The Iliad

Even though I was thoroughly familiar with the story, I had never before read the actual text of The Iliad (except, perhaps, in small selections within larger English textbooks). As part of my "30 books to read before I turn 30" initiative, I decided it was high time that I corrected this lapse. After all, I was a big fan of Greek mythology in general when I was younger, so I've read the Edith Hamilton descriptions of everything. Really, all I was doing was just familiarizing myself with some lovely poetic language, right?

Well, despite knowing every true plot point of the story, I found myself repeatedly surprised at elements of the actual text. Here are a few:

#1 The actual segment of the story. Some part of me knew that only a selection of the larger Trojan War story would be told, but I felt disoriented by being thrown in long past the events that sent the whole thing spiraling off. Then at the end, I felt so abandoned, knowing what was to come and yet unsatisfied in the closing. Did it make me feel better, as though these characters were eternally held from this utterly brutal finish, the walls of Troy still standing, the women still bewailing their fates before it came crashing down upon them?

#2 The violence. I was expecting the description of battle scenes and for some description of violence, but the sheer volume of description of killing and death was somewhat surprising to me. Friends can attest that I even incorporated "and darkness covered his eyes" a few times in conversation, poking a bit of fun, but then there were the graphic descriptions of spears through buttocks and chests, the heartbreaking comparisons to men falling like trees, the taunting of payback and grieving parents. The interaction served as a very strong reminder of the intimacy of war when modern day warfare tries to eliminate this. It might seem easier to bomb from a plane or fire a gun from a distance if one need not feel the blood gush over one's hands from the wound created by a spear or knife... but then, I have utterly no way of knowing and it seems the weight of lives way just as heavy one way or another.

#3 The gods are dicks. I could phrase this in a more polite way, but seriously, I can call a spade a spade. I know that, in my youth as I would read and re-read selections from Edith Hamilton's Mythology, I preferred the stories where the gods weren't just going off the rails because they could or overreacting (aka Zeus going "don't piss me off or I'll hurl you off Olympus and we'll talk again in a few hundred years when you've managed to crawl back up here with your shattered body."). I knew the gods were capricious and crazy, but the partiality and short attention spans and alliances based on personal vendettas... wow. Also, I was surprised at the number of times that the gods intervened in very direct ways... spiriting off beloved warriors right before an ax was to fall or materializing as trusted advisers to whisper ideas in a man's ear. It seems at odds with the image I have of the philosophical and logical Greeks that they'd have gods who based incredible decisions on whims. Or perhaps those were the gods they needed, to explain such urges that were not based in careful thought. I did, however, reminds me that I often had a hard time picking favorites amongst the gods, as it's not like there's one sane and well-meaning character in the bunch. Their very natures are weighted to the things they symbolize and the extremes do not make for well-rounded persons with whom one can identify.

I opted to listen to this as an audiobook, though I did re-read a few passages in my printed copy. Given the oral tradition, I felt The Iliad would be an easy text to listen to, able to hold my attention in a way that not all audiobooks can and I was quite right. It's a heart-wrenching story, worthy of having been passed down for so many years and one that translates surprisingly well in today's world. Even now, I feel there's a great deal to be learned from this ancient story of vengeance, war, and loss. I thought I might find more actions or impulses that seemed at odds with that which is valued in today's society, but I was somewhat unsettled by the fact that not much has changed. Perhaps the most prominent concept that isn't something we focus on much today is the idea of fate. Most of us can't quite reconcile the idea of making one's own way with free will and the knowledge that our deaths have been precisely foretold. To cheat fate and death was a negative things to the Greeks, whereas modern society rather applauds those who can avoid that which they would not choose for themselves. In our religious evolution, we've rejected the concept of multiple gods who play favorites and, instead, often base our wars (or at least fortify our claims as to being on the "right" side) on the concept that we've selected the one true god and everyone else is worshiping a lie. I wonder if it would be better for us if we hadn't abandoned the ability to think that there's just one force up there and obviously it's on our side. (I suppose I could add that as surprising thing #4 -- I did not expect The Iliad to make me deeply consider religious tradition and the shift to monotheism with its effect on war).

Even now, some time after finishing reading The Iliad, I will occasionally think back to the events and specific lines. It is not a tale that leaves your thoughts easily, nor do I much suspect it ever will. I also realize this isn't much of a review. Shouldn't I be at least mentioning brave Hector, musing on the limited but crucial roles of women, offering my opinion on whether Achilles and Patroclus were more than just friends, providing background on epic Greek poetry and who Homer might or might not have been? Perhaps, but I'm not going to. There are experts for that... I'm just pleased that this story is now something I've absorbed in to my consciousness, making me a little richer for the experience.

Random fact: my cat doesn't really like music. As in, she will generally leave the room if I have music playing at anything other than a barely-audible level. But the soothing voice of Alfred Molina reading The Iliad obviously passed some kind of feline test, as she was incredibly content to settle herself next to my iPhone as I let the Audible app play the audiobook while I knit. So, apparently Alfred Molina is a cat-whisperer or cats like ancient Greek epic poetry. (Or maybe she related to those mercurial gods.) Who knew?

30 days to 30...

Status update! Guys, I'm not going to lie, it's looking incredibly grim and I only have 30 days to go before my 30th birthday. And you know what? I think I might be actually coming to terms with my impending failure. (Could I be growing up??) I'm two-thirds of the way through (I'm counting the fact that I'm through 90% of the 5-book tome that is the Dark Is Rising sequence) and I'll probably get through at least two or three more before 6/1, but in the eleven months since my last birthday, I've read over 250 books in total. Okay, fine, that includes kids books but I work in kids books, so I keep track! If I break that number down, over half are books for adults (young adults count!)/non picture or chapter books.

In an effort to make sure I'm giving each book that I put on the 30-to-30 list a fair go (aka an opportunity for me to actually enjoy it), I'm not actively forcing myself to read a book when I don't feel like it, which means I've been letting other reading (work and pleasure) get in the way of knuckling down. In addition, now that we're in the home stretch, I don't exactly want to rush most of the titles I have left, as they deserve time and thoughtful attention. (Though I might add, that if I had to choose 10 or so books from this list that I thought were truly essential to it, I've read all but one or two of those already.) My rules might have to bend and allow some titles to slip in after the deadline. Several people have told me that it still totally counts to finish up this reading list while I'm 30, though we all know that's cheater's logic. I was never one for extensions but better late than hate everything still to go because I forced a quick read.

Next time I do this kind of list (35 to 35?), I'll give myself a bit more time and wiggle room with the exact books... maybe have half of the list be specific titles but also reserve some slots for types of books with titles in mind so I could say something like "a Dostoyevsky novel," "A pre-1700 title," "a biography" (if I opt to include non-fiction), etc., but who knows if that list would do any better. (Presumably with five years in which to do all 35, I'm betting I have a decent chance... and it's not like I'm evidently going to let up on myself, even in the face of stress and imminent failure.)  In the meantime, I'll note that I am not letting myself substitute titles any longer (I only actually swapped two!), as I figure I'll just add substitution contenders to the list, even if some of those are books I feel should have belonged on this, ultimately, what with my whole "read before your 30s" mindset. 

In any case, here's my update...

1. The Iliad - Homer
2. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood 
3. Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
4. Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card
5. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
6. The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas 
7. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
8. The Sound and the Fury swapped for A Light in August by William Faulkner
9. The End of the Affair - Graham Greene 
10. Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
11. The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
12. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
13. The Wings of the Dove - Henry James 
14. On the Road - Jack Kerouac (reading aloud now!)
15. A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle 
16. The Balkan Trilogy - Olivia Manning replaced by The Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper (should be done tomorrow!)
17. West With the Night - Beryl Markham
18. 100 Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
19. The Road - Cormac McCarthy
20. The Tropic of Cancer - Henry Miller 
21. The Women of Brewster Place - Gloria Naylor
22. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
23. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon
24. Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys
25. White Teeth - Zadie Smith
26. Maus - Art Spiegelman 
27. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
28. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
29. Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut 
30. The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

The Crying of Lot 49

Well, hell, I really have no idea what that was all about. 

I like to think of myself as a fairly intelligent person, but throughout my entire reading of The Crying of Lot 49, I felt lost and uncertain. I knew all of these words were English and I frequently enjoyed the flow of the prose, I just had no bloody idea where it was going and, frankly, was hazy on the details about how we got where we were at any point in time.

I have since been told this is all normal and I'm not sure that makes me feel any better.

The basic "plot" centers around a woman, Oedipa Maas, who has been made co-executor to the estate of an old boyfriend. That sentence is the beginning and end of what I can summarize with any real certainty, because the rest of the book deals in things that may or may not be happening, may or may not have deeper meaning, and may or may not be a complete sham. Let's just say I was at least glad that LSD was brought up by name as it was one of the only times where I felt like the text confirmed what was going through my head.

Oedipa just might have stumbled upon a centuries-old conflict between two mail systems (Thurn and Taxis and the Trystero/Tristero) and, in doing so, has possibly uncovered a still-functioning service that caters to lost souls and broken-hearted. Those outside the know who discover details without approval seem to end up dead. Oedipa begins to see the symbol for a muted horn everywhere and we're all left to wonder if this is real or a set-up, and (spoiler but not spoiler) we never get to find out.

Bewailing what I saw as my utter stupidity in failing to see the point of everything, I had a conversation with a Pynchon scholar (who probably disavows everything I say here, as he's incredibly disappointed I didn't love his favorite author).  He confirmed that everything I thought about the novel seemed to be true and the true reason for my flailing about was my inability to accept that this novel is meant to be open for endless interpretation and discussion. 

The title comes from the final scene of the novel, where Oedipa sits at an auction for her ex's stamp collection which might reveal the truth about everything, the stamp collection being "lot 49" up for auction and "crying" referring to the auctioning off of a lot. My friend the Pynchon scholar pointed out that, in the end, Oedipa gets to find out the truth about everything -- at which point, I argued that since she's a fictional character, she must exist within the realm of the novel, and so she's left hanging just as much as the reader, in a permanent state of bated-breath with one's sanity on the line and never, ever able to confirm what real truth might be. He patted me on the shoulder and said I was getting the hang of it now. Oh dear.

Whether that's the truth or not, I think I can ultimately say that there was something satisfying about reading this slim volume that seems to have such weight in modern literature... and there's something even more satisfying in crossing it off the list and admitting to myself that Pynchon is perhaps not for me, and yet I'm pleased to have had this disorienting experience for the sake of expanding my horizons. It's important to go where we're not comfortable every now and then, so all in all, this was a successful addition to my "30 to 30" list. I'm sure I'll keep thinking of it for a long time and it may even be worth a re-read many years from now to see what different conclusions are reached. 

Halfway mark...

Well, drat.  Today is my half birthday, which means I should theoretically be through 15 titles as I only have six months to complete my self-imposed challenge. I've (obviously) been slow in posting reviews, but in reality, I've read 10 of these books and I'm in the middle of reading two.

I would, however, like to take this opportunity to note that I AM going to substitute at least one book from the original list. I'm swapping out The Balkan Trilogy by Olivia Manning for The Dark Is Rising Sequence by Susan Cooper.  Both of these are big ol' omnibus collections that have been sitting on my shelves for a while and both were recommended by people whose opinions I trust, but since one of my goals for this whole endeavor (definitely not the only but one thing I kept in mind when drafting the list) is to get to books that I "should" read while I'm still "young," then it would probably be more important for me to read a classic young reader series.  I've read the first book in the series but I have four to go.

So here's what I've managed to read and cross off the list:

1. The Iliad - Homer (bonus points for The Odyssey and double bonus points for The Aeneid by Virgil)
2. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood (bonus points for Oryx and Crake)
3. Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
4. Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card
5. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
6. The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
7. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
8. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (bonus points for A Light in August)
9. The End of the Affair - Graham Greene
10. Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
11. The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
12. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
13. The Wings of the Dove - Henry James
14. On the Road - Jack Kerouac
15. A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle
16. The Balkan Trilogy - Olivia Manning The Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper (1 out of 5 books read)
17. West With the Night - Beryl Markham
18. 100 Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (bonus points for Love in the Time of Cholera)
19. The Road - Cormac McCarthy
20. The Tropic of Cancer - Henry Miller (bonus points for The Tropic of Capricorn)
21. The Women of Brewster Place - Gloria Naylor
22. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
23. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon (the biggest bonus points in the world for Gravity's Rainbow)
24. Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys
25. White Teeth - Zadie Smith
26. Maus - Art Spiegelman
27. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
28. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy (reading now!)
29. Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut
30. The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

Maus

The fact is this: I find it incredibly daunting to try and say something about Maus which has not yet been said -- or, rather, it's not that I think I could come up with something that hasn't been said, it's that I'm scrambling to find something to say that doesn't somehow reduce it or try to set it in to some box that attempts to contain it.  Maus is the worst nightmare one could ever conceive of having... made all the worse by the fact that it's true.  It's real.  This happened.  Granted, not with mice, but with human beings and even by distancing ourselves by anthropomorphic characters, the horror and agony and despair is all still there.  Art Spiegelman captured it in such deceptively simple artwork but somehow still acknowledges that this is only one part of a much larger whole.

I won't try to dissect it or even really try for intelligence here, but these slim graphic novels are a very vivid reminder of the worst of humankind's history (and yes, it's certainly worth noting that it is chronicled using animals to represent people).  I was prepared for that part of it, I suppose, (well, as prepared as anyone can be, knowing they will be reduced to tears over a Holocaust story) but the things that hit me hardest of all were the moments that remind you that this story is being told from the perspective of a human being with flaws and problems. The father-son storyline was heartbreaking and when you can say that in the midst of a story that breaks your heart in every single frame, then that's something.If you haven't read either volume, I encourage you to do so. 

Frequently, I feel like I've been hearing people say that we over-emphasize the Holocaust when there are so many other atrocities and while that's true -- there are many other incidents that deserve our attention - -I'm not sure you can ever emphasize something like this enough until we are no longer at risk of having such a thing occur again... and even then, one should never forget what we are capable of doing to our fellow beings.

The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1: The Lost Prince

Julie Kagawa created a vivid world with her Iron Fey series so it's not surprising in the slightest that she wouldn't abandon it even after Megan Chase made tough decisions and rose to power -- of course, it's a darn good thing, too, for the legions of fans who fell in love with Ash, Puck, and Kagawa's version of the fey.  So we now embark upon a series entitled "The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten" with the first book, The Lost Prince. Kagawa has chosen to focus this series on Ethan Chase, Megan's mortal half-brother. Readers originally encountered him as a young boy, plagued by his ability to see the troublesome fey in the mortal world, and then he was stolen away and held prisoner by the fairies before Megan rescued him. What we discover in The Lost Prince is that all of these experienced have left him completely scarred... and just because Megan is gone does not mean he's at all free of the fey.

Little brother Ethan is now a teenager and despite his herculean efforts to remain quiet and unnoticed, he's spent the past few years getting the reputation of being a troubled kid who acts out.  Of course, this is all nonsense, as really it's just that Ethan seems to be a magnet for the fey and their mischievous attention means he gets blamed for many things, like burning down school property.  Ethan's number one rule is to pretend like he cannot see them -- because if they fey know you can see them, then that's when it all goes wrong.  He's repeatedly been blamed for destruction or bad behavior and all he wants to do is graduate high school so he can make his mom proud (though at least even if they don't talk about fairies, she's aware of all that he's up against).  He tries to keep his head down but he isn't completely dim in thinking that just staying quiet will keep him safe-- in his spare time, he studies a Korean fighting technique for self defense.  Ethan hates the fey -- not just for making his life miserable, but because Megan chose them over her mortal family, and he has a particularly focused dislike for Ash, the fey he blames for Megan's leaving.

The book kicks off with Ethan starting at yet another new school and all the requisite characters are there -- the suspicious authority figure, the punky and seemingly out of his league girl who is stubbornly interested in him, the jock jerks, and the Phouka/fey kid who gets picked on and is destined to be Ethan's best friend. Unsurprisingly, the general arc of the story will take Ethan to the place he least desires to go--the Nevernever--on a chase to rescue the Phouka friend and the girl will get swept up in it, too.  Characters that we came to love in the first series will make a return, though Kagawa is careful to keep our focus on Ethan and that's really for the best.

So let's be honest. Fans of Kagawa will enjoy themselves no matter what she writes so long as Ash and Puck make an appearance.  Points for Grimalkin, too.  My rating is really based on the fact that I was pleased to be back in her fascinating world and she does at least write characters that I find a bit predictable but I enjoy.  It was simply fun to read The Lost Prince and that was that.  Of course, the big criticism I have is this: Kagawa keeps setting up these big reveals and anyone with any sense whatsoever had loooong ago figured out that which she presents as a big surprise.  It was a little painful at times as I waited for her to just reveal them already so we could move on... but then she'd start detailing the Iron Realm and I'd practically purr with contentment at the descriptions.  I have faith that even if Kagawa can't surprise me with certain little twists that she'll absolutely continue to take the story to interesting places.

In short, if you're a fan of the Iron Fey series, you'll be pleased and if you aren't, then you likely won't be won over.  New readers should not begin here as you need a grounding in original series to understand a great deal of everything that's going on.  And you'd miss out on half the fun of the interactions, so go start there.  I'll absolutely be reading the next installment to see if all my predictions for the characters pan out.

Ender's Game

As an infrequent reader of sci-fi, I approached Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card with a certain amount of trepidation.  It's lauded as a cornerstone of the genre, a gateway drug for young readers before harder sci-fi novels, an important crossover book as it features a child protagonist without necessarily pidgeon-holing the book as for young readers, and in general a book that tends to elicit expressions like this when I say I haven't read it: O.O

Those are high standards, folks, and I generally like my sci-fi a bit light but I'm pleased to say that while I'm not itching to read an entire series or even careen off in to space with a stack of sci-fi novels, I appreciated Ender's Game and its story. Andrew "Ender" Wiggins is the third child in his family at a time when families are restricted to two -- but the government specifically sanctioned Ender's conception in the hopes that he would turn out just as brilliant as his elder siblings, but a more tempered mixture of their strong personalities.  Older brother Peter is, well, kind of a much-too-clever sociopath whose violent tendencies underlie a need for control and older sister Valentine is brilliant, persuasive, kind and caring, but both of them washed out of the soldier-training program before Ender had his chance.  Ender is forced to learn early on that adults don't always play by the rules when they believe they have just cause and so Ender advances to Battle School at age six with the knowledge that the only person he can truly rely on is himself.  Teachers have to play carefully if they want to shape Ender in to everything he has the potential to be -- the best military general the Earth has ever seen and the only one who can save them all from annihilation by the "bugger" race of insect-like creatures that have twice fought humankind before.  But in manipulating Ender into the general they need, are they destroying the humanity within him?  Of course, while most of the attention is on Ender and his impressive trajectory (and depressing isolation), there's still the question of what geniuses Peter and Valentine will do while on Earth.  While only one is expected and groomed to go down in the pages of history, these three children ultimately have the power to remake not just the world but the universe.

Readers who cannot sympathize with Ender will find this book hard going but anyone who has ever felt the pressure of adults to succeed beyond one's peers should find that ample grounds for a good connection with him.  (Indeed, it makes it even more obvious as to why smart kids urged by parents and teachers to fulfill their potential might seize upon Ender as a character that strikes a chord within them.)  Ender is endlessly pushed, driven, and manipulated in his carefully mapped-out destiny to be a great general.  Drafted to be a solder at age six, there is no real childhood for Ender and he's not even truly allowed friends.  Occasionally, there's a figure who comes close to meaning something but Ender is forced to be in a position where isolation will sharpen his self-reliance, only emphasizing that everyone else is truly relying on him.  The child's concept of "cheating" becomes an interesting refrain when games are twisted and manipulated, forcing Ender to come up with new ideas that defy expectations.  Additionally, those readers that really enjoy fast-paced action sequences will surely find many of the clearly detailed war games to be just up their alley.  It's a rush to read of hard-fought battles and victory until one is again reminded that children are fighting these simulations at the expense of their childhood.  There are many moments (taking in to account the parameters of the world established within the book) that one might sigh and think "really, is this realistic?" but Card carefully toes the line, making his child geniuses such powerful players in a corrupt and twisted system.  In the end, you simply have to accept a few things as we go for the sake of the story's progression, as insufficient details are given about some of the hazier topics.  (Is communication so centered on the net that Demosthenes and Locke would really achieve such fame without any physical representation?  Would Ender really not ask more questions that might lead him to understand the true events taking place?  Are the military justifications given the kind of things it would take an adult like Dumbledore to say about trusting the instincts of children or would anyone actually ever go for this ludicrous plan?)

In the end, I suppose I really appreciated the book but had a hard time "enjoying" it.  Many people might focus on the action and adventure of young kids being given such responsibility but I found this highly unsettling.  Did wait too long to read this book?  I had added it to my "30 books to read before I turn 30" for the express purpose of reading it before I got too old but I think I missed my window.  It seems impossible that anyone could read this without appreciating just how dark it is (Card makes sure of that, particularly in dialogue between adults who know exactly what they're doing and while they might have heavy hearts and some misgivings, they do it anyway), but there is probably an age where one would still feel a thrill at certain scenes.  As it is, all I can do is sit back, feel deeply unsettled about how much responsibility we often place on thin and fragile shoulders, and wonder if this is so far off in how we push kids today and present them with skewed views of the world.  I didn't have this same response to Harry Potter (though at many times during that series, we're reminded to feel the unfairness of how much rests on Harry) so perhaps it's the involvement of the military that has me shuddering.  It might be sci-fi but the underlying issues are very, very real and we're not exactly fighting off an evil villain that can be so squarely blamed for being classically "bad."

Here's an example of perhaps the hardest part of the book for me, which occurs towards the very end... just when you think poor Ender has endured so much.  (Spoiler alert!)  After the buggers have been destroyed and Ender is now on the colonized planet, he finds the last bugger, the fertilized pupa of a queen, and knows that this is the last hope for the bugger race to ever be able to continue.  When he finds her, he immediately envisions what must have happened and shockingly describes the scene: "Ender could see in his mind the slug-like males clinging to the walls of a dark tunnel, and the large adults carrying the infant queen to the mating room; each male in turn penetrated the larval queen, shuddered in ecstasy, and died, dropping to the tunnel floor and shriveling."  The rape of the infant queen bugger for the sake of species survival is a very succinct and graphic description that isn't altogether different from what was done to Ender.  He was also, in essence, raped by larger adults who had a plan that he had no say in; he was stripped of childhood and any human connection, forced to submit to a future that his genes dictated for him, and all of this far earlier than anyone should have been, all for the sake of saving the human race.  Do the ends justify the means?  It's an interesting question and one that's incredibly uncomfortable to spend time thinking on, particularly in this context.  (Side note: I also think that uber-religious Card gave people too much credit to think that, overall, they'd find such meaning and value to the book Ender wrote from the perspective of the Bugger queen, but maybe that's just cynical me.)  Ender represents all that is good about humanity and we're rather beaten over the head with that; he only ever kills without meaning to unless he's in (what he believes to be) a game, where he is ruthless. When given the challenge in the real world, he fails his training and refuses to destroy the queen. He allows her and her people the opportunity to rebuild, trusting that they understand each other despite the inability to explicitly communicate.  It's the first naive and innocent thing Ender has ever done and even if one secretly believes this is a big mistake and the buggers will come back to kill us all, well, there's beauty in even the hope that creatures can learn from their mistakes.

So I'm incredibly glad that I read Ender's Game, even if the experience wasn't quite pleasant.  It's so unsettling but also so important for us to challenge our view of the child hero story to explore the darker ramifications, which can translate to real life on a smaller scale.  Sci-fi is at its most compelling for me when it strikes a nerve in the real world and Ender's Game absolutely did this.  I recommend with caution, if only because it's a book that will leave you thinking for quite a while -- I would suggest you not plan on reading anything too important or meaty after this, as subsequent reads might get a bit of a short shrift as you'll still be thinking about Ender.

Wide Sargasso Sea

As a lover of Jane Eyre, I've always known that sooner or later, I should get around to reading Wide Sargasso Sea.  (If you haven't read Jane Eyre, please stop reading this review now, as there's no way to review the one without spoiling the other.)   Jean Rhys drew upon her own childhood to craft the backstory of Bertha Antoinetta Mason, the first wife of Edward Rochester and resident madwoman in the attic at Thornfield.  In Jane Eyre, Rochester tells his side of the story -- how as a young man, his father and brother sent him off to marry a beautiful and wealthy Creole girl in Jamaica and even though he knew the marriage was arranged for her money, he let his sexual attraction for her get the best of him.  He was not told about the fact that three generations of Bertha's family had eventually succumbed to madness.  Consequently, wedded bliss doesn't last long and their life together rapidly goes downhill as she degenerates (and lest ye think we're talking about a calmer kind of crazy, he says Bertha was promiscuous, drunk, slovenly and violently insane). Meanwhile, Rochester's father and brother have both died, resulting in Rochester inheriting the estate (since Rochester was the second son, the marriage to Bertha at least had given him some kind of income).  Rather than locking her up in an asylum (like her mother was), Rochester brings Bertha to Thornfield and sets her up to be cared for, locked away in the old house with Grace Poole as her companion and nurse.  Rochester, meanwhile, runs around Europe drinking and making poor romantic choices, contributing further to his tormented soul.  In Jane Eyre, readers are to understand that both Rochester and Bertha were screwed here -- Mr. Rochester was shafted with a crazy first wife whose very existence means he cannot have a normal, happy life and Bertha goes insane in a cold foreign country without knowing anyone around her aside from the husband she might recognize and would almost certainly have conflicting feelings about at even her most lucid moments.

So.  Rhys published Wide Sargasso Sea in 1966 and told the story of Antoinette Cosway from her childhood through her marriage to an unnamed Englishman and her descent into madness.  The novel is lauded for transforming the character of Bertha into Antoinette, a real person with hopes, emotions, and experiences.  In addition, as a post-colonial work, Wide Sargasso Sea is more concerned with the racial relationships of the time and place, particularly viewed from Antoinette who does not wholly belong to either caste, the oppressed blacks or ruling whites.  There are similarities between Antoinette and Jane Eyre beyond the fact that they marry the same man.  Both women have strong characters and feelings and endure difficult childhoods. 

I have heard before -- and perhaps you have heard the same -- that if you love Jane Eyre, then you will not like Wide Sargasso Sea and if you hated JE, then you'll enjoy WSE. You already know I love Jane Eyre and in my case, I suppose this holds true.  It's not that I truly *disliked* WSE, but I just wasn't taken with it.  I was disappointed on a number of levels and the things I did like did not quite compensate.  To begin with, after all the talk about how this is Bertha's story, I was irritated at how many details Rhys changed. The time period was completely altered to allow for certain historic riots in Jamaica to take place in the course of the story and Bertha's family tree was shaken up so she was not a Mason after all, but the stepdaughter of Mr. Mason. Obviously Rhys was emphasizing the racial tension and interested in integrating the story in to elements of history that provide a sound basis for this conflict, but it irked me that this moved the story by many years and so wasn't giving a real depiction of the history Bertha might have experienced.  Additionally, I never felt as though Antoinette was quite the heiress-on-the-verge-of-insanity that Bertha was supposed to be so that her wealth was such a temptation. Certainly both stories admit that Rochester's lust for the seemingly beautiful Bertha/Antoinette meant he didn't oppose the marriage in the beginning but I didn't understand the Mason family rush to get Antoinette off their hands, even if she was this awkward between-castes woman.  (I mean, come on, Jane Eyre should have proved just how easy it is to lock someone away for much less expense than what was surely paid to Rochester.)  And finally, I suppose that I take issue with the much-praised point that this novel finally fleshes Bertha out as a character.  Perhaps I'm letting my enjoyment of the novel blind me but I didn't think there was a lack of empathy for Bertha... in fact, I thought it was actually quite apparent that Bertha is an extremely tragic character who was dealt an even worse hand than Rochester, as she's a woman whose family paid someone to take her away before she became a burden and so she was sent to a cold, unfamiliar land where she lost all grip on her sanity and so became an awful figure, not responsible for her own actions and every day suffering because of the actions taken against her by others.  No, we don't totally deviate the course of the novel to focus entirely on Bertha, but nor should we expect to!  Certain elements of racism are glazed over as standard for the period but I never felt like Bertha was a simple pawn being used whose back story was totally disregarded.  It simply wasn't her story.  That doesn't mean she isn't a character without great depth--indeed, she's actually quite compelling given that she's insane and off-stage for most of the story that takes place at Thornfield.  It's certainly one thing to say that this gives us a better understanding of the history of Jamaica and the West Indies, but I bristle a little at the suggestion that Bertha was not a character with depth until Rhys came along.

Something I did not expect to enjoy but did was the fact that the narration changed up several times.  Mostly we heard from Antoinette but we also hear from the nameless husband (though it didn't help us in liking him at all) and Grace Poole.  I did find the history quite interesting, as it's a time and place I know little about.  The narrative was not always lucid enough for me to feel like I was actually learning something unless I did further research, but I enjoyed the shift of perspective.  I initially appreciated the depiction of the relationship between the nameless husband and Antoinette, as it seemed like we were showing a certain amount of responsibility on each side... but the more I read and thought, the more I felt Rhys was placing the blame at the nameless husband's feet.  Rochester was getting the shaft here the same way Rhys seemed to think Bertha had been shortchanged in the original tale.  His prejudice is heavily played (which is fair, as it's present in Jane Eyre and largely glossed over in his general hatred for the world) and while Antoinette's insanity starts to creep through, it's as though the husband caused it by rejecting her and her heritage.  But wasn't Rhys supposed to be giving us a character who was stronger than that?  Not some simple woman who could be so easily crushed by rejection from a man?  Is there an Eleanor Roosevelt thing here about how no one can make you feel stupid without your permission?  The Antoinette character certainly has feelings but her deterioration seems to be in allowing others' opinions to get through to her until she loses her own self.  I liked Bertha better when I had to imagine the situation of a girl who was bartered off, a victim of hereditary insanity tragically struggling to assert any personhood as she lost control of her mind, even if that meant her actions turned her into something Rochester found loathesome.

I give Jean Rhys credit for bringing us a different perspective on Jane Eyre, even if I'm not entirely sure it was needed for the reasons many point to as its main virtues.  It might make one uncomfortable but the interesting conflict between whites and blacks was the best study of the book, perhaps mostly so in the "white nigger" concept and in Antoinette's inability to find a place with either group and so further isolating her.  The book, in my opinion, might have been more successful in its story without the requirement of using Bertha/Antoinette, but would not nearly have achieved the same notice without that hook.  (One thing which neither of these novels touch on explicitly is the thing that I would have found the most horrifying of all -- the mental institutions of that time, which all other accounts seem to describe as hell on earth.  Just as Rochester spares Bertha from that fate, so we, too, are spared from the horrifying account of conditions in such places.)  In the end, I suppose I'm glad I read it but I had expected to come away with more from Wide Sargasso Sea.  A more satisfying treatment of madness?  Or perhaps Rhys's style is simply not to my taste.  I'll have to do some digging to discover other literature that deals with stories set in this time and place and perhaps I'll find those stories more satisfying, even if they don't give me the excuse to watch multiple adaptations of Jane Eyre and inserting random Rochester lines in to my every day speech. ("Kitty cat, don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." or "If you move out of Brooklyn and if that boisterous channel should come between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.")  Still, even with all this, I found that I spend a long time thinking about Wide Sargasso Sea, long after I had set it down, and so it certainly has stuck with me.  I couldn't quite bring myself to read all the accompanying essays in my Norton Critical Edition but I have a feeling I'll likely read a few of them before too many months have passed.  Perhaps this is one I'll have to earmark for a future list... "60 to re-read before 60"... and then we'll see if my opinions towards Rhys and her adaptation have softened.

30 Books to Read Before I Turn 30

Hello, lonely and neglected blog!

Earlier this week, I saw an article entitled "30 Books Everyone Should Read Before Turning 30." Given the fact that a little over two weeks ago, I turned 29, I'm acutely aware that one single, solitary year of my twenties is now left to me. I decided that it's time to give myself a push to read several books that I've kept telling myself I should really get to one of these days. I already read a lot of books for work, book club, and pleasure... but this year, I'm going to do my own literature course that isn't necessarily based off of the best books ever written, but rather, is based off of my own guilty conscience-- I mean, a deep desire to find the time to read many books I've deeply wanted to pick up but something had gotten in the way. If at the end of this experiment, I feel like I benefited from such a public statement of intent, then it's likely I'll make up a "35 to 35" list, too, and at least I'll have a few years to chip away at it rather than less than 50 weeks.

When compiling titles (thanks to all my friends who chimed in on suggestions), I wound up with a really great and very selective list... of about 90 books. Paring it down to 30 was incredibly rough. I reserve the right to set my own rules -- one of which is that if I can justify to myself the swapping out of a title during this next year, I'm free to do so. I'll try to be fair-ish there (aka I'll probably give myself agony for "I just don't feel like reading this one" versus "this other book suddenly has a very timely significance and seems like a fair trade for this other title"). One of the things I took in to consideration when picking some of these books (though not all) was if it might behoove me to read certain titles while "still young," as one can certainly have different reactions to a book at various times of life. Obviously, this isn't a "30 best books" list, this just happens to be a list of 30 books I haven't yet completely read (because some of them are actually ones where I've read selections but not the whole text). It's also skewed to my own interests and therefore has a number of books that would probably make no one else's "why haven't I read this yet?" list but made mine because they've been recommended repeatedly or they've been staring down at me from my bookshelves for way too many years.

Comments of "what do you MEAN you haven't read this??" will be unappreciated. I already recognize that I probably should have read it by now, that's why it's on the list. And smug comments of "oh, I've read 22 of these" will be met with even more irritation (and if I know you in real life and you live near me, I might slip something squishy into something of yours when you least suspect it). Encouraging comments, meanwhile, even if they show you've read books on this list, will be happily received and I thank you in advance.

So, here's my list of 30 books I'm going to try and read before I turn 30. If you're friends with me on Goodreads, I'll create a "30 to 30" shelf.

Oh, wait, one last thing. The whole "bonus points" thing is pretty damn irrelevant... it's mostly that I felt the need to add the alternate titles for specific authors in case I decide to swap one for the other or let you know what almost made the cut. I'm hoping I can maybe cash in these bonus points for being able to go back in time so I'm 25 again or something.


1. The Iliad - Homer (bonus points for The Odyssey and double bonus points for The Aeneid by Virgil)
2. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood (bonus points for Oryx and Crake)
3. Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
4. Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card
5. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
6. The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
7. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
8. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (bonus points for A Light in August)
9. The End of the Affair - Graham Greene
10. Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
11. The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
12. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
13. The Wings of the Dove - Henry James
14. On the Road - Jack Kerouac
15. A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle
16. The Balkan Trilogy - Olivia Manning
17. West With the Night - Beryl Markham
18. 100 Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (bonus points for Love in the Time of Cholera)
19. The Road - Cormac McCarthy
20. The Tropic of Cancer - Henry Miller (bonus points for The Tropic of Capricorn)
21. The Women of Brewster Place - Gloria Naylor
22. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
23. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon (the biggest bonus points in the world for Gravity's Rainbow)
24. Wide Sargasso Sea - Jena Rhys
25. White Teeth - Zadie Smith
26. Maus - Art Spiegelman
27. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
28. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
29. Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut
30. The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

A Monster Calls

The award for most heart wrenching read of 2011 (if only culled from the number I consumed this year) goes to A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness.  Thankfully, this isn't simply a story that is engineered to rip at your heartstrings for the perverse glee of watching you sob (though you will sob).  The sadness in this tale comes with an attempt to help the protagonist understand and cope with terrible things happening around him.  It's an emotional lesson in grief and the fact that sometimes the thing we most fear will happen... and what is even harder is that we'll need to keep living after it does.

A Monster Calls is a story about a young boy visited one night by a monster after midnight... but this is not the monster he was expecting.  Conor is expecting the monster from his nightmare, but instead he's visited by something ancient and wild... something that will make him face far scarier things than anyone so young should ever have to face (which, incidentally, are part of his nightmares).  Conor's mother has been undergoing chemotherapy treatments and the latest round has taken a particular toll.  Conor's grandmother -- who, in his opinion, acts nothing like a real grandmother should act and who Conor dislikes intensely -- has come to look after Conor, though he is used to looking after himself and his mother, so he remains convinced that his grandmother's assistance is not needed.  Conor's father now lives in America with his new family and rarely sees his firstborn son, though it appears even Conor's father is coming to visit and that doesn't really bode well.  As his mother's condition worsens, Conor is repeatedly visited by the monster and while Conor might simply wish to dismiss this monster as a nightmare, he can't quite dismiss the rather tangible evidence that he is, in fact, not entirely dreaming it all up.  The boy who has had to grow up quite quickly and is so used to handling everything must find a way to survive the terrifying fact that his mother will die and he cannot do anything to change this.

If you are not in tears by the end of this book, then you must have a heart of stone.  I freely admit that I bawled and even now, recalling the novel, my eyes are misting.  The brilliance of the novel, though, is not in a sob-story.  It's in the inventive creation of a monster that provides Conor with other things to think about... that all end up tying back to the fact that Conor must deal with his grief.  There are many lessons that Conor learns from the monster... among which is the fact that it is okay for Conor to really feel whatever he's feeling... whether that's sadness or rage or selfishness or pure and simple sorrow.  For anyone who has lost a loved one, this book will hit home and hit hard.

As a final note, somewhat apart from the reading experience but still tied to the book, I suggest that you go and watch the book trailer for A Monster Calls, as it's quite possibly the best book trailer I have ever seen to date: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8-psqOON-Y

The Girl of Fire and Thorns

I knew The Girl of Fire and Thorns was going to be fantastic the second I saw the Tamora Pierce praise on the cover. (Blurbs work, people, they really do.) I grew up reading and re-reading Tamora Pierce novels to the point where I had to put plastic laminate on my copies so the covers wouldn't fall off. Allow that particular tidbit of information to give proper weight to this statement: while I was reading Carson's novel, I felt a spark of that feeling I had so many years ago of reading Woman Who Rides Like a Man for the very first time. It was this quiet delight mixed with anxious desire that the story keep up with its fascinating arc and not take a turn for the predictable or tame -- and I was never once disappointed. There's an awareness that the culture and mythology presented here is new and not simply a recycled version of another novel; while Carson's writing might reveal echoes of something like Pierce's influence, she has her own brand of magic, religious twists, cultural depth, and intricate detail. All of this combines to make Rae Carson a wildly talented new voice in YA fiction that you should read straight away so you can experience her storytelling prowess for yourself.

Lucero-Elisa de Riqueza, Princess of Orovalle, is the chosen one. Every century, a person has been called to the service of God -- and when the princess was seven days old, God's light descended upon her during her dedication day ceremony and left the Godstone lodged in her navel. The Godstone is very real sign that she has been chosen for service, and Elisa has grown up with the burden of this knowledge physically lodged in her body. Unfortunately, Elisa also feels grossly incapable of doing anything noteworthy and struggles with the awareness that many also share this opinion, knowledge she gleans when she catches their silent stares of disbelief and disgust. Overweight and only truly committed to studying religious scriptures, Elena is not the usual candidate for service to God, despite her elevated royal status. The Girl of Fire and Thorns opens on Elisa's wedding day. A very rushed decision was made for Elisa to marry King Alejandro de Vega of Joya d'Arena, a northern ally of Orovalle. Deeply aware that she must have been the counteroffer to the idea of marriage to her beautiful and capable elder sister, Juana-Alodia, Elisa hopes that King Alejandro will be old and ugly so she is not such a disappointment to him. When King Alejandro turns out to be a quite handsome and charming widower, Elisa doesn't know what to think, though she's much relieved when he appears kind and doesn't seem put out at her request that they do not immediately become intimate. Instead, they talk and Elisa is uncertain what her feelings are towards her new husband when they set out for Joya d'Arena, leaving behind everyone and everything Elisa knows except for two trusted servants. The journey is dangerous and one of Elisa's servants dies along the way, fatally wounded while escaping a burning carriage that was set ablaze in an attack on their party. During that same attack, Elisa saves Alejandro's life and begins to understand that her Godstone goes ice cold when she is in serious danger. (Having been sheltered in the palace her whole life, Elisa assumes there will be a certain amount that she'll learn about the world, but she really has no idea just how shielded she has been.)

Upon arrival in Joya d'Arena, Elisa realizes that Alejandro is not ready to tell his people about his marriage, and so it is kept secret and she has to navigate the treacherous waters of court life without her secret husband's assistance. She makes an immediate enemy of a woman on the king's council that Elisa believes must be Alejandro's mistress, a woman who sends her personal maid, Cosmé,to assist Elisa (and, presumably, spy on her). Constantly watched and yet quite lonely, Elisa discovers that the only benefit to her arrival in Joya d'Arena is something she had never even suspected she had been without -- a whole world of information about the Chosen ones that Elisa had never known... and, indeed, information that was purposefully kept from her, not just by her father or sister or trusted servant but by her entire kingdom. The reader and Elisa both have even more questions as we go further down the rabbit hole. The Chosen ones might all have a destiny, but what happens if they die before fulfilling it? And how would they even know if their role was fulfilled? Does a great contribution have to be a large gesture or perhaps it's something small? And why do the enemies of her people command a powerful magic that no one else can seem to channel? How is Elisa ever to help her people triumph over such a fearsome foe? This is only the beginning of Elisa's story and the most dramatic action is to come as Elisa is kidnapped from the palace and marched across a vast desert so she, the Chosen one, might help a struggling people. The complications continue as she comes to understand that her kidnappers might not be the true enemy -- for there is one far more fearsome quickly crossing the desert to destroy all who oppose them. They wield dark magic, magic with a deep connection to Elisa and her godstone, and their victory would mean death to Joya d'Arena, Orovalle, and the world as Elisa knows it.

Things do not come easily to Elisa and for that, she's a heroine to be admired. Much of her life is dictated to her and she finds it hard to motivate herself to take action. That's most obvious when it comes to her weight, but is a common thread in her life as she spends more time reacting to events than taking action. When Elisa finally does take charge, the reader wants to cheer, having seen her grow and become more confident in herself, but it's not an easy journey. Be prepared to wade through the self-pity at the beginning of the novel -- I promise it serves a purpose -- so you can watch Elisa blossom in to a young woman who can wield real power. I despise the way so many books assume you'll take up the side of the main character simply because the author tells you to. In The Girl of Fire and Thorns, the reader comes to believe in Elisa... even before Elisa really believes in herself. Additionally, many novels feature a main character who is an outsider and is forced to quickly learn about a new place, but I appreciated the twist in Elisa's case: she's always been in the thick of things and yet was incredibly sheltered from so much knowledge. She and the reader learn about the history of other Bearers and there's no massive infodump. Learning about the world is another matter, though, as the reader gleans bits and pieces as the story progresses. It's not unpleasant and left me hungering for more, asking questions that were only tinged with curiosity and not impatience for deeper understanding. There is such rich material in this world that one feels as though Carson could spend volumes on the culture, religion, and history of Orovalle, Joya d'Arena, and its surrounding area.

For those wondering, while I think this novel is purposely focused on Elisa and her personal development (and I greatly appreciate this), there are romantic elements to this story. Undoubtedly, there will be a romantic story that comes more to the foreground, but I'm glad The Girl of Fire and Thorns keeps its real focus on Elisa as she develops her own self-reliance and determination. She might be aided by others, be they friends or those with the potential to be more, but Elisa is standing on her own two feet as she works through the problems she faces. I'm not dismissing the romantic developments within this novel -- Carson makes some brave moves and her characters are all the stronger for it, but we're still dealing with a teen novel and a teenage heroine, so it's only right that we have some heart-fluttering moments and questions. That said, you'll also note that I'm giving no hints here about any leading fellows. No characters are quite as fully developed as Elisa, who takes center stage throughout the story and I believe this is a deliberate move. The reader might come to identify a few favorites and we certainly come to appreciate other characters and their particular contributions to the story, but one has the constant feeling that we'll get to know the key players better as we continue through the series arc.

A final note to address, if only because it's a somewhat unique element of this story, is the religious storyline that runs throughout the novel. Elisa, given a destiny by God, finds her greatest solace in reading sacred texts and is almost constantly praying. People who have a huge problem with religion might be displeased with this book but despite the emphasis on "God," I think it's important to recognize that this is not Christian lit. (Not everything with one god qualifies as Christian, guys.) Elisa has faith in a God and this God is important and very very real in her life and the lives of the people of this world. (Aside from the whole godstone thing, there are facts hinted to in The Girl of Fire and Thorns and more fully noted in The Crown of Embers, the sequel, which discusses how Elisa's people were actually brought to this world from a dying planet by God.) The presence of this God ensures that we accept there's a higher plan at work here, even if it doesn't (often) lead to deus ex machina styled scenarios. (This is much more of a clockmaker God than one who takes an active role, despite having relocated a whole people to a new planet which is, admitted, very hands-on.) Religion can be a touchy subject, so it's often skirted in fantasy YA that isn't specifically trying to address it. Personally, I had no problem with the addition of a religion to the mythology of this world -- I even welcomed it as an intriguing aspect to the story. There's the possibility for things to stretch too far in to the "God has a plan" direction but I'm willing to see what Carson has in store for us with this. I have faith it will be somewhere fascinating.

So as you can see, I was a huge fan of The Girl of Fire and Thorns. I devoured the book and was immediately hungry for more. Carson can't write fast enough for my taste and I can't wait to find out what happens to Elisa and those supporting characters who will come to play larger roles in the series. One can already tell that strong personalities don't always lead to constant harmony and Elisa will have to step on even some familiar toes if she's to assume her destined role and continue to make tough devisions. I don't quite know where Carson will take us with this series, but I'm content to be swept away with the story. She's proven herself worthy of my literary trust and I hope she has the same impression on many, many readers.

Full disclosure: I do not work on this book, but it does factor in to my professional life. However, my review here expresses my own personal opinion.

A Christmas Carol

The story of A Christmas Carol is one that most of us in the Western world know fairly well... in fact, I would wager that most children over the age of 7 in the US or UK could give a pretty good breakdown of the general plotpoints with ease. But did we actually read the Charles Dickens classic to gain this knowledge? Or is your understanding of the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future the result of a film adaptation? I'm not railing against movie adaptations, as I think A Christmas Carol translates brilliantly to film... to the point where we might all know the plot of this particular story as a result of a movie that puts a twist on the original tale. My personal favorite is The Muppet Christmas Carol, though a close second is Scrooged.

My only previous read of the actual text of A Christmas Carol occurred back in sixth grade. It's a short little novella and was a good introduction to Dickens, as his other tomes seemed daunting to an eleven-year-old. One can easily breeze through A Christmas Carol in a single evening, curled up by the fire with Christmas lights twinkling and presents under the tree. That said, A Christmas Carol really isn't something I would opt to re-read year after year. Here's where those film adaptations become very, very useful. You watch the Muppets, Bill Murray, Ebbie, or Scrooge and you've had your yearly dose.

This year, I noticed an Audible performance of A Christmas Carol done by Tim Curry and it simply had to be purchased and immediately loaded on to my ipod. I listened to it over the course of three days, knitting a Christmas present on my commute to work. I was surprised at how few details slip through the cracks in various performances and I was comforted by how familiar the words were to the point where I could have recited many passages along with Curry. (And some of them were even ones I could do without Gonzo's voice.) The story is timeless and it's hard to imagine the holidays without this particular tale in existence, when in fact it was only published in 1843. This might be a bit blasphemous to say, but it's second only to the actual origin story of Christmas in terms of our association with this time of year. Beyond Christmas, think of the cultural contributions of this novel to our general lexicon. Think of such outstanding quotes as "Mankind was my business," "as solitary as an oyster," "there's more of gravy than of grave about you," and even "'Bah,' said Scrooge. 'Humbug!'" Tim Curry gives a fun reading with voices that are never too ridiculous. I'll admit that I hoped for a little bit more, though I'm not quite sure what. Some flash, a bit more panache, something. I've listened to Curry read the first in the Series of Unfortunate Events and that was pure magic. Here, it was certainly amusing enough but I didn't feel the same delight for which I had hoped. I'm not sure I could reconcile the visual of Tim Curry anywhere in the story but as a voice in your ear, it's a fine way to experience A Christmas Carol for the first time in its original form or as a re-telling that isn't brought out with the rest of the Christmas DVDs and tinsel each year.

So on this Christmas Day, I leave you with this, quoted from memory:

"And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any many alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one!"

Last-Minute Knitted Gifts

This just goes to show that you can never be quite sure what I'll be reviewing here.
I don't often review knitting books, but Open Road put this up on NetGalley and one should always try to review what one requests. A pretty little book, Last-Minute Knitted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson delivers exactly what it promises -- a collection of patterns that take less time than you might otherwise think. The gifts that are truly short on time aren't necessarily something that serious knitters will be tempted by (and, let's face it, the "linen tassel" for a bookmark is a bit of a joke and doesn't quite belong here), but for those knitters who are just starting to stretch their legs, this might be a nice book to consult when you're looking to find something that knits up "quickly." Note that "quickly" is a somewhat relative term, as there are patterns for blankets and sweaters in here... they just happen to be somewhat simple ones. The book itself doesn't seem concerned that "last-minute" usually implies that most of these patterns should be for quickly knit items... not perhaps one-skein things, but at least things you could conceivably finish within a few days (where the entirety of that time isn't spent furiously knitting). Some of these are definitely "Oh dear, so-and-so's birthday is a month and a half away, what do I do?" kind of things, so take "last-minute" with a grain of salt. There are some particularly pleasing scarf patterns that provide some nice inspiration and there's a pretty set of hand/wrist warmers. I, for one, will be making ample use of the angora bootie pattern as I struggle to keep up with knitting some tiny-yet-heartfelt presents for pregnant co-workers.

Abandon

Meg Cabot's latest series is a dip in to the supernatural and mythological. Abandon features a marketing tagline of "She knows what it's like to die. Now Death wants her back." It's... sort of accurate, but rather sounds like a horror movie rather than a supernatural romance, right?

With a new spin on the Persephone myth, Abandon moves the story of a young girl drawn in to a relationship with Death to the setting of modern-day Florida... specifically, to Isla Huesos (aka Island of Bones) where secrets (among other things) don't seem to stay buried. Seventeen-year-old Pierce Oliviera is a bit different from the average teenager. You might point to her family's incredible wealth (her father is CEO of a large, environment-damaging company) or her parents' messy divorce that has her mother dragging Pierce back to the mother's own family and hometown. But really, the main thing that separates Pierce from every other teen (or adult, for that matter) is that she's died and returned to life. She can patiently explain the scientific descriptions of her body's shut-down and revival or what studies say the often-reported bright light might mean... but she can't actually describe what happened to her or she'd be labeled as crazy. Crazy is exactly what most people thought when she came back to life and started talking about much more than a bright light: finding herself in a place where she was pushed into a line, this man on a giant horse who she'd met before as a child, her sudden removal to a very calm room with him before he talked about her staying there forever, and the moment when she threw tea in his face to escape...

But let's back up for a second here.

The story begins with all that death experience in the past and Pierce trying to start again as a normal teenager in this new town. Cabot chooses to reveal information about Pierce's past in flashbacks, often triggered by the sudden appearance of the dark and brooding lord of the underworld, who seems to lurk around town with alarming frequency... particularly when we go in to this bit about how there isn't just one underworld and this guy is actually not Hades or anything, he's just the designated overseer for this particular underworld entry point for this zone. Hm. I'll also note that Pierce's moments where she pauses to remember something aren't clear and obviously delineated from what's going on at the moment. They're really hazy and sketchy flashbacks that make the reader wish she'd be just a little clearer and just get it all out there already. Quite honestly, that's my big criticism of the book, so I might as well get it out there, too. If Cabot is trying to distract you from the fact that this is a story about a boy (whose name is John, btw) who wants a girl back and a girl who doesn't quite want to admit she wants the boy back... well, then at least she succeeded in confusing you for long stretches of time.

When you finally have all the puzzle pieces, the story is mildly intriguing -- Pierce, as a child, met a dark man in a cemetery as she waited for her mother and grandmother to finish dealing with the details of her grandfather's funeral. Years later, Pierce drowned in the swimming pool in a theoretical accident and met him once more. This time, he was very interested in keeping her with him, but she fled (which is somewhat uncharacteristically brave of Pierce) and now she's back in the real world... unable to separate her near-death experience from the rest of her life, no matter how hard she tries (which isn't very hard at all) as stalker-John keeps popping up.

Readers of Twilight might be particularly intrigued with Abandon as it had a similar feel of fated (yet founded on nothing substantial) love that the characters struggled against in a half-hearted way while darker forces lurk about. As a set-up to a series, Abandon doesn't quite feel complete enough on its own, so you should probably be willing to commit if you embark upon this one. It's not unpleasant, but Pierce wasn't exactly a strong heroine. She was, in fact, quite a dim bulb at times (example: trying to catch a lecherous teacher in the act but failing to have a camera or something stashed away? or a plan as to how to escape?). John always has to swoop in and save her and we then proceed with the inevitable descriptions of cosmic attraction.

Abandon is a quick read and will, I imagine, have some adult cross-over fans who appreciate a twist on Greek mythology and some steamy (yet still YA acceptable) romance. Rather than give this two stars, I yielded to the fact that I did fall in to the world quite quickly, though I think a large part of the interest was in untangling the narrative as it looped around on itself. As far as the Persephone stories for this year go, I preferred The Goddess Test, but I'll still be interested on seeing where Cabot takes this series arc, as I can't quite suss out exactly where this is headed while still sticking with the mythological angle.