You Can't Win Them All

Shortly after I finished my previous post, I came across a new book by an author whose previous book was critically acclaimed.  Of course, I immediately took it out and began reading it.  Alas, it's difficult to churn out magnum opus after magnum opus, as City of Fortune:  How Venice Ruled the Seas proved.  By Roger Crowley, the author of Empires of the Sea, this new book seems to be merely a magazine article plumped out by arcane factoids.  Empires of the Sea was a masterwork illustrating the lever on which the fate of the western world turned; City of Fortune is a biography of a city (a beautiful and important city, but just a city).

I had a similar experience with one of my favorite mystery authors, P.D. James.  She recently published Death Comes to Pemberly, presented as a murder mystery sequel to Pride and Prejudice, and I was very anxious to sample it.  Well, after a long wait, it became available and I read it in one sitting.  What a disappointment.  Not only is it mostly a rehash of Austen's original work, with little original material, the mystery is not terribly mysterious.  I'm not in the habit of trying to figure out the endings, but I had the culprit, the situation, and the deadly secret all figured out halfway through the book.  Stick to Adam Dalgliesh, P.D. James.

I did manage to find some decent reading material, however.  Turn Right at Macchu Picchu, by Mark Adams, is a nonfiction account of his travels in Peru, combined with a history of the discovery of several hidden Inca cities.  The Inca still inspire fascination; a mountaintop people, rich in gold, who fought bravely and to no avail against the Spanish conquistadores.  Adams includes the story of Hiram Bingham, whose (pigheaded) determination led him to the discovery (and, possibly, pillaging) of these beautiful and mysterious empty cities. The writing is readable and comfortable, and Adams is even humorous at times, calling to mind Bill Bryson's brand of travel writing.

Last of all, I'll come to this week's fiction selection.  It gets more difficult to find decent fiction every week; if any of you have recommendations I'll be thrilled to try them.  This book, The Flight of Gemma Hardy, is by Margot Livesey, and I started reading it without looking at the blurb at all.  I think it actually made the reading experience more interesting, because it wasn't until chapter two that I realized that this is a book written exactly in the pattern of Jane Eyre -- and it's meant to be a "homage and modern variation" of it.

Jane Eyre's story lends itself well to parts of Gemma's life tale, but other parts make less sense.  This story takes place in the modern era, and situations in Bronte's book that were obviously morally problematic seem less so here.  Nevertheless, it's a good read.

Reading My Way into 2012

This week turned out to be a bonanza, reading-wise -- nearly every book I brought home from the library was at least readable!  I started with a nonfiction selection midweek (I try not to get into fiction during the workweek, because it doesn't do to get too attached when one is busy) called Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness.  By Alexandra Fuller, it is the companion book to Let's Not Go to the Dogs Tonight, and is a memoir of much of her life and her mother's life living as a white African.  Nearly everyone in this book is certifiable, which is what gives the book its entertainment value.  Yes, I know mental instability is no joke, but Fuller certainly seems to find a lot of humor in the rampant manic-depressive behavior of her relatives.  Most of the book just verges on the unbelievable, but it's an engrossing read all the same.

Speaking of humor, I recently rediscovered a mystery series by Donna Leon that I'm finding hilarious.  Her Commissario Guido Brunetti series, set in Venice, is full of Venetian atmosphere, as well as Italian in-jokes.  I'm sorry to say that most Americans are not going to fully appreciate the humor; I think you really have to either be Italian or know Italian culture intimately to get the "laugh out loud" benefit of these books.  However, they are written nicely, have interesting characters, and feature compelling mysteries that are not too complex to be solved by the reader.  I'm currently enjoying Acqua Alta; I have no idea of the order in which they are written but it does not seem to matter.

If you enjoy the books of Fannie Flagg (previously reviewed here), you'll appreciate The Homecoming of Samuel Lake, by Jenny Wingfield.  Set in the American South in the 1950's, featuring a cast of incredibly quirky characters, this book bears a great deal of similarity to Flagg's stories.  One difference, however, is that while Flagg's villains border on the ridiculous, Wingfield's villains are far more seriously evil.  There's a happy ending, but not quite as rainbow tinted as you'd find in a Flagg book.

I know you're probably waiting for this week's chick-lit selection, and here it is --  Kindred Spirits, by Sarah Strohmeyer.  It has all the usual ingredients:  four friends, martini recipes, memories, at least one family feud, and everyone has something to hide.  The predictability is downright soothing.  As an antidote, one can turn to a somewhat more literary selection, and this one comes with a pedigree.  The Silver Lotus is written by Thomas Steinbeck, the son of John Steinbeck.  Flipped open at random, this book seems as though it would be dreadfully boring, but attempt it from the beginning and you won't want to put it down.  Oddly, the entire book is written as a narrative; there is no dialogue whatsoever.  Steinbeck simply tells the story of Lady Yee, a very unusual Chinese woman of the turn of the century.  This story is strangely compelling, even though it's not suspenseful or even exciting.  I can't really explain it; perhaps talented writing is all it takes?  Let me know what you think.

Not Quite Chick-Lit, But Close Enough

I'm glad to have finally found some engrossing fiction; I was seriously contemplating burdening you all with a posting on a veritable doorstop of a book (Jerusalem:  A Biography by Simon Sebag Montefiore.  Fascinating, but not for the faint of heart).  Fortunately, this week's random grab at the New Books section came up trumps.

First, Falling Together, by Marisa de los Santos.  This looks a lot like chick-lit; the cover features a small cafe table with three teacups, two grouped together.  The story itself is more complicated.  Yes, there is an enduring friendship thing going on, as well as an on-again, off-again relationship complicated by custodial issues.  The requisite cute-child-perpetually-wearing-tiara is present also.  However, something about this book sets it (just a little) above that genre.  Three friends meet at college.  One is male, two are female.  They share very little in terms of character traits, but Pen, Will, and Cat become fast friends.  Fast forward a decade, and they are no longer in touch, and the reader does not discover why for many pages.  There's friendship, trauma, travel, and enough humor to leaven the whole thing.

When I first opened the cover of The Time In Between, by Maria Duenas, I wasn't altogether sure that I would stay the course.  The jacket blurb mentioned the Spanish Civil War, and that is a period about which much has been written, very little of it easily readable (think Hemingway, think Falangists, think various Communists and all the death and destruction and depressing ideology.  What a bore.  And I firmly believe that more people claim to have read Hemingway than have actually made it through an entire Hemingway novel).  I was pleasantly surprised by this book -- it starts a bit slowly in a messy failed romance sort of way, but it turns out to be a really excellent spy novel.  The main character, a Spanish woman called Sira at the beginning and Arish when she begins her career as a dressmaker/spy, develops quite a bit over the course of the plot.  The book is 609 pages, which is a real treat -- when I am enjoying a book, I want it to go on as long as possible.

Last of all is a confection of a book that is more like a graphic novel than a work of writing.  The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt is exactly that -- a scrapbook.  Circa 1920's dance cards, photos, advertisements, postcards, and typed commentary by the eponymous Frankie Pratt fill this book, as the reader traces her story from Cornish, New Hampshire, to Vassar, to Greenwich Village, to Paris, and then back to Cornish.
This is a book that can be read in one sitting (marvelous bathtub book), requires no intellectual exertion whatsoever, and has a movie-like happy ending.  Didn't you love picture books when you were little?  It's written (or should I say assembled?) by Caroline Preston.  Enjoy!

Some Old Favorites

I've been trying to get through a pile of new books that I've accumulated; sadly, many are so dreadful they are practically unreadable.  My progress has also been hampered by obligations at work and home, school having shifted into high gear once more.  Therefore, I've decided to designate this post as an addendum to this one, and write about some books that were (and in some cases, still are) favorites of mine.

• I'm going to begin this list with E.B. White's Charlotte's Web and The Trumpet of the Swan.  These, to my mind, are the quintessential American children's novels.  Both books focus on animals with very human attributes, and there's a secondary focus on the humans around them, sympathetic and not.  I recently read a new (adult level) book about White and the creation of Charlotte's Web; quite fascinating, really.
• No new reader should be denied a chance to read Pippi Longstocking.  This Swedish character is incorrigibly everything a good girl should not be, and yet she is one of the most lovable protagonists in children's literature.  Astrid Lindgren, the author of the Pippi books, wrote others that are not widely available.  Mio, My Son is one that I didn't really get into, but I loved Ronia, The Robber's Daughter.  Targeted to a more mature audience, (11-12 years) this book pulls the reader into another world completely.
• Jean Little was a very popular author when I was growing up; many of her books focus on children with disabilities.  She has also written some impressive autobiographical books.  From Anna is one of the former, and it focuses on a little German immigrant to Canada who discovers that her stupidity and clumsiness are really a result of her extremely poor eyesight.  I'll confess that I still sometimes take it out of the library and read it, and I always cry at the end.  Another favorite of mine is Stand In The Wind, which does not have her usual disabled character; it deals with the children of two families and some ruined summer plans.
• I'm not sure I've ever met anyone who didn't like The Secret Garden.  Its mysteriousness, its spoiled brat protagonist, the dramatic denouement, all combine to make the perfect story.  If it gets a little sappy occasionally, who can blame Burnett?  That's most likely what her contemporary audience was looking for.
• My children recently discovered that the movie The Parent Trap was based on a book, long out of print.  As a child, I read this book multiple times, so I was happy to buy a used copy for them.  If you've never read Lisa And Lottie, you'll enjoy this story of twins separated at birth.  Originally published in German in 1949, it's been adapted for film many times, twice in English.  (Side note:  The author, Erich Kastner, had many of his books burned by the Nazis, and effectively was banned from publishing any of his material throughout the time of the Third Reich).
• The Velvet Room, by Zilpha Keatley Snyder, is a book I've read countless times and has recently come back into print.  A Great Depression Era book, this novel was probably the first coming-of-age type story that I ever read.  Robin, the protagonist, is really the perfect character for a girl in her early teens to relate to as she reads.  Snyder writes about feelings very well, and manages to be emotional without being cloying.  Other books I've enjoyed by Snyder include Below the Root (fantasy) and The Famous Stanley Kidnapping Case.
• Most avid readers have heard of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, and it's hard to find a reader who didn't like this unusual book.  E.L. Konigsberg writes here of every child's deepest and darkest wish -- to run away, but not just anywhere;  to run away to somewhere special.  In this case, it's the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the story's mood alternates from suspenseful, to humorous, to businesslike, all in a few chapters.  A prolific writer, Konigsberg has written some other excellent books (such as The View From Saturday) but because of certain poor choices in language I don't feel comfortable recommending them to a wider audience.
• The Secret Language was the only book written by Ursula Nordstrom, who was for many years editor-in-chief of juvenile books at Harper & Row.  This book shows such a deep knowledge of how the minds of children operate that no reader can help but be moved.  The illustrations are also wonderful.
• As a final pick, I'll mention the inimitable Encyclopedia Brown.  This series, by Donald Sobol, seems to have grown by several volumes since I last read it.  It's enjoyable even for adults to read the short mysteries and try to guess the solutions before turning to the back of the book where all is made clear.
• I'd like to wish all my readers a sweet Jewish New Year, with good fortune, good health, and only happy occasions.  My next post should be some time after we've emerged from the holidays, and I hope I'll have read several noteworthy books by that time.

Magical Reading

If it were possible to lock C.S. Lewis, J.D. Salinger, Terry Pratchett, and J.K. Rowling into a room and force them to collaborate on a book, the result might possibly be a lot like Lev Grossman's The Magicians and The Magician King.  These are, strictly speaking, fantasy, but they do seem to bridge the gap between that genre and regular fiction.

The Magicians introduces the reader to the character of Quentin Coldwater, who is a familiar figure -- a teen with no clear direction.  Through an odd sequence of events, he lands at Brakebills, a Hogwarts-like institution of magic.  However, the similarity to Hogwarts is quite superficial -- Grossman's books, while lighthearted (and really funny) at times, lack the fairy tale/happy ending/hope for the world moods that underlie the Harry Potter series.  The sequel, The Magician King, builds on the foundation of the story told in the first book, and has its share of surprises. These books are about people who seem real in their characters and have a greater share of flaws and faults, and while their choices do have a great impact, there are situations in which the characters cannot win, and simply have to deal with in their own ways.

I don't really give a blanket recommendation for these books, even though I have reread the first one several times and intend to do so with the sequel.  If you really don't like fantasy, these books aren't for you.  These books can be graphic at times, disturbingly so for some readers.  This is not crossover kids' fantasy; these are real grownup books.  But if you enjoyed  any of the writers listed in the first paragraph of this post (with the possible exception of Rowling) you will probably enjoy these books as well.

Little Women, Revisited

If you've never read Little Women, or if you've read it (or watched it) and loathed it, go play some Angry Birds, because this post is definitely not for you.

The Little Women Letters, by Gabrielle Donnelly, is a fluffy treat of a book.  It's nearly chick lit, but not quite, because there isn't anyone nasty in the book (and if they are, you soon see their redeeming features).  It's a feel-good book that will make you laugh out loud; in my case, I did so several times.

The book is based on the premise that the story of Alcott's Little Women is actually true, and that the March family did exist.  It focuses on three contemporary sisters, Emma/Josephine, Lulu, and Sophie, and their lovable but slightly odd parents.  There are truly no evil characters in this story -- everybody is really so nice!  Even the characters who initially seem standoffish or rude quickly are dealt with and their inner niceness is revealed.

Lulu, the middle sister, is going through a bit of a career crisis when she discovers the letters of her great-grandmother, Josephine March.  (Just a note of explanation -- the book takes place in England; her father is English and her mother is a transplanted American).   Through the letters, Lulu finds a lot of comfort, and of course the storyline cooperates.

The relationships in this book are ridiculously too good to be true, and the conversations almost sitcom-like, but who cares?  It makes its reader so so happy.  This is definitely a book to pick up if you're blue.

Wild Ride, Indeed

It's not unusual to find overlap between different genres; a case in point would be historical fiction and mystery.  There are many good examples of books which represent the best of both types of writing.  More rare, however, is a book that is a fusion of, say, chick-lit and fantasy.  Wild Ride, by Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer, is just that type of book.

Crusie has published several entertaining chick-lit type books; I've never read anything by Mayer, but I'm assuming he brings the fantasy to the table.  Essentially, Wild Ride is a book about an amusement park that is inhabited by demons.  Called the Untouchables, these demons are enclosed in chalices to keep them from wreaking havoc; the longtime park employees make up a group called the Guardia and must endeavor to keep the world safe from the demons and their minions.  Add several young women, a few young men, family secrets, and a love interest, and, Ta-Da! chick-lit and fantasy meld quite entertainingly.

Another book I read this weekend got a song stuck in my head, playing in an endless loop.  Remember that Herman's Hermits song, Henry the eighth I am?  About the fellow who married the widow who'd been married seven times before?  Well, The Ninth Wife doesn't quite play out like that, but at its center is Rory, a man who narrates the stories of his eight marriages, interspersed with the story of Bess, who meets Rory and seems destined to be wife number nine.  The characters in this book are very likable and  don't necessarily develop the way the reader would expect. All in all, this is an engrossing and diverting book.

Laughter: The Best Medicine

As one grows older, those occasions in which a good, long belly laugh occurs grow fewer and farther between.  As children, so much of what we saw and read and experienced was just so funny! Like the knock-knock jokes we told endlessly, to very very patient parents who concealed their rolling eyes and giggled politely.  Where did the humor in life disappear to?

It hasn't gone anywhere, but if you are normal (or approximating normal) you have matured to the extent that what seemed hilarious at age 7, or 12, or 16, seems gross, or dumb, or sophomoric in your 20's or 30's.  This is a bit of a disappointment, in a way; kids have it so easy when they need a laugh.  Pick up a volume in the My Weird School series, and they're laughing all the way home.  Whereas mature adults such as ourselves will seldom find that kind of satisfaction in a book anymore; hence, this post.

Donald Westlake has been around for years; I haven't read all of his books yet but I've read most of the Dortmunder series.  These books, centering around a group of bumbling thieves, is as close to slapstick as one gets in literature.  Dortmunder is just so pathetic -- but the situations he falls into are ridiculously amusing, and so are his friends.  I especially like Stan.

If you want to be amused in a useful sort of way, the nonfiction of Bill Bryson is the way to go.  Whether expounding on hiking the Appalachians (A Walk in the Woods), the English language (Mother Tongue), or the history of the home (At Home), he is relentlessly funny.  The only one that disappointed me was the one about the Royal Society; unfortunately he is capable of writing serious nonfiction when called to do it.  I, however, was unprepared for it; expecting a funny book I hurled it at the wall in disgust.  It didn't deserve that kind of treatment, as it was an excellent book of its kind, but it's all about expectations, you know.

This would really fall under the fantasy genre, but it's just too funny to leave out:  A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.  Some people actually think this is philosophy, so that's funny too.  Another fantasy author who is belly-laugh worthy is Terry Pratchett; his books are mostly based in the Discworld, a sort of parallel universe.  My favorite is Monstrous Regiment; I also loved The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, which is a young adult book.  It's actually the Pied Piper with a talking cat and some genius rats.  Just fabulous.

The difficulty here is that once one has read this supremely amusing book, it's never as funny the second time around.  So now it's your turn -- can you recommend any funny books for me?

Brave Mom Writes "Brave Girl Eating"

This is, emphatically, not the type of book I typically select.  In fact, I've been seeing it on the library new book shelf for the last couple of weeks, and passing it by.  However, this week I took it out, and read it, and now I'm writing about it.  In part, this is my way of marking Mother's Day on my blog (why not?), but the impetus to actually read this book came from the fact that I was recently touched, quite indirectly, by the death of a friend's friend who was rumored to have suffered from anorexia most of her short life.
What I know about anorexia is fairly limited -- it's taught in the Abnormal Psychology class that was a requirement; nowadays most schools try to educate their female students about eating disorders, but this was not something that was talked about -- not out loud -- when I was a teenager.  It is also poorly understood; not just by the layman, but by experts as well.  The theories I learned in college are no longer in vogue and have been replaced by a new set, perhaps more valid, perhaps not.
Harriet Brown pens this memoir of her experiences with her daughter, Kitty, with remarkable aplomb.  What must have been a gut-wrenching experience for her comes through so remarkably and believably, the reader wants to reach through the pages and hug her.  Once Brown comes to the realization that her daughter has this terrible illness, she casts around for ways to help her.  Her choices at the time boil down to sending her away to a specialized residential clinic, or keeping her hospitalized on an outpatient basis.  Brown, helped by her sympathetic and ultra-competent pediatrician, decides on another path -- Family-Based Treatment, or the Maudsley approach.  This entails the support of the entire family, and their goal is to get Kitty to eat, whatever it takes.  This is much, much harder than it sounds.  At times, Brown writes of anorexia as a demon that has inhabited her daughter; she tries desperately to take her daughter's aggressive anxiety and separate it from the daughter she loves so much and whose life she actually saves.  Yes, saves -- this painful and wretched ordeal, calorie by calorie, saves Kitty's life, and gradually she begins to emerge whole again.
As a mother, I cried for Harriet Brown as I read her book, because (although I pray that I will never be tested) any mother should hope to do the right thing, as she did, even though it was so desperately hard.  The FBT was hard on Brown, it was terrible for her husband, it was traumatic to Kitty's younger sister, and it almost completely shattered any semblance of normal family life.  However, as a mother, she knew that this was her job, and that Kitty's mother, father, and sister were the ones to bring her back and rid her of the demon anorexia.  Anorexia has cruel statistics -- close to 20 percent of anorexics die, according to Brown, half of those from suicide.  Harriet Brown and her family continue to battle these statistics, as anorexia can be a lifetime disease, and they refuse to allow their child to become one of the 20 percent.

Gosh, what a downer.  I'll get a bit more cheerful now, and introduce another new book that I read over the weekend.  A Jane Austen Education:  How Six Novels Taught Me About Love, Friendship, and the Things That Really Matter is pure fun for the Austen lover.  One of the only negative things about Austen is that she wrote only six books, and Janeites who finish all six are left with a craving for more.  This has led to a small industry in Austen copycats, mysteries featuring Austen characters (cringe), Austen sequels (gag), and Austen spoofs (actually, some of these aren't bad).  This isn't one of the above list.  This is the nonfictional account of William Deresiewicz, who started off his adult life as an immature, obnoxious pseudo-intellectual.  Forced to read Austen in college, he slowly comes to the realization that it is not chick-lit, it is quite relevant, and it helps him gradually reorient himself and become, in a word, a mentsh.  This is an entertaining and light read, and it has a lovely happy ending.  What more could you ask?

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

Given the amount of media attention this memoir has garnered, I've decided to give Amy Chua's memoir of raising her two daughters its own post.  If anything, the hullabaloo over this book has shown me how ridiculously unreliable book reviews and commentary can be when confused with a journalist's personal agenda.

From what I can see, most of the reviews of this book are shocked, shocked to hear a mother crowing over her coercion and borderline abusive behavior.  Ms. Chua forces her daughters to practice their respective instruments for hours each day, (gasp!) refuses to accept a grade lower than A (unless it's in gym), rejects her daughters' pathetic birthday cards, and mocks the tendency of Western parents to allow their children to follow their passions (whether it be soccer or Facebook for fourteen hours a day).  All this is done in the spirit of being a Chinese parent, because this is how Chinese parents do it, and it's far better than how you sloppy Americans parent.  So there! says Chua.  Goodness, how dreadful, I thought.  And then my local library came through with the book, and I finally read it for myself.

Now let's rewind a little -- this book is not meant to be taken quite as literally as most of the media has apparently taken it.  Part parody, part confessional, part memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is the story of a very driven and extremely controlling woman who happens to be Chinese.  (Incidentally, her husband is Jewish).  It seems to me that this book is more about how this woman, whose tough parenting methods worked beautifully with her talented and self-motivated elder daughter, hits a brick wall with her younger daughter.  Sophia, the firstborn, takes to her instrument (piano) like a fish to water and thrives on the pressure as it intensifies. However, the younger daughter, Lulu, is a lot more like her mother.  Perhaps even more gifted than her sister, Lulu is given violin lessons and shows great talent.  However, Lulu doesn't allow herself to be pushed around, and the book features episode after episode in which parent and child lock horns.  Lulu is a driven as her mother, and as set on being successful and high-achieving, but she wants to drive the bus.  I don't want to give away too much, as this book is a really fun read (as are the photos, which generally feature Chua, arms folded, hovering threateningly over daughter and instrument), but I don't really understand why readers come away with a feeling of loathing for her.  After reading her book, I felt a bit sorry for her, but I also was satisfied with the way she accepts her limitations as a parent and learns to adjust herself a bit.

Really, this book is not about how Chinese parenting is better than Western parenting, and Chua admits as much (though she states that it was supposed to be about that).  It's about an individual family, and their parenting, and the successes and shortcomings of their parenting. However, there is quite a bit of constructive takehome lesson here.

• "For Chinese people, when it comes to parents, nothing is negotiable.  Your parents are your parents, you owe everything to them (even if you don't), and you have to do everything for them (even if it destroys your life)."  Extreme statement, perhaps, but the essence of this is something I could get behind.  Chua doesn't simply pay lip service to this -- when her mother-in-law is too ill to live alone, Chua insists that she move in with them, even though the two do not really get along well.
• "The Chinese model turns on achieving success.  That's how the virtuous circle of confidence, hard work, and more success is generated." 
• It helps a lot if your children know exactly what you expect from them -- if you're providing them with the tools to achieve it.

This book is a quick, fun read -- but please, don't take it too seriously.

To Be Filed Under "Whatever"

As you can see, I'm not really sure how to classify this series of books.  By Jasper Fforde, the Thursday Next series features Thursday, the eponymous heroine, as a Jurisfiction agent.  She does live in the real world, but can also pass into the BookWorld.  By the way, the real world in this series is a parallel universe to begin with.  The parallel England in which the stories take place is one in which literature is highly valued; Shakespeare plays (especially Richard III) are considered the epitome of popular entertainment.  People so often wish to change their names to famous authors that they require a number after each name to differentiate. 

These books are really bizarre.  Sorry, I can't think of any other word that defines this genre.  Part mystery fiction, part fantasy, part horror (if your idea of horror includes fictional characters erasing other fictional characters from other books), the line between reality and literature here is very thin to begin with, and gets thinner.

In The Eyre Affair, Thursday pursues a master criminal through the pages of -- what else? -- Jane Eyre.  One of the results of this is Thursday's inadvertent adjustment of the plot line.  This, the first Thursday novel, is just the beginning of a romp through a BookWorld peopled with literary characters, and peppered with literary allusions.  Those of you who feel lovely and superior when you pick up on one of those will love these books.  The Eyre Affair is followed by Lost in a Good Book, The Well of Lost Plots, Something Rotten, First Among Sequels, and the most recent one, One of Our Thursdays is Missing.  I will admit being a little disappointed with the last one, as the real Thursday does not appear at all and the book is narrated by the character who plays the fictional Thursday in the books written about her.  I know, this makes very little sense.

Fforde is also the author of a spinoff series starring Jack Spratt as an investigator in the same world.  This series is called, unsurprisingly, the Nursery Rhyme Series, and it begins with The Big Over Easy.  The second one, The Fourth Bear, is actually better than the first, and I believe a third is in the works.

Just as an aside, if you love a book full of literary allusions, you shouldn't miss the mysteries of Dorothy L. Sayers.  Her primary character, Lord Peter Wimsey, never misses a chance to show how well-read he is, and her mysteries are both immaculately crafted and beautifully written.  I believe she is a classical scholar as well; she translated Dante.  This explains a lot.  Enjoy!

Chick Lit!

When you see these on the library shelf or the bookstore display, they're easy to pick out:  the covers are usually in varied candy-colored shades, a caricatured mom is prominently featured (usually with great hair), and the titles are catchy, if not terse.  This is the whole new genre of chick lit, literature for tired women who want to escape to the world of someone who has it harder than they do, even though the fictional woman is guaranteed a happy ending.

I Don't Know How She Does It epitomizes chick lit to me, if only because it was the first book of this kind that I ever read.  By Allison Pearson, it was ragingly popular when it came out, and is soon to be adapted as a movie (of course).  It's the story of Kate Reddy, an English career woman who -- literally -- juggles a superheated job, a husband, and two children.  Oh, and a very spoiled nanny, an overindulged cleaning woman, and the need to pretend she can handle preparing homemade baked goods for school events.  Although it's exaggerated to a great extent, it's amusing in the way that only a realistic story can be -- If you have a family as well as a life, you'll see that there's a bit of Kate Reddy in all of us.  As the book draws to a close, Kate has to make tough choices about the way she lives her life.  I didn't really expect it to end the way it did, but I enjoyed this book tremendously.

Lauren Weisberger, best known for her book (and movie adaptation) The Devil Wears Prada, has recently come out with another book which I liked much better.  Last Night At Chateau Marmont is a book that, sadly, seems practically written with the movie version in mind, but is a great story to read on the beach, in the tub, or on the plane.  It follows a period in the life of a couple, Brooke and Julian Alter, when Julian's slowly simmering music career suddenly comes to a boil.  Predictably, their relationship has a very hard time dealing with the series of catapulting changes his fame brings to both of them.  I liked this book -- you don't have to think too hard; it's a great book to read when you're really zonked but you want some undemanding entertainment.

For those of you who like Bridget Jones's Diary, by Helen Fielding, I have to tell you that she previously wrote a much better book, which didn't seem to ride the wave of Bridget Jones fame.  Cause Celeb is the story of Rosie Richardson, who goes to Africa to do something meaningful, as well as escape her life as a hanger-on of famous people.  In the fictitious country of Nambula, she finds her work with refugees rewarding until a locust plague strikes and promised aid does not arrive.  Tapping into her connections, Rosie rallies all the celebrities she knows to raise funds for the refugees.  Of course, there's a love triangle involved.  I will say no more.

A new book (I just read it last week) Emily and Einstein, features a husband who dies suddenly and comes back in the guise of a dog adopted by his wife.  Linda Francis Lee writes this story which so easily could have degenerated into a weird version of Ghost, but does not, thankfully.  It's meant to be a tale of atonement and redemption (for the lousy no-good husband turned dog) but also manages to be amusing and touching at the same time. 

The Secret Lives of Dresses (also new) is for you clothes-minded ladies -- if you just love it when books go into great detail on what everyone is wearing, this one's definitely for you.  Erin McKean tells this story of a woman returning to her hometown when her grandmother has a serious stroke in order to take over the running of Mimi's, her gran's boutique.  Yes, there's a guy involved.  Actually, more than one.  Oh, and there's someone plotting in the background.

A column on chick lit cannot fail to tip its metaphorical hat to the mother of it all -- Jane Austen.  Yes, I know all you classic-phobes are rolling your eyes now, but it's true!  The language may be (a lot) more polished, but all the other ingredients are the same -- unrequited love, boredom, adultery, cads, and silly women who are into clothing.  If you've never tried it, I dare you.  At least watch the movies!

For When You Need a Good Laugh

Another series I've been recommending to friends lately is the Spellman series, by Lisa Lutz.  These are mysteries, and the series begins with The Spellman Files, introducing the reader to Isabel Spellman, the messed-up private investigator daughter of two private investigators.  It continues with Curse of the Spellmans, Revenge of the Spellmans, and The Spellmans Strike Again.  Its delightful wackiness left me in stitches, even after rereading each book several times.
You really do need to read these in order, even though Isabel, the narrator, thoughtfully inserts asterisked notes referring to the previous books.  A collection of characters as odd as they are interesting include an octogenarian Jewish lawyer who loves pastrami sandwiches, a disreputable uncle, and a straitlaced older brother who Isabel both detests and depends on.  Practically every character in this book is blessed (or cursed) with incurable nosiness; this extends to placing a closed-circuit camera over the pistachio bowl to figure out who is putting their shells back in.  And it gets worse, much worse.
The mysteries themselves are not complicated as much as they are byzantine in a bizarre sort of way; don't read these because you want a mental puzzle to solve.  You'll end up with a headache after navigating the intellectual roller-coaster ride on which Lutz takes her readers.  Red herrings are so abundant that you need crackers to go with the story.
These are really, really fun books -- read them when you are tired, depressed, sad, waiting in a waiting room, or on the train.  But don't blame me if, while reading them in public, people look at you strangely because you are chuckling to yourself.  Here's a link to Lutz's page:  http://lisalutz.com/spellman-books.