
Silly sex and a weak heroine plague the last quarter of this book, but the strong historical base that was established at the beginning kept me reading. It was, at the end of the day, good... but it could have been better.
Yeah, yeah... I know that is part of the bread and butter of modern day romance novels, but at this aspect she failed for me. Part of how this novel fails is that the sex is frankly overblown and told in eyerollingly purple prose. Our heroine (who has her own issues-back to that in a sec) goes from virgin to 'oh my God' screamer in record time, and rocks it like a porn star. And one twist near the end had me banging my head on my desk and yelling, "Can't you just be happy? After all you've been through?"
The real weakness of his book is the heroine. She vacillates between dull and silly, and ultimately brings the story to a weaker level. It's clear that the author has more respect and admiration for her hero, as he is a much more clearly defined character, and much more human.
Silly sex and a weak heroine plague the last quarter of this book, but the strong historical base that was established at the beginning kept me reading. It was, at the end of the day, good... but it could have been better.
"Ape House" by Sara Gruen
This is a hard one to review. Gruen again captures her characters beautifully, presenting people that seem real. The story is compelling-I had never even heard of bonobos, and their grasp of human speech and ASL was fascinating. However, the book left some storylines unfinished, and had other sections that seemed completely superfluous to the main story. It really seemed like this was a longer book that was truncated too severely, as if the writer was working under a word or page limit. Bottom line: I liked this book, but I could have loved it.
"Full Dark, No Stars" by Stephen King
"Full Dark, No Stars" was an interesting book, and it took two readings to appreciate what it has to offer. First off, this book is DARK, in terms of it's outlook on the human heart. This is no monster book; there's barely a whiff of the supernatural. We see the devil (maybe) and a re-animated corpse (perhaps), but King himself said it best when he quoted R.L. Stevenson's own estimation of the potion in "Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde" as, "so much hugger mugger". The 'out there' elements in these four stories are a means to an end, and that end is clearly to make us look at the monster within ourselves--to REALLY look, unflinchingly.
This he accomplishes well. The characters in all four stories are flawed, some fatally, but all are very human and relatable, even if we'd rather not see their less savory elements in ourselves. Ever been fixated on one idea (even pig stubborn)? '1922' will speak to you. Been hurt and want to retaliate? Try 'Big Driver' (in my opinion, the weakest story of the quartet). Thought you'd do ANYTHING to get what you want? 'Fair Extension'is your nasty little treat. Think you know all about your significant other? 'A Good Marriage' actually gave me a nightmare! After having read King's work for more years than I care to admit!
I'm trying to avoid spoilers, because I want you to get the full impact when you read this book (in fact, don't even read the book jacket--it gives away too much). Read these stories. Mull them over. Then go back and read them again. You won't be sorry.
I've only read one review of this book, and it was fairly negative. Fair to say that I think the reviewer didn't 'get it'. He was picking at similes and losing the forest for the trees. King's writing has changed over the years. He's no longer an idealistic twenty-something; he's got a mature person's view of life and what lies within us that can be unsettling. However, what he's lost in starshine he's more than made up for in heart. He's seen that dark (whether within himself or in others I wouldn't even hazard a guess), he acknowledges it... but he still has hope. All wrapped up in his characteristically realistic characters and dialogue that's hard to beat. This man knows people, and he's not afraid to show us with our halos balancing ever so precariously on our horns.
Now I want to go read this again...
This he accomplishes well. The characters in all four stories are flawed, some fatally, but all are very human and relatable, even if we'd rather not see their less savory elements in ourselves. Ever been fixated on one idea (even pig stubborn)? '1922' will speak to you. Been hurt and want to retaliate? Try 'Big Driver' (in my opinion, the weakest story of the quartet). Thought you'd do ANYTHING to get what you want? 'Fair Extension'is your nasty little treat. Think you know all about your significant other? 'A Good Marriage' actually gave me a nightmare! After having read King's work for more years than I care to admit!
I'm trying to avoid spoilers, because I want you to get the full impact when you read this book (in fact, don't even read the book jacket--it gives away too much). Read these stories. Mull them over. Then go back and read them again. You won't be sorry.
I've only read one review of this book, and it was fairly negative. Fair to say that I think the reviewer didn't 'get it'. He was picking at similes and losing the forest for the trees. King's writing has changed over the years. He's no longer an idealistic twenty-something; he's got a mature person's view of life and what lies within us that can be unsettling. However, what he's lost in starshine he's more than made up for in heart. He's seen that dark (whether within himself or in others I wouldn't even hazard a guess), he acknowledges it... but he still has hope. All wrapped up in his characteristically realistic characters and dialogue that's hard to beat. This man knows people, and he's not afraid to show us with our halos balancing ever so precariously on our horns.
Now I want to go read this again...
"The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey" by Walter Mosley
The 'Last Days of Ptolemy Grey' is without a doubt one of the best books I have read in a very long time.I picked it up on a whim, and was captivated from the beginning, quickly getting caught up in the life and misty mind of Ptolemy. From the chaos, fear, and betrayal of the opening pages to the poignant ending, Mosely had my attention trough deft use of language, detail, and especially dialogue.
Ptolemy Grey is a man nearing the end of his life. His mind is a misty mixture of old stories from the past, current events from the ever-present television and radio, and a murky recognition of his surroundings. At the wake of his closest relative, he meets Robyn, a seventeen year old orphan, who sweeps into his life and cleans out the squalor while still leaving him dignity. They come to depend upon one another, taking care each other; eventually Ptolemy makes a decision that will both shorten and enrich his life, and allow him to care for her forever.
Though I'd often heard of Mosely, of course, this is the first novel of his that I've read. It won't be the last. His characterizations are achingly real and sharp, and the pace of the story is quick, allowing us a look into a proud man's last days, a glimpse at his past, and hope for the future... all without bogging down in detail at any point. No scene seems cavalierly added; this is obviously a carefully crafted, carefully plotted book. I also admire his dialogue. Ptolemy, his young friend, Robyn, and even greedy Neicie come to life through voices that sound authentic.
'The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey' is a quick read--277 pages--but not a light read. I found myself stopping to think about many scenes, and I can see that it will definitely be a book I read again.
Ptolemy Grey is a man nearing the end of his life. His mind is a misty mixture of old stories from the past, current events from the ever-present television and radio, and a murky recognition of his surroundings. At the wake of his closest relative, he meets Robyn, a seventeen year old orphan, who sweeps into his life and cleans out the squalor while still leaving him dignity. They come to depend upon one another, taking care each other; eventually Ptolemy makes a decision that will both shorten and enrich his life, and allow him to care for her forever.
Though I'd often heard of Mosely, of course, this is the first novel of his that I've read. It won't be the last. His characterizations are achingly real and sharp, and the pace of the story is quick, allowing us a look into a proud man's last days, a glimpse at his past, and hope for the future... all without bogging down in detail at any point. No scene seems cavalierly added; this is obviously a carefully crafted, carefully plotted book. I also admire his dialogue. Ptolemy, his young friend, Robyn, and even greedy Neicie come to life through voices that sound authentic.
'The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey' is a quick read--277 pages--but not a light read. I found myself stopping to think about many scenes, and I can see that it will definitely be a book I read again.
"Left Neglected" by Lisa Genova
I picked up 'Left Neglected' at my library on a whim, and I'm very glad that I did. This is the story of a driven, Type-A employee, wife, and mother, who is able to 'do it all', keeping multiple very expensive, very fragile balls in the air by barely breathing. An accident that injures part of her brain forces her to slow down and reevaluate what is really important to her in her life.
Sounds pretty standard, right? A few pages in, I was preparing for the eyerolling to begin, expecting another 'bad wife/mother discovers her real place is in the home' novel, and to some extent that is what lies here. The difference is that this wife/mother clearly loves her family AND clearly loves being intellectually stimulated, and finds a balance between the two; that rarely occurs in modern 'women's lit' novels. Why we continue to try to 'one way or another' ourselves is beyond me, but that's a whole other bucket of worms that I don't intend to dump out here.
The bulk of the novel concerns Sarah's journey to her 'new normal', and the steps of denial and regret and acceptance that get her there. I'd never heard of left neglect, a condition where the affected person 'forgets' there is a left side of anything, and frankly it's frightening to contemplate trying to cope with that. I really liked that she seems so 'normal'--I can't count the women I know that do the balancing act she does, every day. Unlike many other books like this, she has a strong bond with her children and with her husband, and she is making everything work when catastrophe strikes; there's no 'her life was falling apart anyway' melodrama that I associate with women's lit. The dialogue is true to life, and the characters are believable (that's big for me).
On the negative side, the end was sort of pat, and some chapters felt clipped off instead of coming to a natural end (I'm seeing more and more of that lately, and it's troubling). The subplot with her mother felt a bit unnecessary (though I really liked the mother's character).
All in all, though, Genova has written a story with more strengths than flaws. Coming from a medical background as she does, it was gratifying to find description that was just enough for me as a reader to grasp without overwhelming me with detail. The story made me laugh often, tear up a little, and read it straight through. That right there is golden. Definitely something I'd recommend.
Sounds pretty standard, right? A few pages in, I was preparing for the eyerolling to begin, expecting another 'bad wife/mother discovers her real place is in the home' novel, and to some extent that is what lies here. The difference is that this wife/mother clearly loves her family AND clearly loves being intellectually stimulated, and finds a balance between the two; that rarely occurs in modern 'women's lit' novels. Why we continue to try to 'one way or another' ourselves is beyond me, but that's a whole other bucket of worms that I don't intend to dump out here.
The bulk of the novel concerns Sarah's journey to her 'new normal', and the steps of denial and regret and acceptance that get her there. I'd never heard of left neglect, a condition where the affected person 'forgets' there is a left side of anything, and frankly it's frightening to contemplate trying to cope with that. I really liked that she seems so 'normal'--I can't count the women I know that do the balancing act she does, every day. Unlike many other books like this, she has a strong bond with her children and with her husband, and she is making everything work when catastrophe strikes; there's no 'her life was falling apart anyway' melodrama that I associate with women's lit. The dialogue is true to life, and the characters are believable (that's big for me).
On the negative side, the end was sort of pat, and some chapters felt clipped off instead of coming to a natural end (I'm seeing more and more of that lately, and it's troubling). The subplot with her mother felt a bit unnecessary (though I really liked the mother's character).
All in all, though, Genova has written a story with more strengths than flaws. Coming from a medical background as she does, it was gratifying to find description that was just enough for me as a reader to grasp without overwhelming me with detail. The story made me laugh often, tear up a little, and read it straight through. That right there is golden. Definitely something I'd recommend.
"A Fistful of Rice" by Vikram Akula
This is a tough book for me to review. My feelings are mixed.
If we're talking about writing ability and readability, "A Fistful of Rice" is a success. The chapters are clear and well-thought out, and the picture of his microloan program in India is very interesting. Akula has given a formidable amount of statistical information without overwhelming the reader, and his anecdotes about the people he helps/has helped are affecting.
What I had a very hard time stomaching is the motivation behind the book. As is evident from the first chapter, much of it is a defense of running his microloan business as a 'for profit' venture. No matter how much good his loans have done, and the success rate is high according to his estimation, the thought of making money (more than it takes to keep the operation in business) off the sweat of some of the poorest people in the world is hard for me to stomach.
As a picture of India and what can be done to help manage poverty there, "A Fistful of Rice" is a good book. My heart, though... my heart dislikes his justifications.
If we're talking about writing ability and readability, "A Fistful of Rice" is a success. The chapters are clear and well-thought out, and the picture of his microloan program in India is very interesting. Akula has given a formidable amount of statistical information without overwhelming the reader, and his anecdotes about the people he helps/has helped are affecting.
What I had a very hard time stomaching is the motivation behind the book. As is evident from the first chapter, much of it is a defense of running his microloan business as a 'for profit' venture. No matter how much good his loans have done, and the success rate is high according to his estimation, the thought of making money (more than it takes to keep the operation in business) off the sweat of some of the poorest people in the world is hard for me to stomach.
As a picture of India and what can be done to help manage poverty there, "A Fistful of Rice" is a good book. My heart, though... my heart dislikes his justifications.
"Fanfare" by Renee Ahdieh
I wanted to like this book. I really did. New authors need the boost up,and I like being able to give that. 'Fanfare' has all the makings of a passable romance novel: the feisty heroine. The handsome movie star who is fascinated with her. A colorful cast of ethnic friends. Romance heaven, right?
Ahdieh is not an untalented writer. Her prose is clear, and she has a nice, sharp-witted turn of phrase at times. I liked her female lead (Chris), on the whole, and she did a good job at making her secondary characters more than stock characters or puppets.
There is trouble in paradise, though, and it hits in the first chapter: repetitive word choice and badly thought out adverbs where a more descriptive verb would have been far better. In fact,this whole novel could have used another draft and suggestions from a tough editor. There are many passages that are very flat, giving us no more information than that Chris is fabulously lovely in all ways, often punctuated with unnecessary exclamation points and capitalized words. Far more irritating, though, were long passages in text and email speak. Yes, I know that such communication is intrinsic to every day life, but reading it in print gets annoying quickly.
As much as I liked her female characters, though, I have to take issue with the male lead. Thomas is very clearly a lightly-disguised Very Famous Celebrity (VFC), from the beanie to the hair, accent, car, name... That VFC quite memorably tagged the author of the book his first major movie was based upon as lusting after the character he portrayed, and evidence of that is clear with Ahdieh, as well. It gets almost embarrassing as Thomas fawns upon Chris, singing her praises in words and phrases that I dare say wouldn't cross the lips of any man. It goes without saying that Thomas is perfect, too. Perfect with Chris' friends, perfect with her mother, even perfectly jealous when the ubiquitous ex-boyfriend makes his short visit. Perfectly unbelievable.
I give this two stars for Ahdieh's potential. She certainly has some, as evidenced by the times her snark made me laugh. 'Fanfare' could have some appeal to those in love with fan fiction (even of the recycled variety) and its almost inevitable lack of character and plot development. It's not overly sexual, though the hint is there; in fact, if not for the liberal use of the f-bomb, this could be YA (This is not intended as a criticism--badly written sex is far worse than none at all).
'Fanfare' didn't do it for me, but I'd be interested in what Ahdieh does next.
Ahdieh is not an untalented writer. Her prose is clear, and she has a nice, sharp-witted turn of phrase at times. I liked her female lead (Chris), on the whole, and she did a good job at making her secondary characters more than stock characters or puppets.
There is trouble in paradise, though, and it hits in the first chapter: repetitive word choice and badly thought out adverbs where a more descriptive verb would have been far better. In fact,this whole novel could have used another draft and suggestions from a tough editor. There are many passages that are very flat, giving us no more information than that Chris is fabulously lovely in all ways, often punctuated with unnecessary exclamation points and capitalized words. Far more irritating, though, were long passages in text and email speak. Yes, I know that such communication is intrinsic to every day life, but reading it in print gets annoying quickly.
As much as I liked her female characters, though, I have to take issue with the male lead. Thomas is very clearly a lightly-disguised Very Famous Celebrity (VFC), from the beanie to the hair, accent, car, name... That VFC quite memorably tagged the author of the book his first major movie was based upon as lusting after the character he portrayed, and evidence of that is clear with Ahdieh, as well. It gets almost embarrassing as Thomas fawns upon Chris, singing her praises in words and phrases that I dare say wouldn't cross the lips of any man. It goes without saying that Thomas is perfect, too. Perfect with Chris' friends, perfect with her mother, even perfectly jealous when the ubiquitous ex-boyfriend makes his short visit. Perfectly unbelievable.
I give this two stars for Ahdieh's potential. She certainly has some, as evidenced by the times her snark made me laugh. 'Fanfare' could have some appeal to those in love with fan fiction (even of the recycled variety) and its almost inevitable lack of character and plot development. It's not overly sexual, though the hint is there; in fact, if not for the liberal use of the f-bomb, this could be YA (This is not intended as a criticism--badly written sex is far worse than none at all).
'Fanfare' didn't do it for me, but I'd be interested in what Ahdieh does next.
"Starter For 10" byt David Nicholls
In 'Starter for 10', David Nicholls takes a risk that not many writers of popular fiction care to take: he creates in his lead character a young man that is not always admirable. Brian is not terribly attractive, he's moody, he often has a terribly timed sense of off the wall humor, and he's overly concerned with 'what people think'. Even Nick Hornby (to whose books this story is often compared) doesn't risk creating a lead that the reader doesn't always like.
That, however, is the genius of 'Starter for 10'. Brian is us (or at least the way many of us perceived ourselves when nineteen and spotty). He says stupid things, he does stupid things... even at the end of the story, when we should comfortably be able to like him, he's in the midst of lying to a character to whom he should be grateful. And we like him anyway.
Brian is in his first year at University. It's 1985. His dream is to compete on the televised 'University Challenge', as a sort of connection to his deceased father who followed that show closely. From first page to last, Brian is a social climber, determined to 'be somebody' at uni; more particularly, he wants to be more than the lower middle class kid from Surrey. He takes social risks that had me cringing even as I laughed... and I laughed a LOT while reading this book. Nicholls' dry, droll sense of humor is punctuated with broad gags and crude snickers, making Brian a believable manchild in a world that is difficult for him to navigate.
Vulnerability is also contained within. Brain's flashbacks to life with and immediately after his father's death, events that absolutely shaped who he is in the literary present, are touching, as is his terrible love/pity relationship with the friends he leaves behind (and indeed with his mother). One of the painfully funny clips comes as Brian returns to uni after Christmas break and faces loneliness. When he begins to suspect that HE is one of 'those people', the ones that are avoided once first term friendships are formed, I had a heart pang for him even as I smiled.
I came to this book after seeing and thoroughly enjoying the film of the same name, but (no surprise) this book is better than the film. The Brian of the film is still the same lovable loser, but the screenwriter chose to dump many of his darker, more unlovely traits in favor of making a good vehicle for likable actor, James McAvoy. In that, the writer succeeded, but at the price of oversimplifying a complex (and ultimately more satisfying) character.
Read 'Starter for 10'. It's lovely.
That, however, is the genius of 'Starter for 10'. Brian is us (or at least the way many of us perceived ourselves when nineteen and spotty). He says stupid things, he does stupid things... even at the end of the story, when we should comfortably be able to like him, he's in the midst of lying to a character to whom he should be grateful. And we like him anyway.
Brian is in his first year at University. It's 1985. His dream is to compete on the televised 'University Challenge', as a sort of connection to his deceased father who followed that show closely. From first page to last, Brian is a social climber, determined to 'be somebody' at uni; more particularly, he wants to be more than the lower middle class kid from Surrey. He takes social risks that had me cringing even as I laughed... and I laughed a LOT while reading this book. Nicholls' dry, droll sense of humor is punctuated with broad gags and crude snickers, making Brian a believable manchild in a world that is difficult for him to navigate.
Vulnerability is also contained within. Brain's flashbacks to life with and immediately after his father's death, events that absolutely shaped who he is in the literary present, are touching, as is his terrible love/pity relationship with the friends he leaves behind (and indeed with his mother). One of the painfully funny clips comes as Brian returns to uni after Christmas break and faces loneliness. When he begins to suspect that HE is one of 'those people', the ones that are avoided once first term friendships are formed, I had a heart pang for him even as I smiled.
I came to this book after seeing and thoroughly enjoying the film of the same name, but (no surprise) this book is better than the film. The Brian of the film is still the same lovable loser, but the screenwriter chose to dump many of his darker, more unlovely traits in favor of making a good vehicle for likable actor, James McAvoy. In that, the writer succeeded, but at the price of oversimplifying a complex (and ultimately more satisfying) character.
Read 'Starter for 10'. It's lovely.
"The Help" by Katherine Stockett
Set in Mississippi in 1962, "The Help" is the story of three women and their fight to have a voice in their society. First is Aibileen, an older black woman who is facing a life crisis when she begins to resent the way she is treated in her world. Next, we have Minny. Possessed of the best cooking skills and the sassiest mouth is Jackson, Minny is at a point where she is almost unemployable. She fights both her employer, her husband, and her society for the right to speak her mind. Finally we have Skeeter, a twenty-three year old debutante who is feeling the pressure to marry and 'settle' when she'd rather write. The three come together largely in reaction to the mounting sense of injustice they both feel within themselves and see in their society, and end up changing both their own lives and the lives of others.
I had to give this a couple of days to settle before I was ready to review. First, let me say that I was up quite literally all night reading this book. I shut the back cover at 4am. I found the story interesting and enjoyable, and was quite captivated by the author's use of language--she's very good at choosing the best verb/descriptive word, without resorting to a lot of messy adverbs. I found the intertwining of the three stories believable and compelling.
The thing is, I felt a real uneasiness from the beginning, for a variety of reasons. First and foremost had to be the author choosing to write in patois when writing as Aibileen or Minny. White authors doing this always strikes me as vaguely... condescending is the best word that I can come up with. It always smacks of Butterfly McQueen and her "I dwan know nuthin''bout birfin baybees" (Gone With The Wind). I was disappointed by 'stock' scenes: Aibileen rescuing the toddler from her evil society mother; Minny getting the declaration from her employers that she has a job forever (as they all sob in the kitchen, no less); Skeeter getting her dream break... they all seemed very Hollywood. In fact, this book, with its highly charged emotional moments and theme is a Hollywood dream. The fact that the only black male character is an abuser didn't go over well either. The use of non-date appropriate songs and details bothered me; I think that those should have been dinged by an editor
I kept coming back to "The Color Purple", in fact. Minny seemed to be drawn directly from that book (I could clearly see Oprah, in her role as Sofia), but with fewer shades of gray. As an examination of black Southern life, I found Walker's narrative far more compelling (and far better than Spielberg's movie). Just as many high points and low points as "The Help", but more believable-they ring true where Stockett's book verges on emotionally manipulative.
Still. I did stay up all night, so the good things were enough to keep me reading. I just don't see myself reading it again.
I had to give this a couple of days to settle before I was ready to review. First, let me say that I was up quite literally all night reading this book. I shut the back cover at 4am. I found the story interesting and enjoyable, and was quite captivated by the author's use of language--she's very good at choosing the best verb/descriptive word, without resorting to a lot of messy adverbs. I found the intertwining of the three stories believable and compelling.
The thing is, I felt a real uneasiness from the beginning, for a variety of reasons. First and foremost had to be the author choosing to write in patois when writing as Aibileen or Minny. White authors doing this always strikes me as vaguely... condescending is the best word that I can come up with. It always smacks of Butterfly McQueen and her "I dwan know nuthin''bout birfin baybees" (Gone With The Wind). I was disappointed by 'stock' scenes: Aibileen rescuing the toddler from her evil society mother; Minny getting the declaration from her employers that she has a job forever (as they all sob in the kitchen, no less); Skeeter getting her dream break... they all seemed very Hollywood. In fact, this book, with its highly charged emotional moments and theme is a Hollywood dream. The fact that the only black male character is an abuser didn't go over well either. The use of non-date appropriate songs and details bothered me; I think that those should have been dinged by an editor
I kept coming back to "The Color Purple", in fact. Minny seemed to be drawn directly from that book (I could clearly see Oprah, in her role as Sofia), but with fewer shades of gray. As an examination of black Southern life, I found Walker's narrative far more compelling (and far better than Spielberg's movie). Just as many high points and low points as "The Help", but more believable-they ring true where Stockett's book verges on emotionally manipulative.
Still. I did stay up all night, so the good things were enough to keep me reading. I just don't see myself reading it again.
So here we go...
Yeah, I know there are a hundred book blogs. Most are genre specific.
This is not one of those blogs.
I started reading at about two years old, so at forty-four... that's a lot of books. I read widely, and I'm not intimidated by any genre. I just like to read!
Some might know me from my work at Fictionista Workshop, where I am in charge of the "Courting The Classics" program. In that milieu, I encourage writers to also be readers; to take the best of what's out there and make it part of themselves. I truly believe that literacy is the mark of a society in growth, and the stories that make up our cultural underpinning are massively important to read and understand.
However, I read more than classics, and have been feeling the urge to share my thoughts on the things I read, see, and listen to with a larger group. So here I am!
Feel free to take what you will from these reviews. I love to debate books, and I don't care if we're in agreement or not. The important thing is to read.
-Classicista
This is not one of those blogs.
I started reading at about two years old, so at forty-four... that's a lot of books. I read widely, and I'm not intimidated by any genre. I just like to read!
Some might know me from my work at Fictionista Workshop, where I am in charge of the "Courting The Classics" program. In that milieu, I encourage writers to also be readers; to take the best of what's out there and make it part of themselves. I truly believe that literacy is the mark of a society in growth, and the stories that make up our cultural underpinning are massively important to read and understand.
However, I read more than classics, and have been feeling the urge to share my thoughts on the things I read, see, and listen to with a larger group. So here I am!
Feel free to take what you will from these reviews. I love to debate books, and I don't care if we're in agreement or not. The important thing is to read.
-Classicista
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