Carole told me Julia's Chocolates was good. She read me a little of it and I loved it.
She told you this book was good.
She wasn't kidding. This book is fabulous.
This book is so masterfully crafted, readers flow seamlessly between laughter and tears. And it's all because of author Cathy Lamb's characters.
The story is inventive and compelling, true. I stayed up until 2 a.m. last night in anticipation of Julia's encounter with Robert: when would it be? How would it be? Who would survive? Would any of Julia's family and friends be hurt? Would Dean? More importantly, how would the chickens fare?
However, the story is only half the story, so to speak. The rest is the people. Readers meet some really incredible characters, and it's easy to fall quickly in love with them. The other day, my co-worker Melanie talked about how some older women are fun and others are fussy and dull. I whipped out Aunt Lydia as an example of a spirited older woman, someone I wanted to emulate. (I may have fewer cement pigs, but I want that kind of spirit.)
I love Dean. I will now have to have two t-shirts: I (heart) Mr. Darcy and I (heart) Dean. Everyone wants a Dean, and some have found him. Or a Jerry, someone who wants his wife happy and will stop at nothing to do it, if only he is given the chance.
Then there are the villains, like J.D., a worthless so-and-so at best. And Robert — well, that's a no-brainer. I know women like Katie who stand by their men no matter what. I've probably been Katie. And I've probably been Lara and Caroline and Julia. I hope from time to time I've been Lydia, or at least a close fascimilie.
Lamb gave us clear heroes and villains (though I had to understand Lydia and Stash's relationship a little before I knew which side he was on). Are there men as patient and loving as Dean and Stash? As truly accepting as Jerry? As vile as Robert? (Wait, I can answer that last one.)
Can people change, like Olivia Cutter? Can people evolve like Julia? Can people persevere like Lydia? Boy, I hope so. Even if that's not the case, Lamb made it seem plausible.
In the end, it was a great book. It is not for the faint of heart — oh, no. There are unspeakable things that happen to the innocent that will break your heart. As Julia recounted her experiences with Robert, I read with only one eye, as if that would make it less awful. We won't even speak of the children. But it's worth it to read the good and the evil, if only to hear how Julia talks about sausage.
Read this book right now. Then loan your copy to friends. And wait impatiently for Cathy Lamb's next book.
5/7/08
When There's Not an Eye to Spare
Have you ever had one of these days, where you can't get a single moment to sink your eyes into that novel? You eye that magazine, wishing you could take a gander?
Then a single day stretches into two, maybe even three. Or more. (Perish the thought!)
What happens when you can't get to a book? What do you do?
Me, I take two steps: (1) I go to the gym and (b) I use the stair climber. If I use the elliptical machine, I am seduced by the television. Yes, every elliptical at my gym has a small built-in television — perfect for viewing "Cash Cab." Anyway, the little shelf in front of the television is insufficient for propping a book. (I've tried.)
So it's to the stair climber I turn on days when I simply must read. I'm on there for nearly an hour, so I can get quite a few pages under my proverbial belt on that torture device — er, machine.
However, there are weeks where even that is impossible. Lately, I've had weeks that involve travel, company, late nights at work and visits with family and friends. These are weeks where the workday lunch hour is otherwise occupied as well. These are weeks where the day lasts until I limp to bed, exhausted, waaaaay past my bedtime, followed by early mornings running (and there is no book built for that treacherous terrain).
Those are the times when the only books read are the books scattered about the house. Those are the fragmented times, the scatter-shot method of reading. I always have a few books in that state. Some books do not survive that kind of reading, and they're designated to the "focused reading" pile.
But this afternoon, it's a hardback on the stair climber. I tried paperbacks, but alas, they're impossible to prop open without monumental amounts of frustration (which cause the machine to get angry, beep and demand a reset — which in turn requires moving the perfectly settled book). Last week, I started Gentlemen of the Road (a quick read, but not one for the machine) and Unaccustomed Earth (good, but intense -- plan to read other books or stories between these stories).
Today I have 20th Century Ghosts, which most likely will give me more nightmares. Don't worry: David has been put on high alert. (There's no telling what will happen in the dark of the night with this imagination.) (Wait, that's not what — oh, never mind.) Maybe when I get home, I will get a in few pages of Julia's Chocolates to calm my nerves.
Wish me luck.
Then a single day stretches into two, maybe even three. Or more. (Perish the thought!)
What happens when you can't get to a book? What do you do?
Me, I take two steps: (1) I go to the gym and (b) I use the stair climber. If I use the elliptical machine, I am seduced by the television. Yes, every elliptical at my gym has a small built-in television — perfect for viewing "Cash Cab." Anyway, the little shelf in front of the television is insufficient for propping a book. (I've tried.)
So it's to the stair climber I turn on days when I simply must read. I'm on there for nearly an hour, so I can get quite a few pages under my proverbial belt on that torture device — er, machine.
However, there are weeks where even that is impossible. Lately, I've had weeks that involve travel, company, late nights at work and visits with family and friends. These are weeks where the workday lunch hour is otherwise occupied as well. These are weeks where the day lasts until I limp to bed, exhausted, waaaaay past my bedtime, followed by early mornings running (and there is no book built for that treacherous terrain).
Those are the times when the only books read are the books scattered about the house. Those are the fragmented times, the scatter-shot method of reading. I always have a few books in that state. Some books do not survive that kind of reading, and they're designated to the "focused reading" pile.
But this afternoon, it's a hardback on the stair climber. I tried paperbacks, but alas, they're impossible to prop open without monumental amounts of frustration (which cause the machine to get angry, beep and demand a reset — which in turn requires moving the perfectly settled book). Last week, I started Gentlemen of the Road (a quick read, but not one for the machine) and Unaccustomed Earth (good, but intense -- plan to read other books or stories between these stories).
Today I have 20th Century Ghosts, which most likely will give me more nightmares. Don't worry: David has been put on high alert. (There's no telling what will happen in the dark of the night with this imagination.) (Wait, that's not what — oh, never mind.) Maybe when I get home, I will get a in few pages of Julia's Chocolates to calm my nerves.
Wish me luck.
5/4/08
The Consolation of Philosophy - Review by Carole
The decisions we make set us on a trajectory that determine the course of our lives. I ultimately chose to go to college and study journalism, but I almost chose studying letters with the Jesuits—a classic education. I’m not sure what employable skills I would have gained in this pursuit, but I do occasionally wonder what schools of thought I would have been exposed to and how they would have affected my life. These seem like weighty reflections for a blog post, but as I read Boethius’ The Consolation of Philosophy, I couldn’t help but wonder whether I would have had a better basis for understanding him. I also wonder what Boethius would have thought of my trajectory comment in my opening line--I imagine we would have had a rather lengthy conversation about what is influenced by free will and what is predestined.
As it is, I’m amazed that we don’t find Boethius’ story more awe inspiring than we do. Considered to be a great influence on Chaucer and Dante, Boethius is little known today. In his own time, Boethius was a powerful and successful man. Having himself been a Consul of Rome in the latter days of the Empire, Boethius found great favor under Theodoric the Ostrogoth. Boethius’ two sons were named Consuls—a great honor to him. His reputation as a scholar and a philosopher made him a superstar in his time. The fact that we here in the West know anything about Aristotle is due to his translations.
But as often happens, he became embroiled in some political intrigue and chose the losing side in an argument. This led to Boethius’ fall from favor. He was imprisoned and then brutally executed.
During his incarceration for which he felt himself falsely accused, he wrote The Consolation of Philosophy. I’m not sure how I would react to facing my own mortality, but Boethius used the opportunity to examine all that he learned in his life to study why he came to be in his current situation. The book is a conversation between Boethius and his nurse Philosophy. Boethius is in despair and Philosophy comforts him.
She proceeds to show him through a series of geometric theorems and proofs that his assessment of his situation is incorrect—he should not despair, he is in God’s hands, all evidence to the contrary.
I never thought of using geometry to prove anything other than the mathematical, but many times throughout the book Philosophy proves to Boethius that some philosophical idea, such as the notion of happiness, is true because the steps leading up to it are true.
I recently reviewed A Confederacy of Dunces, and I noted that the main character, one Ignatius J. Reilly, was fascinated with this book. I came across one passage that I think would have appealed to Reilly:
I suspect now that John Kennedy Toole was himself a big fan of Boethius’ work, and he projected that onto his protagonist. The translation I read explained that this passage particularly referred to an understanding of the Ptolomaic understanding of the universe—a geocentric theory. Each planet rotated because of its contact with the orbit of the other planets. When I wrote about Dunces, I noted that Toole spun his story circles in such a way that I was intrigued to see what happened when those circles collided.
I was particularly drawn to certain concepts in the book, such as:
I don’t claim to understand all of the ideas that Boethius puts forth, but I was enthralled at the concept of a condemned man, who is left alone in despair, using his weighty thoughts and ideals to comfort himself. The fact that he wrote it all down is his gift to us—we too can be comforted by Philosophy, if we have the “ability to know.”
As it is, I’m amazed that we don’t find Boethius’ story more awe inspiring than we do. Considered to be a great influence on Chaucer and Dante, Boethius is little known today. In his own time, Boethius was a powerful and successful man. Having himself been a Consul of Rome in the latter days of the Empire, Boethius found great favor under Theodoric the Ostrogoth. Boethius’ two sons were named Consuls—a great honor to him. His reputation as a scholar and a philosopher made him a superstar in his time. The fact that we here in the West know anything about Aristotle is due to his translations.
But as often happens, he became embroiled in some political intrigue and chose the losing side in an argument. This led to Boethius’ fall from favor. He was imprisoned and then brutally executed.
During his incarceration for which he felt himself falsely accused, he wrote The Consolation of Philosophy. I’m not sure how I would react to facing my own mortality, but Boethius used the opportunity to examine all that he learned in his life to study why he came to be in his current situation. The book is a conversation between Boethius and his nurse Philosophy. Boethius is in despair and Philosophy comforts him.
“In your present state of mind, which this great tumult of emotion has fallen upon you and you are torn this way and that by alternating fits of grief, wrath and anguish, it is hardly time for the more powerful remedies. I will use gentler medicines.”
She proceeds to show him through a series of geometric theorems and proofs that his assessment of his situation is incorrect—he should not despair, he is in God’s hands, all evidence to the contrary.
I never thought of using geometry to prove anything other than the mathematical, but many times throughout the book Philosophy proves to Boethius that some philosophical idea, such as the notion of happiness, is true because the steps leading up to it are true.
I recently reviewed A Confederacy of Dunces, and I noted that the main character, one Ignatius J. Reilly, was fascinated with this book. I came across one passage that I think would have appealed to Reilly:
“For think how puny and fragile a thing men strive to possess when they set the good of the body before them as their aim. As if you could surpass the elephant in size, the bull in strength, or the tiger in speed! Look up at the vault of heaven: see the strength of its foundation and the speed of its movement, and stop admiring things that are worthless. Yet the heavens are less wonderful for their foundations and speed than for the order that rules them. The sleek looks of beauty are fleeting and transitory, more ephemeral than the blossoms of spring.”
I suspect now that John Kennedy Toole was himself a big fan of Boethius’ work, and he projected that onto his protagonist. The translation I read explained that this passage particularly referred to an understanding of the Ptolomaic understanding of the universe—a geocentric theory. Each planet rotated because of its contact with the orbit of the other planets. When I wrote about Dunces, I noted that Toole spun his story circles in such a way that I was intrigued to see what happened when those circles collided.
I was particularly drawn to certain concepts in the book, such as:
“If events of uncertain occurrence are foreseen as if they were certain, it is only clouded opinion, not the truth of knowledge; for you believe that to have opinions about something which differ from the actual facts is not the same as the fullness of knowledge.
The cause of this mistake is that people think that the totality of their knowledge depends on the nature and capacity to be known of the objects of knowledge. But this is all wrong. Everything that is known is comprehended not according to its own nature, but according to the ability to know of those who do the knowing.”
I don’t claim to understand all of the ideas that Boethius puts forth, but I was enthralled at the concept of a condemned man, who is left alone in despair, using his weighty thoughts and ideals to comfort himself. The fact that he wrote it all down is his gift to us—we too can be comforted by Philosophy, if we have the “ability to know.”
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