This is one of the books that I always "meant to read" but never got around to, despite its tiny page count and ginormous reputation. Having read it,...moreThis is one of the books that I always "meant to read" but never got around to, despite its tiny page count and ginormous reputation. Having read it, I feel like I've checked off a big ol' checkmark - so that's pretty satisfying.
WARNING: Lots of spoilers ahead, but I'm not marking it off because I'm assuming a lot of people know the story, even if they haven't read the words....
A lot of you guys probably know that this book set off a couple trends - both rather disheartening:
1. (less serious, but distressingly calls to mind the fashion of today's Emo kids): men wearing yellow pants with blue overcoats - just FYI: this was not a good look then and it is not a good look now.
2. Suicide
After the book was published, it was subsequently banned in many places in an effort to curtail young men from imitating the climatic suicide of Werther.
When I picked up the book and started reading I was vastly irritated with Werther as a character. Whiny, angsty, woe-is-me. My impression of Werther was that he was the needy kid in class who always gets up in your personal space and spouts pop-philosophy at you, trying to make you feel inferior so they fell better. Yet somehow you always feel sorry for him. Kind of. When he's not irritating the crap out of you.(You people know this kid.)
Enter Charlotte the Adored. Somehow I found myself rooting for Werther in his attempts to win her heart (mainly because it seemed like he was winning it - in spite of his stalkerish Edward-from-Twilight approach). But Werther's angst is further angstified by the fact that Charlotte's already engaged to another guy (Team Albert!).
Really, I'm kind of ashamed of myself because I thought that anyone who would imitate this guy and kill themselves was...um...stupid.
But what follows this opening sequence of seeming emotional ranting and woe is a troubling look at the psychology that precedes a suicide. It's almost textbook. And Werther made some convincing arguments for suicide - including knocking folks like me, who haven't been there - and therefore can't know:
"It is in vain that a man of sound mind and cool temper understands the condition of such a wretched being, in vain he counsels him. He can no more communicate his own wisdom to him than a healthy man can instil his strength into the invalid by whose bedside he is seated." (p 41)
In other words: you can't tell someone who is depressed to "get over it."
And Goethe's descriptions of Werther's actions match almost point for point the clinical symptoms of depression:
In the evening I say I will enjoy the next morning's sunrise, and yet I remain in bed; in the day I promise to ramble by moonlight, and I nevertheless remain at home. I know not why I rise, nor why I got to sleep.
But the piece that got me - and probably quite a few men in pre-Revolution France - was the argument between Werther and his rival Albert. They discuss suicide openly, and Albert claims it is the coward's way out: "It is much easier to die than to bear a life of misery with fortitude." Werhter's reaction is to compare suicide to a "nation which has long groaned under the intolerable yoke of a tyrant rises at last and throws of its chains - do you call that weakness?" His argument is basically that suicide is action, and therefore a braver thing than just taking what life throws at you.
(Which I disagree with, but his argument could be convincing to the right listener - as history has proved.)
As far as the writing itself goes, well, there's miles of flowers. (Sometimes literally.) The reverence of the 'sublime' (the sensation of being small when compared to nature) was on the rise when Goethe wrote, so there's lots of nature involved.
It's an epistolary novel, so it's all letters and journal entries. This can get tedious and there's an awkward transition after Werther pulls the trigger.
It's well worth reading, but make sure you're in a happy place before you jump in. And I hope your happy place doesn't involve yellow pants. (less)
Woolf's work should come with a disclaimer: "Professional writer driving on a closed track."
A few times during the earlier bit of this book (The Wind...moreWoolf's work should come with a disclaimer: "Professional writer driving on a closed track."
A few times during the earlier bit of this book (The Window) the pace was slow and I had a terrible time focusing. I admit to 'what is the point?' popping into my head. But then I got into the rhythm and got into the character's heads--which is truly Woolf's gift. Somehow, in the last line of The Window portion, where Mrs. Ramsay "triumphs" again...I got caught up again and moved into the middle section, Time Passes.
And that's the section where I fell in love. It made her point, I think. Time passing, the lighthouse like the arm of a clock, ticking, ticking away and guiding at the same time. Do something, now before too much time goes, or get swept away.
The Lighthouse (the third part, not the whole book) shows the consequences, the combination of the first two parts. And I thought it was all gorgeous--you may be surrounded by people who love you, or hate you, or are just there to surround you, but the choices a person makes are their own--and so are the consequences. Remembered? Forgotten?
Having been on many, many, many road trips with my military family -- I have to say that some of this story can be tedious. After all, spend enough ti...moreHaving been on many, many, many road trips with my military family -- I have to say that some of this story can be tedious. After all, spend enough time on the road, and you get dizzy with the monotony of the landscape. While there are those sections in this book, it is obvious that Kerouac's reaction to the monotony of the road is the sheer joy of being on the road.
Kerouac's observations are gorgeous, I really was swept away during the first part as he described eating apple pie in diners with almost no money in his pocket. I felt the wind as he sat in the back of truck stuffed with other men looking for work, trying to get home, or, like Kerouac, just enjoying the trip -- with a few nips of some alcohol or another to keep warm. His real talent as a writer is putting the mythic beside the profane...elevating and degrading both elements at the same time, like with this passage on the first time he saw the Mississippi River: "And here for the first time in my life I saw my beloved Mississippi River, dry in the summer haze, low water, with its big rank smell that smells like the raw body of America itself because it washes it up." (pg. 12)
Yeah, but while the descriptions of the road are lovely, nothing good happens whenever these boys stay still. Wives and children are left. Drugs are done. High-flown philosophizing that allows them to bow out of life occurs. Whenever the road ends -- on one coast or the other -- it's not good. Friends and family get tired of draining freeloaders real fast. And part of the frustration of the 'still moments' (as I call them) is that Sal and Dean (representations of Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady respectively) are oblivious to the emotional damage they inflict. Even when confronted by fed up wives/girlfriends/mothers directly, they don't see what they're doing.
It was a relief to me, as a reader, whenever they started moving again.
If you enjoy any of the following: fast cars, loose women, music, travel (and all the side roads that go along with it), America, your crazy uncle's stories, alcohol, and if you like it all set to beautiful language...well, you'll find something to like in this book.
If I'd read this alone on a mountaintop, or while camping, or just out in nature somewhere I'd probably've given this four stars. The descriptions of...moreIf I'd read this alone on a mountaintop, or while camping, or just out in nature somewhere I'd probably've given this four stars. The descriptions of nature, the out-and-out enthusiasm for the outdoors, and the romanticizing of living out of a backpack (which, for an indoor girl like me, is a hard sell) were the most engaging sections for me.
That and the descriptions of food were somehow entrancing. Who knew pork and beans could be so effective as a literary presentation? And I'm not being sarcastic either. After Kerouac describes the cold during the mountain climbs, or the extensive traveling without rest, the descriptions of food seem to rejuvenate the reader as well as the lead characters. It's a strange thing and I can't think of a book that comes close to describing food in such a satsifactory way. (Odd praise, I know, but it worked for me.)
Had the nature and backpacking and food been the center stage for this novel, it would've been just fine for me.
My issue comes with the pop-Buddhism. It really felt like Ray (the main character/Kerouac doppelganger) was an enthusiastic guy trying to understand something that he wasn't quite getting. He knew the terminology, knew some Buddhist practices and tried to apply it in his life...but there's a section where Japhy (the Ultimate Dharma Bum) calls him out and says that Ray is just putting everything into words. And that is exactly right -- I practically cheered when I got to that point. Ray is just describing and describing being "enlightened" but he never actually is, and doesn't see it, and it gets annoying.
Really, it's Ray's childlike enthusiasm and joie de vivre that make the pop-philosophy forgiveable.
Side note -- I found it hilarious that Alvah Goldbook, Allen Ginsberg's doppelganger, was the poet to protest the Buddhism the most. Funny, because Ginsberg was the most faithful of Buddhists after Kerouac introduced him to the religion...his funeral was in a Buddhist temple. There's just no predicting....
Silko is just a smashing writer. This was a gorgeous book that speaks to several important issues that are still resonating today: how to reconcile co...moreSilko is just a smashing writer. This was a gorgeous book that speaks to several important issues that are still resonating today: how to reconcile coming home from war? Can you ever come home again?
Tayo is a beautifully rendered character--his struggle is sometimes too painfully personal. His 'friends' provide another look at returning home from war and add, again sometimes too painful, a juxtaposition for Tayo's struggle (his ceremony) to heal.
There are wonderful poems and stories interspersed within the narrative. These give the whole a book a sense of being part of a larger story or mythology. (A belief system.) I don't know how Silko does it, but those poems add both a gravitas and a lightness.
Difficulties? Mainly that there are no chapter breaks, so it adds an element of breathlessness. The effect adds intensity but can be exhausting. (So, as a piece reflecting its subject matter, that's artistically astute, but for a reader just reading the book it doesn't make it easy....)(less)
It took me a while to get to this book - it's been on my to-read shelf for years and years. And when I opened up to the first scene, I almost had to p...moreIt took me a while to get to this book - it's been on my to-read shelf for years and years. And when I opened up to the first scene, I almost had to put it back down. Not because it was badly written...oh no...this is a fabulously realized story with a powerful voice...but because the opening scene was almost unbearably painful.
This made me read the rest of the book with a good degree of trepidation. Anything good or loving that came into these characters' lives I was terrified would be ripped away. Any moment I expected a child to die, a house to burn to the ground, or any number of other horrific events. While some readers or critics may call this suspense, somehow it translated to 'stress' for me. Perhaps upon rereading it I'll be able to enjoy the story's subtleties more than I do at present. Because I just know I missed stuff.
One of the subtleties that isn't actually very subtle but serves a subtle purpose (I hope that makes sense!) was the way in which Celie and Nettie's stories are told: via letter. For the first half of the book it was frustrating for me. I couldn't see why we had to be 'Dear God'-ing everything. Why couldn't Celie just theoretically be telling the story? Call me slow (I know I am) but by the time I got to the end I realized that it had to be told that way.
The letters - while they tell the reader the whole story - are never actually exchanged between the sisters. The only ones holding all the pieces are Celie and the reader. Nettie, who has been working with all her heart and soul in Africa sends her letters hoping to heaven that they reach Celie. Eventually, the letters get to where they're going...but if you pull back from the overall book, you realize how much silence, how much information is in the space. All because of the epistolary format.
(Ha! It occurs to me that even epistolary - from 'epistle' - is a Biblical style. So there's a lot of emphasis on the crises of faith that the characters suffer.)
In some ways, this book requires a reader very much like Adam, Celie's son: "He [Adam] is a very sensitive soul who hears what isn't said as clearly as what is."
What I really, really liked about Walker's characters is that they are far from perfect, but they generally figure out how to move through this world with grace and dignity. Even the low-down dirtiest characters somehow manage to accomplish something graceful by the end of the story. That doesn't forgive what they did in the past, of course, but it just goes to show that pure evil is a rarer thing than we give it credit for. (less)
**spoiler alert** The opening scene takes place in a high school gym, and despite the drastically altered context of the high school gym, it still man...more**spoiler alert** The opening scene takes place in a high school gym, and despite the drastically altered context of the high school gym, it still managed to slow me down initially. Bad memories. If your memories of a high school gym are as disquieting as mine, then you too should get the gist of The Handmaid's Tale: it's disquieting.
The most disquieting images in the story, hands down, and the ones that I think encapsulate the themes most vividly, were "The Ceremony" - in which the Commander, the Wife, and the Handmaid engage in procreative activity that is anything but sexy - and "The Birth." Throughout the story, the role of women is the centerpiece. When Atwood places images that emphasize two women are necessary to accomplish the role of one, and that they have to accomplish it together, while both are dehumanized at the same time, well, it leaves a very icky sensation.
Offred, the Handmaid dressed in red, is the central figure of the story. It's through her eyes that we observe this world - and it should be emphasized that she is an observer. There are only a couple moments of 'rebellion' with her character, though those are enough to put her in the line of fire; mostly she serves as a filter for the reader. (And an unreliable one at that.) I didn't take huge issue with her passivity, it suited her character and it suited the telling of the story - giving the reader just enough knowledge to be curious for a bit more, but not enough to lose the mystery/suspense.
~Jenny Place for the Stolen Under Ground Writing Project As a reader, I'm very willing to suspend disbelief and let the author take me on a ride. However, there was one issue that I couldn't get past because it's part of the real world and it seems a giant portion of this made-up Gilead:
Men.
Can I buy that they want to be in charge? Yes. Can I buy that they would like their very own genetic offspring? Yes. Can I buy that they'd use Biblical precedent to buy themselves some mistresses/'surrogates' who may provide that offspring? Yes.
However, if this world is so devastated by environmental factors that make procreation so difficult - why on earth treat the women who have already proven their potential as procreators as second-class citizens? It seems that they should be revered. It seems that they should be the Wives. It just seems the logical move. Atwood does address this - dominion over the household (including the Handmaids) was what the Wives negotiated for...but, um, the women lost this move. Once this stuff is in place...it's easy enough to adjust the semantics. Wouldn't these smart men who had already routed America be more than capable of controlling the procreational rules?
Like I said, I was able to suspend my disbelief in more than one arena, but this one kept niggling at me. (less)
This one really impressed me. The plural first person narration was more graceful than I anticipated. I found that I didn't need to grasp on to one or...moreThis one really impressed me. The plural first person narration was more graceful than I anticipated. I found that I didn't need to grasp on to one or the other of the boys who were obsessing about the Lisbon girls because the 'hive-mind' was so complete--and the damage inflicted by the girls' suicides was definitely distributed to all of them.
My only complaint, and it seems a silly one because the descriptions and comparisons make the narrative truly amazing to read, is the over-description. At certain points in the book, particularly in the aftermath of any drama, the description bogs down the narrative.
For example: The Lisbon house is falling apart, yes. It's a metaphor for how the family is falling apart. But by the end of the novel I'm really confused how the building is still standing--as a metaphor it goes too far too early. After every single event in the novel the house breaks down. Since the book begins with a suicide (I'm not giving anything away that the first paragraph and title doesn't)if I was basing the girls' state of mind on the house, I'm shocked they didn't all kill themselves by chapter two. (Also, there are only five chapters...which makes it hard to catch your breath in places.)
Overall though, I can see why Eugenides went on to win a Pulitzer. And for all the description and long chapters, it was actually a fairly quick read. Like I said early, my complaints seem silly in the grand scheme of the book.(less)
I read the first story of this book, "Murder in the Dark," and when I was finished I turned to my husband, shoved the book in his hand, told him to re...moreI read the first story of this book, "Murder in the Dark," and when I was finished I turned to my husband, shoved the book in his hand, told him to read it and then he was to tell me HOW DID SHE DO THAT?
He didn't really have an answer but his comment defined what I thought of the rest of the book: "It's written with the confidence of someone who knows she can hit a homerun every time."
Confidence oozes through every one of these pieces.
Least faves (because they just seemed a little too forced - and I wish I had a better word for that sensation, but that's the best I've got!):
"Gertrude Talks Back": Queen Gertrude gives Hamlet her opinion on her current and former husbands. Fine. But the tone somehow seemed dismissive - and the character of Gertrude never seemed dismissive in the play - which is doubly odd considering the information she is giving her 'priggish' son. And, this may seem an odd critique, but I think the white space between the paragraphs doesn't do the story any favors. It gives it a fragmented feeling and I think that a piece riffing on Shakespeare would work better within the play framework - perhaps shaping the monologue in a block form like Hamlet's own speeches would have allowed the words to have more impact instead of making the reader adjust both the form and the words.
"Poppies: Three Variations": While this is probably the most complex exercise, it reads just like that: an exercise. She riffs on a verse about poppies by John McCrae by using the same words of that verse, in the same order, to tell three different stories. The first words of McCrae's verse is 'in Flanders' and all three mini-stories have with 'in' followed somewhere by 'Flanders' followed somewhere by the next word in the verse. It's a good way to stretch the literary muscle, but it's like watching someone work out - we admire their physique but prefer not to see the huffing and puffing and sweat that go along with it. Just give me the calendar, ya know?
The stories that I absolutely adore are the ones that have a satirical bite to them.
"Simmering": Oh! My FAVORITE by far. (I know, it's unfair to choose favorites, but there you have it, anyway.) It's all about what happens when men take over the kitchen. Go get this book and read that story.
"Murder in the Dark": It set the tone for the rest of the book. Is the author just trying to manipulate the reader throughout (I'm totally okay with the way Atwood manipulates, by the way), is she just a magician showing nothing of reality? Puts the power with the writer...so I think my writerly friends will enjoy this a lot...as well as readers who like to figure out the trick. I still haven't....
"Happy Endings": A choose-your-own adventure marriage!
Atwood also illustrated the collection, and some are as provocative as the stories - which are also dominated by the bits and pieces of male and female anatomy. Interwoven among the stories is the question of objectifying the body: "Making a Man," "Alien Territory," "Dance of the Lepers," and "Good Bones" hit on the question in a more direct way...but it's everywhere.
Well worth reading - and it won't take that long either.
In Angela's Ashes, McCourt says that the happy childhood isn't really worth the reader's time. Walls apparently comes from the same school of thought....moreIn Angela's Ashes, McCourt says that the happy childhood isn't really worth the reader's time. Walls apparently comes from the same school of thought. However, a childhood filled with parental alcoholism, multiple moves, and extreme poverty can be overcome with equal parts sense-of-humor and grace.
Walls' language is so beautiful and simple that the reader gets swept away into the world that she grew up in...and that travel is spared being miserable by the childlike (not childish) voice. It reminds me of McCourt in that she doesn't judge her parents, she just states the facts. And sometimes the facts are not easy to digest. Throughout Walls makes her struggle tangible to the reader with illustrative details--like the results of a house not properly insulated, or how quickly a too-dry Christmas tree can go up in flames.
I think that Walls presents a balanced portrait of her parents and their choices. While the choices are ill-conceived, both her mother and her father are presented with a charm that somehow manages to keep the reader from wanting to throw them over a bridge (you just want to call Social Services a few hundred times). The good news is that, as we read, we already know Walls turned into a gifted, talented writer (it's very meta that way) so there is hope spread throughout. (less)
This one requires some digestion. Boswell's points are brilliant, and his examples are necessary to illustrate the arguments he makes, but I'd be lyin...moreThis one requires some digestion. Boswell's points are brilliant, and his examples are necessary to illustrate the arguments he makes, but I'd be lying if I said that there weren't some tedious sections.
However, I've taken quite few notes and highlighted passages and decided to read a few new things...so there's a lot worth pursuing in this one little book. It packs some really useful insights into a small space.(less)
This book is exquisitely written. Mantel has a beautiful knack for language and for presenting POV in a crafted way. She shifts from first, plural fir...moreThis book is exquisitely written. Mantel has a beautiful knack for language and for presenting POV in a crafted way. She shifts from first, plural first, second, and third while never letting you forget who the real POV character is: It's always Cromwell.
A good knowledge of Tudor history will help in some ways, and damage the reading in others. A bulk of the conflict centers around getting Henry VIII married to Anne Boleyn. We all know how that ends, right? So a piece of me was always waiting for her head to roll--but the book is about Thomas Cromwell, the rising son of an abusive ale-house owner father. (His head eventually rolls too, but it doesn't happen in this book.)
The main question is that of religion: Catholic/Protestant? Will Cromwell's 'heresy' overtake Thomas More's (author of Utopia) Catholicism? The conflict is between these two men, and their very different views on life. And throughout the mix you can't help but understand that the way these men conducted themselves in the 16th centurty has echoes in all of the government debates throughout United States History: the separation of church and state (and what degree), how much power should be allotted and to whom, etc.(less)
This is the first book in a long while that has made me both laugh and cry. The three interlocking narratives compliment one another well -- each char...moreThis is the first book in a long while that has made me both laugh and cry. The three interlocking narratives compliment one another well -- each character (Aibileen, Minny, and Skeeter) has a distinct voice and the storylines come together very well.
The subject matter -- race, segregation, the Civil Rights Movement -- is covered with respect and an eye for detail. Though, with such a wide scope, it would be impossible to cover all the aspects of the subject...which has been a matter of some criticism directed toward the book. And it's really my only issue with the book:
While the story is very moving, and the characters well-drawn, I never felt the real danger of the characters' actions -- and having lived in the south, there are some very real consequences for breaking 'rules' even today. In the 90s, my mother (we are white) had a sore throat that she wanted checked out. She worked forty miles from our Georgia home and stopped at a clinic between work and home. She parked on the side of the building and went in, but was immediately stopped by a black nurse who said to her: "Oh, no, sweetie. This is the colored entrance."
Stockett does insert shootings and historical deaths and a police presence...but I really, really don't think that the risks presented in the story are representative of what would have happened in the 1960s. Most of the consequences are presented as social-outcasting. But it would've been their lives. Towards the end, that threat does pick up...but by the end, it's really too late to convince the reader of the danger.
(And apparently all white women are lousy parents.)
Having said that -- I still loved this story. I loved that it felt hopeful. I loved that Aibileen and Minny got to tell their stories. Aibileen made me want to hug my children forever. Minny made me want to sass the next few people I met -- just to do it. I love that Skeeter, a writer, got to write a great book. (I always cheer for writer stories!) I even loved lost, Marilyn Monroesque Celia. And I really, really super-loved to hate Hilly.
Disclaimer: Just because I won this book, had it personally signed to me, and have spoken personally with the author and her agent does not mean that...moreDisclaimer: Just because I won this book, had it personally signed to me, and have spoken personally with the author and her agent does not mean that I've adjusted my review in any way.
The really good stuff: the main character is not a teen-angsty kinda guy. Colt feels real and has real emotions, which is refreshing to find among the teen novels of today. He responds with all the questions and anxiety that teens experience when faced with difficult situations.
For example--not only does he lose a classmate to a car accident (something, unfortunately, too many teenagers are familiar with)but it's the girl he's had a secret relationship with. So now he can't even mourn in public.
Hubbard doesn't pull punches with teen relationships--there's sex, and revenge sex, and fights, and revenge fights.
The strike, for me, was the portrayal of upper/lower classes. There's the 'in' kids who live on top of the mountain and the 'out' kids who live (guess where?) at the foot of the mountain. Literally upper and lower. The way they were made 'different' felt forced to me.
But the story is definitely moving and worth reading. (less)
After my husband and saw Black Swan he said that it was a great movie...but he never wanted to see it again. This book is like that for me. The writin...moreAfter my husband and saw Black Swan he said that it was a great movie...but he never wanted to see it again. This book is like that for me. The writing was beautiful, the POV creative, and the story shattering. But it was emotionally unbearable. Which is a testament to the wonderful talent of Emma Donoghue. She chose subject matter that was daring, told the story in charming way, and still managed to convey the gravity and humanity without bonking me overhead with the horror of it (while somehow bonking me overhead with the horror of it).
Early on in the story I found myself furious with Ma. Little bits of me went: Why haven't you bashed this guy's (the kidnapper, "Old Nick") brain in? Why aren't you breaking the skylight? Why Why Why Why? In short, my irritation came from asking the exact questions that can't be answered by someone who has not been in that situation. (Unless, apparently, you've got Donoghue's skill.) Those questions were answered throughout the story and, boy, did I feel like an @$$ as they got answered.
Probably the single complaint that I can make about the book as a whole is that Jack's voice can get tedious. Sure there's some grammatical questionability in a lot of five-year-olds' speech, but Jack's presented as a kid who can quote Alice in Wonderland, so some of it felt heavy-handed after a while, to me. It starts out strong in the beginning and then it filters down throughout. Then, in the narration there are some Britishisms that don't popularly 'pop' up in American dialects--like 'duvet' and 'pop in'--that sort of minor thing that just sounds like bitching in the midst of such a wonderfully conceived and delivered story.
So, I loved it. But I'm so emotionally affected by it that I won't read it again (probably). I hope that the victims of real-life situations like this find peace. And my thoughts, prayers, and hope are with them.
Tana French won my heart with this book. It's the first I've read of her work and it won't be the last.
I was well aware when I picked this novel up th...moreTana French won my heart with this book. It's the first I've read of her work and it won't be the last.
I was well aware when I picked this novel up that it was Book #4 in the Dublin Murder Squad series. But from the description I figured it didn't matter. Luckily, I was right. If you're worried about spoilers, I am here to reassure you: don't worry about it.
The Breakdown: A family of four - Dad, Mom, Daughter, and Son - are attacked in their safe suburban home. Three of them have died, leaving Mom unconcious and struggling for her life. This kind of thing, unfortunately, could be found on the set of a Dr. Phil show or any newspaper around the world. The scenario's believability was what drew me to the story in the first place.
Enter Mick "Scorcher" Kennedy. He's a by-the-book detective with a decent solve rate. Let me tell you, he initially comes across as a total douchebag know-it-all and I had a hard time getting behind him. The good news is: his heart is in the right place. Eventually, you learn the hows and whys of him, and that's a good thing.
He's surrounded by some helpful folks that are genuinely easy to like - which gives Mick a certain likeability-by-contact. His partner, Richie, is all set to be a sharp-eyed detective. The crime scene techs and medical folks present technical material in a fun way. There's a lot of 'in' banter that makes you feel like you really are eavesdropping on crime scene discussions.
And, like all mysteries, these guys have to solve the crime. Hijinks ensue.
The Style: French's voice is undeniably artful. There are a lot of literary flourishes that make it pleasent to read, without ever turning 'purple.' Like this little sample from early on in the book, when Mick and his partner arrive at the crime scene:
"One of the uniforms was squatting awkwardly by his car, patting at someone in the back seat who was pretty clearly the source of the screaming. The other one was pacing in front of the gate, too fast, with his hands clasped behind his back. The air smelled fresh, sweet and salty: sea and fields. It was colder out there than it had been in Dublin. Wind whistled halfheartedly through scaffolding and exposed beams."
You get everything quickly, efficiently, and beautifully. You get the cops on the scene. You get a witness being handled. Plus you get the cold, and the wind, and the exposed bones of houses. It's like a graveyard. And French puts that thought in your head without having to do too many extras.
The Characters and Their Lines French also does a beautiful job of drawing her characters. Very early on she establishes line that these guys just won't cross. Not just one character. Every single character has a line that you don't think they're willing to crosse. It's the damndest, awesomest thing: every last one of them crosses the line that they set for themselves.
Don't think you could kill someone? If you're one of French's characters, you're going to. Don't think you could lie, cheat, or steal? French will find a way to make you do it. Don't think you could ever curse a family member or a friend? As one of French's creations, you'll be damning souls while shrieking down the street.
While it's not fun to watch people break down in real life, this book is almost a cathartic experience as you watch people struggle with social standing, money, family secrets, and that most catastrophic of events: death. Really, I don't know if it gets much better.
"If there's a better book than this, I haven't written it." ~Stephen Colbert, quoted on the back of American Again: Re-Becoming the Greatness We Never...more"If there's a better book than this, I haven't written it." ~Stephen Colbert, quoted on the back of American Again: Re-Becoming the Greatness We Never Weren't
I think the first book review of the year should set the tone for the rest of the year. And what better way to start the year 2013 than reading and reviewing the book that has everything? In fact, it has so much of everything that I used every single one of my shelves to label it. I'm pretty sure that I'm still short a couple subjects.
Sure, I could've been reading Anna Karenina and learning about Imperial Russia with the rest of my book group instead of learning about the present American stuff I already know. But since my reading goal this year is 100 books - which is like reading everything - I should start my odyssey with the book that has everything. Everything American, that is. Anna Karenina just has affairs and trains and Keira Knightly and other stuff.
Tolstoy's book doesn't have anything that Colbert's book doesn't have.
Anna Karenina has extramarital affairs: America Again has illicit relations between politicians and food.
Anna Karenina has people who hate their jobs: America Again has resume how-tos.
Anna Karenina has 2-D: America Again has 3-D.
Anna Karenina has Siberia: America Again has North Dakota.
Anna Karenina was translated into English: America Again was written in American.
It's probably this last one where Tolstoy has managed to one-up Colbert. America Again has no, count them: none, award winning translators. We're just expected to understand paragraphs like: "But the Real Question is: are America's best days behind us? Of course they are, and always have been. We have the greatest history in the history of History. But never forget, our best days are also ahead of us, and always will be. Because America also has the Greatest Future in the history of the Future. It's our Present that's the problem...and always is be."
I mean, Colbert began two sentences in that paragraph with But. And fragments. You just don't do that. A good translator would've saved him some face-saving. (less)
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