Usually my mother and I don't share the same taste in books, and she didn't like this one at all. She said, and I quote, "I don't understand how someone could be so obsessed." And while I disagree with that point, I thought Emily Giffin's 4th novel just lacked the character development that could make you believe someone could be so obsessed. I really liked her first two books, I thought Baby Proof was good but not great, and this one falls into the average Chick Lit category. I'm not sure now I will be so enthused to pick up her next book.
I almost always fold down pages that have some thought - a new vocabulary word, an idea - that I want to go back to and remember. Not this book, though. I only folded down pages that contained examples of things I wanted to point out here. This book just lacked substance; the characters were so cookie-cutter and one-dimensional.
Here's the basic set-up (with the spoiler, sorry): Our heroine Ellen dates Leo, a committment-phobic man, in NYC. She's devastated when he dumps her, and basically can't forget about him - even though she ends up marrying the rich, handsome, but boring brother of her best friend. She pretends like she's happy, and she is, at least passably. Until she runs into Leo on the street. He wants to revive their friendship, she starts fantasizing, she sees him in secret, and this time around, he treats her like a princess, telling her everything she ever wanted to hear. It eventually comes to a head: She has to choose between her husband and Leo. What does she do? She's about to do the dirty deed when her sister calls and tells her it's the wrong decision. So she leaves. And then spends the remaining 5 pages justifying why, in fact, she had never settled in the first place, despite the previous 200-odd pages to the contrary. So predictable, so boring!
Ugg. Seriously.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
#11: Babylon's Ark, Lawrence Anthony
I don't have too much specifically to say about this book, except that I really enjoyed it. Subtitled "The Incredible Wartime Rescue of the Baghdad Zoo," it's basically about this guy - author Lawrence Anthony - who decides that you can't just leave captive animals to die in a war zone. And he's absolutely right. As he writes (with his cowriter, I should add, just because) toward the end of the book, "Our inability to think beyond ourselves or to be able to cohabit with other life-forms in what is patently a massive collaborative quest for survival is surely a malady that pervades the human soul." At times the chronology was confusing, but overall, Babylon's Ark is just a fascinating account of one man's quest to put things to right. I totally want to go visit his game reserve, Thula Thula, in Africa now.
The only thing I have to point out, though, is the factual error about halfway through about Patton's rescue during WW2 of Austria's famed Lipizzanner horses. The book says that the horses rescued from Hostau, Czechoslovakia were shipped to the United States, but that's not true - and the only reason I know this is that I just wrote a story on a herd in Illinois. The horses were actually returned to the Austrians (hence the continuation of the Spanish Riding School in Vienna today).
Anyway, overall, two thumbs up...
The only thing I have to point out, though, is the factual error about halfway through about Patton's rescue during WW2 of Austria's famed Lipizzanner horses. The book says that the horses rescued from Hostau, Czechoslovakia were shipped to the United States, but that's not true - and the only reason I know this is that I just wrote a story on a herd in Illinois. The horses were actually returned to the Austrians (hence the continuation of the Spanish Riding School in Vienna today).
Anyway, overall, two thumbs up...
#10: A Long Way Gone, Ishmael Beah
Subtitled "Memoirs of a Boy Soldier," this book was an interesting and autobiographical look at Sierra Leone's Civil War. Overall, I thought it was well-written, but I'm not sure if I totally agree that the chosen format was the best way to go. The author decided to tell the story the way that he experienced it, and since he was 12 years old when his village was engulfed in the fighting, he really only understood the war as it personally affected him. He didn't know anything about the politics, and as a result, you the reader never really understand why they were fighting in the first place. (I suppose you could say that about all wars over ideology and selfishly wanting to hog resources, but that's a different story.) I ended up Googling the subject about halfway through the book, and it helped, but I think the book suffered a little bit from the lack of contextual info. On the other hand, Beah would have lost that aimless, innocent quality that leads him through the book. So I don't know - maybe an introduction would have helped? (After all, you can't just rely on what you learned from Blood Diamond, right? One of my most favorite movies by the way, and an inspiration toward that rough but mighty path that is journalism.)
I was also struck by how ridiculous all these wars in Africa have been - Darfur, Rwanda, and Uganda come to mind. It really makes you wonder what people are thinking. I don't think that there are any fundamental differences between Africans and Americans (and you can hardly lump one continent all together as sharing the same motivation), so what is it that possesses people to turn into total barbarians? What is it that possesses adults to drug young children and use them as weapons? Especially in these third-world communities that were formerly so family-oriented. I definitely don't think that we're inherently more civilized (hello, Hiroshima; hello, Guantanemo Bay), but there's something about the structure that we have built that keeps the general population from such base actions. It makes my head hurt trying to think what exactly the difference is.
I guess, too, that I always sort of saw these situations in terms of the good guys and the bad guys, and this book pretty much flips that naive idea on its head. In Sudan, Al-Bashir and his government are evil and the Darfurians are helpless victims just trying to fight back; in Uganda, Joseph Kony is enlisting child soldiers and the government is just trying to keep the madman at bay. Likely not true, I realize. In Sierra Leone, they're all just warped. Beah ends up on the government's side simply because he and his friends wander into their camp first; they easily could have been picked up by the other side. It was total chance, but regardless, the children on both sides end up drugged out of their minds, indoctrinated by Rambo, and spilling blood for reasons they couldn't tell you. They can't see that they're doing what people did to them - stealing their innocence, destroying lives and villages. And of course they can't - they're children. The whole thing just makes me so angry.
There's an interesting fable at the end of the book. One of the village elders would tell it to the children: "There was a hunter who went into the bush to kill a monkey. He had looked for only a few minutes when he saw the monkey sitting comfortably in the branch of a low tree...Just when he was about to pull the trigger, the monkey spoke: 'If you shoot me, your mother will die, and if you don't, your father will die.'" And then the children would have to figure out what they would do. Beah says that when he was a child, before the war, no one would ever answer, as all the children were sitting in the presence of their parents. But now, at the end of the book, he presents the answer that he silently came up with at age 7: "I concluded to myself that if I were the hunter, I would shoot the monkey so that it would no longer have the chance to put other hunters in the same predicament."
Huh. It's the same sort of question that you've heard was often presented to Jews during the Holocaust. But I'm a little troubled by Beah's answer...I think he's saying that you take the aggressor out so that the situation can never be replicated. But who's the aggressor here? It seems like you'd have to have taken out an awful lot of people in Sierra Leone to stop the madness...but isn't that what caused the madness. It's a troubling ending, but I guess it's easy to judge from my shiny happy American bedroom.
So what's the right answer? I always thought in this game of logic that the hunter was supposed to choose himself. But I guess that's not how it works out in real life.
I was also struck by how ridiculous all these wars in Africa have been - Darfur, Rwanda, and Uganda come to mind. It really makes you wonder what people are thinking. I don't think that there are any fundamental differences between Africans and Americans (and you can hardly lump one continent all together as sharing the same motivation), so what is it that possesses people to turn into total barbarians? What is it that possesses adults to drug young children and use them as weapons? Especially in these third-world communities that were formerly so family-oriented. I definitely don't think that we're inherently more civilized (hello, Hiroshima; hello, Guantanemo Bay), but there's something about the structure that we have built that keeps the general population from such base actions. It makes my head hurt trying to think what exactly the difference is.
I guess, too, that I always sort of saw these situations in terms of the good guys and the bad guys, and this book pretty much flips that naive idea on its head. In Sudan, Al-Bashir and his government are evil and the Darfurians are helpless victims just trying to fight back; in Uganda, Joseph Kony is enlisting child soldiers and the government is just trying to keep the madman at bay. Likely not true, I realize. In Sierra Leone, they're all just warped. Beah ends up on the government's side simply because he and his friends wander into their camp first; they easily could have been picked up by the other side. It was total chance, but regardless, the children on both sides end up drugged out of their minds, indoctrinated by Rambo, and spilling blood for reasons they couldn't tell you. They can't see that they're doing what people did to them - stealing their innocence, destroying lives and villages. And of course they can't - they're children. The whole thing just makes me so angry.
There's an interesting fable at the end of the book. One of the village elders would tell it to the children: "There was a hunter who went into the bush to kill a monkey. He had looked for only a few minutes when he saw the monkey sitting comfortably in the branch of a low tree...Just when he was about to pull the trigger, the monkey spoke: 'If you shoot me, your mother will die, and if you don't, your father will die.'" And then the children would have to figure out what they would do. Beah says that when he was a child, before the war, no one would ever answer, as all the children were sitting in the presence of their parents. But now, at the end of the book, he presents the answer that he silently came up with at age 7: "I concluded to myself that if I were the hunter, I would shoot the monkey so that it would no longer have the chance to put other hunters in the same predicament."
Huh. It's the same sort of question that you've heard was often presented to Jews during the Holocaust. But I'm a little troubled by Beah's answer...I think he's saying that you take the aggressor out so that the situation can never be replicated. But who's the aggressor here? It seems like you'd have to have taken out an awful lot of people in Sierra Leone to stop the madness...but isn't that what caused the madness. It's a troubling ending, but I guess it's easy to judge from my shiny happy American bedroom.
So what's the right answer? I always thought in this game of logic that the hunter was supposed to choose himself. But I guess that's not how it works out in real life.
#9: The Sanctuary, Raymond Khoury
Supposedly Khoury's first novel, The Last Templar, was quite good, following a well-marked path to success laid out by The Da Vinci Code. But The Sanctuary? Not so much. This isn't a genre I particularly enjoy reading, but I feel like if I've taken the time to read a thriller, then the author ought to take the time to thrill me. Is it just me?
I'd say the main flaw is that the story is totally predictable. While I didn't have every detail exactly right, I had the main arc figured out from about page 20. It also lacked the strong historical story, which is what separated The Da Vinci Code from your run-of-the-mill paperback. There was a little something about alchemy, and how the quest to turn base metals into gold eventually led alchemists to try their hand at eternal life, but that's hardly got the heft of Jesus makin' whoopie with Mary Magdalene in a 2,000-year old conspiracy.
Ah, conspiracy. I thought I had learned something here about how the government can use our cell phones to spy on us by remotely turning on the microphone. Page 224 instructs us, "Most cell-phone users didn't realize that their phones weren't necessarily fully powered down, even if they were switched off. You just needed to set the alarm on your phone for a time when it's switched off and watch it light up to see that." I can't tell you how excited I was to learn that tidbit - I even told my brother. But guess what? I've just tried it, and it doesn't work. My phone didn't do anything. I'm both disappointed and relieved, but thank you Verizon Wireless for protecting my American right to privacy.
On one last, bitchy note that added some humor: The book jacket says that author Raymond Khoury is, "an acclaimed screenwriter and producer for both television and film." I know Dutton's got to sell the book, but that's not exactly true. According to IMDB, he's only worked on 3 shows, none of which I've heard of and none of which lasted terribly long. Sure, he's the screenwriter of the mini-series version of The Last Templar, but that's sort of a given, no?
I'd say the main flaw is that the story is totally predictable. While I didn't have every detail exactly right, I had the main arc figured out from about page 20. It also lacked the strong historical story, which is what separated The Da Vinci Code from your run-of-the-mill paperback. There was a little something about alchemy, and how the quest to turn base metals into gold eventually led alchemists to try their hand at eternal life, but that's hardly got the heft of Jesus makin' whoopie with Mary Magdalene in a 2,000-year old conspiracy.
Ah, conspiracy. I thought I had learned something here about how the government can use our cell phones to spy on us by remotely turning on the microphone. Page 224 instructs us, "Most cell-phone users didn't realize that their phones weren't necessarily fully powered down, even if they were switched off. You just needed to set the alarm on your phone for a time when it's switched off and watch it light up to see that." I can't tell you how excited I was to learn that tidbit - I even told my brother. But guess what? I've just tried it, and it doesn't work. My phone didn't do anything. I'm both disappointed and relieved, but thank you Verizon Wireless for protecting my American right to privacy.
On one last, bitchy note that added some humor: The book jacket says that author Raymond Khoury is, "an acclaimed screenwriter and producer for both television and film." I know Dutton's got to sell the book, but that's not exactly true. According to IMDB, he's only worked on 3 shows, none of which I've heard of and none of which lasted terribly long. Sure, he's the screenwriter of the mini-series version of The Last Templar, but that's sort of a given, no?
Sunday, May 04, 2008
#6: R is for Ricochet, Sue Grafton
Huh, looking over my previous blogs, I see that I forgot to blog this one. (Hopefully I haven't forgotten any others.) Well, it's been at least a month since I finished it and I don't remember it terribly well...Kinsey is hired by an older gentleman to pick up his daughter from jail and watch over her the first few days and help her readjust. Okay, now that I'm thinking about it, it's coming back.
Anyway, can't go wrong with Sue Grafton. This is the third or fourth one I've read in the series -- I don't seek them out, and instead read them when they come to me. (My dad gave me this one; I bought another one in a used bookstore on the tiny island of Paros, Greece; etc.) But they're always enjoyable, and isn't that what matters?
Anyway, can't go wrong with Sue Grafton. This is the third or fourth one I've read in the series -- I don't seek them out, and instead read them when they come to me. (My dad gave me this one; I bought another one in a used bookstore on the tiny island of Paros, Greece; etc.) But they're always enjoyable, and isn't that what matters?
#8: Killing Mr. Griffin, Lois Duncan
I finished this one last week, pretty quickly. It was good but not great - which is not so surprising, considering it was written for pre-teens. I was crazy about Lois Duncan's books when I was that age and was curious to see how I would feel about my childhood favorites now (I picked up Madeline L'Engel's A Ring of Endless Light and put it down just as quickly; I have high hopes for the Sweet Valley High series, the books that taught me about boyfriends and sex and bad girls, that I plan to pick up next).
Anyway, the most interesting thing was realizing how much my life had changed. Killing Mr. Griffin is set in Albuquerque, a city that was as foreign to me as Algiers when I was a kid (although perhaps just as dusty). I had no conception of it, I'm sure. And as an adult, I've lived in Santa Fe, just an hour north. It was just so strange to read the book and be able to picture the Sandias, knowing that as a kid I had no idea that one day I would be able to do that. No doubt this is more than Lois Duncan ever intended for her book, but it was an interesting trip down memory lane nonetheless. Moving on...
Next up: Raymond Khoury's The Sanctuary. I'm somewhere around page 50 right now. It's not great -- the language is a little overwrought -- but maybe it will go quickly and perhaps even improve.
Anyway, the most interesting thing was realizing how much my life had changed. Killing Mr. Griffin is set in Albuquerque, a city that was as foreign to me as Algiers when I was a kid (although perhaps just as dusty). I had no conception of it, I'm sure. And as an adult, I've lived in Santa Fe, just an hour north. It was just so strange to read the book and be able to picture the Sandias, knowing that as a kid I had no idea that one day I would be able to do that. No doubt this is more than Lois Duncan ever intended for her book, but it was an interesting trip down memory lane nonetheless. Moving on...
Next up: Raymond Khoury's The Sanctuary. I'm somewhere around page 50 right now. It's not great -- the language is a little overwrought -- but maybe it will go quickly and perhaps even improve.
#7: The Man Who was Thursday, G.K. Chesterton
I've had this book sitting on my shelf for some time; a long time, in fact, as it was recommended to me last summer. But I won't be passing the recommendation along. It was interesting -- Chesterton uses some imaginative imagery, but it's very much written in 1908-style (the year it was penned) and it's a bit like talking to you great-great aunt...for hours.
The premise of the book is fantastic: A young detective infiltrates a secret society of anarchists, each one who's taken the name of a day of the week. The detective becomes Thursday and has to unravel the big plot. But the book is really just this philosophical meditation and I figured out the twist - at least, I think it was supposed to be a twist - pretty easily.
But I have to praise such lines as these: "He seemed like a walking blasphemy, a blend of the angel and the ape." I love it, it just captures the image of the person so randomly and so uniquely.
The best part though, was the book itself. The physical book, I mean. The one I have from the library is a worn-out volume from 1958, and some past reader kindly left notes in it to help future comprehension. But even better, she clearly didn't love the book either and thoughtfully changed/crossed out certain lines. It made me laugh pretty hard. At the bottom of one page, she added this piece of dialogue "Now, do you see how "sneeky" girls can be? Next time let's watch our step!" And no, I did not misspell "sneaky" or add the quotes.
Next up: Curious about whether I would still like the books from my childhood, I picked up Lois Duncan's Killing Mr. Griffin.
The premise of the book is fantastic: A young detective infiltrates a secret society of anarchists, each one who's taken the name of a day of the week. The detective becomes Thursday and has to unravel the big plot. But the book is really just this philosophical meditation and I figured out the twist - at least, I think it was supposed to be a twist - pretty easily.
But I have to praise such lines as these: "He seemed like a walking blasphemy, a blend of the angel and the ape." I love it, it just captures the image of the person so randomly and so uniquely.
The best part though, was the book itself. The physical book, I mean. The one I have from the library is a worn-out volume from 1958, and some past reader kindly left notes in it to help future comprehension. But even better, she clearly didn't love the book either and thoughtfully changed/crossed out certain lines. It made me laugh pretty hard. At the bottom of one page, she added this piece of dialogue "Now, do you see how "sneeky" girls can be? Next time let's watch our step!" And no, I did not misspell "sneaky" or add the quotes.
Next up: Curious about whether I would still like the books from my childhood, I picked up Lois Duncan's Killing Mr. Griffin.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
#5: Deception Point, Dan Brown
I like Dan Brown. I know this is an unpopular sentiment, but I think the man writes a good thriller. (Besides Digital Fortress, but I believe that was his first, so he deserves some leeway.) This was the only one I hadn't read, so I thought I'd finish up the oeuvre while notching a quickie.
Now, in some ways, it was a little too James Bond for me (or, as it would happen, Tomb Raider, which I watched at some point during my reading). There were a couple of sequences that I just couldn't buy...like when they're sitting on a calving glacier and manage to not only live, but get an SOS out. Please. I've been to Alaska, I've seen those things fall, and it ain't pretty. No one's surfing off one of those chunks of ice and living to tell the tale. Not protagonists Rachel Sexton and Michael Tolland and not 007 and Lara Croft.
But overall it was enjoyable, and I totally thought I had the bad guy figured out...only to be completely wrong. My favorite Dan Brown book remains Angels and Demons but that's okay, it's a tough one to beat. The only outstanding point remaining: When is The Solomon Key coming out?!? I've read that he has writer's block, and as a sufferer myself, I can't really blame him.
Next up: I tried to read two more erudite books, Abigail Thomas' Three-Dog Life and Anthony Doerr's Four Seasons in Rome, but couldn't get into either of them. I haven't given up entirely but since I've had jury duty this week, I've opted for a book that's easy to pick up and put down: Sue Grafton's R is for Ricochet. I think I've only read two of the others in the series; I find them enjoyable, but generally let the books find me. This one comes courtesy of my father.
Now, in some ways, it was a little too James Bond for me (or, as it would happen, Tomb Raider, which I watched at some point during my reading). There were a couple of sequences that I just couldn't buy...like when they're sitting on a calving glacier and manage to not only live, but get an SOS out. Please. I've been to Alaska, I've seen those things fall, and it ain't pretty. No one's surfing off one of those chunks of ice and living to tell the tale. Not protagonists Rachel Sexton and Michael Tolland and not 007 and Lara Croft.
But overall it was enjoyable, and I totally thought I had the bad guy figured out...only to be completely wrong. My favorite Dan Brown book remains Angels and Demons but that's okay, it's a tough one to beat. The only outstanding point remaining: When is The Solomon Key coming out?!? I've read that he has writer's block, and as a sufferer myself, I can't really blame him.
Next up: I tried to read two more erudite books, Abigail Thomas' Three-Dog Life and Anthony Doerr's Four Seasons in Rome, but couldn't get into either of them. I haven't given up entirely but since I've had jury duty this week, I've opted for a book that's easy to pick up and put down: Sue Grafton's R is for Ricochet. I think I've only read two of the others in the series; I find them enjoyable, but generally let the books find me. This one comes courtesy of my father.
#4: Dedication, Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus
Congratulations to Ms. McLaughlin and Ms. Kraus: Your book might actually be the worst one I'll read all year! I hope you've saved your pennies, ladies, as I imagine once your book contract runs out, you'll never be offered another one again.
I suppose it's my own fault. I read The Nanny Diaries. Yes, it was a bestseller, but it's the subject that sold it, not the writing. I didn't bother to read the second book, Citizen Girl, as it was universally panned. But I hadn't heard anything about Dedication and since I found the premise interesting (the protagonist's ex-boyfriend becomes a major rock star based on songs that are all about her personal business), I thought I'd give it a try. I should have saved myself instead. It's just stupid and entirely predictable. Blech!
Next up: Dan Brown's Deception Point
I suppose it's my own fault. I read The Nanny Diaries. Yes, it was a bestseller, but it's the subject that sold it, not the writing. I didn't bother to read the second book, Citizen Girl, as it was universally panned. But I hadn't heard anything about Dedication and since I found the premise interesting (the protagonist's ex-boyfriend becomes a major rock star based on songs that are all about her personal business), I thought I'd give it a try. I should have saved myself instead. It's just stupid and entirely predictable. Blech!
Next up: Dan Brown's Deception Point
#3: Museum of the Missing, Simon Haupt
Museum of the Missing is a fantastic book, one that I highly recommend for any fan of art. As the title suggests, Haupt looks at the stories surrounding works of art (paintings mostly) that have been stolen. Some have been located, some are probably lost forever. I suppose I never really thought about why people steal paintings, besides simple monetary value. But there seem to be all sorts of reasons -- a 3,000 pound Henry Moore sculpture was likely stolen for the value of its bronze. Seriously, thieves stole it in the middle of the night and probably melted it down. Can you imagine?
But Haupt also points out that people are often able to steal these works because they're so poorly guarded. And I realized how many times I have been in museums, especially in South America and Eastern Europe, where that's totally true, where no one else is walking the floor and there aren't any cameras. In fact, I have used that to my advantage...to take photographs without having paid the b.s. photo fee at the desk. But it would never have occurred to me to steal a piece of art. And that was a strange, self-affirming realization...thank god, it never has occurred to me.
So anyway...Museum of the Missing, I highly recommend it. It's just a fascinating look at all these individual stories about classic works of art that you'll never really be aware of, because they're gone. Imagine if the Mona Lisa had been stolen as plunder 400 years ago, imagine what we'd all have lost. It just seems crazy.
Book #4: Dedication by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus
But Haupt also points out that people are often able to steal these works because they're so poorly guarded. And I realized how many times I have been in museums, especially in South America and Eastern Europe, where that's totally true, where no one else is walking the floor and there aren't any cameras. In fact, I have used that to my advantage...to take photographs without having paid the b.s. photo fee at the desk. But it would never have occurred to me to steal a piece of art. And that was a strange, self-affirming realization...thank god, it never has occurred to me.
So anyway...Museum of the Missing, I highly recommend it. It's just a fascinating look at all these individual stories about classic works of art that you'll never really be aware of, because they're gone. Imagine if the Mona Lisa had been stolen as plunder 400 years ago, imagine what we'd all have lost. It just seems crazy.
Book #4: Dedication by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus
#2: Baby Proof, Emily Giffin
I really adore Emily Giffin's books. Yes, they're Chick Lit but they're smartly written, have heroines you root for from the very beginning, and avoid the lame endings. I'd read all three of her books previously, and when I saw Baby Proof on the "buy one, get one 50 percent off" shelf at Borders, I grabbed it immediately.
So, yes, for my second book of the year, I returned to a previously read tome. Mostly just as a subconscious backlash against all the crap I read last year.
Although I do prefer her first two books, Something Borrowed and Something Blue, I'm still a big fan of Baby Proof. One of the main reasons? Lake Como gets a starring role. I love Lake Como. It rocks.
Book #3: Museum of the Missing by Simon Haupt
So, yes, for my second book of the year, I returned to a previously read tome. Mostly just as a subconscious backlash against all the crap I read last year.
Although I do prefer her first two books, Something Borrowed and Something Blue, I'm still a big fan of Baby Proof. One of the main reasons? Lake Como gets a starring role. I love Lake Como. It rocks.
Book #3: Museum of the Missing by Simon Haupt
#1: The Pillars of the Earth, Ken Follett
Wow, it's March 18 and this is my first post of the year. Yikes!
On the up side, while I may have let the blog slide, I've been a good girl when it comes to reading. We've got 5 entries on tap for today. But on the flip side, those entries are going to be mighty short...I've forgotten most of the details.
So, The Pillars of the Earth. Two thumbs up, I say. It wasn't the greatest book I've ever read, but it was eminently readable. The characters were likable and for a book the size of a doorstop, it rolled along well; there weren't any slow sections. So I see why it's a fan fave. I did try to read the next book though (World Without End?) but didn't really get into it, mostly because uses different characters, and after spending 1,000 pages with the old ones, I wanted them back. So that one will stay on the shelf for another time, when I've forgotten all the major details of the first (oh wait, that's like now...).
Book #2: Emily Giffin's Baby Proof
On the up side, while I may have let the blog slide, I've been a good girl when it comes to reading. We've got 5 entries on tap for today. But on the flip side, those entries are going to be mighty short...I've forgotten most of the details.
So, The Pillars of the Earth. Two thumbs up, I say. It wasn't the greatest book I've ever read, but it was eminently readable. The characters were likable and for a book the size of a doorstop, it rolled along well; there weren't any slow sections. So I see why it's a fan fave. I did try to read the next book though (World Without End?) but didn't really get into it, mostly because uses different characters, and after spending 1,000 pages with the old ones, I wanted them back. So that one will stay on the shelf for another time, when I've forgotten all the major details of the first (oh wait, that's like now...).
Book #2: Emily Giffin's Baby Proof
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
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...
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!
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
#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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
#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.
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.
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