Book Buzz

• I keep running into Julia Bertagna’s young adult fantasy novel Exodus. The book has actually become a best seller to rival Harry Potter in Great Britain. Although published in 2002, the first in a trilogy is just starting to make waves in the U.S. and will be released here on April 1.

• Speaking of the Brits’ reading habits, James Patterson was the “most borrowed author” at British libraries from July 2006-June 2007. I haven’t even heard of authors #2-#4: Jacqueline Wilson (okay, I have read about Candyfloss), “Daisy Meadows,” and Josephine Cox. I clearly need to add these writers to my reading regimen.

• Although the book was released on January 15, The New York Times reviewed Andrew Morton’s Tom Cruise: An Unauthorized Biography on Sunday. This time delay makes me a bit nervous about using The Times as my literary bible.

• I’ve read about Lauren Groff’s The Monsters of Templeton in both USA Today and Amazon’s “Best Books of February.” The book features a real monster, which makes me a bit nervous, but USA Today called Groff “a talent to watch and celebrate,” so the book may be worth checking out.

Guest Blog--Did you see what that girl is reading?

I sat by myself at a table in the Rayburn House Office Building Cafeteria on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. I briefly glanced around at the people sitting near me. One person was reading The NY Times; another person was reading The Hill; and I was reading The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale. I must have looked quite educated and ambitious among my colleagues - sigh!!

I had started reading Goose Girl on my way home from Paris last fall. After getting a little queasy, I put the novel down only to pick it up again several months later and in Washington, DC. I thought I'd start where I left off and only read for an hour or two on a Sunday evening. The hour or two turned into midnight and me having to force myself to put the book down so I wouldn't be dead for work. I opened Goose Girl on the short metro ride to work and quickly found a quiet place (which is virtually impossible on the House campus) so I could continue reading during my lunch break.

The novel begins with a princess named Anidori and how she grows up learning to speak to animals - weird. Ani turns sixteen and is sent to the neighboring kingdom for an arranged marriage - exciting. This is when I really started getting into the story.

Of course I pictured myself as a princess throughout the novel and the prince was extra attractive - I'd want nothing less from a prince. I ended up skipping a lot of the description and details throughout the novel and just read the conversations which I felt really kept me informed and into the story. Ani eventually learned to speak to the wind which I grazed over- it was just a little too weird for my liking.

The rest of Goose Girl was enthralling and violent with a little romance too - the perfect combination for a teenage girl or a twenty-seven year old woman.

I will definitely pick up Hale's Princess Academy since I always enjoy stories about princesses. I can admit it.

Gail Carson Levine

Sometimes, I actually make it out of the house to have a “book” experience. Such was the case on Friday when I attended a lecture by Gail Carson Levine.

Levine is best known as the author of Ella Enchanted, a Newbery Honor Book. She is an expressive, generous, and delightful speaker and started the lecture by reading a chapter from her latest book Ever due out in May. In a departure from many of her other novels (fairy tales), she describes Ever as a “Mesopotamian fantasy.”

The rest of the time was spent in Q&A. Q&As always make me a bit nervous because I never trust my fellow audience members to ask intelligent questions. However, this Q&A went without a hitch. Here are a few highlights:

• Levine started writing as a child. However, after a high school creative writing teacher called her writing “pedestrian,” she didn’t write again for 25 years.
• Once she started writing again, it took 9 years for her to receive her first acceptance.
• She grew to like the film version of Ella Enchanted “gradually.” Her greatest disappointment was Ella’s acts of “disobedience” throughout the film (a fairy blessed/cursed Ella with the gift of obedience) and suggests watching the kissing scene as evidence. However, she also mentioned the film rights to all her other books are still available.
• The authors that influenced her as a youth include L.M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, and J.M. Barrie.

Levine also addressed her own writing process and made several recommendations for would-be writers. This advice includes:

• Reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. This book teaches there are no shortcuts to writing.
• Reading Henriette A. Klauser’s Writing from Both Sides of the Brain which recommends a writer “visualize” finishing a book.
• Joining a “critique” group.
• Acknowledging that “you can’t torture a story into a direction that’s wrong for it.”

I was disappointed with Levine’s last book, Fairest, but I was completely enchanted with her as a speaker, and I might actually get out of the house more often to experience a book.

The Woman in Black

I was perusing the Amazon bestsellers list when I first stumbled on Susan Hill’s mystery The Woman in Black: A Ghost Story. Why the book, originally published in 1983, was on the list in the first place is likely the greatest mystery of all.

Lawyer Arthur Kipps is sorting through a deceased client’s paperwork at Eel House when he first encounters the titular woman in black. The house and the woman are shrouded in mystery, and the local villagers refuse to reveal their history to Kipps. Instead, to his detriment, Kipps is left to muddle through the mystery on his own.

The story is predictable but altogether inoffensive. According to its blurb, the book is meant to be a throwback to the Victorian novel. The idea is intriguing, but I found it rather disturbing to read a contemporary (okay, it is now over 20 years old) novel written in the Victorian style. Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Wilkie Collin’s The Woman in White clearly inspired Hill. The anachronistic writing style, though, is a distraction more than anything else.

Another interesting addition to the book is John Lawrence’s illustrations. The black-and-white sketches are again an unnecessary distraction and inconsistent with a mystery novel. In one case, an illustration reveals a “shocking surprise” found on a subsequent page.

I might recommend the book to lovers of the Victorian mystery—if there weren’t already so many authentic novels available to read instead.

Book Buzz

• I never watch The View (really, I don’t), but I caught a few minutes this week as Barbara Walters promoted the book Celebutantes. This event was significant for two reasons. First, I watched The View without scratching out my eyeballs. Second, I had just read about Celebutantes in USA Today. Two Hollywood “insiders”—Amanda Goldberg (daughter of Leonard Goldberg) and Ruthanna Khalighi Hopper (daughter of Dennis Hopper)—wrote the book. I am always intrigued when fiction features actual people as characters (in this case, celebrities). I am even more intrigued when those people are still alive. I smell litigation.

• USA Today featured Cindy Guidry’s memoir The Last Single Woman in America. Excuse me, but I’m pretty darn sure I am the last single woman.

• Not only did he win a Grammy this week, but Barack Obama has two books on Amazon’s top 20 bestsellers list (The Audacity of Hope, #7; Dreams from My Father, #19. At least we don’t have to worry about his job prospects if the White House doesn’t work out for Obama.

• The New York Times Sunday Book Review featured political books this week. USA Today did the same. Clearly, election fever has reached the book world. Considering the turnaround time for books, though, I am always suspect of their currency.

• Mark Seigel appeared on The Daily Show last night promoting Reconciliation, which he worked on with recently-assassinated former Pakastani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto. Talk about currency.

Guest Blog--Let me check my Blackberry

Yesterday my husband and I accidentally ran into each other for lunch. It was a very pleasant surprise and I looked forward to sitting down and getting a quick break from my day. As soon as I sat down my Blackberry rang. My boss's number flashed across the screen. "Hello? Hello sir?" I kept repeating, silently freaking out that I wasn't getting very good reception. Luckily my boss is a jovial older man who is genuinely kind and easy to laugh - far different from Melinda Priestly, the "devil" in The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger.

I had previously seen the film with Anne Hathaway as Andrea Sachs and Meryl Streep as Melinda Priestly. I was shocked when the characters were described in the novel as looking the exact opposite of these two actresses. Andrea is a tall blond and Melinda is a tiny blond from England. Just the first 10 pages differed from the film and I was glad to be able to picture the characters in my own way and without prejudice from having seen the movie prior to reading the novel.

I actually really enjoyed Devil. From my own work experience I could relate to Andrea's feelings of panic whenever her phone rang or coming to dislike anyone who spoke with the same accent as your boss (mine was Australian). I loved hearing about the fashion and picturing in my mind what it would be like to work for a fashion magazine or a designer label. I found myself feeling blah about my own clothes and wishing for the day that I might have something semi-designer.

Whenever I read a novel, I find myself wrapped up in this new fantasy world and if the novel is well written, I am saddened when the story ends and my fantasy is over. I felt that way when I finished Devil.

Now don't get me wrong - Devil is not amazing, incredibly well written, or the best book I've ever read. But if you love clothes, love New York, and have had some interesting work experiences of your own, you'll like Weisberger's novel.

The Wall

Somehow, I missed that Peter Sis’s The Wall: Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain is a Caldecott Honor Book. Instead, I only knew it won the Robert F. Sibert Informational Book Award. The ALA-sponsored award acknowledges “the most distinguished informational book published in English during the preceding year.”

As such, I was quite surprised to discover The Wall in the picture book section of my library. Despite being a Caldecott winner, the book reads and looks less like a child’s picture book and more like a young adult graphic novel.

Using illustrations—and very little text—Sis recounts his experiences growing up in Prague under Communism. Despite undergoing Soviet “brainwashing” as a child, Sis joins underground movements as both a musician and artist.

Sis’s Iron Curtain experiences are far from typical. He has opportunities to travel throughout Europe and to study in London. Whereas his experiences make him atypical in the Soviet system, his artistic endeavors also make him more of a target.

Sis’s stylistic artwork and the book’s format is consistent with other graphic novels I’ve read. As such, it would be a shame to simply shuffle the book away with other picture books when it can stand as a strong example of the graphic novel genre.

The Geography of Bliss

Eric Weiner’s book The Geography of Bliss addresses a question that has been uppermost in my mind for many months. Can geography influence one’s level of happiness?

Although the premise of Weiner’s book, studying the influence of geography on happiness, sounds scientific, Bliss is much more a personal narrative or travelogue than scientific treatise.

That is not to say that Weiner, a correspondent for NPR, has not thoroughly researched the topic—he has—but the tone of the book is far from the neutral journalistic ideal. In fact, the word “snarky” comes to mind.

Weiner visits ten countries, all which claim different degrees of happiness, and recounts some of his experiences in these countries. As I said, Weiner’s tone is downright snarky, and he doesn’t seem to worry about offending anyone in the international community.

He boldly declares the Swiss “boring,” suggests the nation of Qatar lacks any culture, and remarks unashamedly on Moldovan women’s propensity to dress like “prostitutes.” He clearly approaches the subject with a heavy case of “cultural imperialism,” and I felt a bit offended on behalf of many nations.

Yet, I also found myself reading the book almost compulsively, as if it had been written specifically for me. I even reported several times a day—to anyone who would listen—about where I was visiting via Weiner: Iceland, Bhutan, India.

I have struggled for years with the geography-happiness question. I was raised to believe one must “bloom where she’s planted.” In other words, I should be happy regardless of my geographical location. But, try as I might, I simply could not feel content living among the cacti and roadrunners of southwest Arizona.

Geography truly has a significant influence on my happiness.

My family finds bliss on the beaches of San Diego, but I find little joy in the scratch of sand on my feet and the smell of saltwater in my nostrils.

Instead, I am what Weiner calls a “hedonic refugee” (179). Hedonic refugees, he explains, “seem to be more at home, happier, living in a country not of their birth” (179). My first day in Europe, wandering around Goteborg, Sweden, I had an overwhelming sense of peace and satisfaction. I knew, instinctively, that I could live there happily.

I’ve had similar experiences in almost every European country I’ve visited and felt complete contentment when I recently lived in Paris.

Weiner makes several suggestions but comes to no real conclusions about what makes one location happier than another. Ultimately, it is a matter of individual preferences. So, instead of blooming where we’re planted, as a true believer in the geography-happiness correlation, I can only recommend every individual find that location that brings the greatest bliss.

Valley of Fire

After watching (and enjoying) 3:10 to Yuma last week, I had to reread my favorite “Western”—Janet Cox’s Valley of Fire. I wrote about Valley before moving to Paris last fall but never got around to rereading it.

After breaking her engagement, Delores Ashley is banished by her father to St. George, Utah. Lori is rich and pampered and completely unprepared to become a manual laborer at her cousin’s inn. In addition, she must contend with the inn’s financial backer, Jonas Lukar.

Valley is your basic romance novel, so I’m not sure why I’m so enamored with the book. I never reread romances—but I’ve read Valley at least three times. Perhaps it’s because Cox’s writing is actually adequate. Or maybe I’m madly in love with Jonas Lukar. Secretly (or not-so-secretly), I want a handsome, rugged, good-hearted male to love me despite all my flaws. Sigh.

That being said, I must also confess I am not a fan of Christian fiction. The religious messages tend to be overbearing rather than seamlessly woven into the narrative. The weakest parts of Valley are certainly the Christian elements. It’s as if Janet Cox suddenly jumps into the narrative to preach to the reader. The passages are jarring, distracting, and uncomfortable.

Valley has been out of print for many years and is not easily accessible (I found a used copy online). But if you stumble upon the book, can stomach a little religion in your fiction, and need a “clean” romance fix, it might be worth a read.

Book Buzz

• A few days ago, after weeks of excessive snow, my family discussed the possibility of cannibalism. We speculated over whether or not we would be able to cannibalize each other to survive the winter. Ultimately, I volunteered to be the first sacrifice due to my abundant meatiness. Not surprisingly, I have always been intrigued by the Donner party, and I am apparently not the only one. Sunday’s New York Times reviewed Ethan Rarick’s Desperate Passage: The Donner Party’s Perilous Journey West.

• USA Today ran an article today about the controversy over Oprah’s book recommendation Eat, Pray, Love (currently #7 on Amazon). I had no desire to read the book before the controversy, but now I need to know what all the fuss is about. Unfortunately, I am #25 in the library queue, so I better develop a lot of patience.

• #15 on Amazon is Stephenie Meyer’s Breaking Dawn. Why is this surprising? The book, the fourth in the Twilight series, won’t be released until August. Meyer also has an adult romance novel about aliens (yes, you read that correctly), The Host, coming out in May. The movie version of Twilight will be released in December. I may not be able to survive so much Stephenie Meyer in one year.

People of the Book

I try to avoid all things popular (e.g., I’ve never seen Star Wars or Titanic) because I know, after all the hype, I can only be disappointed. When it comes to books, though, I feel obligated to read what’s popular so I can participate somewhat intelligently in the conversation.

That being said, although I hoped Geraldine Brook’s People of the Book would live up to the buzz, I wasn’t too surprised when it did not. The book is good, but it is not call-up-all-my-friends-(or readers)-and-recommend-it good.

People has been compared to The Da Vinci Code, but I find that comparison erroneous. Although better written than Da Vinci (but, come on, a phonebook is better written than Da Vinci), People lacks the plot, mystery, and pizzazz that made Da Vinci a blockbuster.

Instead, People is much more reminiscent of Susan Vreeland’s Girl in Hyacinth Blue. Hyacinth follows the provenance of a Vermeer painting. People follows the provenance of the Sarajevo Haggadah.

As such, the book is divided into several sections. Five sections follow the Haggadah back in history—to Bosnia, to Austria-Hungary, to Italy, to Spain. As the title suggests, it is not the book that is interesting so much as what happens in the lives of those people attached to it.

These sections are the strongest and most interesting in the book. However, for some reason I cannot fathom, some parts are written in first person and some in third. This twist seems to serve little purpose other than to distract and annoy the reader.

The book’s greatest weakness is the contemporary storyline that cushions each section. Hanna Heath is a book conservator hired to work on the Haggadah. She finds clues in the book—an insect, a stain, a hair—that reveal its history.

Unfortunately, I found Hanna’s story to be downright irritating. Hanna is 30 years old, has a double bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, and a PhD. She has apprenticed around the globe, is well published and highly regarded in her field. Perhaps I am just jealous, since Hanna and I share the same age and similar academic credentials (okay, hers are much better than mine), but Hanna’s experience and success is simply not plausible for someone so young.

Similarly, everyone Hanna meets—from Vienna’s chief archivist to Sarajevo’s head museum librarian—is 30 or under. Really? How did Hanna and her cohorts pack in so much and become so successful in so few years?

I could continue my nitpickiness (Ozren, the head librarian, speaks flawless English but stumbles over the word “hoof”?), but the point is that Hanna is so unbelievable she becomes a rather unsympathetic character. I was far more interested in what happens when she is out of the picture.

People of the Book is an okay read, but I see no need to trample your friends and neighbors to secure a copy. Read it if you have the time and inclination. If not . . .

Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy

I was going to post my review of People of the Book today, but instead I spent the last two hours waiting in line to vote. I am all for civic responsibilities—but two hours. Instead, I will have to piggyback on notaconnoisseur's review of Ally Carter’s Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy from last week. Since I’m such a know-it-all, I might as well throw in my two cents.

I read Cross My Heart’s prequel—I’d Tell You I Love You But Then I’d Have to Kill You—last July at notaconnoisseur’s recommendation. I enjoyed, but didn’t love, the book, and it clearly made very little impression on me. I honestly couldn’t remember a majority of what took place in I’d Tell You, including most of the characters. This forgetfulness is either the fault of an aged brain (entirely possible) or a not-so-thrilling storyline (also possible).

Maybe it’s because of my amnesia or since reading I’d Tell You I’ve overdosed on young adult novels, but I much prefer the sequel. The hijinks of high school sophomore Cammie Morgan and her best friends at an all-girl spy school are delightfully fun. And I also enjoyed the romance (or was it just a cover) between Cammie and another teen spy, Zach.

This is not to say the book is perfect. For someone trained to be a spy from birth, for someone who supposedly developed spy gear at age seven, and for someone who speaks fourteen languages fluently (Carter repeats this fact about a thousand times in the book), Cammie sure does some stupid things. Can she really be angsting at the same time she’s scoping out how many bald males in a crowd are wearing watches?

The book is entirely fantastic—and some descriptions of the CIA-sponsored school and gadgets are just too much to handle—but one aspect of the book was just too unreal to believe.

SPOILER ALERT: Fifteen male students from an all-boy boarding school move into the all-girl boarding school. Talk about a recipe for disaster. What could be worse—hormonally speaking—than throwing together teenagers who have been deprived of the opposite sex most of their lives? Yet, the book makes no mention of the complications inherent in the situation—surely to maintain its G-rated tone—but I was reminded of my uncle who invited a male foreign exchange student to live with him and his five daughters. Was he really surprised when one ended up pregnant?

Overall, the book is entertaining, and, as notaconnoisseur says, contains nothing offensive for a 12-year-old girl or a 58-year-old grandmother.

Rasputin's Daughter

I’ve always had a certain fascination/attraction/repulsion towards Rasputin. Who was he? And how did he hold so much power over the Romanoffs?

If the animated Anastasia is to believed, Rasputin was basically the devil incarnate. If Robert Alexander’s Rasputin’s Daughter is to believed, Rasputin was a complicated, and potentially misunderstood, man.

Rasputin’s Daughter has been languishing in my “to read” pile for over a year. After unsuccessfully starting half a dozen books last week, I finally picked it up. And I had a difficult time putting it down.

I had only a vague notion of who Rasputin was, and the novel provides insight from an interesting perspective: Rasputin’s eighteen-year-old daughter Maria. Maria narrates the last week of Rasputin’s life, including the dichotomies of his character.

Rasputin is a miraculous healer, calling on the powers of heaven to save the Heir Tsar. Yet, he is also licentious and uses his authority and influence to take advantage of people sexually. Maria tries to reconcile the two seemingly opposite sides of her father’s character.

As an author, Alexander breaks many rules. His narrator is young Russian female. So not only does he write from the perspective of someone from the opposite sex but also from someone of an entirely different nationality—two things an American male can know little about.

Yet, the narration is successful. Despite writing in first-person, Maria’s inner monologue is kept at a minimum. She is shocked at her father’s sexual exploits, confused by his healing powers, and attracted to a young man, Sasha. Such feelings are universal despite sex or nationality.

More than anything, I felt sympathetic towards Maria and even somewhat sympathetic towards Rasputin. Why the nobility hated him is never clearly explained (apart from a vague relationship with the Tsar and Tsarina), so I felt both shock and disgust over his murder.

After finishing the book, though, I had to remind myself that it is historical fiction and not necessarily accurate in any way, so I immediately performed an internet search (the fastest but not necessarily the most authoritative way of finding information) on Rasputin and Maria.

Interestingly, everything I found was very unsympathetic towards Rasputin. And I discovered that many aspects of Maria’s life (SPOILER ALERT: e.g., her relationship with Sasha and subsequent pregnancy) were entirely fictionalized by Alexander. Indeed, Maria actually went on to lead a very colorful life that included cabaret dancing and lion taming.

I enjoyed the book so much, and Alexander’s writing style, that I couldn’t help but be disappointed by how little his narrative apparently reflects reality. Perhaps my next read should be a nonfiction account of Maria and Rasputin.

Guest Blog--Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy by Ally Carter

Last spring I read Ally Carter's book I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have to Kill You and thoroughly enjoyed it. When I had the chance to read the sequel Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy, I was enthusiastic. However, it took me about two weeks to read the first 84 pages. Finally last night I picked it up again and could not put it down until I had read the final page.

I did not enjoy this book for young adults as much as I did the first one. The first novel had me laughing and crying as I read about the fictitious life of a fifteen year old girl in a private school for potential spies.

However, I did think that Carter captured the mixed emotions of a teenaged girl who is out done by a boy her age and then finds herself attracted to the same boy who she feels has teased her and put her down.

Although I did not enjoy it as much as the original novel, I would not hesitate to suggest that my twelve year old granddaughter read it. It has feelings she would recognize as well as elements that will make her feel that girls can do anything they set out to do.

Book Buzz

• It’s always big news in the book world when Oprah announces her latest book club pick. This month’s choice, A New Earth, is an interesting departure from the usual fiction books Oprah selects. As of publication, the book is #1 (and #19) on Amazon’s bestsellers list. Oprah’s magic continues. (The #3 and #4 book is also an Oprah selection: The Pillars of the Earth. In fact, at least 10 of the top 25 are books/authors featured on Oprah. I'm starting to suspect mind control.)

• Eric Weiner continues to make the rounds promoting The Geography of Bliss. Not only was he featured on Nightline this week, but he even appeared on my local NPR station. (My copies of Bliss and People of the Book are finally available at the library. Now, if it would only stop snowing, I could leave the house to fetch them.)

• Yes, People of the Book was once again featured in this week’s The New York Times Sunday Book Review section. (My goal is to finish the book this weekend so I can let you know if it is worth all the hype. I mean, wouldn’t you trust me over the The New York Times?)

Revolutionary War on Wednesday

I planned to write a review of another book tonight but ended up taking a reading detour. I spent the evening with my seven-year-old niece reading Mary Pope Osborne’s Revolutionary War on Wednesday.

Fortunately for the niece, she inherited the reading gene. Unfortunately, she also inherited the obsessive gene. Revolutionary is the 22^nd book in the Magic Tree House series, and she refuses to read any other books until she completes the entire series. Sound familiar?

Jack and Annie, the hero and heroine—if you will—of the series, travel through time and experience historical events. In this case, they find themselves at the Delaware River during the Revolutionary War.

My niece is obsessed with the series, so obviously Osborne is doing something right. I also appreciate that the books are both educational and entertaining—without being overbearingly informative.

Revolutionary takes place as George Washington crosses the Delaware on Christmas day 1776. The book does not try to encompass the entire war—after all, it is an early reader—but provides a glimpse into one historical moment.

On the other hand, the book's suggestion that two children convinced George Washington to attack the Hessians is rather disturbing. Can Jack and Annie really take credit for history? And would their history books then reflect their interference? Am I taking this too seriously?

Aside from the time-travel dilemma, I recommend this series to anyone with young readers. I just hope I can control myself and not run to the library to check out the first 21 books in the series.

The Boyfriend List

Ruby Oliver enters therapy to combat panic attacks in E. Lockhart’s The Boyfriend List. As part of her counseling sessions, Roo creates a “boyfriend list,” naming every boy she’s been involved with—whether he was officially her boyfriend or not. Each chapter discusses a different boy and what Roo’s relationship with him (or lack thereof) reveals about her character.

The young adult book is frank, including about sexuality, and likely reflects the thoughts, feelings, and activities of many young—and not so young—women. For example, Roo pretends to enjoy anime and cross-country running to please a boy. She also longs for an attractive boyfriend in order to validate her own self worth.

More than anything, this book makes me consider my own “boyfriend list.” Who would appear on that list? And what would my interest in him reveal about my personality?

• A*: I have an incredibly loyal (or is it stubborn or maybe hopeless) heart. Before entering fifth grade, I recorded in my journal that I would meet the love of my life in Mr. Harris’s class. I “fell in love” my first day of fifth grade and those feelings persisted (off-and-on) for the next twelve years.
• B: I have a type. I'm attracted to tall, skinny, dark-haired, innocent boys. Exploring the meaning of this type might be irrevocably damaging to my psyche, but I'll make a go of it. Perhaps I like tall guys because they actually make me feel small-ish. And maybe I’m attracted to innocent-acting boys because I hope they won't be jerks (unfortunately, this is not true).
• C: I can be worn down and won over by persistence—even if I have no actual interest in a boy or anything in common with him.
• D: I can’t resist attractive, young, European men—even if they work in frozen food stores.

Please excuse the tangent, but any book that makes me evaluate my own life is an unequivocal success. Of course, I now expect to read about other boyfriend lists in the comments section.

*Ha, you don’t actually expect me to publish real names, do you?

Mansfield Park

ITV is not BBC and should stop trying to be. Jane Austen simply cannot effectively be condensed into 90 minutes. Mansfield Park—much like Persuasion—suffers from over-condensation. The story moves so quickly that characters and relationships cannot be developed properly—and significant chunks of the story (i.e., Fanny’s return to her family in Portsmouth) don’t even make the cut.

I did not reread Mansfield Park because I didn’t want to judge the film too meticulously. Or maybe it's because I have little desire to reread the book. Although it sounds blasphemous, I don’t love the novel—or Fanny Price. Austen’s Fanny has little spunk and personality, and nothing draws me to her (or cousin Edmund for that matter).

The Masterpiece Mansfield Park tries to rectify Fanny’s personality deficit by casting the perky Billie Piper. San Francisco Chronicle describes Piper’s Fanny as a "street urchin," and I tend to agree. In London last fall, I caught a bit of Piper on ITV’s Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Piper is much more convincing as a prostitute than an Austen heroine. Her Fanny practically stalks Edmund, desperately needs a hairbrush, and gives little reason for Edmund, Henry Crawford, or the viewer to love her.

My criticisms are not derived from an innate sense of purism. I am a fan (one of the few) of the 1999 film adaptation. The movie is anything but faithful to the original, including a subplot about slavery. Yet, the film is humorous and Frances O’Connor’s Fanny is witty and intelligent. The pacing also effectively portrays Fanny’s relationships with Edmund and the Crawfords. (Can you tell I rewatched the movie this morning?)

Thus far, I haven’t been overly impressed with The Complete Jane Austen. I am hopeful Emma and Sense and Sensibility will blow me away.

Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac

Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac suffers not from amnesia but split-personality disorder. Gabrielle Zevin’s book can’t decide if it wants to be an authentic teen drama or a popular teen romance.

After a fall down the stairs at her high school, Naomi wakes to discover she has forgotten the last four years of her life. Unfortunately, those four years include her mother’s affair, her parents’ divorce, and her own romance with the school’s star tennis player.

The amnesia plot device is very Days of Our Lives, but at times the book rises above its soap opera origins. Naomi’s reactions as she relearns of her mother’s affair and her own sexual relationship with a boy she now finds unappealing feel authentic. The book also addresses issues such as suicide, depression, and drug use.

Yet, Zevin seems unable to settle on the book’s genre. The moments of authenticity are belied by love triangles straight out of an ’80s’ teen flick. A book that could have given insights into modern-day teen angst instead ends up as a glorified episode of General Hospital.

Book Buzz

• I first read about The Geography of Bliss: One Grumps Search for the Happiest Place on Earth in USA Today’s winter books preview. I love travel and am often grumpy, so I immediately put the book on hold (I’m still second in the queue). This week, Eric Weiner (his last name probably explains his grumpiness) was a guest on The Colbert Report. Assuming Bliss benefits from the “Colbert Bump,” everyone will be reading it soon.
• Another book in the preview was The Book of Other People, and USA Today featured it again this week (unfortunately, my local library does not yet carry it). The book includes stories by Nick Hornby, Jonathan Safran Foer, and Zadie Smith (who also edited). If nothing else, the book could be a good introduction to several authors I’ve never read.
• People of the Book was reviewed again in Sunday’s New York Times Book Review.
• YALSA announced its 85 best books of 2007. Although I feel like I’m constantly reading YA novels, I’ve actually only read two titles on the list. That means 83 books go on my to read list.

Bad Kitty

The title of Michele Jaffe’s first young adult novel was almost enough to scare me off—and I certainly received several snide comments about reading a book called Bad Kitty.

Fortunately, I did not let the title deter me, and I was able to enjoy a rather delightful young adult novel. The light and humorous tone of the book borrows heavily from the Confessions of Georgia Nicolson (complete with a dictionary at the end). Although not nearly as charming as Georgia, Jasmine Callihan is a smart and charismatic heroine.

And unlike Georgia, Jas solves mysteries. The teenager dreams of being a forensic scientist and finds herself caught in the middle of a murder plot. She is intelligent and funny and surrounds herself with clever friends (who make some rather crude and off-color remarks) and a hot romantic interest.

Mostly, though, I was drawn to Jas because she reminds me of me. Scary, I know. Either it means Jas acts like a 30 year old or I act like a 17 year old. I suspect the latter. Here are a few things we have in common:

• Jas and I both suffer from “British Accent Stupidity Syndrome.”
• We both randomly throw in French words. It is a très enchanting habit.
• We both enjoy using slashes to describe things—for example, my current upsweep hairstyle is trailer/prom.
• We each have fathers who are “thwarters.” Thwarters do their best to change their daughters’ plans: “English majors are a dime a dozen. Why don’t you try law school.”

The book is entirely over the top, and the final scene is almost too unbelievable to stomach. But I couldn’t resist Jasmine Callihan’s charms. Now I have to wait until the fall for the second book in the series. I am très impatient/antsy.

Northanger Abbey

I regret rereading Northanger Abbey before watching the PBS film adaptation. The movie is absolutely delightful, but I felt continually distracted by inconsistencies and errors—particularly at the film's end.

If I hadn’t reread the book, I would have loved the movie unconditionally, considering it a fun little romp through Bath.

Felicity Jones’s Catherine Morland is young, trusting, and naïve. The movie makes it clear Isabella Thorpe is Catherine’s opposite. After all, Catherine is always modestly clad, while her best friend wears bosom-revealing dresses—a sure sign of a loose and deceptive young woman.

JJ Feild also makes an attractive and charming hero as Henry Tilney. He is a humorous, clever, and irresistible suitor, and I could easily fall in love with him (or maybe I already have).

Not too surprisingly, given its entertainment value, the movie focuses on Catherine’s novel reading, using dream sequences to reveal the books’ effect on her psyche. In a major deviation from the book, the film uses Catherine’s overactive imaginations to explain Henry’s apparent coldness towards her and her expulsion from Northanger Abbey.

Another jarring moment is an entirely fictionalized scene implying a sexual relationship between Isabella Thorpe and Frederick Tilney. Such a relationship could be implicit in the novel, but it certainly is not as explicit as the film suggests.

Northanger Abbey is not as faithful as I would like, but the film is excellent fun and far superior to last week’s adaptation of Persuasion.

Northanger Abbey

In preparation for the latest film adaptation of Northanger Abbey (Sunday on PBS), I reread the book.

I haven’t read Northanger Abbey for several years. With the passage of time, my mind had warped its content. In my memory, the book consists mainly of Catherine Morland’s fantastical daydreams, which are induced by an overdose of gothic novels. My most vivid memory is of Catherine as the Tilneys’ houseguest. Somehow, she deduces General Tilney murdered his wife.

Now that I’ve reread the book, I realize Catherine’s fantasy is only a small part of the book. In fact, a majority of the story takes place in Bath as Catherine socializes with the Thorpes and the Tilneys.

I remembered Northanger Abbey as pure satire, mocking the gothic novels Catherine so heartily embraces. Yet, the book actually addresses many of the same social issues covered in other Austen novels.

Northanger Abbey explores the themes of economics and class distinctions as relationships are created and destroyed over money. Catherine is a sweet and innocent girl, content to follow the mores of society. She learns, though, that not everyone has similar integrity. Isabella Thorpe and Frederick Tilney are reminiscent of the Willoughbys and Wickhams in other novels.

Northanger Abbey isn’t exactly the fun and delightful book I remembered, and it ranks last on my Austen chart. Yet, it is still far superior to most books, and I can’t wait for Sunday night to watch the new film adaptation.

Book Buzz aka Resolution, Week #2

Apparently, the book to be reading is Geraldine Brooks's People of the Book. This week I read a positive review about the book in USA Today, a not-so-positive one in The New York Times, and heard a less-than-complimentary review on NPR. Amazon has it listed as one of its “Best Books of January,” and it appears on Amazon’s bestseller list at #23. Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough after hearing about the book because I’m fifth in the library’s queue.

I was a bit surprised to see Andrew Morton’s Tom Cruise: An Unauthorized Biography is the top selling book on Amazon. I’m not surprised readers are interested in gossip and speculation. I am surprised that anyone still cares about Tom Cruise. He’s just so passé.

A potentially interesting read from The NY Times this week is Bernard Schlink’s novel Homecoming (translated from German by Michael Henry Heim). According to the review, the book wrestles with the question of history, specifically how modern-day Germany reconciles itself with its past. Readers of this blog will already know a similar question of heritage consumes me.

Finally, I must mention the slew of awards for young adult and children’s books:

• John Newbery Medal: Laura Amy Schlitz, Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Voices from a Medieval Village
• Randolph Caldecott Medal: Brian Selznick, The Invention of Hugo Cabret
• Coretta Scott King Awards: Christopher Paul Curtis, Elijah of Buxton; Ashley Bryan, Let it Shine
• Theodor Seuss Geisel Award: Mo Willems, There Is a Bird on Your Head!
• Michael L. Printz Award: Geraldine McCaughrean, The White Darkness
• Margaret A. Edwards Award: Orson Scott Card
• Mildred L. Batchelder Award: VIZ Media, Miyuki Miyabe, Brave Story
• Robert F. Sibert Medal: Peter Sís, The Wall: Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain
• Pura Belpré Awards: Yuyi Morales, Los Gatos Black on Halloween; Margarita Engle, The Poet Slave of Cuba: A Biography of Juan Francisco Manzano
• Schneider Family Book Awards: Andrea Stenn Stryer, Kami and the Yaks; Tracie Vaughn Zimmer, Reaching for Sun; Ginny Rorby, Hurt Go Happy
• Barbara Gittings Book Award: Ellis Avery, The Teahouse Fire
• Israel Fishman Book Award: Mark Doty, Dog Years: A Memoir
• BCALA Literary Awards: Stephen L. Carter, New England White; Arnold Rampersad, Ralph Ellison: A Biography; Chantal Ellen, The Rise: Where Neighbors Are Sometimes More; Deborah Willis, Let Your Motto Be Resistance: African American Portraits
• American Indian Youth Literature Awards: Tim Tingle, Crossing Bok Chitto; Joseph Medicine Crow, Counting Coup; Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

Of course, the book I must read is The Wall. I’ve also added The Absolutely True Diary of A Part-Time Indian to my list because the book is raking in awards.

Blue is for Nightmares

Although I swore off young adult series, I still have a few trickling in that I put on hold at the library before the new year. Laurie Faria Stolarz’s Blue is for Nightmares is one such book.

The novel's heroine, Stacey, lives at a boarding school, has visions, practices Wicca, and wets her bed.

Clearly, she’s an unusual character.

Yet, I was surprised by how mildly her friends and schoolmates react to her oddities. Stacey has nightmares about her best friend and roommate, Drea, being murdered. But Drea (and others) unhesitatingly believes Stacey’s visions and readily accepts her spells and séances. Wouldn’t teenagers find Stacey just a little bit weird?

(And making Stacey a bed wetter is a bizarre twist.)

I was also put off by how insincere the relationships and friendships are between the characters. On the other hand, maybe such shallowness is accurate. I haven’t been a teenager for many, many, many years.

I have no desire to read the other books in the series. However, I was intrigued enough with the book’s mystery that I wanted to know what happened. Who was Drea’s stalker? And would Stacey ever learn to control her bladder?

The Golden Compass

I was sitting blissfully in a Sunday School class a few weeks ago when several class members started on a terrible tangent. For some reason (it related to the lesson in no way), a few middle-aged women mentioned how evil Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass is (both the book and the movie version) because it promotes an anti-God message. Oh my.

Nothing makes me want to read a book more than having someone tell me not to. First, I don’t like to be told what to do (it’s a bit of a problem). Second, I do not advocate censorship. Third, I particularly despise when people try to censor a book (or movie or television show) without ever reading the book (or watching the movie or television program).

I am not a Philip Pullman fan. I read his Sally Lockhart series as a preteen, and it did not sit well with me. As such, I've had no desire to read any of his other books. However, I had to know for myself what all the fuss is about.

Now that I’ve finished the book, I have to ask: what is all the fuss about?

I did not love the book, and I have no desire to read the rest of the series. However, my apathy towards the book has nothing to do with religion. I can’t speak about the other books in the series (since I haven’t read them), but nothing in The Golden Compass struck me as anti-God.

For a young adult novel, though, I found the pacing of Compass too slow and the book at least 200 pages longer than necessary.

I didn’t feel engaged in the story until halfway through (about 200 pages in), and I had to force myself to read that far because I was simply bored by the fantasy world Pullman creates. I did not care about Lyra, her daemon, or the adults surrounding her.

Fantasy fans may enjoy this book, but I had difficulty embracing a world where all humans have a daemon, or animal, connected to them—apparently a representation of their souls. I do not care for talking animals (though I did have a minor crush on Disney’s Robin Hood as a child). And parallel universes leave me cold.

As such, I can only recommend this book to fantasy lovers and anyone who wants to rebel against the religious right.

Persuasion

Although this is technically a reading blog, I find it more than appropriate to comment on Masterpiece Theatre’s new series The Complete Jane Austen and particularly last night’s adaptation of Persuasion.

My first introduction to Persuasion was the 1995 BBC film featuring Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds. Inspired by the movie, I read the novel for the first time on a train ride through Scandinavia. I was immediately smitten with Jane Austen’s final novel, and it remains among my top three.

Naturally, I looked forward to the new ITV adaptation, so let me start with the positives:

#1 Rupert Penry-Jones is delightfully attractive.

#2 Please see #1.

As you might guess, I was horribly disappointed by the adaptation. The film’s pacing is so frantic it never allows a sense of character development. Anne Elliot is reacquainted with her former love Captain Wentworth. Practically a moment later, he declares his love for her. At what point did they reconnect? How did they fall back in love? And why?

I had a similar feeling about Anne’s relationship with Mr. Elliot. They meet, and suddenly they are supposed to be on the brink of engagement. Yet, the film completely glosses over their relationship’s development.

Anne Elliot, as portrayed by Sally Hawkins, is absolutely insipid. In every scene with Captain Wentworth, she simply stands with a vacant look and an open mouth. Why would Captain Wentworth fall in love (or re-fall in love) with someone clearly lacking intelligence and passion? Granted, Anne weeps as she writes in her journal and when she believes Captain Wentworth is engaged to Louisa Musgrove. Yet, Captain Wentworth never sees this side of her nature.

I must also mention the movie contains the most painful love scene in the history of film. Captain Wentworth stands woodenly as Anne slowly and awkwardly moves in for the kiss. Is he punishing her for rejecting him eight years earlier? The scene is so horrible I could watch it repeatedly.

Immediately after finishing PBS’s Persuasion, I watched the 1995 version. Amanda Roots’s Anne is a fleshed-out character. She has intelligence and humor despite being bullied by her family. She and Captain Wentworth engage in lively exchanges, and they clearly never fell out of love with each other. This adaptation is far superior in every way. It’s almost like comparing a Jane Austen novel with a Nora Roberts romance (sorry, Nora Roberts fans).

Something Rotten

Compared with other young adult mysteries I’ve read recently, Alan Gratz’s Something Rotten: A Horatio Wilkes Mystery has a lot going for it.

The book is an updated version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Horatio Wilkes visits his high school buddy, Hamilton, in Denmark, Tennessee. Hamilton is a mess because his father has recently died and his mother has married his uncle. He has a girlfriend, Olivia, whom he has alienated.

Gratz does a good job of giving this classic tale a modern twist. However, he does take certain liberties with the story. Not only is Horatio the hero of the book, but Hamilton’s inconsistent behavior is explained with an alcohol addiction. Although most of the storyline and characters are there, the book is more mystery and less tragedy.

Like many YA novelists, Gratz has created a hero who is unlike any teenage boy I’ve ever encountered. I am not referring to Horatio’s quick mind and ability to solve mysteries. I can suspend my disbelief in these cases.

However, I cannot believe a teenage boy would make references to Shakespeare (beyond the obvious Hamlet ones), Roman poets, and even allusions to lines in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. I also doubt most young adults would appreciate or pick up on these references.

Not only is Horatio apparently a literary savant, but he is also about 60 years old. The modern teenager—who loves his cell phone, iPod, and PS3—references The Dukes of Hazard, Beavis and Butt-Head, and Howdy Doody. Even I am too young to have watched most of those shows.

Overall, though, Horatio is an engaging—though rather impertinent—young hero, and I look forward to reading future books in the series.

The Mislaid Magician or Ten Years After

I only somewhat liked Sorcery and Cecilia, and I did not like The Grand Tour. So why did I put myself through reading the third installment of Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevemer’s trilogy? Clearly, I am insane.

Like Sorcery, The Mislaid Magician or Ten Years After is written in epistolary form. Cousins Cecilia and Kate correspond with each other (along with occasional, inane missives from their husbands).

I was initially intrigued by Wrede and Stevemer’s writing experiment. The authors exchange chapters without knowing what the other will write. However, in Mislaid, it is clear they have no idea where the plot is going or if they want to have a plot at all. Instead, the book absolutely plods and meanders.

This lack of purpose is obvious as the cousins write about their children. They mention what they ate. They include long descriptions of trains. Real life is boring. I read fiction to escape the inanities of life—not to suffer through them.

The book’s plot and pace doesn’t pick up until well past 200 pages. By this time, though, I had little interest in what would happen.

Unfortunately, the book—which could have been interesting (I mean, it has magic and Regency England for goodness sakes)—is tedious to the end.

The dénouement is actually the biggest offender of all. A few short pages explain away everything that happens in the 300 previous. It is like Hercule Poirot revealing the details of the crime—minus the charismatic Poirot and Agatha Christie’s writing ability.

The best I can say about this book is that it is over. And there isn’t a fourth in the series.

Resolution, Week #1

Last week, I resolved to read The New York Times Sunday Book Review section on a weekly basis and to follow the Amazon bestseller list. Here are some items of interest (at least to me):

• This week’s Book Review focuses exclusively on texts related to Islam. The books range from The Suicide of Reason about radical Islam to Islamophobia. I am continually amazed that in the 21^st century, Americans openly fear and discriminate against religious groups. (Though I may not agree with him politically, I have been shocked and disappointed by the obvious prejudice shown against Mitt Romney and members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.) We tend to fear what we don’t understand, and I applaud The Times’ effort to promote texts about Islam. I am anything but an expert on the subject. However, I can attest that I have nothing to fear from the Muslim women I work with in Afghanistan. It is much easier to be prejudiced against an unknown group than a known individual. I will now step off my soapbox.
• As of midnight EDT, the #1 bestseller on Amazon is Eat, Pray, Love. I have not read this book, nor am I a fan of Oprah or her book suggestions, but I am impressed and awed at her ability to mention a title and make it an instant bestseller. If I ever write my book, I hope Oprah finds it.
• The #2 book is Ready, Fire, Aim. Since it is only the second week of a new year, I’m not too surprised a book about making money fast is on the bestsellers list. Just today, I expressed my desire to be independently wealthy (or maybe it was a desire not to work). If I believed that get-rich-quick philosophies were sound, I might check out this book.
• Along the same lines, 7 of the top 20 book are about dieting. I just love wishful thinking. I, of course, am going to eat right and exercise this year. Starting tomorrow. Honestly.

Thursday Next

It took me practically the entire day to do it, but I finally finished Thursday Next: First Among Sequels.

Thursday is Jasper Fforde’s fifth novel in the Thursday Next series (and the sixth Fforde book I’ve read to date). I was blown away by The Eyre Affair, amazed at Fforde’s creativity and dexterity as a writer.

I still enjoy his writing, but some of the bloom has faded from the Thursday Next series. I don’t know if this is because I have become accustomed to Fforde’s style as a writer or if he has become more complacent with his success.

This is not to say that Thursday is not a delightful and well-written book. The novel is likely superior to 99% of other recently published fiction. However, reading the series is like watching a favorite TV show. In time, the episodes simply can’t compare to earlier seasons—yet they still outshine most other series on television (think Veronica Mars season two, House season three, and the current season of The Office).

Fforde is still incredibly creative, and I am flabbergasted by his imagination. For example, the scene where a piano unexpectedly drops into the Bates’ house in Emma, causing all the characters to speculate over its origins, is just plain brilliant.

Thursday Next is still a strong series, and I hope Fforde reflects back on his roots for the sixth installment.