Because It's There

There's something special about reading a book in which the characters are experiencing nature's worst, getting frostbitten, being bitten by malarial mosquitoes, falling down mountains.  The nice part, for the reader, is the fact that he or she is usually sitting in a warm room, in a comfortable chair, usually with a hot or cold drink at the ready.  I really enjoyed reading Into The Silence:  The Great War, Mallory, and the Conquest of Everest, by Wade Davis.  It's not really an ideal book -- it's far too long, goes into almost exasperating detail, and the author tends to repeat himself a lot -- but for a reader who craves vicarious adventure, it is irresistible.  The lengthy backstory, while unnecessary, does give the reader a great deal of insight in the motives and behavior of the climbers who so disastrously attacked Mt. Everest in the early 1920's.  Davis spends a great deal of time and detail on the Great War experience (or lack thereof) of the climbers. It's patently obvious that this had a massive impact on each one; he does not spare his reader on the bitterness and futility of the British soldier's experience.  I found it interesting, but it can be safely skipped by a reader who wants to cut to the chase -- the three attempts on Everest.

Through ignorance, stupidity, pride, and sheer klutziness, the expeditions are not successful.  The death toll was significant in today's reckoning (at that point in time, deaths of natives were not quite as important -- an avalanche that cost seven Sherpas their lives was reported at the time as, "all whites are safe"); several members of the expedition who should not have been fit for travel at all died en route or on the way home.  Mallory and Irvine, in their third assault on the summit, disappeared.  Mallory's body was found in 1999.

If you're going to attempt the above, it's a good idea to read Into Thin Air at the same time.  By Jon Krakauer, it tells the story of the 1996 Mt. Everest climbing season, which ended in the deaths of eight climbers.  It's a good companion to the Davis book, as is this Youtube video which addresses the mystery of whether Mallory and Irvine actually reached the summit. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nBH6NeyFpw&feature=related

The next selection I read this week I absolutely could not put down, and it's been a while since I could say that about a book.  The Mirage seems to be a typical alternate history-type book with a political agenda, but turns out to be more like a fantasy novel.  By Matt Ruff, this book sucks the reader into a world in which 9/11 never happened, and the world is completely different.  I'll admit that when I first began reading, I assumed that the author had a political message, but that's not the case.  I can't say much about the book, because so much of what makes it gripping is its unexpectedness, but I found it very satisfying indeed.

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.

For Downton Abbey Watchers

The latest new series, now being shown on PBS, is a series called Downton Abbey, set in the years leading up to and including the Great War.  With a screenplay written by Julian Fellowes, it features a very Upstairs, Downstairs-like storyline, focusing on both the upper crust characters and the people who live to iron their shoelaces and bring up their tea.  Although it is a bit ridiculously soapy, it has become extremely popular watching for those who love gorgeous costumes, divine interiors, and the wonderful Dame Maggie Smith.  When it's over, one immediately goes into withdrawal, so here I am with a proposed antidote.

For watchers who want more of the atmosphere of the times of the Great War, take a look at the Loss of Eden series by John Masters.  This may be hard to find, as it's out of print, but your local library should have it.  It begins with Now, G-d Be Thanked, and it is a trilogy featuring a series of families in Kent, their servants, and their experiences throughout the war.  It reads an awful lot like Downton Abbey, and some of the situations are just as ridiculous.

Love the servants' hall?  Try Below Stairs, a memoir by Margaret Powell, a woman who spent most of her life "in service."  Unusually articulate, Powell paints a vivid picture of life belowstairs, and does it with a great deal of charm and humor.  The Remains of the Day, a novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, also paints a vivid picture of the life of a butler whose life has been dedicated to the service of a somewhat delusional master, but it's a much darker picture.  (This has also been adapted as a movie, which is not bad).

If you want the laughs, P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves novels are the way to go.  Bertie Wooster, Jeeves's master in name only, is ridiculously simpleminded, and his silly escapades always lead to a conclusion where Jeeves, the perfect servant, saves the day.

Oh, and if you want something else to watch:  Julian Fellowes wrote the screenplay for Gosford Park as well. Also the Upstairs, Downstairs type theme, also Dame Maggie Smith, but it's a murder mystery.  Great fun!

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!

Back With Some Decent Reading

Sorry for the long break between posts; I hope to post regularly now that we're settling into a routine once more.  I recently re-read a good book, nonfiction, by Alexander Stille.  Best known for his book about the complicated relationship of Italy's Jews with the fascist regime, Benevolence and Betrayal, Stille also wrote a riskier and more complex book about Sicily's mafia.  The book is called Excellent Cadavers, and if that sounds odd to English speakers, it makes a lot more sense in Italian.  The "excellent cadavers" refer to the trail of murdered magistrates, prosecutors, law enforcement officials and politicians who had the nerve to challenge the mafia's boa constrictor-like hold on Sicily's infrastructure.  Having insinuated their way into every profitable facet of life in Palermo, Sicily's capital, the mafia even had allies within the very organizations designed to combat its pernicious influence.  If you enjoyed The Godfather (and that's one movie that is far better than the book) you will like this book; however, it makes the fictitious Corleones look like mildly criminal juvenile delinquents.

For those of you who read crime fiction, you have probably noticed the recent flood of translated mysteries from Scandinavian writers.  Most popular seem to have been the series of three from Stig Larsson, whose predilection for graphic and gratuitous violence and detail is shared by nearly every other Scandinavian mystery writer I've sampled.  Hence, I was pleased to read Asa Larsson's (I'm assuming she's no relation; it's a ubiquitous name up north) Until Thy Wrath Be Past.  It's a nicely written and well-translated mystery with its roots in World War II era Sweden, and Larsson does not hesitate to dig up the painfully equivocal details of Sweden's relationship with Germany.  It's a satisfying mystery in every way, once you get past the complicated names.

I've mentioned Leah Cypess and her popular Young Adult fantasy novel, Mistwood.  This week I finally got my hands on Nightspell, her second book, and though I had to read it fairly quickly (my teenager was waiting to read it) I liked it a lot.  I hope I don't insult the author if I say I enjoyed it more than the first -- somehow, Nightspell drew me more into the story and I liked the characters better.  Perhaps it's just that I have an easier time dealing with ghosts than with shapeshifters.  In any case, it's a good pick if you like fantasy, and I'd recommend it to teen girls as well.  It's a pleasure to have female protagonists in fantasy stories who aren't waiting pathetically to be rescued.

A Penchant For Mystery

There are two kinds of mysteries I enjoy -- books that are true "whodunits;" that stump the reader to the very last page, and mysteries that aren't terribly complicated, can be solved by chapter 4, but are fun to read for other reasons.

In this first category one can fit most of Agatha Christie's work, Dorothy Sayers, Rex Stout, and others.  Into the second category I now add Martin Walker's French wine country mysteries.  Bruno, the chief of police of St. Denis, is an almost lovable character.  His exploits include foiling criminals whilst dressed in a Santa Claus suit, and rescuing small children from dung pits.  I've lost count of the number of times he needs to replace his uniform.  As well, this series is a pleasure to read if you are a foodie.  Vast meals shared by longtime friends are described in great detail, to my great delight.  The mystery is a side attraction, and in any case a clever reader can see where the story is going by the end of the second chapter, if not sooner.

I recently read another mystery that fits the first category but is fun to read none the less.  Death and the Maiden, by Gerald Elias, is another installment in the series starring Jacobus, a crabby old violin teacher.  Peopled by intriguing characters such as Nathaniel, an African-American cellist who wears a dashiki, and a Seeing-Eye bulldog called Trotsky (because he can't runsky), these books are written from the point of view of Jacobus, which is interesting, because he is blind.  This series does focus strongly on music and music-related crimes, but the reader does not need a great deal of acumen to enjoy the mysteries.

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.

Rite of Spring?

After a long wait, I finally got a hold of The Hunger Games, which everyone on the hold list seems to have been reading.  Classified as a Young Adult book, this is a strange futuristic tale of a country (ours, in a future I hope doesn't come) in which a terrible yearly rite is carried out.  Each year, every district is required to select two young people to participate in the nationwide Hunger Games, which seems similar to Survivors but without the scruples.  In the Hunger Games, the last one alive wins.

This book is quite dark, but engrossing.  It put me in mind of Shirley Jackson's The Lottery, a story I read in high school, about a contemporary community which still practices something like the pagan rite of spring sacrifice.  I won't say too much more; I don't like spoilers.  This isn't a book I'd give to my young teen, but it is a well-constructed story with an unexpected ending.  Even better, it begins a series, and I'm waiting now for the second installment, Catching Fire.

Switching genres entirely now, I would like to recommend an excellent nonfiction book recently published.  1493, by Charles C. Mann, is subtitled Uncovering the New World Columbus Created, and could just as easily have been called The Columbian Exchange.  Mann's sizable tome covers all populated continents, as he documents the ripple effect (in some places, more of a tsunami effect) that the European conquest of the Americas caused.
Mann also published 1491, about the Americas before Columbus.  I enjoyed this book, but not quite as much as 1493.  In 1493, he spends some time on the devastating effect of European diseases on the local people, whose populations were decimated by smallpox, measles, and other diseases they had never experienced, and writes at length of the effect of the malarial mosquito on Europeans.  Anyone who is interested in food will find interesting the chapters on origins of certain fruits, vegetables, and grains we take for granted as native to our lands today.

The Smart Reader's Kids

I often get requests for book recommendations for children; nowadays it's so difficult to find books for kids that have literary merit.  Another issue is the fact that one doesn't want one's children picking up, say, bad language from the books he/she is reading.  It's also hard to pinpoint which books reflect the values one is trying to inculcate in one's family.

Although this may sound like a pain in the neck, I pre-read nearly every book my children take out from the library.  This isn't really as hard as it sounds, because I spent most of my childhood reading every book in existence; it only remains for me to read the newer ones.  Also, I read faster than the average person (practice makes perfect! Read Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers if you don't believe me).

In this post, I offer a short list of recommended reading for emerging readers and onward.  If you are looking for good books in a particular genre for your child, you can request those in the comments and I'll do another post later this month.

Emerging readers:  These are the children who are just beginning to read on their own and are moving beyond read-aloud; there is usually a special section in the library for these readers.  Unfortunately, each publisher has its own leveling system, so it takes some time to figure out what is what, but you can't go wrong with:

• Dr. Seuss; Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham are perfect for young independent readers.
• Arnold Lobel's Frog and Toad series
• David Adler's Young Cam Jansen, and when they are ready they can move on to the regular Cam Jansen series.
• I was very fond of Amelia Bedelia when I was very young; I've noticed, however, that today's children often don't grasp the double meanings of the words the way we used to.  A lot of those words are not in common use today, and it just doesn't seem as funny.  Take them out anyway; it's worth a little bit of explanation.

Intermediate readers:  These are children who read well on their own, and can deal with real chapter books that have lots of words.  The subject matter is usually straightforward and the plot is generally uncomplicated.  Vocabulary is on or slightly above level.

• I don't really like series books, but this one is actually not bad (although it's a tad commercial for my taste).  The American Girl books, with each series focusing on a child growing up during a particular era in American history, are nicely done, well-written, and comfortingly predictable.  The values are quite nice, and each book features an appendix that tells the reader more about the period in history.  If you can restrain yourself from purchasing any of the merchandise, you should be fine.  The authors vary.  These are usually most suitable for ages 7-10.
• A good author for children ages 8-11 is Eleanor Estes; her Moffat family series is charming and funny.  Other good authors for these ages are Elizabeth Enright, whose '50's era books are all now being reprinted, and Edward Eager.  Eager is an E.Nesbit wannabe, and for those of you who have never heard of Nesbit, she was an English children's author who was very well known and is still widely read.  I would recommend her books to older children, though, because the language is quite British, if you get my meaning.
• Laura Ingalls Wilder's books are a good place to start for a girl who is ready for a book that is a bit longer.  The series officially begins with Little House in the Big Woods, and moves onward.  The last two might not be appropriate to children younger than 11 or 12; the last book is actually a bit tragic.
• Andrew Clements skyrocketed to fame with his bestseller, Frindle, and seems to have been consistently churning out entertaining novels since then.  I particularly enjoyed A Week in the Woods, as well as Room One.  Parents should be aware, however, that Clements also published several Young Adult books that are not targeted to this age level.
• Of course, it's impossible to look for books for intermediate readers without mentioning Beverly Cleary.  One thing (out of many) that is appealing about her books is how they are so suited both to boys and girls.  Ramona is a character girls love and boys find hilarious.  Ralph S. Mouse has universal appeal.  
• Noel Streatfeild was a great favorite of mine growing up.  Her "Shoe" books (Ballet Shoes, Dancing Shoes, Theater Shoes) are endearing and beautifully written.

Older and advanced readers:  Children aged 11 and over are often looking for books with more complex plots, abstract themes, that don't unfold predictably.  However, this age and level is difficult because much of the fiction marketed to this group depicts values and behaviors parents don't want their children immersed in.  Here I offer a short list of some suitable reading material, but it is very important here to know what your child can handle, and what you do/do not want him/her exposed to.

• Zilpha Keatley Snyder:  One of my favorite books, even now, is Snyder's Velvet Room.  One of her several books set against the backdrop of the Great Depression, Snyder's story carries a lesson but does it so gently that the reader delights in learning it.  I didn't love all her books, but she's definitely an author to acquaint yourself with.
• L.M. Montgomery was the creator of Anne of Green Gables and published oodles of similar books.  There's no real middle ground with Montgomery -- either you love her or she sickens you.
• Newbery Medal books:  Click on this link to get a full listing of all the Newbery winners I have read and reviewed.

If you post your requests in the comments section for this post, I will take up this thread in my next post as well.  For example, if you have a child who likes fantasy, or mysteries, I would be happy to publish a separate post for that genre.  Be sure to check out my quasi-kid post on this page.

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.

The Persistence of Memory

I just finished a new book called What Alice Forgot, which I haven't been able to stop thinking about. By Liane Moriarty, an Australian author who I have never heard of until now, this is chick lit with a twist.

Alice takes a hard fall during her weekly spin class, hits her head, and when she comes to, it's 1998 and she's pregnant with her first child (she calls it the sultana; I think this is Australian for raisin).  Except it's not 1998 -- it's 2008, and Alice has lost the memories of ten years, has no recollection of her three children, and is evidently about to divorce her husband and can't remember why.

The ensuing action is fascinating.  The 2008 Alice, as depicted through the eyes of the other characters, is a hardened woman with uber-mommy features and doesn't seem at all like the sweet, loving, idealistic 1998 Alice. My favorite part deals with an episode involving her teenager (the former sultana) who is suspended from school for some infraction.  It's clear that the 2008 Alice, full of resentment towards the child who's evidently been giving her a hard time, would have dealt with this in a very different way than the new/old Alice who has just met her.  1998 Alice thinks Madison is a lovely girl, and with none of the backstory to affect her behavior, deals with the problem easily in a loving and proper manner.

I won't give away any more of this delightful story, but I would definitely categorize this as a must-read.

This reminded me a little of another book that I've mentioned before, which shares the theme of memory and the effect it (and the lack of it) can have on one's life.  Welcome To The World, Baby Girl, by Fannie Flagg, kept coming to mind as I read this book, even though in many ways they are not alike.  However, in this book memories that are buried and forgotten set off a sequence of events that culminate in a real comfort of a novel.

China In American Fiction

This weekend I read a recently-released book by Lisa See called Dreams of Joy; she's also the author of several other China-themed books which I read but haven't really retained well.  The protagonist, Joy, flees her native Los Angeles in the 1950's after a series of events uncovers a family secret. Joy, a naive-to-the-point-of-stupidity college student, decides to go to Communist China to find her father, believing that she can be part of the glorious revolution that is making China so wonderful.  Boy, is she in for a surprise.  Her mother, Pearl, fully recognizing the danger Joy faces, returns to China to find her and bring her home, but of course it's not that simple.

See's descriptions of life during the Great Leap Forward remind me of the books of Betty Bao Lord; I loved her The Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson as a child and enjoyed Eighth Moon and Spring Moon as an adult.  The way life is portrayed during this time is almost too horrible to be believed, but if one reads the latest biography of Mao Zedong by Jung Chang it seems natural that such a man would create these terrible circumstances.

Amy Tan is another writer who seems to have defined the genre of the Chinese in America -- her Joy Luck Club is an excellent book, as well as The Kitchen God's Wife and others.  My favorite, and an exception to her usual genre, is Saving Fish from Drowning, which is set in Burma and features a group of tourists who get lost.

Fiction That Reads Like Nonfiction, and Vice-Versa

This week I got through several books that seemed to be one thing but were in fact another.  Every so often I'm fortunate enough to find a nonfiction book that is so well-written and interesting that it reads like fiction.  Chasing Aphrodite is one such book.  This book focuses on the Getty Museum's acquisitions of art and antiquities looted and sold by back-door methods all over Europe, and it reads like a thriller.  Forgery, vendettas, packing ancient statues in car trunks in the dead of night -- this book has it all.

On the other hand, I also came across a couple of novels that, sadly, read like nonfiction.  That's not to say that they were boring -- on the contrary, they were both interesting.  But when one is expecting a novel, it's disconcerting to read through what is essentially a memoir/history with a few made-up characters.

Farishta, by Patricia McArdle, is the story of Angela Morgan, a diplomat who finds herself in Afghanistan.  The plot is pretty bare bones; most of the story paints a compelling picture of a service life in a war zone and the particulars of life in Afghanistan.  By the time one is done reading, what happens to Angela seems parenthetical and the reader is left with a sense of wonder at the mysterious country that is the graveyard of empires.

The Girl in the Blue Beret is a complete waste of time as a novel -- it's the story of a retired pilot who returns to France to retrace his steps in World War II.  A downed aviator, he was aided by the French Resistance all the way over the Pyrenees to Spain, and he is returning to find the brave men and women who saved him and his crew.  Most of the book consists of narratives from each resistant as he meets them along his journey.  While these narratives are fascinating, the book's plot is barely necessary and is almost nonexistent.  It's worth reading simply to get an idea of the courage and determination of those French who would not stand by and tolerate the German Occupation.

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.

Cinderella Ate My Daughter? Or Was It The Unnatural Selection?

I've done very well with nonfiction lately; not so well with fiction, sadly.  It's a shame, because now that my summer vacation has begun, I could really do with some lovely frivolous reading.  Well, it can't be helped.

One very entertaining nonfiction book I read lately was Cinderella Ate My Daughter, by Peggy Orenstein.  A prolific writer about girls and growing up female, Orenstein has a bit of shock when she finally has her own daughter.  Determined to raise an empowered girl, who does not feel trapped by stereotypes, she encourages her to like the characters of her choice (Thomas the Tank Engine) and engage in any type of play, not simply girl-specific activities.  However, she soon realizes that this will not work -- Daisy's Thomas lunchbox hits the dirt as soon as a classmate points out that "only boys like Thomas the Tank Engine," and Orenstein soon sees her daughter swallowed by the whole Disney Princess culture -- in spite of her best efforts to indoctrinate her daughter against that world.

This book explores much of this culture -- Orenstein goes into the world of kiddie pageants, American Girl dolls, fairy tales, and Disney movies.  She explores the role of girls in popular culture (or lack thereof) and does a great deal of hand-wringing over her lack of control over how her daughter finds her place in the world.  I think this book speaks more of our inability to really form our children in the way we'd ideally wish, and how culture and the outside world has so much influence.

Once we're on the topic of gender, Unnatural Selection comes along with a warning tocsin, citing new research in Asia and even parts of Europe that show parents electing to abort female fetuses after ultrasound identification.   Mara Hvistendahl, the author, sketches for the reader the cultural background for this alarming trend, and goes further by proposing the unintended consequences of such behavior.  And these consequences may in fact be dire.  It's an interesting read, if a bit panicky.

On another topic entirely, Malled is the account of a journalist seeking some additional income who goes to work as a sales associate for The North Face.  She goes on and on about how industry culture treats the lowly sales associate like dirt, who subsequently treats the customer badly, eventually quits or is fired, explaining the ridiculous turnover rate.  One thing I came away with -- I will, in future, always attempt to be friendly, appreciative, and courteous to any sales associate who assists me.

I Win Again!

For the third time this year, I have managed to beat the New York Times Book Review -- I've read at least two books a week or more before the NYT has had a chance to publish its review.

Last week I spent most of my spare time (when I wasn't grading papers or reading essays) reading The Storm of War, a  new history of World War II.  By Andrew Roberts, this book covers the topic admirably, and I should know by now, having attempted to read nearly everything I can get my hands on within this topic.  Roberts puts forth the thesis that Hitler's war was a war fought for ideological as opposed to political reasons; he proposes this as the answer to why this war was lost as well.  This is a very thorough treatment of the events of World War II, and Roberts manages to combine this thoroughness with a brevity and concision of writing which is a pleasure to read.  This book would make a good companion to Richard J. Evans' Third Reich series, which delves much more deeply into the psyche of Hitler's Germany, and you can read about these books here.

Another book in the NYT spotlight this week is State of Wonder, by Ann Patchett.  Patchett originally rocketed to the top of the bestseller lists with her beautifully written Bel Canto; its odd plot notwithstanding, it is a wonderful book.  State of Wonder is set in a different type of world than Bel Canto, but one similarity is how Patchett seems to enjoy pushing together characters from vastly different worlds almost just to see what will happen.  This sometimes feels a bit like experimental cookery.

In this story, a dispassionate letter informing a pharmaceutical company of the death of an emissary catapults another employee into actions she wouldn't normally take.  It's important not to give anything away, though, because the reader will enjoy this book far more coming into it with complete ignorance.  I would recommend not even reading the jacket blurb.

Vicarious Travel

It's always wonderful to get a chance to go away on vacation, a change of scenery, different people.  Nicer still is the opportunity to shed household responsibilities, childcare responsibilities, and the constant burden of one's job.  Unfortunately, we're not all so lucky.  While it would be a treat to spend a few days on a tropical island, or touring a beautiful cosmopolitan city, some of us have to resort to other means of getting away -- a vacation of the mind, as it were.

There are some really diverting books available which, if read during a calm moment, in a quiet spot, can take you away in spirit if not corporeally.  This week I spent time in Hawaii, in a book entitled Unfamiliar Fishes.  Really a history of the American takeover of the island, the author tries to get under the skin of Hawaiian culture and succeeds in taking the reader with her.  I never did know much about our 50th state, and I didn't have much interest, but this book successfully sucked me in.

Ireland Unhinged, by a writer who transplanted his family from Connecticut to Cork, is another matter.  This is more like travel writing, with a bit of history and a lot of humor thrown in.  Again, a topic in which I had no previous interest, but the book held me until the last page.

To go to India without the inconveniences of unreliable electric and water service (not to mention the pollution), read Sideways on a Scooter, written by a journalist who spends time living in Delhi and is enraptured by the country.  Her experiences discovering quite how deeply the concept of caste is still embedded, and how marriages take place, are worth reading.  One comes away with, perhaps, a less than wholly positive opinion of the writer, but no matter -- it's a very readable book.

What the World Eats

If you're looking for a book to engage your whole family, What the World Eats is just the ticket.  I took out this book from the library last week and, without exaggeration, every member of the family has read it at least once.  We've even read it together!

This unique book, which is really more of a coffee-table book than a book to read in bed, features portraits of twenty-five families from twenty-one countries -- surrounded by a week's worth of food.  Each portrait is accompanied by a breakdown of their food expenditure (i.e. beverages, condiments, restaurants) and a short description of how the family lives.  It's very difficult not to feel embarrassed by the riches our kitchen cabinets offer when reading about a family in Chad, who spend $2.20 a week on several bags of assorted grains, and also have to lug their water in large plastic jugs.  Also interesting are the separate sections on street food (grubs on a stick, anyone?), kitchens, and other food-related customs from all around the world.  This book is the sort-of juvenile version of Hungry Planet, which was written for adults.

While I'm on the topic, another fascinating book about food is Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser.  He also published a juvenile version, called Chew On This, and both books focus on the influence of the fast food industry on American culture, as well as its impact on health and culture.  Read in tandem with The Omnivore's Dilemma, by Michael Pollan, as well as The End of Food, by Paul Roberts, this practically constitutes a seminar!

These books all have one thing in common -- they all exist to inform Americans in some way about food.  Where it comes from, how much we're eating, how much we're getting out of it, who's going without it -- all this information is not usually sought out by the average American supermarket shopper.  Maybe it should be?  What do your think?