So, I originally read this entire series in August 2010. And I liked them well enough. But I didn’t love them. Then, during Chachic’s Queen’s Thief week, I read this post by Angie of Angieville bibliovangelizing the series. It was then I knew that I had to reread the whole thing. Well, at least, re-experience it, because I discovered that my squee local library had all four books on audio. Done and done.

And this second time around, I was, well, enchanted. The stories came together better for me. I was caught up in this delightful world. (I even made excuses to run errands and go for drives so I could keep listening in the car.) I laughed and gasped and cried. I think Megan Whalen Turner managed to hit just about every note right:

The characters. Absolutely my favorite part of this series is the characters. Gen. Attolia. Sophis. Eddis. The magus. Costis. Everyone is dear to me, especially Gen and Sophos. They are so real. And nuanced. I’m semi-speechless about them, hence all of the periods.

The world. I’ve never been anywhere like Attolia, Eddis, and Sounis, but I feel like I have. Turner is extremely adept at brining the reader into the story, into the world, without calling attention to the fact that we are in a fantasy world. The mechanisms, customs, geography, and gods are all set forth fully, but with ease. So you don’t feel like you’re reading a history book or tons of exposition. As an added bonus, it’s just a delightful place to be.

The plots. One of the delightful (and almost frustrating) things about this series the first time around was that I was always one step behind the plot. The characters were so much smarter than me. And I often had to struggle to keep up with them, especially Gen, and I felt almost betrayed that so much information was kept from me. But, that is where the story began to shine in the rereading (or relistening). I knew what was going to happen. But the story was almost more engaging that way. It’s so deftly plotted that I had almost as much fun seeing how the characters got to certain plot points as I did in the plot points themselves.

The writing. This pretty much goes without saying after the rest of the elements, but the writing is really strong. It’s one of my favorite kinds of writing, well done but subtle. It doesn’t call attention to itself by saying “Here I am! I’m good writing!” It lets you figure that out yourself.

This is a series that I will come back to again. I can’t wait to read them together with my daughter. You should definitely read them. And reread them. And here’s hoping there will someday be a fifth book.

Oh, and a note on the audio versions. The same narrator, Jeff Woodman, did all four books. I thought he did a fantastic job. I also thought the audiobooks were formatted well, with disc numbers announced and short track times that made it easier for me to keep track of where I was.

The Queen’s Thief Series, by Megan Whalen Turner (Audio)

Have you read or reviewed this book too? Feel free to jump in with your thoughts or leave a link to your review in the comments.

Title: The Day the World Ends
Author: Ethan Coen
Pages: 128
Originally Published: 2012
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group (Random House)

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My brother, of Bitchin’ Film Reviews, is a movie blogger. So, when I had the opportunity to review the poetry collection of filmmaker Ethan Coen (of the Coen brothers), he agreed to do a guest review. His review appears below.

Attaining a certain level of success in one’s chosen field occasionally gives one the freedom to try their hand at other crafts. Tom Ford took a break from fashion to direct Colin Firth in A Single Man. Madonna apparently writes books for children. And Bjork stops her full-time career of being weird to put out an album every now and then. These efforts are always met with a varying degree of success. While I am a fan of A Single Man, I couldn’t stomach the one book of Madonna’s I tried to read. Ethan Coen, brother and co-director to Joel, has enjoyed a very successful film career, and now has tried his hand at poetry, by releasing The Day the World Ends, 120 pages of poetry and extremely dirty limericks.

There are admittedly very few poetry books on my shelves. My exposure to the genre is limited to two undergrad courses of Russian classic poetry and a childhood spent listening to Shel Silverstein’s books read aloud. That being said, I am not the biggest fan of Mr. Coen’s poetry. There are exceptions, of course. One in particular is a rambling two page ode to a woman endowed with a sizable rear end, and one Ethan takes great pleasure in worshiping with his words. An excerpt:

Oh yes you have a whole lot of ass, woman,
Oh big-ass woman,
And you sling it down the street walking, walking your ass, your
own ass and no one else’s?
And it rolls and thuds along, twin crumpling beach balls,
clomping rear tires,
Flip-flopping ass, walk-slamming ass, wham-bam ass pile-driving . . .

I’ll admit, There’s a pleasing rhythm there, a playful way with his words. I enjoyed giving an enthusiastic reading of it to my sister and brother-in-law. And, yes, it’s funny.

Then there are those poems that seem to have no clear meaning and seem to be of no consequence at all. Here’s one in its entirety called “But, Why?”:

You stand without
To look within;
To come home, leave;
To end, begin.

It’s pleasant enough, but indicative of how inconsequential the whole collection felt to me. The Day the World Ends might be appreciated as something to lay around on the coffee table of a home with no children (serious, if you think The Big Lebowski had rough language, peruse his limericks section). However, I think it’s safe to recommend Ethan keep his day job.

Title: The Power of Habit
Author: Charles Duhigg
Pages: 302
Originally Published: 2012
Format I Read: Adobe Digital Edition (via Netgalley)
Publisher: Random House
Rating:

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While I usually eschew books with any sheen of self-help about them, I could not resist the very title of The Power of Habit. Habits are something I am constantly trying to cultivate or break. And, understanding more about them would only help me in those endeavors, right?

Right. The Power of Habit examines habits and how they work through the lens of a startling array of topics, from marketing Febreeze to habitual gambling, from night terrors to Target’s consumer tracking algorithms, from brain damage to Starbucks’s training program, and from Alcoholic’s Anonymous to Rick Warren’s Saddleback Church. In addition to the numerous topics and case studies, the book also examines habits in three different areas: the habits of individuals, the habits of successful organizations, and the habits of societies.

In all, I found it to be a fascinating read. Charles Duhigg is a business reporter for The New York Times, but his writing reads more like a columnist’s or an essayist’s. And the information presented it just downright interesting. I mean, Target can identify pregnant women, who haven’t told anyone let alone Target, just by tracking what they buy. Several black individuals were arrested for refusing to give up their seats to white passengers in the weeks and months leading up to Rosa Parks’s arrest, but the reason her arrest was the catalyst for starting an entire movement can be explained, at least in part, by habits. Febreeze was unmarketable, until researchers noticed one small habit people have after cleaning a room.

Here are some of the things that I will take away from The Power of Habit:

• Once we identify something as a habit, we have the power to change it.
• Companies will do almost anything to get us to buy their stuff.
• Keystone habits (such as making our beds, exercising, and having family dinners) seep over into other areas and change other habits.
• Habits have three parts: a cue, a routine, and a reward.

I will say that it felt a little disjointed at times, in that some of the stories and case studies had a somewhat tenuous link to habits. And, I expected this to be a self-help book. I mean, a book about habits to going to tell you how to make or change your habits, right? Nope. Not this book. In fact, I got all of the way to the end of the book and then I read the appendix, which contains this helpful explanation:

Individuals and habits are all different, and so the specifics of diagnosing and changing the patterns in our lives differ from person to person and behavior to behavior. Giving up cigarettes is different from how you prioritize tasks at work. What’s more, each person’s habits are driven by different cravings.

As a result, this book doesn’t contain one prescription. Rather, I hoped to deliver something else: a framework for understanding how habits work and a guide to experimenting with how they might change. (220)

And with that simple statement, my experience with the whole book changed. I wish the note had come at the beginning, in an author’s note or introduction, because then I would have simply enjoyed the case studies instead of waiting and expecting the instruction to begin. So, that’s my advice. Read this book. But read it as a sociology book that presents information from which you can glean information to apply to your life, rather than as a self-help book that will give you a tidy little formula on changing your habits.

The Power of Habit, by Charles Duhigg

Have you read or reviewed this book too? Feel free to jump in with your thoughts or leave a link to your review in the comments.

Sadly, I fell WAY behind on my 2011 reviews. So, I’ve been posting mini reviews to help catch up. This is the last round! Check out round one, round two, and round three, if you like. Though all of these books deserve their own posts, this will have to do.

The Wednesday Wars, by Gary D. Schmidt

Rating:

On Wednesday afternoons, when the rest of his Jewish and Catholic classmates attend religious classes, Holling Hoodhood, the lone Presbyterian seventh-grader, is left with Mrs. Baker, and the experience is challenging for them both. This book made me want to read Shakespeare! The writing is superb, and it felt very realistic. It takes place in 1967, and I felt like I was there. I think this strikes that magic balance: it will appeal to both kids and adults alike. Gary D. Schmidt‘s entire back list is now on my TBR list.

A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens

Rating:

This is a classic. And it deserves to be. It’s everything you could want in a story. And it made me realize why that song says “There’ll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago.” Dickens and I have not always gotten along in the past, but this book has made me want to try more of his stuff.

Three Cups of Deceit, by Jon Krakauer

Rating:

I was predisposed to like this book, since I hated Three Cups of Tea. But I just didn’t feel like it came together. Maybe there was too much emotion and not enough research and sources to back up the statements. I did feel that the parts about the management of the organization were will constructed and researched. In any case, it’s an interesting counterargument to Three Cups of Tea and shows that Greg Mortensen is not exactly what he says he is.

Before I Go To Sleep, by S.J. Watson

Rating:

This book gets full marks for pacing. It’s remarkable, especially since it’s S.J. Watson‘s first novel. I could not wait to find out exactly what happened. You know the premise, right? Christine has amnesia. Every morning she wakes up and cannot remember anything. So, she starts to keep a journal, so she can remember. And she begins to discover some unsettling things. Alas, at least one point must be deducted for its failure to hold up over time. This isn’t a book that, for me, held up upon reflection a few days later, and I highly doubt it would stand up to the rigors of a reread.

The Girl Who Chased the Moon, by Sarah Addison Allen

Rating:

My first experience with Sarah Addison Allen. I’d heard about her brand of magical realism and wasn’t sure what to exact. But it was rather delightful. I enjoyed all of the characters. But, I was rooting most for the secondary romance plot. I wish that had been the main focus. And this book is very light and fun, but I didn’t find a lot of substance. Still, I think I’ll keep Allen in mind when I need a palate cleanser.

The Truth About Forever, by Sarah Dessen

Rating:

I really liked this book – my first Sarah Dessen. For YA, I felt it had a lot of depth and good characters. And it stuck with me afterwards, which is saying something. Macy gets a summer job away from her Type-A mother as an assistant in a catering company. There she meets people so different from her usual crowd that she’s forced to examine who she really is. Standard fare as far as YA plots go, but I loved the characters and the writing. I’ll be reading more Dessen.

The Nanny Diaries, by Emma McLaughlin & Nicola Kraus

Rating:

So, I’m not a fan. I know many people who are. But I just found the people to be awful, and I couldn’t find much to be amused about. Nanny takes a position with the X family, caring for Grayer. The X family is rather appalling, and there is little Nanny can or should do. It is based on the writers’ experiences being nannies in New York, so it did have some interesting insight into New York and the life of a nanny. But I thought the writing was just okay. And I felt it unsuccessfully walked a line between plot points based on real experiences and entirely fabricated plot points. It just felt uneven and a little sad.

This Is What I Did, by Ann Dee Ellis

Rating:

Interestingly told story about a kid haunted by a traumatic event. Logan’s best friend, Zyler, has a rough home life, and that ends up spreading into Logan’s life. The prose is sparse but insightful. At the end of the day, I didn’t end up forging a strong connection with Logan, but I did feel bad for him that he had to experience the things he did. I admired the unusual structure and writing style and look forward to reading more from Ann Dee Ellis. Ellis will be teaching at the upcoming Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Conference, which will be held June 18-22, 2012. You should check it out if you’re an aspiring writer; the lineup looks awesome.

Have you read any of these books? Which was your favorite?

Title: On the Road
Author: Jack Kerouac
Pages: 313
Originally Published: 1957
Format I Read: Hardback
Publisher: Penguin
Rating:

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I originally gave this book two stars on goodreads, just moments after I finished it. I was rather disgusted with it. But, in the ensuing days, the book stuck with me and won itself an additional star. Let’s start with what I didn’t like.

CONS
Lack of plot – Um, yeah. The plot is essentially that Sal Paradise travels about the country with a variety of ill-mannered friends, including one Dean Moriarty. But that is it. There is no more to it than that.

Despicable characters – The characters in this book! They are despicable. They commit petty (steal gas and food) and not-so-petty (rape a “simple” girl) crimes. They have no respect for other people or their property (they completely destroy a car they were trusted to drive to Chicago). They do drugs and abandon responsibilities (they walk away from wives and children). If this is, as it is repeatedly toted, THE book of the beat generation, then I am supremely glad to have missed it.

Choppy writing – Other than a few great descriptions, the writing is mostly ho-hum and often choppy and disjointed. There is no flow to this book. I literally had to force myself to finish it. My natural inclination was to abandon ship after about 100 pages.

PROS
The evocation of an era – the saving grace of On the Road, in my eyes, is its rather fascinating encapsulation of a generation. Of a lifestyle. This “beat” generation was a bit of a lost generation, coming as it did on the heels of the greatest generation and two world wars. There is no denying that it is iconic for that reason. I there is something about the feeling it evokes.

Excellent descriptions – usually in one or two sentence bits here and there.

But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” What did they call such young people in Goethe’s Germany? (5-6)

. . . I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. (127)

Now you just dig them in front. They have worries, they’re counting the miles, they’re thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they’ll get there–and all the time they’ll get there anyway, you see. (212)

Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life. (215)

What’s your road, man?–holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It’s an anywhere road for anybody anyhow. (255)

Suddenly I had a vision of Dean, a burning shuddering frightful Angel, palpitating toward me across the road, approaching like a cloud, with enormous speed, pursuing me like the Shrouded Traveler on the plain, bearing down on me. I saw his huge face over the plains with the mad, bony purpose and the gleaming eyes; I saw his wings; I saw his old jalopy chariot with thousands of sparking flames shooting out from it; I saw the path it burned over the road; it even made its own road and went over the corn, through cities, destroying bridges, drying rivers. It came like wrath to the West. I knew Dean had gone mad again. (263)

Unfortunately, for me anyway, the cons outweighed the pros. The second quote kind of sums it up for me: “I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” At the end of the day, I’m glad I read this.  But I can’t say that I wholly enjoyed the journey.

On the Road, by Jack Kerouac

Have you read or reviewed this book too? Feel free to jump in with your thoughts or leave a link to your review in the comments.

It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of TOON Books, a delightful line of comics/graphic novels for children. I’ve read and reviewed almost every book in the TOON Books line here on The Bluestocking Society, including Jack and the Box, Stinky, Mo and Jo: Fighting Together Forever, Luke on the Loose, Benny and Penny in The Big No-No, Benny and Penny in The Toy Breaker, Zig and Wikki in Something Ate My Homework, Nina in That Makes Me Mad, Benjamin Bear in Fuzzy Thinking, Zig and Wikki in The Cow, and Chick and Chickie in Play All Day. I enjoyed each of these books, but I think The Shark King is my favorite of them all.

The Shark King, by R. Kikuo Johnson

The Shark King is a magical folktale that takes place in Hawaii. It opens with Kalei being rescued from the shark king. She marries her rescuer and soon bears Nanaue. He is placed in a unique situation in which he has to choose between his mother and his father.

I really enjoyed this nuanced story. I loved the Hawaiian and folktale feel to it. The pictures and story are precisely in sync. It’s divided into three chapters and is perfectly suited for the second- and third-grade crowd.

TOON Books are stories in comic book form for young readers. The series advisor is Art Spiegelman, author of the well-regarded Maus graphic novels. Each TOON Book has been vetted by educators and is recommended for elementary school-aged children. I love the idea of introducing children to the comic book/graphic novel form and highly recommend TOON Books to early readers.

Check out TOON-Books.com for a great interactive experience and more information about the line.

Sadly, I fell WAY behind on my 2011 reviews. So, occasionally, I’ll be posting mini reviews to help catch up. This is round three. Check out round one and round two, if you like. Though all of these books deserve their own posts, this will have to do.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, by Aimee Bender

Rating:

I got a deal on this one for my Kindle. I had heard a lot about Aimee Bender, was entrigued by the title, and went for it. It was not what I expected at all. It turns out to be a book with a little magical realism. In all, I thought it was lovely and lonely and thought-provoking and haunting. Until the end.

A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson

Rating:

I’d heard about Bill Bryson for years. Pretty much everyone I know agrees that he is witty and interesting and could talk about really anything. So, when I found this one at a thrift shop, I bought it. When I got home, I opened it up just to flip through it, and ended up reading 100 pages. And then I devoured the whole thing. It was witty. It was interesting. Bill Bryson could probably write interestingly about any subject. (And he has.)

Homer & Langley, by E.L. Doctorow

Rating:

I picked this one up at the Borders closing sale. Weep. Anyway, I really enjoyed this fictionalized account of two hoarder brothers. And E.L. Doctorow‘s writing lived up to the hype. The only complaint I have it that I have of all fictionalized accounts – I am left at the end with a hunger to know what was real and what wasn’t.

Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn

Rating:

Interesting idea. It’s about the fictional island nation of Nollop, named after Nevin Nollop, the creator of the pangram The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. When letters start falling off of the statute of Nollop, the town council deems it as Nollop’s will to cease using those letters. So, at first, Z is removed. Then more letters until only five are left. Like I said, interesting idea. But, for me, not the best execution. I had a hard time keeping track of who was writing to whom, since the voices all seemed exactly the same. My book club generally objected on the grounds that it was too political.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith

Rating:

Wow. This is an amazing book. I read it for my book club. And I’m still surprised that I had not read it before. This is a difficult book to describe. I’ve read someone complain or perhaps just state that “nothing happens.” In fact, a great deal happens, but in a meandering life-like kind of way. The book is essentially the coming-of-age story of its heroine, Francie. I loved the writing and the almost-vignette feel to it. Most of all, I loved Francie. I laughed and cried and cheered for her. I highly recommend this one.

The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss

Rating:

As soon as I finished this book, I went into mourning that there was no more of it. To me, that is one of the signs of a great book. I think this one is a great book. It reminded me of a number of books: The Chosen, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, The Shadow of the Wind. But then again, it didn’t remind me of anything. The writing is lovely. The story is well-told and exquisitely woven.
(Interestingly, I wrote in my notes the bit about this one reminding me of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, long before I found out that Nicole Krauss is married to Jonathan Safran Foer.)

Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert

Rating:

I loved Eat, Pray, Love and knew I had to read Elizabeth Gilbert‘s follow up, Committed. Due to new immigration laws, Elizabeth is essentially required to marry Felipe if they want to live in the United States. And they do. So this book is largely Gilbert’s research on and struggle with the concept of marriage. It is an extremely enlightening guide to the history of marriage. I would recommend it to everyone who has thought about entering into marriage or who wants a more informed opinion of the institution itself.

Making It All Work, by David Allen

Rating:

I loved Getting Things Done. A lot. So, I picked up the follow up. As is the case with most follow ups, it isn’t as good as the original. There’s a lot of fluff here that was not present in Getting Things Done. Really, I’d recommend starting and sticking with the original, unless, like me, you just want to glean the few additional tricks and tips to be found here.

Have you read any of these books? Which was your favorite?

I can sum up this collection of eight stories in one word: disturbing. I have some more words for it though, if you’re interested: macabre, beautiful, crafted, horrific, and tragic. But even better than my words are Ian McEwan’s words, quoted frequently below.

But first, in general, note that I have to be rather opaque in my descriptions of these stories.  Odd and poignant things happen in all of them (usually at the end), and I’d be loathe to spoil them for you, should you be brave enough to withstand the darker parts of the stories. And, I apologize for my overuse of the word “disturbing.”

Homemade.  Disturbing as hell.  The following is from the opening sentence:

. . . [I]f in human affairs there are no such things as episodes then I should really insist that this story is about Raymond and not about virginity, coitus, incest and self-abuse. (9)

Disturbing right?  Even more so when you realize the narrator is a mere 14-years-old and a psychopath to boot.

Solid Geometry.  A weary husband makes use of the “plane without a surface” to deal with his, to his view, pathetic wife.  Here’s a nice sentence from a dying marriage:

‘You don’t speak to me any more,’ she said, ‘you play me like a pinball machine, for points.’ (40)

One of the unforgettable images in this one is a pickled penis acquired by the narrator’s great-grandfather at auction:

It was bottled in a glass twelve inches long, and, noted by great-grandfather in his diary that night, ‘in a beautiful state of preservation’. (31)

Last Day of Summer.  “Hauntingly beautiful” is a clichéd phrase for a reason, right?  Because this story is hauntingly beautiful.  The narrator is a young orphaned boy living with his adult brother, who has turned the family home into a kind of commune.  He spends the summer with Jenny, the newest member of the household who becomes a kind of mother figure to the group, while remaining outside of it:

And there’s something in the way the others treat Jenny.  Like she’s outside things, and not really a person like they are.  They’ve got used to her cooking big meals and making cakes.  No one says anything about it now. . . . And they still think about how fat she is. (64-65)

This one is very sad. But knowing what I now know about McEwan, with a title like “Last Day of Summer,” I should have expected tragedy.

Cocker at the Theatre.  I have little to say about this one, which is fitting since it is the littlest story at just under six pages.  It takes place during theatre rehearsals for a sexually explicit play that the director insists is ‘a respectable show.’ (73)

Butterflies.  The atmosphere in this one is whole feet thick.  The narrator has nothing to do. He is apparently self-sufficient but lives in a seedy industrial area, near a canal.  He habitually takes solitary walks.  The best way I can describe this is with a quote on the back cover from The New York Times:

“Menace lies crouched between the lines of his neat, angular prose, and weird, grisly things occur in his books with nearly casual aplomb.”

While that describes the whole collection, it is particularly applicable to this story. And the menace in this one comes from the narrator who is a disturbing loner.

I do not meet many people, in fact the only ones I talk to are Charlie and Mr. Watson.  I speak to Charlie because he is there when I leave my front door; he is always the one to speak first, and there is no avoiding him if I want to leave the house.  I do not talk to Mr. Watson so much as listen, and I listen because I have to do into his shop to buy groceries. (87)

Spoiler: This one does not end well.

Conversation with a Cupboard Man. This is one of my favorites in the collection.  It is simply a disturbed man telling an stream-of-conscious account of his life to a social worker.  The details are exquisite and, as I had come to expect by this point, disturbing:

How did I become an adult?  I’ll tell you, I never did learn.  I have to pretend.  All the things you take for granted I have to do it all consciously.  I’m always thinking about it, like I was on the stage.  I’m sitting in this chair with my arms folded, that’s all right, but I’d rather be lying on the floor gurgling to myself than be talking to you.  I can see you think I’m joking.  It still takes me a long time to get dressed in the morning, and lately I haven’t bothered anyway.  And you’ve seen how clumsy I am with a knife and fork.  I’d rather someone came and patted me on the back and fed me with a spoon.  Do you believe me?  Do you think it’s disgusting?  Well, I do.  It’s the most disgusting thing I know.  That’s why I spit on the memory of my mother because she made me this way. (99)

First Love, Last Rites.  This is a story about a summer romance that fades to a relationship.  But it’s more than that too.  The imagery here is great, there are eels and eel traps, and rats, and womb imagery.  It’s deep.  I love how the first line almost encapsulates the story:

From the beginning of summer until it seemed pointless, we lifted the thin mattress on to the heavy oak table and made love in front of the large open window. (115)

Disguises.  Henry’s mother died.  And now he’s been taken in by his Aunt Mina.  Mina was a stage actress.  But now she’s crazy.  And poor Henry just tries to keep afloat.  Mina makes them both dress up in costumes for dinner every night, to sometimes disturbing effect.  And then, Mina decides to have a party in which all of the guests are to come disguised.  Henry mistakenly says that the idea for the party is “nice”:

She stood behind his chair tousling his hair for pretend affection, but pulling it, and stung his eyes.  ‘Henry, dear, it will be formidable, fantastical, awful, but never nice, nothing we ever do will be nice,’ speaking this all the while she ran her hands in his hair, twined it through her fingers. (142)

And, as promised, the things at the party are decidedly not nice.

The whole book made me wonder whether writing a really disturbing story really really well is enough.  But these stories made me react.  Recoil.  Reexamine.  And, ultimately, judge.  I think that is really what the best stories should do.  Don’t you?

First Love, Last Rites, by Ian McEwan

Have you read or reviewed this book too? Feel free to jump in with your thoughts or leave a link to your review in the comments.

I didn’t know much about this Newbery Medal (and National Book Award) winner by Virginia Hamilton except that I’d never read it, so I jumped at the chance to get the ebook from Open Road via NetGalley. Here’s the blurb:

Mayo Cornelius Higgins perches on top of a homemade forty-foot tower, considering two destinies. Behind him is his family’s beloved house at the foot of a mountain that strip mining has reduced to loose rubble. In front of him, the beautiful Ohio River Valley and the great world beyond. As M.C. weighs whether to stay with the family and home he loves or set off into the world on his own, there appear on the horizon two strangers who will make his decision all the more difficult.

As a slag heap, the result of strip mining, creeps closer to his house in the Ohio hills, fifteen-year-old M.C. is torn between trying to get his family away and fighting for the home they love.

I liked so many elements of this book. I loved M.C. And his siblings. And especially his almost goddess-like mother, Banina. I loved the Girl: Lurhetta Outlaw. And the Dude. I loved the singing. And M.C.’s relationship with his father, Jones, which kind of represents his relationship with the past. The themes here, especially the struggle to forge a relationship with the past and yet move forward, are both universal and very specifically drawn here.

What is perhaps the most memorable about the book, though, is the imagery. You can just see it all. M.C. sitting on his pole. The lake, and the tunnel through the lake. The description of Banina singing and the children yodeling in response. The Killburn clan, all six-fingered, and their compound filled with vegetables. The beautiful mountains. The devastated, strip-mined mountains. All of it is beautifully described. I felt that mountain heap inching toward this family on every page.

This is a lovely and unique coming-of-age story, which, like almost every Newbery winner, I wish I had read first as a child.

M.C. Higgins, the Great, by Virginia Hamilton

Have you read or reviewed this book too? Feel free to jump in with your thoughts or leave a link to your review in the comments.

Versus is a feature in which two books face-off. Anything goes in the judging, but only one can be the winner.

NOTE: As this is a discussion of books by Jane Austen, whose plots most everyone knows, there are some spoilers.

I’d read Persuasion before. I liked it. But I was interested to see how it would fare on a second reading. This time around, I was particularly struck with the awfulness of Anne’s relatives. In a way they are both horrific and hilarious. I was amused that Sir Walter’s favorite “book” was the baronetage, in which his family line is set forth. But I was mostly annoyed that they are in debt up to their eyeballs and yet snub technically lower class people with money and refuse to live within their means. And Mary the hypochondriac was both fun and pathetic.

Despite some funny moments, there isn’t as much awesome Austen wit here. Rather, most of the book is concerned with the genuine feelings of Anne, who is practically an old maid at 28. I just never could warm up all that much to Anne. Or to Captain Wentworth for that matter. She’s too perfect. And I just don’t know exactly what he is. And I was uber-frustrated that the love story got so little page-time. Here’s the most frustrating quote in the world, which occurs after Anne and Captain Wentworth modestly announce their feelings:

Who can be in doubt of what followed? (266)

What? No details? Bah! Despite this rather disappointing conclusion to the love story, I did enjoy the book. There is a lot here to be discussed. For example, here’s one of my favorite quotes on female storytelling:

Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything. (251)

And here’s one on the titular theme:

Anne wondered whether it ever occurred to him now, to question the justness of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity and advantage of firmness of character; and whether it might not strike him, that, like all other qualities of the mind, it should have its proportions and limits. She thought it could scarcely escape him to feel, that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as much in favour of happiness, as a very resolute character. (124)

There is a also great cast of characters, and there are more mature musings on marriage and dependability and the relative benefits and drawbacks of being persuadable.

Persuasion, by Jane Austen

In contrast, this was my first time through Sense and Sensibility. As in Persuasion, there is a whole cast of terrible, horrible, and awful people: Mr. & Mrs. John Dashwood, Lucy Steele, Mrs. Ferrars and Richard Ferrars. And the indefensible Willoughby! But I did love Elinor and her constant struggle to be sensible against all odds. For some reason, I wasn’t as annoyed with Elinor’s perfection as I was with Anne’s. Perhaps because I was more privy to Elinor’s internal struggles?

And I loved the rest of the cast too. Marianne and Colonel Brandon are particular favorites. Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret. And Edward, of course (if I can get Hugh Grant out of my mind). But again, as I often feel with Austen, the love story did not get enough page-time. In fact, we spend almost no time with Elinor and Edward alone together. And again, a frustrating line where Edward is to propose:

How soon he had walked himself into the proper resolution, however, how soon as opportunity of exercising it occurred, in what manner he expressed himself, and how he was received, need not be particularly told. (354, emphasis added)

Blurg. I want the details. But, there is something to be said for the freedom to imagine it how I will. Sense and Sensibility was Jane Austen’s first novel and is incredibly well formed. There are a number of developed themes here. One that particularly struck me was the idea that the characters of men and women can be improved or worsened based on their spouse and marriage. Oh, and there is plenty of my beloved witty banter. I just thoroughly enjoyed this one.

Sense & Sensibility, Jane Austen

Between the two, I enjoyed Sense and Sensibility more. Perhaps it had to do with Anne being a bit of an austere old maid (28) and Elinor being more youthful (17). Or that Sense and Sensibility was Austen’s first novel; Persuasion her last. Or that Persuasion seems to center almost exclusively on Anne, while Sense and Sensibility has a wider cast. Probably, the themes in Persuasion are more developed. This is a close one, but, for me, the plot and characters of Sense and Sensibility win out.