April, 2023 Reading

April feels as if it vanished in a flash. Great month -- vacation to San Antonio, Texas where I saw my wonderful friends Teresa and Cindy for the first time in...what? 24 years? (Before I forget, Teresa is an audiobook fan. I'm hoping she'll give me ideas for books to listen to.) Visited The Alamo, which has given me ideas for May reading. Ate an embarrassingly huge amount of delicious Tex-Mex, except that I don't feel embarrassed at all. Did I mention San Antonio's Riverwalk? I dream of a small, book-filled apartment right there, overlooking the river. Another fun excursion was to Ripley's Odditorium. Fun and overwhelming. Plus, Fiesta de Los Reyes was going on, so the city seemed especially lit up, in all senses of the phrase.

My two bookstore visits in San Antonio were to: Pandora's Bookstore, which is tiny and charming with a small stock that seems thoughtfully selected. My favorite of the two was The Twig Book Shop, a larger space with more variety. The area The Twig is in used to be a brewery, and the whole area feels fresh and idyllic. Anyway, back to The Twig: Hooray for Indie bookstores! I found several Annie Ernaux books, which I've been looking for. I bought Happening, a memoir. I also bought The Last Confessions of Sylvia P. by Lee Kravetz, which I'd sort of been dancing around for a few months. I also bought some book earrings to wear to book group. What I regret not buying was a little Dorothy Parker doll which was nestled in with other literary figures in doll form. Mark Twain was cute, but Dot caught my fancy. When I finally checked out and left, I really really really did not want to go. Is there a word for the pain of parting from a bookstore?

But wait! During a looooooooong layover at Dallas Love Field, I stumbled onto a gem of an airport bookstore called Ink. Quirky inventory Entertaining browsing. I had to restrain myself. Finally, I saw The Last Detail by Darryl Ponicsan. It was 50% off. I HAD to take it home. I'll happily do another layover at Love Field. 

And at last, here's what I read in April:

1. The Rainbow Comes and Goes - Gloria Vanderbilt and Anderson Cooper. Memoir. Audiobook. Now I feel like bingeing and reading all about the Vanderbilts. Enjoyed hearing the authors read their book. Gloria's Mid-Atlantic accent -- does anyone talk like that anymore?

2. Daughter of a Daughter of a Queen - Sarah Bird. Novel. Historical fiction about Cathy Williams, who successfully posed as a male soldier named William Cathay right after the American Civil War. I discovered that for me, historical fiction has got to be feisty and fearless. Sarah Bird was firmly anchored in history, and once she did that, she really leaned into the fiction part. And that's how it needs to be. The novels that stick too close to the history feel stuffy and airless. Practically the very moment I finished Daughter of a Daughter of a Queen, I found the audiobook version at another library. Oof. Read by Bahni Turner, one of my favorite audiobook narrators. Double oof. This book is definitely worth a reread, so I'll go that route next time.

3. Who Is LeBron James? - Crystal Hubbard. Biography. It may seem odd, but I knew almost nothing about LeBron James, except that he was a pro basketball player who had played for Cleveland. I enjoyed this biography.

4. What Is the Story of Nancy Drew? - Dana M. Rau. Literary History? Although I only read two or three Nancy Drew mysteries, I was still a great admirer of the greatest girl detective. Glad to read her origin story. It was interesting to see how she's changed and evolved over the years. Bonus points to this book for talking about my favorite Nancy Drew book The Hidden Staircase.

5. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen. Novel. Bolstered by the annotated edition and the audiobook version in tandem, I finally finished this novel. Does Austen get the credit she deserves for her truly memorable supporting characters, some vile, some hilarious?

6. At the Edge of the Orchard - Tracy Chevalier. Historical Fiction. Audiobook. In the early 1800s, the Goodenough family settles in the swamps in Ohio, because their wagon gets stuck there. The patriarch, James, is mad about apples, so he sets about creating an orchard by buying seeds and saplings from Johnny Appleseed, and by grafting. His wife, Sadie, has no patience for orchards and prefers the apples to be used for applejack, which is her way of escaping the difficulties of pioneer life. In what I consider a good reading month, this was my favorite book. Highly recommended.

7. The Last Confessions of Sylvia P. - Lee Kravetz. Historical Fiction. I gobbled this down immediately. Sylvia Plath doesn't really speak or confess in this story. Instead, her life and legend is examined from three varying points of view: First, Esmee, a master curator at an auction house, is brought three spiral notebooks which seem to contain a handwritten draft of The Bell Jar. Secondly, the reader is sent back in time to the late 1950s where we meet Boston Rhodes -- she's a blast, what you'd call the breakout character on TV -- a poet who was part of Robert Lowell's poetry seminar that Plath attended. Boston Rhodes, who seems based largely on Anne Sexton, perceives herself as Plath's rival.  Finally, we go back again in time to 1953 and Dr. Ruth Barnhouse, who treated Plath during her first breakdown. For devotees of Sylvia Plath, this novel is a little irritating, but also vastly amusing -- so many Easter eggs to be found! Kravetz did his research, and did it well. In addition to being historical fiction, it's also a mystery, and I'm not a mystery fan, but I liked this very much. I'm thinking: Reread.

For some reason, I have recently developed a longing to get a book tattoo. Don't know what to make of this, and it has extended to looking at potential designs.

I hope to do a post in a few days to share what I'm currently reading -- it's a fascinating stack.

Welcome To My Reading Week: Aug 1-8, 2021

 What I read:

None But The Lonely Heart - Richard Llewellyn. Novel. Published in 1943, this was Richard Llewellyn's follow up to his smash bestseller How Green was My Valley, one of my all-time favorites. None But The Lonely Heart was just...ok. Set in London and written in stream-of-consciousness except for conversations and making excellent use of Cockney English, the novel follows Ernie Mott who is "nineteen, nigh on twenty" and not sure about what he wants to do with his life. Then there's Ernie's Ma, who runs a furniture shop/pawnbroker business with shady dealings on the side, but she wants Ernie to be a solicitor or something respectable. She even buys him three new suits to better help him fake it till he makes it. Sadly, Ernie is not interested in anything that takes hard work. I liked Ernie and Ernie's Ma, but then Llewellyn dropped a staggering amount of Dickensian characters into the book, and I became lost and confused and finally bored. I could scarcely keep my mince pies (rhyming slang!) open. But I persisted and was satisfied with the end of the novel, because it was back to Ernie and Ma, then finally, Ernie. In spite of input from every possible quarter, he doesn't really learn or grow, but that's just how it is sometimes. I don't need my characters to Grow and Change in order for me to love them.

The Personal Librarian - Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray. Novel. Audiobook. It's a hard-driving history lesson! It's a soap opera! I like to learn and I like my soaps, so it's all good, but what really drew me into The Personal Librarian was Belle daCosta Greene's big secret. The historical sections seemed really heavy on exposition, but perhaps that's an ongoing challenge with historical fiction. The writer(s) have to get that in somehow, but it seems so artificial to do it in conversation. If only there were some device with which you could get a perfect blend of historical and fiction without the abrupt shifts in tone. Even though I chafe a bit at this genre, I could not stop listening to The Personal Librarian. Robin Miles is an excellent narrator, and I enjoyed listening to both authors' insights in the afterword. I did like the novel, I'm glad to have experienced it, and I do recommend it to historical fiction fans, lovers of Gilded Age history, readers who are drawn to strong female characters as well as characters with secret lives.

What I'm reading now:

The Andy Warhol Diaries - Pat Hackett, editor. Over a period of eleven years (1976-1987), Andy Warhol kept a diary in a rather unconventional way. Every day or so, usually in the mornings, he would place a phone call to his secretary, Pat Hackett, and dictate the entry over the phone. Hackett would tape and transcribe the calls. She had to edit the entries down when she put a volume together in the interest of having a manageable tome. So far, the entries seem routine -- Where Warhol went (usually to a party) who he saw (a dazzling yet exhausting list of major and minor celebrities from all fields of endeavor) and how much he paid for cab fare or visits to a newsstand. Sometimes he goes to the doctor. Occasionally, he muses about a book he's read (usually a celebrity's tell-all). I'm dipping into the book a few entries at a time. 

What I want to read:

Paths of Glory - Humphrey Cobb. This 1935 novel is based on the 1957 Stanley Kubrick movie of the same name. I saw the movie about 30 years ago while I was in the hospital after a surgery. I remember seeing the movie and having the impression that it was great, but couldn't remember anything but one scene towards the end. I watched it again last week (awake, unmedicated) and yeah, I was right. It's a masterpiece. When I found out it was based on a novel, I set my intrepid library scout, The Spawn to finding it for me. So far, no luck. I'm even more drawn to the book since I recently discovered that when it came out, William Faulkner slammed it. If Faulkner didn't like it,  this is certainly the book for me. Plus, it was written and published in the 1930s, my very favorite time in American literature.

Finally, now that I'm finished with The Personal Librarian, I need a new audiobook for my commute to work. Tomorrow, during my day off, I'm going to wander over to the public library in Warrensburg where they have a tasty array of titles, both fiction and nonfiction. I'll keep you posted.

April, 2020. Fourth Month, Four Books

O, my fellow bookworms. I am compelled to tell you about my dreams. For a couple of nights, people were working on books in my R.E.M. state. In the first dream, the pandemic was finished, and Mario and Chris Cuomo decided to co-author a book. For some reason, they were still in Chris Cuomo's basement.

The next night, I dreamed that Alex Trebek and his wife, Jean, had moved to a seaside village in South Korea, and Alex was working on a book. What makes the second dream feel very Squeeeee! and Wow...am I clairvoyant? is that a couple of days after my dream, Alex Trebek announced that he'd written a book which will be published in July of this year.

Since then, I've been trying to think before bed who I'd really like to write a book, but nothing has come of it in spite of my dogged planning. Isn't that the way it always goes?

During my waking hours, these are the four books I finished in April:

1. The Mirror & The Light - Hilary Mantel. The 16th century is so far back in time, but Mantel makes it feel so current, maybe even more than she intended. Real life seemed to explode on the page: Henry VIII reminded me of a prominent political figure. The plague was a constant threat. Someone sent Thomas Cromwell a leopard. As in the first two books, Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, I admire how Mantel seems to get completely into Cromwell's brain. It's not just what he thinks in response to others (although these internal musings are often funny) but also the elaborate machinations. Keeping all those balls in the air at the same time took so much concentration that he underestimated his enemies. Cromwell's sudden downfall and last days are difficult reading. Mantel's trilogy ranks up there with my favorite historical fiction.

2. Who Was Nikola Tesla? - Jim Gigliotti. Much to my surprise, this turned out to be my favorite in the Who was...? series so far. So well-written. A terrific balance of the inventor's accomplishments and eccentricities.

3. Alice Adams: Portrait of a Writer - Carol Sklenicka. The author of this biography also wrote the Raymond Carver one, which was published back in 2009. Both are first-rate. I had a wrong idea about Alice Adams as a writer. I thought she was frothy and shallow and snooty, and avoided reading her work. I feel terrible about that now. She was none of those things, and passionately dedicated to her craft. I put all of her novels on my wishlist. Thanks so much to Carol Sklenicka for a beautiful and perceptive portrait.

4. Janis: Her Life and Music - Holly George-Warren. This biography of Janis Joplin was so enjoyable, so readable! Yes, Joplin was a hellraiser and took a lot of drugs and drank a lot of Southern Comfort, but George-Warren also documents how Joplin was ambitious about her music career. She emerges as having been ahead of her time. All biographers have themes. Sometimes they work and sometimes they choke the narrative, but Holly George-Warren chose hers with an expert eye. I recommend this biography wholeheartedly.

Speaking of biographies, did you see that Benjamin Moser's biography of Susan Sontag won the Pulitzer Prize in that category? I squealed like a fangirl.

All About August Reading

I finished seven books in August! Clearly, the heat and humidity didn't slow me down at all.

As you can see, my Hamilton obsession hasn't abated one iota.

Here's how the deal went down:

1. Kick: The True Story of JFK's Sister and the Heir to Chatsworth - Paula Byrne. (biography) With every book I read about the Kennedy siblings, I despise Joe and Rose Kennedy even more. Where they were utter monsters in the case of Rosemary, in Kick's (Kathleen's) case, they were simply overbearing, expecting their adult children to toe their line, especially where religion was concerned. Paula Byrne provides a sympathetic look at a vital, independent young woman who lost her life in a plane crash at 28 amidst scandal. Sometimes the book is a little fangirlish and gossipy and repeated phrases or ideas following a similar theme can be grating, but these are nitpicks. For those who are fascinated by the Kennedy mystique, this lacks the pathos and drama of Rosemary: The Hidden Kennedy Daughter, but it's worth a look at a life lived with blazing intensity.

2. A Family Matter - Will Eisner. (graphic novel) Written and illustrated by the man who coined the term "graphic novel", this is the uncomfortable tale of an elderly patriarch who is dying, and his children who are greedy, angry and damaged in varying degrees. Their complicated lives are sketched minimally but effectively as they gather to make decisions about the old man.

3. Dead Presidents - Brady Carlson. (nonfiction) A fun, informative and educational look at the afterlife of United States presidents. Carlson covers such topics as memorials that are both large and small; how presidents' reputations change over time (Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson and Richard Nixon are prime examples); and all sort s of delectable trivia tidbits about each president. Weirdest thing: the LBJ robot! Something interesting: Eisenhower was the last president to have his body taken back to his home by train. Since he was the president who championed and funded the interstate highway system, it would have been much more fitting if he had gone to his final resting place in that manner, but perhaps that is impractical. Carlson's quirky writing and enthusiastic research made for a quick, entertaining read. Fans of A.J. Jacobs and Bill Bryson will enjoy Dead Presidents.

4. Idiot Brain - Dean Burnett. (nonfiction) Welsh neuroscientist Burnett explores what makes our brains tick. Why do our brains understand the right and proper ways to behave and then we turn around and undermine our own efforts? Short answer: the right/proper section of our brain is fairly new and the older part, "idiot brain" "reptile brain" is going with what has worked for survival for thousands of years, thank you very much. Some of the book seems dense with information, but Burnett keeps it light with jokes and humorous examples. Although I enjoyed Idiot Brain, a book I read late last year, Focus, by Daniel Goleman, covers a lot of the same ground, and is my preferred read on the subject. I don't know if that's the newer or older part of my brain popping off. Sorry!

5. The Emigrants - Johan Bojer. (novel) This 1920s Norwegian novel follows the fortunes of a small group of people from a small village in Norway who are down on their luck and decide in the early 1880s to follow a friend who emigrated several years before, to America. The strongest, starkest part of the novel is their arrival and first years on the bleak Dakota prairie, homesteading in sod houses and pitting themselves against nature and isolation. Also effective is Bojer's depiction of feeling caught between two worlds. I really liked this book and wish that I could read a more modern translation. The copy I read was translated in 1925 by someone who was obviously English and hung out with the likes of Bertie Wooster.

6. Burr - Gore Vidal. (novel) I read Burr back in 2012 when my long-lost, lamented book group, Cracked Spinez, decided one month to feature works by Gore Vidal. As I suspected, I enjoyed Burr even more this time, since I am all a-wash in Hamiltonia.  Burr catches up with its title character in old age, an old scoundrel who has just gone fortune-hunting and married a wealthy widow. Although nearing 80, he still has dreams of his own empire, possibly in Texas. Meanwhile, he dictates his memoirs to a young law student/reporter, Charlie Schuyler, who is intent on digging up dirt about Burr's possible relation to presidential hopeful Martin Van Buren. With mordant wit, Burr seems to reveal all, but remains a charming, maddening enigma. I really love this book, and I miss the hell out of Gore Vidal.

7. My Theodosia - Anya Seton. (novel) More evidence of my Hamilton mania. Blame this one on Goodreads. They saw that I was reading Burr and so kindly and considerately recommended My Theodosia to me. Thanks, guys. Theodosia was the only child of Aaron Burr and Seton's 1941 novel details their devoted and intense relationship.  An excellent blend of "historical" (wonderful, thorough research!) and "novel" (a teenaged flirtation with Washington Irving? A passionate affair of the heart with Merriweather Lewis? Eliza Hamilton referring to Alexander as "Sandy"? Hmm.). There are a couple of Easter eggs in My Theodosia: Hamilton has a thought that could possibly be a clue about what led to their fateful meeting in New Jersey; and Seton makes a glancing reference to the woman Burr would end up marrying late in life for her fortune.  Good stuff; I ate this book up like potato chips. Now the bad: My Theodosia was Seton's first novel, and she had some rookie problems with pacing, characterization and other pesky novel-writing things. At one point, she had a POV switch that nearly gave me whiplash. (No, that's not so bad, yes you're right.) Here's what's really bad: Even though I enjoyed this book, I really can't recommend it because there are some severe problems with racism. Political incorrectness doesn't even begin to cover it. Although I argued to myself that the racist passages in question could be an accurate depiction of how Theodosia, Aaron and other characters talked and thought in the late 18th and early 19th century, Seton went way over the top and there was a lot of gratuitous nastiness that was permissible in the publishing world in 1941. If I could unread some of those passages, I would. Not enough Visine in the world. I ended up not rating the book on Goodreads because of this issue. I lovehate and hatelove My Theodosia, and hesitate to read any of Anya Seton's other work. 

Green Dolphin Street

The first book I finished in 2016 was Green Dolphin Street by Elizabeth Goudge, a 1944 novel set in the Channel Islands, New Zealand and France. I had been looking for this book for years, even before I went to Korea, but I didn't cross paths with it until I discovered that it had been published in e-book form about six months ago. Why was I so attracted to this book? I don't even remember.

Although this book was originally published more than 70 years ago, in some ways it seems much older, a 19th century novel perhaps. I wish it were a 19th century novel, because some of the elements present would be much more forgivable if it were an older book...but I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll explain more below.

In summary, Green Dolphin Street is about two sisters, Marianne and Marguerite, who love the same man: their childhood friend, William Ozanne. After William and his father (who once loved Sophie, the girls' mother) move to the Channel Islands, the three grow up together. William (who is strong and handsome, but not the sharpest tool in the shed) loves Marguerite, who is tall and blonde and tranquil, but he enjoys discussions and adventures with Marianne, who is somewhat plain but ferociously intelligent and ambitious. William begins a promising career as an officer in the Royal Navy, but after a misadventure in China, he flees to New Zealand. After ten years, he writes to the girls' father and asks for Marianne's hand in marriage. After a lengthy voyage, when Marianne gets off the boat (The Green Dolphin) at Wellington, William has a "D'Oh!" moment worthy of Homer Simpson. He had been drinking whisky while composing the letter and the liquor, coupled with his well-established faulty memory for names caused him to write for the wrong sister. He wanted Marguerite, who bravely sewed Marianne's trousseau, then went off brokenhearted to be a contemplative nun. Instead of admitting his mistake, he spends the next 40 years still in love with Marguerite but determined to make a go of it with Marianne.

I liked the old-fashioned quality of Green Dolphin Street, and even though I really don't care for pages and pages of description, Goudge did it so beautifully. I was also amused at the novel's hook; Goudge admits in her preface that getting the sisters' names wrong but going ahead and putting a good face on it seems highly improbable, but she insists that it actually happened. There's also more than a trace of mysticism in the novel (I suspected; the introductory quote is from Evelyn Underhill) and some interesting religious discussions among characters that are attractive in their complexity.

Now the awful part: As mentioned above, a good deal of the novel takes place in New Zealand in the 1860s-70s, and this part of the book shows the worst of colonialism and the depiction of the Maoris is offensive. To make matters worse, Goudge admitted in the 1944 preface that she had never even been to New Zealand. The way the Maoris are portrayed is so insulting and inflammatory, that the publishers of the 2015 e-book considered editing out passages. In the end, they kept the novel intact with an apologetic explanation: Goudge was shining the truth on the ugliness of this period of English history and also Green Dolphin Street casts a reflection on how insensitive 1944 readers, writers and publishers could be. It's like they were trying to have it both ways. But the insensitive part is true: there is not one bit of saving irony or anything that would let the reader know that the writer has any special discernment when it comes to the Maoris or the foreigners' attitudes towards them.

Although I was holding my nose while reading the despicable Maori part of the book, I have to confess that it was the best-written chapter. The main characters are offstage, and a fine bromance springs up between Samuel Kelly, a clergyman and Tai Haruru AKA Timothy Halsam, an older Englishman who left his native country and noble upbringing and gained acceptance with the Maoris. Tai Haruru's paternalistic attitude made me cringe. He finally leaves the Maoris, but at that point he exits the novel. What a waste, because in spite of everything, he was an attractive character.

This was the first novel I have read by Elizabeth Goudge, who had a long and prolific career, and I think it will probably be my last. I was amused and entertained and disgusted and dismayed, sometimes all at once. It's been a long time since I've encountered such a mixed bag of a book.