In Tropic of Chaos, American investigative journalist Christian Parenti looks into the “catastrophic convergence of poverty, violence and climate change” (p.5), studying the near history of regions between the Tropic of Capricorn and the Tropic of Cancer, “a belt of economically and politically battered post-colonial states girding the planet’s mid-latitudes. In this band, around the tropics, climate change is beginning to hit hard. The Societies in this belt are also heavily dependent on agriculture and fishing, thus very vulnerable to shifts in weather patterns. This region was also on the front lines of the Cold War and of neoliberal economic restructuring. As a result, in this belt we find clustered most of the failed and semifailed sates of the developing world.” [p.9] Parenti is connecting the dots to show not only how climate change is affecting these areas but also to predict what is coming, and how the Global North will most likely react, and what it could be doing instead.
Narrowing the focus onto several specific countries or areas – notably East Africa, Afghanistan, India, Pakistan, Kyrgyzstan, Brazil, Mexico and the United States -Parenti shows how climate change is affecting water, food production and the human populations, clearly delineating the link between environment and violence. But it’s not just about climate change and people struggling to survive: it’s also about the West’s – or Global North’s – reaction to violence and climate change (the two, in this book, are inextricably linked) which in turn is linked to our history of neo-liberal economic policy, the Cold War, and the new methods of counter-insurgency (COIN).
Sometimes these forces have worked together simultaneously; at other times they have been quite distinct. For example, Somalia was destroyed by Cold War military interventions interventions. It became a classic proxy battleground. Though it underwent some limited economic liberalization, its use as a pawn on the chessboard of global political struggle caused its collapse. The same holds true for Afghanistan, which was, and still is, a failed state. It never underwent structural adjustment but was a proxy battleground. On the other hand, Mexico, the north of which is now experiencing a profound violent crisis, was not a frontline state during the Cold War, but it was subject to radical economic liberalization.
Climate change now joins these crises, acting as an accelerant. The Pentagon calls it a “threat multiplier.” All across the planet, extreme weather and water scarcity now inflame and escalate existing social conflicts. [pp.8-9]
He begins with the question: Who killed Ekaru Loruman? Loruman was cattle herder of the Turkana, a tribe who inhabit the plains area of what we call northern Kenya. A rival tribe who live in the arid hills routinely ride down with guns and steal cattle, the Turkana’s livelihood, and Loruman was killed during one such raid. The question of who killed him isn’t, of course, about pointing the finger at the man who shot him, but the much bigger issue of why this is happening at all. From there, Parenti explores the region in more detail, tying it to U.S. politics and history – a similar pattern is used to delve into other countries in the “Tropic of Chaos”.
This is by its very nature a hard book to summarise and an even harder one to review. All I can really do is give you my thoughts so you can consider whether this would be a good book for you to read, as well. By that I simply mean, how well written it is. I found that the level of Parenti’s writing depends quite a bit on prior knowledge, and I didn’t always have enough, thus it was at times a difficult read that moved a bit too fast for me. If I hadn’t read books like Maude Barlow’s Blue Covenant, about the global water crisis, and Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine, which is a phenomenal book about neo-liberal economics (“Chicago School” economics) and shock tactics implemented in developing countries, I would have really struggled here. His writing presumes upon a reader with a very sound understanding of history, economic policy and remote regions of the world. There are a few things I would have liked to help me get the most out of this book; I wouldn’t have minded if it had been an extra 50 pages long to add more flesh to the areas, to explain the economics a bit more, and to have included more detailed maps than the ones used – maps are only of countries in an area, but the chapter discusses regions, valleys, border zones etc. and I had no real idea of where these were placed in relation to each other and other countries, and I’m the kind of person who likes to study a map so I can better visualise an area. It would have been particularly helpful in discussing Kashmir and Brazil.
But I did learn a lot from this book, as well. It certainly built upon prior knowledge and understanding, and I appreciated the simple breakdown of what the science of climate change really is: our fossil fuels have
boosted atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide (CO2) from around 280 parts per million (ppm) before the Industrial Revolution to 390 ppm today. Analyses of ancient ice cores show 390 ppm to be the highest atmospheric concentration of CO2 during the last 10,000 years.
Atmospheric CO2 functions like the glass in a greenhouse, allowing the sun’s heat in but preventing much of it from radiating back out to space. We need atmospheric CO2 – without it, Earth would be an ice-cold, lifeless rock. However, over the last 150 years we have been loading the sky with far too much CO2, and the planet is heating up. [p.5]
We’ve all heard about the 2°C rise in temperatures spelling catastrophe, but it’s hard to take a mere 2 degrees seriously when day by day, our temperatures rise and fall and vary dramatically. To put it into perspective, if the world cooled by 2 degrees centigrade, Earth would be in another ice age. So 2 degrees is actually very extreme for the planet. That comparison really helped me get a grasp of how important two seemingly small degrees are, though I still don’t really understand – and it wasn’t covered here – how we’ll know when that happens. I mean, will it be drastic melting of all our glaciers and ice sheets, or will meteorologists and climate change scientists be able to say, “We’ve now reached the point where the Earth’s temperature is hotter by 2 degrees.” How do they measure the Earth’s temperature? These are questions for a different book, I know, but no one ever mentions it so it bugs me.
The chapters on Afghanistan and the relationship between Pakistan and India were illuminating, and explains much of why the region is so unstable – and who gains from it and why. The chapter about India’s drought, neo-liberal economic policies, and the cotton trade really jumped out at me, because it just seems so … indicative.
Starting in 1991 the Indian government began a process of economic liberalization. Efficiency became the watchword; the state cut power subsidies to farmers. With that, running pumps for wells and irrigation became more expensive. To cope, farmers started taking loans from local banks or usurious moneylenders. The neoliberal withdrawal of developmentalist policies meant that local irrigation systems fell into dilapidation. [...] By the late 1990s, many farmers had run out of options – they were too far in arrears to borrow more, too broke to produce crops. For thousands, the only escape from this debt trap came in the form of suicide – often by swallowing pesticides. [p.143]
Another cause of debt is seed purchase. The zenith of this trap is Monsanto’s genetically modified Bt cotton. [...] A government-owned company [...] provided financing and guidance, and yields did increase, essentially during the 1960s. These yields, however, were a function of greater capital investment. Farmers required more capital to buy fertilizer, pesticides, irrigation piping, and machinery. Thus, debts rose along with output.
Soon cotton became one of the main crops. Now the issue was no longer food scarcity but instead victory and profit on the international commodity markets. Very problematically, cotton also needs large amounts of water. Within a decade yields began to drop as the soil was stripped of its nutrients and poisoned by pesticides. The only solution for many farmers was to double down: borrow more and invest more, use more technology, take on more debt.
[...] With the rise of capital-intensive cotton farming in Telangana over the last thirty years, two strange contradictions have arisen. First, the primary cash crop, cotton, continues to decline in value; yet, farmers continue to plant more of it. Why do the farmers not shift to other crops? Second, while the region’s overall growth in agricultural output has been robust … the incomes and consumption of most farmers have declined precipitously, and this manifests as farmers’ suicides and support for the Naxals [rebel group fighting the gov't]. The question now becomes: Why do farmers go into debt so as to plant a crop (cotton) for which the price is falling? [pp.142-6]
The answer is surprisingly simple, and all the more scary for it: the moneylenders, who for all intents and purposes own the farmers, demand that the farmers plant cotton because in a bad year, farmers can’t eat cotton, they must sell it. The money from the sale goes to the moneylenders, which is why farmers have no capital. The farmers have no choice but to plant cotton, which also means they can’t escape debt because cotton doesn’t bring in enough money.
And on top of that, even the poorest, least educated peasant farmers in Afghanistan and India fully understand that the soil is being severely depleted of all nutrients by this kind of farming, yet they have no choice. The lesson is really that, while it seems like the things happening half a world away have really got nothing to do with us, sitting comfortably in our sturdy homes with our TVs and computers and flushing toilets, on our clean streets in our (comparably) well-managed cities, what the Indian cotton farmers and the Afghan opium and wheat farmers, as well as the Mexicans trying to cross the border into the U.S. and the Kenyan tribesmen guarding their cattle, it ALL has to do with us. “Globilisation” is really just a new word for colonialism, or so it seems to me, and if you’re going to have “free trade” and “global markets” etc., you have to take some responsibility. But no one cares, as long as they make their extra several million dollars’ profit which they hoard in an off-shore account, or in the stock market or perhaps a hedge fund which doesn’t actually produce anything.
Other illuminating parts of the book include the Mexico-U.S. border and what’s really going on there – I read that chapter just days before watching one of those Republican presidential debates (the South Carolina one) and when they got talking about the border and rounding up the illegal aliens, having the extra knowledge and understanding really changed the way I heard their words – from general rabid frothing-at-the-mouth to the larger point Parenti is trying to make – with a dash of desperation, or so it sounds to me. This is the part about counter-insurgency (COIN) and violent adaptation to climate change. Countries like the U.S. are gearing up for climate change, but not in the way you might hope. Instead, they’re preparing to create a fortress where the climate refugees (which is what the increased in Mexicans and South Americans at their border really are) are kept out and the true-blue Americans are safe within. They’re preparing to simply man the gates, not mitigate climate change but simply make everyone else pay the price for their giant “gas-guzzling SUVs”, as I hear people call them.
It’s not all doom-and-gloom, but Tropic of Chaos isn’t about cutting greenhouse gas emissions, it’s about the effects of climate change on the poorest regions, on countries struggling to bring themselves out of debt and who are faced with increasingly unpredictable weather patterns as well as dominating neo-liberal economic policy – even when they’ve broken ties with the World Bank and IMF, the after-effects of such policies resound for decades. Tiny land-locked Bolivia was like a ray of sunshine in the book, proving that a good balance of sound economic policy, government regulation and forward-thinking mitigation can create a healthy, prosperous country that’s doing its bit. Parenti’s call for the United States government to lead the way in mitigation efforts seems to echo in an empty chamber as on the page, and will certainly be laughed at if a Republican becomes president, judging by how dismissive the candidates were of “global warming” and their rather bizarre notion that government should not, well, govern (this idea confuses me: what’s the point of government, then? To simply collect taxes and spend it all on the military? That doesn’t sound like a democracy at all).
If you’re interested in the 20th-21st century history of countries like Somalia, India, Afghanistan, Brazil, Mexico, and how climate change, counter-insurgency and violence are connected, Parenti has done a thorough job in researching this correlation. He has been to all these areas, spoken with the locals including gang members, and has a firm understanding of global politics and economic theory. I would have liked for the latter to be better explained, because once you understand economic theory, not only does the world make more sense, but you can interpret what’s happening and what our leaders etc. are actually saying and doing, in a more critical way. To that end, I recommend you read this after reading books like the ones I mentioned above, or perhaps even Parenti’s earlier books, though I haven’t read them so I don’t know if they’d be good background for this or not.
Overall, Tropic of Chaos was a frightening study of convergence in the modern world, from which I learnt a lot in terms of small details and specific issues but was also left with more questions – and an undiminished thirst to learn more.
July’s People by Nadine Gordimer
Penguin 1982 (1981)
Trade Paperback
160 pages
Fiction; Speculative Fiction
In Gordimer’s slightly-alternate South Africa, tensions between blacks and whites escalates until all-out violence erupts. Shops and buildings are blown up and the whites are fleeing – but even planes are being blown up as they take off, so how is a white family to escape? The Smales family – Bram and Maureen and their three young children, Victor, Gina and Royce – are rescued by their black servant, July, who leads them out of the city and through the countryside, dodging patrols of armed black men, to his own tiny village of extended family members, where they learn that he is chief.
It doesn’t take long for Maureen and Bram, two upper-class whites who have long considered themselves egalitarian and non-racist, to have their sense of gratitude towards July slip into mistrust and suspicion. They have a car, but have nowhere to go. They have a shotgun, which Bram thinks no one in the village knows about that he keeps stashed in the leaky thatch of the mud hut that was July’s elderly mother’s. And they have a few supplies that they brought with them. But out here in July’s world, they find themselves dependent on him and his family – for food, wood for the fire, knowledge of how to live like this, and to help them navigate the culture and traditions. As the world they knew slips farther and farther away, and misunderstandings grow, the relationship between servant and his master and mistress becomes strained and complex.
I’ve had this sitting around for a few years now and I used the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge to finally read it (January was South Africa). I don’t know a whole lot about South Africa or apartheid, only what I’ve gleaned over the years and a bit of the back-room stuff from Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine, so I didn’t know at first that this book describes what Gordimer thought could happen, not what actually did (first published in 1981, at that time there were heated protests but not the violence described here nor the evacuation of whites from the country); it’s still hugely plausible, and it’s hard to feel real sympathy for the whites (something similar did happen in Zimbabwe later, with white farmers evicted, but that’s different again).
Told mostly from Maureen’s perspective, the story jolts around a fair bit, changing perspectives and switching to the past with barely any heads-up to warn you. In fact, the writing style is distinctive and takes some getting used to – the first few pages were hard and I worried about reading the whole thing, but once the narrative settles down you get the hang of it and let it take you where it will. But it is, ah, unique, and instead of quotation marks for dialogue you get “m” dashes – which is more than you get with some other authors! (yeah I’m looking at you, Jose Saramago!) I’ll give you a taste (this layout doesn’t allow for m-dashes, only n-dashes, so the dialogue doesn’t stand out as clearly as it does in the book):
July broke into snickering embarrassment at her ignorance of a kind of authority not understood – his; and anyway, he had told them – everybody – about the vehicle.
–Told them what?– She was confident of his wily good sense; he had worked for her for years. Often Bam couldn’t follow his broken English, but he and she understood each other well.
–I tell them you give it to me.–
Bam blew laughter. –Who’ll believe that.–
–They know, they know what it is happening, the trouble in town. The white people are chased away from their houses and we take. Everybody is like that, isn’t it?–
–But you can’t drive.– She was anxious, for their safety, he should be believed.
–How they know I’m not driving? Everybody is know I’m living fifteen years in town, I’m knowing plenty things.– [p.13]
There were many things I liked about this novel. I liked the situation, the premise: wealthy white family used to their modern comforts suddenly find themselves living rough in the bush amongst black people – as a white person sitting comfortably in my home beside a fire in Toronto’s winter, I can feel something akin to smug at this, and the belief that in such a situation I would do better, have a better understanding – there’re no grounds for this, but it’s a good exercise to isolate such feelings and face them so I can see my own white privilege for what it is: there. Because one of the things I felt this book did really well was highlight white ignorance, and white prejudice, and white privilege, and throw it back in our faces. It’s not high-handed, it’s not lecturing or moralising or obvious. It’s much more subtle than that, and yet crystal-clear at the same time. The relationship between the Smales and July is well-established and detailed, from giving him their cast-offs (and later resenting him for it, likening it to stealing in their minds) to thinking they were so much better than their white friends in the way they treated their black servants. Now, in his village, he is in charge, but his own training and years of service keep him servile – at first, until their lack of trust becomes clear.
–You say I can come inside?– He used to have the habit of knocking at a door, asking, The master he say I can come in?, and they had tried to train him to drop the ‘master’ for the ubiquitously respectful ‘sir’. He had an armful of wood under a torn fertilizer bag; of course (and he was right) it would not have occurred to them to bring some wood into shelter when the rain began. –You make small fire inside today, s’coming little bit cold.– Royce was coughing himself awake. –Yes, you see– The child’s gaze came to consciousness on him, restfully, confident. He had dropped his city plastic raincoat and was the familiar figure bending about some task, khaki-trousered backside higher than felted black head – he began at once to lay a hearth-fire. [p.53]
I also loved the setting, the descriptions of the mud huts that sound so unbelievably uncomfortable, especially during rain when it leaked, and all the insects that lived in the thatch come flying out; the food, the vegetation, women’s work – so matter-of-fact and organic. It’s paralleled by Maureen’s fast reversion to the organic, by the simple fact of never being clean and giving up on “looking good”.
The sun brought the steamy smell of urine-wet cloth from the bundles of baby on the mothers’ backs. The women hitched up their skirts in vleis and their feet spread, ooze coming up between their toes, like the claws of marsh-birds; walking on firm ground, the coating of mud dried matt in the sun and shod them to mid-calf. [Maureen] rolled her jeans high, yellow bruises and fine, purple-red ruptured blood-vessels of her thighs, blue varicose ropes behind her knees, coarse hair of her calves against the white skin showed as if she had somehow forgotten her thirty-nine years and scars of child-bearing and got in the brief shorts worn by the adolescent dancer on mine property. [p.92]
Her neck was weathered red and over-printed with dark freckles down to a half-circle bisected with a V, the limits of the T-shirt and cotton blouse which were her wardrobe. [Bam] would never have believed that pale hot neck under long hair when she was young could become her father’s neck that he remembered in a Sunday morning bowling shirt. [p.90]
There are also references to Maureen’s vagina and menstruation that you could probably read symbolism into, but at the very least merely emphasise how stripped down to the basics of life the Smales have become, in combination with other things. At its heart, the characters are unlikeable because they, too, are stripped down to their basic humanity, and that humanity is not necessarily very pretty. Neither the blacks nor the whites are presented in romantic terms, which was a relief (though I didn’t really expect it of Gordimer), and the story – which at 160 pages is quite short – was written, I suspect, carefully and with great thought for each and every word – even if it is hard to read at times.
There were some new insights and things to learn here, but it wasn’t about politics or even the underlying social issues of apartheid, not really. It was about the small interactions of whites and blacks in South Africa, their inability to understand each other and each other’s culture – almost deliberately, obstinately so. Watching this play out on such a small scale, it’s clear that July’s People is a character study, not a social justice piece. Yet, of course, the two are linked. Understanding, seeing, how people from two very different cultural understandings as well as class and caste, bring only their own understanding of their own culture with them, that even when they try to do things the way the other does them, it is only pretend. Like July learning to drive, bringing back objects and picking up mannerisms from the city. Like Maureen picking food directly from the ground alongside the women. Even the children, who make friends and pick up words in the village language, are only playing. They still expect at any day to return to the life they’re more familiar with.
And then there’s the weird play on sexual infidelity that goes on between Maureen and July, where language contains double-meaning to imply sex, showing how sexualised our dealings along different class lines can be. There are scenes that seem at first sexually charged because of the language used, and yet there is no sexual attraction between the two.
But as soon as [Daniel] was ten yards off [Maureen and July] both knew it was a pretext to get him out of the way. Maureen felt it had been decided she had come to look for July; helpless before the circumstantial evidence that they were now alone, again, as they were when he came to the hut and she was aware he was looking behind her to see if anyone was inside. [p.95]
It is the individual words and turns-of-phrase, as much as the overall reflection, that gives it that double edge – words like “circumstantial evidence”, as if they’re guilty of having an affair that might easily be discovered, now. The sense of each of them checking for other people, judging whether it’s safe to say what’s in their hearts. But there’s nothing sexual between them at all. There is also a reversal of power, where Maureen seems to be asking July’s permission to do this or that, which also reminded me of reversed positions: he the master, she the servant – or concubine.
–Anyway, I don’t want the other women to find food for my family. I must do it myself.– But here they both knew the illusion of that statement, even while they let it stand. July’s women, July’s family – she and her family were fed by them, succoured by them, hidden by them. She looked at her servant: they [the Smales] were their creatures, like their cattle and pigs.
–The women have their work. They must do it. This is their place, we are always living here and they are doing all things, all things how it must be. You don’t need work for them in their place.–
[...]
–I like to be with other women sometimes. And there are the children, too. We manage to talk a bit. I’ve found out Martha does understand – a little. Afrikaans, not English. It’s just that she’s shy to try.–
The pleasant smile of her old position; at the same time using his wife’s name with the familiarity of women for one another.
He settled stockily on his legs. –It’s no good for you to go out there with the women.–
She tackled him. –Why? But why?–
–No good.– [pp.96-7]
This is one of those books, and the writing is that kind of writing, where as you read you get these impressions, and they’re almost impossible to pin down – I know I haven’t done it effectively. All I can say is, there were some weird dynamics going on, and I think the double-meanings and undertones/underplays were deliberate on Gordimer’s part. It’s clever, but slippery like smoke or silk.
I liked this book, but it at times repulsed me, the reader, it alienated me: like it didn’t want to be liked. It wanted to be listened to and to shake you from your comfort zone. The narrative style is definitely never going to give you a chance to relax, but it’s hugely thought-provoking, and there are a lot of things going on here that I haven’t even mentioned. For such a short book, it packs quite a wallop. It has an abrupt, vague ending that implies danger and the end of their somewhat peaceful interlude in the bush, but it could also be rescue – we don’t know. And that ambiguity, that “not knowing”, is very much in tone with the whole novel. They don’t know what’s going on back in the cities, they don’t know how they can get out of the country or even if they should. They are ignorant, here in July’s village, of what’s going on and how to live here. Displaced people.
Overall, a thought-provoking, artistic novel of depth and honesty, but one that needs to be read more than once to be fully appreciated.
___________________________
Other Reviews:
“…a masterpiece in character study, of showing the power plays between two classes of people and what happens to them when the balance shifts in an unexpected way.” Reading Matters
“July’s People is an acomplished and thought-provoking piece of writing. I didn’t really enjoy reading it, but I think that was because I had a pre-conception of what the novel would be about.” Novel Insights
“The premise for this book is fantastic, but the complexity of the prose ruined it for me.” Farm Lane Books
Top Ten Tuesday is a weekly meme hosted by The Broke and the Bookish. Each week we get a new topic or theme to create a personalised list around. This week is a special week, because it’s a “freebie”: we get to pick our own topic, or use one of the earlier Top Ten Tuesday topics that we missed out on. Since I’m fairly new to Top Ten Tuesdays and there were lots of great-sounding list ideas that I never got a chance to do, I revisited the list and picked this one:
Top Ten Fictional Crushes
If you’re interested, here’s the post with the original linkage to check out more bloggers’ fictional crushes.
I love this topic, though it’s going to be both easy and hard to make ten. Let’s see how we go…
1. Mr Rochester
from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
One of the first fictional men I developed a crush on, Mr Rochester is gruff, loud yet taciturn, bossy, domineering, intimidating, and supposedly not that handsome. But if Jane can see past all that to the man hiding beneath, so could I.
I first read Jane Eyre in grade six, and I’ve read it many times since then. Each time, Mr Rochester is just as intense and confusing and lonely and yearning and passionate as every other time. He’s a complex character, but it’s his insecurities and vulnerabilities as well as his crudely passionate nature that make him so loveable.
2. Captain Ray Nemo
from Polymer by Sally Rogers-Davidson
Long before Edward, before Gale and all the other “to die for” swoon-worthy etc etc heroes of romantic YA, there was Captain Nemo. He first appears in Polymer as a ruthless, dangerous enemy soldier; after Polymer’s run-in with him, he keeps her close – very close. Beneath his cold, calculating and smug exterior, he’s intense and insecure, suffering from being the forgotten child of powerful parents and so has not learnt how to show love and affection, or how to woo a woman. His methods of courtship leave a lot to be desired, and you could argue Stockholm Syndrome fairly easily, except that it’s long after Polymer escapes, and much later when they’re thrown together again in a survival situation that his true nature comes out and she falls in love with him. I was sixteen, seventeen when I first read this, and formed an instant crush on Nemo. If this were released today, it’d do extremely well – and it’d also bring out all those anti-Edward, Edward-is-a-stalker people who don’t get what we really find attractive in these heroes. (Hmm, post for another day?)
3. Hugh
from The Crown of Stars series by Kate Elliott
Okay I know it’s wrong wrong wrong to actually have something of a crush on this character – he’s power-hungry, cruel, controlling, possessive and he’s physically violent towards the main female character, Liath – but (aside from the fact that this doesn’t make me a doormat in real life), he’s such a complex character, tightly in control, methodical and full of charisma. He’s the classic “devil with the face of an angel” character: beautiful, but dangerous. You can’t forgive him his crimes, but you also can’t wait for the next scene with him in it. He becomes obsessed with Liath and the intensity that comes with him makes him a character I can’t help but want more of. It’s all make-believe anyway, so there’s no harm.
4. Bones
from The Night Huntress series by Jeaniene Frost
At first I was a bit put off by the bleached blonde hair and the British accent (it’s a bit of contrived device, that accent in an American book), but you can’t help but fall in love with Bones. He’s charismatic, charming, sexy and deadly dangerous, but it’s his intense love for Cat that makes him swoon-worthy. Honestly, there’s nothing sexier than a man who calmly utters threats he can easily carry out in protection of a woman (even if she can take care of herself)! It’s the way he doesn’t lose his cool, ever. It’s the way he doesn’t forget, and this sounds horrible, but when I think of the pain he felt when he thought he’d lost Cat, that makes him so alive and it’s so intense, it’s like trial-by-fire and he passed with extra credit. I am a romance fan, after all, and like with Mr Rochester, it’s the man’s pain when they think they’ve lost the woman they love that makes my heart ache for them.
5. Ami
from Ten Thousand Lovers by Edeet Ravel
This was a wonderful, amazing book, so well-written. About Ami, the professional interrogator Lily falls in love with in Israel, I said this in my review: “For a while I was scared of Ami too. I didn’t trust him, I was suspicious of him, I thought bad things would happen to Lily if she got into a relationship with him. He’s so magnetic, so controlled and calm and intelligent, I knew he’d outwit me no matter what. I worried about his sincerity. I worried about his motives. I worried that he really was involved in torture. In short, I absorbed all Lily’s fears and made them my own – and then I absorbed her growing love and trust in Ami, and loved him too.”
6. Nawat
from Trickster’s Choice and Trickster’s Queen by Tamora Pierce
Just to prove I don’t only gravitate towards the dark, dangerous, intense, magnetic fictional men (so different from real life, too!), I absolutely have to include Nawat. He was one of the crows sent by the trickster god Kyprioth to help Aly, but because it’s hard for a crow to communicate with a human, he changed himself into a young man to better assist her. And he’s so sweet! He never does quite lose his crow-ness (he tends to covet shiny things), but he doesn’t have any of those human traits that can be annoying in a guy when he fancies you. And he’s quietly unassuming, and when he leaves her to go and prove himself so she’ll look up to him… And then he comes back…. Awwwww. Still the only Pierce books I’ve read but they’re a great introduction.
7. Aras
from City of Pearl by Karen Traviss
Aras is a Wess’har – an alien not compatible with humans – and a host to special parasites to boot, but as I said in my review: “Aras is so wonderfully charismatic and enigmatic, I think I’m a little bit in love. He’s just so lonely! And I’m only human… ” It’s a testament to Traviss’ writing that she could create a character so utterly alien, and yet more sympathetic and human than many of the humans! It wasn’t the first time I felt more drawn to an alien than a human character, and it probably won’t be the last.
8. Edmond Dantes
from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas Such a crush on him! Taken from his fiancee and a happy life by his traitorous “friends”, tossed into a prison in the middle of the ocean and left to be forgotten, Edmond escapes, learns the truth and enacts ferocious and calculated revenge. But it’s his character that I like, and in the book he doesn’t end up with Mercedes like he does in most adaptations – I wouldn’t respect him for that, and besides, he’s changed so much, and so has she; they’re not the people they used to be years ago. He’s a hard man to get close to but he cuts such a striking figure!
I don’t have the edition pictured here, but I love Oxford’s classics series and this is one of the better covers for the book. Mine is actually quite creepy!
9. Eric
from the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris
Ever since the fourth book, Dead to the World, I’ve been smitten with Eric. When he turns up on Sookie’s doorstep with his memory gone, Sookie discovers an Eric who isn’t powerful, smug, cocky, vain, manipulative and cunning. She discovers a confused, puzzled, but strong, kind, and supportive Eric. And also discovers that he’s really, really good in bed! Since then, I’ve felt distracted by Eric, waiting for something to happen in that area, and when he finally remembers what happened during that spell when he lost his memory and lived with Sookie, oh the fun! Tricks her into marrying him, vampire-style, and all! And she’s not as pissed off as she could be, should be, so you know she’s mostly in denial. I haven’t read Dead Reckoning yet but the events of the books before that only make me like Eric more, even if he is still a devious bastard at times! Beneath all the games and politics he has to play, you can tell he is genuinely in love with Sookie, and that won me over completely.
10. Naha
from The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by NK Jemisin
Here’s another dark, dangerous, other-worldly being for me to have a crush on: the god Nahadoth, once the first god, one of the three original gods, now insane and tightly controlled by the humans in power after his brother god betrayed him for more power. Yet he finds sanity in loving a human girl. He’s got all those qualities I love in crush-worthy fantasy heroes (I’m probably sounding incredibly predictable by this point): magnetism, chemistry, danger, sex-appeal (I kept thinking of those rockers in black leather, like Jim Morrison of The Doors). He never seems quite human – because he’s not – and I confess that I fell for that aspect too.
Turns out that in fiction, I’m a sucker for all these things, as long as they’re well-written! There are lots more characters that I’m sweet on, like Stephanie Perkins’ heroes, but a top ten list has to be the top ten, and it looks like the “dark and dangerous” kind appeal to me the most! Though really, that’s just a veneer that hides what truly appeals to me: the unwavering, determined love – maybe a bit obsessive in the case of Elliott’s series! – that they feel for another character.
(Wow, I really feel like this list puts the spotlight on me rather than the books and their characters! Fun list to do, just don’t read too much into it!)
(Oh, and I didn’t forget Edward – definitely have a crush on him too – but there just wasn’t room for him! Besides, he seems a bit of an obvious choice!)
One For the Money by Janet Evanovich
Stephanie Plum #1
St. Martin’s Paperbacks 2003 (1994)
Mass Market Paperback
320 pages
Crime; Mystery; Suspense
Stephanie Plum is fresh out of a job, out of money and out of options when her mother mentions that cousin Vinnie is looking for someone to do some filing for him. Vinnie runs a bail bonds company, and since the filing has been filled, his friendly receptionist, Connie, suggests Stephanie do some “skip tracing” – finding people who’d skipped out on their bond (meaning, they hadn’t shown up for their court date). She can earn 10% of the bail bond for bringing one in to the police station, and such a reward makes Stephanie feel a bit dizzy. Her car has been repossessed and her phone disconnected. She’s already hawked all her furniture and appliances to make ends meet, so the lure of earning $10,000 from bringing someone in who’s bond was a hundred grand makes her determined to take on the job, despite Vinnie’s protests.
Only problem is, the skip is a cop called Joe Morelli, accused of murder. He’s also a womaniser with a long history, including Stephanie herself as a teenager, behind the counter at the pastry shop where she worked. In the process of trying to find Morelli, Stephanie makes herself a target in an increasingly complex case of missing women, drugs and one very scary, unhinged boxer called Benito Ramirez. If it weren’t for the money, or rather the promise of money, she’d leave the bounty hunting to the big boys, but when it becomes a matter of personal survival, she realises she has to learn some serious survival skills.
I can see why this series is so popular: it’s fun, funny, exciting, a bit scary and balances the fun with some dark, psycho characters and real danger. It’s the kind of book I’d think of if someone said they were looking for a beach read (the kind of book I think “beach read” means).
At the top of things to love would have to be Grannie Mazur, Stephanie’s widowed maternal grandmother who lives with her parents. She comes out in spandex shorts because she likes the look on Stephanie, and she loads Stephanie’s gun at the dinner table and shoots the roast chicken. She’s so funny! And in the background is Stephanie’s quiet, long-suffering father, rolling his eyes. Stephanie’s from a Hungarian – or half-Hungarian? – background and the family dynamic is often hilarious and reminiscent of the stereotypical Greek or Italian family and community. One of the reasons why her new job as a bounty hunter in New Jersey is at all doable is that it’s where she grew up and everyone knows everyone, sort of. Though I have to say, never having been to New Jersey or even seen pictures to get any kind of impression, that based on the descriptions (and there’s a lot of driving), I kept picturing L.A.
The characters is where One for the Money really excels. Stephanie is plucky, determined, aware of her strengths and weaknesses, and not a complete push-over. Joe is a solid cliché that I’ve seen on many TV shows and movies, but his familiarity only means that you like him that much faster. Grannie Mazur I’ve already mentioned, but there are others who, while not terribly original, are done well, believable, and entertaining. The scariest is of course the unhinged psychopath, Benito Ramirez. On his way to being a champion boxer, his penchant for mutilating and raping women is kept hushed up by his manager, Jimmy Alpha. One of the other bounty hunters, Ranger, didn’t come across as strongly in this book, but I think in books further down the line Stephanie has some kind of relationship with him, so I think he makes more of a presence in later books. I liked him though. The fact that he didn’t ogle Stephanie or make chauvinistic or stupid jokes when he had to help free her from her shower rod made me like him more.
The story is rather predictable – there were elements, small details, that took more time to work out but overall it was pretty obvious who was behind the cover-up that framed Morelli. It was also pretty obvious that Sal’s was the place to check, especially considering Stephanie conveniently forgot about it for so long. I was confused that Stephanie would be confused about who would want her dead, especially when the car is blown up – she does hit on the name but not very seriously. And when she decides Ramirez is the master-mind behind it all? I felt confused myself. She knows perfectly well he’s no planner and is pretty stupid, so that was a bit glaring right there.
It was good to see Stephanie grow into the job – it makes sense that she is constantly asking for help here, mostly from Ranger but also Morelli; it was fun getting to see her in her inept stage, because all too often we get tough female characters who are already established sharp-shooters who know kung-fu and all the rest of it (yeah I am thinking of Kitty Katt a bit here). It’ll be great to see her grow – because of course I want to keep reading. I loved the banter, which actually made me laugh aloud a few times (hard for books to do), and the pacing was great: great balance of uneventful, getting-my-bearings, time for things to sink in periods with fast-paced, high adrenaline scenes of pure danger.
Plot-wise, I love that she “borrows” Morelli’s car, and his reaction to it. I love that you never quite know how a scene will go – it might start out like it’s going to be comical and then turn out to be dangerous, or vice versa.
And the time – this was first published in 1994 and the descriptions of clothing, in particular, give this a lovely daggy feeling. I mean, Stephanie is often wearing clothes you’d associate with the late-80s (including the spandex shorts), and it’s a very daggy mental image, I love it. I am more used to British crime drama and police stories (I grew up watching The Bill), so when Eddie Gazarra said that PC stood for “plainclothesman” I was surprised – I’m more familiar with it standing for Police Constable, which made me wonder whether they use the term “constable” in America at all – I’m guessing not, now that I think of it. (It’d be the equivalent of Police Officer.)
All in all, this is a fun, quick read that keeps you turning the page, and I had no problem immersing myself in Stephanie’s world (which is so different from my own). Its weak points are easily over-shadowed by its strengths, and the cast is memorable. Definitely happy to read more about Stephanie Plum.
Here’s the official movie trailer (I don’t like the Joe casting much – he doesn’t have the right colouring or the right charming, womanising look, but Ranger looks good) – this is pretty much the entire story right here, though there’s no Ramirez…
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Other Reviews:
“Highly recommended for crime fiction fans who enjoy a good laugh and quirky characters.” The Australian Bookshelf
“I was instantly hooked, instantly swept away to Jersey, and instantly fell in love with Stephanie, Ranger, Morelli, Rex and Grandma Mazur!!” Reviews By Molly
“Stephanie is like the Bridget Jones of the bounty hunting world and she skips from one disaster to the next in hilarious fashion. [...] One for the Money is a fabulous introduction to Stephanie’s world – you meet one of my favourite casts of characters, the plot is fast paced, the mystery keeps you guessing right to the end and the story will have you snorting with laughter.” Feeling Fictional
“It’s an easy read, but not very compelling, so I had no problem setting it down when it was time to do other things; it’s the perfect book to take to the doctor’s office, or mechanic.” My Attempts at Cleverness
In case I haven’t already said it, Happy New Year everyone!
Now, don’t be alarmed, my self-imposed Book Buying Ban is still in force – I’ve only bought onethree um, ten books so far this year. (Okay so that doesn’t sound all that impressive when you realise that that we’re most of the way through January, but you can’t quit cold turkey!) The books here were all books I paid for or received last year, even if some of them didn’t arrive till January. And I never got around to doing a Shelves Are Groaning post in December, which is why there are so many books here. And, and! some are for Hugh!
Um, I’m just going to the mailbox to check if any more have arrived…
Death Comes to Pemberley by PD James – Historical Fiction; Mystery.
I wasn’t going to get this book, originally, because most Pride and Prejudice sequels are mediocre at best (though I loved The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet!), and I don’t read much in the way of murder mysteries. I have only one other James book, Children of Men (I loved the film), but I haven’t read it yet – a friend once lent me one of her detective novels but, no offence to James herself, but I found it boring and two-dimensional. I have that problem with all murder mystery/crime books, to be honest, which is why I don’t read them. But this isn’t the same thing, and after I heard James – who is 92!! – being interviewed on CBC radio I decided I did want to read it, after all. She really doesn’t speak like you’d expect a woman in her nineties to speak – it’s true, all those murder mysteries have really kept her sharp. Death Comes to Pemberley is about the murder of Lydia’s husband, Wickham. I could only get the U.S. edition from the Book Depository – the Canadian one has a nice cover too, but probably kept the spelling.
The Lieutenant’s Lover by Harry Bingham – Historical Fiction.
Picked this up scary cheap from the Book Closeout Boxing Day sale, along with some others here. The tagline on the cover says: “An epic tale of love, war, separation and hope”, which is indeed quite epic! It’s set in Russia, about an aristocratic officer, Misha, and a nurse from an impoverished family, Tonya, who fall in love. Misha is forced to flee the country, and thirty years later he sees a woman who looks like Tonya. The blurb also speaks of espionage and betrayal, which really appeals to me.
Mr Chartwell by Rebecca Hunt – Historical Fiction.
Who could resist this cover? Mr Chartwell is Winston Churchill’s dog, “a huge, black dog. … Charismatic and dangerously seductive”. He unites Churchill at the end of his career in the 60s with a young woman, Esther Hammerhans, when he – the dog – becomes her newest lodger. I love the sound of this premise, and the last line of the blurb: Mr Chartwell’s motives are revealed to be far darker and deeper than they seem.” I mean, a dog with motives – compelling.
You Deserve Nothing by Alexander Maksik – Fiction.
The cover and title caught my eye when I saw it on Goodreads, so I ordered a copy. When I was adding it to my Goodreads library I learned that it has generated something of a controversy. This is the story of a teacher and a student at a school in Paris where he teachers, and the affair they have. It’s controversial because it is alleged to be based on true events – the author was a teacher at an international high school, just like the main character, and students of the school have accused him of having a secret affair with one of their classmates. Personally, I just like the premise and want to read it as a novel and work of fiction. I’m not too interested in any alleged controversy.
The Boy in the Suitcase by Lene Kaaberbøl & Agnette Friis – Psychological Thriller; Crime.
I ordered this one last year and had to wait for it be made available to North America before The Book Depository would send it over (such are the international copyright/licensing laws that they couldn’t send a UK edition if an American one was being released), and I’m eager to read it. It also fits into the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge for the Denmark month! Nina Borg is a nurse for the Red Cross. An old friend, Karin, leaves her a key to a locker at the Copenhagen train station. Inside the locker is a suitcase, and in the suitcase is a three year old boy, naked, drugged, alive. So begins a thrilling, dangerous series of events in which Karin is brutally murdered and Nina realises that she and the boy could be next. “In an increasingly desperate trek across Denmark, Nina tries to figure out who the boy is, where he belongs, and who exactly is trying to hunt him down.”
The Ultimate Knitting Bible by Sharon Brant – Non-Fiction: Crafts.
I got this from my Aussie Secret Santa – aka my brother-in-law, which means really it’s from my sister Fer. I’ve been trying to learn knitting but it’s hard! This book has excellent drawings and clear instructions; all I need now is time!
We are All Made of Glue by Marina Lewycka – Fiction.
I loved A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian, which was so superbly ironic and funny and true. I didn’t get her second novel, Strawberry Fields, but I chanced upon this one and it sounds like such a great story. Georgie Sinclair’s home life is pretty depressing, so she distracts herself by helping her eccentric old Jewish neighbour, Mrs Shapiro. When Mrs Shapiro is admitted to hospital, Georgie discovers she’s been named next-of-kin. Sorting out Mrs Shapiro’s falling-apart mansion with its seven “stinky” cats is one thing, but soon Georgie is stepping in to prevent sleazy real estate agents from taking advantage of Mrs Shapiro. “But as she becomes more involved, she finds herself unravelling a mystery which takes her from Highbury to wartime Europe to the Middle East, and learning a bit about DIY along the way.”
The Tricking of Freya by Christina Sunley – Fiction.
I got this for the Iceland pick for the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge. The author isn’t technically Icelandic except by heritage, but I was trying to get hold of books for the challenge before the book buying ban started so I ran out of time to look for an Icelandic author. Thing is, I’m not sure how much this one will work either: in it, Freya Morris moves from New York to “the formative place of her youth, a remote Canadian village called Gimli, where her Icelandic ancestors settled long ago.” There she picks up “the thread of a secret” that leads her through history and back to Iceland. The story delves into “her early visits to Gimli, the truth about her exuberant, mercurial aunt, and the full scope of a tragedy that shattered her childhood in an instant.”
Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter by Mario Vargas Llosa – Fiction.
I got this one because I was looking for a novel set in Peru; I’m not sure that I would have come across it otherwise. It’s described as a comic novel about eighteen year old Mario, a law student and radio news-editor, who falls in love with his Aunt Julia, thirty-two and divorced from one of Mario’s cousins, “and the progressively lunatic story of this affair [...] interwoven with episodes from a series of radio soap-operas …” I loves me a great comic novel! Looking forward to this one.
The Republic by Plato – Classics.
I picked this up because it’s the February book for the Classics Book Club. I couldn’t finish Genji, which was January’s book – when you have a baby you read in snatches of paragraphs, and such is the way Genji is written, or translated, I ended up re-reading more than I was reading new bits, so it was like being stuck in mud or quicksand. Will I fare any better with The Republic, a book I’ve never had any urge to read? We’ll see. February’s shaping up to be a busy reading month, which is bad news for the shortest month of the year.
Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog!) by Jerome K Jerome – Classics.
I’ve been meaning to get a copy of this for years but kept forgetting – I finally remembered long enough to actually get a copy! It first came to my attention after reading To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis, a wonderful time travel novel in which the three men (and the dog) actually make an appearance. This is supposed to be a very funny book, so I’m saving it for a crappy day.
Daddy Long-Legs and Dear Enemy by Jean Webster – Classics; Children’s Fiction.
Another one I’ve been meaning to get for ages, ever since my friend Maria first recommended it. It’s an epistolary novel, meaning it’s told in the form of letters, and this edition contains the sequel, Dear Enemy, as well. The story “chronicles the adventures of Judy Abbott, a high-spirited orphan beginning a new life as a college student and aspiring writer, through her letters to her anonymous male benefactor”. They were published in 1912 and 1915, respectively.
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami – Fiction.
Okay, so I did a bit of stocking up on Murakami books I didn’t already have – can I just say how much I hate this cover? I really wanted the one with the cat on it but it wasn’t available through the Book Depository, grumble grumble. In fact, that series of covers wasn’t available to me at all, and I do like them a lot (I only have one, Dance Dance Dance, in the lovely white, grey and black with a splash of red). This one is about a runaway boy, Kafka Tamura, and an “aging simpleton”, Nakata, whose lives converge. This is one of magical realism stories, and I hate this cover. Sorry. Bears mentioning twice.
Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami – Fiction.
The summary of this one sounds chaotic and bizarre, which I love: it “draws readers into a narrative particle accelerator in which a split-brained data processor, a deranged scientist, his shockingly undemure granddaughter, Lauren Bacall, Bob Dylan, and various thugs, librarians, and subterranean monsters collide to dazzling effect.” Okay, not much of a summary, but it has the desired effect!
South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami – Fiction.
This is one of his more serious, realistic stories – like Norwegian Wood. Hajime “has arrived at middle age wanting for almost nothing. The postwar years have brought him a fine marriage, two daughters, and an enviable career as the proprietor of two jazz clubs. Yet a nagging sense of inauthenticity about his success threatens Hajime’s happiness. And a boyhood memory of a wise, lonely girl names Shimamoto clouds his heart.” I think the loneliness and unhappiness comes across clearly just in the description. Then Shimamoto, now a “breathtaking beauty” shows up in his life “with a secret from which she is unable to escape” and “the fault lines of doubt in Hajime’s quotidian existence begin to give way.”
After the Quake by Haruki Murakami – Fiction; Short Stories.
A collection of 6 stories from the time of the devastating Kobe earthquake in 1995, “when Japan became brutally aware of the fragility of its daily existence.” This is the second volume of short stories by Murakami that I’ve acquired, alongside The Elephant Vanishes; I’m often in the mood for short stories but am always in the middle of other books when it hits me. Still, I admire short stories immensely, they’re so hard to write (well) and I really want to try Murakami’s.
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami – Memoir.
This one is billed as “equal parts travelogue, training log, and reminiscence”. It covers his 4 month long prep for the 2005 New York City Marathon. It’s the closest we’ll get to learning about Murakami, who’s a very private individual – I mean, until this came out I didn’t know he was a long-distance runner, did you?
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë – Classics.
Um, so, yeah, my philosophy is this: you can never have too many copies of Jane Eyre in one house. This would be my third, and I’ll confess now, it won’t be my last. Too many lovely editions of one of my favourite books, and for someone who loves books for their own sake, combine the two and you have something of a growing collection.
Nylon Road by Parsua Bashi – Memoir; Graphic Novel.
I loved Satrapi’s Persepolis, and when I came across this one, also a coming-of-age memoir of growing up in Iran under Shiite law, of course I had to get it. Plus it might be good for the Iran month in the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge, right? I love non-fiction graphic novels, it’s such an amazing way of reading non-fiction and seems to work exceptionally well for memoirs.
The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival by John Vaillant – Non-Fiction.
Of the five books picked for this year’s Canada Reads (they’re doing literary non-fiction for the first time), this was the one I felt I absolutely wanted – no, had to read. It’s about a man-eating tiger on the prowl outside a remote village in the far east of Russia. “The tiger isn’t just killing people, it’s murdering them, almost as if it has a vendetta.” A team of trackers is sent after it to hunt it down before it kills again. Vaillant re-creates these events, the people and the place and the “cunning, injured and starving tiger” in a true wilderness.
Prisoner of Tehran: One Woman’s Story of Survival in a Torture Jail by Marina Nemat – Memoir.
The other book from Canada Reads 2012 that got my interest was this one, which I’ve dithered about getting ever since it came out several years ago, only it sounds so depressing. At 16, Marina Nemat was arrested and taken to Evin, a notorious prison, where she was interrogated, tortured and then sentenced to death. “At the last moment, her prison guard snatched her from the firing-squad bullets but demanded a shocking price in return: marriage to him and conversion to Islam. She spent her time in jail as his secret bride, always hoping she would be able to go home and be free of her horrific memories of Evin prison.” It sounds like this book, to use the American expression, was an act of closure, but I also get the feeling it isn’t the kind of past you’d be able to feel at peace with easily.
The Reddening Path by Amanda Hale – Fiction.
I forget which month is Guatemala, but I found this book about a girl’s journey home from her adopted lesbian family in Toronto to her native Guatemala in search of her birth mother. “Her quest turns into a multi-layered journey and uncovers a tangle of political and romantic intrigue as Paméla discovers her Mayan heritage and learns about life in Guatemala.” There’s history of the Spanish conquest woven throughout “and at its centre, the allegorical love affair between the conqueror, Hernando Cortés and his translator, Malinche.” I have the book Malinche by Laura Esquivel, but I haven’t read it yet – I do have a big poster of the cover on my kitchen wall though!
Dirty Blonde and Half-Cuban by Lisa Wixon – Fiction.
For the month of Cuba, I was struggling to find anything and settled on this – I say “settled” because I was in a rush and I was getting worried I wouldn’t be able to find anything; terrible, isn’t it? There must be some great Cuban books out there, by Cubans, so I feel like I failed at this one. This novel is based on the semi-autobiographical “Havana Honey” series that was published by Salon.com – I’m not familiar with it, myself. It’s “a gritty portrait of one woman’s determination to infiltrate modern Cuba and find the father she has never known.” It seems like a common theme for books written by non-natives: the search for family, or family history. Like it’s the only justifiable excuse for going somewhere and not being seen as a tourist. Hmph. Still, in this book the protagonist, privileged American Alysia Briggs, has to adopt the life of educated Cuban women who add to their income by “accommodating sex tourists”. I’m not sure about this one, but we’ll see.
Rickshaw Girl by Mitali Perkins – Children’s Fiction.
Likewise, I was getting desperate trying to find something by a Bangladeshi author – the closest I have is Brick Lane, which I’ve already read so I can tell you that almost none of it is set in Bangladesh (it’s an immigrant story set in London). I’ve since found something I think will be perfect, a book called The Good Muslim by Tahmima Anam which hasn’t arrived yet, because I found that the author of this one is actually Indian. Still, it’s a short children’s story about a talented girl called Naimi who loves to paint traditional alpana designs for special occasions, but wishes she were born a boy so she could drive a rickshaw and earn money for her family. I’ll still read it for the Bangladesh month, as well as The Good Muslim
The Secret History of the Pink Carnation by Lauren Willig – Fiction; Mystery.
After reading Amy of Bookzilla‘s enthusiasm for this book, and Lauren Willig in general, several times recently, I just had to get it for myself. It’s about Eloise who decides on a fresh start – in England – and finish her dissertation on the Scarlet Pimpernel and the Purple Gentian. Instead she discovers something entirely unexpected: the secret history of the Pink Carnation (“Scarlet Pimpernel” I know, but are the others joke names?). There were lots of editions of this book to choose from, and in the end, since the prices were all fairly close, I went with one whose cover appealed – not even my favourite cover, but the more affordable favourite!
The Tiny Wife by Andrew Kaufman – Novella; Magical Realism.
After reading Steph’s review on Bella’s Bookshelves, I had to get this immediately! Well, there was a bit of a wait for shipping, and I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to read it, but at least I have it! I have to just give you the whole summary of this short book: “A robber charges into a bank with a loaded gun, but instead of taking any money he steals an item of sentimental value from each person. Once he has made his escape, strange things start to happen to the victims. A tattoo comes to life, a husband turns into a snowman, a baby starts to shit money. And Stacey Hinterland discovers that she is shrinking, a little every day, and there is seemingly nothing that she or her husband can do to reverse the process. Can Stacey and the other victims find a solution before it is too late?” It’s described as “a weird and wonderful modern fable” and is illustrated throughout.
Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi – YA Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction.
Oh woe, I got this after reading someone’s Top Ten Tuesday list – actually maybe a few lists – and I can’t remember who it was! So sorry. I’ve already started it actually, and so far I’m liking it, though the story has really only just started. It’s set in the immediate aftermath of the full-on effects of climate change, when not only has the planet changed but the population has been decimated, and a new authoritarian regime is trying to establish itself. Juliette is a prisoner kept in isolation for nearly a year, three years after accidentally killing someone with her touch. The new world order has been watching her, and they have a plan for her. So far this is as promising as it sounds, but like I said, I’m not all that far in yet.
Photo Opportunity by Jess Dee – Erotic Romance.
I haven’t had much interest in reading erotic romance lately – or romance either, for that matter, though I’ve read a few – but I picked this one up mostly because it’s an Australian author and so far all the ones I’ve read have been largely American, with a few British authors thrown in, and I wanted to see how it compared. I guess I’m also always hoping for a sense of familiarity too, even in this kind of genre fiction where place and culture has little to do with story. Um, what’s it about? Daniel is sick of being “the proverbial brother”; he wants to make his best friend Amy want him as much as he wants her, so he comes up with a plan.
The Seduction of His Wife by Tiffany Clare – Historical Romance.
I think I like these romances where the couple is already married – or gets married early on in the story – because they have more fun when the whole “unmarried single woman with a reputation to uphold” thing goes out the window. It’s been 12 years since Emma Hallaway last saw her husband, Richard Mansfield, the Earl of Asbury, and she likes it that way: it leaves her free to pursue her love of painting. Until Richard returns to England. He’s shocked to discover her double life as an artist, but when he sees her again his “undeniable attraction to Emma stuns him. Suddenly Richard is determined to turn their sham of a marriage into a true and lasting love. But how exactly does a gentleman seduce his own wife?” Huh. I could think of a few things quite easily!
Whispers in the Dark by Maya Banks – Romance.
I honestly don’t go for this strain of Romance – the (predominantly American) soldier type. They’re either Marine, ex-Marine, Navy Seal, ex-Navy Seal, something really gung-ho like that (must be a cultural thing, or maybe only America has the kind of soldiers you can romanticise?). Doesn’t interest me. But I thought I’d try one, even if I’m very hesitant about it. (Honestly, this kind of Romance brings out all my scoffing Romance-is-piffle snobbery.) Nathan Kelly is a hostage/kidnap victim recovery agent on a top-secret mission when he’s captured and tortured. During the days of his captivity, only the “voice of an angel, a whisper in the dark” gets him through it. When he escapes, he continues to be haunted by that voice – which turns out to belong to Shea, a woman with a unique ability who’s on the run from people who want to exploit her. Having reached out to Nathan for help, they finally come face-to-face and find that their “emotional connection is even more powerful than their telepathic one.”
The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons by Katie MacAlister – Paranormal Romance.
I enjoy MacAlister’s paranormal series, and this is the third dragon one, all dealing with the same world and characters. Here we continue the story begun in the first book, so you’d need to start with that one – and really, they all build on each other so you’re best to go right back to the beginning with the Green Dragon books, the Aisling Grey series. They’re a mix of humour, fun, sizzling chemistry, centuries-long conflict, adventure, daring and, of course, romance.
Alien Proliferation by Gini Koch – Science Fiction; Romance.
The fourth book in the series begins with a heavily pregnant Kitty Katt. Oh wait, that’s right, the ultra-feminist Kitty changed her name to Martini when she got married, didn’t she. I still find that ultra-disappointing and a blip on the happy alien radar. Still, I’m loving the series and will be cracking open this one as soon as I get a chance.
The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E Smith – YA Romance.
The reviews for this one have already popped up on blogs, and happily I’ve seen more positive reviews from blogging friends than not. This story takes place over 24 hours: Hadley misses her flight and is stuck at JFK airport, on her way to her father’s second wedding in London. She meets Oliver, a British boy sitting in her row, and the two click instantly, only to lose each other at crowded Heathrow. This is a tale of love at first sight, which I whole-heartedly believe in, and I like the description of this as a “cinematic” novel.
An Evil Guest by Gene Wolfe – Science Fiction; Thriller.
A random purchase from Book Closeouts on their Boxing Day sale. Y’know, I’ve never read any Wolfe. This is probably the first time that I’ve been interested. It’s set a hundred years in the future and is the story “of an actress who becomes the lover of both a mysterious private detective and an even more mysterious and powerful rich man, a man who has been to the human colony on an alien planet and learned strange things there. Her loyalties are divided – perhaps she loves them both. The detective helps her to release her inner beauty and become a star overnight. The rich man is the angel of a play she stars in. But something is very wrong. Money can be an evil guest, but there are other evils.”
The Dark Mirror by Juliet Marillier – Fantasy.
People have been recommending Marillier to me since 2005, and I still haven’t read one. This marks the second book of hers I’ve added to my home library (the other being Daughter of the Forest). The Dark Mirror is the first book of the Bridei Chronicles, and another one I got from the Book Closeouts Boxing Day sale (seriously, they were like less than $2 each!) – it is a large format paperback, which I don’t like, they take up too much room on my shelves and often the font’s too big with too much white space for me, but when money’s tight a bargain is hard to resist! Bridei is a young nobleman fostered by one of the land’s most powerful druids. He is being trained for a special purpose but he doesn’t know what it is. “But everything changes when on one bitter Midwinter Eve Bridei discovers a child on their doorstep – a child abandoned y the fairie folk.” Everyone wants to kill the babe because of the bad luck she will bring, but Bridei fights to save her. She grows up into a beautiful young woman, but the druid training Bridei, Briochan, feels only danger, “for Tuala could be a key part of Bridei’s future … or could spell his doom.”
The Summer Tree by Guy Gavriel Kay – Fantasy.
I think I got this because of Alex (The Sleepless Reader), but this post has taken me so long to write I can’t remember now! It could also have been someone on Goodreads. This is the first book in the Fionavar Tapestry: “Five university students embark on a journey of self-discovery when they enter a realm of wizards and warriors, gods and mythical creatures – and good and evil…” says the back blurb. Reminds me a tad of Lev Grossman’s The Magicians which overall I didn’t like, but I have a lot of faith in Kay’s storytelling and whoever recommended it, recommended it very highly indeed.
The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson – YA Fantasy.
I got this because it appeared on so many Best Books of 2011 lists at the end of last year – and I got it without knowing what it was about! I honestly hadn’t seen anything about it during the year, so it just seemed to appear out of thin air. Luckily, once it arrived and I read the blurb, I was relieved to find that it sounds like exactly my kind of book. It’s the story of Elisa, the chosen one, now sixteen. A princess, she becomes “the secret wife of a handsome and worldly king [...] whose country is in turmoil” but a daring revolutionary also wants her to be his people’s saviour, and enemies “seething with dark magic are hunting her.” The thing that makes this one especially dark-sounding is that Elisa is only the latest of a string of chosen ones.
Legend by Marie Lu – YA Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction.
In this post-apocalyptic world, the Republic (once the west coast of the United States), is “a nation perpetually at war with its neighbors, the Colonies.” Fifteen year old June, born into an elite family in the wealthy are of the Republic, is “a military prodigy”. From the Republic’s slums, fifteen year old Day “is the country’s most wanted criminal. But his motives may not be as malicious as they seem.” When June’s brother is murdered, Day becomes the prime suspect, and June is on the hunt to avenge Metias’s death. “But in a shocking turn of events, the two uncover the truth of what has really brought them together, and the sinister lengths to which their country will go to keep its secrets.”
47 by Walter Mosley – YA Historical Fiction.
The narrator of 47 was an African slave in 1832 – and is still alive today, a hundred and seventy years later. “But this is no whopper I’m telling. It is a story about my boyhood as a slave and my fated encounter with the Amazing Tall John from beyond Africa, who could read dreams, fly between galaxies, and make friends with any animal no matter how wild.” I haven’t read anything by Mosley before but I liked the sound of this one, described as “equal parts history and tall tale.”
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster – Classics; Children’s Fantasy.
I’m pretty confident that I had never heard of this until that Top Ten Tuesday post about childhood favourites, late last year, and it cropped up on numerous lists. And yet I can’t believe that I never heard of it, or read it, because it sounds like the kind of book I would have loved to bits as a child – but the title just doesn’t sound familiar to me. This is the story of Milo, a bored little boy, and the tollbooth that suddenly appears in his bedroom (sounds a bit like Max!) Milo has many adventures through the tollbooth and realises that life isn’t dull after all. First published in 1961.
Flat Stanley by Jeff Brown – Children’s Fiction.
I used to read the Flat Stanley books in grade 1 or 2 and I loved them, even though at the same time the very idea of a paper-thin little boy made me feel really uncomfortable and a bit scared. I was having a nostalgic moment when I ordered this and the book below (and they don’t cost much either). It’d been years since I’d thought of them and I didn’t want to forget again.
Amelia Bedelia by Peggy Parish – Children’s Fiction.
Another fun one from childhood, I had forgotten all about Amelia until she came up in conversation with a girl I worked with at a temp job a while back, and the description reminded me of this book I’d read as a child (I couldn’t remember the name!). I looked it up and lo! A childhood memory rescued from the depths of Forgotten. I’ve been planning on getting a copy ever since. I remember finding Amelia very funny, and yet also incredibly infuriating at the same time – plus, some of the language that she misinterprets weren’t familiar expressions for me (like “draw the drapes” – in Australia we’d just say “close the curtains”, though knowing Amelia she’d probably re-interpret that in some interesting way anyway!), so there was something to learn about language as well as puns!
The Wheels on the Bus by Raffi – Picture Book; Sing-along.
Chapters was having a hardback sale one day and I got these six picture books – for Hugh, of course! I sing “Wheels on the Bus” to him, just three verses (wheels, door and wipers – he loves the “wish wish wish” sound and we do the motions together), and he’s a big fan. When I added it to Goodreads I saw that friends had noted how much their kids loved it – and how thoroughly sick of it they had become! Warning noted.
That’s Not My Tractor by Fiona Watt – Picture Book.
I loved tractors as a kid – even my birthday cake one year was a three-dimensional tractor (my mum’s an artist). It’s an unusual thing for a little girl to love I know, but I didn’t care about princesses or unicorns – just tractors! I did grow up on a farm though. Anyway, when I saw this “touch and feel” book I just had to get it. The language is quite high-level but it’s a good interactive book and you get to say, in loud indignant tones, “That’s not my tractor!!”
Where’s Spot? by Eric Hill – Picture Book.
Spot was the book to read when I was little – everyone read Spot, the school had lots of those giant paperback Spot books (remember the giant paperbacks, that you sat on the floor with? They were HUGE! So perfect when you’re five-six-seven, too). This one is a board book with flaps, and I’ve always loved flaps in books. It’s more interactive, though of course they get ripped and torn from love and enthusiasm!
Dear Zoo by Rod Campbell – Picture Book.
Another favourite from when I was a kid, I’d forgotten all about it until I saw it on the shelf at Chapters. This one’s also interactive, with flaps – the cages hiding the animal behind it (which, when you get clever, you can guess). Great vocabulary too.
Brown Bear, Brown Bear by Bill Martin Jr. – Picture Book; Sing-along.
I never read this as a kid – at least, I don’t remember it at all. But when I took Hugh to a kind of playgroup thing at the library one day, the man running the session of books and singing had one of the giant paperbacks of this book, and two-dimenstional stuffed toys of all the animals, which he passed out to the kids (Hugh got a blue horse, which I had to hold for him – this was before he started grabbing at things). The book and the song is so unbelievably catchy that I wanted to get a copy for Hugh, and found this “slide and find” edition. You have to slide back the words “What do you see?” to uncover the next animal. It’s beautiful, with Eric Carle’s illustrations.
On the Farm by Bright Baby – Picture Book.
I can’t resist farm-themed touchy-feely books! The animals have small cut-aways with fake fur or whatever in the gap. The text is surprisingly lengthy for such a little book, but I think there’s lots of enjoyment to be had from interacting with the pictures. Of course, once we’re back home and there are sheep and chickens etc. galore to touch, the book might not be able to hold its own in comparison!
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Phew! This post has taken me weeks to do, and it’s good to get it done. The next one probably won’t be until February – because, really, I’m on a book buying ban!!
Elizabeth Costello by JM Coetzee
Viking 2003
Trade Paperback
230 pages
Fiction
An internationally respected Australian writer in her mid-sixties, Elizabeth Costello is known primarily for her fourth book, The House on Eccles Street, in which she took a minor character from Joyce’s Ulysses, Marion Bloom, and created the kind of novel people are still talking about today. That novel was published nearly thirty years ago; now it’s 1995 and Elizabeth Costello has arrived in Pennsylvania to accept the Stowe Award, worth $50,000, from Altona College. Her son John, a physics and astronomy professor in Massachusetts, accompanies her. Her acceptance speech is on realism in fiction, but what she really talks about is her own floundering sense of self, growing ever more perplexed, unsure, vague, bewildered.
So begins Elizabeth Costello, a novel of life and death structured around eight “lessons”, most of which are essay-like lectures that the author, JM Coetzee, delivered himself at various events listed in the Acknowledgements page (in the character of Elizabeth Costello, apparently). The “lessons” revolve around questions of ideology and the philosophy of death, touching mainly upon the plight of animals grown en masse for human consumption, and the notion of evil.
I began this with absolutely no idea what it was about – and while I’ve had it on my shelf for a few years, I decided to read it now because, not knowing what it was about, I was looking for (and thought I’d found) a book set in South Africa, for the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge. There is only one chapter where Elizabeth Costello (like all famous people, she can’t be just “Elizabeth” or “Ms Costello” but always, always “Elizabeth Costello”) travels to Zululand where her older sister Blanche – or Sister Bridget – is a renowned humanitarian and fundraiser, accepting an honorary doctorate; other settings are Melbourne, in her own home (though this setting isn’t explored or described), Amsterdam, and America. So I couldn’t use it for that challenge. I also read this not knowing its real life background, so it was interesting to learn how Coetzee had given these lectures and debates himself on previous occasions, and how he incorporated the criticisms he received into the life of Elizabeth Costello, within the novel itself.
For example, the one that he got the most flak for was the speech on animals, factory-farm animals like battery hens etc., in which Elizabeth Costello compared them to the Nazi concentration and death camps of World War II. One of the professors at the university where she gives this speech, a Jewish man, takes offence and refuses to sit with her at dinner, telling her in a letter: “If Jews were treated like cattle, it does not follow that cattle are treated like Jews. The inversion insults the memory of the dead. It also trades on the horrors of the camps in a cheap way.” The criticism she receives after this event is mentioned later in the novel; this is also the criticism Coetzee himself received, or so I read when I was looking for reviews of this book (and I didn’t find much in the way of fellow book-blogger reviews).
Elizabeth Costello raises many interesting, thought-provoking ideas, many of which are perhaps provoking to different kinds of people, but that only makes them more important to openly discuss, not repress. I have to say that in some ways I agree with her take on animals, though I’m not sure she articulated her point all that clearly: namely, that even if animals by and large do not have the capacity for conscious thought that humans do, doesn’t mean we are given license to treat them abominably, “like animals” as the expression goes.
She raises the arguments of philosophers and researchers from various eras, who argued that because animals can’t think like humans, that it’s okay to treat them the way we do – something like the people, not just Jews but predominantly Jews, rounded up by the Nazis. Some of the types of people the Nazis also put into concentration and death camps were homosexuals and disabled people, but they don’t get as much attention. What Elizabeth Costello gets at in a round-about fashion, is that we don’t treat our mentally handicapped people, those who can barely function either because of defects at birth or accident/illness, by the same philosophy; rather, the real reason we treat cattle like cattle is superiority, only we seem to shy away from saying it openly.
The example of forcing mice and rats through mazes with changing obstacles, or of caged chimpanzees suddenly faced with a puzzle to get their food, highlights our human-centric way of thinking: if the chimp or any other animal fails our tests to prove or disprove intelligence and the ability to think their way through problems, the researchers take this as evidence of their lack – their lack of being able to think. What it really shows is that they are not human, which we already knew, but allows no room for the idea that animals think differently, and in different ways, from us.
A similar thing occurred when the early English colonists came to Australia, and “tested” the Aboriginals by showing them cards of things like trees, and deciding they were stupid because they didn’t know the word “tree”. Or the test we were shown during my teaching degree, the real test that was given to countless immigrants of black and white drawings of things – tests skewed to a particular culture and way of thinking, things that might be obvious to us but have no place in the life of, say, someone from Bangladesh. They’ve since realised how ridiculous – and even damaging – such tests really are, and should have ceased using them by now. But we still judge animals by our own standards, not theirs.
About halfway through this book I realised why I felt like I was on familiar ground: it reminded me of Yann Martel’s (more recent) Beatrice & Virgil, which also used an allegory of animals for WWII.
There are other ideological issues touched upon, like the humanities, which was less satisfying in the way it was explored (that’s the one brought up while she’s in Zululand) – it hesitantly touched on Christian missionaries in Africa but failed to really go anywhere, almost as if that were one subject Coetzee was too tired to handle – or I should say his alter-ego in the novel, Elizabeth Costello, who pretty much says, Oh I can’t go into this today, I’m too tired. It is a whole other kettle of fish, after all.
By the time we get to her entry in the debate on evil in Amsterdam, it’s clear that Elizabeth Costello is starting to lose the plot. She’s getting old, and the brush of death is occupying her more than before. Speaking of, I loved the bit about thinking about death, and what happens to our minds, our brains, when we actually conceive of it – I loved it because I’ve done it many times over my 32 years and it’s nice to hear that others do it too, and that they have the same reaction (like falling into a black hole). Comfort in solidarity, right? Of all her speeches, the one I thought the most, if not only, nonsensical was her one on evil and Paul West’s novel (because of the nature of so much of the novel, I had to look up Paul West to make sure he really is fictional, because he could just as easily have been a real person, such is the way Elizabeth Costello thinks and talks about him).
Then the final chapter, Elizabeth Costello waiting at the gates of heaven or hell, applying to go through and failing because she’s convinced she doesn’t believe in anything. I’m not sure what to make of that chapter, it was an oddly organic way to end the story, but unlike the others there was less oratory thinking going on, less rumination, and more description, so that it felt disjointed from the rest. And after all her previous speeches, here finally Elizabeth Costello flounders entirely, her self seeming to come undone as she loses her grounding. I felt sorry for her through most of the book, especially because the way others perceive her (as a bit of a dodder, or an embarrassment in public – she lacks charisma, reads straight from her notes, and in interviews gives practiced, pre-written responses), but at the end I felt annoyed that she seemed completely at a loss for how to stand up for her convictions, and instead simply parroted “I am a writer, it’s my job not to have personal beliefs” – which I think is absolute rubbish. That’s like saying a journalist is unbiased. Can’t be done. I get her point, but I would have thought the opposite: that what makes a writer is their wealth of beliefs, their abundance of ideas that come from believing in certain things.
One thing that can definitely be said for Elizabeth Costello, no matter what your opinions of her lectures, is that it’s a thought-provoking book, and one that requires (if not deserves?) a second, even third, reading.
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Other Reviews:
“This is an unusual book. I don’t know what to make of it, and I feel like I am not fully qualified to read it, frankly. [...] It’s a thoughtful book, full of ideas that catch at the mind.” Bookish
For the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge, January was the month to read something set in – and preferably by an author of – South Africa. I was originally thinking of posting this at the end of the month, but I’ve now decided I should do it at the beginning so you can leave your links whenever you’re ready, and visit others’ reviews.
Ergo, please leave a link here to your review, and it’d be great if you included the name of the book too. This applies to anyone who didn’t sign up but read a South African book, or plans to read books just from a few of the countries on the list. If you’ve read more than one book from the country, feel free to keep adding links! I’m looking forward to reading your reviews, and I should have mine up fairly soon.
To recap, here’re three areas we’re keeping in mind for reviews and discussion:
1. What did you learn about the country’s culture, history etc. from reading this book? Any new insights, any shifts in your perception, or did it align with what you knew/understood already?
2. How did land, geography, flora and fauna feature in the book? Did it have a distinct feel that helped you visualise and made you feel like you were there, or was the story more focused on plot?
3. Did the story make you want to visit/revisit the country, or explore it in a new way if you live there already; did it make you want to read more stories set in the country?
If you didn’t want to commit to this challenge, I hope you still join us to discuss these books. Happy reading!
[NOTE: for some reason I can't see this week's list of links on The Broke and the Bookish, so please leave me a link to your list so I can visit! Don't know what's going on there...]
Top Ten Tuesday is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at The Broke and the Bookish – head on over for the list of everyone’s Top Tens. This week’s directive is to list our
“Top Ten Books I’d Recommend to Someone Who Doesn’t Read X (for example, if you are a YA blogger you might pick 10 YA books for ppl who don’t read YA or if you read classics maybe 10 classics that those who don’t typically read classics might read! Or you could get more specific).”
For this one I’m going back to my bookish roots, so to speak, back to my favourite genre: Fantasy. There’s so much good Fantasy out there, and so much I’ve still to read (I feel it keenly), but for someone who doesn’t read Fantasy, this is what I’d recommend at this point in my life (this turned out to be more of a list of authors rather than books, but it was so hard to just say one book when Fantasy is usually written in series!):
[NOTE: in order to restrict this list to just ten - only ten! - I'm omitting any YA or Children's novels/series. I'm also not including Urban Fantasy or other off-shoots of Fantasy, just straight-up Fantasy!]
1. Legendsong Trilogy by Isobelle Carmody
This is arguably the only adult work by Carmody, but such lines don’t mean much these days. So far only the first two books in this trilogy are available – Carmody is famous (or infamous) for taking decades to produce a book, though she is working on about six different series simultaneously, as well as stand-alone work. We cut her a huge amount of slack because her books are incomparable and always worth waiting for. Darkfall begins with two sisters holidaying on a Greek island. One is dying, though the details are vague. The strong sister goes for a swim and cramps, nearly drowning, but instead rescued by a man with purple eyes – who is in a different world entirely, a world of islands without vast oceans. She’s caught up in events, while the ailing sister does eventually find herself in this world as well, looking for her sister. I’m always itching to re-read these books but I’m holding out for the third one, and then I’ll read them altogether again.
I haven’t re-read these since I started blogging in 2006, so I don’t have reviews to link to here.
2. Mythago Wood by Robert Holdstock
This is one my mum recommended, and I found an old second-hand copy somewhere to read. It’s now readily available in this nice anniversary edition, so you won’t have any trouble finding it. I’m not a huge fan of the myth-like Fantasy stories, like the Arthur legend, but this is something special. I’m working on memory here again, hence the sketchy details, but it’s essentially about a man living in a house at the edge of a wood in England that defies modern existence – it is home to everything that England once was, before it became over-cultivated. The man – Richard I think his name is – finds a woman (of sorts) in the wood and becomes obsessed, but the wood is an entity to be reckoned with and begins to take over the house. I can’t actually remember much more than that, but here’s the Goodreads page. It is actually the first book in a series, but you can read it as a stand-alone novel.
Since I read this one while at uni (and used it in my Honours dissertation), I don’t have a review to link to here either.
3. The Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss
So far there are only two books out, and I’ve only read the first one, but it was such excellent Fantasy that it floored me. This is the summary from Goodreads:
Told in Kvothe’s own voice, this is the tale of the magically gifted young man who grows to be the most notorious wizard his world has ever seen.The intimate narrative of his childhood in a troupe of traveling players, his years spent as a near-feral orphan in a crime-ridden city, his daringly brazen yet successful bid to enter a legendary school of magic, and his life as a fugitive after the murder of a king form a gripping coming-of-age story unrivaled in recent literature. A high-action story written with a poet’s hand, The Name of the Wind is a masterpiece that will transport readers into the body and mind of a wizard.
4. Samaria series (and everything else) by Sharon Shinn
So far I’ve only read Archangel and Angel-Seeker in the Samaria series, but I’ve got the other three too: Jovah’s Angel, The Alleluia Files and Angelica – I actually read books 1 and 5 but their chronological order isn’t the same as where they fall in the series; sounds confusing I know but it isn’t really, as they tend to read as stand-alones. Now, anyone who’s read this series is probably thinking, “But Shannon, that’s more sci-fi than fantasy.” Well, the world-building set-up is, but the stories aren’t – not the two I’ve read anyway. I enjoyed Archangel a lot, but Angel-Seeker really impressed me: it’s actually two stories that you shift back and forth between, and they don’t meet up till the very end. But I find that these stories really reflect on our own world and the warring cultures and clashes within it. There’s class and race issues at play, as well as wonderful story-telling.
I would go further and recommend Sharon Shinn in all her diverse forms, many of which I haven’t even got around to yet. I’ve also read The Shape-Changer’s Wife, which is a short novel on more traditional, oral story-telling lines that people who like fables and the allegories about humans controlling nature will enjoy; and a YA novel called General Winston’s Daughter, but we’re not talking about YA today.
5. Maledicte by Lane Robins
Enjoy horror and gothic tales but think Fantasy is all spell-making and sitting around in inns? I’ve got a treat for you: this is a character story set in a city that seems endlessly dark and rotting. I’ll have to resort to the Goodreads summary here:
Seething with decadent appetites unchecked by law or gods, the court of Antyre is ruled by the last of a dissolute aristocracy. But now to the kingdom comes a handsome, enigmatic nobleman, Maledicte, whose perfect manners, enchanting charisma, and brilliant swordplay entice the most jaded tastes . . . and conceal a hunger beyond reckoning.
For Maledicte is actually a woman named Miranda–a beautiful thief raised in the city’s vicious slums. And she will do anything–even promise her soul to Black-Winged Ani, the most merciless of Antyre’s exiled gods–to reclaim Janus, the lover whose passion still haunts her dreams. As her machinations strike at the heart of Antyre’s powerful noble houses, Miranda must battle not only her own growing bloodlust, but also her lover’s newly kindled and ruthless ambitions. As Ani’s force grows insatiable and out of control, Miranda has no choice but to wield a weapon that may set her free . . . or forever doom her and everything she holds dear.
There is also a sequel, Kings & Assassins, but it couldn’t live up to Maledicte so I’d recommend this as a stand-alone. (Links go to reviews.)
6. The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers
This is the ultimate Fantasy book for drawing in book lovers, as it’s set in a city where reading, writing, and buying books is the number one pastime. The narrator is a dinosaur-like figure from another place, visiting the city and looking for the author of the most exquisite piece of writing anyone’s ever read. Instead he is betrayed and finds himself trapped in the catacombs beneath the city, which are books upon books, where scary Book Hunters search for precious, priceless books, and all sorts of frightening things hide out. This is a must-read, especially for those who enjoy YA fantasy – this would draw you in and send you looking for more.
7. Crown of Stars series by Kate Elliott
One of my ultimate favourite Fantasy series ever, this is Epic with a capital E and so mind-boggling in its inter-weaving plot and so skilful in its character development that the echoes of this seven-piece series are still resounding in my bones today. And look, a series that’s been finished! I don’t even know where to begin to describe this one, so I’ll just say this: that if you tried reading A Game of Thrones and you were bored shitless, don’t give up yet, pick up The King’s Dragon (which refers to a person, not a dragon), and I swear you’ll be converted!
And if you lean more towards science fiction, you should read her four-book Jaran series, which is also impressive. I have lots more of her work to catch up on, which pleases me immensely, though trying to find the time to start them and failing, doesn’t.
(The last book didn’t come out until 2006, I think it was, and I wasn’t reviewing every book I read then either so I don’t have reviews to link to, though I did do a post on the series in general on my LiveJournal at the time.)
8. Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay
I was so impressed by this book when I finally got around to reading it several years ago, that it provoked a bit of a rant from me in my review. It’s epic Fantasy at its non-cliched best, all in one novel, and thought-provoking too. It deals with a land called Tigana that was wiped from all memory as punishment. I see it as something of an allegory to what we do to certain countries, certain peoples, so if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t read Fantasy because you’ve always believed it’s about wizards and magical swords and elves and long journeys and all that, this should be a winner for you.
9. Wolfblade Trilogy by Jennifer Fallon
Or really, anything by Jennifer Fallon. There’s also the prequel, the Demon Child Trilogy (which I have yet to read), the Second Sons Trilogy, which I loved, and the Tide Lords which I haven’t had a chance to read yet, and now a new book in a new series, Riftrunners, so I’ve got lots of catching up to do here. But I’m recommending the Wolfblade Trilogy (in the U.S. this trilogy is considered the last three books of the Hythrun Chronicles, of which the Demon Child Trilogy makes up the first half, but they are at different time periods with different characters) because it was the first I read of Fallon’s, and also I wanted to put these Voyager covers up, which I love (though I also love the artwork on the Second Sons/Demon Child trilogies, too). Here’s the summary of Wolfblade from Goodreads:
Elezaar the dwarf witnesses a murder. Not wanting to be ‘silenced’, he is lucky to be chosen as a servant by Marla, the last princess of the once-great House of Wolfblade. Her brother may be corrupt and perverted, but he is also the High Prince of Hythria. In this fiercely patriarchal society, Marla’s fate will be decided on his whim. But as the politically astute Elezaar discovers, Marla has more intuition, spirit and brains than anybody suspects, and he starts her on the road to becoming a great tactician and wily diplomat. Marla Wolfblade is determined to restore her family’s great name … but conspirators surround her: the Sorcerers’ Collective, the Patriots, even members of her own family. Will her son Damin live to be old enough to restore the Wolfblade name to its former glory?
Again, sorry, no reviews! It’s been a while since I read these and while some might find her books too “light”, this trilogy is more along the lines of George RR Martin but without being boring.
10. Threshold by Sara Douglass
This was my favourite Fantasy book the year that I read it, when it came out in 1997. I must have read it like three times in a row. I was still a teenager, so the plot was fresh and surprising to me. I still think it was ahead of its time. This is no medieval setting, as you can tell from the cover. It’s a desert land, which was very original at the time, and the ruling elite are Magi, mathematicians who believe in One (I hope I’m remembering this right). Using their power, which is a kind of mathematics magic, they’re building a pyramid called Threshold which is designed to help them reach Infinity – only, there’s something in Infinity that’s waiting to be let loose in the land, and it’s manipulating the Magi to do it. The main character is actually a slave, a glassblower who becomes a kind of concubine to one of the Magi, Boaz.
This is a great stand-alone Fantasy novel to read if you’re put off Fantasy by the endless cliched medieval-England settings.
11. The Black Jewels series by Anne Bishop
What, you didn’t expect me to stick to just ten did you? The three books pictured here are the original trilogy, but there are more books set in the same world that constitute the series (they now have better covers, too). This is the summary from Goodreads for the first book:
The Dark Kingdom is preparing itself for the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy–the arrival of a new Queen, a Witch who will wield more power than even the High Lord of Hell himself. But this new ruler is young, and very susceptible to influence and corruption; whoever controls her controls the Darkness. And now, three sworn enemies begin a ruthless game of politics and intrigue, magic and betrayal, and the destiny of an entire world is at stake.
This is a dark and mature trilogy, the kind of story where if it were a movie it’d be R-rated with an emphasis on “adult themes”, so don’t let the candy-coated covers fool you. I was completely absorbed in this trilogy and the lives of Jaenelle, Daemon and Lucivar, and I don’t hesitate to recommend it.
12. The Nightrunner Series by Lynn Flewelling – and the Tamir Triad trilogy too!
For years I had no interest in reading this series because of the covers – aside from the unappealing cover art in general, the guy’s mullet really put me off. A friend finally got me reading them in uni, about ten or so years ago, and boy are they good! It also features a strong gay relationship, and not on the sidelines either: the main characters develop into a couple, though if you’re thinking there’s gooey romance or intimate scenes, that’s not really the case at all. What these books are are excellently written tales of adventure and thievery.
The Tamir Triad is something quite different again, and I’ve still got the third book to read – only I lent the second book to a friend who’s in another country, and I need to re-read them before starting the third (this is one reason why I stopped lending out my books!). I don’t know how to describe this one and do it justice, only it’s beautiful and if the first book, The Bone Doll’s Twin, doesn’t win you over I don’t know what will!
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But wait! I hear you say; What about all the Big Names in fantasy? Aka the “Dead White Guys” – or to be fair, not all of them are dead, but they are still White Guys. Tolkien of course, and the ones who wrote their own versions of Lord of the Rings, in particular Robert Jordan and Terry Goodkind. But there’s also David Eddings, Piers Anthony, George RR Martin, David Farland, Terry Brooks, David Gemmel, Steven Erikson and LE Modesitt, Jr.
I can’t include them because I haven’t read them or I didn’t love them; but also because they’re so … standard. If I meet someone who doesn’t read fantasy, I’m not going to recommend something that’s tired and over-done.
But as I said at the beginning, there’re lots more I’ve yet to read, too, like Juliet Marillier, and some – like Kate Forsyth, Nnedi Okorafor, NK Jemisin and Kristen Britain – who I’ve read and thoroughly enjoyed, but I’ve already stretched this list to 12 and it took long enough as it is! So I hope any non-Fantasy readers out there found something here that caught their eye and made them think, Maybe I could give Fantasy a try, after all. That’d make my day.
If I Stay by Gayle Forman
If I Stay #1
Speak 2010 (2009)
Trade Paperback
234 pages
YA Fiction
When school is cancelled after a small dumping of snow in rural Oregon, on the northwest coast of the United States, Mia’s parents decide to make a day of it. Visit friends and their baby, then Gran and Gramps and back to Portland in time for Mia to go to the concert where her boyfriend’s band, Shooting Star, is playing. But once they’re on the wet country roads, a devastating accident occurs and Mia suddenly finds herself standing in the middle of the road, observing it all. Her parents are dead, and before she can even look for her little brother, Teddy, she sees herself, broken like a doll.
Over the next twenty-four hours, we accompany Mia on a journey no one would willingly want to take, to arrive at a choice no one would want to have to make: to go, to leave this world now that her family is no longer in it, or to stay, to stay without the parents she loves, the brother she loves, and stay in an uncertain world with the pain and grief of their loss?
I should have some kind of tear-o-metre, or cry-o-metre, for books that reduce me to tears. This one was way up there. I’d give it a good 8 on the cry-o-metre, especially considering how it’s not just one single scene, but many throughout the story. (This is being made into a film by Summit and Catherine Hardwicke, and I for one would only watch this in the privacy of my own home, where I can cry as much as I want to without caring about my fellow audience!)
There’s much to love here, and much to appreciate, but the day after I finished it I was left struggling to remember, or even recapture, what it was that I liked while I was reading it. Several days it’s been since I finished it, and I’ll do my best to capture both sides of my ambivalence while confirming that I really did like it, at the end of the day.
Firstly, since this is such a short book and such a quick read, it was important to bond with Mia as quickly as possible and I found this easy to do: unlike many heroines in American YA (I don’t know why but maybe it’s a cultural thing?), I didn’t find her abrasive or forced as a character. Instead, I liked her shy, quiet kind of confidence, her love of the cello which she plays extremely well, and her love for her family. This isn’t a teen in petty, sullen rebellion because her parents are stereotypes enforcing rules on a child who doesn’t need them. There’s a great deal of openness in this family, and trust. Mia’s parents are ex-rockers who settled down and got “real” jobs, but they’re still fun-loving, music-loving people who swear quite a bit – or maybe that’s just her mum. They felt more real to me than the “suburban” clichéd parents that pop up so often, going through the motions in the background but essentially barely fleshing out the world in which their child lives.
Part of it comes from how the story is told: during the 24 hours from the time of the accident to the time when Mia makes her decision, events in the hospital trigger flashbacks, memories that are important to her even though they’re generally not monumental. Through these memories, we come to really know Mia’s parents and Teddy, her eight-year-old brother. Likewise her best friend, Kim; her grandparents; and her boyfriend, Adam. It’s subtly told, and wonderfully done. I loved how gentle and seemingly ordinary these memories seemed, and how important they really were to Mia; how each contained a precious gem that together make up her life and what’s worth living for.
Some of these stories affected me more than others, but all of them created a rich life for Mia in a short amount of time and space. While at the beginning, the shock value in the details – seeing the “gray chunks of what looks like cauliflower” of her father’s brain and the zombie-like caste of her mother’s face – brings you instantly close to the horror, the story moves from the visceral to the emotional. When Teddy dies, for example, I felt something wrench inside me – all because we had just been reading about how he came to be after her parents had given up trying, how Mia had been there at his birth, and after previous scenes in which his delightful cheekiness had already made us smile. I felt like I had lost a child, or a beloved sibling, or someone else close to me. Forman’s power with words and weaving scenes together to make Mia’s story feel like a much more personal story, that was very real, very impressive.
So while reading If I Stay, I was wrapped up in the story, with the tissue box close by, intermittently reassuring my own 5 month old baby that everything was alright (he always looks at me a bit worried if I’m crying, which thankfully isn’t often). And yet, and yet. Afterwards, I felt – not manipulated, it wasn’t that kind of emotional story, the storytelling was at once more subtle and yet more frank than that kind of thing. And it wasn’t melodramatic or even self-indulgent, which was what I’d been expecting and the reason why I had had no interest in reading this until Bree convinced me to.
But I think I was ultimately disappointed that there wasn’t a bit more substance to it, that there wasn’t more oomph to the choice Mia has to make. At the end, it just seemed too easy. While reading it, it had such a natural flow to it, but afterwards when I thought about it, it made me pause. Was I looking for, expecting, some hard-hitting questions and speculations on life, love and death? No, not at all, in fact I was extremely glad there was no moralising, no preaching, no attempt to give answers. On the contrary, it was such a human story, and organic in its flow.
At the end of the day, everything I enjoyed about If I Stay – including the use of an Australianism (“take the piss”) which took me by surprise but I thoroughly enjoyed it, as well as all the swearing (I like my fiction to be realistic) – far outweighs any vague, nagging feeling of missing something. And perhaps, what it really is, is that sense of having delved deeply into another person’s life – another person’s tragedy – only to be yanked back out rather abruptly, before you’ve even had a chance to grieve, acclimate, find solid ground again. So yes, I will be reading the sequel, Where She Went, though in a way I think Forman could just as easily have let the story end here, with Mia’s choice, and my imagination as to what happens next.
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Other Reviews:
“The way that this story is told is incredible. [...] A truly fantastic read.” All the Books I Can Read
“…my heart still clenches when I think about it and the plot and the characters. It is so good and absorbing and a quick albeit heavy read.” Good Books & Good Wine
“This novel is like Mia’s Cello. It is beautiful, resounding and emotional. [...] Without a doubt, Forman has it where it counts.” CuddleBuggery
“Unfortunately, the inclusion of [raw] details didn’t carry on beyond the first thirty pages of the story. Furthermore, I think Forman failed to exploit the potential of that rawness to create any sort of emotional draw. Rating: Meh” Pink Sheep Cafe
Last year I had a real urge to re-read some L.M. Montgomery books, but I never got around to it. Then in December I thought about making it into a challenge in order to motivate myself, but after setting up the Around the World in 12 Books Challenge, it seemed like too much to take on, so I shelved the idea in the back of my head. Well, it won’t stay there. So I’ve decided to make it into a mini-challenge, one that spans three months, so that we get the motivation and encouragement to read the books without it dragging on.
A Brief Bio
Lucy Maud Montgomery was born on 30th November 1874 in Prince Edward Island, Canada’s smallest province. She was known as Maud to her friends. When she was just a baby her mother died of TB and her father gave custody of her to her grandparents, who raised her strictly. Her childhood was lonely, but it was perhaps this that led her to imagine other people and stories.
She was a teacher when she was younger but left to take care of her grandmother and work on her writing. In 1908, she published her first novel, Anne of Green Gables. Three years later, after her grandmother’s death, she married Ewan Macdonald (she’d had several proposals and romantic engagements – and one engagement – that put her off marriage for a time). They had two sons who lived and one who was stillborn. In 1935 they moved to Swansea, in Toronto, and a house she called Journey’s End on the Humber River. She published several more books from Toronto.
Maud died on 24th April 1942 in Toronto, and was buried in Cavendish, PEI, where she grew up.
Since I live not far from her Toronto house, I decided that if it was still standing (it is), I’d go and check it out. It’s a private residence so you can’t go inside, but it was a lovely walk with Hugh through a beautiful old neighbourhood. I probably wouldn’t have looked twice at the house before, but knowing something of its past really brought it to life.
The memorial park near the house she lived in, Swansea, Toronto.
The house Montgomery lived in for the last years of her life, which she called “Journey’s End”.
An apt name for the home where she died.
Hugh was quietly enthusiastic about seeing Montgomery’s house…
Her Books:
The Anne Series Anne of Green Gables
Anne of Avonlea
Anne of the Island
Anne of Windy Willows/Anne of Windy Poplars (depending on your edition) Anne’s House of Dreams
Anne of Ingleside
Rainbow Valley
Rilla of Ingleside
The Emily Trilogy Emily of New Moon
Emily Climbs
Emily’s Quest
The Pat Books Pat of Silver Bush
Mistress Pat
Story Girl The Story Girl
The Golden Road
Stand-alones & Short Stories The Blue Castle
A Tangled Web
Jane of Lantern Hill
Chronicles of Avonlea
Further Chronicles of Avonlea
Kilmeny of the Orchard
Magic for Marigold
The Road to Yesterday
Along the Shore: Tales by the Sea
Akin to Anne: Tales of Other Orphans
Among the Shadows: Tales of the Darker Side
The Doctor’s Sweetheart
At the Altar: Matrimonial Tales
Against the Odds: Tales of Achievement
Christmas with Anne and Other Holiday Stories
After Many Days: Tales of Time Passed
Across the Miles: Tales of Correspondence
Non-fiction: The Alpine Path: The Story of My Career
The Selected Journals, Vols 1-5
I’m sure I’ve missed a few; bigger fans of Montgomery than I can let me know what they are in the comments and I’ll add them in!
Challenge Details
This mini-challenge will run from 1st February to 30th April, 2012.
The idea is more to encourage ourselves to read Montgomery books we haven’t read before, than just re-reading Anne of Green Gables, her most famous book. Unless you’ve never read Anne of Green Gables, in which case, this is the perfect opportunity to fix that!
There are four challenge levels to choose from, to set yourself a goal:
The Anne Level Read seven or more L.M. Montgomery books
The Emily Level Read five L.M. Montgomery books
The Pat Level Read three L.M. Montgomery books
The Jane Level Read at least one L.M. Montgomery book
Interested? Sign-up here! (I will have a separate post up in February to collect all our reviews together so we can check out other reviews, discuss and share the love – or not, as the case may be. )
If you buy books from The Book Depository through links here on my blog, I will receive a commission (a small part of the purchase price) that will go towards web hosting and general maintenance of this blog as well as future giveaways. Thank you for your support, it's greatly appreciated!
Utter crap
It was okay
Liked it but ...
Really liked it
LOVED it!
Tropic of Chaos: Climate Change and the New Geography of Violence by Christian Parenti
” It’s a testament to Traviss’ writing that she could create a character so utterly alien, and yet more sympathetic and human than many of the humans! It wasn’t the first time I felt more drawn to an alien than a human character, and it probably won’t be the last.
