Harry, Revised

I didn't have high hopes for my latest gym book--Harry, Revised by Mark Sarvas--but it turned out to be better than I thought. The book opens with Harry sitting in a diner, waiting to work up the nerve to ask out the waitress. We know he is late for something, and it sounds like a job interview, but in the very last sentence of the chapter it is revealed that he is going to his wife's funeral.

The book is loosely influenced by The Count of Monte Cristo--Harry even orders a monte cristo sandwich in the first scene--with Harry trying to be a modern-day Dantes and helping an older waitress in the same diner. Of course, he only does so to impress the first waitress and get her to go out with him. He wants to help, but he ends up making life worse for the waitress more often than not, by acting before he really thinks through his plan. Interspersed throughout are flashbacks to his life with Anna, his wife, and we see that, along with impressing the cute waitress, Harry is also trying to atone for past mistakes. I haven't read The Count of Monte Cristo, so I can't really tell how much this book is influenced by Dumas's classic or how effective it is, but it is a worthwhile read in any case.

The only real fault I have with the book is that it is set in Los Angeles, a city I know well, but it feels more like New York. Maybe it is the diner that threw me off--while there's a diner on every corner in New York, they are few and far between in LA. Or perhaps because Anna came from and old money family in Connecticut. Something just felt very East Coasty. But a minor hang up for a pretty good book.

The Emperor of Ocean Park

I picked up The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter at a used book sale, because it made quite a splash when it came out in 2002. And it was a story full of intrigue and suspense, and even action . . . but I thought it could have been told in about half as many pages. Most of the book moved at a slow pace. It would just start to take off with some bit of action or a new revelation, and then the next chapter got bogged down in back story.

Talcott Garland, who goes by the Dostoyevsky-inspired nickname Misha, has just learned of his father's death. His father, known even to his children as The Judge, nearly landed a seat on the supreme court bench, but was marred by scandal during his confirmation hearings. Misha's sister is convinced the judge was murdered and is conferring with conspiracy theorists over the internet. Meanwhile, Misha's shifty Uncle Jack is pressuring him to uncover The Judge's "arrangements." Chess pawns are mysteriously delivered to Misha . . . he is beaten and even shot. It's quite the ride. But, I found the end a little unsatisfying--especially for a 650+ page book!

I wouldn't necessarily recommend this book, but at least it's one more off my list!

Emma Brown

I've had a galley of Emma Brown sitting on my shelf for years. Someone asked me when I started this project if there were any books I regretted letting sit for so long. This is it! Based on an unfinished manuscript by Charlotte Bronte, the book was finished by the Irish writer Clare Boylan. This is something I usually avoid--sequels or prequels to classic books written by other, usually lesser, writers. This, however, was a pretty good execution of one author filling in for another.

Bronte wrote the first two chapters of the book, and they were published in a magazine after her death. Matilda Fitzgibbon arrives under mysterious circumstances to a fledgling boarding school run by three spinster sisters. Yes, it's a Bronte novel with a boarding school. And yes, someone gets locked in an attic. But the mystery that unfolds as a few kind strangers try to discover who Matilda really is, and where she goes after she disappears, is captivating. The underbelly of Victorian London is exposed--especially the plight of poor children and orphans. In fact, the only time you can really tell the novel was written in the twenty-first instead of the nineteenth century is when Boylan rails against these harsh conditions. One review I read criticized it for relying heavily on coincidence, but I just thought that made it feel more authentic.

Now, if only someone could so convincingly complete Charles Dickens's The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

By Nightfall

Still straying from "the list," I recently picked up Michael Cunningham's latest, By Nightfall, at an author event. A slim novel, it tells the story of Peter Harris, a middle-aged art gallery owner in New York. Peter is seemingly happy in his marriage, but when his wife's much younger, wayward brother comes to stay with them, he finds himself attracted to the young man. A loose homage to Thomas Mann's Death in Venice, this book isn't nearly as heavy-handed with literary references as The Hours or Specimen Days. And neither is it the sprawling family drama of Cunningham's earlier work, Flesh and Blood. In fact, it is a fairly quiet novel compared to these other examples. Not bad, but just not quite as remarkable as The Hours or Flesh and Blood.

Seeing Michael Cunningham in person was utterly delightful, however. I went to a reading and signing for this book. He read a couple of short scenes from it, then a rather lengthy chapter from what he's currently working on. He said it was a first draft, but if that's true, I can't imagine how I ever thought I could be a writer. It's so polished--I can't imagine he just sits down and writes that beautifully! I hope by first draft he meant the first draft that he was willing to show anyone. Otherwise, he's even more talented than I thought!

What I found most interesting in his talk was his theory that prose should sound rhythmic and artistic when read aloud even to someone who doesn't speak the language of the work. He really pays attention to the stresses of the syllables as he strings together his sentences, but not in a labored way. I hate prose that is trying too hard to be poetic--I'm sure everyone has seen that. You can tell each little word in a sentence is labored over. Cunningham's prose is beautiful and artistic but in a way that feel natural. You can imagine someone speaking the dialogue. The narrative doesn't feel forced. That, I think, is the sign of a truly talented writer.

Heart of the Matter

A friend lent me Emily Giffin's newest novel, Heart of the Matter. I've read Giffin's four previous novels and enjoyed three of them quite a bit. Something Borrowed and Something Blue are the best chick lit I've read since the first couple of Shopaholic books. Heart of the Matter was a little more serious . . . it felt like chick lit's older, more responsible sister. Gone are the fun shopping sprees and intricate descriptions of fashion. Instead, we see a woman who has recently given up her career to stay home with her two small children and her surgeon husband who is rarely home.

I read this book after the high I had reading Freedom. I often do that--after a really great, intense read, I opt for something light and end up going too light. Any other time, I'm sure this would have been a nice, easy read. Coming off of Freedom, though, it felt trite and a little boring. Well, it did bog down a bit at the beginning. The narrative switches between Tessa, the mother mentioned above, and Valerie, the mother of a boy who was badly burned in a birthday party accident. Tessa's husband Nick, a pediatric plastic surgeon, is the boy's doctor. And he's handsome (swoon). As the story is set up, it becomes immediately clear that Nick and Valerie are going to have an affair. It just takes way too long to get there--about half the book. Once they do, the story picks up.

Giffin has definitely graduated from her chick lit origins. She seems to be trying to get into the Jodi Picoult/Lifetime movie genre . . . we feel sympathy for all parties involved and find it hard to blame anyone . . . but it doesn't quite have the urgency or emotion of a Picoult novel. I would think twice before reading Giffin's next novel. And please remind me not to pick up a cotton candy book the next time I finish a real masterpiece!

Freedom

I downloaded Jonathan Franzen’s new book, Freedom, just a couple of days before leaving the country for a 2-week European vacation. (I went on vacation with my Nook instead of my usual stack of paperbacks, and I loved it! You just have to remember to keep it charged . . . ) It was only on my return that I learned it was the current Oprah pick! Now, I have nothing against Oprah and sometimes she picks really good books. But I consider myself a serious reader, and it’s not often I find myself reading an Oprah book right after she announces it. But, with or without a talk show host endorsement, Freedom is a great read.

I read Corrections way back when, and although I don’t remember it well, I seem to remember it being hard to get into. Freedom, on the other hand, is captivating right from the start. It’s the story of Walter and Patty Berglund, and their two children. It has a lot of the components of my favorite genre—the mutli-generational American family saga—but, unlike most of those stories, it isn’t told sequentially. In the first section, Patty’s son Joey gets fed-up with his parents and moves in with his girlfriend’s family instead. The next lengthy section flashes back to Patty’s college years, when she meets Walter but has a crush on his roommate, Richard Katz, a brooding musician. The love triangle that ensues is quite the soap opera, but then the next section becomes extremely political. Walter gets a job with a conservation group out to save a species of songbird, but the huge corporation funding the operation has sinister motivations. And all the while Walter’s true passion is fighting overpopulation. He enlists the help of Richard, now a bona fide rock star, to try to convince young people that it’s really cool to not reproduce.

The book is overly political—criticizing the Bush years and America’s current drain on the environment, not to mention the war in Iraq, the economic downturn, 9/11, and a number of other events from the last decade and a half. Not to mention Walter’s extreme stance on overpopulation and his belief that people shouldn’t have children at all. And yet, the story is engaging enough to carry it. Amidst the political points, I still found myself caring about what the characters did next and how events would shape them. If Oprah’s endorsement isn’t enough, I, too, would highly recommend this book!

Les Liaisons Dangereuses

I picked up an old paperback copy of Les Liaisons Dangereuses at a library sale in college. Since the title was in French, I assumed the whole book was in French. I bought it when I was still taking French classes, naively thinking I'd read it in its native language. Well, since I stopped taking French and would find it hard to read even Le Petit Prince nowadays, I had relegated it to decorative status. Until the day I showed it to my friend, a French literature scholar, who actually opened the book and we discovered it was in English.

So, I put it on my list. Instead of my old, decorative paperback, though, I read it on my brand spanking new Nook! I really like my Nook--it's much sleeker than the first generation Kindle I borrowed from work and much easier on the eyes than the iPad. But, back to the book. I was originally interested in reading Laclos' novel back when the movie Cruel Intentions, the modern day teenage version of the story, came out. Reading an eighteenth-century epistolary novel reminded me of my favorite literature class, but really I think I prefer the movie version of the story. It was sleeker and just a little bit crueler on screen. I kept picturing Selma Blair and Ryan Phillippe as I read.

I'm glad I read it and had the chance to give my new Nook a spin. I'm really looking forward to loading it up with new stuff and taking it on vacation!

The Bitch Switch

This is not the type of book I usually read. Let me try to explain. I was at a bookseller’s dinner where Omarosa was signing her new book, The Bitch Switch. I met her as she was passing by the exhibitors on her way to the signing table. I didn’t watch The Apprentice, but knew her, of course, by reputation. She turned out to be quite charming! She explained how, on the show, she was really just playing a part and many of her antics were suggested by the producers. So, when I looked over and saw that she had no line, I decided to go get a book. (At bookseller’s dinners and trade shows, the books are free!)

This is sort of a self-help book and sort of a business book. It’s based on a communication course Omarosa used to teach, and it’s basically about how many women can be more assertive. Sadly, as so often happens with women, assertiveness becomes equivalent to bitchiness. The advice really isn’t anything new . . . learn to say no, don’t be a pushover . . . I think the most interesting thing is learning all the different jobs she’s had—from Clinton White House staffer to beauty pageant consultant, from CNN freelancer to soap opera actress, and of course, her many reality television show gigs. And I think she had a brief stint in the ministry shortly after I met her! She’s everything to everyone!

The writing is interspersed with various quizzes/exercises and letters from readers. To be honest, I skipped over those. I skimmed this book during two sessions on the elliptical. It is peppered with pithy quotes from famous people, and there are some side bars of famous “Switches”, including Janice Dickinson and Hillary Clinton. What a pair!

Falling in Love with Natassia

My latest gym book was Falling in Love with Natassia by Anna Monardo, and to be honest, I almost abandoned it about 100 pages in. The jacket copy mentioned a character that was a New York City book editor, so I kept going, hoping that part would catch my interest. The character's role was small, but I was eventually sucked into the story.



Natassia was born to Mary and Ross when they were studying abroad in Italy. No longer together, they leave Natassia to be raised by Ross's parents (his father is the aforementioned book editor). Natassia is devastated after her much older boyfriend dumps her and tries to commit suicide. Mary's friends rush to her side to help, but during all the drama we learn that one of her friends committed some abusive behavior against Natassia when she was an infant. Mary takes her daughter to live with her on campus at the upstate prep school where she teaches dance, and the final scenes include a confrontation where the past abuse is brought out into the open.



This is a very melodramatic book. It's not quite as bad as a Jodi Picoult novel--where we're shown so many sides of each character we can't possibly blame anyone--but it would still be a good candidate for a Lifetime movie. Or maybe an episode of Law & Order SVU. All of these people have problems--personal problems, marital problems, problems from their childhoods. And with more than one therapist, you know you're in for a ride.



I didn't necessarily dislike this book, but I wouldn't really recommend it either. Unless you're needing a little melodrama in your life. But, really, who wants that?

The Book Thief

I got a signed copy of Markus Zusak's The Book Thief a few years ago at a children's booksellers dinner. With all the critical claim and its long reign on the bestsellers list, I was really looking forward to starting it. At first, I didn't think I was going to get into it. It's narrated by Death, which puts some distance between the reader and the characters. Not to mention gives the book a sinister mood--which is not hard, considering it's set in Nazi Germany. But by the end, I was deeply involved in the story and found it hard to put the book down.

The story follows Leisel Meminger, who is the titular book thief, as she is moved to a new town to live with a foster family when her own parents are accused of being Communists. Her brother dies on the journey, and she steals her first book, a gravedigger's guide, when they stop to bury him. She continues the habit, taking books whenever she can. She finds solace in the words--and helps calm those around her--by reading aloud during air raids and reading to a neighbor after she learns of her son's death in the war fields. She eventually begins writing her own story, which saves her life. This reverence for the written word is likely why the librarians went so nuts for the book and why it bears a Printz Honor seal, awarded by the American Library Association. But it's a nice touchstone for any book lover.

It is eye-opening to read a story that counts not just Jews among the War's victims. It does include Jewish characters and the uncertainty that came with the concentration camps, as it rightly should. But it shows the other victims, too: communists whether real or perceived, the country's children, and ordinary German citizens who didn't see eye to eye with the Nazi regime. The fact that we're seeing this all play out through the eyes of an adolescent girl makes it all the more heartbreaking.

While The Book Thief was published as a young adult novel, I think there's something here for everyone, and would highly recommend it. The unique narrator and uses of art--stories and sketches--throughout makes it stand out from other World War II literature.

The Potrait of a Lady

A few years ago, I was feeling bad about never having read Henry James, so I picked up a Barnes & Noble Classics edition of The Portrait of a Lady. Of course, a 600-page classic always seems daunting, so I went a few more years having never read Henry James. But, now that I have, I realize what I was missing!

Isabel Archer is an American orphan taken under the wing of her aunt, Mrs. Touchett, who now resides in Europe. Isabel becomes a part of the family, and when her uncle dies, her Consumption-stricken cousin Ralph, convinces his father to bequeath her a large sum of money. Ralph hopes the money will open up the world to her, allowing her to travel and freeing her from the necessity of having to marry for financial stability. Unfortunately, it only makes her prey to the scheming of some very selfish people.

While Jane Austen’s characters have silly foibles that are easy to poke fun of, James’s characters have foibles that are lethal. They don’t think twice of ruining another person’s life if it leads to personal gain. In the first half, I found it hard to sympathize with Isabel: she is vaguely intellectual and independent but immensely silly at the same time. By the end, after she has fallen victim to those plotting around her, it is hard not to feel sympathy for her and hope she finds a way to escape her circumstances.

On a lighter note, one thing in James’s world seems to continue today is the obnoxiousness of American tourists in Europe. Most of the central characters of this novel are American ex-pats, as was James himself. They are not quite on the same level as native Europeans, but they are more refined than those merely visiting from the States. Semi-professional journalist Henrietta Stackpole, upon seeing Michelangelo’s dome at St. Peter’s, declares that is suffers by comparison with the dome of the U.S. Capitol. Now, while I admit the Capitol building is spectacular, it is nothing compared to St. Peter’s—especially when one takes into account how much older St. Peter’s is. But it is that attitude of things in the U.S. always being superior that I—and many other travelers—find so annoying when encountering fellow—albeit more obnoxious—American abroad.

All in all, I enjoyed the novel, and will look for more James in the future. I have it on good authority that The Turn of the Screw is quite good . . .

Water for Elephants

I've been wanting to read Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen since it took the bestseller lists by storm a couple of years ago. So, when I borrowed a Kindle from work to try e-reading, it was the first book I thought of. It was great for a quick, summer read. It's engaging with great characters and just enough literary flavor so you don't feel like you're reading trash.

Jacob Jankowski is about to graduate with a veterinary degree from Cornell when his parents are killed in a tragic accident. He freezes during his final exams and walks out and away from the school. He hops on board a train in the middle of a night . . . only to find it's a circus train. When the circus staff discovers he is a veterinarian--at least in all but degree--they hire him on. We meet a whole cast of characters--the hot-tempered animal handle, the delicate horse rider, the corrupt manager, a midget clown--and feel the class struggle between the performers and the working men. Set against the Depression and Prohibition, Gruen even throws a little history in.

It's an absorbing story, and the only surprise about the upcoming movie is that it didn't come out sooner after the book's great success--especially with book clubs. I read that Rob Pattinson from Twilight is playing Jacob . . . I might have cast Zac Efron instead, but that's just personal preference. It will probably make a good, period movie for the fall serious movie season.

E-Reading Diary, Part 2

So, shortly after I checked out the Kindle, we got an office iPad. I couldn't wait to get it home and try out all the e-reading apps: Apple's iBookstore, the Kindle app, the Barnes & Noble app, and Kobo, which is the reader Borders is using. iBookstore is the closest to a printed book: the layout has the outline of a hardcover book behind the page, there's an animated page-turn effect, the counter actually uses pages as a unit of measure, and it tells you how many pages are left in the chapter--which is great for me, because I compulsively check how long each chapter is.

The Kindle app is much like Kindle for PC--there is no search function, which made the Merriam-Webster's Dictionary I bought completely useless. (Although, to be honest, I can't remember if there was a search function on the actual Kindle.) The page turns are much faster than on the Kindle, as they are in all the apps. The B&N and Kobo apps are fairly similar. And all of them let you download samplers of many books--fairly generous samples, too--3 chapters of the new Emily Giffin novel. The iBookstore doesn't have nearly as many titles as the Kindle or B&N stores, though.

Overall, I didn't really like reading on the iPad. Even though you can adjust the brightness--and even change the page color from white to sepia in iBooks--the backlit screen is hard on the eyes. I was tired after reading for about 20 minutes. And, since I'm practically going blind already, I want to take it easy on my peepers! There were some cool apps that would only work on a color screen like the iPad. Zinio is a reader for magazines that keeps the layout of the print version. You can read selected free articles or buy whole issues. The DC Comics app is also really cool--you can read the full page of a comic, or go panel by panel. Batman has never looked so good! (Actually I don't know if that's true. I've never read a Batman comic in print.)

Now that I'm ready to buy my own e-reader, I'm leaning toward the Barnes & Noble Nook. Even though it doesn't do as much as the iPad, the e-ink is definitely the way to go for me. Who wants to get on an international flight and only be able to read for 20 minutes at a time!?

E-Reading Diary, Part 1

I have officially read an e-book! After attending a scholarly publishing conference on the mostly digital future--although print books aren't going anywhere any time soon--I decided I should probably see what all the fuss is about. So, I checked out a company Kindle and downloaded Water for Elephants, a book I've been meaning to read.

The buying experience on the Kindle was a little clunky. Granted, I was using a first generation device, so it has likely improved. You navigate around the menus with a scroll bar on the right--I'm pretty sure newer models don't have that bar. I searched for the book, found it, clicked buy, and in about a minute it was ready to go. Browsing for books is a little difficult. You pretty much have to know what you're looking for or want something off a bestseller list. The preview chapters are also a little awkward--you can sample most books in the Kindle store, but instead of clicking a link to the sample chapters, you have to download them to the device. They seem to be quite generous, though.

I wasn't sure how I'd like reading on a screen, but once I got into the book, I didn't even notice I was reading in a different way. Great writing is great writing, and it really doesn't matter how you read it. Once I got the rhythm of clicking next page about a line early--there's a slight delay in the page turn, but again, this could be because it's an old Kindle--the "device" disappeared and I was just reading.

It's a little disorienting to let go of the idea of pages--there's a progress bar at the bottom of the screen, but no page counts. I usually flip through to see how long a chapter is, and I had to let that go. But otherwise, I was surprised by how much I liked using the reader. It's easier to hold in one hand than a printed book, which makes reading while eating lunch much easier. And it's lighter than most books.

I'm now excited about getting my own e-reader. I think it'd be great for travel--and just in general to always have a book in your bag. The only real drawback is the shopping experience, but having a specific book in mind is not usually a problem for me. I can always pick up a physical book when I find something new and exciting in a bookstore . . . I can't imagine switching over to e-books completely. But, I am more excited about e-readers than I thought I would be. Plus, if I had bought a paperback copy of Water for Elephants, it'd now be sitting in my pile of books to discard, so now I don't have to worry about it taking up room in my very full apartment.

I got to try an iPad recently, too, so I'll review my reading experience on that in my next post. I fully embraced technology this past week!

The Lost Symbol

I picked up a copy of Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol at a garage sale earlier this month. I couldn't decide what book on my list I wanted to read on my most recent business trip, so I took this along instead. What a great summer read! Just like the first two Robert Langdon novels, it was full of action and sophisticated intrigue. A thriller at heart, Brown weaves in so much history, symbology, science, and conspiracy theory, one can't help but feel smart reading it. (Especially when I figured out the biggest symbolic mystery close to the beginning!)

Abandoning the Catholic church, Brown centers this novel around the Masons. Theories about the Mason's involvement in the founding of America are not new--I caught a History Channel show about the subject on the same business trip. Many of the founding fathers were confirmed members, several prominent buildings in DC--including the Capitol and Washington Monument--commenced with traditional Masonic cornerstone ceremonies, and if you trace a 6-pointed star over the pyramid seal on the back of a dollar bill, the points will hit letters that spell out Mason.

When the highest Masonic leader in the country calls Robert Langdon to give a talk on symbology at the Capitol building, the action begins. He arrives to find the severed hand of this leader, who is also a close friend, sitting in the middle of the Rotunda room, newly tattooed with symbols of the Ancient Mysteries. And the action is nonstop from there. A madman is desperate to find a mythical portal, supposedly located in DC, that leads to the Ancient Mysteries--a new level of wisdom and knowledge for humankind.

This was a fun read, especially for summer. Of course, when my plane hit terrifying turbulence, reading about a woman running for her life didn't really keep my mind off the bumpy ride. But other than that, it was hard to put down, and I'd highly recommend it for a light read!

The Book of Unholy MIschief

If my copies of The Da Vinci Code and Julia Child's My Life in France had a love child, it would have been The Book of Unholy Mischief by Elle Newmark. Set in Renaissance Italy, it tries to be a Dan Brown-type thriller. Luciano, a teenage orphan who has been living on the streets, meets the chef to the Doge of Venice and becomes his apprentice. Meanwhile, all Venice is atwitter over a mysterious book said to contain the secrets to eternal youth, love potions, and alchemy. Not surprisingly, the chef knows something about the book, and a network of chefs dedicated to preserving knowledge is uncovered. Like The Da Vinci Code, a juicy secret about Christ is proposed . . . although it is much less juicy than the one in Brown's novel.

While the book strives to be an intriguing thriller, the best-written passages are those describing food. Newmark's father was a chef, and her writing really comes alive when she is describing ripe produce and the melding of flavors in the busy kitchen. I wonder how well researched it is--it seems odd that some of the recipes are still used today, but I suppose it could be accurate. I hope she leaves the historical mysteries to other writers and focuses on food in her next book.

Speaking of Dan Brown, I'm about 50 pages into his latest, The Lost Symbol. It has proved to be very hard to put down--he really is the master of that genre. Don't judge . . . we all need a little brain candy!

Flesh and Blood

Picking up Michael Cunningham's Flesh and Blood was like a breath of fresh air in this project. A lot of the books that have been sitting around my apartment forever have been sitting around for a reason: I had something better to read. But this book made me realize what my very favorite kind of book is: sweeping novels that follow multiple generations of a family, preferably through most of the twentieth century. Bonus points if the first generation emigrates to America.

Flesh and Blood, which I liked even more than The Hours (which I really really liked!), is all of those things. Constantine Stassos, the patriarch of the novel, moves to New York from Greece around the fifties. We follow his children and his children's children through the sexual revolution of the seventies and the AIDS epidemic of the eighties and nineties, clashing constantly with Constantine's old world ideals. Constantine is a contractor and makes his fortune building track homes. There's an interesting commentary on the cheapening of building standards and the market for cheap houses as more and more people moved to the suburbs and wanted single family homes.

I just couldn't put this book down. Granted, I started on a cross-country flight, so I didn't have a lot of other options, but I breezed through the first 350 pages in two days. I was flying to New York to go to BookExpo, where I was happy to learn Michael Cunningham has a new novel coming out this fall: By Nightfall, which is schedule to release in late September. Here's hoping it's as good as Flesh and Blood!

Howard's End

Two worlds collide in E.M. Forster's Howard's End: the intellectual, highly theoretical world of the Schlegels and the practical, capitalistic world of the Wilcoxes. The two families meet by chance--in fact the very lively opening of the novel finds Helen Schlegel announcing her engagement to Paul Wilcox only to say it is all over the very next day. Helen's older sister, Margaret, befriends Mrs. Wilcox, and when Mrs. Wilcox dies, she leaves Margaret the family's country estate, Howard's End. Outraged, the men in the family say the last whim of their wife and mother cannot be legally binding, and dismiss the claim.

Sexual politics are definitely at work throughout the novel. The Schlegels' parents died when they were young, so Margaret is used to being the head of the family. She and her sister are both highly independent and extremely well-educated, following a very avant-garde set of writers and artists. Both have their foibles, however. In fact, all of the characters have strong foibles, and only a few are endearing enough to get past them. Helen, especially, has an Emma quality to her. She takes on the cause of Leonard Bast, a clerk she meets by chance at a concert. Meaning well, she works to better his place in life. However, she goes about this mission foolishly and causes much pain in the process.

This was a very readable book--after I reached the midway point, it was hard to put down. Written in 1910, it included a lot of the society and marriage drama of the great nineteenth-century English novels, but the scandals were much more scandalous. Forster perfectly blended the theoretical aspects of the novel--the intellectual versus the practical--with an engaging story. This was the first book I've read by Forster, but I look forward to reading more.

Sea of Poppies

Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh was a sweeping, epic, historical novel set in nineteenth century India. It had romance, it had tragedy . . . it had a lot of characters to keep track of. That, plus the heavy use of Indian dialect, sailing terms, and pirate-esque slang made it very hard to get into. The first hundred and fifty pages, especially. After that, the characters' paths started crossing, so it was easier to keep track of who was who and became a more interesting story.

The main action surrounded the Ibis, a former slave ship that is being used to transport people to Mauritius. The many characters we meet in the first couple hundred pages either run the ship or end up as one of its passengers. Deeti, who could be considered the main character, was supposed to throw herself on her husband's funeral pyre, but instead escaped with a lover. Puli is a French orphan who falls for the ship's second mate Zachary, an American mixed-race sailor. Amidst the many love triangles and such there is quite a bit of commentary on the strict caste system in play at the time, as well as race politics.

Once I got into it, I thought this was a good read. If you can get past the jargon, it goes pretty quickly. I was about to give up around page 120, but kept going because a friend of mine had recommended it. (See comments to the When You Reach Me post.) She was right, and I would recommend this to others.

Songs for the Missing

My latest gym book, Songs for the Missing by Stewart O'Nan, was an interesting follow up to Every Last One. Both dealt with family tragedies, but here the action got going a lot sooner. In the first ten pages or so, we meet high school senior Kim Larsen. And then, right around the tenth page, she goes missing. The rest of the book follows her parents and younger sister as they search for Kim and eventually have to move on with their own lives even though the mystery of her disappearance remains unsolved.

Where Every Last One was slow at the beginning, Song for the Missing needed about 50 pages or so (out of 287 total) cut out of the middle. A hundred pages of friends and family searching the rural landscape for clues was quite repetitive. But, the book raised some interesting questions about how families deal with a disappearance. What happens when Kim's younger sister goes back to school? What do Kim's parents tell the college she has chosen when the fall semester starts and she's still missing? When can they go back to work after spending all their time searching for their daughter?

This certainly wasn't my favorite book, but I kept reading to see if Kim would ever be found, and I'm glad I did keep reading. It was a really poignant portrait of a family caught in a tragedy and how they return to everyday life even when the case remains unsolved.

When You Reach Me

This past winter, I read several amazing reviews of Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, and then in January it won the Newbery Award. Needless to say, I had high hopes for this one . . . and it just about lived up to them. On the surface, this is another middle grade novel with quirky characters: Miranda doesn't quite fit in at school and spends most of her time with Sal at the beginning of the story, she helps her mom prepare for her upcoming appearance on The $20,000 Pyramid, and she starts working in cranky Jimmy's sandwich shop at lunch for a salary of cheese sandwiches.

But there's a disquieting mystery at the heart of this story: Miranda receives a note saying someone is coming to save her friend's life if only she'll write him a letter first. The stranger who sends this note--and future ones--not only knows where Miranda lives, but he is able to predict things that happen to her and her family. As Miranda makes more friends at school, she is able to unravel the mystery with their help. And, of course, her obsession with A Wrinkle in Time helps, too.

The reviews had said you needed to be familiar with Wrinkle, so I read that, too, before jumping in. I'm not sure how I missed this one growing up--it's not like I didn't much as a kid. I'm not much for science fiction, so I didn't absolutely love it, but I did like the idea that people were fighting the dark force trying to take over the universe with art and intellect.

Both of these books were fun, adventurous reads . . . for children of all ages! Now, it's back to the list. I'm jumping back in with Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh.

Every Last One

So, I deviated from the list again. I'm good at doing that . . . which is probably how I ended up with a list in the first place. But, I got an advance copy of Anna Quindlen's new novel, Every Last One, from the First Reads program on Goodreads and felt obligated to get a review up on the site quickly.

I haven't read any of Anna Quindlen's fiction, but, as I said when I read her nonfiction work, Imagined London, I used to want to be her. She was both a journalist and a novelist, and I thought I wanted to be both of those things. Of course, I ended up neither. So, I thought I was in for a good read (no pun intended) when I picked up Every Last One.

And, her prose is good. It's very readable, and I liked the characters she had created. The first half of the book introduces us to the Latham family. Mary Beth Latham has 3 kids: a teenaged girl and twin middle-school-aged boys. She is happily married and owns her own landscape design business. Not too much happens in the first half; we see the family going through everyday events . . . her daughter, Ruby, finds the perfect prom dress, then breaks up with her boyfriend, someone she has known since early childhood. One of the twins, Max, develops depression, and that consumes much of Mary Beth's time and worry--and rightfully so. Except, at the same time, Ruby's ex-boyfriend just won't go away. He leaves her little gifts and keeps showing up, even though Ruby makes it clear she no longer wants to see him.

At almost exactly the midpoint of the book, an unspeakable tragedy occurs. The story was setting up for something to happen, but not an event of this magnitude. The second half follows Mary Beth as she picks up the pieces.

It's an easy read . . . the 300 pages move along at a fast clip. But it felt very Lifetime Movie-ish. I can see certain book clubs enjoying it . . . just the fact that the violence seems to come out of nowhere would offer some discussion. I didn't love it, however. There were some touching moments in the second half, but not enough to sustain the whole book. I think, in the future, I'll stick to Quindlen's nonfiction.

The Brothers Karamazov

936 pages of nineteenth-century Russian fiction . . . but other than a couple hundred pages describing the happenings at the local monastery, The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky was a great read. The jacket copy was quite titillating: "Compelling, profound, complex, it is the story of a patricide and of the four sons who each had a motive for murder . . ." I was ready for that murder, too, having been a fan of Crime and Punishment. I kept waiting for it . . . 200 pages in, okay now he's set up the story . . . 300 pages in, it has to be just around the corner . . . but it didn't come until about halfway through. And at that point, the book is hard to put down. There's a good soap opera going in the first half, too, with a couple of love triangles. Really, the writers of Grey's Anatomy could learn a thing or two.

I'm not sure what purpose the bit about the monastery serves. I'm sure it's brilliant--perhaps simply to give the novel its moral center, or maybe a commentary on the religious politics of the time. But parts of that section were hard to get through.

Once the murder occurs, though, the story just takes off. We see the police investigation and the courtroom proceedings, all of which is drama-laden. Like in Crime and Punishment, Dostoyevsky has created some vivid and sympathetic characters--despite their foibles. It really is a brilliant novel, and you don't really notice the page count once you get into it.

Now that this giant tome is crossed off the list, I really feel like the end is in site! 23 more to go, but not nearly as long as this one.

The Graveyard Book

I came to Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book with high expectations. The only other Gaiman book I've read is Coraline, which I loved. That, plus Graveyard's Newbury win created a lot of hype. The beginning, though, was similar to how Tim Burton described Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in an interview for his movie: a brat wandering around in a strange world where odd things happen to her.

The young protagonist, who we come to know as Nobody "Bod" Owens, barely escapes when a stranger murders the rest of his family. (A lot of children's lit is dark, but the beginning of this book was particularly so!) He crawls across the street to the neighborhood graveyard where, unlike the rest of the living, he is able to see the ghosts who inhabit it. The Owenses adopt him and Silas, who hovers somewhere in between the dead and the living, agrees to take care of him--bringing him food, monitoring his education, etc. The ghosts all pitch in to teach him usual and unique lessons: reading, writing, arithmetic, fading, dream-walking . . . He also explores a fantastical underworld, befriends a witch, and discovers the mysterious Sleer.

The second half of the book is where it really picked up. Bod crosses paths with the man who killed his family and works to uncover why he targeted them. Bod also discovers the drawbacks of living among the dead:

"In the graveyard no one ever changed. The little children Bod had played with when he was small were still little children; Fortinbras Bartleby, who had once been his best friend, was now four or five years younger than Bod was . . . "

This, plus the many scenes emphasizing how important Bod's lessons are, is what won the Newbury.

The Graveyard Book was an interesting pairing with Her Fearful Symmetry--although, I do find it slightly odd that I read two books set in a creepy English graveyard in the span of a few months. The Gaiman book was by far the better--a fun adventure set between earth and the afterlife.

Reading the Classics

I came across this essay by novelist Cathleen Schine while flipping through a stack of recent New York Times Book Reviews:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/28/books/review/Schine-t.html?scp=1&sq=dostoyevsky%20%22the%20idiot%22&st=cse

In it, she talks about being "illiterate" after developing an aversion to reading when she bit off more than she could chew as a seventh grader picking up Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. She describes standing in The Strand after years of graduate work in medieval history, trying to find something to read. She describes all the great classics that are still new to her--Dickens and Austen.

I'm fairly well-read in the canonical classics. I was an English major and focused on eighteenth and nineteenth century British novels. And yet I still relate to her feeling of the endless possibilities awaiting--especially as I'm hunkered down in my own Dostoyevsky novel. (1/3 of the way through Karamazov!!) I've never read a Henry James novel . . . or Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn. I've been wanting to read Lolita and Gone With the Wind for some time now. There are so many books out there, I think there will always be new territory to explore, even for life-long voracious readers.

Okay, enough wistful thinking. It's back to the 9o0+-page Russian novel for me!

Franny and Zooey

Putting Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger on my list was really cheating--I've read it before. But, I've been wanting to reread it and now seemed like a good time to do so, in light of Salinger's death.

I wanted to revisit this book, because when I read it in high school, I remember being really moved by the discussions of religion and spirituality. I wanted to see if I'd still feel that way. Well, this time around, it struck me that Franny was being quite self-indulgent to have a major meltdown and refuse any help from her worried family during her crisis of faith. Sure, a crisis of faith is major, but it just seemed like she didn't have to ignore her family. Her brother Zooey, however, comes off as quite the saint by talking her through her conundrum.

Even though Franny did annoy me this time around, I still found it to be a brilliant book. Reading this and The Bell Jar and the short stories of Dorothy Parker, which I've been picking up now and again, I really want to audit some classes in twentieth-century American lit. I don't want to write papers or anything, but I'd love to be in a really smart book club led by an expert.

In the not-so-brilliant-book category, I tried to read Lauren Henderson's Jane Austen's Guide to Dating at the gym, but it took itself far too seriously. I thought it'd be a fun, tongue-in-cheek approach to looking at modern dating situations through the lens of Austen's characters, but it was an earnest dating guide based on principles from her books. It even had a quiz to see which Austen heroine you most resembled, which Austen hero your love interest matched, and then a chart to see if you would be compatible. I abandoned this one about 14 pages in.

Now it's on to The Brothers Karamazov, which I think I'll be reading for awhile . . .

The Monsters of Templeton

As I'm reading through my accumulated books, I realize why many of them have sat on my shelves for years. Someone of them just aren't all that compelling. Lauren Groff's debut novel The Monsters of Templeton, however, was a hidden gem. Billed as part contemporary story, part historical novel, and part ghost story in the flap copy, I tacked it on to my series of supernatural books, following Her Fearful Symmetry and The Grift. The ghost story was minimal, though, and it turned out to be one of those sweeping novels covering several generations of a fascinating family. (I'd call it epic, but at only 360 pages, that seems like an overstatement.)

Willie Upton returns to Templeton, her small Hudson Valley hometown, when she finds herself pregnant with her thesis adviser's child. According to an author's note, Templeton is based on the author's home town, Cooperstown. Both were founded by--and named after--one man. Both are home to a famous nineteenth-century novelist. And both are home to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

To get Willie's mind off her predicament, her mother tells her that her father, who Willie had previously believed was one of three random guys at a hippie commune, actually lives in town and is related to the town's patriarch Marmaduke Temple through an illegitimate birth. This sends Willie scouring through the town's history and that of her family, learning many secrets of the previous generations.

The first 50 pages were a little disjointed, and I didn't think I was going to finish the book. But once Willie starts her quest to discover her father, it became unputdownable. After a quick internet search, it seems as if this book got a good reception--Publishers Weekly gave it a starred review--but doesn't seem to be an overwhelming bestseller. It'd be perfect for a book club. I will definitely look for more from Lauren Groff, although I may skip her short story collection Delicate Edible Birds, because I have a strong fear of birds . . . especially little delicate ones.

No Place Like Home

My latest gym book was No Place Like Home by Mary Higgins Clark. I used to qualify my reading of her books by calling them "brain candy" or "guilty pleasures," but I don't even think that's necessary anymore. She may not be a queen of lyrical prose (and insists on sending her characters to get a "container" of coffee instead of a "cup"), but she can tell one heck of a story. This was one of her best, too! At least of those that I've read.

When she was ten, Liza Barton accidentally shot and killed her mother while protecting herself from her raging stepfather. The crime rocked the small New England town where the Bartons lived, with the community assuming Liza meant to kill her mother. Now as an adult, Liza is living as Celia Nolan, an interior decorator and mother of one grade-school-aged son. As a surprise birthday present, Celia's husband buys her a house in a small New England town . . . the house where Celia/Liza grew up and killed her mother.

As soon as the Nolans arrive, vandals strike the house, which has never shed its stigma, and nearly everyone with any stake in the house or the crime starts turning up dead. Of course, Celia starts to look guilty, and she's constantly afraid someone will discover her true identity.

I usually don't even try to figure our Clark's mysteries. She creates so many plausible bad guys, it's nearly impossible to pick the guilty one. I did suspect one person from the start, however, and turned out to be right. I take this as a significant personal victory! At first I thought there were too many characters to keep straight, but when Clark reintroduces the characters, she does a good job of giving us some detail to remind us who the person is.

After reading The Grift, I appreciate Clark's mastery of mystery and suspense more than ever!

The Grift

The Grift by Debra Ginsberg won the Southern California Independent Booksellers Association book prize for mystery this year. I received a copy of the book at the awards dinner last year, so I've been looking forward to reading it. Marina is a fake psychic who charges big bucks to tell people what they want to hear. She moves from Florida to northern San Diego County in California, and is putting money away so she can retire at age 37--not a bad idea. One of her first gigs in California is to work a party where she meets many of the clients that will become her regulars and the central figures--and suspects--in the mystery that unfolds.

About halfway through the book, she develops real psychic ability. This is, naturally, beneficial in solving the mystery involving arson and murder. But it is tough on business. She can no longer give the vague, generic readings her clients have come to expect. She sees detailed pictures of their immediate futures--mostly events they'd rather not hear about. The book is entertaining and a fast read. She's not quite Mary Higgins Clark, but the story does take some fun turns.

Ginsberg has written several memoirs and another novel--Blind Submission--which is a Devil Wears Prada-type send-up of an infamously difficult literary agent in San Diego. I haven't read the memoirs, but I did read Submission because a good friend of mine used to work for the agent. It was a fairly entertaining story, but I think I only enjoyed it because I felt like I was "in" on the joke. I'm not sure if anyone outside of publishing would find it interesting.

The Grift wasn't as good as I expected--I mean, it's award winning, after all--but I don't regret reading it. Continuing my string of books about the supernatural, next up is The Monsters of Templeton, which promises to be part historical novel and part ghost story . . . then maybe I'll head back to reality. Or, you know, as real as a work of fiction can get.

Her Fearful Symmetry

Audrey Niffenegger's first novel since the phenomenal Time Traveler's Wife has been eagerly awaited . . . and yet, she hit the sophomore slump big time. Her Fearful Symmetry didn't start out that bad--in fact, I quite enjoyed the first 300 pages. Elspeth Noblin is dying of cancer, and she leaves her London flat, which sits adjacent to Highgate Cemetery, and everything in it to her twin nieces in America. The daughters of her estranged twin, who is supposed to have run off with Elspeth's fiance, the girls must live in the flat for a year before selling it. Elspeth's lover, Robert, will be their guide to life in London.

The twins, Julia and Valentina, are extremely close, as were their mothers before their split. They often hold hands, share a bed, and dress alike. They never do anything without the other. This incredible closeness--and the love triangle of the older generation of twins--echo Niffenegger's novel in pictures, The Three Incestuous Sisters. Without the actual incest, thankfully.

It was the last hundred pages of the book where it really fell apart. Elspeth's ghost is trapped in her apartment and learns to communicate with the girls. She and Valentina hatch a ridiculous scheme to help Valentina escape the grip of her overbearing sister. Before that, even despite the ghost story, it would have been an okay novel. Nothing compared to The Time Traveler's Wife, but decent enough. There is a very interesting side story about a man living in the same London apartment building as the twins who suffers from OCD. A friend of mine thought that should have been the main story. It was definitely the most interesting part of the book.

It's hard to follow such a smashing success as her first book. Many writers fail in their second efforts . . . so here's hoping the third time's the charm.

Shades of Gray

I first read The Eyre Affair ages ago . . . probably in 2003. (Which feels like ages ago.) Since then, I've read everything Jasper Fforde has written. He's one of the few authors where I'll run and buy the hardcover as soon as it's published. His newest book, Shades of Gray, is a departure from his usual fare where characters jump in and out of books, mixing and mingling with fiction's greatest characters, to solve crimes.

Gray is set in the future. Something has happened to bring an end to civilization as we know it and a new human race has taken over earth. These new humans have limited sight--many people can only see one color, and those are the lucky ones. The rest see only in grayscale. This sounds bleak--and there is a bleakness to this world--but the book is full of Forde's quirky humor. One of the many mandates of the heavy-handed government is the leapback, when certain technologies are forbidden. One leapback prohibited the manufacture of spoons, so they are now a precious commodity. People cherish their spoons--if they are lucky enough to have them--and bequeath them to their heirs.

It is that despotic government, however, that gives the book its dark undertone. Citizens are subject to rules and regulations over every aspect of their lives--what clothes they can wear, when and where they can eat, what books they can read. But, in the midst of this oppressive world, Eddie Russett, with his high perception of red, is questioning the way things are and looking for ways to implement change. This, of course, gets him in trouble. He is banished to the outer limits of the civilized land where he uncovers even darker elements of the government. But, in Fforde fashion, he meets a girl and has some fun adventures on the way.

If people haven't read Fforde, I'd recommend starting with The Eyre Affair and the other Thursday Next books. But, if you're already familiar with his milieu, Shades of Gray won't disappoint!

P.S. I went to an author event for this book, and he said that he's working on a new Thursday Next novel.

My Life in France

Julia Child's My Life in France was one of the most enjoyable nonfiction books I've ever read. (Which, admittedly, isn't very many.) I've never seen her cooking show, so my only picture of Julia is Meryl Streep's portrayal in Julie and Julia, but the same joie de vivre in Meryl's performance comes across on the page. One of her most endearing traits is her habit for nicknaming everything and everyone--her first Paris apartment on Rue de l'Universite was Rue de Loo, and her cookbook work was cookery-bookery.

Also noteworthy is that she really didn't start cooking seriously until her mid- to late-thirties. I still have time! But when she started cooking seriously, she took it very seriously . . . trying every recipe over and over to find exactly the right combination of ingredients and technique. She broke cooking down to a science, and she wanted every recipe in her cookbooks to be fool proof.

There was one part of the book that I did not find so enjoyable: the discussions she and her editor had when it came time to name Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She goes into detail about the different names that were proposed and the sales manager's objections . . . it all just reminded me too much of work! Actually, it was the part of the book I probably related to most.

In any case, it's a great read--I think it would even be interesting for people who don't like to cook. Because I do enjoy cooking, it made me want to get into the kitchen and try something new!

Quote of the Day

"I think reading a novel is almost next best to having something to do."--Margaret Oliphant (1828–1897) (As seen in the Lonely Hearts Book Club column in the LA Times Magazine)

My thoughts exactly! Which is why I look forward to curling up with Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde tonight. The perfect end to a very long week!

Kids' Book Roundup

I spent December reading through several kids books: Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs . . . a compilation published by McSweeney's, The Story Girl by L. M. Montgomery, and The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.

I got Noisy Outlaws when it was published in 2005 because it was a fundraiser for 826, the series of writing centers started by Dave Eggers, and because it included stories by Nick Hornby, Neil Gaiman, and Jon Scieszka. It's a clever book--the stories are accompanied by some amazing artwork, especially by Shelley Dick--and it includes a comic, a crossword puzzle, and even a dust jacket where you can write your own story. There was a contest when the book was published. The stories were all amusing, but Jon Scieszka's stands out: "Each Sold Separately" is a 3-page dialogue written mainly in advertising slogans. ("'I got it,' he says. 'Got what?' says the girl. 'The real thing.' The girl looks in the bag. 'Wow. You just did it. You obeyed your thirst.'")

I was a huge fan of the Anne of Green Gables series when I was younger. A couple of years ago, I visiting Prince Edward Island as part of a Canada/New England cruise and took the Anne tour. Even though it was a rainy day, it is as beautiful as the books make it out to be! We visited both Green Gables and the home where L. M. Montgomery had lived with her grandparents. That's where I picked up The Story Girl, because one of the episodes in the book involves a blue chest that is still at the house. It's not Montgomery's best work, but it was entertaining enough, recounting the summer pursuits of several children on a farm on PEI. The central character, The Story Girl, resembles Anne a bit, but doesn't have her spunk.

The Wizard of Oz was--and still is--one of my favorite movies. Unfortunately, I'd say this is one of the rare instances where the movie is better than the book. But probably because the movie is such a classic and I watched it so many times. But, the book does include episodes that were not in the movie and I was surprised to find characters from Wicked that I thought were the invention of Gregory Maguire. I've had this book forever--since I was two years told--but this was the first time I've read it. I was horrified to find that my two-year-old self had scribbled on just about every chapter-opener page! Luckily, I'd been wise enough not to scribble over any of the words!

I'm down to 30 books from my list of 59 and am celebrating this halfway point by going off-list and reading a book I just received for Christmas: My Life in France by Julia Child. (Yes, I did become interested in reading this only after seeing Julie and Julia!)