Red Hot Eyebrows

It's here!

2010-12-29T16:39:00.001-07:00

The new website for Red Hot Eyebrows is up and running like a well-oiled machine. Caren's husband, Andrew, is a graphic designer and he got the site all prettied up and easy to use. I added some content, like what it's all about, who Caren and I are, and how to contact us. All the posts on this blog are also on the new site, so you won't have a need to come back to here unless you're feeling nostalgic or something. I've been adding some new reviews on the site and we've got our very first ever video co-review at the top! I've been trying to think of a clever name for it, like a co-view. Or a co-review-you-can-view. Hmm, that still needs work.

In case you didn't see the link above, the new site address is www.redhoteyebrows.com. You can also find us on Facebook by searching for Red Hot Eyebrows and hitting "like" to get more frequent updates on books and stuff. I might be bringing my twitter feed back to life one of these days, but don't get your hopes up. Anyway, come on over! Catch up on what we've been reading! We've got our Best and Worst of 2010 List in the works! Soon we'll have prizes and whatnot! I couldn't be more excited! I'm using lots of exclamation points!!! That should be reason enough, right there.

The Big Move

2010-12-01T13:49:00.000-07:00

Hey readers, we've got some news. RHE will soon be moving to a new site! There will be more bells, some whistles and possibly a firecracker or two. For now, I'm tweaking it and getting it ready for the Grand Unveiling and writing a review or two to stay caught up. My reading is far out-pacing my writing right now, but I should be all caught up for the Big Day. Notice lots of capital letters? That's because RHE is going to be one amazing site when we're done with it. One might say it'll be Turbo Awesome. I might be exaggerating a bit, but I'm prone to enthusiastic exaggeration when I'm excited. Thanks for your patience while Caren and I shine up the doorknobs and put out the fancy linen.

Lucy

2010-11-20T07:52:00.000-07:00

I miss Michael Crichton. I miss seeing his newest book come out and wondering what current science topic he was going to tackle. I miss reading it and being sucked into a world where dinosaurs, aliens or nanomachines exist. And threaten to take over the world, naturally. I miss chuckling over the fact that his books were marketed as thrillers when they were really science fiction, which meant that people who scorn sci-fi were inadvertently reading it. Hee hee. Any time an author I like stops writing, I feel sorry for myself that I don't get to read anything new by them ever again. Selfish, I know.

Imagine my delight when a review I read compared Laurence Gonzales to Crichton. It's an accurate comparison. Gonzales' book Lucy was really similar to Crichton's book Next, which both have to do with transgenic species. Next is about two animals with human genes, but Lucy is about a girl who is half human, half bonobo ape. Bonobos look like chimpanzees and are endangered animals found only in the Congo. Lucy's father is a scientist who lived in the Congo for years and decided it was his mission to bring the human race to its next level of evolution. In other words, he was kinda crazy. Lucy is found after another scientist, Jenny Lowe, comes to rescue Lucy's father when violence breaks out in the jungle. Her father was killed, unfortunately, but Jenny takes Lucy back to England with her to find Lucy's remaining family. Guess what? None are found. You know, 'cause Lucy's mom is an ape. Nobody knows that, other than Lucy, until Jenny reads the journals that Lucy's dad meticulously kept over the years.

Lucy is an articulate, intelligent and well-educated young woman. Her father spent her childhood filling her brain with more education than most of us get in a lifetime. When Lucy and Jenny end up back in the U.S., where Jenny is from, Lucy tests out of all her high school classes, but Jenny decides to stick her in for a senior year anyway. Now that Jenny is in on the secret, they are very intent on keeping Lucy out of the public eye and getting her adjusted to the real world. This is hard to do, what with Lucy's social awkwardness, sensitivity to sound, super high intelligence and inhuman strength. How do you keep those kinds of characteristics out of spotlight?

You know it's going to all fall apart and Lucy will be exposed for what she is, and sure enough, it happens. But when it does, it's interesting how Lucy and her best friend, Amanda, spin it their own way. They make a video on YouTube, create a MySpace page, blog incessantly about it and basically protect Lucy through public exposure. She becomes a celebrity and by it, the government doesn't easily nap her for the proverbial tests in a laboratory. You know that's going to happen too, but for a while she is protected by her celebrity.

The creepy parts are when the government decrees that Lucy isn't human, even going as far as to pass a law defining her existence as animal, not human. Her treatment when she is captured is horrible and upsetting and would be cruel if she was truly just an animal. Even the letters she gets from fans are creepy. From marriage proposals to death threats, it was unnerving to read people's reactions. Yet, Lucy handles it all so well. So well, in fact, that I started to get a little annoyed that Lucy never gets mad. She's just a little too perfect. It's like Gonzales is trying to drive the point home that Lucy is better than the rest of us, that being who she is makes her more human. But being human means getting mad or frustrated or acting badly sometimes. And Lucy never does that.

Even though this book is science fiction and therefore filled with improbable situations, I kept wondering what would happen if scientists were able to create transgenic people. This isn't a new topic. The Isle of Dr. Moreau is an old book, after all. And I mentioned Next. And any book where people hate someone or something that's different. Oh man, I'm not going to even start on a list of books on that topic. This isn't a new idea, is what I'm saying, and probably Lucy isn't even the best book on that theme, but I still liked it. It keep me riveted and by the time I reached the climax of Lucy's escape, I couldn't stop turning pages. I love Crichton's books, but I never felt compassion for his characters like I did for Lucy. It's got flaws, but overall, I still liked it. How human of me.

Room

2010-11-10T21:11:00.000-07:00

The best way for me to get the heebie-jeebies is to watch the news. I consciously avoid knowing what is going on in the world. My husband's job is to bring to my attention anything I need to know as a concerned citizen. There is way too much horribleness out there and my brain gets too full with it and makes me sick. For instance, I can't handle any news stories about abductions. It's my worst nightmare so I avoid reading about it at all costs. With that in mind, I have no idea why I read Room by Emma Donoghue. The premise was fascinating which is all I can say to explain myself.

Room is told from the perspective of five-year-old Jack who seems like a perfectly normal little boy. He loves Dora the Explorer and spaceships made out of cardboard, hates green beans, and plays imagination games with his Ma. The difference is that he and his mother are prisoners inside a tiny room built into the shed belonging to their abductor. Ma, whose name we never learn, was kidnapped as a young college student and has spent seven years in the room. She has created as normal a life for Jack as possible, telling him stories, teaching him reading and math, having a routine to their day. When the creepy night time visits from Old Nick, her abductor, happen, Jack is tucked away into a closet where Nick cannot see or touch him. Ma wants to protect Jack from him at all costs.

Jack has never left the room and as far as he knows, there's nothing out there. His whole world is the room and the sun that comes in from the skylight. It's obvious that Ma has worked on escaping over the years. She has a bad wrist from one attempt and she and Jack play the screaming game once a week. Old Nick is too thorough, however, and they are stuck. But shortly after Jack's fifth birthday, Ma comes up with an escape plan and Jack is the key.

If you're going to read the book, I don't want to spoil how they successfully escape. Their time spent in the room is only the first half of the book and in some ways, their recovery and celebrity after they escape is more gut-wrenching. Jack has many developmental problems from having spent his entire life inside such a small space. He has no long-range vision and his spatial reasoning is seriously messed up. His skin is extremely sensitive to sunlight and just being outside is overwhelming to him, with all the wind and noise and environmental newness. But he is bright, an avid reader and quick to catch on to his new surroundings. Part of his problems with being out in the world is that the room was his home and he wishes that Ma would take them back there. Ma is repulsed by his insistence that they go back and I couldn't help sharing her feelings, but I could understand why Jack wanted to go back. It's the only home he's ever known and he was happy there.

In part of their celebrity status, Ma agrees to a tv interview. She has worked hard to protect Jack from the media, but realizes that an interview could help save some money for his education. The exchange between her and the interviewer was fascinating, especially what questions she is asked and how she reacts to them. I found myself cheering Ma on, internally defending her actions during what must have been horrific conditions. When Ma loses her temper and stops the interview, I don't blame her one bit.

I found Room to be simultaneously fascinating and awful. It wasn't graphic, probably because it's told from Jack's perspective, but the whole basis of the story is like something out of a nightmare. As Jack finds more out and learns more about his mother, you can't help but mourn his innocence that is ripped away from him. The way that Donoghue ends the book was perfect and I'm glad she didn't do it any differently because it felt like natural closure. I'll never read this book again because my heart can't take it, but I'm not sad I edged out of my comfort zone a few feet to give it a try.

Picture Bride

2010-11-05T15:04:00.001-06:00

Several years ago my husband and I made a trip to San Francisco. We had a fabulous time, especially eating all the sourdough bread and dungeness crab we could, but also sight-seeing and enjoying the beautiful weather in August. We toured Alcatraz and then Angel Island, which is like the Ellis Island of the West Coast. It was fascinating and shocking. There I learned that during WWII, Japanese Americans were put in detainment camps for fear of their association with their mother country. The conditions were horrible and they were imprisoned even when they had their citizenship. I couldn't believe it. How had I never heard of this before? It completely opened my eyes.

A few months ago, my book group read Picture Bride by Yoshiko Uchida. It's the story of Hana Omiya, a young woman whose family arranged for her to marry a man in San Francisco. Hana is one of hundreds of picture brides who came to the United States during that time. She travels from Japan in 1917 and there meets her fiance, Taro Takeda, an Oakland shopkeeper. Hana was lead to believe that Taro was a prosperous man, but in fact, his shop barely makes enough to get by. Taro is a kind-hearted person, though, a very devout Christian and a conscientious student of English. Instead of joining the ranks of houseboys and laborers, he worked hard to acquire his shop and make a life for himself. Their life is far different than what Hana was expecting, especially since she came from a formerly wealthy family in Japan, but Hana is clever and resourceful and quickly adapts.

Unfortunately, racism against Asians in that area was normal at the time and Hana and Taro and their church community deal with it constantly. Hana, an educated woman who could have been a teacher in Japan, ends up doing housework. Taro's shop flourishes with Hana's influence, but Taro resents that she's better at his job than he is. Everything Hana does for Taro is done with a light touch, partly due to his pride, but also because Taro doubts Hana's love for him. Hana once loved his best friend, back when they were first married, but nothing ever came of it. I don't want to paint these people in a bad light, though. They love their daughter, Mary, serve selflessly at church, use their money carefully and find a form on happiness in a land that doesn't want them.

Mary, their daughter, is much more American than Hana and Taro are. She worked hard at school, had friends and immersed herself into American culture. Her relationship with Taro is good because he speaks English well, but Hana never really learned to speak as well as Taro and Mary and that put up a wall between mother and daughter. When Mary leaves home, it isn't a surprise when she pulls away from her parents and disconnects from their lives, but it's heart-breaking.

Whew, I'm only half-way through the book here! When World War II began and the bombing of Pearl Harbor occurred, suspicion towards Japanese-Americans escalated. When the government starts rounding up and interning the Japanese, Hana and Taro are included. Their experiences in the internment camps are painful, mostly because they really happened. The author based this entire book on her family's experiences. Yoshiko Uchida was the daughter of Japanese immigrants who were interned at the same locations in the book. Uchida was given permission to be released and return to graduate school, but her parents were kept in the camps. The conditions at the camp near Delta, Utah were awful and I was astonished over and over again how the government treated people who were citizens. The people are able to find small joys, like the wedding of a young couple or reuniting families, but in general, they are stuck in horrible conditions with no end in sight.

This book was exquisite and painful, showing how people can be utterly debased and still prevail. There were beautifully tender moments that filled my heart. I'm so glad that Uchida told her story, that she was able to share an important part of history, and that my book group picked to read it. It's through stories like these that we are able to understand history and become better people through it.

Co-review: I Am Not a Serial Killer

2010-10-29T08:00:00.001-06:00

It's fitting that this review comes so soon after Jenny recently reviewed Brandon Sanderson's newest book, since Dan Wells credits Sanderson with pushing him to write I Am Not a Serial Killer in the first place. Having Sanderson's support wasn't enough to make it very easy to get a hold of, though. Initially it was only published in the UK, then was released in the US last spring. But I still had to wait for an InterLibrary Loan (from out-of-state, no less!) to finally get my hands on it.

I Am Not a Serial Killer is a first-person narrative by an intriguing, yet disturbing, 15-year-old boy. John Wayne Cleaver is a morbid teenager who has been raised in a mortuary and has a keen fascination with death. He is obsessed with serial killers and makes a hobby out of studying them. The more he learns, the more convinced he is that he is destined to become a serial killer himself. But he doesn't want that, so he desperately follows a set of self-imposed rules to try to counteract his sociopathic tendencies.

Things change for John when a series of gruesome murders begin haunting the small town. John's unique perspective allows him to discover the murderer long before the police even get close, and he becomes convinced that he is the only one who can stop the killer. But to do so, he feels he must surrender to the monster within, and risk losing himself (or fulfilling his destiny, he's not sure which) forever.

As usual, we like to discuss these co-reviews openly, so consider yourself forewarned!

Caren: After a run of somewhat blah books lately, I Am Not a Serial Killer really made me sit up and take notice. I don't like guts and gore, so I felt pretty squeamish at the beginning when he was describing the process of embalming and the details of the first violent murder. Fortunately, he didn't go into a lot of graphic detail with every murder, or else I might not have been able to get much farther than the first few chapters! But I have to admit that I have a new appreciation for morticians now. I'm so grateful that there are people who make death so sanitary for the rest of us!

Jenny: I made the mistake of sitting down to eat my lunch while I read this book the first time. I made a note to myself never to do that again. It did make me grateful that there are people, non-psychotic people, out there in the world who are willing and able to do the work of preparing the dead for burial. 'Cause it's gross.

I thought it was fascinating that our protagonist and potential hero is a mentally-disturbed teenage boy with his own monster waiting to strike and kill. Very cool and original. Freaky too, but it made the angle of the story different than what I was expecting. Two things that took me by surprise was that we found out who the killer was fairly early in the story and that the killer wasn't human. I thought for sure this would be a murder mystery that put John into suspicion as the killer and then he used his knowledge of serial killers to find the real killer. Nope, nothing like that. When I realized that the story was more about John using his inner demon to destroy the actual demon, it was all symbolic and stuff.

Caren: I was surprised by the supernatural element too. John talks about himself and his disturbing tendencies in such a gritty matter-of-fact way that I expected the villain to be someone straight out of the news, not out of a comic book. And it sure surprised me when the killer turned out to be his harmless neighbor! (It's been a while since I've been genuinely surprised in a novel, so that was kind of fun.) In some ways it was probably better to have the killer be this weird demon masquerading as a nice old man. It was easier to read it late at night with the distance of "this could never happen in real life."

The demon was scary, but the creepiest and most disturbing thing to me was watching John struggle with his own unnatural inhumanity. It makes me wonder how accurate Wells' portrayal is from a psychological standpoint. I liked that John's therapist didn't think he was beyond hope, and I was glad that he shows himself capable of genuine feeling at the end when he and his mother defeat the demon. That gives me hope that he's not a true sociopath destined to become a serial killer like he fears. Even the fact that he doesn't want to become one should count for something, right?

Jenny: I have a really hard time with books or movies that are about horrific things that can actually happen in real life. Sci-fi doesn't scare me, just gives me the fun heebie jeebies. If the killer had been a real person, it would have been way harder to read and I definitely would have avoided reading it at night. For that I'm glad it was just a super creepy killer monster with a soft side for his wife.

What was really scary to me was when John let his inner monster out. When he bashed Mrs. Crowley's head with the alarm clock and barely stopped himself from killing her, I was in agony. I begged Wells not to let John become the monster that he was threatening to become. Like you said, I also like that his therapist was a good person who truly thought John was a good person with a strong moral code. He needed Neblin at that critical point and Neblin didn't fail him. It cost him his life, but it kept John under control.

At that point in the book, my heart was pounding in my chest and I could barely breathe. As soon as John saw on his GPS that the demon was heading back to the house, I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. It's been a while since a book had me in such suspense.

Caren: Oh man, me too! It's a good thing it didn't get any more suspenseful because I could barely stand it as it was. Which made it perfect for Halloween! And yet, for as creepy and violent as it was, it was surprisingly clean. I can't remember any bad language or anything sexual, which I would have expected for an edgy novel about a would-be serial killer.

I thought Wells did a really good job with the suspense and developing John's character. In the acknowledgments, he insists that it's not autobiographical, but I wasn't convinced. That's how believable John's character was! (That, and I can't help but wonder about how well-balanced an author can be who writes about such psychosis so convincingly.) But I admired Wells' restraint. He showed us just enough of John's dysfunctional relationships with family and friends and his obsession with serial killers to give us a clear picture of his psyche without overdoing it. It would have been really easy to go over-the-top with a character like John, but Wells didn't, and his reserve made for a stronger novel.

I am both intrigued and nervous that Wells intends this to be the first of a trilogy (I think the second was just recently published). Intrigued because I am a little curious about what happens to John now. He's made a breakthrough with his mother. He has let loose his own monster with it's major issues. And there were enough references to his father that make me wonder if there is more to come with that story. But I am nervous that for the story to continue, it will only be because John has greater demons -- both within and without -- that he has to face. I'm not sure I can handle that! And I definitely don't like what more novels might mean for the sweet and innocent Brooke that he's stalking at the end. It makes me shudder just thinking about it!

At least he ends this first novel well enough that I don't feel like I have to read the next one to finish the story. I always appreciate that in an author!

Jenny: Yeah, I just read online that it was going to be a trilogy. It didn't have the feel of a trilogy at the end of the book, so I was surprised. I'm kinda excited to see where Wells takes John and his tortured self. There was some seriously scary and upsetting parts in this book, but nothing that wouldn't stop me from reading the next two books. I have enough faith in Wells' plans for John that I think it could turn out okay in the end.

I just remembered that we read Odd Thomas a few years ago for our October co-review and how scary that was. Comparing Odd and John to each other, they are polar opposites. Odd is peace-loving and non-violent except when he's forced to while having a strange ability thrust upon him, while John is tormented by desires to do great violence and constantly keeps it in check. Yet, I think I like John just as much as I liked Odd. Not because John is inherently likable, but because he works so hard to be good. You've read more Odd Thomas than me, what do you think?

Caren: You know, it's funny that you mention Odd Thomas, because I thought of it too. Partly because that was probably the last time I read something this suspenseful, and partly because of the supernatural element. You're right that whereas Odd is so good and innocent, John is just plain scary. But at the same time I can't help feeling compassion for him and wanting everything to work out. I liked him, even though he freaked me out.

One thing I liked about the story is that as disturbing as it was, there was no such thing as violence without consequences. So often in the action/thriller genres the good guys commit necessary acts of violence without it affecting their characters. But the violence John committed changed him, just as it would in real life. I liked that Wells forced us to face that when a good guy does bad things he can't walk away unscathed.

Okay, I looked up the next one and it looks to be even darker and more intense than the first. It's called Mr. Monster and picks up right where I Am Not a Serial Killer ends. The reviews look compelling; people seem to like it even more than the first. Tell you what, you read it and then let me know what you think. Maybe I can muster up enough courage if I know it's worth it.

Jenny: Deal. I will totally take care of that for you. I'm excited to see where Wells will take the story.

Slumdog Millionaire and The Wednesday Letters

2010-10-28T06:00:00.006-06:00

I started out reviewing Slumdog Millionaire with Crispin: The Cross of Lead, because I read them at the same time, and they both came from my sister-in-law's library cleansing. But I quickly realized that that would be a really unsettling combination, so Slumdog gets lumped with another strange companion, but one that is at least still geared toward adults.

Slumdog Millionaire, by Vikas Swarup, is a gripping story, but horrible in a way so that I had mixed feelings about it the whole time I was reading it. Two weeks after finishing it, I still have mixed feelings, but they are settling more and more in the negative. It is a fascinating story about an illiterate young man in Mumbai who is arrested for cheating after becoming the first winner of the game show, Who Will Win a Billion? Similar to the format of the Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? game show that inspired it, Ram Mohammed Thomas had to answer a series of increasingly difficult trivia questions, all of which he happens to know the answer to because of his unique past. As he explains how he knew the answer to each question, his poignant, funny, and heart-breaking life history unfolds.

It was well-written, fast-paced, and with a clever premise that kept me interested. But the language was really bad, and the first few chapters were so full of sexual abuse that I started to think that all Indian men were either gay, incestuous, or pedophiles (or two out of three). Ugh. It got better after that, and it was remarkable how Ram's purity of character continued to shine in the filth around him, but there were so many horrible things portrayed that I understood why my sister-in-law said she wouldn't read it again. (As a sidenote, I don't know how a person could stomach watching the feature film. As horrible as it was to read, I think it would be way worse to watch on screen.) The ending was ultimately positive and there were some wonderful moments where evil got its just reward and good won out. But I felt like I needed to scour the creepy crawlies out of my mind when I was done. So while Swarup had definite talent, I won't be reading any of his work again.

Again from that same batch of disparate books, I recently just finished the New York Times Bestseller (so says the cover) The Wednesday Letters, by Jason F. Wright. A complete reversal from Slumdog Millionaire, The Wednesday Letters overpowered me with it's over-the-top sentimentality and shoddy writing. Again I felt like I needed a mental scrubbing, but from an overdose of intellectual cotton candy instead. How do books like this get published, let alone become bestsellers? The basic plot wasn't so bad. While getting ready for their elderly parents' double funeral, three adult children discover boxes of letters written from their father to their mother; one on each Wednesday throughout their marriage. They uncover troubling secrets about their parents' and their own histories that cause crisis, resolution, and eventual healing for each of them. It's full of emotion, moralizing, and ultimately a good message about forgiveness and cherishing those we love.

My problem with it? The writing was mediocre at best. There were times when the perspective would shift mid-sentence to a different character, leaving me with vertigo wondering where I was in the scene. And every character had to be introduced with a whole pedigree and history instead of just allowing us to discover their essence as the story unfolded. The dialogue was flat and insincere. The plot was predictable. I have no problem with emotional novels that celebrate relationships and family values. But not when they are an embarrassment to decent writing. I don't want to invest any more effort than it's worth into saying more about what was wrong with it (like how the resolution of the love triangle was shallow and contradictory), but if I'd had anything else nearby to tempt me, I wouldn't have finished reading it. Was it a total waste of time? Not completely, but nearly. Very nearly.

Crispin: The Cross of Lead

2010-10-26T22:40:00.003-06:00

Like Jenny, I too have a growing pile of books I've read that are now waiting for me to review. But unlike Jenny, one of them isn't a 1000-page behemoth that at least gives her a good excuse for why she hasn't been able to get to the computer! As it is, I've only got time to do a couple of them here, but I will try to get to the others soon. The books I've read lately are very different from each other, but have several things in common: Short, require minimal investment, and given to me by my sister-in-law when she was cleaning out her personal library.

(Note to self: When a fellow reader with good taste gives you books from her personal library, remember there's probably a good reason she is getting rid of them.)

The first one I picked up was Crispin: The Cross of Lead, by Avi. As a Newberry Award winner it most piqued my interest. And of these recent reads I also enjoyed it the most. The story takes place in the 14th century, featuring a poor nameless boy who is cast out from his village after his mother dies. This isn't the fanciful setting most medieval authors portray in their fiction. It's a more realistic version with feudal lords, serfs, the black plague, and crippling poverty. Which also made it more interesting, I thought. Eventually the main character learns that his true name is Crispin and that there is more to his history than he would first suspect. But it is a history full of sorrow that threatens his life and the life of his one friend and protector, the traveling entertainer called Bear.

That's not really doing the story justice, but you don't really need much more than that. Once you get started, the book has enough momentum to keep you going. Like I said, the story, subject, and setting were all really interesting. But not as gripping as I would normally expect from a Newberry winner. I've heard that there is a whole series about Crispin, but I haven't decided on whether I'm invested enough in his story to continue it. However, I would definitely recommend it to it's older children / early teen audience.

I was going to write more about some of the other books I've read, but I realized that none of them really belong paired with a children's novel like Crispin. So I'll save those for another time. In the meantime, if you have read the series I would love to hear if you think it's worth continuing or not.

The Way of Kings

2010-10-19T21:48:00.001-06:00

One of these days I need to stop reading so much and actually write something down. My pile of finished books keeps growing larger and the blog grows dustier by the minute. The bigger the pile gets, the more intimidated I get by how far behind I'm getting, which makes me hesitate even more. It's a vicious cycle. I should just take notes from Brandon Sanderson who seems to write about a hundred pages a day. That guy is producing huge amounts of writing per year and has tons more books lined up for publication. His latest book is The Way of Kings, a whopper at 1,000 pages and the first in what it planned to be a massive epic series. I'm glad I'm getting in at the beginning of this because if I were to look at ten or so books with 1,000 pages on average twenty years from now, I'd throw my hands up and say forget it. I don't seek out epic, lengthy fantasy series in general, but for Sanderson, I'll dive in quite happily.

Brandon Sanderson has a gift for world building in his writing. Well, he also has a gift for witty banter, clever plot developments, believable characters, engaging stories, and fascinating magic systems, but let's focus on the world building for now. I've had my fill of elves and goblins and apparently so has he because I've yet to read a book of his that has any of the traditional fantastic characters. In The Way of Kings, it's a world populated by different races of people, some more colorful than others. By colorful, I mean some have blue skin, some have super long white eyebrows and some have marbled black and red skin. In the country of Alethkar, the nobility is determined by eye color, the lighter the better. Dark-eyed people make up the working class. The nobility have swords and armor that are remnants of an ancient warrior group called The Radiants, and all of their major wars and even minor skirmishes are in pursuit of these swords and plates. Men who possess Shardplates and swords are called Shardbearers and are very hard to defeat, though it is possible and the swords and plate have passed hands many times over the centuries. The ancient Radiants used the weapons to defeat the evil Voidbringers and protect mankind, but they are no longer used for such noble purposes.

The world is afflicted with regular hurricanes, called great storms, that occur every few weeks. The seasons are very short and unpredictable. Because of this constant barrage, the flora and fauna have both had to adapt. The animal life is made up of animals with hard shells, like giant crawfish and clams. Being able to draw into their shells keeps them safe during the worst of the storms. Even the trees and plants are able to draw within a shell to stay safe, which is kinda bizarre. The ground is scoured and barren due to the fact that no soil can stay put with winds like that constantly blowing. There are other parts of the world that are more like the world we live in, but the residents of Alethkar think it's mythical and have a hard time believing anything could be different from what they know.

Our cast of characters includes Kaladin, a dark-eyed slave who was once an apprentice surgeon and then soldier. He is now a bridge carrier for a lord's army, a ranking that means certain death and reserved for the most disposable men. Kaladin has a sad past and the unnerving ability to stay alive even in the most dangerous situations. His past is slowly revealed and we get to watch him change his bridge crew into more than just disposable workers. His dealings with the nobility and his superiors in the army were so frustrating though, since the way their aristocracy is set up is so stupid. Sanderson is good at making me frustrated on behalf of his characters.

Another character I loved was Shallan, a minor noble from a small nation whose family has fallen on hard times. Her only hope is to become a ward of the princess Jasnah Kholin, sister to the king. She's a famous scholar and heretic and becoming her ward would put her in a position to save her family from destitution. Shallan is an amazing artist with a photographic memory and many of the illustrations in the book are from Shallan's notebooks. Shallan is fascinating because you think you know what is motivating her and then Sanderson surprises you. What happens with Shallan towards the end of the book knocked me for a loop. If I had written this book, I would have been giggling with glee at my deviousness, so I like to imagine Sanderson chuckling as he typed on his laptop, delighted with his own cleverness. Chuckle away, Brandon.

Instead of describing each character, which is what I'm tempted to do because I like them all so much, I'll just tell you that Sanderson creates a colorful cast and keeps the stories moving for each of them. When their paths collide, it's awesome. My only complaints about this book is that Sanderson takes his sweet time setting everything up. It wasn't until halfway through the book that it started to move faster. I know he's planning on making this a ten book series and that the details he's laboring over in the first hundred pages or so are important to the series as a whole and not just this book, but it doesn't make it any less slow to slog through. My other complaint is that there's not a whole lot that is concluded in this book. Some, but not much. Again, ten book series, yadda yadda. It makes me tired to think I'll have to somehow retain a bunch of this information and detail until the next book comes out. I don't know if I have room in my brain.

Oh well. Knowing Sanderson, the next book will be just as awesome and I'll read it happily and if I can't remember details, it won't matter all that much anyway because it'll be so fun to read.

Co-review: Stargirl

2010-09-30T13:01:00.001-06:00

Back in May, I wrote a post about the Top 100 Children's Novels poll that was done by the School Library Journal blog. Going through the list is fascinating and I've often gone back to look for books for my children. Caren suggested we pick a book from the list for a co-review, so we narrowed it down to #61, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli. We tried to find a book that was closer to the top of the list that neither of us had read, but these are classics that most people have read, including us. It wasn't as easy as it looked.

Jerry Spinelli is probably more known for Maniac Magee, #17 on the list and a Newberry winner. Spinelli shows that he isn't shy about tackling sticky subjects when he writes about racism in Magee, and Stargirl is his platform for examining conformity. It takes place in a smallish town in Arizona and told from the point of view of high school student Leo Borlock. High school is typically a homogeneous place with everybody fitting into their allotted cliques. Once you fit into a spot, it's hard to move out of it, if my memory of high school serves right. Mica Area High School is no different.

The entire school is thrown for a loop when Stargirl Caraway shows up. She wears bizarre clothes, plays a ukulele during lunch and serenades kids on their birthdays, has a pet rat named Cinnamon that rides around in her purse, and seems completely at ease with her uniqueness. Most of the other students find her unnerving, but eventually they start to love her, especially after she brings school spirit back to the sports teams by her antics during football. Some of the other students hate her, especially Hillari Kimble, head cheerleader and queen of the school. Hillari doesn't enjoy her spotlight being occupied by Stargirl.

When Stargirl becomes a cheerleader, the basketball team suddenly begins to have enormous success. The whole school and community becomes obsessed with their winning streak, but when Stargirl cheers for both teams at the games, everyone turns against her. Where she was once loved, she is now universally reviled. Leo, who fell in love with her quirkiness and was fascinated with her generosity and love for people, is conflicted as soon as all the negative attention starts. He wishes that Stargirl would just be like everyone else, but not for her sake but his own.

Not that there's much to spoil in this book, but as always, we talk about everything.

Jenny: One of the hardest things about high school for me was that demand to blend in, to find a group of like-minded people and stay put. It wasn't until I left for college that I felt like I finally was able to become the person I always wanted to be. There just wasn't any room or tolerance for it in high school, but I was also too afraid to step outside my comfort zone. I related to Leo so much because he loved Stargirl's individuality, but he was also afraid of it.

Caren: I don't think I was self-aware enough in high school to know what I wanted to be, but I definitely felt like my peers' perceptions barely scratched the surface of who I really was. Like you said, college was a refreshing opportunity to reinvent myself away from the stifling confines of high school. Reading Stargirl, I found myself wishing Leo would stop worrying about what everyone thought and just enjoy their friendship. But then I would have to remind myself that I can't apply adult perspective to a teenager who literally cannot envision life after high school. When that's all you have and you can't imagine it ever changing, the risks for not conforming are a lot higher!

I was intrigued by the character of Stargirl. Not at first. At first she seemed to try to hard to be weird. But eventually she won me over and I believed that her uniqueness was genuine and not just an act. I think her believability was crucial to the success of the story, and Spinelli did a good job pulling it off when all was said and done.

Jenny: I think what made her genuine to me was when we found out all the nice things she did for people. Someone who is weird just to get a reaction out of people or draw attention to herself wouldn't be so generous and kind, I don't think. The bit with going into the desert and meditating wasn't as believable to me as taking pictures of the neighbor boy or a future scrapbook. That was sweet.

It really bothered me how the group of kids reacted when Stargirl was the guest for The Hot Seat. It was a prime example of mob mentality and how dangerous that can be. At first I thought it was an outrageous example, except that I remember from high school that if someone fell out of favor, their lives would become truly miserable. It was like the whole school turned against them. There wasn't necessarily screaming mobs in public places, the shunning was definitely common. What happened to Stargirl was awful, but not unrealistic.

One of my favorite characters was the old professor across the street from the school, Archie Brubaker. I thought it was a cool idea, but it made me sad to think that in real life, there wouldn't be someone like that. It's too easy for people to assume horrible things of an old man who has kids over at his house all the time. It's a nice idea, though.

Caren: I was actually relieved when the Hot Seat was over that it wasn't any worse than that. Having seen what the teenage mob mentality can do, I was expecting worse!

The whole time I read Stargirl, I couldn't help but think of As Simple As Snow that we reviewed back in March. There were a lot of similarities, but while Galloway seemed to be intent on forcing a dark edginess to his story, Spinelli kept his lighter and therefore more realistic. Spinelli really seemed to be speaking to teenagers, whereas I'm not really sure who Galloway's audience was supposed to be. Contrasting the two, I marvel that Spinelli's climax revolves around something so mundane as the bunny hop, and yet he relates it so skillfully that you really feel like those kids were changed when it was over.

Jenny: That's true. I loved that scene, with everybody happy and exultant after bunny hopping way out yonder and back. It was a good way for Stargirl to disappear into the sunset. I'm glad it ended that way instead of Stargirl just evaporating and everybody realizing after the fact that she only did good things for them.

Apparently there's one book after this one, Love, Stargirl. I haven't heard great things about it, but it's written in Stargirl's point of view, which might be interesting. Also, according to Jerry Spinelli's website, you can start your own Stargirl society. Maybe it's because I'm not a teenager, but I didn't feel so moved by the book that I felt like I should start my own Stargirl society. Then again, I suppose promoting individuality in teenage girls isn't a bad idea. Most girls that age need a boost to break out of the mold.

Caren: I had mixed feelings about the ending. While I was glad that Leo had come to realize what a treasure Stargirl was, I was kind of bothered that he still hadn't gotten over her fifteen years later. I mean, she was great and all, but that seemed a little much.

I liked that the things that endured were the kindnesses to others. Individuality for its own sake can be just as forced and fake as conformity with the masses, so I don't think that's the most important thing that Stargirl brought. But the sensitivity to others and getting outside oneself -- that really was a gift.

I felt the same way about being moved by the novel. It was good, but I wouldn't read it again, and I'm kind of surprised that people love it so much that it would have made it on the top 100 list. I'm curious if I would have felt differently if I'd read it when I was a teenager, but we'll never know!

Jenny: Yeah, I was kind of surprised to see it on the list lumped in the same group as The BFG, Henry Huggins, A Long Way From Chicago. Good, but not Top 100 of All Time good. Maybe we're missing out on something because our teens are too far behind us. I'd love it of one the RHE readers read it as a teen and could give us feedback. Or if anybody has a teenager handy to read it and report back. Anyone?

Forest Born

2010-09-28T11:04:00.001-06:00

Forest Born is Shannon Hale's most recent addition to what is now being called her Books of Bayern series. What started out as a complex and imaginative retelling of the lesser known fairy tale, The Goose Girl, has spread to four novels featuring selected characters from the original story and their supernatural gifts. Forest Born is different from the other stories in that it features a young girl who wasn't part of the original tale. Rin is the younger sister of Razo (who received his own story in River Secrets, the third Bayern book), and as with the other forest born characters we've met so far, she finds herself leaving the forest and moving to the city where she experiences some defining coming-of-age moments.

The reader quickly discovers that Rin has a special gift -- that of tree-speaking -- which is expected in these tales of people-speaking, wind-speaking, fire-speaking, and so on. It takes Rin a little while to realize this, and causes her some grief because for some reason the trees have seemed to turn against her. Anytime she tries to communicate with them she is filled with such loathing and rejection that she decides to flee the forest and see what the future will hold for her in Bayern's capital.

There she becomes a lady-in-waiting to the queen, Ani/Isi from The Goose Girl. Rin helps care for Isi's young son, and develops a great amount of respect for Isi and her friends, Enna and Dasha. When the three "Fire Sisters" leave to investigate some mysterious burnings near the border, Rin secretly follows. As she grows to know these women better, and as they band together to face a secret enemy, she also begins to face her own self-doubt and desire to know who she really is. That means solving the mystery of her personal conflict with the trees, and coming to terms with another gift she possesses -- a dangerous one that can destroy her and all she loves.

It was a good story, and well-written as all of Hale's work is, but it wasn't my favorite of the four by any means. It was hard to really connect with Rin, since she spends most of her time observing rather than participating in many of the interactions with the Fire Sisters. But there's a reason for that, and Hale does do justice to the psychological and interpersonal issues she explores. It was fun to see so many characters from the earlier books and continue to follow their stories. There is action and suspense and drama, though it didn't feel quite as fresh and intense as in the first two books, The Goose Girl and Enna Burning (my two personal favorites). So worth reading if you've enjoyed the others, though not necessarily worth raving about. I do have to mention that reading it right after finishing Avalon High gave me an intellectual sigh of relief. I'll pick up a Hale over a Cabot any day!

Okay, and one more thing that bugs. I loved the stylized artwork they used for the cover art of the first three books. But when they printed them in paperback, they switched to some cheesy model photos (my mom aptly described them as "seductive American Girl"). Bad enough to do that to the paperbacks, but whatever. Until they also used that style for the hardback printing of Forest Born, and now it sticks out like a sore thumb against the other three books in my collection. I much prefer the classy style of the first three and wish they had kept it up for continuity. Lame.

Mockingjay

2010-09-22T10:55:00.002-06:00

If you haven't heard of The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins then you are spending your days either living in a cave or being way more productive than I am. The third and final installment in the series, Mockingjay, just came out this last month and I keep seeing them everywhere. I picked up a copy at Costco, for cryin' out loud, that's how big of a deal these books are. I've got some conflicting feelings about the conclusion of the series and I'm going to try very hard to write about it without revealing spoilers. It's gonna be hard.

I loved the first book, The Hunger Games, but the second, Catching Fire, didn't capture me nearly as well as the first did. The concept wasn't new and it felt a bit recycled as far as plot and tension went. I was reading over the posts I did for both the books and while I gave The Hunger Games it's own post and couldn't say enough good things, Catching Fire was lumped in with two other books in a post about series books. Not a good sign. If I had been smart, and had the ability to wait that long, I should have waited until all three books are out and then read them back to back to retain more details. I couldn't remember half of what happened in the previous books which made me keeping saying, "Huh? What? Who was that again?". It could also be that my brain is full of holes. I wouldn't rule out that possibility.

Mockingjay jumps right in where Catching Fire leaves off with Katniss in District 13 and reluctantly part of the rebellion effort. Peeta is in the custody of President Snow and presumably being tortured for information. Ends up, District 13 isn't some idyllic place to live, though it is out from under the Capitol's thumb. The leaders of the rebellion have their own agenda for Katniss, including to be mascot to stir up rebellion efforts in other districts. She just wants to be left alone. Ah, Katniss, you just always want to be left alone. You've got pouting and agonizing down to a science. Get over it. Be helpful or get outta Dodge, I wanted to tell her. Grow up! That was another one. I felt impatient with her pretty much the entire book. Granted, it's not like she's got some kind of ideal existence but she's so bent on revenge and nobody understands her and everybody just wants to use her. Whatever. At least her love for her family felt sincere or I'd worry that her character was intolerable.

One of the big draws of this book is the action and boy howdy, there's plenty. But not until more than halfway through the book, which was kind of irritating. There isn't a whole lot of plot before that point either, just lots of worrying by Katniss. Then, it feels like Collins was trying to make up for the lack of action by making it totally gruesome. I can't remember how violent the previous books where, but there's no way this wouldn't end up rated R if they made a move out of it. That's not to say it wasn't exciting and totally intense, but I wouldn't recommend it to my grandmother or anyone younger than fifteen years old.

The other big draw is the Katniss/Gale/Peeta love triangle. Future writers take note: to sell lots of books make sure you include a love triangle. For me, it became obvious fairly quickly who Katniss was going to end up with, but it seemed like Collins changed what we knew of the guy she didn't go with so that it would make sense for her not to be with him. It's hard not to give out details. What I'm trying to say is the guy that was eliminated had to take a pretty big dive to be taken out of the running and it didn't seem in character. I'd have to go back and read the first two books again to catch what was implied, but instead I'll let you fans of the series correct me.

In all, it was exciting but gory, satisfying but annoying. I expected to like it more than I did and that was disappointing. The only thing I really like was what Collins did with Peeta's character. That was fresh, brilliant and interesting. The ending took me by complete surprise, but I didn't really understand what had happened so I had to go back and read it again. I kept thinking, "What now? Huh?" during the last couple of chapters. The very last chapter was very satisfying, though, with what Collins did with Katniss and her future family. It felt right. I'd re-read the first book for sure, but it wouldn't make sense to not re-read the other books so then I wouldn't re-read the first one after all because then I'd feel obligated to read the next two. Meh, forget it.

Since young adult novels based on bleak and dystopian futures are all the rage these days, I decided to write my own and pay for my kids' college funds with the piles of money I'll eventually make. It takes place in the not-so-distant future when the human race has become so fearful of dairy products, due to the careful plotting of the poultry industry, that all cows have been eradicated and harsh fines and prison sentences imposed on those who dare to raise them. The human race has become universally lactose intolerant and plagued with illnesses related to calcium deficiencies. High cholesterol has plummeted, though. The book starts out with a young girl on her family's ranch in Montana where they raise llamas and donkeys and, of course, the government-approved flock of chickens. Our hero, a girl named Dogla, and her family are hiding a big secret, though. They are secretly raising a few dairy cows in an underground bunker. A really smelly underground bunker. Dogla has to hide her strong bones and teeth from the other kids at school lest the traitorous nature of her family's work be revealed. When the secret is discovered by government agents ('cause you know it will be) Dogla and her family are shipped off to the poultry work farms in Alabama as punishment. Dogla has to plan her escape and bring down the government's evil plot against cows (and goats too, now that I think of it) over the course of at least three books. Four if I can get a good enough deal with a publisher. What do you think? Newberry material? Not that I care. I'm in it for the money and you know these babies are gonna sell like vampire novels!

Pulling two dusty classics off the shelf

2010-09-14T16:29:00.007-06:00

Recently, my 7-year-old asked if she could read Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It had been some years since I had read it, and aside from stylistic elements that wouldn't interest a child, I was curious if there was anything objectionable for young readers. As I started glancing through it before giving the okay, I soon became caught up in the story and spent the rest of the day reading it, while my daughter got tired of waiting and found something else to read!

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is actually a relatively short story. It has been romanticized on screen and stage so much that it was surprising how very little the original story contains. The basic story is the familiar one that has been retold so often; a curious scientist develops a potion that allows him to change into a being who houses all of his base passions and selfish desires -- those that he normally keeps in check to allow him to live a successful and upstanding life. The more that he indulges in his other darker self, the stronger the person of Mr. Hyde becomes until he begins to transform even without the potion and finds himself struggling to remain the respectable Dr. Jekyll.

I thought it was interesting that it is all told from the perspective of a Mr. Utterson; a friend of Dr. Jekyll who is concerned for his welfare and inexplicable involvements with the criminal Mr. Hyde. Having that distance allows the mystery to be revealed slowly to the reader. Of course, we know that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are one and the same, but it would have been interesting to have read it for the first time when it was published over 120 years ago; back when it was still a surprise ending. Even without the romance and graphic nature of some of it's popular retellings, I was still carried along in the psychological thriller and wished with all my heart for a better ending for poor, misguided Dr. Jekyll!

Not long afterward, I found myself without a fresh book to read, and no plans to go to the library, so I once again turned to my personal library for inspiration. This time I landed on Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist, a thrift store find that I had failed to finish in the past. But gritting my teeth, I determined to plow my way through it! And sometimes it really did feel like plowing! The early chapters were dark and gloomy and so full of mistreatment and abuse that I soon remembered why I didn't make it very far the time before. My interest picked up after Oliver escaped the workhouse and ran away to London, but it was such a long and wordy tale that it still took me a couple of weeks to make it through.

Oliver Twist is a morality tale about an orphan boy whose inherent goodness helps him escape the clutches of society's lowest criminals, leading him to eventually find happiness and security while his enemies' dark deeds earn them humiliation, imprisonment, and even death. But getting to that point is a long and painful process full of nightmarish desperation and fear. This popular novel is a tale of character extremes, social protest, and hypocrisy. It's also in part a mystery as we uncover the truth of Oliver's parentage and how that affects his future and that of other characters within the story.

There were some very interesting characters; most notably Nancy, the prostitute, whose efforts to help Oliver in the end cost her her life. She is treated very sympathetically by the narrator, and her unbreakable attachment to the vicious and cruel Bill Sikes adds a complex sense of reality that is lost on some of the other characters who are either all good or all bad with nothing in between. Indeed, many of the story's main players have a feeling more of caricature than character. Dickens uses a good deal of tongue-in-cheek humor which helps prevent the narrative from getting too heavy and difficult. But he also goes off on tangents occasionally that could have benefited from a good editor.

Here's a good example of the narrative indulging in humor at the expense of brevity. After introducing a new character who asserts, "I've been lamed with orange-peel once, and I know orange-peel will be my death at last. It will, sir, orange-peel will be my death, or I'll be content to eat my own head, sir!" the narrator offers this commentary:

This was the handsome offer with which Mr. Grimwig backed and confirmed nearly every assertion he made; and it was the more singular in his case, because, even admitting for the sake of argument, the possibility of scientific improvements being ever brought to that pass which will enable a gentleman to eat his own head in the event of his being so disposed, Mr. Grimwig's head was such a particularly large one that the most sanguine man alive could hardly entertain a hope of being able to get through it at a sitting -- to put entirely out of the question a very thick coating of powder. (p. 134)

Notice that the preceding quote is all one sentence; and by far not the longest run-on sentence in the novel! Despite it's length, by the time I finished it I was glad I did. I enjoyed it more towards the end, and was rewarded with a neat and tidy conclusion. But I have to admit that I was a little put off by the preachiness, especially since Dickens himself wasn't nearly as morally irreproachable as he would have you believe. But even if some of his personal moral ground was a little shaky, I can understand why this would have been such a notable work in his day, and why it continues to be considered a classic in ours.

The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet

2010-09-08T21:17:00.000-06:00

You're just going to have to trust me that I had a beautifully eloquent post written about The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen because this one isn't going to be nearly as good as the one I wrote before Blogger chewed it up and swallowed it. I'm too tired and frustrated to remember everything I wrote when it was fresher on my mind and I was waxing more philosophical. Maybe someday I'll get smart and figure out how to write posts in Windows Live Writer or something, but today is not that day.

I've been avoiding writing about this book because I don't want to use trite or over-used phrases and that was all I could come up with. Blame it on being busy, which is my favorite excuse, but I put off writing anything until I could fully wrap my head around what I wanted to say. The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet is unlike anything I've read before. The story, the characters, and the way it was told was so unique. Let me back up and give you a rundown.

T.S. Spivet is a twelve-year-old genius cartographer who lives on a ranch in Montana with his cowboy father and scientist mother. He has a fairly normal older sister, one who is prone to fits of drama but normal despite having an odd family. T.S. also had a younger brother, Layton, who was killed in a tragic accident and the family is still reeling from it. T.S. is short for Tecumseh Sparrow, Tecumseh being a name given to the men in his family for several generations after his first Finnish ancestor changed his name in honor of the Native American chief. His mother gave him the name Sparrow because a sparrow hit the window the moment of his birth. She had the sparrow's skeleton mounted for him and it became one of T.S.'s most valued possessions.

The story starts out a few months after Layton's death. T.S. has a mentor at a nearby college who has been submitting his work for him to scientific journals, since nobody would believe the maps and diagrams he creates could be from a kid who hadn't even hit puberty. Much to his surprise, T.S. gets a phone call from the Smithsonian awarding him the Baird fellowship for his work. He is invited to come to D.C. and accept his award and move into the rooms reserved for the fellowship. T.S. neglects to inform them that he is actually twelve years old and instead decides he's going to get himself to Washington and accept it.

The one bump in this plan is how he's going to travel two thousand miles in just a few days. After having done a unit study in school about railroad transportation, T.S. decides to ride the rails like a hobo and get himself there. The journey is absolutely crazy, starting with T.S. discovering a Winnebago being transported that conveniently has an open door. T.S. gets to ride in comfort, that is until he reaches Chicago and hits some bumps. This journey takes up a large portion of the story and the reader learns more about T.S. and his dis-functional family. I began to see more and more that though T.S. may be a genius, but he's still just a kid. He copes with the disappointment of his father and the mystery of his mother's life through his drawings. I spent most of the book wishing I could grab and hug him until his ribs squeaked.

This description so far doesn't sound all that cheery, but this book is actually really funny and tender and quirky. I laughed out loud many times. The characters are so well written that they became three-dimensional for me. There's a mystery to Dr. Clair, T.S.'s mother that you don't find out about until the end and even then, it's not totally clear what motivates her, but she's fascinating. T.S.'s dad is such a gruff person, but he's also funny and complex and surprising. In fact, the ending of the book nearly took my breath away. The characters surprised me many times, sometimes for good and sometimes for bad, but they were always enjoyable to read.

What makes this book so unique is that the margins this over-sized book are filled with drawings, side stories, notes and pictures. This book wouldn't be the same without them and though it makes the story even longer to read, it was worth it. I haven't even described the whole tangential section in the middle about what Dr. Clair was up to all the years she was supposed to be studying beetles, which fit perfectly into T.S.'s journey. Oh man, there's so much to this book and I don't want to write a post that would rival the length of the book. I'd rather you read the book!

It's a pretty clean book, though there is a foul-mouthed racist trucker who gives T.S. a ride the rest of his way to D.C. But that trucker is also the most compassionate person he encounters on his journey, making sure he has enough to eat and gets some rest. I guess Larsen wanted to make every person in this book not what they seem. There are some scary moments, like when T.S. encounters a deranged homeless man in Chicago, and some intense ones like when he finally arrives at the Smithsonian. If you can get over the trucker's language, then this book is worth it, a hundred times over.

I wish there was some way to erase my memory and read this again fresh! Reif Larsen is a young guy so there's plenty of time for him to write lots more books. I look forward to future books, but it would be awesome to read this one all over again and experience it for the first time again. I guess I'll have to be satisfied with just re-reading it and knowingly chuckling to myself and anticipating what I already know to be an amazing book.

Chalice and Avalon High

2010-08-31T14:34:00.000-06:00

One advantage to having a nursing infant is the opportunity to sneak in a chapter here and there throughout the day (and night). One disadvantage is finding the time to write about what I've read when I can think in coherent thoughts and type with both hands!

A while back, I read several quick YA fantasies, but haven't had the time to write about them until now. The first was Chalice, by Robin McKinley. McKinley's Newberry award-winning Hero and the Crown was my first introduction to fantasy when I was young, and I've enjoyed the handful of other novels I've read by her. I was actually looking for one that had been recommended to me, Spindle's End, which is a retelling of Sleeping Beauty (I think). But it wasn't in, so I had to settle for Chalice. Chalice is the story of Marisol, a common beekeeper in the Willowlands who is chosen to be Chalice (a ceremonial position that is part political and part religious). She assumes the position in the midst of great turmoil after a disastrous accident claims the life of the former Chalice, as well as many of the local leaders, including the Master himself. The Master's younger brother had been sent away seven years before to become a priest of Fire, but he is called back to fill the role of Master upon his brother's death. Not quite human any longer, however, he has difficulty fulfilling his responsibilities and gaining the people's trust. Marisol believes in him, however, and does what she can to save her people, her Master, and the very land itself from outside forces that would try to destroy it.

It was an interesting plot, but fell far short of it's potential. Part of the problem is that Marisol is so isolated in her role as Chalice that we spend pretty much the whole novel in her head. There is very little dialogue and even less action. One scene that could have been a moment of high drama and tension feels shallow because Marisol misses it and has to be told about it later. I know from her other books that McKinley can do action, so I'm not sure why she shies away from it in this novel. There is a hint of romance, but it doesn't develop into anything worth getting worked up about. The political intrigue was interesting, but I felt so trapped in Marisol's thoughts that it too fell flat. Next time, I'll stick with Spindle's End.

After seeing her novels on my teenage sisters' bedside tables for years, I finally read my very first Meg Cabot story. Cabot is probably most famous for her Princess Diaries series. My introduction to her work was through Avalon High, an Arthurian story set in a contemporary setting. Ellie has moved to Maryland because her parents (who are professors with specialties in Medieval times) are on sabbatical for a year. Ellie isn't thrilled about the idea of starting a new school, but things look up immensely when she meets Will; the gorgeous quarterback who also happens to be smart, honest, upstanding, and idolized by everyone in the school. What's surprising is that he takes notice of her, and even begins to prefer her to his beautiful cheerleader girlfriend, Jennifer. Soon Ellie discovers that Jennifer is cheating on Will with his best friend, Lance. Over time, more and more parallels can be seen between this little high school drama and that of Arthur's Camelot, and Ellie begins to wonder how she fits in and what she can do to stop the evil events that are destined to follow.

It was a cute little story that didn't take itself too seriously, with plenty of humor to make it light and easy to read. But the teenage-speak got pretty old after a while, and the characters felt like they had just walked off a teen movie set. The plot was predictable and the whole thing was really lacking in substance. I did think the historical aspect looking at Arthurian legend was interesting, but if all of Cabot's work is like this, I'll leave it to the teenagers.

Feeding my Mary Russell obsession

2010-08-18T17:00:00.007-06:00

Yes, I'll admit it. I'm addicted. You're going to get tired of hearing me talk about Laurie R. King's Mary Russell series long before I get tired of reading them. It's hard to resist the allure of intelligent, complex characters in what promises to be an entertaining mystery. So while I do try to read other things, every so often I have to indulge and pick up the next few installments.

Recently I read King's The Moor. Honestly, I didn't enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed her other Mary Russell stories. The moor itself played such a strong role in the story that it really deserved to be the title character. But once the intrigue of this mysterious geographic phenomenon wore off, it just left a depressing air over the whole story. The mystery wasn't very engaging either, despite early suggestions that seemed promising. Unlike her other novels that have little or no relation to Conan Doyle's work, The Moor visits the site of one of Sherlock Holmes' original adventures, The Hound of the Baskervilles. Russell and Holmes are initially there to help a friend who has been disturbed recently with accounts that the infamous Hound has returned. Their interest deepens when a man is found murdered on this same friend's property. Eventually they discover who is responsible, and uncover a much larger deception in the process. But I had to trudge through so much grimness in Russell's time on the moor itself that I was kind of relieved when it was over!

O Jerusalem was the next Russell novel King published, despite the story actually chronologically falling somewhere towards the end of the first Russell novel, The Beekeeper's Apprentice. Toward the end of that story, Russell and Holmes flee to Palestine for a few months to escape an unknown enemy in England who wants both of them dead. Their experiences there are only briefly touched on as they don't hold any real importance to that particular story. But those few months serve as the meat for the novel, O Jerusalem. In disguise, they join up with two dangerous Arabs -- Mahmoud and Ali -- and spend the next few months living a nomadic life as they try to uncover a terrorist plot aimed at starting another war.

As boring as I found The Moor, I found O Jerusalem, on the other hand, incredibly fascinating. King does such a good job bringing her settings to life that I felt like I should be scratching the lice in my own hair. The setting, the culture, the people, the history; it was full of such flavor that I was completely engulfed in the story. Amidst the very rough lifestyle, there are moments of humor and lightness. For instance, after suffering as a filthy nomad, and being treated with scorn and mistrust for being a woman, Russell has the opportunity to bathe and attend a dinner party where she shines as the center of all the young officers' attention, much to Holmes' irritation. There were some delightful moments like that, and even the more painful and uncomfortable ones (of which the novel was mostly full) were still so interesting that I simply devoured it.

So naturally, I was very interested when I started reading her next novel, Justice Hall, and found that it dealt with the same characters from O Jerusalem. Mahmoud and Ali, it turns out, aren't native Arabs. (Holmes indicates that briefly in O Jerusalem, but it never becomes significant to that particular story.) They are actually English noblemen who entered the service of the king decades earlier as spies in that troubled part of the world. This story picks up almost immediately after The Moor left off, when Mary Russell is surprised to find a very different -- and more civilized -- Ali on their doorstep asking for help. It turns out that Mahmoud -- now called Marsh -- has unexpectedly inherited his family's fortune, title, estate, etc, and has reluctantly left his Arabic life behind to do his duty. Russell and Holmes are shocked to find their friend so changed -- and unhappily so -- and set about doing their part to uncover the mystery surrounding a supposed heir who would challenge Marsh's position, all while wrestling with the fact that doing what is best for Marsh-the-heir may be the worst possible thing for Mahmoud-the-man. Even more intriguing, though, is the mystery surrounding the scandalous wartime execution of the original heir, Marsh's nephew Gabriel Hughenfort. As they dig further into the past, they uncover deep family secrets dealing with the horrors of war, and the courageous and tragic end of a good and honest young man.

I felt so much compassion for the characters, even Gabriel who had already died long before this story takes place. It was a hard, yet empathetic look at life for a soldier during WWI, full of humanity tinged with horror. It was also an interesting twist to see the metamorphosis of Mahmoud and Ali into Marsh and Alistair. And there were enough plot twists and action to keep things moving toward a very satisfying conclusion. One of the best stories in the series that I've read yet, which just makes me itch to get my hands on the next one!

The Scarlet Pimpernel

2010-08-13T07:00:00.000-06:00

When I told a friend of mine that I was reading The Scarlet Pimpernel, she clasped her hands to her face, gasped and exclaimed, "That's my most favorite book ever! It's so romantic!" Then she swooned. It's a good thing I had my smelling salts handy so I could revive her. You never know when you'll need smelling salts, by george.

Do you remember reading about the French Revolution and Reign of Terror? When the people rose up and starting lopping of heads of the aristocracy? Gruesome stuff. The Scarlet Pimpernel takes place during the Reign of Terror, around 1792, with the French aristocracy in fear of their lives. But there is a hero who manages to smuggle families to England and save them from the guillotine's blade. He is clever and devious and evades the authorities over and over again. He is Batman. I mean, he is The Scarlet Pimpernel. The name comes from a small flower insignia he uses in his correspondence. His identity is a mystery to all but his most trusted circle of fellow heroes. His reputation is all the rage in England and women wear the pimpernel in their hair or sewn into their clothes in support of his actions against the brutal killings in France.

Sir Percy Blakeney and his wife, Marguerite St. Just Blakeney are the toast of the town in England. They have the prince's ear, lead in all the latest fashions, have wealth beyond imagining, and Marguerite is considered the cleverest woman in England. Sir Percy is dashing and handsome, but considered a bit of an idiot, no thanks to his lazy and ridiculous remarks he often makes. He is still universally loved, but scorned by his wife. Marguerite is frustrated with his attitude and wonders where the man she married went. They've only been married a year, but Sir Percy's affections have waned and Marguerite lashes back by making condescending remarks. Her only source of happiness is her brother, Armand. He helped to raise her after their parents died and she worries about his welfare in France, their home country. Their family was a humble one, but Marguerite married up thanks to her exquisite beauty and charm.

Here enters the bad guy: Chauvelin, ambassador from France, fervent follower of the Republic, lopper-off-of-heads supporter. He would do anything to find and capture the Scarlet Pimpernel. He uses some condemning evidence against Armand to force Marguerite into helping him discover the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Marguerite has no idea who it is, but wants to save her brother's life. Her guilt over inadvertently playing a part in the murdering of a noble family in France torments her when she has to send a great hero into Chauvelin's cluthes. She does what she can to send information on to Chauvelin in the desperate hope of preserving her brother.

Where's the romance? you might be wondering. Marguerite desperately wants her husband to love her like she still loves him. Soon after they were married, Marguerite confessed the story of what happened with that noble family that was sent to the guillotine. Soon after, Sir Percy wants nothing to do with her. As the story unfolds, she becomes more desperate to be united with her husband and would even die to be by his side. It's very old-fashioned romance, but still sweet and passionate. Like, she doesn't dream of playing a part to save her husband, just to throw her lot in with him and perhaps die in the process. Both Marguerite and Percy's pride prevents them from resolving their problems much earlier, but if they had, it wouldn't be as fun to read!

The tales about the Scarlet Pimpernel are fun, but it's definitely the best when we can see him in action. The opening scene of the book shows him dressed as an old woman driving a cart, deceiving the guards at the gates of Paris. We don't see him again until later in the book when he is in disguise once again. Those were my favorite parts. I wish there had been more daring-do in the book all together, but I suppose I could check out one of the many sequels Baroness Emmuska Orczy wrote. Interesting fact: this story was originally a play, then written as a novel. I could totally see that as I read the book. Each chapter is set up like scenes in a play. Marguerite hiding behind a curtain while the evil Chauvelin plots, unknowingly revealing everything; Sir Percy rebuffing Marguerite's pleas for forgiveness; the ending scene where the Scarlet Pimpernel's men are in a shack, surrounded by Chauvelin's soldiers. It would be a great play to watch.

My only complaint is that the ending is very anti-climactic. I expected more. Is that my more modern sensibilities at work? Maybe. But there is something to be said about old fashioned romance and adventure. Batman and Zorro should take notes.

Co-review: Beatrice and Virgil

2010-07-31T15:27:00.002-06:00

It has been seven years since Yann Martel's unforgettable first novel was published. (And if you haven't read Life of Pi, stop what you're doing right now and request it from your local library.) His second novel, Beatrice and Virgil, is much shorter in length and thinner in plot and character development. Any reader of Life of Pi will be on the lookout for allegory and symbolism, and Martel recognizes that and addresses his central theme right up front, basically giving the reader a little essay about both the limitations and necessity of depicting the Holocaust through fiction.

So with a little heads up from the author about what to expect, we are equipped to forge ahead. But of course Martel doesn't keep it quite that simple. The story itself is brief and uncomplicated, but its layers of meaning offer plenty of fodder for any book group discussion. It begins with an air of autobiography surrounding the main character. Henry is an author who experienced explosive success with his first published novel, an allegorical work featuring animals. After five years of intense personal investment, Henry finishes his next work that is both a fictional and non-fictional treatment of the Holocaust. It is rejected for publication so forcefully that it sends Henry into such a funk that he decides to give up writing.

Looking for a change of scenery, he and his wife move to a foreign city and he enjoys a measure of anonymity in pursuing varied interests. When he receives an unusual package from a reader in the same city, containing an unfamiliar yet intriguing short story by Gustave Flaubert, a scene from a play, and a plea for help, Henry decides to investigate further. The sender turns out to be an old taxidermist who is writing a play featuring Beatrice and Virgil, a donkey and monkey long preserved in his shop. As Henry gets increasingly involved in the story of Beatrice and Virgil, he is increasingly frustrated at the taxidermist's either refusal or inability to connect with him on a human level. But he continues to return as he realizes that there is more to Beatrice and Virgil's story than he first suspects. What he discovers leads him back to his own attempts to grapple with the Holocaust in his fiction, and with a surprising conclusion, changes his life forever.

As with other co-reviews, be aware that we may give more away than you want to know if you haven't read it.

Caren: I had serious mixed feelings about reading Beatrice and Virgil. I enjoyed Life of Pi so much that I was excited to see what Yann Martel would come up with for his second novel, but I was also worried that after such high expectations I couldn't help but be disappointed. And I wasn't sure I wanted to read something with the intensity of Life of Pi and just be let down. Fortunately, some of those fears were complete non-issues. First, Beatrice and Virgil is pretty short. No more than a couple hundred pages, so even if you don't like it you don't have to invest huge amounts of time.

Second, it has what my marketing husband would call a "low barrier to entry." It was very easy to begin a harmless story about a successful writer facing rejection, to get involved without having to invest very much. By the time it started turning more dark and serious, it was too late. I had to know what Martel had up his sleeve, even though I knew it had to do with the Holocaust and wouldn't be pleasant. But I think that was part of what made it so powerful. When the violence comes at the end -- the violence in the play and the violence against Henry -- it was all the more intense because it was such a contrast to the safe narrative we'd enjoyed all along.

Jenny: I had a hard time getting into the story. The blurb in the front inside cover gave almost no hints about the story so I didn't know what to expect. All the blathering on about getting his flip book about the Holocaust published seemed autobiographical, like you said, and I couldn't really understand what this had to do with a donkey and a monkey. I kept reminding myself that Life of Pi had all the information about zoos at the beginning and how that tied into that story, so I should just keep going. I'm dense, but I didn't catch on that the part about the Holocaust in the beginning tied into the play that the taxidermist wrote until it was getting creepy. By the time I realized what the taxidermist was writing, it was like watching a car accident take place. You know it's going to be horrific and terrifying but you can't look away. I couldn't look away and now it's seared in my mind.

I seriously misjudged this story, which is just stupid. I mean, Life of Pi is not just a story about a boy and a tiger stranded on a boat, but for some reason I thought this was a story about a monkey and a donkey. I thought that the taxidermist was disturbing with a capital D, but didn't realize that he was telling his own story through the play. I mean, Beatrice and Virgil don't really talk about anything. Half of what they did talk about I didn't understand. Maybe a second reading will help me see all the clues that Martel gives, but I don't know if I want to read it again.

That sounds like I didn't like it, but I did. It was just kinda horrible reading. But really, really amazing horrible reading. After I finished the book, I was paralyzed on my bed. I couldn't hardly breathe from the shock of the ending. And then I spent the rest of the day thinking about the Holocaust and thinking about how I never think about the Holocaust.

Caren: I can see how the beginning would put you off. There is a lot of philosophizing about art -- particularly fiction -- and not very much advancing the plot. And I did the same thing at the end. I was just going to read a little more before bed one night, but then things rapidly grew intense and I had to stay up late and finish it. Then I had a hard time unwinding for sleep because I just wanted to talk to someone about it!

I felt like I didn't understand a lot of details about the play too. Like, what was the deal with the setting being a shirt? And the sewing kit? I felt like I basically got the overall point about stuff (the Holocaust victims who don't have a voice finding other ways to express the Horrors they suffered), but that I missed some of the deeper levels of meaning by not understanding everything. What was the significance of both the writer and the taxidermist having the same first name? And why does the taxidermist stab Henry at the end? Was it because he felt like he was being denied redemption when Henry wouldn't take his play? Was it because -- like St. Julian -- he longed for violence and this was an easy outlet?

Jenny: I am so glad you didn't understand details of the play. I felt stupid because it seemed like symbolism I should be getting, but I just didn't. Does it seem really obvious to other people besides Martel? I'd love to know that.

When I realized who the taxidermist was and what he had done, I felt overwhelmed with disgust, like Henry. Then, when he stabbed Henry, I wondered why he bothered to seek redemption if his plan was to kill Henry if he didn't like his play. Then again, maybe he didn't have that plan, it was just a reaction to Henry's loathing. This is a guy accustomed to violence, after all. He's pretty handy with a knife due to his choice of profession and his past. Maybe his calm, stony exterior was masking rage and violence. Super creepy any way you look at it.

So here I finish the story and then Martel adds the Games for Gustav at the end. I don't even know what to write about that. I'm sitting here at the computer, trying to find words and failing. What keeps coming back to me is that my generation and future generations must be reminded of the Holocaust because it isn't part of our personal history. Like, 9/11 won't mean much to my kids who didn't watch the planes crash into the towers on television. That's not a perfect comparison, but it's the closest thing I can think of. The Holocaust will mean even less to my children who will be nearly a century removed from it by the time they are adults. This is a little of what the sewing kit means to me, that we need to write what happened into ourselves so we don't forget.

Caren: I agree. I like what you said earlier about how you were left "thinking about the Holocaust and thinking about how I never think about the Holocaust." How do you avoid relegating the Holocaust to just a footnote in history? How do you depict it in a way that makes it fresh and impressionable, without stripping it of meaning with overuse? I think Martel did just that. And for me, Games for Gustav was the most powerful part. A handful of sentences and questions. That's it. But so vivid that I felt almost a physical recoil against trying to make my mind accept them. I know that was only the briefest glimpse into the horrors that went on for millions of victims, but it was strong enough that I felt like any more and I would have started shutting it out instead of being open to it like I was.

I have a hard time talking about the book in an objective way, because those final pages evoked such a strong emotional response. I can't separate that response no matter how hard I try. I would be willing to read it again, and would be interested to see what more I could get out of it. (Which is interesting since I can only handle one reading of other novels which portray horrible things, like The Kite Runner). But with this one being so simple and allegorical for most of the story, I think I could handle a second reading. I guess some readers and reviewers have hated it, but I feel like it is well worth reading and especially discussing.

Jenny: Absolutely. I think I need to wait about a year and then read it again to see if I can understand it better knowing from the start how it will end. But I need to give it some time because it was emotionally wrenching. I thought I knew what people in concentration camps went through and then I read Games for Gustav. That's when I realized that I have no idea of their suffering. No idea. It felt like a punch in the gut.

Reviewers have hated it? How interesting that Henry's editors and publishers hated his fictional work on the Holocaust. What foresight.

Caren: Pretty ironic, huh? That's what I've heard, but I haven't looked into it further. One complaint I've heard is that using animals somehow trivialized the Jews' suffering and some people were offended by it. But I think those people totally missed the point. I think the Flaubert story was a great explanation for the human/animal connection, and how redemption did (or didn't, in my opinion) play into it.

So many aspects of this story deserve to be fleshed out more fully. This is definitely one I'll be thinking about for a while.

The Leisure Seeker

2010-07-26T07:00:00.001-06:00

It all started because I was avoiding reading The Scarlet Pimpernel. Not that I mind reading classic literature, I just bought this weird edition from Amazon that I'm finding hard to read. The font is unpleasant and every single sentence is practically a new paragraph and it's all weird and stuff. Not the story, the actual book is weird. And the intro says that all of this publisher's works are free online, so I didn't have to spend $10 on a book I may or may not like. It irked me so I was avoiding it and decided to read something else. Now I'm avoiding playing Super Mario Brothers on the Wii because it keeps kicking my can and even though it was a Father's Day present for my husband, it's starting to make me insane. The product of these two avoidances is a post about The Leisure Seeker by Michael Zadoorian. Aren't you glad to know that?

John and Ella Robina decide to take a cross country trip on their Leisure Seeker RV, from Detroit to Disneyland. John and Ella are also in their 80s and have terminal illnesses. John has Alzheimer's, but is not so advanced that he can't drive, which is good because Ella doesn't drive at all. Ella has terminal cancer and has opted to not have any treatments and instead drag her husband on this last trip across the country. John doesn't really know what is going on, he just drives and stops and performs the tasks that are so second nature to him that Alzheimer's hasn't robbed it from him yet. Their kids are apoplectic that their parents are doing something so risky in their states of health. Ella doesn't care what they or their doctors think.

Told from Ella's perspective, she gives flashbacks along the way of their lives together for nearly sixty years. It's sweet to read how they fell in love, their kids' childhoods, their friends over the years, etc. What isn't sweet is the mouth on this old lady. Man, she swears like a sailor. John isn't any better. When he's not lucid and having a harder time, he's angry and swearing and all sorts of scary. They carp at each other and then the next moment being kind and gentle. It's weird. Other than that, I can imagine how anyone who has been married for this long would enjoy reminiscing and chatting on a road trip together. Their evenings together watching slides was especially nice, learning more about them and their life.

It's heart-breaking to experience Ella's frustration at losing her husband one memory at a time. Alzheimer's is a cruel disease. My grandmother had it when I was a teenager and I remember thinking that she was slipping away from us. Ella's gradual decline mostly includes searing pain that she self-medicates with lots of narcotics. And alcohol. Oh my, scary amounts of booze. Frankly, I was frightened for the both of them, that John would disappear sometime when Ella wasn't looking or that Ella would overdose and leave her husband behind to fend for himself when he may not be able to tell anyone his last name. I kept reading to see what would happen, but it was hard to get through at times.

Some of their experiences on the road and paths they cross with different people were interesting and engaging, but mostly this story made me sad and frustrated. Why couldn't John and Ella enjoy the time they have left with their kids and grandkids? Why a road trip to a place that they wouldn't even be able to enjoy that much? It felt like a desperate whim of Ella's, which I guess it was. The other part I didn't like was the ending. Zadoorian gave plenty of hints about how he was going to end the book, but it still felt like a unpleasant surprise. I thought I was was bracing myself for the ending, but I was still startled. I'm not sure how else it could have ended though, so it's not like I have some super awesome insight on how the author could have done it differently. I just don't know if I'm all that glad I read it.

I've learned my lesson. Note to self: just read The Scarlet Pimpernel, for cryin' in the mud.

Fablehaven: Keys to the Demon Prison

2010-07-12T20:41:00.001-06:00

In March, my family began the epic project of reading out loud the entire Fablehaven series by Brandon Mull. Sounds like we're some kind of awesome people, doesn't it? It wasn't intentional at first. The final book of the series came out in March and my husband bought it the day it came out. He brought it home and put it on the table to tempt me. I knew we'd have to do some negotiating about who would get to read it first, but he was going out of town soon, so I figured I could read it first and then he could take it with him when he left town. Then he suggested we read it out loud to each other so we could enjoy it simultaneously. I pointed out that he was going out of town and it didn't sound like any fun to be reading it over the phone or webcam. He teased that he was just going to take it out of town with him anyway and leave me hanging. Har har. Then he suggested we read the entire series and then culminate with the fifth book. I grumbled. He upped the requirements by suggesting that we read the entire series as a family. I grumbled some more, but mostly for show because it sounded like fun. My oldest had read the first book, but no more. We'd get to enjoy the series again through our kids, which was a worthy project. I agreed and we began.

Nearly every evening for more than three months we read. Mostly it was one chapter at a time but we'd fit in two chapters when we could. Nobody wanted to miss out so we had our bed full of kiddos while we read. Good thing we bought a king-sized bed last year or there's no way all six of us would have fit. My three-year-old would lose patience on occasion, but that wasn't until the later books when the plot got more complex. We would placate her by reading a stack of picture books before we began. One of my favorite parts was how my kids would talk about nothing else when an exciting part happened. Or maybe it's when they would laugh over and over again when Seth was up to his antics. Or maybe it's when they were absolutely entranced while we read to the point of hypnotism. Or maybe it's when my oldest would exclaim every single night, "I can't stand cliffhangers! Please read another chapter!"

By the time we got to the final book, it felt a bit like when the seventh Harry Potter came out. The anticipation and build up for this culminating event was palpable. We were all dying to find out what was going to happen. We went on a trip out of the state at the same time we started it and I read sometimes four chapters a day while we drove or had down time. When we reached the last ten chapters, I would read sometimes for an hour. My husband had strep throat so I was doing all the reading. It was worth it.

I've blogged about this series so many times, I'm not going to bother adding a link here. Just put in the search box the word "Fablehaven" and see how many posts show up. There's a bunch. I have enjoyed this series each step along the way. My only complaint is that the language some of the adults use seems forced. Nobody really talks like that unless they're trying to sound intellectual. On the flip side, Mull has got Seth and Kendra down pat. He knows exactly how to write a kid's voice. Plus, Seth and Kendra have a completely believable sibling relationship. Since they are the focus of the book, it is a treat that he wrote them so perfectly. And enjoyably.

I don't know exactly what to write about the final book, Keys to the Demon Prison. If you haven't read any of the previous books, nothing I write would make any sense. I think you'd have better luck reading previous posts to see if it's the kind of book you'd be interested in for yourself or a kid you know. I will say that it delivered on every count and that it ended exactly how I hoped it would, but better because Brandon Mull has a better imagination than me. I will also say that if you like Harry Potter, you'll like Fablehaven. Harry Potter comparisons get old and are kind of ridiculous, but I'm comparing them in the sense that both series appeal to any age of reader. Unless you hate fantasy books, which just makes me sad.

Brandon Mull is coming out with a new series next year called The Beyonders. I think it's safe to say that we'll be reading it at our house. We'll have to read Mull's The Candy Shop War in the mean time to sate our need for his amazing writing.

The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner

2010-07-06T21:40:00.001-06:00

Stephenie Meyer's newest work, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner: An Eclipse Novella, is a great example of how to milk one success for all it's worth. Can you imagine any other author being taken seriously with the following pitch?

Meyer: I have this random character who is so obscure and receives so little airtime that if you've only read the original novel once you won't even remember her. But I'd really like to tell her story.

Publisher: Oh, so you'd like to finish her story for all the fanatic readers who obsess over every little character and wonder what happened next?

Meyer: Well, no. Because I killed her off at the end of the few pages that she appears in. So there is no "next." I want to tell her story that led up to her death.

Publisher: You mean, give her personal history so that we understand better how she came to make the choices that led to her tragic end?

Meyer: Sort of. Actually, I don't care about her personal history that much. Mostly I'm just going to focus on the couple of days leading up to the death scene. You know, the scene that readers are already familiar with so they know it won't end well for this character. And I'll be sure and introduce a lot of new characters too so that the reader is even less invested in what's going on.

Publisher: I see. And you really think that people are going to buy this novel?

Meyer: Well, it's not a novel exactly. Really, it's just a teeny little indulgence. I could easily just publish it online as a treat to my die-hard fans, but why not try to make a few bucks by piggy-backing onto the success of my previous series? Go with the black, red, and white color scheme and you've pretty much covered my kids' college tuition right there!

Any other author wouldn't be taken seriously, let alone granted a nice hardbound publication of their little pet project. But any other author wouldn't be Stephenie Meyer, with printing houses falling all over themselves to publish her next work, even if it's just last week's grocery list. That's not to say that I didn't enjoy reading The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner. It was short and fast-paced and I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon. But I'm afraid Meyer's fame has made her lazy and as long as it's so easy to coast on her previous success, she doesn't have any reason to work at developing her potential as a writer. (Potential which, while it exists, is still very rough.)

But back to Bree. We first meet Bree Tanner at the end of Eclipse after the fight between the Cullens and Victoria's army. Bree is a newborn vampire who apparently doesn't want to fight and surrenders to Carlisle. But when the Volturi come on the scene, they don't honor the surrender and she is quickly disposed of. The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner shows us her life in the few days preceding the battle. We see what it's like to be a newborn vampire and her chaotic and fearful life in the growing army, including more gore than we get in the other books. And then we see the battle play out from her perspective, offering additional insights into the scene we first saw in Eclipse. But, you know, it ends the same way.

Because of the brevity and knowing the ending in advance, it was hard to feel very invested in Bree or any of the other characters. It was interesting to see her as a newborn because I felt like Meyer really shied away from that when Bella became a vampire. But it was interesting from a "gee whiz" standpoint, not because it really added anything. And it was kind of hard to feel attached to a character who kills innocent victims and drinks their blood. Okay, but here's a funny thing. In all the original novels Edward is referred to as having this unusual bronze-colored hair. That's one of his defining features, right? So when Bree starts talking about this redhead at the end, at first I didn't know who she was talking about. And when I realized it was Edward, I wanted to laugh. Doesn't Stephenie Meyer know that redheaded males are considered the least attractive people in just about every culture? Shouldn't she know better than to downgrade her leading man's status like that? So that was confusing and distracting and just a little bit weird. I'm really not sure what that was all about.

But there you go. Another vampire tale, and quite frankly, I'm hoping that she'll try her hand at something else for a while. No harm in that since we know the publishers will be lining up to print whatever she wants!

The delightful Lord Peter Wimsey

2010-07-02T06:00:00.002-06:00

You know how Picasso had a Blue Period? June could be called my "Post-WWI era English Mystery Period". It's purely coincidental, but last month I read mysteries from three different authors that all happen to take place in England in the 1920's. I was recently introduced to Dorothy L. Sayers and her Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. Unlike the two contemporary authors I've been reading, Sayers actually lived and wrote during the early part of the 20th century, which imbues her stories with the genuine flavor of the time. And oh, what a fun romp they have been!

Lord Peter Wimsey is an aristocrat who loves to dabble in amateur detective work for fun. He enjoys his shallow aristocratic comforts, but these vanities disguise a deep intellect, keen powers of observation, and kind heart. His good humor and quick wit are delightful and even the most gruesome tales are full of a lighthearted sense of humor underscoring the macabre. Unlike other mysteries of the time featuring amateur detectives, Wimsey is mostly respected by Scotland Yard and is best friends with Chief Inspector Charles Parker.

Whose Body? is Sayers' first Lord Peter Wimsey novel, and details his first attempt at solving a murder mystery. When an unidentified man is found dead in someone else's bathtub, wearing nothing except a pair of expensive pince-nez, questions immediately arise about whether this could be Sir Reuben Levy -- a successful financier who disappeared the night before. Based on the evidence, Lord Peter immediately disregards the police's theory, but he is intrigued enough to investigate both the murder and the disappearance. Much of the novel focuses on unfolding the mystery, of course. But there is a lot of attention paid to developing Wimsey's singular personality, which makes it far more enjoyable than other mysteries of the same era.

My library has only a few of Sayers' novels, so I next picked up a collection of short stories featuring Lord Peter Wimsey, The Complete Stories. These were even more delightful and gave me a better appreciation for Sayers as a mystery writer. Her plots are very imaginative and varied, with unusual points of conflict -- such as a dead uncle who bequeaths his digestive system to a favorite nephew -- that are often more interesting than the murder mysteries. Have you ever heard of mirror-image twins? I hadn't before reading one these stories, and that's just one of many interesting twists. Another plus; the style of dialogue and narrative voice clearly belong to that era, but her humor and intellect can be equally appreciated by today's audience.

I just finished The Nine Tailors, reputed to be her best Wimsey novel according to one reviewer. Of the three books, I definitely saved the best for last. In this mystery, Lord Peter is temporarily stranded in a remote village over New Year's Eve and is invited to stand in as a change-ringer for an ambitious peal the Rector has organized to ring in the New Year. Having thus become linked to the Rector and the village, he is called back later in the spring to investigate an unidentified corpse that is unearthed in the churchyard. The further he investigates, the more the corpse appears to be tied to a baffling theft in the village's history that led to the financial ruin of a noble house. Sayers throws in some twists and surprises, including an "Aha!" ending that leaves the reader marveling at its genius simplicity. One of the things I really enjoyed about it is that instead of withholding crucial evidence from the reader, she presents it all so that you could theoretically figure it out yourself (even if you're like me and don't). It was a smart and engaging story, and I'm wondering why it's taken me so long to discover these wonderful novels!

Co-review: The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag

2010-06-30T10:00:00.002-06:00

Caren and I both loved Alan Bradley's book The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie and decided, since we're on a sequels kick for co-reviews these days, that we would do one for his next book. The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag is another tale of mystery and murder with Flavia de Luce, chemist, poisons expert, detective, adventurer, clever liar, and not-quite-eleven-year-old. This time she is investigating the mysterious murder of Rupert Porson, a puppeteer who arrived in Bishop's Lacey--the town in England where the story takes place--under unknown circumstances. Porson is a famous man with his own television show on the BBC, and his puppets are beloved by children and adults the country over. When his van breaks down in Bishop's Lacey near the parsonage, Flavia starts to help him out of curiosity. As she noses out some mystery having to do with Porson's assistant, Nialla, Flavia can't resist snooping some more.

Flavia discovers that Porson is not a stranger to her small town and that somehow he is tied up with the mysterious death of Robin Ingleby, a young boy who died five years before. Flavia also stumbles across a German POW who is working for the Inglebys and his role in events also surface. In addition to all this, Flavia's Aunt Felicity comes to town to put their disastrous financial affairs in order and to chastise Flavia's father. There's a lot going on, I know. There's so many more new characters in this book, but we still have the delightful, gossipy Mrs. Mullett, the traumatized and complicated Dogger, and Flavia's fiendish sisters. Each character is a delight.

With prompting from the vicar, Porson puts on a puppet show for the town. It's like nothing anyone has ever seen, with obvious skilled craftsmanship. When Porson drops dead at the finale instead of his giant puppet, Flavia instantly begins her detective work. With her fascination with death and her precocious ability to ferret out facts, the police department is lucky to have her on the case.

As always, we don't hold back in these co-reviews. Since this book is a mystery and the ending a fairly good surprise, I don't recommend reading this if you don't want it ruined for you. Seriously. Don't read this. Go read the first and second books, then come back.

Jenny: Flavia is one of my new favorite characters. She's so clever, so funny, so delightfully macabre that I can't get enough. I wrote down page numbers of sections where I laughed out loud. The part where she decides to ask Dogger what it means to have an affair? Oh my gosh, I giggled so hard that my husband had to put down his book to ask me what was so funny. Flavia is unapologetic about her methods and means. For example, I loved this sentence so much I wrote it down: "I suppose there must have been times when I hated myself for practicing such deceits, but I could not think of any at the moment. It was Fate, after all, who thrust me into these things, and Fate would jolly well have to stand the blame." Oh man, she's a hoot.

I think I actually liked this book better than the first one. It was more shocking and funny and engaging. I remember having to give the first book a second chance after almost returning it to the library, but this one I dove in and finished in a few days. But that could also be because I knew what good stuff was waiting for me.

Caren: I loved the first book, and enjoyed this one just as much. Maybe even more because I am a bigger Flavia de Luce fan now. During the first book, I was so unsure of what to make of her -- she amazed me and creeped me out at the same time -- so I hesitated to fully embrace her and her quirkiness. But now that I've had some history with her, I felt like I could relax and enjoy her bizarre talents without reserve.

While I was reading, I tried to decide if you had to have read The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie to appreciate this one. I think it would definitely help, but isn't necessary. Bradley did a good job of filling in any important information without giving away spoilers from the first book.

Oh, and I loved her conversation with Dogger about what it means to have an affair too! And she is perfectly satisfied with his explanation that two people having an affair "became the greatest of friends." Priceless! Her maturity and intelligence juxtaposed with moments like that which showed her youth and vulnerability made her all the more likeable.

I'm curious how much of the chemistry in the story is accurate. She's such a MacGyver when it comes to her homemade experiments. It's awesome! And I can't help but wonder how much research Bradley does for these novels and whether her exploits are at all realistic.

Jenny: I bet he does his research, especially if you look at how long his acknowledgments are at the end of the book. Plus, you gotta know people will write him and say, "Now on page 137, you mentioned these two compounds and they wouldn't really do that, blah blah blah." The prospect of dealing with that would get me to do my research, anyway.

I didn't feel any hint of how the mystery would unfold. Bradley kept me in the dark. I'm curious if you had any hints as to how it played out.

Flavia is MacGyver! If MacGyver was a prepubescent girl obsessed with poison, anyway. I was totally impressed with how she used her wits to save Grace at the end. But those moments in the book make me think Bradley is trying to make her too clever and fast-thinking, beyond what is believable. Then he reminds us that she's just a little girl through the torment her older sisters put her through. Ah, Bradley, you tricky author you.

Caren: I didn't figure out who did it either. I did suspect it was Rupert at the seaside when Sally mentioned the Punch and Judy show, but I didn't figure out the implications that he and Grace Ingleby had a thing going. And I sort of had a hard time remembering Rupert was supposed to be such a ladies' man when all we saw of him was being an abusive jerk. I had kind of hoped that it was Cynthia or Mad Meg who killed Rupert because they would have made much better murderers than poor, pathetic Grace.

I really enjoyed learning more about Harriett, especially when Aunt Felicity tells Flavia that she is just like her mother. I loath Flavia's sisters for how horrible they are to her and I hope that Bradley has some sort of redemption planned for her, because her home life really stinks.

One thing Bradley does really well is setting an eery tone. The rotting gallows at the abandoned crossroads in the middle of the wood; the puppet with Robin's face; the shrine in the dovecote; they were all wonderfully creepy!

Jenny: Yes, Bradley does masterfully create a scene. I often felt like I was right beside Flavia as she raced around on Gladys, her bicycle. When Flavia went to the old auto shop to retrieve some research, I got shivers when I remembered how she was trapped in there in the first book. I love an author who can describe a scene so well that I find myself there with the characters. Makes it so much more fun to read.

When Aunt Felicity tells Flavia that she is just like her mother, I cheered! Those stinky sisters of hers, aptly nicknamed Feely and Daffy, are probably just jealous that their little sister ended up so much like their mother. Like you said, I really hope Bradley has something nasty in store for them. Of course, the rank chocolates at the end was pretty hilarious, though it would have been more funny if Feely had actually eaten some of them.

Here's a random question: what's up with the butterfly on the cover of the book? Do you remember anything about butterflies?

Caren: I think it referred to Nialla's butterfly compact that Mad Meg stole, but I was surprised it didn't have any real significance in the story. I expected it to be a pivotal piece of the puzzle, but it wasn't. Unless I missed something!

Speaking of the cover, I have to say that Alan Bradley does come up with the most unusual and unforgettable titles. Kind of a pain to write out, but pretty cool! And all the references to art, literature, history, and the sciences -- either he's one very well-educated writer or he's good at faking it!

Jenny: I'm a fan whether or not he's faking it. This is good stuff, my friend.

The post where I preach about the virtues of graphic novels

2010-06-28T07:00:00.000-06:00

I have recently discovered some amazing graphic novels. First off, let me explain what a graphic novel is for any Red Hot Eyebrows readers who are wondering what it is I'm talking about. The word graphic is being used in the sense that it is a novel told in pictures, not graphic as in a graphic nature. It's also a term for comic books, but honestly, the graphic novels I've read don't bear much resemblance to comic books, so having a whole different word makes sense to me.

In the past, I've reviewed some graphic novels without realizing what a big deal they are. I mean, the term graphic novel didn't exist in my vocabulary until a couple of years ago, so I wouldn't have known that, for instance, The Invention of Hugo Cabret, could be considered one. It won the Caldecott award recently for the best picture book of the year. Can you imagine a comic book receiving the same honor? Not me, but much of Hugo Cabret is told in pictures, which is a defining characteristic of graphic novels and also of comic books. So what makes them different from each other? Good question, Jenny. Thank you, I thought so too.

Comic books and graphic novels share some qualities but differ in other ways. Graphic novels are longer, are more in a book format than a thinner magazine format, are more accepted by librarians as acceptable literature, and are sometimes based on already familiar stories. Moms around the world get more warm fuzzies if their child is reading graphic novels versus reading comic books. Honestly, I'd take a graphic novel over a comic book any day, but that's because the nature of comic books is to never have closure, to continually keep the reader buying new installments. It's the boy's version of soap operas. That's a turn off for me. Graphic novels tell stories that don't require the reader to have read the last 20 years worth of comics. That's a big appeal for me.

I always pictured comic books as something nerdy adolescent boys perused in dimly lit shops run by men chasing their own adolescence, wearing t-shirts with obscure slogans on them and bemoaning their inability to move out of their parents' houses. Whew, that was harsh, but forgive me while I eventually get to my point. Comic book collecting is a profitable business and good golly, there are enough movies made out of comic book stories to make Stan Lee a rich man many times over. Obviously there's a demand. So what if it's stories based on aliens and superheroes and villains and mutations and whatever? I happen to like that sort of stuff, but it's a universal fact that parents and teachers have been scorning comic books since the first caveman drew his first flying boy on his cave wall. "Put that burnt stick down and quick making up those stupid flying caveboy stories!" his mom would cry. "Why can't you make nice drawings like your brother, with buffalo and fire and real things?" And thus the first comic book nerd was born.

What's interesting to me is that reluctant readers are known to devour graphic novels, yet there are still parents and teachers who still discourage kids from reading them. Now, I'm not talking about graphic novels that are not intended for children. There's plenty of graphic graphic novels out there. I'm talking about graphic novels, or comic books for that matter, that are written for kids. I can't believe that there are adults out there that would discourage children from reading. Who cares if they'd rather read Pride and Prejudice the graphic novel versus the original? They're reading, for cryin' in the mud! Hook 'em, reel 'em in and then get them tackling Mark Twain!

Luckily, I've only encountered really good graphic novels so far. Shannon and Dean Hale did an excellent job with Rapunzel's Revenge and its sequel Calamity Jack. The stories were exciting and the voice of the narrators witty, funny and interesting. Nathan Hale (no relation to Shannon and Dean) did an excellent job with the illustrations and he kept the story constantly moving. Shannon Hale has proven herself amazing at telling her own version of familiar stories and these books are no exception. I found myself glued to the pages, absorbed in the story and the visual treat it was to read. I had these books at my house for over a month, waiting for me to get around to reading them for this blog post. My kids must have read them a dozen times at least, including my five-year-old who isn't a proficient reader yet. She was drawn into the stories just from the pictures. These books are great for the eight and up crowd, due to some scary critters and very slight romantic elements, but you'll know your own kids best. Tying in the already familiar stories of Rapunzel and Jack and the Beanstalk made these great graphic novels for younger kids and I highly recommend them. Heck, I recommend them for adult readers. They're that awesome.

The next graphic novel was something different. Eric Shanower retold The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as L. Frank Baum wrote it, not like the Hollywood version most people know best. My kids and I read the original Baum book a few years ago so they already knew what to expect. Skottie Young's illustrations were way scarier than those of Nathan Hale, so I wish I had taken more time to carefully look it over before my kids got a hold of it. Regardless, my older kids read the book at least three or four times each before we returned it to the library. It was suspenseful and exciting. The storytelling seemed a bit forced to me, but it didn't deter my kids one bit.

If you're already a graphic novel convert then I'm preaching to the choir. If you've looked down on the genre, I hope I've shown you a different angle or convinced you to give them a try. I've certainly enjoyed myself with the ones I've found and I hope to add a few more to my list. I'll try not to skulk about in darkened stores with the other nerds too much in the mean time.

Sarah Prine's story continued

2010-06-24T06:00:00.001-06:00

One of my favorite reads last year was Nancy E. Turner's These is My Words, and I recently spent my first few post-partum weeks finishing her Sarah Prine trilogy. While her first novel spanned a couple of decades and followed young Sarah's journey through adulthood, the next two take place within a relatively brief period of time.

Sarah's Quilt picks up some years after the close of These is My Words. Widowed Sarah Prine Elliot is fighting to save her ranch in the midst of a devastating drought, fighting her obstinate sons to go back to college and pursue the future she dreams for them, fighting an unknown enemy who is sabotaging her water supply and stealing her cattle, and fighting her own heart as she faces a marriage proposal that confuses her and brings into sharp focus the pain of her loss. As in her first novel, Turner does an excellent job fleshing out her characters, creating a strong sense of setting, and using a good mix of action and still reflection that moves the story forward in a thought-provoking way. The diary format is more loose with this novel, which frees Turner up a bit from those retraints while still keeping the narrative voice very strong. Because of Sarah's age and maturity, her family is a central focus and some of the secondary characters become more important than they were in the previous novel, causing her to share the spotlight a little more. But she is still just as tough and soft-hearted as ever, and I enjoyed it immensely.

The conclusion of Sarah's story comes in The Star Garden. Many of the conflicts from Sarah's Quilt continue, and some other interesting subplots are introduced, such as when Sarah attends a term of college. There is also a new love in Sarah's life, and the developing romance faces some serious obstacles -- both external and internal. I didn't enjoy this one as much as the other two. There were some character inconsistencies that bothered me, and the ending was pretty bittersweet. But, I have to say that the conclusion very much felt like real life -- not necessarily the joyously happy ending you might want, but good enough to work with. While it wasn't my favorite of the three, it was still very well-written and definitely worth reading.

Taken together, this makes for one of the best series I've ever read, with some unforgettable drama and inspiring characters. I just might have to take a look at what else Nancy E. Turner has written!

The Red Pyramid

2010-06-16T07:00:00.003-06:00

Not that long ago, Caren was raving about The Lightning Thief and I remembered how much I had enjoyed reading it as well. I need to finish reading the series, but it's a bit of a project when there's seventy kazillion people on the wait list for it at the library. Anyway, one day at the library I bumped into my friend Katie and her kids. I love talking with her because our conversations usually include book swapping ideas and author comparisons. I love to talk me some book talk. She grabbed my oldest daughter and marched her over to where there was a copy of the newest Rick Riordan book, The Red Pyramid. It's the beginning of a new series based on Egyptian myths and looked like a lot of fun. Sure enough, my daughter devoured it and rushed it to me with the command to read immediately. I usually do as I'm told, so I gave it a read.

Riordan is tackling Egyptian gods and myths in this new series and instead of our heroes, siblings Carter and Sadie, being descended from gods, like in The Lightning Thief, they are descended from pharaohs. In ancient times, the gods would inhabit certain people with noble enough blood to accomplish their desires and plans in the world. The gods inhabit the Duat, sort of a parallel existence. There's some good guys and bad guys and through an accident involving the Rosetta Stone, both good and bad are on the loose. Honestly, there was a whole lot to this that I had no idea about, having never studied ancient Egypt. My whole database of knowledge comes from watching The Mummy. Sad. After reading this book, it made me want to check out some books on Egyptian mythology and history to see what else I'm missing out on. Or I'll just read the series and get a hefty fictional dose. That sounds good too.

I had an epiphany while reading this book. The reason why Rick Riordan is making enough money to use it as toilet paper is because he speaks to the most innate desire of any child: to wake up one day and discover that you're actually a superhero/princess/supernatural being. Who didn't pretend to be able to fly or fight off powerful enemies or rule a nation or be wicked smart when you were a kid? Riordan's books are about kids who discover that they are so much more than they seem. Children of gods or descended from royalty who are given tremendous power and abilities is a pretty appealing story. Wish I had thought of it.

The Red Pyramid was a fun ride and it kept me turning pages. My only complaint would be that Riordan sure knows how to write a boy, but he could use some lessons on how to write a girl's thoughts, feelings and actions. I'm sure he wanted Sadie to come across as sassy, but I mostly thought she was a caricature of a sassy girl. Like he was thinking, "I bet a sassy girl would say this! Oh yeah!" Oh well, Carter is a delight to read about so I got over Sadie's issues. Now that my husband has read it as well, we can return it to the library and let some other kid escape into a world where evil must be vanquished and only preteens are capable of doing it.

Once upon a time, the end

2010-06-14T07:00:00.002-06:00

I don't know about you, but sometimes the last thing I feel like doing at the end of the day is to read the same old books out loud to my children. Sometimes I don't even like my children after 7 p.m. I'm tired, the books they pick are mind-numbing, the day's been too long already and I have no patience to sit and read to them. That's sad to say because I feel like reading to my children falls into the same category as making sure they brush their teeth. It's necessary, it's a failure on my part if we don't do it, and it's something you can't really put off very often. I mean, you can justify skipping a tooth brushing on rare occasions, but several times a week? That way leads to Cavityville and Gingivitistown.

I thought of that myself.

Anyway, skipping reading time to my kids is just as detrimental to their health as dirty, skeezy teeth. Despite all the many joyful hours I have spent in the last near-decade reading to my kids, there are times that I don't feel like doing it at all.

I know somebody out there understands this because they wrote about it. I found a gem of a book on the PBS Booklights blog recently called Once Upon A Time, The End: (asleep in 60 seconds) by Geoffrey Kloske and illustrated by Barry Blitt. It's a book written from the perspective of an exhausted father who would rather not read stories for hours at bedtime because he's tired and wants his child to go to bed. He starts to condense the stories, leaving out parts and usually ending each story with "and they went to sleep. The end." At first he's just shortening well-known stories and then he's picking only short nursery rhymes and then editing those. The story of Goldilocks and the Bears starts out with "There were some bears, it doesn't really matter how many. There was a bunch. Let's get to the point." That cracked me up, but what did me in was this nursery rhyme:

Hickory, dickory, dock

The mouse ran up the clcok.

The clock struck eight.

Oh my, it's late!

So the mouse went straight to bed.

You can feel the father's exasperation with trying to get his child to sleep by how he didn't even attempt to make his revised version rhyme. It gets funnier and the tales get shorter as you near the end of the book. What was ironic is how long the book is, considering that it's about shortening stories. It was worth it, though.

This picture book was such fun to read for all of us. My older kids laughed at the jokes and re-writes while my younger children were in awe at how different the stories are than what they know. It reminded me of Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes, except more tame and less gruesome and slightly disturbing. The best part is that I looked forward to story time the last few nights, despite my days being long and crazy. Maybe it's because there's someone out there that can relate to wanting their kids to just go to bed, for cryin' out loud.

Maisie Dobbs

2010-06-09T09:57:00.003-06:00

I just finished a novel for my book group featuring a young woman in England in the early 1900s who is notable for her intelligence and keen powers of observation. She attends university, grows to adulthood during WWI, and is mentored by a much older gentleman with whom she solves cases and learns to be a private detective. Sound familiar? That's what I thought too, but it was not a Mary Russell mystery by Laurie R. King. With so many similarities in the basic premise, however, it was hard not to draw comparisons.

Maisie Dobbs, by Jacqueline Winspear, begins with the title character striking out on her own as a private detective. Her first case is a question of marital fidelity. When a man comes to her with questions about his wife's activities, Maisie is eventually led to a private retreat/compound for WWI veterans whose facial disfigurements have made re-entry into society almost impossible. As she investigates the compound with its unexplained deaths, she is also forced to face her own grief and loss that she experienced during her years serving as a nurse on the front lines.

Much of the story is told in flashback, giving us a look at how Maisie came from very humble beginnings but was blessed with the patronage of forward-thinking aristocrats, a university education, and tutelage from the sage-like mentor who teaches her about psychological detective work. We see quite a few scenes from the war, but only the briefest hint of the graphic horrors that came with it. Part mystery, part romance, part war drama, part period study, part social commentary; in my opinion Winspear tried to take on more issues than Maisie Dobbs was equipped to handle. The character depth just wasn't there like it is with King's complex Mary Russell. I felt like Winspear shied away from exploring the nitty-gritty things that would have really turned Maisie into a well-rounded character. Instead, she just gives the reader brief glimpses and expects them to fill in the depth.

Having said that, it was still an interesting story with a poignant conclusion that has lingered with me longer than I would have expected. Is it enough to continue Maisie's story with the rest of the series? (Because of course there's a whole series!) I haven't decided. I do hate to leave a series unfinished, and there's always a chance that Winspear's writing improves with time and experience. Maybe my book group will offer an illuminating perspective.

Co-review: The Swan Thieves

2010-05-31T14:58:00.003-06:00

In 2005, Elizabeth Kostova burst onto the literary scene with her unforgettable first novel, The Historian. When Jenny wanted to read her recently published second novel as this month's co-review, I eagerly agreed, anxious to see what Kostova would come up with. After all, The Historian would be tough act to follow!

The Swan Thieves is very much a departure from the world of vampires, mysterious disappearances, and barbaric torture portrayed in The Historian. But there were still some familiar aspects of Kostova's writing in her shifting narratives, interest in history, and the way she convincingly merged both fiction and historical fact. This time, the object of her historical interest is the rise of French Impressionism in the late 19th century. (See, I said it was a departure from vampires.)

The Swan Thieves opens in 1999, but much of the story is told in flashback. Andrew Marlow is a psychiatrist and amateur painter who is baffled at how to help his newest patient, Robert Oliver, a famous contemporary artist who is arrested for trying to attack an Impressionist painting in the National Gallery in DC. After telling Marlow that he "did it for her," Oliver refuses to speak, but obsessively paints a certain woman over and over again. In an effort to break his silence and try to help him, Marlow begins a search into Oliver's past to learn who this woman is and why he is obsessed with her.

Through Marlow's investigation we meet Kate, Oliver's ex-wife, and hear the heartbreaking story of a marriage destroyed by mental illness. We meet Mary, the young former student Oliver turns to after his divorce, but who also falls victim to his obsession with this other woman. And through letters and a healthy dose of imagination, we also meet the enigmatic woman herself, Béatrice de Clerval, a young artist in the early days of French Impressionism who develops a romantic attachment to an elderly friend and mentor (also, complicatedly, her husband's uncle), which ultimately puts an early stop to her promising career. As the separate stories unfold and intertwine, they parallel each other with recurring themes of forbidden love, love between disparate ages, and the creative passion and skill required of great fine artists. There aren't any great spoilers to reveal with this one, but if you are interested in reading it yourself, beware that you might learn more than you'd like through our discussion.

Caren: First, I have to say that I loved reading about the art, particularly the Impressionists. It took me back to my college days where Art History was one of my favorite disciplines in the Humanities, and Impressionism was a definite highlight. I am not an artist myself, so I don't know how well Kostova represented that side of things, but it felt convincing and genuine to me. I just wish that there could have been accompanying images because although she did a good job portraying the visual works through the written word, it still left me hungry to see them myself.

Jenny: The art was fascinating to me and to hear how the artists themselves describe how they saw light and color was amazing. Having never even taken so much as an art class and very little art history in college (except for when it was in tandem with music history), this was all new territory for me. I can label most artistic movements and recognize major works, but not much more than that. Reading this book gave me a fierce craving to learn more.

I love how Kostova takes real people and makes a lovely fictional tale out of what bare facts history has recorded. Like her rendition of Vlad the Impaler in The Historian, she turns Beatrice de Clerval into a fascinating character. I wonder if Kostova studied de Clerval's paintings at some point and said, "Hmm, she stopped painting at the age of twenty-nine. I wonder what happened..." And there her story formed in her imagination.

I felt like this was really a love story with the art history as a beautiful excuse to write about it. It made me sad that these love stories revolved around infidelity, with so many of the characters being unfaithful to their spouses. Of course, you also see the heartbreak that accompanies that behavior so at least Kostova wasn't necessarily endorsing it. One of the saddest situations is just how many people Robert Oliver hurt because of his obsession with Beatrice. She made have been dead for nearly a century, but his obsessive love for her ruined his marriage. That counts nearly as much as if he'd had an affair.

Caren: Okay, you brought up an interesting aspect of Kostova's writing. She does such a good job combining fiction and history that it is difficult to know where one ends and the other begins. As a reader I was persuaded that de Clerval and the other players in her historical drama were real. But it turns out that they were all fiction (thanks Google!). Even Gilbert Thomas, the character who seemed to be the most entrenched in historical fact was fictional. But she gives them enough historical back story that it was hard to tell!

You also mentioned one of the things that bugged me about the book. All the infidelity got old after a while. And I had a hard time caring that much about the characters. Kate interested me at the beginning, but then she dropped off and we never saw her again. Mary didn't impress me all that much; Marlow seemed weirdly obsessive with the women in Oliver's life; and then the relationship between the two of them didn't do anything for me. I think part of it may have been that too much of the story was told in these rambling flashback monologues about events that weren't all that significant in moving the plot forward. Not much happened, even with the resolution. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and I can enjoy a thoughtful story with a slow pace. But it only works if I care deeply about the characters so that they're personal drama is very moving. I would have loved to see things from Oliver's perspective, because he was the most intriguing person in the story. But as it was, I wasn't that engaged with the others.

Jenny: Okay, now I feel stupid. I should have checked first if Beatrice de Clerval was a real person. Oh well, I guess that's a credit to Kostova's convincing storytelling.

I'm totally with you on not loving the characters. When Marlow was so emotional about becoming a father, I wasn't particularly moved. Did you get the impression he was so keen on having a family and being a father? I didn't get that, but part of it was that I didn't really feel like I knew any of these people all that well. I didn't particularly like what I saw either, what will all the sleeping around and cheating on spouses and whatnot. I would have loved to get a glimpse in Oliver's mind, but I suppose that would negate the whole mystery of why he was obsessed. You know who I did like? Marlow's dad. He was awesome. My favorite line from him was, "Madame, I observe that your heart is broken. Allow me to repair it for you." That killed me.

Honestly, I kept expecting there to be a supernatural element to it, like Robert was Olivier Vignot's reincarnation or something weird. I mean, she did just write a book about Dracula after all.

Caren: Don't feel bad because I couldn't tell either who was fiction and who wasn't. I had to look it up! And I was totally looking for the supernatural too. Some sort of otherworldly explanation for his obsession and what it meant. Especially since Marlow seemed to fall prey to the same obsession the more he investigated Robert Oliver's past. What was the deal with this woman that she inspired such obsessions? And maybe that missing supernatural element is one more reason it was disappointing. Kostova is going to have a hard time shaking the prejudices from The Historian!

I was telling my sister how much more I enjoyed The Historian over The Swan Thieves. She hasn't read either one yet, so I suggested that she read The Swan Thieves first so that her perspective isn't colored by The Historian. I hope she does because I would be really curious to hear what someone thinks who approaches it for the first time without the baggage of The Historian.

Jenny: My husband would call that "managing expectations". If your sister reads The Swan Thieves first, tell her to leave what she thinks in the comment box. I'm curious about what an untainted opinion would be like.

I feel like we've just trashed this book. The suspense of finding out the mystery of Robert's obsession was compelling. The art history and descriptions were totally enjoyable. There were good aspects of this book.

Caren: Oh yeah, definitely. Kostova has distinctive abilities as a writer and I wouldn't hesitate to try another novel of hers. I just wouldn't necessarily rush to recommend this particular one.

How to Spin Gold

2010-05-26T19:15:00.002-06:00

I have a problem. If something bothers me when I'm reading a book, I tend to let that prejudice my opinion and pretty soon I can't see anything good about it. I obsess over that one fault and refuse to find redeeming qualities. I know, not good. I'm working on it. Such was the case for How To Spin Gold by Elizabeth Cunningham. It is a retelling of Rumpelstiltskin, though it was written way before fairy tale retelling became popular. It's also written for an adult audience, so it's not really in the same genre of Ella Enchanted or The Goose Girl, which are written for young readers. It's more like Cunningham used that tale as the framework for her story.

Our main character is the Girl with the Silver Eye, unnamed because she was never given one until later in life. Born crippled and with eyes of different colors, the girl is shunned by her village and her family. Set during 12th century, women have few opportunities in life besides having marriage and babies. After a random meeting with the Prince, the girl decides to make her own way in the world. She meets up with the Wise Woman of the Western Wood. Or Witch, as most call her outside of her hearing. The Mother, as she prefers to be called, takes the girl under her wing and teaches her herblore, midwifery, and everything about her small domain in the woods. The girl is a quick learner and adds her own mastery of needlework to the pot.

The girl is tormented by her obsession with the prince and with the girl who eventually marries him. She becomes the Mother's heir and eventually learns her true name, but she's so dissatisfied with her life that she lets her anger and jealousy become an obstacle. Then, when the moment comes where she saves the new Princess's life she demands a harsh price: the first daughter born to the Princess. Only when the baby is born, she is unable to take her away when she sees how much the Prince loves his daughter. She's not as harsh as she wishes she was.

There are so many aspects of this book that are lovely. The evolution of the girl, her reconciliation with who she really is versus what she wishes she were, the contrast of following light or being consumed by darkness, and the themes of forgiveness and redemption. But I hated the language. I didn't like how Cunningham was trying to write as if she were a writer of that time period. I also thought her feminist empowerment idea had made for really one-dimensional male characters. It bugged me. It wasn't until I went to my book group meeting and listened to everyone's perspective on the book that I realized I had almost missed out on so much because of a couple of hang-ups. What if this hadn't been a book group selection and instead I had read it on my own and then panned it here on Red Hot Eyebrows? Then you all would have missed out too, if you took my word for it.

Thanks to the lovely women of my book group who showed me the light. Next time I think I don't like a book, I'll just ask some of them to read it too and tell me what I can't see. I wouldn't list this on my top books for 2010, but it certainly had more value that I originally gave it.

The Top 100 Picture Books

2010-05-13T16:52:00.000-06:00

Since so many of you enjoyed the post about the top 100 children's novels, I thought I would do some digging and present the top 100 picture books list from 2009. There were a whole pile of books I didn't recognize in this list, though the top 15 were all ones I have read or own. Here are the books that didn't make the list, in case you were curious. I would do some major shuffling, eliminating and adding to this particular list. I didn't disagree nearly as strongly with the novel list. Why is that, I wonder? Hmmm.

You might notice that I haven't blogged about anything I've read lately. That's because I'm in the midst of RCPP season. That would be Recitals, Concerts, Presentations, and Projects. Oy. I'm sick of school and it's not even me who's going. Caren's excuse is a new baby. Congrats to her! Now spend some of those wee hours reading, wouldya? It'll make me look less lazy. Ha ha, I jest. Sorta.

Some truly awesome action figures for the literary crowd

2010-05-10T08:46:00.001-06:00

Thanks to Rachel, whose blog I totally stole this from.

The Top 100 Children's Novels

2010-05-06T08:44:00.004-06:00

Recently I found myself eagerly checking the School Library Journal's blog every single day. They had called for librarians, writers, readers and all who were interested to rate their top ten children's novels of all time. There was a system of how many points a book got according to its placement on each person's list. I'm glad I'm not the one who had to figure it all out, instead I just got to read and enjoy. Now I'm going to make it even easier on you and tell you to click here to see the complete list.

I was delighted to find that the list split equally among books I'd never read or never heard of, books I love and cherish and own, and books I remember reading at some point but don't own. I would have shuffled some of the order of the books to suit my preferences, but in general it was pretty close to what I consider the best. I've put some of the books I'd like to own on my Amazon wish list and will now have Christmas present ideas for a few years.

If ever you find yourself in need of a good book for you or your kids to read, hop over to the list and see what might fit. I might have my kids work their way through the list over the summer, now that I think about it. Maybe I will too.

Co-review: About A Boy

2010-04-29T22:04:00.000-06:00

We weren't supposed to read About A Boy by Nick Hornby for our co-review this month. We were supposed to read How To Be Good by Nick Hornby, but Caren's library system had a computer meltdown and couldn't get a hold of it, or find out if they had it. They did have About A Boy on the shelves so she picked that up instead and I requested a copy for myself. It wasn't what I had picked to read, but I figured it was still by Nick Hornby--whose work I've been curious about--and that was good enough.

I'm guessing that at least some of our readers have seen the movie, About A Boy, so they're already going to know the basics of the story. Will Freeman is a man who has perfected the art of doing nothing. He lives on the royalties of a song his father wrote many years ago. He is a casual drug user, an inept liar, and a person who has chosen to be disengaged from humanity. He's only interested in music and television and does not desire, nor see the point of, having a family or deep emotional connections with other people.

Enter Marcus and his depressed mother. Through a series of events that include Will lying about having a child to get into bed with hot single mothers, Will becomes involved with twelve-year-old Marcus and all of his many issues. After his mother's suicide attempt, Marcus has decided that he needs more people in his circle than just his mother and rarely-seen father. He decides that Will knows the secrets to dealing with school bullies and social situations that require behavior that eludes Marcus, so he keeps coming to visit Will despite Will's strong desire for him to just disappear. Will has no interest in dealing with anything that smells of responsibility.

As always, we don't hold back for these reviews, but don't worry. There isn't exactly some big secret that gets revealed at the end anyway. It's more of a gradual evolution of the characters.

Jenny: I wasn't too excited about reading this book after you told me how bad the language was. You were right, there were way too many f-words. It got old.

What I did like was how well Hornby portrayed Marcus' inner dialogue. The constant fear of a repeat of the Dead Duck Day was so real and made me feel that same dread that Marcus was feeling. It made me want to just hug him and make it all better. Also, he doesn't get sarcasm at all and his puzzlement over what Will was saying to him half the time was fun. I loved how he wanted Ellie to be his girlfriend, but had no interest in physical intimacy. I understood his frustration at adults not understanding what he needed or was saying because I remember feeling that exact same way. "Just stay out of their way" has got to be the worst advice for dealing with school bullies an adult has ever said to a kid that age. These things were probably my favorite parts of the book. Marcus is just wonderfully likable.

Caren: Yes, Marcus was great. And I couldn't help but like Will too. Even though he was such a waste of human flesh for the first half of the book, the humor and absurdity of his life engendered affection whether he deserved it or not. Aside from the language (which was really over-the-top, I thought), I really enjoyed Hornby's style of writing and sense of humor. And as funny as the writing was, there was more to it than that because as the characters developed the overall message was that the bonds that tie us to others are bonds of security, not captivity.

Towards the end of the book, though, I was less impressed with the evolution of Marcus and the message that came along with that. I like that he became more accepted, but did he have to do it by embracing the frivolous trappings of his peers? He ends up turning his back on the things he valued in the past because they were all things his mom kind of thrust on him and were making him geeky. That's fine, and I think it was great for him to exercise some independence, but did he have to do it by completely rejecting his mother's lifestyle in favor of the superficial? I thought some middle ground would have been better.

I was also disappointed with the final message that you can't count on the marriage relationship surviving so it's best that you surround yourself with as many people as possible outside of marriage because they'll always be there no matter what. Sadly, that may be true for some people, but it still bugged me that it was portrayed as a good thing. That every other relationship can be counted on except the one between your mother and father, or you and your spouse. With that kind of a depressing outlook, Marcus is doomed to misery in his adult life!

Jenny: I feel like we got a glimpse of how Marcus would end up when Will was trying to help him fit in at school, telling him to become invisible by becoming like everyone else. It made me sad that that was how Will taught him to be accepted was by conformity. That's why kids who stand out are mocked and scorned and tormented, though, is because they refuse to be part of the crowd. Or they are oblivious, like Marcus. It makes me wonder why that's so threatening, to be different.

I've been thinking about Ellie all day. Did you know anybody like that in high school? Constantly in trouble and mad at the world? There was a guy who sat next to me in my English class my junior year who had a blue mohawk and tons of piercings. He acted like he was this rebel, had big ideas and nobody understood him. Then I realized he did all that to get a reaction out of people. He was pretty shallow, really. I felt that way about Ellie. She liked pushing buttons with her Kurt Cobain sweatshirt and black lipstick. I think it was an act. Then when Marcus called her out on her insincere comments about suicide, I was cheering.

Will's evolution through the course of the book was one of my favorite aspects. Here's my favorite passage from the end of the book when Will is at the police station with Marcus' parents and Ellie and her mother:

Some of these people he hadn't known until today; some of them he had only known for a little while, and even then he couldn't say that he knew them well. But here they were anyway...all of them bound to each other in ways that it would be almost impossible to explain to anyone who had just wandered in. Will couldn't recall ever having been caught up in this sort of messy, sprawling, chaotic web before; it was almost as if he had been been given a glimpse of what it was like to be human. It wasn't too bad, really; he wouldn't even mind being human on a full-time basis.

Will had spent his whole adult life trying to avoid these situations and now has discovered that it's not so bad after all. Compare that to the beginning of the book where he is repulsed by his friends with a new baby!

Caren: That's a great quote! I was a bit disappointed in Marcus' ending, but I was happy that Will had a lot more potential to really live life at the end. And I felt the same way about Ellie. It was all just a show, and I was so glad that Marcus figured out that her act was so shallow and meaningless.

I'm curious if you liked it enough to read some more of Hornby's stuff. I don't think I will -- unless it's by recommendation. There were a lot of things I liked about it, but I didn't like it so much that it was worth putting up with all the language. There are just too many other things I'd rather spend my time reading.

Jenny: Nah, I probably won't bother again unless somebody raves about something else. It's kind of sad that we bothered to do it in the first place since there are other books out there worth the effort. This wasn't really worth it. Oh well, live and learn, right? I'm feeling a little gun-shy about my choices for co-reviews this year since both have been duds. Hopefully the Swan Thieves for next month will be amazing. It'll redeem my choices so far.

The Lightning Thief

2010-04-20T14:15:00.018-06:00

I have heard from a lot of people who enjoyed Rick Riordan's book The Lightning Thief, so I was interested when our book group picked it for this month's read. Getting through the wait list was quite the ordeal, but that's usually a good sign, right? I knew very little about the story going into it, except that it was "like Harry Potter," and involved kids who were the half-mortal offspring of Greek mythical gods. I'm always dubious when something is marketed as being "like" another huge success, but after reading it I can see both why it would be called that, and also how that's not really a fair description.

Percy (short for Perseus) Jackson is a troubled teen being raised by an angelic mother and repulsive stepfather in New York City. His academic and behavioral problems mean he has bounced around from school to school, and when the story opens he is finishing out his sixth grade at a boarding school for juvenile delinquents. Bizarre experiences have happened to him over the years, but nothing quite as strange as during the opening chapter when his math teacher turns into a freakish creature and tries to destroy him while on a school field trip.

After school lets out, Percy continues to be pursued by dark forces until his mom sends him to a special summer camp that his absent and mysterious father had always wanted him to attend. Eventually he discovers that his father is none other than Poseidon, who together with Zeus and Hades constitute the Big Three. But the Big Three had made a pact following WWII not to have anymore mortal affairs (because it was their offspring who were responsible for the war), so Percy isn't even supposed to exist and is already in mortal danger just for being born. Then add to that the fact that Zeus's master thunderbolt was stolen right around the same time Percy's existence comes out and he is immediately suspected. The only way for him to clear his name and prevent a catastrophic world war is to find the lightning bolt and return it to Zeus. Thus starts a quest that takes him across the country, into the bowels of the Underworld, and to the heights of Mt. Olympus. Like any true heroic quest, he fights mythical monsters and other sinister traps, learning lessons about courage, friendship, and his own worth along the way.

The parallels to Harry Potter are pretty obvious. Adolescent boy (not quite an orphan in Percy's case, but close) who struggles to fit in discovers that he possesses special powers and belongs in a secret world that co-exists with the known world but the majority of humanity is blithely unaware of it. Some of the things that make the story so delightful were similar attractions in Harry Potter. The juxtaposition of the mythical and the contemporary were refreshingly creative, and the whole thing was infused with a light-hearted humor that made it a fun romp. Riordan's writing isn't as well-crafted as Rowling's, the plot twists were more predictable, and there wasn't the greater underlying depth that made Harry Potter so much more than just a fun story. But I've also only just read the first in the series so I can't say how those things may change over time. Beyond that, though, I hesitate to draw more parallels with Harry Potter because I think Riordan's work can and should be allowed to stand on its own. He definitely had command over the story and action and there was no sense that he was just trying to milk another Harry Potter success.

Some of the things I liked most about The Lightning Thief were, as I said before, how he meshes the mythical world with the "real" world in ways that are cleverly convincing. (For instance, demi-god children are prone to dyslexia and ADHD because their brains are hard-wired to read ancient Greek, not modern English, and their natural battle reflexes make it difficult to sit still in a formal classroom.) Another plus -- I have always enjoyed studying mythology, and it was fun to dust off some of the cobwebs in my memory to appreciate how Riordan was bringing it to life. I also enjoyed the first person narrative. It was very direct and funny, but without resorting to immature humor or adolescent stereotypes to convince us it was a 12-year-old talking. Just as an example of the strong narrative voice, some of the chapter titles are, "I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom," "A God Buys Us Cheeseburgers," and my personal favorite, "Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death." One thing Riordan did very well was keeping up a fast page-turning pace. The story is full of action that drives the narrative forward and I finished it the same day I started it. I just couldn't help it! When you're having that much fun, why stop?

Taking a trip with Mary Russell

2010-04-16T08:00:00.003-06:00

I recently spent a couple of weeks out of town, and had a whole stack of library books to choose from to keep me company while traveling. Some I'd picked up out of idle curiosity; some I checked out because I felt like I should read them, not because I really wanted to; and a few I was genuinely excited about. Guess which ones actually got read while I was away. What can I say? I was on vacation!

A few months ago I read Laurie R. King's The Beekeeper's Apprentice, and was hooked on the delightful young and brilliant Mary Russell who is befriended and tutored by an aging Sherlock Holmes. So I was happy to pick up the next in King's prolific series, A Monstrous Regiment of Women. Once again, Mary Russell takes center stage with Holmes as an important, though secondary, character. The politics of the post-WWI era come into play when Russell gets involved with a group that is part religion and part suffrage movement, led by a charismatic woman named Margery Childe. As danger stalks Childe's inner circle of followers -- and Russell herself -- she puts herself at great personal risk to uncover the truth of the evil forces behind it all.

At the same time, Russell faces personal conflict in her relationship with Holmes. As she has grown into adulthood her feelings of respect and admiration for him have blossomed into affection, but it's an affection that he shuns. He is permanently entrenched in bachelorhood and wants nothing to do with affairs of the heart. Russell herself is as much guided by intellect as emotion in her choice, since the two of them make a most logical match, but she feels deeply enough to be hurt by his rejection. The tension it creates in their relationship becomes one of the most engaging parts of the plot, even though it's a minor subplot to the main action.

A Letter of Mary comes next in the series. This time the mystery involves an old archeologist friend who is killed shortly after giving Russell a perplexing and tantalizing artifact -- a letter that purports to have been written by Mary Magdalene during the destruction of Jerusalem. Russell's passionate interest in theology and strong feminist ideals are immediately piqued. But it's her sharp powers of deduction and skill at intrigue and disguise -- accompanied by the indispensable Holmes, of course -- that helps to solve the mystery of her friend's murder.

As mysteries, both novels were interesting but not riveting. If there was nothing else to them than the mystery, they would have fallen disappointingly flat. (Which makes me wonder about King's other non-Mary Russell novels, since I think that mystery is the only genre she writes in.) As period pieces, they were more intriguing due to King's convincing recreation of 1920's London with the politics and social issues of the time. But the most engaging parts of the story surround the multi-layered character of Mary Russell. Her strengths, her failings, and her human complexities are so well-portrayed that she feels like she could walk right off the page. Throw in her fascinating relationship with Sherlock Holmes, and I think I could read about her forever. And at the rate King is writing these novels, maybe I will!

The Secret Life of Bees

2010-04-14T17:02:00.000-06:00

You know that feeling you get when you hear about a book for a long time and by the time you finally sit down to read it you are so captivated that you wonder what took you so long? Unfortunately, that does not describe my experience with Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees. After all the hype, that's what I had hoped would happen. Instead, I felt like I just had to get through it so I could get onto something more interesting. Maybe I was just in the wrong mood for it, I don't know. But fortunately it was a pretty quick read so my agony didn't last long.

Okay, maybe agony is too strong a word. But it took four days to get through, which is an indicator either of great length and complexity (neither of which fit), or near apathy on the reader's part (bingo!). It is such a popular book that I'm sure I'll step on some toes saying I didn't like it, so I will try to be fair and specific. But mostly I just want to move on to something more interesting!

The Secret Life of Bees is a coming-of-age story featuring Lily Owens, a 14-year-old girl raised by an abusive father who has spent the past ten years haunted by the guilt of accidentally causing her mother's death. Either one of those things would be enough to cause issues, so you can bet she has a whole truckload to sort through. She struggles with debilitating feelings of worthlessness, abandonment, and a deep longing for a mother she can't remember. Her father hires a strong-willed black woman to take care of Lily, and when Rosaleen puts herself in mortal danger after offending the town's most violent racists, Lily sees no other option than for both of them to run away.

Did I mention that this takes place in South Carolina in 1964? That's pretty important in establishing the political and social climate of the time. The Civil Rights Act has just been signed and much of the South is in turmoil over integration and extending voting rights to blacks. Not exactly the best place for a white girl and a black woman to find refuge together. But refuge they find, at the home of an eccentric group of three black beekeeping sisters. There Lily faces the demons of racism that threaten those she loves, comes to terms with the inward demons that haunt her personally, and discovers what it means to be loved.

Sounds sweet and reflective, right? Sure, it is that. I guess I was just expecting a little more. The things that Lily deals with are serious and yet somehow her character feels false as she works through them. Maybe it's because for most of the story she is possessed with a keen sense of perception about life and humanity, but then when she learns the truth about her mother she behaves in a petty and immature way that's contradictory to what we've seen all along. So mostly I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and leave her to her own stupidity. Not exactly how you should be feeling towards the main character at the book's climax. Some of the imagery was compelling -- the bee theme, the Black Madonna, etc. But sometimes I felt like I was being positively drenched in female power and catharsis, and it sort of made me ill -- like having too many sweets on an empty stomach. And then there was the underlying sexual imagery that got old, especially when it was often blurred with Lily's longing for her mother.

What I think Sue Monk Kidd did best was creating a setting that you could almost breathe in, it was so real. The characters weren't as full of life as they could have been, and the story itself spent a lot of time going nowhere. But the setting was strong and alive and made me feel like I had really been raising bees in South Carolina in 1964. Is that enough to read one of her books again? Probably not. But at least I can check this one off my list!

Haven Kimmel's books for children

2010-04-12T07:00:00.001-06:00

If I ever get to meet Haven Kimmel, I already know what I will ask her. "How do you manage to tell such sad stories with humor and beauty? Huh? HUH?!" I'll try not to grab her by the shoulders and shake really hard. Seriously, it is amazing to me and maybe if I shake her hard enough something will pop out of her brain and I can steal it and write my own beautiful book. It would be worth the restraining order she'd inevitably put on me. Caren and I are huge fans of Haven Kimmel's books, which is evidenced here, here, here, here, and here. I'm starting to think I should just write a blog post that says, "Read a new Haven Kimmel book, you should read it too" and leave it at that. But no, I will wax long and enthusiastically on every new book she writes. Get used to it.

I discovered recently that Kimmel had written two books for younger readers, so of course I had to read them. The first is a picture book called Orville: A Dog Story and was actually written in 2003, so it's been out for a while. It tells the story of Orville, a dog who's had a sad life of being mistreated and shuffled from one owner to another. He ends up with a farmer and his wife, who clean him up and use him as a watchdog, but don't really love him. It doesn't help that he's ugly, huge, wild and barks constantly. The poor thing barks because he's so miserable. See what I mean? Sad story. Well, Orville sees a woman move in next door and he falls in love. He breaks his chain, gets into Sally's house and watches over her while she sleeps. She wakes up shocked to find a huge ugly dog in her living room and calls the fire department. Orville is dragged back home by the farmer only to break free again and go back to Sally's house. This happens several times before a firefighter makes the observation that maybe the dog loves her. The only thing that could have made this book perfect is better illustrations. I didn't care for the watercolors that left out so much detail and looked sloppily done. Other than that, it was a beautiful book. It's a tale of heart-rending loneliness, of neglect and loss. But it's also a tale of love and joy. Geared towards children, it's not too sad but just enough for me to have a good talk with my kids about that poor sad dog and why he was now happy.

The second book was Kaline Klattermaster's Treehouse and was written a few years ago. It's a juvenile fiction book, so about 150 pages and great for a 2nd or 3rd grader to read. It would also make an excellent read-aloud book, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Kaline Klattermaster is an odd little seven-year-old boy who doesn't understand why he can't play his imaginary bugle at school, dig holes in his yard and then cover them up with grass for someone to fall into, explore his strange neighbor's basement, or figure out where his father has disappeared to. His father always made sure to set the timer for his bath, brushing his teeth and other activities that need regulation. Things with his father are always very orderly, giving the reader the distinct impression that this guy has a serious case of obsessive compulsive disorder. Kaline's mother is not nearly as orderly, driving on the grass and making Kaline eat a chicken leg for breakfast after forgetting to wake him up in time for school. Nothing like his father. In defense of the bullies at school and his no longer orderly household, Kaline imagines up two big brothers, who also happen to be in the third grade, and an enormous treehouse to play in. It keeps him safe and helps him cope with the fact that he doesn't know where his father has gone.

Doesn't that sound like a sad story? Then let me tell you that I laughed out loud over and over and over again reading this book. I laughed until I thought I would get a stitch in my side. Kaline has the best imagination I have ever read about. My oldest daughter and I read it and quoted it to each other and laughed over it and talked about it and read it again. I could own this book. When my daughter had her birthday, she'd convinced herself I was giving her a copy of Kaline Klattermaster and was sorely disappointed that she got Nancy Drew instead. This book was a treasure and despite the fact that it's dealing with separated parents, a little boy lost and confused, and nasty school bullies, you can't help feeling lighter after reading it.

How does she do it? How can Haven Kimmel take such sad circumstances and make you laugh out loud over them? Like in A Girl Named Zippy, she doesn't mope or generate pity for less than ideal circumstances, and in some cases really horrible situations, but instead finds reasons to laugh. Not all her books are like that. Oh my goodness, Iodine was not funny in the least, nor some of her other books, but when she aims to create humor, she does it splendidly.

Looking for Calvin and Hobbes

2010-04-05T19:00:00.006-06:00

Back in the late eighties and early nineties, one of my favorite morning traditions was to read the comics section of the newspaper my parents subscribed to. I barely tolerated the boring and ancient strips like Beetle Bailey, Blondie and Family Circle, occasionally chuckled at Garfield, loved the quirkiness of The Far Side, but saved the best for last. Calvin and Hobbes was always the best of them all, whether it was funny or poignant. Sometimes both. When Bill Watterson announced his hiatus from cartooning for nine months, I didn't know how I could stand waiting that long. When he came back, it was with the most beautiful spreads, unbelievable colors and a structure unlike anything else. When shortly after his hiatus Watterson announced the retirement of Calvin and Hobbes, I was devastated. I did not want this good thing to come to an end.

A few years ago, my kids were re-reading my husband's collections of Fox Trot and ripping the covers and dog-earing the pages from use. The thought came to me that I ought to get them some Calvin and Hobbes books from the library and see what they think. The copies we checked out must have been read a dozen times each in the few weeks we had them from the library. They guffawed and howled with laughter, they came running to read me passages, they needed dozens of words explained to them, and then acted out their favorite strips as an impromptu play. My memories of joyful morning readings came flooding back and I couldn't believe it took me that long to introduce them to Calvin, Mr. Spittle, Moe the bully, the myriad of snowmen, and Hobbes. Ah, Hobbes. I had wished so many times that he was my best friend.

Biographies have been written before where the subject declined to tell their story, but poor Nevin Martell had his hands full in writing anything about Bill Watterson in his biography, Looking for Calving and Hobbes. In addition to being violently opposed to syndicating his comic strip or syndication in general, Watterson is a fiercely private person. His family and friends have closed ranks around him, making it nearly impossible to find any personal information about him. When Watterson was writing Calvin and Hobbes, he rarely was interviewed and never showed up for awards given to him. Despite all these obstacles, Martell has written a wonderful biography of the creator of this iconic strip. He explores Watterson's childhood, education, a brief career as a editorial cartoonist, and then his time as the genius creator of a decade worth of amazing comic strips. Martell explores his own love of the strip and how it was part of his own life. The interviews he was able to get from editors and some friends were filled with compliments on Watterson's talent and process, but it was all slightly tinged with sadness over Watterson's refusal to be interviewed by Martell.

Despite that bittersweet aspect, I loved reading this book. I loved learning more about how Calvin and Hobbes came to be and I loved hearing a fellow fan enjoy the process of finding out more about Bill Watterson. It was an enjoyable read and filled me with nostalgia. I still love reading comics and though my list is pretty short of what I read regularly, the closest I've found to the greatness of Calvin and Hobbes is Sheldon by Dave Kellett. He seems to channel that sense of fun that Watterson was a master at. Plus, Kellett is an independent cartoonist, not syndicated by any newspaper and still popular and putting out collections. I think he and Watterson could have been kindred spirits had the internet been around for Calvin and Hobbes. Sheldon is always the last comic I read every morning so that it lingers with me, kind of like saving dessert for last. As much as I miss my buddies Calvin and Hobbes, reading Sheldon brings a little of that excitement for comics back to me.

I've got a project this week to help my kids spend their birthday money on Amazon.com. Guess what they want to buy? As many Calvin and Hobbes books as their money will get them. Not a bad choice.

Left To Tell

2010-03-26T07:00:00.000-06:00

For centuries, the two tribes that make up the country of Rwanda, the Hutus and the Tutsis, have been warring against each other. The tribe in power has shifted back and forth between the two, often after many brutal deaths in the upheaval for control. The tension between the parties came to a head in 1994 when exiled Tutsi rebels invaded the capital. In retaliation, the Hutu government called for the extinction of the Tutsi people. Hutus across the country took up guns and machetes and went to work. When the mass murder was finally over after one hundred days, about one million people had been killed, more than 90% of them Tutsis. That works about to be 10,000 people a day. Most Americans never knew what happened.

My book group picked the book Left to tell : discovering God amidst the Rwandan holocaust by Immaculée Ilibagiza for our March meeting and I had no idea what an impact this book would have on me. Told in first person, Immaculee Ilibagiza describes her life in Rwanda, from her idyllic childhood in a loving, well-educated, and religious family to her time in college studying engineering. It speaks volumes of her parents' goodness that Immaculee didn't know what tribe she belonged to until she went to school and was required to state her tribe. There was some discrimination because she was a Tutsi, but not enough to stop her from getting a good education and making a life for herself.

When everything came to a head in 1994, Immaculee was home from college, visiting her family. As bands of Hutus began slaughtering Tutsis, thousands of Tutsis in her village camped out on her parents' property, hoping to be protected by sheer numbers. When the Hutus came for the people, Immaculee's family was split up and Immaculee ended up in a Protestant minister's home, hiding with her brothers. After the minister kicked out her brothers, he hid Immaculee and seven other women in a tiny bathroom off of the master bedroom in his home. What started out as a quick solution to keeping them hid turned into 91 days of hiding, cramped and in constant fear of discovery.

The horrific setting I've described to you is only half of the story. This book is really the story of how Immaculee Ilibagiza came to commune with God during her months in that bathroom, her struggle to overcome hatred for the Hutus and being able to forgive the men who killed her family. I was overcome so many times while I read this book with how she coped with her situation. She could have descended into anger and madness while she was confined in silence in that bathroom, but instead she took that rare opportunity to pray on a constant basis and receive comfort and guidance. While most survivors of the holocaust wanted revenge, or at least to stockpile weapons for retaliation, Immaculee strove to forgive and find peace.

As horrific as the circumstances of this book are, it's a story of hope. Immaculee's story teaches that anyone can forgive and that doing so can bring peace and comfort. Her story is one that is heart-breaking, terrifying and also incredibly moving and uplifting. I believe that reading this book gave me a better sense of my own need to come closer to God. It was beautiful and compelling and my life is better from reading it.

Co-review: As Simple As Snow

2010-03-24T08:00:00.003-06:00

Gregory Galloway's first novel, As Simple As Snow, has a deceptive title. There is nothing simple about either the story or it's characters, and the title itself comes to have multiple meanings by the time the novel is finished.

Galloway's approach is unconventional in many respects. The story is told as a first person narrative, but we are never given the narrator's name. In fact, his name is censored on the few occasions it's used, but there is evidence to suggest it is Galloway himself. Why? I don't know. Because he could, I guess. But that's one indication that the reader should expect the unexpected when reading this story.

Whatever his name is, the narrator's boring life is forever changed by Anna, a new girl who moves to town at the beginning of his sophomore year. She hangs out with the Goths -- a group he ordinarily avoids -- but attracts his attention with her colorful and engaging personality. (It doesn't hurt that she's cute, too.) Anna is full of paradoxes. She gets D's in every subject, but is incredibly smart and knows more about every subject than anyone he knows. Her insatiable curiosity seems to apply particularly to artistic and historical figures, and she soon begins giving him riddles and games to solve that require him to get outside of his comfort zone and learn more about the world around him. Her Goth attire and obsession with ghosts and obituaries (she writes one for each member of the small town) seem morbid and gloomy, but she is generally a happy person who appears optimistic about the future and more full of life than anyone else in town.

Things go well for several months (meaning they fall in love, if you can say that with a straight face), until she mysteriously disappears a week before Valentine's Day, leaving nothing but her dress laid out next to a hole in the ice of the frozen river. Her body is never found, and the narrator is torn between his need to get over her and live his life and the possibility that she is still alive and this is only an elaborate game she is setting up. That idea is further supported when he starts receiving messages that seem to come from her and he -- together with the reader -- desperately tries to reconstruct and solve whatever puzzle she has created.

Just as a reminder, in order to discuss this book openly in the co-review, we may give away spoilers!

Caren: First, I just have to ask. Was this supposed to be a young adult novel? The age of the characters and coming-of-age theme would certainly support that. But the sex and use of the f-word seemed way too adult in my opinion. Is that more typical of young adult novels these days? My library had the book catalogued under adult fiction, but the audio version under youth. So apparently they couldn't decide either!

Jenny: I wondered the exact same thing but my library said adult fiction, which seemed more accurate. I don't know what I was expecting from this book since I read a summary about it months ago and I put it on my to-read list without thinking too much about it. I was expecting adult fiction, but was surprised to see that it had more young adult themes. Just another puzzle with this book.

Speaking of puzzles, I like them and find them to be fascinating when they are interwoven in fiction, but I appreciate it when I can either figure out the puzzle or the characters figure it out for me. This had neither. It was puzzle after puzzle with no solution. It was irksome.

Caren: Yeah, I was pretty irritated with the ending. I stayed up late one night to finish it because as the suspense grew closer to the end I couldn't put it down. So to find out that nothing gets resolved felt like a mean trick! And I mean, nothing! Not what happened to Anna. Not why she hated Mr. Devon. Not who was giving her bruises. Not what was going on with Carl's dad and why he was even a part of the story. Nothing.

I don't mind enigmatic endings where every loose end isn't tied up and there are multiple ways to interpret events. Sometimes those are the best endings. But this time I wasn't very attached to the characters, so the only thing drawing me on was the anticipation of getting answers and then those answers never came. Very frustrating. The ending wasn't bad, necessarily. It did end with a lot of hope for a fresh start and the narrator's escape from the suffocating dullness of his parents' dysfunctional life. But the whole thing just felt too cerebral for me. Like something I would read and dissect in a postmodern fiction class, but not necessarily enjoy in the process.

Jenny: I agree with you completely. This could have been an amazing mystery. It could have been like John Green's book Paper Towns that I read some time ago. In Green's book, the story is really similar, with the crazy out-of-the-box girl and her puzzles she leaves behind when she suddenly disappears, but it is so much more satisfying. But no, Galloway decided not to tie up any loose ends and leave us all scratching our heads.

The only reason I can come up with why Galloway wrote it the way he did is because not all puzzles are solved and not all questions are answered. There are plenty of people in the world who lose a loved one and never find out what happened to them. Maybe the point was to observe what happened to the narrator as he grieved. I have no idea. I don't mind reading a book that needs analyzing, but I didn't particularly like this book so I'm less enthused about picking it apart. The characters weren't very likable.

Caren: Note to self: Check out Paper Towns. Satisfying is a good description for what was missing in this one. And sometimes I felt like I was missing something important. Like, why the ambiguity about the narrator's name? What was the point of that? But since I didn't really care about the characters or the story, I didn't really care that much about the cryptic things he did with it.

Another thing I thought was odd was his portrayal of small town life. I grew up in a small town about the size as the one in the story and while some of the things rang true, a lot really didn't fit. He describes a three-story high school, but none of the small towns I'm familiar with can justify a three-story high school building. And all the cliques? I counted at least eight different groups (he names jocks, bandoids, arty types, 4-H'ers, geeks, bandoids, speech and debate team, and Goths). But in my experience, a small town high school doesn't have enough students to support that many different cliques. The jocks are often also the kids who get good grades, play in the band, participate in the arts, do 4-H on the side, etc. There's a lot of overlap between disciplines because there are so few kids to spread around. So that seemed like an unrealistic view of small town high school life. (Though the football coach who gave alcohol to his players definitely fit.)

So, what are your thoughts on what happened to Anna? It's clear that she planned her disappearance, but did she commit suicide or just run off?

Jenny: First I have to say that I'm glad you know stuff about small towns because I grew up in a large suburb of a major city, so I totally didn't catch any of those inconsistencies about small towns. Very interesting. I wonder if the author even knew anything about small towns or if he just needed the high school to exist a certain way so he threw aside any small town characteristics and did what he wanted.

Okay, as far as Anna goes, I think she ran away. I think all her hinting around about holding her breath in cold water was just another cryptic puzzle, along with the dress on the ice. Oh man, all the puzzles are making me tired. I think Anna was way too insatiable about life to do away with it. I think there might have been an abusive situation either between her and Mr. Devon or between her and her dad (bruises on her arms? weird situation with the ladder?) or between her and the jock/goth guy whose name I can't remember. I think she wanted a dramatic exit. If that's the case, what a selfish kid. The torture she put her parents and the narrator through is unbelievably selfish. This girl cannot be mentally healthy.

Caren: I agree. I don't think she committed suicide either, because that would be way too mediocre for her. And what you said about her insatiable appetite for life wouldn't fit with suicide. Her theatrics -- though interesting -- just proved how immature she was, and how easily discarded her relationship with the narrator was. Does the final obituary indicate that she plans on tracking him for the next 14 years and then re-entering his life? No matter how you look at it she was definitely a disturbed girl!

Add it all up and I'm pretty sure I won't be trying anything else from this author anytime soon!

Love That Dog, Hate That Cat

2010-03-22T09:25:00.000-06:00

Poetry isn't always the easiest thing to teach to kids. Heck, it isn't always the easiest thing to teach to adults either. Most people can easily enjoy simple rhymes and clear word pictures, but anything slightly more abstract is harder to grasp. Shannon Creech took this concept, the challenge of learning poetry, and turned it into two books of freestyle verse about a boy, Jack, and his exposure to poetry. Love that Dog is the first book and takes the reader through the process of watching Jack learn to enjoy and write his own poetry. His teacher, Miss Stretchberry, knows her stuff and doesn't coddle her students with easy poetry like Jack Prelutsky or Shel Silverstein. Not that enjoying those poets is a bad thing, but it's much harder to grasp William Carlos Williams when you're only ten years old, like Jack is.

Told in freestyle verse in the forms of notes to his teacher, Jack goes from hesitant and suspicious of this poetry business, to finding his own voice and expression. He decides to emulate the poet Walter Dean Myers and make a poem about his beloved dog, Sky. The reader gets hints about Jack's dog and his tenderness towards him, but not the whole story of what happened to the dog until later in the book. When I finally reached the end where Jack presents his poem about Sky, I burst into tears. Creech does an amazing job of guiding us through Jack's process in expressing his love for his dog and by the time you reach that poem, you ache for that little boy and his loss. It was a beautiful book. It reminded me of all the poems I learned about in the course of my public school education and how much they meant to me when I learned to understand them. The book is a fast read, but would be great as a read-aloud as a family. At the end of the book, Creech includes the poems that Miss Stretchberry taught to her class and that would a great starting point in discussing poetry to kids. It's on my list of books to read to my kids.

In Hate That Cat, Jack is back at school the next year and learning more poetry. It's more of the same, but not redundant. The reader gets to learn more about Jack's family and their new addition. You get to read a bit more about his stubborn Uncle Bill who believes that all poetry must have meter and rhyme. What a stick-in-the-mud. It wasn't as moving as Love That Dog, but I still enjoyed it and would definitely read that to my kids right after the first.

This is a great way to expose kids to non-rhyming, freestyle and more abstract poetry. After all, if you start young it only gets easier with time. Next, I'll be convincing you all to start playing opera to your family. Seriously, it's awesome. I'll find a way to get everybody hooked one of these days.

Adventure on the high seas with Horatio Hornblower

2010-03-18T12:18:00.013-06:00

Recently I checked out A&E's Horatio Hornblower TV series (adapted from the popular CS Forester novels) to keep me entertained on the treadmill. Great choice, by the way. Interesting enough to keep me engaged and help the time pass quickly, but not so intense that I couldn't shut it off when my workout was over. But apparently A&E decided not to finish the series, so after 8 episodes I was left hanging with most of the story left untold.

I hate leaving a story unfinished, so at my next visit to the library I checked out a few of CS Forester's Horatio Hornblower novels to see if I could figure out where the TV version left off and take it from there. (Call me lazy, but I wasn't about to tackle the whole saga from the beginning!) Forester was very prolific with Hornblower's adventures and wrote a total of 11 novels (one of which he didn't finish before his death), though he apparently didn't write them chronologically. They take place during the Napoleonic wars in the early 19th century, tracking Horatio Hornblower's career in the Royal British Navy. Hornblower demonstrates courage, brilliance, loyalty, and integrity in the face of countless struggles; staying the course just as you would expect from any true hero.

I've only read one novel all the way through -- Hornblower and the "Atropos" -- while skimming earlier ones that covered the period portrayed in the A&E series. I have to say I'm a bit disappointed. Typically I find a screen adaptation lacking in some ways from the novel. But this time, I think it's the original work that's lacking. Here's why:

The hero: The A&E Hornblower (portrayed by Ioan Gruffudd) was clearly a good guy trying to do his very best. I was sympathic and wanted him to succeed. He was flawed and struggled with difficult decisions, but his goodness and integrity won my admiration. Forester's version, however, was so full of depression and cranky with everyone around him that I got really irritated with him really fast. I couldn't even recognize him as the same person. Maybe if I continued with the series I would get a different impression, but I'm not interested in following such a Debbie Downer for six more novels!

The action: The books are full of action, but also so full of unfamiliar technical seafaring talk that it sometimes took a while to figure out what was going on. Forester's interesting conflicts were so much more dynamic when portrayed visually in the A&E version that even a land lubber like myself could appreciate them. Some of the special effects were a little weak, but many were completely stunning. And those tall ships! Absolutely breathtaking!

The drama: Adapting a novel to the screen always requires some adjustment to the story, and I thought A&E's changes were an improvement on the original. They took liberties with some of the secondary characters, bringing them back in additional episodes instead of introducing us to new and forgettable ones every time. They also manipulated some details of the plot to increase the human dramatic element. It may not have been as realistic as Forester's original, but it definitely made the story a lot more enjoyable.

So now I have a dilemma. Once again, I'm left with a cliffhanger and an unfinished story. Do I continue the series and risk getting more and more irritated with the hero? Or do I squelch my curiosity and hope for the best? Curses on A&E for putting me in this position in the first place!

The Maze Runner

2010-03-17T08:00:00.001-06:00

I'm so behind in blog posts that I'm tempted to just sum this up by saying, if you like The Hunger Games series, you'll like The Maze Runner. It feels lazy to only write that much, so I'll elaborate some more. The Maze Runner by James Dashner takes place in a dystopian future, but we are given so few details about it that the mystery is slowly revealed by the bare facts Dashner doles out bit by bit. Don't dystopian young adult novels feel like they're all the rage lately? It seems like I've read piles of them lately and but thankfully this one delivers on several accounts.

Thomas wakes up in a metal box, confused and without memories of how he got there or anything about his life, other than his name. When he comes out, he is greeted by a group of teenage boys living in a communal farm, surrounded by giant stone walls covered in ivy. Yup, you guessed it. It's a maze. Every day at dawn, the doors of the maze open and runners take off to find an escape to the maze. They have to return by sundown before the doors close or they take the risk of being killed by the Grievers, monstrous machines programmed to kill. If a runner is merely stung by a Griever, he goes through a horrific change that brings back sporadic memories of life before the maze. Those memories don't seem to be all that pleasant.

I like alternate futures and puzzles like what are depicted in this book, but a few things bugged me. The boys have their own slang and profanity, that while the words are innocent in themselves, are used so frequently and substituted so obviously for familiar swear words that they become just as offensive. It bugged me that Dashner used that tactic and then proceeded to beat the reader over the head with it. It bugged me that it was assumed that all teenage boys would have giant potty mouths. I was never a teenage boy, so maybe that's the norm, but it bugged me.

Complaints aside, this was a cool book. The mysteries are slowly revealed, but not so slowly and teasingly that I got annoyed. I reached a point in the book when I realized that this is the first in a series, which annoys me, but what isn't a series any more? I throw my hands up. I'll read the next books, I'm sure. Like I said in the first sentence, if you liked The Hunger Games, then this is a book for you. If not, I've got a whole stack of books waiting to be blogged about in the next week or two and surely one of those will interest you. I aim to please, after all.

Finishing Lois Lowry's trio

2010-03-12T15:44:00.001-07:00

I reread Lois Lowry's The Giver a year or so ago and was once again impressed by the hauntingly enigmatic ending. So I was delighted to learn that she had written two more books as companions to it. It took me a while to get around to reading them, but I finally did and am glad to have some resolution to this story.

Gathering Blue features a completely different character in an opposite setting from Jonas's world in The Giver -- though, we find out later, it takes place at the same futuristic time. Kira was born into a harsh and brutal society where any weakness or flaw is worthy of death. Kira herself was born with a lame leg, but her special gifts help her to stand out and receive an honored task in the community. At least, that's what she thinks at first. Over time she begins to uncover secrets about her community that make her realize that her honored role is really relegating her to a lifetime of imprisonment. Similar to The Giver, Lowry explores the vitality of individualism and creativity and their role in creating a healthy society. But this society's form of oppressiveness is more primitive and cruel than where Jonas grows up, and really could be read as an isolated tale.

The ending of Gathering Blue was pretty abrupt and anti-climactic, I thought. Just as Kira comes to understand what her future holds for her, she is faced with the difficult decision of either fleeing to safety or staying to try and help her society change. Her decision is an interesting next step in the conflict, but it didn't really work as an ending. Instead, I felt like it ended when it was just getting good. Another thing I wasn't a huge fan of is that Lowry could sometimes be a little over-the-top on the social commentary. But considering that's the real point of these books, I decided I could cut her some slack. It is for a young audience, after all, so I guess you can't rely too much on subtlety.

Messenger is the last book in the trio and brings the two stories together in a final conclusion. Matty, a young boy we first met in Gathering Blue, is the featured character. He is now several years older and growing into early manhood in the Village community briefly mentioned at the end of Gathering Blue. Unlike the societies portrayed in the first two books, Village is full of good people who live rich and meaningful lives due to their compassionate selflessness that contributes to an overall sense of wholeness. But selfishness and materialism are beginning to creep in and threaten to destroy the utopian society they've created. At the same time, Matty is beginning to discover a secret and fearful power he possesses and wonders what it means for his future and the future of those he loves.

The conflict in Messenger was more interesting and dynamic than that in Gathering Blue. It was also easier to get involved with the characters, especially since some of them we'd seen before in both Gathering Blue and The Giver. There were some inconsistencies in the ideology that bothered me, like the fact that people in the Village are given special life-long tasks and titles similar to what we've seen in The Giver, but supposedly it's a good thing even though there's still no sense of choice in the matter. And the ending, while more dramatic than Gathering Blue, still lacked the power of The Giver. But overall it was nice to tie up some of those loose ends and because they were both quick and easy reads, it was a few hours well spent.

Co-Review: Wuthering Heights

2010-02-27T15:27:00.035-07:00

Emily Bronte's book Wuthering Heights is considered a classic in English literature. It takes place in the English moors, with most of the action between the two great houses Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights. The narration is interesting in that it's told by Mr. Lockwood, who is renting in one of the homes. He wants to know the turbulent history of the strange man Heathcliff that owns the home, so he gets the story from Nelly Dean, who was playmate and housekeeper for the families who resided in these houses.

Heathcliff was brought to Wuthering Heights as a young boy, described as a gypsy-like street urchin. His father favors him over his own son, Hindley, and his daughter, Catherine, becomes Heathcliff's best friend and eventually, his object of affection. Hindley treats Heathcliff horribly, as do the Lintons, who live in Thrushcross Grange. In a misunderstood moment, Heathcliff perceives that Catherine will never marry him and he disappears for a few years. He reappears after Catherine has married Edgar Linton, now as a man of wealth and full of plans for revenge. His plotting and malice reach down into the next generation.

The tale of Heathcliff and Catherine's tragic, violent love is well known, well-analyzed and has been discussed by smarter people than Caren and I, but we're going to take a crack at it anyway.

Jenny: Having never read this book before and only knowing the characters' names and not much else, I assumed it was a love story. I expected something like Jane Eyre. Gothic, dark, and tragic but eventually redemptive and beautiful. Wuthering Heights is more a tale of revenge, the way it consumes and destroys Heathcliff and those he preys upon. What do you think?

Caren: Yes, I agree that it is definitely a tale of passion, but not love. My copy had an essay at the beginning that briefly talked about its history and how it has been interpreted over the years. It has only become well-known and enjoyed in the last hundred years or so perhaps -- according to the essayist -- due to modern society's ability to enjoy it as a story of enduring love that cannot be bound within society's constraints or even by death.

I completely disagree with that interpretation. There may have been potential for love, but it was corrupted through selfishness and greed until the characters were destroyed by it. The choices they made to pursue revenge, vanity, and ambition twisted them into people who were incapable of feeling love. Love arguably requires a degree of selflessness, and the only person in the triangle who was capable of that was the unheroic Edgar Linton. Heathcliff and Catherine had no clue what real love was. Passion, yes. Obsession, yes. Manipulation, yes. Love, no.

Jenny: Amen to that. I kept thinking about how horrible all these people were and poor Edgar Linton was caught up in their manipulations because he was stupid enough to love Catherine. There is a sweetness to the love that blossoms between Cathy and Hareton, but it certainly was sowed in very poor ground. Catherine Senior wasn't much of a healthy example so it's not too sad she died before her daughter could know her and be influenced by her.

Something else that was upsetting, and that was pointed out in the introduction to my copy of the book, was the way characters refused to eat to manipulate others. Isabella does it, Catherine does it, and then Heathcliff does it at the end, refusing to eat for four days. The introduction said that Emily Bronte was known to do that to her family when things weren't going how she wanted to and that she eventually died from the effects of anorexia. I had no idea that even existed in that time period, figuring it was a product of our culture's obsession with size. I don't know much about eating disorders, but this made me think that it's more about power than a certain look. Well, and mental illness as well.

Caren: Yes, very interesting. I'm not sure I would have picked up on that on my own. Considering the relatively sheltered -- and short -- life that Emily Bronte lived, it is astounding that she could produce such an intense work. Such amazing women those Bronte sisters were! I wish there was some way of knowing exactly her feelings and intentions behind Wuthering Heights. My introduction said that Bronte doesn't allow her feelings to color the narrative, but I couldn't help but wonder if the biases of Nelly and Mr. Lockwood were more representative of her views than the intro gave them credit for. In any case, I'm intrigued that she would have poured so much energy into characters that inspired such a love-hate relationship with the reader.

I did like that the hopeful ending with Cathy and Hareton creates a slight feeling of redemption. But it's interesting that after such an intimate look into the poisonous lives of Heathcliff and Catherine, the narrator is prohibited from getting more than a cursory glance at the future happiness in store for Cathy and Hareton. Is that because Emily Bronte didn't have enough experience with healthy human relationships to know how to portray them? Or just because she didn't want to detract from the brooding melancholy of the novel?

Jenny: Now, that's interesting. Jane Eyre is very autobiographical, because Charlotte Bronte taught at a girls' school and had some of the experiences she wrote about, but Emily was very sheltered. She tried going to that same school that Charlotte was at and didn't do well. That was where some of the starving episodes started. It seems that Wuthering Heights is pure imagination. Not every book has to be based on personal experience and maybe this is one of them. I felt relieved at one point when Nelly said that she wondered if the only soul around that had any common sense resided in her own body. At least Emily knew that this wasn't normal behavior!

The only part I found romantic was the idea of a windswept English moor. I didn't find much romantic about this book, but that enchanted me. Now that I think about it, it's more a carry over from Jane Eyre, where the moors are very dramatic and romantic. I could write a whole post about how much I love Jane Eyre. Mr. Rochester is gruff and difficult but inherently likable. There is nothing likable about Heathcliff or Catherine. I think that was a barrier for me to really enjoy the book since the only person I liked was Nelly and she mostly served as narrator and observer.

Caren: Yeah, this type of "romance" certainly doesn't fit our modern use of the word. Why has it endured as such a famous love story? No idea. Maybe because it's so disturbing! I realize that it's not autobiographical, but how an author can write so convincingly of such dark relationships without having much life experience herself is fascinating to me. And I think that's part of what has made it an enduring classic. Her skill and insight go far beyond your typical young woman's romantic imagination. I can't help but be impressed at what a keen and sensitive awareness she must have had, even though I didn't care for her characters and their ruined lives.

One thing that I just have to mention before we end (because I kept being reminded of it while I read), is the comparison that Stephanie Meyer makes with Wuthering Heights and her Twilight love triangle. If I remember right, the Wuthering Heights entanglement loosely served as the model for Meyer's Eclipse. Reading it for the first time (though I've seen the Ralph Fiennes/Juliette Binoche film version) I couldn't help but wonder why Meyer would ever think such a love triangle deserved to be recreated. No wonder her characters seem immature and selfish and obsessive in their relationships! And no wonder of the four books in the series (which I enjoyed overall), I absolutely loathed Eclipse!

Jenny: Now I'm really interested to see what our readers have to say about the relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff and if they think of it as an enduring love or if they agree with us, that it was a selfish and destructive obsession.

I have to say, I love Jane Austen's books but there's something about the darkness of the Bronte sisters' books that I love even more. I wish there were more books to read and examine. I didn't like Wuthering Heights, but I did appreciate how new and dangerous it was for the time, the supernatural elements, and the imperfect ending. I could have skipped most of the violence though, especially baby Hareton being tossed over the stairwell. Yikes.

We'd love to hear what the readers of this blog thought, especially if you can find more worthy aspects of the book that we missed!

Taking a page from Jenny's book

2010-02-25T15:56:00.009-07:00

After December's co-review, I decided to read some of Jenny's favorites from 2009. Highly recommended, by the way. Since she's already reviewed them, I don't want to be redundant. But I also couldn't just set them aside without briefly sharing my thoughts.

Of the three that I read, The Help, by Kathryn Stockett, was my very favorite. The characters were so well-drawn and the writing was so engaging that once I started it I literally couldn't put it down. I felt like I gained a greater appreciation for that time in our nation's history, but had so much fun at the same time I didn't even mind learning something!

Next I tackled The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova. Wow. What a trip! It was fascinating and compelling, and kept me thinking about it for weeks afterward. I thought the final conflict was a bit anti-climactic, and it was a lot longer than it needed to be. I had to put my life on hold for a week until I finished it, then had to purge myself for another week before I could bear to pick up another book! But it was very interesting and certainly will stand out as an unforgettable experience. I don't think it will be letting me go for a long time!

My last choice of this batch was The Little Giant of Aberdeen County, by Tiffany Baker. The change in tone and characters and drama was refreshing after the gothic weight of The Historian. I enjoyed the writing, the pacing, and the slight menacing edge to the otherwise pastoral small-town life. One thing I had a hard time with was fully connecting with the narrator. But that almost didn't matter as Baker explores some really interesting topics of life and death and an unusual form of redemption for a remarkable title character. And weaves in a little magic and folklore at the same time to keep you guessing until the end.

So thanks to Jenny for the hours of enjoyment I've had over the past month or so. I can't wait to get to some of the other books on her list!

Meeting Brandon Mull

2010-02-17T19:51:00.003-07:00

I should title this post, "Standing in line for an hour in an overcrowded Barnes & Noble to meet Brandon Mull for 2 1/2 seconds and only getting one book signed." Oh man, it was quite a night. I dragged all my kids (including newborn baby) and my neighbor to a B&N about 12 miles away to meet Brandon Mull, author of the Fablehaven books. I love that series of books and with the latest installment coming out next month, my Fablehaven fever is in gear. I had no idea how big of a crowd would turn out. I mean, it's geared towards pre-teens and took place on a school night, so how many people could possible show up? Roughly five kazillion.

I don't know what I was expecting, a small setting and opportunity to chat like when I met Brandon Sanderson or Linda Ashman? It sure wasn't. My husband drove over after a meeting to save me from exhaustion while my neighbor pulled books off of shelves and kept my girls busy with stories. Without either of them I wouldn't have made it through. We did get to talk to Brandon Mull for a minute or two about his new series of books after Fablehaven is finished. He was very nice and was happy to sign our books and a stack of book plates for any future books we might want to purchase. I wish my kids hadn't been so tired at that point so they could have asked some questions, but they were wilting quickly.

Meeting authors is something I love to do so I won't say I'll never do that again, but I wish this experience had been better. I still love Brandon Mull's books and he was totally nice to us, even two hours after he had been signing books, so he's not diminished in my eyes. I'll just rethink this kind of adventure in the future. Here's a picture to commemorate the event. Notice the look of irritation and exhaustion on some of my kids' faces. They are little troopers, I think.

Reading and nursing

2010-02-06T12:00:00.002-07:00

I've been ignoring the blog lately, if you couldn't tell. Having a brand-new baby is great for having plenty of time to read, with all the breastfeeding down time and all the hours in the middle of the night waiting to be filled, but writing anything down about what I've been reading has been a near impossibility. I'm barely getting a shower in every day, people, but I'm sure I'm preaching to the choir here. A big drawback of all this postpartum reading is that I am crazy emotional and every single stinkin' book has made me cry. All of them. Even the stupid science fiction ones. I am not a crier. If a movie gets sad, I tilt my head and say, "Jeepers, that was sad." On occasion, a book will make me tear up, but gasping sobs and running nose? Nope. Shall I enumerate? Yes, I shall.

For some reason I've been reading a bunch of Orson Scott Card books but that's mostly because I have some at my house and extra trips to the library are not happening. I read Hidden Empire, which is the sequel to his Tom Clancy-esque book Empire. It's about a worldwide plague, government corruption and conspiracies. Card revisits characters who lost so much in the first book, but I don't remember being all that attached the first time around. So why would it make me cry? Not only did it make me cry, but it made me tear up later just thinking about it. Apparently I needed more punishment, because then I re-read the Ender's Shadow series of books by Orson Scott Card and cried through half of those too. My husband was starting to worry as I hiccuped my way through those stupid books.

I am a great admirer of David Small's illustrations. If I know a book is illustrated by him, I'm more likely to read it and seek it out. He published a memoir of sorts called Stitches. I say "of sorts" because it is written as a graphic novel. But this is no kids' story. David Small grew up in a seriously screwed up family who verbally and emotionally abused each other. His grandmother was a nutcase and his father gave him radiation treatments that led to David getting cancer, which they kept a secret from David until he was an adult. Oh man, it was a sad and horrible tale, but written in a riveting way that had me flipping pages almost faster than I could read. The true savior of this tale is a therapist that David eventually sees who tells him that he is worthy and good and a valuable person. Thank heavens for that therapist! David Small was able to make something wonderful of his life despite his parents' efforts to tear him down. Stitches was a fast read, but a tearjerker, mostly because of the stupid hormones. Stupid evil hormones.

Still not being adventurous enough to read anything too challenging, I started re-reading Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. Again, a book I own so I didn't have to venture out of the house to get something different from the library. I like to wait years between re-reads of favorite books because I want it to feel fresh again, but weighing my options of said library venture versus re-reading something I knew I liked, I went with Mistborn. My heavens, that's a good book and it's definitely been enough time for me to forget how it all goes down. I'm really looking forward to re-reading the other two books.

That's the sum total of reading I've done since my baby boy was born. Caren and I are doing a co-review of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte in February and I'm dragging my feet a little bit. I've never read it and I'm afraid it will trigger those stupid tear ducts again. Somebody reassure me that it's not that sad because honestly, I can't handle any more crying. Surely my system has worked all the post-pregnancy hormones out of my system by now, but you never know.

The Beekeeper's Apprentice

2010-01-21T13:16:00.003-07:00

Laurie R. King started her Mary Russell mystery series over 15 years ago and has had quite some time to develop it. According to the inside of my paperback, she has eight novels so far. I just sat down this week with the first one, The Beekeeper's Apprentice, and wasn't disappointed!

The premise of The Beekeeper's Apprentice is that Sherlock Holmes is a real live person living out a quiet retirement in Sussex during WWI when teenager Mary Russell crosses his path. In many ways, orphaned Russell is a younger, female version of Holmes -- complete with acerbic wit, searing intellect, and a penchant for observation and deduction. Holmes is intrigued and sets about casually training her and honing her skills. Predictably, they work together on a few cases that get more dangerous and more personal as time goes on.

At first I wasn't a huge fan of Mary Russell. I enjoyed reading about Sherlock Holmes years ago when I was a teenager, but I wasn't excited to read about a younger, female version of him. So the first few chapters weren't very engaging to me. As she ages and matures, however, her humanness emerges and she becomes a much more sympathetic and interesting character. Holmes himself grew on me as well. It's been so long since I've read any of Conan Doyle's work that my memory of Holmes is a general feeling rather than specifically accurate. But eventually I was able to believe that he was THE Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street, even if King's version shows more empathy and gentleness than I remember from Conan Doyle's.

There is mystery and suspense, of course, but mostly it is about the relationship between Russell and Holmes. Holmes plays the role of friend, mentor, even father figure to Russell, but as she approaches her 20's there is definitely the underlying question of another form of attachment -- despite the difference of almost 40 years in their ages -- blatantly raised by outsiders if not the reader. Both Holmes and Russell are very devoted and pure in their friendship, but there is an intimacy there that makes me wonder what King has in mind as Russell grows into full adulthood.

I think I mostly enjoyed this book because I like Sherlock Holmes and I like strong female characters and King did a good job creating both. I'll definitely have to come back for more!

Peace Like a River

2010-01-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Most of the books I read are recommended by other avid readers. This system works great because I usually end up enjoying their recommendations, and it saves me the work of researching new reads on my own. Leif Enger's Peace Like a River was one such book. I probably wouldn't have bothered with it on my own, since I like interesting titles and the title Peace Like a River does nothing for me. Sure, it speaks of depth and deep emotion, but with no sign of whether I would enjoy the journey.

Fortunately, this is one example where the title doesn't do the story justice. Yes, 11-year-old Reuben Land's journey to find his outlaw older brother who has been accused of murder does have depth and emotion to it. But the well-written narrative is not bogged down with sentiment, and keeps up a comfortable pace to engage the reader. Not breakneck speed, mind you, but enough to keep the reader coming back for more. Within the first couple of pages my interest was piqued by the descriptions of Reuben's dad and the unapologetic accounts of miracles he has performed. Soon the details of how Reuben's troubled brother Davy kills two young men drew me deeper into the story, and by the time Davy escapes from jail and Reuben and his father and sister decide to track him down out west in the wintry Badlands, I was hooked.

This story of redemption isn't exactly subtle, folks. The religious themes are so pronounced that I worried sometimes about it crossing over into sickeningly didactic. But it never got that far. I felt like the narrative stayed balanced and true, exploring equally strong themes of family, love, and with the added fun factor of romanticizing the west.

But like I said, the story was clearly a redemption tale. It was obvious that the dad was to represent the Christ figure who gives of himself to save another, though the details of how large or small that sacrifice would be wasn't clear. What was also not clear was which of his sons was to be saved. The most obvious choice was Davy, the sinner on the run who had separated himself from family and civilization and ends up taking refuge with (or being captured by?) an evil man who clearly personifies the Devil. But at the same time Reuben, our honest and flawed narrator, is in need of redemption as well. Living with asthma that can be dangerously life-threatening, his dad voices his wish more than once that he could trade places and take this burden from him.

I was intrigued with how the dad was portrayed. Usually a fictional father who is so deeply religious is portrayed as authoritarian, judgmental, and unforgiving. But this was the opposite of Reuben's dad, who nonetheless was human and flawed despite the sense of the divine about him. It was a refreshing approach for such a character and each of the characters had a warmth and sincerity to them that engendered affection.

My only complaint was that the conclusion seemed to be lacking. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there was just something that didn't sit right with me about it. It didn't seem to hold up to the expectation that had been building throughout the book. Or maybe it's because it relied too heavily on some of the weakest characters to sustain it. But I still enjoyed it enough that I'll probably check out his second novel. After all, it comes with a good recommendation!

Co-review: 2009 Best and Worst

2009-12-31T08:00:00.001-07:00

Happy New Year! But before we move on to 2010, let's take a look back at 2009. For December's co-review Jenny and I decided to share the best and worst books we read in 2009. Keep in mind that these are not necessarily books that were published in 2009, but rather were read for the first time that year.

Caren's List of Favorite Reads:
I had quite the battle trying to decide which books should make the "best" list. Some deserved to be on it because I had so much fun reading them, but weren't necessarily amazing examples of literature. While others deserved to be on it because they were fantastic literature that left me deeply moved, but weren't necessarily the kind of thing I would pick up and read again anytime soon. In the end, I decided to include both.

1. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski. I love when a new author can blow me away with an amazing work, and this was definitely one of those "wow" experiences.
2. A Girl Named Zippy, by Haven Kimmel. This lighthearted memoir is elevated beyond just a funny-yet-forgettable personal story by Kimmel's keen wit, observation, and powerful command of language.
3. The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini. Definitely not to be taken lightly, this is one work that gets deep inside you and won't let go, leaving you forever changed.
4. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. A delightful story with a deeply human touch, as well as a wonderful nod to the power of literature in improving the human condition.
5. These is My Words, by Nancy E. Turner. A fascinating period piece with a great mix of action and sympathetic characters.

A Few More I Just Can't Leave Out:
And then there were a few more that I can't in good conscience fail to mention, even if they didn't quite make the "best" list.

1. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, by Alan Bradley. Fun and a little bit freaky, but in a good way.
2. The Lace Reader, by Brunonia Barry. More than a little bit freaky -- okay, a lot freaky -- but a well-crafted story if you can stomach the bad language and themes of abuse.
3. The Thursday Next Series, by Jasper Fforde. Some were better than others, but the whole series provided me many hours of entertainment this year.
4. She Got Up Off the Couch, by Haven Kimmel. This follow-up to Zippy continues Kimmel's story in a similarly delightful style, but leaves some of the childhood innocence behind.
5. Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Worth reading even if it did put me to sleep more than once.

Definitely Worth Skipping:
I try to avoid books that I suspect I won't enjoy, which helps keep my "worst" list pretty small. But these are the ones that I disliked the most, ranging from mild irritation to serious aggravation.

1. Spare Change, by Aubrey Mace. Such a major waste of ink and paper that I didn't even bother reviewing it. Think "local author spends too much time watching lame romantic comedies" and you'll get an idea. To add to the insult (because I did feel insulted reading it), I accidentally spilled water on it right before returning it to the library and had to buy the stupid thing!
2. Freddy and Fredericka, by Mark Helprin. Helprin's sense of humor might have redeemed it if he had cut the thing down by, oh, about 500 pages.
3. The Friday Night Knitting Club, by Kate Jacobs. This one falls more into the mild irritation range. Jacobs over-estimated her abilities and the result is shallow and forgettable.
4. Running with Angels, by Pamela Hansen. Worthy message, but poor execution. But what else can you expect from someone who isn't a writer?
5. The Middle Place, by Kelly Corrigan. Corrigan has some skill as a writer, but I had a hard time really connecting with her as a narrator of her personal story.

And now I'm excited to see what Jenny has picked for her top reads of 2009!

Jenny's List of Favorite Reads:
This project of picking favorite books over the year is harder than it looks, people. It has taken me literally minutes and minutes of thinking to determine what I loved best this year. Like Caren said, it isn't always about great literature but about how much I enjoyed reading it.

1. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.
I kept coming back to this book whenever I would try to tabulate my favorite books of the year. The story was so engaging and the people so lovable that I felt like I was living on the island with them. It was the best book all around.
2. The Help by Kathryn Stockett. I put that book down and felt altered forever. Stockett gives the women of this story three dimensions and made me respect and relate to them. Amazing writing.
3. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. This book completely freaked me out, frightened me to death and refused to be put down for more than a few minutes at a time. Kostova reinvented the Dracula tale in such a compelling way that anybody could enjoy it, if they can handle the scariness.
4. Snowflower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See. Such a beautiful tale of friendship in a setting that completely blew me away with its beauty and painful atrocities.
5. The Little Giant of Aberdeen County by Tiffany Baker. An unusual heroine who you can't help but root for, with mystery, love and suspense all tied in.

Honorable Mentions:
I read and review lots of books for young adults and younger readers and oftentimes, I find them to be the very best of books to read for both me and my kids. A few of those made it into my honorable mentions list.

1. Clementine by Sara Pennypacker. Not since Ramona Quimby has a little girl caught my family's adoration like Clementine. The three books written so far were read out loud with delight and thoroughly enjoyed.
2. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. Never has a group of ghosts been so lovable. Or a villain quite so deliciously terrifying. It got me hooked from the first chapter.
3. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons. Oh my heavens, the quirk! The hilarity! The quirky hilarity!
4. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. Eye-opening and informative, a look at how Americans eat and where our food comes from. It made me take a serious look at what I was feeding my family.
5. The Gathering Storm by Brandon Sanderson and Robert Jordan. The long-anticipated newest installment of The Wheel of Time series was given new life by Sanderson and did not disappoint.

Books I hated with a fiery vengeance or just plain didn't like:
1. The Actor and the Housewife by Shannon Hale. A book by Hale should never leave me with a bad taste in my mouth, but this one did. It had many redeeming qualities but the inappropriate and incomprehensible friendship ruined it for me.
2. Freddy and Fredericka by Mark Helprin. Oh my gosh, will it never end? I have never forced myself to read beyond my tolerance of a book since I was in college. It was painful.
3. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith and Jane Austen. Was funny for about five seconds then just turned out to be stupid.
4. My Abandonment by Peter Rock. Child abduction is terrifying and upsetting, and yet this author makes us want to believe that a 10-year-old girl would be okay with it. Sick.
5. Julie and Julia by Julie Powell. I never blogged about it because I never finished it. After pages and pages of her sexual awakenings and exploits, I couldn't stomach another page. Plus, Julie Powell comes across as a selfish, horrible person. Wasn't this supposed to be about cooking? And Julia Child? The movie was a million times better and not at all a waste of time, unlike the book.

Hey, I'm impressed by all the reading we did in 2009! Not bad for a couple of moms with nearly ten kids between them.

Unblogged books

2009-12-28T12:00:00.003-07:00

I admit, I like things to be tidied up. I like my loose ends tied. Here we are, nearing the end of the year and I have a handful of books I never blogged about but they won't stop nagging at me because of it. I deemed each of them unworthy and yet, here I am blogging about them. Darn those unbloggable books. You might be wondering, what makes a book unworthy of me sharing my opinion willy-nilly? Mostly it was because I couldn't think of anything spectacular to say that would either deter readers or cause them to leap from their computers and dash to the library. Those are the two reactions I prefer to instill in people. Some of these I loved and some I hated, but the most I can conjure up is about a paragraph each.

I read one book this year that I so completely disliked that I didn't even want to think about it after I read it. Usually, if I really don't like a book it's just that much more fuel for my fire. But this book was repulsive to me and I didn't want to think about it ever again after I read it. My Abandonment by Peter Rock is about a girl, Caroline, and her father who are living in a state park in Oregon, off the grid and avoiding people. Their past is mysterious and you gather that the father is a veteran with mental illness. They do get discovered and people try to help them in their situation, but everything just deteriorates more and more. It's based on a true story but the whole thing made my skin crawl. That's all I want to say about that.

Mark L. Van Name's newest installment of his books about Jon Moore and his intelligent ship Lobo is just as awesome as I thought it would be. If my blogging about the previous books haven't gotten you to pick up a copy of the first book yet, me writing yet another blog about it probably won't do the trick. Overthrowing Heaven is more action, more great sci-fi and focused much more on Lobo than Jon. Loved it.

When I was at my uncle's funeral, I met the father of an upcoming author, Aprilynne Pike. It's a long story, but I decided to read her young adult novel, Wings. It's about a girl who suddenly sprouts a blossom out of her back that resembles wings. Ends up, she's a faerie and never knew it. This story could have been very cool and original and yet, it just reads like a Twilight knock-off, love triangle and everything. Except in Wings it's the girl who's supernatural, not her love interests. Well, one of them is, but whatever. If you love Twilight, read Wings, but I can't endorse it much more than that.

Caren went to a midnight release party for The Gathering Storm by Brandon Sanderson and Robert Jordan and didn't know what the hubub was about. My husband was seething with jealousy that she went and had pre-ordered a signed copy of the book months before. Caren sent us the bumper sticker she got at the party that said, "Bela is a Darkfriend" and my husband giggled like a schoolgirl and then dashed upstairs to plaster it to his bookcase. The fact is, if you're already a fan of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series, you'll have read the latest installment finished by Sanderson after Jordan passed away. You don't need me telling you how awesome it is or how perfectly Sanderson accomplished the task of taking over this epic book series. You already know. And those of you who don't know probably would be hesitant to start a series that includes twelve books, one prequel and a nearly rabid fan base. I don't blame you.

I like fairy tale retellings, like Shannon Hale's The Goose Girl or Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted. They're fun and interesting and flesh out a tale so creatively that it gives it new life. Princess of the Midnight Ball by Jessica Day George falls directly into that category and the caliber of Hale or Levine. George retells the tale of the twelve dancing princesses, which was one my favorite stories growing up. It was riveting and exciting and very well done. I read it, then passed it on to both my eight- and six-year-old daughters who both adored it. I would gander that any child on a skilled enough reading level would love this book and would also be a great read-a-loud. I'm going to have to do some more reading of George's books if this is what I have to expect. Excellent stuff.

Speaking of excellent writing, I recently re-read The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer. This book is a perfectly crafted dystopian future story about a tyrannical drug lord, cloning, and corrupt governments, but written for the young adult age group. Nancy Farmer has written many books but Scorpion has to be my favorite. Matteo, the clone of drug lord Matteo Alacran of the nation of Opium, a strip of land between Mexico and the U.S. is just as clever as his original version and with the help of some other clever people is able to make more of his life than as spare parts. Very cool, very exciting and some interesting deep thinking about the idea of cloning in general and the value of life.

Ahh, I'm feeling better. Now I can dive into books for the new year knowing that I tidied up my pile. Now if only I felt that way about my desk...

Al Capone in a new light

2009-12-23T07:00:00.002-07:00

I think that there is a justifiable fascination with Alcatraz. I remember when the magician David Copperfield escaped from Alcatraz on national television, back when he did those t.v. specials that had my entire family riveted. Okay, so it's an illusion, but it was very cool. The tales of The Rock and its inmates make for great stories and when my husband and I made a trip to San Francisco several years ago, touring the island was at the top of my agenda. It didn't disappoint. You could imagine these men, the worst criminals of their time, locked away with no hope of escape, the surrounding ocean full of dangers and the guards on watch at all times. What I didn't realize is that the families of the guards and workers lived on the island with them. The history behind that is very interesting and Gennifer Choldenko explores it in her two books, Al Capone Does My Shirts and Al Capone Shines My Shoes.

Matthew Flanagan a.k.a. Moose and his family have come to Alcatraz for his father to work there as an electrician and guard, and also to be close to a nearby school for his sister who has autism. It takes place in 1935, which was before autism was labeled as such, but I quickly figured out that is what is going on with Natalie. That time period is also when Al Capone was an inmate of Alcatraz and the whole world seemed fascinated by this fact. When Moose and his family arrive, the warden is quick to inform him of how fast his dad will get fired if Moose is caught ever talking about Capone to anybody, ever. Moose also becomes acquainted with the warden's daughter, Piper, who is both beautiful and devious and manipulative. There are other kids on the island which make for a fun ensemble. Jimmy and his sister Theresa who are loyal friends and good to Natalie, Annie the girl who plays baseball as good as a boy, and a few others.

Moose makes a friend at school, a boy named Scout, who is as equally obsessed with baseball as Moose is. A highly coveted item is a baseball retrieved from where the inmates play and Scout begs for Moose to get one for him. Trouble is, those balls are hard to come by since the inmates do their best to not let them get over the wall of the yard. Moose tries his best to find a ball, but with Natalie in tow, it's hard to look and keep an eye on her. When he discovers a small hole in the outer fence, he has better luck looking but that is asking for trouble.

Most of the kids are accepting of Natalie, except for Piper, but the adults are another matter. Moose's parents are anxious to get her into this school, but they deem her too old and unmanageable. She starts working with a local woman to try and re-accepted to the school and makes some progress. It grated on my nerves the way people treat Natalie and their family, but it is probably accurate. It's not socially acceptable to make rude comments about a person with disabilities now, but back then people probably considered it their right to tell somebody to ship their kid off to an asylum.

The second book follows right behind the first and has Moose come into direct contact with Al Capone, along with some other inmates. The story behind the titles of the books is that the inmates did the laundry of the families on the island, if the families took up that opportunity. The warden also had them doing plumbing, some cooking and also serving at parties. These inmates, considered to not be flight risks because of how close they were to finishing up their sentences, were called passmen. It surprised me how much time the kids were around these men, considering they were in the country's most secure prison for a reason. Choldenko makes her facts pretty accurate and even includes an appendix with references from books and interviews that she did.

I thought both books were fascinating and thoroughly enjoyable reading. Choldenko's storytelling was detailed, fun and interesting. You can't help but love Moose with his big heart and conflicting feelings about Natalie, Piper, Annie and Scout. And Al Capone for that matter. The man has unmistakable charisma and Moose can't help but get caught up in it, but be afraid of it at the same time. I had to keep reminding myself that Capone was a hardened criminal, a crime boss and murderer, no matter what favors he carefully doled out. The ending of Al Capone Shines My Shoes was awesome and Natalie proves to be a hero to the other kids. Great reading for you and any kids in your house that would have an interest.

The City of Ember series

2009-12-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

I enjoy some post-apocalyptic fiction when I can get some, same as any other mommy in her 30s with a pack of kids and a penchant for reading. But sometimes I'd like something a bit less gritty than Cormac McCarthy's The Road or even Suzanne Collins's Hunger Games series. If you ever find yourself in the same boat, then Jeanne DuPrau's The City of Ember series is the one for you. Do I sound like an infomercial yet?

Let's break it down. The first book, The City of Ember, takes place in a city far below the earth's surface. The reader catches on quickly that the city is underground but the inhabitants have no idea that the world could be anything different than dark and cold and dependent on electricity for light. They've been down there for over 250 years, at least 50 years longer than the original Builders had in mind when they created the city and sent people down there to live after the Disaster that destroyed the surface. Lina Mayfleet and Doon Harrow are the heroes of our story, young people who realize that their mayor is corrupt, that the generator that keeps everyone with light and heat is dying, and that a mysterious message from the past will lead them out of Ember. To where, they have no idea. They don't even know what out of Ember could possibly be like. They follow and hunt down clues, deal with adults who help and hinder, and have some truly heart-pounding moments where the reader has to wonder if they will ever leave Ember. The book is geared towards tween readers, meaning 9-12 year olds, depending on reading ability and interest. For me, it was a fast, easy but intense read. Loved it.

The second installment, The People of Sparks picks up where The City of Ember leaves off, like a mere second later. I don't know how to talk about this book without spoiling the first, but let's say that Lina and Doon have a new set of challenges and new cultures to adapt to. It was interesting and compelling, but a bit heavy-handed. There is a huge message of non-violence and the consequences of bigotry and mob mentality, which would be interesting to discuss with a younger reader. I found it interesting, but not as exciting as the first book. Then again, how often do you encounter a book that addresses these topics in a way for a tween to understand it?

The third installment is actually a prequel to The City of Ember, called The Prophet of Yonwood. It takes place mid-21st century in North Carolina where a woman has seen a vision of the future and it is desolate and destroyed. She becomes semi-comatose and her incoherent ramblings are interpreted by a Bible-thumping, militaristic woman named Mrs. Beeson, who twists the words into whatever serves her own agenda. Dissenters are punished severely. Eleven-year-old Nickie and her aunt come to town to deal with the mansion that Nickie's great-grandfather has left behind at his death. Nickie is fascinated by the town and its inhabitants, but soon falls victim to the machinations of Mrs. Beeson. She slowly begins to see that blindly following beliefs of those around her is not the way to make the world a better place. Again we see this message about mob mentality, blindly following the crowd and intolerance. I found this book to be the slowest read of them all, since it's mostly Nickie dealing with the situation she's in. Not until the very last chapter did I feel like I knew what the purpose of this installment was, despite DuPrau's message of non-violence and independent thinking. It's probably my least favorite and since it doesn't conclusively explain the events that lead to the Disaster and the settlement of Ember, it doesn't really feel necessary. I'm waiting for my daughter to finish reading it so I can pick her brain about what she thought of it.

The fourth, and final, installment was The Diamond of Darkhold and here we get back to some of the action and compelling story-telling of the first book. We're back to Lina and Doon and their desperate attempt to help the citizens of Ember, which leads them to a ruined city with a tyrannical patriarch waiting to capture anyone who crosses his path. It had the same excitement as the first book and not nearly the preachy overtones of the second and third books. Not that books shouldn't have a message, but I wonder if she could have integrated these messages into the other stories instead of writing two books full of morality lessons. We finally get a firm resolution to the series in this book and it feels right and complete. The most horrifying aspect of the book is some people's nonchalance towards the value of books, often burning them for firewood. Gave me chills. Doon and Lina plead with these people to stop but they can't read and see no need for it, so why not? If ever I find myself in a post-apocalyptic world and desperate for firewood, heaven help me if I start burning books.

The series as a whole was interesting and a different take on mere survival in a desolate world. It was about friendship and tolerance, problem solving and independent thinking, non-violence and humanity and other aspects of building a functioning society. Pretty hefty topics for the age demographic DuPrau was aiming at, but even when I thought it was a bit preachy, it didn't feel unapproachable and incomprehensible to your average twelve-year-old. That's impressive, I think. Maybe we can save those kids from reading Lord of the Flies or some other such horrifying book and try this series instead.

The Historian

2009-12-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

Books about vampires seem to be the thing these days. If it's not vampires, it's zombies. But vampires remain the book du jour, as evidenced by how easy it is to find some when you walk into the Young Adult section of your local library. What's hard to find is books about vampires for adults that are intelligent and interesting and not lust-filled romps or horror-infused terror tales. I lucked out that when chatting with my BFF, Abby, she mentioned this amazing book she was reading. She didn't tell me much about it but because she loved it, I had to read it. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova is indeed about vampires, but so much more than that. It's a creepy tale, but also a thriller, a mystery, a historical adventure novel and a love story. It's also (roughly) five billion pages long, but believe me, it's worth it.

The confusing part is how many narrators there are in the book. It's starts out with a young girl (whose name we never learn) who finds an old book in her father's study with an woodcut imprint in the center of a dragon. When she asks her father, Paul, about the book and a stack of old letters that were tucked inside, he slowly reveals the story of his professor, Bartholomew Rossi, a beautiful woman named Helen, and his search for Vlad Tepes, otherwise known as Dracula. The narration switches between the girl, her father, the letters from Rossi, the letters to the girl from her father, briefly to Helen and back and forth. I spent the first fifty pages fighting confusion on whose point of view I was reading, but it settled in after that and I was good to go. It's organized, but I just couldn't find the structure to the story at first.

The bulk of the novel takes place in the 1950s with Paul and Helen as they try to track down Professor Rossi after his mysterious disappearance. Helen also happens to be Rossi's daughter that he doesn't know exists. Rossi is Paul's friend and advisor in his graduate program and after confiding his secrets to Paul about encounters with Dracula's followers and his attempts in tracking down his burial site, Rossi disappears with only bloody evidence behind. Paul and Helen go on an adventure to Istanbul and then Budapest in their search, finding historical evidence of Dracula's location and his true nature, all in the attempt to see where Rossi might have been taken.

Fast forward to 1972, our young narrator is on the search for her father who has disappeared after telling his daughter all the background of his search for Rossi, the disappearance of Helen, Dracula's touch in his own life, and his studies since then. The girl has to do some detective work of her own to find where her father has gone, or has been taken to. The whole situation is packed with peril and adventure. When we do get the few glimpses of Dracula that Kostova parcels out, it is absolutely breathlessly terrifying. What's admirable is how Kostova blends what we know of Dracula from Bram Stoker and popular culture with the history and folklore of Vlad Tepes, brutal 15th-century prince of Wallachia (aka Transylvania), otherwise known as Vlad the Impaler. This book is one giant history lesson of that time period and location made into a very appealing package of adventure and thrills.

This book has to be one of the most exciting and enthralling books I have ever read. Even if you're only so-so about vampires but you do enjoy a good adventure, it's worth reading. If you're a history buff, you'll enjoy this book. If you enjoy reading about vampires but are disenchanted by the popular version of them right now (basically brooding gorgeous teenagers), you will love this retelling. When I was absorbed in this book and basically incapable of conversation, my husband decided he had to read it and afterward we compared notes. He's not big on vampires, but we had conversation fodder for hours about The Historian. The only people I would steer away would be people who scare easily. This book is not for you. Everybody else, give it a try.

Co-Review: The Persian Pickle Club

2009-12-07T08:53:00.013-07:00

We're late for this November co-review, but better late than never, I say! It's not often you can find a light-hearted book about the Depression and the dustbowl midwestern suffering during the thirties. When I hear those two qualifiers I immediately think of The Grapes of Wrath and I wouldn't exactly call that book a laugh riot. The Persian Pickle Club by Sandra Dallas is sweet and mostly light-hearted despite being about Kansas farmwives dealing with poverty, death, and deception. Probably because our narrator, Queenie Bean, is a happy person despite her trials.

The Persian Pickles are women who gather to quilt and talk and read aloud to each other once a week. Queenie is by far the youngest member of the group, if you don't count the sour and embittered Agnes T. Ritter who's got a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas. The other members are women in their 50s and 60s and in various degrees of life circumstances, though no one is all that well-off in Harveyville, Kansas in the 1930s. The Pickles take care of each other and are bonded through their quilting, which they all love to do. When Rita is added to the group as a new member and Agnes' new sister-in-law, she shakes things up a bit. She's a city girl, reluctant to the farm life and anxious to make a name for herself as a reporter. Not that there's much to report about until one of the members of the club's husband is dug up in a field on her property. Rita is determined to get to the bottom of the murder and stir up trouble that everyone else wishes would stay hidden.

As usual, we don't hold back on spoilers. It's no fun trying to discuss a book in coded phrases, after all.

Jenny: The murder mystery part of the book was fun, but for me the friendship between the Pickles was the best part. I found myself wishing throughout the book that I had my own group of Persian Pickles. They were all such different women, but they had that bond of friendship through quilting and all kind of being in the same boat with the hardship of that time. There were plenty of quirks and foibles but they loved each other anyway.

It's interesting how hard Queenie was trying to make Rita become a true Pickle and that it took her some time to figure out that she was never going to make Rita love farming and quilting. It cracked me up at one point when Queenie said something about how farming was the most interesting work in the world and couldn't understand why anybody would do anything different. Wow.

Caren: Yes, and I laughed when she thought Rita was crazy for wasting her time reading. Unlike quilting, she couldn't understand how anyone would spend time on something that didn't lead to a finished product! But Dallas made Queenie such an endearing and sympathetic character that I could enjoy her even though her life experience was so different from my own. And I have to admit that she would probably judge my quilting abilities to be on the same level as Rita's!

I read this book some years ago, and reading it again knowing the ending helped me enjoy even more the bond that these women shared. It didn't seem naive for Queenie to trust them with the secret of her adopted baby when you know the deeper secret that already bound them together. And I was better able to acknowledge Dallas' craft in leading us to believe that the women wanted to avoid the subject of Ben Crook's death because they were uncomfortable with the topic of murder, and not because they were trying to protect the murderer. And all along, you never got the sense that Queenie as the first-person narrator was keeping anything from the reader. It was a clever narrative sleight-of-hand, but didn't feel manipulative or forced, so I thought it was well done.

Jenny: Yes, I never once caught on to the fact that they as a group were hiding Ben's true end. It just seemed like a bunch of ladies who thought it would hurt more than harm to dig up the truth. I just chalked it up to the culture of the time, like sending away an unmarried mother to save her the shame as being known for having a baby out of wedlock. Some things people just didn't talk about back then, murder being one of them. But no, it's because they were all in on it.

I know of a quilting group from my church that gets together once a week and works on projects. I've seen some of the finished quilts and they are mind-blowing. My grandmother is in a quilting guild and has had some of her work featured in a magazine. I always associate quilting with something from a different era, until you see what our mother-in-law can accomplish and realize it's as much an art form as painting or sculpture and probably will be timeless. I loved the Massies--the drifters who Queenie and her husband take in and provide a home for--because despite their poverty and superstitions, Zepha Massie was as much an artist as the Persian Pickles. I bet if anybody had referred to the Pickles as artists, they would have scoffed.

Caren: I agree with the artistic nature of textile arts such as quilting. I know some women for whom quilting is an art and a passion and I am in awe at the things they can create. And some of the most amazing quilters I know are from our generation, so I do think it's an art form that is alive and well. But I am just not patient enough to put in the effort to elevate my skills above the rudimentary level! It's fun to dabble with, but that's about all I can do!

I really liked the Massies too, and it broke my heart when Zepha left Queenie her prized quilt. It bothered me that they left so abruptly like that to who-knows-what kind of future when they really didn't need to go. They added another human element to the story that contributed to its sensitive nature. Like you said, overall it was the relationships that carried the story.

I've only read one other Sandra Dallas novel and I was disappointed in it so I haven't tried any more from her. It was another period piece with captivating characters and an interesting plot. But there were some things that bothered me about the main character's development that I not only disagreed with, but also seemed false and insincere. So it was nice to read The Persian Pickle Club again and remember why I tried her in the first place, and maybe it would be worth giving her another shot.

Jenny: You'll have to let us know if you find another great Dallas book. This one was fun and worth a quick read.

Books for bedtime

2009-12-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

I haven't done a batch of picture books in forever so I figured it was about time to share some recent finds. We haven't had the best of luck finding books lately, mostly due to my lack of effort, but I happened across some books these last few weeks that have made it into the favorites pile.

I'm completely behind the times in discovering Kevin Henke's book Kitten's First Full Moon that also won a Caldecott Award some years ago. My daughter picked it up at the library and all of us loved it. Kitten thinks the moon is a giant bowl of milk hanging in the sky, but all her efforts to get to it fail. She eventually gets her bowl of milk after an accidental dunk in a pond. The book is done completely in black and white illustrations that are beautiful and riveting. I can see an infant being interested in this book because of the stark contrast. The story is sweet and it has all the charm of Henkes' book.

My two-year-old has a mantra that she shares with the title of Jonathan Allen's book I'm not cute! My daughter hates it when her sisters pat her head, give her kisses and say the dreaded phrase. I think it makes her feel small when she thinks she is so very big. Little Owl in this book feels the same way and keeps insisting to the other animals that he is NOT cute and is actually a deadly predator. When bedtime comes around, his mommy reassures him that he is a stealthy hunting machine. I could relate to this book as the mommy who loves her darling little child and reassures them that they are big and important despite their inherent adorableness. Serious points on the cute scale for this book.

The idea of kids being frightened by monsters under their beds isn't anything new, but author Amanda Noll gives it a new twist in I Need My Monster. Ethan gets a note from his regular monster that he's gone fishing and that a substitute monster will be filling in for him, but how will Ethan get to sleep without his monster? He'll miss his ragged breathing and scratching claws. Ethan rejects each monster fill-in that shows up and is in despair over how he'll get to sleep. This book is far from frightening and my kids wanted it read to them over and over again. Part of that is due to Howard McWilliam's amazing illustrations. These eye-popping, zinging pictures leave you wanting more. Too bad this is his first picture book because now I want to see everything he's ever done. Somebody please hire him for more books! This book is a big winner.

For another slightly scary but mostly cute bedtime book, we have The Book That Eats People by John Perry. The conversation I had with my five-year-old went something like this:
Me: I'm a little nervous to read this book. I mean, it says that it eats people.
Adorable Daughter: Mom, books don't really eat people.
Me: Are you sure? It has warning tape all over the cover and seems pretty serious about it.
Adorable Daughter: It'll be fine, Mom. Just read it.
She wasn't falling for it, despite my best efforts to build up suspense. The book is serious about it being hungry for people, describing the fates of many young children who carelessly ate cookies while reading or turned their backs on it. We survived that first reading, thankfully, and have since read it over and over again. The illustrations are very cool and slightly frightening, two aspects I greatly enjoy. I read about this book somewhere online and immediately requested that my library purchase the book, which they willingly did because they are smart.

Another book I requested for purchase for the library was Spot the Plot: a riddle book of book riddles by J. Patrick Lewis. I bet all the children's librarians who review my requests for material purchases are wishing they could shake my hand and thank me in person. This clever book has a riddle and illustration that hints at a book that most children would know. There was only one that I hadn't heard of and another additional one that my kids hadn't heard of but that's my fault. These riddles are seriously awesome, one of my favorites being: "Good wood makes fake bad lad. Toy boy cries, lies. Nose grows." How cool is that? Loved it. Your kids will too.

This is a good batch of books! It'll make up for not having done any picture books in forever. It might be too late for any Christmas shopping, but certainly it'll at least give you some selections for the next library trip.

Benedict, Catching Fire and Alcatraz

2009-11-23T08:12:00.001-07:00

Series books are a tricky business. The first book in a series will often feel fresh and interesting and new, but that kind of momentum is hard to maintain through the rest of the series. The typical trilogy formula has the second book in the series be the least interesting. Plot lines have to be displayed, characters have to go through conflict and those books never end happily. The second book is like a holding place for the third book, which you know will be interesting and suspenseful and, ultimately, satisfying, but you got to slug through the second book to get to the third.

I read a bundle of series installments recently and they fell differently on the scale of series success. The first was The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Prisoner's Dilemma by Trenton Lee Stewart. I've blogged about the first and second books and I stand by my opinion that these are some of the best books I've ever read. The writing is amazing and the plot lines intricate, but not so much that my eight- and six-year-old can't enjoy it. The third book has more of the adventures of Reynie, Sticky, Kate and Constance, but it takes longer to get into the meat of the book. The first part of the book spends quite some time giving you Constance's mysterious background which we've been left in the dark about so far. It was interesting and I was excited to read it, but I grew anxious about when the action would really start. When it did, it was great. This book had more closure than any of the others, which is saying something since I was convinced the first book was the only one. Stewart doesn't leave you hanging at the end of each book which makes it easier to wait for the next one. I'm almost positive this is the last book of that series that Stewart will do, but I would love for him to create another universe for us readers to enjoy.

Next, I read Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins, the second book after The Hunger Games. I thought that The Hunger Games was fascinating and a great read, but I was disappointed in Catching Fire. It seemed to suffer from second book-itis. Katniss, our heroine, spins her wheels in her hometown, trying to rebel, dealing with her love triangle, waiting for doom to descend--which it does, of course--and the reader has to wait for the action to start. It does start, but only long enough to lead us into a cliffhanger. This book is an example of the frustration of middle books in a series. That said, it's still exciting and the series as a whole will probably be awesome. If I could go back in time and tell myself to wait for all three books to come out, that's what I would do. I would never listen to such advice, but I'd try anyway.

Lastly, I read Alcatraz and the Knights of Crystallia by Brandon Sanderson. It still has snarky, nonsense-filled narration and action-packed chapters, but it lacked something that I'm going to blame on being the middle book of a series. It's the third installment out of what I suspect will be five books, so it's definitely the middle and lacks some of the momentum and excitement of the first two books. You get a peek into the Freelands of this imaginary world and has some fun moments with the villainous Librarians, but it just wasn't as much fun as the first two. Like Catching Fire, the series as a whole will be great, but we have to wait for it all to come together in the mean time. Not good for instant gratification.

While I'm thinking about it, I would qualify each of these series like this:

Mysterious Benedict Society: good for any age either as a read-aloud or for an independent reader with high enough reading skills.
Hunger Games/Catching Fire: definitely middle school and up. Lots of kissing and teen angst along with a smattering of substance abuse. Oh, and people killing each other in brutal, but not R-rated ways.
Alcatraz: I let my eight-year-old read it, but it has potty humor and some crass words like butt and fart. Nothing over the top, but enough to make me roll my eyes.

My husband and I were just chatting about what makes middle books of series good and we've come to the conclusion that it has to do with the intent of the author. Did they intend for it to be something broken into segments, hinged with cliffhangers and unfinished stories or rather independent stories that are all linked? I wish I could get a heads-up when it's the first type of story so I could be mentally prepared to be unsatisfied. Ah well, I'll still read them and still grump about them and probably still enjoy them.

Richard Peck's down home goodness

2009-11-09T12:32:00.007-07:00

Richard Peck has been around for a long time. He's been writing contemporary teen novels for most of his career, but around the turn of the millennium (that sounds weird), he aimed his craft at writing for younger readers and changed his settings to rural towns around the turn of the century. This was a good move for him because his books A Long Way From Chicago and A Year Down Yonder won him a Newberry Honor and Newberry Medal. For good reason because these books are examples of storytelling at its finest.

Peck's writing makes you feel like he's channeling Mark Twain. Using the characters' midwestern vernacular, you get a feeling of sitting on a porch swing, listening to someone of an older generation spin tales. You're not sure how much of it is true since the ridiculousness of some of it seems too big to swallow, yet you're willing to believe because the story is just that good. Peck has written some of his books with one family as the central characters, but then he also has other books with the same setting (turn of the century, rural Indiana) and all new characters. They're all good.

The book I read most recently was Here Lies the Librarian and has Peck's usual assortment of quirky characters, unexpected heroes, and a story that keeps you riveted to your chair until you finish. Eleanor and her brother run a small auto shop in a tiny town that has fierce competition from a bigger outfit that pulls stunts like pouring sugar in gas tanks to get business. When a quartet of young co-eds from the university in Indianapolis show up in town and pour their family money into renovating the town's neglected library, everything is shaken up. There's also car racing, stunt-pulling, a colonel who can't seem to remember he's not in the middle of the Civil War anymore and a tornado that digs up local graves. This book is a fun ride.

The very best aspect of Peck's books is that you could read them out loud to your entire family and not a single one of them would get bored. Well, maybe your two and under crowd would lose interest, but these are books for parents and children and any extended family that might be hanging around. The language is nearly tangible with how real and beautifully crafted it is and the characters are such fun to read. I can't vouch for anything Peck has written outside of his thread of books like Here Lies the Librarian, but I can say that if you make time for these books, you will not regret it.

The Help

2009-11-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

Not all bestsellers are worth all the hype. Anything written by Dan Brown, for instance. When I see stacks of a book piled up at Costco, I narrow my eyes and wonder. The Help by Kathryn Stockett is an exception to that rule and after it was recommended to me by several reliable sources (thanks, Mom!) I finally got a hold of it from the grips of other patrons at the library. What, did they only have one copy and a librarian on a mule was delivering it personally to each person's home? Sheesh.

The Help tells the story from there different women's perspectives in 1960's Jackson, Mississippi. If you know anything about the Civil Rights movement, you'll know what a hotbed that particular area was during that time. Two of the women are black maids in white homes and their viewpoints are similar, but how they react and deal with their situations differ. Aibilene is a black maid working for a middle class family with one little girl. The mother cannot seem to bond with her child and Aibilene steps in as a mother figure to her. Aibilene lost her own son in a tragic accident and tending people's children has always brought her joy, up until they get big enough to turn into their parents. Minny is a maid who has gotten fired from more jobs than she can count on two hands due to her smart mouth. There is no tolerance for a smart-mouthed black woman employed by white women during that time. She ends up as a maid for a young woman who came from extremely humble roots and doesn't seem to know where the line between black and white is supposed to be. Skeeter is white and the daughter of a predominant family in Jackson, fresh out of college and ready to become a famous writer. She decides to pursue a book project exposing how white women treat their black maids and nannies, but her initial motivation is to get published. Only later does she come to realize how little she knows about these women's lives.

There were aspects of this book that were deeply disturbing. Hilly, one of Skeeter's old friends who is a woman of great influence in Jackson, has it out for black women. She is the instigator of getting other families to install outdoor bathrooms for their maids so they don't have to share with the family. Her initiative hypes up the prevention of diseases being spread between the races, with the emphasis on black to white. Hilly is so wrapped up in making sure the black maids know their place that she becomes more and more irrational and terrifying. It was terrifying to me to think that women like her made life in Mississippi that much harder for black women during that time. Hilly is a horrible human being and I started to wonder if she was being portrayed too one-sided, but Stockett does make sure we know that Hilly loves her children and takes good care of them. Also, I started to realize that even though I don't personally know someone this vindictive, manipulative and self-righteous doesn't mean they don't exist.

Watching Skeeter evolve through the book was fascinating. Her maid, Constantine, who was like a mother to her growing up, mysteriously disappeared right before she came home from college. No one will tell her where she went or what happened and part of why she wants to collect stories from the maids in the community is to find out what happened to her. Other than that reason, Skeeter has no interest in changing the laws or seeing things done differently, she just wants to point out what is going on between the maids and their employers. As she learns more and hears more of their stories, personally witnesses their tragedies, and then is singled out by the angry white women of her community, she starts to empathize and desire change.

I felt a bit like Skeeter as I read The Help. I'm lucky enough to live in a day and age where racism is intolerable and how often have I ever encountered it? Or persecution of any type? As I read, I felt like there was a world out there that I have never had to experience, much like Skeeter had never experienced. It was eye-opening to me. The book is written in such a way to draw you into these women's lives without pitying them. I became frustrated, righteously indignant, and then admiring of their strength and ability to keep going despite the cards stacked so heavily against them.

Stockett grew up in Jackson, Mississippi and comes from the background of having had a black maid growing up, a woman who nursed and cared and cleaned up after her and her family. She didn't begin to question the roles of her family and her maid's until she was much older. At the time she was growing up, it was completely normal. Her small appendix at the end of the book explains her history and the fact that she wrote this book for that beloved maid. In my opinion, she did her a great honor. Stockett's storytelling was phenomenal and since this is her first book, I hope to see many more in the future.

A midnight book release party

2009-11-02T15:22:00.010-07:00

Last week I went to my first ever midnight book release party. Ironically, I didn't even care about the book. It was the final book in the Robert Jordan Wheel of Time series. I have not read any of Robert Jordan, and have no desire to. But because this book was written by Brandon Sanderson and he was attending the book release, my sister convinced me to go and get some books signed by him.

It was fun, though the activities meant nothing to me since I haven't read the Jordan books. People kept handing out stickers that would make the other fans laugh, but meant nothing to me. But for the sake of any Jordan fans reading this, one said, "Bela is a Darkfriend," and the other said, "I killed Asmodean." No idea what they meant, but I still think the Wheel of Time logo looks like Mickey Mouse. And after looking at the cover art for those books, I have a new appreciation for the cover art of Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy. I'm not a big fan of the Mistborn cover art, but by comparison the childish illustrations used for the Wheel of Time series make Mistborn look like fine art!

It was fun to meet Brandon Sanderson. He was very gracious and flattered that we would have stood in line just for him. I had a chance to thank him for answering our questions for the blog a little while back. Overall he seemed like a very nice guy who is not too full of himself, which impresses me even more than his amazing talent. I wish him all the best success, especially with the publication of this most recent monumental work. That's a huge responsibility to finish the work of another author and try to be true to what came before while still exercising your own creativity. And with such potential of alienating die-hard fans, it's not a risk to be taken lightly! So I hope for his sake that it's well-received. Because knowing his other work, I'm pretty sure that it'll be the best of the series!

But having said that, I just have to ask, what is the deal with fantasy fans?? Do they not realize that they are perpetuating a horrible stereotype that keeps them marginalized and less respected than the genre deserves? Standing in line for two hours with all these hard core fantasy fans just about did me in. Holy lack of personal hygiene! I don't know when the last time was I've been so entrenched in B.O. Come on, do you really think that voluminous cloak is going to mask the fact that you forgot to put on deodorant for the day? For goodness sake, take a shower, brush your teeth, get a haircut, and if you're a girl put on a little make-up, and then maybe there would be less of a "freak" stigma! I just don't get it. I enjoy a good fantasy, but never to the point that I would sacrifice my personal dignity for it. Ewwww.

Overall it was a fun night, even though I didn't care a snitch for the book that all the hullabaloo was about. It did make me sad that I never made it to a release party for a book I cared about, like the last Harry Potter book. Now, that would have been an event I could have gotten into! But don't worry, I would have brushed my teeth before I left the house.

Co-review: Murder on the Orient Express

2009-10-31T13:20:00.003-06:00

In celebration of Halloween, we chose a classic mystery by Agatha Christie for October's co-review. I can't think of any authors who have been more prolific than Agatha Christie, the Queen of Crime who helped shape the modern mystery. Her classic who-done-its often include a brilliant yet unassuming private detective whose keen powers of observation and deduction culminate in a surprise conclusion where the murderer is revealed to the astonishment of all. Sound familiar? Yeah, it's pretty much your standard murder mystery template. But unlike Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, Christie's work doesn't center around any single character, though she does have a couple of favorites who get a lot of air time.

Murder on the Orient Express features Christie's famous Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot. When a passenger train gets stranded in a snowbank in Yugoslavia, one of the passengers is murdered in the middle of the night. Knowing the murderer must still be on board, the railway director entreats his friend Poirot (who happens to be traveling on the same train) to solve the crime. The majority of the novel consists of the various passengers offering alibis and evidence while Poirot sorts through the confusing mess to uncover the truth. It is a puzzle of logic and deduction for the reader as well since reserving the great unveiling for the end gives us a chance to develop our own theories along the way. And be forewarned that since this is a co-review, we can't promise not to give away any spoilers!

Caren: It's been many years since I've read an Agatha Christie novel, so it was fun to go back and revisit one of the classics. The most obvious difference from modern mysteries was the absence of action, violence, and nail-biting suspense. Instead, it was all about laying the information out for the reader to sort through and see if we could figure it out on our own. We weren't allowed much access into Poirot's mind so we had to rely on our own powers of deduction. But I have to admit that I didn't even bother trying to figure it out myself. I knew there would be an unexpected twist at the end, so I just decided to take the lazy route and wait for Poirot to spell it out for me. What about you, Jenny? Did any of the characters seem more suspicious to you than the others?

Jenny: No, in fact I kept thinking how strange it was that everyone was so devoid of suspicion. Of course, you realize why at the end and it starts to come together as more and more characters have a link to the Armstrong kidnapping/murder. Very different from modern mysteries. The other big difference I saw was the stereotypes that were used, like "women are hysterical" or "Italians like to stab with knives". Those kinds of statements in modern novels would be used to show how non-politically correct a character was. In Orient, they came across as completely normal. It was interesting to me to see how much our society has changed just from what we can read in a mystery novel.

The way the book was organized was very interesting. The crime section was first, then the testimony of each passenger, then the re-examination of evidence and testimony, then the grand unveiling. I would be interested to see if that's how all of Christie's novels are written. You can't beat Poirot for cleverness though. That guy has it together.

Caren: It's been a while, but I don't think Christie employs this same format in all of her novels. Some of them have multiple murders with suspense building the entire time, if I remember right. But they all include the grand unveiling at the end.

Good point on the stereotypes. Definitely written in a different time! There were some other things too that didn't fit with a contemporary audience. Some of the clues Poirot picked up on meant nothing to me -- like when he identified Miss Debenham as having spent some time in America because she referred to a telephone call as "long-distance." There were also times that Christie deliberately withheld information from us, and I thought that was a little unfair. For instance, the detail about the bolts on the even numbered rooms being in a different location than the odd numbered rooms. I don't mind if I'm not as smart as the guy solving the crime, but I do think it's only fair that I get the same information he does. Or at least a hint.

I had a hard time believing that these people were all capable of murder. It made for a good story, but it was hard to imagine some of them actually being able to stab another person. That's just so brutal, and they didn't seem twisted enough by revenge to be capable of it. But maybe I'm just looking at it through contemporary mystery eyes again.

What did you think of them all getting away with it in the end?

Jenny: Oh no, I agree with you on that point. I hardly think every single one of the characters capable of stabbing someone. And you're talking about people who were involved in the Armstrong household, not direct relatives or people I would think could hang onto that kind of fury and be part of such a nefarious plot. I think Christie probably thought it would make a good story and show off Poirot's skills and didn't think too hard about their motivation.

I have a hard time with endings like this. My innate sense of justice feels annoyed when people get away with murder (pun intended). Did Ratchett/Cassetti deserve to die? Yeah, probably, but it wasn't those people's jobs to carry out his sentence. Now they have to carry around what they did and know that they got away with it. I couldn't live like that.

All that said, this book isn't a moral thinker. It was written as a romp and that's what it is. See the famous Poirot solve a murder case while stranded on a train! See Poirot use his powers of deduction to discover the hidden identities of possible murderers! I think I prefer a protagonist that isn't quite so infallible. Now that I think about it, though, we are a product of our generation and the literature and entertainment of our time. I bet in the 30's (when I think this book was published) this was exactly what people wanted to read. Otherwise Christie wouldn't have been the best at what she did.

Caren: Yes, it's a fun romp, but I do think that Christie was also trying to nag our moral conscience. From what I remember, she has quite a few novels that deal with uncomfortable ethical dilemmas like this. But I agree with you, it's not so well-developed that I'll be losing any sleep over it. Still, it's nice to know that even something written that long enough and filled with cultural references of the time can still hold some appeal today. It might not get your palms sweating and your heart racing, but it's still a fun murder mystery without the side effect of nightmares afterward. Which, in my opinion, makes it great for young teens who are getting introduced to the mystery genre but are still too young for the intensity of contemporary writers.

Thursday Next sequels

2009-10-26T14:32:00.012-06:00

I've been interested in reading Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next sequels since Jenny and I co-reviewed The Eyre Affair back in May. But I could never seem to get my hands on the next one. So when I was recently in the library and found all of them together, I had to snatch them up. Guess what I've been doing for the last month?

So far Fforde has written four additional books about Thursday Next. Some have more action and mystery than the others, but they are all creative and fun to read. Lost in a Good Book begins with Thursday enjoying marriage to Landen Parke-Laine (her reconciled love from The Eyre Affair), and the revelation that she is newly pregnant. When the Goliath Corporation eradicates Landen in order to blackmail Thursday into releasing their agent Jack Schitt from Poe's The Raven (where he was imprisoned during The Eyre Affair), Thursday begins to search for a way to get back into fiction again. She enters the BookWorld and joins Jurisfiction -- the organization that maintains order within fiction -- as an apprentice to the one and only Miss Havisham. In the meantime she faces another enemy, Acheron Hades' sister Aornis, saves the world from being turned into mysterious pink goo, and releases Jack Schitt only to be double-crossed by Goliath and still left husbandless.

In The Well of Lost Plots, Thursday decides to take refuge away from Goliath in the BookWorld, where she continues her Jurisfiction training and awaits the birth of her baby. There is less action in the first half of this book as she discovers all the oddities of the BookWorld. Fforde's imagination is limitless and it's sometimes hard to keep straight all the aspects of the world of fiction. But it rarely felt tedious and his wit kept things interesting even when the action was a little slow. Thursday faces some Aornis-imposed personal struggles with Landen's eradication, but is helped through them by Granny Next -- a delightful character who first appears in Lost in a Good Book. The second half gets more interesting as Thursday uncovers a greedy plot that would end up destroying libraries all over the world, and has to use her own wit and BookWorld connections to put an end to it. In the end she is appointed Bellman, the head of Jurisfiction.

Something Rotten begins over two years later. Thursday now has a 2-year-old son, Friday, and is getting tired of the BookWorld and returns home to Swindon. Goliath is trying to become a religion and promises to uneradicate Landen in exchange for her forgiveness, a process that doesn't quite go through without a hitch. In the meantime, a fictional character is trying to take over the world beginning by establishing himself as England's tyrant, Hamlet has undergone a hostile takeover and is now The Merry Wives of Elsinore and only an illegally cloned Shakespeare can possibly sort out the mess, a famous assassin is trying to kill Thursday, and Thursday has to save the world by leading the Swindon Mallets professional croquet team to an unlikely victory in the SuperHoop. Despite a few minor inconsistencies in the text, this was probably my favorite of the sequels. There are some great revelations and surprises, lots of loose ends tied up, and more action with the many subplots involved. The series could have easily ended very satisfyingly with Something Rotten.

But it didn't. First Among Sequels continues the story -- a little unnecessarily if you ask me. But it's still fun and is a little bit of a departure from the previous ones because it narrows the gap between the imaginary literary sci-fi world that Fforde has created (where something like SpecOps and the ChronoGuard could exist in the first place) and the real world that we live in. It takes place fourteen years later with Thursday in her early 50's, SpecOps disbanded, and interest in books falling in place of reality TV shows like "Whose Life Support Do We Switch Off?" Thursday is continuing to work in both literary detectives and Jurisfiction, albeit on the sly since she was supposed to have given both up years ago. As a mother, she faces the daunting task of trying to motivate lazy sixteen-year-old Friday who is resisting his destiny of joining the ChronoGuard. In the fictional world she meets with frustration and opposition from her own fictional counterparts in the badly written Thursday Next series. And in both worlds, she has to fight a movement to eliminate the classics and turn them into reality book shows where the readers get to vote off characters and decide where the plot will go. The ending is definitely left open for another book, so we'll have to wait and see where Fforde takes it next.

Overall, this was the most fun I've had reading a series in a long time. Fforde seems to know just how much he can use his jokes before they start to get stale, and moves on to something fresh and interesting before we get tired of them. I admire an author who can take his cleverness to new heights with each book, and Fforde succeeds in that. Also, it seems like usually sequels incorporate more sex, violence, and bad language than the original, but this wasn't the case with the Thursday Next sequels. In fact, if anything the language was less strong than the first and that is a great selling point to me. One thing the sequels lacked was a really strong villain. Acheron Hades was a great villain in the The Eyre Affair, but there's no one of his caliber in the other books. I think that makes them suffer a bit as mysteries (which is where they are catalogued), but they are still so fun to read that if you can get over that you'll still enjoy them.

An author to watch

2009-10-19T07:00:00.005-06:00

It's pretty rare that I get to read a book before it's published, but I got that opportunity recently. Mark Foster is a doctor and an old college friend of mine who just wrote his first book and now it's online for anybody to read. To endorse Mark's writing, I'll divulge the top-secret information that we used to play in a band together. He wrote the songs and played guitar, we had some other buddies who played instruments and I played the violin. Yeah, we were pretty cool. Okay, so we were kinda dorky but what wasn't dorky was Mark's songs. He wrote the most beautiful lyrics, more like poetry set to music. Well, except for The Wookie Song. That one was just silly, but we had a good time.

I think Mark has enormous potential, but he has had trouble finding an agent to represent him due to the fact that his book doesn't have enough sex in it. He's taking the unique approach of putting his book in its entirety online for anyone to read and comment on. In my opinion, Mark deserves a shot at having an editor take a look and see what comes of it. Plus, I think he needs to write some more books so if you all read it and tell him what you think it'll push him in that direction.

Go read the book and Mark's bio here. He includes links to some of his short stories as well. You can also follow a link to his brother's website, enormously talented musician and songwriter Jeff Foster. Lots of good stuff on that there website. I don't want to tell you too much about the book so you can have fresh eyes when you read it, but I will say it's a medical drama. Go check it out while it's free for the reading and tell him what you think.

Meeting Linda Ashman

2009-10-15T07:00:00.000-06:00

The Bookies is a bookstore in Denver that I don't often frequent due to the fact that I love The Tattered Cover so much and The Bookies is in a part of town I don't find myself in very often. I do get their newsletter, mostly for curiosity's sake and to know when they do their amazing sidewalk sales. When the September newsletter came and it said that Linda Ashman, children's book author who I've raved about in the past, would be signing books there on a day when I was also going to be within a few miles of the store, I couldn't pass it up.

We arrived ten minutes early for the signing, but Linda Ashman was already there, ready and waiting to sign some children's books. My mother-in-law gave each of my youngest three daughters a book of hers for their birthdays this year, so we brought those along to get them signed. Some of my girls were more timid than the others, but Ashman was so cute with each of them. My six-year-old had questions about being an author and they chatted a bit about ideas and where they come from. Ashman had a copy of the preliminary sketches the illustrator did for her new book, Creaky Old House, which I found fascinating. She and I talked a bit about writing and the publishing process and she was delightful and interesting.

Ashman's husband and son were there too and my husband and I chatted with Jackson, her son, about his favorite books and his interests. Jackson blogs about his favorite books and I was totally impressed that this eleven-year-old could express himself in writing so well. My poor kids will now have extra pressure from their mom to do more writing. I thought it was sweet that her family would be there to support her while she did signings.

The whole encounter was such fun and now we have a copy of Creaky Old House, which is just as charming as her other books. My only regret is that I didn't buy Come to the Castle as well, but there's always next time.

These Is My Words

2009-10-12T13:30:00.001-06:00

Nancy E. Turner's These is My Words is the captivating story of Sarah Agnes Prine, a young woman living in the Arizona Territories in the late 1800's. It is told as a diary that begins when 17-year-old Sarah moves with her family to Texas. Along the way they are attacked by Indians, their horses and livelihood are stolen, and they face other horrors -- including a brutal attack on Sarah's friends that only ends when young Sarah shoots and kills the two men (the first killings of many in her rough life on the frontier). Shortly after arriving at their destination, Sarah's father dies and they decide to return to the Arizona Territories. This time they travel with a large wagon company accompanied by soldiers and led by a Captain Jack Elliot (whom she is equally fascinated and repulsed by because of weird prejudices that don't make sense but you can only hope she'll get over them since he seems to be a pretty neat guy).

Sarah's mother sinks into a deep depression and can barely function, so Sarah assumes a role of leadership and control over her little surviving family. She is fiery and has a strong backbone, with a maturity and fearlessness beyond her years. But she is also full of insecurities with hopes and dreams just like any other young woman her age, and it is easy to love her and admire her and be swept up in her story. She longs to be educated but never had the opportunity beyond learning to barely read, so she reads whatever she can get her hands on and over time her spelling and grammar improve. (I've heard some readers complain that her spelling and grammar are a barrier in trying to get into the story, but I wouldn't know because I listened to the audio version. Which was fantastic, by the way: Valerie Leonard did a great job bringing the narrative to life.)

Once they arrive back in the territories, she helps her brother and his wife get settled near Tuscon and then marries a family friend who has started a large horse ranch nearby. Soon she finds that marriage isn't quite what she'd hoped it would be, but the untimely death of her husband spares her the years of misery that would otherwise have come. Not that she much likes her new role of young widow with a baby to protect and a large ranch to run by herself, and there are plenty of scary and stressful moments. But there are wonderful people who come into her life, including the kind and dashing Captain Elliot whose nobility and cleverness and kindness makes him an immediate favorite -- with the reader, that is. Sarah spurns his attentions, having been soured on men after her first husband turned out to be such a jerk. But eventually he breaks through her defenses and there are some very sweet and romantic moments as their love blossoms in spite of herself.

Eventually they marry and begin the kind of marriage and family life that she had always dreamed of. It is full of the hardship and sorrow that you would expect, but also many sweet and funny moments and through it all their deep and abiding love shines through and they have a happy life together. And over the years Sarah grows into a strong and refined woman; shaped through a life full of love, sorrow, heartache, and joy.

This was Turner's first novel, but I understand that she's written more about Sarah since, so I'm anxious to get a hold of them. It was pretty long, but full of action and detail that brought the world to life and made me long to see the Arizona Territories from 100 years ago. (And if you know how I feel about Arizona, that's saying something!) So while the diary style has never been my favorite, I never got bored, and in fact kept trying to find chores to do so I could keep listening. It was full of interesting characters that made me laugh and cry right along with them, and gave me a fresh appreciation for the strong women like Sarah who helped shape this country behind the scenes. Some of the material is definitely for a mature audience, so be forewarned that it's not exactly Little House on the Prairie. But if you are in the mood for a great story and fascinating characters, this one gets a hearty recommendation!

A birthday shout-out

2009-10-08T08:09:00.001-06:00

Caren's birthday is this month and in honor of that, I'm going to tell a story on her. About a million years ago when she and I were newly married to our husbands, the whole family went on a camping trip up in the mountains. That night as we all sat around the fire, Caren said she would tell us a story. Now, as a preface, I have no idea how I managed to get that far in life without ever having read The Sneetches and other stories by Dr. Seuss, but I hadn't. When Caren recited What Was I Scared Of? from memory, in the dark, in the woods, I don't know if I've ever been more scared. She terrified me with that story and the ending took me by such shock that the whole night is seared in my memory.

Every time I read What Was I Scared Of? to my kids, I try to make it just as surprising and suspenseful as I heard it for the first time so long ago. The shock has since worn off for them, but I still love to pretend like it's the first time they've ever heard it. It's the perfect spooky story and the ending always feels absolutely right. It remains one of my favorite stories of all time. Happy birthday, Caren, and thanks for scaring the bejeepers out of me and impressing me with your memorization skills!

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

2009-10-06T12:08:00.005-06:00

This is the conversation I have imagined between author Seth Grahame-Smith and his buddy on the concept of writing Pride and Prejudice and Zombies:

Seth: What is up with women and Pride and Prejudice? They drool all over themselves when anything to do with that book comes up.
Buddy: Dude, I know.
Seth: You know what would make that book appealing to men? Zombies. Lots of 'em. And make the Bennett sisters kick-butt warriors in the battle against the zombie infestation of England. That would be hot!
Buddy: Dude! Awesome!

And so he wrote the book Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: with ultraviolent zombie mayhem. Believe me, there is plenty of zombie mayhem. Grahame-Smith said in an interview I read online that the book is 85% Austen and 15% Grahame-Smith. I can believe that. The added parts are obvious and the essential story remains the same. The difference is that England is troubled by a constant zombie problem that has no near resolution and the Bennett sisters have been trained by their father and a Chinese martial arts master to battle against the unmentionables. So you know, pretty much the same.

Grahame-Smith's concept works, if you can buy the idea of adding zombies. You can picture Elizabeth Bennett doing martial arts and Catherine de Bourgh being the country's most formidable female warrior against the unmentionables. The book is funny at times, especially anything to do with Mr. Collins and Charlotte Lucas. It definitely feels like it was written for a male audience (who Grahame-Smith has said he wrote the book for), but who is actually going to read this book? Most likely women. I mean, it's still Pride and Prejudice and it still has the language of an Austen book and the love story is the same. If I'm right and it's mostly women who will read it, there are far too many jokes about the male anatomy and people vomiting and beating hearts being ripped out of chests to appeal to a female audience. In fact, there are only about three jokes that are recycled throughout the book. Maybe that would work better in a movie, but it's glaringly repetitive in the book.

Speaking of a movie, I also read online that the book would possibly become a movie in the future. If so, it will most likely be the first film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice to get an R rating. 'Cause there's lots of gore. Oodles. I can imagine that will be when the men turn out in droves. That's not saying that all men love gore or that women are incapable of enjoying zombie flicks, but I don't think I'm wrong by saying it's slanted towards one gender. And that's fine too. But I doubt their Mr. Darcy will hold a candle to Colin Firth or Matthew MacFayden. I'm just sayin'.