9 posts tagged “books”
A few months later, though, I was surprised to find not a pamphlet, but a book in the mail. It was an advanced copy of The Lost Painting by Jonathan Harr. (I haven't read that one yet.) Then, sometime last year, the same thing happened with Snow Flower & the Secret Fan (Lisa See). Seeing as I'm a big one to judge books by their covers, and this one was pretty aesthetically appealing, I actually read it.
I loved it so much that I was really excited about the next, and most recent, free book I received in the mail. I guess I figured that if The Virgin of Small Plains, by Nancy Pickard, was being sent to me like Snow Flower had, it was bound to be just as good. (It only occurred to me later that this probably has very little to do with it compared with the publishers' financial backing.)
It was a disappointment. I won't pretend it was boring -- it read extremely quickly and it was gripping, so I read it all in one night. The story is definitely interesting enough: it's about a 30-something, Abby Reynolds, born and brought up in Small Plains, Kansas -- the ultimate Midwest small town. She's still pretty distraught about her high school boyfriend (turns out to be the love of her life -- who would've thought?) who abandoned her years ago, the day after a teenage girl's dead body was found in a field. Mitch comes back in a shocking turn of events, and a lot of plot twists later, they solve the mystery.
Pickard did a pretty good job foolin' me -- I didn't figure out the culprit until close to the end. The thing is, though, she can't write. I spent a lot of that night wincing, and had I a theoretical desk, I would done a lot of theoretical headdesking. It reads like something written to entertain a middle schooler -- and I'm not talking about YA classics, either. C+.
I guess I was just expecting so much more out of the book. You can see multiple perspectives in the book, but it's not spread out evenly at all; I thought I'd really like reading something set in a small town, but it wasn't woven particularly effectively into the story.
It receives an A. It was fantastic. The writing style took a little getting used to; it was pretty different from the other things I'd been reading, and I certainly haven't read anything written from the point of view of Death before. It's full of little footnote-like notes, except they're embedded right into the text of the story.
I also hadn't read anything about such a young person in a while either. Liesel, the main character, is only 11 when the novel starts, and it only takes place within the next few years -- again, at the heart of the Second World War, this time in Himmel, a suburb of Munich. Her story's about book-stealing, but a lot more too.
I'm growing pretty fond of books set during of World War II. I want to read Catch-22 before the end of summer, and maybe look into some more...
When it comes to books, I'm a pack rat. I never know for sure what, exactly, I'll be in the mood for, feverish in the airplane's cabin, or sitting on vacation somewhere with nothing to do. And so I pack myself some variety, a small array of selections for me to call upon when the time comes. I almost always pack too much, and bring a few books back, a little more beat up than before but otherwise untouched.
Wasn't the case this time, though. Maybe because I had an uneventful visit, and had more reading time than usual, or maybe because once I got in the swing of reading again, I did it faster, I actually got through all the novels (4) I brought with me on my trip. I'm a slow reader, so I don't generally average one new book a week, especially while traveling. But it hasn't been summer for so long, either...
I started the first one, Suite Française, in Arlington, VA, at the end of a two-week-long adventure along the east coast traveling with/visiting friends from school. It was recommended highly by my dear friend Meg Schroth, who had to read it for her French class last semester. I read it through the three-day beach vaca with family in Delaware, and then on the plane to Bangladesh.
It was phenomenal. The book's about a series of characters -- of all shapes, sizes, and (very importantly) social classes -- that are faced with circumstances unlike any that they've known; that is, the invasion of Paris by Germany during World War II.
I really like books told from the viewpoints of different people. They usually end up being connected, somehow, in the end, and I love the feeling of a newly finished puzzle. For some reason -- I doubt they were my first experience with this style -- I always associate it with Tracy Chevalier, who writes a lot this way. That's definitely why I enjoy her books so much.
It has the distinct taste of an unfinished book, but if any case should be forgiven for it, it's this one. If you ever end up reading it, take the advice Meg gave me and, when you're finished, read the appendices and all the rest. I can't even begin the fathom how Némirovsky, who was deported to and killed in Auschwitz before she could finish, could have written one soft, quavering note* given her circumstances. Definitely hidden treasure. A.
*Fawkes inspired me on that one. It's not plagiarism, I swear!
Next up, something very different: Como agua para chocolate by Laura Esquivel. This is the first full-length, untranslated novel that I've read entirely in Spanish; I never quite made it through the translated Alice and all the stuff we were assigned in class were either short stories or never, ahem, read completely.
In terms of reading in Spanish, I learned a lot. I stupidly forgot to bring my dictionary with me, so the first couple of chapters were killers, but my aunt bought me a pocket-sized one soon enough. I like to think my vocabulary was boosted considerably, if only in the kitchen. I spent more time looking up cooking terms and ingredients than anything else; by the end, I'd decided it wasn't terribly important anyway and skipped a lot of the recipes.
The story itself receives a B+. Even without the linguistic benefits, it's worth reading. The only word I can think to describe it is, uh, strange. It's about Tita, the youngest daughter of woman who, following a long family tradition, forbids her at a young age to marry Pedro, her fawning sweetheart.
Pedro marries her sister instead, and then a lot of weird stuff happens. Seamlessly incorporated into the family's daily activities is magical realism, something I've always been rather fond of. The tale is spun in an unorthodox way, perhaps only unexpected because I'm not used to reading in another language.
On the other hand, I really realized, for once, how difficult translating must be. There were some phrases in Spanish that I couldn't even imagine construing the same way in English, without sounding hackneyed and out of place. I was also drawing from my experience with Suite Française (which was translated from French), in which there were a few things that I'm sure were mistranslated.
I read two more books in Bangladesh, but I'll review them later. And then, of course -- the obligatory Potter post. :)
Erk. It's been a while.
Not entirely my fault, though. My 2007 finished book list has thus far been nearly nonexistent; I barely have time to shower much less read for pleasure. And for school, I only read passages, whether by assignment or lack of determination. Here are the three I've read this semester.
I should've given this a post of its own earlier, but now that it's passed, there's hardly any need. I have a tradition. Every January, I read a Jane Austen book.
It happen kind of by accident: I read Pride and Prejudice the January of my sophomore year. Twelve months later, I'd picked up Sense and Sensibility, realized it, and decided to make it a habit. Last year, then, I read Persuasion, and for this one I decided on Emma.
I'm not going to try to be contrary and say I didn't enjoy a Jane Austen novel. Nope, I loved it. A+ for me.
Can't really think of anything else to say. I should really get in the habit of posting directly after finishing a book when my opinions are still fresh.
Next, A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine D'Engle. I'd bought a copy earlier this year when Meg S. recommended it to me; it was one of those books I'd always heard of as a kid but never read.
I read it on the flight home for spring break. It was engaging (a good airplane book) and very cute. Some parts bored me--and I don't know whether this is because I'm older than its target audience, or because I tend to get bored with extremely science-fiction-y novels, but those were insignificant; some I enjoyed so much I went back to read them over when I was done (just a few minutes before my second plane landed--talk about whew). Overall: A-.
Third, a book for school: Impro by Keith Johnstone. I read this for my Acting
Impro is not only about the improvisation craft and theater in general but I learned a lot about interaction as a whole; its chapter on Status talked about many examples of body language and positioning that convey "high" or "low" statuses; the Spontaneity and Masks chapters discussed putting yourself out there and getting in character; Narratives gave tips on storytelling and plot-developing. It was a worthwhile read, if a little slow and pretty dense at times. I especially liked it because afterwards we began (and continue still) implementing the ideas from the book in the class itself, in our improv games and exercises. It's fun, as always, but definitely a step up from the games we played before break. :)
I'm getting really excited for this summer, and having time to read again. Meg and I are setting up a long-distance book club of sorts; we want to read a few more children's books and maybe a couple of grown-up ones. I have plans of my own as well; other than Harry Potter (which is a given of the most natural sort), I want to read Catch-22 and maybe, if I decide I have enough time, re-try Les Misérables.
Okay, since I haven't exactly been updating as I go along, I'm just going to write short comments on each book I've read since the summer. I have begun/read parts of other books, but none so significant to post about.
In July, I read The Count of Monte Cristo (in English) by Alexandre Dumas. It is the longest book I have read to date, easily topping Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell.
I thought it was fantastic. I don't know whether I've said this before, but I love long books because, while they may take their sweet time doing so, they eventually pull you in: you get to know the author's writing style, the characters, the setting and the subplots. They're like the rare TV show that's actually worthwhile: whenever you spend time with it, you love it more and look forward to the next episode, always sort of relieved that there is more and that it'll occupy you for a while. Which is why, of course, that it's all the more tragic (albeit more satisfying) when it's over; you're so used to it that it's almost a part of your life, so when it finishes you're a little pouty.
Anyway. I can't remember specifically what all I liked about this book, other than the combination of all elements itself. It was a great story--I was hooked within the first few hundred pages, and read the rest in a week--and not altogether cheesy, either. I give it an A.
I give this one an A- because I wasn't so happy with the ending. I kind of forgot why, really, but it wouldn't be worth remembering because I couldn't post about it without spoiling anyway. As with many of the books I've been reading, it was unsatisfactory: didn't tie in the ends properly, or something. I don't know why I'm so critical of endings; for some reason, to me they matter as much, if not more, than the rest of the book (not necessarily plot-wise, but more writing-wise) combined.
One book that I thought would be a quick read, but wasn't at all, was Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor (and no, not THAT Elizabeth Taylor), which in my book receives a C+, with my feeling generous tonight.
I'd initially come across the title when the movie came out last year; it was in the email newsletter from my local indie film theater with a short description as usual. The summary sounded interesting, and while I never made it out to see the movie itself I made note of it and put it on my to-read list* when I discovered its existence as a book. Well, unlike many other books on the list, I never forgot about it, and it struck me as such a good read that I ordered it in the summer and brought it with me to college.
At best, it was disappointing. While peppered with what are sometimes laugh-out-loud moments--I'll give it that much--the writing is dry, repetitive and altogether boring. Maybe it's me speaking as a young person when the book is essentially about an old person, but Laura Palfrey is not an extremely likeable character and her young companion, Ludo, is not terribly interesting either. Their relationship never really develops fully enough to even call it a friendship, and there is so much character action on the side that amounts to absolutely nothing that it's mind-boggling. I kept waiting for it to get better, and it never did.
I should note here that all three of these books (as well as the last one before that) were made into movies, none of which I've seen. I should get on that.
More recently, I read Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. Whenever I'm at my aunt Schoene's house in Baltimore for more than a few days (as I was this Thanksgiving), I read one of the books off her shelves/on her coffee tables. This one was great for this trip because I didn't have a lot of time to read it in; it went super-quickly and, had I done it all at once, it probably would have taken me just a few hours.
Kitchen is about a Japanese girl living in the present who is confronted by a series of strange events while trying to gain her own composure at the same time. I liked the writing style a lot; while you could tell it was translated (and I've read that the translator took a little too much liberty about it), you could also tell that it wasn't written in English--if that makes any sense. The sequence of events, the metaphors, the sentiments expressed were all slightly off, and they were fun to read. The plotline is shallow and unconventional at the same time; you don't know what's going to happen, but when it does, you're not surprised. Worth flipping through; it's not not like wastes a landfill of effort to read.
I love airports, I really do. I like the fact that there are people from everywhere going everywhere else, for every reason with every level of anticipation. I like that they're all rushed and formal, yet perfect for people-watching. I like the airplanes themselves: from taking off to air turbulence to landing at night in a city full of lights.
It was in this past month, however, when I started to realize how unexciting they can be, at least at times: it was when the novelty of traveling by myself finally wore off, and, combined with the fact that I got horribly unlucky regarding layovers and standby flights, I was pretty much bored to death. So, I did what I do very rarely nowadays (due to lack of decision-making skills, and lack of local bookstores)--I bought a book, on a whim, in a bookstore. This type of thing takes a lot of careful planning; i.e., looking up Amazon.com ratings, similar books, etc.
It wasn't completely random, though; I still don't believe myself capable to just pick a book I've never heard of off the shelf and read it. I bought The Virgin Blue by Tracy Chevalier, and having already read her other three published works, it's hardly an unfamiliar one. I'd so far read Girl with a Pearl Earring, The Lady and the Unicorn, and Falling Angels, in that order. The order of those three is, as it happens, the order I like them in, from best to worst. The Virgin
I read this book almost entirely in airports/on airplanes, and it was, in my opinion, a perfect one to do so in: it went quickly, didn't require too much concentration, but also took me away from the busy surroundings. I give it a B-. I'm sort of drawn to Chevalier's novels by now, because they're easy to read, are remotely interesting, and have unique layouts to keep them readable. They always end up being a little disappointing, but I don't mind because I enjoy the experience.
This book in particular follows two characters and their lives: Ella, who is a young-married American who has just moved to France, and Isabelle, her French ancestor who suffers for her red (Virgin-esque) hair in a town of Protestants who condemn the worship of Mary. As usual, I like the older story better; in fact, Ella was the sole reason I didn't like the book very much. It was a nice passing of time, but didn't really sum up to anything. I'm too tired to elaborate. Heh.
So yes, not the most prolific of semesters, but I'm glad I kept reading and didn't leave off totally. I will (hopefully!) start another today, though I haven't decided which. ¡Hasta luego!
What are your top 5 books of 2006?
Again--uncanny that the QotD's both on the day I started this blog and the day I'm re-starting it have to do with books.
Easy:
1. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
(x)
2. 1984 by George Orwell (x)
3. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
4. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (coming soon)
5. The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien
Runners-up: A Room of One's Own, Persuasion, Scarlet Pimpernel, Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, I Capture the Castle. The list goes on.
I've decided to start giving grades (A+ through F-, minus the E's, not too hard to figure out) to each book I talk about, just so my reviews aren't so arbitrary, and to give the reading some kind of closure.
So as my first graded book, The Princess Bride, by William Goldman, receives an A-. I should note here (and not because it's pertinent but because it's the first question anyone asks) that I have not seen the movie; my childhood was, in fact, deprived, but I intend to do so in the near future.
The book is subtitled "S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure", and I couldn't agree more. The Morgenstern part is made up, of course, but the rest is exactly what the book is, complete with the lovely Mary/Gary couple and dashing adventures galore. Reminded me a lot of The Scarlet Pimpernel (Orczy), but maybe that's because that's pretty much the only other love/adventure novel I've read.
Why, then, A- and not A+? Two reasons:
- It seems unfinished, somehow. Little details, like closure (which I'm such a big fan of, lately), are left out. This isn't so much a complaint as an observation, because its unfinished-ness kind of adds to its charm and makes it less trite.
- Goldman's little fictional accounts of his dealings with the "abridgement" of the book and the screenplay and absolutely everything supposedly involved. I have a silly habit of having to read everything between the covers of a book--prologue, conclusion, publication info, discussion questions, whatever--and so forced myself through these. The interruptions in italics aren't so bad, but the longer narratives--the introduction and the "explanation" before the first chapter of Buttercup's Baby--are decidedly incorrigible. It's like eating a box of crackers without a glass of water. The latter frustrated me so much I lost all interest in reading the chapter itself, breaking the habit because of the habit. I figure that if the whole sequel comes out before 2009 like it's rumored to do, then I'll just read it then.
Well that's a mood-spoiler. Someone needs to make another abridgement and just cut out that stuff, else post a warning that they're not to be read. I can do that: do yourself a favor and skip them.
A few months ago, during winter break, my family drove up to Baltimore for a few days to visit my uncle and aunt. In the guest room I was staying in, my aunt Schoene had left a basket prepared for entertainment: several magazines, coffee-table books and a copy of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.
In the end, I picked up The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell from a different table, and while I don't regret it (that book was awesome in a completely different way), ¡ojalá que I'd read this one sooner!
I wish I knew Portuguese to be able to read it in its original language.
It almost seems not worth talking about, because words couldn't capture what it has to say.
Well. I guess they do, because it's a book.
How do I say this. Coelho's words, placed together in sentences and paragraphs, say something else altogether. And THAT thing--along with the feelings that accompany it--can't be described with words.
It is very much an "experience" book, that's absolutely different for every reader, and every time every reader reads it. I've only done it once and I can tell. I could read it every day for the rest of my life, and each time would bring different shades of meaning.
It makes me wonder a little at the impact it's made on other people. Randa adored it, and got me to read it this time around. Julia Roberts and Madonna claim to have loved it. Tons of other friends/family members have recommended it but could never really place why they liked it so much. I'm the same way, I guess.
I've heard it referred to as just a "quick read", and a "good book, but nothing spectacular". Mariam didn't finish it; she said it was boring.
Eyes of the beholder. Really.
All good books remind me of a million different things. What this one reminded me of:
- This quote:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
--Marianne Williamson, quoted by (and widely misattributed to) Nelson Mandela; on the plaque in the movie Akeelah and the Bee
- And this one:
"So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life a leadership of frankness and vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential to victory."
--Franklin Delano Roosevelt, in his inaugural address on March 4th, 1933
- The song "Close Every Door" from the musical Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Incidentally, the book refers to Joseph's story as well.
- The song "Circle of Life" from, of course, The Lion King.
- The Matrix--"there is no spoon".
- I could go on. "All things are one." (Coelho)
Ironic that this is the QotD on the day that I start my literary journal.
Has there been a book that has changed your life? Maybe just a little bit?
I don't know, really; I'm way too indecisive for questions like this. It sounds like a college application essay question, man it.
But yeah. The first book that came to mind was 1984 by George Orwell. Read it this spring for AP Lang, and loved it, in that being - creeped - out - at - the - same - time sort of way. (I had to space it out so the text would align properly, haha.)
I was already a skeptic of the news (though not to the point of being a conspiracy theorist) and the book only opened my eyes wider to the reality of the media and the world. It's all about subliminal messaging in movie theatres.
Other than that, I'm sure there are books out there, maybe more influental than that, but I'm drawing a blank.
I've been plowing, slowly but steadily, my way through Las aventuras de Alicia en el Pais de las Maravillas, by Lewis Carroll. Reading it in Spanish puts it in a different light altogether; while a lot of its hilarities are preserved ("¡Conque pescando manzanas!, ¿eh?") there are some things I just don't understand at all (like what's supposed to be the translation of the crocodile poem... I'm too lazy to translate it all, but it certainly isn't the same poem).
I'm underlining all the words I don't recognize, regardless of context--I've read the book in English so many times that it's not hard to get the gist of the story even in a different language. At first I went through and wrote down the translations above each word, but that got really old really fast. Now I'm just looking them up and sticking them into MemoryLifter for later review.
I'm on Capítulo Sexto (Ch. 6)--it's not the most thrilling of reads--but it's fun. And vocab-boosters can't really be all bad.
I just finished reading Chocolat, by Joanne Harris, which I borrowed from Maria last week. It was a great read; I really enjoyed it and it lasted just long enough to be worthwhile. Harris writes very well, and you could see both perspectives (that of Vianne Rocher, the enchanting chocolatier, and Francis Reynaud, the conservative local priest) nicely. Like the movie, it reminded me a lot of Dear Frankie (the movie), which I love. Man, I wish that was a book. I would read it.
I saw Chocolat the movie first, a few months ago at Romaytha's. There were a lot of changes made, and I maintain that the book was better, but only because of the way it's written and not because of what happens. The eloquence of most of the book makes the ending, which is kind of bland and biased, contrast even more sharply. That's my only complaint, I think; while I don't agree with the premise of Vianne's philosophy, it would've been perfect other than the ending that's both predictable and absurd.
As a warning: if you decide to read this book, make sure you have a supply of chocolate on hand--there will be cravings!
(Oddly, my grandfather saw this book lying around when I was reading it, and decided he wanted to too. He's borrowed it now.)Finally, The Hours by Michael Cunningham. This isn't exactly a recent read; I read it before finals in May, but I just watched the movie on my laptop last night.
Both of them are spectacular, maybe moreso after experiencing the other. The book was an awesome and worthy read, and the movie was extremely well-made too. They complement each other.
I've heard that this work (both book and movie) is seriously disturbing, and depressing. I think it's a little sad, maybe--especially the story of Laura Brown, for me--but not those things. I liked it a lot.
I know this is a book blog, but I can't decide whether I want to discuss specific plot details or not. Is it safe to assume that other readers, like me, don't care about knowing the ending before reading a book? There doesn't seem to be any kind of cut tag here like there is on LiveJournal, so I can't hide spoilers from the weaker-stomached.
Just FYI, I keep a regularly updated list of the books I've read this year on my LiveJournal profile page.
Next up: The Alchemist.
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