Book Report

I love books. I may, in fact, be a little obsessed with books. I own more books than I can fit on my bookshelves. My office is stacked with boxes of books. I have at least two books on my nightstand at any given time. I have racked up untold sums in library fines over my lifetime. I borrow them. I buy them at thrift stores and book sales and actual retail stores. I lose them. I get them as gifts. The last few Christmases, I have invariably received at least one bookstore gift card from my relatives (because they all know it's easier to get me a gift card than to buy me a book I don't already have).

So I figured I'd follow Melissa Reed's lead and write about the books I've read so far this year (and if you feel inclined, you can read her book reviews/commentary on her blog, Seriously Funny Business.)

Just because I'm a lifelong English major doesn't mean I'm a snob when it comes to books, though. I have a very haphazard way of choosing what to read, and I don't exclude books on the basis of supposed literary merit or lack thereof; instead, I read whatever I feel like reading. If I get twenty pages into a book and decide I don't want to read it, I don't force myself (which is how I cannot manage to get through ANY Jane Austen).

1. The Queen's Fool by Philippa Gregory

Yes, this is the same lady who wrote The Other Boleyn Girl (which I have not read, but I saw the movie--meh). When I read historical fiction, I often read Elizabethan/Tudor era stuff because it's usually pretty juicy: sex, violence, plotting, religious upheaval, and a level of what-the-fuckery because it often seems impossible that Europe was run by a bunch of idiots who believed the throne was their birthright and it was a good idea to marry their cousins and it was a woman's fault if she couldn't give birth to a son (even though genetics tells us it's the man's DNA that makes this determination). Whew.

I've found that these books either sympathize with Elizabeth/demonize Mary OR call Elizabeth a tramp/sympathize with Mary, and Gregory's book falls into the latter category. The main character, Hannah, has fled Spain with her father, a Jewish bookseller, and they've ended up in semi-hiding in London. At first I was interested, because I hadn't read anything with a Jewish perspective of this time period, but Gregory's handling of the topic is at once informative, heavy-handed, and a little lazy. While Hannah is taken into the precarious position of Fool to the Queen (hence the title), she struggles with her identity in terms of culture, religion, gender, nationality, socioeconomic status, etc. That's fine. Conflicted characters can be interesting. Except dear Hannah has the same realization over and over again, phrased almost identically each time. Just like every mention of the burning of heretics affects her in exactly the same way, with the same phrasing.

I just kept thinking "You tell me you are growing and maturing, dear protagonist, but I don't quite believe you." Not necessarily a bad read, but definitely not the best I've read in my Tudor kick.

2. I Am Mary Tudor by Hilda Lewis

Another on my Tudors kick. But this one was boring, not very well-written, and a chore to finish (actually, I'm not 100% sure I finished it--it was that bad). I tend to read books from Elizabeth's perspective, so I was eager to learn more about Mary. Since this is a first-person account, I thought it would liven up what I've read in history books, but it was just dull. I was able to sympathize more with Mary's struggles, and it was interesting to see Elizabeth flat-out demonized, but the most interesting part of this 1973 paperback was the glossy, full-color cigarette advertisement in the middle of the book.

3-6. The Twilight series by Stephanie Meyers

I will not call it a saga because the connotations of that word are too grand and noble to apply here. Seriously, a saga isn't whiny or creepy. Stuff happens in a saga. You're probably wondering why I would bother to read such dreck (and, admittedly, it wasn't my first time through the series), especially since there are literally millions of better books available. It comes down to this: I like to read, and sometimes I read books that aren't so great, knowing they aren't so great, because there's still something of value in the act of reading. It's about understanding where we are as a culture when something like this, as flawed and poorly-written and possibly harmful as it is, becomes such a phenomenon.

I'm not going to spend time ragging on the books, because countless others have been doing that for years, and in far wittier ways. Every negative thing you've ever heard about them is true, to some extent. I personally like this highly-illustrated explanation of the books, because it's so fun (and it taught me about Mormons!). But reading these books is also kind of fun--even though I sometimes wanted to stab myself from the writing, the content, the terrible ideas young girls could get about relationships, etc. Reading the Twilight series the first time actually helped me better understand the collective mindset of my freshmen students--as do the yearly Beloit college mindset lists (which simultaneously freak me out/make me feel old).


7. The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger

I bought the German version of the book (Der Teufel Trägt Prada) at a thrift store because I someday hope to read an entire book in one of the foreign languages I have studied (and I don't count reading Shakespeare or the Canterbury Tales in the original, since both are technically still English). I thought it would be helpful to become familiar with the English version before I tried to read it in German. I know it's fluff, but there were still some good moments in there. And since I primarily read before bed, I usually can't handle anything too literary. The book is slightly better than the movie, in that the characters are more miserable. But you know I kept picturing Meryl Streep barking orders at Anne Hathaway as I read.

8. The Machineries of Joy by Ray Bradbury

Bradbury is my go-to when I can't decide what to read, and no matter how many times I have read a given story collection or novel, I'm still enchanted and surprised. He creates an atmosphere that no other writer quite accomplishes, because the stories are a strange balance of grounded familiarity and wacky, absurd, suspenseful futurism. I will always go back to Bradbury. In this collection, I love the creepiness of "The One Who Waits"; it's terrifying to read right before bed. And "A Miracle of Rare Device" made me think about the way I find things I'm not looking for, seeing things other people miss, because I live in my own little world most of the time.

9. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire

I first discovered Maguire by accident, picking up Wicked at a garage sale on a whim many years ago. What I like about this one is how he fills in the details of Cinderella in a way that is almost plausible. Setting it in Holland, adding the fate of painters and tulip bulb speculation to the plot, takes it just beyond the fairy tale without going too realistic. It's a quick read, which I like about his books, but that doesn't mean it's overly simple. I kept picturing Angelica Huston as Margarethe.

10. Border Songs by Jim Lynch

Honestly, I bought this at the Marion Carnegie Library book sale, partially because there's a cow on the cover. I decided to read it because part of the plot revolves around drug trafficking along the Washington/British Columbia border; we had been watching Breaking Bad and Weeds at the time, so it seemed appropriate. Although I had a hard time not picturing the author as the main character (because of the unfortunate picture of the author on the back cover), I liked the book because the protagonist is goofy and accident-prone and only accidentally good at his job as a border patrol agent. He counts birds, and some of the descriptions of the calls were inventive and hilarious. I like characters who are freakish, either physically or mentally, and this guy is both.

11. Misery Bay by Steve Hamilton

Part of my method in selecting books is wandering aimlessly through the library stacks and happening upon something I feel like reading, which is how I found Hamilton's most recent offering. I had read the other Alex McKnight novels awhile back, mostly because they are set in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. While the writing is not particularly eloquent, these books move through the plot well and have just enough gory details to make them fun crime stories. I find myself rooting for Alex McKnight because he seems like an average, middle-aged, middle-class guy from Michigan who ends up in situations he really shouldn't be in, all because he can't seem to mind his own business. He lives in a cabin in Paradise. He drives a pick-up truck. He spends a lot of time at the one bar near his house. I read this during that week of 80 degree weather, and it helped cool me down a bit.

12. Happily Ever After edited by John Klima

This was another random grab from the library shelves, and I'm so glad I found it, because it was a goldmine of rewritten fairy tales, sometimes with a modern twist. There's over 30 stories in here, which means there's a huge variety, without the commitment of an entire novel. Kelly Link's "The Faery Handbag" was wacky and fun, but just believable enough that I found myself wishing I could have met the grandmother in the story. There were several re-tellings of Snow White, Rapunzel, and Alice in Wonderland, but my favorite in the whole book was K. Tempest Bradford's "Black Feather," because it reminded me most of what I strive for in my own writing, while still relying on the methods of fairy tale (repetition, symbols, dreams). I was mesmerized by this story. I wanted to live in it. I wish I had written it.

13-15. The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins

Everyone had been telling me to read this series, and I didn't get around to it, but since I want to see the movies I figured I should probably read the books. If I see the movie first, I can't picture the characters or the events the way I want to, and I get annoyed. So I requested them from the public library, got impatient, and borrowed the first book from Emily Finnegan so I could get going on them right away.

I love post-apocalyptic fiction/science fiction/speculative fiction, so The Hunger Games earned a place on my shelf from the beginning. While I was reading the first book, though, I found myself wanting to know more about what had caused the creation of Panem (it is explained throughout the series, but not to my satisfaction). I had to keep reminding myself that Katniss's knowledge would be limited and therefore so would mine as a reader, but I still got frustrated, because I expected more. I was easily drawn into this world, though, and I can definitely see nods to gladiatorial combat in ancient Rome and reality television (like Survivor). One of my only real complaints is that it sometimes felt like Collins was in a rush to finish, especially near the end of the third book, and the narration was as spare as possible to propel the story based on connecting the plot points. I wanted to stay in Panem longer, get to know the characters better, have more reflection from Katniss. Also, was it really necessary for her to be drugged so often? By the end of the series, it felt a bit like a cop-out.

Over and over, though, I kept thinking about how kids nowadays are probably well-equipped to identify with Katniss et al. in terms of the public persona, since teenagers now have to worry about crafting a very public image on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, etc. The younger generation watches and is watched, and probably doesn't get the willies about the Capitol/communication/surveillance the way I did while reading. Have these kids read 1984? I also found myself wondering how kids/teens reading the series now would react to the descriptions of starvation and poverty. I thought about my students, some of whom had lived in cities all of their lives and had probably never set foot on a farm.

16. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender

This was my most recent random library pick. I saw this book on the clearance table at Barnes and Noble a long time ago, and now I wish I had bought it, because DANG. It's about a girl who can taste feelings in whatever she eats, which sounds interesting until you see that she can't shut it off, and it makes her life unbearable. Food takes precedence over most other aspects of the main character's life, so we've got an angry, detached protagonist who has trouble relating to others but who also has insight into others through the emotions in the food they prepare or cook. Bender makes it seem possible, while still retaining an air of magical realism to the whole thing. The characters refer to it as a "special skill" rather than a super power to keep it seeming just normal enough.

I found myself very annoyed with Bender's sentence structure (so many commas! such long sentences!) until I realized that it's because I hate that about my own writing. Once I realized that, though, I cruised through it. My other moment of annoyance came near the end, because the narrator had promised us some information and failed to deliver into there were only a handful of pages left, but when I got to the end I saw why it was done that way and forgave. One of the big secrets in the book made me feel absolutely queasy; even so, I wish it had been described just a little bit more because I couldn't quite picture what the narrator saw, and I wanted to, because I wanted to believe it.

I don't know what to read next, so I'll probably read some more Bradbury until I can make another trip to the library.