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The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters
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From a historical fiction perspective, I thought this book was pretty interesting. It covered a multitude of attitudes of the era from women's rights, women's places in their homes and jobs after WWI, the displacement of veterans, the attitude towards those who were conscripted into the war, generational gaps in tradition, views on sexuality, abortion/the horrible means of procuring one and all the risks it involved, even a fair amount of historical fashion changes. Even as a fan of historical fiction I have to admit that it took me a little time to recall what a WC was.

I thought it also explored human emotion and actions rather well, to an extent. While roping both into the context of the historical setting in a plausible dynamic.

However, the plot itself just didn't grab me up. When I go for an HF, I'm usually looking for a pretty engrossing plot on top of accurate (or at least plausible) historical context. I just couldn't really get into the characters. They were each easy enough to understand and the story definitely seemed like it had the ability to pick up as it went on. But it never seemed to gain any energy.

All in all, not a horrible read by any means but pretty boring.

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The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
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I am I am I am ... glad to have revisited this book while almost at a loss of what all to say about it in a review.

I could say that I fell in love with the complexity of the narrator's character and her internal and external contradictions back when I was 14 and wholly unprepared for a book to have so much of a relatable emotional resonance. That part of me loved the book while a small part hated it as well because it felt a lot more eye-opening than anything else I'd come across by then. Bringing on a sense of uncomfortable self awareness that, I believe, only the most genuine works can. As if it amped up my sight just enough to envision everyone else shouldering their own personal bell jars, balking and straining at the edges. While allowing what I felt were the edges of my own to come into sharp focus.

I could say that The Bell Jar is certainly not a cool quench to the flame of teenage angst. Which is why I believe it sometimes gets avoided and associated with that slightly dismal purview.

What I'll say instead is that I think it's a book worth reading at some point in your life. Actually more like multiple points in your life. Because it has something genuine, emotional, wry, human,... to offer. If for no other reason than for it to pose the question, "I am I am I am..." what? when you most need to answer it.

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Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol
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I have a thing for Russian authors/novels thanks to Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. Now thanks to Gogol as well. However, it's incredibly sad that this remains an unfinished work. I do think Gogol was right when he said (in letters) that this was probably going to amount to his life's work. It's that intense and intriguing. There's just so much scope to it.

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Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple
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I'm not sure what to say about this book to be honest. Semple's dive into Seattlites and the oh-so-standardly-wacky-ways of the Wacky Ones wasn't a horrible read. Her writing is well done and she definitely has a good phrase turn here and there throughout. But the increasingly fantastic turn of events made it more of a fun, quick read through rather than anything that stood out for me in particular.

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The Collected Tales and Plays of Nikolai Gogol by Nikolai Gogol
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Honestly, I keep wishing for better translations of Gogol. This compilation of his work was definitely entertaining and one of the best I've read so far but there's so much wit in his subtleties that I'll end up diving back in just to take in more of it all.

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Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
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I tried picking this book up for the first time when I was 14 and didn't end up finishing it. I wanted to be a Vonnegut fan, I wanted to enjoy the book and find an intense illumination within it like so many others seemingly did. Said expectation and desires took the wind out of my sails though and I think I'm very glad that they did. If they hadn't I don't think I would have been able to appreciate it in the way I do now, upon finishing it a few minutes ago.

For instance, I recently read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Another book I wasn't at a place to finish as a teen because it flung open views within myself that I wasn't at a place to have or examine. As a very good lit teacher I was lucky enough to have once said, "the best stories are the ones that come into your story at just the right time." I put both The Bell Jar and Slaughterhouse-Five on the same level when it comes to a genuinely wrought plunge into depression, PTSD, and the fallible human.

The main complaints I've seen about Slaughterhouse-Five seem to concern the ultimate style of the book which is often said to be less influential and impressive these days than it was when the book was published and the over-usage of 'so it goes.' I'm not a Vonnegut expert and will not pretend to comment on the whole of his work. But I will say that I took the style of this book as more a glimpse into the emotional and neurological effects of PTSD rather than a stylistic enterprise. It is certainly chaotic but, viewing it this way, I did feel it added an essential element to the book. As for the repetition, I believe it was also essential... at least from the context of Vonnegut's personal expressions. For example, I found myself remembering (time jumping to?) various experiences I've had with grief/loss/death as well as trauma. And, on the outside of those experiences, I don't think anything felt more poignant than these three words.

I'm hoping I can explain the above adequately... from my experiences, I don't believe grief is a vacuum that can be bottled up into a specific amount of time. I believe both it and PTSD span further than that in a lifetime. That you might grieve the loss of someone because of a random memory or because you're at a different level of maturity in your life and did not previously possess the same depths as you do in this moment. I think there isn't really a better example of this than that of children that lose a parent at a young age or soldiers that lose their friends in the middle of a war. There isn't a well for grief to draw from in the moment so you can easily see how it takes shape in different avenues of their lives. Such as a kid acting out, dealing with intense depression through a relatively happy event in their later lives, etc. This long-standing relationship with grief, loss, ptsd, etc. also shapes the person's attitudes towards more personal loss or (at least) loss in an intellectual context.

Hence, 'so it goes.' Because for those that have crossed that line in life, that really is the way it goes. To some it may signify an ambivalence but, from my perspective across the line, I believe it is simply an accurate acknowledgement of reality and personal context. So I actually felt as if each individual repetition packed quite a wallop within itself.

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Scarlet by Marissa Meyer
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I think Cinder is still my favorite of the two so far but I'm still quite taken with Meyer in general. Also really glad to finally have gotten around to reading this.

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Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger
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I've never been much of a Salingerite (Salingerean?). Caulfield in Catcher drove me up a wall when I read it as a teen and this is the first time I've picked Salinger up since. No walls bore any unwanted attention with this book however, thankfully.

Zooey definitely had an abundance of Caulfield on the tip of his ego in my opinion but I found myself liking both the short story and the novella more than I thought I would. It did have a play-ish feel to it, as I've seen many mention in the reviews I've read. A lot of dialogue to get through in such a small quantity of prose. However, I don't think that the fact that the action is largely emotional or intellectual can really be construed as a complete lack of action on the part of each character. It felt, to me, that rather a lot was going on throughout. Honestly, I think that's what roped me into these stories on their own and combined more than anything else. I felt such movement in the characters and it seemed wonderfully capturing. Plus, it sparked a good deal of self awareness and thought which always makes for a "good book" in my opinion.

I don't know if I have a "favorite" part from the book but the predominant excerpt that keeps ringing for me is, "there isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know- listen to me now- don't you know who that Fat lady really is?... Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ himself."

It's such a boiled down simplification of something so many seem to find so intellectually intangible. Going beyond the pretty charming visualizations of said Fat Lady that both children had at one point or another, the 'end all, be all' of the coined phrase, "...the Fat Lady sings" went round and round my head while I was reading this part. Everyone is the Fat Lady, the Fat Lady is Christ, Christ is everyone... well that's just goddam beautiful.

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The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
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This book started out with just squeaking out 2 stars from me. (Egads!) Two subsequent stars came along only after I'd sat with it for a bit (and ranted thoroughly about it). The work itself is a little like opium. The scent, the words, the depth and even the demise of it's characters being intoxicating as, rightly, any novel with gothic elements should be.

I think the reader can grandly sup on Wilde's quotable and quite revealing prose. I found the inversion of Plato's philosophy that an educated love of beauty, truth, etc. can beat out immorality to be intriguing and wonderfully wrought.

I might have wanted to sock Lord Henry one too many times, but I respect and admire how his character and the influence of said character upon Dorian is rendered. However, as mentioned before, I found myself ranting quite a bit about the annoyance and disgust I felt towards the characters as a whole or as individuals. This is definitely not one of those books to find many a redeeming quality floating about it's principal players. Which definitely serves its point well enough.

All in all, I loved the painted picture cast by Wilde's voluptuously wordsmith prose. I loved how much I hated the characters' sybaritic lives. I loved that it made me think and even draw out my dusty Plato knowledge from a humanities class that had rolled under a few ancient stacks of odds and ends in my brain.

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Middlemarch by George Eliot
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Awhile ago I ended up watching 'Til Human Voices Wake Us and there was this beautiful scene where the two main characters are teens out on a lake. The girl is reading a book of poetry and the boy asks about it. She fondly exclaims that it's words (or it's a book of words, bear with me and my lapse of detail retention). He looks off at the lake as if he doesn't care all that much so she holds the book up to his ear, flicks through the pages so they brush against his earlobe, and asks him if he can hear them.

If I could live to be half as well read and witty as Eliot, I'd consider myself truly happy. As it is, I'll settle for the time being with simply hearing her beautiful prose flick softly against my ear whilst being thoroughly inspired by her intellect and ability. There's so much depth and contradiction in her characters, so much humanity. I found it absolutely lovely and delicious.

I'm not quite sure what else there is to say about this book as of yet. I'm still sitting with it and adoring it.

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The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells
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My dad taught me to read with a bunch of broken-spined sci-fi books, one being The War of the Worlds. Potentially problematic when you get down to the nitty gritty subject matter but it worked for us and thrust me solidly into geekdom. Thanks, Dad.

Reading it for the first time all these years later, my five stars are a bit of a hodge podge of good memories and an impression of the unique and exciting material that was produced by Wells at a time when there wasn't really anything else like it. The five stars will remain and it's officially been added to my favorites list which, let's be honest, it always was.

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The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells
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In it's entirety, The Island of Dr. Moreau definitely kept my interest. But I don't think I would have rated it as highly as I have if it weren't for the last chapter (CH. 22: The Man Alone). I just fell for how aptly Wells was able to capture the results of Prendick's "adventure." Also, the very basis for the story, is infinitely intriguing. What really makes these 'beasts' monsters? The experiments, the pain, or the simple fact of the yoke of humanity being cast upon them? And, depending on your perspective, who is the real monster? The animalistic traits of the creations or the person trying so grotesquely to suppress/change them? As we see with Prendick, it's a bit more relative in a moment of human peril than most of us would tend to think. His monsters are formed by what's unknown to what seems the most dangerous at present. But the idea of monsters isn't extinguished in the escaping, they simply live on in new ways.

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The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
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I watched The Wizard of Oz plenty of times as a kid. And by this I mean that I typically lasted until the end of the Lollipop Guild number and then I was out like Glinda the Good passed me the poppy dust to end all poppy dust. So it wasn't until I was older that I actually succeeded in watching the whole yellow brick road unfold, still, I liked it. What's more, I really fell in love with red shoes. And skipping.

All that being said, the book was okay. I kept hearing "weeee'reee OFF to see The Wizard..." running around in my head the whole way through and I felt some poppy dust creeping along at moments. But it was cute enough and potentially more interesting as the rest of the books come into play. We'll see.

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The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emmuska Orczy
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I read this as part of a monthly challenge. The parameters for the challenge being Classics, "read either a Shakespearean play or a classic love story." Amidst high school AP Lit flashbacks of teens rapping
Shakespeare, I set out on the latter.

'Odd's Fish!' I ended up really liking this quick read more than I thought I might. It's adventurous, fun, and it all ties up nicely in the end according to the majority of the wants and whims of the time's reading set.

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The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
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** Spoiler Alert ** The Harry Potter references, the Tell Tale Heart vibe present in both the plot's survivor's guilt and secrecy/"crime," Tartt's ability to write grief genuinely - especially from the view of the grieving child growing to affected and grieving adult, and the novel's intriguing themes make this quite a novel to dive into. I felt the influential tang and twist of Salinger and Capote throughout and agree wholeheartedly that it's Dickensian both in depth and plot similarities. The themes of art as beauty, art as immortality, and art as memorial definitely brought up some Wilde comparisons along the way. Including Theo's almost turning himself hauling up the [contextually similar from a psychological point, imo] image of lost Dorian stabbing our gray fiend to his demise.

I feel like this novel has weight and merit; it gives the reader something to chew on with the stumble and grind of emotional climaxes and leaves something of itself behind in the experience as the best books do. I haven't read The Little Friend yet but, having read this and The Secret History before it, I'm sure it will appear on my bookshelf at some point.

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Lalla Rookh by Thomas Moore
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I stumbled across Lalla Rookh while reading Middlemarch by George Eliot. So now that I've been going back through my notes on Middlemarch, I decided to pick it up. I'm surprised that I haven't gotten a hint of it before now. There's a lot of references I'm going to enjoy going back and researching. It's interesting to read Moore's take on Persian culture which largely identifies with his era instead of a realistic view of Persia without the exoticism.

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The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom
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I'm pretty iffy on plantation stories. Often they end up seeming trite and disrespectful, focused more on melodrama than on actual history. So if an author doesn't have an actual connection to their material it's probably going to be a bust for me. Especially if the book is historical fiction because I'm going to expect a good emphasis on the historical part of that genre.

However, Grissom has a good opening: a young Irish girl winds up the indentured servant of a very screwed up household but she finds a family in those that work the kitchen and 'big house.' Through her eyes, and the eyes of Belle - kin to the 'Captain' but forced to work in the kitchen for his wife and white children - we see a lot of the prevalent issues of the age such as relationships, the massive strength of character some people can have under inhumane conditions that would break most, denial of paternity, secrecy, idiotic medical practices that killed more people than they helped, a quick peek into the despair of a mental health hospital and the ability of a husband to toss his wife in one should he choose, rape and the resulting trauma, etc. Surely there is a lot of merit behind a book (and an author) that encompasses all of this. I'm not going to say that there isn't, no worries. What I will say is that, as a first book, I feel like more was bitten off than should have been. There are times of very frustrating shallowness in the depiction of characters that could have flown off the page larger than life given the right dose of prose and ink. Rather, the subsisting element of the book is crisis after crisis.

This element makes the crises run together rather than allowing her characters to grow as they face a specific thing. So the depth of the characters becomes implied rather than really explored by the author. It's a rather tepid complaint. I kept reading and I wouldn't say that this book wasn't worth the read. It encompasses historical realities that should be remembered and respected. I just wanted to see more than I did of certain characters, to see them fleshed out more... I guess 'consistently' would be the word.

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Perdido Street Station by China Miéville
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Picking up this book was an impulse guided by a quarterly reading challenge (read a steampunk novel); the genre didn't really have a showing in my TBR pile until this challenge. After surreptitiously googling "steampunk novels" to outfit my lacking store of related knowledge, I came across really good reviews for Miéville's Perdido and figured it was worth a shot. I didn't have much luck with it when I began.

I was reading quite a lot of Victorian-era books and even though I felt like it would be a natural next once I'd read some Wells, I couldn't slip into it. Miéville takes you into a quick dive, leaving you ashore in a completely new world. That's definitely not a criticism, it's wonderful. However, a whole new world being considered, I probably would have stuck with three stars. Simply because there were a lot of parts that felt muddled to me. From sentences to whole plot developments, honestly. There was immense talent in the writing, that was easy to see and feel but the world just grew spotty in patches for me and it made the book drag a bit. However, upon finishing, I decided it would be a four-star for me because I was so impressed with the undertaking and how well Miéville was able to take it on.

I can sit back, as a reader, and say, "I wish there was a little editing here," or, "what, okay, need to go back to understand that." However, also as a reader, I can see the effort and imagination needed to put this book in front of me and I can respect it completely. That being said, I look forward to reading more by the author.

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Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
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Things Fall Apart is my first encounter with Chinua Achebe's work. I happened to see it up on the circulation shelf on my last trip to the library while I was checking out and remembered it was on my forever-growing TBR list. After I asked for it, the lady next to me mentioned she had studied it in school and that she ended up keeping the book because it was wonderful. After reading it, I can certainly see why it would be an interesting study. That's usually a point towards any of my favorite books. I have a lot of affection for books that open up new channels to me in further research and reading. I also have a lot of affection for nuance and for tribal and historical novels that can capture and cultivate the art of the spoken story. I feel that Achebe quenches that affection quite satisfyingly for me.

Pointing out Achebe's use of nuance isn't anything new; most of the positive reviews I've seen for Things mention it/praise it. Just as most of the negative reviews I've seen for the book mention that nothing much happens in the book and/or they weren't overly impressed by the revealed tribal culture- that there are books out there that describe it more exotically and with more aplomb. I would definitely agree on the exoticism front. I would go as far as saying that it's this agreement that makes the book so impressive to me. It's not about the exotic, it's about the context of a community that isn't based on fancy, fetish, or the centralization of some big, booming scene that seeks to drag the reader in. It puts forth complex themes (politics, religion, colonization, the pro and cons of such, the self awareness of the individual and the pull or even necessity of acting on the behalf of a whole, etc.) in a straightforward manner and, to me, it's this that is the most moving element. Because these themes are not foreign and, in reality, the society of "the tribe" isn't either. In this way, Achebe's nuance honors tribal history while leaving room for interpretation of his work, his themes, and their context on a scale of both personal and modern societal planes. This is aplomb, this is assurance and intelligent writing, in my opinion. This is George Eliot, Dostoevsky, Gogol, etc. A look into a bit of society that holds current because it is a magnifier for ourselves historically and presently.

As quoted from Yeats' The Second Coming, "...The falcon cannot hear the falconer;/Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;/Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world," I believe it is both poignant to Achebe's book as well as to the readers of his work that the creation of confusion, anarchy, etc. is brought on by an inability to hear that which we are moving away from. If we are merely to be moved by exoticism, we lose the introspection our past can lead to- the themes that repeat so often in generations. While Achebe's Things will fall to positive and negative reviews as books are wont to do and I hold no real opinion on what it means if the novel is liked or not by someone- I believe that the merit of his book stands apart because it offers something vital to its readers that isn't just based on plot line, era, character, or specific culture/society.

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Origin Stories by Kelly Link
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The epigraph at the beginning of Link's Get in Trouble is, "Year after year/ On the monkey's face/ A monkey face." (Basho, translated by Robert Hass) I think it's pretty much the perfect epigraph for Link's work in Get In Trouble, a collection of short stories that includes "Origin Story" and "Secret Identity." It's a little punny, witty, and sarcastic but it fits each of these things inside a quick, trippy realism. In fact it was reading Origin Stories that made me skip over several books waiting patiently in their piles on my desk and immediately pick up Get in Trouble because I just had to have more.

Link's mentions of the Yellow Brick Road/Oz is pretty spot on as well. When you pick up with one of her short stories it's definitely similar to following a bright, winding road and ending up somewhere unexpected. I think "Origin Story" is my favorite because it's such a pure example of this. You get drips and splotches of the woven endgame throughout the whole story but it still shines when you end up stumbling across it.

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Get in Trouble by Kelly Link
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I bought this a month or so ago when it was being advertised on ŷ������ because it seemed right up my alley. I wasn't disappointed by it. Though I started off reading "Origin Story" and "Secret Identity" separately, I quickly followed them up with picking up this collection. For me it's just really interesting how Link weaves her short stories together and gets you invested in characters that you only get to experience in a very short amount of time. But the wit behind the stories is that whatever she ends up winding you through, you get a very condensed picture in that short time and it hooks you. Plus, I found "Origin Story" extra interesting because it's just a fun game to play- thinking up origin stories for classic characters or random people you come across.

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George Eliot's Middlemarch Edited by Harold Bloom
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My Humanities teacher used to say that the purpose of literary criticism isn't to tear down or set out a particular framework for our classics that everyone should stick within. That, while this might be what it amounts to in modern circles more often than not, the real purpose is to provoke a community of original and intelligent thought by offering up an opinion that is well written and poignant enough to inspire the creation of new thought. Like the authors that write what we critique, we should focus on what our efforts bring into the world after being expressed- always striving for the open-minded and even open-ended because that is what ends up building something worthwhile.

I had a really great Humanities teacher. I also happen to believe that Bloom has edited a book that, through focused effort, is a wonderful companion piece to the experience of Middlemarch. One that sparks intelligent thought and seeks to build something that readers and admirers of Eliot can turn to.

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The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
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Spoilers

So, I picked this up because of a couple key words in about every description I read: "magic," "duel," "historical fiction!" Which ended up equaling, in my mind, a Triwizard Tournament without the, you know, Tri part. It could be comparable to a Triwizard Tournament... Morganstern is good with imagery and she introduces you to very interesting characters- I'm not going to get her confused with Rowling at any point but there's talent there (yes, I'm saying this in Hagrid's 'you're a wizerd, Harry,' voice in my head). Back to the point I was making, comparable to a Triwizard Tournament that goes on for years (and years) and in which Cedric and Harry fall in love because they complete each other which makes their psychopathic teachers piss-their-pants pissy because somehow they didn't see THAT coming and they wanted one of them to up and die like they were supposed to, that's how they get their jollies after all. So Harry and Cedric hop the vrrrooom (all manner of puns are definitely implied in these last three words and it makes me happy) energy with one of them supplying the pop and showbiz side of things so they can have a happily ever after and call it a stalemate in order to save the hundreds of innocent bystanders that were put in the glare of the spotlight for the sole amusement of a teacher and his ex-student that can't just sing kumbaya and drop the measuring sticks.

In case you're trapped in the dark woods of my rambling analogy: the main issue I had/have with this book is it's sluggish pace. That's not to say that interesting things don't dot the yellow brick road along the way and it certainly kept me turning pages. But, "duel," they did not. Not that you really want them to because of how things end up working out on the character development side of things. So Morgenstern gave us food for thought, a unique twisting plot, and characters you want to read more about. That's a pretty big accomplishment. If it weren't for the slow pace, the non-dueling, and the so-not edge of the 19th century-ish dialogue which kind of hampers the reader being able to see it in a historical-fiction light, I probably would have given a higher rating. All being said, I liked the book and would rec it. It's probably not a fave but definitely a worthwhile read.

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Little Black Book of Stories by A.S. Byatt
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On the whole and as individual stories, very intriguing. I like Byatt's style and imagination and found it lead to intense moments that usually end up being the indelible breath of such things. For example, the first story, "The Thing in the Forest," takes a historical theme (children being sent out of London on trains during WWII) and adds literary elements that are very campfire-familiar (two kids in the woods end up seeing something that shapes their lives and relationship) to create an intense story that's on par with the original fairy tales that haven't had all the gore and gray sucked out of them for mass consumption. It ends in a way that leaves a tangible sensation hanging in the air and your brain humming.

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The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
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This is a biased review. It contains spoilers, in memoriam sentimentality, and personal quips. Beware.

Here's the deal: I'm fixing to be 27 in a little over a month. So I'm feeling pretty sentimental. Add in the *BOOM* of Father's Day coming and passing and the little bit of grief that starts pouring over the sides of the cup because of it and any father-ish Old Man deal is probably going to pluck at my nerves a bit. My dad died when I was seven. Unfortunately grief doesn't come and go in as much finality as the ones we grieve. It sticks with and shapes you a little here and there. That's not a bad thing though it can certainly feel like it. It brings tears but it can also bring self-reflection, wisdom, and a wealth of compassion. Consider this the silver lining look of things from someone who also knows what shit it is to lose someone so vital. You get good things you might never have experienced but you also get the anger, confusion, and emotional distortion that plays loud and heavy in a lot of different areas at different times in your life.

Don't worry, this is leading somewhere.

I was lucky. I had a good dad for seven years. He was a mixed bag guy doing the best he could in his nerdy, pocket-protector-wearing way. He had a strong sense of character and he believed in things like spending time with your kid, cooking for your family as an expression of love, that you work hard no matter what, you take care of family (no matter what), and that Indiana Jones is and always will be a total badass. Oh, and that dry alphabits cereal with the rainbow marshmallows is the best movie night food and fierros are the best cars even if they keep catching on fire and you end up having to get a tow home on a late night Krystals run in your ratty scrub pants that you insist on never throwing out (because no one's ever going to see them, right?). He sang Amazing Grace in church and made his little girl believe it really did exist out there in the world.

It's this man that I remember at Father's Day and this man that gave me the wisdom to fall in love with books. It was also this man's few possessions I was going through a few days ago while searching for my parent's wedding album for my mom. Amongst the old bomber jacket, a red telescope, old chess set, and other memorable odds and ends sat The Old Man and the Sea. Surprisingly not noticed prior to this which is a bit odd to me to say the least. My dad was enamoured with books and learning but most of his books sat on my shelves long after he died, wrapping me up in comfortable and familiar prose whenever I needed them to. This book, however, was mixed up in Scientific American mags and old almanacs.

I pulled it out and figured it might be interesting to see why this particular book was liked by him so much that the dog-eared pages were clearly visible after all this time. (Not to mention I needed a book with an "O" for a reading challenge, fortuitous no?) It was pretty easy to get the picture within the first few pages.

You're introduced to a wise old man whose luck has fallen flat. However, he has a wealth of character and strength despite this fact and he happens to be respected and loved for it by a young boy that looks up to him and by the community he inhabits. It's this character that prompts his will to work hard, to do things the right way, to have respect and love for what he does and the scheme of his life that consists of religion, cultural belief, identifying with animals (even the ones he survives on) and seeing them as lives that should be respected and honored, and a personal reserve that he's more in tune with than most people seem to be. Even though he has this wisdom and reserve, he's also human in his stubbornness and his fight with his catch and the sad denouement that results because of his fallacy, pride, and said stubbornness.

I was lucky. I caught a glimpse of my dad in this book. A glimpse that showed me why he was probably moved by this book in particular or by Hemingway in general. Why it would appeal to his sense of rightness in the world, his character and wealth of humility and strength. Even his stubbornness.

It's sappy and sentimental but it's human. And while the fish may just be a fish and my dad was certainly just my dad- I'm happy in my human sentimentality and happy in experiencing this book.

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A Dark-Brown Dog and Other Stories by Stephen Crane
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I primarily picked up this book because "A Dark-Brown Dog" fit one of my challenges for the month. Didn't really expect it to be absolutely heart breaking and appalling (the treatment of the dog, not the writing). So horrible.

My dog's going to be getting extra treats for the rest of her life.

I get that it was probably supposed to be horrible in order to be poignant- at least that's what I'm assuming considering the style of the other stories in the book. It certainly accomplishes this feat, imo. I mean, people are still extremely abusive to their pets in today's society. From ignorance, negligence, etc.. At least you can get called on it today but, let's face it, it doesn't happen nearly as much as it should.

Anyways, two stars for the stories because there is, of course, talent and they really make you feel and think. Negative stars for the primary story because I'm still reeling from it.

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The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
Rating:



Potential Spoilers

This has been sitting on my kindle for ages. My first experience (and, prior to this novel, only) with Connolly being his Nocturnes, I had the idea that this would be similar- a book of short stories inspired by fairy tales and myths. I really liked Nocturnes but I completely forgot about this novel until it popped up on someone's currently-reading here on ŷ������ and I remembered my electronically shelved version and it's prolonged patience.

I'd say I like this novel even more than Nocturnes. It deftly inspires the turning of (flicking through) pages and I identified with the grieving child/grief-shaped adolescence theme. Even more so with the escaping into books as a coping mechanism theme. I enjoyed that the ending was rather ambiguous and left up to personal interpretation- reminding me of most of the "children's stories" I preferred when I was younger. I always liked something open stirring amidst an intriguing story- something that pulled at my mind or emotions and would be differently filled and fleshed by whatever I was currently experiencing or thinking.

I did find David's anger interesting. Just because I remember how it was when my own grief rent it's hold and tear in my life and how I kept encountering adults who said things like, "I know how angry you are," or, accountable to the area I was living in at the time which was laced intricately with dozens upon dozens of churches, "I know how angry you are at god but he works in mysterious ways," and similar refrains. I already had baggage by that time and I was more numb than angry because I dealt with everything by being extremely closed off and "logical". Because that was what I saw in books during that time- if you were logical (stayed on the path, so to speak) and worked out the issue at hand to the best of your ability then you got through the scrapes and struggles as they came. Anger, jealousy, etc. had their place- everyone felt them - but they didn't help you at all or make things change for the better. So I stayed on my path and it held its own complication as paths are wont to do.

So, from that personal path, viewing "the grieving child" as other and as a different path-taker, was complex and intriguing. I also felt it poignant in the hunteress' storyline children were brutally attached to animals that the hunteress thought suited them or interested her for some reason. In his notes, Connolly wraps up the fear of this rather well, saying that it's our fear of being taken over by that which is other and that, in the inspiring story The Three Surgeons, "each of the surgeons finds that his individuality, even his consciousness, is under threat because of the addition of elements of beings alien to him." Which I have somewhat intertwined with David's story and the theme of grief/anger/abandonment/betrayal as a metaphor for that imbalance one feels as a child when the death of someone vital or some naivete previously held appears. As your life is taken over by something "other," so are your emotions and previous way of dealing with/seeing the world.

That being said, I'm pretty sure that the hunteress resonates with me as a casted line into the depths of my H.G. Wells love. The creations eventually turning on the creator, the question of whether it is the animal, the child/person, or the combination that drives them to strike back. Also, you can't skip over the import of the story for its time. As Connolly puts it, "particularly relevant to those in the early nineteenth century who had reason to fear physicians as much as need them." After a spate of reading Victorian Lit, this definitely brought about some interest concerning the Grimm's version of The Three Army Surgeons in that their arrogance is represented along with their skill.

I don't think there is a book-loving child out there who hasn't felt a kinship in the mass-appeal Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. I felt more kinship with it than with Beaumont's original Beauty and the Beast because I hated that the Beast kept asking Beauty to marry him and she felt so much guilt and awkwardness in their friendship because of it. I always wished that he would ask her once and let it rest until she comes back to witness him dying and it's that spurt of emotion and edge of loss that opens up a wealth of love previously hidden from her because in her initial fear of the beast and confusion as to his true nature she felt the need to not react to her growing feelings until confronted with the loss of their cause. The continual asking and Beauty's nature just aggravated even as a kid. However, for the era, it is poignant of it's own right.

That wasn't the only fairy tale that I'd have shaped differently. I remember being supremely annoyed at the Prince's liberties in Sleeping Beauty and spending days writing and rewriting alternate versions. Thankfully I never read the earlier tale by Basile as a kid.

I was grateful for the introduction to Robert Browning's Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came; there's always a towering turret of course but I'd never experience Browning's verse on such before and I love it. I can understand why Connolly says the Browning is one of his favorite poets in his notes. The imagery is wonderful and the end is either frustrating or really inspiring.

All that being said, this was a very good book and I loved reading through Connolly's notes almost as much as the story itself. Not to mention that David's ending was beautiful wrought.

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R is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton
Rating:


I found the personal dynamics in this book more interesting than the plot. As it says from the start of the book, it's definitely about romance in different forms and Grafton typically writes such well enough. It's not one of my favorites in the series but it's not horrible and there were some funny parts throughout.

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Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
Rating:

When I was about six years old we went to the circus. It was my first (and only time) at a circus with a menagerie. One that happened to include an elephant (or two, I'm not entirely sure). At the end of the circus the kids were allowed to wait for elephant rides and my cousin and I were ecstatic. We eagerly waited and had our turns and the whole experience seemed completely magical. To be that close to a gigantic and amazing animal that I'd only read about in stories up until then- it's an experience that sticks with you.

As I've grown up I've become more aware about the b-side to this awe-inspiring experience. How horrible animals are treated in circus life more often than not, how stressful those rides with all of the cotton-candy junkie kids clamoring all 'round must have been for the poor girl, how that cane used by the handler had an awful gleam to it that looked so innocent to six year old me and must have looked so sinister to the great Her. As mentioned before, that was my only circus experience minus a few aerialist-heavy shows that didn't include animals of any kind. And that glorious elephant and what I've learned over the years about so many circuses will be the reason I refuse to go to any more animal-centric shows.

That all being said, the memory is still precious and who knows, had I not experienced it I might not have the respect for animals, elephants, etc. that I do now. So I'm grateful for it. But I'm also grateful for books like Water because they don't skimp on the reality of the circus animal, performer, or working man.

Yes, things have drastically improved and regulations have been put in place to make that happen. But that doesn't change the history and the fact that the best intentioned regulations aren't all-seeing and all knowing. So I suggest animal sanctuaries for the curious and nature-minded rather than a performance that might be tainted by cruelty and abuse.

So many things in this book were absolutely heartbreaking, and so many things had you end up looking at them from a completely different perspective than you might have originally. At least that was how it seemed to me. Whether it's (view spoiler)[the abuse Marlena deals with, the fact that August is abusive because he's mentally ill, Jacob's grief that leads to him ditching his exams, Jacob's old age/life in a nursing home, the class system of the circus, the fact that working men and performers may or not get paid, life during the Depression, horribly wicked things such as abuse and redlighting, etc... all of it had so many facets. Add that to the myriad of facets of the characters and it was intensely intriguing. I'd just assumed that this was a period romance centered under the big top (hide spoiler)] but there's really a lot more to it than that.

Also, the ending, (view spoiler)[I love that both of them can't let go of the animals they've been so attached to. Because, in a very large way it was these animals that kept them sane and doing what they had to do to get by. And it made me beyond happy that they saved Bobo too. It really is amazing when you study up on monkeys in sanctuaries and other institutions and how close they get with people or how sweet, caring, protective they can be. I have a friend who primarily works with gorillas but has done a lot of training with all species and some of the stories he tells are just flat out amazing. (hide spoiler)]

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S is for Silence by Sue Grafton
Rating:

One of the more interesting Millhone tomes. Grafton going back and forth between time felt new and interesting though the basic formula of her Alphabet Series books was still there (once it hits 90% you know something's going down). I thought the forward by Grafton was kind of weird and bitchy. I don't think there are many authors that complain about their fans taking enough interest in a series to actually write in. Even if you don't end up reading the more monotonous for the sake of sanity.

Still, since the book was more interesting than the usual- I'm going with three stars. At least Millhone wasn't an idiot about needing a gun this time around. (view spoiler)[Although getting in your car and driving down a dark road when you know a killer is trying to mess with you (or at least probably is) when you could just stay in a house with an albeit drunk and dimwitted old lady until it's light out seems to smack plenty of the typical idiocy that imbues Millhone. Okay... I'm rethinking the three stars. However, I did end up being wrong on the whodunnit which is always a good thing when reading a mystery/suspense fic. I really wanted it to have been Kathy because that little psychopath got on my nerves to no end. It just ended up seeming predictable that it was one of the guys. Which is pretty sad if you think about it. That it would be predictable in fic and in reality that it would more than likely be one of the guys she was in a relationship with especially when you saw that her sleeping around and drinking were her only real defenses against how horrible she felt about herself and how dismal her options were. It might have been a defense but that doesn't mean there wasn't some trust lying around in those dalliances, some little notch of self worth blooming with the recognition of being wanted even if it didn't amount to being cared about. (hide spoiler)]

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The Queen's Army by Marissa Meyer
Rating:

Very short but very interesting. I didn't realize this was supposed to come before Scarlet. Even though I dropped off on the series for a little bit (other TBRs were calling my name) it was easy enough to pick up the plot again and connect characters to what I've read so far.

I just really love how much intrigue Meyers can create. This is all of 18 pages and, yeah, it's a lead in to Scarlet but there is a lot of character build up in it's own right and it certainly enriches the series. However, the series doesn't depend upon these short stories, you can read through the series without them. That's the mark of an author writing really good short additions to a series, when they're interesting of their own accord.

It's kind of funny because I never would have caught on to this series if it hadn't been a rec- I'd never thought much about YA but Meyer (and Marie Rutkoski) have both challenged and enlightened that previous view.

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T is for Trespass by Sue Grafton
Rating:

I'd like to give this more than two stars actually. This was one of Grafton's better plot lines. The character dynamics were interesting, there were intense moments, and there were also plenty of funny parts where Millhone's sarcasm and introspection seemed humorous rather than bitchy. The ending was kind of puttering but still unique and overall I'd say I liked the novel.

However, I can't really deal with how(view spoiler)[ lightly Millhone as a character and Grafton as both a writer and human being portrayed a pedophile and interactions with said pedophile. Millhone's purportedly an ex cop, has plenty of cop connections as a PI, and yet she doesn't report the whereabouts of a known sex offender to anyone or that he's in violation by living smack in the midst of a school and daycare centers. Other than a civil conversation about the fact that he should have registered in which she gives him much more credit and respect than I could personally stomach, the issue is seemingly nil in her book. Though she makes a half-assed drive around the school and daycares in the area where this offender was last living thinking about all the offenders whose whereabouts aren't known to anyone...ooookay. Because that makes sense. Let's philosophize about your recently amped up knowledge of the situation instead of you actually doing anything to protect the kids your driving past, (hide spoiler)] if not as an ex-cop who once swore an oath to protect than at least as a decent individual.

Yeah, it's a character in a book but it's a continuously weakly written one and throughout the series I've seriously struggled to see what the big fan base of Millhone novels sees in their favored heroine. I enjoy a flawed character, even a flawed heroine- there aren't many modern fiction novel readers who don't in some aspect. The moments of clumsiness, social awkwardness, and flat out idiocy can be quite human and endearing. But sometimes it's refreshing to see a character do the right thing in the right kind of circumstances.

I don't know, it just tainted what was actually one of the best Alphabet Novels I've read to date. Which was a big disappointment.

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Cress by Marissa Meyer
Rating:

It's kind of a constant refrain by this point but I really like this series. There were parts of it that read "young" of course- it is a YA. But there's humor and an interesting plot that makes it a very good read. I'm looking forward to reading Fairest next.

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Fairest by Marissa Meyer
Rating:

A pretty quick read but, again, a really great one. I love the depths of character psyche Meyer teased out here and I'm glad this was published along with the series because it really gives you so much backstory into the character of Levana as well as the entire Lunar community. You've got several different characters in the series but I don't feel like any of them are being pushed to the sides or glossed over- they each have their stories and their reactions to current circumstances. But writing a "behind the scenes" story for a character can be a bit tricky imo. Especially one that's released later on in the series. However, this seemed to walk the line between keeping you intrigued while not revealing too much.

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Stardust by Neil Gaiman
Rating:

This was my first encounter with Gaiman and I wasn't disappointed. I love the nimble floss of a fairy tale retold and reimagined and I think I'll always have an unquenchable affection for adventure stories.

It's quite a slim novel but it packs a hefty amount of plot. I would say that I wished (at times) there were more details given in some allusions to other adventures experienced by Tristran and Yvaine. I'd also say that the romance was predictable however it wasn't your average Disney Prince throwing the Princess onto the back of his horse after a lavish kiss that tends to be uncomfortably one sided fiasco. It was cute and fun and it showed off the good and the bad in both characters.

So, while I'd have liked more depth, it's fun for what is there and makes me want to read more Gaiman in the future.

Ariel (mot_avant) wrote: "�� 97 of 115
Stardust by Neil Gaiman
Rating:

This was my first encounter with Gaiman and I wasn't disappointed. I love the nimble floss of a fairy tale retold and r..."

If you haven't seen the movie yet, I highly recommend it!

Megan wrote: "If you haven't seen the movie yet, I highly recommend it! "

Haven't seen it. But I've seen the pic for it on Netflix and I was about three chapters in when I finally made the connection lol. Def plan on watching it asap! :)

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U Is for Undertow by Sue Grafton
Rating:

This is one of my favorite books out of the Alphabet Series, hands down. Which isn't as big of a deal as it might have been, I don't harbor an enormous amount of fondness for this series (pretty much just enough to finish it out). However, I didn't feel like Millhone was as shallowly written as before and I think Grafton incorporated the mystery, Millhone's personal situation, and fleshing out the characters (both good and bad) with more aplomb than in prior books. I also found it very interesting for Grafton to include something that was so prevalent in the 80's, such as (view spoiler)[false memories coaxed out by therapists who really didn't seem to care about the damage they were wreaking for victims or for those that had not been victimized but couldn't cope emotionally or mentally with the false memories their "sessions" created. I think she did a good job of writing about something that was/is extremely controversial and the damage it can inflict on a family and on individual lives. (hide spoiler)]

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The Hours by Michael Cunningham
Rating:

I haven't watched the movie, The Hours, and I haven't read Mrs. Dalloway. I have done a little research on Woolf from time to time but hardly enough to be of any consequence. Despite this, I really loved this book.

I think Cunningham did a great job of giving us a view of Virginia Woolf, Laura, and Clarissa as women of their eras and the hours they inhabit. I can't say I was completely satisfied with the book, I certainly felt the desire for more in several areas. But the way each part bleeds into the next, the parallels and unique situations alike, made me feel almost grasped at by the book. The main thing I have to compare the situation with is my most recent read of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. I felt the pull of the emotion that really only comes from an author that gets inside the emotions they write about enough to be able to translate them into pen and ink for reader consumption.

It's that ability and the novels that exhibit it that makes literature so “potent and dangerous�� as said in the book. As well as so relative and relatable. Some people will be devoured by this book, some will devour is much like Laura feeds on the succor of Mrs. Dalloway. Some will hate it or find it tedious and some will have a light fondness for it that seems inconsequential comparatively. For me, personally, it was a dived-in depth that verged on ineluctable.

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The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
Rating:

I really liked this book. I can't say it was an absolute love but it's one I could see myself revisiting because there were certainly things I loved about it. For instance, I'm a background junkie (most of the time). I love when authors really get into the nitty gritty of their characters and pull out different things for us to see and learn about them as individuals and how they react to their surroundings, circumstances, and others. I think authors can dive into these depths in one of two ways: one, they are writing a character that they can personally identify with and, as such, the character becomes a body of autobiographical nature, or two, the author has a grasp on psychology that may be fleshed out by innumerable perspectives. Sometimes you fall into a book that is guided by an author that is able to let bloom a combination of these two ways in such magnitude that you are able to be swept up in character psychology and the authors personal views so seamlessly that it becomes more of an experience to be had than a book you happened to pick up. Almost like setting a scalpel (to use Kundera's words) to the genius of Beethoven, Nietzsche, etc. to see what lies beneath, what propels their personal "es muss sein."

So, that's what I'd identify The Unbearable Lightness of Being as. An experience that should be had for a large majority of the populace. In delving into what has brought his characters into being and what forces power their worlds and interactions, Kundera creates a sense of empathy and understanding that isn't necessarily inherent in the grand scheme of things. While I don't agree with each point, I certainly felt it broadening the brushstrokes I'd previously painted my opinions with. I also think it will continue to do so the more I think about it or come back to it.

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V is for Vengeance by Sue Grafton
Rating:

V on the whole was pretty so-so. However, it definitely picked up in the end. This is kind of the formula for Grafton's series, however this novel's ending had a little more spunk and interest. I think Grafton often teeters on the breaking point of Millhone being witty and capable or snide and bitchy. I don't mind the latter. I just don't feel sufficiently connected to the character to want to deal overly much with it. Mainly because you have a lot of monotonous prose where Millhone/Grafton is saying, "I...," "I...," "I...," and you're kind of waiting for some interaction to break the coffee making, peanut butter & pickle sandwich feasting, and weirdly naive decision making lull. Then, though, there's a bit of a spark in some novels (and in the latter half of V) that picks everything up a pace and it's pretty interesting.

I think my current favorite is U at this point but it did pay off to read this to the end and if you're picking up V you're probably one of the unfortunate series junkies out there who, like me, have to read a series to the end whether it's a big hit or a fumble. So you at least have something to look forward to.

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Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs
Rating:

This was just a quick pickup/spare moment read throughout today but I enjoyed it. In the main, I certainly hope characters are better fleshed out as I read more and some plot points were a bit awkward. But, as it's the first book, I've reserved judgement. There's definitely a lot of ways to go from this ending and I'm looking forward to further reading. I'm a sucker for "peculiar" talents and, to quote Doctor Who unabashedly, "timey-wimey stuff." Not to mention an adventure embarked upon, even if the ending of one novel leaves us readers in a bit of heady betwixt

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Beowulf by Unknown; translated by Seamus Heaney
Rating:

I'm a Heaney fan and, after reading his introduction to and translation of Beowulf, I think the depth of that statement swelled a few leagues. That being said, I haven't read Beowulf prior to this encounter and would have to read other translations to really offer up a satisfyingly comparative review. However, I can say that this particular effort of Heaney's has inspired enough interest to do just that.

As for the story of Beowulf in and of itself: it offers a view into an honor-bound society and a heroic journey that is priceless in how it's merit in both style and telling has inspired and shaped our definition of the 'hero's journey' up to the present day. As Heaney says, it's 'an inheritance,' a statement I fully agree with. Much like Homer's Odyssey or Tolkien's Rings, it's both definitive, explorative, and "willable...again and again and again."

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We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo
Rating:

Most of the criticism I've seen for this book is that the author crammed too much into it. I get that; a lot is covered in this book that could certainly have been covered in more depth than it offers. However, as I got into the book I was kind of glad that there was so much crammed in because it made me feel like I was reading a book that was written from a child's/preteen's/teen's perspective. Just like the language used, the imagery, the almost visceral reaction to snow, etc. drew me into the book, into the character in different ways.

I didn't sit back and go, wow, I'm very well informed about everything in Africa and it's countries. I sat back from the book and thought about a life I haven't lived, what I've experienced that identified with the character or what I couldn't identify with, and, because I'm very much in love with books that inspire further reading and learning, I added things to my list to further explore that I might not have without the help of Bulawayo's work. So, for me, this was a really good and interesting read.

A kid doesn't pop out of Zimbabwe knowing everything about the political climate and current state of affairs. She knows about stealing guavas with her friends because they are hungry, she knows about red dust coating her feet, and how to smile for a camera as if that's her payment for the gifts the NPO bring even if it's the last thing she wants to do. She knows how she's been taught, she knows the stories she's grown up on, knows that "America" is supposed to be better. She knows people are getting killed, getting arrested, not because she reads the paper every day or tunes into the BBC but because she witnesses events up close and hangs around in a tree during a funeral where a mother falls apart. Her world is crammed with every sense and every crisis she is surrounded by. So, to tell her story, we read a book that is crammed in the same way. For me, that made sense and made it seem genuine. I feel like Bulawayo captured the essence of being young and experiencing life, not for an anonymous girl from Zimbabwe but for Darling in particular.

With all that being said, I really can't wait to read more from Bulawayo. I think she's a young writer with enormous potential because she seems to have a rather good grip on the psychology of her characters.

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W is for Wasted by Sue Grafton
Rating:

There was a distinct, "Kinsey Millhone, this is your life," cast to this book. There was so much crammed into it and whenever emotional/relationship-type things come into heavy play with Grafton's Alphabet series, I tend to feel the mystery/suspense part suffers a glossing over that's pretty unsatisfying. There was a bit of that in W but it wasn't as bad as in previous books. I wouldn't say this is one of the best books in the series but there were some shining moments that I enjoyed.

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Hollow City by Ransom Riggs
Rating:

I think Hollow City was pretty interesting. I like the positioning of the peculiars as a band of misfits with unique backstories and I like falling into different loops with them and seeing bits and pieces of historic settings. I love the vintage photos and their use throughout the book.

It kind of brings me into the same frame of mind as A Series of Unfortunate Events actually. While the author voices are quite different, the adventure and a uniquely framed story is there. I do wish that some parts were expanded upon by Riggs because, especially when he's presenting what Jacob is thinking (but is usually unable to vocalize), there's a flow there that escapes a lot of the more intense part of the books. I think the aim is to make the chaos of action felt by the reader but it reads as too spare to me personally. I don't need a point by point or grandiosity but I need that punch of flow to give shape to the world I'm traveling in with the Peculiar loves. Such as with (view spoiler)[Jacob's ability that comes over him in the presence of Hollows. It's mostly shaped like an architectural draft of gastrointestinal upset and possible pancreatitis. Of course we eventually see him step into the pain and it becomes other but it felt more like a full stop than an, "oh, here we go now." This might just be Riggs style and I can respect that but I think, with a written adventure, there's just a flow that's to be had or not and the grasp upon your reader's experience is very much dependent on it. (hide spoiler)]

Because of this, I'd have to say that my three stars are mostly for the idea behind the books and the vintage photography rather than the writing. I'd also say that, because of the above, I think I'm mostly drawn to the books because of the abrupt endings. Who can resist a cliffhanger? But I think I'm also hoping Riggs finds a more satisfying flow in the next book.

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Company of Liars by Karen Maitland
Rating:

I have a lot of love for historical fiction novels. I went bonkers over Ken Follett's multiple character arcs in Pillars of the Earth and I think I'm diving back into the same realm of reader's reverence having finished Maitland's Company.

I liked that the history woven throughout the work wasn't yoked by the weight of þe Auld England (for those in the hornless-Ye awareness group). Don't get me wrong, I have a linguistic addiction and cultural philology/morphology can get me going as much as the next logophile. I recently dived into Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf and I believe my hand will eventually stop cramping up from continuous note-taking somewhere around next February. It was a joy to read his translation and introduction because he worked within the gravity of the original Old English to find a flow that did justice to the work. In this same vein, I believe Maitland found a modern tinged flow that did justice to her research and references without the burden of avoidable prose that tends to, for me, jumble up the plot enough (in some corners of historical fiction) to have me disconnect from characters or events to an extent.

I liked how intriguing I found the characters and their backstories. We see them skirt and advance upon a society that is shifting and crumbling in crisis and I feel that Maitland kept up a rather good showing of how each related to this crisis and to each other throughout. I also felt that the plague, superstition, religion, rune reading, and sendings were kept as present as our band of nine and it takes talent to do such without tipping the balance of a story when you have such heavy period players.

Because of all of this I'd say that this is, easily, a new favorite for me. I look forward to reading more from Maitland.

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Hild by Nicola Griffith
Rating:

I had a hard time getting into this seventh century historical fiction bildungsroman centered upon the character Hild; a dramatised account of the partial life and times of the woman that would eventually become St. Hilda of Whitby, the focus of a paragraph or so in Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation. Woah, mouthful. Also, an unfortunate thing to say about a book from my beloved historical fiction genre.

This is my first encounter with Nicola Griffith's work. She did a lot of research for this novel and though her period titles and vocab aren't as in depth as they could be, I can't fault the effort behind the work at all. I think she brings a wealth of information to us about a world that is oft romanticised past all endurance by pop culture and I thoroughly enjoy any work that can lead me down the rabbit hole of research and further reading.

My issue was the drudgery that surfaced during the more arid parts of the novel. Parts that created a disappointing disconnect with the world I wanted to sink down into with Hild, Cian, Breguswith, Edwin, Begu, and like company. I don't want to be told about some campaign- I want to see it, feel it being fleshed out about me. For the larger part of the novel Griffith accomplished this beautifully. Hild's awareness of self and the world around her are the gilding of the book, a satisfyingly quenching drink for the reader. And though an arid part or two is often the risk of any fiction that's based in fact, it made those moments all the more disappointing because you can clearly see Griffith's skill concerning personal point of view. Because of that skill, I found myself wanting Griffith to escape the weight of history and lean more into her characters.

That being said, I did find it easier to get into the book later on once my focus became the characters and the burden of like-named individuals and the flip-flop-flipping and often overly detailed political aspirations became secondary. There's these rich moments we have with Hild that are just wonderfully wrought from both an emotional and mental perspective. The gravity of her situation and surroundings, the weight of her emotions and unfolding path or wyrd, the relationships from the familial to the friendly to the sexual - from sworn loyalty to infinite leagues of emotional fealty -, the encompassment of Christianity taking it's root and the priests that dug the holes, the suspense of a wrong move, and a burgeoning sense of personal "right" and "wrong" all combine into a poignant view of a life well told.

I certainly applaud Griffith's work and would recommend it to historical fiction lovers. Along with Griffith's handy glossary for when things get dicey and you want to take a seax to everyone with names that begin with C.

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The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Rating:

I didn't read this book as a child. More's the pity because it's always interesting to read your childhood favorites as an adult and see how your experience of the work changes. However, I'm glad to have read this at this point all the same because I did end up enjoying it a fair amount.

We see the little prince on his planet, in his childhood prime. He's a thoughtful little one with a care for the world around him; he's experienced the life of things around him that have each inspired a seed of thought to bloom within him. Outside influence that is beautiful and yet naive in its own right lands upon his sphere of understanding and it sparks his subsequent journey.

As an adult peering into the little prince's journey, I found the bloom of remembrance more so than the vivid flash of new thoughts. I believe both are equally precious encounters and we're lucky whenever they grace us with their presence. The memory of equidistance, a launching point between childhood and adulthood; the feel of new curiosities and adults that felt like previously undiscovered planets all to themselves.

Prose that can bring up such remembrance can be very endearing and I enjoyed Saint-Exupéry's style because of this. I think if this had been a revisitation for me rather than a first time read it would probably have been a childhood favorite and translated as such in my rating. As it is, it was appreciated and refreshing. A lovely look at both author and the planet of childhood.

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The 100 Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson
Rating:

“Things are what they are, and whatever will be, will be.��

A quote that sums up my opinion of this book almost as neatly as the title sums up the plot. *Resists the temptation to launch into a rendition of Que Sera, Sera.* Shh, Doris Day, just shh.



Dammit, Doris!

Don't get me wrong, I get the criticism of this book. It is quite coincidental, there's a lot of historical name-dropping, and the scope of the political influence of one politically ambiguous man is... well, I believe quirky is the word used in most descriptions so we'll stick with that. Around the midpoint I was pretty focused on the penchant of Sweden's fictional gangs to sew their names on their jackets, or pass the task on to a nimble-fingered girlfriend. I now have the need to experience a West Side Story-esque battle between the past Violins and the current Never Agains. Snap Snap Snap. I feel like there's a distinct possibility that in Bosse's next batch of bibles we will find that the parties of the aforementioned gangs that are unfortunately deceased will be able to grace us with their presence in a suitable way for this to take place.

Criticism and musical needs aside, I liked this book. I figured it would be more like a renewed Bucket List and while I'd like to think that the character bearing the bucket moniker was a nod to this practice and Morgan/Nicholson movie I was pretty happy it wasn't. Mainly because I always feel guilty that I don't have the desire to jump out of a plane. Or, for that matter, out of or off of most objects unless absolutely necessary. All I can imagine coming of such an attempt is that my body would play host to any number of steel rods and then, through some unforeseeable circumstance, I would meet up with a particularly pesky magnet. Whoompf!

I agree with those that said they felt a Forrest Gump vibe to the story. I was also reminded of Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-five actually. More in its appreciation as a SciFi novel than its alternate perception as a view into PTSD. There's a similar flow to things, in my opinion. As well as a similarly wise perspective offered up by author and plot alike for the taking.

"So it goes."/"What will be will be."