Book Lovers, Get Your English On!

The Final Chapter

2009-12-22T00:53:00.000-05:00

Fellow book lovers, thank you for reading Book Lovers, Get Your English On! Carole and Chris have enjoyed reading and discussing books and book news with you since launching this blog in August 2007.

However, the time has come to retire this blog.

Please feel free to continue to use Book Lovers' archive as a reference for books and book-related issues. If you wish to bookmark this site, please use its permanent link: http://book-lovers-get-your-english-on.blogspot.com. The shorter URL previously associated with the blog is scheduled to expire, and the permanent link will provide uninterrupted access to this resource.

If you're so inclined, check out Chris' blogs:

From One Book Lover, another book blog, and
Hedgehog Lover, an general interest blog that veers dangerously toward the realm of poetry.

And keep reading!

Olive Kitteridge — Review by Chris

2009-11-19T21:57:00.003-05:00

I started Olive Kitteridge with great skepticism: a series of short stories as a novel did not sound like a smooth, cohesive story. However, within a dozen pages I was glad it was nearly midnight because I would have called Carole to ask her why she hadn't forced me to start the book sooner.

Elizabeth Strout creates an incredible level of intimacy necessary for this kind of tale, where readers meet the title character through rumor, reputation, association and in person. She is not all that likable, especially at first; in fact, throughout "Pharmacy," I actively wondered why the gentle and loving Henry was married to her in the first place. However, to be fair, she was seen through the filter of his perception, and there was a very stark contrast between his life at the pharmacy and his life at home.

Not until the second story, "Incoming Tide," did I actually find any redemptive, or even likable, qualities to Olive. It was then, when a reader could see her in her own terms, did she start to make sense. She was no longer distorted by the prism of her home life; we could see the bigger picture.

It was in this second story that I decided I really, really liked Olive. As the stories progressed, readers witnessed the ebb and flow of her ideas, her emotions, her generosity, her fears, her defenses — sometimes through the spectrum of the others around her, sometimes through her own perspective.

Olive is not central to every story. While sometimes she is a major character, other times she is in the distance, someone another resident of Crosby, Maine, sees walking across the street, or remembers from a previous encounter.

The others we meet in Crosby are interesting, delightful, compelling, vexing, heartbreaking, heartbroken, misunderstood, self-absorbed, confused, struggling. Denise is a waif of a girl who faces a life she never expected or would have chosen. Kevin never really left Crosby. Harmon's entry into middle age hasn't brought with it the riches he expected. Nina hated Muffin Luke, but for all of the wrong reasons. Christopher — well, Christopher is much like his mother, complex and initially unlikeable. I remain ambivalent about this character, more so than others who surprised and discomfited me, like Ann Kitteridge or Louise Larkin.

I was intrigued by the relationships, especially the marriages. Olive's relationship with Henry intrigued me. I've always been fascinated by what makes a marriage, and having that insight into Olive and Henry's relationship was fascinating. As the story evolved, I didn't always understand what made them work together, but they did. In contrast, "Winter Concert" showed a "perfect" marriage that was so different, and yet perhaps not as successful as Olive and Henry's; the Kitteridges survived "A Different Road," and I wonder if Bob and Jane could have done the same. There were other marriages, successful and/or not: Harmon and Bonnie, Chris and Suzanne, Chris and Ann, and a few we experience at or after the "end." (As we learn in Crosby, death does not always bring a marriage to a close.)

All 13 stories are told in chronological order, which I liked. Some stories were longer than others, but the shorter ones were no less important; some connections require no more than a skip and no preamble. It's not a traditional novel, so not all of the stories smoothly flow into each other, but each has its place and makes sense in the quilt Strout stitched together.

I enjoyed this book and can heartily recommend it.

Rebecca — Review by Chris

2009-11-08T18:29:00.005-05:00

Some people cannot keep the secrets of some classics, as though they expire after a certain period of time. Right before I watched Citizen Kane for the first time in 1982, I was asked, "You know Rosebud is [SPOILER], right?" I responded, "Well, I do now."

So I approached Rebecca like reading it was a state secret (except to Carole, who was her fabulous no-giveaway self, as I knew she would be). No bonehead was going to tell me about Daphne du Maurier's "Rosebud," so I started the novel with no information other than the brief and completely innocuous summary on the back of the 1970s-era paperback I picked up at the thrift store.

Thank heavens. There were so many great elements I would have been quite vexed to have had any of them spoiled.

The summary is simple: a young woman is rescued from a life as a "traveling companion" (a.k.a. maid) to the American bore Mrs. Van Hopper by Maxim de Winter, who owns the legendary English estate Manderley. There in the halls of Manderley the young bride faces a more complex and frightening future than Mrs. Van Hopper: that of being the second Mrs. de Winter. The first, you see, was Rebecca, a tall, beautiful, popular, graceful woman — all qualities the second Mrs. de Winter honestly felt she lacked.

The story is told by this young woman, whose new husband is more than twice her age and who hasn't as much professed love as asked her to join him in his life. After a quick marriage and honeymoon abroad, she comes "home" to an estate of which she has heard, but it's grander than her wildest dreams.

Maxim is not the most attentive of men and the second Mrs. de Winter is an inexperienced young lady left her to her own devices — and to those of Mrs. Danvers, who served as Rebecca's personal maid who also ran the household under Rebecca's exacting eye. Frith, the butler, addresses the young bride as "Madam" and directs her by stating what "Mrs. de Winter" would have done.

Maxim is not only inattentive, he refuses to run Manderley as it had been in the past, rejecting the idea of lavish parties and other entertainment that was to have gone on with Rebecca. The second Mrs. de Winter is left to decide what this means for her as a wife and mistress.

The story is told by the second Mrs. de Winter, which provides a clear eye to established society and history. It is new to her, so it's new to us. Each piece of information — how Maxim acts, how Mrs. Danvers lurks, how Frith directs the ingenue — offers clues to the drama with subtle, caressing tension that entraps readers. We know we're toeing close to the edge of disaster with the second Mrs. de Winter, and yet we can't look away because we really don't want to leave her alone at Manderley, not like this. What is Mrs. Danvers doing in the west wing? Why is Jack's visit so disturbing? Why would Maxim refuse to follow the dog down the path to the beach? What is the draw of Rebecca, what is her secret?

The story is told at first as a mix of the past and present, with clues that suggest the de Winters are not presently at Manderley, that mention of this beloved home is painful. Once the second Mrs. de Winter arrives at Manderley, the story and the reader remain there with her.

And remain we must, until the final pages with an end that I found spectacular and completely fitting to the story.

Please read this, especially if you plan to watch the movie. Read the book first — let du Maurier tell you her story, then allow Joan Fontaine and Laurence Olivier (or, later, Emilia Fox and Charles Dance) to perform it for you.

And if anyone opens their mouth to discuss the book, ask them to wait. You will want to talk about this story, if only to remind yourself that it is, after all, only fiction.

Five Classics on My List

2009-11-04T18:08:00.003-05:00

"Classics" brings up the idea of dust, yellowed pages and hidden treasures — to bibliophiles, at least. I think of people greeting the ships at the docks, asking if Little Dorritt was still alive. I think of long skirts, scullery maids, post-World War II smoke curling up into a haze. I think of manners, fear, control and society. I think of those who came before and what reading meant to them.

So I picked up Rebecca as my ode to classics. Who hasn't heard the opening line of the book, wondered what it meant, felt sorry for the young bride trying to find her way in a truly unknown landscape, haunted by the image of a woman who came before her?

I am taking my time with this one, knowing that once I'm done I can't say I've never read it. It's like pulling a ribbon off slowly, wondering what may be hidden under the wrapping. I am enjoying it, and the leisure with which I am consuming it is rather decadent and delicious.

I have a few others on my list, and I hope to consume them with the same leisure and joy (in no particular order):

Madame Bovary — anything considered obscene in 19th century France has to be worth a gander!
A Christmas Carol — Despite the enjoyable film adaptations of the past and present, nothing rings as true as Dickens' own words.
The Woman in White — I'm still partially mesmerized by Wilkie after reading Drood.
Dracula — it will give me a reason to go to the Rosenbach Museum to see, perhaps to touch, Bram Stoker's outline and notes for his novel. (It was closed for renovation when I last tried to visit.) (The museum, that is.)

What classics have you enjoyed that aren't on this list? Which would you recommend?

The Silent Gift — Review by Chris

2009-10-29T21:09:00.000-04:00

Carole can tell a story. In fact, her entire family has the gift: a trip to the grocery store that afternoon or remembering how television channels were changed "back in the day" can make me laugh so hard my face hurts and want to talk until all hours just to hear how it turns out.

Even when regaling the story of a movie or television show, the clan can rock. However, there is a difference: when they do not own the story, there's a distance between the storyteller and the tale.

For them, it's not bad. For Michael Landon, Jr. and Cindy Kelly, it's a deal-breaker.

Landon and Kelly have that problem with The Silent Gift. They don't own the story, so they tell it from a distance. The writers try too hard to create nonchalance in their story, but they can't hide the stress of too many wrong words too carefully chosen to create clumsy clues that blurt out the storyline, rather than provide a foreshadowing or creating a path that carries the story forward.

The novel begins with a rush: a terrible, exciting scene involving fast driving, death and birth, beginning and the end. Then the reader goes from 60 to zero when we meet the characters in their everyday life.

Mary is wooden and stilted, but there's no clue as to why, so she remains simply clunky rather than reserved and complicated. Every plot complication is due to her unexplained, unexpected action. All we see, all we know is what's on the page, and that's scant at best. Jack is almost invisible — which should be impossible, considering the third-person narrative focuses on Mary and she's focused on Jack. Jerry is a caricature who doesn't really even deserve a name, let alone any space in the narrative. He sweeps in with everything and nothing. The reader doesn't know, and with Mary's leaden characterization, the reader doesn't really care.

The story evolves around the action of a deaf-mute boy who cannot communicate. Out of nowhere he has skills he was neither taught nor would he understood what they meant. His mother, who after spending one night on a Salvation Army cot, suddenly becomes an expert in scripture, making connections between her son's actions and a complex book she admits to never having read herself, and not having even listened to since she was a child. It's not a miracle, just an unlikely plot complication. I just don't believe it.

Full disclosure: I didn't finish the book. I didn't want to. I have been reading long enough to know how many pages to give a book to make its case. I gave this book 93 pages, which is only a quarter of the novel but far more than it deserved, and it never captured my attention and imagination. I didn't find myself wondering what comes next. I didn't delight in the characters, despite their hardships. I didn't try to guess how the story would unfold. I have no idea what Mary looks like, what Jack looks like. I can't picture their surroundings, the cities in which they find themselves. I can't see it, and that only happens when my imagination is not engaged. When I see only the words on the page, I put down the book.

I wanted to like this book, but I didn't.

Electronic Books: Would I Go There?

2009-10-21T18:50:00.002-04:00

Electronic book machines are coming out of the woodwork these days, surprisingly enough, in time for Christmas. As a lifelong reader, the question arises: would I go there?

Well, I already have, in my own way: I read my news on the computer.

I read the Washington Post, New York Times, AP News and BBC News on my computer daily. Those sources are in my browser toolbars, and I click on them before I open any other pages. I peruse the headlines and scan the pages to see what the media think I need to know. I regret to admit that I do not subscribe to any print news sources or newspapers (though I would be glad to support the Web sites I use with a subscription).

I do receive sales papers on my doorstep — and, when my neighbor Kathy is home on a Sunday, her copy of the Sunday WaPo. (That's Washington Post, for those of you outside of the metro D.C. area.)

As a former newspaper reporter, I should be ashamed. I should have ink flowing through my veins. I don't. I hate newsprint ink on my fingers, hands, arms and clothing after reading the paper. (No, I don't roll around in the paper to get that dirty. Try carrying newspapers in your arms and see how much ink winds up on your clothes. Smarty.) However, I love the news. Good heavens, I just realized: I'm a news junkie!

But back to the topic. I like the neatness of e-newspapers. I can read news stories on the computer all day. Well, let me clarify: I can read news articles for short bursts on and off all day. I do not stare at the screen for hours absorbing the news, not even on the weekends.

News articles have shortened to the point that Jeff Goldblum's character noted in The Big Chill: you can read the articles while on the toilet. (You're welcome for the paraphrasing.) I still read, and love, longer articles — but I rarely find them, and often wind up having to read them in installments, especially those from The New Yorker magazine. (The cartoons, thankfully, I still can read in one shot.)

But books — would I go "e"? No, books for me are not meant for the monitor or LCD, even when it's small and pocket-sized.

Some multi-feature cellular telephones have book-reading applications, but I don't want to use my cellular telephone to read a book. I'd go blind. The 3-inch screen is not meant to do more than show me what the phone is doing at that very moment.

I don't want a machine I carry in my purse, briefcase or backpack. I've tried viewing my digital camera's LCD screen in the sunlight, and I don't want to have to fight the sun, which is supposed to make reading easier because of its helpful light. I don't want to worry about dropping it and having to shell out a few hundred dollars more to replace it. I don't want to have to worry about it falling in a pool or getting splashed at the beach. My family kills electronics in water or finds their phones wiped clean of all information, and I don't want to follow suit with something I can't afford to replace regularly.

Would a machine make it easier to carry around my library? Would it reduce my pathological hoarding of books? (I have regaled my friends time and again with stories of the 25¢ copy of The Phantom Tollbooth for the home library, so I can lend out multiple copies at a time, or a dime for Franklin's autobiography.) Could I get some classics for free online and carry them with me to read at any time? Absolutely.

And yet....

I enjoy the heft of a book in my hand. I take pleasure in reading in direct sunlight (or by flashlight, even). I feel at home surrounded by stack of books on my nightstand and thousands of books piled on every flat surface in my home. I like perusing the spines to see what looks good, both at home and in commercial settings. I am gleeful to find Treasure Island illustrated by N.C. Wyeth in the thrift store bookshelves.

If I drop it in the tub, a book will dry, ultimately (though it never will be the smooth volume it once was). I can (and have) dropped my books down the stairs, lost a grip on an entire box of them and watched them crash to the ground or come to a stop on the landing. The cats have knocked over stacks, curled up on whatever I set down on the bed or table and chewed the corner or two of whatever distracted me from them.

My favorite place on the planet was Acres of Books, the now-defunct used bookstore in Long Beach, Calif., whose name was a literal description of the store and its inventory, with row upon row of towering bookshelves only shoulder-width apart. (Vicky would spend short bursts of time with me in there, bless her claustrophobic heart.)

In short: I love books. I do not plan to surrender them for anything "e."

Someday, I may change my mind. I suspect my love affair with the printed word will strain next year when David and I pack what most likely will be about a hundred boxes of books when we move. Someday my eyes may need assistance that only a future device can provide.

But it is not this day. I appreciate reading in any form, but I intend to continue my love affair with the printed page.

The Funeral Poe Never Had

2009-10-13T23:56:00.002-04:00

Baltimore celebrated its favorite son this year on his bicentennial year by not only celebrating his life, but also giving him the sendoff from this mortal coil he did not get 160 years ago.

Only one man could write the stuff that scares the stuffing out of even the most seasoned horror writer and still spurs men to wear bright purple. Credit for that alone goes to Edgar Allen Poe, with whom a single word — Nevermore! — can create images that capture the essence of Gothic fiction, as well as inspire the name of a profitable football franchise.

The funeral event began at 11:40 a.m. Sunday, October 11, with a processional from the Poe House to Westminster Hall. The Loch Raven Pipes and Drums led a horse-drawn hearse, the curtains on the glass sides pulled up so the casket was visible. The bagpipes were haunting.

The hearse was followed by dozens of mourners in period clothing, including the speakers slated for the funeral service. My embarrassingly limited Poe knowledge prevented me from recognizing some of the bearded faces, and I was glad to see a few women in the processional. A few people were easy to detect with my untrained eye: Walt Whitman in his full gray beard, beige hat and light suit; Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in his garb perfect for the wild moor; and Sir Alfred Hitchcock with an unmistakable profile and very English hat. Not all in the entourage were in 19th century garb, and I was intrigued. (The Poe bicentennial Web site had warned that the list of speakers might change due to their being dead themselves, so I wasn't sure how death had affected the program.)

As the processional came to a halt in front of Westminster Hall, the crowd pushed closer, cameras clicking. (My camera, regrettably, was in my car, forgotten in the haste to see the processional and remembered blocks from where David and I parked.) I am not sure if I would have been as forward as some of the photographers; to me, it was a funeral more than a performance, and there was something macabre and disrespectful about shoving a camera in Whitman's face.

A handful of the men stepped forward to serve as pallbearers, and the casket was slid from the hearse into their waiting hands. They solemnly walked along the front of the hall, cautiously maneuvering their way past the crowd lining in the street. (They did not walk up the steep stairs in front of which the hearse stopped.)

As the hour of the first service drew near, those attending the first service filed into the hall after them.

Many of my fellow spectators/mourners were in period mourning costume, or a close approximation of such. I am not an expert, and some costumes were elaborate and interesting, like the men in full black topcoats, top hats and capes, or the women in long black crepe dresses and hats with black lace covering their faces. Some people were dressed in contemporary clothing apropos to mourning and funerals. Other spectators used this as an opportunity to air out their Halloween costumes a couple of weeks early, and many had clothing with depictions of skulls, The Nightmare Before Christmas or Poe himself. There was a fair smattering of Raven purple. (I myself was in blue jeans and a black blouse, which served me well in the quarter-mile sprint from the car to the processional).

Before the second service, people milled around Poe's grave, placing pennies and flowers on his monument. A clutch of men in the Baltimore City Men's Chorus warmed up in the narrow walkway amidst the gravestones in the yard beyond the spectators. People took photos of the grave, others took photos of their friends and family at the grave. A tall Asian man performed mournful classical music as he stood next to the monument, and the crowd clapped with appreciation. The crowed ebbed and flowed, Goth teens and 19th century mourners mixing with surprised pedestrians passing through the crowd. A long black hearse with a silver skull as its hood ornament blasted what sounded like Vincent Price giving a dramatic reading (presumably of Poe's works), though the distortion prevented me from understanding a word from where I stood. I took photos of tombstones, some of which were under the hall, behind locked gates.

Inside the hall was a replica of Poe's original tombstone, which was destroyed in a freak train derailment accident before it was even placed on his grave. The stone was surrounded by beautiful flowers (presumably from the event's official florist, who accepted phone orders with free delivery for the service). At the front of the hall were the organ's tall pipes that reached to the arched ceiling. Hundreds of chairs filled slowly as the mourners took their seats.

The speakers were unknown to me by sight, for the most part. The Reverend Rufus Griswold was soundly hissed as he took the stage. Both Poe's former fiancée Sarah Helen Whitman and his close friend George Lippard countered the reverend's previously published slights. Both were animated and engaging. In fact, Lippard was so overwrought he needed a glass of water to continue his eulogy — then, as he left the lectern, threw the rest in Griswold's face. Poe's nurse, editor, attending physician at his death all were present to pretty much set the record straight to the author's life and final days.

The second half of the service was more entertaining to the casual Poe aficionado. That was when those who were most influenced by him, authors and movie directors, illustrators and actors alike, took the stage. Whitman had little to say, but spoke with affection for the man who welcomed him to the office building in New York they both occupied. Charles Baudelaire was effusive and dignified. H.P. Lovecraft was brilliant with his nervous gestures and reading aloud what sounded like gibberish from a large book (I'm sure his fans will explain that to me). Hitchcock offered his profile and some of his familiar catchphrases.

When we came to the living, their tributes were touching and spoke deeply to my own sensibilities. Ellen Datlow, in her black dress and wild hair, was humble and appreciative. Gris Grimly was funny, self-deprecating and irreverent (and dressed in a t-shirt with a bare rib cage on the front and a dress jacket); only a geek can articulate what it's like to be a geek and have a roomful of fellow geeks get it. Mark Renfield brought Baltimore and D.C. of today into the mix with references to pop culture of the time and place. John Astin spoke briefly but with heartfelt appreciation, and Poe House curator Jeff Jerome's words spoke to this bureaucrat's heart.

In the end, the casket passed through the hall and we paid our final respects. More than 700 people attended the services, and many more stood in the cool autumn sunshine, blocking traffic and wandering about the cemetery. The event allowed all to celebrate the life and works of a man who might have been impoverished at his death but left a legacy beyond all measure. It was a great event, and I am glad David and I could be a part of it.

If a person's wealth can be measured by influence, Poe died a rich man who, I hope, will continue to be remembered and continue to influence generations of readers, writers and movie directors (and whatever media follows). May the events of 2009 in Baltimore encourage more people to read and learn more about him, his time, his work and his homes — including the Poe Museum in Richmond, another great Poe resource and enjoyable destination (and the town he felt was his true home).

Banned Books Week: Answers to the Quiz

2009-10-06T21:29:00.005-04:00

Thank you to all who sent in your guesses for last week's quiz. It was a little tough, I have to admit.

Here are the answers to the quiz. Now, if these quotes intrigue you enough, I hope you go pick up the book. I've read all but maybe one, and to be honest I probably read that one but don't remember. And let me know what banned or challenged books you enjoyed most.

1. How could someone not fit in? The community was so meticulously ordered, the choices so carefully made. (The Giver, Lois Lowry)

2. It is like the hole in your mouth where a tooth was and you cannot keep your tongue from playing with it. (Ordinary People, Judith Guest)

3. “I believe that love is better than hate. And that there is more nobility in building a chicken coop than destroying a cathedral.” (Summer of My German Soldier, Bette Greene)

4. He was seething inside with new emotion. Nothing seemed very important except the Princess. He was single-minded about her. He was enchanted. He was possessed. He was in love. (Pillars of the Earth, Ken Follett)

5. I'd soon as go to jail than take that damn relief job. (Native Son, Richard Wright)

6. Last night while I lay thinking here
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
(A Light in the Attic, Shel Silverstein)

7. It had been all right as long as they could laugh at me and appear clever at my expense, but now they were feeling inferior to the moron. I began to see that by my astonishing growth I had made them shrink and emphasized their inadequacies. (Flowers for Algernon, Daniel Keyes)

8. "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corn cribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." (To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee)

9. My first-born. All I can remember of her is how she loved the burned bottom of bread. Can you beat that? Eight children and that's all I remember. (Beloved, Toni Morrison)

10. "She won't be coming down here with the spray. She'll be coming down here with a shovel. It happened to my brother. Split him right down the middle. Now I have two half-brothers." (James and the Giant Peach, Roald Dahl)

11. We learned to whisper almost without sound. In the semidarkness we could stretch out our arms, when the Aunts weren't looking, and touch each other's hands across space. We learned to lipread, our heads flat on the beds, turned sideways, watching each other's mouths. In this way, we exchanged names, from bed to bed: Alma. Janine. Dolores. Moira. June. (The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood)

12. I expected Daddy to explain everything on the way home—all that stuff Dr. Griffith had been talking about—that I didn't understand. Instead, he and Ma argued about whose fault it was that I have something wrong with my spine until we pulled into the driveway. It was almost as if they'd forgotten I was there. (Deenie, Judy Blume)

13. I was getting to where I could see the truth. Someday I'll be brave enough to speak it. (The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton)

10 Brilliant Writers Robbed of a Nobel

2009-09-29T19:44:00.002-04:00

10 Brilliant Writers Robbed of a Nobel Prize

Posted using ShareThis

Banned Books Week: A Quiz

2009-09-28T21:45:00.001-04:00

The American Library Association recognizes Banned Books Week — and this year, Banned Books Week is September 26 through October 3.

So, let's test your banned books knowledge.

The quotes below were taken from among the 20 books listed at the end of this entry. Can you match the quote to its book?

Submit your answers by October 5, 2009 via e-mail (see "Contact us," right), and I will choose one person from among those who have submitted the highest number of correct answers.

The winner will receive a banned book from The 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books List, 1990-99.

Good luck!

The Quotes
1. How could someone not fit in? The community was so meticulously ordered, the choices so carefully made.

2. It is like the hole in your mouth where a tooth was and you cannot keep your tongue from playing with it.

3. “I believe that love is better than hate. And that there is more nobility in building a chicken coop than destroying a cathedral.”

4. He was seething inside with new emotion. Nothing seemed very important except the Princess. He was single-minded about her. He was enchanted. He was possessed. He was in love

5. I'd soon as go to jail than take that damn relief job.

6. Last night while I lay thinking here
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:

7. It had been all right as long as they could laugh at me and appear clever at my expense, but now they were feeling inferior to the moron. I began to see that by my astonishing growth I had made them shrink and emphasized their inadequacies.

8. "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corn cribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."

9. My first-born. All I can remember of her is how she loved the burned bottom of bread. Can you beat that? Eight children and that's all I remember.

10. "She won't be coming down here with the spray. She'll be coming down here with a shovel. It happened to my brother. Split him right down the middle. Now I have two half-brothers."

11. We learned to whisper almost without sound. In the semidarkness we could stretch out our arms, when the Aunts weren't looking, and touch each other's hands across space. We learned to lipread, our heads flat on the beds, turned sideways, watching each other's mouths. In this way, we exchanged names, from bed to bed: Alma. Janine. Dolores. Moira. June.

12. I expected Daddy to explain everything on the way home—all that stuff Dr. Griffith had been talking about—that I didn't understand. Instead, he and Ma argued about whose fault it was that I have something wrong with my spine until we pulled into the driveway. It was almost as if they'd forgotten I was there.

13. I was getting to where I could see the truth. Someday I'll be brave enough to speak it.

The quotes above were taken from 13 of these challenged books:

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret
Beloved
The Catcher in the Rye
The Chocolate War
Deenie
Flowers for Algernon
The Giver
The Handmaid's Tale
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
James and the Giant Peach
A Light in the Attic
Native Son
Ordinary People
The Outsiders
Pillars of the Earth
To Kill a Mockingbird
A Wrinkle in Time

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society — Review by Chris

2009-09-23T21:21:00.006-04:00

I like a good story. I also like fascinating characters who reveal the story in interesting ways. I got both in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, a surprisingly powerful yet compact novel that captured me by the third letter.

Juliet is best known for her wartime columns in London newspapers. As "Izzy," the writer found something light in the dark and shared her own poignant, humorous ponderings. But now the war is over and Juliet wants to leave Izzy in the past. It's time for the Next Thing — only she's not sure what that is. She owes her publisher a new book, but she's stymied on what to write. Nothing feels right, nothing sounds true.

Then she receives a letter from a stranger who has come to own a book that used to belong to her. Could she recommend a reputable bookseller to help him discover Charles Lamb? Thus begins a special correspondence that changes her life.

The letter comes from a resident of Guernsey, an island in the English Channel that, like the other channel islands, were occupied by the Germans. The occupation began in 1940, and the islanders were literally cut off from the rest of the world until the end of the war: no correspondence, no radio, no newspapers, no contact at all. Their food, homes, their every possession became the property of their prison guards. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was borne of this oppression — and the existence of a single pig.

The slim volume unfolds the story in the form of correspondence: letters, cables — and, in one instance, something meant never to be seen by another person, ever. Juliet is the main character, and much of the correspondence is written by or received by her. However, the same situation is, from time to time, witnessed by and described by different people — like the time Juliet throws a teapot at another journalist's head. (He deserved it.)

I love Juliet. Wait, let me reiterate: I. Love. Juliet. She is lively, loving, clever, self-deprecating and wholly unaware of how utterly special she is. In other words, she is human. She writes some of the best, loveliest and wittiest lines of the novel. It is the margin notes in a pamphlet Juliet once owned that draw the original letter-writer to her.

I also loved how the story unfolded, letter by letter. Each letter-writer has a distinct voice that remains true. Each character is essential to the story, which unfolds to me a rich, new aspect of World War II. I was unaware of the occupation of the Channel Islands, or the existence of the Organisation Todt. I knew some urban dwellers sent their children to live in the English countryside with strangers (thanks to C.S. Lewis, I confess), but I didn't know that Channel Islanders also sent their children to the English countryside, then lost contact with them for five long years. I didn't know the first thing of being trapped on an island, subject to the whim of the Third Reich, when Churchill and the Crown considered the islands a necessary sacrifice for the whole of England. Despite all of this learning, never once does this feel like A History Lesson. It is the story of people, and the people are fascinating, even (and especially) the ones readers may not like.

I wholeheartedly recommend this modest tome and hope you enjoy the characters and their story as much as I did.

The Twilight Saga — Review by Chris

2009-09-16T07:25:00.002-04:00

Spoiler alert: this review contains spoilers, so if you have not read all of the books and do not wish to know major plot points, stop reading now. Consider yourself warned!

***************************************************

Okay, let's just state the obvious up front: I am not your typical Twilight reader. However, I am certainly not your typical "young adult fiction" reader, and yet I am a fan of the genre.

I also am a fan of Twilight.

I read the saga at the recommendation of my friend Corinne, whose taste in books I admire. She and I have shared similar opinions on many books over the years, so I decided to pick it up. (Maybe then the Facebook Flair would make sense!)

I was not disappointed. It was a riveting series with engrossing storytelling and rather likeable characters.

For those of you who are under the same rock I so recently inhabited, let me sum it up: Bella lives in Forks, a small overcast town in Washington state. She meets Edward, a fellow high school student, and falls madly in love. One problem? He is a little older than she is. Okay, about a century. He's a vampire and will eternally look like a high school senior.

Once he admits he can't live without her, she admits she can't live without him — even though he's a vampire. To complicate matters, so is his entire family (a.k.a. coven). They're not "bad" vamps: they live on the blood of animals, rather than humans.

These are not the only members of the supernatural circus that surround Bella — and thank the heavens for that. Bella isn't the most graceful of characters and finds herself in a few pickles in her time. From threatening would-be attackers to psycho vampire trackers to bratty teen girls, she is not safe around any corner. (This is played up a little too much in the series for my taste, but at least I understand why.) Edward, on the other hand, is rather indestructible, so one can see why he hates to leave Bella to her own devices.

Charlie, Bella's father, is a little clueless for a police chief, but in the end it's possible, just possible, that he might be a little more savvy than readers have been led to believe. After all, I saw the Plot Complications coming, so why didn't Charlie? It is a very unfair, hackneyed characterization of small-town cops and parents.

The saga is told in four books, which I can summarize swiftly: Twilight puts Edward and Bella together, New Moon wrenches them apart, Eclipse puts them back together and Breaking Dawn completely changes everything.

To summarize is quick and about as cold as Edward's chiseled flawless frame. To read is to savor some terrific storytelling with the warmth of Jacob. The characters are richly drawn and complex, the plot twists aren't always the standard fare — and, quite simply, a girl simply must fall in love with Edward.

Oh, I know there's a Team Jacob, and I understand that camp. I, too, adore him and would gladly have chosen him had Edward not returned. However, Carole and I agreed: Bella could put Nessie on Jacob's back with total confidence that she would be safe for all time, but Bella's first, last and enduring thoughts will be her love with Edward Cullen.

I probably could have walked away from the series after Eclipse. The fourth book was weaker than the others. Stephenie Meyer should have split that book into two novels. Breaking Dawn already is longer than the others (which is saying something). Additionally, so much happens so quickly, and the final storyline of the novel is sufficient for a book in itself.

Breaking Dawn was relentless in its storytelling, and the reader deserves the loving treatment s/he experienced with the first three books. I even took a break of two weeks between the third and fourth novels, and it still didn't help. I fear Meyer suffered from the "Thousand Pound Gorilla Syndrome" and the publisher let her do what she wanted because her formula proved successful. (Note to publisher: be as judicious with the final book as with the first, and readers will love you for it.)

Don't get me wrong: Breaking Dawn was enjoyable. It just was too much.

Carole and I also agreed that Bella's self-deprecation was excessive. First, she droned on to the point of "shut up already!" about how she was so clutzy while Edward was perfect. She perceived herself as a stupid sack of meat in comparison to Edward's chiseled marble perfection. Only when she achieved her goal to be like Edward was she satisfied — and then she was unbearable as a perfect immortal. Thank heavens Corinne and her friends do not mirror that absurd thinking. I hope that's the same with other teen girl readers.

Aside from one spoiler from the Washington Post review (thanks a lot!), I walked into the series blind — and I am glad I did. I hope you did, too, and that it allowed you to savor the surprises, the great tale and the magic of a great epic adventure/romance.

I recommend it to every reader. It's a good read and a wonderful story. Just don't try to consume this generous gift at once. Pace yourself, and take your time. Cleanse your palate between books. Trust me: Meyer won't let you loose your place.

Classics, Past and Future

2009-09-08T21:28:00.009-04:00

I have been devouring junk food for a while, and that's fine. I can gorge on chocolate as easily as Brussels sprouts, so consuming Stephenie Meyer's novels was very easy.

I do not mean to disparage Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse, all of which I devoured this past weekend. I loved every moment of these books. These novels are second to none in heart-beating romance. I shan't wax on about them now, but suffice it to say that I enjoyed them.

Then I stumbled across a quote from Madame Bovary and skipped over to Wikipedia for a reliable link to the novel. My, oh my, I do believe it could give Twilight a run for its money.

Gustave Flaubert's novel was known as scandalous in its time. When the story originally was published in 1856 (serialized in a magazine), it was put on trial for obscenity. Of course, that guaranteed its bestseller status the following year when it was published as a novel.

In 2007, contemporary authors cited Madame Bovary as one of the two greatest novels ever written.

The greatest novel, according to contemporary authors? Anna Karenina.

I don't know if I can agree because I'm ashamed to admit I have not read Tolstoy's masterpiece, and I am sure Madame Bovary was one of the novels I gave myself permission to skip as an undergraduate.

So, to cleanse my palate before reaching for Breaking Dawn, I will read one of these novels.

Or Janet Evanovich. I haven't decided which.

Hey, if 1800s popular culture can be considered among the best novels of all time, who's to say Stephanie Plum isn't destined to be a romantic heroine in the future?

By the way, Bella Swan's reading of Wuthering Heights in Eclipse apparently has stimulated teen interest in the classic. I am glad to see that good stories never lose their luster.

The Art of Racing in the Rain — Review by Chris

2009-08-31T00:59:00.005-04:00

People who live with animals, or "pets," have a special relationship with them — and probably anthropomorphize them more than those who do not have intimate relationships with animals. I myself wonder just how much credit I give my cats that they don't deserve.

Then I see Khan sitting by the door when I return from my run so he doesn't miss me (or, really, his soft food that he gets every morning). I see Cisco tread carefully on the bed to see how I am feeling when I am sick or sad. I watch them, listen to them and know that while they may not have my same thought process or frame of reference, something is going on in their brains that allows them to analyze the situation.

Garth Stein lets Enzo show us the inner workings of devoted dog's brain in The Art of Racing in the Rain. The title does not refer to what I had expected, which that was a nice surprise.

When we first meet Enzo, the narrator, he is at the end of his long life. He gives us clues as to what has happened in his decade of life, little tidbits of who we might meet (or not), and a glimpse into his interests. (Yes, Enzo's interests. You'd be amazed.)

Through the course of the novel, Enzo unfolds for us the story of his life, which is the story of his family, the human who adopted him and the people who come along in his life. We meet Denny Swift, a race car driver who adopts the puppy Enzo from a farm in Washington. We meet Eve, who marries Denny. We are present at the birth of Denny and Eve's daughter, Zoë.

Stein captures with clarity and affection the relationship people have with their animals. Each family member has a different relationship with Enzo and each tell him what they will tell no one else. If you can't tell your dog your greatest fears, hopes, dreams and truths, you shouldn't have a dog — and in this story, it is clear that the Swift family should have a dog.

Enzo meets plenty of people who probably shouldn't have dogs, and many who should. He does not judge all people, but he does have opinions about those he knows. We meet all of the people who are in Denny's life, including his in-laws (whom Enzo calls the Twins), Denny's friends and co-workers, and the Swifts' extended family.

There are many lovely, light moments, when a dog loves being a dog. (Denny is a race car driver. Need I say more?) There are dark and terrible moments, when loss eclipses love, when people — and animals — react the only way they know how. Through it all, Enzo remains a reliable narrator, honest and observant. And he is observant in ways humans aren't, which provides an excellent dimension to the story. He offers the good and the bad, which is only fair, despite — or perhaps because of — his stalwart loyalty to his master and his family. When he is not privy to information or experiences firsthand, he reveals what he finds out from whom and how. (Readers may find themselves more judicious when speaking in front of others after Enzo reveals how keenly some around them may listen.)

I dread most "animal stories" with the animal as a narrator because they are terrible. The animals often act like or are treated like humans in the story, a betrayal of both the animal and humans. Animals are not humans, and Enzo (and Stein) never make that blunder of confusion. Enzo'a observations are true to character.

My friend Kathy warned me to have tissues ready at the end. I kept them nearby from the beginning, which for me was a good thing. It is not maudlin, but lovely and true, and good for all readers — even dog lovers of a tender heart who avoid books like these.

I wholeheartedly recommend this book for everyone, no matter their relationship with dogs.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo — Review by Chris

2009-08-24T00:52:00.004-04:00

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was a well-written novel with interesting characters and a compelling story. It started off like gangbusters with an intriguing first few pages describing an old man receiving a mysterious gift in the mail, continued ripe with suspense and intrigue, and ended with heartbreak. I should really have liked it.

However, I didn't like it, and I wouldn't recommend it to another reader.

First and foremost, it was very lurid. I stopped watching the television shows CSI and Law & Order because every crime seemed to involve a young, attractive woman who was raped and/or murdered in gross, horrifying ways. The excruciating details of these crimes laid bare in 42 minutes made me ill.

Such was the case with this book. Every section title page included a statistic regarding violence against women, so we had an idea that more would be revealed. Two main female characters were brutalized, and as the story unfolded, so did the immensity and scope of their brutalization. To their credit, neither accepted the mantle of "victim," and each found a way to make herself a "survivor."

The number of women who were not survivors, however, is staggering. The range and the luridness of these crimes literally disgusted me. Readers have to plow through this information to get to the end, and it is a terrible path to have to take. I didn't need to read such tragic stories.

Author Steig Larrson, may he rest in peace, touts Lisbeth as quite the hero. I suppose she is — but at such a cost that I wish he hadn't created her. Maybe she isn't a victim, and never will be, but what she experienced still broke my heart.

The rest of the book deals with finance, corporate greed and corruption, romance, family intrigue, mystery, history, journalistic integrity, Swedish law and the love of Apple products. Oh, and computer hacking. And possibly autism. Are all of these important? Sure, but I couldn't get past the awfulness of the crimes to which the women in this book were subjected.

It also seemed interminable: the book was much like the Energizer bunny and I just so wanted someone to find a way to thwart it. Just when I thought the violence toward women couldn't get any worse, it did. (By the way, men were brutalized, too, and it was quite terrible as well.)

I recently discovered the Swedish title originally was Män som hatar kvinnor (which translates to Men who hate women), and it made the book more intriguing — until I got to the horrors, then I understood exactly what the title meant. It didn't make the revelations in the book any less awful, or more intriguing.

Stieg Larrson wrote two sequels to this book, the second of which, The Girl Who Played With Fire, was published this summer. I won't read either of them.

Dangerous Reading

2009-08-17T17:10:00.006-04:00

I have a habit of reading as many books as there are rooms in which to read. It’s a lofty idea, and not a bad one for someone who likes the challenge. I have two books going on upstairs — Shadow of the Wind and Good Omens — and a “mobile” book (currently The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) I take with me wherever I might wish to lounge.

This weekend I also read four PostSecret books, but those were living/dining room books, working books of sorts about which I was taking notes.

Do you know what this means? (Oh, besides Who the heck is Blumkvist and which Vanger are we talking about now? — though I suspect that would be a question even if it was the only book in my repertoire.)

What this means is that it will take me three or four times longer to finish a single book, and I will finish multiple books at once.

That’s not a big deal. Normally. Unless there’s a blog that benefits from book reviews. (And I do believe I have one of those.)

So, for your benefit and for my convenience, I may have to leave Daniel Sempere wondering what Fermín was doing with Nuria.

Adam might be on his own with Dog, the latter of whom has begun to enjoy rolling on his back in the sun, while nuclear power plants lose uranium.

I may instead have to see who might have killed Harriet and whether Kalle will get anything out of the Vangers despite their best efforts to stay at war with each other and remain cranky in the bitter winters they spend within sight of each other’s houses.

Or not. The Vangers may be on their own — though the recent discovery that the Swedish title originally was Män som hatar kvinnor (which translates to Men who hate women) may catapult that book to the front of the pack.

No matter which book wins the contest, they’re all good reads and I can’t wait to finish all of them (and write about at least a few of them).

What are you reading? How many books do you juggle at once?

Allusions, Anyone?

2009-08-10T05:08:00.001-04:00

I just found one of the best books for book lovers: Literature Lover's Book of Lists.

I read fewer than two dozen pages before I had to take a break. The table of contents was enough alone to make me dizzy. It was that good.

So, from time to time I might just pull a gem or two out of the book to share with you, Gentle Reader. You might know some or all of them, but I appreciate you humoring me.

For example, do you know from whence many literary terms originated? "Big Brother" isn't just a television show, after all. While familiar, many of these terms have become such common usage that their original meanings often are obscure to later generations. I delighted in reading about them, and being reminded of their origins.

Beau geste is from the novel (and movie) of the same name. As you remember, the eldest Geste brother, Michael (also known as "Beau") dies heroically. Now, any grand gesture or sacrifice can be a beau geste. The phrase is French and means the same.

Brave new world is from Aldus Huxley's novel and referred, with tongue firmly planted in cheek, to a heartless, soulless society.

Perhaps less well-known is Brahmin, which is the name of the first of four castes (varnas) of Hinduism. Oliver Wendell Holmes and his influential companions of his close-knit Boston community. This group was influential, well-educated and politically powerful — and referred to as the Boston Brahmin.

Peyton Place, the novel by Grace Metalious, gives us the term for a community that shows a veneer of respectability with a seething underbelly of real problems.

Svengali was a creation of George DuMaurier. In his novel Trilby, the lead character was being groomed to be a singer by — and under the hypnotic spell of — the musician Svengali. Now, strong personalities who hold too much sway over their proteges are called by the name of this character.

I could go on, but I'm sure you have a few of your own favorites. (Ugly American? Noble savage? Man for all seasons? Shangri-la?) Share them!

Johannes Cabal the Necromancer — Review by Chris

2009-08-04T23:59:00.005-04:00

Johannes Cabal isn't your typical necromancer, if such a thing exists. First of all, he's a little unconventional (and the opening chapter will give you a clue). Second, he doesn't give a damn about what Satan thinks, wants or expects. Third, he'll get his soul back at any cost — no matter what's thrown at him.

In the spirit of Christopher Moore, Jonathan L. Howard crafted a clever, funny and unique book about life, death and everything else in between, courtesy of Johannes Cabal the Necromancer.

In this debut novel, Cabal has taken a road less traveled. He's become a necromancer, not a typical career choice in England (or anywhere else on the planet). He's taken the additional step of trying to ensure his success by selling his soul to Satan to succeed at this endeavor.

Alas, he's learned that lacking a soul throws a necromancer's experiments off just enough to mess up the works. Like a stomping baker, everything Johannes attempts falls flat.

He isn't going to take this lying down. He makes a wager with the Big Guy (Down Under): he will bring Satan 100 souls in a year's time or he loses his soul. Forever. Again. In nasty ways.

Knowing Satan doesn't make a bet he can't win, Johannes takes the wager and finds himself saddled with a traveling carnival. In a word, "Eeeeew." If you were skeeved by human carnies, the folks on this train will keep you awake at night — but in a humorous way.

This book could have been dark and foreboding, brooding and wicked. Instead, it careens toward the dark, nicks just enough to make it interesting, then puts a different spin on the story.

Take Horst. He's Cabal's brother, but he's so much more. He's a vampire, but he's not without some morals. He knows his brother (better than one imagines) and has, as brothers are wont to do, seen his brother at his worst and best. Horst is brought on because (a) he will play along and (2) he knows what people want. And he does, to an extent — he can recognize a damned soul from a hundred paces, and he knows what attracts them. But does he play along, really? What does it take, and what would it cost?

Horst is not alone. Johannes is surrounded by an interesting collection of creatures who know their roles and their positions. They know their jobs and they perform them well. The characters Johannes meets along the way make the tale intriguing in surprising ways.

Can Johannes collect a hundred souls with a ragtag carnival inconceivable to the Prince of Darkness himself? Can he do it without losing any more of what makes him a man? Can he use his talent to gain his talent? Can anyone beat Satan at his own game?

With wit and surprises, laughs and truly incredible moments, Howard crafts a compelling and entertaining story. I was captured by the first scene and riveted before I reached the end of the first chapter. I cared: about Horst, Cabal, Bones, the Laytex Lady — even the criminally insane escapees. The story unfolded with grace and precision, and I enjoyed it greatly. The carnival was reminiscent of (but nowhere near as dark and evil as) Ray Bradbury's classic Something Wicked This Way Comes, whom Howard credits in the book's acknowledgements.

Rumor has it that there is a sequel planned. I'm glad, in part because I really need the end explained to me — and a second book is a lovely way to do it.

Pick up this book, and thank Emily at Borders for the recommendation. (I already did.)

Why I'm Not Finishing A Lesson Before Dying

2009-07-27T20:13:00.007-04:00

My local library has chosen A Lesson Before Dying as the community book, and I picked up a copy immediately so I could be one of the first out of the chute in discussions.

Now I'm one of the first out of the book discussions.

Grant Wiggins is an angry man. He treats his aunt with visible contempt, and she returns the favor. He's angry at his students, over whom he exercises a ridiculous amount of control and lords his authority. He gets angry at them because he's angry, and he treats them bad enough to make them cry. The only person he doesn't seem to treat like dirt is his married girlfriend — but it's still early in the book.

I'm halfway through the book and I'm still not sure exactly why he's angry.

Oh, I get some of it. I understand why he's mad at the white people who lord their authority over him, and the subtle ways he exercises his rights (the right to correct grammar, the right to choose his humiliations). I understand why he tempers his anger at them, and how he tries to use them to get what he needs for school, for his aunt, for Miss Emma.

I understand why he's mad at the students, most of whom will either never leave this place or will die terrible, violent deaths because of who they are and the poor choices they will make. He sees himself in them, and he hates that he's back in the same school where his former teacher told him to get as educated as possible so he'd have a chance at a decent life. His cruelty to them, especially the youngest ones, is abhorrent, and I don't wish to suffer it any longer.

But his life is a mystery, teeming with anger, and it's a mystery that I'm not sympathetic enough to unravel and anger I'm not interested enough to suffer. Wikipedia notes that Grant's relationship with Jefferson breaks him out of his self-absorbing anger, but I can't suffer any more Grant.

If you have any insights that might make me want to start the book over, I'd be much obliged if you would share them. I will give it another fair shake if, like God, I find one reader who can give me good reason why I should continue.

Astrid and Veronika — Review by Chris

2009-07-23T20:36:00.006-04:00

Where does friendship start? In a classroom for a subject at which you do not excel? On a train, traveling to somewhere you've never been before? Maybe in a small village in Sweden, in a rented house where you're recovering from a pain so deep you don't know how it will ever stop?

In Astrid & Veronika, friendship begins in a kitchen in that Swedish village. Astrid Mattson is the "neighborhood witch" who has lived in the same house in the tiny village her her entire life. The globetrotting Veronika Bergman has rented a small neighboring house with the intent of writing her second book. The two houses are within sight of each other, but remote from all else.

Veronika falls easily into a habit of walking, eating, writing (or not) and thinking. From time to time, she thinks she sees a flicker behind the kitchen panes of her neighbor's home, but there's no movement otherwise inside or outside of the house. It's as if no one lives there.

Astrid knows she's viewed as a witch in the village. She doesn't mind that people in the village steer clear of her. She lives alone, and she says it suits her. However, once someone is suddenly not alone, it's hard to keep up the façade. She watches Veronika with more interest than a hermit should, noting her habits and activities. When she does not see Veronika for a couple of days, and it's apparent she's still in the house, Astrid makes a decision: she will go check on her.

This is the beginning, one can say, of a beautiful friendship.

Both women are full of stark and raw emotion. They've had losses and surprises, injuries and indignities. At 78, Astrid has lived a full life — despite the quiet nature of her current situation. Younger by more than half, Veronika had her share of loss and disappointment, and many of the items on her list are quite unexpected.

Author Linda Olsson creates a difficult story full of love and respect. The language is soft and gentle, the characters kind to each other and supportive. They listen when they should, share when they can. No judgment, no horror between the friends — despite some of the shocking details they reveal — which allows the reader to make the same concessions.

Some of the story is told by suggestion. Some is direct. However, it's crystal clear to the readers that these two women need each other at a time when they cannot reach out to anyone else. One hopes that all women have friends like that, and those of us lucky enough with worthy friendships can recognize our better friends (and hopefully ourselves) in these two women.

It's not an easy book to read because of Olsson's women. I don't state that to scare the "gentle" reader, but these women have heartaches, true and deep. Olsson gives it to the reader straight, unflinching as the characters themselves.

If you are brave enough, you will love the characters in the book and find the storyline and its subjects unforgettable. Approach with the open heart these women have and you will be rewarded.

Remembering the Memoir

2009-07-19T20:00:00.009-04:00

The passing of Frank McCourt, the 78-year-old author of the wildly successful Angela's Ashes, made me think about the memoir — specifically, what good memoirs I have read.

I will give McCourt his props. His memoir was grand, sweeping and one of the most heart-wrenching books I had read to date. It broke my heart to read about children experiencing such abject poverty, hunger, cold and disillusionment. I watched the movie with Carole the first weekend of its release, and neither of us was a terribly happy camper when we left the theater that night.

Carole and I have reviewed a number of memoirs in our blog, and some of them are worth mentioning (and recommending).

If I am Missing or Dead by Janine Latus. A thoughtful and harrowing story of the author's younger sister — but even more so, the story of the author herself. The book jacket starts the story with the disappearance of the younger sister, but the author wisely begins the story at the right place: at her own beginning.

The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls. For those of us who did not experience it, parental neglect seems unfathomable. Try cranking it up a notch or 12 with Walls' book. I borrowed Carole's copy, tabs and all, and I was floored at the conditions under which these parents kept the children. The author begins her tale with an anecdote: seeing her mother living as a streetperson in Manhattan. Most authors wouldn't know where to go from there. Walls takes us to the right memories, weaving a story of sadness and disappointment that lingers.

I Dreamed of Africa by Kuki Gallmann. Africa takes center stage in this memoir of a European woman who escapes to Africa after tragedies in her life. For her, Africa is home and we experience her life in a very visceral way. I cried more than once as I read her tales of hardship and sadness, loss and despair. It was one of the most beautifully written books I had ever read.

How I Lost Five Pounds in Six Years by Tom Arnold. I laughed, I cried. It was a sweet, honest and rare story. The persona Arnold presents to his audience as an actor or a TV writer is much different than the love story he writes to his future children. I laughed at his self-deprecating humor. I appreciated the difference between a joke at his expense and being a joke — and never was he the latter. I loved this book so much I purchased a copy to use as a reference guide when I wrote my own memoir. (I will, however, leave out the meat processing plant job in mine.)

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen. It's the story of a hiker who gets lost on his way down from trying to climb Mt. Everest and winds up in a tiny village whose inhabitants tend him back to health. In return, he promises to build them a school. Only he doesn't stop at one school for one village. I mentioned this book to my friend Wayne before his deployment to Afghanistan; he lamented the dove-ish approach of education, reminding me the true responsibility of the military. On his first R&R six months later, he commented that his humanitarian efforts made more difference by far than his military might. I think Greg would have agreed.

What are some memoirs you have enjoyed — or not?

The Strain — Review by Chris

2009-07-13T21:12:00.009-04:00

I love the re-telling of a tale. There's a magic to recognizing the familiar amidst the unique and unexpected. I also enjoy the modernizing of a tale: technology and modern sensibilities bring a new perspective to an old story.

Then there's just the coolness of discovering a new way of looking at an old friend.

Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan's new book, The Strain, does not reinventing the wheel. But it does change the way we look at vampires.

When most people thing of vampires, they think of Bram Stoker's vampires: mysterious, exotic and just a little sexy. There's something almost erotic about their feeding. Oh, a few "slasher porn" movies have challenged that and made vampires into monsters that rip people apart and scare you to death, but what sells — and what people think of — is Bela Lugosi.

Get your romance somewhere else. The Strain is, as David put it, "part CSI, part legend."

One of the lead characters is a physician with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Ephraim Goodweather leads the Canary project, a group that, much like the name suggests, go into dangerous situations to see just how dangerous it is, disease-wise. When an airplane lands at Kennedy Airport in New York City and, within minutes of touching down, suddenly goes dark and quiet, Eph's people get called in to don their protective gear and test the air, so to speak.

Eph is no romantic. He looks at the slides, the black light, the samples and microbes. He goes cellular.

Neither is Abraham Setrakian. A Holocaust survivor who encountered evil beyond Nazis in Treblinka, the pawnshop owner living in Spanish Harlem knows exactly what is happening. He's rooted in the Old World, but only because of his background as a professor in an Eastern European university. His grandmother's tales open the book, and Bubbeh remains with us as we pick-pick-pick our way through the pages.

The authors introduce us to some interesting characters: Zach, Eph's son and the subject of a bitter custody battle; Gabriel Bolivar, a rock star who is surprised by what he sees when he removes his makeup one day; Joan Luss, a bloodthirsty lawyer (literally) who sees "tort" where others see illness; Fet, an exterminator with a unique perspective.

Hogan and del Toro might have dreamed up what they considered the most inefficient and awkward bureaucracy to respond to this perceived threat, but they weren't too far from the truth. I cringed at the response from the authorities, but it made sense. No one would believe what was happening, not if they were sane.

This is the first of a trilogy. Frankly, I can't wait for the second book, scheduled to be published next year (and the last book will be published in 2011). While reading the novel, I could picture the movie del Toro would direct, and I would be first in line to watch it.

The book was enjoyable, thrilling, compelling and impossible to put down. It is graphic and sad, and there's a scene that will be difficult for pet owners everywhere — but don't let that stop you. Read a new non-romantic vampire book. Expand your mind.

Beginner's Greek — Review by Chris

2009-07-08T20:20:00.002-04:00

Beginner's Greek is one of the most satisfying romantic stories I have read in ages — and lately I've read some great love stories (post-marital Darcy and Elizabeth, anyone?). James Collins produces a very complex, enjoyable and tension-creating love story in this, his debut novel.

Peter and Holly meet on a cross-country flight. If there is such a thing as "love at first sight," they've managed to find it in the hours spent talking easily and pleasantly sitting side-by-side on the plane. As they disembark, Holly gives Peter the number where she will be staying, and Peter promises to call. If only he can keep his promise.

The next time he sees Holly, it's on the arm of his best friend, Jonathan. Peter respects his friend and won't stand in his way, and watches silently as the woman of his dreams marries his best friend. When Peter in turn meets Charlotte, he finds a woman with whom he could be happy, and they marry. The four of them — Charlotte, Peter, Jonathan and Holly — will be friends forever. But Fate intervenes.

Fate also brings a cast of fascinating characters that tell the story (their stories, the story of Peter and/or Holly) from their own perspectives. Readers meet Charlotte's father Dick and stepmother Julia, whose stories intertwine in ways one never expects and who tell their parts in the story with honesty and clarity. We meet Graham, Holly's father, in a scene that made me laugh and cry aloud. We meet Arthur, whose part in the story is rather complex and wholly unexpected. Then there's Miss Harrison, who saves the day more than once with a cool detachment that belies her intricate involvement with the tale. We end the story with one last reminder that what we do when we are in this world continue much longer than we realize.

What drives this book is the characters: they are complete and complex, clever and self-aware — and absurdly good people. Would I have the presence of mind to react with Peter's kindness and selflessness? Boy, I hope not. And yet they are wholly believable, whether by our own desire to be so or by the truth of their character.

The story has twists and turns that sometimes are telegraphed and sometimes are complete surprises. It's not wholly unique, but it is original and delightful. There are some moments that ring so true that I would swear the author had been reading my diaries. There is one love declaration scene that made me feel good that some of the most romantic scenes are the most realistic — and are the most wonderful.

From time to time, the language is almost archaic, with, as one reviewer put it, Victorian exclamations. At times, the character and storylines stretch almost to the point of breaking. Would you say what she said or do what he did? Would anyone? Who cares! It works within the confines of this novel.

Read this book. Enjoy this book. Then do what I did: recommend it to everyone you know who wants a satisfying, delightful read.

Books I Would Never Read Again

2009-07-03T23:59:00.003-04:00

I have strong feelings about books I have read, but rarely do I assign them to the "untouchable" pile. However, there are a few exceptions, and I will share them with you (in no particular order).

Coincidentally, every single one of these books has been made into movies — and in some cases, Hollywood has taken some liberties — and I can hope that it helped. (Not for myself, but for others.)

Plague Dogs by Richard Adams. If he was trying to reinforce the horrors of animal testing, he more than did it. I had thumbed through it once or twice, then I gave a copy to Carole — who, one evening, asked me cautiously, "Have you read it?" Oh, no, I assured her, but Richard Adams wrote Watership Down, so I figured he was trustworthy. When Carole described the story to me, I declared that I would recycle my copy so no one else would suffer through it. Thankfully my reading was superficial, or I fear I would have never recovered.

Hannibal by Thomas Harris. The writing was sub-par and the author obviously despised his own character, Clarisse Starling. By the end, I didn't think Harris could lay her any lower — and then he proved me wrong. I had to re-read the ending 10 times before I believed it, and I was so angry. Jodie Foster said she would not reprise her role as Clarisse in the movie based on this book, so the studio hired a different woman (apparently they're all alike) to play the character and changed the ending. (Not enough, from what I heard.)

My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult. I probably could have lived with the book if not for the ending. It wasn't bad, and the premise is intriguing. This book is considered by readers one of the most likely to be thrown across the room, and I can see why. Carole also read it for a book club and wanted to throw it across the room herself. Rumor has it the movie has a different ending. Thank heavens.

The Last Templar by Raymond Khoury. I chose it for book club and since them apologized frequently and loudly. It had great reviews, which shocks me: the characters were too stupid to be alive and the storyline was beyond absurd. To be fair, the premise is interesting, and in the hands of a gifted storyteller with characters that didn't annoy readers to tears, it might have been good. There's a movie out based on the novel; it's nearly three hours long. For the love of reading, don't do it.

Bastard out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison. I'm no masochist, so I stopped at page 70. I didn't think the story could get any more bleak and tragic, but my friend Kathy, who had read it, assured me it did. I'll take her word for it. It might be a tribute to Allison that the story was so vivid. Still, I won't even pick it up to move it aside.

What is on your list?

A Reliable Wife — Review by Chris

2009-06-29T19:55:00.002-04:00

In A Reliable Wife, something is going to happen. There's no doubt about that. The question, however, is what?

Well, let's just say that even if it's what you think it is, it's not — not in the hands of Robert Goolrick.

James Truitt is a private man in a small town, where everyone knows everything. Every winter, people succumb to the slow madness of the blinding snow and numbing cold.

He advertises for a wife in a big city newspaper. He receives a number of replies, and he chooses one — Catherine, a plain woman who calls herself "simple" and includes her photo.

Only the woman who steps off the train is not the same woman in the photo.

Catherine is in the wilds of the Midwest at the turn of the 20th century for her own reasons. You know she is up to something almost from the beginning — and after the first few moments Truitt and Catherine are together, you wonder exactly what it is.

Goolrick has an amazing way of blending the story of two people, their lives apart and together, into a deftly tight tapestry of color and texture. Neither is what they appear to be, and yet they cannot be more than themselves. Until....

This story captures the endless winter of the Midwest in great detail, the isolation yet stifling connectedness of a small town, the loss and regret, the hope and anticipation, the surprising willingness to change and be changed.

The characters are vivid and crisp, their stories are bleak but hopeful, sad yet tinged with possibility, colorful yet monochromatic to themselves and their discouragement. I saw possibility in the first chapter and was hopelessly hooked by the second. I had no choice but to see the story through. Just when I thought I was clever (and I was, at least about the storyline), the author tossed in a few curves.

In the end, you will be satisfied by the story and characters, the setting and the surprises — and the parts you knew would happen like that after all.

Penny Vincenzi's Windfall

2009-06-18T22:30:00.005-04:00

Keep your eyes peeled in October for what Amazon calls "perhaps Penny Vincenzi’s most riveting family saga yet."

What if you were given a chance to step out of your life? Would you step back in? Cassia Fallon has that opportunity in Windfall, Vincenzi's newest release due on this side of the Atlantic October 1.

So far, Carole and I have enjoyed the author's other books, including the Lytton trilogy, Sheer Abandon and The Dilemma. I'm saving Almost a Crime for my end-of-summer read, a reward just before school starts.

An upcoming Vincenzi is a cause for celebration, and I'm making room on my bookshelf right now.

David Sedaris is Coming to Town!

2009-06-15T23:01:00.007-04:00

I recently discovered a writer who has made me laugh aloud more than once, and whose books I enjoy without fail: David Sedaris.

I heard him first on The David Letterman Show (thanks, Stadium Pal!), then stumbled across an audio recording of an essay of his I read about Christmas in the Netherlands:

A Dutch parent has a decidedly hairier story to relate, telling his children, 'Listen, you might want to pack a few of your things together before going to bed. The former bishop of Turkey will be coming tonight along with six to eight black men. They might put some candy in your shoes, they might stuff you into a sack and take you to Spain, or they might just pretend to kick you. We don't know for sure, but we want you to be prepared.'

Sedaris has an enviable way of making honest comments that stop the reader in her/his tracks. I read Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim and found myself reading passages out loud, and quickly shared it with Carole — his description of his mother's contempt for people who own more than one home (and the family's consideration of doing just that) was quote-worthy:

She laughed and swatted him with a towel, and we witnessed what we would later come to recognize as the rejuvenating power of real estate. It's what fortunate couples turn to when their sex life has faded and they're too pious for affairs. A second car might bring people together for a week or two, but a second home can revitalize a marriage for up to nine months after the closing.

His work is a literal joy to read, and these nuggets of humor are so tightly woven into his essays that every entry is a gem.

If you have a chance, read his stuff — and now that he's promoting his latest book, he very well could be coming to a town near you. I hope to see you there!

Significance of Today

2009-06-12T15:06:00.004-04:00

"'On Friday, June 12, I woke up at six o'clock and no wonder; it was my birthday, But of course I was not allowed to get up at that hour, so I had to control my curiosity until a quarter to seven...soon after seven, I went to Mummy and Daddy and then to the sitting room to undo my presents. The first to greet me was you, possibly the nicest of all.' Anne Frank, June 12, 1942, The Diary of A Young Girl. Had she lived, today would be her 80th birthday.

And spare a good thought as well for Miep Gies, who helped hide the Franks, found and kept the diary safe until Anne's confirmed death, and then gave the world this treasure. She celebrated her 100th birthday this year. Not that Politicians, comedians and beauty queens aren't relevant, but if you have that tattered copy of Frank's diary tucked away on a shelf since high school, pull it out and give it another read."

(Hat Tip to maatkare for leaving this quote on Big Hollywood today.)

I think I will pull out my copy and give it another read. Also visit Anne Frank's tree here.

Drood — Review by Chris

2009-06-11T11:39:00.002-04:00

Charles Dickens' final novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, was left unfinished upon the author's death.

But what if it wasn't just a novel? What if there was some truth to the tale?

Dan Simmons imagines that very possibility in his latest tome, Drood. Readers familiar with Dickens' last work will find recognizable elements throughout Simmons' story; I confess my Dickens background is a little light, so, for me, the story was a complete surprise.

The book begins a few years before Dickens' death. Dickens life is in shambles: his wife has been sent away in favor of another who has caught his eye, his health and well-being are compromised by a terrible train accident that robbed him of his peace, he is in pain and is feeling the hot breath of mortality on his neck.

Wilkie Collins, as narrator, has an intimate view into the life of Dickens. They are friends and co-workers who know each other's secrets. Wilkie Collins is a reliable narrator, which is an invaluable element of this book. Without a trusted tale-teller, the tale would be too fantastic and amazing for the reader as it snakes above and below Dickensian London, with dead men, drug addiction, scarabs, mesmerism, train wrecks, illicit love affairs and a lime pit.

The story is compelling and full of surprises. With each chapter is a new revelation, richly imagined and described with a clarity and detail that brings the tale alive to the reader. One does not just see the underbelly of London, but smells and touches it. Class division, a foreign concept to Americans, is alive and well in this book.

The tale is fabulous, but it would have been limited to words on a page if not for the lively characters. Collins brings to live an amazing cast, from the poor pension-free and disgruntled police detective, to the bodyguard whose final experiences literally shocked me into bad dreams, to the lady with the green skin who calls into question the narrator's very fiber of being— or does it?

In the end, who to believe? Dickens, who appeared to have no reason to mangle the truth because there was no real benefit to him? Collins, whose very reality begs the question be asked in the first place? An unpublished story that makes Collins' waking life seem like a fantasy? I do not need an answer. What I need to do is re-read Drood and see what I missed during my sleepless nights of reading as I rushed to a finale I could not have anticipated in my wildest dreams.

Then I need to get my hands on a few novels by the authors in question and enjoy them with a different perspective. Maybe Drood is fiction, but it's real enough for me.

Good News About Janet Evanovich and Stephanie Plum!

2009-06-04T01:56:00.003-04:00

I have been pacing myself for the past year, after discovering Janet Evanovich's plucky, crazy bounty hunt — er, bond enforcer.

Last June, I sat in the emergency room of my local hospital, waiting my turn and learning about Stephanie Plum, Joe Morelli, Ranger, Lula, Connie, Vinnie — the whole gang. I started at the end (at the time), with Fearless Fourteen, thanks to the sympathetic Cindy, who sent me a book that could capture my attention, despite being in the middle of one of the busiest trauma units in the region. By the end of the first chapter, I was in love.

A month later, when I had even more time on my hands (don't ask, it will sound like a Stephanie Plum novel!), Carole brought me One for the Money. I have worked my way through each with great amusement, finishing Ten Big Ones just last night. It was late, I couldn't put down the book and I nearly awoke the household with my laughter.

Each one becomes my favorite, but Ten stands out for me. Carole had cryptically mentioned that some characters from earlier books returned in subsequent tomes, and I was a little apprehensive. (You should see who Stephanie encounters!) However, I was thrilled that it was the case.

Then I discover Finger Lickin' Fifteen is set for publication in less than two weeks. May I say two words? Woo and Hoo!

I have a few numbered novels to finish, plus a few between-the-numbers books, so I have my hands full until I get to Fifteen. Until then, just look for the woman who is laughing in the corner, Evanovich novel in her hands. That will be me.

Books on the Horizon — An Update

2009-05-31T23:59:00.003-04:00

With 2009 halfway done, an update appeared in order for readers to report what we can expect to see for the rest of this year and, perhaps, even into the next. A previous post examined a few books slated for publication, and some have come to the bookshelves, and there is promise of other tantilizing goodies in the future.

Alas, other promised gifts have not yet arrived. A couple I watched with great anticipation have not yet seen the light:

Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde, originally slated for August — and now projected by the author for late December. Carole and I agree this messes up not only her birthday, but mine as well, not to mention Christmas. However, whatever day this book is released will serve as a lovely holiday, and we hope the author comes to our neighborhood for a reading, as he did when his last book was published.
Ape House by Sara Gruen, originally slated for April, is not even dated on her Web site or on booksellers' Web sites.

However, Borders caught up with Elizabeth Kostova, author of The Historian, one of the most original books I've read in ages. The interview is posted on Facebook, which I hope non-FBers can watch. If not, the tantilizing bit of information I gleaned was the release of her new book: The Swan Thieves, "a mystery rooted in the history of French impressionism." The book will be published January 2010. I can't wait.

In the meantime, I'll re-read her debut novel that caught readers by total surprise, a book she started in the MFA program at the University of Michigan. Also, I'll read this interview by Powell's Books in Portland, Ore. And this panel discussion in which she particiated in Ann Arbor, Mich.

Say What?

2009-05-27T09:06:00.003-04:00

"I am not a fan of books. I would never want a book's autograph."
-- Kanye West, son of former English professor, from the Washington Post

This is beyond absurd. I just needed to say that out loud. Thank you.

Giant — Review by Chris

2009-05-24T23:59:00.003-04:00

When I realized the movie "Giant" was based a book, and Edna Ferber was an author Carole had read and whose work she had enjoyed, I figured I'd find out if the book really is always being better.

It isn't.

Giant wasn't bad, but it wasn't good.

First of all, the book was not as grand and sweeping a tale as the movie — a full three-quarters of the book was set during the first six months Leslie, the new bride from Virginia, was in Texas. The rest of the book coasted along for the next two decades, then petered out. The saga started at the end, which I liked, but nowhere in the rest of the book was the opening scene set up or resolved. We get a few years down the road by the end of the book, but it's a short trip and not in the least bit exciting.

The characters were caricatures. Leslie's best friends were Texans with a capital "Tex" who were gauche and loud and selfish and Texas-centric. Bick's sister Luz was a joke, and she was supposed to be this immovable force who was more legend than real in the book. I couldn't help but see Leslie as Elizabeth Taylor and Bick as Rock Hudson as I read, and the book did them no justice. They weren't interesting or evolving or romantic. They were boring. Even Jett Rink was a snooze-fest, with a tepid love for Leslie, a limp hate of Bick and a alcoholism that wasn't tragic nor self-destructive.

Texas was a non-character. Texas, this bigger than life, sprawling state that is too big to know and too personal to not love, was not really there. Bick's beloved ranch was a minor footnote. His cattle, though, were there, sulking in the background, waiting their due.

There was lots of talk, talk, talk and yet no one really says anything. Everyone and everything skated across the top. Terrible conditions for Mexicans? Leslie hates it but that's only because she says so; there's no evidence that she feels that way. The next generation stirs up a lot of doscontent, with Jordy not wanting his father's life and Luz wanting into the businesses and Vashti's twins being spoiled brats, but we hear about it in passing, like it's background music we're supposed to vaguely recognize but not notice. Even Bick's future medical condition was glossed over, distractedly patted like a spoiled child you want to leave the room. No matter how serious things got, people didn't do more than have polite cocktail party conversation — except once, and that in the second-to-last chapter.

Gramatically, Ferber loved run-on sentences with stacks of verbs and adjectives. When three would do, she used them all without punctuation. It was distracting annoying ungrammatical incorrect. She should stop desist alter her rhythm choose a different tactic. Kind of like that, only really annoying.

So, my recommendation is to watch the movie and appreciate what Ferber brought to the party, but don't waste your time on the book.

Summer Reading — by Chris

2009-05-21T21:44:00.001-04:00

With Memorial Day right around the corner, beach and cabin season is nearly upon us. Have you lined up your summer reading? I've given it some thought myself, and I came up with a few books I wouldn't mind finishing before school starts again.

Some are pure Fluff 'n Trash™ while others might have a tad more literary "value." I won't worry myself about all that because — well, it's summer, and it's a time for the kind of reading that makes the days disappear.

Giant by Edna Ferber. I have to get this classic under my belt. Carole loved Ferber's Pulitzer Prize-winner So Big, so I'd like to give this one a chance. Of course, after reading about the Benedicts, I can pick up the movie and watch it one rainy afternoon. (It's summer, so there will be at least one rainy afternoon!)

Darcy and Elizabeth by Linda Bertoll. It might be a little steamy for hot weather, but I'll try to brave it as best I can.

Almost a Crime by Penny Vincenzi. This one will come at the end of the summer, when I deserve a huge treat. There are few reads more tantalizing, scandalous and titillating as hers, and they're always a rolicking good time.

Rebecca by Daphne DuMarier. Gothic and suspenseful, why not?

Peyton Place by Grace Metalious. It holds up half a century later, so a glimpse into another town too much like our own will be a delight.

The Great Stink by Clare Clark. I enjoyed the subterranian world of Drood, and I have found Clare Clark a gifted writer. Good combination, if I do say so myself.

Dark Angels by Karleen Koen. Karen loaned me this book nearly a year ago, and I've been eyeing it with great interest. Summer is a great excuse to read about 18th century Europe and its royalty. Maybe it will turn me toward....

The Constant Princess by Philippa Gregory. Go ahead, twist my arm to send me back to Tudor England. It takes nothing to send me to the court of King Henry VIII or his progeny.

Prague by Arthur Phillips. Apparently this "stunningly brilliant" novel takes place in Budapest. Maybe I should find out why.

A Lion Among Men by Gregory Maguire. This would give me an excuse to re-read Wicked, one of my favorite novels of all time.

I think I'll have enough until Jasp — wait a hot second, the publication of Jasper Fforde's novel Shades of Grey has been postponed until January 2010! And Sara Gruen's upcoming novel Ape House isn't even on the calendar yet. Well, at least there are a few books queued up to keep us entertained while we await the arrival of these two juicy morsels.

What are you hoping to read this summer?

The Dilemma — Review by Chris

2009-05-17T21:54:00.002-04:00

Penny Vincenzi writes a sizzling read, full of split-second timing, lost chances, second chances, surprises, miracles and old-fashioned bumbling that keeps readers on the edges of their seats.

The Dilemma is no exception.

It is her debut novel, and it shows signs of where she will take us with The Lytton Trilogy and Sheer Abandon. It's not my favorite, but it still is a superior novel (even if it should have been more judiciously edited).

I wanted to like it more — but I had a problem with Francesca, whom I found shrill, immature, spoiled and unable to handle life. I had no sympathy for her and thought her unlikeable. I also found it completely out of character: a woman who can successfully run a PR office can't handle her own personal life and some of the difficulties that come along with it. She hates secrets, but she has her own — and she gets mad at her husband and mother when they have their own secrets.

Having said that, Francesca was perfect for this story.

Francesca is an independent woman who, in a way that is completely a mystery to her, becomes a woman of leisure and mother of two — plus stepmother to four others of varying ages (including one contemporary). Her very wealthy husband Bard is much older than she (and I keep picturing him as Asa Buchanan from the daytime drama series "One Life to Live.")

Asa — I mean Bard — has issues of his own. He's a very important, busy business tycoon who plays everything very close to the chest. He doesn't get along with any of his children once they get to an age where they can't be "handled." He barely gets along with his partner, and he certainly doesn't get along with his partner's wife. He has asked (if one can portray his "request" as such) Francesca to not have a career of her own. He needs her to manage his home life and to be available for him. It's a sacrifice Vincenzi's characters make over and over, and it is always fraught with peril.

The prologue of The Dilemma finds Bard asking Francesca to give him an alibi for a particular day. The story then drops back to a few years before the fateful question, so we can see how the story progresses.

Vincenzi weaves multiple storylines with a wide array of characters, and all are fascinating and integral to the story. There's Liam, the eldest son from Isambard's marriage to his first, and most beloved, wife; then there's Kirsten, the eldest daughter from his second, very unsuccessful marriage. Bard's mother Jess is the only one who can speak frankly and be heard by her son.

We also meet a few "outsiders" to the Channing clan who have insider's views of the family: Oliver, son of Bard's late partner and excruciatingly decent; and Gray, a finance reporter who has no intention of covering Channing's company until the whiff of a great story lures him into the fray.

The long and winding road that leads us to the end of the story is worth the trip. Pick up a copy of The Dilemma and enjoy the scandal and intrigue that only Penny Vincenzi can create.

If My Desk Could Talk...

2009-05-12T12:07:00.013-04:00

Our blog usually focuses on our reading experiences, and this story is about where and how I write, but since I write about reading, I think it counts.

I have been on a quest for a tiny writing desk to fit this little niche I have in my living room. The family computer is almost always in use by someone else when I'm ready to blog, so I've really been looking forward to the day when I had a space of my own.

At the end of last year, I find the perfect writing table. Fortified with some Christmas bonus money, I order the piece. I'm told that I'll have it in 6-8 weeks. I finally receive the call that the piece is available for me to pick up on Mother's Day (22 weeks, but who's counting, right?).

So after a lovely Mother's Day brunch, my husband and I drive to a Maryland warehouse where we're met by two Russian guys who have the desk. The whole thing seemed like a scene out of a movie, but I didn't care. There, on the loading dock, was MY desk, in all its inspirational loveliness. I checked it all over, the guys loaded it into its box, they put it into the back of my husband's truck, we lash it down behind the cab, and we drive off.

After a week of steady rain, we enjoy cruising along in the beautiful sunshine. We chat about how easy this all has been and how great the desk is going to look in its spot. As we approach Virginia, we drive on to the Wilson Bridge going about 65 mph, and my husband starts yelling, "No! No! No!"

The wind catches the truck from the side and whips the box out of the truck, it lifts a few feet in the air and blows down the road, lands on the bridge, and proceeds to roll several feet before landing half on the shoulder, half on the road. Somehow the box doesn't hit any cars nor is it hit by anything--everyone just swerves around it.

In no time my husband pulls over and is running down the shoulder to get the box. I sit there horrified by the possibility that he'll be hit by a car and by the certainty that the desk is now a pile of matchsticks inside the box. I see him struggling to carry this clumsy box, so I jump out and help him get it into the truck.

We lash it down again and drive away. We pass the rest of the ride in silence, the only sound my occasional sniffle. I wipe away furtive tears each time I think of what has happened.

When we get home, I head for the house, call my son, and tell him that he needs to help his father. I cannot bear to even look at the damage. A few minutes later I peek out the window and see the battered empty box at the curb. Then I hear them coming up the stairs.

They are carrying my desk, and it's in perfect condition! There isn't a scratch on it--there isn't a wobbly leg--there isn't a cracked drawer--there isn't any loose hardware. It's perfect--even lovelier than when I fell for it in the store.

Despite its very treacherous journey to our home, here it is in its rightful place, where I hope it will live for many, many years. And see, it has inspired my writing already.

Bookish News: Opportunistic or Timely? — Comments by Chris

2009-04-30T19:45:00.006-04:00

I love reading historical fiction and non-fiction. I love the odd thriller, even creepy ones.

What I don't like is opportunism.

Publisher Henry Holt has offered biologist Nathan Wolfe a six-figure deal for his book on viruses — during the frenzy of what the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) is now calling the H1N1 flu. We all have been calling it the "swine flu."

Unless you live under a rock, no one within earshot of a television or radio could have missed the breathless reports about this virus. If you missed that, your government was ready to direct you to their own sources, including flyers from Children's Hospital about how to talk to your children about this disease.

I received a briefing from my organization's infectious disease officer, who assured my co-workers and me that the H1N1 flu is less virulent and deadly than the viruses that circulate every winter. Stripped of the hype, and with added information that the healthiest people are the ones showing the highest exposure to it (without fatality) and the vaccine is plentiful and ready if needed, I wondered why the excitement.

Then the CDC confirmed the first reported death from the virus, and any hope of sanity was wiped from the horizon.

I don't doubt people need to be educated. Wash your hands, use hand sanitizer if you must, sneeze into a handkerchief or your elbow — you know, all the things we all should do to prevent infection from all airborne viruses.

However, I'm a little ill from the profiteering by publishers during a catastrophe. I'm sure that without the hype, the biologist's book would have experienced a modest success, much like Flu: The Story of the Great Influenza Pandemic and The Great Influenza: the story of the greatest pandemic in history. I read the former when it was first published a decade ago, and I enjoyed it greatly. However, it wasn't purchased, edited and set to be published while people were panicking about a disease the media had convinced them was oozing under their bolted door.

I suffered through the last few elections that saw the proliferation of insta-books littering the bookstores. Both parties tried to "swift-boat" the other with books that more often than not touted not how fabulous their candidate was, but why the other candidate was not fit for the job.

I'm exhausted from hype. I fear that since the terrorist attacks in September 2001, the media and government are trying to make up for missing one of the biggest stories of our generation — and over-hyping every event for the foreseeable future might buy them absolution.

Tonight, AP News announced that the number of reported cases in the originating country is slowing, and no other countries can match those numbers. I'm grateful for that news.

However, I am not grateful for the opportunistic media. We readers deserve better.

Classics in My Queue

2009-04-25T23:59:00.005-04:00

I'm always thrilled to discover a classic I didn't know I wanted to read. Here are five on my list:

Giant by Edna Ferber. Carole just reviewed another of her books, and she enjoyed it. I loved the movie, and the first few pages promise a great read.

Peyton Place by Grace Metalius. It's been half a decade since the divine Ms. M rocked the house and coined a new term for "scandalous little town." There's a sequel, and I might just read that, too. (And yes, I loved the movie as well.)

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. Apparently this was as much a treatise on God as it was on humanity. It also sounds like it might be a little dry — but I'd be glad to be wrong. And I'm not sure which movie adaptation would be preferable to watch (though I have a soft spot for Pierce Brosnan!).

Rebecca by Daphne Du Marier. I loved The House on the Strand and this sounds gothic tale marvellous. Carole love it, so I'm sure I will, too. Again, lots of movie adaptations, but I am not partial to any single one, though the black and white classic sounds like a winner.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. I've started it many times — and fallen asleep before I finished the first page. Actually, I've managed to miss reading many of Dickens' classics, like Oliver Twist, Great Expectations and Little Dorrit — and after reading Drood, I can't wait to read more Dickens (and maybe even The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins!).

And an embarrassing bonus confession:

Dracula by Bram Stoker. Must I admit that I have read books about and based on the great Gothic novel but never the tale itself? Carole recently read it with her family and I enjoyed immensely her daughter's take on Mina (accurate in the way she was about Princess Leia).

What are some classics you've been meaning to read?

Repeat Reads

2009-04-20T20:42:00.002-04:00

Some books are a one-time shot. Once the magic has been spent, there is none left.

Then there are the lovely re-reads that keep on giving. Here are a couple of those I keep in my library:

The Phantom Tollbooth. This is one of my Desert Island books — you know, the one you'd want with you were you stranded on a desert island. I watched the television show when I was a child and stumbled upon the book during my first week at college. I've never been the same since. It's a book written on so many levels. It is classified as a children's book, but I assure you, it's a delight for readers at any age. Milo is bored, so he takes a trip to a fantastic land and makes a discovery that I've found to be true time and again. Every time I read it, I find something else wonderful and new.

Good Omens. Rarely have I laughed this hard and this long. Every person to whom I have recommended this also has laughed aloud. In fact, one friend said he wanted to read the funny stuff to his wife and, well, found himself reading the entire thing aloud to her. What happens when the end of the world is nigh because an angel and a demon kind of lost the spawn of Satan? Bonus: it's written by two of my favorite authors: Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

The Spoils of Time: The Lytton Trilogy. To be fair, the first book is my only re-read of this trilogy, but I look forward to subsequent re-reads of all three novels. The books are hefty, but worth the read. Penny Vincenzi knows how to write scandal and suspense, romance and tragedy. Celia Lytton is determined to marry Oliver, and her life is never the same — nor is the British (and, ultimately, American) publishing worlds the same. The story spans more than half a century, and it's breathtaking and sweeping and yet personal and tender. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wonder aloud to your friends (who must also read the books) how these characters can do what they're doing.

Lord of the Rings. I re-read these hefty tomes every year before the movies came out. I have re-read them every couple of years since. It's not the easiest read, and I have to admit I found it easier to imagine what was going on after watching Peter Jackson's vision of it. However, Tolkien is Tolkien, and his magic is more than legendary: it's sweeping and timeless.

The Moon is Always Female. Marge Piercy is accessible and yet still mysterious. I get her poems, but in every re-read there's more to discover. And yet reading the same images are a comfort and still powerful year after year. When I read Piercy, I suspect I might have a clue.

What will you read over and over — and why?

Grave Goods — Review by Chris

2009-04-16T23:59:00.001-04:00

Spoiler alert: this is the third book in a series. This review might provide information about a storyline you have not yet finished in a previous book. Please be warned.

With the third installation of the Mistress of the Art of Death stories, you know you're going to get a good story. You know you'll see a few of the usual suspects.

But what you have no idea what Adelia will face this time.

Each of Ariana Franklin's Mistress books have been different. The rhythm and language is the same, the characters don't betray you — but the story, the "meat and potatoes" of the book, is different.

In Grave Goods, we start out in Glastonbury, the mystical abbey also known as Avalon. Yes, that Avalon. Someone is being buried, only we don't know who — or, really, when. The world has opened up with a terrible earthquake and no one can trust their senses, let alone the earth under their feet.

A couple of decades later, Glastonbury is still trying to put itself back together. So is Henry II, the monarch trying to quell a Welsh uprising. He finds himself in need of Adelia again. The Brits are a superstitious lot, especially the Welsh who believe in the mystical and can weave a tale that makes it all seem true. Henry, however, needs the truth, rather than the fantastic tapestry the Welsh are weaving). The king seeks it from the only person who will give it to him.

In the meantime, Adelia is busy trying to find a way to save the people of the fen — but avoid being called a witch. As strange as it seems, even after two novels, but as we noted before, the Brits are a superstitious lot — and not one to cotton to anything that isn't literally translated from the New Testament. Women as doctors? Women as people? Pshaw. She is surrounded by people she loves and trusts, but it's not enough. Rowley, however, could make it enough, and yet this bishop is as impossible to move as the doctor.

Thus Henry beckons.

As much as she would like to refuse him, she can't. In the end, she wouldn't, anyway — her obligation is to the dead, and helping them speak.

This time it takes her into the path of someone from her past: Emma, whom we met in The Serpent's Tale. Only it's not just Emma anymore, and the young girl whose live was changed forever has yet more change in store. She is taking care of what is hers, and if it means facing a daunting woman she has never cast eyes upon, then so be it. Some things are more important than a wild, frightened girl.

But in Henry's England, nothing is that easy.

This is a wild England, full of cut-throats and thieves. It is a land in transition, where ancient rites and challenges are beginning to give way to more modern ideas and speculation — but not too quickly or easily in the lands far from London, and certainly not in the mystical land of Glastonbury. (And even less so in within the walls of the Church.)

The strength of the story is not the storyline, though that is compelling and fascinating. What carries the story, as always, are the characters. Adelia cannot be other than what she is, and her true nature always shines through. She is faced by the intelligent and the ignorant people, and those people don't line up the way one expects.

In the end, Franklin again created a wonderful world with incredible people and a great story. Run, don't walk, to the bookstore and pick up all three novels. Read them in order, if you can. And enjoy.

Dewey: The Small Town Library Cat Who Touched The World — Review by Carole and Chris

2009-04-13T20:02:00.000-04:00

Chris' Response
I have to admit: I would not have chosen to read Dewey: The Small Town Library Cat Who Touched The World had it not been given to me as a gift. As it was, I postponed the read for a couple of months (and probably would have further lingered had Carole not suggested we read it together).

It’s not that I didn’t think the book worthy; my friend Kathy, who has a similar reading sensibility to mine, recommended it. However, I feared it would be treacly and sappy, like a "Chicken Soup" book. I can’t say if it was treacle because I was crying too hard at the end of the book. Thankfully, it was a night I needed a good cry, so I’m not sure I can hold it against the book.

I was attracted to the story for a number of reasons: I like cats, I work for a municipality, I adore libraries and I like small towns. Let me clarify: I have cats but don't cotton to the cutesy images of them. As a government worker, I am intrigued on how other government entities work -- or, rather, how their employees think they work. I also wanted to get a sense of the inner workings of a library.

Did I get what I expected? No and yes. I got the best of Dewey, Myron and Spencer in a feel-good kind of way. There was no tarnish on anyone, just a gentle glow from the crackling fire in the hearth. Dewey wasn't romanticized or cutesy, thank heavens, but Myron included mostly his best side.

While there are some parts of the tale that have come to pass (we know Dewey was allowed to live in the library), there was precious little about that situation. Was it really a slam-dunk? Even in Spencer, I find that hard to believe — and Myron didn't say it was easy. She just didn't tell us how hard it was.

The same with the town history: I didn’t expect Peyton Place, but I also didn’t expect a sanitized view of the town. Spencer was like Garrison Keillor’s fictional town of St. Cloud, Minnesota where “all the men are strong, the women are good-looking and the children above average.” Even Garrison Keillor creates realistic friction and angst in his tales. We found none here. Even Myron’s description of the "dying town" seemed to take a step back from the town itself, shielding it from the prying eyes of the readers. It's hard to write about what you know too well, but sometimes what you know gets in the way.

I agree with Carole that it was as much a memoir of Myron as it was a book about the cat; I actually kind of liked that, from time to time. However, she was not equally forthcoming about all of the people in her life. She dished on her ex-husband, which makes sense in its context of the story — and that thoroughly rounded, admittedly juicy information, was rich and robust. That made the other important relationships in her life a little faded in comparison.

Myron protected fiercely those relationships that were important to her and made them glow in the light of love, such as her mother and her daughter. At times, she glossed over their stories, again taking a step back and using a wide brush stroke. I never really felt that she was totally forthcoming — about anything. I like a "good news" story, but there needs to be a reason it's news; in some cases, there was no "there" there.

The book also kind of petered out at the end. If it was supposed to be Myron and Dewey's book, as the content suggests, it appears that Myron had nothing left to say about the library in the end. That speaks volumes, if read in context.

In the end, the book served its purpose: it told a few tales about a loveable cat. People who like cats will want to read it. People who like libraries also will enjoy the tale. Readers who don't like cats, or who are Rules People (and we know who we, er, you are!) will wonder how this atrocity could happen, a "library" cat. It was well-edited, and the story moved along at a steady pace. As a book, it was successful. I enjoyed it and I can recommend it to those who want to know about Dewey.

Carole's Response
I hadn't heard of the book until a friend of mine in Iowa suggested that Chris and I read it for the blog. Stacy's mom lives in Spencer, and they are filming the movie based on the book there. Meryl Streep is playing Myron. Stacy said that her brother and his wife actually met Dewey and Myron; they didn't think that the librarian was all that friendly--I wonder how Streep will play her.

I come at this from a different perspective than Chris. I'm allergic to cats and therefore hold them at arm's length, literally and figuratively. What I do love, though, are animal stories that affect many people. I can't help but wonder if animals like Dewey really are extraordinary or do they just happen to show up at the right place and time to have an impact on that place and time. Or do they have an lasting impact because someone happened to tell their story?

When I was a little girl, I got to meet Misty of Chincoteague, who was an old lady by that time. I was in awe that I was getting to meet this character from a book. How cool is that? Dewey's influence on the town of Spencer reminded me of Misty and how her story affected the town of Chincoteague.

Like Chris, I really enjoyed hearing about the town of Spencer, but I often felt like Myron felt like an outsider in the community. She shouldn't have--she belonged to that place--but that hit me a few times as I was reading it. That's the funny thing about memoirs--the writer includes only the bits they want to share, but other stuff creeps in around the edges. It's up to the reader to see what they can make of it.

I didn't have a big cry when I read it--I did sniffle a time or two. Generally, I am a big crier, which my children will readily back up, but when I read an animal story that tracks its life, then I'm pretty sure I know how it will end, so I try to steel myself a little bit.

All in all, I liked the book. I'll probably catch the movie on DVD.

Reading a Long Book

2009-04-10T17:10:00.009-04:00

What do you do when faced with an immense book, one that very well could take you the rest of your natural life to read?

Do you plod steadily, reading page after page, until the end? Do you break it up: read a little of the big book, then a short book — if only to feel as though you have actually accomplished something?

Or does it depend on the book?

Recently, I discovered that for me, it depends on the book. Drood was one of the longest books I had read in a while, and I was captivated. The first chapter was a little dry to me, but I was rewarded with one of the most original stories on the shelves today.

But it wasn't easy. In fact, it was a challenge. Don't get me wrong: the book was fabulous, and Carole and I will discuss it soon on this blog. However, after a week of staying up late and eschewing most other kinds of entertainment just so I could see what happened next, I was exhausted.

The book was weighty enough, but the story was equally weighty. In this tome were real-life people weaving stories amongst others whom I can only hope are fictitious and even others whom I hoped were real. The story captured the mores of the day with a touch of 19th century sensibility wrapped in modern-enough language. (I love 19th century literature, but some is a little ornamental for my everyday interest.)

Some books can be short (or short enough) and yet feel very long. The first 80 pages of The Mighty Queens of Freeville felt like an eternity. The 7th Victim was the normal length but insufferable.

Even good books can feel long, at least in part: The City of Dreaming Books was a teeny bit slow at the beginning, ramped up to a fevered pitch, then kept going and going. The Lord of the Rings is very complicated and riddled with Elvish and Middle-Earth language, but the story is compelling and a reader is catapulted forward. (One can see a little of the wisdom of breaking the book into three separate novels.)

From time to time, I read recommended books that aren't up my alley, and sometimes those books feel long as well, no matter how many pages. The ones I don't enjoy don't always feel like like an albatross around my neck. For the most part, though, I am keen to continue (or start) a book only if I'm interested enough to give it a certain amount of time or pages.

However, after the thrill that was Drood, I won't worry about a book's length — and I might have a little more courage to pick up the new Dumas find again, after a few years of its presence on the shelves. It's the quality, not the quantity, right?

Happy National Poetry Month!

2009-04-01T22:42:00.007-04:00

April is National Poetry Month, and it makes me reflect on how people seem to perceive poetry.

They think it's hard.

I can see that. People think if you read poetry, it's because you "get it." There's some sort of key you must carry around your neck that unlocks the mystery that is a poem.

And yet they never seem to think that about prose, whether it's novels or non-fiction. (James Joyce is an exception.)

Despite my degree in poetry, or maybe because of it, I can tell you: there is no mystery.

Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don't. Sometimes it's good, other times not. And the best part about it? I could be wrong. I listened to people speak about a poem I wrote like it was an incredible piece of literature and I laughed: it was simply a poem about my cat. It was a good poem about my cat, and I could see why they went where they did, but it wasn't what I intended. That's the magic about it: sometimes a cat is just a cat, and sometimes she's a lonesome, disconnected besheret lingering in the shadows at midnight.

I recommend my favorite book of poems: The Moon is Always Female by Marge Piercy. Whenever I'm tense or in a situation where I need comfort from the written page, I reach for this book. I get it, and I am not alone when I am with Ms. Piercy.

So, in honor of National Poetry Month, I give you a poem by Billy Collins I stumbled across while perusing The Writer's Almanac. I think it captures the angst of reading poetry. Enjoy, and go read a poem!

Introduction to Poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

by Billy Collins
from The Apple That Astonished Paris. © University of Arkansas Press, 1996.

Angle of Repose - Review by Carole

2009-03-24T08:02:00.004-04:00

How wonderful to discover an author that you lovelovelove! This is the chief reason I belong to a couple of book clubs and swap books with Chris. These activities take me out of my normal, chosen reading habits and introduce me to new authors and books.

Through one of my book clubs I discovered Wallace Stegner, and it's been a love affair ever since. How had I gone all of these years and never been introduced? The beauty of his writing in Crossing to Safety was so exquisite that I was almost afraid to read Angle of Repose. Author Repeatitis is a disease I have succumbed to on more than one occasion, and I didn't want to catch it again. But the title was enough to reassure me that I was safe in Stegner's hands. And he didn't disappoint me.

Now, I intend to make up for lost time; I've acquired several more of his books, and I intend to dole them out as treats for myself throughout 2009. Next up is The Big Rock Candy Mountain to be followed by A Shooting Star and All the Little Live Things.

In Angle of Repose, we meet a lovely young woman who has had a refined upbringing, been educated in the arts, and is ready to begin her adult life. She accepts a marriage proposal from a young man who is an engineer for a mining company. His livelihood takes them to the outreaches of American civilization. Her upbringing hasn't prepared her for the comparatively spartan, and at times primitive, existence they share.

Yet, she thrives in drawing the lives around her. Her publishing friends back East buy her work, and she affords readers an eye to a life they would not glimpse otherwise.

The story is told to us by the grandson, who is writing his grandparents' story as a way to escape the realities of his own life as an invalid with a progressively debilitating disease. Stegner's characters compel us as we weave back and forth between the current day and the days gone by.

A fascinating story with heartbreaking relationships--I couldn't put it down.

Angels of Destruction — Review by Chris

2009-03-19T20:10:00.002-04:00

Do you believe in angels?

More importantly, do you want to believe in angels?

I think that is the real question Kevin Donohue poses with his latest novel, Angels of Destruction.

Margaret Quinn really needs to believe in something. She's alone and so very sad. Her daughter Erica is missing and her husband is dead. She feels alone in the world — until she receives an unexpected visitor one winter night: a child, around age nine, wearing clothes that were not meant for a frigid night like that. Margaret takes her in, warms her, then questions her: who are you? Who are your people? Where did you come from?

Rarely are people truly alone in the world. Margaret has people around her who keep an eye on her, like her neighboring family who don't say too much but know a lot. She has a sister who lives a long, long drive away, but with whom she is close. Margaret is surrounded but simply has not permitted anyone to get close to her for a long time. Loss of a child can do that to a person.

Then Norah shows up on her doorstep. This girl is an answer to her prayers. This girl also, conveniently, is the age of a grandchild she could have.

So she keeps her.

That is one of the only issues I had with this book: bureaucracy, or lack thereof. I'm sure there are mystical powers going on here, but even in a small town along the Monongahela River in 1985, children didn't just show up at school with nary a question. Granted, the principal makes a note to follow up on this surprising student, but the bureaucracy stops there — proof alone that magic is afoot.

I liked the four-part structure of the book: the present of the story, a flashback, the present again and, finally, an epilogue. Frankly, I am thrilled with this non-linear structure. The danger of this approach is that the gaping holes the flashback is supposed to fill can be too massive and it turns into an ungainly trick. With Donohue, the flashback was more like another layer adding depth to an already rich story. The moments of "Oh, I get it," "Haaay!" and "Wait, haven't I met her?" were like small gifts to the reader, a lovely nougat center that could have been awful coconut creme.

The characters were lovely. Sean was on the cusp of so much and needed someone to see him before he disappeared. So was Margaret, come to think of it. Diane was a mix of no-nonsense and love that only a sister can be — and had Margaret reached out to her, she would have been closer.

Norah was a wonderful mix of magic and child. She had abilities and insights, ideas and experiences beyond her years. However, she remained impetuous and willful, moving in directions only the desperate would think wise. Was she an angel? She said she was, and yet... Are angels of destruction messy and dirty, imperfect — or maybe, like John Travolta's angel in "Michael," Norah simply wasn't "that kind" of angel?

Paul, Margaret's late husband, remained a shadowy figure whose story was told only from the memories of the women in his life. While he received fair enough representation for his part in the story, I would have liked to have known more about the man who helped spur action that ultimately brought a nine-year-old waif to his late wife's door. The glimmer we received was fascinating and made me hunger for more. I found it intriguing that a man who was revered, feared, treasured, protected and yet misunderstood had more power than his characters would ever have understood. I suppose we all have a Paul in our lives.

I puzzled a little bit over the man in the fedora. He seemed like a watcher, someone who was supposed to keep order, and yet he stood back — or so it appeared. Other men were in the periphery of Margaret's life, and each of them tried to protect her in their own way, at times with lovely gestures Margaret either didn't see or didn't know.

In the end, the story was about magic, love, getting what you need when you need it, having faith in something, living with loss but not letting go, moving on but not moving away — and seeing the hands that are reaching out to you even when you aren't reaching back.

I really enjoyed this book, and plan to re-read it again later — I read it too fast this time (so I could attend a reading and not have the ending spoiled). Next time, I plan to savor the story. This book deserves that kind of time and attention.

Community Reads: A Response by Chris

2009-03-14T23:59:00.007-04:00

It's no mean fete to get a community reading. It's even tougher to get everyone to read the same thing. Or is it? A recent New York Times article about the launch of area book clubs ("Launched for the Next Round of Read-Ins," March 4, 2009) struck a chord.

Maybe it was the Web title that belittled the practice: "Like Book Clubs on Steroids, Communities are Set to Read a Single Title and Discuss."

Maybe it was the lead that presented the image of a group of women (and a few men) reading together, quietly, in the same room, the book The Shawl (which seems more sterile than communal).

Maybe it was just me having a bad day. But all I could think of is, Please, not in my community.

It's not that I don't like "sensitive" topics, or ones that are moving or emotional or historic by nature. I know it's a challenge to get any community to read a single book — unless you're Oprah or Richard and Judy. And that's what I realized stuck in my craw: with the wrong book, a community read feels cheap.

A celebrity or Hollywood has a hankering for a title and everyone reads it. It's the first thing propped up in the Borders promenade, it's at the top of the bestseller list. Everyone has seen the movie, so the book is consumed like cheap sweets because if [fill in the blank] liked it, it must be good. These pop book-choosing entities select titles that fit a Topic. Lately, it's been the Holocaust — because, really, that is the only reason a book like The Reader could possibly be a bestseller and an award-winning movie.

To be fair, attention to such a tough topic have brought to light some terrific stories, such as the Bielski brothers who created a safe haven in the Bellarussian forests, and Oskar Schindler. I hope these kinds of stories continue to be shared because they are important and, let's be honest, entertaining. I'm sure The Shawl has that potential. And in this world, remembering the atrocities of the past are important to the success of preventing them in the future. And the modest volume Night seemed to survive Oprah's onslaught.

But other Oprah books on the Holocaust and Other Important Topics haven't been able to survive the glare of the spotlight, and have brought as much embarrassment as they did success to their authors. (Gawker's article has a little salty language, but is an excellent list of pop failures.)

Don't get me wrong: I am a communal reader. I love suggestions from my local libraries, colleges and other trusted sources and, so far, these books have been winners in my book.

I know I fret about books, worrying that people will dis my favorite pastime if the bestsellers are more like The Reader than Water for Elephants. Maybe I'm a little bit of a snob, too, which has made me skeptical of popular books that really are that wonderful, like the Harry Potter series.

At any rate, I will continue to read with my community, as long as it's not a mawkish book that doesn't deserve our time. However, my local librarians haven't disappointed me yet. They know their community, which I suppose is the key to success.

Maybe Oprah's selection of A New Earth was the best choice for her community at that time; she did choose The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which has reviewers raving (and, yes, I will read to see if it's all that and a hedgehog bookmark).

Maybe it doesn't matter who chooses what — librarians have long advocated any kind of book to keep people reading.

Maybe the magic of communal reading is that it creates discussion and encourages reading. And that is a good thing.

Dinner Companions: A Response

2009-03-10T12:35:00.002-04:00

A recent New York Times article asked authors what books they consider their best dining companions, so we asked ourselves the same question.

Chris:
I vividly remember, at age 17, brunching at the neighborhood Denny's with Kramer vs. Kramer. The food wasn't stellar, and I can't remember what was on the plate, but I do remember experiencing the intimacy of the couple's anguish in the glossy movie tie-in paperback.

I rarely dine alone at restaurants because, for me, the joy of restaurant dining is in the company I keep; otherwise, it's just food. I have been known, however, to occupy a table at my old bagel shop for hours with Spanish homework (because I could get help from the women who worked there), a cup of coffee slowly making me jittery. Most of the time, though, a bagel and coffee were merely sustenance during a long afternoon of studying.

Now, when I do eat and read, I do not sit down to a meal; instead, I'll stand at the kitchen counter. Usually, if the book is that good, eating becomes the path of least resistance. (See "food equals sustenance" reference above.) The menu depends on how long I feel like can I leave the book on the kitchen counter — which translates to how long I can keep the book out of my hands. Is it quicker to pour cereal versus make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Which is easier to eat while holding the book, and should I choose something that doesn't require both hands or an instrument?

Some books are good enough to skip a meal if necessary. Had David not fed me, I would not have eaten during the summer of 2007 when I read the last Harry Potter novel.

Then there are the books Carole and I read together. Those I find impossible to put down during dinner not only because they're good but because I want to catch up with Carole, who always seems to get ahead of me, especially at the beginning of a book.

Lunch is an easy meal to read through, if only because most lunch food I carry for solo dining is finger food. I always carry a napkin — I don't need Cheetos prints on the pages to remind me what I was eating during the good part. I will remember, even if I don't mean to. Odd how that happens with Cheetos.

I guess I'm more excited about books than I am about any food. Except for the cooking of a few people (Carole and David are in that select group), food is just the fuel that allows me to read.

Now, food while talking about books — that's a different blog altogether....!

Carole:
Wow! Some of these authors read some heavy stuff while eating. I find that if I'm reading something really intense, I'll forget to eat. Which, for those who know me, is saying something. I'm ALL about food! Which makes me wonder if these authors really read these books while dining alone or they just like the way it makes them sounds to SAY that's what they read while dining alone.

The only time I generally eat alone at a restaurant is when I travel for business and cannot talk family or friends into going with me. I don't generally mind being a party of one, particularly if I have a book. I do find, however, that servers tend to be especially attentive when you dine alone, which can make you re-read the same paragraph over and over. Coincidentally, I'm attending my conference this week, so I've actually given this some thought.

Because I like to people watch myself, I wonder what my table for one, propped-open book, and glass of wine says about me. "Isn't that sad? She's obviously lonely--reading a trashy romance all alone, drowning her sorrows in vino." Or "I bet this is the first time in years that she's had an entire meal without having to mop up spilled milk! She should be reading something better than that!" Or "She probably just worked herself half to death at the conference across the street--good for her not caring if people judge her for reading bodice rippers in public!"

Actually, I generally reserve bodice rippers for the beach, but you get the idea. I'll probably take Drood with me this week. I'm exciting to read it--it should cover me for plane and restaurant meeting. The trouble with dining with thick, hardback books, though, is keeping the book open while manipulating silverware. Something to keep in mind when ordering.

If the book is REALLY engrossing, though, that's what room service is all about. Then you can have food, book, and slippers! Heaven!

The Geography of Bliss — Review by Chris

2009-03-07T23:59:00.003-05:00

Subtitled One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World, Eric Weiner's delightful and insightful book offered observations, quite a bit of information, a few surprises and a dose of wry wit.

Weiner (whose name, ironically, is pronounced "whiner"), traveled to a number of countries to determine what makes people happy. He was armed with a database from the Netherlands that calculated what countries had the highest happiness index — and the lowest. Weiner takes us to both by traveling to Iceland, Thailand, Movdova, India, Bhutan, Quatar, England and a few other places suggested by their placement in the aforementioned database.

I started tabbing the book mercilessly right around Bhutan, and rightfully so. It's not like Weiner is a guru (after you read the book you'll laugh at that), but he is insightful. He asks the right questions, and he receives some of the most interesting answers. He stands as an outsider on every culture, including his own. (Strange, and oddly enviable, how foreign correspondents seem to be able to do that.)

I enjoyed every trip he took and I was thrilled to meet the people to whom he introduced us. I wanted to live in Iceland and Bhutan, maybe even Thailand — and Moldova had a strange draw for me (which should concern me, the more I think about it). Weiner's observations in this book helped me in many ways with a number of people I already know; learning about the Indian or Thai mindset assisted me in understanding others and made a difference in my day-to-day encounters.

In the end, it was a very enlightening book. As the reader continues to discover what makes other people happy, it makes that reader ask herself or himself the same question. "Handbags" is a valid answer, as is "connectedness," "muddle of thought" and "money." (The last one — well, read the book. You'd be surprised. No, really — Weiner doesn't give us pat answers on anything, especially not that dynamite keg.)

Weiner isn't neither pat nor glib. He is, however, concise, and he offers his explanations with a warmth for his readers. He writes with authority, and he blends in the voices of experts with those of the ordinary folk with whom he speaks.

If I could summarize my understanding of happiness in a fortune cookie — or, in modern times, a tweet — it would be this: Happiness is found in the people around us. Lose that connection and you lose much more than just touch. You lose a chance at happiness.

But I'll let you read Weiner's book yourself and you can tell me what you think it all means.

Books Coming Out in March — Great Expectations!

2009-03-06T19:18:00.012-05:00

I have such a towering stack of books I am not sure where there's room for new material — yet I must make room because there's some great-sounding stuff coming out this month.

First of all, I can't wait for Ariana Franklin's newest novel, Grave Goods. I have enjoyed both Mistress of the Art of Death and The Serpent's Tale, and I doubt that I will be disappointed with this new book.

Then there's the new book by the gifted novelist Keith Donohue. I read The Stolen Child when it first came out and even now, when I think about it years later, I still find it unsettling, imaginative and very satisfactory. His latest novel, Angels of Destruction, hearkens the same great potential, and I must pick it up soon. (Definitely before his local reading.)

I'm frightfully behind on my February novels, with Drood sitting heavily in the wings — but Carole is a few pages in front of me, and I have to catch up so we can discuss it. I know Carole is eyeing Fool with great interest, and I can't wait for her to read it so she can tell me how much she enjoyed it. (I have a non-fiction book in the wings titled Traffic; maybe as the month progresses, we can graduate to titles with more than one word....)

What do you have on your nightstand?

The Might Queens of Freeville — Review by Chris

2009-02-28T23:59:00.004-05:00

Everyone is writing memoirs these days. That's fine, but it begs the question: what does anyone have to write about regarding her or his life? (Whether they're making up information in their memoirs is a different question altogether.)

Amy Dickinson is an advice columnist who raised her daughter as a single mother in a strong matriarchal clan in a small town in New York. It had potential. I didn't exactly like her column, but every once in a while she hit the mark with great accuracy. I figured I'd give it a shot.

I had my first laugh on page 83, and I stopped reading.

Why? Why stop with my first chuckle? Well, it was too hard-earned. The story was almost completely second-person narrative for the first 60 pages or so, with an occasional quote (usually her side of the dialogue). It was self-deprecating, depressing, self-effacing and rather boring.

She told, rather than showed, her story — at least until Chapter 4, "Nothing's Too Much Trouble." By then, however, she had lost me.

Not to mention that in the first half of the book was I introduced to the aforementioned queens in the book title, except in passing.

To be fair, the book could have improved after page 83. However, I didn't want to invest any more time to find out.

The Graveyard Book — Review by Chris

2009-02-24T20:56:00.002-05:00

I don't know why some books are labeled "juvenile" or "young adult" fiction. Oh, I'm sure there's a marketing reason — but such indications may warn us away from books we will enjoy, even if we weren't the intended audience.

Take The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. It's a Newbery Award winner, which relegates it to a certain section of the library. However, I never met a Gaiman book I didn't like, and I have found Newberys very enjoyable reads — so I went to the graveyard. And I'm glad I did.

In the hands of Gaiman, anything is possible. Son of a god? Sure! Traipsing around an alternate universe just because you helped an injured stranger? Why not?

Growing up in a graveyard? In the hands of Gaiman, it's plausible.

Nobody Owens wound up in the neighborhood graveyard under nefarious circumstances. He toddled into the dark, hallowed ground and became a resident of the graveyard. He wound up with parents who loved him and a guardian who saw to his needs. He lived in a community full of disparate personalities who help him grow and learn about life.

Gaiman doesn't insult the reader by coming right out and stating the obvious. Instead, he paints a picture. Who is Silas, this person who can walk among the living and yet be a part of the dead? What kind of name is Ms. Lupescu, and why does she want to teach him how to call a Gaunt? How can a living, breathing person spend years living in a graveyard and never be "caught"? What exactly is the Indigo Man? Is Bod still in danger? Where is Jack — or better yet, who is Jack?

Gaiman patiently builds this world, imperturbably weaving strong, rich fibers into an indelible tapestry that one marvels at even during its creation. And the finale! Gaiman brings the story to a crecendo that made me cheer — with a tinge of regret, if only because it was too good to end.

Unlike a few reviewers who blurbed on the book jacket, I don't want a sequel. I like it the way it is. Gaiman knows how to leave a reader sated. I wouldn't reject a sequel, but considering it took a couple of decades for this story to be told, I wouldn't want to rush the storyteller — if, of course, he was inclined to take us a little further. Gaiman is worth the wait.

Bookish News: "Can 'The Reader' Win Best Picture at Oscars Without an Editing Nomination?"

2009-02-17T08:31:00.010-05:00

This particular piece of Bookish News caught my eye. As an editor, my short answer is "No".

But this begs a larger question to me: Should The Reader be nominated for Best Picture at all? Chris and I read this book together at the beginning of our blog, and we both found it loathsome. We spent an entire afternoon trashing this book as we consumed pie (we need consolation after reading a book we hate). We were dismayed to find that it was being made into a movie. And now it is up for Best Picture at this year's Academy Awards. How discouraging is that?

Populated with unlikable, unsympathetic characters, this story is depressing, but for all the wrong reasons. Bernhard Schlink's tells us the story of a young boy who is seduced by an older woman. She has a dark past to atone for--she was a prison guard at a Nazi concentration camp. But we're supposed to feel bad for her, you see, because she can't read. Huh? (Oh, and by the way, NO way this character looks like Kate Winslet, who plays her in the movie.)

I'd love to hear that you think I'm wrong--someone please enlighten me. What am I missing here that others find fascinating and worthy of note?

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox - Discussion with Chris and Carole

2009-02-11T08:15:00.008-05:00

Another book with no chapters? This was my first thought as I approached The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox. The third such book I had read in as many weeks, I'm beginning to think that chapters are going out of vogue. For the record, I like chapters. They let you know that it really is time to put down the book and go fix dinner. Without them, I just keep reading and people in my house go hungry. So for any authors who are reading this, everyone in my house likes chapters too.

Once I got over that, however, this book enthralled me. Imagine learning that you have a great-aunt who you never knew existed. The aunt has spent the last 61 years in a mental institution. The hospital is closing and the aunt is being discharged. You are asked "What would you like to do with her?" "Huh? What?" I don't think most of us would be very well equipped to deal with this situation.

This tightly written tale by Maggie O'Farrell shows us this part of the story, but also the aunt's life and what transpired to lead to these circumstances.

Chris and I had fun discussing this book, and my daughter was intrigued by my description so she picked it up and read it right away too.

Other than one problematic element (and the fact that the cover does not match the descriptions in the book--a personal pet peeve of mine), we all found the book fascinating. This is a quick read-in-an-afternoon book.

We get three different narrative perspectives in the story: the niece's, Esme's, and Esme's sister. The sister is in a nursing home for Alzheimer patients. Her repetitious loop of thoughts is quite interesting as she fixates on certain key memories that enlighten the reader; she gives us a perspective that Esme doesn't have.

Without giving away the story, this is a story of betrayal. We were all dumbfounded at the complete betrayal of Esme. I'm currently reading another story (One Thousand White Women: The Journals of May Dodd) where the main character had been committed to an insane asylum by her family. How common a practice was this, I have to wonder. I know that family members can drive us a little batty sometimes, but that's pretty extreme, don't you think? As a plot device, there's NO way that this doesn't lead to hard feelings among characters!

Chris and I both felt that the niece's personal story, which involves some pretty messy relationships, was more of a distraction than an asset to the story. I kept wanting her story to somehow make her more sympathetic to Esme, but that isn't what it's all about, so I still wonder why O'Farrell added it.

O'Farrell's ending is quite spectacular, and it left me wondering what happened from there. Chris, on the other hand, found the ending so beautifully written that she didn't question what happened next. But when we talked about it, and when my daughter finished, we all agreed on what we thought happened from there, so maybe that was O'Farrell's intent. We would love to hear what you think.

Bookish News: Random House Prevails in Battle for Diane Keaton's Memoir — Comments by Chris and Carole

2009-02-10T08:29:00.008-05:00

Random House Prevails in Battle for Diane Keaton's Memoir
by Leon Neyfakh
The New York Observer, February 10 , 2009
A long competition over Diane Keaton’s memoir, which compelled some of New York’s busiest editors and publishers to clear their schedules last week and fly to Los Angeles to meet the actress, drew to a close Friday night.

The winner—sorry HarperCollins, Ecco, and Little, Brown—was the flagship imprint of Random House. David Ebershoff, who has edited Norman Mailer, Gary Shteyngart, and Charles Bock, will work with Ms. Keaton, who intends to write the book herself instead of using a ghostwriter.

William Morris agent Bill Clegg, who sold Ms. Keaton's book and presided over the meetings, said last Monday that Ms. Keaton's book "could be an enduring book about mothers and daughters and the choices that women of her generation and her mother’s could make and did." .....

No word as of yet how much Random is paying for the book, though as Crain's reported at the beginning of the process late last month, the first round of bidding—which determined who got to take those meetings with Ms. Keaton in Hollywood—inspired at least one house to offer an advance worth $2 million.

Oh, my stars. What is the publishing world thinking? Associated Press maintains the book will be about her relationship with her mother, who died of Alzheimer's disease last year.

That's a touching tribute, but is it worth a $2 million advance? Publishers are reducing their titles and laying off workers, retail costs for books are skyrocketing (Stephen King: 28.95!) — and an actor is being paid millions for her memoir. The story is tragic, yes, but not original or even unique.

Finally, I'm out of the loop and she's an enduring beloved mother or daughter figure, but that wouldn't be what I'd be looking for between the covers of Keaton's memoir.

Will we really pay that kind of money for anything penned by anyone famous or notorious? Are we that smitten by celebrity, or that desirous of lurid details of a private life of a non-private person?

What do you think?

Carole's Comment:

Sadly, it seems we will pay large amounts of money to find out what celebrities think about any one of a number of topics. This goes back to my pet peeve about celebrity moms (e.g., Kathy Lee Gifford, Jamie Lee Curtis, Madonna) who get to get their children books published, ahead of any other worthy children's books. Why do they get to jump to the front of the line? Their claim to fame is NOT writing children's literature and yet, there they are with a hot selling book.

I think that is the whole thing--the publishers know it will be a hot seller, so they publish it. Never mind if it's rubbish. Never mind if the celebrity didn't actually write it. Never mind that they have better proposals on their desks. So, I'm sure that if they forked over $2 million for Keaton's book, it's because they know that they'll make at least $4 million back.

Addendum 2/11/09:
FYI: Liz Kelly of the Washington Post agrees. (Thanks, Liz!)

The Serpent's Tale — Review by Chris

2009-02-07T23:59:00.002-05:00

She's back, that feisty, clever, relentless coroner of the 12th century. In The Serpent's Tale, readers encounter Vesuvia Adelia Rachel Ortiz Aguilar nearly two years after her first experience with the English crown and has settled in the fens with a couple of familiar faces (Glytha, Mansur) and one very special one we've yet to meet.

Alas, her idyllic life in Oxfordshire as the local doctor is short-lived. Henry — King Henry II of England, to be precise — has a problem only Adelia can solve: someone has killed Rosamund, Henry's beloved mistress. Adelia needs to find out who.

Oh, if only it was that simple.

First of all, she is a woman in primitive England, little more than chattel and certainly not all that valuable, except to a couple of men (and thank heavens one is a monarch). Second of all, she's educated, which was singular enough in her hometown of Salerno — but in the backwaters of England, it's unheard-of. Third of all, she is on the king's business. And anyone who's anyone knows that heavy is the head that wears the crown — and all the easier to topple said crown, or even said head.

So, she again teams up with Mansur — er, Doctor Mansur — to examine Rosamund and investigate the murder. For it is murder, complete with a mysterious hag in the forest providing delectible morsels for the king's "pretty." Rowley, the king's man to the end, heads the traveling party and again proves invaluable.

This second investigation takes Adelia and her entourage to Godstow Abbey, a cloister of smart, educated women (nuns and pensioners) who are as rare a treat as Adelia. With Adelia's keen eye and clever mind, we meet Mother Edyeve, whom author Ariana Franklin describes as having "the disinterested calm of elderly people who had seen everything and were now watching it come around for the second time." She is surrounded by interesting people, as the abbey is its own village with two churches and many villagers.

So much happens, from the moment Adelia assures Rowley of Rosamund's fate, to the arrival at Wormhold Tower with its labyrinth (and innuendos that are worth a chuckle or two), to the surprising arrival of an unexpected visitor and the aftermath.

More than fair Rosamund fall prey to the brutality of murder, and Adelia sees the series of unnatural deaths as a progression. Why are they being killed? What is the connection?

Who is foul enough to take another's life: Queen Eleanor, on the cusp of a civil war with a country less than a generation past its last such internal battle? Was it Lord Wolvercote, who hungrily eyed the abbey for its land and cursed the women who ran it (and who protected the young woman whose parents promised her to be his dowery, er, wife)? Was it Master Warin, whose young cousin befell his own treacherous (and suspicious) end? Could it be the Abbot of Eynsham, whose ambition was as bright as his cruelty?

Woven into this tale is a new perspective: the life of royalty and its court. From the moment members of the royal court sweeps in with too many people and an incredible amount of expectation, the world changes for everyone. Not only are the king and queen's sycophants swept along in the wake, but also the innocents who become temporary toys. One learns that the only thing worse than being ignored by the rulers of the land is being noticed by them. Adelia does not escape Eleanor or Henry's attention, and she pays dearly for every moment in which she draws their eyes. However, Franklin shows the distinct difference in personality and expectation between the monarchs locked in their dance of power, intrigue and love — and the people who surround them.

The book sweeps along at a quick pace, but it never loses its readers. I personally fell very much in love with Henry, a man Adelia rightly sees as too far ahead of his time and his people — but in the right place for a monarch. Adelia herself admires and appreciates him, and I share her sentiment. The final scene of the book is revealing and delightful, and leaves me hungry for the next tale of our Mistress of the Art of Death.

One last thought: while you needn't read the first book to understand this one. However, you may choose to, if only to revel in the characters — and you won't be disappointed. Just don't let it hold you back from this delightful volume.

Bookish News: Business Brisk at Area Libraries — Comment by Chris

2009-02-02T21:50:00.007-05:00

Business Brisk at Area Libraries
In Bad Times, Free Resources are a Hot Commodity
by Annie Gowen
Washington Post, February 2, 2009

In the past few months, [the Germantown, Md., library] has become even busier. The library, like most in the Washington area, has had a rising tide of users as patrons look for free computer access, DVD loans and activities for children during the recession. Circulation in the last six months of the year rose as much as 23 percent in libraries around the region, records show.

The influx comes just as county managers are preparing budgets for the coming fiscal year in a time of huge shortfalls. Libraries, like other services, face drastic cuts that could mean reducing staff and hours or even shuttering branches.

This reporter made it sound like only in "bad times" do people stoop to visit the library. In "better times," they have their own books, apparently, as well as their own computers and their own Internet.

This is a fallacy. Libraries are not a shelter during bad times but a place where resources are used all the time. Part of the draw is the changing face of libraries: more are getting wireless Internet access, giving people a place besides Panera or Starbucks to visit.

Speaking of which, libraries are changing with the times — and the patrons. While they still have the "Shhhh!" factor, more are allowing the amenities that draw and keep people coming back. My local regional library allows covered drinks, offers plentiful meeting rooms, holds community activities and has the vaulted ceilings and bright lights the reporter describes.

Many municipalities have invested in their infrastructure, upgrading their libraries from the energy-efficient windowless cubes popular in the Sputnik-era School of Architecture to the fast, bright, window-rich environments. They're moving from the quiet corner of the 'burbs to the bustling downtown. Libraries are starting to come to us, rather than expecting us to flock to them, unbidden.

Finally, libraries are providing many of the books people want to read. Of course, this isn't new — however, more people mean more popular books, and that's not a bad thing. They're not getting rid of the classics, but they are examining the checkout rate of books and removing from circulation books that are not checked out on a regular basis. I'm not sure if there's a better way of culling the herd, but anyone with a bookshelf understands only so many books fit on the shelf.

Libraries also are providing reading material in the manner in which we consume it. I have friends who live on recorded books. Others have gone e-bookish. (Frankly, I probably should consider it, what with the amount of time I already spend on my computer.)

So, while I think the facts speak for themselves — circulation is up, libraries are full — I disagree with the reporter's observations that this is a new phenomenon. Libraries are in, libraries are cool — still. We can argue about whether members of the public uses them because they've decided to "cut back" or whether they just love their new libraries. In the end, they're full, and you can't argue with that.

Gilead - Review by Carole

2009-01-30T16:57:00.002-05:00

I have been working my way through some of the Pulitzer winners, and I came across Gilead by Marilynne Robinson and was intrigued by its premise, a letter of an elderly father to his very young son who he knows he will not live to see grow up. And the title reminded me of the hymn "There is a balm in Gilead...", which continued to run through my head every time I picked up the book.

I always find it fascinating when an author writes as a character who is very different from themselves. I think that it must be very difficult for a female author to write as a man, in this case an elderly man, about something uniquely male, such as fatherhood. This strikes me as ambitious, and I was curious as to whether she could pull it off. But as I read it, I had no trouble believing the voice--it struck me as real.

I found the idea of a father writing to tell his son all of the things that he wants him to know because he won't be there to tell him when he is old enough to hear it very poignant. How sad to know that, and yet, it's been John Ames' reality since his son was born. He feels he was blessed with a wife and child late in life and that blessing is bittersweet to him. He can't believe he really has come to know these types of love after a lifetime of loneliness, but he also knows that it is for all too brief a time. I thought this came across time and again in his writings, and it pulled at my heartstrings.

I've read three books recently--Gilead, The Road, and The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox--where the novel is one long piece. No chapters. I find this difficult as I'm an I'll-put-the-book-down-when-I-finish-reading-this-chapter kind of reader. Granted there are breaks in the writing, but it still takes getting used to. But in Gilead it makes sense because it's essentially one long letter, but I wonder if a series of letters would have been more effective. Or maybe it's meant to represent the sermon-style that John, a Calvinist preacher, is used to writing. I can only imagine how difficult it was for Robinson to keep this all organized to tell a cohesive story.

He tells us that every sermon he ever wrote is literally hanging over his head in the attic. I love that image--I think that would feel weighty to anyone! John's humanity rang true for me--he saved his work hoping it would be some sort of a legacy, but he constantly questioned whether any of it really had any lasting value. Even though I feel like Robinson deliberately didn't let us know the wife very well, I like that she seemed to think that John's work was valuable.

Robinson set herself another difficult task--her characters are introduced through a double filter. The characters are introduced to the reader only through the narrator. That's in itself is not so unusual, but John only shares the information that he wants his son to know. So, it is up to the reader to really read between the lines. What was the wife's story? Did she just see John as a means to an end? She seemed to need some stability in her life and she sensed that he was lonely, but I don't feel like that was all there was to it. Maybe she didn't love him at first, but she seems to genuinely care for him and she takes cares of him. At least, John seems satisfied with the relationship and that's what he conveys to his son.

I found several of the characters compelling. John's grandfather had a huge influence on John's life. The experience that John and his father shared as they search for and find the grandfather's grave understandably had a powerful impact on John as a young boy. Even though the emphasis was often on the grandfather, I found John's father a strong, but quiet character in his own right. John's observation of the father/son relationship between his own father and grandfather and between his father and his brother gave him plenty of examples to follow or discard as he determined his approach to fatherhood. Even though the influential men in life left Gilead, John remained. He seems at peace with that, but it seems to have given him plenty of fodder for contemplation.

John's boyhood and lifelong friend, Boughton, named his son after John. This boy, now man, seems to baffle John at every turn. Despite comforting people throughout his entire ministry, he seems perpetually unable to provide any solace for his friend's son. Boughton's son, in his actions and deeds, seem to lead to John questioning his own judgment on everything. It was interesting to me that this one character seem to be able to shake him to the core.

Boughton, also nearing the end of his life, provides John with much companionship through the years and also a view into a life he didn't get to lead. John seems to marvel at the different relationships that Boughton has with his grown children, all the while aware that he will not get to see his son as a grown man.

I thought that John's letter to his son is an act of love and the writing seems infused with feeling. I loved that he didn't preach to his son on how he should live his life. It was much gentler than that. I was particularly touched by this quote:

"But hope deferred is still hope. I love this town. I think sometimes of going into the ground here as a last wild gesture of love--I too will smolder away the time until the great and and general incandescence. I pray that you grow up a brave man in a brave country. I pray that you will find a way to be useful. I'll pray and then I'll sleep."

Where We Buy Our Books, Part Deux

2009-01-28T23:59:00.004-05:00

After reading New York Times reporter David Streitfeld's article about the cost of second-hand bookstores, I put some thought into my own practices and encountered another article that helped put things in perspective and made me better understand my ambivalence about the publishing industry — and other industries.

I wondered how much waste and excess is practiced in the publishing world, and I got a hint of it in an article by Motoko Rich ("Puttin' off the Ritz: The New Austerity in Publishing," New York Times, January 4, 2009). A lunch meeting between an author and her/his publisher isn't extravagant, but them having their own tables at The Four Seasons is a little excessive. So are insane advances for unknown authors, conferences that are just an excuse for debauchery and other misuses of funds.

The money isn't sitting in the safes, though — it's in the hands of the fastest dreg producers in the West, so to speak. If it's hot, there's a hardback book in the store awaiting your purchase. I'm all for pop culture, but readers shouldn't have to sacrifice quality for speed. Bake while the oven is hot, by all means, but let the dough rise first or you'll wind up with matzoh (which, truth be told, tastes like the box in which it is packaged).

Should there be fewer books published, then? Maybe — though that increases the chances of winding up with matzoh instead of beignets. (The Last Templar comes to mind.) I know reducing the number of titles published may create a dearth of O'Nan- and Gaiman-quality writers. I also know my Gaiman could be your Khoury (shudder). However, publishers found Gaiman and Pratchett before, and they will again — as they will the next Jacques or Evanovich.

And so will I, in the great world of books of any hands. In most industries, the original seller is the only one who provides a "cut" to the originator of the goods (publisher, designer, etc.). Resellers, a long tradition in every culture, never have had a responsibility to the originator for any item: clothing, shoes, music, dishes, electronics, movies. To throw away a book just because it's been read is as insensible as shredding a Van Gogh because the original owner died. Until the system changes, I will choose when to purchase something by when the urge strikes. New or used, full-price or discounted, library or bookstore — unless it's Jasper Fforde, Ariana Franklin or Sara Gruen, who will be purchased hot off the press because I just can't wait.

Horizon for Books in 2009

2009-01-27T23:59:00.010-05:00

I've had a deuce of a time finding a list of books to be published in 2009. Usually my local newspaper's book section spends a centerfold on it, but not this year. And I have a theory for the silence: it's fear. And I'm getting really tired of it.

At Christmas, stores came up short on many goods. While retailers are lamenting the dip in sales, I contend it's the stores keeping little stock on hand "just in case it doesn't sell." I purchased more books last year than the previous year, and plan to buy even more books this year. So I beg publishers to go ahead and decrease the frequency of lunches at the Ritz, but allow this year's catalog to be robust.

But enough of trying to write on this wobbly soapbox. Let's get to the matter at hand: books! We have some favorites who are publishing this year, and we will be at the front of the line when their books come to the shelves.

While I'd like to address these in order of publication date, I must blurt: Jasper Fforde! Okay, I feel better, now that I can herald the publication of his new book, Shades of Grey, which is scheduled to be ready just in time for Carole's birthday. (Isn't he thoughtful with his timing?)

Other books of interest are set for publication this year. (Thanks to an article or two in Wikipedia — and Carole, the real Wikipedia — for this information!)

Christopher Moore has a book due to be published in February: Fool. Let me have the author describe the book himself:

This is a bawdy tale. Herein you will find gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity, as well as nontraditional grammar, split infinitives, and the odd wank . . . If that's the sort of thing you think you might enjoy, then you have happened upon the perfect story!

He had me at bawdy.

Find out how to Escape from Hell with Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle in February. This sequel to their clever 1976 novel Inferno will envision a science fiction writer as a modern-day Christ breaking the boundaries of Hell — with some help from Sylvia Plath. Talk about a conversation-starter!

Also in February, check out SUM: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman. This selection of vignettes about various afterlives offers what sounds like bizarre but oddly interesting ideas of what happens after we die.

Ariana Franklin has a new novel coming out in March, Grave Goods, third in her Mistress of the Art of Death series. I enjoyed her first novel, and her second novel, The Serpent's Tale, is on my nightstand (so look for a review soon!).

Joyce Carol Oates has a collection of short stories scheduled for release in March: Dear Husband, a series of stories centered on families and relationships. Carole named another Oates novel, We Were the Mulvaneys, as one of her favorites of 2008.

Sara Gruen, of Water for Elephants fame, is publishing a new novel in April: Ape House. This book features the bonobo ape, one of the species of apes with whom she spent time in 2007 at The Great Ape Trust in Des Moines, Iowa.

Another April release is Turn Coat, 11th in The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher. I recently discovered the wizard of Chicago, Harry Dresden, thanks to my brother-in-law's help and his DVDs of the single season of "The Dresden Files" on the SciFi Channel. I'm intrigued.

Brian Jacques will publish his 21st novel this autumn. The Sable Quean is proof positive that the author is keeping his promise: as long as people keep reading his novels, he will keep writing them. According to Jacques, quean is Old English for "wicked lady." I hope he tours with this novel so I can hear him read again — it's a great treat.

Margaret Atwood's novel A Year in the Flood is due for release in September. From what I can tell, it's an apocalyptic story about Earth in the future. I have thrilled at some of her other less conventional novels, so this one sounds like it might be right up my alley.

Stop me if you've heard this one: Stephen King is coming out with a long novel. This time it's about 1,000 pages and expected to hit bookstores in September. Under the Dome is about what happens when people are cut off from their society — and, King states, is more "allegorical" than The Stand. He's been hit and miss for me for a while, but I'm willing to give him another shot, as always. After all, he is Stephen King.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is getting a new installation to the, er, trilogy in October: And Another Thing.... written by Artemis Fowl author Eoin Colfer. It will be the sixth book in the series, and Colfer was given permission to write this book by Jane Belson, the widow of Douglas Adams. Should this give me less qualms about the book? I'm not sure. However, I'll give it a shot.

Another novel due in October is The Wild Things by Dave Eggers, who re-tells the Maurice Sendak tale in novel form. Look for the Spike Jonze movie this year, too.

Have we missed your most anticipated read? Let us know!

Songs for the Missing — Review by Chris

2009-01-20T13:33:00.008-05:00

Stewart O'Nan has a gift for introducing the everyday, the basic, even the so-called mundane, into a poignant story. He does that very thing in Songs for the Missing, his latest novel.

The question O'Nan addresses in this novel is, what happens next? His answer provides a tender, far-reaching, complex and incredible character sketch of tragedy and survival.

Kim is a teenager, barely 18 years old, who is about to leave the nest, so to speak, and begin college. She's not a bad kid, but she's not the best kid, either. She has relationships that are strained and prickly, fraught with change and peril. She yearns for freedom and adulthood, neither of which she will receive willingly from her family. It's not that she doesn't like them, but she has outgrown them in their current form. Change will occur, and soon — at the end of the summer — and she is anxious for that to begin.

We meet Kim right off the bat, which is good, because we need to know whom we will miss for the duration of the story.

What happens in this story is the anatomy of this family, though it perhaps mirrors many other families. It is painful to watch, ordinary yet profound, beautiful yet plain.

The story was simply told, yet magnificent. Readers were permitted into the inner sanctum of pain and confusion, in bed with the characters (so to speak), yet not once did I feel voyeuristic. Readers were kept in that inner sanctum and thus witnessed little of what police and others knew about the case. That was fitting and seemed a lot more realistic than a more traditional omnipotent storyteller. I liked that readers were not led by a narrator who could introduce them to the outsiders with the same level of intimacy as they were introduced to Kim's inner circle.

In this story, we see how each member of the family relates to each other, to others around them, to themselves in such a situation. In turn, I favored each member of the family: Fran, the mother whose loss matched her unflagging determination and memory; Ed, the father who found himself re-adjusting his definition of "caring" for his family; Lindsay, the younger sister left behind to face the aftermath.

Each character was realistic. I have watched families lose children, watched them learn a new dance around the gaping hole. I have heard their conversations, their grievances against authorities, life, their surviving family members. O'Nan captured them with grace and respect, reverence and unforgiving clarity. No one in these situations is a saint, nor are they sinners, and O'Nan allows each of them very human foibles and virtues.

Every time I tried to claim one character as my favorite, I changed my mind. I liked Nina, Kim's closest friend, who kept her secret as best she could but in the end was puzzled by the growth away from the place she and Kim shared. I liked J.P., who seemed to understand his role and how it evolved as the parents (inevitably) learned Kim's secrets, including the ones she shared with him. I sympathized with Lindsay, who saw her sister more clearly than anyone and whose wry observations were priceless. I worried about Fran, how her role changed as the situation changed.

The realism of the story unsettled to me, though I should have expected it from O'Nan. If you read it, and I hope you do, please let me know if it struck you the same way.

The Shack — Review by Chris

2009-01-12T20:04:00.006-05:00

I'm not a fan of "philosophy" books that pass themselves off as fiction. Usually they're books with political or religious liens that try to be general fiction, as though someone wouldn't notice the pink elephant in the middle of the story. The Alchemist comes to mind, using what I considered New Age-like terms to reveal religious philosophy. A lot of people read Paolo Coelho's novel — it was on the bestseller list for ages — so perhaps I'm in the minority as to perceiving a certain shallowness to the novel.

Thankfully, The Shack did not have that problem. Author William P. Young very clearly discussed concepts of Christianity using familiar terms. And he did a clever job. He used situations and characters that allowed a full discussion of the subject, and threw in some unexpected characters and conversations.

For those who wish to challenge their ideas of faith and religion regarding Christianity, this is an excellent book to read. It's a tad heretical, but I like that kind of thing: challenges either reaffirm my ideas or change them, and I don't mind "being wrong." This is the kind of book you'll share with someone just to get the conversation started.

For those who do not wish to have that conversation, read it anyway, just to see if it makes you think. You don't even have to share the faith of the writer. If you have any religious ideology at all, this will engage you. The writer clearly meant to do just that, and in that, he succeeded.

My issue with it was the presentation. Very few people can pull off the "fake real" story. I'm sorry that Young is not one of those people. I know it is labeled very clearly as "fiction" on the back cover of the book, so one should not get too confused. However, the author attempted to mix a little reality in there, just happening to name one of the main characters after himself — then happened to have that character play an important role. Coupled with "this happened to a friend of mine" in the introduction, the author created a false premise that, as a reader, I found annoying.

The story is simple: Mack has a tragedy in his life. The author is kind enough to write it out in lurid detail, which was compelling and very disturbing. It was the best written part of the book, and thinking that made me feel ghastly and dirty. It felt inappropriate for me, in context. Give me innuendo, gloss over the tough parts and leave me with a modicum of peace. (I suppose the author should feel good about eliciting this kind of response from a reader about his storytelling, but I assure you, this is not a compliment. Write a thriller next time, Young.)

After his tragedy, he receives something unexpected that elicits an unexpected response: it gets his attention and gets him moving. He follows his instincts and finds himself in — the most likely place, alas. Throughout the book, Young mixes pleasant surprises with the obvious.

However, once the story gets going, it's enjoyable. I found it easy to invoke my willful suspension of disbelief and go for the ride. Unfortunately, once the story cascaded toward conclusion, the same niggling flaws from the beginning dislodged me from my reading "happy place" and made me read more critically than I would have preferred to do. It was not a deal-breaker, but it was a bit distracting.

Another issue I had was with the last few pages of the book. After the story ended, the coda lists all of the ways people can help promote the book. While ingenious from a marketing standpoint, it really ruined the book's finale for me. Right after reading a good ending, the next page is a commercial capitalizing on the story's power. Ouch.

A final warning: do not read the book jacket or back cover if you want the story to unfold with a modicum of mystery.

A Quiet Adjustment — Review by Chris

2009-01-08T19:33:00.001-05:00

A Quiet Adjustment sounds, acts and feels like a 19th century novel. (Other reviewers identified it as a Henry James novel, and I would agree.) It is, for all intents and purposes, a 19th century novel. The language, the rhythm, dialogue, descriptions — it remains two centuries in the past. As an English student, I didn't appreciate this style of writing, and I don't harbor any more fondness in my advanced years.

The story was obscured by innuendo and suggestion, and I found it difficult to follow and not very enjoyable.

In this novel by Benjamin Markovits, 19-year-old Annabella Millbanke is visiting a family friend when she is invited to a dance party, where she encounters Lord Byron, author of the newly published Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. He was rumored to be conducting an affair with a mutual friend — but it was his sister with whom he danced.

Annabella sets her sights on Byron for her husband and, despite proposals from other suitors, she will take only him.

Why I couldn't tell you.

It's not the fault of any of the main characters: Byron, a self-absorbed, unlikeable character, nor that of his equally unlikable, petulant wife or drearily accommodating, bloated-feeling half-sister Augusta. Rather, the story rippled under a murky and ever-changing surface. I would not have understood the "indecencies" between characters had it not been for the book jacket that flat-out stated the focal point of the book.

While the story was murky, the characters were clear. Byron was not likable and Annabella was foolish and vain. Lady Milbanke was a lush and her husband a soft, pliable man (but apparently a loving one). Augusta was impermeable and born to be a victim.

This is the second of a proposed trilogy; the first book, Imposture, is told from the perspective of John Polidori, Byron's private physician. I'm not inclined to seek out the first book, nor will I read the final book.

Perhaps Markovits' other writing would suit me better, but this one did not entertain me at all. If you have read it, please tell me if you agree — or not — and why that is.

Where We Buy Our Books Matters — Chris and Carole Respond

2009-01-04T05:09:00.000-05:00

This conversation is in response to the recent news story story "Bargain Hunting for Books, and Feeling Sheepish About It" (New York Times, December 27, 2008), in which David Streitfeld asserts, "What’s undermining the book industry is not the absence of casual readers but the changing habits of devoted readers" who increasingly rely on "resellers" for their book buying needs.

Chris Said....

As I read New York Times reporter David Streitfeld's excellent articl e, I cringed. So far this week, all of my book purchases have been from what can generously be called "alternative resources." I frequent two local thrift shops with great book selections and great prices. Both support the community — proceeds benefit local welfare organizations — so I feel my $12 has been well-spent.

Now, that's not where I get my current bestsellers. For that, I go to my local Borders — where I will pick up the latest Stephen King short story collection as soon as I obtain a 40 percent off coupon. (Many books are automatically discounted, and other require coupons for discount purchases. Just After Sunset is not discounted at Borders as I type.)

I do not begrudge the manufacturers or sellers their cut of the sale. I want to support authors. I prefer to purchase a book from Borders (though receiving a package at work from Amazon has its appeal). I will pay the price for what I wish to purchase. However, I seek the lowest prices for everything I purchase, including groceries.

I am sure I share my late father's Depression-era shock at the cost of — well, nearly everything. I know there's no such thing as a free lunch, and I am sure many of the "sale" prices are not the deal they purport to be. However, when I spend money, I choose carefully.

I attend only select concerts or movies because ticket prices are so high. I purchase only compact discs or movies I know I want and only when they are on sale; I'm wont to risk $20-$30 (or more) on a lark. I do not attend most "major league" sporting events because exorbitant cost of these activities. The sticker shock is not just for tickets: when a soda costs $5 because they can charge that much, I have to rethink the intelligence of the purchase.

Recent financial news has spotlighted the salaries and bonuses of upper management, company presidents, celebrities and company owners — and has soured consumers on the "cost of doing business." Do I want to spend $10 for a movie ticket or $100 to watch a ballgame when the money is going toward Dan Snyder's private jet, Angelina Jolie's new French mansion or Bill Gates' coffers? People deserve to make a living, but at what cost to me? I don't know enough about the publishing industry to make a direct accusation, but it makes me wonder.

So, when it comes to books, I am loathe to spend $25 or more on a novel I might not like. (The Somnambulist was a recent full-price purchase, and quite a disappointment.) I turn to those who can provide quality books at affordable prices. I want my neighborhood bookstores, but I also want to afford the books I wish to buy.

Perhaps I should stand on my principles and purchase only the books I can afford from a brick and mortar bookseller. And maybe that will be my 2009 resolution. However, I assure you, the number of books I would purchase from said booksellers would not increase — not at today's retail prices.

Carole Said....

I found this New York Times article quite interesting. I'm fascinated by unintended consequences. In pursuit of thrift, most people feel virtuous — they are not spending to excess, they have that penny saved-penny earned thing going on, and they feel like they've scored a victory somehow in buying something for less. But I bet they generally don't think, "Who am I hurting by doing this?"

After reading the article, I see that there are unintended consequences for my book-buying actions. My intent for pursuing a bargain is not to take money out of anyone's pocket, but rather to leave some in mine. Chris makes the point that she would rather not make the rich richer, but I don't present a coupon for a book thinking that I've really stuck it to the CEO of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. I've never really given it a thought.

I decided to look at my book-buying habits as represented by the books I read in 2008. I read 62 books; I paid full price for 33 of them. The remaining 29 books were loaned to me or were purchased used. None that I purchased were ordered from Amazon. I have no idea whether slightly more than half is a good percentage or not. I've never looked at my list in this manner before.

The NYT article doesn't give us any guidelines for what kind of behavior we should pursue if we want to avoid the lack of any brick-and-mortar bookstores in the future. Chris' 2009 resolution to buy onsite has merit. Or does it? For instance, I keep hearing that Borders is on the ropes, a very distant second to the behemoth Barnes & Noble. So, when Chris buys her books at Borders, that's a good thing, right? But if she uses a 40 percent off coupon, is that another nail in Borders' coffin? I mean a reduced-price sale is better than no sale, right?

The article raised other questions for me. For instance, what about libraries? I can get the books I want for free there. Who does that hurt? I've never heard about authors hating libraries, but how is one of their books being loaned out again and again good for them? Other than exposing new readers to their work, how does it profit them? Or the publisher? While I'm sure that authors are thrilled to know that readers are discovering their works, the bloom has to come off the rose when it is consistently done for free, right?

I don't sell my books when I get rid of them. I give them away. Is that a bad thing? So I'm not taking money out of the author/publisher's pocket and putting it into mine, but I'm not helping them make any money either. In that sense, I'm sort of like the public library, only you don't ever have to give it back, there are no late fees, and the selection is limited to what I happen to be getting rid of at the time.

I've worked in a niche part of publishing for most of my career, and this article pointed out to me that I have NO idea how much of this stuff works. What I do know is that I have a finite amount of money to spend on fun things. Books are a big part of my fun. After reading the article, I do feel sheepish about shopping for some bargains, but I'm not sure why or what I should do instead.

The book business is in trouble because the book-selling model is changing. Publishers used to make their money by having healthy backlists from which to sell. The online ordering world means that they can't make their money that way anymore; that means that they'll have to figure out new ways to make book selling profitable or go under. The NYT article suggests that maybe that means no real bookstores to browse or fewer authors being published. I find it hard to believe that either of those is really the solution.

In the meantime, I'm going to take my sheepish self home to finish my book club book, for which I paid top dollar, so that I can start on the next Pulitzer book on my list, which Chris loaned me. A break-even scenario. In the grand scheme of things, maybe that is as good as it gets.

Our Top Reads of 2008

2008-12-31T23:59:00.009-05:00

Carole's Top Reads of 2008
2008 was a good year for reading. I read more books than the previous year, but even better, I liked more of the books I read. I discovered some new (to me) authors, and that is always a great gift to give yourself. I think I’m becoming more discerning as I remind myself that life is too short (and there are too many books) to spend time reading books you don’t like. With that said, I didn’t lovelovelove everything I read, but here is a list of my favorites from the year (in no particular order).

Mark Haddon’s A Spot of Bother was a treat to read. How he manages to convincingly write about the quiet desperation of ordinary people while making me laugh out loud at the same time is beyond me. I’m just glad he does. This was the second novel of his that I’ve read; while quite different from one another, I really enjoyed both this one and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.

Thanks to one of my book clubs, I was introduced to Wallace Stegner. His Crossing to Safety is a truly beautiful book of marriages and lifelong friendships that rang true to me.

My pleasant experience with Stegner and my foray into some Pulitzer-winning novels led me to read Angle of Repose. (Not right away of course—I wanted to avoid a case of author repeatitis.) I enjoyed it immensely; not only does Stegner write compellingly about relationships, but in this novel, he captures the period of westward expansion in American history through the eyes of an educated woman from the East. I couldn’t put it down. I already have Big Rock Candy Mountain and All the Little Live Things on my list for 2009

The title attracted me to We Were the Mulvaneys--it says so much. “We” means that the story is told by an insider; the choice of “were” rather than “are” means that something pretty serious happens to change things; “the Mulvaneys” tells me that they are/were a family. This was my first Joyce Carol Oates novel, and I was enthralled and appalled all at the same time. There were plot points that literally made my jaw drop open. I had Chris read it right away after I finished it so I could talk about it with someone!

This is one of the Newbery winners that I read with my family. I, Juan de Pareja tells the story of a slave who worked under the Spanish royal painter Velasquez. What absolutely blew me away about this book is that it is about a painting—Las Meninas—about which I wrote my 11th grade term paper. The fact that I read Newbery winners and that one of them is about the one painting in the world I know a little something about is one of those delicious coincidences in life that give you pause to think.

Breathing Lessons is my second Anne Tyler novel. I really enjoyed Back When We Were Grownups, and Breathing Lessons was equally rewarding. Tyler develops her characters so fully that you are drawn into their lives and find yourself wanting to learn more about them and to find out what happens next. Breathing Lessons focuses on a long-time married couple and how very different they are from each other and why that is sometimes a good thing and sometimes not!

My sister-in-law picked Julia’s Chocolates for our book club, and we all enjoyed it a great deal. I’ve loaned the book to several people and it’s been well received by all except my father, who found it dreadful. So, I’ll revise and say that it’s good chick lit.

I'm cheating a bit and including two picks here. Our Town and A Christmas Carol. These are perennial favorites of mine—I re-read Our Town with my family, and we read A Christmas Carol every year, starting on December 20. We read one stave each night and, if all goes well, we finish on Christmas Eve. If Scrooge’s redemption doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, then you truly are a humbug!

Twilight series: I enjoyed the experience of sharing these books and the movie with my daughter this year. I am also heartened by the fact that books can have such an impact on young people these days. If you want to indulge in some innocent vampire romance, read Bella and Edward’s story.

Before Twilight came into our lives, my daughter was captivated by the Gemma Doyle series. In fact we went rather breathlessly from one series to the other, making for some hefty reading. She wanted me to read them too so that we could talk about them. Harry Potteresque in that a young girl discovers that she has powers that lead her to another world and way of life, these books by Libba Bray weave a deft tale with memorable characters. They are also a great way to spend time with your daughter.

Least Favorite Book of the Year
Last year I called this the Most Hated Book of the Year, but I found as I reviewed the list that I didn’t hate any book I had read with as much passion as I hated Middlesex in 2007. So I changed the name this year to Least Favorite, and the book most deserving of that title for me was I Dreamed of Africa.

Chris' Top Reads of 2008

This has been the Year of the Series. I have discovered time travelers in the future at Oxford University, 20th century English book publishers, bail bonds(wo)men in New Jersey, a very different Wonderland with Queen Alyss and children who can see creatures invisible to most people. And yet, most of my choices are individual books.

And so difficult to choose! For every book on this list, there is one other begging to be included. I chose those books that I could still feel, even months after reading them.

The City of Dreaming Books

I was prompted to read this book by its introduction: if you are not up for the adventure, you are a coward and should put down the book and stop reading forthwith. From that moment on, I had no choice but to prove my courage. It was a rip-roaring tale about books — and, most importantly, one particular book, the best book ever written. The author, sadly, had written nothing after visiting the nearby metropolis of Bookholm -- which spurred the narrator to find him in Bookholm, despite the repeated warnings to cease and desist.

Doomsday Book/To Say Nothing of the Dog
Time travel is one of my favorite topics, and I was thrilled to learn about Connie Willis from a discussion about The Time Traveler's Wife on Literature and Latte, a Web site for readers and writers. Willis creates a modern story of the past. At Oxford University, Professor Dunworthy helps his students travel in time. Doomsday Book is her first foray into this storyline with Dunworthy (and Finch, Oxford's answer to Radar O'Reilly), as he sends Kivrin into 14th century Oxford. Time travel is not what it's cracked up to be, and there's more to learn about it — and the past. Dunworthy returns in Willis' second novel, a delightful play on Three Men in a Boat — and in this episode, we speculate on the importance of the bishop's bird stump and listen to women say "O!"

A Good and Happy Child

George, a 30-year-old first-time father, cannot touch his son, or even be alone with the child. He seeks the assistance of a counselor, who dredges up memories from George's childhood in the this debut novel by Justin Evans. "Demons" and "possession," "God" and "evil" are nothing more than concepts for most of us. For George, they are so much more. When writing the final scene of the book, the author one day read a dozen iterations to his wife — who then, that night, woke up screaming. Frankly, I am not surprised. Though a work of fiction, it read like a memoir and made me wonder just what I would do with the truth about God if ever "faith" received a tangible test.

Heart-Shaped Box
Joe Hill scared the heck out of me with this book. His collection of short stories, 20th Century Ghosts, was creepy and frightening, too, but in short, sustained bursts. This novel was an all-out scare-fest that required a Reading Buddy (and inspired the phrase for the bookish terms in the right column). An aging rock star purchases a ghost on the Internet and gets a lot more than what he bargained for. This story unfolded in surprising ways, with characters that did the unexpected, surprise actions by inanimate and non-human creatures. Just don't read it alone.

Last Night at the Lobster

Stewart O'Nan's stories linger with me long after the cover closes. This novel describes the last day a particular Red Lobster restaurant is open for business. Days before Christmas. During a snowstorm. Days before Christmas. In Connecticut. The characters are rich — you know these people — and the story is simple yet memorable.

Neverwhere
Richard is living a safe life: a good enough job, good enough friends and a fiancée who he thinks is out of his league. One day, he encounters a young woman who changes his life. He discovers a different world under (and over) London where every movement, every encounter is risky. One cannot be simply "good enough" to survive in London Below. As with all books by Neil Gaiman, the world created is complete and rich. I think I felt the grit and dirt under my fingernails for weeks after reading this book. Gaiman is one of my favorite authors, and this book did not disappoint.

No Angel/Something Dangerous/ Into Temptation (The Spoils of Time Trilogy)

This is decadence at its finest. The tale of a British family covers three generations — starting with Lady Celia, the matriarch. We first meet her when she has created an opportunity for herself, and we follow her and her very colorful and interesting brood through the first part of the 20th century. Just be prepared: this story will keep you reading at night long after most sane people would have already turned out the light. You will regale these tales as if these were real people having real issues. Then you'll foist these books on the people around you. (Or maybe that was just me....)

On Chesil Beach

Last winter, when my nearby public library closed, I took home dozens of books to read. This was one of them, and a fabulous read. Ian McEwan wove a taut tale filled with rich imagery. A story about two naive young adults who married one afternoon then planned their wedding supper at a small inn on Chesil Beach, this thin volume captures the essence of innocence and heartbreak with candor and beauty. Was I ever that young? Were any of us?

People of the Book
Carole and I anticipated this book for years, ever since Brooks mentioned the story at a reading of her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel March. Alternating between modern times and the past, this novel tells the story of a renown Haggadah as a book conservator investigates its history and thus its secrets. Each hair, insect wing, wine stain tells its own story within this story. Brooks has never failed to deliver an excellent story, and I can't wait to read her next gift to readers.

Water for Elephants
Life was not easy during the Great Depression, but no one suffered the rich, deep sadness and loss of Jacob, whose reaction is to leave school and hop the rail. He winds up as the veterinarian for a traveling circus. I was riveted and at least one friend is already reading a gift copy of that book they received from me as a Christmas gift. I was worried that my sensitivities toward animals would make this book unreadable — indeed, it was just the opposite.

Hated It!

None provided a visceral dislike, but there were a couple I could have lived without. I am not sure which was worse: the terminally flawed lead character and storyline of The 7th Victim or the undiscernable "secret" of The Somnambulist.

No Angel/Something Dangerous/Into Temptation — Review by Chris

2008-12-27T14:51:00.006-05:00

For the last couple of months, I have been living with another family: the Lyttons. And I have enjoyed it immensely.

What I call the Lytton trilogy has been called "The Spoils of Time" by its author, Penny Vincenzi. The series consists of No Angel, Something Dangerous and Into Temptation. It's a hefty trilogy, and not a quick read — which is good because it's too good to get through quickly. (Each book runs about 700 pages, so it's not a quick or light anything.)

It's a take-no-prisoners book. Once you start, you really can't stop. You read to the bitter end, even if that's 3 a.m. on a Sunday Before An Important Presentation or Meeting. It is too compelling a story to put down, really. Carole already had read the series, and she received many phone calls from me in which I didn't even bother to breathe for what seemed like minutes ("Hey Carole! Celia just...."). I got to enjoy it again as Carole and I discussed it, and it was wonderful having someone with whom to gasp and laugh.

Vincenzi knows how to tell a tale. She weaves a rich tapestry, using just enough thread to snag a reader — then shuttling another storyline into place just enough to ensnare the reader, then she gives another character a moment before seamlessly taking the reader back to the first thread. And yet they all matter, all touch in multiple places — single threads that, if cut, would unravel the rug on which the reader sits.

The saga centers on a family headed by Lady Celia, and we spend more than half a century watching this family and its matriarch. The characters are rich and deep, fully imagined and fun (though sometimes maddening) to read.

Celia is a pretty determined person, and her first act as a character defines this character: she is getting married. To a man her parents do not want her to marry. At a younger age than they would prefer. Well, such little things never stopped Celia, even in 1909 — and, as we shall see, she faces down a few more formidable obstacles than this in her lifetime. Like having children, or not. War. Love. Truth. Fascism. Oh, and publishing.

Celia has married into a publishing family. Lyttons is a somewhat small, but respected, member of the book publishing community in London. Celia is enraptured by it, and she shows great talent and instinct. *sigh* If only her husband would let her work in the family firm. This is, after all, 1909, and times are different.

Only, really, they're not. Celia has many of the issues today's women face: family, love, home, work, duty, marriage, charity, honor.... and Celia faces each with her own style.

For example, she wants to make London, if not the whole world, a better place, so she signs on to assist in a study of impoverished families. She is "assigned" the Millers: the mother always pregnant, the father always working, the children tied to table legs to keep them from underfoot until they can be sent outside to take care of themselves, for the most part. Celia starts taking care of the family, rather than merely "studying" it, and winds up leaving one day with one of its young members to be raised in her own home — only temporarily, so what could it hurt....?

The publishing house into which she has married is a character in itself. Truly, without it, this might have just been another multi-generational saga. However, booklovers will enjoy this added feature, a publishing company with a heart.

Much happens in Celia's life, and beyond: two world wars, countless births, a multitude of scandals, lots of misunderstandings, marriages and divorces, deaths that you wish will never come (and some you think will not come soon enough), tragedies, woundings, survival — and a ride through London during the Blitz that will leave readers literally breathless.

More than once I had to press the book to my heart to calm myself down. One scene in particular I was glad I was alone when I read because I startled the cats with my sobs. I took a two-week break during the third book because I was so disgusted by one character's actions (and another's reactions) and I couldn't bear the situation. Honestly, I did not care for the way she resolved one set of character's situation; Celia would have disavowed this romantic notion, but I I trust Vincenzi, and there was some logic to the resolution (even if I didn't like it).

Vincenzi does not write brief stories. I also have read Sheer Abandon, which also is a taut thrilling ride — and hefty book (the paperback was inches thick!).

I am, and plan to remain, a real Vincenzi fan. Once you try her, you will be a fan as well.

Twilight Series - Discussion with Carole and Her Daughter

2008-12-11T07:30:00.002-05:00

This summer I noticed that you couldn't really carry on a conversation with a teenage girl unless you had read Stephanie Meyers' Twilight series. My daughter accompanied me on a business trip to Nashville in June and read the three that were available in four days. I got such a kick out of watching her actually grinning while she was reading it.

In August, when New Dawn came out, she and her friends all met at the bookstore for the midnight release. The place was packed.

We visited friends in North Carolina later in the summer and their daughter was also up to speed. Later, my daughter's friend from San Antonio joined us at the beach, and she devoured the series during our week there.

Now the movie is in theaters. My daughter and I went on the opening weekend to watch this much anticipated event. We had approved the choice of Robert Pattinson to play Edward (He was Cedric Diggory in the Harry Potter movie, Goblet of Fire). I wasn't familiar with Kristin Stewart, who played Bella, but my daughter said she was Lisa in Zathura.

To sum up the story, Bella is a young girl who has decided to come to the Pacific Northwest to live with her father. She is unsure of herself and is not looking forward to standing out as the new kid. Little does she realize that she soon will have much than that to worry about. She just happens to have moved to a town that unwittingly hosts the Cullen family, a family of vampires. They eschew the traditional vampire lifestyle, choosing instead to feed off of animals rather than humans. They are exceptionally beautiful (I wonder if anyone has ever written a vampire story that involves ugly vampires). Bella is immediately drawn to Edward although he seems to loathe her on sight. This does nothing for her self-esteem. It turns out that he is afraid of her because he is so drawn to her.

Their love story develops from there and Bella slowly learns the truth. The first book focuses a great deal on discovery; the rest of the series revolves around her desire to join Edward's family, and all that entails, and his desire for her to lead a normal human life.

Back to the movie--we loved it! It was beautifully filmed, and I think that the romantic tension between Edward and Bella maintained an innocence that was refreshing in a teenage love story. I read a review recently by a psychiatrist who maintains that all girls want is an Edward Cullen to love them--she praised the movie. The article generated a lot of chat; several readers scoffed that a vampire story shouldn't be called wholesome or something for girls to wish for.

We talked about it, and my daughter and I think that the success of the Twilight series is due to the fact that it is a love story first and a vampire story second. Bella and Edward are in love and he just happens to be a vampire. He is older and more experienced than Bella and rather than press his advantage, he does everything he can to protect her and take care of her. That is what girls are responding to, I think. (For those of us who have not been teenagers for, ahem, a while now, the story works too.)

While reading the books, I will admit that I found Bella irritating on more than one occasion. Her tendency to run herself down at every opportunity got old fast for me. I would have preferred her to evolve a bit more as the story developed. My daughter said that didn't bother her and didn't find it as pervasive a habit as I did. A great deal of the book is spent telling us what's in Bella's head (she tells the story), so I found the movie actually an improvement because the emphasis was more on what is happening than what Bella is thinking. I also found myself worrying that Bella was losing her sense of self and couldn't define herself in any way other than loving Edward.

Some of my daughters' friends liked the movie, but not as much as the book. While this is not unusual for a book that you love, I was curious as to why. Generally, the feeling is that too much gets glossed over. For example, Jacob, a Native American friend of Bella's family, tells Bella the legend between his people and the vampires. This is key to the development of a main story thread that runs throughout the series-many of my daughters' friends felt that this scene wasn't treated with the importance it deserved. Ditto with the development of some of the other members of Edward's family, who play larger roles in future books/movies.

We haven't encountered anyone who hasn't liked the movie, but I don't know any guys who have seen it. My son is quite dismissive of any vampire movie that isn't a gore fest--he views Twilight with a why-bother attitude. I suspect that many men feel the same way. My daughter does know some girls who have chosen to not read the books precisely because they are popular. I know that mindset and have been there myself, but sometimes things are popular because they are really good, and then you miss out.

While I wouldn't recommend this series for tweens--it deals with some pretty heavy topics--I think most teenage girls will really respond to it. If you know any teenage girl who hasn't read the books, they would make a good Christmas present.

The book titles are Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn. I'm sure a movie for each book is in the works, so teenage girls will be discussing these for quite some time.

Are You Series-ous?

2008-12-06T14:08:00.005-05:00

As I noted in earlier entries, I've been doing some light reading for the past few months. In these "light" forays, I've discovered the pleasure of the series.

I have been a fan of series books since my earliest years, when reading Encyclopedia Brown and the Chronicles of Narnia. I loved the characters and wanted to join them for yet another adventure. I trusted them — that is, I realized as I got older, I trusted the writers and editors who brought me those characters and stories.

There are some well-known and very popular series on the bookshelves today, and I have sampled at least a few of them: Harry Potter, Gemma Doyle trilogy, Twilight series, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Magic Treehouse, Dresden Files, Gossip Girls, American Girls, Spiderwick .... each with its own following.

I, lately, have found myself ensnared by a couple of series: Stephanie Plum and the Lytton trilogy.

I met Stephanie Plum in the emergency room of the busiest hospital in my region. It was in the wee hours of a Thursday, Medivac helicopters were bringing in the terribly injured and it looked like it would be a long night for David and me. Cindy dropped David and me off, and Alicia returned a while later in her own car and with a book in hand: Fearless Fourteen, a kind gesture from Cindy, who was rarely wrong about a good leisure book. Plus, when sitting with my foot elevated in a wheelchair facing "The Fugitive" on a snowy and tinny-sounding television, Fourteen looked better and better. Then, as David fetched cake and took a nap, and I battled to stay awake, I cracked open the book.

And was transported.

As you can tell from my review, I found it delightful. I didn't realize, however, that it was part of a series until Carole mentioned it later. ("A Stephanie Plum novel" meant nothing at 5 am that day, nor in the exhausting, trying, hazy days following.) During my convalescence, Carole brought me the first four Stepanie Plum novels, and I began anew.

So far, I've read the first six, and I will start Seven Up after I next see Carole. (She's my Plum dealer.) The characters are feisty and memorable, and rumor has it that some of my favorites will make appearances in books I have yet to read. I can't wait.

Another series in which I have found myself hip-deep is the Lytton trilogy. I had read the first book, No Angel, five years ago and was totally absorbed — and was thrilled when I learned Penny Vincenzi had written two other books. Carole, thankfully, had read all three, so as I hit different points in the story, I would call her. With no preamble. "This is Carole" would be greeted with, "Okay, Celia has just...." or "She's not leaving! Still! What is she thinking!?" Sometimes I would answer the phone with, "Hey, Carole, I'm at...." (Thank you, Caller-ID!)

It's a hefty trilogy, and not a quick read — which is good because it's too good to get through quickly. (I think the first book is nearly 700 pages, so it's not a quick or light anything.) I am about a third of the way through the final book, and I am afraid to pick it up. When I read during my convalescence, I had the luxury of napping and sleeping in. No such luck these days, so I have to pace myself — which is impossible with such a compelling book. Therefore, unless I plan to read until I hide the book in the other room and fall asleep, my eyes red-rimmed and scratchy, I have to approach with caution. I will have to see how Carole managed. It's too good a book to put down!

I foresee a few more series in my future: Spiderwick, which my friend Kelsey shared with me; the Gemma Doyle trilogy (reviewed by Carole and a favorite of her daughter); Twilight (because I wish to discuss it with my friend Corinne); Dresden Files (only because the television series is so enjoyable).

When I find the time, I will re-read a couple of my personal favorites:

The Chronicles of Narnia, which holds a special spot in my heart for the week I enjoyed it, holed up in my room as I devoured each book, forsaking sleep and sun until the end; and
Harry Potter, with thanks to Suzanne, for sharing the first book with me, as well as Carole and the kids, who managed to keep secrets until after I read each volume.

One warning: take a breather, no matter how beloved a series is. Don't risk Author Repeatitis! Chances are your series will not falter, but don't give it a chance to fail because of your own saturation. I remember my experiences with the original Dune trilogy and wince. Frank Herbert deserved better attention than a 19-year-old college student with time on her hands could give him.

Outliers — Review by Chris

2008-11-29T23:59:00.004-05:00

What made Steve Jobs, Bill Joy and Bill Gates rise to the top of their fields and change the way we work and live? Some say talent. Some say luck. Some say class advantage. Some say drive and determination.

And they're all right. But what do they all share that puts them in a category unto themselves?

When Malcom Gladwell reveals that information in his newest book Outliers, you'll be surprised — then it will make sense.

That's because Gladwell knows how to explain complicated information in very precise but "plain" language. I have read his other two books, The Tipping Point and Blink, and I enjoyed them very much. His plain language and straight talk make the complex materials and conclusions very understandable.

Having said that, I have to admit: I can't explain it myself very well. And I don't necessarily remember it for very long. (Which may explain why I'm no Steve Jobs.)

However, that I blame on Gladwell's smooth transitions between subjects and topics. His chapters are beautifully organized and his information unfolds like a story. I wanted to know how class and financial status of a family unit influence how children do in school. I wanted to know how an off-the-charts genius could flunk out of school — twice! — and wind up on a small farm in the American Midwest, when other people not even a fraction as smart (including Robert Oppenheimer) manage to navigate the trickiest parts of the institutions that so baffled him. Finally, I simply had to know how it all fits together. Gladwell makes these discoveries a delight to experience.

I was particularly intrigued about the book after hearing an NPR interview with Gladwell, in which he commented on the danger of making general statements about any particular nationality or ethnicity. And yet, this is exactly what Gladwell does — with great success. What problems do Koreans face in the cockpit of a plane? Why are Asians better at math than Caucasians? Why did Jewish lawyers blossom in the latter half of the twentieth century? Can one make general statements about an ethnicity or race without being racist or categorically unfair and biased? Gladwell manages, and give me hope for more honest and probing studies and reports in the future.

I enjoy reading Gladwell's work. I read his work in the Washington Post and New Yorker magazine. I envy and enjoy his turn of phrase and his ability to get to the nut of a thought. His explanations or ideas are not short or truncated; you must follow him down the rabbit hole to get where he is going. It's a decision you will be glad you made.

Please read this book and find out how sometimes, brains and brawn finds assistance in the most unlikely of places — and how something as unexpected as immigration patterns, rice farming or a loan from a local Chinese shopkeeper can impact the human race beyond our wildest imaginations.

All Things Austen - Reviews by Carole

2008-11-19T17:56:00.019-05:00

Last weekend, I had the privilege of seeing a dear friend's son play Mr. Darcy in his high school production of Pride and Prejudice (P&P). What fun! I had never seen it performed as a play; I watched with great joy as the young actors and actresses delivered Austen's words with feeling. It was a lovely night of theater.

I have been a fan of P&P for many years now. In addition to owning different editions of the book, my daughter and I seek to own all of the film versions. I find it fascinating that each generation seems to have its Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson; Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle; and Matthew McFadden and Keira Knightley have all paired up as the famous couple. I know there are others, so please let me know about them. Chris tells me that I have to see the Bollywood musical version, Bride and Prejudice. Each has its charms, but most charming of all to me is the endurance of this story.

A young college student I know tells me that she is taking a movie class, and they are discussing why Jane Austen, particularly through P&P, remains so popular and why each generation seems to choose it for its own. Her professor is of the opinion that it's just good marketing--I think it's much more than that. You can market a lousy story all you want, it just isn't going to resonate with people. My particular belief is that it is all about the story. In the case of P&P, I believe that it's not that women wish their men were Mr. Darcy, but rather they see Mr. Darcy in their men. If men knew that, they may like P&P more.

I also noticed something else almost by accident. I seem to have acquired almost an entire bookshelf of P&P spinoffs. This appears to be a recent phenomenon and one I didn't initially seek out. But they've sort of crept up on me. Why so many spinoffs now? One of the authors actually thanks Jane Austen for being out of copyright. I'm sure that is a factor, but that is not a recent enough occurrence to account for all of these Austen-inspired books. Something more must be at work here. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Here are the P&P products I've read in the past year (and many other remain to be discovered):

Darcy's Story

By far and away, my favorite re-telling of a tale. Janet Aylmer does an amazing job of telling us P&P from Mr. Darcy's point of view. Darcy is absent for much of P&P--this book tells you what was happening to him through all of this. It made me heart Mr. Darcy even more. (I realize that not all women heart Mr. Darcy--I'd love to hear where you fall in this debate)

Me and Mr. Darcy

Alexandra Potter sets this tale in modern day; the heroine has suffered through a series of unsatisfying relationships. After her latest breakup, her roommate begs her to forget her woes in a margarita-induced haze in sunny Mexico. Instead she decide quite spur of the moment to take a Jane Austen tour of England. She turns out to the be youngest person on the tour by many years, and she thinks she's made a huge mistake. Then the strangest things start happening--she keeps running into this man who seems so familiar to her. He seems to be from another time...you get the idea. It's a lovely bit of fluff-n-trash--I enjoyed it.

Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife

As my mother said after she read it, "...and takes and takes and takes!" In other words, this is a bawdy tale. But fun in the extreme. This book picks up where Jane Austen left of in P&P. True Austenites might be appalled. We see a lot more of Mr. Darcy, and we get a lot more romance. I'll also admit that I ended up flagging more than 20 words that I had never heard before--that doesn't happen often, so hats off to Linda Berdoll for writing what is essentially a high-brow bodice ripper. Fluff-n-Trash at its best.

Darcy & Elizabeth: Nights and Days at Pemberley

Berdoll continues the story in this sequel to the spinoff. I particularly like how the nasty characters in P&P get a chance to be even nastier. Lady Catherine is at her conniving, arrogant best. Lydia and Wickham prove time and again why they deserve each other--their selfishness knows no bounds.

The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen

Chris gave me this book for my birthday. It was great fun because it's written as a novel that reads like one of Austen's own books. The family tree at the beginning was fascinating to me. The similarities between this book and Becoming Jane are considerable. I didn't read that one, but enjoyed Anne Hathaway as Austen in the movie.

The Jane Austen Book Club

This is my least favorite of the bunch. While I liked the idea of a rather disparate group of women (and one man) getting together to read the works of Austen, I was disappointed in the lack of follow through. To me, it seemed as if it were set up so that each character would encounter some Austen-inspired plot twist in their own lives and find inspiration from the books. But that wasn't it--they read each of the books and they lived their lives. Big whoop! I was not thrilled to hear that they were making a movie of it, but I wasn't surprised. Darn this power of mine--it's a blessing and a curse! Good cast notwithstanding, I don't think there's enough story there to save it.

Lost in Austen

I bought this for my daughter, and we both have had fun with it. It's labeled by author Emma Campbell Webster as a Create Your Own Jane Austen Adventure. You read until you come to a point where you have to make a decision, and based on your choice, you turn to specified pages. This book dumps all of Jane Austen's plots into one big soup pot, stirs it up, and lets you decide whether you have something palatable or not. My daughter didn't enjoy it as much as I did, but she was being diligent about keeping track of her points earned; I just read it, made my choices, and wandered where the book would lead me, so I had fun with it. I do confess to backtracking to see what would have happened if I had chosen the road less traveled.

To sum up, I’m not sure why Jane Austen’s works, particularly P&P seems to be hitting a new stride with today’s audiences, but I’m happy that they are. You know that when there is a Jane Austen for Dummies and an action figure that you are alive and well in the 21st century!

If it's Heavy, Can it Be Fluff 'n Trash™?

2008-11-13T15:19:00.006-05:00

I am having the best time reading Penny Vincenzi's Lytton family trilogy. However, it begs the question: can something so substantial really be Fluff 'n Trash™?

Carole and I were discussing that very topic just last night. Earlier this week, I called her and declared, "Pandora!" She knew exactly what I meant.

Carole has read all three books (No Angel, Something Dangerous, Into Temptation), while I'm only about halfway through the trilogy. (I read the first book in 2003, but just re-read it to make sure I didn't miss a thing before moving on to the last two books.) Carole is spectacular about not letting on a thing about what actually happens next, a trait I very much adore about her and her family. (Remind me to tell you about two very respectful children not spilling the beans during my Harry Potter catch-up one spring.)

Lately, I have needed light reading. I've plowed through a few months' worth of People magazine, The Onion and two Janet Evanovich novels so far during my convalescence. I've enjoyed it, relaxing on the couch with Rob's iPod playing softly in the background as I thumbed through some light reading. (I also read a couple of Rolling Stones, but those border Serious Material with the in-depth stories and interviews for Campaign '08.)

So, in that vein, I lined up all three Lytton books to round out my Fluff 'n Trash™ selection.

However, the so-called "Spoils of Time" series are an interesting hybrid: light reading that is much more substantial in storyline and character development than traditional light fare. Years after having read them, Carole can still recite storyline and characters from the Lytton family saga.

So I ask: can it be Fluff 'n Trash™ if it's that substantial?

Some light reading is just that: a nice read, good elements all around, but instantly forgettable — or at least not enough substance or detail to stick with this reader for very long afterward. These can be very good books, but not the kind about which you could speak at length, or write a term paper.

However, the Lytton trilogy is so much more.

It's complex character development, sweeping sagas, war and sacrifice, drama and tension. I can't put it down until I know certain things about the characters.

I speculate with Carole about what I think will happen next. (I have to admit that the author has thrown some great curve balls at the readers, and I'm thrilled. Usually I can anticipate a storyline — but with Vincenzi, not always so much, or even so completely.)

I worry about the characters: poor Izzy (and what a terrible nickname!), poor Barty, poor Giles (though after a while I worry that I will abandon my sad tone when saying "poor Giles"). I cringe when reading about Celia's foray into politics, or Sebastian's temper regarding one child in particular, or Helena's observations about her husband's career.

Granted, there's all the stuff of Fluff 'n Trash ™ — romance and affairs, unplanned pregnancies galore, abandonment, death, society gossip, use of the word "Mummy" that sounds alien to my American ears. There's also common sense from the least likely characters, vast country estates and quite a bit of tea. There's unimaginable amounts of wealth that provide a certain amount of independence — or does it?

So, does something with substance count as light reading? Does the fact that something is a quick read make it a light read as well? What do you think?

And if you've read the Lytton trilogy, chime in. But no spoilers, please — not even with warnings!

Leeway Cottage and Good-Bye and Amen - Discussion by Carole and Chris

2008-11-12T11:01:00.003-05:00

Chris and I don't always have the same taste in books (how boring would that be?), and we don't always agree on the books we read to discuss. Many a time either she has passed a book along to me to see if I could get any enjoyment out of it (The Dante Club and Rule of Four come to mind) when she couldn't or I've passed back a book that she's included in her bag o' books for me with a "Uh-uh. I tried, but can't get through it".

Why mention all of this here and now? Well, Chris and I had exactly the same reactions to Beth Gutcheon's Leeway Cottage and Good-Bye and Amen. What were they? In a nutshell, we lovedlovedloved Leeway Cottage and that is what saved us from thoroughly disliking Good-Bye and Amen. If we had read Good-Bye and Amen on its own, we would not have liked it or understood it.

Let me back up a bit. The story of Leeway Cottage is essentially the story of Sydney Brant. The book spans her lifetime, but we are introduced to so many family members from different generations to cast this as a multigenerational novel. The family summers in Maine provide a constant in the quickly changing world--the events of World War II have far-reaching and long-lasting effects on Sydney's family. Gutcheon weaves true elements, such as the heroic efforts of the Danes to save the Jews in their country and the role British intelligence played in those efforts, with the fictitious, such as Sydney's husband's family, which would never be the same after what they endured at the hands of the Nazis. Those events colored Sydney's relationships with her husband, her in-laws, and even her children in ways in which Sydney was never even aware. But we were.

Chris and I talked a great deal about what an interesting, and not always likable, character Sydney was. She had a horrible relationship with her own mother, which affected her relationships with her own children. I liked that she wasn't always likable--it made her more real. To hear her grown grandchildren talk about how awful she was to them, though, made me wince.

We both liked Gutcheon's writing style in Leeway Cottage and eagerly devoured it and moved on to its sequel, Good-Bye and Amen. What a puzzle to learn that it is written in a completely different style from the first book. Rather than a narrative, it is written as a series of journal entries by many, many characters, most of them familiar from the first book.

We were baffled as to why Gutcheon chose to do this. What was the motivation to switch styles? Chris thinks that the author became so attached to her characters that she felt she had to write this to stay connected to them. When I was reading it and discovering that one of the characters we heard from periodically was actually dead, I thought that we were actually going to get a glimpse into a continuation of Sydney's life from someone who knew her then and now. But that didn't actually happen in the book, so I'm not sure why we were given that information.

An extensive biography of each character ever mentioned is provided in the back of the book, along with photos tagged with the characters' names. Huh? Is this fiction or a true story? I still don't know. If it's true, then whose story is it really? If it's fiction, did the author just use some old photos and say these are her characters? If so, why? We couldn't come to any real conclusions. Their inclusion raised more questions than they answered.

Chris and I enjoyed reading both books, and Leeway Cottage stands alone beautifully. We agreed that if we had come upon Good-Bye and Amen and read it first, we would have been bewildered. The deftness with which she wove the original story, however, will keep Gutcheon on our list of authors to watch.

Unaccustomed Earth — Review by Chris

2008-11-08T23:59:00.004-05:00

Jhumpa Lahiri knows how to communicate. She's not just — as if one can be "just" — a short story writer or a novelist. She is a communicator.

Take her latest: Unaccustomed Earth, a collection of short stories. In it, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author shares with us the life and inner workings of Bengali men and women and the people around them. Each character is carefully drawn and, to the reader, is a distinct individual. Lahiri has an affection for each of them, allows us into their lives with such intimacy I am overwhelmed and grateful time and again. Her language is precise and generous, and by no means unfair nor ambiguous. Her characters have their faults and foibles as well as their strengths and charms, deep and clear. She does not criticize them, but lets their stories make or break their cases.

In earlier books, Lahiri's characters precariously straddled the life between Bengali and American culture — bound to one but striving for the other. However, in this book, the characters have come to terms with this dichotomy, accepting the implied hyphen that keeps them in both camps with simultaneous magnetism. It isn't easier for these people, but the struggle has changed: from trying to find a place in the world to living within the boundaries of their territory.

The book is divided into two sections, the second of which involves the intertwined lives of Hema and Kaushik. I read the stories in order, but you needn't do that with the first section. The second section, however, you must read in order. All stories in this collection are varied and rich in detail.

Ruma is torn between life with her American husband and her expectations as a Bengali daughter. Her mother died unexpectedly and her father now travels the world by himself. Ruma thinks her father lonesome and abandoned. Her father, however, feels nothing of the sort. The story tells both Ruma's and her father's perspective of the same situation. As a daughter myself, it was lovely to see how both father and daughter held on to their strong — and wrong — expectations.

Sudha gave her baby brother Rahul his first beer when she was in college, helped him buy his stash and hide it when she would come home during school breaks — then watched, with a growing understanding and horror, as he continued down the slippery slope of alcoholism.

Sang has a boyfriend and Anglo roommates. She also has an unending line of potential husbands (Bengali, of course). She is a good catch: well-educated, a good daughter, of good moral character. She, however, has a boyfriend: Freddy/Farouk, who has, for the three years they have been together, spoken of the future in broad terms. However, things change when her male roommate, Paul, answers the phone one lonely evening.

Many vignettes stopped my heart as I read them. One in particular was about Kaushik, who met his new stepsisters and their mother one college break. His own mother had been dead for years, but he didn't discover the depth of his loss until bleak winter night — and his fury against two young children was so hot and violent it scared me to read it.

Another was the slow terrible realization of Neel's plight one evening. Could his uncle be as reliable as he appeared all week, while under the watchful eye of his suspicious sister and unaware brother-in-law? The gnawing doubt culminated in a terrible brief scene with details and images that brought tears to my eyes — it still gives me chills when I think about it, the subtlety, the devil in the details. Lahiri makes the tragedy and the joy immediate and deliberate.

Do yourself a favor: go out and pick up all three of Lahiri's works (including the Pulitzer Prize-winning Interpreter of Maladies and her sole published novel to date, The Namesake). Then pace yourself if you can. Once I finished a story or chapter, I found myself unable to resist reading the first few lines of the next part — which sucked me in for another indeterminate period of time. I never experienced Author Fatigue from Lahiri; unlike other authors, I did not feel a rut in style, rhythm or characters. If you picked them up at the library, which I always recommend, you will then want them for your permanent collection. Then you will wait hungrily for her next work.

I enjoyed this collection immensely and highly recommend it. Please let me know when you read her work. You will be glad you did.

So Big - Review by Carole

2008-10-27T12:58:00.009-04:00

Yikes! I've been doing more reading than writing lately. I've been bouncing from one Pulitzer Prize-winning novel to another lately without taking the time to reflect. Shame on me!

Edna Ferber's So Big started me on this kick. This was the pick of one of my book clubs, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I also enjoyed learning more about Ferber. One of the famed Algonquin Round Table members, Ferber devoted her life to writing. Sigh, I was born in the wrong era. I would have loved that life, those clothes...but I digress.

I hadn't read any Ferber--did you know she wrote the novels on which Show Boat and Giant are based? I didn't! She won the Pulitzer in 1924 for So Big.

So Big tells us the story of Selena, a young girl who grows up with a gambler for a father. When he is rolling well, they live the high life; when he's not, they eat at the boarding house table. But he always managed to pay her way at an exclusive girls' school. She gets a strong education from school and from him. When he dies unexpectedly, she has to make her own way. She takes on a schoolteacher job at a small farming community outside of fast-growing Chicago.

Her appreciation of beauty helps her see the color afforded by simple things, such as a field of cabbages, as she approaches her new life. This sentiment arouses rare humor in the taciturn, hard-working Dutch farm family with whom she comes to live. She finds a kindred spirit in their son, Rolff. Her influence, while brief, has a lasting impact on his life.

Before long, she finds herself agreeing to marry one of the community's farmers--a kind man, but no great shakes in the imagination department. Selena tries to get him to see what their farm could be, but he continues in the ways of his father.

They have a son, Dirk, whom she nicknames "So Big" from the old baby game: "How big is baby?" "Sooooo Big". You can just picture her taking the time from digging up vegetables from the garden to play this game with her baby, taking great joy in seeing him hold his arms wide.

When she finds herself on her own again, Selena manages to carve out a life for herself and her son. She raises him with her values, but he internalizes things much differently. His life experiences are significantly altered from her own. It's a classic story of a parent who wants a better life for her child and works hard to make sure of it, but then is surprised to see how different the child turns out. Children who have a better life aren't forged by the same fires as their parents and thus don't form their characters, values, or work ethics the same way.

Selena and Dirk have a great love for one another, even if they don't fully understand each other. The story shifts to focus on Dirk's life. He has many of the things that constitute success in that era. After an attempt at an architecture career (of which his mother has very high hopes), Dirk decides to become a bond salesman (a career his mother doesn't fully understand). He is very good at it--he makes good money--he lives in a lovely a part of town. Yet, it is very clear to the reader that he really doesn't have anything. He has no wife and children; he cannot point to anything lasting that he has created or improved. He cannot see that, though, until an artist comes into his life.

His feelings for the artist force him to examine his life--he sees that she and his mother have more in common than he would have ever envisioned. He sees his life as a "rubber stamp" of Selena's--a cheap imitation in other words. He finds himself at a crossroads.

Chicago looms in the background throughout the story, growing and sprawling across the pages, making it as defined a character as Selena or Dirk. A truly American story of success and how that is defined--I couldn't put it down.

The 7th Victim — Review by Chris

2008-10-18T23:59:00.001-04:00

Poor Job — er, Karen Vail. She's having one tough time.

Alan Jacobson invites us into this FBI profiler's ramshackle life. At home, she's divorcing her abusive husband, who it also turns out is abusing their son. Her mother, who has advanced dementia, lives alone in the country in New York — a seven-hour drive from Karen, who doesn't visit too often. During a non-lucid moment, Karen's mother makes a statement about her past that Karen remarkably accepts as true.

The FBI special agent is beleaguered at work by her boss, who doesn't respect her cutting-edge research. At least one person in her department actively dismisses her. She encounters a hostile former co-worker, who again becomes a colleague and remains hostile. A new young co-worker has the hots for her, and she for him — and starting a new relationship in the middle of an investigation is such a good idea.

Oh, and did I mention she's the profiler on a grisly serial murder gripping Northern Virginia?

All this and more — next, in The 7th Victim.

Don't get me wrong, I love crime drama. I just couldn't take another moment of Karen. I didn't respect or trust Karen. She made terrible choices. She made her life a train wreck.

However, I appear to be the only one with these feelings. The author loved her and the publisher thought Karen tested well enough with readers to release another Karen Vail novel within the next year, changing another Jacobson book release date.

Unfortunately, my issues with the novel went beyond Karen. The killer never felt truly threatening because the killer was veiled, purposely obscured, to add to the "twist" of the story. The title told me no resolution could come before victim number six, no matter how the story unfolded. The book jacket blurbs trumpeted the book's surprises, twists and turns. And don't tell me the end will shock me — because now it won't.

As an editor, I didn't like the inconsistent editing. Words were spelled differently (missing hyphens and apostrophes) throughout the book and the language was trite. Cops in Hollywood are the only ones who say, "Give it to me straight, doc."

If this is typical in this genre in the post-Hannibal world, then I am disappointed — and possibly reading in the wrong field, much to my dismay.

I would be willing to check out another book by Alan Jacobson, just in case this atypical book for him. I just can't recommend this book.