Col Reads

Gone hikin'

2012-03-01T14:35:00.001-08:00

Shhhh! This week I will be catching up on my reading in a quiet, much photographed location. I'll be back -- and recharged -- next week! Hope you all have a lovely week of reading ahead.

Read Along Check in #2: Clarissa, or the History of a Young Woman by Samuel Richardson

2012-02-29T14:29:00.000-08:00

Well, after a slow start, things are starting to heat up in Clarissa’s world. She has been dragged with little warning from her friend Miss Howe’s home because her family learned that Lovelace (her brother’s enemy) had visited there. So she’s now been made a prisoner in her own home, with her family trying to force her to marry Mr. Solmes, who she dislikes intensely, and to get hold of the property her grandfather left her, despite the fact that they obviously have plenty of money themselves.

I’m willing to admit I was totally wrong about Miss Howe. In the last of the February letters we finally hear her perspective on what’s happened, and she appears to have Clarissa’s best interests at heart. In fact, she’s giving Clarissa the same kind of support and advice that any good girlfriend would: “Your family is treating you badly,” “Don’t let everyone walk all over you,” “If you don’t like the guy, you shouldn’t lead him on.” Only with Samuel Richardson it takes a good many more words to get those sentiments across:

I know he has nothing to boast of from what you have written: but is not his inducing you to receive letters, and to answer them, a great point gained? By your insisting that he should keep the correspondence private, it appears there is one secret which you do not wish the world should know: and he is the master of that secret. He is indeed himself, as I may say, that secret! What an intimacy does this beget for the lover! How is it distancing the parent! pg. 53 of Volume 1

You can say that again, Miss Howe.

It’s clear from the agitated tone of the letters that Clarissa's situation is getting desperate. Although she has property of her own that should protect her from her family’s greed (and clearly that’s what her grandfather intended), the convention of the times leaves her at the mercy of the male members of her family. I have a feeling that March is going to be a critical month for Clarissa Harlowe.

I’m assuming that the pace of the letters is about to increase, as we’ve only reached page 24 of the first of nine volumes! Breaking this into 12 parts makes taking on such an enormous epistolary novel possible, so thanks to Terri at Tip of the Iceberg and JoAnn at Lakeside Musing for hosting this year long event. I am headed over to check out the links and see what everyone else thought about this month’s readings. Has the book captured you yet? I think I’m getting there!

Venice in February: Balzac’s Massimilla Doni and Corona’s The Four Seasons

2012-02-29T06:18:00.000-08:00

In eighteenth and nineteenth century Venice, music was an obsession, marriage was a part-time occupation, and love was a spectator sport. Ironically, I read two books written more than 150 years apart by authors from two different continents (neither of them Venetian), for Bellezza and Ally's Venice in February event and found them strikingly similar.

The first was Honoré de Balzacs classic novella Massimilla Doni, which forms part of his masterwork, La Comedie Humaine. One of my goals for this year was to read some of the classics I’ve missed up until now, and Balzac was on that list, so I figured I’d test the waters with one of his shorter works. I actually enjoyed it, but his flowery style and the treacly heroine made it a bit slow-going at times.

Emilio Cane is a prince with no money, thanks to the conquering Austrian’s usurpation of the family patrimony. He falls in love with the beautiful and virtuous Massimilla Doni, an heiress who has been married off in a loveless marriage to the aging Duke Cataneo, and they hold hands and yearn for each other while chastely occupying her fabulous villa for what seems like the first half of the novella. But when renowned soprano Clarina Tinti and the great tenor Genovese arrive in Venice, the lovers quickly head back to town for the musical season. This is when the book becomes really interesting, as the tempestuous Clarina becomes – through a set of pretty unbelievable circumstances – Massimilla’s rival for Emilio’s affection.

The Duke, as it turns out, would like an heir, but has no interest in helping Massimilla out in that way, so he and apparently everyone else in Venice are anxious for Emilio and Massimilla to just get on with it. Balzac leads the characters down a circuitous road that involves opium, stage fright and suicide, examining the impact of passion on both relationships and art, and also manages to give the reader a nifty synopsis of Rossini’s Mosè in Egitto, all in the course of a 120 page novella. Phew!

For a lighter take on Venice, I returned to one of my comfort zones: the historical novel. I have had Laurel Corona’s The Four Seasons: A Novel of Vivaldi’s Venice on my TBR pile since I first read about it. I have loved Vivaldi’s masterpiece since I first saw those pixies spreading dewdrops to it in Disney’s Fantasia, and I thought I’d enjoy a novelization of how it came about. And I would have, if that’s what I read – but Corona actually delivered so much more than I’d anticipated with this fantastic book!

Maddalena and Chiaretta are abandoned as children by their courtesan mother on the doorstep of the Ospedale della Pieta, an orphanage known for its famous “coro” of musically gifted young women who perform for Venetian society. The young women of Pieta are taught the womanly arts and allowed to make money from their crafts and performances until they are old enough to either get married or enter a convent – the basic choices for women in 18th century Venice. Chiaretta’s extraordinary voice leads her to the coro early on, but Maddalena’s talent with the violin goes almost unnoticed until Vivaldi (who I had no idea was a priest) takes the job as musical director of the coro. Vivaldi begins to write for the sisters, and the novel follows the sisters’ diverging paths: Chiaretta as the wife of a wealthy Venetian businessman and Maddalena as Vivaldi’s muse.

The irony is that the cloistered life of the Pieta actually gives Maddalena far more autonomy than Chiaretta has as a member of Venetian society. In order to marry Chiaretta, her husband signed an agreement that she would never sing in public, so the book puts the sisters’ struggle with their musical passions in stark relief. Chiaretta adores her husband, but finds that fidelity is not an accepted part of marriage in Venice. In fact, her husband goes so far as to choose her paramour. This seems to have been a function of Venetian society, where to keep wealth in the family, second daughters were put into convents and second sons acted as a sort of “honor guard” for the women whose husbands were otherwise engaged with the city’s courtesans – unless they went into the priesthood, like Vivaldi.

The Four Seasons was a surprise. The female characters were complex and interesting – such a contrast to Balzac’s heroine. I would heartily recommend it to any lover of historical fiction, especially those who love books associated with masterpieces, like Tracy Chevalier’s novels. As for Massimilla Doni, I would say it’s an accessible introduction to La Comedie Humaine. I enjoyed it, and I think anyone interested in the roots of French literature would too. Just don’t expect Zola!

I did some double-dipping with my Venice in February titles. Massimilla Doni is my translated classic for the Back to the Classics 2012 Challenge, and The Four Seasons: A Novel of Vivaldi’s Venice counts toward the Historical Fiction Challenge 2012. Thanks to Sarah Reads Too Much and Historical Tapestry for hosting!

Book Review: SONOMA ROSE by Jennifer Chiaverini

2012-02-27T12:47:00.000-08:00

Normally, I am a person who hates to come into a book series in the middle. So I’m going to admit to being a little worried when Jennifer Chiaverini’s Sonoma Rose arrived and I saw the subtitle: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel. I had never heard of the series, so I went to visit the site and realized I was jumping into the middle of what appeared to be a cottage industry: novels, fabric patterns, even a cookbook, all inspired by Chiaverini’s work. There was no way to catch up (there are already 18 books in the series), so I just decided to jump in and hope for the best. I’m happy to say I was rewarded with a novel of depth and grit that brought a time and a place that I know very little about – Prohibition era California – to life.

The novel begins with Rosa Diaz Barclay trapped in a loveless and increasingly volatile marriage to John, desperate at having lost four of her 8 children to a mysterious wasting disease that attacked them right after they were weaned. Two of her four remaining children suffer from the same affliction, although the other two, including her eldest, are completely healthy. Having been abandoned by her family, her only support comes from her childhood sweetheart, Lars Jorgensen, and a new arrival in Arboles Valley, Elizabeth Nelson. When Elizabeth witnesses one of John’s jealous rages, the stage is set for Rosa to run. The family’s attempt to free themselves both from the tyranny of an abusive spouse and the nightmare of a disease that the local doctors cannot understand comprise the main action of the novel, and I was caught up in Rosa’s world from the very beginning.

This novel serves up a really interesting piece of historical fiction, and throws in a offbeat love story for good measure. Rosa and her family find themselves among the desperate northern California vineyard owners who are trying to hold onto their land and their heritage as Prohibition slowly destroys their way of life. I had never really thought about the unintended effects of Prohibition on law abiding citizens – and how desperation might have forced vineyard owners into relationships with criminals, just to keep their heads above water. The book emphasizes the ambiguity of the time by contrasting the slimy Prohibition agent, Dwight Crowell, with the protective bootlegger, Mr. Lucerno.

It was also fascinating to think about how much medicine has changed our lives in less than 100 years. In the time before genetic testing and antibiotics, illness must have seemed so much more mysterious and ominous than it does to us now. Rosa’s attempts to deal with her children’s condition were so heartbreaking that any mother reading could easily put herself in Rosa’s place.

While Sonoma Rose was identified as part of the Elm Creek Quilt series, quilts and quilt-making are only tangential to the storyline. From what I’ve read, this may make Sonoma Rose an unusual part of the collection, but for me it meant there was no problem understanding what was going. It’s possible that the heirloom quilts that Elizabeth gives Rosa are detailed in a previous book, but not knowing that didn’t detract in any way from my enjoyment of the book.

I’ve been reading a lot of translated fiction and classic fiction lately, and Sonoma Rose was a nice, light break. Not being a quilter, I’m not sure if I’d go back and read the rest of the series. But I did enjoy this novel very much, and recommend it to those interested in 20th century historical fiction, regardless of whether they are quilters or not. This book counts for the Historical Fiction Challenge 2012 – it’s about time I got something done, challenge-wise, to keep February from being a complete bust! Thanks to everyone at Historical Tapestry for hosting!

I read this book as part of a TLC book tour, and received a copy of the book in return for my honest opinion. For other opinions, check out the links here.

Book Review: Catherine McKenzie’s SPIN

2012-02-20T19:58:00.000-08:00

I worked in publishing for about ten years before I went to graduate school. Which is probably why I felt an immediate affinity for Catherine McKenzie’s debut novel Spin. When writer Kate Sandford got an interview at her favorite magazine, The Line, I remembered walking into the USA Today offices for the first time. Okay, I didn’t go down in flames spectacularly by showing up to my interview drunk. And I didn’t get an offer to “try out” for my dream job by going undercover at a rehab facility to spy on a famous actress. But I really did relate to the whole “trying-to-get-a-job-in-publishing” pressure that Kate put herself through.

Kate is a very likeable character: talented and driven, but also deeply flawed. She meets starlet Amber Sheppard and is amazed to find her a real person with real problems. Problems, as it turns out, that aren’t so different from her own.

Spin would have been a pretty light chic-lit title, if not for Kate’s own emerging realization that outside of the tabloid spotlight, she has more in common with Amber than she ever would have believed.

Now, I don’t usually drink in the morning, but there was something about that morning that felt out of the ordinary. It was a combination of things, really. Seeing the tiny plane I was going to have to fly in. Going undercover. Being about to meet a celbrity I’d been watching for weeks on television. Having the opportunity to finally get where I wanted to be as a writer. Going to rehab. It all balled up inside me, and I needed something to calm me down. The chamomile tea I had before I left for the airport wasn’t cutting it, so I headed to the always open airport bar and ordered a gin and tonic. p. 83-84

McKenzie did a credible job of showing Kate’s growing ambivalence about her assignment as Amber transforms from tabloid fodder to a living, breathing human being. Kate’s growing self-awareness definitely made the novel more interesting. That being said, I was sort of surprised by the grittiness of the story. Based on the description and the cover, I thought the book would have a “lighter” feel to it – but it’s definitely not a comedy, not even a dark one.

I also have to admit that the love story element didn’t work well for me. This may be because there were so many characters to keep track of – but there just weren’t enough interactions between the characters to truly develop a good romance. That’s not to say I wasn’t rooting for the main characters, I just didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy when the resolution came.

I liked Spin, and am intrigued by McKenzie’s writing. Her first-person narration was direct and accessible, without ever feeling “staged.” I’m looking forward to seeing what she does next.

I read this book as part of a TLC book tour, and received a copy of the book in return for my honest opinion. For other opinions, check out the links here.

Weekend Cooking: Super Bowl Entertaining Edition

2012-02-05T11:48:00.000-08:00

No need to let the Packers’ and Steelers’ dream-crushing losses keep us from enjoying a perfectly good pseudo event here in Central PA. So tonight we’re having a few friends over to watch ads – and some football in between. And to make sure we don’t expire before the halftime show, I’m serving up two Foccacia Super Sandwiches.

We started by making two loaves of foccacia this morning: one white and one whole wheat. We waited for them to cool and sliced the tops off. Then we got to work on the sandwiches.

The first one is for Veggie Lovers: goat cheese, olives, roasted red peppers, marinated artichoke hearts and thinly sliced yellow tomatoes dressed with olive oil.

The second one is for Meat Lovers: hard salami, prosciutto, provolone, roasted red peppers, mild banana peppers and basil dressed with vinaigrette.

These get wrapped tightly (with the top layer replaced) and sit in the fridge until game time. Then we’ll slice them each into 16 pieces. My friends are bringing the sides and dessert – so all I have to do is sit back and watch Giselle’s husband lose. Or maybe Peyton’s brother. Either way, it will be tasty!

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Read Along Check-In #1: Clarissa, or, the History of a Young Woman by Samuel Richardson

2012-01-31T19:47:00.000-08:00

When JoAnn at Lakeside Musing and Terri at Tip of the Iceberg announced their idea for a year-long read along of Samuel Richardson’s epic Clarissa, I realized I had my chance to approach a book I knew I should read, but never had made time to read. Just looking at the book might intimidate the most voracious reader: I wouldn’t want to drop it on my toe, for fear it would break it. But somehow it seemed more likely that I’d actually finish it if I was reading it with a group, so I jumped in!

Obviously, I’ve have had a terrible blogging month for a number of reasons – but it hasn’t actually been a bad reading month. So tonight I’m sharing my thoughts on the January readings for Clarissa.

To begin, I am amazed at how “modern” the book is. Clarissa Harlowe is not, as I had feared, some Victorian milquetoast heroine. She is a young woman with a mind of her own, politic enough to realize that the unusual bequest her grandfather has left her puts her in a precarious position vis-à-vis her jealous siblings.

Lovelace is an ambiguous love interest thus far. Clarissa is not impressed by him at the beginning of the book. But there is something extremely appealing about him, especially in his distaste for Clarissa’s vile brother James. It was frightening to consider how much power a male child had over a female child within a family, even though he had no real accomplishments of his own.

I am not sure I trust Miss Howe at this point. She seems to be a very close friend of Clarissa’s, but her flowery and supercilious writing leaves me wondering about her sincerity. However I am absolutely unsure as to whether or not that is a function of the time and place that the book was written – so I’m reserving judgment for the moment. We’ll see if she is truly friend to Clarissa in the end, or if she is harboring some ulterior motives.

I am so glad that I signed on to participate in the read along, and if you haven’t yet, feel free to join us – there’s a whole year of fun to come, and you can easily catch up! It’s early in the read, but I am already enjoying this more than I expected, so I am eager to see that February’s letters bring to our heroine. The links to the January Clarissa links are at Tip of the Iceberg.

Book Review: The Ruins of Us by Keija Parssinen

2012-01-31T12:22:00.001-08:00

Most books about cross-cultural romances focus on the beginning of the relationship, that first, heady rush of longing and adoration that everyone recognizes – but that no couple can ever sustain – coupled with the shared desire to overcome societal obstacles to the liaison. Keija Parssinen’s The Ruins of Us gives us a glimpse of that fairytale 25 years down the road. And it confronts some really interesting questions about the nature of cross-cultural relationships, most importantly, “If we love someone because they are different from us, can love survive after that person makes our culture their own?”

Rosalie was a bartender/singer in Sugar Land, Texas, when she met Abdullah Baylani, a Saudi graduate student from a wealthy family. To Rosalie, whose happiest memories were of her ex-patriot childhood in the Middle East, “Abdi” represents an exotic life she longs to recapture. To Abdullah, she was a breath of fresh air, uninhibited and unconstrained by Saudi culture. But after a quarter century in Saudi Arabia, Rosalie now speaks (almost) fluent Arabic, and her once-red hair is hidden by a veil. She has learned to fit in to survive. But in Abdullah’s eyes, no matter how unfair it is, she’s lost a part of what made her so unique:

Recently she had watched the bright moon of Abdullah’s adoration waning, until it seemed to only reflect light from dying planets – a dull secondhand light. For years they had been a comfort to each other, but somewhere along the way their marriage had grown functional. Now she could only acknowledge that the devotion upon which she had built her world in the farthest province of a desolate land had dissolved under her feet. Kindle location 427

Rosie’s world becomes completely undone when she finds out that her husband has taken another, far younger wife – and kept it from her for more than two years. The revelation is further complicated by her teenage son Faisal’s increasing resentment of the “outsider” status that his “Ameeriki” mother forces on him. She turns to an old college friend, an ex-pat who still works for her husband, for support. But a relationship that would be totally understandable, even innocuous, in Texas, looks way different in the Kingdom.

I found Parssinen’s The Ruins of Us a thought-provoking look at the arc of an intercultural love affair. But the question the reader is left with at the end of the story goes way beyond culture: If you give up everything for someone else, what’s actually left of yourself?

This book is recommended for lovers of contemporary fiction, especially those who enjoy books situated in an international setting. I particularly enjoyed the depiction of family life in Saudi Arabia – Rosie and Abdullah’s blogging, rock and roll loving daughter Mariam gives us about as good a representation of the global teen culture as I’ve seen. It’s a quick read, and perhaps a bit predictable, but well-written and quite enjoyable.

Since Rosie is an immigrant in Saudi Arabia, this is my first book for Colleen's Immigrant Challenge 2012 at Books in the City. I am looking for non-US immigration stories this year, so if you have any ideas, let me know!

I read this book as part of a TLC book tour, and received a copy of the book in return for my honest opinion. For other opinions, check out the links here.

Book Review: All the Flowers in Shanghai by Duncan Jepson

2012-01-10T04:50:00.000-08:00

Without meaning to do it, I’ve read a number of novels recently with unsympathetic first-person narrators. But Duncan Jepson’s All the Flowers in Shanghai is unique among my recent reads, since the narrator, Feng, is completely aware that she is unsympathetic. In fact, the entire book is a kind of letter to her daughter, begging for forgiveness for a life that at the end she wishes she had lived differently. It’s an interesting approach to a novel.

Part of Feng’s tragedy is that so little of what occurs is under her control, at least initially. She is forced by her parents (well, mostly her mother) into an arranged and advantageous marriage in 1930s Shanghai. Jepson’s description of her first days with the powerful Sang family is captivating and heartbreaking. Imagine going into your marriage with no idea of how babies are made. And without that knowledge, how traumatized you would be with your first nights of marriage, even under the best of circumstances (which her husband Xiong Fa doesn’t provide). I thought Jepson did a good job of bringing that distant reality to life for me.

Clearly, living in a family in which a dropped teacup could mean long-lasting disgrace would either toughen you up or weed you out. Feng takes the “toughen up” route. Her bitterness at her parents’ treatment of her, her bewilderment at her beloved grandfather’s abandoning her on her wedding day and her terror of her husband’s brutal advances forged a woman as hard as steel – and just as cold. Jepsom makes Feng’s pain and resignation powerful and real, as when she asks her parents why she must marry Xiong Fa:

My question would remain unacknowledged because it needed no answer: the answer was already part of history itself. Unlike the ancient dead empire whose language described the flowers and trees, China had flourished and survived for five thousand years. It had survived because it must. It had survived by forcing its people to adhere willingly to ancient customs and rules, no matter what self-mutilation and pain that entailed or self deception was required. p. 72

However, it’s the choices she makes after she achieves some status and power that make Feng such a difficult character to understand. She doesn’t seem to learn much from her own suffering. But is that expecting too much? This book really left me wondering about the cultural framing of motherhood. If frames are a common understanding of a concept, then the U.S. American understanding of a mother can be distilled into one word: “nurturing.” But it seems clear to me that it is far from a universal concept. With Feng I feel like we get maternal Realpolitik, so pragmatic as to appear unfeeling, so realistic as to appear ugly. And yet, I’m wondering how much of my feelings about this character can be attributed to Feng’s actions, and how much can be attributed to my cultural expectations of Feng. In the final analysis, Feng makes her own judgment on herself. But others seem to evaluate her differently. In all fairness, the The Great Leap Forward didn’t necessarily advantage mothers who baked cookies and read bedtime stories. If Feng’s children were in a position to live through the Civil War and the Red Guard purges, didn’t she do a good job on some level?

Strangely, I didn’t feel like Jepson’s first-person narration gave me great insight into the characters. The historical and cultural parts of the book were more interesting than the characters for me – externalities were explained better than internalities. I would have liked the author to depict the second phase of Feng’s life, away from Shanghai, more thoroughly. Maybe that would have rendered her change of heart more believable. As it was, Feng’s lack of empathy made it hard for me to understand why people like her maid Yan and her friend Madam Zhang were so loyal to her.

Still, this is a solid debut novel. Jepson has evoked a time and a place I knew little about, and made me want to know more. I’d recommend it to those interested in historical novels, especially those with an interest in recent Chinese history. It counts toward the Historical Fiction Challenge 2012, and others working on that challenge may want to check this one out. Thanks to Historical Tapestry for hosting!

I read this book as part of a TLC Book Tour, and received a free copy of the book in exchange for my honest opinion. Please feel free to check out these other stops on the tour for more opinions:

Tuesday, December 20th: Unabridged Chick

Wednesday, December 21st: The Lost Entwife

Tuesday, December 27th: Book Hooked Blog

Wednesday, December 28th: Raging Bibliomania

Thursday, December 29th: Life in the Thumb

Monday, January 2nd: Jo-Jo Loves to Read!

Tuesday, January 3rd: Broken Teepee

Wednesday, January 4th: Savvy Verse & Wit

Thursday, January 5th: BookNAround

Monday, January 9th: Reflections of a Bookaholic

Tuesday, January 10th: Col Reads

Wednesday, January 11th: Bloggin’ ‘Bout Books

Monday, January 16th: The Adventures of an Intrepid Reader

Tuesday, January 17th: Peeking Between the Pages

Wednesday, January 18th: The House of the Seven Tails

Thursday, January 19th: Library of Clean Reads

Weekend Cooking: The Everything Vegetarian Pressure Cooker Cookbook

2012-01-07T06:24:00.000-08:00

Anyone who knows me well knows that a cookbook is a great gift. My darling daughters went out in search for one for my birthday, and found one that seemed to combine two things I love: my pressure cooker and vegetarian food. Which is how I came to own Amy Snyder and Justin Snyder’sThe Everything Vegetarian Pressure Cooker Cookbook. I absolutely loved the idea behind it, and went right to work trying recipes.

I wish I could report it was a major success. But I really can’t.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some great ideas and combinations here – the authors know a lot about mixing flavors, and they are not afraid of the spice rack, that’s for sure. But I have two main problems with the book. First, the recipes are unnecessarily complicated. Second, the directions, as written, assume quite a bit of culinary knowledge, especially for their vegan substitutions.

Pressure cookers are all about shifting cooking time – I think of mine as the “opposite” of my slow cooker. When my prep time for the day falls in the morning, I plan a slow cooker meal. But when the only prep time I’ll have is right before dinner, I often look to the pressure cooker for a quick soup or risotto. However, that convenience goes out the window if the recipes require lengthy prepping and soaking – and that is exactly how the bean recipes in this book are written. For example, the Chickpea-Parsley-Dill Dip (a yummy combination, right?) includes two separate pressure treatments of the beans: first under pressure for one minute, followed by a quick-release of pressure, followed by a 1 hour soak, followed by draining the beans, adding more water and putting under pressure for 20 minutes, followed by natural pressure release (which depending on the cooker, could take another 20 minutes). An experienced pressure cooker user would simply keep the beans under pressure for 35 minutes or so and be done with it. And in the cases, such as bean soups, where the beans are finished in broth, the book still calls for a soak in water before cooking. Why, when broth is so much tastier?

As for cooking know-how, the book claims to have a vegan version of every meal – and that’s true to some extent. In fact, the preface of the book makes it clear that the authors prefer and recommend a vegan lifestyle, rather than vegetarian. But the substitutions consist mostly of plopping vegan versions of dairy (and meat) products into existing recipes. There’s not a lot of thought or testing in that. And alternative products, such as smoked paprika, aren’t really called upon. It’s “top with vegan cheese, such as Daiya Mozzarella Style Shreds,” or “use vegan margarine, such as Earth Balance.” I didn’t really like the product placement aspect of the substitutions. And I prefer my vegan recipes to be vegan by design, not veganized knock-offs of carnivorous or omnivorous fare.

That’s not to say that the gift was unappreciated. And I’ll definitely use it for inspiration. But I know I have to recalculate liquid amounts, because I don't soak beans. And I avoid recipes with substitutions. Simplifying the steps, I wound up with a lovely Creamy White Bean and Garlic Soup, scented with rosemary. Again, a great combination – but minus the 8-hour pre-soak of beans called for in the recipe. I just sautéed an onion and 6 cloves of garlic in olive oil in my pressure cooker, then added a pound of rinsed navy beans, 8 cups of veggie stock and a bay leaf to the cooker and held it under pressure for 25 minutes. After the pressure released naturally, I added a tablespoon of chopped fresh rosemary and the juice of a lemon to the cooker, and let the soup thicken for 10 minutes before I pureed it with my motor boat. Salt and pepper, and a loaf of bread, and we had dinner!

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Book Review: Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

2012-01-06T11:12:00.000-08:00

It’s amazing how often I start reading a book and realize that it’s referencing a classic that I haven’t read – which immediately makes me want to read the classic. I picked up Connie Willis’ time travel Hugo Award winner, To Say Nothing of the Dog, to share during January’s Science Fiction Experience, hosted by Carl V. at Stainless Steel Droppings. But it quickly became evident that the main character’s thoughts and actions were heavily influenced by his reading of Jerome K. Jerome’s Victorian “buddy” story, Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog). It was also evident that I wasn’t going to understand the Willis book completely unless I understood the references. So I put down Willis temporarily, and downloaded the classic* that inspired her.

I am so glad I did! How on Earth did this book escape me for so long?

The first-person narration describes a two-week trip up the Thames from Kingston to Oxford in a skiff with two close and quirky friends and an enthusiastic fox terrier, Montmorency. Parts of it are pure Victorian travelogue, describing in overwrought and sentimental fashion the towns, inns and historic sites they encounter along the river. Sounds dreadful, right? But what makes the book a classic of British comic literature are the narrator’s hilarious digressions, describing incidents from the lives of himself (an inveterate hypochondriac) and his companions, George (a lazy banker) and Harris (a prodigious tippler), as well as sending up some of the recurring themes in British history. In fact, the inclusion of these humorous sections actually renders the flowery travel writing funny in comparison, since it reads as satire of the genre.

What was most amazing to me was that even though the book was written in 1898, most of the humor still seems fresh in 2011. At one point, the narrator, J., shares the miraculous story of how he survived his first sailing experience, undertaken with absolutely no knowledge of the craft.

Possibly the result may have been brought about by the natural obstinacy of all things in this world. The boat may possibly have come to the conclusion, judging from a cursory view of our behavior, that we had come out for a morning’s suicide, and had thereupon determined to disappoint us. That is the only suggestion I can offer. p. 89

This book is full of tongue-in-cheek humor, sarcasm and comic understatement. It occurs to me that a lot of what I love about British humor probably has its roots in this classic. The chapter about the mounted trout in the pub should be required reading for every fishermen – and every person who lives with a fishermen. Honestly, I laughed out quite a few times reading this book.**

Certainly, I’d recommend this to lovers of classics, but those who enjoy humor and travel books will also find it a pleasure. Really, unless you’ve had your funny bone surgically removed, I think you’ll find something to like in this book.

It’s so awesome to start 2012 off with a great surprise of a classic! This was my first book for the Back to the Classics Challenge 2012, so thanks to Sarah at Sarah Reads Too Much for hosting. Next up, of course, is To Say Nothing of the Dog for Carl V.’s Science Fiction Experience, which I hope to appreciate far more thoroughly after reading this book.

*I am having so much fun with the free and almost free classics that are available in e-book format. My Kindle has already paid for itself with public domain works that I didn’t have to buy, find or wait for!

**Unfortunately for my husband, at one point I was reading long after he had fallen asleep. Let’s just say he didn’t find my chuckling as funny as I found the book.

It’s My Birthday and I’ll Read if I Want To: 2012 Reading Challenges

2012-01-01T07:45:00.000-08:00

I love my New Year’s birthday. It feels like a totally fresh start for so many things – including a totally clean reading slate. This year I’m planning to focus on classics that I’ve never read, but should have, so you’ll see a lot of them doing double (or triple) duty on my reading lists. But I’ve also left plenty of room for book club reading, spur of the moment reading, and some mini-challenges, such as Venice in February and R.I.P. So far my actual commitment is only 27 books, and I know I’ll read far more than that, so I'm sure there will be some additions!

Happy New Year and Happy Reading to you all!

What’s in a Name 5

1. The Reef by Edith Wharton (Topographical feature)
2. Flaubert’s Parrot by Julian Barnes (Something in the sky)
3. The Gold Bug by Edgar Allen Poe (Creepy crawly)
4. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons (Dwelling)
5. The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham (Something in your purse)
6. Long Day’s Journey into Night by Eugene O’Neill (Something on a calendar)

Vintage Mysteries 2012 (Murderous Miscellany)
I’m calling mine Vicious Vacations, and reading 8 books that take place in a destination where I’d “kill” to spend a holiday!

1. Death Lights a Candle by Phoebe Atwood Taylor
2. Six Problems of Don Isidro Parodi (Seis Problemas para Don Isidro Parodi) by Jorge Luis Borges
3. Murder on the Nile by Agatha Christie
4. The Haunted Hotel: A Mystery of Modern Venice by Wilkie Collins
5. The House without a Key by Earl Derr Biggers
6. Died in the Wool by Ngaio Marsh
7. The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin
8. Lock 14 by Georges Simeon

Back to the Classics Challenge 2012

1. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome (19th Century Classic)
2. The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham (20th Century Classic)
3. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (Classic Reread)
4. Long Day’s Journey into Night by Eugene O’Neil (Classic Play)
5. The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin (Classic Mystery/Horror/Crime Fiction)
6. These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer (Classic Romance)
7. Massimilla Doni by Honoré Balzac (Translated Classic)
8. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons (Classic Award Winner) (1933 Femina Vie Heureuse Prize)
9. The Gold Bug by Edgar Allen Poe (Classic in a Place I Won’t Visit) (Sullivan Island, South Carolina)

Venice in February

1. Massimilla Doni by Honoré Balzac
2. The Four Seasons: A Novel of Vivaldi’s Venice by Laurel Corona
3. The Haunted Hotel: A Mystery of Modern Venice by Wilkie Collins

Europa Editions Challenge 2012

1. Lions at Lamb House by Edwin M. Yoder, Jr.
2. A Day in the Life of Ancient Rome: Daily Life, Mysteries and Curiosities by Alberto Angela
3. Treasure Island!!! by Sara Levine
4. You Deserve Nothing by Alexander Maksik

Historical Fiction Challenge 2012

1. Eromenos by Melanie J. McDonald
2. Lionheart by Sharon Kay Penman
3. Reign of Madness by Lynn Cullen
4. A Day in the Life of Ancient Rome: Daily Life, Mysteries and Curiosities by Alberto Angela
5. Lions at Lamb House by Edwin M. Yoder, Jr.
6. The Four Seasons: A Novel of Vivaldi’s Venice by Laurel Corona
7. All the Flowers of Shanghai by Duncan Jepson
8. These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer
9. TBD
10. TBD

Read-Along

Clarissa, Or the History of a Young Lady by Samuel Richardson

Col’s “Books Most Likely To” Awards 2011

2011-12-31T06:36:00.000-08:00

In any year there are good books, and there are not so good books. But in the final analysis, only a few books actually make you feel, think, or do something. These are the books that make your reading year. So I thought I’d share this “Books Most Likely To” List with you all – because reading shouldn’t be a spectator sport!

Book Most Likely to Provoke a Strange Liquor Store Purchase: Cooking with Fernet Branca by James Hamilton-Paterson

Book Most Likely to Make You Wish You Knew Your Grandparents’ Love Story: A Long, Long Time Ago, and Essentially True by Brigid Pasulka

Book Most Likely to Propel You into a Long Discussion about Point of View and Pizza: Clash of Civilizations over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio by Amara Lakhous

Book Most Likely to Send You to the Internet for Pictures of UTEP’s Campus: Radio Shangri-La: What I Learned in the Happiest Kingdom on Earth by Lisa Napoli

Book Most Likely to Make You Think Twice About a Your Husband’s Totally Innocent Lunch with a Friend: The Paris Wife by Paula McLain (I’m just saying…)

Book Most Likely to Have You Planning a Safari: In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith

Book Most Likely to Allow Burning A Philosopher in Effigy to Cross Your Mind: The Sunday Philosophy Club by Alexander McCall Smith

Book Most Likely to Help You Get Your Nerd On: The Bog People by P.V. Glob

Book Most Likely to Make a Child Run to a Reference Book: The Book of Imaginary Beings by Jorge Luis Borges

Book Most Likely to Have You Thanking Your Stars You’re Not Popular: The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

Book Most Likely to Cause You to Miss a Hair Appointment Because You Can’t Stop Listening: Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson, narrated by Frances McDormand (Please don’t tell Jeremy!)

All in all, a satisfying reading year. I finished all 12 of the challenges I entered (by the skin of my teeth), and managed to review 53 titles. Translated fiction, contemporary fiction, historical fiction, 19th and 20th century classics, cookbooks and non-fiction titles all found their way to the top of my TBR pile – and wormed their way into my heart. Female authors dominated my reading this year, and I read books by authors from every continent (but only because Ngaio Marsh was from New Zealand – I have to do something about my lack of Australian titles). Wishing you a happy, healthy, active year of booking in 2012!

Col

Book Review: The Book of Imaginary Beings by Jorge Luis Borges

2011-12-30T07:24:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, even the most serious person must feel the need to play around. President Richard Nixon escaped from the Cold War by bowling. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart wrote comic operas. Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer played in the Par 3 Tournament before the Masters.

Jorge Luis Borges, along with Margarita Guerrero, wrote The Book of Imaginary Beings (El Libro de los Seres Imaginarios).* And a great diversion it is!

The book is just as the title implies: an encyclopedia of the strange and fantastic creatures that inhabit the literary world. Some, like the Harpies, have a long and varied history that comes down to us from classical mythology, both from European and Asian traditions. Others people modern works by authors such as C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra or Edgar Allen Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym. Borges wrote two editions of the book, first in 1954 (entitled The Anthology of Fantastic Zoology (Manual de Zoología Fantástica), and an expanded version in 1967. He obviously hoped to expand the book further, as the prologue to the 1967 edition notes:

A book of this nature is necessarily incomplete; each new edition is the core of future editions, which may be multiplied to infinity. We invite its eventual readers in Colombia or Paraguay to send us the names, reliable descriptions, and most conspicuous habits of their own local monsters.” p. xv (English language edition)

Alas, a further edition was never issued. I can only imagine the incredible entries that might have come from the communities of the Africa and Oceania.

Still, the 120 beasts described in the volume provide important glimpses into the potential of the human imagination, as well as insights into the cultures that provided the myths. Take, for example, The Ink Monkey (El Mono de la Tinta), which comes to us from China:

This animal is common in the northern regions and is about four or five inches long; it is endowed with an unusual instinct; its eyes are like carnelian stones, and its hair is jet black, sleek and flexible, as soft as a pillow. It is very fond of eating thick China ink, and whenever people write, it sits with folded hands and crossed legs, waiting till the writing is finished, when it drinks up the remainder of the ink; which done, it squats down as before; and does not frisk about unnecessarily. – Wang Tai-hai (1791) p. 134 (English language version)

Such a monster could only come from a culture where ink was highly prized and expensive, and hints at the frustration of running out of such a precious commodity. Other mythological creatures, like dragons, seem to pop up in multiple locations. Borges refers to these as “necessary” monsters in the preface to the 1954 edition, but not in the 1967 version, so maybe he didn’t find them so “universal” upon further review.

I found this book because of an early review for the Read-A-Myth Challenge from The Parrish Lantern. His review was outstanding, and includes a really fun “monster quiz” I urge you to take. I enjoyed this book tremendously, as it was fun to read over a period of months, one entry at a time. My daughters and I referred to it while watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and agreed that JK Rowling had taken some real liberties with the Basilisk. But that’s what mythology is for, isn’t it? The monsters we create – and recreate – tell us about ourselves and our world, while linking us to our past.

Okay, last review to finish the last challenge of the year. I really enjoyed the Read-A-Myth Challenge, and I made it to Level 3 Mimir: World Myth! I included myths from both the Greek and Sufi traditions, two non-fiction books about mythology, a modern reinterpretation of a classic myth, and an anthology. Bellezza and I were able to organize a read-along of Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad for this challenge, which was really a lot of fun, and introduced me to a number of new blogs. So thanks to JoV and Bina for hosting this wonderful challenge. It was a blast – even if it did take me the entire year to complete it!

*I read the Spanish version of the book, a gift from my in-laws. But I used the English language version, illustrated by Peter Sis, for reference. Of course, the order of the two books is completely different, as they are alphabetized by noun, but the content is the same. So in this case, the English translations given were actually approved by the author.

Book Review: The Manual of a Warrior of Light (Manual del Guerrero de la Luz) by Paulo Coelho

2011-12-29T12:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, I’m ’fessing up here: this is not the book I planned to read to finish the Book Bloggers Abroad Challenge 2011. This is supposed to be a review of Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle. I took it out of the library after reading boatloads of great reviews, and eagerly started to read. But it just didn’t grab me. I have no idea why. So I put it down and figured I’d get back to it at a different time.

And then, well, time ran out.

A week left in the challenge, at a very busy time of year, and I had to reassess. I absolutely hate to leave a challenge incomplete. So I went back to the Judith’s list on Leeswammes, and saw Paulo Coelho was on the author list. I had The Manual of a Warrior of Light (Manual del Guerrero de la Luz) on the shelf. And it was mercifully short. So I did a late game substitution to finish the challenge.

Generally, I enjoy Coelho. I have appreciated his focus on personal responsibility and the spirituality of books like The Alchemist and Veronika Decides to Die. His simple, direct style of writing is easily accessible, and I find it a good way to practice Spanish*. But unfortunately, Warrior of Light has no real narrative flow. Rather, it is a compendium of axioms and quotations informing the reader (ostensibly training to be Warrior in the army of God) how to live a life in the active service of goodness. In this framework, everyone must choose to wage a metaphorical war against the forces of evil. Some of Coelho’s battle instructions are principles borrowed from other works, such as The Pilgrim’s Progress or the I Ching. But most come directly from Coehlo’s own spiritual Christianity (Coelho is a Jesuit-educated, devout Catholic), full of the same kind of paradoxes that are the hallmark of a similar book, Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, which I reviewed earlier this year.

The warrior of light is pure as a dove, and prudent as a serpent.

When he meets to talk, he doesn’t discuss the behavior of others. He knows that the forces of darkness use an invisible network to spread their evil. This network captures whatever information is released into the air and transforms it into the intrigue and envy that sap the human soul.

In this way, everything one says about another is always picked up by that person’s enemies, and supplemented by their own dark load of venom and evil.

Because of this, when a warrior of light discusses his brother, he imagines the brother is present, listening to him. p. 81 (My translation from the Spanish, so my apologies to Mr. Coelho if I haven't captured it exactly)

Warrior of Light provides a good summation of Coelho’s philosophy. And certainly it offers a framework for understanding his other novels. But it’s really too choppy to read straight through like a novel, as I did. Reading it again, I would look at each of the pages as a kind of “meditation,” the kind of thing to read and reflect on early in the morning, or right before going to bed. Still, it’s a very interesting little book, and I imagine Coelho fans will love it like his other works. Students of philosophy and those who enjoy spiritual titles would also enjoy it. I just wouldn’t recommend it as a place to start reading Coelho’s work.

So that’s the Book Bloggers Abroad 2011 Challenge complete. I read some very diverse titles for this challenge, representing 5 continents: North America, South America, Europe, Asia and Africa. I thank the bloggers whose recommendations led me to the books for this one. And thanks again to Judith for hosting!

*Coelho actually writes in Portuguese, but since I don't read it, I buy the Spanish editions.

Book Review: The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

2011-12-27T18:23:00.000-08:00

How quickly do we form our impressions of others? How dependent are those impressions on the way someone appears? What determines whether or not we simply interact with another person, or truly form a connection with them? It is when Muriel Barbery’s The Elegance of the Hedgehog explores these deeply human questions that the novel is wonderfully successful.

Madame Renée Michel works as a concierge for an upscale condominium in one of Paris’ most elegant neighborhoods, and occupies a small apartment in the building. The building’s other residents include the upper crust of French society: food critics, members of Parliament, government ministers. To the building residents, the widowed Madame Michel appears in every way a model concierge: aging, ugly, unfashionable, and a bit dim. But in reality, Madame Michel is an autodidact, voraciously reading everything she can get her hands on. She spends her time off seeking out great books and great art. But she conceals her erudite nature from the resident of 7, rue de Grenelle, believing that her job is safer if the elites she works for believe she is not trying to reach beyond her social class.

But a few people in the building see through Madame Michel’s ruse. Portuguese housemaid Manuela, Renée’s one true friend, knows that beneath her crusty exterior Renée is a person of great passion – even if she doesn’t guess the depths of her friend’s thirst for knowledge. The newest resident in the building, wealthy Japanese businessman Kakuro, recognizes a line from Tolstoy that Madame Michel carelessly inserts into a conversation. And Paloma, the all-seeing 12-year-old daughter of high-minded French socialists who make time for every cause save their family, notices the intelligence in Madame Michel’s eyes, and senses a kindred spirit. Madame Michel’s interactions with these individuals, and the lessons we can draw from them, are truly surprising and inspiring. It is significant that all of Madame Michel’s friends come from outside of French culture, including Paloma, the only French member of the bunch, who does her best to place herself outside of what she sees as a hypocritical order. This is, no doubt, a part of Barbery’s treatise on the French social system, which makes up a significant portion of the book.

And that, unfortunately, is where the book fell down for me. Barbery was trained as a philosopher, and a great deal of the book comprises essays on the nature of being, moving and knowing, as experienced by the characters of Madame Michel and Paloma Josse. Some of these pieces are quite interesting, such as her discussion of Dutch still lives. But in other parts of the book she opines on topics like phenomenology and aesthetics for chapters at a time, without drawing any interesting conclusions. As with Alexander McCall Smith’s Sunday Afternoon Philosophy Club series, at those times I had the distinct feeling I was being schooled, rather than entertained. Also, I’m no expert in French sociology, nor am I a Marxist scholar, but I am pretty sure there are worse examples of classism on the planet than modern day France – even if there is a lingering elitism that the fifth Republic has yet to address.

Still, there is so much to like about this book. There are some laughs and some extraordinarily tender moments. I will probably never look at a camellia the same way again after reading this book, and that’s a powerful thing. I particularly loved the incident when Madame Michel and Monsieur Ozu are leaving for dinner, and the wealthy ladies of the building have no idea that the woman on their new friend’s arm is their concierge: they simply don’t see it, because in their world it simply can’t happen. Barbery captured the moment perfectly.

I hated the ending of the novel – no quibbling about that – but it didn’t ruin the book for me. (It did cross my mind after reading it that I wouldn’t enjoy having dinner with the author, but that was just an idle thought, and not an issue I’m likely to face any time soon. However, it should signal how very much I thought the ending was somehow mean-spirited). Lovers of literary fiction, translated fiction and philosophy should definitely have this book on their TBR lists – although I imagine many of them have read it already, considering the extraordinary success of the novel around the world.

This is my third book for the Europa Challenge 2011. My last review, of Amara Lakhous’ Clash of Civilizations over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio will appear on the Europa Editions Challenge site this week – but I’ll hold off posting it here on Col Reads until my buddy Jess at Desperado Penguin is ready with her review. I am already looking forward to the 2012 Europa Editions Challenge. Thanks so much to Marie at The Boston Bibliophile for hosting!

Book Review: The 13 ½ Lives of Captain Bluebear

2011-12-27T01:45:00.000-08:00

One of the places where I am flat out behind the curve is in the area of German literature. And since I try to use challenges to make up for those kinds of inadequacies, I went with one of the German recommendations for Judith of Leeswammes’ Book Bloggers Abroad 2011 Challenge, and ordered a copy of Walter Moers’ The 13 ½ Lives of Captain Bluebear.

About 20 pages into the book, I had to admit I wasn’t enjoying it very much, despite the author’s engaging illustrations. About 50 pages into the book, I realized that what was killing the book for me was the publicity I’d read about it in the first place.

So I’m here to disabuse anyone who reads this post of the idea that The 13 ½ Lives of Captain Bluebear resembles A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in any but the most superficial of ways. Yes, both Bluebear and Arthur Dent hurtle from adventure to adventure, encountering new (to them) and strange life forms along the way. And both Bluebear and Arthur Dent can call upon the seemingly comprehensive knowledge of an Encyclopedia to explain (after a fashion) said life forms. But that’s pretty much where the comparison ends. The five-book A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy (hehehe) is a masterpiece of British humor and biting social commentary, very definitely for adults. And The 13 ½ Lives of Captain Bluebear is a pleasant-enough children’s fantasy. Yes, there is some social commentary, but it is very subtle and nestled firmly in a hopeful tale of the goodness of almost everything – once you just understand it.

Once I got past the hype, at around page 200 – of a whopping 703 pages – I realized that I’d actually be enjoying the book if I were reading it with my daughter, who’s in 5th grade. Or to a class of children. There really would be a lot to discuss with kids. I would love to get their thoughts on “bacterial intelligence,” for example. And I wondered what children would make of the 1600H character – how can a “bad idea” be good? I can imagine all kinds of exercises that could go along with teaching this book. It would be hilarious to have children write their own congladiator boasts, for example. Or to describe a day on the SS Moloch. With those possibilities in mind, I liked the book way more toward the end than I did at the beginning, even though I found the story was a bit slow a lot of the time.

So in the end, I would recommend The 13 ½ Lives of Captain Bluebear -- to children. And to lovers of children’s literature. And to those who enjoy cartoons, as Moers is a talented illustrator. It probably wouldn’t be something I would have picked up on my own, so I’d say it was a good stretch of my boundaries, and that’s always a good thing. So thanks again to Judith at Leeswammes for hosting the Book Bloggers Abroad Challenge. I have the last one for that one read, and a review will be up later this week!

Weekend Cooking: A Christmas Carol Edition

2011-12-24T05:45:00.000-08:00

There is little doubt that tonight I’ll be watching A Christmas Carol with my family. I prefer the 1951 Alistair Sim version, but I’ll watch pretty much any version that’s on. (I have never seen the Muppet version, but I’d probably sit through that one if it was the only game in town.) What I really like about A Christmas Carol is it’s simple expression of the possibilities of the holiday season. And unlike It’s a Wonderful Life, another Christmas movie with a loyal following in the “best Christmas movie ever” category, good old Ebeneezer Scrooge and company provide a heaping helping of humor to balance out the treacly sweetness of their message.

Knowing of my Scroogeophilia, my parents gave me a copy of A Christmas Carol Cookbook about 10 years ago. It’s a small book, illustrated with stills from the Reginald Owen 1938 version of the movie. The book, written by Sarah Key, Jennifer Newman Brazil and Vicki Wells, has recipes for a traditional Victorian Christmas, some inspired by characters and incidents from the book, such as Old Fezziwig’s Mead and Humbug Lemon Curd, which like Scrooge is “rich enough.” This year, putting together her cookie list, my youngest daughter included the Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies from the book – and they were so delicious they were gone before I could get a picture! Here’s the recipe, though, with a warm wish for a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah and a Happy New Year to all my blogging friends!

Col

Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies from A Christmas Carol Cookbook
1/3 cup cocoa powder
1 2/3 cup all purpose flour
½ cup chopped hazelnuts
Pinch salt
¼ cup sugar
1 cup cold butter, cut into ½ inch pats
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ½ tablespoons cold water (but I added Frangelico instead, to keep with the hazelnut theme)

Place dry ingredients into a food processor and pulse to grind hazelnuts. Pulse to incorporate butter, egg, extract and water. Pulse just until dough forms (don’t overmix). Divide dough into two, scrape dough onto plastic wrap or wax paper and roll into two logs, and chill for at least 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper. Slice cookies into ¼-inch rounds, and bake about 10 minutes. Let set for about 5 minutes on the pan before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Book Review: Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford

2011-12-21T06:09:00.000-08:00

I remember how jarring it was to find out about the Japanese internment camps that dotted the country during the Second World War while reading Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James Houston’s touching story, Farewell to Manzanar, in middle school. “My government would actually do something like that?” I wondered. I remember asking my father, who admitted that it was the case – and he was also honest enough to admit that he didn’t think right after Pearl Harbor most European Americans felt very bad about what was happening to Japanese Americans, even if in hindsight it makes absolutely no sense.

But I haven’t read anything else about that particular period in American history, so I was happy to see that Jamie Ford’s Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet was on the reading list for my book club’s December meeting. I was hoping to get more of an “adult” view of the time period, since Wakatsuki Houston was writing a memoir of her childhood. In retrospect, that expectation may have been my biggest problem with the book, because what Ford gives us is a very interesting novel told from the perspective of a Chinese American child, Henry Lee, who loses his closest friend, a Japanese American girl named Keiko Okabe, to the internment camps.

I enjoyed this book, but I didn’t love it. I did think Ford did a good job of bringing to life a tension that I frankly never thought about: the rift between the Chinese and Japanese diasporas living on the West Coast of the US during World War II. Pan-Asian tension over Japan’s actions during WWII, and accusations about the country’s subsequent attempts to “whitewash” those actions, still flares up regularly in Asia – in fact, it’s so common there’s a Wikipedia entry called “Japanese history textbook controversies.” Henry’s family in China was clearly at risk during the war, and his parents’ feelings might have been rendered comprehensible to the reader, even if they remained unjustified. Instead, Ford leaves Henry’s family completely unsympathetic throughout the book. I saw that as a major flaw, considering Henry’s decisions toward the end of the novel.

My other big problem with the book was the relationship of Henry and Keiko. Sure, my dad is always saying that people “grew up faster” during the Depression and the War. But I had a really hard time buying into a love story centered on 12-year-olds. If they had been friends for years before the internment order, the story would have made more sense to me. Or perhaps if they’d been older when they met, it might have worked better. The action seemed kind of abrupt, and the rationale simply wasn’t well-developed enough to capture me completely.

My book club had mixed opinions on this one. Many agreed that the characterizations of two of the supporting characters, lunch lady Mrs. Beatty and street sax player Sheldon Thomas, were the best in the book. We also loved the way Ford used the device of the abandoned items from Japantown in Seattle to anchor the story. “Sweet” was a word that came up often in our discussion. But while some were enthusiastic about Ford’s writing style and narrative flow, others weren’t as impressed. Some thought the book had a YA feel, which isn’t necessarily bad, but indicated a lack of character development and ambiguity. I can see why this book has a real following, especially for those who love historically based romances. It is definitely a standout first novel and I would definitely read another Ford title.

Book Review: The Gardens of Adonis: Spices in Greek Mythology by Marcel Detienne

2011-12-19T08:11:00.000-08:00

Marcel Detienne’s The Gardens of Adonis: Spices in Greek Mythology was one of the first books I put on my list for the Read-A-Myth Challenge, because it seemed to combine three things I love to read about: food, history, and mythology. And it definitely did that. But despite the title, the emphasis of the book is more on the way the evolution of the myth of Adonis – a myth affirming the renewing cycle of birth and death that symbolizes the calendar year – reveals prevailing societal attitudes and beliefs in classical society.

For those of you who, like me, stowed your copy of Ovid’s Metamorphoses in a box in your parents’ basement after college with a promise to retrieve it “once you had the room for it,” only to have said box’s decaying contents hauled to a local used book seller when the parents finally retired and moved to Florida many years later, a refresher of the Adonis myth might be in order. In what is arguably the most famous version of the myth, Myrrha is cursed by the Furies to fall in love with her father. Her nurse helps her seduce him during the harvest festival of Ceres. When he realizes of whom he’s had carnal knowledge, he vows to kill his daughter. Myrrha flees Cyprus for Arabia (the place where spices come from) and wanders for nine months. She finally begs the gods to have mercy on her, and they grant her wish by turning her into a myrrh tree, (because after all, what could be more merciful than losing your body and gaining some foliage?). Realizing that Myrrha is pregnant, Lucina, the goddess of childbirth, goes and touches the myrrh tree and it splits open to spew forth Adonis*. Myrrha continues to cry sappy, scented tears for her lost son that are the basis for the perfume trade.

The young Adonis is so beautiful that Venus falls in love with him while he is still a child, but for some reason has Proserpina foster him in the Underworld. Once he becomes the most gorgeous man on the planet, both of the goddesses want him for their own, so Jupiter intervenes, and decides Venus can have him for a third of the year, Proserpina for another third, and that Adonis can choose for the last third. Like Paris, Adonis chooses beauty (Venus) over power (Proserpina), to predictably bad results – Proserpina sends a wild boar to kill him while he’s waiting around in a lettuce patch for Venus, providing a one-way tour of the Underworld for Adonis. Venus cries foul, and Jupiter intervenes by declaring Adonis dead only part-time, giving him to Venus for half the year (spring and summer) and to Proserpina for half the year (fall and winter).

So where do the spices of the title come in? According to Detienne, the true significance of the Adonis myth is its ability to link the botanical, classical world with the exoticism of the East, the place where spices, so significant for the culinary, ritual and sexual lives of the Greeks and later Romans, originate. But more than that, the Adonis myth provides a powerful reminder of the dangers of unbridled emotion in women, who are linked alternatively to both virtue (through Demeter, motherhood and the harvest) and licentiousness (through Venus, carnal love and spices) throughout the mythological cycle.

In fact, the title refers to gardens that were planted by the secret Adonis cults, groups of women who came together to mourn the death of Adonis by planting quick growing seeds, like herbs, that would sprout during the festival and quickly die, leaving behind their scent. This, of course, made Greek men like Plato very uncomfortable, because women were getting together without men – and you know how much trouble those women could get into when there wasn’t a man around to control things! (Who knew planting a terrarium could become a means of subverting hegemonic masculinity?)

In contrast to a festival such as the Thesmophoria which was celebrated in public and in very official manner, the Adonia took place in private, in some private house where women would meet together, each the confidant of the other’s secret love affairs, for a fleeting moment rejecting, in a way, a social order noted for its public and masculine character. pp. 129-130

This is a short book, especially by scholarly standards, but Detienne has a rambling style, shifting between myths and Greek sects with no introduction or explanation. I didn’t find it an easy read, but that may be a matter of style more than substance – I found myself having to put it down and pick it back up multiple times. It may just be a cultural thing – the book is translated from French, and it’s entirely possible that French readers do not crave the organization that an American reader would. But I certainly learned a lot, and I think those interested in ancient cultures, food history and feminist history will all find something to enjoy with this book.

This is my fifth book for the Read-A-Myth Challenge hosted by JoV and Bina (only one more to go!), and the last of the titles I committed to for the Dewey Decimal Challenge (even though I wound up reading a bunch of additional non-fiction for that challenge) hosted by Jen at The Introverted Reader. So thanks to all of you for hosting!

*I included a kind of creepy rendering of that moment from Franchesi. The screaming tree reminds me of the ones from The Wizard of Oz!

Persephone Secret Santa Revealed!

2011-12-16T02:58:00.000-08:00

The very first item beneath my Christmas tree,

Is once again a book from Persephone!

This is my second year participating in the Persephone Secret Santa Event, kindly hosted by Verity at CardiganGirlVerity and Claire at Paperback Reader. It’s quickly become a highlight of my book blogging year!

Yesterday when I opened the pretty pink Persephone wrappings I found a gift from Katherine at A Girl Walks Into A Bookstore. And I’m thrilled to say it’s a book I’ve had on my TBR pile for quite a while: Dorothy Whipple’s Someone at a Distance. The really funny thing is that I wanted this book so much that I sent it to my own “Secret Santee,” and I hope she’s just as thrilled as I am to receive it. I’m hoping to save it for Persephone Reading Weekend in February, but I’m not sure I can wait that long!

A Girl Walks Into A Bookstore is a completely new blog to me, and I’m very happy to have found it because of Persephone Secret Santa. If you aren’t familiar with it (although I assume many of you are), Katherine reviews a wide variety of contemporary and classic fiction. It’s a lovely blog and you should really take a look!

I can’t wait to see who everyone else was paired with in 2011 – there will be a listing of posts at CardiganGirl today. I hope my last-year Santa (Bellezza of Dolce Bellezza) and Santee (Astrid of The Literary Stew) were able to participate this year! I’ll reveal my 2011 Santee once I make sure her post is up!

EDITED THIS MORNING: Now I can reveal that my Secret Santee was Allie from A Literary Odyssey! Her post is here. I am so happy she is looking forward to reading her Whipple too!

With warmest wishes for a peaceful holiday season,
Col

Book Review: Ama Ata Aidoo's Changes, A Love Story

2011-12-14T05:31:00.000-08:00

How does a university-educated Ghanaian woman independent enough to divorce her first husband despite the objections of her traditional family wind up the second wife of a handsome philanderer?

Is it possible that the best way to really think about marriage is to approach it from a completely different perspective?

That perspective is the amazing gift of Ama Ata Aidoo’s Changes: A Love Story, a book that grabbed me from minute one, and still had me turning pages until the last one. Esi is a wealthy, educated civil servant who loves her job. Her husband, Oko, feels neglected by her devotion to duty. Their clashes eventually lead to the dissolution of their marriage, although Esi’s “Western” notions of autonomy find little support even among her staunchest allies – her grandmother, her mother and her best friend are all perplexed by her desire to leave a perfectly good man.

If her dissatisfaction with her marriage is based on imported Western values, her fascination with Ali, the well-to-do travel agent, is completely primeval: they are attracted to each other from the second they meet, and soon start a steamy affair. Ali is obsessed with Esi, so much so that he becomes jealous of her, despite the fact he is himself cheating on his own family. The fact that he’s already married is not an insurmountable problem to possessing Esi in Ghanaian society: Ali can make Esi his second wife.

And that’s the most fascinating issue in the book. Living in a traditional society with a host of non-traditional ideas, Esi starts to see the things a marriage provides to women: security, partnership, networking. These are the things that Western ideas about marriage, focused almost completely on love, tend to ignore. She also looks at the negative aspects of marriage for women, including their presumed subservience to men in traditional relationships. Is it possible to find the perfect balance of freedom and dependency in any marriage? Could being a second wife allow a woman to live a less conventional lifestyle while still operating within the comfortable framework of a traditional society? I certainly never thought about it before I read Changes, but I will admit that the novel really forced me to think about relationships in a completely unique way.

It’s probably obvious that I loved this novel, and I’m really grateful to have found it because of Judith’s Book Bloggers Abroad 2011 Challenge at Leeswammes! I would absolutely recommend this book to lovers of world fiction and feminist fiction, as well as those who are interested in African literature. But I really believe the book deserves a wider audience, as it speaks to the very essence of what makes society work. Aidoo writes beautifully and with great compassion – I will definitely seek out more of her work.

Weekend Cooking: Digital Cooking Edition

2011-12-10T06:40:00.000-08:00

This week’s Weekend Cooking post is really more of a question. Can I turn this:

Into this?

When I had an iPhone, I downloaded a bunch of food-related apps. Whole Foods and Food Network both have apps that allow you to enter an ingredient – say kale or pork tenderloin – and get recipes for it. I thought those would be really useful, but in the end I didn’t use them very much. I usually make a menu for the week on Saturday or Sunday, and I never could change my habit of going through cookbooks while deciding.

One app we do use often is Seafood Watch. Designed by the Monterrey Aquarium, it’s a guide to the best and most sustainable seafood available in your geographic area. My husband takes that one with him to Wegman’s and checks out what’s available against Seafood Watch’s sustainability measures, and picks accordingly!

But the real prompt for this post was the increasing availability of cookbooks in e-book form. They’re almost invariably less expensive than the traditional paper versions. And they’d solve that obvious space problem on my kitchen bookshelves. So I’ve been tempted to give e-cookbooks a try. Two things are holding me back. First, the tactile part of me is wondering if it would be fun to explore a cookbook in digital format – I just love to read cookbooks. Second, the practical side of me is wondering how it would be possible to follow a cookbook in e-format. Would it be reformatted and optimized for my Kindle? Or would the recipe text flow awkwardly, making me toggle between pages?

Can you imagine how nice it would be to travel and have a bunch of your favorite cookbooks with you? Or to actually have the recipe that someone asks for at a potluck? That’s the part that’s tempting me! So what do you think, Weekend Cookers? Has anyone joined the e-cooking revolution? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Book Review: Phoebe Taylor Atwood’s The Cape Cod Mystery

2011-12-09T02:00:00.000-08:00

I took this book out of the library twice previously this year, and had to return it for one reason or another. But the third time was a charm for Phoebe Taylor Atwood and me, because The Cape Cod Mystery, the first of her Asey Mayo series, wound up being my favorite book for this year’s Vintage Mystery Challenge, hosted by Bev at My Reader’s Block.

Author Dale Sanborn takes a cottage in Cape Cod to escape the summer heat and work on his latest sensational novel. But he can’t escape the many people who are furious that he’s used thinly veiled versions of their own lives to people his books. Sanborn turns up dead hours after he runs over wealthy Bill Porter’s beloved dog – and the only clue seems to be a can of sardines, a type the local dry goods store stocks especially for Porter, making him the prime suspect. The sleepy little seaside town doesn’t even have a jail (can you imagine when the Cape was so remote?), so the local sheriff puts poor Porter in the stocks (the actual stocks left over from the Pilgrims, no less). Porter puts his life in the hands of the man he trusts most in the world: Asey Mayo, a former sailor with a long and probably jaded past. Mayo sets out to find the real killer in a weekend to avoid Bill winding up in a big time Massachusetts prison.

The murder represents a good mystery, but Mayo is what makes the book great. At first he appears to be just an ordinary old handyman for a large estate. But Atwood quickly reveals a man with a near-encyclopedic memory and a veritable Rolodex of personal acquaintances from all walks of life who are ready to help him solve the mystery. He’s totally smart without being a bit flamboyant – kind of an anti-Poirot. His dialogue is written in dialect, so you can really get a feel for his strong New England accent, which I absolutely loved, because it doesn’t seem condescending – just spot on. Reading it really did make me think of those great accents you hear Down East in Maine, where I used to spend my summers.

The best thing about joining this year’s Vintage Mystery Challenge was pushing myself to read seven different female authors. I found a whole new set of writers to seek out in addition to Atwood, including Ngaio Marsh, Dorothy L. Sayers and Margery Allingham. So thanks a million Bev for hosting. I’m already working on my own “Vicious Vacations” list for 2012!

Book Review: Alina Bronsky's The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine

2011-12-07T05:00:00.000-08:00

When I dislike the main character in a novel, I usually don’t like the novel. So how can I explain my fascination with Alina Bronsky’s The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine? Rosalinda represents all that is wrong with motherhood – she constructs her relationships with her daughter and later her granddaughter completely strategically, always thinking how she might benefit from their interactions. She’s seems almost completely unaware of how she is viewed by others. It’s totally over-the-top. Which is probably why she’s makes such a compelling unreliable narrator.

Rosalinda is inordinately proud of her Tartar heritage (which comes along with a host of folk medical remedies that are truly hilarious). She’s proud of her beauty and youthful appearance (especially her shapely legs, which she believes men swoon over). She’s proud of her family (or at least she believes she could be, if they’d simply do as she tells them). Her lack of self-awareness has benefits, as she walks around Russia and later Germany convinced of her own important place in the world, even if she’s cleaning someone else’s toilets – or rifling through someone else’s private papers.

Of course, her megalomania has disastrous effects on the people in her life, especially on her daughter Sulfia, who can never quite escape Rosalinda’s sphere of influence and therefore misses every chance at happiness with her own daughter, Aminat. Aminat herself watches Rosalinda with a keen eye, and the reader has the impression that she’s just waiting for her chance to act – she reminded me of a mouse eyeing a big, Persian cat, just waiting for the cat to lower it guard enough for the mouse to make its move.

What Bronksy gives the reader with The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine is a true tragicomedy, which succeeds only because Rosalinda is so totally outrageous that it’s funny, in a thoroughly disturbing way. It reminded me of Voltaire’s Candide, but without the main character’s growing realization that perhaps everything wasn’t alright with the universe after all – despite tragedy after tragedy, Rosalinda remains convinced of her own omnipotence from start to finish. This book really worked for me, although I can appreciate that it might not work for everyone. With a good sense of gallows humor, I think the reader will enjoy the novel despite their feelings about the narrator, a pretty interesting feat for Bronsky to pull off, in my opinion.

I was planning on this being a weekend cooking post, but after reading the novel, it doesn’t seem right – the only thing foodie about the book was the title. But it still counts for the Europa Editions Challenge, and I’ll be cross posting this on the Challenge Blog. The semester ends on Friday, so I’m still hopeful I can finish up a couple of the challenges I have lingering before then. If only I had some little elves to do my grading for me, so I could just read my holiday break away!

Book Review: Anthony Trollope's The Eustace Diamonds

2011-11-19T05:03:00.000-08:00

I have no idea why I had such a hard time with the Jewel or Jewelry entry in this year’s What’s in a Name 4 Challenge, hosted again this year by Beth Fish Reads. After hemming and hawing for months, I finally settled on Kathleen Winsor’s Forever Amber, but the only copy in my library was yellowed and smelled of mildew so badly that I couldn’t leave it in my bedroom. The first couple of pages didn’t convince me I wanted to buy it for myself, so I headed back to good old Goodreads, and started searching for jewels: rubies, emeralds, sapphires (man, was I annoyed that I reviewed Garlic and Sapphires last year), peridots – you name it. Still nothing. Finally I put in diamonds, and to my surprise a Victorian classic appeared: Anthony Trollope’s The Eustace Diamonds. I believe I have read exactly one Trollope novel in my life (okay, I skimmed through Phineas Finn in college), so I thought this was a good opportunity to give Trollope another try.

Which is a very long introduction to explain why on earth I stuck with a close to 800 page novel that I really didn’t enjoy much.

Lady Lizzie Eustace is not a nice person. Trollope is determined that we understand that from the get-go. She is vain. And she is greedy. She is also beautiful, and she has a way of getting men to do what she wants them to do. She had a very rough childhood, and has been forced to make her way in the world with her feminine wiles. But don’t get all sympathetic or understanding. Because it’s very important you understand that Lizzie, despite her circumstances, despite her charm, despite her beauty, is an unsavory woman.

Lizzie is such a wanton woman that she would marry a man for money. Yes, men would later want to marry her for money, but that would be just a sensible shoring up the family fortunes. When the handsome but tubercular Sir Florian Eustace asked Lizzie to marry him because she was beautiful, that was noble. When Lizzie agreed because he was rich, that was very bad. In the end, Sir Florian underestimated his health. Certainly, he didn’t lie about it. He had come to realize that his wife was less than perfect. He found out she liked the money he had. Consumptive though he was, he died of a broken heart, realizing he had left his fortune to a woman who was impure.

And so it went, page after page after page of repetitive, pedantic sermonizing. In a nutshell, Lizzie was in possession of the diamonds, a part of the Eustace patrimony, upon Sir Florian’s untimely death, if you can consider the death of someone with late stage tuberculosis untimely. Lizzie’s son is the Eustace heir and could give the diamonds to her later on, but she’s a lousy mother and when the kid gets to majority he’s probably going to send her to live in one of the Eustace’s many barns. In the meantime, the Eustace family, through their obnoxious and supercilious lawyer, Mr. Camperdown, wants the diamonds back. This causes lots of problems, because Lucy rather likes having them. Lizzie loses Lord Fawn, the boring but titled man she wanted to marry, because Mr. Camperdown is his lawyer too, and Fawn is scared to pieces of him. Eventually Lizzie even loses the respect of the people whom she pays, which leads to the loss of the diamonds. Then she perjures herself, and loses the respect of everyone else. She finally marries the unsavory Mr. Emilus, a poor preacher who is rumored to be a Jew, which Trollope seems to see as some kind of divine retribution. Jiminy Cricket!

Oh, and Lizzie’s cousin, Frank Greystock, who thought more than once about marrying Lizzie for money (to shore up the family fortunes, you understand), winds up with the very poor, virtuous and milquetoast Lucy Morris, because that’s what happens in Victorian novels.

Clearly, Trollope fans are legion. I am willing to admit that I just don’t get it. His moralizing sent me up a tree. In my opinion, it could have been such an interesting story if Lizzie had been drawn with a finer brush. But there’s no grey (except for the aptly named lawyer Frank Greystock) in Trollope’s world, especially when it comes to women. I wondered the whole time I was reading it what Elizabeth Gaskell would have made of Lizzie, since she is the only Victorian author whose characterizations of women I have enjoyed!

Needless to say, I won’t be joining the 2012 Trollope Challenge if there is such a thing. But finally slogging through The Eustace Diamonds means I’ve finished this year’s What’s in a Name 4 Challenge! Hurray! What’s in a Name is the reading challenge that got me to start a book blog, and it’s kept my younger daughter interested in reading for the past two years, so I wouldn’t dream of missing it – or not finishing! I’m already looking forward to What’s in a Name 5 – the categories have already been announced at Beth Fish Reads. Hope you’ll be joining us!

Book Review: Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand

2011-11-16T06:27:00.000-08:00

I was really happy to be asked to join a book club. And even better, I was thrilled to see the list of books the club had already decided on. Some were totally new to me, but many were already on my TBR. One of those was Helen Simonson’s Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, which wound up being the next book on the list. I have to admit, I thought it started slow – but in the end I found myself completely captivated by it.

We meet the widowed Major Pettigrew at a horrible moment: he has just learned that his younger brother has died unexpectedly. Mrs. Ali, owner of the local store, happens upon the Major in a horrible state. She comes to his aide, making him tea and giving him someone to talk with. And thus begins a most unlikely friendship: one human’s completely decent response to the distress of another.

As it turns out, the retired Major and Mrs. Ali have a lot in common: both have recently lost dear spouses, both honor their families, both have a sense of history and a love of books. But their friendship appears improbable because to most observers, even their dearest friends, what are most noticeable are their differences: the Major is from an old, aristocratic, English family, while Mrs. Ali is a shop keeping Pakistani Muslim.

With this premise, Helen Simonson could have written a very predictable “East Meets West” kind of story, but for the most part she didn’t. That is perhaps a function of the sensational cast of supporting characters that inhabit Edgecombe St. Mary, the increasingly suburban (and decreasingly idyllic) home to the Major’s small ancestral estate. Abdul Wahid, Mrs. Ali’s nephew, is an angry young man, trying to decide if his love or his faith is more important. Roger Pettigrew, the Major’s son, is a crass, overindulged, self-centered British Millennial who longs for wealth to match his social status. British-born Amina eschews her family’s traditional Pakistani values, but as tough as she is she still struggles as a single parent in a society that will never fully accept her or her illegitimate son, George. The Major and Mrs. Ali are also well drawn, wryly humorous and insightful, but it’s really the overall effect of the personalities converging on Edgecombe St. Mary, from the upper-crusty but highly taxed peers to the eco-terrorists next door, that set this book apart for me.

That said, I’m going to admit that the book was not entirely successful from my point of view. And that is because Simonson, an ex-pat Brit who apparently lives in the New York area, committed one of the current literary offenses that ticks me off most: employing the “stereotypical American” as symbol of all that is wrong with the world. (My little diatribe begins about here, so you can feel free to skip it if you’d like.)

Here’s the thing: Simonson’s own discussion points indicate she wanted to show that all British people are not the same. Fine. So why are all Americans the same in so many recent books that come out of the former British Empire? Note to writers – we are quite a diverse group. We put the “multi” in multicultural. We are not all hegemony-minded business majors with great teeth (okay, our teeth are usually pretty good), too much money and no manners. And we don’t all have a burning desire to buy up your country and titles. That American represents a literary trope at this point. If you can write with understanding about a misguided bunch of codgers who wouldn’t dream of allowing a Pakistani couple join their club (and to your credit, you did), I’d think you could steer your way clear to writing an interesting – and by that I don’t mean perfect, but at least imperfect in an interesting way – American. And while we’re at it, it doesn’t count to have one British person – in this case the Major’s son Roger – be just as awful as an American. I’m talking about relative levels of interest here, and not relative levels of evil. (End of diatribe; it’s now safe to go back to the review.)

For the most part this was a very successful novel. The more I got to know the characters, the more I enjoyed it. The ending is both exciting and unexpected. And it provided a great night of discussion for my book club. There was a great diversity of opinion about what Major Pettigrew’s “last stand” actually was – nearly everyone had a different take. So the book is highly recommended for readers of literary fiction and romance, diatribe notwithstanding.

TLC Book Tour Review: Peter Sis' The Conference of the Birds

2011-11-03T13:59:00.000-07:00

When I took Peter Sis’ The Conference of the Birds out of the envelope and paged through it, I thought, “This is easily the most beautiful book that has ever been in my hands.” The paper is textured and the colors are vibrant. A very promising start. Still, I didn’t know much about Sufi mythology—the book is adapted from a Sufi mythical poem by Farid od-Din 'Attar– so I did a web search to try to contextualize the story. If you’re interested, you can find more information about Sufism here.

The story appears to be a simple parable of all the birds in the world deciding to search for their true king, Simorgh, urged on by their leader, Hoopoe.

Come on, you brave birds!

Let’s glide, let’s fly, let’s soar.

Love loves difficult things.

We’re on our way!

But it’s actually so much more than that: The Conference of the Birds has the look and feel of a gorgeous children’s picture book, yet it tackles some of the deepest philosophical questions humans can ask: Who are we? What is truth? What is the nature of God?

The simplicity of the language and the childlike illustrations probably make comparisons to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince inevitable. And the book certainly shares a dreamy quality with that famous novella. But The Conference of the Birds lacks the character development that makes The Little Prince so poignant and touching – I didn’t bond with the individual birds enough to feel sad when they dropped from the flock, or feel joy when they reached their goal.

I think where this book really succeeds is in bringing a central concept of Sufism – the concept of God within each individual – to a Western audience. That, and in the enjoyment of Sis’ gorgeous illustrations. This book is highly recommended for readers interested in mysticism, mythology or Persian culture. And also for lovers of the book as art. And also lovers of poetry.

Well, I’m happy to say that this book puts me back on the map in the Read-A-Myth Challenge – I’m still thinking I will finish that one before December. Thanks to Thanks to JoV of Bibliojunkie and Bina of If You Can Read This for hosting. And because Peter Sis is Hungarian, this also counts for the Eastern European Challenge. Thanks to my buddy Amy at The Black Sheep Dances for hosting!

I read this book as part of TLC’s book tour, and received a copy of it in return for my honest opinion. I encourage you to check out these other stops on the tour:

Tuesday, November 1st: Bibliophiliac

Wednesday, November 2nd: Book Snob

Monday, November 7th: Sarah Reads Too Much

Tuesday, November 8th: Library Queue

Wednesday, November 9th: Savvy Verse & Wit

Thursday, November 10th: Col Reads

Tuesday, November 15th: Wordsmithonia

Wednesday, November 16th: Hungry Like the Woolf

Wednesday, November 16th: Melody & Words

Monday, November 21st: Unabridged Chick

Thursday, November 22nd: Seven Impossible Things

Monday, November 28th: Alexandra Boiger

Tuesday, November 29th: Abigail Halpin

Wednesday, December 14th: Layers of Thought

Book Review: Marghanita Laski’s The Victorian Chaise-Longue

2011-10-31T18:11:00.000-07:00

Once I decided to try to read four books, my plan for this year’s R.I.P. VI Challenge, kindly hosted again by Carl V. of Stainless Steel Droppings, was to slowly increase the peril level throughout the challenge. I started with a vintage mystery, moved to an early 20th century real life ghost story with some mildly perilous moments, and then read a contemporary Japanese ghost story with a really eerie perilous vibe. I was worrying if I’d gotten the order right after that one, but Marghanita Laski’s The Victorian Chaise-Longue really scared me, so in the end I got the order right.

Melanie, a young, 20th century mother with tuberculosis, sits on an antique chaise-longue to rest. She wakes up in 1864 – long before doctors realized that what she needed most was sunshine and fresh air. She recognizes no one – but they know her. She’s Milly, soon to die of tuberculosis. And they’re waiting for her confession. But she doesn’t have one to give, which contributes to the tension of the book.

So why was a book with no monsters, no ghouls, and no brutally murdered innocents so scary? The horror of Lanski’s The Victorian Chaise-Longue comes from Melanie’s growing realization of her abjectly hopeless situation:

But things can’t happen twice, she told herself wearily, closing her eyes, the momentary relaxation over, the racking torture established again, I must always have been Milly and Milly me. It is now that is present reality and the future is yet to come. But if I have to wait for the future, if it is only in time to come that I shall be Melanie again, then that time must come again too when Sister Smith leaves me to sleep on the chaise-longue, and I wake up in the past. I shall never escape – and the eternal prison she imagined for herself consumed her mind, and she fainted or dozed off into a nightmare of chase and pursuit and loss. p. 58-59

This book creeped me out – there’s not one graphic moment, but it’s the kind of book that makes you think. What would it be like if no one believed you? What would it feel like to be without the people you love most when you are ill? What if the person who was supposed to love you most really didn’t? Powerful and horrible themes that pushed my peril-meter higher than I usually like!

Okay – four perilous reads for the R.I.P. VI Challenge – and just in time! Thanks so much, Carl V., for another great autumn of perilous reading. I am already looking forward to next year! This was one of my favorite Persephone Books so far.

Weekend Cooking: Col Cooks Pumpkin Swirl Cheesecake

2011-10-22T13:36:00.000-07:00

When I asked what I could bring to the Halloween Party, my friend Ann said she’d like a pumpkin cheesecake. This is a marbled version, perfect for cheesecake purists* who want to add a touch of the season to their favorite dessert.

Col's Pumpkin Swirl Cheesecake

For the crust:
1 cup gingersnap crumbs
¼ cup walnuts, ground
¼ cup melted butter

Mix all together and press into the bottom of a 7-inch springform pan. Cover the outside of the pan with a large piece of aluminum foil (use the extra-wide kind, so you won’t have to worry about water seeping into the cake through the seams).

For the cheesecake filling:
1 ½ cups sour cream
½ cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla
16 ounces cream cheese
2 tablespoons melted butter

Have the ingredients at room temperature. Blend the first four ingredients in a blender for one minute. Then add the cream cheese, a bit at a time. When all the cream cheese is incorporated, pour the melted butter through the top of the blender while running to incorporate. Pour all but ¾ cup into the springform pan.

For the pumpkin filling:
¾ cup cheesecake filling (above)
½ cup pumpkin puree
2 tablespoons brown sugar
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ginger
¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

Whisk all the ingredients together in a large measuring cup. (It will be a bit thin, but that’s alright.) Now for the fun part – pour the filling onto the cheesecake in a decorative pattern.

Place the springform pan in a lasagna pan. With the pan on the oven rack, pour boiling water into the lasagna pan, until it comes about half way up the side of the cake pan. Bake in a 325 F oven for about 50 minutes. Then turn off the oven, place a wooden spoon between the door and the oven to prop it open, and let the cheesecake remain undisturbed for another hour. Then remove from the oven and let cool completely before you refrigerate (at least 3 hours before cutting).

*And by that I mean lovers of real, New York cheesecake, dense and not overly sweet -- the kind I grew up on!

Book Review: Taichi Yamada’s Strangers

2011-10-22T07:14:00.000-07:00

Taichi Yamada’s Strangers is a moody tale of loss and redemption, set in modern day Tokyo. Hideo is a recently divorced television writer, emotionally cut off from the world since the loss of his free-spirited parents in a motorcycle accident when he was only twelve years old. While wandering around his old neighborhood, he sees a man who looks exactly like his father in a comedy club – and the man doesn’t seem at all surprised when he follows him all the way home, to a woman who looks exactly like his mother. In fact, they seem to have been expecting him.

Are they strangers, or are they his parents? His new girlfriend – the only other person actually living in the noisy apartment building that most owners use as business space – warns him to stay away from them. And his colleague Mamiya appears terrified at the physical change in Hideo. But Hideo doesn’t notice any change at all.

He continues to see his parents, who seem not at all disconcerted to be so much younger than their son. But can they really be the kind people they appear to be?

This ghostly story sent shivers down my spine. And the only reason for the short review is that it would be a shame to give anything away. I loved Yamada’s writing style – the first-person narration is almost journalistic in its austerity, but still richly descriptive. I read fantastic reviews of this book from both The Parrish Lantern and Dolce Bellezza, two bloggers who tend to add to my TBR with their great recommendations, so I wasn’t at all surprised to enjoy the book. But I wasn’t really prepared for how powerfully this story resonated with me. I'd call this highly recommended for fans of Japanese literature and for those who love a good ghost story.

This one definitely turned up the peril-meter for my R.I.P. VI Reading, so thanks to Carl V of Stainless Steel Droppings for hosting. I’m kind of sad that October is coming to an end, but the reviews from this year’s challenge already have me thinking about next year! And this is also my second book for the Bellezza’s Japanese Literature Challenge 5 – I’m glad I’ll have some more time to work on that challenge when the semester winds down!

Book Review: Elliot O’Donnell’s Scottish Ghost Stories

2011-10-14T02:41:00.000-07:00

One of the most dangerous things about a Kindle is the “immediate gratification” apect of it: you find a review for a book, it looks interesting, and in less than a minute it’s on your device. And the money is out of your bank account. Ouch! Which is why it’s fun to scroll through the free and $0.99 titles for e-book readers – a lot of classics are available that way, and while I’ll admit the typesetting sometimes suffers for the price, it’s way better than having a to borrow the same classic from the library—and deal with the mold and mildew that often plagues old books.

That’s how I came across Elliott O’Donnell’s classic horror volume, Scottish Ghost Stories. Turns out that O’Donnell was a turn-of-the-last-century ghost hunter, and quite a celebrity in his time. He even had a radio show about paranormal phenomenon at one point. The R.I.P. VI Challenge, hosted by Carl V. at Stainless Steel Droppings, was looming, and I wanted to include something aside from mysteries in my list this year, so I downloaded it on impulse. It wound up being an enjoyable read, but probably not for the reasons that O’Donnell intended.

Scottish Ghost Stories purports to be a collection of true hauntings, either experienced by O’Donnell himself or relayed to him by reliable sources, all taking place in Scotland. The book was written in 1911, and has a real Victorian sensibility, very descriptive and melodramatic:

And soon there stole upon me a sensation to which I had been hitherto an utter stranger – I became afraid. An irrepressible tremor pervaded my frame, my teeth chattered, my blood froze. Obeying an impulse – an impulse I could not resist, I lifted myself up from the pillows, and, peering fearfully into the shadowy glow that lay directly in front of me – listened. Why I listened I do not know, saving that an instinctive spirit prompted me. At first I could hear nothing, and then, from a direction I could not define, there came a noise, low, instinctive, uninterpretative…Dreading to think what it might be, and seized with a wild sentiment of self-preservation, I made frantic endeavours to get out of bed and barricade my door. My limbs, however, refused to move. I was paralysed.Kindle Location 1775 of 1905

It suddenly struck me while reading it that O’Donnell’s book represents the Victorian equivalent of reality TV! Like the producers of shows like “Paranormal State,” O’Donnell’s narrative makes it clear that ghosts can be found in the most unlikely places – and the reader may well be the next victim! There are some great period touches in that regard. For example, in most cases O’Donnell only gives the neighborhood of the occurrences he’s detailing, not the actual addresses of them, presumably to protect the current property owners who may be trying to foist their ghostly tenants on some other unsuspecting homebuyers – quite an interesting touch, I thought. There are also routines associated with the haunting, such as the forcing of the haunted to act against their will, and paralysis of victims that make it impossible to flee the terrifying apparitions they describe later, that recur in the stories.

From the standpoint of the challenge, the book did provide a couple of mildly perilous moments. But the truth is I found it most interesting as an artifact of its time – and a sort of verification that the current fascination with “true crime” and other “reality” genres has historical antecedents. I think lovers of Victorian literature should really consider taking a look at this book, as it represents a very popular genre in its time that we now commonly overlook – non-fiction. But it would also be of interest to those who are interested in the evolution of the horror genre, especially “true horror.” And if you’re kind of wimpy about horror, this is a good introduction – this is definitely not a book of the Stephen King, nightmare inducing kind! I’m certainly glad I happened upon it, and that I finally got to read a ghost story for this year’s R.I.P. VI Challenge. So thanks again to Carl V. for hosting – this is my second R.I.P. Challenge, and I can already see why it’s a highlight of autumn for so many book bloggers!

TLC Book Tour Review: Susan V. Weiss’ My God, What Have We Done?

2011-10-11T04:18:00.000-07:00

How do we deal with the unforeseen consequences of our greatest efforts? What is the opportunity cost of action versus inaction? These are the questions that Susan V. Weiss’ new novel, My God, What Have We Done?, asks the reader to consider throughout the two stories she has surprisingly woven together in this remarkable new novel.

The first story is Pauline and Clifford’s. It’s the story of a modern, young married woman’s loneliness in her marriage. Pauline loves her self-possessed husband Clifford, and her needy children. Still, she can’t quite find happiness. She married a man who was quiet and distant, only to be disappointed by his solitary nature. Pauline is a frustrating character – she seems to desire movement and change when none is really necessary. Instead of enjoying the different phases of her life, she wishes them away for some other future that isn’t well defined, except for the fact that it isn’t the one she is currently building. Still, her struggles are both commonplace and touching:

But as much as a mother may love her child, the unvarying replay of challenges that need to be mastered during the process of growth and the repetitive schedule can become tiresome. While Jasper worked with all his might to become a toddler, I escaped the monotony of our days together by reading, and during these lapses of vigilance, my son sometimes would fall and cry, get frustrated and cry, miss my attention and cry. (page 131)

What young mother hasn’t felt that way? And yet Pauline seems to think that if she isn’t actively engaged at every moment, something is lost.

The second story is that of Pauline’s historical “crush,” J. Robert “Oppie” Oppenheimer, and his wife Kitty, as Oppenheimer feverishly tried to finish the atomic bomb at Los Alamos, New Mexico, during the final days of the Second World War. Kitty and her young son Peter have been dragged to the middle of the desert by her husband, where isolation and loneliness lead her to alcohol. Maybe it’s the historian in me, but it was this remote story that touched me the most. Kitty’s plight seemed out of her hands, compared with Pauline’s. The circumstances of her husband’s life separated him from almost everyone – even her, the person who had been his closest confidante. She knew enough about her husband’s work to know that she might be waiting for not the end of some annoying childhood phase, but the end of the world as she knew it, which served to make her struggles far more heartbreaking to me, despite the fact that her behavior was in many ways shocking.

Weiss dares the reader to compare the relative ease of our day-to-day existence with the hardships faced by the scientists working at Los Alamos. Their common purpose is extraordinary, although their diligent activity ultimately brings about the worst kind of destruction. How do we judge the result?

I enjoyed this book immensely, although I admit I found it a bit uneven. Both stories were very compelling, but Weiss’ philosophical musings on the meaning of the atomic bomb struck me as too direct – almost like some kind of omniscient Greek chorus. This would be a fabulous book for a book club – I can imagine people reacting to this book completely differently, depending on their age and life experience. I would recommend this book to both lovers of contemporary literature and historical fiction, as well as those who enjoy literature about the Second World War. There is something here for all of those groups.

I read this book as part of a TLC Book Tour, and received a free copy of the book in return for my honest opinion. I hope you’ll visit these other stops on the tour:

Monday, October 10th: Steph and Tony Investigate
Tuesday, October 11th: Col Reads
Wednesday, October 12th: Regular Rumination
Wednesday, October 12th: The Well-Read Wife

Wordless Wednesday: "My Father is Joyful"

2011-09-27T16:47:00.000-07:00

Those who know Hebrew will recognize that the title of this post is my daughter's name! She is a senior in high school, the Captain of her school's Dance Team, a member of the National Model UN, a graduate of the National Young Leaders' Academy and one of the funniest people I have ever met. (Of course, I promise I am not at all biased!) This is her graduation photo. I cannot believe she will be leaving us next year, but applaud the adventurous spirit that urges her on to other places!

No matter what I do in life, she and her sister will be my greatest achievements, so I wanted to share this photo with my friends in the book blog world.

Book Review: Faith L. Justice's Selene of Alexandria

2011-09-27T02:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever gotten to the end of a book and been so wrapped up in the main character’s world that you ran immediately to the computer to order the sequel – only to be crushed because no sequel exists? Then you have a pretty good idea of how I felt when I finished Faith L. Justice’s Selene of Alexandria.

I can’t say that I’d ever thought much about Rome’s Eastern Empire – and what eventually became the Orthodox Church – until I read SusieBookworm’s review of Selene of Alexandria. (I focused mostly on Medieval Europe during my undergraduate career, so I guess what happened in Constantinople stayed in Constantinople, if you know what I mean.)

So I was amazed to be so immediately taken in by Selene and her 5th century Egyptian Christian world. Justice blends historical characters with fictional ones seamlessly, pinning her story to historical events. The female philosopher Hypatia lived in 5th century Alexandria and ran the last Platonic academy there. So the placement of Selene, a young noblewoman who longs to become a physician, doesn’t seem as anachronistic as it might have. Selene’s family is impoverished by the Roman system of landowner fees, so she could improve her family’s fortunes with a good match. But her kind-hearted father sees her potential, and allows her to study medicine, which (predictably) leads to a host of complications.

The complications are the most interesting part of the book, actually, because Justice uses them to illustrate 5th century Egyptian society: the factionalism, the anti-Semitism, the tension between civil and religious authority. It was fascinating how Justice chronicles the rise of the Church as a form of class warfare, through which those born outside of the nobility could achieve power – and wealth. Bishop Cyril gives Cardinal Richelieu a run for his money as the pre-Machiavellian heavy, complete with a holy army of club-wielding monks to attack pagans. I was shocked to realize the cold, calculating character drawn by Justice actually goes on to become a Father of the Church, and a saint in both the Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox traditions. It’s a sobering thought, but it certainly added to my interest in the book.

The love stories didn’t work as well for me as other parts of the book, however. I found it difficult to see what Selene saw in Orestes, the Roman prefect – he seemed too self-centered and crafty for someone with her altruistic impulses. The secondary love story, between her brother Phillip and the family’s Jewish maid, Rebecca, wasn’t developed well enough for me to understand the drastic decisions made at the end of the book. All in all, I felt like I was left with a bunch of cliffhangers, romance-wise – and no chance to resolve them.

Still, I loved learning about Selene’s world, and would welcome a chance to go back! So if anyone hears about a sequel to this one, let me know, okay?

TLC Book Tour Review: Michael Alenyikov’s Ivan and Misha

2011-09-26T07:05:00.000-07:00

Michael Alenyikov’s Ivan and Misha is a novel told in short stories, each from a different perspective, knit loosely to form a tale of family and lies and loss. The stories are joined by the fraternal twins of the title, Russian immigrants living in New York City. The book is raw and intense, and the writing is beautiful and sparse, which makes the disjointed narrative feel more like a series of conversations you’re having, slowly revealing the realities of Ivan and Misha’s lives, as well as that of their adoring father, Louie.

The first story, from which the novel takes its name, is from Misha’s first-person perspective. He is the blond-haired apple of his father’s eye, an aspiring novelist who works as a gofer for a film crew. His boyfriend is Smith, a young and haunted man from Michigan. But the real love of his life is his small and troubled family: Ivan, who suffers from manic depression and Louie, whose health is failing following a stroke.

The picture of Ivan and Misha seems complete until we get to the next story, “Barrel of Laughs,” which is narrated by Louie, and fills in details even the boys don’t know. Later, “It Takes All Kinds” redraws Ivan and Misha from Smith’s perspective. And we think we understand Ivan until the focus shifts to him in “Whirling Dervish,” and we see the pain of living on the edge of sanity:

But here, now, this world, this New York, America, did hold together. It was a mystery to Ivan, whose thoughts might begin to race, spin out of control, at any time. He’s a whirling dervish who in some past frenzy had likely spun off pieces of himself that comprised those rings of Saturn’s and who now craved the embrace of Taz, who never hurried, who read him poems, who quieted Ivan’s mind and soul with the touch of his voice. p. 152

And so it goes, every story adding to our understanding of the twins.

I enjoyed the raw emotion of this book. But I was glad for the short story format, which gave me a chance to pause and think about what I'd read -- it really was pretty heavy in places. Alenyikov writes with insight, even when describing the most painful, intimate details of the twins’ lives. It's not a total downer, however -- there's some dark Russian humor as well, from Louie’s little white lies to Misha’s acceptance of Ivan’s grandiose schemes. I have to note that the book is very direct in its sexual content. Still, I never felt that it was gratuitous. I’d say this book is worth seeking out for the power and vividness of Alenyikov’s writing. He’s definitely an author I would seek out.

I read this book as part of a TLC book tour, and received a free copy of the book in return for my honest opinion . I hope you’ll look at some of the other reviews here:

Tuesday, September 6th: Take Me Away
Wednesday, September 7th: Unabridged Chick
Thursday, September 8th: A Bookish Affair
Monday, September 12th: Lit Endeavors
Tuesday, September 13th: Stuff as Dreams are Made On
Wednesday, September 14th: Literature and a Lens
Thursday, September 15th: The Reading Life
Monday, September 19th: Wordsmithonia
Tuesday, September 20th: Regular Rumination
Wednesday, September 21st: Dolce Bellezza
Thursday, September 22nd: Bibrary Bookslut
Friday, September 23rd: Ready When You Are, CB
Monday, September 26th: Col Reads
Tuesday, September 27th: Books Are Like Candy Corn
Wednesday, September 28th: The Book Pirate
Thursday, September 29th: Stella Matutina

This book counts for the LGBT Book Challenge. And the Immigrant Stories Challenge. And I think I can count it for the Eastern European Reading Challenge as well. Yeah! I'm so glad to get back on track after a big, semester induced drought! Thanks to Natazz, Colleen and Amy for hosting!

Book Review: Margery Allingham’s The Crime at Black Dudley

2011-09-05T07:43:00.000-07:00

Another first for this summer: my first Albert Campion mystery. Margery Allingham’s books have been on my radar screen for a while, but Bev’s Vintage Mystery Challenge finally put one in my hands.

I decided to start with Campion’s first appearance on the literary scene, The Crime at Black Dudley. The choice here was deliberate, but debatable. Campion is a significant character* in the novel, but he is not the protagonist – some Campion enthusiasts apparently don’t count this as a Campion mystery at all. Still, I reasoned that if his cameo in one novel led to the larger gig, I wanted to see why.

The story revolves around a house party arranged by Wyatt Petrie to entertain his invalid uncle by marriage, Colonel Gordon Coombe, who is living out his last years in the family’s ancient, secluded castle, Black Dudley. Petrie arranges for a lively set of stylish young people to share the country weekend, including his friend George Abbershaw, an eminent young pathologist. The very serious Abbershaw has uncharacteristically wrangled an invitation because he is smitten with Meggie Oliphant, another member of the party. Also along is the affable and outrageous Albert Campion – who everyone assumes is someone else’s guest at the party. In addition, Petrie’s uncle has a few – very surly – friends in attendance.

So the stage is set for the lights to go out.

And right on cue, they do just that! Petrie suggests the group reenact the family ritual of the Black Dudley Dagger, a grown-up game of “Hot Potato” played with a bejeweled blade that is passed throughout the house in the pitch dark. The loser is the one left holding the dagger when the lights come on, so everyone is frantically trying to pass it.** When the lights come on, Petrie’s uncle has been whisked away – it turns out he’s been stabbed. And his surly companions want Abbershaw to sign a phony death certificate.

So who killed the uncle? And why are the surly companions threatening to kill everyone else if they can’t find a lost item? And what’s in the brief case Campion is fighting with the chauffer about? And while we’re at it, who the heck is Albert Campion? I’m not telling, but Allingham does make a very interesting thriller of it.

Unfortunately from my perspective, as clever as it all is, she doesn’t really give the reader a chance to solve the mystery. I think this may be related to the fact that she started off with one hero – Abbershaw – and ended up with two, as Campion played out his quirky, baffling part in the story’s ultimate resolution.

I liked this book, but didn’t love it. My main problem was that I found it disjointed. The members of the weekend party were unevenly developed, giving the mystery a strange slant: you couldn’t focus attention on all of the players, because there wasn’t enough information to go on. I did like the gothic elements though: the secret passages, the strange lady in the attic, the unexplained car in the garage all made for a very atmospheric read. And I definitely liked the Campion character enough to read one of Allingham’s other books.

Okay, that’s my sixth Golden Girls read for the Vintage Mystery Challenge. I’m planning to finish up with Phoebe Atwood Taylor’s The Cape Cod Mystery, which will make for seven different Golden Girls read in the challenge, six of whom were brand new to me! This has been a lot of fun, so thanks Bev! And since it’s a mystery, I’m also linking to the RIP Challenge, even though this wasn’t one of the two books I was planning. Hmmm. Maybe I can get to four after all… No, no mustn’t overcommit! But we’ll see.

*And believe me, “character” is the right word for Campion in this book. Little wonder he caught the attention of the public – and the publishers.
**This leads to a lot of running around in the dark with sharp objects, something at which all mothers reading this book will doubtless shake their heads, anticipating imminent disaster. They will be correct.

Weekend Cooking: Pizza Sourdough Bread

2011-09-03T06:23:00.000-07:00

If you love baking, you’ve probably already seen Farm Girl Fare – it’s a fantastic food blog. I love to poke around there for farmer’s market inspiration! It was Susan’s Fresh Tomato and Basil Sourdough that inspired one of my family’s favorites: Pizza Sourdough Bread. Sounds a little crazy, but a slice of this toasted with cream cheese is a heavenly breakfast. My younger daughter likes to use it for grilled tomato and provolone sandwiches!

Col’s Pizza Sourdough Bread

1 cup sourdough starter*
2 large heirloom tomatoes (no need to peel or remove the seeds)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon dried basil
2 tablespoons dried oregano
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
2 ounces shredded Romano cheese
About 2 ½ cups whole wheat flour
About 2 ½ cups bread flour
1 tablespoon salt

Combine the sourdough starter and tomatoes in the bowl of a standing mixer and let sit for a few minutes. With the mixer running, add the olive oil, then the spices and cheese.

Slowly work the flour into the dough, alternating ½ cup whole wheat and ½ cup bread flour, until you have a stiff dough (you many need more or less flour, so I’ve given you a ballpark figure). Knead 10 minutes. (I do this with the dough hook, but if you want to do it by hand, you have my undying respect!) At the end the tomatoes will be pulverized, but your bread will still have lovely red and green flecks.

Place the kneaded dough in an olive-oiled bowl after turning it over once to make sure the top is also covered with oil, cover with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel, and let rise until doubled in size. Then punch down, reknead for about 5 minutes, divide in two and place in two loaf pans. Let rise again until doubled, and score right before placing in a 350 degree F oven until the bread sounds hollow when tapped (about 45 minutes). Remove from loaf pans immediately, and let cool completely on a wire rack.

*You could also start with a sponge of ¾ cup warm water, ¾ cup flour and 1 teaspoon yeast. Let it start to bubble before adding tomatoes.

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Looking Forward to a Perilous Fall: Joining the R.I.P. Challenge

2011-09-03T04:59:00.000-07:00

The general lameness here at Col Reads over the past two weeks can only mean one thing – the semester has begun! But now that my darling daughters are also back-to-school (that takes an additional week here), I expect to have things back to normal starting next week! Or at least as normal as they get around these parts.

So autumn has arrived, and with it the RIP (that's Readers Imbibing Peril) VI Challenge, for readers of mysteries, suspense, thrillers, dark fantasy, gothic fiction, horror, or supernatural titles. Isn't the button fantastic?

I’m joining at the Peril the Second Level, but I hope to read more than two books – I just don’t want to overcommit.

What? Did I hear laughter? Me? Overcommit?

Hahahahahaha!

Weekend Cooking: Kid-Friendly Pinto Bean and Tomatillo Tostadas

2011-08-21T04:57:00.000-07:00

Moving toward a plant-based diet has been easier at some times than others. Home? Easy. Traveling? Hard. Breakfast? Easy. Dinner? Doable but labor intensive – it takes a lot a prep work and ingredients to make a vegan meal tasty enough for a family that enjoys meat. Summer? Easy. School year? That’s what I was worried about. So with September rolling around again, one of the things I wanted to do was come up with a few go-to, kid-friendly vegan meals that I could put together on a weeknight, once the activity-go-round starts up again in next month. Here’s the one my family likes best – and the leftovers make an awesome filling for a vegan wrap later in the week.

This does take about an hour to make, but if you have the beans already made (I always have pressure-cooked beans ready to go) or use canned, you can have this on the table in about an hour, with only about 10 minutes of hands-on time – perfect for helping with homework or supervising piano practice!

Pinto Bean and Tomatillo Tostadas

4 cups cooked pinto beans
1 batch Quick Tomatillo Salsa (recipe follows)
8 corn tortillas
Olive oil for brushing
Salt and cayenne pepper, to taste

Place both ingredients in a saucepan or small Dutch oven over medium heat and bring to a boil. Allow to cook on low heat for about an hour, until the liquid becomes a thick sauce. Don’t stir too enthusiastically or frequently, because the beans will get mushy, and that’s not what we’re going for!

Meanwhile, heat oven to 400 degrees F. Brush tortillas on both sides with olive oil using a pastry brush, and place on a baking tray (two if necessary). Bake for about 5 minutes (using a paring knife to deflate any steam bubbles in the tortillas) until just beginning to brown, then flip the tortillas and bake for another 5 minutes, or until tortillas are golden and crisp. (They do firm up a bit as they cool, so don’t worry if they’re not chip-like.) Remove from oven and salt lightly.

Serve with your family’s favorite tostada toppings: cilantro, tomatoes, lettuce, olives, pickled jalapeños are ours.

Quick Tomatillo Salsa

10 tomatillos, quartered
8-10 green onions, roughly chopped
4 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and chopped
½ cup fresh cilantro
¼ cup lime juice
2 T olive oil
2 t cumin
Salt and cayenne, to taste

Place all ingredients in a blender and puree until almost smooth. Taste and season. That’s it.

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Novella Review: Christopher Morley's Parnassus on Wheels

2011-08-20T14:36:00.000-07:00

When Frances of Nonsuch Books mentioned the Art of the Novella Challenge, I was intrigued. But also a bit intimidated. My limited experience with novellas led me to believe that they’re rather like black holes – small yes, but incredibly dense. I’m thinking Kundera’s Slowness or Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men -- a short but intense intellectual workout. And anyone who’s checked in here recently knows that I’m on intellectual hiatus until the end of summer.*

Still, I love the near immediate gratification of a slim book, so I decided to poke through the Melville House catalog and see if there wasn’t something less than grim. I threw out the Russians immediately. Sorry Leo and Ivan – definitely winter fare. Every memory of Joyce I have involves a headache, and the Dublin pub crawl is only one of them – bye my Irish friend. But eventually I got to a part of the catalog that seemed far less threatening, inviting even. Being a Long Island girl, I was familiar with Christopher Morley from the beautiful park that’s named after him. So far so good. Then I read the description of his Parnassus on Wheels and saw it was a romantic comedy. No black hole there! Yippee – I could participate in the Art of the Novella challenge without harshing my summer groove! Good thing, because it was a fun little find!

The story is narrated by Helen McGill, the long-suffering spinster sister of nature essayist Andrew McGill. She’s been baking bread and cleaning up after her famous but selfish brother for 15 years when Roger Mifflin stops by their farm to try and sell Andrew his Parnassus, a bookstore on wheels, so he can retire to Brooklyn. Helen realizes that she’ll have even more work to do if her brother gets his hands on Parnassus, so she rashly decides to buy Parnassus herself and have her first-ever holiday. Mifflin comes along to show her how to work Parnassus, her brother can’t believe he’s been left high and dry, and hilarity and romance inevitably ensue.

The novella isn’t really deep or complex, but what was so very interesting was Morley’s ability to take on the voice of a 40ish woman who believes life has passed her by. At one point, Helen finds Mifflin’s notebook, and considers the impact he’s had on the people he’s met:

It seemed as if I had stumbled unawares on the pathetic, brave and lonely heart of the little man. I’m a commonplace creature, I’m afraid, insensible to many of the deeper things in life, but every now and then, like all of us, I come face to face with something that thrills me. I saw how this little, red-bearded pedlar was like a cake of yeast in the big, heavy dough of humanity: how he traveled about trying to fulfill in his own way his ideals of beauty. I felt almost motherly toward him: I wanted to tell him I understood him.

The way Helen is beginning to cherish Mifflin is so sweet, and rang so true, that I actually went to the internet to confirm that Christopher Morley wasn’t a pseudonym for a woman!

“Dear” is the perfect word for this novella – it’s a prototypical romantic comedy, something that could easily have been made into a Hepburn/Tracy movie. It’s completely different than any other novellas I’ve read: a breezy, summery story to usher me into fall.

And all those weightier tomes I’ve been putting off until then.

*That would actually be Monday, but I realize what a luxury it is to have the summer off in the first place, so I promise not to whine about it, no matter how sorely I’m tempted.

Book Review: Banana Yoshimoto’s The Lake

2011-08-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

Death is always so close in a Banana Yoshimoto story that you can almost touch it. The Lake is no exception. But in this novel I felt like Yoshimoto was exploring something slightly different: the ways in which people choose life, despite the certainty of death.

Chihiro, a young muralist, narrates the quirky story of her love affair with a shy, sincere medical student, Nakajima. Both of them are motherless, and somewhat estranged from their fathers. They come into each others’ lives slowly and cautiously, first as a comforting presence in the window across the street, then as acquaintances, then as friends and finally, almost accidentally, as lovers. But there’s something so terrible in Nakajima’s past that he can’t discuss it – something that makes him seem somehow out of step with the rest of the world.

Compared with other Yoshimoto heroines, I found the tone of Chihiro’s first-person narration very direct and accessible. I appreciated Chihiro’s mixed feelings about her family and her lover – nothing comes easy in her world.

Playing at marriage, playing at being a dad, playing at being a full member of society.

Everything in my life revolves around people playing at being something.

But that’s only because we have to be that way in order to get on with our lives. Just because people are playing doesn’t mean their hearts aren’t in it. p. 141

And yet even Chihiro is aware that she is not fully engaged in anything – in her work, in her love affair, in her family – because there is a part of her life that she is not being entirely honest about.

This is a slim book, but it travels a mysterious terrain, making it slower going than you might expect. Dreams provide an alternate form of reality, which is a bit unsettling when juxtaposed with Chihiro’s apparent realism. Readers more familiar with current events in Japan may have guessed more about the mystery of Nakajima’s past than I did,* but I don't think the effect will be any less jarring.

This book lacks the sweetness of the other Yoshimoto books I have read, but I think that’s okay. It has a certain grittiness instead, something I liked almost as much. I think Yoshimoto fans will embrace this book too. But the edgier voice may help find a wider audience for Yoshimoto among those who like a more mysterious – or even gothic – read.

This is my first book for this year’s Japanese Literature Challenge 5, hosted by Dolce Bellezza. I’m trying to expand my readings this year, so this will probably be my only Yoshimoto title. Then again, I enjoy her writing so much, it’s possible I’ll add another if I can squeeze in the time.

*Let me say that I’m glad I heard about this book from Dolce Bellezza’s site, and not by reading the publisher’s description, because it gives A LOT away – avoid it if you want to let the book reveal itself to you in layers.

Blog Relay for Dorte Hummelshøj Jakobsen’s The Cosy Knave: Answer to Question 8

2011-08-09T02:21:00.000-07:00

Today I have the baton in the blog relay for Dorte Hummelshøj Jakobsen’s new novel, The Cozy Knave. I'm revealing the answer to question number 8. And question number 9 follows. You will have to follow the link below to find out the answer to number 9! What a great idea for a book launch interview, don’t you think?

Yesterday’s question was: What makes your cosy cosy?

As question 2 indicates, I began plotting and writing The Cosy Knave almost out of the blue. Of course I had some vague ideas about what constituted a cosy, but shortly before I embarked on my new subgenre, I consulted a blogger who is a real expert so I had a chance of getting it right. These days, all rules are there to be challenged, of course, still I thought it would be a good idea to stick to these five rules of thumb:

a) an amateur sleuth with a useful job or position, but also someone who can get help from the police when she needs it: the librarian Rhapsody, engaged to the local constable.
b) a suitable setting: a small village where everybody knows everybody else, including their sordid - or silly - secrets, the kind of place that tend to make you forget that the good, old days never really existed.
c) the right kind of crimes, meaning a couple of murders are all right, as long as the readers are spared the dirty truths about the shock and pain they cause. For once, bloodthirsty old Macbeth got it right when he said: "If it were done when ´tis done then ´twere well it were done quickly´.
d) plenty of quirky characters: readers will expect prattling dog walkers, stuck-up mushroom ´experts´, taciturn farmers and constables called Smith, Wesson and Winchester.
e) finally, the traditional cosy is expected to be free of sex scenes and swearing - so this is the perfect gift for granny, your young daughter, or anyone who likes having their crime candied.

Thanks, Dorte, for letting me participate! I cannot wait to read your new book!

So here is the next question in the relay:

9) Do you consider yourself a cosy mystery writer, or do you plan to publish in other sub-genres?

To find out the answer, you will have to head to Clarissa Draper´s blog tomorrow!

Audiobook Review: The Sunday Philosophy Club

2011-08-04T09:05:00.000-07:00

CAUTION: Snarky Review Ahead. Because Isabel Dalhousie annoyed the heck out of me!

Having enjoyed a number of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books by the same author, my husband and I downloaded Alexander McCall Smith’s The Sunday Afternoon Philosophy Club for a recent drive to Chicago. I’d heard the main character in the series, Isabel Dalhousie, was an academic, and we both thought that might make for an interesting twist on her sleuthing. We started the audiobook somewhere in Central Pennsylvania.

When it finished up as we cruised past Chicago’s U.S. Cellular Field, my hubby turned to me and deadpanned, “Well, that’s eight and a half hours of our lives we’ll never get back.” Indeed.

First books in series are difficult – rather than focusing on the mystery at hand, authors often wind up focusing on “setting up” the characters and their relationships. I get that. But in this case the main mystery and the subplot mysteries were very thin – and were solved through serendipity. Isabel Dalhousie didn’t demonstrate any great intellectual prowess or cultural acumen in solving the problems, just a combination of nosiness and dumb luck.

As for her characterization, the whole discussion of her work as a journal editor was off-putting to me. I know a couple of extraordinarily hard-working academic journal editors – at least one of whom is a pretty regular reader of this blog. Most of them do the job against the background of their own considerable work as professors and researchers. It’s a huge undertaking, not the dilettantish endeavor that McCall Smith makes it out to be. Phew — getting a manuscript in the mail. And then actually sending it out to a couple of reviewers. Excellent day’s work – time for a glass of wine and an omelet with the favorite niece’s old beau. Well done.

But what annoyed me most about Isabel Dalhousie went beyond the subpar mystery and the thinness of the characters. Rather than entertaining me, I had the impression that the Scottish journal editor was lecturing me the entire time. Me and everyone else who came within her general vicinity: family, friends, servants, dog walking strangers. I know Alexander McCall Smith is an ethicist. But what about the ethics of badgering your readers? What about the ethics of acting like a smartypants? This isn’t Sophie’s World, for crying out loud. It’s supposed to be a cozy mystery, not a lecture from a Problem of Evil course. I just couldn’t get over the disturbing flashbacks to freshman year at college.

(No wonder her Sunday Philosophy Club never meets. I can just imagine a club member's calculus on a sunny Sunday morning. “What shall I do on this beautiful Edinburgh day? Well, I could amble through the Royal Botanical Garden. Maybe take in the Ceilidh Culture Festival. Or I could go over to Isabel Dalhousie’s and be hit over the head with a Kantian imperative. Hmmm. The Royal Botanical Garden it is then.”)

Narrator Davina Porter does her absolute best with this audiobook, let me underscore that. She executes a wide range of characters skillfully and credibly. I especially liked her characterization of the men in the book – very engaging, and each very different. I just don’t think she had a lot to work with in this case. I would happily listen to her read another title – just not in this series!

After I finished the book I looked at some other reviews, and they were all over the board. Some people love the series, and some just hate it. Count me among the peeved.

SNARK ATTACK OVER!

Book Reviews: Georgette Heyer’s Frederica and The Masqueraders

2011-08-02T13:23:00.000-07:00

Ah, romance!

There is something wonderfully comforting about reading a novel in which the most exciting element is a rather chaste kiss – the first of many, we are to believe, because nice women don’t kiss men who aren’t going to be their husbands. A place where good men are trustworthy and cads are harshly dealt with. A place where a woman’s main job is to find the perfect husband. A place where a happy ending is guaranteed.

When I’m looking to be transported to a simpler and happier place than the world in which I live, I know I can turn to the guilty pleasure of a Regency Romance. Apparently I’ve needed a bit of “transportation” this summer, because I’ve read two such books in the past two months, and enjoyed them thoroughly.

My first was Georgette Heyer’s Frederica, a delightful if predicable story about the strong-willed young woman who comes to London for a season in search of a successful match for her beautiful but slow-witted younger sister, Charis. She employs the help of a distant cousin and confirmed bachelor, The Marquis of Alverstoke, to ease Charis’ way in society. The Marquis goes along with the plan to annoy his conniving sisters, but gets more than he bargained for when he unintentionally becomes the protector of Frederica’s exuberant brothers and their bad-mannered dog, “the Baluchistan hound.” Frederica is resigned to her role as spinster and guardian to her young brothers, but I had enough faith in the genre to figure that wasn’t going to happen. Still, the energetic brothers and the Marquis’ scheming sisters make for some interesting plot twists. Nothing taxing, but still thoroughly enjoyable.

I enjoyed the first Heyer so much that I downloaded another on my Kindle, The Masqueraders, based mostly on its high goodreads ratings. When I finally got to it, I realized how lucky the choice was – the book was way more complex than the first, including not only a disguised brother and sister (masquerading as gentlefolk of the opposite sex, no less) and a pair of interesting romances (especially considering the gender reversals, that was pretty hilarious), but a mystery besides! And the answer to the mystery is not even known by its subjects: who are “Peter” and “Kate” Merriott, really? The secondary characters actually make the book. Sir Anthony “The Mountain” Fanshawe is a truly romantic hero, charming because he’s so surprisingly unconventional. John, the Merriott's servant, clearly knows more than he lets on. And the bad guys in this book are REALLY bad. Like carrying off an heiress by force bad. And framing your rival with a murder bad. The Masqueraders was by far my favorite of the two Regency Romances I read this summer.

Unlike Jane Austen or Elizabeth Gaskell, Georgette Heyer, writing from her relatively comfortable 20th century perch, was herself unfettered and undamaged by the constraints imposed on her female characters by the societies she was writing about. Being so removed from the time period may be the reason she could be so sanguine about her characters’ prospects for happiness—she never suffered because of prevailing attitudes and customs of the time, like female authors of the time would have. But then, if I want to read something that accurately represents a particular time period, I read something written then – not something written two or three hundred years after the fact. A Regency Romance is just some good, clean, literary fun! If you still have time for summer reading, these romances would be good ones to put in your beach bag, or load on your e-reader.

Just an aside: Today I noticed a button on Leeswammes blog that led to Stiletto Storytime’s Georgette Heyer Gems of August 2011 event, happening this month. She’s focusing on Heyer with reviews, guest posts and a really nice giveaway. If you’re interested in Heyer, you should check it out!

Book Review and Simul-blog: James Hamilton-Paterson's Cooking with Fernet Branca

2011-07-30T05:51:00.000-07:00

Take a snarky British gourmand; mix with a bohemian composer of Eastern European extraction; add a self-important British pop star and an aging Italian movie director, each with delusions of grandeur; ply with a seemingly unending supply of an obscure liqueur; place on the top of an Italian mountain and watch what happens next! This recipe for disaster is the essence of James Hamilton-Paterson’s Cooking with Fernet Branca.

Cooking with Fernet Branca is the funniest thing I have read in a long time. So funny that I wound up with tears running down my face. So funny I gasped while trying to read passages aloud to explain said tears. Not to be maudlin or anything, but ever since Douglas Adams left this world far too young, I have honestly believed no novel could ever make me laugh that hard again. It was a delight to find out how very wrong I was.

Of course, the problem with humor is that it is so darn personal – why did Gerald Samper and his former-soviet nemesis Marta crack me up so? In my case, it all comes down to a subtle, sarcastic and deadpan writing style that only a few writers can deliver on. And almost all of them are British. At one point, Marta describes the take over of her home (and her neighbor’s yard) by an Italian film crew:

And all the time there came suggestive sounds from outside and glimpses through the window of poor Gerry’s fence being forcefully dealt with. There were some loud splintering noises which did not at all imply intactness. There were also some blasphemies new to me – the men were all-too-clearly native Tuscans – the gist being that the Madonna was unpopular for having yielded her virginity to a series of farmyard animals and the absent Gerry for having used a nail gun instead of an ordinary hammer. p. 182

James Hamilton-Paterson wrote Cooking with Fernet Branca with alternating narration between “Gerry” and Marta. Amazingly, both “voices” are hilarious, barreling along the path to what they believe can only be glory, Marta through her dissonant musicality and Gerald through his bizarre gustatory endeavors.

Hamilton-Paterson is obviously a great observer of contemporary culture, and he skewers a number of trends in this book – particularly fusion cooking. What else to make of recipes like Garlic and Fernet Branca Ice Cream, Mussels in Chocolate and Otter with Lobster Sauce? But it’s Gerald Samper’s self-seriousness that takes it from ludicrous to comic genius. And that’s what makes James Hamilton-Paterson such a fabulous writer.

This was my first book for the Europa Challenge, but it is already making me rethink my list. I don’t know if I can wait to read Hamilton-Paterson’s follow-up titles, Amazing Disgrace and Rancid Pansies. This book is absolutely recommended for lovers of British humor – if The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is your idea of a great time, read this book!

I am simul-blogging today! Both Jess at Desperado Penguin and Colleen at Books in the City read this book with me, as part of the Europa Challenge. I can’t wait to see their take on Gerald and Marta.

Oops! Forgot to put this book into one sentence: Bitter liquor makes strange bedfellows.

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Book Review: Emile Zola's The Fortune of the Rougons

2011-07-27T06:21:00.000-07:00

I think of myself as a pretty adventurous reader, so it’s surprising how often I realize I’ve never read a single book by a well-known author. I am not participating in the Paris in July Challenge, but a number of my blogging buddies are, so I’ve been enjoying a raft of reviews of French literature lately – and my limitations in that area are becoming apparent to me. For instance, after reading a fine review of Emile Zola’s Germinal by Karen at Books and Chocolate, I racked my brain trying to remember anything I’d read by Zola. I came up with nothing.

This led to an internet search, which led to Zola’s sweeping Rougon-Macquart epic, which led to the first novel in the twenty-book series, The Fortune of the Rougons. Since I generally prefer to begin at the beginning, and the title was available for Kindle, I decided to download it. Once I opened it up, I absolutely could not put it down!

Some background: The Rougon-Macquart novels tell the story of one family with two branches, one legitimate (the Rougons) and one illegitimate (the Macquarts), all descended from the same wealthy but unstable heiress, Adelaide Fouque. In the 20 novels of the series, Zola used France’s Second Republic as a kind of “incubator” for his ideas about evolution, and explored the impact of both predisposition and environment on various characters in the family line. In the first book, Zola sets up the “nature” elements of the book, by giving the Rougon and Macquart families particular traits, some distinct because of their different fathers, some overlapping because of they share the same mother.

More character study than chronicle, the narration moves about in time, starting at the birth of the Second Republic in 1852, but near the end of the book’s action, with the love story of Silvere and Miette. Silvere is a grandson of Adelaide’s and a staunch Republican, urged on by his bitter uncle, Antoine Macquart. Antoine blames his wealthy half-brother, Pierre Rougon, for disinheriting him and causing all his troubles – and he isn’t completely wrong in that regard. Zola creates characters of great depth and complexity, showing how their personal traits, social circumstances and decisions have brought them to that critical moment in the history of both the family and the nation:

There are some situations which benefit only persons of bad repute. These lay the foundations of their fortune where men of better position and more influence would never dare to risk theirs…The game was too risky. There was no one among the middle classes of Plassans who cared to play it except the Rougons, whose ungratified longings urged them on to extreme measures. Kindle location 1272

Not all of the books in the cycle are currently available in English translation, and some of the translations that do exist were censored for what was considered a more puritanical audience. I have read a lot of criticism of the translation I read, by Vizetelly, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I will be looking for even better translations for the other books, either in English or in Spanish – I now want to read them all!

So 2011 is the summer I fell in love with Zola. I hope I can participate in Paris in July next year! If you have any suggestions for what my next Rougon-Macquart novel should be, let me know!

This book in one sentence: A bitter seed bears a bitter harvest.

Book Review and Giveaway: One Flight Up

2011-07-26T06:54:00.000-07:00

One thing I really like to do in summer is read books outside of my typical fare. So when I got an opportunity to review Susan Fales-Hill’s debut novel One Flight Up I said yes, mostly because I haven’t read much fiction from contemporary African-American authors, and I’m always trying to make up for gaps in my reading resume.

One Flight Up tells the story of four high school friends approaching their 40th birthday, each trying to come to terms with where her choices have taken her – and trying to decide if there’s still time to make changes. Think of the Sex and the City crew with a multicultural vibe, now relying on control-top pantyhose to keep those expensive pencil skirts looking smooth, and you’re starting to get the idea. All of these women are privileged, wealthy and accomplished. But none of them is really happy with their current situation.

The omniscient narration centers on perfectionist India Chumley, a brilliant, mixed-race divorce attorney (her mother is a white stage actress, her black father is long dead) who longs for love but is determined to avoid all the mistakes she’s watched others make in their marriages – which predictably leaves her single. Her married best friends fare little better, though. Abby, a Jewish woman, adores her philandering WASPy sculptor husband, despite his churlish, needy attitude. Latina heiress Esme loves her true-blue WASP Tim too, but doesn’t find their conventional life stimulating, emotionally or sexually. Obstetrician Monique married her Harvard educated husband and built the perfect African-American power couple. And now that she has it all, she realizes that she gave up a lot in bed. Are you getting the idea that the relationships in this book revolve around sex? You’re on the right track.

This book was originally described to me as “beachy,” but I’m not sure I’d describe it that way. The themes were too serious for what I’d describe as a true beach book. The characters are not the one-dimensional icons that often inhabit beach reads – they’re actually really complex, flawed and interesting. In fact, looking at my own 20th wedding anniversary this year, I admit I found myself wishing that at least one of the couples could be happy in that romance novel sort of way. But this book doesn’t provide those kinds of easy answers.

My biggest issue with the book has to do with balance. Male cheaters were all considered dogs. Fine, I’m on board. But they also seemed to be the only “sexy” men in the book. The faithful guys were all rather a snore. That sets every relationship up for failure, which might make good drama, but also sustains a stereotype of modern romance that I don’t really appreciate. All the women’s infidelities, on the other hand, seemed somehow “explainable.” But I’d argue that makes total sense from the perspective of a group of girlfriends. There’s not a lot you wouldn’t forgive your best girlfriend, is there? That's what I'm talking about.

Even though One Flight Up wasn’t what I expected, I did enjoy it. Fales-Hill is a good story teller, and I’m looking forward to watching her technique mature. It was fun reading a book from a different cultural perspective, especially one that takes place in my hometown of New York. (I could have missed the copious descriptions of designer outfits, but that’s just me. I’m sure to some people it would be fascinating.) If you like contemporary romances, and are interested in a multicultural perspective in your reading, I'd suggest you give this book a try.

This book in one sentence: Guys who cheat get caught, and girls who cheat get designer accessories.

THE GIVEAWAY: Atria Books has kindly offered a copy of One Flight Up for me to giveaway to a Col Reads reader from the US! Just leave a comment with your email address below by August 2. I’ll number the comments, and random.org will choose the lucky winner. Thanks to Cristina Suarez at Atria for providing this giveaway!

FTC Disclosure: Atria Books provided me with a copy of this book, in return for my honest opinion.

Book Review: The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay

2011-07-21T01:53:00.000-07:00

I once had a professor who said every book could be distilled into a sentence. My sentence for Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi’s The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay is: “Despite its sexy, modern plumage, Bombay remains a traditional old bird.”

Lost Flamingoes tells the story of Karan Seth, a small-town photographer who arrives in Mumbai with a big dream: to capture the “real” Bombay in photos. Along the way he finds himself befriended by a glittering and rarefied social circle, including Bollywood actress Zaira, and Samar, her best friend, an openly gay concert pianist who simply stopped performing one day – and has apparently never looked back. He also encounters Bombay-native Rhea, a former artist who becomes his muse.

I have to admit to some very mixed feelings about this book. On the one hand, the narrative is strangely compelling, apparently based in part on an actual Indian crime story. Once I got into it, I did want to see what happened next. On the other hand, I found the greater part of the book really frustrating. The ending, in particular, left me totally cold, probably because I'd stopped feeling sympathy for the main characters by then.

One of the things that made this book an interesting read was its straightforward discussion of the rampant corruption in the Indian judicial system, as well as its explanation of the conservative Hindu movement. It made me wonder how the book was received in India. Do Indians distrust their government as much as this book indicates? I have no idea, but the book really made me want to know more. Since most Indian novels I’ve read tend to be multi-generational family epics, I enjoyed the “macro-level” perspective on India that Shanghvi provides in this book.

Unfortunately, other things didn’t work well for me. In particular, I thought Shanghvi was really lazy in his character development of Samar’s lover, Leo, and Karan’s lover, Claire. Both characters supposedly played significant roles in the lives of the book’s protagonists, but Shanghvi reduces them both to cultural tropes: “American” equals “selfish,” “English” equals “self-indulgent.” They deserved better treatment, if only so the reader could understand the main characters more completely. I also found the author’s writing a bit too flowery for my tastes – the metaphors run thick and furious throughout this book, sometimes elucidating, but many times just plain mystifying. For the sake of being mystifying, as far as I can see. Like the author was trying hard to be "deep."

The book does have a lot of the elements I tend to like in a novel – focus on culture, international setting, complex characters – but it just wasn’t a good fit for me. I know other people really enjoyed this book, though. In fact, Swapna at S. Krishna’s Books named it one of her top books of 2010 – her review is here. And Audra at Unabridged Chick had this take. You might want to read another point of view before you make a decision.

This book completes the South Asian Challenge 2011, and counts toward the GLBT Reading Challenge. So thanks to Swapna, Christina and Natazz for hosting.

Book Review: Exit the Actress

2011-07-14T05:41:00.000-07:00

When spring turns to summer, and my daily uniform becomes shorts, tees and sandals, my reading tastes get really light and airy as well. This is my “Calgon” reading time: Books, take me away! Give me a regency romance, a comedy, even some contemporary chick lit, and I’m happy to sit by the pool or under a shady tree, and be transported to another time or place. No heavy commitments, no trauma, no pondering the mysteries of the universe – at least until September rolls around.

Still, I’m fussy enough to want well written, engaging lightness, if you know what I mean. So when Natalie at Coffee and a Book Chick reviewed Priya Parmar’s historical novel Exit the Actress earlier this year, I took her “must-read” recommendation and put it on my summer reading list. So I have to say thank you to her for a really fun summer read.

Exit the Actress is a novelization of the amazing life of Nell Gwynn, the orange-seller-turned-Restoration-actress who eventually became the favorite mistress of Charles II of England. She’s also the “mother” the Dukes of St. Albans, a line of the British peerage that exists to this day, through her son Charles Beauclerk, one of the Stuart kings’ many illegitimate children. It’s a great story, and it’s certainly been told before, in movies, books and on television. But Parmar’s version is different because she styled the largest part of it as a fictional journal. This may seem like a strange idea, since Gwynn’s biographers almost all agree she was illiterate. But if you’re willing to suspend your disbelief and keep from quibbling, the device offers you a new way to look at an often-studied historical figure. (It’s summer, remember? Go with the flow.)

While I might argue with the liberties Parmar takes with history and the English language (the writing style was far too “modern” considering that the book is supposed to take place in the 17th century), I think overall the diary style of the book made Nell’s life more understandable and accessible. I loved Nell’s openness and bewilderment. But her self-effacing humor, legendary to this day, fails to shine. I’d have to call the book a bit uneven in terms of the writing – I didn’t think the intermittent gossip column entries added much, and I disliked the long periods of time that were uncovered by any information at all. And frankly, for a book about one of the world’s best known courtesans, I’d call it pretty tame – like Parmar felt a need to to sanitize Gwynn’s life to make her more likeable, but I don’t feel it was necessary in the 21st century.

Still, the book grabbed me from page one - Parmar is a writer to watch. Her debut novel is a solid, beachy read. I’d recommend it to lovers of historical fiction and romance, and those who like novels written in the diary style. It won’t change your life, but it will give you an interesting take on a fascinating woman. It may even lead you to seek out some weightier books on the subject when September rolls around!

I think Natalie liked this one even better than I did. If you'd like to read her review, you'll find it here.

Weekend Cooking: The Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen

2011-07-09T07:44:00.000-07:00

It’s hot, it’s humid, and it’s hard to think about cooking dinner. Still, the farmer’s market is brimming with vegetables that beg to be eaten. What cookbook do I find myself reaching for a couple of nights a week? Donna Klein’s The Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen. It hasn’t let me down yet.

One of the things that I really like about this book is that it focuses on meals that would be meatless and cheeseless in their original forms: I am not a meat or cheese substitute person, nor am I a tofu eater. At first, I worried it might feel like something was “missing,” especially in the pasta dishes. But Klein’s Ditalini with Cauliflower was so surprisingly zingy with capers and saffron that no one even asked me for cheese. The New Potato and Young Green Bean Salad is our new family standard, no mayo needed. And it tastes even better the next day, if there’s any left.

The Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen chapters are broken down by courses: Appetizers, Soups (okay, those will wait until autumn, because no one in my house will eat cold soups), Salads, Breads and Desserts (I am not a dessert maker, but these look light and fruit-based). There are two main course chapters: one on Pasta, Rice, and Other Grains, and another on Vegetables and Legumes. It’s a very comprehensive book, and uses a wide range of ingredients, so I’ve found there’s virtually nothing I can bring home from the market that I don’t already have a good recipe for. That is, of course, if you have the Mediterranean staples around anyway: you won’t get far in this book without basil, garlic, tomatoes, pasta and good bread!

Klein’s Crostini with Pureed White Beans and Sautéed Wild Greens appetizer has become a favorite in my house: cannellini beans pureed with vegetable broth, olive oil, and sage, then topped with garlicky sautéed greens on crunchy bread, makes a fantastic lunch when paired with a tomato and cucumber salad. I’ve modified the recipe for my daughters, using spinach or Swiss chard rather than the dandelion greens or escarole suggested. And I bumped up the flavor of the bean spread with some garlic after the first time I made it. But getting kids to eat greens for lunch is a win in my house anyway you look at it. We even took the bean spread and a loaf of good bread to a July 4th picnic, and it was a huge hit on its own.

For those who aren’t used to cooking complete vegan meals, Klein includes a “Meals in Minutes” section with suggested pairings for Spring/Summer and Fall/Winter, to make the most of in-season produce. The book covers a wide range of cuisines, drawing on recipes from Spain to Turkey, and from Israel to Morocco. The offerings aren’t all light and summery – those just happen to be the recipes I’ve been making lately. I’m looking forward to Persian-Style, Multi-Bean Noodle Soup and Tomatoes Stuffed with Herbed Rice, Provençal Style as soon as the weather turns cooler.

The Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen has quickly become one of my favorite cookbooks, and I heartily recommend it, not just for vegans and vegetarians, but for anyone trying to add more vegetable dishes to their repertoire – which is about everyone I know! Klein walks novices through the basics of vegan cuisine with well-written directions and mouth-watering descriptions. But experienced cooks can use the recipes as great starting points for their own adventures in meatless cuisine. Bon Appétit!

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Book Review: Vintage Murder

2011-07-08T05:18:00.000-07:00

When I decided to take The Golden Girls Challenge in Bev’s Vintage Mystery Challenge at My Reader’s Block, Ngaio Marsh’s Vintage Murder was one of the first books to go on my reading list. Murder-by-Champagne-bottle sounded so darned classy. But what I hadn’t anticipated was the technical complexity of the mystery presented by Marsh, which made the book quite unique among the others I’ve read for this challenge.

The story is set in New Zealand – famed detective Roderick Alleyn is taking an extended holiday, apparently recovering from some surgery. He winds up sharing a train carriage with a troop of London actors, one of whom recognizes him from a previous case. They befriend him, inviting him to the opening night of their performance and the after-party, celebrating the birthday of company star, Carolyn Dacres. However the party comes to a frothy halt when the theatrically planned release of a jeroboam of Champagne is re-rigged to kill the party host, Dacres’ husband and the owner of the company, Alfred Meyer.

I admit was a bit concerned when the book started with both a diagram of the theater and an extensive list of characters. And I wasn’t wrong in figuring out what this meant – the mystery gave me a lot to track. Marsh apparently started her career in theater, and her extensive knowledge of stagecraft is the key to the murder, as well as its solution. Having no such knowledge, though, I had to go back over the details of the weights and counterweights used to raise and drop scenery more than once. But don't let that put you off. Marsh must have known that readers might find the arcane nature of the crime a bit off-putting, so she helps out the reader with some well-placed letters from Alleyn to his buddy Detective Inspector Fox at Scotland Yard.

Like many books from the time period, this book contains some disturbingly racist and colonialist elements. I’m still amazed by how easily characters in early 20th century novels discuss the inferiority of “brown” people and “colonials,” although I understand it represents the prevailing sentiment of the time – and I agree there’s value in remembering that. There’s particularly dreadful treatment in this book of an English-educated Maori physician, who’s referred to by a local policeman as “ninety per cent civilised.” – and it’s clearly meant to be a compliment. It really made me squirm.

That aside, I think this is a vintage mystery that many readers will love discovering again. I’d especially recommend it for those readers who enjoy a complicated plot. This was my first Ngaio Marsh title, and I definitely plan to read more of her works. So thanks once again to Bev at My Reader’s Block, the host of the Vintage Mystery Challenge. I’ve had a ton of fun with that challenge this summer!

Europa Challenge 2011: My Dinner with Europa

2011-07-02T04:50:00.000-07:00

Looking at my original list of books for the Europa Challenge 2011, I realized I had a theme going. In fact, the titles read like a night having friends over to dinner– or maybe even a date night. I’ve included the descriptions from the Europa Catalog, in case you’re interested!

Cooking with Fernet Branca (James Hamilton-Paterson): A delicious comedy of manners nominated for the 2004 MAN Booker Prize.
The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine (Alina Bronsky): Told with sly humor and an anthropologist’s eye for detail, The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine is the story of three unforgettable women whose destinies are tangled up in a family dynamic that is at turns hilarious and tragic.
The Proof of the Honey (Salwa Al Neimi): A bestseller throughout the Arab world, a tribute to sex, eroticism, language and liberty, The Proof of the Honey is a superb celebration of female pleasure.
Clash of Civilizations Over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio (Amara Lakhous): A shrewd mix of social satire and murder mystery.

I absolutely loved this idea, so I went through the catalog to see if I could find any other “courses” for my “dinner with Europa,” and I came up with these fantastic titles:

The Woman with the Bouquet (Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt): An exceptional collection by one of Europe’s most beloved authors.
Bone China (Roma Tearne): A beautifully crafted story of hope and survival set in Sri Lanka and England that will appeal to all readers of White Teeth and The Inheritance of Loss.
The Goodbye Kiss (Massimo Carlotto): After years on the run, he's back and willing to do anything to claw his way into respectable society.

Of course, they looked so interesting that I now want to read them all. So while I’ve committed to being a Europa Ami (4 books), I think it’s possible I may wind up a Europa Haver (7 books) when it’s all said and done!

Feel free to join me for dinner with Europa -- everyone's invited!

Literary Giveaway Winner

2011-06-30T06:17:00.000-07:00

Julie of Knitting and Sundries is my Literary Giveaway Winner. Just send me an email within three days, Julie, and I’ll get out your choice of a book written by any of the authors I’ve reviewed on Col Reads!

Thanks to everyone who participated in the Literary Giveaway Blog Hop. I found so many great blogs through this hop, and I look forward to finding more great reading recommendations from all of you! And a special thanks to Judith at Leeswammes, who organized this fun event.

Col

Audiobook Review: In the Company of Cheerful Ladies

2011-06-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

Alexander McCall Smith’s sixth installment in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, In the Company of Cheerful Ladies, has a wonderfully intimate feel. Each of the mysteries covered in this book is very personal to the characters that series fans have already come to know and love. The book starts with Mma Ramotswe attempting to foil a theft in the bizarre. Then there’s the mystery of the intruder in her house on Zebra Drive. And the question of the perfect pumpkin left on her porch. Most importantly, there’s the strange goings-on at Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s former residence – and the chance that they may have something to do with ladies’ man apprentice Charlie. As with all of the books in this series, the mysteries themselves are secondary to the human interactions and observations that lead to their resolutions.

Since the first book was published in 1998, McCall Smith has had plenty of time to develop the main characters, and their increasing complexity is indeed part of the charm of the book. We see Precious Ramotswe’s lingering self-doubt for the first time in the series. And we experience Grace Makutsi’s loneliness – after all, even if you can be justifiably proud of your astounding 97% result on the final examinations at the Botswana Secretarial College, you can’t cuddle up with it at night.

But McCall Smith isn’t letting things get dull in Gabarone. This book introduces two important male characters: Phuti Radiphuti, Mma Makutsi’s kind but clumsy dancing partner, and Mr. Polopetsi, a very honest man who paid a terrible price for someone else’s mistake, and is now trying to find work in an unforgiving city. As ever, I love the compassion with which McCall Smith treats his characters.

One of the reasons I chose this for what I knew would be a long car ride was because it was read, like the other books in this series, by South African narrator Lisette Lecat. Her beautifully accented reading evokes warm sunshine, African bush tea, and the slow but changing rhythm of life near the Kalahari Desert– probably because she grew up not far from Botswana. She is Precious Ramotswe to me. And Grace Makutsi. And Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. I can easily listen to her for hours, forgetting (or at least trying to forget) the demolition derby driving on the Capitol Beltway. Lecat’s range is outstanding. Each of the voices she creates is so distinctive that I no longer need the text to tell me who’s speaking. And unlike other readers’, I haven’t found any of her characterizations off-putting, even those of the minor or transitory ones.

These audiobooks have wide appeal, and because the themes are very traditional, and morality and culture are discussed often, they make a great choice for family listening. My husband and at least one daughter enjoy them as much as I do. Highly recommended for lovers of mysteries, lovers of fiction set in other countries, and people who love smart, compassionate, female protagonists.

This book wasn’t for any of my challenges, but I will be linking this review to Audiobook Jukebox, a great place to find audiobook reviews and recommendations. June was Audiobook Month, so I really wanted to get something linked over there before the end of the month!

Book Reviews: The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate

2011-06-27T21:31:00.000-07:00

A while back, I read a review of Nancy Mitford’s Love in a Cold Climate by Bina of If You Can Read This. I had never even heard of Nancy Mitford, but I enjoyed her review, and I popped the book on my Goodreads TBR. And then promptly forgot about it. Until last week, that is. Looking for some books to load on my Kindle before vacation, I saw the title again, and decided to grab it on impulse. Lucky for me! I couldn’t put it down. So after I devoured it, I downloaded the book Mitford wrote first, The Pursuit of Love. I cannot believe it took me this long to discover these little gems: A perfect vacation reading duo!

Both books share a narrator, Fanny Logan Wincham, a well-born young woman who lives on the fringe of aristocratic society due to her parents’ scandalous behavior (her mother’s serial marriages have earned her the moniker “Bolter,” while her father has bucked up his part of the family fortunes by attaching himself to a series of wealthy older women). Through this classic “poor relation,” Mitford provides the reader with a humorous take on a British society that was poised for change in the period between the two World Wars. The books are not about Fanny, however. In each, she is sharing the coming-of-age (read “courtship and marriage”) story of a woman close to her: poised and polished friend Lady Leopoldina (Polly) Hampton in Love in a Cold Climate and cousin and best friend Linda Radclett in The Pursuit of Love.

That’s where the books really diverge, giving each of the books a character all its own. Fanny’s devotion to Linda and her other cousins at Alconleigh makes The Pursuit of Love laugh-out-loud funny, loving and bittersweet. In contrast, her detachment from Polly, an heiress of astounding beauty, and her terror of her conniving mother, Lady Sonia Montdore, is what gives Love in a Cold Climate its legendary bite.

Lady Montdore dominates Love in a Cold Climate, clinging to the status quo for dear life, worrying that any change would threaten “all this,” her generalized term for her wealth, her station, and her comfortable surroundings. Nobody is more aware of Lady Montdore’s importance than Lady Montdore, and her goal is to always remain at the center of society. In one great passage, Fanny details Lady Montdore’s calculations about who got picked up from the train:

Lady Montdore’s writing paper was headed Hampton Place, Oxford, Station Twyfold. But Twyfold, with the change and hour’s wait at Oxford it involved, was only inflicted upon such people as were never likely to be in a position to get their own back on Lady Montdore, anybody for whom she had the slightest regard being met at Oxford. “Always be civil to the girls, you never know who they may marry,” is an aphorism which has saved many an English spinster from being treated like an Indian widow. (p. 18 )

I have read that Love in a Cold Climate was revolutionary in its time for its inclusion of an openly gay character, the Montdore heir Cedric Hampton. And I suppose it was. Over time, however, that characterization seems a bit dated, probably because serious, literary, modern novels are not likely to play a gay character for effeminate laughs. Cedric becomes Lady Montdore’s “sassy gay friend,” which is all well and good, but there were times when the sharing of jewels and make-up made Cedric seem a ridiculous foil for Lady Montdore, rather than an interesting and complex character in his own right.*

Common wisdom refers to Love in a Cold Climate as Mitford’s “best novel,” but I can’t agree. For me, The Pursuit of Love was the more enjoyable of the two, mostly because of the wacky antics of the Radclett cousins and their eccentric father, Uncle Matthew, a country squire of the decidedly old school. Uncle Matthew’s vociferous rages, contempt for all things not English and obsession with hunting are truly hilarious. And the Radclett clan reminded me of the brood from Cheaper by the Dozen, always letting their imaginations lead them into a good time, on the way to a bunch of trouble.

But both books are charming time capsules, bringing the reader right back to a particular time and a very specific part of society that are now largely gone. I loved reading about the “London season” young girls enjoyed – or endured, depending on the girl – while looking for a husband. Both books drip with irony, something I adore. And who knows, had I read them in the correct chronological order, I might have liked Love in a Cold Climate even more than I did. I heartily recommend them both to those who love literary fiction (and even those who usually read historical fiction) with a humorous side. You won’t be disappointed.

Because of Cedric's groundbreaking part in it, Love in a Cold Climate counts toward the GLBT Reading Challenge. And “pursuit” counts as a movement in the What’s in a Name 4 Challenge. Thanks to BethFishReads for hosting!

*If you haven’t seen Second City's wildly popular and irreverent Sassy Gay Friend videos, they involve a character from literature changing her hideous fate with the help of a sassy gay friend. Here’s a link.

Sunday Salon: Back to the Real World Edition

2011-06-26T13:08:00.000-07:00

In the past couple of weeks, writing a book chapter for an edited book on advertising and popular culture was followed by an off-the-grid vacation in North Carolina, making June a blogging bust at Col Reads, pretty much. I did get a lot of fantastic reading done, though, discovering two new authors in the process: reviews are coming for titles from Nancy Mitford and Margery Allingham this week.

The beach vacation was exactly what Clan Ahern needed. From Ocean City to Holden Beach and Myrtle Beach, we found plenty of sunny, sandy fun – and plenty of time to unwind and laugh ourselves silly when we were done playing. Of course, I didn’t get any writing accomplished, so there’s a backlog of reviews to finish up this week, but living agenda-free for seven whole days was worth it!

I got back just in time to put up my post for Leeswammes’ Literary Giveaway Blog Hop. I’m giving away a book by ANY AUTHOR I’ve reviewed on Col Reads. The giveaway is open internationally to all blog followers, so if you haven’t signed up for a chance to win yet, you have until June 29 to enter. The post is here.

This week I’m planning on crossing off a few items from my reading challenge lists, including finishing up Helen’s Middle Eastern Reading Challenge. I have a Georgette Heyer novel, Frederica, on my Kindle, because it isn’t officially summer until I read a Regency Romance. And Ama Ata Aidoo’s Changes: A Love Story is waiting to be picked up at the library, one of my choices for the Book Bloggers Abroad Challenge. All in all, it looks like a good week in the real world on the way!

Hope your summer is off to a similarly sensational start!

Col

Literary Giveaway Blog Hop: June 25-29

2011-06-24T19:07:00.000-07:00

If I had to describe my blog in one word, it would definitely be “miscellany.” I love classics and modern literary fiction. But I also read boatloads of non-fiction. And mysteries – especially vintage mysteries. And contemporary lit in Spanish, as well as translations from other languages.

When it came to picking a gift for the Leeswammes’ Literary Giveaway Blog Hop, I decided to let you decide. So I’m giving away one book by ANY AUTHOR that I have reviewed on Col Reads, as long as the cost is under US$25, the book is available through Book Depository (or Amazon if the winner is in the US), and the winner lives in a country where Book Depository delivers. There is a list of every book reviewed on Col Reads under the “Review Central” tab. But remember, you’re not limited to those books – any book written by one of the authors I’ve reviewed is on the table!

Giveaway Rules:
1. Anyone can enter. You do not need to have a blog.
2. You can participate as long as you live where Book Depository offers free delivery.
3. All you have to do is 1) be a follower and 2) leave a comment with your email address to enter.
4. You can enter the giveaways until June 29th. I will close the giveaway when I turn on my computer on June 30th (Eastern Daylight time).
5. Note that double or invalid entries will be removed.
6. Each valid entrant will be assigned a number. The winning entry will be picked by random.org
7. I will notify the winners by email. The winner must answer my email within 3 days, or I’ll announce a new winner.
8. Have a great time discovering new blogs and thanks for participating.

I hope you enjoy the Literary Giveaway Blog Hop! Please make sure you check out these other participating blogs:

Literary Giveaway Blog Hop Participants:

Leeswammes (Int)

The Book Whisperer (Int)

Kristi Loves Books (Int)

Teadevotee (Int)

Bookworm with a View (Int)

Bibliosue (Int)

Sarah Reads Too Much (Int)

write meg! (USA)

My Love Affair With Books (Int)

Seaside Book Nook (Int)

Uniflame Creates (Int)

Always Cooking Up Something (Int)

Book Journey (Int)

ThirtyCreativeStudio (Int)

Col Reads (Int)

The Book Diva's Reads (Int)

The Scarlet Letter (USA)

The Parrish Lantern (Int)

Lizzy's Literary Life (Int)

Read, Write & Live (Int)

Book'd Out (Int)

The Readers' Suite (Int)

I Am A Reader, Not A Writer (USA)

Ephemeral Digest (Int)

Miel et lait (Int)

Bibliophile By the Sea (Int)

Polychrome Interest (Int)

Book World In My Head (Int)

In Spring it is the Dawn (Int)

everybookhasasoul (Int)

Nishita's Rants and Raves (Int)

Fresh Ink Books (Int)

Teach with Picture Books (USA)

How to Teach a Novel (USA)

The Blue Bookcase (Int)

Gaskella (Int)

Reflections from the Hinterland (USA)

chasing bawa (Int)

51stories (Int)

No Page Left Behind (USA)

Silver's Reviews (USA)

Nose in a book (Int)

Lit in the Last Frontier (Int)

The Book Club Blog (Int)

Under My Apple Tree (Int)

Caribousmom (USA)

breienineking (Netherlands)

Let's Go on a Picnic! (Int)

Rikki's Teleidoscope (Int)

De Boekblogger (Netherlands)

Knitting and Sundries (Int)

Elle Lit (USA)

Indie Reader Houston (Int)

The Book Stop (Int)

Eliza Does Very Little (Int)

Joy's Book Blog (Int)

Lit Endeavors (USA)

Roof Beam Reader (Int)

The House of the Seven Tails (Int)

Tony's Reading List (Int)

Sabrina @ Thinking About Loud! (Int)

Rebecca Reads (Int)

Kinna Reads (Int)

In One Eye, Out the Other (USA)

Books in the City (Int)

Lucybird's Book Blog (Europe)

Book Clutter (USA)

Exurbanis (Int)

Lu's Raves and Rants (USA & Canada)

Sam Still Reading (Int)

Dolce Bellezza (Int)

Lena Sledge's Blog...Books, Reviews and Interviews (Int)

a Thousand Books with Quotes (Int)

Book Review: Bossypants

2011-06-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

Tina Fey’s Bossypants is very funny.

It’s so funny that I tried to read one particular passage out loud to my husband, and I couldn’t even finish it: I was laughing too hard. I may be wrong, but I don’t think he found this situation anywhere near as amusing as I did. And I don’t think he found the passage as funny either, once I finally did managed to sputter through it. It’s not because it wasn’t funny, but it wasn’t funny out of context. Which is, to be honest, the main challenge in reviewing this kind of book. I’m worried that I won’t be able to do it justice.

While she’s probably best known to Americans as “the woman who played Sarah Palin,” Fey really focuses more on her comedy writing than her acting. Writing for Saturday Night Live and producing 30 Rock seem to be her proudest achievements, which leads to one of the main strengths of the book. As a writer, her greatest talent lies in crystallizing the humor in everyday situations and events. In one particularly hilarious passage, she talks about the absurdity of getting a manicure:

The first few times you go, it can be intimidating. For starters, you may forget that you yourself speak English. You enter, smile, and nod at the manager. “Manicure-pedicure?” “Pick color,” she chirps back in her Korean accent. You pick out a couple of the three hundred shades of off-white. “This for manicure. This feet. Magazine okay?”Why are you talking like that? Now that you have racially embarrassed yourself, you are ready to squeeze into a seat at a tiny table and basically hold hands with a stranger for twenty minutes. (page 112)

I only had one real problem with the book (aside from the cover, that is, which I think is absolutely freakish). Fey’s humor is largely self-deprecating, and I get that. The problem is that she goes out of her way, over and over again, to point out what a really, really, really normal person she is. But come on, is her book on The New York Times Bestseller List because she’s just an average Jane? Of course not. Lots of people are funny. Lots of people were theater geeks as kids. But only a handful of people have Lorne Michaels’ cell phone number of speed dial. And he only picks up for a small portion of them. Lorne Michaels picks up for Tina Fey. That makes her a BIG deal. The “I’m-just-a-regular-girl-from-Philly” thing grated on me after a while.

I was glad that Fey dealt head-on with some of the sexism issues that go along with working in the entertainment business, although I thought she stopped short of calling a few people out, especially when she was discussing her tenure at Second City. Still, this is a very funny, very gutsy book. If Tina Fey makes you laugh, you really ought to read it. But those who love modern memoirs and those who enjoy popular culture will also find a lot to enjoy here.

Here’s another title for Introverted Jen’s Dewey Decimal Challenge. So thanks again for hosting the only challenge I have completed so far this year, Jen!

Wondrous Words Wednesday: Vintage Murder Finds

2011-06-08T04:47:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to finish up a book chapter due next week, so my reading has been confined to a few minutes before bedtime. But at least Ngaio Marsh’s Vintage Murder has been providing me with some Wondrous Words!

The first was a complete mystery:

“Is she a good actress?”
“Dire.”
“Then how - - -?”
“Pomfret,” said Hambledon, “and push.”

According to the dictionary, pomfret is either a 1) black fish or 2) a licorice-like confection. So my guess is that this was a colloquialism that meant someone offered something sweet (in this case money) to push his own agenda (in this case, getting his daughter an acting job).

The second was pretty clear from context, but I had never heard it before:

“That’s what Hambledon said,” agreed Wade gloomily. “It’s a blooming nark, dinkum it is. Still, there’s better alibis that have gone west before now, and I’m not going to forget this will. Mason’s a whole lot better off by this murder.”

The fourth meaning of nark, is primarily Australian, and means a killjoy or wet blanket. In this case, I think they’re referring to the alibi taking Mason off the suspect list, even though he appears to profit most from the murder. The book actually is set in New Zealand.

I hope even if things are hectic, you’ve found some Wondrous Words this week. Thanks so much to Kathy at bermudaonion for hosting!

We have an Armchair BEA Giveaway Winner!

2011-05-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

And the winner of Col Reads' first every giveaway is: Alyce from At Home With Books! She gets her choice of any book in the Canongate Myths Series from Book Depository!

There is a Literary Fiction Giveaway coming to Col Reads in June! I hope you’ll join in that one!

Book Review: The Penelopiad

2011-05-30T14:36:00.001-07:00

Ever since I heard about the Read-A-Myth Challenge, so kindly hosted by JoV and Bina, I have been looking forward to reading Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad. Written in 2005 as part of the Canongate Myth series, The Penelopiad is often described as a “feminist reinterpretation of Homer’s Odyssey.” And it definitely is that.

But now that I have read the book, I would argue it is actually far more than a simple reinterpretation of a myth. I believe what Atwood is actually doing with The Penelopiad is reintroducing feminism itself.

The reinterpretation of the myth is in some ways the easy part of the novella. As I mentioned in my previous post, Penelope is a surprisingly complex character, at turns very funny, snarky, desperate and hopeful: kind of like every woman you know. Her narrative explains her behavior throughout her long ordeal. She loves her husband, but is disappointed by him. She loves her son, but doesn’t trust his judgment. She loves her parents, but their relationship is not close. Once Penelope moves from archetype of patience to actual human being, she becomes more interesting and significant. And that underscores the importance of feminist literature. It reminds us that women have stories, women are funny, women watch movies: they are not bystanders to culture, they are participants in its creation. At one point, Penelope deals with patriarchal misconceptions about her directly:

The charges concern my sexual conduct. It is alleged, for instance, that I slept with Amphinomus, the politest of the Suitors. The songs say I found his conversation agreeable, or more agreeable than that of the others, and that is true; but it’s a long jump from there into bed. p. 143

She similarly dispenses with the idea that Odysseus himself did not trust her, explaining that he simply believed she would cry if he revealed himself, and they might lose the opportunity to surprise and overtake the Suitors.

The trickier part, as I see it, is the view of feminism Atwood leaves us with in The Penelopiad. One of the stranger parts of Odyssey is Odysseus and Telemachus’ slaughtering of Penelope’s maids once they regain control of his kingdom. Atwood anchors the book in this violent act against women by including the usually silent maids as a Greek chorus. They editorialize on events throughout the book, sometimes comically, sometimes angrily. The maids have been wronged by Odysseus, by Telemachus, by the Suitors, and even by Penelope herself, they believe. And to some extent, they function as the feminist consciousness of the book. But if that is what they are, it's important to note that they aren’t totally sympathetic. Thousands of years after the events of the Odyssey and Penelopiad, they seek vengeance on Odysseus. Even the dead Penelope finally asks, “Why can’t you leave him alone?” Penelope senses that continually addressing wrongs done cannot improve the present.

I believe Atwood is addressing some of the complaints about feminist scholarship in this novella. Is it anachronistic to hold men of the past to current standards of behavior? How can feminists give women a voice if they cannot work together – and trust each other? She doesn’t necessarily answer the questions, but she acknowledges that a new generation of women may not see the issues exactly the same as the previous one, and I think that’s very interesting!

I was unexpectedly without Internet access for the past couple of days, so I’m anxious to catch up and see what others thought of this book. Was it enjoyable? Difficult? Here’s what Bellezza, WeBeReading and Nonsuch Book had to say. If you've reviewed this book, please add your links in the comments, and I’ll include them in this post.

In addition to the Read-A-Myth Challenge, I also realized this book counts for the Once Upon A Time Challenge as well. So while I didn’t do so well on that one, I did get one book in at the finish! I’ll plan better for that one next year! Thanks to Carl V. at Stainless Steel Droppings for hosting!

Headed to Book Blogger Con

2011-05-26T02:43:00.000-07:00

Today I'm traveling to Book Blogger Con 2011. I'm looking forward to meeting many of the wonderful bloggers I've been virtually visiting over the past year. If you're around this afternoon, send me a tweet @Col_Reads -- or just reply to this message. Hope to see you there!

Wordless Wednesday: Iris

2011-05-25T03:46:00.000-07:00

To participate in the Wordless Wednesday meme, add your link here.

An Armchair BEA Giveaway -- and Initial Thoughts on The Penelopiad

2011-05-24T07:57:00.000-07:00

My friend Bellezza at Dolce Bellezza and I are reading Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad this week, as part of the Read-A-Myth Challenge – and some other bloggers have decided to join in as well! We’re going to post our reviews on May 30. The book is short, there’s plenty of time, so please feel free to join us as well!

So after an evening of reading, here are my initial thoughts and questions about what I’ve read. And there’s a giveaway too!

First, I was not prepared for how funny it was going to be:

After her wedding to Odysseus:
“And so I was handed over to Odysseus, like a package of meat. A package of meat in a wrapping of gold, mind you. A sort of gilded blood pudding.” (pg. 39)

Also, Penelope is a far saucier character than I imagined!

On her mother-in-law:
“That Anticleia would freeze the b*lls off Helios.” (pg. 61)

I am wondering about Penelope’s mother. I had no idea that she was a Naiad. Is that in the original story? Isn’t it interesting to give the most steadfast character in Greek mythology the flightiest of mothers? So far I absolutely love the book. I hope everyone else is enjoying it as well!

The Giveaway

To celebrate my Armchair BEA, as well as our book buddy read-along, I’m giving away the winner’s choice of any of the books in the Canongate Myth series available through the Book Depository (so the contest is international, but you must live in a country where Book Depository offers free delivery). To enter, just follow this blog on GFC (below, right) and leave a comment with your email, so I can contact you! Each entry will be assigned a number, and I'll use random.org to pick the winning digits! Giveaway is open until May 27.

The Canongate Myth Series allows modern authors to reimagine traditional myths from many cultures. For those of you not familiar, here are the books in the series:

A Short History of Myth, Karen Armstrong
The Penelopiad, Margaret Atwood
Weight, Jeanette Winterson
The Helmet of Horror, Victor Pelevin (trans. Andrew Bromfield)
Lion's Honey, David Grossman (trans. Stuart Schoffman)
Dream Angus, Alexander McCall Smith
Girl Meets Boy, Ali Smith
Binu and the Great Wall, Su Tong (trans. Howard Goldblatt)
Where Three Roads Meet, Salley Vickers
Baba Yaga Laid an Egg, Dubravka Ugrešić
The Fire Gospel, Michel Faber
The Myth of Izanagi and Izanami, Natsuo Kirino
Orphans of Eldorado, Milton Hatoum Mythology of Amazonia
The Hurricane Party, Klas Östergren
The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, Philip Pullman

Good luck, and thanks for stopping by! Don't forget to check out the other giveaways at Armchair BEA Central!

Armchair BEA Day 1: Why Col Reads

2011-05-23T12:18:00.000-07:00

Getting tenure is a crazy thing. You read and you research and you research and you read until you think you never want to see another book! At least that’s what happened to me. When I finally got the fabulous news that I had indeed earned tenure, I had what I call an “end-of-the-wedding” moment. You know what I mean: you realize you’ve been so fixated on the current goal (throwing a huge party, having a baby, securing employment for the rest of your life, insert life altering event here) that you forgot to think about WHAT COMES NEXT!

It dawned on me that without the avenging Erinyes breathing down my neck, I could actually have some FUN. So I did what any nerd would do: I went out and bought a novel that had absolutely NOTHING to do with my work! And I read it in one sitting. It was awesome.

Right then and there I decided what gift I wanted for earning tenure: the gift of reading for pleasure again. And that, my friends, is why Col Reads!

My first thought was to join a book group, but I didn’t know anyone who was part of one. I didn’t know that many people in town – there’s nothing like the tenure track to make a hermit out of even the most social being – so starting my own book group wasn’t really an option. So I did some research online, and found my first reading challenge, the What’s in a Name 3 Challenge hosted by Beth Fish Reads. I needed someplace to park my reviews, so voila: a blog was born.

Because I read for pure pleasure, I read a quirky and eclectic mix of books: international literary fiction, classics, non-fiction and mysteries are my favorite genres, but there’s almost nothing I won’t try at least once! I love the social aspects of book blogging, and I’ve “met” some wonderful people from around the world with similar reading interests – not easy to find in a small college town! I love to use challenges to find new reading ideas and new blogs to follow. If you leave me a message and a link, I’d love to check out yours!

Hope you’re enjoying Armchair BEA!

Weekend Cooking: Sweet Potato Pie Pancakes

2011-05-21T06:07:00.000-07:00

When Saturday night’s dinner leaves you with a leftover sweet potato, plan on these pancakes for Sunday morning. In fact, if you don’t have sweet potatoes on the menu, it’s worth throwing one in the oven, just to make this breakfast treat!

Col's Sweet Potato Pie Pancakes*
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt
½ tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
½ tsp. ground ginger
¼ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
¼ tsp. cayenne pepper
1 large sweet potato, baked
2 cups coconut milk
2 eggs
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 Tblsp. agave nectar (brown sugar or honey would work fine)
1 tsp. vanilla extract

1. Sift dry ingredients, including spices, into a large bowl.
2. Place peeled sweet potato, milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla into a blender. Blend to puree sweet potato.
3. Pour sweet potato mixture into the dry ingredients. Whisk to combine, but don’t over mix.
4. Butter a griddle; pour ¼ cup of mixture onto griddle for each pancake. (The sweet potato has a tendency to burn, so I keep my griddle lower than with other pancakes – about 325 degrees F.) Flip the pancakes when the bubbles around the edges burst and remain open.
5. Serve with maple syrup or whipped cream. Walnuts would be a fine idea too!

*I know I owe you a pay-off shot, but the kids ate the pancakes so quickly I didn't get a shot of them on the plates!

Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog's home page. Thanks to Beth Fish Reads for hosting!

Saturday Snapshot: Orange Azaleas

2011-05-21T03:58:00.000-07:00

Despite the rainy weather, the orange azalea in front of our porch is starting to bloom. I love the peachy blossoms!

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme, bloggers are asked to post a photo that they (or a friend or family member) have taken, then leave a direct link to your post on the Saturday Snapshot site. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. All she asks is that you don't post random photos that you find online. Thanks to Alyce at At Home With Books for hosting!

Book Review: The Mistress of Spices

2011-05-20T06:59:00.000-07:00

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s The Mistress of Spices has been on my TBR list for some time, so when Jess over at Desperado Penguin and I were looking for our next foodie simul-blog, I suggested it. It seemed to have at least three elements I love in a novel: a strong, female protagonist, a focus on food and a clash of cultures. And I was right. Divakaruni has written a very modern novel steeped in magic realism with interesting, likeable characters and a real multi-cultural vibe. I should have loved it. But somehow, the balance was just a bit wrong for me, like a curry that has too much cumin and not enough ginger to smooth it out. It was good, it was punchy, but it wasn’t totally satisfying.

I think one problem might have been the balance of the story arc. We meet Tilo, our mystical Mistress of Spices, in Oakland, California, a seemingly ancient spice vendor with an Indian grocery in a rough part of town. Tilo’s first person narration dispatches two former “selves” – her childhood as a sorceress and her young adulthood as a pirate queen – in just a few unflattering pages. So when she arrives at the Island of Spices to begin her long apprenticeship to learn the magic arts of healing through spices and become an immortal mistress charged with helping the people of the subcontinent wherever they are in the world, I wasn’t convinced that the selfless, diligent life of a Spice Mistress represented her real destiny.

The other problem was the spices themselves. Who knew condiments could be such demanding characters? Divakaruni emphasizes their individual properties by naming each of her chapters after different spices. But rather than giving them unique personalities or voices within the book, they function together as a kind of harping Greek chorus. First they love Tilo. Then they’re angry at Tilo. They do her bidding. Then they don’t. But Tilo is still Tilo. At the end of the novel, Tilo is still a fabulously gifted but restless woman who doesn’t listen. She didn’t listen to her parents. She wasn’t content on the pirate ship. Why would we think she could follow the rules of a collection of seeds and leaves somewhere on the Pacific Coast?

Tilo how little you have understood. From the deep the voice is a hiss, like water on a hot iron. Or is it a sigh? Like the waterfall the avalanche the forest fire, we do not hate. We only do what we must. p. 304

What saved the book for me was the very quirky, forbidden love story that winds through the novel. Raven, Tilo’s “American,” is the only one who can see through her ancient body to the beautiful, immortal woman underneath. His story is one of the most interesting aspects of the novel. I loved Divakaruni’s musings on the expectations that people bring to multi-cultural relationships. And the story brought a great deal of tension to the end of the book, as I wondered whether or not Tilo could ever find a way out of the mess she’d made by interfering with the work of the spices.

Magic realism lovers and lovers of South Asian fiction will definitely find something to like in this title. It has a trippy, romantic feel that would probably be very appealing to chic lit readers – and indeed, my 16-year-old, chic lit-loving daughter adored this book. For me, it was a good but not great read. But it was a fun simul-blog, as it provoked some fun twitter chatter as we were reading. Why don’t you head over to the Desperado Penguin and her review?

This book also counts for two challenges, the South Asian Challenge and the Immigrant Stories Challenge. Thanks to Swapna and Colleen for hosting!

Booking Through Thursday: Age Inappropriate

2011-05-19T05:37:00.000-07:00

Question: In contrast to last week’s question–What do you think of censoring books BECAUSE of their intended age? Say, books too “old” for your kids to read?

A great question. I am absolutely against anyone designating a book inappropriate for a child because of reading ability. Sometimes the best way for a child to make a “leap” in his or her reading skills is to stretch and read a book that is a bit too hard, because they are particularly interested in the content or because their friends or siblings have recommended it. My younger daughter finally stopped being intimidated by “big books” when her best friend went Percy Jackson-crazy. She needed help with a bunch of words, but by the end of the book she was doing great – she’d taken a huge step reading-wise, even though the book was probably a bit too difficult.

Of course, content is another issue. A parent or a teacher who knows a child well may have enough information about his or her emotional state to worry about themes being too frightening or disturbing for a child. I would never say “Never” to a title, but I would discuss with my daughter what I saw as the pros and cons of a book. I would even read a chapter or two with her. Most of all, I try not to let my own feelings, tastes and prejudices keep my daughters from titles that might be right for them. Perfect example: I would never pick up a title like Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. But a teacher recommended it to my oldest daughter in 10th grade, and she absolutely loved it. Sometimes your kids do know best!

And sometimes family norms and values allow for books that others would never dream of reading. Our kids live in a family where a quirky – even a dark – sense of humor is highly prized. Around here, Edward Gorey’s The Gashlycrumb Tinies is bedtime reading around Halloween. Twenty-six kids coming to 26 elaborate ends might not be the stuff of sweet dreams in every house, but it’s so very absurd that my kids and I absolutely crack up!*

What about you? Is anything age inappropriate at your house?

Booking Through Thursday is a weekly meme about (mostly) books and reading. To participate, just copy the week’s question, answer on your blog, and link the answer in the comments for that week. Thanks to Deb for hosting!

*Weird, I admit, but realistic child violence is really disturbing to me, and cartoonish mayhem not at all. Adults, like kids, need to know their limits!

Wordless Wednesday: Playing With Your Hair

2011-05-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

To participate in the Wordless Wednesday meme, add your link here.

Book Review: The Mill Mystery

2011-05-17T05:00:00.000-07:00

I have really been enjoying the The Golden Age Girls challenge, one of the challenge levels in Bev’s Vintage Mystery Challenge at My Reader’s Block. And considering I joined that one late, I’m making pretty good progress so far. Partly that’s because I love having a mystery on my Kindle, so I can sneak a few pages in while I’m waiting for children at activities, or waiting for the pressure cooker to de-pressurize, or waiting for a doctor/dentist/hair appointment.* But my idea to read 5 different vintage authors made the Kindle a liability. Neither the Ngaio Marsh nor the Phoebe Atwood Taylor titles I wanted were available for Kindle. My search finally lead me to The Classic Mystery Collection, more than 100 complete mystery novels in one Kindle title. And the list of authors included two vintage authors I had never read: Anna Katharine Green and Mary Roberts Rinehart. And the price? $2.99!**

I began with Green’s The Mill Mystery. Written in 1886, I would not call this a “detective” story – even an amateur detective story. The book is more mysterious than mystery, following Constance Sterling slowly piece together the reasons behind the seemingly unrelated deaths of a popular local minister and the richest man in town. When we meet Constance, she is “a young woman of twenty-five, without home, relatives, or means of support, having in her pocket seventy-five cents of change, and in her breast a heart like lead, so utterly had every hope vanished in the day’s rush of disappointments.” Before Constance’s kind and gentle roommate, the secret fiancée of the minister, dies within hours of hearing the news of his death, she begs Constance to clear her fiancée’s name from the inevitable rumors of suicide that will flow from his drowning in a vat at the abandoned mill.

The reason that I say the book is more “mysterious” than “mystery” is that Constance doesn’t actively set out to deduce a solution to the mystery. Most of the answer simply falls into her lap, in the form of an extraordinarily detailed letter. She did ferret out some of the details, but I think the long letter device was weak, and made the story look particularly antiquated. The book has some other problems from my personal perspective. There’s way too much Victorian feminine fragility for my taste – in fact, it’s the device that moves the main story along. The love story is rather predictable – once I was able to tell the two Pollard brothers apart, I was pretty sure who the “good” guy was.

So The Mill Mystery is a truly “vintage” title, more reminiscent of Wilkie Collins’ work than a classic Agatha Christie whodunit. It does have the virtue of being a very early mystery work by a female writer who was a best-seller during her own lifetime, and it certainly gives you an idea of how the mystery genre has developed since the Victorian era. In fairness, Green’s most famous work is The Leavenworth Case, and I probably should have started there. Still, if you loved The Woman in White, this might be up your alley.

Thanks again to Bev for hosting The Vintage Mystery Challenge!

*You get the idea. I do a lot of waiting. As in three books worth of waiting in the past two months.

**I’m going to admit that this is a poorly formatted Kindle title – each book is treated as a “chapter,” so searching is a pain. And I can’t figure out what to do about the “farthest page read” sync when I shift around from book to book. But for $2.99, it’s nice to always have a mystery I haven’t read waiting in the wings!

I’m a Guest Reviewer on Black Sheep Dances! The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them

2011-05-16T16:48:00.000-07:00

Many of you are already familiar with Black Sheep Dances, a wonderful literary blog that focuses, among other things, on translated works of literary fiction. Amy is hosting The Eastern European Reading Challenge on Black Sheep Dances this year, and I have to admit it’s been a bit tough coming up with titles for an area about which I know absolutely nothing. Then finally I read a book this spring that just screamed, “Amy” to me, plus it was about Russian literature, and Amy said I could write it up as a guest post. So if you’d like to read my review of Elif Batuman’s The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them, head on over to Black Sheep Dances! Thanks, Amy, for letting me contribute! It was a lot of fun, and I am inspired to seek out some more translations this summer.