After the horror that was The Pilot's Wife, I found - much to my joy - a large English-language bookstore, and I picked out The Ivy Chronicles. I had meant to read it awhile ago, but never got around to it. Now, while I had a couple of plane rides coming up, I thought it would be a good choice, promising some lighthearted entertainment. (I should say, I almost went for Wide Sargasso Sea, but it didn't seem like it would go well with jet lag).
It's been a little over a week since I finished it (and I finished it in about 28 hours), and I've almost completely forgotten what happened. Oh yah, she was a kindergarten-admissions counselor trying to get some young 'uns into fancy schools while romancing her neighbors. But it doesn't matter - the book served its purpose. It was fun, funny and the pages went surprisingly quickly. What more can you ask from the genre? I give The Ivy Chronicles two thumbs up.
Next up: I'm almost all the way through Geisha: A Life by Mineko Iwasaki. Supposedly, her life story was the basis for Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha, and she felt that he had misrepresented some of the facts about the geisha way of life, so she wrote her own book. Good for her.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
#23: The Pilot's Wife, Anita Shreve
Let me just set the record straight before I begin ripping this book apart: I was in Eastern Europe and had NO other book choices. Not a single one. I learned a long time ago to stay away from the Oprah selections. Don't get me wrong, I like her (and doesn't everyone like the big O, besides perhaps, er, James Frey?). I just think she has horrific taste in books, as she tends to choose subject matter (usually involving abuse, affairs and/or alcohol) over the author's actual writing ability.
Melodrama seems to be the defining element of the genre of so-called "women's" lit, and it is in full supply here in The Pilot's Wife. Chick lit is about sex; women's lit is about feelings. (This demand for plot over talky-talky is starting to make me feel like a man). But seriously, these books are not great literature -- if I wanted a tedious exposition on life and love, I would pick up Madame Bovary and at least notch a classic.
For example: After the in-air death of her pilot husband, our heroine ponders..."What was it like to watch the cockpit split away from the cabin, and then to feel yourself, still harnessed to your seat, falling through the night, knowing that you would hit the water at terminal velocity, as surely Jack would have known if he were conscious." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? How did this shlock get through her editor? I hate to be the realist here, but Ms. Shreve, Jack wouldn't have seen or felt anything, seeing as a bomb went off about a foot from where he was standing.
On top of the melodrama are pat phrases that would be better stiched onto a sampler: Sometimes, she thought, courage was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and not stopping." Or how about this one: "To be relieved of love, she thought, was to give up a terrible burden." It's like she didn't even try while writing this book, and it's an insult to the intelligence of the reader. For the millions of dollars that Anita Shreve gets paid to churn out these books, she could at least attempt to be a wee bit insightful.
It leaves me with one question, really: did I actually waste hours of my life reading this drivel?
Melodrama seems to be the defining element of the genre of so-called "women's" lit, and it is in full supply here in The Pilot's Wife. Chick lit is about sex; women's lit is about feelings. (This demand for plot over talky-talky is starting to make me feel like a man). But seriously, these books are not great literature -- if I wanted a tedious exposition on life and love, I would pick up Madame Bovary and at least notch a classic.
For example: After the in-air death of her pilot husband, our heroine ponders..."What was it like to watch the cockpit split away from the cabin, and then to feel yourself, still harnessed to your seat, falling through the night, knowing that you would hit the water at terminal velocity, as surely Jack would have known if he were conscious." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? How did this shlock get through her editor? I hate to be the realist here, but Ms. Shreve, Jack wouldn't have seen or felt anything, seeing as a bomb went off about a foot from where he was standing.
On top of the melodrama are pat phrases that would be better stiched onto a sampler: Sometimes, she thought, courage was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and not stopping." Or how about this one: "To be relieved of love, she thought, was to give up a terrible burden." It's like she didn't even try while writing this book, and it's an insult to the intelligence of the reader. For the millions of dollars that Anita Shreve gets paid to churn out these books, she could at least attempt to be a wee bit insightful.
It leaves me with one question, really: did I actually waste hours of my life reading this drivel?
Monday, October 09, 2006
#22, Almost French, Sarah Turnbull
I rushed through this book, and while I enjoyed it, I also thought it lacked substance. I guess, in effect, it was a good book to read while traveling around -- easy to pick up for even just a five-minute read -- but not a work of great literature.
The story is basically this: the author, Sarah Turbull, decided to take a year off from her TV job to travel the world. During a stint in Bucharest, she meets a dashing Frenchman, and spontaneously decides to take him up on his offer to visit him in France. Romance blooms, and the story is basically about how she learned to adapt in France.
But the weirdest part about it was, there was very little mention of the dashing Frenchman at all, the man who eventually becomes her husband. I think I knew more in the end about crazy Pierre, who obnoxiously rode his bike through the street. But I think the book could have benefitted more from a look at their relationship -- surely it wasn't all sunshine and roses, especially since at the beginning they barely understood each other.
I don't have much more to say about it...easy come, easy go, I guess. I am sure that in two months I will struggle to remember what it was even about.
Next up: The Pilot's Wife, by Anita Shreve. I am not too excited about this book, but I am in Eastern Europe right now and have very few choices!
The story is basically this: the author, Sarah Turbull, decided to take a year off from her TV job to travel the world. During a stint in Bucharest, she meets a dashing Frenchman, and spontaneously decides to take him up on his offer to visit him in France. Romance blooms, and the story is basically about how she learned to adapt in France.
But the weirdest part about it was, there was very little mention of the dashing Frenchman at all, the man who eventually becomes her husband. I think I knew more in the end about crazy Pierre, who obnoxiously rode his bike through the street. But I think the book could have benefitted more from a look at their relationship -- surely it wasn't all sunshine and roses, especially since at the beginning they barely understood each other.
I don't have much more to say about it...easy come, easy go, I guess. I am sure that in two months I will struggle to remember what it was even about.
Next up: The Pilot's Wife, by Anita Shreve. I am not too excited about this book, but I am in Eastern Europe right now and have very few choices!
Thursday, October 05, 2006
#21: The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, Lauren Willig
So good, I couldn't put it down! The Pink Carnation is certainly the best book I've read all summer, if not all year. While the plot itself - a combination love/spy story set in Napolean's court - was captivating, it was really Willig's writing style that vaulted this novel above ordinary chick lit.
Une example, mes amis...
"Amy managed the difficult feat of looking at him askance with her nose only inches from his. 'It would be much easier for me to answer that question if I knew who you were.'
'What's in a name? A Gentian by any other name would-'
'Be an entirely different flower,' interjected Amy, swatting him on the arm. 'I refuse to be fobbed off with poor imitations of Shakespeare.'
'If you don't like Romeo and Juliet, how about a sonnet?' Richard suggested. 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art-'
'Not that easily deterred.'"
Tres clever, non? Making matters worse is author Lauren Willig's biography. Get this: While she wrote this fabulous novel, she was at Harvard writing her history dissertation AND going to law school. It makes me wonder what the hell I've been doing with myself.
Oh, and as an aside, who knew that a gentian was a flower? Boy, am I getting smarter every day!
Une example, mes amis...
"Amy managed the difficult feat of looking at him askance with her nose only inches from his. 'It would be much easier for me to answer that question if I knew who you were.'
'What's in a name? A Gentian by any other name would-'
'Be an entirely different flower,' interjected Amy, swatting him on the arm. 'I refuse to be fobbed off with poor imitations of Shakespeare.'
'If you don't like Romeo and Juliet, how about a sonnet?' Richard suggested. 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art-'
'Not that easily deterred.'"
Tres clever, non? Making matters worse is author Lauren Willig's biography. Get this: While she wrote this fabulous novel, she was at Harvard writing her history dissertation AND going to law school. It makes me wonder what the hell I've been doing with myself.
Oh, and as an aside, who knew that a gentian was a flower? Boy, am I getting smarter every day!
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