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.

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.

Mysteries and Whodunits

Sometimes your head needs a little bit of a workout, but not the sort of exertion you'd need for, say, Kant or Sartre.  You've had a long day, you're tired, but you want a book to sink your teeth into and get the cerebral wheels turning.  That's when you really need a mystery to read.  There's so much variation out there that you'll find a lot of cross-genre mysteries to suit any taste, even chick lit! 
Start with the classics of mystery fiction --  one can't mention mystery without a bow to the master, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  Author of some dubiously sci-fi books, his career really took off when he created Sherlock Holmes.  Holmes and his sidekick, Watson, live eternally in Doyle's short-story series, as well as his novels, The Hound of the Baskervilles, A Study in Scarlet, and The Sign of Four.  Doyle also provided subsequent generations of mystery writers with the pattern of genius detective and somewhat dopey friend to serve as a kind of straight man.
Of course there's Agatha Christie as well, who created the characters of Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot.  I've always loved Miss Marple -- it's so easy to underestimate the scatty old lady knitting in the corner; however, she's nosey as anything and has a wealth of knowledge that no one would imagine her having at all.  Christie wrote prolifically, but the quality is a bit uneven.  (She was quite mysterious herself; she disappeared at some point during her adult life, reappearing later with no explanation).  I recommend as a start Murder on the Orient Express (with Poirot), At Bertram's Hotel (Miss Marple), and then you can take it from there.
I've mentioned Dorothy Sayers and her Lord Peter Wimsey before, so I won't get too fulsome here.  I'll only mention that The Nine Tailors is considered by many to be the finest and least solvable mystery ever written.
Other classic mystery writers include Josephine Tey, who didn't write enough of them to make me happy -- I've reread her Brat Farrar until it fell apart, and The Daughter of Time, in which Richard III has his character rehabilitated by a police detective stuck in the hospital, is generally considered one of the best mystery/historical novels ever written.
Not to neglect the American classic mysteries, it's worth trying Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe mysteries.  A more unpleasant, more brilliant, and fatter detective you will not find, but these books take the reader straight to 1920's New York City.
Moving along to our times, P.D. James has, at this point, donned the crown of mystery queen in Christie's place.  Also British, her mysteries feature Adam Dalgliesh, who is a far more complex character than any ever created by Christie.  James, I think, is really a very sophisticated writer who has chosen to write mysteries.  Sometimes a bit horrifying, her stories are the kind that keep you guessing, but not wildly.
I also like Robert Parker's books, which are not too complicated (anyone can pretty much solve them by the end of the first chapter) but are a delight to read.  The dialogue is hilariously written, and by the end of the book the reader thinks Spenser is a real person.  Last time I went to Boston I looked for him every time I saw someone walking a large black dog (in the books she's called Pearl).  Sadly, he died recently, so you'll have to make do with what he's written already.  Another similar writer is Bill Pronzini, whose Nameless Detective novels are terrific.  Interestingly enough, he's married to Marcia Muller, another well-known mystery writer, but I can't say I like her books as much as I like his.
This weekend I read Martha Grimes's latest, Fadeaway Girl.  I really prefer her Richard Jury series, but she's such a hoot to read that I enjoyed it anyway.  Grimes creates terrific characters -- each one has bizzare idiosyncrasies.  One doesn't read Grimes for the mystery; I think her books are more about the process.  Fadeaway Girl is the sequel to Belle Ruin, and is narrated by a twelve-year-old girl who works in her mother's hotel.  Among other responsibilities, she mixes novel cocktails for her Great-Aunt Aurora, who lives on the top floor.  Oh, and there are two characters, brothers called Ubub and Ulub (after their license plates -- don't ask) with speech impediments.  If you like Grimes, you're lucky -- she's written a lot of books.
A new mystery series I've gone through recently features Flavia De Luce, a ten-year-old growing up in '50's Britain who makes her debut in The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie.  No, it's not for children.  Flavia plays with chemicals as a hobby.  There are at least two more of these by Alan Bradley, and he seems to be on a roll.
I'll stop here, because otherwise I could go on all day, but if you have comments, questions, or special requests, please post in the comments section.  Also, try to think of any contributions you could make to my Guilty Pleasures post!

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!

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.