Marmee Time

I decided to use all of this free time to read the Harry Potter series. Racing through the first four fairly quickly, I stalled at HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. I don't know why; it's really good. But for some reason, I felt like I needed a break from Harry and the gang, so I went out and bought a copy of LITTLE WOMEN.

It's really strange, but I feel as if that was my very first time to read the book. I've read abridged versions before, and in tackling the unabridged versions, I confess that I've skimmed pages and skipped over chapters. This time, I read the whole thing, and it was most pleasurable. It was Reading Coma reading, and, as everyone knows, it doesn't get much better than that.

I was in the mood for some 19th century literature. One of my New Year's Resolutions (#7) is to be more restrained, and if I was remembering correctly, the March family was a fine model of restraint. There are several homilies, delivered by Marmee, about keeping one's temper and tongue under strict control. She practices what she preaches though: in several scenes, she's "folding her lips together," as Jo/Louisa May Alcott puts it.

I can really feel that I'm getting older, because this time, when I read the book, I really got into the character of Marmee. I paid attention to her dynamic within the family and to the interaction between her and her children as well as her and her husband. This seems like a really big change from when I read it several years ago. If I read it again in several more years, I wonder if it'll change as drastically for me.

Another element that really stuck out for me this time is the element of thrift. As anyone knows that even has a nodding acquaintance with LITTLE WOMEN, the March family is poor. Even though Meg and Amy complain some about not being able to afford fine frocks, the tone seems to be presenting the poverty as voluntary and desirable, and the thrift somewhat competitive. For all their restraint, the Marches seem to be taking their poverty and gleefully exhulting, "Yeah, we're poorer than YOU! In yo' face! In yo' face!"

Although the Modern Library edition that I read has several avoidable typos, it's also got a splendid wealth of notes to explain now-obscure 19th century references, a nifty little introduction by Susan Cheever, and critical essays written at the turn of the century, in 1920, and in 1949. I thought the first one, the G.K. Chesterson essay, was the best one. Although he can't restrain himself comparing Alcott to Austen (with Austen coming out better, of course) he warmly praises the "Under The Umbrella" chapter with all its strange clumsiness because it seems so real-life.

The 1920s essay was by a woman whose name I didn't recognize (or subsequently remember) and I found her criticisms silly and unfounded. I can't imagine why her frothy little article was resurrected for this volume. The third essay was by her most respected biographer, Madeleine Stern, and while it was a favorable essay, I can't remember the exact gist of it. The book also contains a list of questions for a reading group, which is one of my pet peeves, but they are mercifully brief.

Would it be too shallow to mention how much I love the copper-colored spines on the Modern Library books? Seeing them all lined up at the bookstore makes me a little funny in the head.

By abebooks.com, I Sat Down And Wept...

Oh hell, I'm all over the place when it comes to my reading life right now: What I'm reading, what I'm sort of dipping into, and what I'm jonesing for.

WHAT I'M READING:
All 5 Harry Potter books. Not at once. I just finished HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE last night. Now I'm reading HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS.

I got interested in Harry Potter when Shanghai and I took the ferry to Japan & back & they showed THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS. Both ways, so although I dozed through both showings, if you put it all together, I did see the whole movie.

A day or so later, bookcrossing.com mentioned that J.K. Rowling had just delivered the newest manuscript to the publisher, so my interest leaked out verbally to Shanghai, who just happens to have all 5 of the published books on her shelf!

A few years ago, when the Harry Potter craze was starting to really go full-tilt, I started to read HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE. In those first pages, in which Harry's horrible relatives, the Dursleys, are described, I became really annoyed because it seemed so much like Rowling was ripping off Roald Dahl. I'm usually pleased when I detect an influence (Don Robertson/Stephen King), but this time I was just annoyed, so I put the book down.

Meanwhile, Manfred, Sr., who usually votes in the Hugo (best science fiction novel) selection, was also reading a Harry Potter book because it was on the ballot. I have a vague memory of him acting as if it were time wasted.

Thinking of Manfred, Sr. of course leads to thoughts of Manfred, Jr.: I don't know if he's read all five books or not, but I do know he's read at least two or three. (I miss knowing Manfred, Jr.'s reading habits intimately. All the way from babyhood up to sixth grade, we read almost everything together in the evenings.)

Anyway, I'm on the second book now, and I'm not so annoyed by the obvious Dahl influence anymore.

WHAT I'M SORT OF DIPPING INTO:
HERE ON EARTH by Alice Hoffman. This is also from Shanghai's bookshelf. It's true that I still have stuff of my own that I brought that I could be reading (AMISH SOCIETY, FIGHT CLUB) but since the nearest bookstore with English-language books is more than a frickin' half-hour away by train, it's emotionally therapeutic and soothing to browse Shanghai's shelves without even having to get dressed. Besides, I won't be staying with her forever, and when I come to visit, wouldn't it be rude to ignore her and focus monomaniacally on the contents of her shelves?

But back to the Hoffman book. I'm annoyed that the main character has a funny first name (March), but the writing is very nice, not too much description, nicely broken up with chunks of dialogue. We'll see how it goes. I started a Hoffman novel a few years ago called TURTLE MOON and got sidetracked by another book. Since it was a library copy, I had to take it back after the second or third threatening note OR when the librarian denied me access to other books; I can't remember which.

WHAT I'M JONESING FOR:
By GRAND CENTRAL STATION, I SAT DOWN AND WEPT. A novel by Elizabeth Smart, Canadian author, (1913-1986), not to be confused with the young kidnap victim from Utah, who was born in 1987.

BY HEART: A LIFE OF ELIZABETH SMART. A biography of the author by Rosemary Sullivan. I think it was published in 1991 or 1992.

ON THE SIDE OF ANGELS. A documentary about Elizabeth Smart. Directed by Maya Gallus. Also came out in 1991.

God, I was so hoping that this longing, this jonesing wouldn't happen to me in a foreign country, where getting books feels so difficult. It's bad enough when I'm in the US with many well-stocked bookstores, both new and used in comfortable driving distance. Not to mention reasonable mailing rates/receiving times. And I'm trying not to think about the library and interlibrary loan.

Oh well...if you're gonna jones for a book, why not make it two? Why not throw in an already hard-to-find documentary, just for interest? I can make myself so miserable in a literary way, but in a perverse way, it feels natural, normal, and yes, even nice.

Thanks, Teeter!

I went back to the bookstore last Wednesday night and pounced on their only copy of A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN. I finally finished it last night. I would've finished it sooner, but I went to Japan with Shanghai and left the book behind because I didn't have enough room for it in my backpack. It was like an amputation. I took NEVERWHERE by Neil Gaiman as a substitute, but it was no TREE. I ended up not reading at all, and I did have some down time.

Anyway, as I wrote, I finished TREE last night. I haven't been able to start another book today because I feel like nothing will be as good as it was. Being in this sort of mood about books isn't good.

One of the greatest things about A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN is that Betty Smith created in painstaking detail what it was like to live in a tenament in turn-of-the-century Brooklyn. It's like Steinbeck and his books with that anthropological detail. Another great thing is the characterization. I think this stems from Smith's many years of being a playwright. The dialogue she writes makes the characters realize and define themselves. Their thoughts are also written as dialogue, except interior dialogue.

I haven't seen the movie (but now I really want to!) but I have read that it's a well-done effort by Elia Kazan, and also his first picture. Contributing to its success no doubt was the episodic way the novel was written. Although it's a novel, it has the strong feel of a play without feeling stagey. It's really the perfect combination of a novel and a play. All of this surely lent itself well to cinematic adaptation.

I hardly know how to praise the book. It's like being in love; you want to go on and on, but it starts to sound like romantic burbling. Was Teeter right or what? I should let her pick out all my books for me!