Sonnet 87 » The Book List 2010

The Fifth Annual Sonnet87.com Awards for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence (or, The 2010 Book Awards)

WordNerd — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 15:15:25 +0000

Fifty-eight books. Pages? 19, 204 (excluding the two books I beta read). This was my reading count for 2010. For someone whose reading dipped significantly in 2009, this was quite a comeback. I said I was going to read more, and did I ever!

I did spent most of my time with my nose in a book. That I will not deny. As the year progressed, I found myself sitting in bed, earlier than usual, gobbling up the last few pages of a book. There were times when I’d be brushing my teeth, side-eying my novel to read it while I maintained good oral hygiene. I barely enjoyed the sights of northeast D.C. as my Red Line train sped through the area because my eyes were always on a page in front of me; I would look up and think “Oh yeah, I live in D.C.” before dipping my head into the book again. I delighted in receiving packages from Amazon; when I decided I needed to budget better, the one thing I did not cut was my monthly order from Amazon. I joined a book club, which contributed ten books to the count; I read two manuscripts for friends and plowed through a true crime published by someone I know (who is publishing another one next year!). I read a good amount of nonfiction and a lot of fiction. I mostly enjoyed what I read and had fun scanning our bookshelves to see what book would end up in my hands.

2011 is bringing new packages to my door as many books I want to read are being released throughout the year (the above-mentioned crime story; a novel published by a former roommate [and yes, they will both remain nameless on this blog]; a new Jasper Fforde, a new Sarah Vowell, a James Hynes that will finally be in paperback). In fact, Amazon is bringing about four books my way in the next week, so I’ve got quite the backlog already. While I won’t be trying to top 2010, I will continue to read as much as I can. Why? Because it’s fun. As this year’s winners of the best and worst prove.

Best Book of 2010: The Grift by Debra Ginsberg. I’m not sure that I can say much more that hasn’t already been said, but this novel stuck with me throughout the year. As soon as I read it I knew that it was going to be Best Book of 2010; it couldn’t be helped. I still think of the last scene and kind of go “Aww, sniff,” in my mind. I remember all the characters pretty clearly and the storyline quite well, and to me that’s the mark of a well-written, engaging, and fun novel—you remember, and you appreciate. The novel was, bottom-line, smart. Go back and read the review because you have to, have to read this book.

Worst Book of 2010: The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan. The more I think about this book, the more I believe that this was Ryan’s attempt at making zombies kind of sexy like vampires. And I say kind of because you obviously can’t fall in love with a zombie, but you can have a supernatural element threatening every aspect of your future happiness, but it’s presented in a super-chaste way that’s supposed to leave your heart pounding, wanting more. That’s sex-ay! Listen, though: the only kind of heart pounding you should have in a zombie story is the kind that happens when you’re running away from a hungry horde—capisce? And the protagonist, Mary, is far from sympathetic—she brings about the destruction of her village just so she can see the ocean. I mean, wha . . . ? Why am I supposed to sympathize? What bugs also is that the world in which the story is created is difficult to tease out; when did this happen? Where are they? Ryan seems to have been going for the Middle Ages in the U.S., but it fails miserably because her logistics do not make any sense whatsoever. Regression of course could happen in a catastrophe, but at least set the scene so that the societal devolution has a natural progression that’s clearly presented in the story. And chain-link fences keeping out zombies? I laugh. Laugh heartily at you, Ryan. And on a related note: Twilight is not sexy. At all. It’s a creepy stalker book that doesn’t involve romance, but obsession.

Best Non-Fiction of 2010: Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy. A very insightful book that concerns the ideas that, ahem, to quote myself: “from lengthy childhoods springs the need to develop the trust required to allow others to care for a child; and from that springs the roots of humanity’s ability to understand one another.” Not only did I understand what I have witnessed firsthand as a caretaker of kids (and cooperative caretaker! Well, not so cooperative when my mom forced me to watch the younger siblings), but I was scared shitless by the idea that IP and I have no immediate or extended family in the area who could take care of a kid; and then I realize that very few other people in this area do, and no wonder everyone is so crazy and talking about their kids nonstop—thanks to our very family unfriendly and child unfriendly society (well, except fetuses; everyone lurves the fetuses!), they barely get to see them! That’s not strictly true and bit of a hyperbolic argument, but cooperative breeding is very difficult to achieve these days, something that Blaffer Hrdy points out, and our society is very hostile towards this evolutionary advantage. I also loved scaring my friends with the information Blaffer Hrdy presents on pages 261-264 on mothers versus mothers-in-law. It will freak you the fuck out (and it makes sense to a lot of my female friends who are mothers and have mothers-in-law who are recalcitrant, indifferent and, in one case, dangerous to their grandchildren).

Best Fiction of 2010: Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin. Another early-year read, Lavinia also stuck in my mind given its portrayal of a woman who is silent throughout an important piece of the literary canon and given voice through Le Guin’s excellent writing. I have never read Le Guin before, but I plan on picking up some more of her books in 2011 (I admit that, in 2010, I was too overwhelmed by all the books I had to even think about starting the Earthsea series). To quote myself again (and I have the luxury of doing this because I did so many book lists compared to years past): “The contrast of Lavinia’s myth and her personhood in Le Guin’s novel is a convoluted literary question to dwell on, but it is exciting nonetheless; where does Virgil end and where does Lavinia begin?” The characters, writing, and interpretation of Virgil’s Aeneid make for a fantastic novel that both fantasy and historical fiction fans will enjoy. Also, given how well it’s done, literary fiction fans should get a thrill out of it, too.

Worst Fiction of 2010: One Day by David Nicholls. Someone once asked: “If One Day had been written by a woman, would it have gotten the same amount of attention as it did? And would it even have been published?” I ventured to answer that, yeah, it would have been published because the premise is seemingly a good one, but that it would not have blown up like One Day did—no way would this chick lit (and yes, it is chick lit) novel have received the Nick Hornby endorsement that made One Day sky rocket. But here’s the thing that I didn’t get; it was supposed to be a catalog of missed chances between two people who are polar opposites, their stories being told on the same date of every year for a number of years; the thing is, they’re both so unlikable that I was rooting for them to not get with anyone else simply to save someone, anyone, from having to put up with them. And that’s the only reason why I figure they belong together—no one else can stand them! And when people say, “Duh, they’re supposed to be unlikable and only for each other,” I don’t understand. I don’t necessarily have to like a protagonist, but I have to at least identify with them. And I have to want to root for the relationship because they’re good together, not because their being together will spare some unsuspecting man and woman. And when people say, “Duh, you have no idea about the time and place, so you obviously missed the point,” I laugh. A good writer will be able to communicate time and place and moment to a reader. I’ve never been to Istanbul in the 1970s and 80s, but Orhan Pamuk sure does a kick-ass job at communicating the differences in neighborhoods, the vivid city, and the changing landscape as time did its inexorable passage in The Museum of Innocence. However, I’m sure that the One Day movie is going to do gangbusters at the theatre.

Worst Non-Fiction of 2010: Tie between Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge and Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics, both by Eleanor Herman. Between the poorly researched history, the assumptions, and the terrible advice for women at the back of the books that basically advocates that we be mere decorations without a thought besides on how to stay charming and sexy on any man’s arm in order to keep them from straying, these books were the pits. I ordered them together; I was so appalled by Kings that I just had to read Queen in order to see the full range of fucked-uppery. God help her if she ever touches Anne Boleyn in full-length form. I don’t think I could help myself from reading and tearing apart because, if her assertions on George Boleyn are any indications, she’d take the hated Other Boleyn Girl route. And then I’ll have to re-read Eric Ives’ biography on Anne to calm down.

Best Short Story Collection of 2010: Burning Bright: Stories by Ron Rash. Ron Rash is so freaking talented. I know that’s a very simplistic way of putting it, but it is something you cannot deny me (see below for joke completion). While Delicate Edible Birds by Lauren Groff gave him a run for his money toward the end of the year, I just couldn’t deny that Ron Rash’s Burning Bright: Stories was a collection of amazing snapshots of North Carolina’s Appalachia, ranging from the Civil War to contemporary problems and issues. The characters are reflections of the time and place which they inhabit; their circumstances shape them, causing them to take steps and actions they’d rather not do, but must in order to protect themselves, their lives, their families. An underlying darkness frames the beauty that Rash creates in these short stories, and I can’t wait to read another one of his offerings. A truly amazing author and find by IP (who introduced me to Serena in 2008).

Worst Short Story Collection of 2010: Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson. I picked up this collection after it was a recommended item on my Amazon account. “Elevates the quotidian to the sublime,” the Publisher’s Weekly Starred Review said, and it was a New York Times Notable Book of 2009. I was in. But when I read the book, I was terribly bored and uninterested in every one of the protagonists in every story. And the stories weren’t memorable. I could not tell you one story’s arc, from opening scene to conclusion. Maybe it was because I was reading these stories in the contrasting brilliance and poverty of the South Pacific, but I felt so disconnected from every tale that I could not appreciate Thompson’s writing or her careful craft of the stories, which so many other people praise. I may try another one of her collections, though, to make sure that I wasn’t on crack.

The Don Quixote Award of 2010: Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730Pages by Ammon Shea. In the spirit of my quixotic quest to finish Don Quixote, I’ve created the Don Quixote Award on Sonnet87—the award goes to the book (or books in the future?) that I just cannot finish no matter how intriguing the premise is or how dynamic the book is to other people. I’ve been trying to read Don Quixote since 2003; I’m technically starting the second part, but I cannot get motivated enough to continue. Same with Ammon Shea’s account of his quest to read the Oxford English Dictionary front to back. I’m not sure what it was about Ammon Shea’s writing, but it reminded me of a classmate in my graduating high school class: this kid was smart but also a tad arrogant and refused to acknowledge that he was pretty low on the social totem pole; he would run for student body president and write speeches that contained words that no one was familiar with (it was obvious he spent copious amounts of time with his beloved thesaurus). The entire class would be snickering at him, but there he was, reading away, believing, truly believing, that we found him inspiring and saw he was our natural, god-given leader. Worse, he was a condescending ass; I still remember asking him one little question in the entire time I went to school with him and he answered me with a great sigh, an eye roll, and the most patronizing voice ever; I started walking away before he could finish his answer because I figured I just didn’t need to know. And he wanted to be president of us lowly idiots. The short chick with the squeaky voice who was nice to nearly everyone still won. And so with Ammon Shea. I got as far as “C” before my head started nodding, I was tired of his not-so-witty summation of the words he’d chosen for display and elucidation, his tone was aiming for scholarly and veered into my classmate’s territory, and I couldn’t imagine sitting through another 23 more letters. I don’t think I’ll pick it up again.

Best Discovery of 2010: Tie between Debra Ginsberg and Lauren Groff. I can feel IP recoiling now against the inclusion of Groff on this list. While he absolutely hated The Monsters of Templeton, I loved both the novel and her collection of short stories, Delicate Edible Birds. I will say that I think that she is a stronger short story writer when compared to her novel; I found her short stories absolutely breathtaking and felt they held up well over time whereas Monsters, further examined, began to reveal cracks in the foundation (but I still enjoyed it and I’m not going to rescind that). I am looking forward to her new novel, Arcadia; I had initially read that it was to be released next spring, but we’re looking at January 2012 instead. Okay, I can wait (and it’s fine to begin padding out the 2012 book list, I say!).

Debra Ginsberg I know IP finds more palatable. The Grift, winner of Best Book for the year, was actually a Christmas 2009 gift for IP. We usually borrow each others’ books, so it was probably inevitable that I read it, but I didn’t think I’d enjoy it so much. I then proceeded to read the majority of Ginsberg’s oeuvre save for Raising Blaze, and I plan on reading it soon. Her writing is very diverse; her fiction ranges from the adventures of a woman trying to break into the publishing world to suddenly-psychics to neighbors hiding secrets during the 2007 Californian wildfires. Her nonfiction delves into the world of waitresses, the bonds that sisters share, and the story of raising her son (which again, I haven’t read, but I include it to note the breadth of territory explored). Like Jasper Fforde in 2007, I found it necessary to read all her work to date; I was lucky enough to sneak in her newest novel, The Neighbors Are Watching, thanks to a gift exchange. Ginsberg and Groff are on my to-watch list, joining Sarah Vowell (forthcoming book—on Hawaii!), Jasper Fforde (another Thursday Next very soon!), Susanna Clarke (alas, nothing forthcoming as far as I know) and Hans Fallada (we have Wolf Among Wolves on our shelf already, but I haven’t tackled it yet; and I’m not sure if Melville House will be publishing more of Fallada’s works, but I hope so).

And there you have it; the book awards for 2010. Included in this page is a snapshot of almost all my books read this year (eliminating the crime book and the unpublished beta reads). I love Goodreads; if you like to track your books, I highly recommend it. And I highly recommend a lot of my books on this year’s book list; save for One Day, The Forest of Hands and Teeth, and Herman’s trashy gossip rags masquerading as history, there’s really not anything I absolutely despised (even Do Not Deny Me: Stories wasn’t terrible, just not engaging for me). Because of the awards’ brief nature, I can’t include a description of every book I loved, but I will, in the final book list below, place two bold, red asterisks next to the books I feel are fantastic reads and should be explored further if you’re looking for something to read. There are 15 book list reviews in 2010; some of them are mini-reviews, so there are a lot more than 15 books reviewed. Go into the category for more. For now, though, until the first book list of 2011—adiós!

Onto the final book list of 2010:

Finished:

1) The Broken Teaglass by Emily Arsenault **
2) The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles by Steven Pressfield **
3) The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peal Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
4) Shades of Grey: The Road to High Saffron by Jasper Fforde **
5) Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser **
6) Unaccustomed Earth: Stories by Jhumpa Lahiri **
7) Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
8) Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin **
9) Shakespeare’s Wife by Germaine Greer
10) The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future by Robert Darnton **
11) Under the Dome by Stephen King
12) Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman
13) Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics by Eleanor Herman
14) The World in Half by Cristina Henriquez **
15) The Road by Cormac McCarthy
16) The Hidden by Tobias Hill
17) The Best American Short Stories 2009: Edited by Alice Sebold & Heidi Pitlor (Series Editor) **
18) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (Translated by Reg Keeland)
19) The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
20) The Grift by Debra Ginsberg **
21) The Help by Kathryn Stockett **
22) Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson
23) About My Sisters by Debra Ginsberg **
24) Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg **
25) The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves) **
26) Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson
27) Remarkable Creatures by Tracy Chevalier **
28) Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman **
29) Burning Bright: Stories by Ron Rash **
30) Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy **
31) One Day by David Nicholls
32) Published True Crime Book
33) Unpublished Novel—Beta Read
34) Unpublished Novel—Beta Read
35) Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman **
36) The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte, Translated by Sonia Soto
37) Crow Lake by Mary Lawson **
38) The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters **
39) Malinche: A Novel by Laura Esquivel
40) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg **
41) Do I Want to Be A Mom?: A Woman’s Guide to the Decision of a Lifetime by Diana Dell and Suzan Erem
42) The Lonely Polygamist: A Novel by Brady Udall
43) The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff **
44) The Edge of Paradise: America in Micronesia by P.F. Kluge **
45) The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe **
46) The Parenthood Decision by Beverly Engel **
47) A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick
48) Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart **
49) The Museum of Innocence by Orhan Pamuk **
50) The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman **
51) Delicate Edible Birds by Lauren Groff **
52) Room: A Novel by Emma Donoghue **
53) The Neighbors Are Watching by Debra Ginsberg **
54) Solar by Ian McEwan **
55) The Jungle by Upton Sinclair **
56) Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King **

Re-read:

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks **
2) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling **

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

Waiting To Be Read (Already Purchased, Got as Gifts, Borrowed from My Husband or Otherwise Accessible without the Use of Funds, But Not an Assurance That I Will Read These Before I Buy More Books):

Empty until the 2011 reading starts!

Mr. Pamuk’s and Ms. Goodman’s Cabinets of Wonder*: The Book List

WordNerd — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 15:55:28 +0000

In September, IP and I attended the National Book Festival. We were lucky enough to see a quartet of equally engaging yet disparate speakers: Jonathan Franzen, Orhan Pamuk, Allegra Goodman and Harold Varmus. We already had Varmus’ memoir and Franzen’s novel in hand (both were signed). Listening to Pamuk and Goodman speak, we ended up buying their most recent novels, The Museum of Innocence and The Cookbook Collector. We were particularly taken with their ideas and thoughts of collecting: the passion of and for collecting, and what drives a collector to, well, collect. IP and I turned to eye each other significantly at this idea, but the questions were intriguing. Why does one collect? How does one collect? What is discovered as one collects?

For the record, we really don’t collect anything; we were asked this very question earlier this year, and our initial answer was “Not really.” However, thinking about it, I began to write a post that I never posted:

“Anything” probably meant things like china, original artwork, or something that may increase in value (and can be flipped over for a greater amount of money than what you paid). While we just shrugged first at each other and then at the person who posed the question at the time, we were later mulling it over and decided that yes, we do collect things. But in a very different, less market-focused yet still important way.

Many things we have on display have a story, a memory attached to them. It’s of value to no one else, but we keep them because they touch us even if we’re not consciously thinking about the memory all the time . . . [the things we collect] chronicle our relationship a bit, from dating to moving in together to marriage. Collecting these objects represents a narrative of us, our lives together, and to the things we’re looking towards in our future. They mean something to us, and are stories we can tell everyone that gives them a bit of glimpse of who we are as a couple, and as individuals who have traveled extensively and tried to bring back a piece of that world with us.

Both Museum of Innocence and Cookbook Collector keenly eye the passion for collecting, with Museum focusing solely on things collected in response to obsessive love, while Cookbook focuses more on the collections that people create to either protect or reveal their selves. Museum takes place in Turkey during the 1970s and 1980s; Cookbook captures the late 90s and early 00s in the U.S. by focusing on the dot com boost and bust of those years, culminating the book with September 11.

Museum is a slow burn; it’s a novel that delights in the obsessive nature of collecting and love, detailing meticulously Kemal’s inability to connect personally with Fusun, a distant relation and brief love, choosing instead to assuage his desire with the collection of objects that Fusun has interacted with, even if only a transitory glance. The objects serve as a bandage for the pain Kemal feels at being separated from Fusun, even as he spends eight years visiting Fusun and her family on an almost nightly basis. Neglected in this obsession is Fusun herself; while she finds herself the object of many people’s desires, she can never fully emerge as her own person, especially given the constrains that society places on a woman who has engaged in premarital sex, forced to marry to save face, and is unable to achieve her greatest goal (to be a movie star) without risking social rejection or further damaging her already bruised reputation.

While the things that Kemal collects are odd (cigarette butts; ornamental dogs that adorn Fusun’s family’s TV set; even salt shakers), it is why he collects them that brings resonance to the story. And that the story is the guidebook for the museum of his love for Fusun highlights the little, transient moments in life when we’re suddenly struck by an object that can come to represent a person. As I said above, these things give a glimpse of who Kemal is (and to a lesser extent, Fusun, although per force she is less clearly defined as the book is told in the first person); every time he adds to his collection, he feels he is bringing back a piece of Fusun with him, the only kind of piece he can have. It is in the final pages of the book, where the narrative steps out of Kemal’s voice, that Fusun emerges a bit better, and Kemal’s obsession is treated with the awe that it deserves—and I mean awe in neither a good nor a bad way, but his intense focus can only conjure the word awe.

The Cookbook Collector moves faster, striding along with the fast clip that was the late 90s and the first years of the new millennium. At the story’s center are Emily and Jess, two sisters who are opposites in personality; Emily is the entrepreneurial sister capitalizing on the possibilities of the tech world and dating Jonathan, a man whose ambitions mirror her own; Jess lingers in grad school teasing out philosophy, trying to save trees and annoying her rare bookstore employer/Microsoft millionaire, George.

As I said above, the collecting in Cookbook is less obvious than Museum; while there is a cookbook collection (that brings Jess and George closer), the focus is more on what we surround ourselves with to define our lives and how we compromise, collecting milestones and possessions and people that seem significant and leading to the ultimate goal; waiting for the right moment for everything, when indeed the right moment is never anything but now. Emily collects millions of dollars during the IPO of her company, Veritech, but puts off the marriage, children and the home life she seems to desire even as the dollars swirl around her; Jess collects people, reaching out and embracing every odd, manipulative or engaging person who comes her way, sometimes to her detriment, sometimes to her great benefit and also to those around her, but it helps little in directing her somewhat directionless life. Accompanying all this, the attempt to find and claim what’s real in a world where everything threatens to spin lose at a moment’s notice (and it does, multiple times), is Goodman’s amazing prose and her ability to beautifully catalog the details of Jess’s and Emily’s lives. As a reader, I felt like I was collecting words and phrases, wishing I could absorb Goodman’s genius, realizing that I won’t ever come close unless I stop collecting words and start writing.

Ha. Profound enough for you? Anyway . . .

Ultimately, both books are not only about collection, but also on how the things we do readjust and expand our definition of love, either intentionally or not. We attempt to create bridges with collections; sometimes they go nowhere, as in Kemal’s case; sometimes, they are the last steps toward what it is we really want, and then they exist to serve as a reminder of the path taken, especially in Jess’s.

Strong recommend for both books.

With my closing of The Cookbook Collector, I am at 52 books for the year—and I’m still not done, people. Onto the book list.

Finished:

1) The Broken Teaglass by Emily Arsenault
2) The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles by Steven Pressfield
3) The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peal Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
4) Shades of Grey: The Road to High Saffron by Jasper Fforde
5) Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
6) Unaccustomed Earth: Stories by Jhumpa Lahiri
7) Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
8) Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin
9) Shakespeare’s Wife by Germaine Greer
10) The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future by Robert Darnton
11) Under the Dome by Stephen King
12) Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman
13) Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics by Eleanor Herman
14) The World in Half by Cristina Henriquez
15) The Road by Cormac McCarthy
16) The Hidden by Tobias Hill
17) The Best American Short Stories 2009: Edited by Alice Sebold & Heidi Pitlor (Series Editor)
18) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (Translated by Reg Keeland)
19) The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
20) The Grift by Debra Ginsberg
21) The Help by Kathryn Stockett
22) Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson
23) About My Sisters by Debra Ginsberg
24) Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg
25) The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves)
26) Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson
27) Remarkable Creatures by Tracy Chevalier
28) Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman
29) Burning Bright: Stories by Ron Rash
30) Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy
31) One Day by David Nicholls
32) Published True Crime Book
33) Unpublished Novel—Beta Read
34) Unpublished Novel—Beta Read
35) Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman
36) The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte, Translated by Sonia Soto
37) Crow Lake by Mary Lawson
38) The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters
39) Malinche: A Novel by Laura Esquivel
40) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
41) Do I Want to Be A Mom?: A Woman’s Guide to the Decision of a Lifetime by Diana Dell and Suzan Erem
42) The Lonely Polygamist: A Novel by Brady Udall
43) The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff
44) The Edge of Paradise: America in Micronesia by P.F. Kluge
45) The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe
46) The Parenthood Decision by Beverly Engel
47) A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick
48) Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart
49) The Museum of Innocence by Orhan Pamuk
50) The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman

Re-read:

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks
2) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea
2) Delicate, Edible Birds by Lauren Groff

1) Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King
2) Room: A Novel by Emma Donoghue
3) Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

*Title take from the excellent book, Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet Of Wonder: Pronged Ants, Horned Humans, Mice on Toast, and Other Marvels of Jurassic Technology by Lawrence Weschler. I read this as a grad student in Toronto, and it’s still on my bookshelf.

A History of Bastards and Lake Monsters: The Book List

WordNerd — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 15:15:30 +0000

My reading continues to move at a nice clip as we’ve entered the last quarter of the year. My most recent read, The Monsters of Templeton, was a very entertaining and intelligent read that is, surprise, surprise, challenging The Grift for top literary dog of 2010 here at Sonnet 87.

I’ve seen The Monsters of Templeton referred to, derisively, as chick-lit in some of the reader reviews I’ve read since I finished the book over the weekend. I am not one for chick-lit books; they seem pretty formulaic and superficial to me, and I am the type of person who does not read for light entertainment. Books are usually my sole entertainment, and in my entertainment I like to be challenged. I like to think about things, mull them over, journey with the protagonists, and speculate as to what happens after a book’s end. In the chick-lit books that I have read, and in the ones that people have mentioned to me, it seems like everything ends well or resolved, wrapped up in a neat little package.

I hate neat little packages. And I would say that Brady Udall’s The Lonely Polygamist was more like chick-lit to me than The Monsters of Templeton ever could be (yeah, flame away).

Lauren Groff’s The Monsters of Templeton is the story of Willie Upton, newly returned to her hometown of Templeton in what she classifies as disgrace—having engaged in an affair with her dissertation advisor, who happens to be married to the dean of students. Um, oops? Not really, as Willie is far from sympathetic in the whole ordeal. But she flees to Templeton after some (additional) rash actions and encounters a mother whose free love has turned into Christ love, demands more maturity of her daughter, and gives Willie a quest that will keep her busy for the summer: the identity of her father who is not, as her mother had previously told her, three other hippies from a San Francisco commune, but also a descendant of the town’s founding families, just like Willie and her mother. So begins an exploration of the history of Templeton: its founding, the personalities that brought it about, the generations that followed and the secrets the town has been holding close since the 18th century.

And did I mention there’s a lake monster involved in all of this?

Groff’s novel is an ode to Cooperstown, NY, with the truth twisted, stretched and reorganized a bit to create Willie’s Templeton. While The Monsters of Templeton does have some commonalities with chick-lit, its use of history, shifts in narrators and refusal to allow Willie to coast on a reader’s good graces shake it out of that genre. Is there a best friend? Yeah, but they both call each other on the others’ shit instead of merely clucking in silent disapproval. Are there love interests? Yes, but neither love interest holds much promise and, in the end, the novel is about Willie redeeming herself, her identity, her possible future (which is, delightfully enough, left unknown save for the one neat little package that annoyed me a bit) and her claim to Templeton. She is given a tough path and there is no knight in shining armor to save her at the end and cater to her every whim. She is responsible for herself, for her life and for remembering her ancestors and all their deeds, good and bad.

The novel is intricate, with a large cast of characters. One of the principle weaknesses pointed out about the novel—how sprawling it is—is something I can acknowledge because yes, the amount of characters and Templeton mischief can get overwhelming. But it’s all anchored well by Willie. Like her ancestors, Willie is imperfect, struggling, with foibles that will get her into trouble time and time again. But that’s what makes her human and lets her supersede the chick-lit trope; for every mistake she makes there is payment and possible redemption, or at least the opportunity to do things better (not necessarily right) the second time around. You may give her the stink-eye for some of her choices and at times truly dislike, but she is a charming and engaging narrator as she weaves her family’s history and the town’s story together.

(And might I add, I’ve never been to Cooperstown, but I have been to another picturesque upstate NY town—I found Groff’s descriptions of Templeton to be charming and familiar, down to the odd tourist store that no self-respecting town resident would visit.)

A recommend. Onto the book list.

Finished:

Re-read:

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea
2) The Edge of Paradise: America in Micronesia by P.F. Kluge

1) The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe
2) Freedom by Jonathan Franzen
3) The Parenthood Decision by Beverly Engel

Remember to Tip: The Book List

WordNerd — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 12:15:28 +0000

The prediction I made during my book list review of Debra Ginsberg’s The Grift is holding. I obviously loved The Grift, was charmed by Blind Submission and was delighted by About My Sisters. I ordered Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress a while ago and finally got to it this past week. Debra Ginsberg will probably win Best Discovery for 2010, y’all. I’m just sayin’.

The book is, as you might’ve guessed it, a memoir of Ginsberg’s time as a waitress (a span of 20 years). She takes us through the ups and downs of living as a waitress, and offers something of a social commentary on how the public views waiters and waitresses (waitrons?). While the memoir doesn’t reveal anything that a decent, feeling human being couldn’t have guessed already, Ginsberg’s voice is one that I’ve come to enjoy and admire. Her stories, ranging from the luncheonette that her family ran in the late 70s, to an Italian restaurant where sex and food bubble together like a nicely prepared tomato sauce, offer insight not only to Ginsberg’s life as a waitress, but also as an observer of human nature.

(And here I would like to add that, as a customer, I hope I’m pretty okay to waiters and waitresses; I always tip at least 20%, I’m not into making stupid demands, and I’m out to have a good time, not to make a person’s life miserable. Sure, I’ve had my share of bad experiences, but I’m not an asshole. Unlike Ginsberg’s observation that a lot of people feel that any idiot could wait, I will say it now: I could not. I would spill your food, be mildly unpleasant to you [okay, very unpleasant], and I would not be into humoring you. I worked at a pizza place for one month, taking phone orders and making pies, and that convinced me that food and I don’t mix unless I’m ingesting it. Honest enough for ya? This is far from unskilled work in my humblest of opinions. We’re all just trying to live our lives, no?)

Ahem.

Anyway, the book is a funny, intelligent read. And Ginsberg’s observations apply not just to waiters, but to any person who has ever hated their job. I feel Ginsberg and her colleagues when she says that everything becomes a personal affront when burnout approaches. Hell, I’ve even contended to IP that the Metro drivers who honk their horns at stations when the train they’re driving is an empty, not-going-to-stop kind of train (you know what I mean), are specifically honking at me, mocking me that I will not get home quickly. Anything that a senior-level person at work does is an affront right now and I hate them all. Not gonna lie.

And the idea of leaving with a splash? It burns bright in my mind, I tell you. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction that a) telling my jefes that I’m leaving, 2) telling them that I’m not negotiating and III) (this I would never reveal, but it’s a part of my exit fantasy) that I’m leaving for less money. To do a job I want to do. Oh, heavens!

As waiters and waitresses fantasize about waltzing out during the middle of a shift or giving their bosses a piece of their mind, so do cube-drones: we want to make a splash, but we probably won’t. Sigh. But even after the non-exits, here’s another focus of the book: the idea that we’re constantly waiting, literally or no, in order to move onto the next, best thing. I know I’m there in terms of my personal life. Professionally and creatively? I’m hoping I can make something happen with just a bit more effort.

Now I need to read Ginsberg’s Raising Blaze, her memoir on raising her son (of much interest for various reasons) and her forthcoming novel, The Neighbors Are Watching.

I leave you with Ginsberg’s excellent description of the foul beast that is Thousand Island dressing:

I have never been able to understand the appeal of Thousand Island dressing. A hideous combination of mayonnaise, ketchup, and pickle relish, this thick sauce has an unnaturally pink hue and a noxious odor to match.

So very true. My parents bought it non-stop in the 80s. Why did they torture me so?

Onto the book list:

Finished:

Re-read:

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea
2) The Lonely Polygamist: A Novel by Brady Udall

1) The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe
2) The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff
3) The Edge of Paradise: America in Micronesia by P.F. Kluge

You Don’t Know Where Your Interests Lie: The Book List

WordNerd — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 12:15:37 +0000

I picked up The Little Stranger for two reasons:

I very much wanted to read a book that was atmospheric, well-written and engaging. And I very much wanted to be frightened by the book thanks to the atmosphere and writing.

Well, the book had good atmosphere and was well-written, I’ll give it that.

The Little Stranger is the story of Dr. Faraday, family doctor, and the inhabitants of Hundreds Hall, the Ayreses. Hundreds Hall and the Ayreses are essentially relics in post-World War II England; they are unable to generate sufficient income to run their estate properly and have trouble adjusting to a world in which landed gentry are obsolete. Faraday has what I would term an unhealthy obsession with Hundreds; his mother was a nursery maid there, and the house looms grand in his imagination. He vacillates between resentment of the house and its owners, and being drawn in by them and the house completely. As the story progresses, he fancies himself the future of the estate, impressed by his elevation of status as he becomes closer to the Ayreses, in particular the daughter, Caroline. But Hundreds is deteriorating rapidly, without care to Faraday’s fantasies, and the family is crumbling along with the estate. Matron Mrs. Ayres, son Roderick and Caroline are the last of the glory that Hundreds once was.

The book is long at 510 pages; the reading is a slow burn as you wait for creepy things to begin happening. The book advertises itself as a ghost story, and while creepy things do happen, very little of it is sustained throughout the novel. While Waters is absolutely able to capture the great ruin that Hundreds Hall is, I feel that about a third of the narrative could have been chopped. As a narrator, Faraday is unsympathetic, and while a reader might assume he’s more or less sensible because he’s a practical doctor not given to believing in the paranormal, his practicality is so grating that it overwhelms the development of the other characters.

A minor spoiler, one that could be easily glossed from the first few pages of the book: Faraday takes a romantic interest in Caroline. Whereas his initial interpretation of her as narrator was to see her as sensible and level-headed, his romantic notions of their future together begin to chip away at Caroline as a character, relegating her to the stereotype of an overreacting woman who believes in nonsense. Yes, there is plenty happening at Hundreds Hall to weaken Caroline’s spirits, but Faraday is condescending of a woman he had so admired during the first 250 pages of the book. As I witnessed what he sees as her decline through his eyes, all I could see was a woman reasserting herself, wanting to escape from Hundreds and Faraday (who would have kept her there given his love of the house), wanting to be free as she had been before the war injured her brother and she was returned to Hundreds. While the end of the book is open to interpretation, and Caroline could certainly be seen as a villain by some, I see her as a heroine wronged by the man who claimed to love her, but loves the house more.

Hence the title of this book list, based on a Simon & Garfunkel song that has a key lyric: “Indications indicate that running the same riff will turn you around.” Faraday is quite certain that Caroline doesn’t really know what she wants, but that he will guide her to what she really wants (read: what he wants) successfully no matter how many times she protests. When he isn’t able to, he does what he can to reassert his authority.

A thoroughly depressing book, now that I write it all out on paper (as it were). I think Waters is an excellent writer, but the story didn’t hold me as I hoped it would. I would recommend it to anyone who wants to read about the hardships in England after World War II with a twist of the supernatural thrown in.

In my opinion, there was nothing supernatural at all—I wouldn’t go so far to say that Dr. Faraday’s actions in the book were natural, but they are still altogether too common.

Onto the book list:

Finished:

Re-read:

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea
2) Malinche: A Novel by Laura Esquivel

1) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
2) The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe
3) The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff

Finally, a Record Broken: The Book List

WordNerd — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 12:15:01 +0000

Holy crap, I’ve read a lot this year in comparison to other years. Holy crap, I still have a ton on my Waiting To Be Read (Already Purchased, Got as Gifts, Borrowed from My Husband or Otherwise Accessible without the Use of Funds, But Not an Assurance That I Will Read These Before I Buy More Books) list.

So I’ve read 38 books this year; with that, I have busted the book list’s previous 2008 record. That’s great, and I don’t plan on slowing down for the year. (Yeah, some people are much faster at this, but this has been fun, so I’m enjoying it.) This is what happens when you don’t have a TV, have a long public transportation commute, have a husband who enjoys sitting next to you in mutual reading silence: you read a shitload of books. Good. Times. And I mean that in all sincerity.

Two of those books have been unpublished; I can’t go into detail, but one book is very promising and I’m hoping this author gets a shot at publication. The other book, well . . . a bit of work is needed, and I’m working on my critique. Interesting premise, execution needs some polishing. I read these books as a reader, not an editor or writer. Beta reading is hugely important and I enjoy doing it a lot. Good. Times. And I mean that in all sincerity.

(On that note, next to the unpublished novels, you’ll see a published nonfiction book that I recently read. I wish to high hell I could say the title and author, but that might drive said author here, and while I did enjoy the book, the last thing I want to do is be identified. Or have more blog traffic come my way from familiar sources. So, suffice it to say: I enjoyed the book and the writing. The end.)

Still, though, I recently had a ton of books wing their way to me from Amazon. Cue excitement from me, woo! I’m quite sure that, these days, I spend more on books than on clothes or electronics. That inspires a weird pride in me. Forgive my geekiness.

When the power went out a few weeks ago (again), I was stranded at home—the intersection leading to the Metro (a mile away) was a lake and the traffic light situation didn’t inspire much confidence (too many people around here don’t treat downed traffic lights as full stops). So, I stayed home, promising to think about work once in a while. When IP and I couldn’t stand the heat in our apartment anymore, we fled to Barnes & Noble in Rockville, where we browsed books for hours. We both ended up writing down several books that were added to our Amazon wish lists—rest assured that they’ll be on the book list in the future.

Ah, books. I love you!

So because I can’t do proper critiques, here’s an update on what’s recommended from the book list’s recent entries:

Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman: Definite recommend, as Goodman’s power to create fascinating characters making their way through all stages of life is amazing. The way that the short stories weave in and out of each other is absolutely brilliant without affecting the quality of the particular short story you’re reading. She wrote this when she was 21. Holy hell, to be able to write like that at 21!

The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte: This one had me scratching my head a bit. I liked it because there were some interesting bits about the rare book trade, and I’m always up for a bit of speculation as to the nature of the devil and the association that the pursuit of knowledge is the core of evil, but the book didn’t fascinate me and the plot strands and their resolutions were baffling. Meh. Atmospheric, but I’ll stick to Carlos Ruiz Zafon for my rare book/Spanish writer fix.

Crow Lake by Mary Lawson: A great read. It started out slow, and I found the narrator to be a bit grating with her initial, not-veiled hints as to what would happen, but the book was a quiet triumph. A powerful portrayal of families in crisis and the resentments we hold onto in spite of the love we have for those close to us.

Onto the book list.

Finished:

Re-read:

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea
2) The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

1) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
4) The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe
6) The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff

The Rapture of Being Forever Incomplete*: The Book List

WordNerd — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:02:37 +0000

I am a hard-hearted bitch. Why? Because I found David Nicholls’ One Day totally unmoving and rather trite. Sorry, romantics of the world.

One Day is the story of Emma Morley and Dexter Mayhew, university students who link up the day after their graduation (July 15, 1988), and the story follows them through all subsequent July 15s up until 2007. A fanciful plot, all the vignettes from July 15 are definitely meant to take place on a movie set.

I picked it up because I had read that it was already speeding towards movie form, and that it was written as if that had been the intention all along: as a not-so aspiring writer at the moment (I’d rather have another job in hand instead), I wanted to see how a book so obviously meant for the big screen plays out. The answer is: take one part Forrest Gump (but set in the 80s, 90s and aughts), add in a dash of When Harry Met Sally, and then sprinkle with a bit of City of Angels and you’ve got the recipe for a book that will no doubt touch some people and a movie that will probably make millions at the box office. And that’s cool—if you can play the market that way, good on you.

I didn’t absolutely despise it, but the writing left me bored (I was seriously skimming toward the end), the story was pretty predictable and I saw the ending coming about two-thirds into the first chapter. I won’t spoil because I think this book will be a touchstone for many, but: I was only wrong about the means of the last third’s big drama. I was mildly amused by the ostentatiousness of the 90s, more than a little bit horrified at the parenting and relationship ineptitude of the 00s, and wasn’t moved much by the tail end of the 80s. Emma and Dexter left me cold, because neither was particularly ingratiating, and there was nothing about their friendship or courtship or buddy status (whatever you want to call it) that made me relate to them. I just kept on thinking, constantly: why doesn’t she move on, he’s a loser! And why does he like this harpy so much? Uh-oh, here comes the reversal of fortune, when he’s doing great and she’s not, then he isn’t and she is! Damn, a baby and engagement are getting in the way, who saw that coming!? I just felt like I was following a path with a view that was uninspiring, unsurprising and void of any heart and soul. It was like “hiking” through Curtis Park in Saline—seen it a million times before, it was novel the first time, but now it’s boring and mildly disturbing being so close to the cemetery, and anyway, it’s goddamn Saline, something I’ll never understand or want to understand, so let’s go home or to another, better park, shall we?

And that’s probably the thing: I don’t understand hanging around for decades, hoping upon hope that someone will notice you, and hoping that the both of you will come to the realization that you belong together, damn it, and that ain’t nothing gonna slow you down. It’s a puzzler for me because I can’t imagine carrying feelings for that long. They fizzle out, they die when you meet someone new, time and distance and attitudes make it all fade away slowly but surely. Nostalgia is one thing, but the inability to move on is another. And that’s how Emma and Dexter struck me: so fixated on that past and so utterly indefinable in terms other than each other, they remained, for me, the dark silhouettes you see on the cover. Without any discernible identities, I couldn’t connect; without the connection, I couldn’t care. And that’s all I feel about this novel, if that even qualifies as a feeling: I just don’t care.

Maybe you will, though.

Onto the book list.

Finished:

Re-read:

Empty

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks
2) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
3) Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman

*Apologies to Alanis Morissette for cribbing from her song, Incomplete.

Sum: Eight Quick Reviews of Nine Books: The Book List

WordNerd — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 12:45:19 +0000

Ah, the promised book list has arrived.

It will be brief, though. I know that I can’t detail entirely all the books that I’ve read since my last review so, like Inigo Montoya, I will summarize:

Three Cups of Tea: Good story, good cause, aggravating main player. Why does Greg Mortenson bug me so much? I feel as if his co-writer didn’t do the story service, too.
Blind Submission and About My Sisters: Both by Debra Ginsberg, her first novel and one of her memoirs, respectively. Blind Submission wasn’t the hardest book to figure out, but it was still a fun read about literary agents. About My Sisters was touching and very impressive; at first I thought I was in for something like How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, California style, but this was better in terms of presenting the sisters as human as opposed to outrageous characters. Recommend for both.
The Prince of Mist: Carlo Ruiz Zafón’s first novel, which was a young adult read. You can see his atmospheric, haunting style emerging, but there was a major plot hole that drove me absolutely nuts. Recommend to see how the good start out, but beware: you might tear your hair out at the end.
Do Not Deny Me: a compilation of short stories by Jean Thompson. I don’t know what drew me toward this collection, but I have to say I was not impressed. I read it so long ago that I can’t even tell you why. I like stories about ordinary, everyday people who live in extraordinary ways just by being themselves, but this one left me cold.
Remarkable Creatures: Tracy Chevalier’s take on Mary Anning, the 19th century paleontologist who found the first ichthyosaur skeleton to be correctly identified and the first two plesiosaur skeletons, among other finds, and Elizabeth Philpot, her friend and collaborator. Great story, but like with Chevalier’s Girl with the Pearl Earring, the writing is slow. Would recommend.
Sum: a collection of forty short vignettes that speculate on what happens in the afterlife. IP hated this, but I found it oddly engaging and charming. Why? Not enough room to answer completely, but briefly: the New York Times review of this book is titled “Eternal Whimsy.” And that’s the best way to describe the book: it’s whimsical in that the afterlives are so focused on the absurdities of this life. The dead of Sum seem to take everything with them, which is unfortunate and ultimately pretty pessimistic. But it’s pessimistic in a nudge, nudge, wink, wink kind of way. In a way that makes this atheist—who doesn’t believe you do anything but blink out like a light when you die—chuckle. Ah, vain humanity. Of course you think everything is about you. Even this paragraph, right?
Burning Bright: another collection of short stories, this time by Ron Rash. Recommend? Hell yes! Rash is a talented writer who does take those ordinary people mentioned above and make them extraordinary. Read this!
Mothers and Others: Empathy, cooperative breeding, the ability to read a person through body language and facial expressions: all this and more constitutes Dr. Sarah Blaffer Hrdy’s Mothers and Others. A complex book that synthesizes a variety of disciplines to argue its thesis—that from lengthy childhoods springs the need to develop the trust required to allow others to care for a child; and from that springs the roots of humanity’s ability to understand one another. The book was a wonderful read, but it made me even more fretful about the idea of having children. We have no one around us to be allomothers! No one to engage the child constantly, with love being the reward instead of babysitter hourly rates! How could we possibly do it all on our own? Even one would be nigh impossible! Where do I get my tubes tied? IP snipped? Help! Ahem, kidding. Kind of.

That’s all, folks. I have two works that I’ll be reading in the next few weeks that won’t be placed on the book list, so it may be a while before you see another one of these. Keep reading!

Onto the book list.

Finished:

Re-read:

Empty

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks
2) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
3) Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman
4) One Day by David Nicholls

A Not So Distant Past: The Book List

WordNerd — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 13:15:36 +0000

My book club didn’t read The Help only because, by the time we banded together, about a third of us had already read it. Intrigued since this group of ladies have already chosen quite a few good reads in the past months, I picked up The Help and began to read. We wouldn’t be discussing it at our book club, but I knew I could discuss it on the book list.

Enjoying The Help felt a bit like guilty pleasure; here is a white woman writing black women in a thick dialect that rightfully garners some eyebrow raising and criticism; here is an altruistic white character laboring to expose the truths of black maids working in Jackson, Mississippi, doing so on a lark and not realizing the implications that writing these stories may have until late in the book; here are two wise others, who help educate the lost white person, with their folksy, foreign wisdom; yet it somehow works, if only while you’re reading, before the problems of the book come to nag you when you close the cover. I can’t help it: I like the writing, I loved the honesty of Minny and Aibilene (who are the first two maids interviewed by the white character, and also narrate the book), but I eye the book with unease. The way the book plays out is problematic and perhaps a little bit too simplistic.

While reading, the driving force for me was, as always, “What’s going to happen?”, but not in the typical way one experiences when reading. I just couldn’t see how this wouldn’t end badly for Minny and Aibilene, and I knew in the back of my head that the white protagonist, Miss Skeeter, wouldn’t come to harm because she was the author rendered in fiction; no, Kathryn Stockett wasn’t in her early 20s in the early 1960s, but reading her afterword was just confirmation of my suspicions that she is Miss Skeeter, escaped from Jackson to New York (and you know how much I hate the intentional fallacy, but this book absolutely sings it when the focus is on Skeeter). And that’s also why I wonder if Stockett was hesitant to render Skeeter more realistic, knowing that this was a part of her life on the page—reluctant to expose her own family and upbringing to what would probably be rightfully deserved criticism. Because that “What’s going to happen?” hasn’t been consistently good for the black people of Mississippi even though it’s now the 21st century. Things don’t come up all roses for Minny and Aibilene, but both their stories end on a somewhat hopeful note. I do have to ask myself, how realistic is that, even with the “insurance” they gave themselves?

This isn’t to say the book isn’t worthwhile in its own way—I think it is useful as an examination of literary tropes, conventions and the problems with a white person writing minorities; I also don’t doubt that people with the strong racist attitudes portrayed here still exist all over the country, not just in the South, and to make people aware of them and make them think about their own perceptions of whom they may term an “other” is a good thing. The outcomes for all three protagonists might ring a little too perfect and not so real world, but the novel isn’t setting out to be a heartbreaking, realistic rendition of the consequences of the women’s actions; it’s a surface examination of the culture that thrived in Jackson and across the South in the 1960s, and that probably still survives today. It calls attention to how things still need to change, and that change is an active but slow-moving agent that requires many people to propel it forward. (And that applies not only to racism in this country in general, but in literature, too.) This wasn’t that long ago, and there is much that is still wrong with this country when it comes to race relations. I have two words: Tea Party.

Also, it’s good to give reads like this a chance because people should ask questions about authorship, experience and racism. Stockett’s tricky territory is fair game for examination even if people enjoyed the novel. Stockett is a good writer, definitely, but her novel does have flaws, and should Stockett tackle race again, I hope the criticism she received for The Help is taken to heart.

I’d say give it a read. Problematic? Yes. But a book that makes you think about these deeper issues is a good catalyst to encounter.

Onto the book list.

Finished:

Re-read:

Empty

Currently Reading:

1) Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy
2) Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson
3) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

1) About My Sisters by Debra Ginsberg
2) Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg
3) The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves)
4) Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson

I See Good Reads in My Future: The Book List

WordNerd — Mon, 17 May 2010 13:15:27 +0000

If you were to tell me that the reading year was suddenly over and say that I had to choose all of my book award winners this instant, first up for best book and best fiction of the year would be an easy choice: Debra Ginsberg’s The Grift.

Good god, I loved this novel.

The Grift was, in one word, charismatic. From the characters to the plot to the setting, the book sang out clearly with a strong voice and style. Marina Marks is a psychic who uses analysis and observation to drive her business; despite an early encounter with a psychic who told her that she had the gift, Marina is a skeptic and cynic whose only goal in life is to have enough money in the bank to retire from the fortune-telling business by the age of 37 and begin anew—and as the novel begins to gather steam, we learn that she has two years to do so.

It’s her 35th birthday, combined with a move from Florida to San Diego that was facilitated by the trust of an elderly woman who sought out bad news, that sets the novel’s workings in motion. Marina’s world introduces us to a slew of characters—mostly her clients—who obsess over the news and remedies that she can provide them (for a generous fee—her clients are anything but hard-up). There’s Cooper, a man in love with a closeted psychiatrist; Madeline, the trophy wife of an engagement ring magnate, struggling to give her husband an heir; Eddie, a lothario who falls for Marina’s mystique; and Gideon, a man who enters Marina’s life on her birthday and imprints himself on her permanently. I realize, as I type out the character descriptions, that you may think to yourself that this sounds like a really bad romance novel, but you’d be wrong. Ginsberg’s writing is sharp, smart, and intricate—the way these characters connect and weave together is not unexpected, but watching it unfold is a fun, entertaining ride with a lot of touching moments and insights into human behavior that left this reader invested in all of them.

Marina’s involvement with these people leads to the main plot point: she develops actual psychic powers at a bad time: thanks to one vengeful person and her own actions in Florida, she’s suddenly thrown not only into a murder investigation, but a life-changing event that leaves her uncertain, scared, and unable to control all of the information that comes to her in unrelenting wave after unrelenting wave (it’s like the first day IP and I hit the beach while in Cancun—I’ve never been battered so hard by the ocean, ouch). How she deals with the information and her struggles to exonerate herself bring the novel to its climax, which is a fantastic convergence of all the characters’ dramas.

And because I think this is a worthwhile book and I will not spoil, I will just say this: the last two pages made me tear up a bit. Sniff. So touching and heartbreaking and yet so hopeful for what’s to come.

I’ve ordered Ginsberg’s first novel, Blind Submission, and one of her memoirs, About My Sisters. Unless something drastically changes, you will probably see her win Best Discovery for 2010.

Onto the book list:

Finished:

Re-read:

Empty

Currently Reading:

1) Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy
2) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

1) The Help by Kathryn Stockett
2) Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson
3) About My Sisters by Debra Ginsberg
4) Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg
5) The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves)
6) Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson