4 out of 5 stars
You just want to hug this kid.
The Casual Vacancy
1 out of 5 stars
I really wanted to like this book, because, you know, it's J.K. Rowling. But (and I feel bad saying this, I really do), I couldn't even finish it, I was so bored. When I wasn't bored, I was confused by all the characters I didn't care about. Where's Voldemort when you need him?!
Goldberg Variations
3.5 out of 5 stars
There is virtually no action in this book, but I LOVED the dialogue, especially thoughts, both spoken and unspoken, of Gloria, the 79-year-old heroine of sorts. She is sassy, cranky, opinionated and an absolute hoot. And she's trying to leave her successful business, Glory, to one of three grown (and successful) grandchildren, none of whom want it. Their dysfunctional family reunion at her Santa Fe mansion is a study in self-restraint and conversation skills. This is the first of her books that I've read, and I think I'll probably check out some of her others.
The Fallback Plan
4 out of 5 stars
I thought this was going to be a light, funny read...and it was at times, but there were also some deeper bits, and I found myself admiring Stein's writing like I would those "big name" writerly types like John Irving or Ann Tyler...if Ann Tyler or John Irving wrote a blog and posted things on Facebook.
Twenty-something Esther has moved back into her parents' house after college with a bad case of Weltschmerz (her diagnosis). In other words, she already world weary and apathetic...or maybe just depressed, hard to tell. At any rate, she's got no drive, but her droll observations and recollections of how she got to where she is are hilarious.
Without giving too much away, she reluctantly takes a nanny-ish position for a family that has lost a child, and as she gets more and more involved with each family member, the book takes a more serious and thoughtful turn. The little girl she cares for is possibly my favorite character -- I wanted her to be more involved in the story.
Let's Pretend This Never Happened
5 out of 5 stars
By far one of the funnier books I've read in a long time.
Lawson is a blogger and writes like one, but this is a good thing. Her story
telling is crisp and engaging while still endearingly meandering; you really
come away thinking this is a person you might like to have as a friend or at
least a pen pal. Her mostly true memoir is bluntly honest and at times makes
you squirm a little from its in-your-face forthrightness (is that a word?), but
you can't help but admire her guts and determination. Behind all the
cathartic humor is a lot of angst, pain and at times crippling anxiety that she
faces if not head on, then with a gimlet eye. Some people found the occasional*
swear word off putting, but I have no patience for that sort of prissy decree.
Lawson swears and swears well with comedic timing (placement) that is artful.
Get it, read it, and be warned you might wet your pants a little.
*OK, several times a page
Something Missing
3 out of 5 stars
This was quirky and fun, but a little slow going at times.
Definitely an interesting premise (a thief who only steals things people won't
notice), and his relationships (even if they're in his own head) with his
"clients," are more touching than creepy. I'd still recommend it for
a light read as long as you're OK with not having a lot of page-turning
suspense.
Snowflower and the Secret Fan
4 out of 5 stars
If you were ever put into time out or even spanked as a kid,
this book will make you grateful that something that was presumably "for
your own good" didn't involve physical mutilation or selling you to the
highest bidder. The degree of physical and emotional abuse that children,
mostly girls, endure in the name of culture and tradition is tragic (I know...understatement
of the year). It is almost a character unto itself in this story, but much less
triumphant than the ways this little girl endures, survives and draws you into
her world. And her relationship with her friend is sweet, touching, and
delicately strong like piano wire. It's a really, really different and
fascinating read that gets a little otherworldly and spiritual at times, but
not so you'd roll your eyes. My mom gave this to me to read while I was
recovering from knee surgery and trapped in a passive motion machine for 8
hours a day. I think she was trying to send me a subtle message to "suck
it up, it could be worse." It worked.
The Miseducation of Cameron Post
by Emily Danforth
4 out of 5 stars
Another reviewer noted that this
book reads more like an adult novel than YA, and I have to agree. Danforth did
an amazing job of capturing the era, the mood of sun-drenched summer days, and
the turmoil that goes along with that whole “coming of age” scene. Newly
orphaned, newly awakened to “forbidden” feelings, and isolated in a small
Montana town, it’s somewhat of a miracle that Cameron Post gets out of bed in
the morning. In fact, the circumstances in Cameron’s life early on and how she
truly felt were a bit underplayed, so I was left wondering how she was going to
pull through. But she does, and the ensuing struggles to be “normal” when she’s
feeling anything but make for a poignant story.
Danforth’s writing is a pleasure
to read and at times beautiful without hitting you over the head with schmaltz.
Cameron herself is the kind of kid I would have enjoyed as a best friend
growing up. Relationships with her friends felt a little two dimensional at
times, but then again, you could attribute that to her ongoing emotional
turmoil. It’s kind of hard to forge connections when you’re constantly on guard
and questioning your own soul, let alone being betrayed by someone you love.
So, I take that back. I guess I was hoping for a little more introspection,
given the book is written in the first person.
As the years go by, Cameron
muddles through, and some of the people she meets later were among my favorites
– particularly Jane Fonda, the wise, one-legged, pot growing, camera-toting
camper at the “ex gay” camp that Cameron’s ridiculous Aunt Ruth sends Cameron
to for “fixing.” As expected, there are more characters than Cameron who end up
being fixed, or at least learning a lesson or two. And Cameron herself figures
out that people who mean well can still be fucking idiots and that questioning
authority is not only OK, sometimes it’s necessary. On the feel-good side, she
also learns how to celebrate the nuances of love and its many forms and what it
means to both give and receive friendship. Highly recommend.
Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend
4 out of 5 stars
Imagine if your existence depended on the imagination of a child. Whether you talk, have ears, eyebrows, feet or hair – it's all up to the child who believes you are real. Until the child stops believing, and then you disappear.
This is Budo's world. His child, Max, is (presumably) autistic, so Budo had been around a lot longer than most imaginary friends (which range from kids to fairies to talking dogs and a spoon) and is pretty high functioning. Budo can read, imagine, and walk through walls. He doesn't need sleep or food, and he likes to go out at night when Max is sleeping. He loves Max unconditionally, and his top priority is helping Max navigate his day. Helping includes keeping Max company (because Max doesn’t like to interact with other kids or be touched), standing guard so Max can poop in private at school, watching for bullies, and helping Max when he gets "stuck" inside himself.
Budo's voice is that of a child, albeit an introspective one, and his story is clever, poignant, and at times hilarious. But wait, there's more. Something terrible happens to Max, and suddenly it's up to Budo and some of the other imaginary friends he knows to make things right. The suspense and at times frightening events that follow kept me up way past my bed time. And realizing along with Budo that helping Max survive and grow will ultimately lead to Budo's own demise as Max gradually needs him less was both heart wrenching and totally engrossing.
Budo's world, the "rules of order" for imaginary friends and what happens to them when they're no longer needed raises a lot of questions. At times I thought there were some creative opportunities missed, but then there were also ideas that I thought were brilliant. I think a concept like this is kind of like time travel – you have to leave a little wiggle room in your brain and just accept it for what it is. And then enjoy the ride.
Harriet Spies Again & Harriet the Spy, Double Agent
3 out of 5 stars
I feel a certain loyalty to Harriet, since the original Harriet the Spy
was one of my favorite books as a kid. I had my doubts about the two
sequels, each written by different authors after Louis Fitzhugh's
too-soon death, but both did a fairly good job of staying true to the
spirit of Harriet.Harriet Spies Again feels a little empty, as there is very little spying, note taking or interaction with Harriet's friends, and the whole Ole Golly reunion falls kind of flat. Also, it may have been less obvious what was going on with Ole Golly to a younger reader, but to me it was pretty predictable.
The other sequel, Harriet the Spy Double Agent, is a bit better than Spies Again, because Harriet is more her old note-taking self and spends more time talking to Sport, who himself is going through his own turmoil what with his dad's new wife, being in love, and sprouting a few facial hairs. Double Agent also hints (maybe as a tribute to Fitzhugh?) at Harriet's budding sexuality as she discovers and ruminates about her own feelings about Sport, Ole Golly, and her new intriguing friend and spy partner, Annie Smith, who has created three names and personalities for herself and has a few secrets of her own.
Missing from both books is Fitzhugh's wry wit, but these sequels are worth a read if, as a now-grown adult fan, you can ignore that feeling that you're visiting a ghost. It's nice, but leaves you feeling a tiny bit empty.
The Memory of Running
4 out of 5 stars
I waited too long to write a review of this book, but I can still say, without hesitation, READ IT. Or listen to it (even better). It's just a sweet, touching story with great characters and interesting minor adventures as this likeable but somewhat pathetic fat guy rides his bike across the country to find his sister and, ultimately, himself. Really. I'm not just saying that.
Smithy Ide is kind of a Garp/Gump hybrid, and despite his downward spiral into a boozy loser, you can't help but root for the guy. Lest you think this is too cliche, it's worth noting that his sister, who no doubt suffered from schizophrenia, is dead but appears to Smithy regularly. He's also suffering from a little PTSD from Vietnam, but not so you'd notice. From the NY Times: "Smithy's actual bike trip is punctuated by encounters with people and books (his revived interest in reading provides a small, amusing subplot) that affirm its underlying faith in human nature. For all the hardships and wrong turns it describes, "The Memory of Running" amounts to a string of happy accidents. In this story, which has a dark side but no real shadows, even being hit by a pickup truck can turn out to be a life-affirming vignette."
Also, the audio book is read by the author, Ron McLarty, who is a sometimes actor and popular narrator among the audio book set. In fact, he wrote The Memory of Running to be read aloud, and it wasn't until it developed a bit of a following and subsequent notice by Stephen King that it was even printed. So that's kind of cool too.
The Beginner's Goodbye
3 out of 5 stars
This was a languid read, but that's OK. Really, you can't go wrong with Anne Tyler, right? My only complaint is I found myself wishing for more satisfaction and closure for Aaron, the main character. He got this great opportunity to talk to his wife again, and it never really went anywhere.
I say again, because his wife is dead, and he misses her. So imagine his surprise when she appears at random times throughout the day. And, it would seem (though we never really get to experience), other people can see her too. "The strangest thing about my wife’s return from the dead was how other people reacted," Aaron observes, and then notes that many people seem to rationalize or "forget" that Dorothy is dead rather than admit they might be seeing a ghost.
Aaron is a fussy, somewhat aloof and intelligent man toiling away at his family's vanity publishing company. Their claim to fame is a long string of "Beginner's Guides" that range from finances to dog training to travel. Aaron met Dorothy, a radiation oncologist, while researching "The Beginner’s Cancer." He describes himself as "geeky and gimpy," because he walks with the aid of a cane and a brace, and he also stammers sometimes. Before Dorothy’s death, on a hot summer day in 2007, they had been "happily, unremarkably married" for 11 years.
Dorothy is, by contrast, a squat, pragmatic woman with, as Aarons's sister observed, "the social skills of a panda bear." Aaron accepts and even seems to enjoy the fact that Dorothy is oblivious to fashion, and that "Only I noticed the creases as fine as silk threads that encircled her wrists and her neck. Only I knew her dear, pudgy feet, with the nails like tiny seashells."
What's great about Tyler, as always, is her comedic timing, her bluntness and her eye for the minutia that so often invade our thoughts at inappropriate times. Missing is any sense of true grief or loss that isn't a textbook cycle. But maybe that wasn't the point anyway.
The Toaster Project
3 out of 5 stars
I heard about this guy from a friend and then on NPR and had to get the book. (There's also a blog.) It's not so much
that he builds a toaster, from scratch, and takes nine months, many miles, and almost
$1,900 to do it, it's the way he tells the story. As noted by Wired
magazine, "It's art, and science, history and the future, all in one
brilliant idea." Also, it's kind of interesting to learn that the
seemingly innocuous toaster has around 400 parts yet costs as little as
six bucks. So you in turn find yourself reflecting on the costs of our
cheap, throw-away culture, the organization of our world, and other deep
thoughts. Honestly, though, I had a hunch this would be a good read when I saw that Thwaites opens the book with this quote: "Left to his own
devices he couldn’t build a toaster. He could just about make a sandwich and
that was it." -- Mostly Harmless,
Douglas Adams, 1992.
The Fault of Our Stars
by John Green4 out of 5 stars
I had to wait a few days before even contemplating a review
of this book. This is YA fiction, but the subject matter is not for the faint
of heart.
Hazel is a plucky, funny, really likable teenage girl with blue
fingernails, heartbroken but determined parents, and the capacity for sarcasm
and zingers that made me laugh out loud. She’s also terminally ill and fights
the kind of demons that no one should have to face, least of all not a kid.
Anyone who’s experienced cancer or watched someone you love go through it knows
that any lulls that come between the peaks and valleys carry their own brand of
pain – because it’s always there, and every glimmer of hope comes with a
shadow.
But Hazel marches on, her oxygen tank named Phillip in tow. Her
observations about life, living with cancer (as opposed to dying from it,
which, she acknowledges will probably happen soon), her friends, and what will
happen when she’s gone are served unapologetically with a side of blunt. She’s
not snarky, she’s just tired and been through more than anyone can fathom, and,
quite frankly, doesn’t have time for bullshit.
When Gus, a former basketball star with bone cancer and a
penchant for irony and metaphor arrives at her cancer kid support group, she
finds an unlikely soul mate, and the book takes off on a roller coaster ride of
really sweet, raw, irreverent commentary that leaves you a tiny bit drained
emotionally, but really glad you did it.
Gus and Hazel are young enough to love life and each other
desperately, and old enough to know that whatever they have is fleeting. And that
“You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world … but you do have some
say in who hurts you.” They choose each other knowing full well what’s to come,
and somehow, this is OK – you get it, and you can only cheer for them…and then
go get more Kleenex.
Like a lot of YA fiction I’ve read lately, Fault of Our
Stars veers into the unbelievably clever and articulate – like author John
Green just needs an outlet for all of his cleverness (and he is VERY clever),
but forgets that not EVERY SINGLE character should be that way. But Green also
captures the hilarious awkwardness and blunt honesty of teenagers really well. Somehow,
this still works despite the fact that Gus and Hazel write each other's
eulogies (with humor) instead of love letters and their Gift-of-the-Magi
destiny is to not worry about who will die first, but who will be left behind.
Suffice it to say that this is a very difficult book to read in public.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)