The Might Queens of Freeville — Review by Chris

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

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?"

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?