A Little Sunday Reading v. 18

I rarely read historical fiction. But maybe I should start! I was absolutely captivated by The 19th Wife. Completely immersed and consumed. I could not wait to pick it up again each night and when I read, I was visualizing the characters and location so vividly I was surprised when my eyes re-focused on the comforts of my bedroom.

The book parallels two stories loosely about plural marriage and sects of the Mormon church. The first chronicles Ann Eliza Young's separation from her powerful husband, Brigham Young, prophet and leader of the Mormon Church. History regards the woman as the person who took down pluralist marriage.

A second powerful narrative involves Jordan Scott, a young man who was thrown out of his fundamentalist sect years earlier, and reenters the world in order to discover the truth behind his father’s death.

The book is well-researched and packed full of historical dates, descriptions and documents. Yet it read like a thrilling mystery. I learned much yet felt an intimacy with the story that one doesn't often get from a historical account.

When I read books with multiple narratives, I favor one over the other. I impatiently flip through one narrative to bide my time until I can return to the other. Not so with this book. Both narratives were seamlessly woven together. Both required and received equal attention.

I highly recommend this book...in case you couldn't tell!

A Little Sunday Reading v. 17

I recently finished F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise. It took me forever to get through. In part, I moved slowly to take in all the decadence, expression and beautiful language. In part, I moved slowly because the plot did. I attacked this book when I first started. I was immediately taken with Amory Blaine and his sadness, introspection and curiosity. I was totally with him through his last year of college. And then. In that last year, he got a bit...needy and whiny. And I'm not sure if this is an indict of Amory or Fitzgerald but he had no point. In part, I think it was the point. But I don't think it was Fitzgerald's idea that Amory have no insight other than what others saw in him. But I could be wrong.

The truly lovely parts of the book came when Amory was in love. And he was in love often. Amory in love was the redeeming part of the book. When I was reading those sections, I was convinced I was going to read the book over and over! But then....imminent doom would descend upon his relationships and, in turn, the plot! And perhaps that is where my discomfort lies--with the fact that I only liked Amory when he was in love. I didn't like him on his own terms.

However, the writing was breathtaking. Wanna see? Ok.

I know I'm not a regular fellow, yet I loathe anybody else that isn't. I can't decide whether to cultivate my mind and be a great dramatist or to thumb my nose at the 'Golden Treasury' and be a Princeton slicker.

He had a snapshot of Isabelle, enshrined in an old watch, and at eight almost every night he would turn off all the lights except the desk lamp and, sitting by the open windows with the picture before him, write her rapturous letters.

No, I'm romantic--a sentimental person thinks things will last--a romantic person hopes against hope that they won't. Sentiment is emotional.

As long as they knew each other Eleanor and Amory could be 'on a subject' and stop talking with the definite thought of it in their heads, yet ten minutes later speak aloud and find that their minds had followed the same channels and led them each to a parallel idea, an idea that others would have found absolutely unconnected with the first...Oh, she was magnificent--pale skin, the color of marble in the star-light, slender brows, and eyes that glittered green as emeralds in the blinding glare.

We can't possibly have a summer love. SO many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...it has no day.

He was in an eddy again, a deep, lethargic gulf, without desire to work or write, love or dissipate. For the first time in his life he rather longed for death to roll over his generation, obliterating their petty fevers and struggles and exaltation. His youth seemed never so vanished as now in the contrast between the utter loneliness of this visit and that riotous, joyful party of four years before. Things that had been the merest commonplaces of his life then, deep sleep, the sense of beauty around him, all desire, had flown away and the gaps they left were filled only with the great listlessness of his disillusion.

He pictured the rooms where these people lived--where the patterns of the blistered wall-papers were heavy reiterated sunflowers on green and yellow backgrounds, where there were tin bathtubs and gloomy hallways and verdureless, unnameable spaces in back of the buildings; where even love dressed as seduction--a sordid murder around the corner, illicit motherhood in the flat above.

Usually, on nights like this, for there had been many lately, he could escape from this consuming introspection by thinking of children and the infinite possibilities of children--he leaned and listened and he heard a startled baby awake int he house across the street and lend a tiny whimper to the still night; quick as a flash he turned away, wondering with a touch of panic whether something in the brooding despair of his mood had made a darkness in its tiny soul.

In other bookish news, I want to share a few links you may find interesting:

Interesting inscriptions by interesting people. Totally love this.

Bill Clinton recommends some books.

Feministing talks about their ten fave feminist books.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 16 Short Story Edition

I have read a couple beautifully written short story collections in the last week or so. I'm working my way through a couple dense books, so the short stories provided a nice relief. I read Miranda July's No One Belongs Here More Than You. And I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. The thing about July is that she is quirky. While I normally love quirky, I often feel she is a bit too quirky for me. Like maybe I'm not getting everything that I should be getting out of her work. Take her movie, You, Me and Everyone We Know, for example. Just didn't *get* it. Spent more time scratching my head and less time laughing. But I found her unbelievably charming despite my discomfort with the movie. Her short stories were much of the same. She is charming. Her stories are just a little bit off. But I enjoyed myself. In fact, I would probably be waxing eloquent about the collection had I not read one of the best collection of short stories EVER around the same time.

Sorry, Miranda, you're getting the bump. I need to take a moment and regale my good readers with excerpts from Simon Van Booy's The Secret Lives of People in Love. I read this book as part of the Dangerous Reading Challenge
(http://dangerouslychallenge.bl... and I thought I would read a couple stories yesterday and scatter the rest throughout the month. But! I started reading and could. not. stop. Seriously. I couldn't. I stayed up way past my bedtime and read all the stories last night. The whole time I was moving toward the end, I was begging myself to stop and savor all the ...more I read this book as part of the Dangerous Reading Challenge and I thought I would read a couple stories one day and scatter the rest throughout the month. But! I started reading and could. not. stop. Seriously. I couldn't. I stayed up way past my bedtime and read all the stories in one night. The whole time I was moving toward the end, I was begging myself to stop and savor all the stories. I devoured it all while wanting it to never end. This collection of short stories is fantastic. FANTASTIC. It is both romantic and bleak--often times both in the same story. The language choices are always appropriate and moving. Characters perfectly developed. And the flow between stories could not have been more smooth. I wish I could type in all the gems in this book but I'd be typing the entire collection.

Here is a sample of Van Booy's fantastic style:

A filthy homeless man is squatting with the American tourists and telling jokes in broken English. He is not looking at the girls' shaved legs but at the unfinished bottle of wine and sullen wedge of cheese. The Americans seem good-natured and pretend to laugh; I suppose the key to a good life is to gently overlook the truth and hope that at any moment we can all be reborn.

We walk arm in arm through twilight. Paris never gets too dark, because when natural light dissolves, you're never too far from a street lamp--and they're often beautiful--set upon tall black stalks, each lamp a glowing pair of white balls in love with its very own length of street. Sometimes, they all flicker to life at the same time, as if together they can hold off darkness.

Some daydreams seemed to want to swallow him up for good. Like wild horses, they would follow him in the day and then wander the plains of his dream life, but always upon him--until he would barely remember his own name.

Gabriel wonders how many people occupy one seat in a day, and if the seat could record the thoughts of the occupants, what it would say about human beings.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 15

My leisure reading has slowed considerably as the dissertation work has picked up, so no book reviews. But here are some fun bookish links from around the web.

Photographer André Kertész's On Reading has been re-released. The collection features individual readers in every imaginable location. The New York Times takes a peek at some of the images. Totally dreamy.

The First Book organization asks "What Book Got You Hooked?" Their website has lots of charming answers from all kinds of people. Great organization, great question. For me, Charlotte's Web turned me into a reader and The Babysitter's Club inspired me to write. I wrote my first story in 4th grade. It was loosely based on my favorite BSC character--Claudia. Since then I've been inspired by countless authors and books. And, I'm pretty sure, my writing style has evolved accordingly!

The great blog Critical Mass asked reviewers what books they reviewed over the summer. They also talk about books they're still looking forward to reading. Lots of great suggestions. What was the best book you read over the summer? I've read some great ones....my favorite reads this summer were Scott Spencer's Endless Love and Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. Be my goodreads friend. Do it!

Happy weekend everyone!

A Little Sunday Reading v. 14

I'm not sure how I feel about this but two of my recent reads involved torrent love and....arson. Strange. I don't know that I've ever read a single book that involved arson and then BAM! two in one week.

Both were fantastic...albeit a little dark. But fantastic.

The first was The Outcast by Sadie Jones. This book was so desperate and so sad. Yet it was so well-written that when I wanted to put it down and step away from the depression and darkness I couldn't! I was completely immersed in the story. Completely. All the details (including the pain and loss) were so vivid, I felt like it was a memoir.

Lewis, a troubled teen, returns home from incarceration and tries to deal with the consequences of his decisions. The tale weaves the story of many characters all suffering from particular d...more This book was so desperate and so sad. Yet it was so well-written that when I wanted to put it down and step away from the depression and darkness I couldn't! I was completely immersed in the story. Completely. All the details (including the pain and loss) were so vivid, I felt like it was a memoir.

Lewis, a troubled teen, returns home from incarceration and tries to deal with the consequences of his decisions. The tale weaves the story of many characters all suffering from particular demons and regrets. The characters are all so similar that you love and hate them all (almost) equally. My heart broke on each page for one reason or another.

There was one turn in the plot that annoyed me so it isn't perfect. And I felt the book was a little bit *too* dark at times. Jones could have given us a bit more hope. But the writing was outstanding. One of the best books of 2008 to be sure.

The second arson themed book was Endless Love by Scott Spencer. Never heard of it? Me neither but it was recommended to me through the site "What should I read next?" when I typed in Charles Baxter. It is touted as the best story about young love. I love Baxter. I love how he portrays love, loss, jealously....everything, really. Baxter is awesome. I was skeptical of this recommendation. I had never heard of it and I thought the title was totally cliche. But with a publication date of 1979 (the year I was born), I decided it was fate! So I picked it up.

Once I started reading, I could not put it down. The story and characters were truly riveting. The thing I still can't get over was how intimate the writing was. So intimate. I felt I was privy to the most secret of all secrets. And I was constantly blushing. I felt uncomfortable for and by the characters. I love books that make me feel uncomfortable.

While I adored this book, I am hesitant to recommend it to others because of one aspect--the sex. This book was over sexed and the reason it doesn't get 5 stars. I'm no prude. But this book was too much. At some points it was necessary to make the reader feel the desperation and yearning of the characters. But most times, I felt the sex was a gimmick.

The writing, even during the sex scenes, was breathtaking. I pretty much covet Spencer's writing style. Loved the details he shared and the ones he let me infer.

These books were perfect companions. They were so similar in so many ways that I felt I was reading a continuation of stories. Young people in love, arson....what more could you ask for?

A Little Sunday Reading v. 13

I've read two very lovely books this week: The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Sean Greer and Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Stout.

Both were so beautifully written that I could not stop reading. I felt I was living with the characters. A the very least, I was their diary and was privy to the most intimate of details. And I love intimate details. Olive Kitteridge, in particular, was enjoyable because of my recent obsession with short stories. The book was told in 13 separate stories.

Both books has a few things in common. I want you to read them both (back to back) and agree.

First, Greer and Stout have the "flawed character" down. Pat. The characters in these books were so flawed. Yet Greer and Stout seemed to withhold judgment. And managed to provide me with just enough empathy that I did as well. Unusual. I normally judge the pants off of flawed characters.

Second, the way Greer and Stout portray marriage and partnership was simultaneously harsh and lovely. I ached with the hardships and smiled at the loving details.

Last, I've begun to be a bit obsessed with plots that introduce you to multiple characters and then weave them together in a subtle way. It seems so difficult. To make the reader wonder why you're reading this and then smack them over the head with the obvious connection. Love that moment of discovery.

Both books are great summer reading. And if you'd like more suggestions, NPR has your back.

And to read more reviews, be my friend on goodreads.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 12 Summer Reading Edition

The semester is winding down. My grading is done. My grades will be turned in momentarily. Summer fever has begun to set in. We'll be in Michigan for the month of June. It will be a busy month filled with a class reunion, wedding, bachelorette party weekend, family/friend bonding, Drew's birthday celebration and dissertation writing.

But there will also be time for reading for pleasure! I always get a lot of reading done in Michigan. Something about the porch, the water, and the sunset makes it seem criminal to watch television.

I've been browsing some summer reading lists and my Dangerous Reading challenge list to get my reading wits about me. I've checked the library stacks. I think I have a pretty good list.

Books that I'll be reading this summer:

A Room of One's Own
Jane Eyre
Persuasion
The Secret of Lost Things
The Senator's Wife
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life
Beginner's Geek
A Wolf At the Table: A Memoir of my Father
When You are Engulfed in Flames

I'll also be reading some academic books for my dissertation but I don't count those. I'm excited about the list. It seems appropriately ambitious and fluffy. I'm beyond excited that both Augusten Burroughs and David Sedaris have and will have new books out.

What will you be reading on those lazy summer evenings?

A Little Sunday Reading v. 11

Haven't had a lot of time for reading. But I did finish Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson. One of Time's best books of 2007 and it is a well written book. A very interesting story told by a reflective and melancholy narrator. However, the story wasn't really for me. I was disappointed by the ending and, while I could appreciate all the little details, I found myself wishing Petterson was focusing on other things. Because I could not identify with Trond's relationship with nature and his complicated feelings for his father, I missed out on much of the beauty of the book.

However, I would still recommend it for other readers as the simplicity and beauty of the writing is commendable. Also, as an aside, I loved the size of the book and the font of the story.

Some notable passages:

(5) In less than two months' time this millennium will be finished. There will be festivities and fireworks in the parish I am a part of. I shall not go near any of that. I will stay at home with Lyra, perhaps go for a walk down to the lake to see if the ice will carry my weight...I will stroke the fire, put a record on the old gamophone with Billie Holiday's voice almost like a whisper..and then fittingly get drunk on a bottle I have standing by in a cupboard. When the record ends I will go to bed and sleep as heavily as it is possible to sleep without being dead, and awake to a new millennium and not let it mean a thing. I am looking forward to that.

(73) People like it when you tell them things, in suitable portions, in a modest, intimate tone, and they think they know you, but they do not, they know about you, for what they are let in on are facts, not feelings, not what your option is about anything at all, not how what has happened to you and how all the decisions you have made have turned you into what you are. What they do is they fill in with their own feelings and opinions and assumptions, and they compost a new life which has precious little to do with yours, and that lets you off the hook.

(215) Untidiness does not suit me and never has. I am actually a meticulous person; I want everything in its place and ready for use. Dust and mess make me nervous. If I once get slack over cleaning, it is easy to let everything slide, especially in this old house. One of my many horrors is to become the man with the frayed jacket and unfastened flies standing at the Co-op counter with egg on his shirt and more too because the mirror in the hall has given up the ghost. A shipwrecked man without an anchor in the world except in his own liquid thoughts where time has list its sequence.

Even though I was lukewarm on the book, I'd still recommend it to others. I have a feeling most people would like it more than I did.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 10

A NYT essay about books has got me thinking....

The essay claims that listing your favorite books and authors is a type of self-branding. Totally. It also claims that reading habits are indicators of other personality traits. Yes. It concludes that most serious readers have encountered a moment when literary tastes conflict with romantic hopes and caused a break up. Meh....

You have to read it if you are a book lover. Seriously. And read the comments over at Papercuts. They are completely awesome. Both because of how pissed people are about the topic AND how dogmatic people are about their deal breakers. As an aside, I cannot believe how many people hate on Ayn Rand. My favorite comment?

The Beats, especially Jack Kerouac. Not only does he have bad taste but he will justify cheating on you philosophically.

Maybe it is because most people I've dated aren't "readers" and the person I married doesn't read fiction--ever--but I don't think that different literary tastes are grounds for a break up. If a partner refuses to read to a child before bed? Dump him! If a partner doesn't support your reading habit? Kick em to the curb. If a partner exhibits absolutely no intellectual curiosity? Totally lame and should be discarded. But if a reader has a whole bunch of popular fiction on his or her shelf? I just don't think that's a problem.

I hope you all have your impressed faces on right now. This is quite possibly the least intellectually elitist thing I have ever said. Inmywholelife. Remember how I judged my childhood friends for their reading habits? Exactly. Don't get me wrong, the chances of me ever marrying a person who reads nothing but graphic novels? Probably slim (both because I'm already married and because I think I am missing the part of the brain that allows me to comprehend that type of media). A partner who has never heard of Jane Austen? Not gonna happen for me. My friend, Bethany, once said that it takes a certain amount of nerd in a man for her to date him. That is most definitely true for me as well. But I'd like to think that it doesn't take a certain type of reading for me to date him.

I enjoy talking about books. I do it all the time. I constantly recommend things. It is annoying. Even to me. But I can't stop. Drew entertains me. He asks about the books I read. He buys me reading lights. He is supportive of my addiction. He values books. He values learning. So I'm okay that we don't read the same things. Do I wish we could share recommendations back and forth? Kinda. But that's also risky. A great passage from a book I read last year, Mister Pip, sums it up....

Personally, though, I am loath to push Great Expectations onto anyone, my father especially. I am mindful of Mr. Watts’ disappointment in Grace’s ability to love what he loved, and I have never wanted to know that disappointment, or for my father to feel, as Grace must have, like a pup with a saucer of milk pushed towards her in the shape of a book. No. Some areas of life are not meant to overlap.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 9

I haven't been doing much leisure reading. Right now I'm working my way through Margret Atwood's Cat's Eye. I'm really enjoying it but it is not a light book and I don't have much time to devote to it. But I have some bookish links for you...

**If you need even more help deciding what to read, you can ask this database-- What Should I Read Next? You type in a title and author. You hit the button and BAM you have a brand new list of things to read.

**I'm visiting Seattle in a couple months. Should be a great time, since it is a city filled with readers.

**My favorite book in 2007 that was written in 2007 was The Post-Birthday World. I adored it. You can read an online book discussion over at Everyday I Write the Book blog. People have differing opinions on the book!

**Earlier this week I finished Charles Baxter's The Soul Thief. I liked it. I think I need to read it again to fully "get it." It is a dark story. Very dark. But also charming and well-written. The two characters are graduate school classmates. But, to say the least, their grad school life is waaay more exciting than mine. The NYT's reviewed it a couple weeks ago.

**I can't be the only one who wants to read this book. The creator of the thesaurus? And he has mental problems? And made lists all of his life? Count me in.

Happy reading.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 8

A couple weeks ago I picked up Charles Baxter's book A Relative Stranger: Stories. A beautiful book of short stories that I found recommended on a list of the "best novels you've never read." The stories were so well-written and charming that I read many of them multiple times. An added bonus was that most were set in Michigan (Baxter used to teach at the University of Michigan). I'd heard of Baxter before but had never read him. I have no idea why. I immediately headed to the library and literally picked every book he's written from the shelf. This week I finished Feast of Love. AH-MAZING.

Baxter, in a self-proclaimed insomniac state, weaves the story of several people to give one coherent story of mistaken and real love. At times the story is so sad, I felt suffocated. But other moments were touching and uplifting. At all times, the writing was envy inducing. I feel like I marked every single page as notable.

Here is a small taste....

The man--ME, this pale being, no one else, it seems--wakes in fright, tangled up in the sheets. The darkened room, the half-closed doors of the closet and the slender pine-slatted lamp on the bedside table: I don't recognize them. On the opposite side of the room, the streetlight's distant luminance coating the window shade has an eerie unwelcome glow. None of these previously familiar objects have any familiarity now. What's worse, I cannot remember or recognize myself. I sit up in bed--actually, I lurch in mild sleepy terror toward the vertical. There's a demon here, one of the unnamed ones, the demon of erasure and forgetting. I can't manage my way through this feeling because my mind isn't working, and because it, the flesh in which I'm housed, hasn't yet become me.

As a member of the bourgeoisie, I live quietly in this midwestern city of ghosts and mutterers. Everywhere you go in this town you hear people muttering. Often this is brilliant muttering, tenurable muttering, but that is not my point. All these mini-vocalizations are the effect of the local university, the Amalagamated Education Corporations, as I call it, my employer. It is in the nature of universities to promote ideas that should not be put to use, whose glories must reside exclusively in the cranium. Therefore the muttering.

They--we--had a certain party varnish on. Depending on whether I've had enough to drink, I usually don't like ironic friendliness as much as homely glitter. Because it's the Midwest, no one really glitters because no one has to, it's more a dull shine, like frequently used silverware. We were all presentable enough, but almost no one was making any kid of statement. Out here in Michigan, real style is too difficult to maintain; the styles are all convenient and secondhand. We're all hand-me-downs personalities. But that's liberating: it frees you up for other matters of greater importance, the great themes, the sordid passions.

There are so many more great passages but they only really make sense when you've gotten to know and love the characters. I strongly, strongly recommend this book.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 8

I love books about reading. Love finding out what authors deem "good" reading material. Love finding out how books and the reading experience moves people. The past month or so, before bed, I've been reading essays out of The Book That Changed My Life: 71 Remarkable Writers Celebrate the Books That Matter Most to Them. So, so charming. I haven't read many of the books mentioned by the writers but enjoyed their accounts just the same. It is so fascinating to learn how different books impact different people. In particular, I appreciate reading reflections of books that I hated and understanding beauty in the work.

Some notable passages:
"A good book changes you, even if it is only to add a little to the furniture of your mine. It will make you laugh and perhaps even cry; it should certainly make you think. A great book will make you dream in regions you have never dared to before, and ultimately it will spur you to create or achieve something new yourself."

"Reading a book became an act of intimacy. Take in a breath and don't let it out until you get to the last page."

"But your journey is never over until you return from it to share with society what you have learned. Then and only then can you begin your next journey in life as the process repeats itself, as you constantly become."

"I read my way through a solitary childhood. Books were the bedrock of my emotional and intellectual life, books that proscribed no limit to the imagination, books that were full of resourceful girls, princesses and goatherds and Victorian maidens, not to mention the sand fairies, the talking animals, the scheming step families, and the handsome men who had been transformed into beasts, both real and metaphorical."

In other reading news, CNN had a story about great bookstores. Who doesn't love a good bookstore?

A Little Sunday Reading v. 7

Need help deciding what to read? Want to see the best of the best in 2007? Some links to help your reading journey--

Time picks the best fiction and non-fiction. So does Salon. The NYT gives the 10 best. A book blog I like is doing a countdown.

Also, I've updated my blog roll and you can always become my goodreads friend for more ideas!

Go forth and read good buddies.

I read an amazing book this week. The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears. One of the NYT 100 notable books of 2007 and I understand why.

This book was so beautiful. The story, a tale of an Ethiopian immigrant living in DC, was sad and heavy but I loved it.

The development of the relationships in the book was incredible. I have pages and pages marked with moving quotations.

While slightly liberating at the end, the book is not an uplifting one. But if you want to be blown away by someone's writing talent, this is the book for you.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 6

The story weaves a tale of a former literature teacher turned archivist in 1930's Moscow. His task is to destroy the literary work of political prisoners.

This book has been showing up on lots of Best of 2007 lists. As I read it, I was confused as to why. First, let me say it was well-written in a technical sense. Good sound plot. Interesting lead character. A build in the story. But overall I was let down. I think there were a few things that just didn't sit well with me.

First, it was written in third person. I've really been into first person narration lately. REALLY into it. And I don't know that I can say "lately." This is pretty much a mainstay with books I like. I enjoy when one of the character narrates. The narrator can vary from chapter to chapter but I like it always to be someone involved in the story.

Second, I hated the ending. Many people will disagree with me. I've read other reviews by people who LOVED the ending. I just didn't think it did enough to conclude what was a very powerful story.

Third, the writing just wasn't aesthetic enough for me. Prose doesn't always have to flowery and beautiful. But I'm critical of authors who constantly write in short, choppy sentences. Sure, it was a way to understand the character's (often unfinished) thoughts. It just started to bug me after a while. And, relatedly, the book centers around an archivist who reads beautiful literature for a living. Such beautiful literature he risks death to steal a work. I expected more of those beautiful words to be used in the story. No suck luck though.

So I can't recommend the book to any of you but I kind of hope you all will read it anyway! I'd like to know what I'm missing!

A Little Sunday Reading v. 5

One of the few books I read in 2007 that was actually written in 2007 is Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones. It is easily one of the best I've read all year. A 2007 Booker shortlist winner, the book is described as

On a copper-rich tropical island shattered by war, where the teachers have fled with almost everyone else, only one white man choose to stay behind: the eccentric Mr. Watts, object of much curiosity and scorn, who sweeps out the ruined school-house and begins to read to the children each day from Charles Dickens's classic Great Expectations. So begins this rare, original story about the abiding strength that imagination, once ignited, can provide. While artillery echoes in the mountains, thirteen-year-old Matilda and her peers are riveted by the adventures of a young orphan named Pip in a city called London, a city whose contours soon become more real than their own blighted landscape. As Mr. Watts says, "A person entranced by a book simply forgets to breathe." Soon come the rest of the villagers, initially threatened, finally inspired to share tales of their own that bring alive the rich mythology of their past. But in a ravaged place where even children are forced to live by their wits and daily survival is the only objective, imagination can be a dangerous thing.

The story was beautiful. It made you understand the tragedy of war and the beauty of reading. Matilda, the young heroine, escaped a troubled family and political life by throwing herself into a relationship with a special teacher and a special book. I was moved by her relationship with both. I'm not sure how Jones managed but the book was both devastating and hopeful.

I read the book at the same time as Peter. Read his review here.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 4

This week the New York Times announced their 100 Notable Books of the Year for 2007. The list is a blend of fiction, nonfiction and poetry. What I love about the list is (a) how exhaustive it is and (b) that no matter how religiously I read their book reviews, there are always great books that I haven't heard about.

Their number one book is the Abstinence Teacher which has been on my list for a while. I'm hoping to read it over the holiday break.

Amazon.com has a list as well...they break it down into editors' picks and reader picks.

Speaking of the NYT and books, do you read Paper Cuts? It is a book blog written by their senior book editor and is all kinds of fantastic. My favorite feature is that every Wednesday they feature a writer's top ten song list. Lovely. Another great feature is that on Mondays they do a round-up of all the Sunday papers' book review sections. Brilliant.

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I worked my way through a very fantastic but dense book. Special Topics in Calamity Physics defied my expectations. I expected to enjoy the story since I was so intrigued by the description:

Calamity Physics: The resulting explosion of energy, light, heartbreak and wonder as Blue van Meer enters a small, elite school in a sleepy mountain town. Blue's highly unusual past draws her to a charismatic group of friends at St. Gallaway and their captivating teacher, Hannah Schneider. A sudden drowning, a series of inexplicable events, and finally the shocking death of Hannah herself lead to a confluence of mysteries. And Blue is left to make sense of it all with only her gimlet-eyed instinct and cultural lexicon to guide her.

But I never expected to be so captivated by the story. Marisha Pessl received mixed reviews for this book. Many people found it a bit too detailed and even off-putting. The critiques are understandable. Pessl weaves her complex story with many, many literary references. At times it does seem that she is trying a bit too hard. Or at the very least, she is trying to name drop all the authors she has been forced to read over the years. (it should be noted that she is clearly incredibly well-read) To be sure, the book should not be shared with with every reader. At 514 pages, it is an investment. However, when the reader realizes that Blue truly does use literature and authors to guide her life, the many references are understandable and even enjoyable. While I did get a bit bogged down with all the details in the first 200 pages (the book took me forever to plow through), the last 200 pages were magical and I was glad I had stuck with it and paid attention.

The storytelling is impeccable. The characters are interesting. The dialogue is witty. The vocabulary is mesmerizing. I read somewhere that Pessl is only 28. To say the least, I am jealous. However, I am also so happy to discover another young writer to join the ranks of Eggers and Foer.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 3

Besides college football, nothing says fall like being curled up under a blanket with a good book and a pot of soup of the stove. That said, I haven't been doing nearly enough reading! However, I did finish a really great book last week. Coincidently enough a new blog I've been reading did an interview with the author. I took both as a sign I should write about the book.

Songs Without Words is Ann Packer's follow up novel to her well-received, The Dive From Claussen's Pier. Despite being widely hailed, I never picked up TDFCP for one reason or another. However, when I read the plot to her latest work, I was intrigued.

Publisher's Weekly describes Songs as:

a richly nuanced meditation on the place of friendship in women's lives. Liz and Sarabeth's childhood friendship deepened following Sarabeth's mother's suicide when the girls were 16; now the two women are in their 40s and living in the Bay Area. Responsible mother-of-two Liz has come to see eccentric, bohemian Sarabeth, with her tendency to enter into inappropriate relationships with men, as more like another child than as a sister or mutually supportive friend. When Liz's teenage daughter, Lauren, perpetuates a crisis, Liz doubts her parenting abilities; Sarabeth is plunged into uncomfortable memories; and the hidden fragilities of what seemed a steadfast relationship come to the fore. Packer adroitly navigates Lauren's teen despair, Sarabeth's lonely longings and Liz's feelings of guilt and inadequacy.

What that review does not highlight is the exhaustion the reader will feel as she accompanies Liz and Sarabeth on this journey. I felt emotionally wrought and utterly confused as the book switched between characters' narrations and feelings. The book was incredible in the sense that multiple characters participated in the narration, all telling the same story but with completely different words. All the while I was, turning page after page, not knowing who to feel more love/hate for.

Packer tells the story with love and compassion for each character. They are all deeply flawed and full of regret. As a reader, you feel their longing and even feel some of your own--as the story makes you reflect upon your life choices and perhaps your lack of friendship at a time of need. When you read the book you will find a little bit of Liz and a little bit of Sarabeth in you. And that is exactly what makes the book so real and so haunting.

I highly recommend the book. It is perfect for a fall afternoon..and you'll probably read well into the night.

A Little Sunday Reading v. 2

This week was Fall Fiction Week at Slate. Lots of really interesting stories including this one asking contemporary authors to reveal their "greatest literary omissions." Not surprising, many have not read Harry Potter (although I'm not sure Harry Potter can be counted as "great" literature at this time--if ever) or Moby Dick (does anyone really read Moby Dick?). I was very surprised to see Jane Austen mentioned. Austen? Really?

Anyway, I had to confront the most important book I've never read. *confronting* I don't even know when to begin. To say the least, I don't often get down with the classic works. So in order to narrow it down, I've decided to admit the greatest feminist books I've never read. The list is vast and embarrassing.

1. I've never read anything by Virginia Woolf
2. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
3. Sexual Politics by Kate Millett
4. Fire with Fire by Naomi Wolf (This book is sitting beside by bed currently waiting to be read)

It feels good to get that off my chest. But now I am organized and determined to read some of the classic feminist works that I've missed.

A Little Sunday Reading

Another weekly feature...about books. YEY BOOKS. I LOVE BOOKS.

First, are you trying to figure out something to read? The National Book Award 2007 nominees have been announced. I already have one of the nominees on my list--Then We Came To An End by Jonathan Ferris. Even though I don't work in an office, the description of Ferris' workplace escapades sounds enjoyable. So I'll pick it up and pretend I work a miserable 9-5 job and then be thankful that I don't.

I recently finished a book that was recommended to be based on how much I love Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I do love me some ELIC. The narrator, Oscar, still warms my heart two years after I first met him. So I picked up The Good Life by Jay McInerney with very high expectations. I finished it almost a week ago and still can't decide how I feel about it.

Let me break it down....

The bad--the book takes place in a post 9/11 world. While the book doesn't focus on 9/11, it is featured a little too prominently for me. I cannot stand all the cheesy pop culture representations of the event. And though it sounds a little crass, I'm a bit sick of the tragedy that is 9/11. This book is dangerously close to cliché (I mean, the two lead characters fall in love while volunteering?!).

More problematic, the two main characters are a little too cluttered. They both have many, many issues. But it is the magnitude of those issues that make them almost simplistic. It is easy to dislike them--and dislike most of the people in the book. Too much happens. Too many bad things. Too many needless distractions. The distractions take us away from the heart of the book--the raw human response to tragedy.

The good--As I came to the end of the book, I was convinced I would not recommend this book to anyone. Then I read the last three pages. They were absolutely phenomenal. Incredible. Such beautiful prose. The account of love, longing and regret so real that I was lonely for myself. I finished the book late at night. It was quiet and dark. I turned off my light and as I drifted off to sleep, I felt moved by the writing. Those three pages almost made me want to forget the first 350.

So I can't decide...it is worth suffering through 350 pages to enjoy 3 pages of beauty and honesty? I still can't decide. If you decide to read the book (or have read it already), let me know your opinion. Perhaps my discomfort with 9/11 is the driving force behind my negativity. At the very least, you should know that it is nowhere close to ELIC.

If you want to know what else I'm reading, become my goodread friend. DO IT!