Atonement and P.S. I Love You (films)

You didn't think I was done, did you? Sucka.

I don't usually dabble in movie reviews here (hence, the title of the blog), but movie reviews of books I've just read (or, in the case of P.S. I Love You, not) seems fair...

I saw Atonement two weeks ago, and I liked it, but didn't love it. (The friend that I went with loved it, though, as did, apparently, the Golden Globe folks.) It followed the book exactly (though the second section, about Robbie's trek through France, was much shorter) and I felt devastated all over again at the end. So mostly I'm just going to blame my ambivalence on Keira Knightly, who I generally can't stand. I don't know why, either, except that instead of seeing her character, I usually just see her. Two thumbs up to James McAvoy, though. I've loved him since Wimbledon (though if googles himself, like all good people do, and sees this, please stop biting your nails! It's very noticeable on film.)

I took my 13-year-old neighbor to see P.S. I Love You on Saturday. She also liked this one better than I. It was an entertaining film for an afternoon, and the men are absolutely yummy (hello, Jeffrey Dean Morgan and the unpronounceable Gerard Butler!), but...I don't know, the writers didn't spend enough time building up any of the relationships so that we really cared. I'm not sure I'd see it again on DVD - which is the true barometer for a good chick flick (my top 5 for a cheering-up, thank you High Fidelity: Wimbledon, How to Lose a Guy in 8 Days, Bring It On, The Holiday, and Catch and Release.)

Clearly I've gotten totally off-track here, so let's move on...

The Final Tally

I realize, of course, that it's not January 1 yet, but I am pretty sure that this is where my list ends for 2007...at #26. I could read another four books in six days if I were to choose the right ones, but speed-reading through books was never the point of this exercise. So, as I wipe away a tear for another year with less than 30 books read, I am going to dive into The Pillars of the Earth, a fat book that I only have from the library until January 9. Two people have told me it's one of the best books they've ever read, so I have high hopes. (I've just read High Fidelity, so I have to do this. Top 5 Favorite Books of All Time, in no particular order: Possession, The Time Traveler's Wife, The Red Tent, In the Skin of a Lion, and A Moveable Feast.)

See you next year!

#26: The Jane Austen Book Club, Karen Joy Fowler

If you're thinking to yourself, you like Jane Austen and you like book clubs so this is a book for you, don't be fooled: The Jane Austen Book Club is awful. Blech. I had this one out from the library for quite some time and never got around to it, only to pick it up again to read it before the movie comes out on DVD. (It did actually come out in the theatre, right? I mean, I saw previews, but never actually saw it listed on the board.) Now, I probably won't watch it on DVD, it was that bad.

Mostly what annoyed me was the disorganization, which I realize is an odd thing to say. But the book's structure is all over the place. I figured this out during the prologue, which is probably when I should have put the book down. The first clue was the narrator, who mostly uses (but not always), "we." But you never figure out which of the main six characters are narrating because even though she's established that it's one of them (page 5), everyone is always spoken about in 3rd person. And then at the end of some of the chapters, Fowler throws in the most random asides that, as far as I can tell, have nothing to do with the story. Take page 77. The chapter that's ending is about Allegra, who's just gone skydiving after breaking up with her girlfriend. Then there's a break, and suddenly a factual page about Austen's struggle to publish Pride and Prejudice. It's like, huh? These little random asides happen at the end of each of the six chapters, but each time they're totally random. One is a small excerpt of Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho, the book that Austen's characters are reading in Northanger Abbey; another is a couple of paragraphs about a dog show.

So that's me. From a generalist's perspective, for a novel titled The Jane Austen Book Club, it's not much about Jane Austen's books or a book club. It's all strange, very strange.

#25: High Fidelity, Nick Hornby

Fittingly, I started the year with Nick Hornby, and now I'm (just about) ending with it...although I suppose I could have timed it better to have this be the last book of the year (alas).

Well, I don't have that much to say about this one, as it's EXACTLY like watching the movie. Even the jokes are the same. In that respect, I wasn't that keen on the book since I've seen the movie a million times, but that's not really anything to do with the book itself. The only part that was slightly ambiguous was the ending...do Rob and Laura stay together? It kind of seems like it (and the movie doesn't help, since clearly he gets his act together and they do), but three pages from the end, in response to his marriage proposal, Hornby writes, "'Well, you've asked.' But she says it sweetly, as if she knows that what I've asked is a nice thing, that it has some sort of meaning, even though she's not interested." Hmm. Well, it's Christmas...let's be generous of spirit and just pretend they stick together, shall we?

Next up: The Jane Austen Book Club, by Karen Joy Fowler.

#24: The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri

I finished The Namesake yesterday, and all I can say is: thank god. I was sure this awful book and the slow march through its pages was totally going to derail my 30 books plan (which would really suck three years in a row, no?). I am absolutely shocked that Lahiri won the Pulitzer Prize for Interpreter of Maladies -- the stories within may be fantastic, but her writing is awful, and that doesn't change terribly much from book to book. (And isn't the Pulitzer a celebration of language, not a harbinger of its demise?)

But back to The Namesake...The story itself was cold; I didn't empathize with anyone, because Lahiri's characterizations were so stiff. It would be like feeling for cardboard. I feel like that part's not even worth discussing, it was so bland. The worst part of The Namesake was the grammar. An example from page 260:

"In the Xerox room, she makes a copy of the resume. She sticks it in the bottom of her bag. Then she types up a new envelope and puts the original in the professor's mailbox." From the syntax, she should be putting the original envelope back into the mailbox -- but no, it's the resume that the character has returned. That sort of bad grammar litters Lahiri's novel, and frankly, destroys it. (Seriously, a Pulitzer?) I had to hold myself back from writing a "Save Yourself While You Can" note in the front of the library book.

I haven't seen the movie yet, but surely that version of The Namesake must be better, right? I should also mention, I tried to read P.S. I Love You as a break a couple of days ago, and that one was even worse. I got to about page 12 before snapping it shut. It was aw-ful. Seriously horrific. Words cannot even describe. (The writer, Cecelia Ahern, is apparently the 20-some daughter of Ireland's former prime minister. Clearly daddy got his little girl a book deal. Though I am wondering if this is the same Cecelia Ahern who is the executive producer of Samantha Who? It's not the most common name, but still, I don't see how it could be possible...)

Every time I read (or attempt to read) books like this, I want to get back to work on my own -- because surely if there are books like this out there and published, mine has a decent shot. So it at least makes me feel better in one regard.

Anyway, so onto happier thoughts...I have six books left to read, and a little over four weeks to read them in. Not so bad. Still, I am torn. Do I read six books that I know will be quick in order to reach my goal, or do I read three to four longer, more complex books and just suck up a final tally in the high 20s? Time will tell, but competing for a spot...in one corner, we have The Golden Notebook and The World Without Us, in the other Nick Hornby's High Fidelity and Sue Grafton.

#23: Falling Out of Fashion, Yampolsky

I'm going to keep this one short, for two main reasons:
1. I finished this book about 10 days ago and have almost completely forgotten what happened.
2. I am no longer allowed to bitch about these awful chick-lit books if I'm going to continue to read them, knowing full well that they're going to be awful.

So, Falling Out of Fashion: in a word, ridiculous. The book was written by Karen Yampolsky, Jane Pratt's former assistant. (For those not in the magazine world, Jane Pratt was the editor of Sassy and Jane.) I am not intimately familiar with the details of Pratt's story, but from what I know and could tell, Yampolsky followed her bio pretty closely. I got the feeling that Jane Pratt signed a promise-not-to-bitch contract when she left Jane, so her assistant decided to write a defensive book for her. And clearly the assistant loved Jane Pratt; she is portrayed as an absolute angel whose vision was destroyed by the corporate machine. (Personally, I loved Sassy as a teen, but thought Jane was awful. It was like the white kid who wears his baggy jeans around his knees, hoping to convince you he's an absolute bad-ass, and just ends up looking pathetic. Jane deserved its early retirement.)

Having said all that, Yampolsky put together a well-written book. Hopefully next time she'll just create original material.

Next up: The Namesake, which I finished yesterday afternoon.

#22: Atonement, Ian McEwan

I picked up Atonement because the ads for the movie look good, and I generally try to read the book before seeing the adaptation on screen. So there we were...

At first, I was totally disappointed, and didn't know how I was going to get through the entire thing. The book is written in three sections, and the first part is more or less the literary version of Godsford Park (though now that I think of it, I believe that was its own book). The story was pretty tedious -- Atonement is about a rich British family in the 40s, and their relationships and the falling apart of the clan. I didn't really identify with anyone: the mother, Emily, was cold; Cecilia (Keira Knightly's character) was a strange combination of supercilious and flighty; and the protagonist, Briony, was a spoiled little girl. I felt throughout the first section that it was taking way too long to get to the main event, the crime, the details of which we could more or less anticipate from the book jacket.

But then my feelings completely changed in the second part. Robbie, Cecilia's disgraced love, is packed off to fight in France from his jail cell. I don't know why I suddenly liked this part better, except perhaps that his trek to reach the beaches of Normandy, which is more or less what this section was about, was fascinating. He desperately wanted to reach the beach to get home, to get back to Cecilia, and it carried him -- and me -- along.

By the end, I was hooked, and I have to say, this is one of the saddest books I have ever read. It seems like things are about to reach a decently happy conclusion, and even though there are small signs that that's not how Atonement's really going to end, you want so much for it to. But you begin believe it, and it's even worse when it doesn't come to pass. I suppose it's also that the people who most deserve a happy ending don't get it, and the true criminal goes on to live a long and successful life -- as if there isn't any justice (or poetic justice) in the world. (Or karma, I'm a big believer in that one.) I wish I could pinpoint exactly what McEwan does here, because it's powerful.

So I'd give Atonement two thumbs up, and then some. I'd even give the book as someone to a gift, and my list of gift-books is a pretty short one.

Next up: Falling Out of Fashion, which I've already finished.

#21: The Seduction of the Crimson Rose, Lauren Willig

By now, everyone knows that I like Lauren Willig. I think she's terribly clever and incredibly smart while also seeming like an ordinary, decent girl. All pluses there. So you can imagine my joy when I managed to get an advance copy of her newest book, (which comes out January 31). I don't want to ruin it, or lose my advance-book privileges, so all I'll say is that I loved it, and would put it just behind The Secret History of the Pink Carnation on the list. She wisely avoided the pitfalls of the last couple books and turned out a fun read. (Still though, I'm rooting for Jane. Bring Jane back and give the girl some romance!)

Next up: Ian McEwan's Atonement. It started out sloooow, but now that I'm about 80 pages from the end, it's really picked up the pace. So I have high hopes for a grand finish now.

30 Great Books in 2007?

So, as the name of this blog suggests, I'm supposed to read 30 books a year. I had a bit of a wake-up call on November 1 when I realized that I'm only on #20 with 8.5 weeks to go before the bells toll for 2008. Can I make it?

The answer is: yes. Or at least, I'm really going to try. I've got to buckle down and read a book a week, plus double up twice. Still, I think I can do it. I met my goal for week one (November 4-10) with The Seduction of the Crimson Rose (post coming next) and I've only got about 80 pages left of Atonement.

So let's start counting down to the new year. 10, 9, 8...

#20: Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert

Overall, I liked this book and would recommend it. And I have to say I like it even more now that I've just looked at the writer's website. Eat, Pray, Love just sort of ended, without a real conclusion, but Gilbert is pretty forthcoming on her site, so now I don't have any remaining questions. (Basically, I was wondering what happened with her and Felipe, and wasn't so sure they'd stayed together based on how she wrote it. But it sounds like all is well.)

Despite some annoying parts -- it seriously bugged me when she writes that she won't divulge the name of the ashram, as if it ought to be all hers -- and the obvious neuroses, on the whole I felt like Elizabeth Gilbert is someone I would probably be friends with. I totally empathized with not wanting to follow the traditional path, and get married or have a baby; I understood wanting to be free and keep traveling. It's how I have lived my life. So despite the minor annoyances, I just bypassed those parts of the story as I would the slightly annoying habits of my friends -- and accepted it as just part of the package.

But mostly, it was a sad reminder that I should have gone to Bali last year when I had the chance. (I got freaked out by the State Department warning.) Oh well. Maybe next year, if I make it to Australia? It just sounds AMAZING.

So, in sum, a thumbs up to Eat, Pray, Love.

#19: An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England, Brock Clarke

Bleh. Despite the buzz, I just couldn't stomach this book. (I picked it up originally because of the basic premise: narrator Sam Pulsifer burns down the Emily Dickinson Home by accident. And as an Amherst grad, I wanted to see what was being done, even fictionally, to my alma mater.)

Anyway, so we (we being this book and I) started off badly. I just didn't like the narrator. He seemed so pathetic, and incapable of standing up for himself. And since the novel is first-person, it didn't bode well. (I even took this book on a week-long vacation, and had a hard time opening it.) The other problem is the writer's cleverness; once or twice is fine, but Clarke hits you over the head with it every chance he gets.

For example, courtesy of page 117:

“Forget the drinks,” Morgan said. “We want you to tell us how to burn down houses like the one you burned down. And after we do, we can write a book about it.”

"An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England," G-ooff said. "We've already come up with the title."

"Why do you even need to be an arsonist to write the book?" I asked. "You could always just pretend to have burned down the houses and write the book anyway."

The paragraph itself is funny, but page after page, the device just gets old. In the end, it's the, well, end, that just ruins the novel. Basically, once Sam gets out of the slammer, he gets married and has kids, and never mentions his crime. But then the son of one of the people killed at the Emily Dickinson House shows up and tried to destroy his life in revenge. At the same time, coincidentally (or not?) someone starts burning down other writers' homes and Sam looks like the culprit. Since he's the narrator, you know it's not him (unless Clarke had decided to pull a Murder of Roger Ackroyd, which he doesn't.)

After bumbling his way through some 260 pages, Sam eventually figures out who did what. But the logic is off. He decides that the real culprit (whose name I will omit, to avoid the spoiler) is the actual culprit because that person utters the exact same sentence as the detective. "As every detective knows, the rhetoric of crime and the rhetoric of crime solving are the very same, and if Detective Wilson were trying to solve the crimes, did that mean that [real culprit] had committed one of them?” What a cop-out.

And in the end, Sam learns nothing. The moral? "Maybe this is what is means to take responsibility for something: not to tell the truth, but to make sure you pick a lie for a good reason and then stick to it.” In the end, Sam stays pathetic and still doesn't stand up for himself. So what was the friggin' point?

Boo. Seriously.

Next up: Eat, Pray, Love

#18: Thursday Next: First Among Sequels, Jasper Fforde

Sadly, I've forgotten most of what happened in this book, despite liking it immensely. I think it may actually have been the best in the Thursday Next series since the first one. (Although I have also completely forgotten the basic plots of all of those, too. Alas.) I just looked on Wikipedia, but the plot synopsis is bare. Oh well. On a brighter note, the page says that First Among Sequels is the first in a new four-part series!

Alright, moving on: next up is An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England.

#17: This Year You Write Your Novel, Walter Mosley

It's been awhile since I've blogged; I actually finished this book at the end of September. Because of the delay, the details are wee bit fuzzy, but I'll do my best.

I picked up This Year You Write Your Novel after I read an excerpt in O -- not only did I generally like what I read, but I felt like Mosley hit upon one essential fact of novel-writing: you have to make the time for it. It may sound like a silly point, but most novel-writing books tend to gloss over this important fact with visions of unending prose and award-winning character development. Mosley, on the other hand, acknowledged how difficult it is to find the time and insisted that you have to do it anyway. I respected his no-nonsense attitude (which incidentally reminded me of his novels). So I picked up the book. Sadly, I could have just stuck with the excerpt. This Year You Write Your Novel is really short, and just sort of introduces the basic concepts of plot, pacing, etc, all of which I'm pretty sure I already knew.

But still, I suppose one lesson is better than none.

Well, lucky me, since I've read another 3 books since I last blogged, I will just move on to the next post...here comes Thursday Next: First Among Sequels.

#16: Angels, Marian Keys

I liked this book when I read it a couple of years ago, and since I have been tired of reading blah books, I decided to pick it up again. What can I say? It's a sweet novel about romance and Los Angeles, a great choice for a sunny day at the pool.

Next up? This Year You Write Your Novel by Walter Mosely. I'm about halfway through it already.

Alarming

Last month an AP-Ipsos poll found that 1 in 4 American adults haven't read a book in the past year. That's like 7 million people. And for people that had cracked open a book, the median number was 4, while women who classified themselves as readers generally read 9. Wow. Suddenly I am feeling much, much better about my blog.

CNN link: http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/wayoflife/08/21/reading.ap/

#15: Stardust, Neil Gaiman

I have to admit, I picked this up after reading a preview of the film. And I am so glad I did -- this novel is just fantastic. I've just spent ages writing the Harry Potter review, and I'm hungry, so I'll just say that Stardust is clever and creative and well-worth the read.

Next Up? For once, I have no idea. I have more than a few books sitting on the shelf, but I'm not sure what I'll pick up next. Hmm...

#14: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, JK Rowling

My hands are tied on this one: I raced through the final installment so quickly in the hopes that I wouldn't find out a thing from someone else first (and I didn't), so in turn, I'll try to be vague and hope that I don't ruin it for anyone else. Looking at amazon.com, I see that by an overwhelming majority, readers loved this book -- and frankly, I'm shocked. I thought it rambled on and on and on, and the ending was ultimately unsatisfying. Multiple nights I fell asleep.

The main flaw is that clearly this tome is not a book for children (both through the high and random death toll and thematically), and the book is marching along to this mature conclusion until Rowling makes a U-turn and sanitizes it. Presumably for the children, who should have stopped reading around page 5. In that respect, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was far superior; Rowling made the tough choice, but committed to it. It's the same reason why The Lord of the Rings works, and I mention it because obviously Rowling drew inspiration from Tolkien's masterpiece. The point is, in both books, good is not only a choice, it is the most difficult choice. That's why, at the end of LOTR, Frodo is broken and leaves Middle Earth; would you really believe that the battle between good and evil was so important if the main characters came out of it completely unscathed, as if it never happened?

More than anything though, I wish I could be more specific. It's a real shame that the fastest-selling book in history cannot actually be discussed.

#13: Little Pink Slips, Sally Koslow

I was going to say that this book was decent, and recommend it as a good choice for a casual summer read on the beach. It has the usual mistakes, sure, as if no one at the publishing house bothered to read it before sending it to the presses, but it's suprisingly well-written. But there's one question that automatically comes up: How much was based on Koslow's experiences with Rosie O'Donnell, who, like the book's Bebe Blake, takes a venerable woman's magazine and attempts to turn it into a star vehicle? It turns out, not much, and if you manage to google this little factoid hidden under all the hype, you the reader feel deceived.

The basic premise: Protagonist Magnolia Gold is ousted from her enviable position as editor-in-chief of the venerable women's magazine Lady when the publishing company decided that it will be a bigger moneymaker if it's handed over to brash TV talk show host Bebe Blake, and turned into Bebe. Similarly, Koslow (who I usually call "coleslaw" before catching myself and inverting the letters) was given the boot as EIC from venerable women's magazine McCalls when the title was handed over to Rosie O'Donnell and turned into Rosie. Both magazines fail. See a pattern? But it turns out, this marketed-as-a "roman a clef" is basically complete fiction. According to the New York Times, Koslow and Rosie never actually worked together. Instead, the author penned this little expose from things she'd heard. Seriously? Things she'd heard?

She's trying to sell some books, okay, and one could argue that it's a conclusion drawn from her bio, and not explicitly stated. Perhaps I can accept that. But then do a Google. Koslow tried to start a mini-duel on the Huffington Post over some dismissive comment Rosie had made. It didn't work -- and seems a cheap cry for just a little more publicity. The whole thing really changed my opinion of the book. It's like both the writer and the publishing company is content to ride on someone-way-more-famous's coattails, hoping you won't figure it out.

Next Up? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I'm already closing in on page 100, hoping to get to the end before I stumble across the ending somewhere else.

#12: A Mighty Heart, Mariane Pearl

This is a strange book -- and the first time I have ever been tempted to lie on a review. Why? It feels wrong to say that I thought the book had some major flaws, as if I'm tarnishing the memory of Daniel Pearl, rather than just judging the book on its literary merits.

Strangely, the biggest problem with A Mighty Heart is that it lacks emotion. It is essentially a 234-page newspaper article, filled with names, dates, and movements -- so many, in fact, that I had a hard time keeping track of who all the characters were. I didn't know that much about Daniel Pearl going in, and I don't really know anything more about him now -- he owned a mandolin, and occasionally wrote inappropriate emails to his friends. But that's not knowing a man. Perhaps that, most of all, makes me sadder than any part of the book...as a journalist, to read a book about a journalist who gave his life for this profession, and to admire that, while he still remains pretty faceless. I know that Mariane loved him, and it sounds like they had a wonderful marriage -- but her love doesn't shine through on the page, but more in the labor of love that is the book itself. (Reading other people's reviews on Amazon, I think that's where everyone gets confused.)

The most moving section of A Mighty Heart are, oddly, the letters in the back that were sent to Mariane and the unborn Adam, from people around the world. Some letters are from politicians, like President Bush and French president-at-the-time Jacques Chirac, but then others are from ordinary people. It's amazing how many people wrote to them, just to say, I'm sorry and have hope. It's the strength of that book, that ending.

But on a different track, the other bit of oddness is being plunged back in time, to 2001, but that's what resonated. Terrorism is still so real and present in our lives, but it's like we live in a completely different era, even though today it's only 6 years later. And I know that we cannot live in a perpetual state of fear and I don't want to, but there was also something beautiful about September 2001 -- it was a time when we were a united nation, and strangers actually looked at one another, and spoke to one another. Life was precious, and for a moment, everyone saw the phenomenal gift that they held in their hands. It was like we existed in this heightened state of awareness together, something that I have felt at only brief moments since.

But that's not really what A Mighty Heart was about. The book itself was a very detailed description of a search that, up until page 143, was on a wild goosechase. The grammar was bad (I know she's French, but she had co-writer), and some information was badly organized. At the same time, A Mighty Heart made me rememember, and more importantly, think. And that's it. I both liked and disliked it at the same time...and feel bad for saying so.

#11: Flower Confidential, Amy Stewart

I brought this book with me on a vacation to Hawaii last week, outwardly hopeful that it would be as great as it sounded, but inwardly nervous that it was not beach-appropriate. But I am delighted (and relieved) to report that it was fantastic, and I could barely put it down. (I went for a wedding, and I would even break it out when I had a spare five minutes.)

I was really impressed with Stewart's ability to take a complicated, international industry and reduce it to enjoyable anecdotes, from a 3rd generation violet grower in California to the early morning Dutch flower auction. Even better, I feel smarter now. (If I hadn't borrowed it from the library, I probably would have broken out my highlighter.) There's just so much information packed in there -- she clearly put a tremendous amount of hours and research into this work.

Having said that, I think you have to like flowers, at least a little bit, to really enjoy Flower Confidential. If you don't, I could see how you'd want to chuck it out the window -- for me, it would be like reading a towering stack of Car & Driver with no end in sight.

Up next for me? As I try to catch up on my reading (after all, it's July, and I'm only on book 12), I'm diving into A Mighty Heart and finishing up Don Cheadle's Darfur book.

#10: The Children of Hurin, JRR Tolkien

I'm not sure how I feel about this book. Like all of Tolkien's books, it was engaging and well-written, and his son, Christopher, did a stellar job of keeping Tolkien's vision entact while (most likely) eliminating the family tree references that bog down some of the other works. On the other hand, The Children of Hurin is totally depessing, the protagonist is too arrogant to be likeable, and the novel as a whole could have been strengthened by a link to, say, The Hobbit and/or The Lord of the Rings, since it's the history of Middle Earth in an earlier period -- I didn't really see (or worse, feel) how the devastation of these earlier wars between men/elves and Morgoth led to the later, greater showdown, but that element could have givn the novel a real power.

This posthumous book clearly mimics the classic dramas of say, Sophocles and Euripides (and that may be an automatic turnoff for some), but strangely it lacks the chorus wrap-up at the end that helps the readers feel fulfilled with some sort of moral, even if everything else has gone to hell.

But still, I liked it. I looked forward to coming home and cracking it open. So go figure...

#9: The Starter Wife, Gigi Levangie Grazer

I can't believe this book was a best-seller; hopefully, like The Devil Wears Prada, the movie version (or in this case, the TV movie version) will improve this ridiculous novel. (Though judging from the reviews I've already read, it's not looking good, though anything with Debra Messing in it is inevitably fun. And I love her hair color. But I digress...) I know I only have myself to blame for hating these books, as in why do I even bother to pick them up? But you know, sometimes it's late, and a girl just wants to have a laugh, instead of a cry over Darfur (which is the subject of the other book I'm reading.)

The main flaw of The Starter Wife is that it was unbearably predictable. The wife of a studio executive gets left for a pop tart (we'll get to that later) and the wife goes through an identity crisis, emotes through a friend's suicide, and falls in love with a homeless guy. And while you could argue that the details are original (not many chick lit novels sport a sexy homeless guy), the story is delivered is the same predictable order with these random characters and their outrageous situations thrown in to make it seem original. (Are you with me?) It was also hard to root for the heroine, whose name I momentarily forgot. (Oh, Gracie.) She was sort of a wallflower-complainer (no doubt Debra Messing will improve on this, if nothing else) who willing gave up her identity to please her husband, so it was hard to sympathize with her.

But most annoying, and this is a two-way tie: the use of parentheses on EVERY single page and the fictionalization of Britney Spears and other celebrities. Let me start with the first point: (parentheses). Grazer used them on every page, for throwing in the most random asides - one or two (in the entire novel) would have been fine, but page after page, it just became distracting, and consistently interrupted the flow of the novel. I've used the same device throughout this post to make my point (and isn't it annoying?)

Onto point two (and a new paragraph, okay I'll stop now), Grazer warns us in the Author's Note that she has, "for the sake of versimilitude," peppered her book with real celebrities doing fictional things. I would have thought that passing references would be no big deal, but - and writers out there, take note - it fails as a device for anyone reading your novel outside of the season it was published. A reference to Ben Affleck as a single, datable guy wrecks that suspension of disbelief needed for all reading because everyone on the planet knows he's married and has a kid now. But the worst offense was against Britney Spears, and I know that you can fictionalize/satirize public figures without penalty, but I'm shocked that Grazer had the guts (and perhaps the arrogance) to make this girl look like a pinhead. Page 241 - "Gracie looked at Will, who widened his eyes, looking not unlike her husband's new girlfriend, Britney, when faced with a tough question like, 'Is global warming really caused by increases in carbon dioxide levels as a result of human activity?' or 'What goes in a shoe?'" I mean, Britney Spears is not my favorite celebrity, and she's been making mistake after mistake lately, but this just seems downright mean-spirited. And how hard is it to create a fictional character in a book of fiction?

So after all this, what's the four-word summary of The Starter Wife? Not worth your time. And before I go, I have to point out the best part: Grazer, who is married to uber-successful Hollywood producer Brian Grazer, is a second wife, a stereotype she basically wrote an entire book making fun of, and previously a starter wife. No judgment on her relationships, because marriage is hard (I hear), but it's funny and ironic. And how great is that?

#8: Because She Can, Bridie Clark

In some ways, this book was amusing and in some ways, I am shocked that trees were cut down for the paper. Because She Can is supposed to be another Devil Wears Prada - an inside look at the oh-so-glamorous world of publishing where the narrator works for a boss from hell and makes bad relationship choices. And I suppose the two novels are on par - despite a fantastic movie adaptation, The Devil Wears Prada was a moderately amusing but poorly written book.

I accept that chick lit is not War and Peace, I really do. The plot was totally predictable, and even cookie-cutter, but I can ignore that. The thing that bugged me about this book were the errors, like her editor ran out of red ink midway through...which is ironic in a book about a hardworking editor who slaves over her manuscripts.

For example, the dates with the college crush-cum-fiance (see, predictable) are confused. On page 61, the sentence reads, "And our third date was already in the works!" and is quickly followed by Randall asking heroine Claire to dine at Nobu. But then page 83 messes it all up. "Last weekend, we'd shared yet another amazing meal - this time at Le Cirque - followed by an even more amazing goodnight kiss. I was smitten. I'd named our kids. [New paragraph] Last night had been our fourth date." See? At first the third date is at Nobu, but then 20 pages later, it's at Le Cirque.

These sorts of errors happened two other places that I obviously noticed, and won't go into. But generally, when a book has errors like this, I lose interest quickly - I guess I feel like if the author and/or her editor can't be bothered, neither can I. So the best thing I can say about Because She Can is that it passed quickly.

Next Up? I have many books lining my shelves, but I'm thinking it's going to be Angelica by Arthur Phillips or Not On Our Watch by Don Cheadle.

#7: In the Skin of a Lion, Michael Ondaatje

In the Skin of a Lion is an amazing, incredible book - though I knew this going in, as it was my second read. (I read it for the first time, circa 1999, on the urging of a boyfriend. He's long gone, but the gift of the novel has remained.) It's beautiful and strange at the same time, but not for everyone, unfortunately - in some places, Ondaatje doesn't use much detail, or explain what's going on, so you have to be willing to work it out for yourself. But I think that's the real genius of it - you have to feel it, you have to immerse youself in the language, to get it.

When I think back on the reading of it, several images linger in my mind: A nun falling off a bridge into the darkness, only to be caught by a construction worker hanging underneath; Finnish laborers ice skating at night on a pond, creating light trails with the torches they hold; a man staring out a train window, concentrating on the scenery so that grief will not destroy him.

I could never do justice to its poetry, so I'll end on one of my favorite passages instead, where Patrick is observing his actress-lover, Alice...
"His love of the theatre was that of an amateur. He picked up gossip, mementoes, handbills. He loved technique, to walk backstage and see Ophelia with her mad face half rubbed off. This was humanity in theatre, the scar - the old actor famous for playing whimsical judges, who rode the Queens streetcar east of the city and ate his dinner alone before joining his sleeping wife. Patrick liked that. He wanted to be fooled by the person he felt could not fool him, who stopped three yards past the side curtain and became somebody else."

Extra: The Tudors (Showtime original series)

Considering how many historical fiction novels I've read on the Tudors in the last few years, it should come as no surprise that I was excited about this series. My expectations were high - and perhaps that's why, after having seen the first three episodes, I feel so very low.

I read this story in the London Times discussing the show, and it basically said that the producers felt the content had to be both sexed up and dumbed down for American audiences. But has it really been that dumbed down? Ironically, by taking out all the details of why things happened, I would imagine the series is either incredibly hard to follow or too vague to get into if you don't already know the history behind it (which then makes it a series for the amateur historian, arguably someone who's more interested in American Pastoral than American Idol).

The opening credits crack me up...English hottie Jonathan Rhys-Myers intones, "You think you know a story but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story you have to go back to the beginning." So why didn't they start at the beginning?!? I mean, they don't have to begin at the moment of his birth, but perhaps the beginning of Henry's reign would have been more appropriate? Why leave out the happy days of Henry and Katherine's marriage? It only adds to the pathos when he tried to disentangle himself.

Look who the dummies are now...

(Oh, and one more point, I can't resist...Natalie Dormer's eye color. She plays Anne Boleyn, who had incredibly dark eyes, but she, Natalie, has these clear blue eyes. She's an unknown actress, so I'm not sure why they didn't make her wear colored contacts, but whatever - artistic license. But then, in one of the episodes, they make a reference to her eyes, which makes this small detail stand out as a blatant error. Why ruin it?)

#6: Innocent Traitor, Alison Weir

It's been about two weeks since I finished this book, and I can barely remember what happened. I don't know, maybe I've read too much in the genre (that being Tudor era historical fiction) but I feel like each book is just a rehash of the last. Perhaps that's the problem with history in general - I guess it's hard to be creative with the truth.

Anyway, Innocent Traitor...this one was a wee bit different as the focus was on Jane Grey, a royal relation and fervent Protestant whose parents and father-in-law tried to set up as the Queen after King Edward (son of Henry VIII) dies. I wanted to like Jane, I really did - she was ill-treated by her mother and married to a brute - but she was just so damn sanctimonious. And nobody likes that.

I also hated Weir's technique of changing the narrator about every five pages - why has that become the new trend in historical fiction? It's just irritating. No need to say anything more, I'd rather just move on...

Next up? I'm reading 3 books at the moment: Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose, In the Skin of a Lion by Michael Ondaatje, AND Cesar's Way by Cesar Millan. I don't usually read more than one book at a time, but I have varied and not-worth-explaining-it reasons. We'll see which one hits the finish line first.

#5: From Baghdad, With Love, Jay Kopelman

Quick read, good book. I read a lot of "literary" fiction, and some classics, so it took me a couple of pages to get used to Kopelman's style--which is casual, as if he was sitting at a bar telling you the story, instead of writing it down. I picked it up not just because of the dog aspect (I was hoping it would be a bit like Marley and Me) but also because of Iraq. It gives an unusual perspective on the war, because it's not political--you see glimpses of Fallujah, Baghdad, and desert, but only in how those places affect Kopelman and his attempts to keep Lava. So, thumbs up for this one.

Up Next: ?

#4: Anybody Out There?, Marian Keyes

I had the strangest start with this book -- I thought it was going to be a continuation of The Other Side of the Story, which I read in 2004. I was a little fuzzy on the plot details, but I remembered that one of the girls lived in New York, and--more importantly--that I'd liked it. So basically, I started out confused, and it took me about 60 pages to realize this was a completely unrelated book.

I enjoyed it, though it was my least favorite of the three of Marian Keyes' that I've read (Angels was stellar). It was an interesting book, because you start out not knowing what's really happened, the same as the protagonist, Anna. By about page 130, you, the reader, have figured it out, and just as soon as you start wondering how long it's going to take Anna, boom, it's revealed and Keyes moves the plot on. That happened a couple of times.

As I said, it was entertaining, but I felt just sort of ho-hum about the ending. Not swept away by a greater understanding of anything. Yah, yah, I know, it's just chick-lit.

Before ending this post though, I do have to point out an error (one that cracks me up when I see it, especially in advertisements): Anna and her husband Aidan go to Mexico for Christmas, and take a beginner's scuba-diving course. Things go wrong with Anna's regulator, so she shoots up to the surface (major no-no). "I kicked past a surprised shoal of clown fish, praying to break the surface." (p. 130). So, what's the mistake? Anyone? Bueller?

If I could turn this text upside down I would. Alas. Answer: There are no clown fish in North America. Period. They also don't live in shoals -- they're territorial, and live with their mate. One tried to bite my camera string when I got too close in Egypt once. Aggressive little suckers, but extremely cute!

Up Next: From Baghdad, with Love, by Jay Kopelman

#3: The Deception of the Emerald Ring, Lauren Willig

Appropriately enough, my bookmark reads, "Woke up this morning with/a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read." And that's just what I did yesterday - it was a rainy, cold Saturday, and there seemed nothing better to curl up with a book and a hot cup of coffee/tea.

I had mixed feelings on The Deception of the Emerald Ring, Willig's third installment. It was rolling along quite rapidly - the romantic heroes were endearing, and Willig made great choices on where to cut between past and present, so I wanted to keep going, but never felt like she had cut on a major point of suspense and/or romance (which can be so irritating). And then I got to page 232, and the narrative became unconvincing and messy, and I never really shook that feeling of unease before I got to the end.

DON'T READ AFTER THIS POINT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.

The last novel ends with the capture of the Black Tulip, the Marquise de Montval, by Henrietta and Miles. She is entrusted to the custody of Lord Vaughn, but escapes almost immediately. Geoffrey Pinchingdale-Snipe, the third member of the band of brothers from novels one and two, is sent off to Ireland to squelch rebellion there, and the Marquise shows up. He hears her plotting behind a door, and while he cannot see even an inch of her, he is absolutely certain it is she. Then, when another character is found dead a few pages later, he is mistakenly sure it is the Marquise lying there on the floor in front of him. I still can't work out how he could know without a doubt that it was her voice, and not be able to tell the difference between her and Emily Gilchrist, a character he had seen at least once, if not multiple times. I even flipped back to the beginning to see if I had missed anything. They do have the same black hair and similar coloring, so I guess that is supposed to be the reason, but hey, we're not talking about the Olsen twins here.

I also found the use of "big words" slightly irritating (I won't mention the use of the phrase I hated so much from the last book). Not just big words, but BIG WORDS, words I had never even heard before, much less knew what they meant. Example #1: tricoteuse (from the context - and it's not in the dictionary - my guess is it's a female supporter of the French Revolution, and a derivitive of the word tricolor, meaning French flag). Example #2: ormolu, as in ormolu ornament (apparently it means, "an alloy of copper and zinc used to imitate gold, gracias Random House Dictionary). Example #3: tergiversations (a repeated change in one's attitude or opinions with respect to a cause, subject, etc). I could go on, but this is getting embarrassing. Lauren, I know you're smarter than me - you're like five years younger, and you have written 3 books, have a J.D. and are a good way through a dissertation. No need to rub it it.

Well, if you've read this far, let me sum it up: The Deception of the Emerald Ring was still better than the last installment, but had some flaws. Having said that, I'll probably still read the fourth book, mostly to find out what happens with Colin and Eloise, and to see if Jane ever gets the lovin' she deserves.

Next Up: It's a mystery. And I don't mean genre. I have a couple of books sitting on the shelf, winking at me seductively, but I'll probably try to shorten my stack of Vanity Fairs, Conde Nast Travelers, and Premieres first. Stay tuned.

#2: Next, Michael Crichton

Hmm, don't know what to say about this one. I didn't really like it that much -- too many characters (and a couple introduced late in the game, like the anonymous sperm donor whose progeny has tracked him down and is blackmailing him with DNA tests, only to never reappear) made the storyline a little hard to follow, and diluted the punch of the denoument. It also seemed a pale imitation of The Da Vinci Code - you know, combining your average fast-paced thriller with a controversial topic. But without the proper execution.

On the other hand, it did make me think, and the concept of patenting genes has come up in conversation a couple times since I finished the book last weekend. I guess I just wanted a more in-depth look at some of these topics - which is the strength of The Da Vinci Code, for any of you hoping to duplicate that formula - instead of a fly-by on a dozen related topics.

Up Next: The Deception of the Emerald Ring, by Lauren Willig

#1: A Long Way Down, Nick Hornby

Ah, the first book of the year! I liked it, but can't remember that much about it, even though it's been only two weeks since I've finished it - I know that sounds bad, but it never touted itself as War and Peace, just entertainment. And, in its defense, my memory can be really bad with these sorts of things. I DO remember, however, that I started reading on New Year's Eve, which was entirely on purpose - the four central characters meet on the roof of Topper's House on New Year's Eve because they all want to chuck themselves off. (I, myself, was much more cheery). So there is was, and there it went. Happy reading, friends.

In a random aside, there is a jar of Almond Rochers next to me in a jar. They're incredibly creepy-looking, reminding me of chunky little fingers, albeit fingers wrapped in gold foil. Is it just me?