To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis

February 23, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , , , | 18 comments

(Only for Dr. Who fans! Credits)

If I ever try my hand at writing, this is the kind of book I’d like to write: a rambling, fun story that would work as an homage to all my favorite things.

I’d set it in Victorian England, throw in some science fiction, and for good measure write a few scenes during the London Blitz. The whole thing would probably end up like a sci-fi story written as a Victorian comedy of manners, which, as strange as that may sound, is exactly the brilliant book that Willis wrote.

If I wasn’t already ready to love it because of the concept, there would be other treats to persuade me:

1.
Countless references to one of funniest books I’ve ever read – Three Men in a Boat – and to beloved writers like Christie, Wodehouse, Conan Doyle and Sayers.

Well, it wasn’t exactly the ending of an Agatha Christie mystery, with Hercule Poirot gathering everyone together in the drawing room to reveal the murderer and impress everyone with his astonishing deductive powers. And it definitely wasn’t a Dorothy Sayers, with the detective hero saying to his heroine sidekick, “I say, we make a jolly good detectin’ team. How about makin’ the partnership permanent, eh, what?” and then proposing in Latin.

At some point, Ned (the main character) actually crossed Jerome K. Jerome & Co. as they were traveling on the Thames in opposite directions. It was a priceless scene.

2.
I’ve always been fascinated by Oxford, mostly because of books like Brideshead Revisited, Jude the Obscure and the His Dark Materials series. To Say Nothing of the Dog will add to that list.

One of the characters is an Eccentric Professor (I love eccentric professors in literature – usually great fun), engaged in a life-long debate with another Professor about what shapes history: individuals or grand forces?

3.
There’s a dog! With a personality! And it doesn’t talk! I’m very particular about talking animals in books and movies. Overall I prefer the silent ones that still manage to be funny, like the chameleon in Tangled. Montmorency in Three Men in a Boat is another great example, and clearly the inspiration for the bulldog Cyril in To Say Nothing of the Dog.

Cyril shoved and shoved again, until he had the entire bed and all the covers, and Princess Arjumand [a cat] draped herself across my neck with her full weight on my Adam’s apple. Cyril shoved some more.

(Couldn’t resist: bulldog in a boat! Credits)

4.

The story was wacky and chaotic, but all the literary and historical references made it feel strangely cozy. I suspect Connie Willis and I would get along just fine.

She looked appalled. “You weren’t prepped? Victorian society’s highly mannered. Breaches of etiquette are taken very seriously.” She looked curiously at me. “How have you managed thus far?”

“For the past two days I’ve been on the river with an Oxford don who quotes Herodotus, a lovesick young man who quotes Tennyson, a bulldog, and a cat,” I said. “I played it by ear.”

5.
It’s such a quotable book:

One of the first symptoms of time-lag is a tendency to maudlin sentimentality, like an Irishman in his cups or a Victorian poet cold-sober.

*

One has not lived until one has carried a sixty-pound dog down a sweeping flight of stairs at half-past V in the morning.

*

The reason Victorian society was so restricted and repressed was that it was impossible to move without knocking something over.

On the interest of transparency, I’d like to confess that despite all the above I didn’t give To Say Nothing of the Dog a perfect 5/5. However, the little things that didn’t feel quite right, didn’t ruin the overall delight of the book.

Ned is a likable everyman-type hero, but we never get to know much about him or his personal history before the beginning of the book. Also, although the plot was easy to follow, some twists felt a bit predictable (I knew early on who Mr. C was), and the science part – when Willis describes the problems with continuum, slippage, incongruities, etc. – went  over my head. Finally, although part of the story is set in 2057, it never felt like 2057.

As you see, small stuff compared with the Reasons to Love It: delightful characters, funny dialogues, a good amount of geeky literary references, to say nothing of Cyril…

 

PS: I am the only one to go all dyslexic with the author’s name and call her Wilkie Collins in my mind?

***

Other thoughts: things mean a lot, Shelf Love, Book Lust, The Written World, Farm Lane Books, Becky Book Reviews, Books and Movies, Booklover Book Reviews, Killin’ Time Reading, A Good Stopping Point, A Little Reader, Beth Fish Reads, Bookgirl’s nightstand, Gripping Books, Opinions of a Wolf, Stella Matutina, Rat’s Reading, Dogear Diary, Everyday Reading, Dusk Before Dawn, Library Queue, Semicolon, Nose in a Book, Mervi’s Book Reviews,  (yours?)

Saving CeeCee Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman

February 20, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , , | 8 comments

This is what comfort Southern-lit is all about: eccentric characters, sense of community, and food. It’s no wonder that half-way through this book I finally ordered the Screen Doors and Sweet Tea cookbook, which had been on my wish-list for ages. Unfortunately, it didn’t include the cinnamon buns of Saving CeeCee Honeycutt. I swear I could smell them…

CeeCee is twelve and has always lived in Ohio with her absent father and mentally-ill mother. CeeCee has leaned to cope alone with her mother’s extreme mood-swings and delusions (it’s 1967, but she believes it’s still 1951, when she was crowned the Vidalia Onion Queen of Georgia). When tragedy strikes, CeeCee is taken in by her mother’s Aunt, who whisks her off to Savannah, Georgia.

This is the promise of a new life: the care of Aunt Tootie, the comfort food of black housekeeper Oletta and the incredible stories of an array of unusual neighbors. But most of all, it’s the attention and love of them all that make CeeCee feel safe for the first time in her young life.

Not a lot happens, but the story manages to often be hilarious or touching. It follows in the tradition of The Secret Life of Bees, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood and The Help, so although it’s set in 60s in the American South, and there are some hints of social unrest, the story doesn’t tackle head-on any of the ugliness of that period.

Instead, the story centers on female friendships (always a popular topic in Southern lit) and CeeCee’s coming of age through the support of her new community. Since the focus is on piecing together this girl’s confidence, and because CeeCee has reasons to be naïve about racism, the smoothing over of the not-so-nice issues doesn’t feel like a cop-out.

The only part of the story that didn’t feel just at it should be was Savannah’s role. The sense of place is there, but not as strongly as I’d wish – it’s such a wonderful city that it deserves to be a character in its own right. I don’t say this very often, but I wish there were more descriptions in Saving CeeCee Hioneycutt (disclaimer: I read Southern-lit mostly to get back a bit of the memories of my time living below the Maxon-Dixie line).

Still, it’s a very sweet book, the end ties up nicely and there’s a satisfying “Southern” feel to it.

(Springtime in Savannah, Georgia – photo credit)

Read for the Southern Literature Challenge 2012.

***

Other thoughts: She is too fond of books, Books and Movies, Redlady’s Reading Room, Lesa’s Book Critiques, Devourer of Books, S. Krishna’s Books, SmallWorld Reads, Books in the City, write meg!, Word Bird, Rundpinne, Beth Fish Reads, The Literate Mother, Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell, Steph Su Reads, Literate Housewife, Reading on a Rainy Day, Book Line and Sinker, Geeky Bloggers Book Blog, Life in the Thumb, Stacy’s Books, Reviews by Lola, Chocolate & Croissants, Prairie Horizons, Maggie Reads, Just Books, Novels Now, Purple Sage and Scorpions (yours?)

Introducing the Project Gutenberg Project (& “Ruth” by Elizabeth Gaskell)

February 15, 2012 in PGP | Tags: , , , | 6 comments

Is it just me or lately all good ideas seem to start with a Twitter chat?

In one of those chats Tasha pointed out that, although sites like Project Gutenberg and Librivox offer a universe of free books (and audiobooks), it’s hard to use them to make new discoveries.

With this in mind, the Project Gutenberg Project was launched yesterday (it’s all about spreading the love!): a cooperative book blog that aims to share and help readers find classic books that are available for free in the public domain.

Currently, those books are organized very loosely by author or by broad subject, making it difficult to browse and find what’s right for you. As Tasha said on the opening post:

At PGP, we want to help readers find public domain books they might be interested in, discuss what did and didn’t work for us, discover (or rediscover) classics, and celebrate our favorite books in the process.

Apart from Tasha and myself there are six other bloggers involved:

Aarti from BookLust
Chris from Book-a-Rama
Iris from Iris On Books
Lu from Regular Rumination
Meghan from Medieval Bookworm
Nymeth from Things Mean a Lot

If you’ve read a book available in the public domain that you’d like to tell others about, feel free to contact us.

So please visit the this new addition to the book blogosphere, say hi, don’t forget to add it to your feed, and join us in discovering the literary treasure-trove that’s Project Gutenberg.

I’ve had the honor of kicking-off the reviews with a post about “Ruth” by Elizabeth Gaskell.

The Little Lady Agency by Hester Browne

February 13, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , | 10 comments

Melissa was fired from her desk work at a London real-estate agency, but this is the chance to open her own business and put her social and organizational skills to good use. Soon after, “Little Lady Agency” opens for business, and Melissa becomes a “life organizer” for bachelors. Her ad reads:

“Gentlemen! No Little Lady in Your Life? Call the Little Lady Agency: Everything organized, from your home to your wardrobe, your social life to you. No funny business or laundry.”

To protect her private life, Melissa creates a professional alter-ego called Honey, a confident and brutally no-nonsense 50s pin-up girl, in a blond wig and tights clothes. She helps men shop for clothes, assists in dumping clingy girlfriends and poses as an envy-educing date to many events.

The Melissa/Honey China Wall works perfectly until Jonathan, an American client, gets too close and blurs the lines.

I’ve always been fascinated by the Courtesan life-style and this books seemed like a good fun fluff for a Sunday afternoon. After finishing it, my question is: when it comes to chick-lit, how much do you need to identify with the heroine to actually like the book? Experience tells me it’s the genre where I need it the most. My problem with The Little Lady Agency was that,  despite the promising premise, I couldn’t connect to Melissa, and even less with Honey (who had the potential to be the fierce woman I’d like to be at times).

Even without Honey, Melissa is already someone out of Mad Men. She’s curvy, discreet, extremely self-deprecating and the social smoother that everyone relies on but never remembers to thank later. Her old-fashioned tastes and habits – a cross between a Southern Belle and an English Rose – were actually quite refreshing and I could see myself in her at those moments, but why oh why is she such a pushover, so utterly naïve to the point of daftness?

Her interactions with her family were especially painful. The way she’s ignored, dismissed and misused… grrrrr. Her father called her a prostitute (more than once!) and she wasn’t able to defend herself. I was expecting that by the end the outspoken Honey would inspire Melissa to grow a back-bone at such moments, but it was not to be.

Truth be told, Bridget Jones can also be on the daft side, but I still love her. Maybe there’s something more approachable about Bridget, her grandma panties and blue soup. I guess I just prefer social awkwardness to knowing what the adequate champagne glass is for every occasion.

Honey is just a more self-confident version of Melissa. I imagined her with sun glasses and perfectly applied make-up, a younger Anna Wintour, which, as you can imagine, also didn’t help us connect.

The love interest took a secondary role to the whole Melissa/Honey dynamics and the path to self-confidence (that in my opinion wasn’t reached). I never really got Jonathan. One minute he’s flirty, the next he’s abrupt, only to then become either goofy or sensitive. Actually, I’m ready to bet that it we had a show of hands, most readers would have preferred Melissa to end up with Nelson, her flat-mate and best friend. That surely couldn’t have been the author’s intention, right?

Unfortunately, Jonathan is never given a “I like you, just as you are” moment that makes you go all gooey inside. It’s Nelson that gets to cook for Melissa, who rubs her stiletto-free feet, who helps her put together 1.000.000 little gift bags for her sister’s wedding and with whom she has the best kissing scene in the book.

I’ve read some thoughts about how The Little Lady Agency is more progressive than other chick-lits out there, but I’m not convinced. Melissa may be a successful businesswoman, but she did it by creating a separate personality that mixes Nanny McPhee and a Tough-Love Dominatrix. Her professional rules were compromised as soon as Jonathan decided to cross the line, and it also didn’t help that every time a client called her “Honey” my eye twitched a bit.

Nan over at Goodreads said that she “liked Melissa well enough, but her retro feminity reminded me of nothing so much as Susan J. Douglas’ analysis of what she calls the “New Girliness” in her recent book Enlightened Sexism: The Seductive Message that Feminism’s Work is Done“. She might be onto to something.

Although I didn’t connect with it, I’d still (selfishly) recommend that you read it, just because I want more people to discuss it with. This is the type of book I’d love to read with a book club: I can already see the heated debate between Team Nelson and Team Jonathan, but I can also imagine the interesting insights into, for instance, old and new ways of femininity.

***

Other thoughts: It’s all about me (time), Tip of the Iceberg, Jo’s Bookshelf, Birdbrain(ed) Book Blog, A Library is the hospital of the mind (yours?)

The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson

February 7, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , | 21 comments

The Devil in the White City has to be one of the most reviewed non-fiction books in the book blogosphere.  I can see why – it reads like a novel. So much so that I hear Leonardo DiCaprio bought the rights and is planning to play H.H. Holmes himself.

The book is divided into two alternated (and practically independent) stories: the history of the Chicago’s World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893 and that of H. H. Holmes, America’s first documented serial-killer.  The slim connection between the two is that Holmes lived in Chicago during the Fair and used the influx of strangers to get away with many murderers.

The first chapters mostly deal with the pre-Exposition events, when architects were hired, committees formed and blueprints drawn. The mission of this impressive group of men was to make the event the greater, larger, more magnificent thing ever seen, especially greater, larger, more magnificent than the recent Paris Expo. I’m sure Freud had a thing of two to say about this desire to “out-Eiffel Eiffel“.

Almost 120 years later, you can tell Larson also fell for the Fair’s spell, but I must confess I often thought “Columbian who?”. Excuse me my ignorance, but I had never heard of the Chicago Exposition before. I did know about the St. Louis one, but then again, there was Judy Garland singing “Meet me in St. Louis“ – not that makes an event last!.

(Talking about marketing, although I liked the book, I felt a bit cheated by the way it was promoted. I was not “murder, magic and madness at the Fair that changed America“. I was more “group of men try to become immortal by organizing a humongous Fair, while in another part of Chicago a serial-killer is on the loose, and in yet another part of the city – because it’s also an interesting story so why not put it in? – a madman kills the mayor”. From the way it was promoted, and from Larson’s introduction, I thought Holmes actually killed (or at least met his victims) at the Fair).

Larson chose his topics well and would be hard pressed to make them sound boring. He tells delicious anecdotes about Helen Keller, Buffalo Bill, Tesla and Susan B. Anthony, but the best part were the micro-stories. They made the Fair come alive: the couples who wanted to marry in the Ferris Wheel, the firemen wounded and killed, the Women Committee’s political battles. My favorite was the one about a Ferris Wheel passenger who had panic attack and another passenger’s drastic measurements to control him:

A woman disrobing in public, a man with a skirt over his head – the marvels of the fair seemed endless.

I looked at many photos of the Fair while reading the book and have to agree with the critics that said that by choosing a neo-classic style, the architects might have lost the opportunity to create something truly ground-breaking and memorable. Because let’s face it, the Ferris Wheel is great, but did it really revolutionized world architecture the way the Eiffel Tower did?

But no matter how exciting a World Fair is, it’s almost impossible to compete with a well-told story about a serial-killer. I wouldn’t be surprised if this part was included after Larson’s editor said something like, “Well Erik, the Fair is a fine idea, great potential, but why not er… spice it up a bit? How about including a serial killer? I’m sure there were some around.”

There were moments during the audiobook (read by Scott Brick), where I got goose-bumps, especially with the graphic descriptions of Holmes’ evil deeds. It made it extra hard to go back to the Fair part of the story.

I must have spent hours on Wikipedia navigating between articles about Daniel Burnham, the Flatiron Building, Graceland Cemetery, the zipper, Cracker Jacks and the Titanic. I always have great respect for books that pique my curiosity (that’s why I’m not a Da Vinci Code nay-sayer) and this was a perfect example.

Frenchman’s Creek by Daphne du Maurier

February 6, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , , | 13 comments

Some time ago I admitted on twitter my sudden craving for a novel involving a love affair with a pirate (yeah, I know, just bear with me). I wanted to avoid the bodice-ripping thing, so after a bit of a search, lo and behold, I discovered that Daphne du Maurier had written one! What I felt about Frenchman’s Creek is best said quoting Carol in As Good As it Gets: “What I needed, he gave me great.”

I’ll give you a taste of the plot, although I should have had you at “Daphne du Maurier” and “pirate”.

The story is set in 17th century Cornwall, where Lady Dona St. Columb seeks refuge from London’s shallow high society. She takes her two children with her and leaves her meek husband behind. The plan is to lead the simple life, but everything changes when she realizes that the Manor, which should have been inhabited for many years, had recently (and secretly) housed a special guest.

This guest turns out to be a notorious pirate who has terrorized the Cornish coast. What Dona discovers not long after is that the pirate is not the roguish, evil-doer that everyone imagines, but an art-loving, cultured Frenchman, with his own particular kind of honor.

(He’s a pirate AND he’s French AND he quotes poetry AND he draws seagulls and stuff!)

The prose is beautiful and du Maurier is perfect at mixing the swashbuckling plot, the inner turmoil that Dona goes through and her growing connection with the Frenchman. Frenchman’s Creek was written while du Maurier was away from her husband during his military service in WW2. It makes perfect sense: it’s an author’s romantic fantasy, but the author is Daphne du Maurier, so the result is deep and well crafted. The ending is also different from what you’d expect from the books with a half-naked seafarer in the cover, but it was perfect for Frenchman’s Creek and no less swoon-inducing.

I’d also like to recommend the audio version masterfully read by John Castle.

***

Other thoughts: Giraffe Days, A Striped Armchair,  Devourer of Books, A lovely shore breeze…, Literate Housewife, Book Reviews by Bobbie, Bibliophile by the Sea,  The Tome Traveller’s Weblog, The Book Nest, Books Ahoy!

Listopia: Favorite audiobook narrators

January 31, 2012 in book review | 42 comments

I’ve only started listening to audiobooks in mid-2009 but now I can’t imagine my literary life without them. I listen to them during my daily commuting, showering, cooking, cleaning and often a bit before going to sleep.

Over two years and 100 audiobooks later, I’m ready to make my first list of favorite narrators. I’d love to know about your own choices, so let me know if I’ve missed any good ones.

(if you click the links you’ll be able to listen to samples of the books)

Stephen Fry

I know that for most Americans Jim Dale in unbeatable, but for me Fry is the voice of the Harry Potter books. They’re still my favorite audiobooks of all time. His voice is so rich and you can tell he’s also in love with the books. Also, if you’ve listen to his podcasts (I particularly recommend the one called “Language”), you know he’s passionate about his native-tongue and its nuances.

I never get as emotionally involved with audio as I do with a paper version (I suspect it’s because there’s an intermediate between me and the story), but to this day these are the only audiobooks that made me cry.  I’ve also listen to Fry read Stories of Anton Chekhov and Montmorency: Thief, Liar, Gentleman and he never disappointed.

Other audiobooks in the wish-list: The Fry Chronicles by Stephen Fry, Stephen Fry Presents a Selection of Oscar Wilde’s Short Stories, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (for a re-read).


Alan Cumming

My favorite actor-cum-narrator. He’s funny, great with accents and has a wonderful voice. I listened to him read Scott Westefeld’s Leviathan trilogy and loved it so much that, although I was dying to read the last book, I waited until the audiobook version was available.

Audiobook wish-list: Macbeth: A Novel by A. J. Hartley and David Hewson, Specimen Days by Michael Cunningham.

 

 

Jeremy Irons

Would I’ve liked Lolita (sample *goosebumps*) as much as I did without Irons’ deliciously-creepy narration? Probably not. Also heard to him read Brideshead Revisited and James and the Giant Peach and again got the feeling I appreciated the books much more because of him.

Audiobook wish-list: The French Lieutenant’s Woman by John Fowles.

 

 

Robert Whitfield (aka Simon Vance)

He’s a heavy-weight audiobook narrator, who read about 800 audiobooks and received awards I didn’t even know existed like the Audie® Awards. I first listed to him read Scaramouche and immediately downloaded Captain Blood, also by Rafael Sabatini. Whitfield will forever be associated in my mind with a good sword-buckling adventure, but I’ve recently listen to him read A Week in December by Sebastian Faulks and he was once again flawless.

Audiobook wish-list: His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik, The Difference Engine by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling, The Prestige by Christopher Priest, The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope, The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters, Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake

Steven Crossley

First listened to Steven Crossley in Enduring Love by Ian McEwan (one of Stephen King’s top 10 audiobooks) and more recently in To Say Nothing fo the Dog by Connie Willis.

Both books have quirky and eccentric characters which I think Crossley nailed perfectly.

Audiobook wish-list: A Room with a View by E. M. Forester (re-read), Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson

 


Nadia May

There’s only one woman in this list. I don’t really have an explanation for it, it’s just my honest experience with audiobooks so far, which might change as I get to know more narrators. Still, Nadia May is one of the best and a pleasure to listen every single time (her voice makes me think “She must be a good person, I want her over for tea”). I’ve heard her read Agnes Grey, Elizabeth and Her German Garden, The Scarlet Letter and The Sultan’s Seal by Jenny White.

Audiobook wish-list: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous Fourteenth Century by Barbara W. Tuchman, The Wings of the Dove by Henry James, Emma by Jane Austen (re-read), Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis, The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Armin, Parnassus on Wheels by Christopher Morley, Howards End by E. M. Foster (re-read)

(Note: I’ve only heard the following two narrators read one book each, but it was such a great experience that they have to be in the list.)


Matthew MacFadyen

Matthew MacFadyen could read the phonebook and it would sound like Shakespeare. And you know what’s even better? Matthew MacFadyen actually reading Shakespeare.

I’ve no doubt it was because of him that I gave five starts toThe Coma by Alex Garland.  The only reason why I haven’t listen to more of his audiobooks it’s because he hasn’t any (sniff), unless you count the one single but glorious chapter of Pride and Prejudice.

Someone please give the man a book and a microphone!

 

Michael Page

My best audiobook of 2011 was read by Michael Page: The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch. His voice is extremely versatile, not only in giving a distinct personally to each character, but also in being able to jump from comedy to drama without loosing a beat. Also think this is a case of the perfect match between narrator and book. Just like Robert Whitfield, Michael Page is probably at its best with an old-fashioned adventure book.

Audiobook wish-list: Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy, Red Seas Under Red Skies by Scott Lynch, The Three Musketeers by  Alexandre Dumas (Page or Whitfield? Decisions, decisions…)

Honorable mentions:

  • John Castle (Frenchman’s Creek by Daphne du Maurier)
  • Jonathan Cecil (all P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves novels)
  • Anton Lesser (Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman, but I like the samples of him reading Shakespeare)
  • Cassandra Campbell (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot and Can’t Wait to Get to Heaven by Faniie Flagg)
  • Dave John (Starter for Ten by David Nicholls)
  • Ian Carmichael (Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome and I’d like to try his narration of Lord Peter Wimsey’s novels)
  • Juliet Stevenson (Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen)
  • Jim Dale (Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne, have Peter and the Starcatchers series in the audio TBL and heard he did a great job with The Night Circusas well)
  • Nigel Graham (Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott)

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare

January 30, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , , , , | 11 comments

I know it’s early days, but I’ve had a good first month of 2012 reading resolutions. I’ve started War and Peace (which I’m surprisingly really enjoying), and read my first ever Shakespeare play.

Risa is organizing A Shakespeare Play a Month event and A Midsummer Night’s Dream was elected for January. I’ve never read Shakespeare in school and apart from the usual spin-offs like 10 Things I Hate About You or West Side Story, I’ve only came across the canon by watching Romeo + Juliet at the movies and Macbeth at the theater, and although I got the gist of it, most of the language nuances were lost on me. But way back then I didn’t read much in English, and what I read was mostly modern novels, so clearly I wasn’t ready to face The Bard.

Some friends warned me that Shakespeare is better experienced by listening to it, but I found that reading the book and then watching the movie worked well. I was able to go back, re-read and look online for definitions. I was able to understand turns of phrase such as “a mile without the town” or “come, recreant; come thou child”. If I’d seen it without reading it first, I’d probably miss just how visual and evocative one of my favorite lines really is – Titania describing how she got the little Indian boy:

When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind

It also gave me the opportunity to witness what a marvelous “insulter” Shakespeare was. I had heard rumors, but now I’ve seen it for myself and am very much tempted to use it in my day-to-day (not that I often insult people, but you know, just in case): “You minimus, of hind’ring knot-grass made”, “O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!”, “Farewell, thou lob of spirits”.

I haven’t said much about the plot because it became a bit secondary when compared to the words. That’s why you have re-reads, right? Next time around I’ll pay more attention to the comments on relationship’s balance of power or the loss of individual identity, but just this once, let me appreciate only the language.

Ay me, for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth.

Lysander says this to calm Hermia, after her father forbade them to marry and the King threatened her with death if she disobeyed. Lysander’s basically saying that for as long as there has been true love, there have been difficulties, and I found that strangely comforting.

Bottom & Co.’s play: loved it. How very meta-fictional of Shakespeare (or maybe it was a common gimmick at the time and I’m giving him more credit than he deserves), and how funny their keenness to make sure the audience was not scared by the lion (it’s just a man playing a lion!), or of the scene where Pyramus gets killed:

(…) and for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1999)

Watching the movie adaptation after reading was a good idea. It not only made me better understand the comings and goings of the characters, but it was also fun seeing how often the actors used a tone different from the one I used when reading by myself.

My initial plan was to only join Risa for a couple of the plays, but this one was such a rewarding experience that I think I’ll try to do all 12.

This post is also my contribution for Allie’s Shakespeare Reading Month.

 

 

 

 

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Other thoughts: tale of three cities, Becky’s Book Reviews, things mean a lot,  Educating Petunia, All-Consuming Media, Bloggers [heart] Books, Back to Books, Once Upon A Bookshelf, Trish’s Reading Nook, An Armchair By The Sea (yours?)

The Hare with the Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal

January 27, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , , , | 4 comments

(credits: Edmund de Waal)

I finished this book the same way I finished In Cold Blood: thinking I had never read another non-fiction quite like it. You can read it as a family saga or an insightful look at the European history from the late 19th century to the mid-20th. It can also be seen as a personal journey into the world of family heritage and how that influences who you are.

Edmund de Waal is a British ceramicist who inherited 264 netsuke and decides to discover more about how they came down the Ephrussi family line. (He’s now writing a history of the color white – looking forward to it!)

The book is mainly divided into three sections that mark the different stages of the netsuke’s life: the first is set at fin de siècle Paris where a Japanism-obsessed Charles Ephrussi first buys them from an art dealer. The second takes us to early 20th-century Vienna, at the time of its annexation by Hitler, and finally to post-WW2 and bombed-out Tokyo, a place I knew almost nothing about.

I was afraid that amidst all the family history the netsuke would become irrelevant, but they’re cleverly woven into the story. They become a sort of vessel that embodies the zeitgeist of the different times. In Paris they’re a collectors item and objects of art, in Vienna they’re on display in an intimate recess of a golden house, where a Lady dressed to go to parties and meet lovers, but they also become toys to the children allowed to witness that ritual. In Tokyo they are once again in the world they were build for and become a symbol of family history and resilience. I wonder what the future will bring to these intriguing objects.

(favorite Paris anecdote: Monet’s asparagus)

I found de Wall a remarkable writer, one that’s able to bring an artist’s awareness to another format, paying careful attention to the language, its pace and its evocative potential. He often tackles abstract topics, but always in a very accessible way:

You take an object from your pocket and put it down in front of you and you start. You begin to tell a story.

When I hold them I find myself looking for the wear, the fine cracks that run alongside the grain of some of the ivories.  It is not just that I want the split in these wrestlers – a tangle of hopelessly thrashing ivory limbs – to have come from being dropped onto Charles’s golden carpet of the winds by someone famous (a poet, a painter, Proust) in a moment of fin-de-siècle excitement.  Or that the deeply ingrained dust lodged under the wings of a cicada resting on a walnut shell comes from being hidden in a Viennese mattress. It probably doesn’t.

One of the great strengths of The Hare with the Amber Eyes is that it doesn’t ignore the excesses of the nouveaux-riches. It doesn’t downplay the extent of their wealth and privilege, nor the self-indulgence of their way of life. I couldn’t help but make parallels to the current social movements against the 1% and the financial sector in general. The 99% of that time were angry and laid open the way for Hitler and his comforting blame game. But although I believe most readers thought  ”this is too much” at some point in the book (a jeweled turtle – are you kidding me?!), we were never allowed to share the “they got it coming” philosophy.

It is on this visit that I go to the Jewish archive in Vienna, the one seized by Eichmann, to check up on the details of the marriage.  I look through the ledger to find Viktor, and there is an official red stamp across his first name.  It reads “Israel”. An edict decreed that all Jews had to take new names. Someone has gone through every single name in the lists of Viennese Jews and stamped them “Israel” for the men, “Sara” for the women.

I am wrong. The family is not erased, but written over. And, finally, it is this that makes me cry.

*goose-bumps* It reminded me of the time I crumbled watching Alan Cumming’s episode of Who Do You Think You Are.

For a book that goes so deeply into family history, I learned a lot about history in general. The gradual infiltration of Nazi ideals in Austrian society was especially interesting. It coincided with some of the book’s most moving scenes: de Waal’s grandfather isolated in his country estate, penniless and without a nationality, the courage of his grandmother in entering the country to rescue him, and the story of Anna, the faithful servant. Her part in the netsuke’s history is the stuff of legend.

Anna gave me lots of food for thought. What made her stay and rescue the netsuke? Loyalty? Her own personal form of rebellion? And then, shockingly, the family didn’t even remembered her last name. There is no excuse for this, although I also saw her as someone self-effacing and easily over-looked. How else could she have lived all those years in the occupied house?

There is such pedigree in the Ephrussi family, they were all so amazing and influential (Charles has a cameo in Monet’s Luncheon of the Boating Party and was the inspiration for one of main characters in Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past) that I can’t help but keenly feel just how utterly obscure my ancestors are. More than that, I feel sorry there’s almost no family history or objects that have trickled down to my brother and me.

By the end of the book de Waal is in possession of the netsuke. Apart from frail letters and documents, they’re all that’s left of a great family that once had everything. The netsuke are once again ready to begin yet another chapter in their amazing history.

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Other thoughts: Savidge Reads, Shelf Love, Reading Matters, things mean a lot, Tales from the Reading Room, chasing bawa, Hannah Stoneham’s Book Blog, Boston Bibliophile, Winstonsdad’s Blog, My Book Year, Vulpis Libris, Novel Insights, Canadian Bookworm, Lucybird’s Book Blog, Page 247, Desperate Reader, MarysLibrary, Cornflower Books, Eve’s Alexandria (yours?)

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

January 23, 2012 in book review | Tags: , , , | 13 comments

(credits to bloodmilk jewels)

What can I say about this one that hasn’t been said before? Just for posterity’s sake I’ll add a few random thoughts, mostly meant for those of you who’ve read the book (not because of spoilers but just because they’re loose tidbits without a lot of context).

First and foremost: what was your favorite tent? Mine was the one with the glass bottles full of stories and memories. I’d probably never leave.

This is a book meant to be made into a movie and I’m very glad it’s already in the works. I hope the budget does it justice. I especially want to see the fire in the courtyard, the ice garden and Celia’s dresses subtly changing colors. You can tell Erin Morgenstern is also a painter – it’s all about creating images.

Was I the only one who thought that Isobel was Celia, when Marco first meets her in London and invites her for coffee?

Lots of interesting secondary characters that were a bit neglected. Tsukiko, for instance, had a pivotal role at the end but I didn’t feel her tragedy as much as I could have. Chandresh’s spiral into alcohol and Marco-induced oblivion could have been much more poignant. My heart could have easily been broken over Isobel and Thiessen (my favorite character in the whole wide book), but didn’t. There’s so much time spent describing the search for the perfect watchmaker and its construction, that after it was built I felt a bit disappointed - it just sat there.

In general I’m weary of books where anything can happen (e.g. Alice in Wonderland). If there are no limits, I’m not engaged in the story and characters. I was afraid that might happen once the competition began, but it didn’t. Extra brownie points.

Favorite scene: the disturbance in the Force, when the trapeze artist almost falls. Beautifully paced, like literary slow motion.

It’s been said before countless times and I agree: Morgenstern does a great job of creating the dream-like experience of the Circus, I could almost smell those caramel apples. It was my last paper-book of 2011, I liked it a lot, but didn’t make it to the favorites’ list. Why?

I did find it a page-turner but the non-linear plot sometimes cut the flow. Also, the story revolves around this competition between two people in love and several “battles” take place, but there’s not a lot of action or tension until the very end. It also doesn’t help that Marco and Celia are apart most of the story, although the few scenes where we see them together are marvelous – that kiss!

If anyone knows where the Circus will be next, please let me know! I have the perfect red scarf.

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Lots and lots of other thoughts (was I the last book blogger in the world to post about this?!):

caribousmom, Fantasy Book Critic, A Patchwork of Books, S. Krishna’s Books, The Book Lady’s Blog, Book Chatter, Leeswammes, Book’d Out, My Books. My Life., largehearted boy, 1330v, Fyrefly Book Blog, Babbling About Books, and More, Jules’ Book Reviews, Linus’s Blanket, The Book Bind, Bookhounds, Estella’s Revenge, Farm Lane Books, Alison’s Book Marks, Muggle-Born, Book Monkey, The Guilded Earlobe, Miss Remmers’ Reviews, A Novel Source, Fat Books and Thin Women, Book Diary, Entomology of a Bookworm,  nomadreader, Follow the Thread, The Novel World, Hooked on Books, It’s All About Books, Nerfreader, A Musing Reviews, Capricious Reader, Book Sake, The Paper Reader, Indie Reader Houston, Let’s Eat Grandpa!, Book Nook Club, Prairie Horizons, The Book Whisperer, A Book Blog of One’s Own, The Canary, Reading on a Rainy Day, Jenny’s Books, Estante de Livros, book i done read, Literature and a Lens, Reading Matters, Literary Musings, Books Distilled, Under My Apple Tree, Bookeater/Booklover, Bibliophile By the Sea, Books are my Boyfriends

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