InfoQuest's 11 in 11
Talk The 11 in 11 Category Challenge
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2InfoQuest
Egad! I accidentally deleted the lovely first post! Okay, so it wasn't that lovely, but now it's gone. Anyway, suffice it to say that I'm going for at least eleven books in eleven categories (see below), and that I reserve the right to change the categories if I feel like it. Also, that I'm going to try to comment on or review every book, but since that hasn't happened in my two previous years of doing these category challenges, let's not hold our collective breaths.
The (boring as always, but alphabetically organized!) categories are as follows:
1) Around the World
2) Beyond Modernism
3) Fantasy and Myth
4) Historical Fiction
5) Literature to Modernism
6) Mysteries, Suspense, and Crime
7) Newbery Winners and YA/Children's Lit
8) Owned but Unread
9) Religion, Theology, and Devotional Books
10) SF and Speculative Fiction
11) 300s, 500s, and 900s
**) Rereads
And now, without further ado, here's the description of the first category.
Around the World
In which InfoQuest reads at least six books by authors from non-European, non-English-speaking countries, with only one entry per country counting toward the goal. Also in which the remaining five books should have been written by authors from European or English-speaking countries (ditto for the "one country, one entry" rule).
1. The Rabbi's Cat and The Professor's Daughter by Joann Sfar (5 January and 18 April) France
2. Reflections: Bilingual Poems for Pensive People by Haim Schneider (15 February) Israel - Early Reviewers
3. Death Note vols. 7-10 by Tsugami Oba Japan (22 February)
4. The Gordian Knot by Bernhard Schlink Germany
5. Let's Kill Uncle by Rohan O'Grady Canada
6. Daytripper by Fabio Moon & Gabriel Ba (4 August) Brazil
7. The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (2 September) Spain
8. The Lost Heiress by Catherine Fisher (5 September) UK: Wales
9. The Emperor of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee India
10. Broken by Karin Fossum Norway
11.A Thousand Peaceful Cities by Jerzy Pilch Poland
The (boring as always, but alphabetically organized!) categories are as follows:
1) Around the World
2) Beyond Modernism
3) Fantasy and Myth
4) Historical Fiction
5) Literature to Modernism
6) Mysteries, Suspense, and Crime
7) Newbery Winners and YA/Children's Lit
8) Owned but Unread
9) Religion, Theology, and Devotional Books
10) SF and Speculative Fiction
11) 300s, 500s, and 900s
**) Rereads
And now, without further ado, here's the description of the first category.
Around the World
In which InfoQuest reads at least six books by authors from non-European, non-English-speaking countries, with only one entry per country counting toward the goal. Also in which the remaining five books should have been written by authors from European or English-speaking countries (ditto for the "one country, one entry" rule).
1. The Rabbi's Cat and The Professor's Daughter by Joann Sfar (5 January and 18 April) France
2. Reflections: Bilingual Poems for Pensive People by Haim Schneider (15 February) Israel - Early Reviewers
3. Death Note vols. 7-10 by Tsugami Oba Japan (22 February)
4. The Gordian Knot by Bernhard Schlink Germany
5. Let's Kill Uncle by Rohan O'Grady Canada
6. Daytripper by Fabio Moon & Gabriel Ba (4 August) Brazil
7. The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (2 September) Spain
8. The Lost Heiress by Catherine Fisher (5 September) UK: Wales
9. The Emperor of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee India
10. Broken by Karin Fossum Norway
11.A Thousand Peaceful Cities by Jerzy Pilch Poland
3InfoQuest
Beyond Modernism
In which InfoQuest reads "literary" and "classic" words written after WWII or thereabouts--including contemporary "literary fiction," which she will try her darnedest to appreciate. Also in which she will evidently overuse quotation marks in an absurd effort to avoid specificity.
1. The Echo Maker by Richard Powers (20 January)
2. The Moviegoer by Walker Percy (14 May)
3. On the Beach by Nevil Shute (31 May)
4.A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro (2 June)
5. After Dark by Haruki Murakami (4 August)
6. An American Childhood by Annie Dillard (21 August)
7. Ellis Island & Other Stories by Mark Helprin (23 September)
8. Point Omega by Don DeLillo
9. The Score by Richard Stark (4 November) Heck, anything re-released by a university press ought to count as moderately literary, even if it is pretty much pulp crime . . .
10. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (9 November) One of a very few horror/haunted house stories I've read and, unsurprisingly (given my experience with Jackson's short stories) really marvelous and atmospheric.
11. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison (27 November)
In which InfoQuest reads "literary" and "classic" words written after WWII or thereabouts--including contemporary "literary fiction," which she will try her darnedest to appreciate. Also in which she will evidently overuse quotation marks in an absurd effort to avoid specificity.
1. The Echo Maker by Richard Powers (20 January)
2. The Moviegoer by Walker Percy (14 May)
3. On the Beach by Nevil Shute (31 May)
4.A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro (2 June)
5. After Dark by Haruki Murakami (4 August)
6. An American Childhood by Annie Dillard (21 August)
7. Ellis Island & Other Stories by Mark Helprin (23 September)
8. Point Omega by Don DeLillo
9. The Score by Richard Stark (4 November) Heck, anything re-released by a university press ought to count as moderately literary, even if it is pretty much pulp crime . . .
10. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (9 November) One of a very few horror/haunted house stories I've read and, unsurprisingly (given my experience with Jackson's short stories) really marvelous and atmospheric.
11. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison (27 November)
4InfoQuest
Fantasy and Myth
In which InfoQuest reads stories with fantastical elements in a world or universe unlike her own. Also in which she enjoys herself tremendously.
1. StarCrossed by Elizabeth C. Bunce (1 January)
2. Maskerade by Terry Pratchett (13 January)
3. Plain Kate by Erin Bow (19 January)
4. Finnikin of the Rock by Melina Marchetta (3 February)
5. May Contain Traces of Magic by Tom Holt (16 February)
6. Among Others by Jo Walton Meh.
7. Chime by Franny Billingsley
8. A Curse as Dark as Gold by Elizabeth C. Bunce (21 June)
9. The Ale Boy's Feast by Jeffrey Overstreet
10. Fat Vampire by Adam Rex (22 August)
11. The Hidden Coronet by Catherine Fisher (30 September) It's arguable, but I'd say the series is both science fiction and fantasy . . .
In which InfoQuest reads stories with fantastical elements in a world or universe unlike her own. Also in which she enjoys herself tremendously.
1. StarCrossed by Elizabeth C. Bunce (1 January)
2. Maskerade by Terry Pratchett (13 January)
3. Plain Kate by Erin Bow (19 January)
4. Finnikin of the Rock by Melina Marchetta (3 February)
5. May Contain Traces of Magic by Tom Holt (16 February)
6. Among Others by Jo Walton Meh.
7. Chime by Franny Billingsley
8. A Curse as Dark as Gold by Elizabeth C. Bunce (21 June)
9. The Ale Boy's Feast by Jeffrey Overstreet
10. Fat Vampire by Adam Rex (22 August)
11. The Hidden Coronet by Catherine Fisher (30 September) It's arguable, but I'd say the series is both science fiction and fantasy . . .
5InfoQuest
Historical Fiction
In which InfoQuest reads fiction set in a rather earlier time than that in which it was written (e.g., A Tale of Two Cities is historical fiction, while Oliver Twist is not). Also in which she tries to appreciate books with important historical figures as protagonists, a device towards which she feels disinclined.
1. The Mistress of Abha by William Newton (3 January) Early Reviewers
2. The Toll-gate by Georgette Heyer (18 January)
3. Midwinter by John Buchan (10 March)
4. Prisoners in the Palace by Michaela MacColl (15 July)
5. Fallen Grace by Mary Hooper
6. Birds of a Feather by Jacqueline Winspear
7. Blotto, Twinks, and the Ex-King's Daughter by Simon Brett Um, sort of historical . . . -ish . . .
8. The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg by Rodman Philbrick (20 September)
9. All Other Nights by Dara Horn
10. Goliath by Scott Westerfeld (3 November) It's alt-history/steampunk, but the author tries to work with the real history too, so it counts. Yeah.
11. Strings Attached by Judy Blundell (9 November)
In which InfoQuest reads fiction set in a rather earlier time than that in which it was written (e.g., A Tale of Two Cities is historical fiction, while Oliver Twist is not). Also in which she tries to appreciate books with important historical figures as protagonists, a device towards which she feels disinclined.
1. The Mistress of Abha by William Newton (3 January) Early Reviewers
2. The Toll-gate by Georgette Heyer (18 January)
3. Midwinter by John Buchan (10 March)
4. Prisoners in the Palace by Michaela MacColl (15 July)
5. Fallen Grace by Mary Hooper
6. Birds of a Feather by Jacqueline Winspear
7. Blotto, Twinks, and the Ex-King's Daughter by Simon Brett Um, sort of historical . . . -ish . . .
8. The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg by Rodman Philbrick (20 September)
9. All Other Nights by Dara Horn
10. Goliath by Scott Westerfeld (3 November) It's alt-history/steampunk, but the author tries to work with the real history too, so it counts. Yeah.
11. Strings Attached by Judy Blundell (9 November)
6InfoQuest
Literature to Modernism
In which InfoQuest uses the preposition "to" to indicate "up to and including" (i.e., from the advent of the written narrative up to WWII or so). Also in which she tries to read fiction which does not solely originate in Victorian England, but will not complain if she does read quite a bit from that particular region and era.
1. The Country of the Pointed Firs and other Stories by Sarah Orne Jewett (5 January) 1896
2. Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (10 January) 1858
3. Travel Tales of Mr. Joseph Jorkins by Lord Dunsany (26 February)
4. The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells
5. Henrietta Sees it Through by Joyce Dennys Okay, so it's only moderately "literature," but oh well!
6. Stamboul Train by Graham Greene (6 May) Yes, it's just an "entertainment," but it has more in common with The End of the Affair than with, say, anything by E. Philips Oppenheim
7. Washington Square by Henry James
8. Pierre and Jean by Guy de Maupassant (20 June)
9. The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope (20 August)
10. The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green (20 August)
11. Three Men and a Maid by P. G. Wodehouse (25 August)
In which InfoQuest uses the preposition "to" to indicate "up to and including" (i.e., from the advent of the written narrative up to WWII or so). Also in which she tries to read fiction which does not solely originate in Victorian England, but will not complain if she does read quite a bit from that particular region and era.
1. The Country of the Pointed Firs and other Stories by Sarah Orne Jewett (5 January) 1896
2. Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (10 January) 1858
3. Travel Tales of Mr. Joseph Jorkins by Lord Dunsany (26 February)
4. The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells
5. Henrietta Sees it Through by Joyce Dennys Okay, so it's only moderately "literature," but oh well!
6. Stamboul Train by Graham Greene (6 May) Yes, it's just an "entertainment," but it has more in common with The End of the Affair than with, say, anything by E. Philips Oppenheim
7. Washington Square by Henry James
8. Pierre and Jean by Guy de Maupassant (20 June)
9. The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope (20 August)
10. The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green (20 August)
11. Three Men and a Maid by P. G. Wodehouse (25 August)
7InfoQuest
Mysteries, Suspense, and Crime
In which InfoQuest reads stories with mysterious, suspenseful, or otherwise felonious-centered plots, particularly those not sufficiently "literary," historical, or cultural to fit elsewhere. Also in which she has a great deal of fun.
1. Prisoner's Base by Rex Stout
2. The Skull Beneath the Skin by P.D. James (15 January)
3. The Case of the Gilded Fly and Holy Disorders by Edmund Crispin
4. Dog on It, Thereby Hangs a Tail, To Fetch a Thief, and The Dog Who Knew Too Much by Spencer Quinn (9 & 10 February, ?, and 29 September)
5. Not Dead Enough and Booby Trap & Kings Full of Aces by Rex Stout
6. A Red Herring Without Mustard by Alan Bradley (31 March)
7. Shroud for a Nightingale by P.D. James
8. Heads You Lose by Lisa Lutz (24 April)
9. Some Buried Caesar by Rex Stout (5 May)
10. An Expert in Murder by Nicola Upson
11. The Reluctant Detective by Martha Ockley
12. Talking About Detective Fiction by P. D. James (26 August) Not fiction, but it can't not fit in this category.
13. The Highly Effective Detective Goes to the Dogs by Richard Yancy
In which InfoQuest reads stories with mysterious, suspenseful, or otherwise felonious-centered plots, particularly those not sufficiently "literary," historical, or cultural to fit elsewhere. Also in which she has a great deal of fun.
1. Prisoner's Base by Rex Stout
2. The Skull Beneath the Skin by P.D. James (15 January)
3. The Case of the Gilded Fly and Holy Disorders by Edmund Crispin
4. Dog on It, Thereby Hangs a Tail, To Fetch a Thief, and The Dog Who Knew Too Much by Spencer Quinn (9 & 10 February, ?, and 29 September)
5. Not Dead Enough and Booby Trap & Kings Full of Aces by Rex Stout
6. A Red Herring Without Mustard by Alan Bradley (31 March)
7. Shroud for a Nightingale by P.D. James
8. Heads You Lose by Lisa Lutz (24 April)
9. Some Buried Caesar by Rex Stout (5 May)
10. An Expert in Murder by Nicola Upson
11. The Reluctant Detective by Martha Ockley
12. Talking About Detective Fiction by P. D. James (26 August) Not fiction, but it can't not fit in this category.
13. The Highly Effective Detective Goes to the Dogs by Richard Yancy
8InfoQuest
Newbery Winners and YA/Children's Lit
In which InfoQuest continues to forge through nearly 80 years' worth of the "greatest" in children's literature. In which she also reads other fun kids' or teens' stuff that she comes across (except really short picture books she reads while checking them in--they don't count).
1. A Bear Called Paddington by Michael Bond (3 January)
2. Jane: a modern retelling of Jane Eyre by April Lindner (18 February)
3. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg (22 February)
4. HarperCollins Treasury of Picture Book Classics: A Child's First Collection, ed. by Katherine Brown Tegen (23 February)
5. Sapphique by Catherine Fisher
6. Ghostopolis by Doug Tennapel (25 April)
7. Trapped by Michael Northrup (23 May)
8. Ruby Red by Kerstin Gier (20 June)
9. The Search for WondLa by Tony DiTerlizzi (19 June)
10. Amelia Rules vols. 1-6 by Jimmy Gownley
11. The Dark City by Catherine Fisher (25 August)
12. Fly By Night by Frances Hardinge
13. The Folk Keeper by Franny Billingsley
14. The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall (28 October)
In which InfoQuest continues to forge through nearly 80 years' worth of the "greatest" in children's literature. In which she also reads other fun kids' or teens' stuff that she comes across (except really short picture books she reads while checking them in--they don't count).
1. A Bear Called Paddington by Michael Bond (3 January)
2. Jane: a modern retelling of Jane Eyre by April Lindner (18 February)
3. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg (22 February)
4. HarperCollins Treasury of Picture Book Classics: A Child's First Collection, ed. by Katherine Brown Tegen (23 February)
5. Sapphique by Catherine Fisher
6. Ghostopolis by Doug Tennapel (25 April)
7. Trapped by Michael Northrup (23 May)
8. Ruby Red by Kerstin Gier (20 June)
9. The Search for WondLa by Tony DiTerlizzi (19 June)
10. Amelia Rules vols. 1-6 by Jimmy Gownley
11. The Dark City by Catherine Fisher (25 August)
12. Fly By Night by Frances Hardinge
13. The Folk Keeper by Franny Billingsley
14. The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall (28 October)
9InfoQuest
Owned but Unread
In which InfoQuest reads books sitting in her houseprior to the beginning of 2011, whether or not they fit into other categories. Also in which she attempts to get over the procrastination induced by these books' lack of due dates, even when she's really intended/wanted to read them.
1. The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody by Will Cuppy (15 January)
2. Cousin Kate by Georgette Heyer
3. The Pothunters and Other School Stories by P. G. Wodehouse (13 April)
4. The Great Theologians by Gerald R. McDermott
5. Mare's War by Tanita S. Davis (5 September)
6. Young Miles by Lois McMaster Bujold (17 September)
7. Pardonable Lies by Jacqueline Winspear (21 September)
8. A Medicine for Melancholy by Ray Bradbury
9. Iron House by John Hart GoodReads FirstReads
10. Brothers in Arms by Lois McMaster Bujold (25 October)
11. Mirror Dance by Lois McMaster Bujold (22 November)
In which InfoQuest reads books sitting in her house
1. The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody by Will Cuppy (15 January)
2. Cousin Kate by Georgette Heyer
3. The Pothunters and Other School Stories by P. G. Wodehouse (13 April)
4. The Great Theologians by Gerald R. McDermott
5. Mare's War by Tanita S. Davis (5 September)
6. Young Miles by Lois McMaster Bujold (17 September)
7. Pardonable Lies by Jacqueline Winspear (21 September)
8. A Medicine for Melancholy by Ray Bradbury
9. Iron House by John Hart GoodReads FirstReads
10. Brothers in Arms by Lois McMaster Bujold (25 October)
11. Mirror Dance by Lois McMaster Bujold (22 November)
10InfoQuest
Religion, Theology, and Devotional Books
In which InfoQuest reads books primarily about and encouraging Christian thought and life, though books on other religions may also fit here. Also in which she attempts to sample a few important theologians without her brain exploding.
1. What Good Is God? by Phillip Yancey
2. Acts (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible) by Jaroslav Pelikan (26 February)
3. Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who's Who by Frederick Buechner (7 May)
4. The Magnificent Defeat by Frederick Buechner
5. Luke: The Gospel of Amazement by Michael Card
6. Slaves, Women, and Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis by William Webb (23 September)
7. The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate by John H. Walton
8. Raised Right by Alisa Harris
9. Heaven & Earth Holding Company by John Hodgen (Well, I found out about it in Books & Culture magazine, and some poems talked about God . . .
10. The Longing for Home by Frederick Buechner (8 November)
11. The End of Suffering by Scott Cairns (28 November)
In which InfoQuest reads books primarily about and encouraging Christian thought and life, though books on other religions may also fit here. Also in which she attempts to sample a few important theologians without her brain exploding.
1. What Good Is God? by Phillip Yancey
2. Acts (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible) by Jaroslav Pelikan (26 February)
3. Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who's Who by Frederick Buechner (7 May)
4. The Magnificent Defeat by Frederick Buechner
5. Luke: The Gospel of Amazement by Michael Card
6. Slaves, Women, and Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis by William Webb (23 September)
7. The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate by John H. Walton
8. Raised Right by Alisa Harris
9. Heaven & Earth Holding Company by John Hodgen (Well, I found out about it in Books & Culture magazine, and some poems talked about God . . .
10. The Longing for Home by Frederick Buechner (8 November)
11. The End of Suffering by Scott Cairns (28 November)
11InfoQuest
Speculative and Science Fiction
In which InfoQuest reads books that fit under that broad umbrella description (e.g. futuristic stories, space operas, dystopias, time travel tales, alternate history). Also in which she enjoys herself quite a lot.
1. All Seated on the Ground and Inside Job by Connie Willis (5 January)
2. Eifelheim by Michael Flynn (25 January)
3. Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (February 1)
4. Invisible Things by Jenny Davidson (25 February)
5. The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi (28 February)
6. Home Fires by Gene Wolfe
7. One of Our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde (1 April)
8. Worldshaker by Richard Harland (2 April)
9. Brave New Worlds: dystopian stories edited by John Joseph Adams (20 April)
10. Blonde Bombshell and Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Sausages by Tom Holt (23 April)
11. Cordelia's Honor by Lois McMaster Bujold (24 May)
12. Wastelands ed. by John Joseph Adams
13. The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe (10 August) *insert absolute awe here*
14. Miles, Mystery, and Mayhem by Lois McMaster Bujold
In which InfoQuest reads books that fit under that broad umbrella description (e.g. futuristic stories, space operas, dystopias, time travel tales, alternate history). Also in which she enjoys herself quite a lot.
1. All Seated on the Ground and Inside Job by Connie Willis (5 January)
2. Eifelheim by Michael Flynn (25 January)
3. Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (February 1)
4. Invisible Things by Jenny Davidson (25 February)
5. The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi (28 February)
6. Home Fires by Gene Wolfe
7. One of Our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde (1 April)
8. Worldshaker by Richard Harland (2 April)
9. Brave New Worlds: dystopian stories edited by John Joseph Adams (20 April)
10. Blonde Bombshell and Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Sausages by Tom Holt (23 April)
11. Cordelia's Honor by Lois McMaster Bujold (24 May)
12. Wastelands ed. by John Joseph Adams
13. The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe (10 August) *insert absolute awe here*
14. Miles, Mystery, and Mayhem by Lois McMaster Bujold
12InfoQuest
300s, 500s, and 900s
In which InfoQuest reads books that fit into these Dewey Decimal categories: the Social Sciences (heck, we'll toss psychology in there too, even though that's the 150s), Science, and History & Geography. In which InfoQuest also attempts to read at least four in each category, for a total of twelve rather than eleven, but who's counting anyway? Oh, whatever, let's just call it Non-fiction and be done . . .
1. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas (2 January)
2. In A Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson (5 February)
3. Bad Science by Ben Goldacre (18 February)
4. Radioactive: Marie and Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout by Lauren Redniss (19 February)
5. The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil by Philip Zimbardo
6. Pyongyang : a journey in North Korea, The Burma Chronicles, and Shenzen : a travelogue from China by Guy Delisle
7. Sickened: the memoir of a Munchausen by proxy childhood by Julie Gregory (7 April)
8. At Home by Bill Bryson
9. How to Write a Sentence (and how to read one) by Stanley Fish (24 April)
10. The Disappearing Spoon by Sam Kean
11. The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America by Bill Bryson So glad I didn't start with this Bryson, or I'd never have read another . . .
12. Reading Between the Lines: a Christian Guide to Literature by Gene Edward Veith (15 July)
13. Annoying: the science of what bugs us by Joe Palca (4 September)
14. You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know by Heather Sellers
1. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas (2 January)
2. In A Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson (5 February)
3. Bad Science by Ben Goldacre (18 February)
4. Radioactive: Marie and Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout by Lauren Redniss (19 February)
5. The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil by Philip Zimbardo
6. Pyongyang : a journey in North Korea, The Burma Chronicles, and Shenzen : a travelogue from China by Guy Delisle
7. Sickened: the memoir of a Munchausen by proxy childhood by Julie Gregory (7 April)
8. At Home by Bill Bryson
9. How to Write a Sentence (and how to read one) by Stanley Fish (24 April)
10. The Disappearing Spoon by Sam Kean
11. The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America by Bill Bryson So glad I didn't start with this Bryson, or I'd never have read another . . .
12. Reading Between the Lines: a Christian Guide to Literature by Gene Edward Veith (15 July)
13. Annoying: the science of what bugs us by Joe Palca (4 September)
14. You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know by Heather Sellers
13InfoQuest
Rereads (Bonus Category)
In which InfoQuest returns to books she has previously readin an attempt to avoid shallowness and remind herself why certain books (especially "classics") are good, bad, or indifferent. In which she also tries to reread at least one book per month, for a grand total of twelve rather than eleven.
1. Just Enough Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse (20 February) Early Reviewers
2. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
3. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J. K. Rowling *ahem*
4. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling (4 September) *cough*
5. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling (19 September) Erm.
6. Harry Potters and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling (25 October) What a shock, I know . . .
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
In which InfoQuest returns to books she has previously read
1. Just Enough Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse (20 February) Early Reviewers
2. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
3. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J. K. Rowling *ahem*
4. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling (4 September) *cough*
5. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling (19 September) Erm.
6. Harry Potters and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling (25 October) What a shock, I know . . .
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
14VisibleGhost
It seems like InfoQuest has a grand year of reading ahead. I shall have to poke my head in a time or two to see how InfoQuest's plan is proceeding.
15RidgewayGirl
In which RidgewayGirl congratulates InfoQuest on her informative and entertaining explanations for her various categories and in which she wishes InfoQuest good luck in her endeavor and indicates that she will be watching InfoQuest's progress with interest.
16lkernagh
**Bouncing through to observe the conversation and looking forward to following this interesting thread!**
19InfoQuest
Thanks for the encouragement, everyone! I hope to return the favor (when I have a few more minutes) and look over all of your threads!
I started StarCrossed half an hour before this year, but since I finished it at 2.30 am, I think it counts as the first read of 2011. Definitely the best so far--and a pretty good story in its own right. Digger, a teen-aged thief of murky origins, falls among kindly "nobs" and finds herself in the middle of their political intrigues in Elizabeth C. Bunce's second novel. She lives in a Renaissance-type world where religion and mythology are matters of life and death, and the world-building is really marvelous. Digger's first-person narration is very good, more than serviceable on a prose level and quite helpful as an insight into her world, personally and socially. Of course, this YA novel isn't quite perfect; some of the characterization was uneven, and I'm still not sure how the mythology and magic works, but overall, it was enjoyable and interesting, so I'm definitely looking forward to the sequel (apparently to be called Liar's Moon). And I think I'll have to pick up Bunce's A Curse as Dark as Gold, a retelling of the Rumpelstiltskin tale.
So far, so good--on to more books!
I started StarCrossed half an hour before this year, but since I finished it at 2.30 am, I think it counts as the first read of 2011. Definitely the best so far--and a pretty good story in its own right. Digger, a teen-aged thief of murky origins, falls among kindly "nobs" and finds herself in the middle of their political intrigues in Elizabeth C. Bunce's second novel. She lives in a Renaissance-type world where religion and mythology are matters of life and death, and the world-building is really marvelous. Digger's first-person narration is very good, more than serviceable on a prose level and quite helpful as an insight into her world, personally and socially. Of course, this YA novel isn't quite perfect; some of the characterization was uneven, and I'm still not sure how the mythology and magic works, but overall, it was enjoyable and interesting, so I'm definitely looking forward to the sequel (apparently to be called Liar's Moon). And I think I'll have to pick up Bunce's A Curse as Dark as Gold, a retelling of the Rumpelstiltskin tale.
So far, so good--on to more books!
20christina_reads
I loved A Curse Dark as Gold and have had StarCrossed on my shelves for a while now -- I'm glad to hear it's good! I'm planning to read it at some point during the 11 in 11.
21pammab
StarCrossed looks like my kind of book! Good world-building in which religion matters? High fantasy? Procurable at my library? I'm so there. Glad to learn about it here.
22InfoQuest
I do hope you both enjoy it--unfortunately, I'm not sure when the sequel is coming, so it might be a while. Oh well.
Last night I finally finished the biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer that's been my just-before-bed reading for the past few weeks. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy has a rather unfortunate title and the author's word choice is often debatable or rather overblown, but overall I did appreciate and even enjoy the story of a fascinating man's life and thought.
I'm not a big fan of biography in general, so I can't really say how Eric Metaxas's style or arrangement differed from the usual in this genre, but what irritated me most was his tendency to use charged descriptions and epithets, particularly in his discussion of Nazi leaders. I do understand that emotions run high when Nazis are involved and "evil" is a perfectly acceptable term to use, but personal insults seem to me childish and unwarranted in any writing which claims to be serious or somewhat scholarly. Also, it sometimes seemed that Metaxas was simplifying Bonhoeffer's more complex ideas, though whether to make them more accessible or to better fit his own theological stance is not for me to say. I would also have preferred a bit more quotations of the original German of the cited documents, just because it's interesting to compare my own rough translation or approximations with what the author used, but that's more or less a unnecessary quibble.
However, I did appreciate this thorough retelling of Bonhoeffer's life and work, with all its flaws and do not regret reading it. One of my German professors did his doctoral thesis on Bonhoeffer and was very enthusiastic about both his theology and his actions, so it was very nice to see just what and who he was so excited about. In his class we read Widerstand und Ergebung (the prison letters), which was very interesting even without much context, but we did little on his earlier life, and so reading the biography certainly enhanced my appreciation of what I'd read for class, as well as the theological writings I've read on my own. Now the last thing I've got to read on Bonhoeffer is Life Together, so I suppose that will be the first of my ninth category.
Last night I finally finished the biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer that's been my just-before-bed reading for the past few weeks. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy has a rather unfortunate title and the author's word choice is often debatable or rather overblown, but overall I did appreciate and even enjoy the story of a fascinating man's life and thought.
I'm not a big fan of biography in general, so I can't really say how Eric Metaxas's style or arrangement differed from the usual in this genre, but what irritated me most was his tendency to use charged descriptions and epithets, particularly in his discussion of Nazi leaders. I do understand that emotions run high when Nazis are involved and "evil" is a perfectly acceptable term to use, but personal insults seem to me childish and unwarranted in any writing which claims to be serious or somewhat scholarly. Also, it sometimes seemed that Metaxas was simplifying Bonhoeffer's more complex ideas, though whether to make them more accessible or to better fit his own theological stance is not for me to say. I would also have preferred a bit more quotations of the original German of the cited documents, just because it's interesting to compare my own rough translation or approximations with what the author used, but that's more or less a unnecessary quibble.
However, I did appreciate this thorough retelling of Bonhoeffer's life and work, with all its flaws and do not regret reading it. One of my German professors did his doctoral thesis on Bonhoeffer and was very enthusiastic about both his theology and his actions, so it was very nice to see just what and who he was so excited about. In his class we read Widerstand und Ergebung (the prison letters), which was very interesting even without much context, but we did little on his earlier life, and so reading the biography certainly enhanced my appreciation of what I'd read for class, as well as the theological writings I've read on my own. Now the last thing I've got to read on Bonhoeffer is Life Together, so I suppose that will be the first of my ninth category.
23InfoQuest
I don't remember why I requested The Mistress of Abha from Early Reviewers; likely I was just picking everything that sounded remotely interesting. Because, to be honest, I'm not a great fan of contemporary historical fiction and have no particular interest in the history of the Arabian peninsula. However, it arrived, and now I've finally read it.
Ivor Willoughby, the scion of an old British military family, heads to Arabia in the 1920s to find the father he saw only once a decade or so before. He wanders around the region seeking people who can tell him about his father, along the way learning a great deal about the family of his father's best friend, Tabarhla the Amir of Abha--particularly his second wife, the sheikha Na'ema.
All this plays rather like a novel of the period of his Edwardian father's adventures (albeit slightly more explicit at times than those I've read), but without anything particularly important or exciting occurring. I guessed the only "revelation" of the novel's ending long before, and the characters tend very much towards the stereotypical. The narrator's voice is practically nonexistent, and his reactions are very slow. I actually would have preferred the story without the framing device of the son and his journeys, if that meant that the extra time was devoted to making the main characters more than traditional figures--the over-sexed sheikh, the doughty (and also over-sexed) British adventurer, the captive princess (two of them!), the devoted slave, the adoring concubine, and so on. In the end, the only thing I can say I really appreciated was the novel's historical facts (summarized in an afterword) and vivid depictions of the landscape. But, of course, I'm not the ideal audience.
I almost forgot--last night I also read A Bear Called Paddington, since it's an "important" children's book. Or at least, everyone seems to have read it except me. Perhaps I wasn't in the mood, but it really didn't have the charm of the good old anthropomorphic classics like (inevitable comparison) Winnie-the-Pooh or E. B. White's books. It was sweet and easy to read and applicable to the audience, but at the same time, the bear's unfortunate mess-making was so repetitious and so obviously in-the-offing that I was not as amused as I hoped to be. And there wasn't much in the way of lovely wordplay. But, again, I'm not (anymore) the sort of person the book was written for.
Ivor Willoughby, the scion of an old British military family, heads to Arabia in the 1920s to find the father he saw only once a decade or so before. He wanders around the region seeking people who can tell him about his father, along the way learning a great deal about the family of his father's best friend, Tabarhla the Amir of Abha--particularly his second wife, the sheikha Na'ema.
All this plays rather like a novel of the period of his Edwardian father's adventures (albeit slightly more explicit at times than those I've read), but without anything particularly important or exciting occurring. I guessed the only "revelation" of the novel's ending long before, and the characters tend very much towards the stereotypical. The narrator's voice is practically nonexistent, and his reactions are very slow. I actually would have preferred the story without the framing device of the son and his journeys, if that meant that the extra time was devoted to making the main characters more than traditional figures--the over-sexed sheikh, the doughty (and also over-sexed) British adventurer, the captive princess (two of them!), the devoted slave, the adoring concubine, and so on. In the end, the only thing I can say I really appreciated was the novel's historical facts (summarized in an afterword) and vivid depictions of the landscape. But, of course, I'm not the ideal audience.
I almost forgot--last night I also read A Bear Called Paddington, since it's an "important" children's book. Or at least, everyone seems to have read it except me. Perhaps I wasn't in the mood, but it really didn't have the charm of the good old anthropomorphic classics like (inevitable comparison) Winnie-the-Pooh or E. B. White's books. It was sweet and easy to read and applicable to the audience, but at the same time, the bear's unfortunate mess-making was so repetitious and so obviously in-the-offing that I was not as amused as I hoped to be. And there wasn't much in the way of lovely wordplay. But, again, I'm not (anymore) the sort of person the book was written for.
24katiekrug
Just found your thread and have now starred it! Anything with good reads and some humor is right up my alley... Look forward to seeing how your year progresses!
25InfoQuest
Thanks, Katie! I guess I shall have to make sure to be amusing everyone once in a while, just to keep up to expectations . . . My most recent read doesn't exactly lend itself towards that sort of treatment, but it was really quite a good book.
The Country of the Pointed Firs is Sarah Orne Jewett’s most well known work, arguable either a novel or a collection of related short stories set in and around the coastal community of Dunnet Landing, Maine. The unnamed, first-person protagonist narrates from an outsider’s perspective, telling of her time among the locals as they shared their hospitality and stories—somewhat similar in tone and perspective to Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford. Jewett’s work is less humorous and more poetic, however, as the land- and seascape becomes a character in itself, figuring in each of the stories of the many different people who have made Dunnet Landing their home.
My edition included four related short stories (but in a separate section, not inserted by Cather, as in some editions)--“The Queen’s Twin,” “A Dunnet Sheperdess,” “The Foreigner,” and “William’s Wedding. The third was one that I read for a class on American Realism to Modernism (along with Jewett’s well known non-Dunnet Landing story, “The White Heron”) and was the story that made me want to read more of her work. She is often called one of the “local color” writers and not without good reason: her stories are very definitely focused on the region and its people, their singularities and their outlook. However, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t about human experience or are written in a near incomprehensible dialect; there is a dialect, but it’s fairly straightforward, and the idiosyncrasies of the townsfolk are (in general) not so exaggerated as to be merely strange stories with no bearing on the way people really live or behave in similar situations. All that is to say that I find this 1896 novel quite worthy of “classic” status and as well as a very lovely little book.
Edit:
Oh, what the heck, I went on a reading spree. The books were here, and I was here. They were short, and I don't have anything absolutely necessary to do this very evening, so . . .
The Rabbi's Cat was a rather interesting graphic novel, which I picked up at the library this afternoon because of the title. I like cats; Judaism interests me; graphic novels can be very nice. I didn't realize that the rabbi in question was from Algeria or that the story was set in the 1920s, so that made it even more worthwhile. The artistic style isn't quite my favorite, but it worked very well--especially with the titular cat himself, whose expressions and manner were familiar to a cat lover, while also clearly demonstrating his emotions and thoughts. Oh, and the cat talks. For a while. Which is a bit plus.
While talking (and in his thought-bubbles), the cat raises issues of what it means to be a believer in God in general and a Jew in particular. His arguments were pretty standard agnosticism, but it was interesting in context, as the traditional, yet open-minded rabbi encounters modernity in North Africa and Paris. Lots of interesting side notes on racial/ethnic relations, the different types of Judaism, and other cultural or historical elements also made their way into the story, and overall it was a fairly good read.
I'd also inter-library-loaned Connie Willis's 2007 Christmas novella All Seated on the Ground; unfortunately, it didn't arrive until after Christmas. Oh well. It wasn't my favorite of her Christmas stories (not that I'm sure which one is), as it rehashed a number of her usual themes without any unexpected twists. The caricature of the "evangelical" pastor was more mean-spirited than I'd prefer (though, yes, I'll admit that similar ministers do exist and can be overbearing). I can't say I figured out the "mystery" of what was inspiring the aliens to follow the commands in Christmas songs, either before or after the romantic leads did, though that may have been a failure on my part. I was trying to make and eat dinner after all.
Inside Job was a bit more fun: a professional psychic-fraud buster and his ex-movie star assistant encounter a popular psychic who seems to be accidentally channelling the skeptical journalist H.L. Mencken, insulting her/his audience in the process. Though I've read very little of Mencken's work, Willis's imitation sounded spot-on and made for some amusing scenes. Again, the depiction of religious conservatives rather over-emphasized the absurdity, but for whatever reason, the jokes were funnier and the plot was more compelling, so I feel I ended my tiny Willis-binge (preparatory to the big Willis-binge approaching, so stay tuned) on a high note.
The Country of the Pointed Firs is Sarah Orne Jewett’s most well known work, arguable either a novel or a collection of related short stories set in and around the coastal community of Dunnet Landing, Maine. The unnamed, first-person protagonist narrates from an outsider’s perspective, telling of her time among the locals as they shared their hospitality and stories—somewhat similar in tone and perspective to Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford. Jewett’s work is less humorous and more poetic, however, as the land- and seascape becomes a character in itself, figuring in each of the stories of the many different people who have made Dunnet Landing their home.
My edition included four related short stories (but in a separate section, not inserted by Cather, as in some editions)--“The Queen’s Twin,” “A Dunnet Sheperdess,” “The Foreigner,” and “William’s Wedding. The third was one that I read for a class on American Realism to Modernism (along with Jewett’s well known non-Dunnet Landing story, “The White Heron”) and was the story that made me want to read more of her work. She is often called one of the “local color” writers and not without good reason: her stories are very definitely focused on the region and its people, their singularities and their outlook. However, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t about human experience or are written in a near incomprehensible dialect; there is a dialect, but it’s fairly straightforward, and the idiosyncrasies of the townsfolk are (in general) not so exaggerated as to be merely strange stories with no bearing on the way people really live or behave in similar situations. All that is to say that I find this 1896 novel quite worthy of “classic” status and as well as a very lovely little book.
Edit:
Oh, what the heck, I went on a reading spree. The books were here, and I was here. They were short, and I don't have anything absolutely necessary to do this very evening, so . . .
The Rabbi's Cat was a rather interesting graphic novel, which I picked up at the library this afternoon because of the title. I like cats; Judaism interests me; graphic novels can be very nice. I didn't realize that the rabbi in question was from Algeria or that the story was set in the 1920s, so that made it even more worthwhile. The artistic style isn't quite my favorite, but it worked very well--especially with the titular cat himself, whose expressions and manner were familiar to a cat lover, while also clearly demonstrating his emotions and thoughts. Oh, and the cat talks. For a while. Which is a bit plus.
While talking (and in his thought-bubbles), the cat raises issues of what it means to be a believer in God in general and a Jew in particular. His arguments were pretty standard agnosticism, but it was interesting in context, as the traditional, yet open-minded rabbi encounters modernity in North Africa and Paris. Lots of interesting side notes on racial/ethnic relations, the different types of Judaism, and other cultural or historical elements also made their way into the story, and overall it was a fairly good read.
I'd also inter-library-loaned Connie Willis's 2007 Christmas novella All Seated on the Ground; unfortunately, it didn't arrive until after Christmas. Oh well. It wasn't my favorite of her Christmas stories (not that I'm sure which one is), as it rehashed a number of her usual themes without any unexpected twists. The caricature of the "evangelical" pastor was more mean-spirited than I'd prefer (though, yes, I'll admit that similar ministers do exist and can be overbearing). I can't say I figured out the "mystery" of what was inspiring the aliens to follow the commands in Christmas songs, either before or after the romantic leads did, though that may have been a failure on my part. I was trying to make and eat dinner after all.
Inside Job was a bit more fun: a professional psychic-fraud buster and his ex-movie star assistant encounter a popular psychic who seems to be accidentally channelling the skeptical journalist H.L. Mencken, insulting her/his audience in the process. Though I've read very little of Mencken's work, Willis's imitation sounded spot-on and made for some amusing scenes. Again, the depiction of religious conservatives rather over-emphasized the absurdity, but for whatever reason, the jokes were funnier and the plot was more compelling, so I feel I ended my tiny Willis-binge (preparatory to the big Willis-binge approaching, so stay tuned) on a high note.
26katiekrug
The Jewett book sounds lovely. I have never read any of her work but will keep an eye out now.
27InfoQuest
Katie, it was a lovely book, and I hope you do find and enjoy it. I would advise, though, not to read it if you're in the mood for a plot-driven story, because it definitely isn't that.
For my first non-fiction selection of the year, What Good is God was somewhat disappointing. For a journalistic armchair-theologian, Philip Yancey isn't half bad, and really this book wasn't bad either. However, from the promotional materials I'd read, I had the mistaken impression that this was a more serious response to the "new atheists" and their claims regarding Christianity and its futility or wrongheadedness, and what I found was a series of loosely connected musings and encouraging messages given to Christians around the world, often those facing persecution and difficulty. These talks did touch on the reasons why their faith was of value in hard times, but it was not in the apologetic vein and felt more like the rehashed speeches they were than a fully fleshed argument/thesis. As far as such speeches go, they were all quite good ones--the type I liked to listen to in chapel while at college--but since they were written for different occasions and audiences, Yancey often repeated the same ideas, sources, and quotes. That's all well and good when you're giving lots of different talks or writing lots of different articles, but when brought together in a single volume, it's more than a bit redundant. So, then, while I appreciated the book for what it was, I can't say it was as good as I hoped it would be or as good as it could have been.
Oh well. I've enjoyed the first 150 or so pages of Doctor Thorne, and The Skull Beneath the Skin is looking pretty appealing based on the first few pages, so I expect a happy-making post will be in the offing . . .
For my first non-fiction selection of the year, What Good is God was somewhat disappointing. For a journalistic armchair-theologian, Philip Yancey isn't half bad, and really this book wasn't bad either. However, from the promotional materials I'd read, I had the mistaken impression that this was a more serious response to the "new atheists" and their claims regarding Christianity and its futility or wrongheadedness, and what I found was a series of loosely connected musings and encouraging messages given to Christians around the world, often those facing persecution and difficulty. These talks did touch on the reasons why their faith was of value in hard times, but it was not in the apologetic vein and felt more like the rehashed speeches they were than a fully fleshed argument/thesis. As far as such speeches go, they were all quite good ones--the type I liked to listen to in chapel while at college--but since they were written for different occasions and audiences, Yancey often repeated the same ideas, sources, and quotes. That's all well and good when you're giving lots of different talks or writing lots of different articles, but when brought together in a single volume, it's more than a bit redundant. So, then, while I appreciated the book for what it was, I can't say it was as good as I hoped it would be or as good as it could have been.
Oh well. I've enjoyed the first 150 or so pages of Doctor Thorne, and The Skull Beneath the Skin is looking pretty appealing based on the first few pages, so I expect a happy-making post will be in the offing . . .
28InfoQuest
All right. I'm back. Sort of. Let's see if I can remember what I've read lately, at least enough to vaguely comment on them.
Prisoner's Base was my most recent audiobook "read," another fun Nero Wolfe mystery. In this one, Archie feels responsible when a potential client is murdered only hours after leaving his protection, and Wolfe is prodded into taking on the case, trying to unravel the mystery of why a towel company heiress was murdered only days before coming into her full inheritance--and, of course, by whom. The back of the audiobook case regretfully included a spoiler, which I will not repeat, but nevertheless I did not find the mystery too obvious and was somewhat surprised by the outcome. Overall, it was a very diverting story with well-done narration as usual.
I was not expecting much from Doctor Thorne, as many reviewers seem to find this one less engaging than the previous two. However, I did not find it so. Yes the main conflict is cliched: Frank Gresham, the squire's son, wants to marry Mary Thorne, the doctor's illegitimate niece. But, as his relatives continuously insist, he must "marry money," and no one but the doctor knows that Mary is likely to become the heiress of her other uncle, the nouveau riche contractor and severely ill alcoholic Sir Roger Scatcherd. And Trollope even admits at the beginning that he hasn't the heart to keep the lovers apart, so there's no real doubt that all obstacles to their marriage will ultimately be removed. But the characters are marvelous, their discussions are so lively and perfectly apt, and the diversions and secondary plots reveal so much about society and human interaction that it's worth the meandering. To be honest, I liked this one better than The Warden and, if not quite as much as Barchester Towers, at least very nearly as much. Great fun and well worth any amount of time spent on it.
Maskerade was the last Discworld book I have on the to-be-read shelves, and it was up to standard for the Witches' stories. In this adventure, Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax travel to Ankh Morpork to recruit a third member to their coven, young Agnes "Perdita" Nitt. She is a chorus girl in the old Opera house and finds herself right in the middle of a parody of Lloyd Webber's musical, with murder and mayhem aplenty. The humor varies from scene to scene, but it wasn't a bad parody (though not particularly applicable to the book) and mostly enjoyable, if not likely to become a favorite.
And finally (I think) there was The Skull Beneath the Skin, the second Cordelia Gray mystery. In the country house murder tradition, the suspects in the brutal murder of an aging actress who was being plagued by poison pen letters are ensconced in an offshore castle. I can't say that I "enjoyed" the story--the characters were all a bit too unpleasant for that--but it was a well thought out plot and the characterization quite excellent.
I think I'm caught up now, so it's time to start something new!
Prisoner's Base was my most recent audiobook "read," another fun Nero Wolfe mystery. In this one, Archie feels responsible when a potential client is murdered only hours after leaving his protection, and Wolfe is prodded into taking on the case, trying to unravel the mystery of why a towel company heiress was murdered only days before coming into her full inheritance--and, of course, by whom. The back of the audiobook case regretfully included a spoiler, which I will not repeat, but nevertheless I did not find the mystery too obvious and was somewhat surprised by the outcome. Overall, it was a very diverting story with well-done narration as usual.
I was not expecting much from Doctor Thorne, as many reviewers seem to find this one less engaging than the previous two. However, I did not find it so. Yes the main conflict is cliched: Frank Gresham, the squire's son, wants to marry Mary Thorne, the doctor's illegitimate niece. But, as his relatives continuously insist, he must "marry money," and no one but the doctor knows that Mary is likely to become the heiress of her other uncle, the nouveau riche contractor and severely ill alcoholic Sir Roger Scatcherd. And Trollope even admits at the beginning that he hasn't the heart to keep the lovers apart, so there's no real doubt that all obstacles to their marriage will ultimately be removed. But the characters are marvelous, their discussions are so lively and perfectly apt, and the diversions and secondary plots reveal so much about society and human interaction that it's worth the meandering. To be honest, I liked this one better than The Warden and, if not quite as much as Barchester Towers, at least very nearly as much. Great fun and well worth any amount of time spent on it.
Maskerade was the last Discworld book I have on the to-be-read shelves, and it was up to standard for the Witches' stories. In this adventure, Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax travel to Ankh Morpork to recruit a third member to their coven, young Agnes "Perdita" Nitt. She is a chorus girl in the old Opera house and finds herself right in the middle of a parody of Lloyd Webber's musical, with murder and mayhem aplenty. The humor varies from scene to scene, but it wasn't a bad parody (though not particularly applicable to the book) and mostly enjoyable, if not likely to become a favorite.
And finally (I think) there was The Skull Beneath the Skin, the second Cordelia Gray mystery. In the country house murder tradition, the suspects in the brutal murder of an aging actress who was being plagued by poison pen letters are ensconced in an offshore castle. I can't say that I "enjoyed" the story--the characters were all a bit too unpleasant for that--but it was a well thought out plot and the characterization quite excellent.
I think I'm caught up now, so it's time to start something new!
30InfoQuest
Back again with two more!
Admissions first--Plain Kate was the first book in a long time left me sobbing through the last chapter and beyond the final page. It's the story of a teenage girl (see title) whose father has died, leaving her an unlicensed woodworker with uncanny carving abilities in a town where pestilence and natural disasters are blamed on witches. She is, of course, suspect, and a series of mysterious encounters with Lenay, a real (male) witch, lead to the fulfillment of her heart's desire and as well as the destruction of her hopes. Along the way, she is befriended by a caravan of Roamers, learns a bit about magic, and meets a vampire-ghost. Yup. Creepy stuff.
I neglected to read the dedication--admittedly it was rather hidden on the copyright page)--and so did not realize I was reading a book about grieving until midway through. Because, honestly, that's what the story is about--much more so than an adventure story about an orphan girl's journeys through a medieval world in a quest to regain her shadow. In this story, everyone has lost or will lose someone, and each person's response to that loss is unique and heartfelt. This doesn't mean that the story is unremitting sorrow, but that is mostly due to the amusing, ironic, and seemingly authentic commentary of Kate's cat, Taggle who (minor spoiler) gains the ability to talk. As a major cat lover, I must admit that he was probably my favorite character, and that, and the end of the story, I had to grab my own orphaned grey-ish tabby and cry into his fur. Ralph was remarkably sympathetic. What a good kitty.
So, yes, I would heartily recommend Plain Kate to young adult fantasy readings, cat lovers, and--well, pretty much anyone in the mood for that sort of thing. It's not sappy, and it's not too happy, but it's really very good. And I want to get a copy.
Then, to starting attempting some "literary fiction," I read The Echo Maker by Richard Powers, mostly because one of my English professors posted briefly about it on her blog. She said she couldn't "think of a fiction writer who writes more effectively about the implications of science and technology," though she said this wasn't a "perfect" book--whatever that is. It did win the National Book Award, after all. Of course, Librarything was very highly certain that I wouldn't like it. Well, turns out I'm somewhere in between.
Anyway, Mark and Karin are siblings from a dysfunctional Nebraskan family--she tried to become "normal" and "successful," never quite making it, and he stayed home, got a dead-end job, and hung out with his friends. When Mark has a near-fatal car accident, Karin returns to her hometown to help him recover, only to find that her brother is suffering from a rare disorder that leaves him convinced that she is an imposter. She eventually seeks the aid of Dr. Gerald Weber, a famous neurology expert and writer, as Mark becomes more and more certain that the conspiracy hinges on a mysterious note found at his bedside in the hospital. And Karin becomes involved with two old boyfriends on either side of local dispute about water rights and the annual sandhill crane migration.
Sounds interesting, huh? Well, it is--sort of. I mean, the neurological aspects are fascinating, as are the details about the cranes. The mystery of the note is intriguing, as are the details of the crash. But, really, the characters and their relationships are so very "literary" that I wanted to holler at them. It's not that they didn't act like real people, per se; it's just that they acted like people act in "important" contemporary novels, full of angst and memories and conflicted emotions and sexual urges and zeitgeist-y issues. Yes, true, everyone is full of all those things in real life, but do they honestly all have to affect all the characters all the time? It did get more than a bit irritating. Probably the worse was the barely fictionalized Oliver Sacks character, whose existential and professional crisis seemed to materialize solely to complicate his character and precipitate an unnecessary and somewhat absurd extramarital attraction/affair/whatever. Of course, some of his issues brought up good questions about the limitations of science and the voyeurism of research and all that, but couldn't that have been done a bit less dramatically?
All that to say that, while I'm not panning the book--and I would recommend it for people interested in neurology and its implications--it was just too full of the things that make me dislike contemporary literary fiction. I might give Powers another try some other time, though, because he does write very well and did introduce rather technical but fascinating science into a mostly engaging storyline (if not for those dratted characters!).
I'm also finding Eifelheim--science fiction featuring aliens in medieval Germany--a rather mixed bag, but since there's more than half the book left, we'll have to wait and see.
Edit:
Gah! Double-posted and I forgot about The toll-gate! For some reason, I thought I'd already commented on it. Suffice it to say that, while not my favorite of Heyer's more adventurous stories (that would be The Talisman Ring, at present), it was a fun story. Capt. John Staple, an excessively tall and vigorous fellow, comes back from the Napoleonic Wars in search of further adventure and finds it in the mystery of an abandoned toll-gate. He also finds an unanticipated (and reciprocated) romance with the local squire's daughter, a similarly tall and vigorous female, who nevertheless is something of a damsel in distress. And, with the help of a highwayman, a Bow Street Runner, a few domestics, and a young orphan, the captain solves the mystery and wins the girl--not necessarily in that order. As always, Heyer is grand, filling the novel with lovely period slang, roguish patois, and vivid idioms. Naturally, the romance is very obvious and very over-the-top, but for whatever reason, I don't tend to mind that very much, so long as the language and story are brilliant enough. Which they were in this instance. Maybe not the absolute best place to start with Heyer--since it is a bit stilted at times and not quite representative of her usual work--but still very good.
Admissions first--Plain Kate was the first book in a long time left me sobbing through the last chapter and beyond the final page. It's the story of a teenage girl (see title) whose father has died, leaving her an unlicensed woodworker with uncanny carving abilities in a town where pestilence and natural disasters are blamed on witches. She is, of course, suspect, and a series of mysterious encounters with Lenay, a real (male) witch, lead to the fulfillment of her heart's desire and as well as the destruction of her hopes. Along the way, she is befriended by a caravan of Roamers, learns a bit about magic, and meets a vampire-ghost. Yup. Creepy stuff.
I neglected to read the dedication--admittedly it was rather hidden on the copyright page)--and so did not realize I was reading a book about grieving until midway through. Because, honestly, that's what the story is about--much more so than an adventure story about an orphan girl's journeys through a medieval world in a quest to regain her shadow. In this story, everyone has lost or will lose someone, and each person's response to that loss is unique and heartfelt. This doesn't mean that the story is unremitting sorrow, but that is mostly due to the amusing, ironic, and seemingly authentic commentary of Kate's cat, Taggle who (minor spoiler) gains the ability to talk. As a major cat lover, I must admit that he was probably my favorite character, and that, and the end of the story, I had to grab my own orphaned grey-ish tabby and cry into his fur. Ralph was remarkably sympathetic. What a good kitty.
So, yes, I would heartily recommend Plain Kate to young adult fantasy readings, cat lovers, and--well, pretty much anyone in the mood for that sort of thing. It's not sappy, and it's not too happy, but it's really very good. And I want to get a copy.
Then, to starting attempting some "literary fiction," I read The Echo Maker by Richard Powers, mostly because one of my English professors posted briefly about it on her blog. She said she couldn't "think of a fiction writer who writes more effectively about the implications of science and technology," though she said this wasn't a "perfect" book--whatever that is. It did win the National Book Award, after all. Of course, Librarything was very highly certain that I wouldn't like it. Well, turns out I'm somewhere in between.
Anyway, Mark and Karin are siblings from a dysfunctional Nebraskan family--she tried to become "normal" and "successful," never quite making it, and he stayed home, got a dead-end job, and hung out with his friends. When Mark has a near-fatal car accident, Karin returns to her hometown to help him recover, only to find that her brother is suffering from a rare disorder that leaves him convinced that she is an imposter. She eventually seeks the aid of Dr. Gerald Weber, a famous neurology expert and writer, as Mark becomes more and more certain that the conspiracy hinges on a mysterious note found at his bedside in the hospital. And Karin becomes involved with two old boyfriends on either side of local dispute about water rights and the annual sandhill crane migration.
Sounds interesting, huh? Well, it is--sort of. I mean, the neurological aspects are fascinating, as are the details about the cranes. The mystery of the note is intriguing, as are the details of the crash. But, really, the characters and their relationships are so very "literary" that I wanted to holler at them. It's not that they didn't act like real people, per se; it's just that they acted like people act in "important" contemporary novels, full of angst and memories and conflicted emotions and sexual urges and zeitgeist-y issues. Yes, true, everyone is full of all those things in real life, but do they honestly all have to affect all the characters all the time? It did get more than a bit irritating. Probably the worse was the barely fictionalized Oliver Sacks character, whose existential and professional crisis seemed to materialize solely to complicate his character and precipitate an unnecessary and somewhat absurd extramarital attraction/affair/whatever. Of course, some of his issues brought up good questions about the limitations of science and the voyeurism of research and all that, but couldn't that have been done a bit less dramatically?
All that to say that, while I'm not panning the book--and I would recommend it for people interested in neurology and its implications--it was just too full of the things that make me dislike contemporary literary fiction. I might give Powers another try some other time, though, because he does write very well and did introduce rather technical but fascinating science into a mostly engaging storyline (if not for those dratted characters!).
I'm also finding Eifelheim--science fiction featuring aliens in medieval Germany--a rather mixed bag, but since there's more than half the book left, we'll have to wait and see.
Edit:
Gah! Double-posted and I forgot about The toll-gate! For some reason, I thought I'd already commented on it. Suffice it to say that, while not my favorite of Heyer's more adventurous stories (that would be The Talisman Ring, at present), it was a fun story. Capt. John Staple, an excessively tall and vigorous fellow, comes back from the Napoleonic Wars in search of further adventure and finds it in the mystery of an abandoned toll-gate. He also finds an unanticipated (and reciprocated) romance with the local squire's daughter, a similarly tall and vigorous female, who nevertheless is something of a damsel in distress. And, with the help of a highwayman, a Bow Street Runner, a few domestics, and a young orphan, the captain solves the mystery and wins the girl--not necessarily in that order. As always, Heyer is grand, filling the novel with lovely period slang, roguish patois, and vivid idioms. Naturally, the romance is very obvious and very over-the-top, but for whatever reason, I don't tend to mind that very much, so long as the language and story are brilliant enough. Which they were in this instance. Maybe not the absolute best place to start with Heyer--since it is a bit stilted at times and not quite representative of her usual work--but still very good.
31InfoQuest
Yes, I did fall off the face of the earth . . . that's my excuse. So there!
Okay, so Eifelheim did end as a mixed bag for me. Basically, it was a first contact story--aliens crash-landed in medieval Germany just before the plague arrived and were befriended by the local priest and his lord, but after their deaths, the place became anathema as rumors of devil haunting remained. Meanwhile, in the not-too-distant future, a historian and a physicist try to uncover the truth behind the historical accounts.
On the positive side, I loved the depiction of medieval Germany: lots of historical detail, a balanced portrayal of religion, a smidgen of Deutsch. What more can you ask for? Add to that a very good protagonist in the person of Father Dietrich, a number of well-drawn minor characters (both human and alien), and you've got yourself great character and setting. The plot for the historical section isn't too bad either, although it suffers from meandering and extraneous minor characters.
On the negative side, I disliked the pretty much all of the "present" storyline--it seemed very low-stakes and, frankly, boring. The characters were unappealing stereotypes of single-minded scientists, and the first-person narration by a character who was only present in the final scene really didn't make sense to me. Why bother first person at all? Heck, why bother with anything more than a frame-story, briefly opening and closing the novel? I would go so far as to say why bother with the non-medieval part at all, except that then we wouldn't know why it was called Eifelheim or what became of the place--though I could have lived without it. I would have rather ended back in the 14th century with Father Dietrich and the plague victims . . .
Anyway, it wasn't a bad story at all--at times it approached Doomsday Book as a moving and sympathetic portrayal of the era, and I was very interested in the philosophical discussions between the Krenkish and human characters. But it could have stood with a bit of editing and some judicious cutting back of the "present-day" segment.
Okay, now that I've babbled on and on--now for another book! Or two! So, I picked up The Edmund Crispin Treasury Volume One, because The Moving Toyshop was decent enough to merit a second attempt at Gervase Fen, the amateur detective and Oxford English professor, and I read The Case of the Gilded Fly and Holy Disorders. Neither was particularly good, either as a mystery or a "novel of manners" (which I like my Golden Age mysteries to be, if possible), but still, they were a novelty, and I can say I've tried given Crispin a fair go. Can't be sure I'll keep doing it, but we'll see.
I finally got around to Monsters of Men the day after it was due at the library, but since there's a three day grace period (and my fines are waived anyway, since I'm an employee), that was fine. It's the final installment in the Chaos Walking trilogy, featuring Todd and Viola as the sympathetic young adult protagonists caught in between a civil war on a distant planet, where men are afflicted by the "Noise" which broadcasts their every thought in vivid detail, and the population is split between the domineering dictator Mayor Prentiss and the fanatical anarchist Mistress Coyle. Oh, and there's a huge army of sentient native beings (the Spackle). And they're a sort of hive-mind. And they've only got a few weeks to fix the mess before a fleet of second-wave settlers arrives. Of course, they do make it, and the polarizing figures are destroyed, and peace is made with the natives, and there's enough collateral damage to make it worth our collective whiles. I can't say I didn't like Monsters of Men as a finale to the series, or that it didn't adequately capture the horror of war (so far as I understand it from books and such) and the many shades of gray of every side of any conflict. I was, in fact, quite impressed by Ness's ability to make me almost sympathetic toward Mayor Prentiss (not so much for Mistress Coyle, alas) and appreciative of the very different perspective of the Spackle and their eventual leader, the Return. But this wasn't a book or a series that I felt particularly close to, and that's just a personal feeling that isn't quite explainable.
Finnikin of the Rock, however, was the sort of book I felt that way towards. And I can't explain why, either. It's a fantasy novel, written by an award-winning Australian author of contemporary fiction, but not the sort of fantasy novel you read for the magic or the world-building or even--I dare say--for the plot, because it's a fairly standard one, in a way. The heir to the throne must be found and restored to the throne, in order to heal a broken and fragmented country (Lumatere) whose people are exiled to and shunned (at the least) by neighboring kingdoms.
Nineteen year old Finnikin is the son of the former king's Captain of the Guard, assistant to the ci-devant First Man (prime minister, methinks), and childhood best friend of the allegedly murdered heir to the throne. He and the First Man are led to Evanjelin, a young fellow exile who claims to have firsthand dream-knowledge of the heir and the inhabitants of the cut-off kingdom, and she manages to acquire their aid in finding and enlisting the services of various important figures among the Lumaterans scattered near and far through the often-hostile kingdoms. Yes, there's wandering, but it's not LotR-level detail, so it's not as meandering as it sounds.
Because really, this is a character-driven novel. We, the readers, never doubt that the requisite group will be assembled, that the heir will be found (whoever that might happen to be), and that they will all end up back in Lumatere in the end. However, we do wonder how the relationships will turn out (and, no, not just the quasi-romantic ones), and what will result from the weighty memories and sufferings of the survivors. And sufferings there definitely are: Marchetta seems to have compiled a list of human-rights violations and checked them off one by one--discouraged immigration, language discrimination, forced exile, inhumane prisons and interment camps, human trafficking, rape, religious persecution, pandemic disease, genocide. Actually, I've likely overlooked a few. But all of them arise "naturally" from the situation and story, and while the perspective of the perpetrators is not fully explored (the scope of the characters and plot is a bit limited for that--this isn't an epic or a series), the many reactions of the survivors are, and their lives are made to feel important. Several times the characters talk about doing what needs to be done, and sometimes the choices they make are uncomfortable to the reader--but somehow they become and remain sympathetic. For a few reasons, I can't help but compare this story to Megan Whalen Turner's four-volume (so far) series, especially The Queen of Attolia (my personal favorite). The comparison is favorable: both of them are very good in very different ways, though similar in others (some of which would be spoilers).
But, in any event, it's getting late here, and I'm getting tired. And I've things yet to be done. And another book to mention. Just a closing thought on Finnikin of the Rock--it's highly recommended.
In a Sunburned Country was a book by Bill Bryson that I picked up last month, because it was there and I was there and I've very much enjoyed his previous books that I've read. (For some reason, that sentence seems very wrong. Oh well.) And it was well worth the $2.50 or so, a veritable treasure-trove of Australian anecdote and travel memoir. Bryson is either the most easily astonished and pleased person in the world, or he just happens upon the most astonishing and pleasant things in the world, because honestly, he must have been either astonished or pleased (in various synonymic ways) every other page. But he describes those astonishing and pleasant things so marvelously and is so dashedly self-deprecating about every minor incident that it's really grand fun. Yes, the humor is more "adult" than I'd prefer at times, and yes, some of the incidents could be halved in word- or page-count without much loss, but overall it was a very informative and entertaining read, as I've come to expect from Bryson.
As of earlier today, I'm working on The Egoist by George Meredith--a Victorian I previously knew by name only. Fairly tough going so far, but the concepts and characters are fascinating, if you can only get past the prose . . . It's really something, and I'm not yet sure in which way I mean that.
Okay, so Eifelheim did end as a mixed bag for me. Basically, it was a first contact story--aliens crash-landed in medieval Germany just before the plague arrived and were befriended by the local priest and his lord, but after their deaths, the place became anathema as rumors of devil haunting remained. Meanwhile, in the not-too-distant future, a historian and a physicist try to uncover the truth behind the historical accounts.
On the positive side, I loved the depiction of medieval Germany: lots of historical detail, a balanced portrayal of religion, a smidgen of Deutsch. What more can you ask for? Add to that a very good protagonist in the person of Father Dietrich, a number of well-drawn minor characters (both human and alien), and you've got yourself great character and setting. The plot for the historical section isn't too bad either, although it suffers from meandering and extraneous minor characters.
On the negative side, I disliked the pretty much all of the "present" storyline--it seemed very low-stakes and, frankly, boring. The characters were unappealing stereotypes of single-minded scientists, and the first-person narration by a character who was only present in the final scene really didn't make sense to me. Why bother first person at all? Heck, why bother with anything more than a frame-story, briefly opening and closing the novel? I would go so far as to say why bother with the non-medieval part at all, except that then we wouldn't know why it was called Eifelheim or what became of the place--though I could have lived without it. I would have rather ended back in the 14th century with Father Dietrich and the plague victims . . .
Anyway, it wasn't a bad story at all--at times it approached Doomsday Book as a moving and sympathetic portrayal of the era, and I was very interested in the philosophical discussions between the Krenkish and human characters. But it could have stood with a bit of editing and some judicious cutting back of the "present-day" segment.
Okay, now that I've babbled on and on--now for another book! Or two! So, I picked up The Edmund Crispin Treasury Volume One, because The Moving Toyshop was decent enough to merit a second attempt at Gervase Fen, the amateur detective and Oxford English professor, and I read The Case of the Gilded Fly and Holy Disorders. Neither was particularly good, either as a mystery or a "novel of manners" (which I like my Golden Age mysteries to be, if possible), but still, they were a novelty, and I can say I've tried given Crispin a fair go. Can't be sure I'll keep doing it, but we'll see.
I finally got around to Monsters of Men the day after it was due at the library, but since there's a three day grace period (and my fines are waived anyway, since I'm an employee), that was fine. It's the final installment in the Chaos Walking trilogy, featuring Todd and Viola as the sympathetic young adult protagonists caught in between a civil war on a distant planet, where men are afflicted by the "Noise" which broadcasts their every thought in vivid detail, and the population is split between the domineering dictator Mayor Prentiss and the fanatical anarchist Mistress Coyle. Oh, and there's a huge army of sentient native beings (the Spackle). And they're a sort of hive-mind. And they've only got a few weeks to fix the mess before a fleet of second-wave settlers arrives. Of course, they do make it, and the polarizing figures are destroyed, and peace is made with the natives, and there's enough collateral damage to make it worth our collective whiles. I can't say I didn't like Monsters of Men as a finale to the series, or that it didn't adequately capture the horror of war (so far as I understand it from books and such) and the many shades of gray of every side of any conflict. I was, in fact, quite impressed by Ness's ability to make me almost sympathetic toward Mayor Prentiss (not so much for Mistress Coyle, alas) and appreciative of the very different perspective of the Spackle and their eventual leader, the Return. But this wasn't a book or a series that I felt particularly close to, and that's just a personal feeling that isn't quite explainable.
Finnikin of the Rock, however, was the sort of book I felt that way towards. And I can't explain why, either. It's a fantasy novel, written by an award-winning Australian author of contemporary fiction, but not the sort of fantasy novel you read for the magic or the world-building or even--I dare say--for the plot, because it's a fairly standard one, in a way. The heir to the throne must be found and restored to the throne, in order to heal a broken and fragmented country (Lumatere) whose people are exiled to and shunned (at the least) by neighboring kingdoms.
Nineteen year old Finnikin is the son of the former king's Captain of the Guard, assistant to the ci-devant First Man (prime minister, methinks), and childhood best friend of the allegedly murdered heir to the throne. He and the First Man are led to Evanjelin, a young fellow exile who claims to have firsthand dream-knowledge of the heir and the inhabitants of the cut-off kingdom, and she manages to acquire their aid in finding and enlisting the services of various important figures among the Lumaterans scattered near and far through the often-hostile kingdoms. Yes, there's wandering, but it's not LotR-level detail, so it's not as meandering as it sounds.
Because really, this is a character-driven novel. We, the readers, never doubt that the requisite group will be assembled, that the heir will be found (whoever that might happen to be), and that they will all end up back in Lumatere in the end. However, we do wonder how the relationships will turn out (and, no, not just the quasi-romantic ones), and what will result from the weighty memories and sufferings of the survivors. And sufferings there definitely are: Marchetta seems to have compiled a list of human-rights violations and checked them off one by one--discouraged immigration, language discrimination, forced exile, inhumane prisons and interment camps, human trafficking, rape, religious persecution, pandemic disease, genocide. Actually, I've likely overlooked a few. But all of them arise "naturally" from the situation and story, and while the perspective of the perpetrators is not fully explored (the scope of the characters and plot is a bit limited for that--this isn't an epic or a series), the many reactions of the survivors are, and their lives are made to feel important. Several times the characters talk about doing what needs to be done, and sometimes the choices they make are uncomfortable to the reader--but somehow they become and remain sympathetic. For a few reasons, I can't help but compare this story to Megan Whalen Turner's four-volume (so far) series, especially The Queen of Attolia (my personal favorite). The comparison is favorable: both of them are very good in very different ways, though similar in others (some of which would be spoilers).
But, in any event, it's getting late here, and I'm getting tired. And I've things yet to be done. And another book to mention. Just a closing thought on Finnikin of the Rock--it's highly recommended.
In a Sunburned Country was a book by Bill Bryson that I picked up last month, because it was there and I was there and I've very much enjoyed his previous books that I've read. (For some reason, that sentence seems very wrong. Oh well.) And it was well worth the $2.50 or so, a veritable treasure-trove of Australian anecdote and travel memoir. Bryson is either the most easily astonished and pleased person in the world, or he just happens upon the most astonishing and pleasant things in the world, because honestly, he must have been either astonished or pleased (in various synonymic ways) every other page. But he describes those astonishing and pleasant things so marvelously and is so dashedly self-deprecating about every minor incident that it's really grand fun. Yes, the humor is more "adult" than I'd prefer at times, and yes, some of the incidents could be halved in word- or page-count without much loss, but overall it was a very informative and entertaining read, as I've come to expect from Bryson.
As of earlier today, I'm working on The Egoist by George Meredith--a Victorian I previously knew by name only. Fairly tough going so far, but the concepts and characters are fascinating, if you can only get past the prose . . . It's really something, and I'm not yet sure in which way I mean that.
32DeltaQueen50
Love your reviews! Plain Kate was already on my wishlist - now, I think I will have to move it up.
I love Georgette Heyer and have yet to read The Talisman Ring, but of course it's on my wishlist! The Toll Gate is on my TBR shelves so I have that one to enjoy in the immediate future, although my copy is a little tattered, torn and, worst of all, marked up. I may have to treat myself to a new copy.
I love Georgette Heyer and have yet to read The Talisman Ring, but of course it's on my wishlist! The Toll Gate is on my TBR shelves so I have that one to enjoy in the immediate future, although my copy is a little tattered, torn and, worst of all, marked up. I may have to treat myself to a new copy.
33VisibleGhost
Uh-Oh!! A fire-breathing dragon seems to have immolated the InfoQuest.
34InfoQuest
Erm, it was rather more of a self-immolation . . . I had mentioned above that I was reading The Egoist, so it seemed only rational to refrain from posting once more until I could report it completed. Alas, alack, and Alaska! but I was unable to read it for longer than half an hour at a sitting--really the prose was far too dense for my (apparently rather more dense) skull. Of course, it might have my my particular copy, a lovely, but undoubtedly tiny little hardcover with tissue-thin pages. It seemed like I never got any farther through it until I was nearly done! Anyhow, I was glad I read it, because it's quite an interesting set of character studies, with an Austen-esque plot and some really lovely passages and keen psychological insights. Actually, I'd say Meredith out Austens Austen, in many respects (other than creating attractive heroes, of which, I am loath to say, there really weren't any).
So, enough of Meredith. Perhaps I shall try something else of his in future; perhaps not. Suffice it to say, I've bitten off rather more than I could ever wish to masticate, insofar as book "reviewing" goes. We'll just have the highlights (and lowlights), shall we?
Moving top down, my eye alights on Guy Delisle's trio of graphic memoir/travelogues on repressive Eastern countries. They were all quite good, though I must say the first, Pyongyang was probably the best, in that the cultural shock was most vividly and (at times) humorously depicted. Besides, North Korea is seemingly one of the strangest societies ever, so there's plenty of material. (Actually, this book has gotten me interested, so I'm reading a collection of essays on life there.) So--good and recommended.
Unfortunately, not so much for Among Others. I've read lovely things about it, and I'd really enjoyed Walton's Tooth and Claw, a dragonized retelling of Trollope's Framley Parsonage, so I thought I'd give it a try. Well, I think I'm not the intended audience for this particular book: it's all about a teenaged girl whose life experience are inextricably wrapped up in her reading of science fiction (with a few fantasy asides that were so casual that I really wondered whether or not they might all be in her head--the story would be quite believable, and actually far more interesting, if they were). I, unlike the heroine and presumed audience, did not start reading science fiction until well into high school and still have not read very much, though I'm working on it. So, probably more my fault than the author's, but rather a letdown either way.
Midwinter was grand fun, on the other hand, and just the sort of thing John Buchan does best--a grand romp through affairs of national import. I wouldn't say they're thrillers, exactly, as they're such fun--and I'm inclined to dislike contemporary thrillers, at least--but I suppose they're proto-thrillers. Anyhow, this particular one was set during the infamous Jacobite revolt which pretty much ended Bonnie Prince Charlie's chances at the English throne. I appreciated Buchan's more evenhanded approach in dealing with what can be such an over-romanticised lost cause. I mean, heck, I love over-the-top Jacobite songs as much as the next person (I know several verses of "Charlie is My Darlin'" and " and very much prefer to sing "The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond" as if being spoken by a Jacobite on the eve of his execution), but dash it all, if it isn't much more complicated than that. The "Bonnie Prince" probably wouldn't have made such a very much better king than any of the Georges, anyhow. Well, that's that. Midwinter also has the added bonus of including a youngish Samuel Johnson, that very interesting fellow, as one of the characters. Sehr interessant und toll. So there.
I shall skim over the Jorkins tales of Lord Dunsany--some were very neat, others only so-so, but overall quite nice--and The Island of Doctor Moreau, which is probably more interesting to someone who isn't both disgusted by that level of animal cruelty and utterly humorized (if it only I could think of a real verb that kept the darn parallelism going) by the concept of vivisection leading to that level of alteration. It just wouldn't work, blast it! Anyhow, the story itself would make for very interesting discussion/analysis, but I frankly didn't find it all that much fun. Henrietta Sees It Through was delightful, but probably more engaging to someone who read the first volume, which I intend (eventually) to do.
Which brings us to the mysteries. I've read quite a few, all of which were fair to middling. I read all three of the Chet and Bernie mysteries over a few weeks, just because I'd heard they were fun, and they were. I'm not much of a dog person (though I do have a soft spot for larger ones, so long as they're moderately well behaved and like to go on long hikes), but Chet's voice is grand fun. It's a gimmick, but it works. Flavia's voice is also a gimmick, really--I mean, honestly, what sort of eleven year old is she, anyway?--but also amusing, if not quite my favorite, since the characterizations are just too beyond belief to engage more than half my attention. And, of course, Archie Goodwin is the reason I read the Nero Wolfe mysteries. Wolfe is just your average brilliant, egoistical detective, and Archie is your average moderately hard-bitten wise guy, but I love the mix, especially on audiobook.
Gah! Only half done! That's it, I've got to move faster. Let's see, real highlights. Um. I'm not sure if I really liked Sapphique or not. On the one hand, it was the sequel to Incarceron, which I irrationally loved; on the other hand, it appears to be the conclusion of the series/whatever, and as such doesn't seem quite satisfactory, though at this point it's hard to say/remember why. Oh well. I did like From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler far more than I ever would have expected from the dullness of The Second Mrs. Giaconda--which I have to teach again next year, more's the pity. And the "modernization" of Jane Eyre worked in some respects, but really, really didn't in others: why on earth would the Rochester-stand-in feel compelled to become a bigamist, when he obviously could keep the Jane-stand-in as a live-in girlfriend? In the book, he had to marry her because she wouldn't become his mistress, but in this one, it's pretty darn obvious she would have been satisfied with that. Whatever. It annoyed me. And I think old rock stars marrying college drop-outs are just as uncomfortable to root for as rich old men marrying young governesses. Oh well.
Cousin Kate was not the best Heyer ever. Way! Too! Many! Exclamation! Marks! Almost every line of dialogue ended in one! Literally! And I say the "insane guy" issue from a mile away! And I hoped against hope that he would end up to be a decent guy, if only to prevent the obvious! But alas! Spoiler! The insane guy conveniently murdered his obnoxious, romance-blocking mother! And then himself! And everyone was happy! Well, happy enough! Except the dead guy! Who probably would have been pretty normal with some now readily-available psych meds! And a counselor to help him get over his suffocating mother! Too bad!
I did finally also get through a seemingly endless collection of early Wodehouse school stories, which were really very good specimens of the type, but since I've never understood cricket and am the sort of person who thinks organized sports are the devil, they just weren't my thing. Just to clear things up, the titular novel/la The Pothunters has nothing to do with a particular quasi-medicinal hallucinogenic substance, but with the theft of sports prizes--and is not a very fun story, in any case, as the characters are mostly interchangeable and not particularly amusing.
So far, my science fiction category has been going fairly well. The Windup Girl was absolutely stunning: both in good and bad ways, though the former outweighed the latter. However, I do feel compelled to note that the quite vivid descriptions of violence against the title character are more than a bit disturbing (intentionally, but still). I would wholeheartedly recommend it, regardless, because the world is so amazingly rendered, the multiple perspectives are handled so well, the plot is excellent, and the scientifically based future is astonishing. And just because it was a really good book. Yup. Home Fires is also very good--I'd heard Gene Wolfe is important and quite literary, and so was surprised to find it very, very readable and interesting, both thematically and as science fiction. I'm not sure I always understood what was going on, but I never felt completely lost, so I kept going and didn't get stuck. I'll have to try Wolfe again sometime soon, I think.
And of course the awesomeness that was One of Our Thursdays is Missing must be commented on. Fforde is a veritable font of puns, allusions, and every random sort of wordplay imaginable. This particular volume didn't ever involve the "real" Thursday, to any degree, but her more pliable fictional counterpart was nonetheless a marvelous tour-guide to the new geographical layout of the BookWorld and the conspiracy/mystery was just as engaging. Gah. The only really awful thing is that there won't be another one for a while. Bother.
The Lucifer Effect was fascinating as well, as it's mostly a book length discussion of the Stanford Prison Experiment, which was, of course, one of the more interesting aspects of Intro to Psych (and, actually, Sociology 101, if I recall aright). Zimbardo tries to be somewhat apologetic about what happened, but obviously he finds the results just as fascinating as most PSYCH 101 students . . . And the application to similar unfortunate situations (yes, that's a euphemism) in Iraq, while rather too politically polarizing to be my cup of tea, were interesting as extensions/case studies.
And I read other books. And I'm reading other books. And I've probably forgotten other books. And will forget more. But I'll try to keep up. At least, somewhat.
So, enough of Meredith. Perhaps I shall try something else of his in future; perhaps not. Suffice it to say, I've bitten off rather more than I could ever wish to masticate, insofar as book "reviewing" goes. We'll just have the highlights (and lowlights), shall we?
Moving top down, my eye alights on Guy Delisle's trio of graphic memoir/travelogues on repressive Eastern countries. They were all quite good, though I must say the first, Pyongyang was probably the best, in that the cultural shock was most vividly and (at times) humorously depicted. Besides, North Korea is seemingly one of the strangest societies ever, so there's plenty of material. (Actually, this book has gotten me interested, so I'm reading a collection of essays on life there.) So--good and recommended.
Unfortunately, not so much for Among Others. I've read lovely things about it, and I'd really enjoyed Walton's Tooth and Claw, a dragonized retelling of Trollope's Framley Parsonage, so I thought I'd give it a try. Well, I think I'm not the intended audience for this particular book: it's all about a teenaged girl whose life experience are inextricably wrapped up in her reading of science fiction (with a few fantasy asides that were so casual that I really wondered whether or not they might all be in her head--the story would be quite believable, and actually far more interesting, if they were). I, unlike the heroine and presumed audience, did not start reading science fiction until well into high school and still have not read very much, though I'm working on it. So, probably more my fault than the author's, but rather a letdown either way.
Midwinter was grand fun, on the other hand, and just the sort of thing John Buchan does best--a grand romp through affairs of national import. I wouldn't say they're thrillers, exactly, as they're such fun--and I'm inclined to dislike contemporary thrillers, at least--but I suppose they're proto-thrillers. Anyhow, this particular one was set during the infamous Jacobite revolt which pretty much ended Bonnie Prince Charlie's chances at the English throne. I appreciated Buchan's more evenhanded approach in dealing with what can be such an over-romanticised lost cause. I mean, heck, I love over-the-top Jacobite songs as much as the next person (I know several verses of "Charlie is My Darlin'" and " and very much prefer to sing "The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond" as if being spoken by a Jacobite on the eve of his execution), but dash it all, if it isn't much more complicated than that. The "Bonnie Prince" probably wouldn't have made such a very much better king than any of the Georges, anyhow. Well, that's that. Midwinter also has the added bonus of including a youngish Samuel Johnson, that very interesting fellow, as one of the characters. Sehr interessant und toll. So there.
I shall skim over the Jorkins tales of Lord Dunsany--some were very neat, others only so-so, but overall quite nice--and The Island of Doctor Moreau, which is probably more interesting to someone who isn't both disgusted by that level of animal cruelty and utterly humorized (if it only I could think of a real verb that kept the darn parallelism going) by the concept of vivisection leading to that level of alteration. It just wouldn't work, blast it! Anyhow, the story itself would make for very interesting discussion/analysis, but I frankly didn't find it all that much fun. Henrietta Sees It Through was delightful, but probably more engaging to someone who read the first volume, which I intend (eventually) to do.
Which brings us to the mysteries. I've read quite a few, all of which were fair to middling. I read all three of the Chet and Bernie mysteries over a few weeks, just because I'd heard they were fun, and they were. I'm not much of a dog person (though I do have a soft spot for larger ones, so long as they're moderately well behaved and like to go on long hikes), but Chet's voice is grand fun. It's a gimmick, but it works. Flavia's voice is also a gimmick, really--I mean, honestly, what sort of eleven year old is she, anyway?--but also amusing, if not quite my favorite, since the characterizations are just too beyond belief to engage more than half my attention. And, of course, Archie Goodwin is the reason I read the Nero Wolfe mysteries. Wolfe is just your average brilliant, egoistical detective, and Archie is your average moderately hard-bitten wise guy, but I love the mix, especially on audiobook.
Gah! Only half done! That's it, I've got to move faster. Let's see, real highlights. Um. I'm not sure if I really liked Sapphique or not. On the one hand, it was the sequel to Incarceron, which I irrationally loved; on the other hand, it appears to be the conclusion of the series/whatever, and as such doesn't seem quite satisfactory, though at this point it's hard to say/remember why. Oh well. I did like From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler far more than I ever would have expected from the dullness of The Second Mrs. Giaconda--which I have to teach again next year, more's the pity. And the "modernization" of Jane Eyre worked in some respects, but really, really didn't in others: why on earth would the Rochester-stand-in feel compelled to become a bigamist, when he obviously could keep the Jane-stand-in as a live-in girlfriend? In the book, he had to marry her because she wouldn't become his mistress, but in this one, it's pretty darn obvious she would have been satisfied with that. Whatever. It annoyed me. And I think old rock stars marrying college drop-outs are just as uncomfortable to root for as rich old men marrying young governesses. Oh well.
Cousin Kate was not the best Heyer ever. Way! Too! Many! Exclamation! Marks! Almost every line of dialogue ended in one! Literally! And I say the "insane guy" issue from a mile away! And I hoped against hope that he would end up to be a decent guy, if only to prevent the obvious! But alas! Spoiler! The insane guy conveniently murdered his obnoxious, romance-blocking mother! And then himself! And everyone was happy! Well, happy enough! Except the dead guy! Who probably would have been pretty normal with some now readily-available psych meds! And a counselor to help him get over his suffocating mother! Too bad!
I did finally also get through a seemingly endless collection of early Wodehouse school stories, which were really very good specimens of the type, but since I've never understood cricket and am the sort of person who thinks organized sports are the devil, they just weren't my thing. Just to clear things up, the titular novel/la The Pothunters has nothing to do with a particular quasi-medicinal hallucinogenic substance, but with the theft of sports prizes--and is not a very fun story, in any case, as the characters are mostly interchangeable and not particularly amusing.
So far, my science fiction category has been going fairly well. The Windup Girl was absolutely stunning: both in good and bad ways, though the former outweighed the latter. However, I do feel compelled to note that the quite vivid descriptions of violence against the title character are more than a bit disturbing (intentionally, but still). I would wholeheartedly recommend it, regardless, because the world is so amazingly rendered, the multiple perspectives are handled so well, the plot is excellent, and the scientifically based future is astonishing. And just because it was a really good book. Yup. Home Fires is also very good--I'd heard Gene Wolfe is important and quite literary, and so was surprised to find it very, very readable and interesting, both thematically and as science fiction. I'm not sure I always understood what was going on, but I never felt completely lost, so I kept going and didn't get stuck. I'll have to try Wolfe again sometime soon, I think.
And of course the awesomeness that was One of Our Thursdays is Missing must be commented on. Fforde is a veritable font of puns, allusions, and every random sort of wordplay imaginable. This particular volume didn't ever involve the "real" Thursday, to any degree, but her more pliable fictional counterpart was nonetheless a marvelous tour-guide to the new geographical layout of the BookWorld and the conspiracy/mystery was just as engaging. Gah. The only really awful thing is that there won't be another one for a while. Bother.
The Lucifer Effect was fascinating as well, as it's mostly a book length discussion of the Stanford Prison Experiment, which was, of course, one of the more interesting aspects of Intro to Psych (and, actually, Sociology 101, if I recall aright). Zimbardo tries to be somewhat apologetic about what happened, but obviously he finds the results just as fascinating as most PSYCH 101 students . . . And the application to similar unfortunate situations (yes, that's a euphemism) in Iraq, while rather too politically polarizing to be my cup of tea, were interesting as extensions/case studies.
And I read other books. And I'm reading other books. And I've probably forgotten other books. And will forget more. But I'll try to keep up. At least, somewhat.
35DeltaQueen50
Loved! Loved! Loved your synopsis of Cousin Kate - that one will have to stay on the bottom of the pile for awhile.
Luckily I have both of the Henreittas' on my kindle to enjoy some time in the future. The Windup Girl is definitely one I will be on the lookout for.
Thanks again for your great reading roundups.
Luckily I have both of the Henreittas' on my kindle to enjoy some time in the future. The Windup Girl is definitely one I will be on the lookout for.
Thanks again for your great reading roundups.
36InfoQuest
"Great" is, I suppose, employed as a synonym for "large" . . . But thanks for the compliment! I hope you enjoy the Henrietta stories and the Bacigalupi novel, whenever you get to them.
I decided not to do things yesterday, so I read through a few graphic novels, namely The Return of King Doug, Daisy Kutter: The Last Train, and Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword. All of them were either Juvenile or Young Adult, by my library's standards, but each of them was amusing or interesting in its own way. The first was a very tongue-in-cheek fantasy adventure in which the young human "chosen one" ran away from his fantasy kingdom, only to accidentally return two decades later and find that his erstwhile subjects were none too understanding of his youthful absconding. The "hero" is a slacker (mostly), and the dialogue and illustrations match very well in their absurdity, without becoming absolutely unbearable. Basically, I liked it but am glad it was the sort of thing one can read through in twenty minutes.
The second was by the author/artist who does the Amulet series of children's graphic novels, which I find fun (if very much too short and thus narratively unsatisfactory), and it was actually very good. Set in an old west featuring robots as well as horses and trains, the heroine is a sort-of-reformed infamous bandit who is driven, partly against her will, to perform one last train robbery. I like Kibuishi's art style for graphic novels (at once somewhat cartoonish and cinematic, odd as that may sound) and found the story and characters appealing and likeable, even though I'm not a Western buff. So I hope there is a sequel.
I kept reading "oo shiny!" reviews about Barry Deutsch's graphic novel fantasy set in an Orthodox Jewish society, and I basically agree with them. The depiction of the community is very honoring, but doesn't hesitate to point out the oddities and humorous aspects. And the humorous fantasy elements are really great; the troll "battle" is really something else. In a good way, but quite something.
I also started Brave New Worlds, an anthology of dystopian short stories which apparently hasn't got a touchstone, and am now halfway through. I've read a few of these already--"The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson, "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" by Ursula K. Le Guin, and "'Repent, Harlequin!' Said the Ticktockman," so far--but most of the ones I haven't read are at least decent as concepts. Most of them are well executed also, but with dystopian fiction (especially a lot of it in one or two sittings), it's easy to start thinking, "These are all so cliched and impossible!" I like my dystopias mildly ambiguous, at least at some point, or the protagonists ought at least to feel the struggle between what they are accustomed to and what they now feel is right. It's not that any of these stories do it badly, it's just that some of the concepts are so weird, it's hard to see why anyone would imagine them to be decent ideas at any point. I'll try to be a bit more specific once I've finished it, but we'll see . . .
I decided not to do things yesterday, so I read through a few graphic novels, namely The Return of King Doug, Daisy Kutter: The Last Train, and Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword. All of them were either Juvenile or Young Adult, by my library's standards, but each of them was amusing or interesting in its own way. The first was a very tongue-in-cheek fantasy adventure in which the young human "chosen one" ran away from his fantasy kingdom, only to accidentally return two decades later and find that his erstwhile subjects were none too understanding of his youthful absconding. The "hero" is a slacker (mostly), and the dialogue and illustrations match very well in their absurdity, without becoming absolutely unbearable. Basically, I liked it but am glad it was the sort of thing one can read through in twenty minutes.
The second was by the author/artist who does the Amulet series of children's graphic novels, which I find fun (if very much too short and thus narratively unsatisfactory), and it was actually very good. Set in an old west featuring robots as well as horses and trains, the heroine is a sort-of-reformed infamous bandit who is driven, partly against her will, to perform one last train robbery. I like Kibuishi's art style for graphic novels (at once somewhat cartoonish and cinematic, odd as that may sound) and found the story and characters appealing and likeable, even though I'm not a Western buff. So I hope there is a sequel.
I kept reading "oo shiny!" reviews about Barry Deutsch's graphic novel fantasy set in an Orthodox Jewish society, and I basically agree with them. The depiction of the community is very honoring, but doesn't hesitate to point out the oddities and humorous aspects. And the humorous fantasy elements are really great; the troll "battle" is really something else. In a good way, but quite something.
I also started Brave New Worlds, an anthology of dystopian short stories which apparently hasn't got a touchstone, and am now halfway through. I've read a few of these already--"The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson, "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" by Ursula K. Le Guin, and "'Repent, Harlequin!' Said the Ticktockman," so far--but most of the ones I haven't read are at least decent as concepts. Most of them are well executed also, but with dystopian fiction (especially a lot of it in one or two sittings), it's easy to start thinking, "These are all so cliched and impossible!" I like my dystopias mildly ambiguous, at least at some point, or the protagonists ought at least to feel the struggle between what they are accustomed to and what they now feel is right. It's not that any of these stories do it badly, it's just that some of the concepts are so weird, it's hard to see why anyone would imagine them to be decent ideas at any point. I'll try to be a bit more specific once I've finished it, but we'll see . . .
37VisibleGhost
Glad to see your eyeballs survived self-immolation. Wait!... I hope all the above reading wasn't done in Braille editions.
38InfoQuest
Nope, though I did actually learn about about how Braille works the other day--only six dots to use for all those combinations. Very neat.
Anyhow, in an attempt to stave off a second complete and utter collapse . . .
I finished Brave New Worlds quite some time ago, a day or two after posting the above. It was really a very top-notch anthology, even if some of the dystopias were really too strange to be believed. I guess writers of dystopias have different visions in mind. Some are going for satire and use their imagined government systems primarily to establish the folly of some societal trend, while other seem to be focused on building a world and characters that could perhaps emerge from a trend, using the genre as social commentary, of course, but not laying it on too thick. Of course, from my description, it's plain that I prefer the latter. Alas, I did not consider each story separately, but it's definitely a worthwhile volume to peruse for anyone interested in dystopias.
Let's see. I also have been listening to Some Buried Caesar and just finished it yesterday on the way home from work. Not my favorite Nero Wolfe--I think it had just a bit too much of Wolfe himself actively detecting, at least in the first two-thirds, which tends to get a bit duller than Archie Goodwin's attempts to wrangle potential witnesses/suspects and extricate himself. However, a non-NYC setting was a nice change, and I learned a bit about how Guernsey bulls were graded and identified in the 1930s, so it was pretty darn educational. Sure. Why not.
How to Write a Sentence and How to Read One (not doing good with touchstones today) by Stanley Fish was a very good examination of writing on the micro-level. Fish is best known (to me at least) as a literary theorist associated with reader-response, and this book demonstrates that he's really very good at close-reading and grammatical analysis. Reading this book made me wish I were teaching older students--juniors or seniors could really have fun playing with his sentence types and author imitations. Middle schoolers--eh, not so much.
The Year of the Hangman was eminently forgettable. It has an interesting premise--George Washington was captured and presumably hanged in 1777, resulting in the flight of the remaining rebel leaders to New Orleans and other non-British outposts--but unfortunately also a lamentable execution (pun not quite intended). The protagonist, a spoiled British teenager, is cardboard; his French romantic interest is irritating; Ben Franklin is--well, he's pretty much the only "founding father" in the book, so that's irritating to someone who's actually read his Autobiography. Actually, one of the few characters I found moderately interesting was Benedict Arnold, probably because I wasn't sure where Blackwood was going with his potential treacheries. So, basically, just another alt-history letdown. Why are they generally so poor-written? Gah!
Heads You Lose was, on the contrary, not at all forgettable and really grand fun. I've enjoyed Lutz's Spellman series, and when I heard about this novel (days before it came out), I was very excited and immediately placed a hold on it. First reader of a new library book--hurrah! Anyhow, the story is ostensibly told in alternating chapters (a la The Floating Admiral) by Lutz and her former boyfriend (of course, the banter is far too light for people who actually dislike one another), and their testy relationship quickly infects the storyline, that of small-town sibling pot-growers who discover a headless corpse in their yard. Inexplicable circumstances abound, as neither author is willing to give up his or her pet theories and favorite characters, and the ending is definitely not foreseeable nor even plausible. If you're looking for a mystery-mystery, one that's "fair" or even just rational, this is not at all that book. It's definitely more humor than mystery, but so long as you keep that in mind, I'd recommend it to mystery-lovers as well as those who prefer their humor absurd and not exactly subtle.
Blonde Bombshell is another humor novel, this time a science fictional one, about the near-destruction of the earth by aliens who suspiciously resemble the dogs found on earth. One of their sentient bombs has gone missing, and they send another one to find out what happened to the first and eventually blow up. Of course, sentience combined with corporeality leads to humanity (or so the trope goes), and soon the bomb is calling himself Mark Twain (he's the Mark Two bomb, after all) and getting into all sorts of trouble, while a genius computer programmer is losing all memories of her childhood and huge quantities of cash are mysteriously disappearing from bank vaults around the world. Tons of fun, really. I've read quite a bit by Tom Holt, and while somewhat derivative and prone to character recycling, his humor tends to amuse me, and I have another one checked out and ready to read soon.
Stamboul Train is my second novel by Graham Greene (I think The End of the Affair is the only other one I've read), and while I know he considered it and his other thrillers mere "entertainments" and not proper novels, this particular book has far more in common with literary fiction of the era than with most espionage/suspense of similar age. I've read John Buchan's Richard Hannay stories, several novels by E. Phillips Oppenheim, quite a bit by Helen MacInnes (she started a bit later and wrote longer, but still) and some Eric Ambler, but Greene is different. It's not just that none of the characters seemed to get what would be best for them in the end (with the possible exception of the one who died); and it's not just that the characters are self-absorbed and concerned more with their own inner struggles and sins than with political or even sexual intrigue. It's probably a combination of the two, plus the interesting ways in which the author alternates perspectives and uses the inner monologues of the characters to reveal themselves. Yes, they are all types--the Jewish merchant, the half-naive chorus girl, the man-hating lesbian, the devoted Communist agitator--but they're fleshed out into real people. Even where the negative stereotypes are shown to be justified, they're not without contradictions and subtleties. I think I shall have to return to Greene soon.
Well, I've read other books. I'm sure of it. But I'm getting tired of this and would rather return to reading something. And eating something. That would be nice.
Anyhow, in an attempt to stave off a second complete and utter collapse . . .
I finished Brave New Worlds quite some time ago, a day or two after posting the above. It was really a very top-notch anthology, even if some of the dystopias were really too strange to be believed. I guess writers of dystopias have different visions in mind. Some are going for satire and use their imagined government systems primarily to establish the folly of some societal trend, while other seem to be focused on building a world and characters that could perhaps emerge from a trend, using the genre as social commentary, of course, but not laying it on too thick. Of course, from my description, it's plain that I prefer the latter. Alas, I did not consider each story separately, but it's definitely a worthwhile volume to peruse for anyone interested in dystopias.
Let's see. I also have been listening to Some Buried Caesar and just finished it yesterday on the way home from work. Not my favorite Nero Wolfe--I think it had just a bit too much of Wolfe himself actively detecting, at least in the first two-thirds, which tends to get a bit duller than Archie Goodwin's attempts to wrangle potential witnesses/suspects and extricate himself. However, a non-NYC setting was a nice change, and I learned a bit about how Guernsey bulls were graded and identified in the 1930s, so it was pretty darn educational. Sure. Why not.
How to Write a Sentence and How to Read One (not doing good with touchstones today) by Stanley Fish was a very good examination of writing on the micro-level. Fish is best known (to me at least) as a literary theorist associated with reader-response, and this book demonstrates that he's really very good at close-reading and grammatical analysis. Reading this book made me wish I were teaching older students--juniors or seniors could really have fun playing with his sentence types and author imitations. Middle schoolers--eh, not so much.
The Year of the Hangman was eminently forgettable. It has an interesting premise--George Washington was captured and presumably hanged in 1777, resulting in the flight of the remaining rebel leaders to New Orleans and other non-British outposts--but unfortunately also a lamentable execution (pun not quite intended). The protagonist, a spoiled British teenager, is cardboard; his French romantic interest is irritating; Ben Franklin is--well, he's pretty much the only "founding father" in the book, so that's irritating to someone who's actually read his Autobiography. Actually, one of the few characters I found moderately interesting was Benedict Arnold, probably because I wasn't sure where Blackwood was going with his potential treacheries. So, basically, just another alt-history letdown. Why are they generally so poor-written? Gah!
Heads You Lose was, on the contrary, not at all forgettable and really grand fun. I've enjoyed Lutz's Spellman series, and when I heard about this novel (days before it came out), I was very excited and immediately placed a hold on it. First reader of a new library book--hurrah! Anyhow, the story is ostensibly told in alternating chapters (a la The Floating Admiral) by Lutz and her former boyfriend (of course, the banter is far too light for people who actually dislike one another), and their testy relationship quickly infects the storyline, that of small-town sibling pot-growers who discover a headless corpse in their yard. Inexplicable circumstances abound, as neither author is willing to give up his or her pet theories and favorite characters, and the ending is definitely not foreseeable nor even plausible. If you're looking for a mystery-mystery, one that's "fair" or even just rational, this is not at all that book. It's definitely more humor than mystery, but so long as you keep that in mind, I'd recommend it to mystery-lovers as well as those who prefer their humor absurd and not exactly subtle.
Blonde Bombshell is another humor novel, this time a science fictional one, about the near-destruction of the earth by aliens who suspiciously resemble the dogs found on earth. One of their sentient bombs has gone missing, and they send another one to find out what happened to the first and eventually blow up. Of course, sentience combined with corporeality leads to humanity (or so the trope goes), and soon the bomb is calling himself Mark Twain (he's the Mark Two bomb, after all) and getting into all sorts of trouble, while a genius computer programmer is losing all memories of her childhood and huge quantities of cash are mysteriously disappearing from bank vaults around the world. Tons of fun, really. I've read quite a bit by Tom Holt, and while somewhat derivative and prone to character recycling, his humor tends to amuse me, and I have another one checked out and ready to read soon.
Stamboul Train is my second novel by Graham Greene (I think The End of the Affair is the only other one I've read), and while I know he considered it and his other thrillers mere "entertainments" and not proper novels, this particular book has far more in common with literary fiction of the era than with most espionage/suspense of similar age. I've read John Buchan's Richard Hannay stories, several novels by E. Phillips Oppenheim, quite a bit by Helen MacInnes (she started a bit later and wrote longer, but still) and some Eric Ambler, but Greene is different. It's not just that none of the characters seemed to get what would be best for them in the end (with the possible exception of the one who died); and it's not just that the characters are self-absorbed and concerned more with their own inner struggles and sins than with political or even sexual intrigue. It's probably a combination of the two, plus the interesting ways in which the author alternates perspectives and uses the inner monologues of the characters to reveal themselves. Yes, they are all types--the Jewish merchant, the half-naive chorus girl, the man-hating lesbian, the devoted Communist agitator--but they're fleshed out into real people. Even where the negative stereotypes are shown to be justified, they're not without contradictions and subtleties. I think I shall have to return to Greene soon.
Well, I've read other books. I'm sure of it. But I'm getting tired of this and would rather return to reading something. And eating something. That would be nice.
39InfoQuest
In an attempt not to fall behind again...
Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who's Who is the first of Frederick Buechner's non-fiction that I've ever finished (I did get out Telling the Truth, but didn't get around to reading it until it was three days later and so only read the first two sections--but I'm going to check it again soon, probably next week, and finish it). And I did read Lion Country quite some time ago and was thoroughly confused. But this particular non-fiction volume was quite marvelous. Okay, so Buechner's a bit more theologically liberal than I was raised to be, apparently believing in a sort of redemptive universalism (a la George MacDonald) that I'd like to believe in, but can't really bring myself to. However, his storytelling ability is unmatched, when it comes to sketching biblical and apocryphal characters. He's utterly conversational in tone and doesn't shy from using common figures of speech, but then intermingling his own metaphors and similes to devastatingly lovely and eye-opening effect. I'm so glad I got two of his books of essays/sermons, because I don't think I'll wait very long at all.
Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who's Who is the first of Frederick Buechner's non-fiction that I've ever finished (I did get out Telling the Truth, but didn't get around to reading it until it was three days later and so only read the first two sections--but I'm going to check it again soon, probably next week, and finish it). And I did read Lion Country quite some time ago and was thoroughly confused. But this particular non-fiction volume was quite marvelous. Okay, so Buechner's a bit more theologically liberal than I was raised to be, apparently believing in a sort of redemptive universalism (a la George MacDonald) that I'd like to believe in, but can't really bring myself to. However, his storytelling ability is unmatched, when it comes to sketching biblical and apocryphal characters. He's utterly conversational in tone and doesn't shy from using common figures of speech, but then intermingling his own metaphors and similes to devastatingly lovely and eye-opening effect. I'm so glad I got two of his books of essays/sermons, because I don't think I'll wait very long at all.
40christina_reads
Hey, someone else who's reading Buechner for this challenge! I read Telling the Truth earlier this year for my "Livin' on a Prayer" category. I liked it, but his writing style reminds me of G. K. Chesterton's, and I definitely like Chesterton better. Still, I'd read more by Buechner if the opportunity arose.
41InfoQuest
Wow, I really thought I'd responded to your comment, Christina. Actually, I was pretty darn sure I'd written about a few other books I'd read, too, so I think I planned or started to write a post, and then didn't. Or something. Anyhow, yes, in some ways, I'd agree Buechner is similar to Chesterton--both excellent at the off-hand characterization and ability to make theological concepts take on life and breath of their own. I think I've got one last unread bit of Chesterton lying around (essays on Victorian authors or something similar). Now that you've reminded me, I shall have to dig it out and read it.
So, I read this YA paranormal novel, Crossing Over, set in a quasi-historical Queendom, rife with political intrigue and superstition. Our protagonist is a young teen whose unfortunate ability to "cross over" to the Land of the Dead has resulted in his exploitation by his unsavory uncle and, eventually, one of the rival queens. Exploration of his unusual abilities takes a back seat to infighting, backstabbing, and sensuality in the courts, and this is not necessarily a bad thing for the plot. However, characterization of females tends rather toward shallowness and types (somewhat odd for a novel written by a woman in the first place), and the ending leaves much to be desired, both in the way of catharsis and explanation. Whole, seemingly vital elements of the story's underlying mythology are *nearly* explained in the final quarter or so of the novel, but just enough to make it seem like everything will someday make sense. But it doesn't. Oh well. I picked this up because of the blurb by Connie Willis, but I guess I'll just have to read her books, rather than her blurbs, because two out of two (thus far) have had really promising beginnings (and middles), but peter out in the end.
I also forgot to mention it, but I read Across the Universe a little while ago and found it quite as good as I'd hoped from the first chapter. Yes, there was a predictable romance, but at least it felt logical--why wouldn't a boy fall in love with the first utterly different looking girl he'd ever seen, and why wouldn't she love the only person her own age (who happens to also be smart, interesting, and quite decent looking in his own right)? I did have some quibbles with the plot and characterization, but overall it was a fun read. And, yes, I've forgotten it a bit too much to comment very clearly.
Frontier Wolf was my first attempt at Rosemary Sutcliff, whose juvenile historical fiction I've heard good things about. And, as historical fiction goes, it did feel quite historical. The protagonist was a little wooden for my tastes, and I'm not too sure who was the intended audience--a little too depressing for kids, too unromantic for teens, and too "tell, don't show" for adults. But, I guess, for a look at late-Roman Britain, it was engrossing and informative. I'll admit it, the off-hand dead-kitten scene choked me up, and I was probably more upset by *spoiler*the fact that Alexios "had" to kill Cunorix*spoiler* than either of them seemed to be. So, interesting story, but rather odd and slight on the characterization, even though I got quite involved.
I finished The Moviegoer yesterday morning, while sitting in a salon waiting for my cousin and her bridesmaids to finish their hair and makeup for her wedding that afternoon. (I was just the pianist, so no salon-ing for me, Gott sei Dank!) It was moderately strange to be reading that particular book in that setting . . . If you're not familiar with it, the novel deals primarily in what medievalists would call "acedia," a particular spiritual ennui or despair, which just so happened to be one of the main focuses of my senior seminar. I really wish we had read this book for that class, because it would have been an amazing discussion and/or paper topic, especially in light of Josef Pieper's On Hope, which is (due to that class) probably my favorite theological/philosophical treatise. Anyhow, Binx Bolling is nearing thirty, a New Orleans businessman who knows his life is devoid of meaning and tries to fill, or at least avoid, the vacuum by watching movies and having casual affairs with his secretaries. His philosophy is that seeing life on film and then encountering the places and people that make up that hyperreality gives a sense of meaning and purposefulness to life which is otherwise unavailable. The novel does have a plot, but it's definitely more the character study in focus and organization, one with a philosophical and theological edge, and I can see why Walker Percy is yet another of those important Catholic writers (whom I keep encountering everywhere and generally quite enjoy). His non-fiction is also quite good--Lost in the Cosmos was really amazing--and I guess I've another author to say, "I need to get back to him/her."
And now to bake goodies for the little student-lings--and finish writing their blasted tests . . . Hurrah for finals. They're really no better as a teacher than they were as a student. Rather worse, in that I still have to grade everything once the students are done. And then I have to start preparing for next year. Yippee?
So, I read this YA paranormal novel, Crossing Over, set in a quasi-historical Queendom, rife with political intrigue and superstition. Our protagonist is a young teen whose unfortunate ability to "cross over" to the Land of the Dead has resulted in his exploitation by his unsavory uncle and, eventually, one of the rival queens. Exploration of his unusual abilities takes a back seat to infighting, backstabbing, and sensuality in the courts, and this is not necessarily a bad thing for the plot. However, characterization of females tends rather toward shallowness and types (somewhat odd for a novel written by a woman in the first place), and the ending leaves much to be desired, both in the way of catharsis and explanation. Whole, seemingly vital elements of the story's underlying mythology are *nearly* explained in the final quarter or so of the novel, but just enough to make it seem like everything will someday make sense. But it doesn't. Oh well. I picked this up because of the blurb by Connie Willis, but I guess I'll just have to read her books, rather than her blurbs, because two out of two (thus far) have had really promising beginnings (and middles), but peter out in the end.
I also forgot to mention it, but I read Across the Universe a little while ago and found it quite as good as I'd hoped from the first chapter. Yes, there was a predictable romance, but at least it felt logical--why wouldn't a boy fall in love with the first utterly different looking girl he'd ever seen, and why wouldn't she love the only person her own age (who happens to also be smart, interesting, and quite decent looking in his own right)? I did have some quibbles with the plot and characterization, but overall it was a fun read. And, yes, I've forgotten it a bit too much to comment very clearly.
Frontier Wolf was my first attempt at Rosemary Sutcliff, whose juvenile historical fiction I've heard good things about. And, as historical fiction goes, it did feel quite historical. The protagonist was a little wooden for my tastes, and I'm not too sure who was the intended audience--a little too depressing for kids, too unromantic for teens, and too "tell, don't show" for adults. But, I guess, for a look at late-Roman Britain, it was engrossing and informative. I'll admit it, the off-hand dead-kitten scene choked me up, and I was probably more upset by *spoiler*the fact that Alexios "had" to kill Cunorix*spoiler* than either of them seemed to be. So, interesting story, but rather odd and slight on the characterization, even though I got quite involved.
I finished The Moviegoer yesterday morning, while sitting in a salon waiting for my cousin and her bridesmaids to finish their hair and makeup for her wedding that afternoon. (I was just the pianist, so no salon-ing for me, Gott sei Dank!) It was moderately strange to be reading that particular book in that setting . . . If you're not familiar with it, the novel deals primarily in what medievalists would call "acedia," a particular spiritual ennui or despair, which just so happened to be one of the main focuses of my senior seminar. I really wish we had read this book for that class, because it would have been an amazing discussion and/or paper topic, especially in light of Josef Pieper's On Hope, which is (due to that class) probably my favorite theological/philosophical treatise. Anyhow, Binx Bolling is nearing thirty, a New Orleans businessman who knows his life is devoid of meaning and tries to fill, or at least avoid, the vacuum by watching movies and having casual affairs with his secretaries. His philosophy is that seeing life on film and then encountering the places and people that make up that hyperreality gives a sense of meaning and purposefulness to life which is otherwise unavailable. The novel does have a plot, but it's definitely more the character study in focus and organization, one with a philosophical and theological edge, and I can see why Walker Percy is yet another of those important Catholic writers (whom I keep encountering everywhere and generally quite enjoy). His non-fiction is also quite good--Lost in the Cosmos was really amazing--and I guess I've another author to say, "I need to get back to him/her."
And now to bake goodies for the little student-lings--and finish writing their blasted tests . . . Hurrah for finals. They're really no better as a teacher than they were as a student. Rather worse, in that I still have to grade everything once the students are done. And then I have to start preparing for next year. Yippee?
42christina_reads
Haha, I have to comment again! I love Lost in the Cosmos; it's definitely in my top 10 favorite books ever! I also really recommend The Thanatos Syndrome if you haven't read it yet.
43InfoQuest
Thanks for the suggestion, Christina. I do remember having been told I ought to read it, but haven't gotten to it yet.
So, things have been slowish on the reading front lately and don't look likely to improve until after the weekend, but I did have a grand time yesterday with Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Sausages. I went through a minor Tom Holt kick about three or so years back, and it looks like we're heading into another one. In this particular novel of "transdimensional tomfoolery" (as the subtitle indicates), Polly the real estate attorney discovers that someone else is drinking her coffee and doing her work for her, while her brother discovers a pencil sharpener of unusual powers in his recently dry-cleaned coatpocket. And neither of them can find the drycleaners, because it simply isn't (and apparently never was) where it had been. And meanwhile, a thaumatological consultant is hired to recover a ring (or small bolt or smallish something made of brass or gold), the loss of which is causing irrepairable damage to its owner's business. And, in an isolated farm somewhere, a flock of chickens are becoming aware that things are not as they ought to be... Yup. Absolutely marvelous fun. And now to get back to work. Hurrah.
So, things have been slowish on the reading front lately and don't look likely to improve until after the weekend, but I did have a grand time yesterday with Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Sausages. I went through a minor Tom Holt kick about three or so years back, and it looks like we're heading into another one. In this particular novel of "transdimensional tomfoolery" (as the subtitle indicates), Polly the real estate attorney discovers that someone else is drinking her coffee and doing her work for her, while her brother discovers a pencil sharpener of unusual powers in his recently dry-cleaned coatpocket. And neither of them can find the drycleaners, because it simply isn't (and apparently never was) where it had been. And meanwhile, a thaumatological consultant is hired to recover a ring (or small bolt or smallish something made of brass or gold), the loss of which is causing irrepairable damage to its owner's business. And, in an isolated farm somewhere, a flock of chickens are becoming aware that things are not as they ought to be... Yup. Absolutely marvelous fun. And now to get back to work. Hurrah.
