Book Eighteen: The Lace Reader
Finished: March 30
Pages: 385
I was drawn to this book when wandering around Borders with a 40% coupon burning a hole in my pocket. Since they didn't have the book that I wanted to buy, I thought I would just look around and pick up something that struck my fancy. The cover, of a woman standing in water, with lace around the edges of the book, was intriguing, and reminds me a lot of other books that I have read and enjoyed in the past, mostly the ones by Alice Hoffman (Don't judge, I was young!). In retrospect, I feel that I should have maybe looked a little further for a better book, maybe one that I would not have thrown across the room.
At first, and even up to half way through the book I really enjoyed the narration, the description, and the supernatural aspects of the book. The idea of reading lace: telling someone's fortune by looking at them through a veil of lace is interesting, and more unique than reading palms or Tarot cards. I also liked the atmosphere of Salem, with tourism encouraging witchcraft in a town that once killed "witches" although it could be an accurate depiction of Salem, I wouldn't know.
I will be perfectly honest with you. If you judge a book as "good" by your inability to put it down, then this book is certainly "good" by that standard. Usually when I say that I couldn't put the book down, at the end of the review I would talk about how much I liked the book and would recommend it to others. I literally could not stop reading this book, because I had to know more about what was going on. This book was often confusing, and ultimately made me so angry I couldn't think straight. At the end of the book I felt very betrayed, because although I had picked up on the fact that my narrator was unreliable (she admits to being in a psychiatric ward) I still did not expect the lies to be so all-encompassing. Honestly, I feel like I have read something similar a few years ago, where the narrator is such a liar that you don't even realize that whole characters are completely made up. It made me hate the narrator, because now I'm not sure what is and isn't real, and why some characters would be willing to die for her. It just didn't make sense.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Book Seventeen: The Sparrow
The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell
Finished: March 28
Pages: 405
I’ve been sitting here for about fifteen minutes just waiting to have the words to talk about this book without sounding ridiculous. After going a month of reading purely academic essays, and then reading the campy hilarity that was The Somnambulist, it was a definite change to read The Sparrow, a story of what would happen if we found life on another planet and wanted to contact that life. The religious aspect of the book is that the mission to this planet is funded and populated by several Jesuit priests, whose response to new life was “Let’s go meet ‘em” The book begins with Father Emilio Sandoz as the only survivor of the mission to this planet, and it takes until the very end of the book for him to tell his story, both in the “present day” of the book at an inquiry, and through flashbacks told through the eyes of the different mission members.
The hardest part of this book is that you fall in love with so many of the characters, but you also know form the very beginning that they are all going to die. This isn’t fair. If everyone is going to die, you should be able to create a space between you and the characters. You shouldn’t think to yourself “I would like to meet/be friends with/simply be like these people.” You shouldn’t like them, or laugh at their jokes or enjoy watching them fall in love. It’s not fair. And I did. I like all these characters, especially Anne and George Edwards, these mid-50-somethings who are just so outgoing and hilarious. Let me give some examples. The first comes from your first interaction between Anne and Emilio, who at this point is her Latin professor.
Or this:
“And yet,” Emilio said, “you behave like a good and moral person.”
He expected an explosion and he got it. She threw her fork down with a clatter on the plate and sad back. “You know what? I really resent the idea that the only reason someone might be good or moral is because they’re religious. I do what I do,” Anne said, biting off each word “without hope of reward or fear of punishment. I do not require heaven or hell to bribe or scare me into acting decently, thank you very much.”
Sometimes all the characters seemed a bit contrived, that everything came together too easily and cleanly. It's just to convenient that they had everything they needed, and everyone they needed in order to take a spaceship many light years away to Alpha Centauri: a person to be the doctor, and the linguist, and the ship captain, and the person who found the songs through the radio waves in the first place-"turtles put on fenceposts" they called it in the book, and that, therefore, it must have been designed by God. The final question of the book is, if God was behind all the good things, was he also behind the many ways in which the mission went wrong? Emilio spends the entire book trying to keep the truth away from his Father Superior because, he fears, that the truth will make them lose their faith much as he seems to have lost his, although the other priests on the trip with him are convinced that Emilio may very well be a saint. And I can see why they would have thought that at the time, and why Emilio, after all his suffering, would rage against that label as much as he possibly could. The book reminded me a lot of the movie Contact, and Emilio's struggle did have some parallels.
It was a difficult and dense read, and the subject matter and horrors it contained did not make it easier. I do think that it is a good modern sci-fi twist on the question of what would happen if we were faced with a "New World" to encounter and explore. I could certainly see that we would have similar difficulties were this to actually happen. And I could certainly see the Jesuits standing ready to be the first to go.
At the very end of the book, we discover the reason for the title:
“Matthew ten, verse twenty-nine,” Vincenzo Guiliani said quietly. “ ‘Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.’ “
“But the sparrow still falls,” Felipe said.
And the sparrow was Emilio Sandoz, Jesuit priest from the slums of Puerto Rico, who survived when he would have wished to die, and who was forced to tell the story of how he found and then lost his faith, and in doing so came even closer to God.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Finished: March 28
Pages: 405
I’ve been sitting here for about fifteen minutes just waiting to have the words to talk about this book without sounding ridiculous. After going a month of reading purely academic essays, and then reading the campy hilarity that was The Somnambulist, it was a definite change to read The Sparrow, a story of what would happen if we found life on another planet and wanted to contact that life. The religious aspect of the book is that the mission to this planet is funded and populated by several Jesuit priests, whose response to new life was “Let’s go meet ‘em” The book begins with Father Emilio Sandoz as the only survivor of the mission to this planet, and it takes until the very end of the book for him to tell his story, both in the “present day” of the book at an inquiry, and through flashbacks told through the eyes of the different mission members.
The hardest part of this book is that you fall in love with so many of the characters, but you also know form the very beginning that they are all going to die. This isn’t fair. If everyone is going to die, you should be able to create a space between you and the characters. You shouldn’t think to yourself “I would like to meet/be friends with/simply be like these people.” You shouldn’t like them, or laugh at their jokes or enjoy watching them fall in love. It’s not fair. And I did. I like all these characters, especially Anne and George Edwards, these mid-50-somethings who are just so outgoing and hilarious. Let me give some examples. The first comes from your first interaction between Anne and Emilio, who at this point is her Latin professor.
“Are you allowed out of your room at night?” she asked. “Or do all the cute ones like you have a curfew until they’re senile?”
He flicked the ash off an air cigar and waggled his eyebrows. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I considered suggesting that we shatter our vows and run away to Mexico for a weekend of lust, but I’ve got homework,” she said, shouting the last word, “because some sonofabitch Latin prof thinks we should learn ablative way too soon, in my humble opinion, so why don’t you just come over for dinner on Friday night?”
Leaning back against his chair, he looked up at her with frank admiration. “Madam. How could I resist an invitation like that?” he asked. And leaning forward, “Will your husband be there?”
“Yes, dammit, but he’s very liberal and tolerant person,” Anne assured him, grinning, “And he falls asleep early.”
Or this:
“And yet,” Emilio said, “you behave like a good and moral person.”
He expected an explosion and he got it. She threw her fork down with a clatter on the plate and sad back. “You know what? I really resent the idea that the only reason someone might be good or moral is because they’re religious. I do what I do,” Anne said, biting off each word “without hope of reward or fear of punishment. I do not require heaven or hell to bribe or scare me into acting decently, thank you very much.”
Sometimes all the characters seemed a bit contrived, that everything came together too easily and cleanly. It's just to convenient that they had everything they needed, and everyone they needed in order to take a spaceship many light years away to Alpha Centauri: a person to be the doctor, and the linguist, and the ship captain, and the person who found the songs through the radio waves in the first place-"turtles put on fenceposts" they called it in the book, and that, therefore, it must have been designed by God. The final question of the book is, if God was behind all the good things, was he also behind the many ways in which the mission went wrong? Emilio spends the entire book trying to keep the truth away from his Father Superior because, he fears, that the truth will make them lose their faith much as he seems to have lost his, although the other priests on the trip with him are convinced that Emilio may very well be a saint. And I can see why they would have thought that at the time, and why Emilio, after all his suffering, would rage against that label as much as he possibly could. The book reminded me a lot of the movie Contact, and Emilio's struggle did have some parallels.
It was a difficult and dense read, and the subject matter and horrors it contained did not make it easier. I do think that it is a good modern sci-fi twist on the question of what would happen if we were faced with a "New World" to encounter and explore. I could certainly see that we would have similar difficulties were this to actually happen. And I could certainly see the Jesuits standing ready to be the first to go.
At the very end of the book, we discover the reason for the title:
“Matthew ten, verse twenty-nine,” Vincenzo Guiliani said quietly. “ ‘Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.’ “
“But the sparrow still falls,” Felipe said.
And the sparrow was Emilio Sandoz, Jesuit priest from the slums of Puerto Rico, who survived when he would have wished to die, and who was forced to tell the story of how he found and then lost his faith, and in doing so came even closer to God.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Book Sixteen: The Somnambulist
Book Sixteen: The Somnambulist
Pages: 353
Finished: March 25
I really, really liked this book. I don’t think I can fully articulate why I liked this book so much, but god, it was just so entertaining. Just as the narrator says on the very first page, “Be warned. This book has no literary merit whatsoever. It is a lurid piece of nonsense, convoluted, implausible, peopled by unconvincing characters, written in drearily pedestrian prose, frequently ridiculous and wilfully bizarre.”, but that doesn’t stop it from being a wildly entertaining page turner that was methodically researched and ridiculously funny. There came a point that I was glad my students were reading articles just so I could finish the thing. I loved all the literary allusions: Coleridge, and Shelley, and Wilde. Not to mention that I was thinking of Robert Downey Jr.'s Sherlock Holmes doing magic for the entire book. I don’t think that I can tell you all the things that I loved without spoiling the mystery of the book completely.
Oh wait, I forgot, I don’t care about spoiling things for you, my illustrious fans, because, to be honest, you have all read the book.
Anyhow, I loved the narrator, and I loved the narrator’s twisting nature. When you find out the true identity of the narrator? I nearly dropped the book and my jaw, I almost yelled out loud. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I think mostly because I was reading without really thinking about the bigger picture, instead just enjoying being wound up in the mystery. There were many times when I stared at the book in confusion but then it always resolved itself, though I am still confused about so many things, but we will talk about that in a bit.
Here are some of my favorite parts of the book:
On page 194, I love this exchange between Inspector Merryweather and Mr. Moon:
“Coleridge,” Moon said mysteriously.
“Is there some significance?”
“Are you a poetry-lover, Inspector?”
“Not seen a word of the stuff since school.”
“Then at least you’ve learnt one valuable lesson today.”
“What’s that?”
“Read more.”
Later that evening, lulled by the rhythmic snoring of his wife, just as he was about to go to sleep, Inspector Merryweather would think of rather an amusing retort to this. But he would know that the moment had passed, and would roll over instead and hope for pleasant dreams.
I also loved the tone of voice that the narrator employs:
“Forgive me if the above sounds condescending—I add this last detail only for the benefit of the ignorant and for tourists. I should hope my readers educated enough to recognize the significance of Wren’s achievement without it being explained to them, but regrettably it remains the case that one must always make allowances for dullards. I cannot police the readers of this manuscript and it is a sad and tragic truth that I have never yet succeeded in underestimating the intelligence of the general public” (92). I mean, how great is that? I also love that he blatantly lies to the reader on more than one occasion, and I find myself liking characters either in spite of his warnings, or because of his little warnings throughout the book. For example, when he says that we will like the albino before the end of the book, I find myself liking him in spite of his proclivities toward arson and intimidation. I also found myself liking Mr. Moon, himself, just to spite the narrator.
The characters of Hawker and Boon were disturbing and twisted, and yet I found the Prefects to be very funny, which it would seem, would be quite the mistake to make were I to ever meet these two characters. They were easy to picture, and they were easy to see as the dues ex machina that even they professed (accurately, I might add) to be.
I enjoyed Mr. Cribb, whose very existence confuses and baffles me much as it did Mr. Moon. Is the ugly little man the spirit of the city, or something else entirely? Why does he live life backwards? I don’t know and I dearly wish to, much as I feel about many parts of the book. Why are so many things left unexplained? Like Barrabas, and how he once was Moon’s partner, and then the Fiend? Why is the book called The Somnambulist? Who is the Somnambulist anyway? What was up with the end of the book. I need explanations, Mr. Barnes! I want to know so much more, but instead we get all these little glimpses into all the little lives of all these little characters that, in the end are either completely valuable and you are glad to know them, or they are completely invaluable, and you never know until the very end.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 353
Finished: March 25
I really, really liked this book. I don’t think I can fully articulate why I liked this book so much, but god, it was just so entertaining. Just as the narrator says on the very first page, “Be warned. This book has no literary merit whatsoever. It is a lurid piece of nonsense, convoluted, implausible, peopled by unconvincing characters, written in drearily pedestrian prose, frequently ridiculous and wilfully bizarre.”, but that doesn’t stop it from being a wildly entertaining page turner that was methodically researched and ridiculously funny. There came a point that I was glad my students were reading articles just so I could finish the thing. I loved all the literary allusions: Coleridge, and Shelley, and Wilde. Not to mention that I was thinking of Robert Downey Jr.'s Sherlock Holmes doing magic for the entire book. I don’t think that I can tell you all the things that I loved without spoiling the mystery of the book completely.
Oh wait, I forgot, I don’t care about spoiling things for you, my illustrious fans, because, to be honest, you have all read the book.
Anyhow, I loved the narrator, and I loved the narrator’s twisting nature. When you find out the true identity of the narrator? I nearly dropped the book and my jaw, I almost yelled out loud. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I think mostly because I was reading without really thinking about the bigger picture, instead just enjoying being wound up in the mystery. There were many times when I stared at the book in confusion but then it always resolved itself, though I am still confused about so many things, but we will talk about that in a bit.
Here are some of my favorite parts of the book:
On page 194, I love this exchange between Inspector Merryweather and Mr. Moon:
“Coleridge,” Moon said mysteriously.
“Is there some significance?”
“Are you a poetry-lover, Inspector?”
“Not seen a word of the stuff since school.”
“Then at least you’ve learnt one valuable lesson today.”
“What’s that?”
“Read more.”
Later that evening, lulled by the rhythmic snoring of his wife, just as he was about to go to sleep, Inspector Merryweather would think of rather an amusing retort to this. But he would know that the moment had passed, and would roll over instead and hope for pleasant dreams.
I also loved the tone of voice that the narrator employs:
“Forgive me if the above sounds condescending—I add this last detail only for the benefit of the ignorant and for tourists. I should hope my readers educated enough to recognize the significance of Wren’s achievement without it being explained to them, but regrettably it remains the case that one must always make allowances for dullards. I cannot police the readers of this manuscript and it is a sad and tragic truth that I have never yet succeeded in underestimating the intelligence of the general public” (92). I mean, how great is that? I also love that he blatantly lies to the reader on more than one occasion, and I find myself liking characters either in spite of his warnings, or because of his little warnings throughout the book. For example, when he says that we will like the albino before the end of the book, I find myself liking him in spite of his proclivities toward arson and intimidation. I also found myself liking Mr. Moon, himself, just to spite the narrator.
The characters of Hawker and Boon were disturbing and twisted, and yet I found the Prefects to be very funny, which it would seem, would be quite the mistake to make were I to ever meet these two characters. They were easy to picture, and they were easy to see as the dues ex machina that even they professed (accurately, I might add) to be.
I enjoyed Mr. Cribb, whose very existence confuses and baffles me much as it did Mr. Moon. Is the ugly little man the spirit of the city, or something else entirely? Why does he live life backwards? I don’t know and I dearly wish to, much as I feel about many parts of the book. Why are so many things left unexplained? Like Barrabas, and how he once was Moon’s partner, and then the Fiend? Why is the book called The Somnambulist? Who is the Somnambulist anyway? What was up with the end of the book. I need explanations, Mr. Barnes! I want to know so much more, but instead we get all these little glimpses into all the little lives of all these little characters that, in the end are either completely valuable and you are glad to know them, or they are completely invaluable, and you never know until the very end.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Book Thirteen: A Reliable Wife
Book Thirteen: A Reliable Wife
Pages: 304
Date Finished: February 4
Book club finished about an hour ago, so here is my review.
I am surprised that the cover of this book was not a picture of a woman with heaving bosoms and a shirtless man with abnormal abdominals. Once the author ceased to explain the raving lusts of our main characters, and settled down to the mystery of would she or wouldn’t she kill her husband, I rather enjoyed the book. Certainly it was full of detail, and description and everything else that a good historical mystery romance needs. Did the husband kill his first wife? How much of this was planned ahead of time? How did the son manage to find the father’s advertisement?
But there were many things about the book that I didn’t appreciate. I understand that a man wrote the book. I also understand that men think about sex a lot of the time. I do not really need this illustrated so violently or graphically. I don’t want to read about someone else’s dirty thoughts for a hundred pages. Or if I did, I would go to the romance section. I did like the reason behind his lustful thoughts; his mother was a crazy person. To not love a child because you can see the sin inside them, or to stab them with a pin to illustrate the suffering waiting for them in hell: that is just plain crazy. I can understand his predisposition towards sin with memories like that to begin his life with.
I can certainly admit that the writing in the book was captivating. I don’t have to like the story itself to appreciate the skill involved with writing something with that level of description and detail. And there were portions of the book where I was impressed by the insights that he was able to draw in these characters. For example, and the beginning of the book our heroine has this thought, which struck a chord with me, as well as many of the women in my book club:
“She believed in the miraculous. Or she had, until she reached an age when, all of a sudden, she realized that the life she was living was, in fact, her life…it shocked her now, like a slap in the face" (17).
However, when there are sections of text like this on page 151:
The twists and turns of the book are very transparent. You can see each revelation, and I didn’t find very many of them shocking even when they occur. I am glad that I read the book until the end, but the ending of the book is flat, and feels very rushed. I would have liked the book better if there had been more time given to the part of the story after Catherine’s return from St. Louis, and less given to the sexual repression and then sexual exploits of these characters.
I also think it would have been interesting to have the book narrated by different characters, rather than only Ralph and Catherine. Just an idea. It incited a lot of discussion from the book club, which to me is the mark of a good book club book, if not necessarily a book that I would give to other people.
As a side note, I just want to mention that I hate the interview portion in the back of books these days. It is dumb. I don’t really want to know these things about the author, and quite frankly often the author comes off as either pompous and self-absorbed, or they sound much less eloquent than their book. Both of these things are understandable, and I can’t blame the author either way. If someone cam to interview me right after I found out I was publishing a book I would be very excited to talk about my book and my ideas. And if I was put on the spot I would certainly sound less intelligent than I would in a book that I spent tons of time revising and fixing. Nevertheless, I wish that publishers would stop doing this. If I wanted to read more things from the author I would go to their website, or read other books.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 304
Date Finished: February 4
Book club finished about an hour ago, so here is my review.
I am surprised that the cover of this book was not a picture of a woman with heaving bosoms and a shirtless man with abnormal abdominals. Once the author ceased to explain the raving lusts of our main characters, and settled down to the mystery of would she or wouldn’t she kill her husband, I rather enjoyed the book. Certainly it was full of detail, and description and everything else that a good historical mystery romance needs. Did the husband kill his first wife? How much of this was planned ahead of time? How did the son manage to find the father’s advertisement?
But there were many things about the book that I didn’t appreciate. I understand that a man wrote the book. I also understand that men think about sex a lot of the time. I do not really need this illustrated so violently or graphically. I don’t want to read about someone else’s dirty thoughts for a hundred pages. Or if I did, I would go to the romance section. I did like the reason behind his lustful thoughts; his mother was a crazy person. To not love a child because you can see the sin inside them, or to stab them with a pin to illustrate the suffering waiting for them in hell: that is just plain crazy. I can understand his predisposition towards sin with memories like that to begin his life with.
I can certainly admit that the writing in the book was captivating. I don’t have to like the story itself to appreciate the skill involved with writing something with that level of description and detail. And there were portions of the book where I was impressed by the insights that he was able to draw in these characters. For example, and the beginning of the book our heroine has this thought, which struck a chord with me, as well as many of the women in my book club:
“She believed in the miraculous. Or she had, until she reached an age when, all of a sudden, she realized that the life she was living was, in fact, her life…it shocked her now, like a slap in the face" (17).
However, when there are sections of text like this on page 151:
He put her hand on his sex and held it there. She felt it move beneath her hand, now soft, pliant as a fish, rising and falling like breath, “Swear.”
“I promise you.”
He got up, grabbed a towel and began to clean himself off. There was a wet pool in the bed where he had been. He never came inside her. He was terrified of children.
The twists and turns of the book are very transparent. You can see each revelation, and I didn’t find very many of them shocking even when they occur. I am glad that I read the book until the end, but the ending of the book is flat, and feels very rushed. I would have liked the book better if there had been more time given to the part of the story after Catherine’s return from St. Louis, and less given to the sexual repression and then sexual exploits of these characters.
I also think it would have been interesting to have the book narrated by different characters, rather than only Ralph and Catherine. Just an idea. It incited a lot of discussion from the book club, which to me is the mark of a good book club book, if not necessarily a book that I would give to other people.
As a side note, I just want to mention that I hate the interview portion in the back of books these days. It is dumb. I don’t really want to know these things about the author, and quite frankly often the author comes off as either pompous and self-absorbed, or they sound much less eloquent than their book. Both of these things are understandable, and I can’t blame the author either way. If someone cam to interview me right after I found out I was publishing a book I would be very excited to talk about my book and my ideas. And if I was put on the spot I would certainly sound less intelligent than I would in a book that I spent tons of time revising and fixing. Nevertheless, I wish that publishers would stop doing this. If I wanted to read more things from the author I would go to their website, or read other books.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Book Fifteen: Regeneration
Book Fifteen: Regeneration
Pages: 252
Finished: February 18
I suppose you could place this book in a similar category as Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo, for I was certainly reminded of that many times throughout the novel, but only in the consistant antiwar message of the novels, and the medical jargon used.
This novel explores the experiences of antiwar poet Siegfried Sassoon during the time when he was forced into a mental hospital rather than simply being court martialed for writing a declaration that the war "has become a war of aggression and conquest" rather than "a war of defense and liberation." He is declared insane and sent to a hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland, where he becomes a patient of Dr. William Rivers. While a patient there, he meets Wilfred Owen, who obviously worships Sassoon. I did like that the novel is told from several points of view, including Sassoon and Dr. Rivers.
Although well researched and very accurate of the times, I was at many different moments appalled at the techniques and opinions of the day. The idea of masculinity and duty and honor, and the stiff upper lip of Britain, in the face of such torturous experiences as those faced by the men who fought in the trenches made me feel a great deal of pity for these men, and the men who were trained to make them better and send them back to the place that broke them in the first place.
An interesting insight that Dr. Rivers had about the officers who were under his care and their relationships with the men in their command:
I also enjoyed this quote by Ruth Head when Rivers is staying with she and her husband. Rivers is asking her advice about something, as well as the advice of her husband, a fellow psychiatrist,
"Is that what Henry thinks?"
Ruth laughed. "Of course not. You want perception, you go to a novelist, not a psychiatrist" (164).
I agree whole-heartedly that a novelist has greater insight into the human psyche than a psychiatrist, or at least the best novelists are also keenly aware of human interactions and motivations.
Since the book was supposedly about Sassoon, I don't feel that it did enough of a job focusing on his life and experiences; more than half the book was about Rivers, and most of the book was from Rivers' point of view. I also felt that the relationship between Owen and Sassoon was not focused upon hardly at all. I would have liked to see more from Sassoon's point of view about how he was inspired to write his poems, and the influence that he had upon Owen. I also would have liked for Sassoon's sexual proclivities and his relationships with Graves to have been more on the surface of things. Having the relationship so much an undercurrent rather than anything open made Graves' later announcement against it fall very flat. I understand the time didn't think much of homosexuality, and that the British are very reserved about romantic situations, but comparing their relationship to the relationship of one of the other patients at the hospital just makes it seem even more heartless.
I liked the book, but I can't say that I loved them. I'll probably read the other two books in the series: The Eye in the Door and The Ghost Road. My hope is that perhaps the other two books in the series will focus more on the poet and less on the psychology.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 252
Finished: February 18
I suppose you could place this book in a similar category as Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo, for I was certainly reminded of that many times throughout the novel, but only in the consistant antiwar message of the novels, and the medical jargon used.
This novel explores the experiences of antiwar poet Siegfried Sassoon during the time when he was forced into a mental hospital rather than simply being court martialed for writing a declaration that the war "has become a war of aggression and conquest" rather than "a war of defense and liberation." He is declared insane and sent to a hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland, where he becomes a patient of Dr. William Rivers. While a patient there, he meets Wilfred Owen, who obviously worships Sassoon. I did like that the novel is told from several points of view, including Sassoon and Dr. Rivers.
Although well researched and very accurate of the times, I was at many different moments appalled at the techniques and opinions of the day. The idea of masculinity and duty and honor, and the stiff upper lip of Britain, in the face of such torturous experiences as those faced by the men who fought in the trenches made me feel a great deal of pity for these men, and the men who were trained to make them better and send them back to the place that broke them in the first place.
An interesting insight that Dr. Rivers had about the officers who were under his care and their relationships with the men in their command:
Rivers had often been touched by the way in which young men, some of them not yet twenty, spoke about feeling like fathers to their men. THough when you looked at what they did. Worrying about socks, boots, blisters, food, hot drinks. And that perpetually harried expression of theirs. Rivers had only ever seen that look in one other place: on the faces of women who were bringing up large famillies on very low incomes...It was the look of people who are totally responsible for lives they have no power to save.
I also enjoyed this quote by Ruth Head when Rivers is staying with she and her husband. Rivers is asking her advice about something, as well as the advice of her husband, a fellow psychiatrist,
"Is that what Henry thinks?"
Ruth laughed. "Of course not. You want perception, you go to a novelist, not a psychiatrist" (164).
I agree whole-heartedly that a novelist has greater insight into the human psyche than a psychiatrist, or at least the best novelists are also keenly aware of human interactions and motivations.
Since the book was supposedly about Sassoon, I don't feel that it did enough of a job focusing on his life and experiences; more than half the book was about Rivers, and most of the book was from Rivers' point of view. I also felt that the relationship between Owen and Sassoon was not focused upon hardly at all. I would have liked to see more from Sassoon's point of view about how he was inspired to write his poems, and the influence that he had upon Owen. I also would have liked for Sassoon's sexual proclivities and his relationships with Graves to have been more on the surface of things. Having the relationship so much an undercurrent rather than anything open made Graves' later announcement against it fall very flat. I understand the time didn't think much of homosexuality, and that the British are very reserved about romantic situations, but comparing their relationship to the relationship of one of the other patients at the hospital just makes it seem even more heartless.
I liked the book, but I can't say that I loved them. I'll probably read the other two books in the series: The Eye in the Door and The Ghost Road. My hope is that perhaps the other two books in the series will focus more on the poet and less on the psychology.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Book Fourteen: Outlander
Book Fourteen: Outlander
Pages: 627
Finished: February 6
While on a second honeymoon in Scotland following the end of World War II, Claire Beauchamp, an army nurse, takes a walk through the wilderness, finds a standing stone circle (think Stonehenge), and magically travels back in time 200 years. While stuck in the past, she falls in love with a young Highland warrior, and adventure ensues. This is a well written book, if a bit wordier than I would have liked. The historical accuracy is, as far as I can tell, pretty spot on. I did really enjoy the storyline. It was definitely in some ways a very stereotypical romance novel: the hero does have a delightful habit of showing up to save the day at the last possible moment, and without difficulty; the heroine is capable of saving many deathly illnesses without the modern conveniences of medicine or technology; and I can’t imagine that her more modern speech patterns (and Army nurse cursing) would be accepted quite that easily as they seem to be.
Claire’s husband, Frank, is also in Scotland to research his genealogical heritage, rooted in the area, and including a young Army Colonel named Jonathan Randall. Claire’s uncle, who raised her, was an anthropologist, which you think would make her ore interested in her husband’s scholarly work, but Claire instead decides to spend her time wandering over hill and dell looking at plants. In retrospect, when Colonel Randall becomes the main villain of the book, you curse Claire for her inattention to details that might have helped her out. What time she and Frank don’t spend talking about his ancestors, or quaint Scottish tradition, is spent in bed, reacquainting themselves with one another. This portion of the book seemed, when I was reading it, to take up quite a bit of the first section of the book, but upon re-examination, it turns out to only be about 30 pages before she travels back in time.
Claire spends much of the first few months in the past trying to get back to the stone circle that magically transported her, but when she is finally taken there, she suffers a few hours of internal struggle that seemed much less of a struggle than I anticipated (a few hours of soulfully staring at the rocks), and decides to stay in 18th century Scotland with her young Scottish hottie rather than return to her scholarly and loving husband.
I don’t know that I agree with Claire’s choice. Perhaps I have never been in this kind of love. Perhaps I couldn’t truly visualize how attractive and loving Jamie Fraser was. Maybe my imagination ran wild with the lack of proper sanitation and the violent tendencies of the people. Maybe the danger and romance of the situation made it more likely that Claire would choose to stay. I just don’t know that I would make the same choice, and that makes me less likely to appreciate the book as much as I wanted to.
All that aside, it was a well-written book. The description of the locations, characters, and action, as well as the character development was everything a girl could hope for in a time-travel romance novel. I enjoyed it, and might even read the sequel; even though it looks to be just as long, and I’m not really sure I’m ready for that yet.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 627
Finished: February 6
While on a second honeymoon in Scotland following the end of World War II, Claire Beauchamp, an army nurse, takes a walk through the wilderness, finds a standing stone circle (think Stonehenge), and magically travels back in time 200 years. While stuck in the past, she falls in love with a young Highland warrior, and adventure ensues. This is a well written book, if a bit wordier than I would have liked. The historical accuracy is, as far as I can tell, pretty spot on. I did really enjoy the storyline. It was definitely in some ways a very stereotypical romance novel: the hero does have a delightful habit of showing up to save the day at the last possible moment, and without difficulty; the heroine is capable of saving many deathly illnesses without the modern conveniences of medicine or technology; and I can’t imagine that her more modern speech patterns (and Army nurse cursing) would be accepted quite that easily as they seem to be.
Claire’s husband, Frank, is also in Scotland to research his genealogical heritage, rooted in the area, and including a young Army Colonel named Jonathan Randall. Claire’s uncle, who raised her, was an anthropologist, which you think would make her ore interested in her husband’s scholarly work, but Claire instead decides to spend her time wandering over hill and dell looking at plants. In retrospect, when Colonel Randall becomes the main villain of the book, you curse Claire for her inattention to details that might have helped her out. What time she and Frank don’t spend talking about his ancestors, or quaint Scottish tradition, is spent in bed, reacquainting themselves with one another. This portion of the book seemed, when I was reading it, to take up quite a bit of the first section of the book, but upon re-examination, it turns out to only be about 30 pages before she travels back in time.
Claire spends much of the first few months in the past trying to get back to the stone circle that magically transported her, but when she is finally taken there, she suffers a few hours of internal struggle that seemed much less of a struggle than I anticipated (a few hours of soulfully staring at the rocks), and decides to stay in 18th century Scotland with her young Scottish hottie rather than return to her scholarly and loving husband.
I don’t know that I agree with Claire’s choice. Perhaps I have never been in this kind of love. Perhaps I couldn’t truly visualize how attractive and loving Jamie Fraser was. Maybe my imagination ran wild with the lack of proper sanitation and the violent tendencies of the people. Maybe the danger and romance of the situation made it more likely that Claire would choose to stay. I just don’t know that I would make the same choice, and that makes me less likely to appreciate the book as much as I wanted to.
All that aside, it was a well-written book. The description of the locations, characters, and action, as well as the character development was everything a girl could hope for in a time-travel romance novel. I enjoyed it, and might even read the sequel; even though it looks to be just as long, and I’m not really sure I’m ready for that yet.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Book Twelve: Gwenhwyfar
Book Twelve: Gwenhwyfar
Pages: 404
Finished: January 30
Mercedes Lackey’s answer to The Mists of Avalon is an interesting look at the Arthurian legend through the eyes of Gwenhwyfar, a young Celtic warrior. I say interesting because Lackey found some interesting poetry that suggests that King Arthur actually married three different women over the course of his reign who were all named Guinevere. While the Welsh spelling of names drove me a little batty because I do not know how to pronounce them at all, the book itself was quite entertaining.
The premise, that Arthur had many wives with the same name, instead of one woman who did lots of different things, was a good idea. Chock full of facts about weapons, horses, battle strategies, and pagan beliefs, it was obviously well researched. I liked the narrative choice of a girl growing up during Arthur’s reign, and I liked the mystical additions. I don’t really like the Arthurian books that make it historically accurate, removing all vestige of romanticism and magic. I think that Arthurian legend isn’t worth reading unless there is a little magic in it. Even the movie, The Sword in the Stone, has magic in it, and you love Merlin for it.
Some of the characters were quite a bit more different than I was expecting and I didn’t like that. Was it sad to see the Merlin made into a bad guy, or at least a not so perfect wise man? Certainly. I also love this quote from the Afterword by the author “I think every fantasy writer decides at one point or another to tackle ‘the matter of Britain,’ otherwise known as the legend of King Arthur” (402). I think this is often the case, many authors seem to have spent some time with “the matter of Britain” these days.
Although I am partial to The Mists of Avalon myself, I did find this an interesting take on the subject.
Is the book perfect? Certainly not. I found many of the characters to be confusing to compare with the stories that I know, mostly due to the Welsh names, but also since the main character didn’t actually meet Arthur until late in the book, she doesn’t actually see many of the things that I would have recognized. Another problem that I had was the stereotypical characterization of many of the characters; evil characters are all evil; the heroine knows the bad guy from an early age; the good characters are wise and make astonishing, world-altering decisions.
Overall, I found the book an enjoyable romp through medieval Britain. A new idea, and a new way of looking at Arthur. I’d probably only recommend it to people who liked The Mists of Avalon and other books of it’s ilk, but I would recommend it, which is saying something.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 404
Finished: January 30
Mercedes Lackey’s answer to The Mists of Avalon is an interesting look at the Arthurian legend through the eyes of Gwenhwyfar, a young Celtic warrior. I say interesting because Lackey found some interesting poetry that suggests that King Arthur actually married three different women over the course of his reign who were all named Guinevere. While the Welsh spelling of names drove me a little batty because I do not know how to pronounce them at all, the book itself was quite entertaining.
The premise, that Arthur had many wives with the same name, instead of one woman who did lots of different things, was a good idea. Chock full of facts about weapons, horses, battle strategies, and pagan beliefs, it was obviously well researched. I liked the narrative choice of a girl growing up during Arthur’s reign, and I liked the mystical additions. I don’t really like the Arthurian books that make it historically accurate, removing all vestige of romanticism and magic. I think that Arthurian legend isn’t worth reading unless there is a little magic in it. Even the movie, The Sword in the Stone, has magic in it, and you love Merlin for it.
Some of the characters were quite a bit more different than I was expecting and I didn’t like that. Was it sad to see the Merlin made into a bad guy, or at least a not so perfect wise man? Certainly. I also love this quote from the Afterword by the author “I think every fantasy writer decides at one point or another to tackle ‘the matter of Britain,’ otherwise known as the legend of King Arthur” (402). I think this is often the case, many authors seem to have spent some time with “the matter of Britain” these days.
Although I am partial to The Mists of Avalon myself, I did find this an interesting take on the subject.
Is the book perfect? Certainly not. I found many of the characters to be confusing to compare with the stories that I know, mostly due to the Welsh names, but also since the main character didn’t actually meet Arthur until late in the book, she doesn’t actually see many of the things that I would have recognized. Another problem that I had was the stereotypical characterization of many of the characters; evil characters are all evil; the heroine knows the bad guy from an early age; the good characters are wise and make astonishing, world-altering decisions.
Overall, I found the book an enjoyable romp through medieval Britain. A new idea, and a new way of looking at Arthur. I’d probably only recommend it to people who liked The Mists of Avalon and other books of it’s ilk, but I would recommend it, which is saying something.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
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