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.
Monday, August 22, 2011
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.
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