Fantastical Adventures!

I have to admit that I’m a lover of all things fantasy, and two of the most recent books I read for my project did not disappoint: Jim Butcher’s Storm Front and Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson’s Peter and the Starcatchers. Unfortunately, both are part of a series, so now I have expanded my wish list of books!

Storm Front, the first book of the Dresden Files series, features a wizard named Harry (but not that wizard) who moonlights as a private eye and “consultant” to the police department. When several people are mysteriously murdered by inhumanly possible means, Harry must dodge the White Council, the police (who suspect him), and the target on his own head in order to crack the case. Butcher isn’t afraid to exploit anything–his writing is ribald at times, and almost sweet at others, and the prose is littered with graphic descriptions of death, sex, drug trips, and exploding demons. But, it’s so funny, easy to read, and ultimately, one of the most enjoyable fantasy-scifi-romance-comedic mashups I’ve read in a long time. I will definitely be following Harry Dresden in the sequels.

Peter and the Starcatchers is almost a perfect match for Butcher, except it’s for the kiddie set. More importantly, it’s for the “parents reading to their kids” demographic, as Barry and Pearson riddle their prequel to Peter Pan with sarcasm, inside jokes, and clever puns. Several of the mysteries of the Peter Pan world are explained (How can Peter fly? Why is it he never ages? Just what in the heck made that croc so angry, and especially at Captain Hook?), and kids will laugh out loud with their parents at the comic descriptions of Smee losing his stolen British britches while attempting to pirate the ship on which Peter and Molly are hiding the stardust (which makes Peter eventually able to fly), among others. I’m passing it on to my 8-year-old cousin (and his mother) to enjoy this summer, and I suspect it will fast become one of his favorites.

Halfway there

Well, looking back over my posts, I just realized that I am more than halfway to my goal of reading 25 books by Jan. 1, 2011 that have been sitting on my bookshelves. Am I shocked? Absolutely not. Obviously, I set myself a much lower goal than I should have–including the books for this project, I’ve read more than 25 this year alone. What I am shocked about is that I’ve barely even touched the alphabet–I’m still in the B’s and I still have quite a few left in that category. I wonder if I’ll make it to C before the end of the project . . . ?

Two Classics: The Wizard of Oz and Mansfield Park

On my children’s shelf, I’ve had a beautiful copy of The Annotated Wizard of Oz for several years. Although the classic story provided much amusement (and the illustrations, printed as they appeared in the original publication, were an amazing sight to see), the true value in the text lay in the editors’ preface–a detailed, interesting account of the life of L. Frank Baum and the many, many publishing woes he faced in his lifetime. To my amazement, Baum tried his hand a number of careers and fell into children’s writing almost by mistake. He absolutely lucked out on Oz and milked the story for every penny it was worth. He struggled with his publishers over future editions and disagreed with his illustrator on copyrights. By most accounts, Oz never should have been the success it was–yet, children loved it. And, as the editor points out, thanks to the 1939 Judy Garland movie, it later became a classic American text–the American fantasy in a genre crammed with widely acclaimed British fantasists. The history of Baum is worth the cost of the hefty annotated edition, and those interested in it should check out a wonderful piece of book history, Leonard Marcus’ The Minders of Make-Believe.

As for Mansfield Park, it’s sat on my bookshelf for ages, one of the few Jane Austen books I never got around to reading (and seriously, why was that?). I downloaded a free Google version on my Nook, pulled it up, and I’ve been reading bits and pieces over the month of May and into last weekend. I finally got caught up and felt unable to put it down when Fanny Price, a very lovable but typical Austen character, leaves Mansfield Park for her birth home and the other characters’ relationships begin to unravel. Part of reading Austen is knowing the happy ending is there, but you have to earn that happy ending by working through the various family debacles and social criticisms (all of which I tend to love, especially when Austen’s humor invades it, such as in her portrayal of the pestering, bitter Aunt Norris). Although it’s definitely not my favorite Austen tale (reserved for Northanger Abbey and now, Persuasion), it was absolutely enjoyable nonetheless–and I’m awfully glad to finally mark that one off my list.

Fairy Tales: A New History

A quick review of a great, easy read. Fairy Tales: A New History is the most recent piece of scholarship from children’s literature scholar Ruth B. Bottigheimer. An incredibly fascinating look at fairy tales, Bottigheimer debunks many of the most commonly held beliefs about fairy tales’ history, most importantly that their creators, like the Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault, actually took their tales from peasants and other “folk.”

In reality, Bottigheimer proves in her compilation of research and thorough study of book history, many of the commonly known creators of fairy tales took their stories from other tales and other writers. Most of the tales share common elements, precisely because of the way the tales were created. In addition, writers like the Grimms didn’t really commune with the “folk” at all, but took their stories from wealthy young women, who read them in Latin and other books of tales.

Incredibly fascinating and shorter than you’d expect, Bottigheimer’s book is an enjoyable read!

It’s Harder Than I Thought . . .

to write reviews of the books I’ve read! I thought I’d be much more consistent in sitting down and writing about the books I’ve read for my little project as soon as I’ve finished them. Instead, I’ve been a slacker. I’ve also been skipping around in the alphabet (well, within the B’s). Here’s what I’ve read lately from my shelves:

• In the Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood–so incredibly wonderful, and so incredibly Atwood. She’s definitely her best when writing from the dystopic/futuristic point of view. I think I liked it better than its companion title, Oryx and Crake, simply because the religious undertones had me captivated (maybe that’s because I went to a Baptist university as a non-churchgoer?)
• Persuasion by Jane Austen–I know, gasp! A master’s degree in literature and I haven’t read all of Austen’s works? Well, no. I had started Persuasion once before, loved it, got busy and never finished it. But, I reread it from the beginning, and it’s now my favorite Austen. (I still have to read Emma and finish Mansfield Park too!)
• The Fighting Ground by Avi–A beautifully written children’s book about one boy’s experience in the American Revolutionary War.
• The Eyes of the Amarylis by Natalie Babbitt–A haunting tale for children about the power of everlasting love, set on a beautiful beachfront.
• The Last Summer of You (and Me) by Anne Brashares–Ann Brashares’ first adult novel (love her YA books!) is tough to read at times, but a really fabulous story of the power of sisterly bonds, ones that could cause you to change yourself and give up what you love in order to keep your sister happy and healthy.

In the meantime, I’m working on finishing Mansfield Park by adding it to my Nook, which makes it easier for me to read it more quickly (somehow). I’m also reading Fairy Tales: A New History by Ruth B. Bottigheimer, I’ve grabbed my annotated (beautiful!) edition of The Wizard of Oz off my kids’ shelf, and I plan to start a series of sci-fi books later this month. So, the project is slowly moving along!

Hopefully I’ll be able to do better and keep the reviews coming, or at least do some short reviews. And, hopefully I won’t cheat again (I used one of my “buys” to get The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks on my Nook–a book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time. It was on sale!).

The Robber Bride

Margaret Atwood is undoubtedly one of the best living writers. I love reading her work, but as one friend said the other day, “She’s intense.” She requires a certain level of concentration and committed emotion and investment in her characters that many other writers do not. The Robber Bride displays this need for investment greatly–Atwood’s characters in the novel lead deep, interesting lives. The story focuses on three friends from college, Roz, Tony, and Charis, and one shared enemy, Zenia. Zenia serves as the title’s Robber Bride, effectively leading the characters’ significant others away from them at various stages in their relationships, with varying results. Atwood, as she so often does, plays nicely on the fairy tale theme (The Robber Bridegroom) here, twisting the tale to have Zenia fit the key role and sharing a delicious scene with Tony reading the fairy tale to Roz’ twin daughters, who, early feminists, proclaim that every character should be female, with the Robber Bride killing a woman as well.

But, the real focus of the story here is the development of the friendship of the three women because Zenia has chosen them–Zenia’s behaviors feel very deliberate and researched, as if she found out exactly how to push each woman’s buttons (which leads to multiple life stories for Zenia) and exactly how to pull their men away from them. She seems to desire the others’ spouses and companions for the sheer sake of winning the battle–being able to remove what others love from their lives. Because of her actions toward them, the women develop a friendship, predicated on a shared enemy, but soon based on mutual respect and love.

A focus on mothers and mothering also plays a key role in the novel, with each woman sharing the story of her childhood, and each having a mother figure who either leaves or doesn’t quite understand the child. This lack of female role models deeply affects the women’s lives and seems to influence their relationships with one another (and their tendencies to forgive Zenia quite easily, only to be pulled back in) greatly. As a lover of Margaret Atwood’s novels, I would definitely recommend The Robber Bride, but only if you have both the time and the emotional capacity to invest in its 500+ pages.

Fever 1793

Laurie Halse Anderson is a magnificent young adult author (check out Speak), and I found Fever 1793 in my neighborhood Half Price, so I’ve been pretty excited to read it. It definitely didn’t disappoint. The book flows wonderfully through the events of the yellow fever (malaria) that demolished much of the Philadelphia citizenry in 1793. Focusing on Mattie, the teenage daughter of a widowed coffeeshop owner, the story looks at how the fever hit all of Philadelphian society in a unique way that has its protagonist actively taking part in nursing efforts, contracting the fever herself, and then helping to rebuild the city.

Mattie is a spunky, interesting character who has to learn to grow up extremely quickly. Several other characters are also given interesting backstories and personalities in the book, and Halse Anderson weaves “real-life” citizens into the storyline. One of the most interesting parts is the commentary on medicine during the time–looking at how some treated the fever with bleeding and others with fresh air, fluids, and other more natural methods. It’s a great read for young adults wanting to understand some of the history of the United States’ early days that’s not often shared.

Jack and Jill by Louisa May Alcott

I’ll be honest–I’ve read tons of Louisa May Alcott’s works, and even a biography, but when my mother-in-law texted me one day to say that she’d found a copy of Jack and Jill in really good shape in an antique store, I had to get online to find out it was one of Alcott’s novels. It’s a beautiful copy though, and I’m so happy to have it to add to my many editions of Little Women and Eight Cousins. I enjoyed the content just as much as having the actual book to add to my shelf.

Just as in Little Women, Alcott combines sentimentalism with charm to tell the story of Jill Pecq and Jack Minot, best friends who take a tumble down a hill when sledding on a difficult track one winter day. Jack breaks his leg, but Jill’s sprained back proves far more injurious–leaving the little invalid to mourn her love of dancing, running, and playing, and learn to be a good and patient girl. As expected, many of the morals are outdated and pedantic, but Alcott’s overarching theme is tender even to the 21st century reader–when your outlook on life changes for the better, so do those around you. She brings a great spirit to Jill’s suffering, teaching her to patiently wait until she’s fully healed (Jill has an amusing relapse where she tumbles off her sofa trying to retrieve a letter she’s not supposed to read, only to have it reveal that she may never walk again) and giving her the ability to make beautiful ditties with her free time that bring joy to her friends and neighbors. It’s classic Alcott in the sense that, like many of her works, it fits the traditional, Sunday School-esque mode of writing that her publishers deemed so necessary to sell books (for an interesting, intimate look at how Alcott’s publisher influenced her work, read John Matteson’s Eden’s Outcasts). I would thoroughly recommend it for any Alcott or children’s literature fan.

Next Round of Books

I just finished Louisa May Alcott’s Jack and Jill (funny how quickly a good book goes!), with a review to come shortly. My next books on my list are:

• Laurie Halse Anderson’s Fever 1793 (I’m a big fan of her novel Speak)
• Margaret Atwood’s The Robber Bride
• Margaret Atwood’s The Year of the Flood (I’ve been dying to read this one…loved its companion book, Oryx and Crake)

Should be a good set to carry me into March!

Discipline by Paco Ahlgren

After several weeks of reading bits and pieces of this book, I finally got to about page 250, and the plot picked up tremendously. I read the next few sections much, much more quickly, engrossed in Ahlgren’s ideas, just like his character was learning more about different ways of thinking, being, and relating to the world (and to time and space). Ahlgren has some interesting theories, and he’s quite a good writer when he’s creating action and purpose for his characters.

However, that being said, I could have done without much of the book’s content. Ahlgren has a tendency to repeat actions, to use “this, then” verbiage, and to be far too liberal with cursing (I always prefer when characters actually use dialogue rather than a series of back and forth jabs punctuated by multiple uses of the word “fuck”). For example, in detailing Douglas’ addiction to coke, Ahlgren too often has the character go through the same rote actions: play chess, drink, go home, do coke, get up, do coke, play chess, drink, go home, do coke, etc., etc. We could have gotten the full picture of the character’s addiction if Ahlgren would have chosen to focus more on how that addiction influenced the characters’ relationships. Although Ahlgren touches on these, they are so embedded in the boring (yes, boring!) depictions of the character’s day-to-day use of the drug that you relate to the people his hurting far more than to him–like the character’s girlfriend Elizabeth and others, you begin to despise him and wish that he’ll kick the habit already and get on with life.

Ahlgren would have benefited from a good editor to clean up a few of these issues. (I have discovered that he virtually was published through a small vanity-style press that helps independent authors (self-published) get distribution. Although the company says it’s not a vanity press, they charge their authors for their services–which separates them from a traditional publishing house.) He also would have benefited from reviewing his book ending. You tend to get caught up in his ideas for the last 100-150 pages, and then, well, we’ll put it this way, I had to read the climax of the ending three times, and still didn’t see how it fit. (Not because I’m not intelligent enough to get it, but because it well, doesn’t fit with where Ahlgren seemed to be going.) If I had to give a recommendation, I’d say to read it if you’re interested in some of Ahlgren’s ideas on time, space, and transcendence, but don’t read it if you need a narrative that’s actually going to give you fulfillment–it’s likely to leave you hanging with far too many questions.