I don’t quite understand a fiction book whose point is that people who read fiction books are messed up because they read fiction books. Are you full of self-loathing? Do you think your fiction book is somehow better than other fiction books? “No, no,” you say, “my fiction book is different because it exposes those other fiction books as unreal and changing people’s expectations of the world from something reasonable to something over the top.” Um, ok. Whatever.
Clearly, I didn’t get into Madame Bovary – which is about a woman whose reading screws with her expectations of what her life will really be like. Your milage may vary – it is a classic after all.
Autumn is one of the more unusual books I have read lately. It’s the first of a planned quartet of books, one for each season. It’s British and Brexit and divide amongst people is one of the things it’s interested in. It’s also interested in time, and the cycles in which things repeat, but really, most strongly, I think this book is a 260 page long poem. It’s got plot, and it’s written in prose, but the imagery is SO STRONG and the words are so lyrical that it feels like poetry.
Set aside some time and find a quiet place and maybe a cup of tea and enjoy this book.
Educated was not an easy read. It’s the memoir of a woman who was raised in a strict Mormon household, the kind that is convinced the government is after them. Her mother was a midwife at first, and then a healer later. Suffice it to say, there was no going to see doctors. There was no school. She didn’t even have a birth certificate until she was 9. The home environment was not healthy, to say the least.
But she ends up at BYU as a 16 or 17 year old (it wasn’t exactly clear from her writing), where she starts learning both about the world and how to learn. She ends up at Cambridge and then Harvard and estranged from her family and parents.
Educated was a powerful read – you feel her emotions, the highs and the lows. The desire to run away, the need to fit in, and all the therapy in between.
Uprooted was a lovely fairy-tale-esque story about a wizard and his apprentice fighting to defeat a Wood that’s trying to take over a kingdom. It can be summed up so simply, but there is so much action and delight in constructing the world – which isn’t an easy task – but it’s over 400 pages long. I read it in a single day.
Uprooted was a delight and if you like fantasy or fairy tales, I would recommend it.
I didn’t realize when I picked this up that How Do We Look is a companion book to the Civilisations show on PBS. As a companion to a television series – or rather two episodes of a television series about art and creativity help civilization happen – it’s broader and less deep than I had expected. I should note that I haven’t watched the television show.
However, sometimes broad but not deep allows you to see similarities and to see contrasting patterns; like Christianity allows for images of God in a way Islam doesn’t, but Islam then beautifies language into art. Both allow you to focus on the religion and the stories it tells.
How do we look means how have we been taught to regard the world – for example how has the art we’ve seen taught us about the male gaze? Or how have religious icons taught us to view stories?
It was a lovely afternoon read, full of gorgeous pictures.
There There is the most literary fiction I’ve read in a good long time. It’s a book about Native Americans living in Oakland. Not a tribe, not even particularly related to each other or known to each other. Just a group of Native Americans, mostly in Oakland, all going to a powwow at the Coliseum for their various reasons. It’s not an especially happy book, but it is powerful and Native Americans in cities is not something you read about often.
As an aside the title is a reference to Gertrude Stein’s “There’s no there there,” quote about Oakland and how it had changed from her childhood – all the landmarks had disappeared and the city had changed completely. It’s a lament for what might have been, which is a metaphor, to my mind, about the lives of Native Americans in today’s United States.
Recommended if you want to read a local Bay Area author or if you’re a literary fiction fan.
The City & The City is for the Venn diagram of people who like Raymond Chandler and science fiction. It’s a mystery, a police procedural, that involves two cities that exist in the same space but in different dimensions. Sort of. The bureaucracy that governs the two cities is Kafka-esque.
The mystery could stand on its own, but would be way less intriguing without the odd Eastern European dual-citied setting. It allows for twists and turns and part of the intrigue is figuring out how the two cities coexist. Allow for some mind-twistiness with this one.
Confession time. I often read the endings of books before I get too far into them. I like knowing what’s going to happen so I don’t have to stress about the plot; I also then get to focus on things like character and setting in a much more meaningful way. Plus, finding out how they get there is more than half the fun.
But with Legendary? I found I didn’t really care how they got there. I tried to keep reading, but just couldn’t. The first one, Caraval, was good, but it might have been enough.
Look, sometimes you’re just in the mood for a YA romance, ok? This one’s about a Korean-American overachieving teenager who’s a senior in high school and somehow never managed to have a boyfriend. A cute boy moves to town (all good stories start with either a stranger moving to town or someone leaving it) and he seems to like her. So Desi does the only thing she can – she formulates a plan to get together with him based on K-dramas. What could go wrong?
I Believe in a Thing Called Love was a great Sunday afternoon to chill read. Recommended if you’re into a sweet teen romance.
Less was a totally sweet book about a man, Arthur Less, who goes on an around-the-world-trip to avoid going to the wedding of his former lover. It’s a very sweet story; I was expecting the finding-yourself part of the quest, I wasn’t expecting the love story that came out of it.