Showing posts with label Reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reading. Show all posts

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Hearing Voices

This week The Guardian asks the following questions:

  • Do you ever hear characters’ voices when you are reading? If so, how often?
  • Do you have visual or other sensory experiences of characters when reading?
  • How easy do you find it to imagine a character’s voice when reading? How vivid are these voices when you read?

Here are my answers:

Yes, I hear characters' voices when I'm reading - all the time.  In fact it isn't a reading experience for me if I can't hear voices, including the narrator's voice.  I even hear a voice (not my own) when I'm reading non-fiction.  I have a very definitive idea of what each character sounds like.  I think this might be why I don't particularly like to listen to books being read, hearing someone else's voice detracts from the experience for me.

I have only miminam visual experiences of characters when reading.  If it is important for a plot point (and it has to be REALLY important) I will have a specific idea of hair color, eye color or other physical characteristics.  But in general I have only a vague idea of what a character looks like - a big man or a small man, a tall woman or a short woman, etc.  In my mind they are fairly generic.  I think that's why I never get very worked up about actors who are cast to play parts in adaptations of books - I figure wigs and contacts and makeup can do a lot.  But I'm constantly surprised if they don't SOUND like how I imagined the character sounding.

I just watched the first episode of the new Outlander television series based on the novels of Diana Gabaldon.  I read the first Outlander book long ago - so long ago that I have a hard time remembering it.  And after the first few books, I gave up on the series.   But I remembered really liking the first novel.  Watching the series I was having a hard time getting into the character of Claire but once Jamie was on the scene I thought - oh ,yes, he's a good Jaime.  After it was over, I realized that the actor playing Jaime sounded exactly as I imagined Jaime would sound whereas the actress playing Claire had a much more .... unemotional .... voice than I imagined Claire having.  (And that was a real problem for me since there was so much voice-over of her thoughts.)  Maybe if I see more episodes she'll grow on me. 

Another good example is The Game of Thrones.  When I read The Game of Thrones, the first novel in George R.R. Martin's epic series, I heard Tyrion with a specific American accent.  I read enough fantasy novels that are set in quasi-British settings that I usually hear the characters with British accents, but I heard Tyrion with an American accent.  So when I heard Peter Dinklage's interpretation of the character with his (somewhat) British accent, I thought "huh".  I got used to it after a while because he was so good.  But I wondered if I would continue to hear HIM when I read later books.  I found that I didn't.  "My" Tyrion still has an American accent when I read.

What I've found interesting is that when I tell people this, they don't seem to truly understand that the voice in my head has nothing to do with my visual impression.  I searched my recollection to figure out who "my" Tyrion sounded like and I finally came up with Robert Reich, the former US Secretary of Labor.  When I tell people that, they pause and then say "Well, I guess that makes sense because he is kind of little."   Which I find both annoying and somewhat hilarious.  I mean, I don't see Robert Reich when I read about Tyrion.  I have a somewhat generic idea of a dwarf man in my head.  These days I may even see Peter Dinklage more often or not.  But I still hear a voice similar to Robert Reich's.  But it seems that some people can't even imagine choosing a voice for a character that is not connected with their physical being.

Not only do I find it easy to imagine a character's voice, I find it essential.  Most novels that I grow bored with tend to be ones where the voices do not come me.  This often happens when I encounter novelists who "tell" and don't "show".   Even the narrator (even if it is a third person omniscient narrator) needs to have some kind of aural presence for me or I start to lose interest.



Monday, September 30, 2013

September Reading

September's reading was quite enjoyable even if not particularly difficult.  Lots of my favorite mystery writers had newish books that I discovered were out and that's what I mostly read.  Genre fiction?  Comfort fiction?  Commercial fiction?   Whatever.  Totally enjoyable. 

  1.  A Question of Honor by Charles Todd.   The mother/son writing duo called Charles Todd has two series that occupy the same universe.  I prefer the series about Inspector Rutledge over the series about Bess Crawford.  This is a Bess Crawford novel and so far I think it's the best in that series.  I'm not sure exactly why I liked it better, but maybe because it seemed clear that Todd is moving WWI toward its conclusion as soon as possible, possibly since it is difficult to have his main character investigate mysteries amidst her duties as a battlefield nurse. 
  2.  How the Light Gets In  by Louise Penny.  Another book in her Inspector Gamache series, we return to the little village of Three Pines, south of Montreal.  Gamache is asked to investigate why a friend of one of the residents did not turn up as expected.  Penny has moved away from simple mysteries into the psychology of her characters which makes it much more interesting. 
  3. The Song of the Quarkbeast by Jasper Fforde.   This is the second in Fforde's YA series featuring orphan Jennifer Strange.   Not quite as good as the first novel but still fun. 
  4. Island of Bones and Circle of Shadows by Imogen Robertson.   I realized that not only was there a newish Crowther and Westerman novel but I had missed the last one.   This series is set in the years during and after the American War for Independence.   I really like the relationship between Mrs. Westerman and Mr. Crowther and am glad that so far it has remained a working partnership and not a romance.  Highly recommended
  5. Shadow of the Crown by Patricia Bracewell.  I was interested in reading about Emma of Normandy.  She featured as a major, but offstage, character in Dorothy Dunnet's King Hereafter.   I was slightly disappointed to find that this novel tended toward the historical romance than historical fiction.  I haven't read historical romance in quite a while and this was a good one - I just am not that interested in forcing historical facts to fit the romance genre.  But I enjoyed it despite that disappointment.  Recommended with some reservations. 
  6. The Color of Water: A Black Man's Tribute to his White Mother by James McBride.  An unusual memoir by a man about his mother.  Recommended. 
In October I plan on starting my "50th anniversary of World War I" reading.   A number of historians are beginning to release books, beginning with Catastrophe: 1914 by Max Hastings.  And I'm looking forward to the end of the month, when Margaret MacMillan's new book will be released in the USA. 

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

August Reading

August was a great month for reading.  At the beginning of the month I was on vacation and had lots of time to read.  Then through the rest of the month I had a pile of good books that I wanted to get through - and there wasn't much on TV to distract me.   I probably should have blogged separately about some of the books but ... I didn't.  Here is the list:

  1. The Dinner by Herman Koch.  Two (Dutch) brothers and their wives have dinner together in a restaurant and talk about what to do about their sons, who have committed a terrible act.    This reminded me of a cross between Louis Malle's film My Dinner with Andre and Yasmina Reza's play God of Carnage.  I truly enjoyed this novel and the way that Koch played with my perceptions of the characters.  Highly Recommended.
  2. Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan.   I am a huge Ian McEwan fan, although I know that others aren't.  It can't possibly be a spoiler to say that he, as usual, has a twist at the ending of this novel that is fairly meta and many people may not like it.  I did.  Prior to reading this novel I had taken to saying that I miss the Cold War.  It's an odd  thing to say, I know.  But I was born in 1960 and by the time I was in school the Cuban Missile Crisis was over and the world pretty much knew that if we blew ourselves up it would be by accident.  We had no "duck and cover" drills.  But we did have lots of government funding for literature and dance and art and "the arts" so that we could show those Damn Commies that capitalistic societies could have high culture too.  Some of that funding was up font and some of it was under behind the scenes through the CIA budget.  Now that we've won, no one wants to fund anything.  In this novel, at the end of the Cold War, British intelligence is funding writers.  Sigh.  Recommended.
  3. Solar by Ian McEwan.   A global warming themed novel where the "work for hire" doctrine of intellectual property ends up being a plot point (ok, my non-lawyer readers won't appreciate that, but I did).  Parts of it were very funny, in part because the main character is somewhat atrocious.  Not as good as Sweet Tooth.  Recommended
  4. The Mourning Hours by Paula Treick DeBoard.  A woman returns to Wisconsin for her father's funeral many years after her brother was accused of killing his girl friend.  Lots of flashbacks.  Somewhat predictable.   I can totally see this being made into a movie.  There isn't a lot of "there" there, but it kept me reading.  Good Beach Reading.
  5. The Bell Jar by Silvia Plath.   I'm not sure how I made it this far in life without ever reading this novel.  I'm glad I read it.  Her portrayal of a young woman's descent into deep depression is searing while at the same time having many humorous moments - life is ludicrous sometimes.  Recommended.
  6. The Flame Throwers by Rachel Kushner.   A young woman artist who also rides motorcycles is involved with an older Italian artist from a wealthy family.  I thought this was a powerful novel and I was particularly intrigued by how the main character was an independent interesting thinker who seldom said anything interesting out loud.  I think this is often true of young women, and the question is whether they ever reach a point where they become comfortable enough in their own skin that they can truly be themselves.   I like how Kushner captured the 1970's.  The world changed for women in the 1960's but it didn't change for every woman overnight.  Between this novel and Meg Wollitzer's The Interestings, this has been a summer of remembering the 1970's for me.  Highly Recommended.
  7. Murder Below Mount Parnasse by Cara Black.   There was a new Amy LeDuc novel this year and no one told me?  Amy's adventures continue as she gets involved in trying to recover a stolen painting.  I really like this series.   As usual, mysteries are the genre writing that I escape to when I can't read anything else.  I recommend this one but you should really start with the first in the series. 
  8. Blood and Beauty by Sarah Dunant.   Last month I read Malice of Fortune, a mystery that featured Niccolo Machiavelli and Leonardo da Vinci.  But the other main characters were Rodrigo Borgia and his son Cesar.  I wasn't sure I wanted to read another Borgia book so soon, but I generally enjoy Sarah Dunant and, hey, I was on a reading roll.  She didn't disappoint.  Her Borgias are much better fleshed out.  I always like how Dunant makes me feel that I'm really in whatever time period she is describing.  My only complaint (which seems to happen with every Dunant novel for me) is that she spends a little too much time "telling" me things about the characters and plot rather than showing me.  But Recommended.  And there will be a sequel.
  9. The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P. by Adelle Waldman.  I had a somewhat contentious relationship with this novel.  On the one hand, I spent most of the novel thinking "YES!  That's exactly how a large number of men think about women!"  On the other hand, I kept thinking "Is this REALLY how men  think about women, or if this is just how intelligent women like me and Waldman think men think about women?"  I'd like to hear a group of men discuss this novel.  If you are a single woman thinking about dating, be warned that this may make you give up.  Highly Recommended.
  10. Crocodile on the Sand Bank by Elizabeth Peters. When Barbara Mertz, who wrote some of her novels under the name Elizabeth Peters, died recently, I realized that I had never read any of her mysteries.  I decided to start with the first in the Amelia Peabody series.  I've always loved ancient Egypt and, when I was younger, wanted to be an archaelogist.   I was somewhat disappointed, I found the novel rough going.  Too little archaeology in this first one - which was a shame because they were at Amarna!  I'm reading the second one in the hope that now that the characters are established, things will move a little faster.   Meh
That's it for August.  I've made a big dent in my "to be read" pile.  And I'm back to having less time to read than I would like.  

Monday, August 5, 2013

Summer Reading - June and July

I know that I seem to have dropped off the face of the earth. The bad news is that I haven't found time to blog but the good news is that I have found time to read this summer. I didn't blog about my June reading so I'm going to combine June and July. A number of books I read I thought were somewhat mediocre so I'm not going to say much about them.

1.  Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk by Ben Fountain. I had this novel for a while but couldn't bring myself to read it because it was about a guy who had been in Iraq. I just wasn't in the mood for war But I ended up loving this. Billy Lynn is one of a group of soldiers caught in a firefight in Iraq that ends up being caught on video and making "heroes' of them. They are brought home for a quick "hero" tour and that includes attending and being part of the half-time show on the Thanksgiving Day Dallas Cowboys football game. Billy tries to make sense of why everyone wants a piece of him during this long day. Fountain captures just the right tone for this novel. Highly Recommended.

2.  Three mysteries by Eliot Pattinson:  Bone Rattler, Eye of the Raven and Original Death  I was attracted to this series because it is set in upstate New York during the French and Indian War.  Not many books (much less mysteries) are set during that time period.  In general I liked these books and I will read the next one when it comes out.  But I was sometimes irritated by how the Iroquois were always noble in these stories.  I also found the plot of the third book ludicrous - I realize that Brits in the 1700's were tremendously anti-Catholic and so a character expounding about a plot by the Jesuits in the Vatican to defeat the British wasn't completely outside the bounds of possibility.  But [spoiler] - it is ludicrous that the author decided to make it the real plot and not just the delusion of a character.  Recommended with reservations.

3.  A Dance with Dragons by George R.R. Martin.    All I can say is that Martin needs an editor who will stand up to him.  This is one of those series where I am enjoying the TV show more than the books.   Meh

4.  The Last Dragonslayer by Jasper Fforde.  This is the first book in a young adult series by Fforde.  I decided to read it while I waited for the sequel to Shades of Grey to (finally) come out (will it EVER come out)?   I have actually gotten tired of Fforde's Thursday Next series so it was nice to read one of his books and really enjoy it.  I will read more.  Recommended.

5.  Murphy's Law by Rhys Bowen.  This is the first in a series of mysteries set in early 20th century New York.  The main character is an Irish immigrant and this book spends some time in Ireland, England and on shipboard as she makes her way to America.  Once here she encounters Tammany Hall and many of the immigrants that populated New York at the time.  I feel like this has some possibilities as a mystery series even though I wasn't particularly interested in the plot of this particular book.  Rhys Bowen does a pretty good job of creating the historical world in which the story is set and that makes up for the weak plot.  Somewhat recommended.

6.  Bride of New France by Suzanne DesRochers.   This author turned an academic paper into a novel.  It would have been more interesting as an academic paper.  Meh.

7.  Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman.   This is the first novel I've read by Neil Gaiman and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was funny.  I'm not sure why I didn't expect that, but I didn't.  Recommended

8.  Malice of Fortune by Michael Ennis.  Machiavelli as detective and Leonardo da Vinci as the forensic expert - sounded great in theory.  In practice it was booooring.  Meh

9.  The Bird Sisters by Rebecca Rasmussan.   I nice little book where old ladies remember when they were young and how they ended up how they ended up.  I can't really recommend it but there was nothing particularly wrong with it.  Meh.

That's it so far for the summer, but my August reading stack of books is looking pretty good.  I've finished a couple so far but I'll blog about them at the end of the month.


Sunday, June 9, 2013

May Reading

Better late than never, here's what I read in May:

1.  The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer which I discussed in this blog post.   Highly recommended.

2.  Last Friends by Jane Gardam.   This is the third book in the trilogy Gardam unexpectedly constructed around Sir Edward Feathers, his wife Betty and Terry Veneering.  I discussed the first two novels, Old Filth and The Man in the Wooden Hat, when I read them.  I had no idea that a third book was even coming out until I unexpectedly saw it on the Barnes and Noble site and immediately snapped it  up.  I meant to write about it when I read it but just didn't have the time.  I did like this novel very much and was happy that Gardam gave Veneering his due by telling us his back story.  I don't usually finish a novel wishing for a BBC production to be made, but I think this trilogy would be a wonderful television production with great roles for older and younger actors.  It isn't necessary to read the first two novels to understand this one, but it adds layers of understanding if you have read them.  Recommended.

3.  The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley.   I've seen this everywhere the last few years and one day when I realized I was going to be stuck in a chair at the salon for a couple of hours without a book, I stepped into a book store and quickly bought a book to read.  It was this one.   It is a YA novel, which is always a plus for me.  Flavia de Luce is the heroine, a young girl living in a decaying British great house in 1950's England.  She is a fervent student of chemistry and fortunate enough to have her own lab, where she concocts things like poison ivy laced lipstick to punish her sister.  When a dead body shows up in the garden she of course is fascinated.  There were times in this novel when the chemistry talk bored me a little but mostly I enjoyed the story.  Recommended.

4.  The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman.   A series of chapters about the people who work at a failing English language newspaper in Rome, it reads like connected short stories.  Since I don't really like short stories that was not a plus for me.  The characters were well drawn. 

5.  The Kingdom of Ordinary Time by Marie Howe. The concept of Ordinary Time comes from the Catholic liturgical calendar in which the year is divided into seasons.  I like to think of Ordinary Time as the time that is not included in the Big Seasons:  Advent, Christmastime, Lent and Easter.   But Ordinary Time is actually its own season (even though it is broken into segments) and is the longest season of the liturgical calendar.

As a child, attending mass every morning at my Catholic grade school, I was always aware of the coming of Ordinary Time.  In my mind it was the boring time - the time when nothing exciting was going to happen during the service.  No special rituals, like there were during the preparatory seasons of Advent and Lent.  No massive celebrations, like there were during the seasons of Christmas and Easter.  In Ordinary Time everything was ... ordinary.   You just lived your life without the excitement of anticipation or celebration.

Marie Howe's most recent book of poetry is titled "The Kingdom of Ordinary Time".  Recently I heard Marie Howe interviewed by Krista Tippet on NPR.  Tippet asked her about the name of the collection and Howe's answer brought back those memories:

"...ordinary time originally meant to me when I would go through the missal when I was a kid. Remember, those swaths of time between high holy seasons was ordinary time ... And there was always coming — the coming of ordinary time, the coming of ordinary time, the coming of — and then first Sunday of ordinary times, second Sunday of ordinary time. I remember just thinking in a strange and wonderful way talking about everyday life. And, so this notion of like when nothing dramatic is happening, but this is where we're living. It's not Easter. It's not Christmas. It's not Lent. It's not Advent."

I had never heard of Marie Howe before I caught this interview and I was fascinated by her and loved the poetry that she read for that program.  So I picked up the collection of poetry and couldn't put it down.  When I finished it, I turned back and read it again.  Again, I meant to write something about this separately, but did not have time.  Highly Recommended.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

April Reading (and Television Viewing)

April was not a great month for me for reading, at least in terms of volume.  In fact, looking back on the month, I'm a little shocked to find that I only finished four books last month.   Here they are:


1.  Lean In, by Sheryl Sandberg.   I wanted to read this book but I also needed to read it because the women at my firm decided to have a discussion about it at a brown bag lunch one day. And it turned out to be great discussion.

While I think that any woman could read this book and get something out of it, it clearly isn't directed to all women. Sandberg is pretty up front about that.   It will appeal more to women who see themselves in a career rather than a job, and will especially appeal to women like me who made the decision early on to climb some kind of ladder - either because that is what drives them or, like me, because I am in a career that is "up or out" (i.e. you either keep rising or you are asked to leave). Women whose priorities in life are not, and may never be, related to their job may not find themselves as interested in this book.

Our work discussion was great because all the women in the group were lawyers committed to practicing law for the rest of our lives.  While some have young children and have cut back on their hours temporarily, they do not see that as taking them off the career path (indeed it can't because, as I say, law firm life is generally "up or out" still, no matter how much people may deny that it still is).  These women fully expect to return to full time work when their kids are older.  And all of us, whether we have children or not, face the same issues during the work day.  When I say we discussed the book, it would be more accurate to say that we used the book as a jumping off place to discuss the many issues that we face every day in our work day. 

Sandberg does fill the book with a lot of helpful data (backed up by many pages of footnotes).  None of it was news to me but it was helpful to have it all in one place written in accessable language.  I found myself wishing that some of the MEN in my organization would read the book so that they could more fully understand what the women are up against from an institutional point of view.

I've read a lot of reviews of the book.  The negative reviews mostly seem to complain that it isn't a different book.  Many wished  that Sandberg had spent more time discussing how to change institutional barriers (and reviewers who say that she doesn't discuss them at all are totally off base - in fact, I found myself wondering if some of the people who wrote negatively about the book had even read the book.  Sandberg manages to touch on almost everything, she just doesn't explore everything).

This is definitely a book that focuses on women taking control of what they can control and helping them with some strategies for that.   That appeals to me and I found it appealed very much to the women in our discussion group.  But then, it would.  Women who go to law school tend to be self-starters, very independent, and, most of all, pragmatic.   We recognize that institutional barriers exist (oh trust me, we recognize it all the time) but, in the meantime, while we wait and hope and work toward removing them, we have to get on with our own careers.  Talking in practical terms about what we can do in the here-and-now to help those careers is always welcome.

I've gone back to one of reading groups I had temporarily dropped out of and they will be discussing this book next month.  It will be interesting to compare the discussions.  I recommend this book. 

2.   Cannery Row, by John Steinbeck.   As I said, I've returned to one of my reading groups and this was their choice this month.  I know that I've read Cannery Row before, many many years ago when I was on a John Steinbeck kick.  But I really didn't remember it, so it was all new to me.  I had a recollection that I loved the way Steinbeck wrote and wondered if I would feel the same 20 or 30 years later.  I did.  This novel is a series of vignettes of the people (most of whom are down on their luck but don't see it that way) living in a California coastal town whose main employer is the fish (sardine) canneries.   Not that any of these people work for the canneries except occasionally when they really need money. There isn't much in the way of plot, which is fine with me.  Lots of characterization - Steinbeck makes me think well of people who, if I met them in real life, I'd probably run away from.  And, oh how he can string together sentences.    Recommended.   Although if you've never read any Steinbeck, I'd recommend Grapes of Wrath instead.

3.  Ancient Lights, by John Banville.   I've been reading this through my NOOK app for a few months now.  It took me a long time to finish even though it is not a long book, partly because I used it as my lunchtime reading and I didn't have much time for lunch reading but also because I wanted to read it slowly.  Like Steinbeck, Banville is an expert at stringing together sentences.  I found myself re-reading paragraphs, sometimes aloud, just for the joy of his language (another reason it was hard to read at lunch unless I was alone).  There is, again, not much of a plot.   The book is written as a stream of consciousness memoir by an older character remembering the sexual relationship he had as a young boy with the mother of a friend of his (which at first gave me pause) combined with his more or less present day writing about a film he is in (he is an actor) and his thoughts on the death by suicide of his daughter.   I didn't realize until I reached the notes at the end that this novel is the third of a trilogy.  I might go back and read the first two books.  Recommended.

4.  Arcadia by Lauren Groff.   When I first started practicing law I worked with a woman who had lived in a commune in the 1970's.  I never talked about it with her, other people told me.  I remember thinking "How horrible.  I would never want to live in a commune." This novel about a boy who grows up in a commune in upstate New York was not, therefore, something that I expected to really find myself relating to.   And I didn't.  Groff did keep my interest through the first two sections which covered the main character's childhood and adolescence at the commune.  But it was downhill for me from there.  The third part takes place years later after the commune fell apart and his own marriage has fallen apart.  Since I couldn't see the joy of communal living and certainly didn't see the appeal of the character's missing unstable former drug addict wife, I kept waiting for him to come to his senses and just move on. The fourth part takes place in an apocalyptic near-future when the climate has changed so much that some food is no longer available and some kind of flu is wiping out much of the population.  I think it was 2018 (which I found hard to buy into since that is right around the corner).  I disliked that section intensely in terms of plot and characters.

Groff writes well which is why I kept going.  And I can't say that her characters were caricatures - she made them very real to me.  And she certainly didn't portray the commune as a utopia, nor did she portray it as a terrible place (at least not until the end).  Her portrayal seemed even handed to me.  The truth is that I have, and have always had, a viscerally negative reaction to the kind of people are most likely to think living in a commune is a good thing and especially to the kind of character who, after escaping from one, would actually miss it.  That's really just me and not a problem with Groff.  So while I can't recommend this novel since I mostly just wanted it to be over by the last part, people who don't have the kinds of issues I have might enjoy it.

And that was it for April.  One of the reasons I read fewer books was because I became caught up in a number of television series.  Oddly, all of them were on cable and I don't have cable.   But the descriptions intrigued me enough that I bought iTunes season passes for them.  They included:  (1)  Spies of Warsaw, based on a novel by Alan Furst that I read last year; (2) Top of the Lake, an original Sundance Channel series directed by Jane Campion, set in New Zealand and starring Elizabeth Moss and Holly Hunter; (3) Vikings, an original scripted drama from The History Channel (!) about, well, Vikings and based on Scandinavian sagas about Ragnor Lothboke; (4) Doctor Who ('nuff said); (5) Orphan Black an original BBC America series about a group of human clones all played by Tatiana Maslany; and (6) Defiance, set in a post-apocalyptic, post-alien invasion, St. Louis (how could I not watch it, if only to see how they kept the Arch still standing despite missing a chunk). I enjoyed and recommend all of them.

I wasn't wild about the novel Spies of Warsaw when I read it, I thought it moved kind of slowly and didn't have a real ending.  The television show is much better (and has more plot than the novel; I think I read somewhere that the screenwriters also used parts of other Furst novels), although it still moves slowly and doesn't have a real ending.   Top of the Lake reminded me a bit of Twin Peaks.  It was full of odd characters and, in many ways, the actual solution to the mystery wasn't all that important - although it did manage a few surprises for me at the end. 

I truly loved Vikings and am thrilled it is coming back next year.  It is violent but not gratuitously so - after all it's about ... Vikings!  Someday, someone should adapt Dorothy Dunnet's epic novel King Hereafter as a series.  It takes place about 200 years after this television show, during the late days of the Vikings, after Scandinavia becomes nominally Christian.

Of all the shows I've watched, the one I can't stop telling people to watch is Orphan Black.  Tatiana Maslany is doing amazing work playing human clones who look alike but have completely different personalities (including characters impersonating other characters).   In a just world she would get an Emmy.  And the story is odd and entertaining. I regularly think that this series is what Dollhouse should have been and wonder if Joss Whedon is watching it.  I might write about it when it is over.  HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Defiance has just started and while it seems somewhat derivative of other science fiction shows, I love this kind of science fiction.  Hopefully, once the writers set the stage and establish all the characters it can develop a unique voice.  And they still haven't explained the Arch fix yet.

Doctor Who - well,  Doctor Who.  :)

Friday, April 5, 2013

March Reading

I'm a little late putting this up because ... well, I don't really have a reason or an excuse.

I ended up reading fewer books in March than the preceding months because I took a little over a week to re-watch the first season of Veronica Mars and then I took another week to re-watch the first five episodes of Bunheads.  Here's what I did read in March:

 1. NW by Zadie Smith. Believe it or not this is the first Zadie Smith novel I've ever read. I keep meaning to read her so when I saw this on the New Fiction shelf at the library I picked it up. I know it got mixed reviews but I quite liked it as a study of the lives of three people who grew up in the same estate (housing project) and never moved far.  I will definitely find and read another Zadie Smith novel.  Recommended.

2.  One Last Strike by Tony LaRussa.  This is a book about the surprising 2011 season of the St. Louis Cardinals.  I read it while I spent a weekend in Florida on spring break.  That seemed appropriate.  But despite being a huge Cardinals fan, I found this a surprisingly dull book.  Too many details and too little baseball "magic".   Not recommended.

3. Where's You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple.  I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this novel.  It is told as a young middle school aged girl tries to figure out why her mother disappeared by going through a file of emails and memos from the last months before the disappearance.  So it had a resemblance to an epistolary novel using emails.  I love epistolary novels because writers of letters (and emails) are always unreliable narrators.  For one thing, they are choosing a personality when they write - and that might not be their real personality or at least not their entire personality.   This novel kept me guessing.  And it was FUNNY in a snarky way.   Recommended.

4.  This is Running for Your Life by Michelle Orange.   I found this book of essays very uneven.  Some of the essays kept my interest and others made my mind wander.    Partially recommended - pick and choose.

5.  A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood.   I inadvertently read this very short novel over the two day period when the Supreme Court was considering gay marriage.  How appropriate!   I had seen the movie with Colin Firth and really enjoyed it.  The novel is wonderful.  I loved Isherwood's style. Highly Recommended.

6. Leaving Everything Most Loved by Jacqueline Winspear.   This is the latest Maisie Dobbs novel.  Winspear seemed to intend this book to be a transitional book.  I won't spoil anything but Maisie is definitely changing direction.  I continue to have a hard time warming up to Maisie as a character although I like Winspear's style and I like the period she is choosing to write about.  The last 25 pages or so of this novel were more rambling than I would have liked but the first part of the book was well written.  Recommended.

That was it for March.  I'm still slowly reading John Banville's Ancient Light.  It isn't that long of a book but I made it my "lunchtime reading" book and I haven't had much time to read over lunch.   I also have Lauren Groff's Arcadia on my night stand. 

Sunday, March 3, 2013

February Reading

Summarizing my whole month of reading worked out well for me in January so I thought I'd continue it (until I get tired of doing it).  In February, I read the following books:





1.  Proof of Guilt by Charles Todd.  I continue to love the Inspector Rutledge mystery series.  Rutledge, a Scotland Yard detective, is a World War I survivor who suffers from PTSD.   The series moves slowly.  The first book occurred just after the end of the war and each mystery takes no more than about six weeks (often less) to solve.  This latest installment (the 15th) brings us up to the summer of 1920.  The mystery, as usual, isn't the big draw for me (and might even be my least favorite of all the mysteries so far).  The draw for me is Rutledge and how he is progressing.  In this novel he still hears the voice of Hamish but not as often as in previous books and he seems to be dealing with "him" much better.  I like how Rutledge seems to be getting better very slowly because that seems realistic to me.    And I really liked one of the female characters (who Rutledge also liked) and I hope we see her again.

2.  The Walnut Tree by Charles Todd.  This was a holiday story that was published using the same universe as the Bess Crawford books (which are the same universe as the Inspector Rutledge books, but earlier in time).  I didn't care for it very much, I found it predictable.  I also disliked that Todd created a sympathetic figure that the reader had no choice but to wish bad things would happen to in order for the heroine to end up with the right man.   I also disliked the whole British aristocracy part of the novel --  Americans have a hard time writing about lords and ladies in a realistic way I think .  It took Elizabeth George a number of books to get Lynley right, in my opinion, and she only did it when she finally stopped focusing on the fact that he had a title.  Lady Elspeth just didn't ring true to me.  So far I haven't been particularly wild about any of the Charles Todd books that feature women as central characters.

3.   Listen to This by Alex Ross.  This is a series of essays that began as articles in the New Yorker.  If you like classical music you will love this book.  He covers so many topics:  Marian Anderson, Verdi, Schubert, Brahms.   If you are a classical music lover, this is a must read.  My favorite of the essays is Verdi's Grip in which he talks about my favorite moment in one of my favorite operas:  Amami Alfredo from La Traviata.  The courtesan, Violetta, after experiencing the only happiness she has ever known, living in the country with Alfredo, has been secretly convinced by Alfredo's father to give Alfredo up for his own good and leave him forever.   Right before she leaves, after some frantic dissimulation on her part, she looks right at Alfredo and says "love me, Alfredo".  When sung by the right soprano, a live performance of this moment literally makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.  It is the strangest sensation to be sitting in a dark theater, caught up in the dramatic moment and have such a physical reaction to the music.  Ross writes:

Verdi's writing for voice is a camera that zooms in on a person's soul.  Consider the moment in Act II of La Traviata when Violetta, the wayward woman, leaves her lover, Alfredo.  Alfredo believes that she is merely going into the garden, but he will soon receive a letter from her saying that she is gone forever.  "I will always be here, near you, among the flowers," Violetta says to him, "Love me, Alfredo, as much as I love you.  Goodbye!" Amami Alfredo, quant'io t'amo.  When a great soprano unfurls these phrases -- I am listening to Callas live at La Scala, in 1955 -- you hear so much you can hardly take it all in.  You hear what Alfredo hears, the frantic talk of an overwrought lover:  "I love you even though I am going into the garden." You hear what Violetta cannot bring herself to say out loud:  "I am leaving you, but will always love you."  And you hear premonitions of her deathbed plea, at the end of the opera: "Remember the one who loved you so."

This matrix of meaning is contained in a simple tune that you already know even if you have never seen an opera:  a twice-heard phrase that curves steeply down the notes of the F-major scale, followed by a reach up to a high B-flat and a more gradual, winding descent to a lower F. Beneath the voice, strings play throbbing tremolo chords.  ... So significant was "Amami, Alfredo" in Verdi's mind that he made the melody the main theme of the opera's prelude, even though its only appearance in the opera proper is in these eighteen bars of Act II.  There is no more impressive demonstration of Verdi's lightning art:  the audience hardly knows what hit it. 
 Callas's execution of "Amami, Alfredo" on the 1955 set is among the most stunning pieces of Verdi singing on record.  In the tense passage leading up to the outburst, the soprano adopts a breathless, fretful tone, communicating Violetta's initially panicked response to the situation - vocal babbling, the Verdi scholar Julian Budden calls it.  Then, with the trembling of the strings, she seems to flip a switch, her voice burning hugely from within.  When she reaches up to the A and the B-flat, she claws at the notes, practically tears them off the page, although her tone retains a desperate beauty. Her delivery is so unnervingly vehement ... that it risks anticlimax.  Where can the opera possibly go from here? When you listen again, you understand: Violetta's spirit is broken, and from now on she will sing as if she were already dead. 
Here's Renee Fleming's version.  I like that she portrays Violetta as suffering the affects of tuberculosis in this scene; most performances I've seen save that for the third act:




4.  A Village Life by Louise Gluck.  This is Gluck's 11th collection of poems. I read it slowly through the month, a couple of poems before bed each night.  Gluck takes ordinary life in a small  Italian village and makes poetry of it.  It wasn't my favorite collection of her poems, although I enjoyed it while reading it.  However, I found that there wasn't any particular poem that I wanted to share. 

5.  Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey.  I blogged about this novel here

6.  The Hand That first Held Mine by Maggie O'Farrell,  I fell in love with Maggie O'Farrell's novel, The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox.  Because of that I was hesitant to read another novel by her; I doubted it could live up to my expectations.  This one didn't, although I did enjoy it.   I guessed early on what the connection between the characters was and thought the key plot point was somewhat unbelievable (a guy who is only slightly younger than me has NEVER seen his birth certificate?  In this day and age?)  I cared about what happened to the characters despite the fact that I didn't really like any of them.  If I had any specific complaint it would be -- too much breast feeding.

7.  Anatomy of Murder by Imogen Robertson.  Last month I read Robertson's first novel.  I blogged about it here.  This month I read the sequel and in many ways I liked it even better.  The story was better and a little less (although not much) melodramatic.  I will definitely read her next novel.  But ... one of the things I liked in the first novel was that the heroine was a happily married woman so there was none of the sexual tension nonsense with her investigative partner.  I'm pretty sure Robertson is caving to pressure and intending to go with sexual tension because the end of this novel sets that up.  I find that very disappointing.

8.   The Art of Fielding by Chad Hardwich.   I blogged about it here.   Let's just say I really liked it.

Right now I'm reading NW by Zadie Smith as well as Ancient Light by John Banville.   I also have Tony LaRussa's latest book about his life in baseball and am resisting starting it until next week.


Sunday, February 24, 2013

The Art of Fielding by Chad Hardwick

Henry Skrimshander is a baseball prodigy; a shortstop with an arm that can throw out anyone and pinpoint accuracy. But as a senior in a small town high school, with no hope of going to college, it looks like his baseball career is almost over.   Mike Schwartz plays college ball for the mediocre Westish College Harpooners.  He loves Westish and he loves baseball. The summer after Henry's senior year in high school, Mike Schwartz spots Henry during a Legion Ball tournament and recruits him to Westish.


Henry played shortstop, only and ever shortstop -- the most demanding spot on the diamond.  More ground balls were hit to the shortstop than to anyone else, and then he had to make the longest throw to first.  He also had to turn double plays, cover second on steals, keep runners on second from taking long leads, make relay throws from the outfield .... He's spent his life studying the way the ball came off the bat, the angles and the spin, so that he knew in advance whether he should break right or left, whether the ball that came at him would bound up high or skid low to the dirt.  He caught the ball cleanly, always, and made, always, a perfect throw.
 The Art of Fielding is Chad Hardwick's debut novel, and it is one of the best debut novels I've read in a long time.  Hardwick describes baseball with the combination of facts and poetry that baseball deserves, but this is not The Natural or Shoeless Joe.  This is no novel about baseball as a fantasy; there are no magic bats or ghosts in the cornfields.  There bad hops, and errors, and strikeouts.  If games are won, they are won the hard way.  And a hot prospect one day can be dismissed by the major league scouts the next.  More than anything, this novel explains what head-cases baseball players can be and why that is so.
But baseball was different.  Schwartz thought of it as Homeric -- not a scrum but a series of isolated contests.  Batter versus pitcher, fielder versus ball.  You couldn't storm around, snorting and slapping people, the way Schwartz did while playing football.  You stood and waited and tried to still your mind.  When your moment came, you had to be ready, because if you fucked up, everyone would know whose fault it was.  What other sport not only kept a stat as cruel as the error but posted it on the scoreboard for everyone to see. 
 Henry's bible is a book called "The Art of Fielding" written by the (fictional) legendary Cardinals shortstop, Aparicio Rodriguez.   (No, the fact that the St. Louis Cardinals are the primary major league baseball team in this novel did not influence me.  Well, maybe a little.)  It is as much a book of philosophy as a book of rules about baseball:

3.  There are three stages:  Thoughtless being. Thought. Return to thoughtless being.
33.   Do not confuse the first and third stages.  Thoughtless being is attained by everyone, the return to thoughtless being by a very few.

 In some ways, the story of Henry is the story of Henry trying to put the rules of "The Art" into effect.  It is not always easy.

 There were, admittedly, many sentences and statements in The Art  that Henry did not yet understand.  The opaque parts of The Art, though, had always been his favorites, even more than the detailed and extremely helpful descriptions of, say, how to keep a runner close to second base (flirtation, Aparicio called it) or what sort of cleats to wear on wet grass.  The opaque parts, frustrating as they could be, gave Henry something to aspire to.  Someday, he dreamed, he would be enough of a ballplayer to crack them open and suck out their hidden wisdom.

Although this is a great novel, it is not a perfect novel - what novel, especially what debut novel, is?  It might have been perfect if Harwick had stuck only to the baseball story.  But Henry and Mike are college boys and this is a college novel.  Hardwick does the college story well enough but not really any better than anyone else and the characters and the college storyline seemed derivative to me.  Especially the requisite older academic having an affair with a student storyline.  The fact that this particular affair involves the academic engaging in his first gay relationship isn't really enough, in my opinion, to differentiate it from all the other college novels with older academics having affairs with students.

Hardwick does a good job creating the character of the older academic but is less successful, in my opinion, with Henry's "gay mulatto roommate" Owen Dunne who ends up in the affair with the older academic.  I never really understood what made Owen tick, he seemed more of a device to me than a real character. 

One reason that it took me so long to pick up this novel, despite it being prominently displayed in bookstores, is because the blurbs made think that it would be too ... male ... to interest me.  And it is very male-oriented.  Hardwick throws in one female character (the older academic's "wild" daughter who never finished high school and instead ran away with yet another older academic, but who is now running home to dad).  Frankly, in many ways, her character didn't make a lot of sense to me. Every time I thought I was getting a handle on who she was, she would do something that seemed out of character.   There were times that I thought this was intentional -- that this is how men (especially college age men) see women -- as unpredictable and not wholly understandable.  But if that was the purpose, Hardwick undermined it by writing entire chapters from her point of view.  Again, she seemed more of a device than a real character.  He did give her a great name -- Pella.   

But none of that really mattered.  The story of Henry, Mike and baseball overwhelmed all the other stories.  I look forward to Hardwick's next novel.  I hope it is something entirely different.

 

Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey

The discovery that a skeleton buried under what is now a parking lot near Leicester England is the skeleton of King Richard III, the last Plantagenet monarch of England was very exciting news for those of us who love history and archaeology.   It also made me think of Josephine Tey's novel, The Daughter of Time, which I read many years ago.  So I dug it out and read it again, in honor of the finding of Richard.


I'm not a British historian and I have no dog in the fight about the true nature of Richard - monster or good man?  Murderer of his own nephews or scapegoat for Henry VII?  I leave the arguments to those who spend their time reading about that period.

But what I do know is that history is written by the winners and even if winners don't intend to skew history in their favor, they inevitably do if only because they have more access to their own "facts" than to the other side's "facts".  I also know that history in textbooks is never as interesting as history that you "discover" for yourself.  That is why I am enjoying delving into North American French colonial history, which is not taught to us in school except at the most basic level.

In the years since I last read this novel, I had forgotten most of the arguments Tey made for why Richard was not a monster.  I had also forgotten what a good writer Tey was.   And how witty.  In this novel, her regularly appearing Scotland Yard detective, Adam Grant, is laid up in hospital after falling through a trap door.  I'm assuming he is in some kind of traction, but in any event he is required to be flat on his back for a very long time.  He is bored. Very bored.  But he cannot bring himself to read any of the books that well meaning friends have brought him. 

Tey spends a couple of pages describing these novels and I was struck by both her wit and by how much life has not changed in over sixty years of publishing:

Authors today wrote so much to a pattern that their public expected it.  The public talked about "a new Silas Weekley" or "a new Lavinia Fitch" exactly as they talked about "a new brick" or "a new hairbrush."  They never said "a new book by" whoever it might be.  Their interest was not in the book but in its newness.  They knew quite well what the book would be like.
Tey published this novel in 1951, at the beginning of the Cold War.  Although the subject that begins the discussion of truth-in-history is Richard III, Tey spends some time pointing out that even in modern times stories are circulated that the public accepts as true even though there are many people alive who know for a fact that the stories aren't true.  The American researcher assisting Grant talks about the true story of the Boston "Massacre" and Grant tells him about an incident that allegedly took place in Tonypandy Wales that never really happened.  The term "Tonypandy" becomes their code for accepted history that turns out to be myth.

If I was a professor trying to make students understand the importance of research into "minutia" I would have them read Tey's novel.   As a lawyer I've understood for year's that eyewitness accounts are inherently unreliable.  What most people think of as "circumstantial" evidence can be much more reliable.  Tey understands that too.

Give me research.  After all, the truth of anything at all doesn't lie in anyone's account of it. It lies in all the small facts of the time. An advertisement in a paper. The sale of a house.  The price of a ring.

Tey's Detective Grant grows disgusted with historians who report only on what someone said happened without wondering about the likelihood of something happening or not happening.  Grant asks where human nature comes into things.  He wonders if the Queen Dowager, the mother of the two boys who are allegedly murdered by Richard, could actually bring herself to be in the court of the man who murdered her sons, accepting a pension from him and having her daughters attend court functions?

But the thing is ... maybe she could.  Maybe she was that kind of woman.  Tey does a good job making the case for Richard but, as a lawyer, I know that with the ambiguity in the story I could argue either side with a straight face.   But I do like that Tey puts the argument out there and shows the average reader that history is messy, the interest lies in the gray areas and sometimes it just isn't going to be possible to know for certain exactly what happened. 

As I finished the novel, I recalled that Richard made an appearance in Dorothy Dunnett's final novel in the House of Niccolo series, Gemini.   King Edward is still on the throne of England and his brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester, is in the north on the Scottish border, part of an invasion force.  Since the point of view of the novel is Scottish, not much time is spent on the English characters.  I don't think it was technically necessary for the story to have Nicolas specifically meet Richard, but it must have been too tempting for Dunnett.  Here she has this complicated historical figure, Richard, right there on the Scottish border, how could she not have him at least meet her very complicated creation, Nicolas.

Gemini is the only Dunnett novel that I've only read once and I couldn't remember exactly how Dunnett came down on Richard's character.  I did recall that he wasn't a major character, he simply appears in the story at a key point.  So, I dug out my copy of Gemini to see how Dunnett made Richard, Duke of Gloucester and the future king, come to life. 

[Nicolas] had never met Gloucester, but was prepared for the black hair, the jagged profile, the uneven shoulders.  His voice was charming and so were his clothes:  a soft brocade robe over a fine shirt, doublet and hose.  There was a brooch in his hat. 
Dunnett refers to Richard as "Dickon Gloucester" and I wonder if there is historical precedence for that or if she just realizes that most people probably didn't call him by his full name any more than people today named Richard are called that by their friends.

Dunnett gives Nicolas two audiences with Gloucester and both are in relatively formal settings.  In the second, Gloucester gives Nicolas some unexpected and, to Nicolas, shocking, information.  "His voice was solicitous, but his eyes hinted at a wicked amusement ... He smiled.  Nicolas could not bring himself to smile back."

And that's pretty much all we get from Dunnett about Richard.  There is no meeting of the minds between Nicolas and Richard but they do speak as intellectual equals which generally means that Dunnett had some respect for the historical personage.  In the entire encounter she seems to have decided to treat Richard as pragmatic and intelligent, which by all accounts he was. It is also made clear that Nicolas expects him to be ruthless but is not shocked by that understanding.  There is nothing in these encounters to give us a clue as to whether or not Dunnett believed he would eventually murder his nephews, but she creates him as a character who was the kind of man who could have done it.

Since this comports pretty much with how I view Richard, I was satisfied with my re-reading. 


Sunday, February 3, 2013

My January Reading

I intended to write some blog posts about the books I've been reading but never got around to it.  So here's a list of the books I read in January and my take on each of them.  My goal this year was to read fewer mysteries and more literary fiction.  I'm still having the problem that not much is appealing to me. So  I'm still reading a fair number of mysteries but, yes, I did manage to read some literary fiction too.


  1. The Round House by Louise Erdrich.  I truly intended to write an actual blog post about this novel but it has law as a theme and every time I sat down to write I found I just couldn't face writing about law in my free time after the last few busy months. It isn't my favorite Louise Erdrich novel but I did enjoy it.  I thought the voice she created for the main character was very realistic.  And I was somewhat surprised by the direction the story took at the end.

  2. The Bookseller by Mark Pryor.  As I said here, a little too much explanation and a little too much serendipity.  But it is a first novel so maybe he'll improve.

  3. Bruno, Chief of Police by Martin Walker.   This one is cheating a bit because I started it back in October and never finished it.  I noticed it on my NOOK one day at lunch and realized I only had two more chapters to go to find out who dunnit so I finished it. I think the reason I stopped reading it had more to do with my crazy busy end of the year than the book itself.   It is the first in a series and, while it shows, I did like the French locale so I may read others in the series.
     
  4.  The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton by Elizabeth Speller.  I read The Return of Captain John Emmett, Speller's first book in this series, last year when I was on my World War I novel kick.   I said "I don't think this is intended to be a series as the main character isn't a detective."  Well, I was wrong.  This novel is better than the first, the plot is a little more believable and wasn't as easily guessable.  But I'm still unclear how she can make a series of it.  After all, how many crimes can a church architectural historian come across?   Wait.  Don't answer that.

  5. Standing in Another Man's Grave by Ian Rankin.  I've been waiting for this book to finally cross the pond.  Rebus returns!  Now he's a civilian working in the cold case unit.  He's also trying to return to active duty because the mandatory retirement age has  been increased.  I actually liked Rebus as a retired cop and wouldn't mind him staying retired and "consulting" with Siobhan from time to time.  It gives him more freedom of movement but, of course, less access to information.  I also liked seeing him traveling back and forth to Inverness  because I've done that drive and could picture it - even the turn-off to Aviemore.   It didn't seem quite as dark and gritty as previous Rebus novels and that may be because Rebus has nothing to lose - he's retired, they can't fire him. 

  6. The Patrick Melrose Novels by Edward St. Aubyn.   This is really four very short novels bound together in one volume: Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope and Mother's Milk.    Although these were all issued much earlier in the UK, they were just released in the US this year.  A number of book reviewers listed this novel on their Best Books of 2012 list so I thought I would check it out.  I disliked the characters, was uninterested in the plot and loved St. Aubyn's writing style.  I can only describe it as a cross between Martin Amis and J.M. Barrie. 

     St. Aubyn creates a main character who was raped by his own father at the age of five and spends the rest of his life messed up because of that.  A very serious situation ... and yet, at what point is a person responsible for his own life despite the terrible things that have happened to him?   And where is the line between the tragic and the ludicrous?    As St. Aubyn lets us into the mind of the deeply troubled Patrick Melrose, who regularly sees the ludicrousness of his situations, we can't help but think that this is a character that is smart enough and self aware enough  that he should be able to rise above his background.  And yet ... he doesn't.  Is that because he can't or because he won't?

    I truly enjoyed St. Aubyn's acerbic social commentary.
    The English didn't ask much of their Dukes in Anne's opinion.  All they had to do was hang on to their possessions, at least the very well-known ones, and then they got to be guardians of what other people called 'our heritage'.  She was disappointed that this character with a face like a cobweb had not even managed the small task of leaving his Rembrandts on the wall where he found them.
    And while his characters are nasty, they are also funny.   For instance the character of the father, David, is a particularly horrible man but only his wife Eleanor and his son Patrick seem to know it.
    When they arrived in the hall, Eleanor was delighted by David's absence.  Perhaps he had drowned in the bath.  It was too much to hope.  
    And Patrick isn't always particularly likeable.  But he is sometimes sympathetic, especially when his thoughts are blackly humorous:
    He was definitely going to get drunk and insult Seamus, or maybe he wasn't.  In the end it was even harder to behave badly than to behave well.  That was the trouble with not being a psychopath.  Every avenue was blocked.
    My least favorite of the four novels was Bad News because I have no interest in drug addicts in real life and see no point in spending time in their fictional minds. The entire novel is a day in the mind of a twenty-something Patrick who is doped up to the nth degree.  I admit to skimming through parts of it.  And I tired, as I often do with Martin Amis, of reading about a character who is a man-child.  At least JM Barrie made his character a real boy who wouldn't grow up, perhaps knowing that while there is something distasteful about grown men who act  and think like children you can always get away with a child acting and thinking like a grownup.  At points St. Aubyn slips into a child's point of view and it works fairly well for him despite the fact that the child thinks like an adult.   There is one more book in the series and I will eventually go find it and read it.  Part of me hopes he kills off Patrick and part of me hopes he redeems him.

  7. The Piccadilly Plot by Susanna Gregory.   I picked this up at the library one day when I could find nothing else I wanted. I'm not even sure why I bothered finishing it.  I was drawn to it because it was set in Seventeenth Century London during the Restoration but found the setting did not make up for the writing.
  8. Instruments of Darkness by Imogen Robertson.  This was also a first novel, set during the eighteenth century.  I enjoyed it.  Although it is a mystery I think it was at its best when it focused on characters and setting.  The main character is a scientist type who just wants to be left alone, but one day his neighbor finds a dead body on her estate and comes to him for help.  One thing I really liked is that Robertson made the neighbor a happily married woman whose husband is a sea captain off fighting the "American Rebellion".  So she can act fairly independently but there is none of that boring love interest stuff with the scientist.  They are just two people.  At first I wasn't sure how the American Rebellion was relevant and thought the scenes that were set there were meant simply to draw in American readers, but in the end I realized that the theme of insurrection and the dangers it poses to those caught up in it, was a larger theme in the book.   She has written another book and I will read it. 
And that's it for January.  I'm glad that I'm reading again after three or four months of not reading much at all and not having time to even make a blog mention (for instance I read Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl back in November and was intending to write about it but never got around to it.)

I'm starting February by reading the new Charles Todd that just came out (yes, another mystery).  I'm also working through Alex Ross' essays in his  Listen to This.  I picked that book up a couple of years ago and then forgot I had it. 

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

2013 Reading Plans

2012 was, in general, not a great year for reading for me.  I read a lot of books that I enjoyed but most of them were in the mystery genre (not that there is anything wrong with that) and I feel that I really limited myself too much to that one genre.

Part of the reason was that I was so goshdarn busy at work that when I got home I really wanted comfort reading and not challenging reading.  The other reason is that I started reading more on my ipad Nook app and I find the Barnes and Noble online site hard to browse, except for mysteries.  I don't know why this is - I used to order literary fiction from them all the time.  But last year I kept looking for new literary fiction to read and not much of anything they were pushing appealed to me.  Maybe that was them, maybe that was me, or maybe that was just publishing in 2012.

One of my plans for 2013 is to go back to reading more books in "real book" form.  The first challenge for that plan is that my favorite independent bookstore just closed, which is very sad.  There is another independent bookstore downtown that I like, but it isn't close to my office and by the time I hike over there I don't have much time to browse.  The obvious solution is the public library which I haven't visited much in the last year or so.  My local branch doesn't get much new fiction and they hide it in a poorly lit corner, so I think I'm going to try out other branches this year.

As far as what to read, I don't really have many specific books that are goals.  I plan to read the new Louise Erdrich novel next.   Other than that, I don't have any set goals.  I thought maybe I would just pick a few authors and try to find books by them that appealed to me.   I know I want to re-read some Robertson Davies.  I've been meaning to read something by Henry James, I don't think I've ever read any of his novels except Turn of the Screw.  I've had Dostoevsky in my plans for three years now, maybe this is the year.  I want to read more novels by Penelope Lively and Elizabeth Taylor.  I'd like to read another novel by Hilary Mantel.  

Saturday, October 15, 2011

International Dorothy Dunnett Day

Today is the first International Dorothy Dunnett Day, meant to mark the 50th anniversary of the publication of her first novel, The Game of Kings.  At 1:00 p.m. local time all fans are to gather and toast the author.  If there is a gathering here in St. Louis, I don’t know about it so I will be toasting her by myself.

I was standing in line at the grocery store a few weeks ago, gazing without seeing at the magazines in the rack, when the latest Time Magazine came into focus.  On the front was an article called “Why Mom Liked You Best” and a picture of three little kids with plates in front of them holding slices of cake.  One of them had a much bigger slice of cake.

I thumbed through the magazine and realized that the theme really tied in with some thinking I had been doing lately about Dunnett’s epic series of novels, The Lymond Chronicles .  In the article it said that in any given family most children are perfectly knowledgeable about which child is the favorite, even if the parents try their hardest not to play favorites.  I had been recently thinking about how Dunnett had used that very fact to lay a foundation for a surprising twist in her story.  A twist that might have worked better if it had been able to be structured a little differently.

I had been thinking about Dunnett in connection with last season’s Doctor Who, which I thought was too rushed from an emotional point of view.  To set up a really satisfying ending you have to set up the characters emotionally and you have to give the reader enough facts along the way that the ending doesn’t require too much exposition of new facts.  I applaud Moffatt for trying what he tried this season but I didn’t think it quite worked.  But creative people have to try things and sometimes they succeed and sometimes they don’t.  And I was thinking that even Dorothy Dunnett, who was brilliant in bringing her plots together, sometimes had to rush things a bit.

There are many reasons why I like the writing of Dorothy Dunnett, but one of them is that I love how she structures her stories over many thousands of pages to bring the reader to moments that are both surprising and satisfying not only intellectually but emotionally.

It isn’t solely that she peppers her story with facts that are necessary for the final twist to make sense, it is that she lays the emotional foundations that are necessary for a reader to be fully invested in the the answer to the question she is raising and that makes the reader really appreciate the surprising twists in the story rather than feeling cheated by them. 

Dunnett was a master at setting up endings. But even she wasn’t perfect. She had one plot line which didn’t quite come together as well as it might have and, in my opinion, felt too rushed at the end.

At the end of her six novels called The Lymond Chronicles Dunnett resolves a number of plot lines that she has been working on for thousands of pages.  The most obvious resolution is to the question of whether Lymond is going to live or whether she will kill him off.  The ending  works because it has been firmly established through six long novels that she is ruthless in pursuit of her tale and never hesitates to kill off a character if the tale requires the death to occur.  And, it turns out, that over six long novels she has laid every factual and emotional foundation necessary for her to structure the resolution to that question without having to introduce any extraneous explanations after the fact, so that the story can unfold before us and the emotions can wash over us. 

spoilers ahead (although only limited spoilers)

The other big question to be resolved by the end of the tale is the question of Sybilla Crawford’s past life – what she did and why she did it and why she worked so hard to keep it a secret. This resolution does not work quite as well, at least not for me.  It seems a little rushed and it needs a significant amount of exposition right at the end to get the reader to what should be the emotional “aaah” moment.    

The problem is that Dunnett has laid the emotional foundations for the resolution brilliantly but for very practical structural reasons she can’t lay the entire factual foundation in advance.  So there comes a moment at the end of the novel when Sybilla must simply tell her story.  The reader is given a whole lot of important facts to digest about Sybilla’s past life and long dead people.  A whole lot of complicated important facts to digest, and they all must be digested at a time when the reader is emotionally drained by what came before. 

The thing that we the reader have known and understood from the very beginning of the tale is that Sybilla has two sons, Richard and Francis, and she loves both of them but she loves the younger son, Francis, more.  Dunnett doesn’t try to turn that concept on its head at the end.  There is no doubt that the bond between Sybilla and Francis is key to understanding most of the story. 

But it is so easy, throughout the story, to sympathize with Richard’s frustration over this.  Most of the time Richard simply accepts the situation.  He knows his mother loves him.  He tries not to hold it against his brother that she loves Francis more. But occasionally Richard’s frustrations get the best of him, especially when it seems that Francis is just not worthy of that extra love.  Especially when Richard has been the reliable, dutiful son who has been there for his mother while Francis is gallivanting all over the world. 

There is no doubt in Richard’s mind or in the mind of the readers that, for Sybilla, Francis and his welfare would always come first.  Francis himself perhaps even assumes this for a very long time.  After all, as the Time Magazine article suggested, siblings are well aware of their own hierarchy.

So what a nice little “ahh” moment it is when we discover that the big secret that Sybilla has been keeping for so long, at such great emotional cost to herself and to her favorite son Francis, is a secret that she is keeping for Richard’s sake.  In this matter, Richard came first for her.

And the beauty of Dunnett’s plotting is that Richard will never, ever know this and will go on thinking, for the remainder of his life, that he always comes second.

It is such a nice little moment and it is unfortunate that it is almost buried at the end of the novel.  

I’ve always felt that Dunnett was brilliant in laying the factual and emotional foundation for the hugely emotional penultimate chapter of The Lymond Chronicles.  By that moment in the novels she has set up the story of Francis Crawford of Lymond in such a way that she has three very real choices:  she can kill him; she can let him live with an unsatisfying life laying ahead of him or she can let him live with a happy ending.  And it is a tribute to her that letting him live with a happy ending, while desirable, is incredibly unlikely because of the almost insolvable problems that she has set up in the psyche of her characters.

At the moment in which we find out whether he lives or dies, we are in the midst of a Shakespearean tragedy where death is the result of hubris.  Lymond himself has driven Austin Gray to the point of insanity  and we, the readers, have a complete understanding of why Austin feels driven to take the actions he takes.  We, the readers, have been led to this emotional point very carefully through more than 5,000 pages and all of the factual points necessary to make the situation work have all been clearly established earlier in the novels. It all comes together in one moment of brilliant plotting.

Because of the huge emotional drain of that penultimate chapter I’ve always read the ultimate chapter as if it was an epilogue. It has the rushed feeling of an epilogue.  And although Dunnett has laid the emotional foundation for the final reveal about Richard and Sybilla, the factual foundation is not complete.  There are too many important facts that need to be introduced and the only way for her to do that quickly is through exposition.  Thus, the emotionally drained reader is still trying to take in the import of exactly what happened to Sybilla when the reader should be reacting to the disclosure that Richard, who has always come second in the minds of everyone, was first in the mind of Sybilla in this one very important situation.  And he will never know it.

But since these are the types of novels that one thinks about long after one has finished reading, eventually we can bring our focus on that moment and realize how Dunnett and Sybilla fooled us for all those pages into thinking that Sybilla would never put Richard first.  And realizing what a brilliant plot resolution that is.

It has occurred to me that Dunnett perhaps knew that this moment got lost at the end of The Lymond Chronicles and wanted to further explore this idea.  When she moved on to her series of novels that became The House of Niccolo she intentionally made her main character someone whose youth was significantly flawed as the result of a situation similar to the situation Richard might have found himself in at the age of ten.  The facts are very different, but the end result might have been the same if Sybilla hadn’t decided to keep her secret for Richard’s sake.

In the end, this rushed ending doesn’t result in a significant flaw in the novels.  They are still brilliantly realized and she manages to tie up all the big threads and leave enough little threads hanging that readers are still discussing them.  But a part of me always wishes there had been a little more time to lead us to that ultimate ending rather than tacking it into an epilogue-like chapter.

But certainly all of you should read the novels yourself and judge for yourself.

So on this, the first International Dorothy Dunnett Day, I raise a toast to Dorothy Dunnett.  Writers like her don’t come along very often.

Monday, September 12, 2011

No Movie in my Mind

A brief thought. A month or so ago I was in a discussion with some friends and family about books and about what we see in our mind’s eye when we read novels.  I admitted that I don’t see the the story as a movie in my mind.  I know that others do.  I wonder how common it is not to have much of a visual picture of the story. 

I long ago knew that I wasn’t very good at imagining the geography of interior spaces described in stories.  Back in grade school there were tests we took in which we read descriptions of interior spaces and then had to sketch floor plans.  Surprisingly, mine were usually wrong. 

I say surprisingly because reading comprehension was always my highest score on most tests.  But comprehending substance and imagining space seem to be two different talents.

In my mind, the setting of stories are somewhat like old movie studio back lots and generic sets.  Just enough to suggest that we are in a woods or on main street or in the drawing room of a mansion.  Not the detail that today’s high definition productions require.  I don’t put any imagination into creating the settings. 

I’ve been wondering if that is one reason why I’ve never read much science fiction.  It is a great effort for me to create the settings in my mind if they don’t fit into some generic classification.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Tis the Season

Sorry for the radio silence around here.  The end of the year is always a little crazy for me.

In my free time I’ve been reading the Year in Reading series at The Millions in which writers talk about books they’ve read this year.  I like it because they don’t have to be new books, they just have to have been read this year.  So it’s a wide range. 

For instance, the other day Jenny Davidson (I haven’t read any of her books) posted and said that she’d read the entire Dorothy Dunnett Niccolo series and the Lymond series (which is a lot of reading) plus a lot of other books including War and Peace and Anna Karenina.  This woman is not afraid of long novels!   I figured if she liked Dunnett I might like some of the other books she liked.  I also thought I’d check out her blog but … sigh … she likes to post word count on the book she’s working on.

I’ve been spending most of my free time Christmas shopping and wrapping (yes!  Before the last minute!).  But I also found time to go to the Saint Louis Art Museum to see the current exhibition of the paintings of Joe Jones.  I had never heard of Joe Jones.  He was a local boy who became a painter back in the 1920’s and then eventually moved to New York.  During the depression he was one of the painters hired by the government to travel the country and then paint what he learned.  Here’s a link to an image gallery of some of his work.

At the exhibition we got into an interesting discussion about the fact that a financial crash and a great agricultural catastrophe happened more or less simultaneously.  Neither caused the other (as far as I know) but they both caused tremendous hardship. 

Some of his paintings were of very difficult social subjects:

In 1933, Jones turned his artistic sympathies to the suffering of the American people and declared his belief in Communism. Little escaped his barbs as he depicted lynch mobs, the Ku Klux Klan, homeless farmers and other working class struggles in paintings that attacked racial bigotry as well as religious and New Deal appeasement.

If you are in the vicinity over the Christmas holidays, it runs through January 2.

The day I went to the exhibition it snowed here and Forest Park was a winter wonderland.  A group of us met at The Boathouse for brunch where they had a big fire roaring.  We looked over the wintry lake scene and watched the snow blow around.  Then we headed up to Art Hill where the sledders were already congregating beneath the big statue of St. Louis, King of France.  It wasn’t a great snow for sledding – too dry – but that didn’t stop the kids.  The guards at the Art Museum had brooms for people to brush off their shoes as they came through the door and were very welcoming.  Considering the weather and the fact that a few of the lower galleries are closed because of the construction going on for the new wing, there were a surprising number of people there.

I liked the snow.  But then last week we got ice and that wasn’t so fun.  The streets weren’t bad because they already had de-icer on them for the snow but the walk from my garage to my back door was treacherous.  I few of my friends had slip and fall injuries.  We’re supposed to get “weather” later this week.  I hope it isn’t ice.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Short Story or Novel?

This is one of those navel-gazing posts.  You know, all about me.  The kind in which I’m mostly just trying to figure out why I am the way I am. 

Regular readers will know that I’m not much for short stories.  When I sit down to read short stories I can often appreciate them but they are never my first choice to read.  I instinctively shy away from them when I am looking for something to read and I automatically reach for a novel.

I was thinking about that a little more after reading Chad Harbach’s article in Slate.  I was thinking about it in terms of a book I am currently reading and a book I just read.  I decided months ago not to blog about books that I’m not interested in and I wasn’t intending to blog about either of these books but now they seem of more interest to me.  Or at least they fit into a topic that I’m currently finding interesting.  Short story v. Novel.

Both Ways is the Only Way I Want It is a book of short stories by Maile Meloy that my reading group chose for our next book.  Even though I was involved in the decision I really didn’t remember anything about the book description when I picked it up the other day and began reading.   I also completely forgot it was a book of short stories.  So when I started reading I was thinking … novel.

I was hooked immediately as I read about the ranch hand who, in a desperate search to escape the loneliness of the ranch, drove into town one cold winter night and followed a group of people into a building just to be near them.  It turned out to be a night class on “school law” and  I thought that was a a realistic but unexpected way to start.  As the ranch hand returned to class the next week, the reader sees that he has a crush on/fallen in love with/become obsessed with the young woman lawyer who is teaching the night class.  Ah, I thought.  Great characters, good set up.  The plot thickened when the young woman disappeared after a few classes because the drive was too long for her and the ranch hand searched her out.   They have an awkward conversation outside her office and he leaves feeling disheartened.

The next chapter … turned out to be an entirely different story.  But the fact that it was about entirely different characters in a different locale, talking about different times in their lives didn’t throw me.  Lots of novels are like that these days.  They jump around.  I fully expected that somehow we’d get back to the ranch hand and/or the woman lawyer and explore the idea of living the lonely life.

So I felt pretty dumb when I finally figured out that these were short stories.  And then very disappointed because I had set myself up for wanting to see the development of that ranch hand character, not to mention the character of the young woman lawyer.  And mostly because I thought she had been developing an idea that she was going to explore in depth with these characters.  Now I had to come to terms that, as far as she was concerned, this was it.  She had said all she was going to say.  And as far as I was concerned it wasn’t enough.  I mean, if a person can’t tell that a short story is a short story as they are reading it and instead mistake it for a first chapter in a novel, don’t you think there’s a problem?  I do.

And that, I thought in disgust, is why I don’t like most short stories. They seem unfinished.

But, when I calmed down and started thinking about it I realized that I do like many short stories.  Flannery O’Connor’s stories.  O’Henry’s stories.  Stories that have a beginning, a middle and an end and you know damn good and well when you get to the end of the story.  Heck, even the chapters of Olive Kitteridge had endings. Each one could have been published as a short story.

We got off to a bad start, this book and I.  It isn’t that I don’t like her writing style, I do.  And I’ve enjoyed some of the other stories. But with most stories I feel like there should be more.  I want to tell her – go back and write a novel with the ranch hand in it.  He’s got the beginnings of a good story – finish it.  Don’t just tell me about him and then let the story peter out.   

Sigh.

I googled her and discovered she has written two novels.  Maybe I’ll give them a try.  Obviously she has the capacity to draw me in.  But will I trust her not to leave me hanging?

On the other hand, I recently read The Perfect Reader, a first novel by Maggie Pouncey. This was a novel that should have been a short story.  It’s rare that I think that, but I did with this one. In fact, part of me wondered if it started as a short story and someone told her “there’s more to this story than you are telling” and so she tried to finish the story but just ended up with an unsatisfying novel.  

In this novel the heroine, Flora Dempsey, moves back to New England when her father, former president of the local college, dies.  He has made her his literary executor. Most of his work is academic but she finds he has also written some erotic poems dedicated to a fellow academic named Cynthia with whom he has been in a relationship for a while, to the surprise of Flora.  Flora has to come to terms with his poems and with Cynthia. 

According to Publisher’s Weekly:  “This imaginative debut takes a profound look at the connection between words on the page and the infinite interpretations for a reader.”   Uh, no.  There was no “profound look”. At least not as far as I was concerned.  Sure, she raised the issue and she had the character come to some conclusions.  But she didn’t need 300 pages to do that. At least, not the way that she did it. 

I had the impression that she wasn’t really interested in looking at the connection with the word on the page and the interpretation of them by readers.  Because every time she got close to that, she switched topics.  I think if she had really wanted to take a profound look at that issue she might have created a good novel, but instead she just kept giving us characters and plot and not ideas, and she created an average novel.  It wasn’t terrible.  But it wasn’t memorable or thought provoking either.

So I’ve been thinking about what the difference is, for me, between short stories and novels.  I think it is about the depth of exploration of an idea

I don’t think I get that with a short story.  At least not at the level that I want.  I’m not talking about bad short stories, even I know that there are good short stories out there and sometimes I actually read one.  Those are the ones I’m talking about.  Of course a good short story usually does have an idea being explored.  But in the small amount of time allotted, the short story really has to have a couple of well drawn characters and a story that hangs together and has to explore the idea through character and plot.

A novel, on the other hand, has more time to explore big ideas from many angles.  Sure a novel can have great characters and plots but, for me, a novel isn’t really worth the time without an an idea that is being explored on multiple levels.  My rating goes up in big increments if the structure of the novel helps the exploration of the idea.  The novelist can create an intricate structure and multiple characters and multiple plot lines and can have them all work in service to the idea.  Of course, many novels don’t.  But the good ones do. 

For a person like me with limited reading time, I’m always going to try to maximize the chance that I’ll get the kind of fiction I like to read.  It’s annoying to be stuck reading something that is only “ok” (if it’s bad I just stop reading, but “ok” means it could get better.  You only know the whole thing is average when you get to the end.). 

For me, character and plot are less important than beautiful sentences, intricate structure and interesting ideas explored on a deep level.   With short stories I can get characters and plot and beautiful sentences.  I can even get a good idea but I can’t get it explored on a deep level and usually there isn’t an intricate structure.  So that’s one reason that, given a chance, I’ll choose a novel over a short story any day.  My odds are better of getting something I’ll love rather than something I’ll simply like.  

April Reading

I had a few goals at the start of the year:  (1) to read more classic novels, (ii) to re-read more books (I used to re-read a lot), (3) to b...