The Princess Bride: Milestone 2

Okay, now we're getting somewhere!

* Spoiler Alert -- If you haven't read The Princess Bride, or seen the movie, you probably don't want to read further*

In this week's reading, "The Announcement," Buttercup is engaged to the (I think pretty evil) Prince Humperdinck, taught to be a princess (but that isn't one of the "good parts," so Goldman claims to have cut it out), kidnapped by Vizzini, Inigo and Fezzik (who plan to kill her on the Guilder frontier), and liberated from her kidnappers by the even-more-frightening Man in Black.

The Man in Black, it turns out, is Westley, who has returned to Florin as the Dread Pirate Roberts to save Buttercup. The dialogue in this section is wonderful, as Westley takes on each of the members of the villianous trio, besting Inigo at swordplay, besting Fezzik in brute strength, and besting Vizzini at a battle of wits. So funny. So clever. So quick. This section reminded me why I loved the movie so much in the first place.

But it's even better than that, because this section offers something the movie didn't - the backstory on two of literature's most endearing felons: Inigo and Fezzik. We come to understand how these men turned to a life of crime, which actually matters, because reconciling the characters at the beginning of the story (where they conspire to murder Buttercup) and at the end (where they ultimately join forces with the Man in Black) has always been a weakness of the story as far as I was concerned.

And then comes the Fire Swamp - again, the book helps us understand how Westley comes to make the tactical error of wandering into it, even as we know his considerable skills will get him and Buttercup through. The end of the reading is sad, as Humperdinck bundles Buttercup back to Florin, and Westley is taken prisoner by the evil Count Rugen.

With this week's reading, Goldman has made good on his title promise of "true love and high adventure." I am hooked, and eager to read on!

Thanks again to Chris at Chrisbookarama for hosting this readalong!

The Woman in White and The Thirteenth Tale: Twin Peril Reviews

This was a doppelganger kind of peril week, reading-wise.

I finally finished Wilkie Collins’ Gothic novel classic, The Woman in White. And since Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale is actually an homage to Wilkie Collins –the text mentions The Woman in White more than once – I thought it would be fun to put my reviews of these two Gothic novels together. (Get it? Twin reviews? Doppelgangers? Nice device for catching up on the reviewing, right?)

Let’s start at the beginning, because Collins’ novel is seminal to the Gothic literature genre. The Woman in White uses multiple narrators – akin to “witnesses” at a trial – to tell the strange story of the wealthy and beautiful Laura Fairlie of Limmeridge House. She and her “body double,” Anne Catherick, both have the unfortunate luck to wind up in the path of the handsome but evil Sir Percival Glyde, who somehow extracted a promise for Laura’s hand in marriage from her dying father. Walter Hartright (no subtlety there, as he is the one with the “true heart”), Laura’s drawing master and would-be lover, leaves Limmeridge at her half-sister Marian’s urging when the unwanted engagement takes place. When Laura Fairlie’s death is announced, and Anne Catherick is “returned” to the private insane asylum from which Hartright unwittingly helped her escape at the beginning of the novel, Hartright and Marian must use all their intellect and resources to untangle the web of lies and blackmails that have put Limmeridge in Glyde’s grubby paws.

There is a reason that The Woman in White has become a Gothic archetype: it’s a great mystery. But it suffers, over time, like so many Victorian novels, from both its sheer length and the bland, intellectually unfettered beauty of the main character. (The smart girl in the novel, half-sister Marian Holcombe, is described as having a great figure, but an ugly, “dark” face, apparently just so the reader won’t be confused as to who the actual "golden girl" love interest will eventually be.)

On the other hand, Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale is Gothic novel for the 21st century, far more sexual, far more brutal than Collins’ Victorian offering. The novel tells the story of the peculiar inhabitants of Angelfield, including the eerily connected identical twins (there are those doppelgangers again), Adeline and Emmeline, who live in squalor despite their wealth in order to keep the world from encroaching on their bizarre existence. Minor biographer Margaret Lea is commissioned by the famous author Vida Winter – who was once known as Adeline March – to tell “the truth” about Angelfield, finally. But it turns out that “the truth” is the hardest thing for Vida to reveal – or even understand.

What makes this novel so very different is the strength and ingenuity of the female characters. Vida is a force of nature, bombastic and opinionated, but ultimately still vulnerable:

Politeness, now there’s a poor man’s virtue if ever there was one. What’s so admirable about inoffensiveness, I should like to know. After all, it’s easily achieved. One needs no particular talent to be polite. On the contrary, being nice is what’s left when you’ve failed at everything else.” (pg. 45)

Not exactly Laura Fairlie, even in her dotage, is she?

The Thirteenth Tale has a wonderful and wicked set of characters, from biographer Margaret Lea, the narrator, to The Missus, the housekeeper who holds the Angelfield family together by a thread, to the twins, the mild, nurturing Emmeline and selfish, impulsive Adeline. Vida reveals her story in fits and starts, violently twisting her way toward “the truth.” It gives the reader a good, creepy, modern day dose of peril, while staying true to its Gothic roots. Even though I’m usually a purist, I actually preferred the homage in this case. I would recommend either novel to readers looking for a sensationalist, suspense-filled diversion. But for readers who get antsy with the weight of serialized Victorian novels, I say head directly for The Thirteenth Tale . You're far more likely to stick with it, and the goosebumps will be worth it!

Cheerleading for Team Simile

Today is the Dewey 24 Hour Readathon! I knew my daughter-shuttling life would be too hectic to spend a day reading, so I signed up to cheer. (Seriously, it's all about the pom-poms!) This time the Cheering Teams are divided into literary terms. I'm on Team Simile -- although I definitely would have thought I belonged on Team Irony :-)

I'll be heading to as many Team Simile blogs as I can throughout the day, and tweeting to the Twitter-verse (I'm @ Col_Reads), cheering on the valiant readers! I wish everyone a day of Good Words!

Col Cooks: Tortilla Española

How do you make 7 eggs, an onion and a pound of potatoes into a light dinner? Or an upscale, vegetarian appetizer? Or a nifty, thrifty potluck takealong? All the same answer: make a tortilla. A couple of my friends asked for the recipe after I brought a tortilla to a friend's picnic, and posted a picture of said tortilla on my Facebook site. So here it is.

Basically, a tortilla is a fried potato omelette, the ultimate Spanish abuelita meal. It's easy enough to make, but it takes some patience and requires just a little bit of technique -that's why the ingredient list is short but the directions seem long. Once you master the basics, you'll be making it all the time, varying the recipe based on what you have floating around the fridge. And bonus, it's as good at room temperature as they are fresh out of the pan, so it's a perfect do-ahead company munch.

Tortilla Española

1/4 cup + 6 tablespoons olive oil

1 pound red potatoes, scrubbed but not peeled

1 large Spanish onion

7 large eggs

Salt & pepper

Parsley, if you want to go nuts and garnish

1. Slice the potatoes and onions very thinly (using a mandoline or the slicer attachment on your food processor is the way to go here, if you have the equipment).


2. Place 6 tablespoons oil into a saute pan that will just fit all the onions (they are going to reduce a bunch, so don't worry if it looks like too much for the pan at first). Saute slowly, on medium to low heat, until the onions are carmelized, about 20 minutes. (You will probably need to reduce the heat as the onions develop color -- you don't want to burn them.)


3. Meantime, place the 1/4 cup of oil into a large skillet, and heat to medium. Fry the potato slices in batches, until the edges are golden brown. (If some of them stick together, don't worry about it, but you don't want clumps of potatoes -- you want them to be cooked through, with the edges just crisping.) Remove the potatoes with a slotted spoon, and drain on paper towels. Continue until all the potatoes are fried.


4. Whisk the eggs well, so that the yolks are completely combined with the whites.


5. Combine carmelized onions, fried potatoes and egg mixture in a large mixing bowl. Add salt and pepper. Mix well, until the potatoes are competely coated in egg.


6. Reheat the skillet in which the potatoes were cooked -- if the bottom is not covered with oil, add a bit, and put over medium heat. Add the egg mixture, spreading out to create an even layer. Reduce the heat to low. Cook for about 5 minutes, partially covered with a large pot cover, until bottom is golden brown.


7. Now for the tricky part. Take a large, oiled, flat platter, place it over the top of the skillet, and QUICKLY flip the omelette onto the platter. Replace the skillet on the burner, and slide the omelette back into the pan, uncooked side down.


8. Cook on low until the bottom is cooked golden brown, about another 5 minutes. Loosen omelette and slide onto a serving platter. Let set for at least 5 minutes before cutting into wedges - but you can also let it cool completely. Garnish with a bit of parsley if you want to be fancy!

The Princess Bride: Milestone 1

One of my reading goals for the fall was to join a readalong. Reading is lonely business -- unless of course you're reading to someone else -- and I thought it might be fun to participate in an ongoing discussion. So I couldn't believe my luck when I stumbled onto an announcement that Chrisbookarama was hosting a readalong of The Princess Bride, a book I had never read, but based on a movie that I love more everytime I see it.

Which is why it came as quite a shock when I had some trouble getting into the book.

You see, I wasn't really prepared for the Introduction. I was all ready for true love and high adventure, and what I got was altogether different: William Goldman's "mockumentary" explanation of how he came to write both the book and the movie. Actually, the story is a pretty good one, albeit a little self-indulgent on Goldman's part, I think. I just hadn't anticipated it.

But once I got to Chapter 1 The Bride, the book delivered on the movie's promise. That's especially true because without the time constraints of a movie, Goldman has a lot more time to develop the characters. Buttercup, in particular, seems like a much more substantial character in the book, as when she declares her love for Westley, and he slams the door in her face.

"Chalk it up to experience, old girl, and get on with the morning. Buttercup stood, made her bed, changed her clothes, combed her hair, smiled, and burst out again in a fit of weeping. Because there was a limit to just how much you could lie to yourself."

The other characters are also more fleshed out -- Humperdinck, in particular, appears more villianous than in the movie, where Count Rugen appeared to be the "brains" of the operation. Now that the high adventure has begun, I am eager to read on. I'm also eager to hear everyone else's thoughts, especially about the way Goldman "inserts" himself into the text. Thanks to Chrisbookarama for hosting this readalong!

Next stop, Guilder!

The Cookbook Collector: A Character Connection

Yes, Allegra Goodman’s The Cookbook Collector tells the absorbing story of two motherless, archetypically opposite sisters finding their way through the Dot.Com Boom in 1990s Berkeley, California. But as much as I liked the book, and I really did, neither of them is the subject of my Character Connection. Because with The Cookbook Collector, Goodman has written one of the absolute sexiest characters I have encountered in a book for quite a while: George Friedman, owner and operator of Yorick’s Used and Rare Books, where the younger and flightier of the beautiful Bach sisters works.

George Friedman has it all. A 40-something Microsoft millionaire, he sold his shares at their peak, and his money now funds a relentless search for authenticity. He doesn’t just want the best of everything – with lots of money that would be easy. What he’s looking for is the rare, the extraordinary, the unique, from Grgich Hill wines to his perfectly restored Maybeck house. He’s honorable. He’s nouveau-patrician. He’s handsome. He’s smart. And he’s a book lover. Are you swooning already?

“He was a reader, an autodidact with such a love for Great Books that he scarcely passed anymore for a Berkeley liberal. Strange to say, but at this time in his life George would have a happier conversation with Berkeley, the philosopher, than with most of his old Berkeley friends.”

Now anyone who has ever read an Austen novel knows that an unmarried, handsome, wealthy man, especially one who comes off as just a bit too self-sufficient, must be “in want of a wife.” And there’s also no doubt that George owes a great deal to Austen’s own legendarily wealthy, difficult but ultimately noble heroes, particularly my best crush forever, Mr. Darcy. So I don’t think it’s giving too much away to say that I anticipated the potential outcome of George’s storyline within the first page of his appearance, cranky and authoritarian – but still quite endearing – shouting out orders to Jessamine. Still, the novel has some major twists, so it didn’t seem at all contrived or predictable.

But what I really like is how Goodman has reimagined the Darcy-model for the beginning of the 21st century. George is a fabulous cook, a runner and definitely not a smotherer. He is selfish, certainly. How can anyone who bases his life on acquiring the nextest, bestest, shiniest thing fail to be a selfish? But it’s clear from the beginning that what George really needs someone to share his collections with. In fact, if he had someone to share them with – if he could actually find the one, truly unique thing in the world, someone to love him completely – he wouldn’t need the collections at all. And I really couldn’t help rooting for him to find that person throughout this really enjoyable book, because he struck me as the most decent character in it.

I’m really glad George Friedman was my first Character Connection – it was kind of like a good first date, if my husband will forgive the analogy. I have never participated in a meme before, but I have read a few of these and truly enjoyed them. Writing this has definitely given me a different perspective on my book reviews, and I’m sure I’ll participate again. So thanks to the Introverted Reader for hosting Character Connections, and thanks to my awesome buddy Jess at Desperado Penguin who suggested we read this book together and “simul-blog.”

Move over, Mr. Darcy. There’s a new literary crush on the block. And he’s even awesome in the kitchen. I’m in literary love.

As Always, Julia: A friendship forged on paper

Letters freeze time. Big newsy letters are cultural artifacts. Big newsy letters between two brilliant and engaging women who share a great love of food, France and Democratic politics are ingredients for the best social history I’ve read this year: Joan Reardon’s fabulous As Always, Julia.

As Always, Julia shares the letters of Julia Child and her friend Avis DeVoto, the wife of an author to whom Child happened to send a letter. Avis wrote a response for her busy husband, and a long-distance friendship was born. But DeVoto became way more than a friend to Child – these letters make clear how very instrumental she was to the ultimate publication of the undertaking that became Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

It’s fascinating to watch a friendship develop before the two ever meet, but it’s easy to understand why. Julia’s sense of humor and enthusiasm bubbles off the pages sometimes, like when she inserts in the middle of a lengthy letter, “My for a short note, this ain’t,” (pg. 46) and then jumps back into a detailed discussion of Beurre Blanc. She seems almost giddy– maybe it was all the wonderful sparkling wine she lovingly describes? Whatever it is, it’s contagious – I just couldn’t help smiling as I read some passages, and I could see why DeVoto took an immediate interest in this passionate whirlwind of a woman.

For her part, the letters show that DeVoto was ex-pat Child’s most significant link to the United States, a country that was becoming increasingly “foreign” to Child during her years in Europe. Avis was also tireless in her support of Julia’s work, and ultimately used her connections at Knopf to put Child’s book into the hands of Judith Jones. The rest is history, of course, but this book adds another dimension to the story, illustrating how critical this wonderful friendship was to Child’s success:

“Your generosity in putting us up, wining us, introducing us, talking, sitting, ice-coffee-ing, and just letting us share your life for a while was heaven. And we felt so at home with you. You were exactly, I think, though now I can’t be sure, our “Dear Avis,” perfectly familiar.” (pg. 177)

One of the most interesting things about the book is how it gives us a peak into another world – or at least another lifetime: “What with the boss going out to Springfield and helping with other speeches here, I have to swing a lot of his affairs myself. After a blistering hot summer during which my weight fell to 112 pounds, I could do with some peace and the opportunity to putter around a stove.” (p. 16) I mean, how Mad Men is it to “swing” your boss’ affairs while he’s away? The book is a time capsule!

Through the years, the two women remained devoted to each other, with Julia choosing to move to Cambridge when her husband’s time with the State Department was at an end. They shared life’s sadnesses and joys, as only old friends can. I was sad to think of how lost Child must have felt after DeVoto’s death.

I highly recommend this book to people who love Julia Child, to people who love letters, to people who love memoirs, to people who love food, to people who depend on their girlfriends, to people who rejoice in travel, and especially to people who enjoy social histories. What an awesome find!

Thanks to Elizabeth Anderson at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for providing me a review copy.