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In the Bleak MidwinterJulia Spencer-Fleming
358 pages
Clare Fergusson, an Episcopal priest in her mid-30s, has recently arrived in Millers Kill, NY to serve the congregation at St. Alban's. When a newborn baby is left on the church doorstep, she meets police chief Russ Van Alstyne, and thus begins their crime-solving partnership. In trying to find the baby's parents, they uncover a murder, which naturally leads to further investigation There are many potential suspects, and plenty of interesting developments that keep the story moving.
Clare and Russ, on the surface, appear to be an improbable partnership. However, prior to joining the clergy Clare served in the Army, and was trained in survival skills. Russ is a Vietnam veteran and has lived in Millers Kill for years. He feels a strong sense of ownership over the town and its inhabitants. As a minister, Clare has unique access to members of her congregation, which is both a blessing and a curse. Oh, and there's a little frisson of attraction between Clare and Russ, which adds an element of "will they or won't they" to the novel. They make a good pair.
And Spencer-Fleming kept me guessing all the way to the end. The last 100 pages or so were filled with suspense, as all the pieces began to fall into place. This was a very well-written, character-driven mystery and I'm looking forward to reading the next in the series. (
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SavilleDavid Storey
506 pages
This book reads like a student's report of "What I did on my Summer Vacation": a chronology of events told in a factual style with absolutely no drama whatsoever. The student essay has a distinct advantage: it's short. Saville, on the other hand, is a 500-page tome that plods through the life of Colin Saville. The story opens with his parents moving into a squalid home in a Yorkshire mining village. They soon have a child -- Colin's older brother, Andrew, who died before Colin was born. And then Colin comes into the world, grows up, and is awarded a scholarship to go to a decent grammar school. He has various friends, some from his village and others from his school. He works summer jobs. He decides to attend a 2-year college instead of university. He meets various young ladies. He tries hard to overcome his humble origins.
And I'm sorry, but it's all dreadfully dull. There's not a single moment of suspense, tension, or emotion. There were several occasions where I thought a subplot might actually be going somewhere: perhaps a character would turn out to be evil, or some tragedy would befall the Saville family. But no -- even Andrew's death was treated matter-of-factly, and was not mentioned again until Colin was about 20 years old. When he told his girlfriend that his brother's death had a profound impact on his life, all I could say was, "huh?" I'm not sure how I finished it, and I confess to skimming the last 100 pages.
This book suffered significantly from an overdone theme ("dreary English mining village"), coupled with a semi-autobiographical story that was definitely of more interest to the author than it would be to anyone else. (
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The Emperor's ChildrenClaire Messud
431 pages
Marina, Danielle, and Julius were classmates at Brown University and are all now approaching 30, and making their way in New York City. Marina is the daughter of Murray Thwaite, a famous journalist. She has been working on her first book for many years, and has never held a "real job." She lives with her parents, having recently moved back home after ending a long-term relationship. Julius is a gay freelance writer who lives lives in a squalid apartment and finds work through a temp agency while waiting for his next writing assignments. Danielle produces television programs, and is the only one with a steady income. The Emperor's Children follows these three over the course of a year. While they rarely cross paths in their day-to-day lives, the bonds of friendship are strong and they do call on each other for help and support. Another key figure in this story is Frederick "Bootie" Tubb, Murray's nephew, who has dropped out of university, and came to New York hoping to find himself and make a living. Murray provides Bootie a place to live, and takes him on as his secretary. Danielle is instrumental in finding Marina a job with a magazine startup, and Marina offers both Julius and Bootie the chance to write an article for the inaugural issue. Julius meets romantic interest David through one of his temp jobs, and begins to move in very different social circles. All of the young people look up to Murray as a role model of the successful and wealthy writer. Meanwhile, Murray is dealing with a bit of a mid-life crisis, and struggles to control everyone around him.
Messud draws an intriguing portrait of a certain social class. The characters in this novel are are shallow, superficial, and materialistic. It was difficult to care much about any of them, but I still found myself oddly drawn to their stories -- like watching an impending train wreck. But this book takes place in 2001 (and remember, in New York City). So of course September 11 was like the elephant in the room the entire time I was reading this book. On several instances, characters discussed events planned for September, which I just knew wouldn't turn out as planned. I was curious how Messud would address this pivotal event in the novel. After finishing the book I was left wondering if setting the novel in 2001 was just an afterthought, a convenient way to tie up the plot. The year is casually thrown into the text about 50 pages in. September 11 occurs 60 pages from the end of the book, and while it understandably changes the characters' lives, it was an all-too-easy way to catalyze certain events and bring the novel to a close. While this was a light read and somewhat pleasurable, it wasn't quite my thing. (
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A Short History of Tractors in UkrainianMarina Lewycka
294 pages
Oh, puh-leeze. This book annoyed me; let me count the ways.
First, we have two middle-aged sisters, Vera and Nadia, who emigrated from Ukraine to UK as children. They don't get along. And they have much angst about this but seem powerless to change their relationship.
Second, we have their father, Nikolai, an elderly widower also living in the UK. He's lonely and a bit naive. And he's writing a history of tractors, and relates the development of the tractor to other events in history. Actually, Nikolai didn't annoy me. I felt sorry for him. Let's move on.
Third, there's Valentina, a 30-something Ukrainian blond bombshell. She has a young son and very large breasts. Valentina convinces Nikolai to marry her in order to provide legal residency and an education for her son. As I mentioned, Nikolai is lonely and naive. And he likes her breasts. So he agrees.
Back to Vera and Nadia. Their father's marriage causes them even more angst. This, I could understand because Valentina turns out to be after Nikolai's money. And she spends it like there's no tomorrow. But Vera and Nadia? They whine, and talk, and fight with one another. Then they whine, and talk some more. Eventually they do something about the situation.
There were some interesting elements to this book, like gaining some understanding of Ukrainian political events that led to the family's relocation in the 1940s. And there was a great deal of humor in the book, especially the portrayal of Valentina who was really over the top. But almost from the beginning, I felt like I knew where the story would go. And the dynamics between the sisters bored me. When the "big reveal" came, which explained why the two were so different in a way that was supposed to be oh so emotional, it just left me flat. (
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OffshorePenelope Fitzgerald
140 pages
"Battersea Reach, ladies and gentlemen. On your right, the artistic colony. Folks live on those boats like they do on the Seine, it's the artist's life they're leading there. Yes, there's people living on those boats." (p. 16)
Along the banks of the Thames, a small group of boats sit permanently anchored, serving as home not to artists, but to a ragtag group of residents who, for various reasons, have chosen to live on the river instead of on land. Their de facto leader is Richard, of the Lord Jim, by far the best-kept boat in the group. Grace is home to Nenna and her two daughters. Her husband has left them and the girls attend school only occasionally. One boat's owner allows stolen goods to be held on board. Another is trying to sell his boat, and hopes none of the other residents will tell prospective buyers about the leak. The characters were largely misfits, with humorous quirks. I was sympathetic towards Nenna, with her general awkwardness, her difficulty raising young daughters alone, and and her inability to rescue her marriage.
Unfortunately however, the central theme of the novel eluded me. There were also several loose ends and incongruities in the plot. It was a light and sometimes pleasant read, but I am positively baffled as to how it won the Booker Prize. Ah well, at least it was short. (
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The Sugar HouseAntonia White
255 pages
This is the third in Antonia White's autobiographical series of novels. In two previous works, Clara Batchelor came of age through convent education and a job as a governess. The Sugar House takes place in 1920, when Clara is 21 years old and working as an actress with a touring company. Her naivete is evident from the start, when jokes about two gay actors go right over her head. Clara shares rooms with an older, brassier actress named Maidie. She also pines after Stephen Tye, an older actor she met prior to leaving on tour. Stephen is full of empty promises and strings Clara along for a while. When the inevitable happens, Clara turns to Archie, a former love who has turned up after a long absence. Clara met Archie while working as a governess, and was even engaged to him for a time. Archie has changed over the years, and not necessarily for the better. Eager to escape theatrical life and yet remain independent from her parents, Clara is blind to Archie's flaws and agrees to marry him. Almost immediately, the couple find themselves severely in debt due to a general unwillingness to live within their means, and exacerbated by Archie's drinking problem. He pours money into hare-brained schemes that go nowhere, and she loses confidence in her own ability to earn a living either by acting or writing.
As Clara and Archie's relationship deteriorates, Clara's depression worsens and she retreats into a bit of a cocoon. Two chance encounters help her emerge from the chrysalis with greater self-awareness. She is no longer a girl, but a woman desirable to other men. The novel concludes with a number of loose ends, but Clara is poised to exercise her independence in completely new ways. The Sugar House reinforces Virginia Woolf's view that that a woman needs "a room of her own" and an independent income, while also highlighting the importance of sexual discovery and independence. (
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Le Grand MeaulnesAlain-Fournier, translated by Frank Davison
205 pages
Le Grand Meaulnes is a romantic coming-of-age tale, a story of friendship, love, and loss. When Augustin Meaulnes arrives at a small French school, he is befriended by François Seurel, the 15-year-old son of the headmaster. François looks up to Meaulnes, who is two years older and both a dreamer and a rebel. The boys nickname him "Le Grande Meaulnes" which the translator explains is similar to the English phrase, "good old Meaulnes." One day, in an act of bravado, Meaulnes gets hold of a carriage, heads off on his own, gets lost, and ultimately finds himself at a very strange wedding feast. There he encounters the most beautiful woman he's ever seen: Yvonne de Galais. The feast breaks up rather abruptly when the groom's fiancee decides not to go through with the wedding. In the confusion, Meaulnes is separated from Yvonne, and he vows to find her again. He embarks on a quest of sorts, leaving François behind to finish his studies. The search for Yvonne takes a circuitous path involving François, a number of other colorful characters, and unexpected connections with the groom from the wedding feast.
Le Grand Meaulnes was Alain-Fournier's first novel. Sadly, he was killed in World War I in 1914, just two years after publication. His writing is beautiful; I was instantly transported back to 1890s rural France, where women dried their linen by draping it over the bushes, and men engaged in vigorous debate in the local cafe. The weather and scenery were described in vivid detail, further immersing me in the world of François and his friend Meaulnes:
Le Grand Meaulnes was Alain-Fournier's first novel. Sadly, he was killed in World War I in 1914, just two years after publication. His writing is beautiful; I was instantly transported back to 1890s rural France, where women dried their linen by draping it over the bushes, and men engaged in vigorous debate in the local cafe. The weather and scenery were described in vivid detail, further immersing me in the world of François and his friend Meaulnes:
And now, to swoop down from a hill-top into the hollows as if on wings; to see a blurred landscape far ahead divide and make an aisle for you and burst into leaf as you passed; to slip through a village taking everything in at a glance ... Only in dreams had I been wafted on such delightful flights. (p. 139)
While there were parts of this book I found a bit bizarre, and others that were slow-moving, overall the writing was so wonderful that I enjoyed it a great deal. (
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Wolf HallHilary Mantel
532 pages
I was thrilled to get my hands on the 2009 Booker Prize winner within just a few weeks of its US release. The first ten pages included a detailed cast of characters and a Tudor family tree, a sure sign I was diving into a rich, detailed saga. I hunkered down and was hooked from the first line, uttered by Walter Cromwell to his young son Thomas: "So now get up." From this point -- lying dazed and bloody on the pavement -- Thomas Cromwell rises to become one of King Henry VIII's most trusted advisers. The opening scene inspired him to leave his alcoholic, abusive father and go abroad, even though he was only about 15 years old. Over several years Cromwell became an astute accountant and lawyer, and the trusted adviser of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, who held the post of Lord Chancellor in Henry VIII's early court. When Wolsey fell out of favor with the King, Cromwell was savvy enough to stay out of the fray and position himself for greatness. Thomas More then became Lord Chancellor and campaigned against English Bible translations, most notably those by William Tyndale. Cromwell, as the King's chief minister, engineered the political hocus-pocus which allowed Henry to divorce his first wife Katherine and marry Anne Boleyn. This could only be done by establishing Henry's independence from the Catholic Church. More refused to accept this, and was executed.
But Wolf Hall is more than just a tale of political intrigue. Mantel takes the reader deep inside Cromwell's mind and heart. Far from being an unfeeling politician, Thomas Cromwell was a most human protagonist. He rose well above his lowly birth, and was not just literate but multi-lingual. He moved with ease among dukes and royalty, but never forgot his origins. And while he was a savvy negotiator, he also showed compassion, especially to those like More who would lose their lives as part of the English Reformation. Cromwell was also intensely devoted to his family, providing for nieces and nephews as well as his own children. As his wealth and influence grew, he was able to broker advantageous marriages for his family that continued to move them up in society. Almost single-handedly, he changed the course of history.
The fate of people is made like this, two men in small rooms. Forget the coronations, the conclaves of cardinals, the pomp and processions. This is how the world changes: a counter pushed across a table, a pen stroke that alters the force of a phrase ... (p.499)
The novel ends in 1535 on a high note: Henry VIII was still married to Anne, and Cromwell was at the peak of his career. And yet, anyone with even a passing knowledge of Tudor history knows of Henry's mercurial behavior. Both Anne and Cromwell would eventually fall out of favor. But that's a story for another novel, one that Mantel has hinted she intends to write. I can't wait. (
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To the LighthouseVirginia Woolf
209 pages
This classic Virginia Woolf novel is such a "mood piece." Comprised of three major sections, To the Lighthouse is predominantly a portrait of the Ramsey family and its influential, beautiful matriarch. Most of the "action" (and I use that term loosely) takes place at a summer home off the coast of Scotland. Part 1 is a "day in the life" of Mrs. Ramsey, whose house is chock-a-block with visitors. She is a constant presence, caring for the youngest of her eight children, keeping a watchful eye on her moody husband, meddling a bit in young romance, and ensuring both timely, well-prepared meals and the general happiness of her guests. The tempo is slow, the imagery evocative, the overall feeling ethereal.
Part 2 is a short section called "Time Passes," in which the next ten years unfold in factual narrative. And yet this section, which unveiled a number of significant Ramsey family events, had a surprisingly emotional impact. This was followed by Part 3, with the Ramsey family once again at their holiday home, picking up the pieces of a life gone somewhat awry. The youngest children, now teenagers, accompany their father on a visit to a lighthouse near the island. They are filled with teenage resentment, pent up over years of somewhat tyrannical paternal rule. Their emotions ebb and flow like the waves lapping at the side of their boat.
And what happens, exactly? Not much. And yet, somehow, I was entranced by this family's life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach (p. 47) This is a book best read, and re-read, and savored to glean new details and insights each time. (
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Rites of PassageWilliam Golding
278 pages
When Edmund Talbot leaves England on a ship bound for Australia, he begins a journal dedicated to his godfather and patron. In it he records details of daily life and detailed descriptions of the passengers and crew (many of whom are quite interesting characters). He takes pride in learning maritime vocabulary; that is, once he has overcome extreme seasickness. As a member of the educated upper class he remains at arms' length from most of the passengers and views events with amusement and a certain detached superiority. His social interactions are limited primarily to Summers, an unusually well-spoken officer.
Also on board is a young parson, the Reverend James Colley. For reasons that go unexplained until the end of the book, The ship's captain despises the parson from the outset. Colley persists in currying the captain's favor, and also attempts to befriend Edmund. Edmund initially tries to support the parson, encouraging services to be held on ship. But he is ultimately repelled by Colley's over-eager attempts at friendship. Eventually the tension surrounding Colley reaches its climax, and when Edmund finds a journal written by Colley, the narrative point of view shifts. The voyage is recounted for the reader, pointing out details Edmund had missed, and highlighting Edmund's own role in the conflict.
I liked Golding's technique of telling this sea tale through the two journals. The strengths and foibles of both men were clearly portrayed, and the journals brought the voyage to life with vivid detail. Golding also offers a candid view of the English class structure, which is as present at sea as it is on land. In fact, there is an entire subculture on ship -- the crew and "the emigrants" -- that the reader is barely exposed to, since neither Edmund nor Reverend Colley would mix with them.
This book is the first of a trilogy which was made into a BBC dramatization, To the Ends of the Earth. The story in Rites of Passage was the best part of the dramatization for me, and even though it was familiar I still enjoyed reading this book. (
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DisgraceJ.M. Coetzee
220 pages
David Lurie is a 50-something university professor, twice divorced. He's not particularly skilled at relationships. Perhaps he doesn't even understand what a relationship truly is, since early on he assumes that weekly encounters with a prostitute constitute some kind of more permanent bond. When the prostitute leaves town, David finds himself without female companionship and makes the even more egregious error of striking up an affair with a student. Of course this is discovered, and David leaves the university in disgrace. He visits his adult daughter Lucy, who runs a small farm and dog kennel in a rough and sometimes dangerous part of rural South Africa. At first it seems David will ease into the slower pace of country life, come to terms with the wrong he has done to others, and potentially make peace. But Coetzee has other plans, and visits upon David and Lucy an horrific act of violence resulting in even more disgrace, this time affecting both of them. Their emotional recovery -- individually and collectively -- is at the center of this novel.
David is not a particularly likable character. He is so interpersonally inept that he nearly always makes the wrong choice. I didn't really care whether he recovered from his ordeal; in many cases he got what he deserved. Lucy, on the other hand, was a more sympathetic figure. A lesbian abandoned by her partner just before David's arrival, she is fiercely independent. She is committed to making her farm successful, despite the danger of being a woman alone in that part of the country. She resists David's attempt to protect her (a natural response for a father, but still unwelcome). And yet despite her independence and strong will, when faced with a situation requiring legal action, she prefers to give in and try to make peace herself. She succeeds to some degree, but with tremendous personal sacrifice.
Disgrace raised up many ethical and moral issues, prompting me to consider how I might handle similar situations. Interesting reading. (
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David is not a particularly likable character. He is so interpersonally inept that he nearly always makes the wrong choice. I didn't really care whether he recovered from his ordeal; in many cases he got what he deserved. Lucy, on the other hand, was a more sympathetic figure. A lesbian abandoned by her partner just before David's arrival, she is fiercely independent. She is committed to making her farm successful, despite the danger of being a woman alone in that part of the country. She resists David's attempt to protect her (a natural response for a father, but still unwelcome). And yet despite her independence and strong will, when faced with a situation requiring legal action, she prefers to give in and try to make peace herself. She succeeds to some degree, but with tremendous personal sacrifice.
Disgrace raised up many ethical and moral issues, prompting me to consider how I might handle similar situations. Interesting reading. (
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The Snow GoosePaul Gallico
46 pages
Physical deformity often breeds hatred of humanity in men. Rhayader did not hate; he loved very greatly, man, the animal kingdom, and all nature. His heart was filled with pity and understanding. He had mastered his handicap, but he could not master the rebuffs he suffered, due to his appearance. The thing that drove him into seclusion was his failure to find anywhere a return of the warmth that flowed from him. (p. 8)
Philip Rhayader lived alone in a lighthouse in the marshes of Essex, in England. Alone, he tended birds in his sanctuary, and painted the surrounding landscape. One day, a young girl named Frith brought him an injured snow goose. The goose had been blown off course during its annual migration in Canada. Then, on landing in the marsh, she was shot by hunters. Rhayader rehabilitated and released the bird, and then something highly unusual happened: the snow goose returned year after year. And each year, Frith returned to visit Rhayader and the goose. Their shared affection for the snow goose mirrored the growing bond between them. One day, Frith encounters Rhayader readying his boat to sail. He has decided to sail for Dunkirk, to help with the evacuation of British soldiers. When he leaves, the snow goose sets sail with him, flying in circles over the small boat. Fritha is left behind to care for the other birds and look after Rhayader's paintings. From this point the story crescendos into a heart-wrenching tale of love and hope.
Gallico's writing is absolutely gorgeous.
Tidal creeks and estuaries and the crooked, meandering arms of many little rivers whose mouths lap at the edge of the ocean cut through the sodden land that seems to rise and fall and breathe with the recurrence of the daily tides. It is desolate, utterly lonely, and made lonelier by the calls and cries of the wildfowl that make their homes in the marshlands and saltings -- the wildgeese and the gulls, the teal and the widgeon, the tedshanks and curlews that pick their way through the tidal pools. (p. 5)
This may be a children's book, but its lessons of love, friendship, and valor are timeless and just as meaningful for adult readers.
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Empire FallsRichard Russo
483 pages
Miles Roby lives in the small town of Empire Falls, Maine. Once a thriving textile mill town, Empire Falls now suffers from lack of economic development. Miles runs the Empire Grill, a job he has held since leaving college to care for his dying mother. He is separated from his wife Janine, who is about to remarry. Miles and Janine share responsibility for their teenage daughter Tick (a nickname for Christina), who is having a hard time with Janine's new relationship. Miles' elderly father, Max, is a ne'er-do-well who rarely has two pennies to rub together and is always looking to Miles for a handout.
The Empire Grill is actually owned by Francine Whiting, wealthy widow of textile magnate C.B. Whiting. Francine holds a strange power of Miles, having made vague promises that the grill would become his upon her death. And it turns out Mrs. Whiting has exerted power of Miles most of his life. Why would Mrs. Whiting care about Miles? How did their lives become intertwined? As Miles goes about his daily routine, the answers to these questions gradually become clear.
The novel unfolds at a slow pace, with Russo first painting detailed portraits of all the major characters. Then there are occasional chapters in which Miles remembers events from his past. These episodes are retold from Miles' point of view at the time. Memories of a childhood vacation, or of learning to drive, are described with the perspective of a child, who may not always understand the intricacies of adult relationships or of "real life." Yet it's through these episodes that the reader begins to see how and why the Roby and Whiting families have become intertwined.
While Miles' relationship with Mrs. Whiting provides the central tension in the novel, there are several equally rich sub-plots that are explored in similar depth. The residents of Empire Falls have grown up there together; high school friendships and rivalries play out in adulthood. And for Tick, that cycle is only just beginning, as she learns to navigate the sometimes painful paths of adolescent relationships.
Reading Empire Falls, I began to feel as if I knew these people. I found myself thinking about them when I wasn't reading; they were very real to me and will likely linger in my memory for some time. (
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The Uncommon ReaderAlan Bennett
120 pages
It was a hobby and it was in the nature of her job that she didn't have hobbies. ... Hobbies involved preferences and preferences had to be avoided; preferences excluded people. (p. 6)
Alan Bennett's wonderful novella imagines what would happen if the Queen suddenly became an avid reader. When her much-loved corgis get loose and charge into a mobile library, Queen Elizabeth II charges in after them, and then feels an obligation to check out a book. And thus begins her obsession with reading; her discovery of great literature. Reading very quickly takes precedence over a multitude of royal obligations, sometimes causing her to be late, or creating conversational cul-de-sacs with staff and subjects alike:
Alan Bennett's wonderful novella imagines what would happen if the Queen suddenly became an avid reader. When her much-loved corgis get loose and charge into a mobile library, Queen Elizabeth II charges in after them, and then feels an obligation to check out a book. And thus begins her obsession with reading; her discovery of great literature. Reading very quickly takes precedence over a multitude of royal obligations, sometimes causing her to be late, or creating conversational cul-de-sacs with staff and subjects alike:
Still, though reading absorbed her, what the Queen had not expected was the degree to which it drained her of enthusiasm for anything else. It's true that the at prospect of opening yet another swimming-baths her heart didn't exactly leap up, but even so, she had not exactly resented having to do it. ... Now she surveyed the unrelenting progression of tours, travels, and undertakings stretching years into the future only with dread. (p. 60)
Well, what avid reader hasn't felt the same way from time to time? Bennett keeps tongue firmly in cheek throughout this short book, satirizing the royals and English society. Yet he also paints an engaging portrait of the "real life" led by a public figure. The Uncommon Reader was a wonderful diversion that could be read again and again with enjoyment. (
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It was a rainy day today, and I spent it holed up indoors, making spaghetti sauce and reading. My book was completely riveting, and I zipped through it in just a few sittings. So I'd like to share my review with all of you. I'll be back next week with a September and Third Quarter wrap-up!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Snow GeeseWilliam Fiennes
243 pages
Drifts of specks appeared above the horizon ring. Each speck became a goose. Flocks were converging on the pond from every compass point, a diaspora in reverse, snow geese flying in loose Vs and Ws and long skeins that wavered like seaweed strands, each bird intent on the roost at the centre of the horizon's circumference. ... Sometimes whole flocks circled over the roost, thousands of geese swirling round and round, as if the pond were the mouth of a drain and these geese the whirlpool turning above it. (p. 27)
This was William Fiennes' first glimpse of snow geese, in Texas, as they began their spring migration to the Canadian tundra. While recovering from a serious health issue, Fiennes read a classic story from his childhood, Paul Gallico's The Snow Goose. This sparked an interest in birds, and a strong desire to see snow geese first-hand. He decided to travel from his native England to Texas, and follow the geese the full length of their spring migration. Although he expected to keep pace with the geese, sometimes he arrived at his next stage well ahead of the birds, who would stop traveling if weather conditions were less than ideal. For Fiennes, the journey was spiritual as well as physical. As the geese flew by the thousands to their northern breeding ground, Fiennes was on a path to emotional recovery, repairing a soul shaken by his illness. He found both solace and insight in those he met along the way. These included Eleanor, a Texas widow; Jean, a former tennis-playing nun; a man named David and his father-in-law, nicknamed "The Viking"; and a woman named Ruth whose generosity provided Fiennes with the renewal he needed to complete his journey.
Fiennes' prose is marvelous, especially when describing the natural world. As he moved from gulf coast to prairie to tundra, each stage was markedly different from the one before. Fiennes became expert at identifying different types of birds. His memoir digresses into passages about why birds migrate, and the paths taken by different species. I'm a bird geek, so I liked these segments. And as his trip progressed, Fiennes also explored concepts of nostalgia and homesickness. He particularly struggled when stuck in a remote outpost in advance of the geese, with everything around him completely unfamiliar. And yet, while being away increased his love for the house where he grew up, he also developed a deeper understanding of its importance, and how this understanding could help him to move forward with his life:
I had to turn my nostalgia inside-out, so that my love for the house, for the sense of belonging I experienced there, instilled not a constant desire to go back but a desire to find that sense of belonging, that security and happiness, in some other place, with some other person, or in some other mode of being. The yearning had to be forward-looking. You had to be homesick for somewhere you had not yet seen, nostalgic for things that had not yet happened. (p. 204)
This was a beautiful, moving book. Highly recommended. (
)If you'd like to read more about this book, dovegreyreader wrote an excellent review and was lucky enough to interview the author!
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The Long GoodbyeRaymond Chandler
379 pages
For quite some time now, my husband had been urging me to read "hard-boiled" detective fiction. And I chose this particular book because it won an Edgar Award, and is on the list of "1001 Books you Must Read Before you Die." Well, I have to say the only reason I made it all the way to the end was because I love my husband, and wanted to give this book a fair shake. But it really wasn't my cup of tea.
Philip Marlowe is a private eye in 1940s Hollywood, California. The Long Goodbye opens with Marlowe encountering a couple outside a bar. The man is quite drunk; the woman drives off in their car, leaving the man in a pretty sad state. Marlowe takes him home, gets him sober, and is drawn into friendship with this mysterious man, Terry Lennox. They meet for drinks several times. Then one night, Lennox visits Marlowe and asks to be taken to Tijuana. His wife has just been killed and although Terry didn't commit the murder, he knows he will be implicated. Marlowe helps him get away, but Terry's story is far from over. Meanwhile, Marlowe takes up another case involving an alcoholic writer. The two cases turn out to have a connection, which is gradually revealed.
But I didn't really care, and that was my problem with this book. If there's one thing I've learned about my reading, it's that I enjoy character-driven novels. In The Long Goodbye, every single character was a stereotype. The central characters were fabulously wealthy (except for Marlowe, who still managed to move within their society with relative ease). There were a few seedy characters who acted suspiciously, just to keep the reader interested. The local police were violent, ineffetive, or both. Most characters had some level of dependency on alcohol or drugs, and associated behavioral issues. There were few women in this book, but all of them were blonde bombshells with only one real function in life.
It's a shame -- Raymond Chandler is quite famous for this type of novel, and some of the film adaptations make for interesting viewing. But I think I'll take a pass on his other books. (
)One of Ours
Willa Cather
459 pages
This is the story of Claude Wheeler, a young man who grew up on a Nebraska farm in the early 1900s. Claude is pursuing a university education at a religious college chosen by his parents, but is both unhappy with his education and uncertain about his goals. While he longs for the finer things in life that come from an advanced degree, he also has a strong sense of family loyalty and will interrupt his studies to assist with farm work when necessary. When Claude's father buys a large parcel of land from another farmer, he also decides Claude will return home and assume responsibility for the original family farm. Claude sets aside his higher ambitions and throws himself into farming. He gets married and appears set to spend the rest of his days on the farm, until World War I breaks out and Claude decides to join the American forces in France.
My copy of this book came from my local library and, unfortunately, the book jacket included huge spoilers in its first two sentences. This threatened to ruin the book for me, but I tried to make lemonade from these lemons. Since I already knew about some pivotal events in Claude's life, I read with a view toward understanding why this book won the 1923 Pulitzer Prize. Typical of Cather's work, One of Ours is filled with vivid images of the American prairie, and the first- and second-generation immigrants who worked the land. Frankfort is a conservative community; its people are steeped in their faith and rather isolated from the broader world. As the threat of war loomed large, Claude's "mother had gone up to 'Mahailey’s library,' the attic, to hunt for a map of Europe,—a thing for which Nebraska farmers had never had much need. But that night, on many prairie homesteads, the women, American and foreign-born, were hunting for a map." Cather also shows the dark side of the community when certain members of German descent are charged with "disloyalty" and subject to a hearing in court. Cather's portrayal of wartime France is also very much focused on people, much more than the fighting. It's an interesting angle.
Since One of Ours was published just a few short years after the end of World War I, it was received at a time when emotions were still quite raw. Cather's writing is, as always, superb. And her portrayal of an innocent farm boy who serves in battle would have struck a chord for just about anyone. Unfortunately once I knew how things would turn out there were sections that seemed to drag on endlessly. I probably would have given this book a higher rating had there not been spoilers ... frustrating! ( )
Willa Cather
459 pages
This is the story of Claude Wheeler, a young man who grew up on a Nebraska farm in the early 1900s. Claude is pursuing a university education at a religious college chosen by his parents, but is both unhappy with his education and uncertain about his goals. While he longs for the finer things in life that come from an advanced degree, he also has a strong sense of family loyalty and will interrupt his studies to assist with farm work when necessary. When Claude's father buys a large parcel of land from another farmer, he also decides Claude will return home and assume responsibility for the original family farm. Claude sets aside his higher ambitions and throws himself into farming. He gets married and appears set to spend the rest of his days on the farm, until World War I breaks out and Claude decides to join the American forces in France.
My copy of this book came from my local library and, unfortunately, the book jacket included huge spoilers in its first two sentences. This threatened to ruin the book for me, but I tried to make lemonade from these lemons. Since I already knew about some pivotal events in Claude's life, I read with a view toward understanding why this book won the 1923 Pulitzer Prize. Typical of Cather's work, One of Ours is filled with vivid images of the American prairie, and the first- and second-generation immigrants who worked the land. Frankfort is a conservative community; its people are steeped in their faith and rather isolated from the broader world. As the threat of war loomed large, Claude's "mother had gone up to 'Mahailey’s library,' the attic, to hunt for a map of Europe,—a thing for which Nebraska farmers had never had much need. But that night, on many prairie homesteads, the women, American and foreign-born, were hunting for a map." Cather also shows the dark side of the community when certain members of German descent are charged with "disloyalty" and subject to a hearing in court. Cather's portrayal of wartime France is also very much focused on people, much more than the fighting. It's an interesting angle.
Since One of Ours was published just a few short years after the end of World War I, it was received at a time when emotions were still quite raw. Cather's writing is, as always, superb. And her portrayal of an innocent farm boy who serves in battle would have struck a chord for just about anyone. Unfortunately once I knew how things would turn out there were sections that seemed to drag on endlessly. I probably would have given this book a higher rating had there not been spoilers ... frustrating! (
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Paddy Clarke Ha Ha HaRoddy Doyle
282 pages
The narrator and title character of this story, 10-year-old Patrick Clarke, is a fairly typical Irish boy. He runs with a pack of boys, playing football and finding ample opportunities for mischief. He tolerates his younger brother Francis (nicknamed Sinbad), and barely pays attention to his younger sisters. Adults -- teachers, friends' parents, and his own parents -- are mysterious creatures. He understands little about the adult world, and cares little about it as well. That is, until the small cracks in his family structure widen into fissures, and then chasms. As the oldest child, Patrick assumes responsibility for maintaining a cohesive family environment, and believes he can influence and redirect the growing emotional tension between his parents.
For the first two-thirds of this book, Roddy Doyle places the reader right in the middle of Patrick and his friends, experiencing their hijinks, and seeing the world through their eyes. I found myself reliving my own childhood, when my friends & I explored the woods behind my house, and speculated (quite erroneously) about the actions of our neighbors. And then, Patrick becomes aware that his mother and father are not getting along. He doesn't understand why, and tries desperately to correct the situation. Because the story is told entirely from Patrick's point of view, many questions go unanswered and the reader is left similarly powerless. Doyle's technique was quite effective; I desperately wanted to take Patrick aside, explain what was happening in his life, and give him a big hug. This was a touching, poignant story. (
)My Cousin Rachel
Daphne Du Maurier
288 pages
Dear Mrs. Du Maurier,
I so enjoyed your classic novel, Rebecca, that I resolved to read more of your work. While I quite enjoyed Jamaica Inn, I feel compelled to tell you of my disappointment in My Cousin Rachel. I know Rebecca was a smashing success -- in fact, over 70 years later it is still your most famous and best-loved work -- but that's no excuse for rehashing the same characters and themes. To wit:
What happened? Were you under pressure to publish another novel? Were you running out of steam after such a prolific career? I notice that you turned to short stories for a time after publishing My Cousin Rachel; perhaps you just needed a break.
I have not given up on you, Mrs. Du Maurier, far from it -- but I think I'll focus on your earlier work.
Fondly,
Laura ( )
Daphne Du Maurier
288 pages
Dear Mrs. Du Maurier,
I so enjoyed your classic novel, Rebecca, that I resolved to read more of your work. While I quite enjoyed Jamaica Inn, I feel compelled to tell you of my disappointment in My Cousin Rachel. I know Rebecca was a smashing success -- in fact, over 70 years later it is still your most famous and best-loved work -- but that's no excuse for rehashing the same characters and themes. To wit:
- Young, impressionable protagonist (female in Rebecca; male in Rachel)
- Older, strangely sinister romantic interest (male in Rebecca; female in Rachel)
- Iconic dead person (female in Rebecca; male in Rachel)
- Large manor house replete with servants
- Occasional travel to mediterranean countries
- Young, impressionable protagonist keeping silly secrets that later embarrass them in front of a crowd
What happened? Were you under pressure to publish another novel? Were you running out of steam after such a prolific career? I notice that you turned to short stories for a time after publishing My Cousin Rachel; perhaps you just needed a break.
I have not given up on you, Mrs. Du Maurier, far from it -- but I think I'll focus on your earlier work.
Fondly,
Laura (
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Wallace Stegner
569 pages
What interests me in all these papers is not Susan Burling Ward the novelist and illustrator, and not Oliver Ward the engineer, and not the West they spend their lives in. What really interests me is how two such unlike particles clung together, and under what strains, rolling downhill into their future until they reached the angle of repose where I knew them. That's where the interest is. That's where the meaning will be if I find any. (p. 211)
Lyman Ward is writing a family history. More specifically, it's the story of a marriage between his grandmother (Susan Burling Ward) and grandfather (Oliver Ward) who lived in the American West in the late 1800s. Day after day, Lyman pores over family records, news clippings, and letters, and records his thoughts on cassette tapes. Lyman lives alone, is out of touch with his family, and severely disabled due to a bone disease. He gets around in a wheelchair, and uses only a few rooms of his house. Every evening a neighbor woman stops in to check on Lyman and give him his bath, and they have a nightcap together. The story of Susan and Oliver Ward begins around 1870, when Susan was a budding artist in New York. She moves in artsy social circles, and spends nearly every minute with a very dear friend, Augusta. When Augusta decides to marry Susan sees their relationship beginning to change, and she sets her sights on Oliver, a mining engineer. While they agree to marry, the union is put off for several years while Oliver establishes his career and readies a home for himself and Susan.
When frontier historians theorize about the uprooted, the lawless, the purseless, and the socially cut-off who settled the West, they are not talking about people like my grandmother. So much that was cherished and loved, women like her had to give up; and the more they gave it up, the more they carried it helplessly with them. It was a process like ionization: what was subtracted from one pole was added to the other. (p. 277)
In moving west, Susan sacrificed all she knew and held dear. Accustomed to moving in cultured, literate circles, she initially threw herself into mining camp life with gusto. But she brought her art supplies with her, and continued to draw. Augusta's husband Thomas, now a successful magazine editor, commissioned several pieces and relied on Susan for her interesting portraits of life in the far-off west. Susan also enjoyed evenings by the fire with two of Oliver's colleagues, Frank Sargent and Ian Price. In them she found others who loved literature and stimulating conversation; it fed her soul.
I know that Grandfather was trying to do, by personal initiative and with the financial resources of a small and struggling corporation, what only the immense power of the federal government ultimately proved able to do. That does not mean he was foolish or mistaken. He was premature. His clock was set on pioneer time. He met trains that had not yet arrived, he waited on platforms that hadn't yet been built, beside tracks that might never be laid .... Hope was always out ahead of fact, possibility obscured the outlines of reality. (p. 382)
Oliver was a successful engineer, rewarded for his hard work through promotions and special projects. He was a bit of a dreamer, envisioning possibilities and developing new materials and methods in his own time. He was usually a bit ahead of the curve, with ideas not quite ready for prime time. And while money was often tight, Oliver refused to allow Susan's earnings to be used to support the family. Oliver and Susan had a family, and moved several times for Oliver's work. Their son Ollie (Lyman's father) was often sent to stay with relatives in New York, because the mining camps were deemed unsuitable.
Through his research, Lyman carefully pieces together the story of Oliver and Susan's marriage, reconstructing the series of events which brought their relationship to the "angle of repose" (the angle at which soil settles after being dumped). Susan loved Oliver and had faith in his abilities, but was often disappointed with the actual results. She wanted so badly for her children to grow up refined and "Eastern," and became increasingly frustrated with their living conditions and the people she encountered day-to-day. Susan and Oliver's fortunes, and their hopes for the future, ebb and flow over the years. As Lyman tells Susan and Oliver's story, he tries to come to terms with his own failed marriage and the rapidly changing world around him.
I absolutely loved this book. The prose captured me instantly, and I became completely wrapped up both in Lyman's California of 1970, and the dusty Victorian mining camps. I identified strongly with Susan: her feelings of isolation, her persistence in keeping her artistic talents fresh, her devotion to her family, her longing for intellectual stimulation. And my heart went out to Lyman, with his own isolation and struggles with a failing body. These characters were so real to me; during the week it took me to read this book, I thought about them all the time. Towards the end, I wanted to prolong the relationship -- instead of rushing to finish, I read the last 50 pages very slowly, setting the book aside to make it last. This will undoubtedly make my "Top 10" list for the year. (