frumiousb

I periodically reread this trilogy. More specifically, I frequently reread A Wrinkle in Time and A Wind At the Door. Even as a child, I had the most mixed feelings about A Swiftly Tilting Planet. I was curious how I would experience it now.

And the answer is: I still don't love it. At least not in the same way. Meg is very incidental here, and despite Charles Wallace's specialness throughout the book I (kind of obviously) preferred Meg. I also missed having Calvin as a character, although his mother makes for an interested addition. I like that L'Engle felt the need to question the way that she drew his family as trailer trash in the earlier books.

Mostly, I'm uncomfortable with the biology as destiny side of the novel. The notion that the wrong father = a bad baby sits wrongly with me. Even as a child, I felt some uncomfortable sympathy with the "bad" siblings and cousins in this book. That feeling got worse as an adult.

My passion for the trilogy as a whole remains what it is. Even in my least favorite installment I still remembered it well enough to recite large passages word for word from memory. This just isn't my favorite of the three.

(Note: I'm aware that she eventually wrote two more books in the world of these three. But I haven't read the last two. A trilogy it was to me as a kid, and a trilogy it remains to me, I'm afraid.)

(Available at Google Books, if you're interested.)

John Burroughs was an American essayist. Wikipedia describes him as a "literary naturalist". He met Walt Whitman during the Civil War, and this little book serves two purposes. It is a meditation on Leaves of Grass as well as a memoir of that friendship. Amazon tells me that it was the first biographical sketch of the author. I can't substantiate that, but it seems likely to be true.

Whitman has long been one of my great literary loves, and this book was a pleasure to read simply for reminding me how much I love Leaves of Grass. My copy is so fragile (1872 second edition, in poor shape) that I didn't dare linger over the pages, but have gladly bookmarked online text versions so that I can spend more time with it later. There are obviously more complete biographical texts, but it is fascinating to read a personal sketch from someone who knew him personally and who was a good friend. The closeness to the man adds its own touch as reading experience.

Recommended for anyone who loves Whitman, and doesn't mind spending a little time on something unusual.

( and the apology )

It may have been angel80 who recommended this. If she didn't, then I recommend it right back to her.

In this story, a traumatized attorney named Rebecka Martinsson returns to the area of her birth and finds herself caught up in another murder investigation. A polarizing female priest has been killed in a small Swedish town, and the police are unable to make headway in the case.

As with all good mysteries, Blood Spilt is as much an investigation of northern Swedish life as it is about the murder itself. What Larsson does really well is play with the ambivalence that Rebecka feels about the town and her roots, digging at the layers that separate her from the past. I was less impressed with the thread about the wolf. I found it too distracting, even though well executed.

Looking forward to reading more by Larsson in the future.

illustration from my edition (Spencer Press-- World's Greatest Literature series)

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A lot to say about this book. It returns to the world of The Iron Dragon's Daughter. This is a happy thing for me, since that is and remains one of my favorite fantasy novels. I wish I had more adjectives to convey "dark" and "original". Those words are overused, aren't they? But they apply here, both of them.

The story, as is usual for Swanwick, weaves together a number of plot threads. Think of it more as a rope with many strands than as a single clear plot line. There's something about power and how it corrupts, and something else about the pros and cons of terrorism. There are magical creatures of many kinds, all inventive and lovingly detailed. There's a lost king plot too-- but I would wager it is different than you have seen that old chestnut cooked before.

There is some chaos here with all these elements cooked together. I didn't mind it at all-- I was carried along by the energy of the book itself. If you like your fantasy very neat and simple, this may not appeal to you. Also be aware that the only "young" part of this book is the original age of the main character-- I would not mistake either this or The Iron Dragon's Daughter for young adult reading. At least not typical young adult reading; I suspect that there would be rather too much adult for many parents here.

One my pet peeves (& yes, I am peevish) in a science fiction novel is when the book prefaces itself with a quotation from some kind of prophecy/historic text written from the future/news article which delivers the backstory that the reader is going to need to enjoy the book. It can be used well as a device-- mostly when it delivers atmosphere instead of information. But to my mind it generally represents sloppy plotting or an overly intrusive editor.

Anyhow. At Winter's End begins with just such a preface, and it put me in the mind to be irritated. Also, while Silverberg is one of my long-term favorite authors in the genre, I'm well aware that his work can often be uneven. There were also a couple of seemingly predictable elements in the first part of the book-- tribes, rules, long history, dream dreamers-- bla bla bla. So I was kind of expecting not to like the book very much.

But, you know, in the end I did. It grew on me by moments, until by the end I really had a difficult time to put it down. It starts off in one very typical way, and seems to end up as something else again. Silverberg doesn't give himself an easy way out-- no easy quests, no Great Lord of Darkness to slay. It becomes a little book about being human and about starting again. The world building is very good, and I liked it very much.

I noticed with amusement that many of the reviewers of this book had exactly the opposite journey. They were very happy with the beginning when they thought it would be a more typical book, but became annoyed when it started to meander and became more philosophical. Consider both points of view if weighing this as a purchase.

I wouldn't recommend this to someone who has never read PD James before. It isn't the strongest of her books in several respects. Additionally, James seems to be working purposefully with unease, missed connections, unclear futures and lack of meaning. I tend to think that someone who trusts and is familiar with her work will give her the slack to try those elements out as part of the mystery novel. However, they aren't the kinds of plot points that make for a satisfying novel, full of closure.

What do I mean by this? For example: Clues that feel significant, and that lead nowhere. Note that I don't mean red herrings-- I mean clues that literally lead nowhere. There are red herrings too, but there are also unexplored moments of the kind that normally mean something in detective books. Also, I think that there's something odd about the way that she handles Rhoda as a character. James puts us into her perspective and lets us have access to her as a living character for nearly 125 pages. Not bad by itself, but after that, Rhoda is left a cipher. Her death feels utterly disconnected from what we know of her life. It creates a jarring effect (and results in many of the thrown away clues that I mentioned earlier). She has her secrets as well. We're given glimpses of them, but they remain tantalizingly opaque.

There are also the issues with AD and his special investigations squad-- the looming dissolution of the unit hangs over the book. It feels as though James has as much desire to tie up the loose ends in her character's lives as much or even more than she wants the murder to be solved. Actually, the solution to the murder is neither simple nor clear-- I was left feeling frustrated myself and not quite smart enough to get what either James or AD were driving at. But it isn't, somehow, the main point of the novel either.

PD James has a lot of credit with me, and I enjoy her writing very much. That remains true in The Private Patient. Even a flawed James is better than much of what is out there on the market-- at least for this reader. This said, The Private Patient is an odd sideways kind of book, and its concerns are not typical for a mystery novel. If you want a typical mystery novel, look elsewhere. (And sometimes you really don't want to have to work to read a book.) If you want a typical James/Dalgliesh novel, look into her earlier work.

I have read most of the big Hemingway novels-- For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Sun Also Rises (my favorite), The Old Man and the Sea. I had limited exposure to the short stories, having only read "The Short Happy Life of Frances Macomber" and "The Snows of Kilimanjaro". Honestly, I didn't like those two very much-- they seemed to distill the elements of Hemingway's prose of which I am least fond. I decided to buy this book since I have been spending more time lately on the structure of the short story-- and Hemingway is a master of prose.

I am actually glad that I read the whole collection. It is a pretty big pill to swallow, and there were moments when I got a little bit tired of it. But to read all of his short stories gives a much more nuanced sense of his approach to topics like blood sports, war, and masculinity then you get from just reading the handful of famous stories. I liked him and his narrative voice much better for reading the whole thing. My favorites were some of the smaller pieces midway through the volume: "The Killers" and "A Day's Wait" were personal favorites, for example.

If you have an interest in Hemingway and would like to read further in his work than just the major novels, then I would certainly recommend the collection.

Hm. In a lot of ways, this was a really gripping book. I was actually travelling in Italy when I read it, and that made it especially appealing. The story of the Monster of Florence is reasonably well known, and this book is as much or more about Italian culture/the Italian legal system as it is about the serial killer itself.

The two of them raise a lot of points that resonate with other reading I have done about corruption in the Italian judiciary. So that was really interesting.

I found that I was a little bit less comfortable with the idea that these two well-known authors would actually name a living suspect. The ethics feel murky to me, regardless of the circumstances. I get why they did-- the structure of the book demands it. Still, trial-by-author does not feel wonderfully fair to me.

I rarely read true crime books, so I'm not sure if this is normal or not, but I felt the structure jumped around a bit as a result of the two authors. Particularly towards the end, it got a wee bit exhaustive for the average reader. But I think that's excusable, given the circumstances.

I'd certainly recommend this as an anecdotal example of corruption in the Italian legal system. It's also a reasonably enjoyable read. If it's for you, it may be just the thing.

Okay-- let me begin with what I liked. Britain retains her ability to work within genre without giving in to cliche. She injects smart characters and politics into a pretty standard fantasy set up. It is a combination that continues to charm (this reader, at least).

This said, The High King's Tomb was a disappointment compared to the first two books in the series. It is a very long book, first. That would matter less if it was action packed, but it meanders-- frankly. It takes hundreds of pages to get to the main elements that separate this piece of time in the Green Rider world into a novel. Several of the plot points-- "harmless" errand, etc., were predictable to the point of eye rolling. I also wasn't fond of the magical horse farm a la Tom Bombadil. None of these sins would have been unforgivable by themselves. But given how long the book took to get to the point, they rubbed me the wrong way.

I also had the vain hope-- disappointed hope-- that this series was going to be a trilogy. But it isn't. This is just book three. So much remains unresolved, including some of the most interesting character aspects. And given Britain's track record, this means another three plus years of waiting before we get to book four. (And yes, I do completely respect the right of a writer to work at their own pace and yadda yadda yadda-- but it *does* take some of the continuity away for the reader when you need to wait 3+ years between each book. Just saying.)

Please *do* note that I wouldn't be nearly this cranky if I didn't like the earlier books so much. Britain is still writing some of the smartest epic fantasy books out there. Many will not be disappointed with The High King's Tomb. Some, like me, probably will be. I'll give Britain a pass and see what happens with book four.

In the Cities of Coin and Spice gives us The Book of the Storm and The Book of the Scald, completing The Orphan's Tales.

Probably nothing Valente could have done would have matched the impact that In The Night Garden made on me. I read it at a personally very difficult time, when for a few brief days her prose lifted me out of my grief and gave me something new to consider. That book was a blessing for me-- execution and timing interacting perfectly.

Even if it cannot (for me) match the first, In the Cities of Coin and Spice would still be something that I would very much recommend. The Orphan's Tales deserve to be read as a whole. The achievement is impressive-- fractured fairy tales, seemingly completely new; nested stories; characters and motivations both dark and strange. I have not been a fan of Valente's other work, to be honest, but these volumes are just wonderful. Fairy tales written for grown-ups that still capture the experience of being a child.

I loved this volume just a little bit less. The gap was largely seated in the Tale of the Scald. It felt just a touch too long-- somehow did not catch me as much as the other three sections. But this is a minor quarrel.

Valente is such a good writer. Her style doesn't always work for me, but in these books, it works perfectly. If you haven't read anything in the series, then begin at the beginning.

One alarming note was that some of the participants imagine that Putin is being misled, that he hasn't been given the true picture. The Tsar is a good Tsar, but the boyars are bad men. An old, old Russian story.
pg. 139

On 7 October 2006, the journalist Anna Politkovskaya was assassinated. She was shot dead in the elevator of her apartment building in an apparent contract killing. It is very important, I think, to bear this ending in mind while you read A Russian Diary.

Politkovskaya is not objective. This is not a personal diary. You will not find charming anecdotes about her personal life interspersed among the political commentary. She often sounds like that friend you had at college who would not stop ranting about her conspiracy theories and the fact that the world is going to heck in a handbasket. Except that she ends up dead for her ideas. A good reminder not to confuse Russia with the West.

Politkovskaya is angry, passionate. She refuses to stop caring. She refuses to be objective, because objectivity comes too close to numbness. This is a partial book (in several senses)-- think of it as an act of witness. She writes her rage at what Russia has become day by day.

She is very smart, and often funny-- albeit in a dark way. I had the feeling I would like her. And I hate how her story ended. It isn't an easy book to read. I still think as many as possible *should* read it. Decide for yourself.

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I think I have said this before. Several times before, even. Sean Stewart is a *wonderful* writer. His characters have great sensitivity and depth. His humor is subtle, but effective.

I have not always found his plotting skills were as good as the rest of the package. I thought the first few books I read by him were slight and a little bit easy to forget. Then I read Mockingbird, and it was an astonishing novel. Everything good combined to be something great-- I still really recommend it.

Perfect Circle is not, to my mind, quite as good as Mockingbird, but it is awfully close. Ostensibly about ghosts (at least according to the cover), it is more about a man trying to fix his life in the face of unusual talents and the usual handicaps. There was something about the plot that reminded me oddly of Douglas Coupland's novels. I suspect neither author would appreciate the comparison, but there you go.

When I look back on the book, I find the ending has melted away from my memory. I can discover it back again quickly. Still, there is something a little unfinished about the ending which makes it slightly less strong than Mockingbird. At least for me.

Meet William "Dead" Kennedy and find out for yourself.

Sentences and paragraphs. Sentences are not emotional but paragraphs are. I can say that as often as I like and it always remains as it is, something that is.

I said I found this out first in listening to Basket my dog drinking. And anybody listening to any dog's drinking will see what I mean.
pg. 223

This book is an old friend. As a student, I wrote my thesis on Stein, and spent many hours examining these texts for insight into her writing. Lectures in America is among the most lucid of her prose work; perhaps I should say it is among the most easily accessible of her books in general.

I never owned the book, however, which meant I was delighted when I found this Virago Press edition. Prefaced by Wendy Steiner, it was very fine to have a chance to revisit the work. I remembered it very well indeed. Familiarity meant instead of struggling with her unique style, I was able to dive right in to the sections which I had neglected in college. For instance, I spent a lot more time with her section on "Pictures" than I had in the past.

Lectures in America is a body of essays written for her lecture tour of the states following the unexpected success in 1933 of The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas. The tour attracted large and enthusiastic audiences, and Random House brought this book out, hoping to ride the wave. Alas, the Lectures did not sell well, and slipped into being the property of academics and the odd Stein fan in the wild.

The book consists of the following sections:

• What Is English Literature
  
• Pictures
  
• Plays
  
• The Gradual Making of the Making of Americans
  
• Portraits and Repetition
  
• Poetry and Grammar

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I loved The Lies of Locke Lamora. It had a sparkle and an energy that carried me plain past the fact that it is not the kind of fantasy book that I typically enjoy.

Unfortunately, Red Seas Under Red Skies kept the parts I normally do not like and lost much of the crisp fire that had delighted me so much in the first book.

I'm not sure I can fully analyze what doesn't work, but it has something to do with pace and structure. The structure was really odd, somehow. I was deeply bored in the middle section of the book. I also found myself staring in disbelief at aspects of the plot. In The Lies of Locke Lamora, Lynch asked us to give him the benefit of the doubt in a few key unrealistic places. I didn't mind that. But he asked too much of me here. I had many more "what?!" moments than "cool!!" moments in this book.

There are still some good things in the book. It wasn't entirely a waste of time. But, honestly, if the third book is more like Red Seas than like Locke Lamora then I will not be reading forward to the fourth.

p.s. I'm getting tired of pirates. Pirates are the new black, and I'm discovering there are precious few writers who can pull them off.

I read An American Tragedy many years ago. I do not remember very much about it. I remember that it moved me, but that I forgot it quickly. Sister Carrie is my second book by Dreiser.

I was dreading the book, at least a little bit. It seems to be universally damned with faint praise. I have heard readers describe the prose as awkward and overblown. I remember a Salon column snarking about it some years ago. I have heard that Dreiser's prose improved with the other novels, and have been told that it was possible to skip Carrie. And so on.

I loved it. That's a little bit lacking in nuance-- there *were* places that I got the criticism. At times I might have wished for other pacing. It has little flaws in the execution, and I suspect that you have to be able to swallow Dreiser's overall style. He's not lithe and little and zippy. His writing is sort of like a hoop skirt-- elegant from some angles, ponderous from others, not really very practical all around.

This said, I have rarely read a novel that treats so very well with character in time and place. Caroline Meeber is the kind of woman I find utterly unsympathetic. Her literary heirs generally fill me with irritation and vague revulsion, no matter how sympathetically portrayed. You know what I mean-- the lovely young animal, the woman who wants but doesn't think, the actress. Dreiser does a remarkable thing. He doesn't really make her sympathetic, exactly, but he makes her understandable. He makes a type of person who rarely seems human very human indeed. And a product of her time. The book is as much about the fragility of success in the early industrial era as it is about the individuals involved. Carrie comes through the mill unhappy but unscathed. George Hurstwood breaks himself in the traps of the time, forgetting that by serving the wealthy he does not actually become invincible. Terrible and true.

I believe that the strength with character in the text outweighs any flaws in the prose style. Perhaps I will be less impressed with a later reading, but right now, I would recommend it.

(Sister Carrie has an odd publishing background, by the way. There are several published versions of the book. I read the Penguin Classics unexpurgated version, and it seems to make a real difference if you get the earlier published versions which Dreiser self-censored in order to get the book printed. If in doubt, take a quick look--not enough to spoil your ending!-- at the last few pages. If it ends with Carrie, you've got a bowdlerized edition. If it ends with Hurstwood, you've got one of the unexpurgated or repaired editions. I found the foreword of my edition by Alfred Kazin helpful in understanding the publishing history.)

edited by Hazel Holt and Hilary Pym

The young woman has just read a novel by Rosamond Lehmann about the suffering of women in love-- it makes her feel inferior as if she isn't capable of suffering so much. Perhaps when I'm older, she thinks hopefully.
pg. 189

First of all, let me say that if you have not read any novels by Barbara Pym, then you should remedy that quickly. Not because of this book, exactly, but because I tend to believe that most people's lives are richer for having at least read The Sweet Dove Died (as one choice). Certainly if you have any interest in reading Pym's letters and diaries, it would be better to first read one of her books.

I haven't read just one of her books. I have read most of them. (I had originally planned to write that I read all of them, but I realize that this isn't true-- I've never gotten around to either Some Tame Gazelle or A Few Green Leaves.) I also love to read diaries and letters. I was a natural to read this book and it didn't disappoint me. I really enjoyed it-- a rare treat to look a little ways into the mind of one of my favorite writers.

The book spans the years between 1932, when Pym was at Oxford, and 1979, when she sadly died of breast cancer. Her sister, Hilary Pym, provides a biographical sketch of her early life. As the title of the book suggests, the material is arrange chronologically and drawn from Pym's diaries, notebooks, and letters.

As is normal in a case like this, there is more material for some years than others. This can make the pacing a bit odd if one tries to read it as a narrative-- I wished for more in some places and (honestly) less in others. I love her tone, and I added quite a few novels to my reading list based on what she recommended. I was most struck by her sense of time passing-- it never left her, not all the way through her life.

I am not sure how much I would recommend this book if a reader did not like nor was not familiar with Pym as a novelist. I can recommend it wholeheartedly for her already established fans.

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