Okay, so I'm a big tool and I didn't really plan ahead sufficiently for moving this weekend and very possibly being computerless until the second week of June. What I'm saying is that my computer is packed up and has all my reviews on it, and I didn't think to get them ready for posting first.
I hope you'll all forgive me and/or stick around until I can start posting again in the middle of June. In the meantime, I offer profuse apologies.
Seriously though, this will also let me get my "buffer" built back up, I hope (but maybe not, considering how I'm currently on a wild goose chase for #89).
Sorrysorrysorry.
R8. Apache Nights by Sheri WhiteFeather
(Sorry again about the delay in posting, everybody! I know you're all waiting on tenterhooks every week for the new review to be posted, and I'll try very hard to not let this happen again. -M.R.)
Pages: 187
Pairing: homicide detective and Apache warrior/junk dealer
First Sentence: Where in the hell was he?
Climax: And when they climaxed at the same moment, at the very same instant, the rest of the world seemed to disappear, fading into nothingness.
Review:
Oh my God. Oh. My. God. I think I may have a new favourite book. I think I need to read everything Sheri WhiteFeather has ever written. Ohmigod. Listen:
Joyce Riggs (a weird name choice, I picture a "Joyce" as being like 70 years old) is a beautiful LA homicide detective, 36 years old, who feels like she's sitting on an atomic bomb waiting for it to go off (!!!) thanks to her ticking biological clock. To work through her angst, she goes to see Kyle Prescott, a 6'4" half-Apache Desert Storm veteran, who now does combat training and deals junk, and is part of a mysterious "Warrior Society." Also he's kind of strange, as personified by his dogs Bonnie and Clyde, a miniature dachshund and a rottweiler, respectively.
Joyce and Kyle quickly give in to the fireworks that started between them even before the beginning of the book: they met eight months prior on some kind of case involving Kyle's ex-girlfriend who is an honest-to-God native psychic and "almost a witch," whatever that means. I am not kidding. Kyle indulges Joyce's kinky side—bondage and blindfolding, both of which I've been on the internet way too long to be shocked by—and also makes her laugh with dirty jokes and odd behaviour. I.e. he plays with kids' toys.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Kyle and Joyce start developing feelings for one another. As if the obstacle of Joyce's independence wasn't enough, Kyle's Warrior Society does these covert ops where they steal native artifacts from collectors, and that's definitely not okay with Joyce. For some reason I can't quite remember, Kyle goes to see his ex-girlfriend to get a reading about Joyce, and his ex-girlfriend tells him that he and Joyce will get married and she'll have his baby. This freaks him out, so Kyle breaks things off.
Then Joyce gets misplaced for an evening (she spends the night crying at her sister's and loses her cellphone), and Kyle realizes how much he cares about her, and they reconcile and decide to get married and have a baby. The whole militant thievery thing is given up in basically a heartbeat, and they hand out Halloween candy and live happily ever after.
I'm afraid I haven't been able to capture all the nuances and awesomeness of the plot, but really it must be read to be believed. Even if characterization and plotting are as heavy-handed as usual, I'm pretty sure this book can improve race relations, solve mysteries, and cook you a gourmet supper. It's that good.
See you in my dreams, Kyle Prescott. (Seriously though, not at all.)
Quotations:
(Just to prove that this book is super awesome, instead of picking out quotations I'm just going to choose five random pages [using excel's =RANDBETWEEN() function] and pick out whatever I can find. The numbers: 24, 71, 83, 106, 111. Give me more numbers, and I will give you more quotes.)
24: She knew she shouldn't let him. But she was curious to taste him. One long, lingering jolt. One forbidden flavor.
71: She gave in and grabbed the condoms. She poked through the box, raising her eyebrows at him when she came across a glow-in-the-dark style.
83: The lady cop and her lover.
106: His climax triggered hers, and for the second time that morning, she burst like a water fountain.
111: "What does he do?"
Uh-oh, she thought. Here comes the tricky part. "He's a junk dealer."
Bonus!: Still, she battled the hurt, the loneliness, the pain-wrenching loss.
Pages: 187Pairing: homicide detective and Apache warrior/junk dealer
First Sentence: Where in the hell was he?
Climax: And when they climaxed at the same moment, at the very same instant, the rest of the world seemed to disappear, fading into nothingness.
Review:
Oh my God. Oh. My. God. I think I may have a new favourite book. I think I need to read everything Sheri WhiteFeather has ever written. Ohmigod. Listen:
Joyce Riggs (a weird name choice, I picture a "Joyce" as being like 70 years old) is a beautiful LA homicide detective, 36 years old, who feels like she's sitting on an atomic bomb waiting for it to go off (!!!) thanks to her ticking biological clock. To work through her angst, she goes to see Kyle Prescott, a 6'4" half-Apache Desert Storm veteran, who now does combat training and deals junk, and is part of a mysterious "Warrior Society." Also he's kind of strange, as personified by his dogs Bonnie and Clyde, a miniature dachshund and a rottweiler, respectively.
Joyce and Kyle quickly give in to the fireworks that started between them even before the beginning of the book: they met eight months prior on some kind of case involving Kyle's ex-girlfriend who is an honest-to-God native psychic and "almost a witch," whatever that means. I am not kidding. Kyle indulges Joyce's kinky side—bondage and blindfolding, both of which I've been on the internet way too long to be shocked by—and also makes her laugh with dirty jokes and odd behaviour. I.e. he plays with kids' toys.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Kyle and Joyce start developing feelings for one another. As if the obstacle of Joyce's independence wasn't enough, Kyle's Warrior Society does these covert ops where they steal native artifacts from collectors, and that's definitely not okay with Joyce. For some reason I can't quite remember, Kyle goes to see his ex-girlfriend to get a reading about Joyce, and his ex-girlfriend tells him that he and Joyce will get married and she'll have his baby. This freaks him out, so Kyle breaks things off.
Then Joyce gets misplaced for an evening (she spends the night crying at her sister's and loses her cellphone), and Kyle realizes how much he cares about her, and they reconcile and decide to get married and have a baby. The whole militant thievery thing is given up in basically a heartbeat, and they hand out Halloween candy and live happily ever after.
I'm afraid I haven't been able to capture all the nuances and awesomeness of the plot, but really it must be read to be believed. Even if characterization and plotting are as heavy-handed as usual, I'm pretty sure this book can improve race relations, solve mysteries, and cook you a gourmet supper. It's that good.
See you in my dreams, Kyle Prescott. (Seriously though, not at all.)
Quotations:
(Just to prove that this book is super awesome, instead of picking out quotations I'm just going to choose five random pages [using excel's =RANDBETWEEN() function] and pick out whatever I can find. The numbers: 24, 71, 83, 106, 111. Give me more numbers, and I will give you more quotes.)
24: She knew she shouldn't let him. But she was curious to taste him. One long, lingering jolt. One forbidden flavor.
71: She gave in and grabbed the condoms. She poked through the box, raising her eyebrows at him when she came across a glow-in-the-dark style.
83: The lady cop and her lover.
106: His climax triggered hers, and for the second time that morning, she burst like a water fountain.
111: "What does he do?"
Uh-oh, she thought. Here comes the tricky part. "He's a junk dealer."
Bonus!: Still, she battled the hurt, the loneliness, the pain-wrenching loss.
In Which I Am A Jackass
You guys! I am horrible.
I procrastinated a lot this weekend on the whole blogging thing and I'm not going to be able to get the next review posted until tomorrow sometime.
I'm blaming it on the long weekend, but mostly I'm just sorry.
Agh. *death gurgle*
I procrastinated a lot this weekend on the whole blogging thing and I'm not going to be able to get the next review posted until tomorrow sometime.
I'm blaming it on the long weekend, but mostly I'm just sorry.
Agh. *death gurgle*
93. The Magus by John Fowles
Year Published: 1966Pages: 582
First sentence: I was born in 1927, the only child of middle-class parents, both English, and themselves born in the grotesquely elongated shadow, which they never rose sufficiently above history to leave, of that monstrous dwarf Queen Victoria.
Rating: 3/3 (read it!)
Review:
I've often seen books referred to as journeys, but I don't think I've ever really gotten that sense from any book quite as much as I got it from this one, which completely blew my mind, by the way.
Before I get too carried away gushing over it, though, I should say what it's about. The narrator (I'm noticing a distinct trend toward first person narration in the books so far, we'll see if that continues) is Nicholas Urfe, who finds himself on a Greek island called Phraxos, teaching English at what is supposed to be the best boys' school in Greece, although just about everyone there cares far more about science than they do about English literature, or English in general. It's the early 1950s, and Nicholas is right in the middle of his twenties. There are two sort of gigantically important people in his life.
The first is Alison Kelly, an Australian girl just a few years younger than Nicholas, who he shacks up with shortly before his departure to Greece. Their relationship is a somewhat incoherent mess, but I really liked Alison, and when I say "incoherent mess" I'm not referring to a lack of quality in the writing, but rather a mutual lack of ability to connect on the parts of both Nicholas and Alison.
The second person is Maurice Conchis, an oldish man with a villa on Phraxos. He and his role are a little bit hard to pin down, but basically Nicholas meets him and ends up spending some time at Conchis' villa, where there are numerous shenanigans going on, including both ghosts and gods.
By now I'm sure everyone can agree that I'm not terribly good at summaries, so let's just move along. This book is really, really good. At the beginning, it felt kind of similar to Peter Straub's Shadowland (which I loved for its slow burn), in that there's a young man who goes to learn from a mysterious older man living alone in the middle of nowhere (sort of). I had to take that comparison off the table fairly early on, though, because The Magus gets into so many more things. I do have to admit I was a little disappointed that fantasy and magic didn't have a bigger presence here, though.
The prose is occasionally a little clunky, but that's easy to ignore because of the force of the story and how evocative it is. I'll admit too that towards the end there were bits that started sailing over my head, but I think I got the gist of the book's comments on choice, trust, love, and even reality.
I did make one observation that I'd really like to discuss, but it's kind of spoilerful. Has anyone read this one?
- - - - -
"You're not me. You can't feel like I feel."
"I can feel."
"No you can't. You just choose not to feel or something, and everything's fine."
"It's not fine. It's just not so bad."
- - - - -
He looked out to sea. "There is a poem of the T'ang dynasty." He sounded the precious little glottal stop. "'Here at the frontier, there are falling leaves. Although my neighbors are all barbarians, and you, you are a thousand miles away, there are always two cups on my table.'"
- - - - -
But the battlefield—that is something different. Because that is when the real enemy, death, appears.
- - - - -
A young Victorian of my age would have thought nothing of waiting fifty months, let alone fifty days, for his beloved; and of never permitting a single unchaste thought to sully his mind, let alone an act his body. I could get up in a young Victorian mood; but by midday, with a pretty girl standing beside me in a bookshop, I might easily find myself praying to the God I did not believe in that she wouldn't turn and smile at me.
- - - - -
R7. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
(Just like last week, there'll be Jane Eyre spoilers. Also, by the way, I found this travesty at the bookstore last weekend. While I can get behind Pride and Prejudice and Zombies for being an original idea, I absolutely cannot support its imitators. Lame. Speaking of P&P&Z, is anyone interested in seeing some reviews of Austen or Emily Brontë or anything like that? It may not be true to the whole "bottom 100 romance novels" thing, but I'll take whatever breaks I can get. -M.R.)
Pages: 485
Pairing: governess and ... gentleman, I guess?
First Sentence: There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.
Climax: lol yeah right... but I don't think any of these words mean what Charlotte Brontë thinks they do: Again came the blank of a pause: the clock struck eight strokes. It aroused him; he uncrossed his legs, sat erect, turned to me.
Review:
Although I may have read some of the Little House books, Nancy Drew, and maybe Anne of Green Gables before the first time I read Jane Eyre, when I was ten years old, I always think of Jane Eyre as the first novel I ever read (I guess arguably Nancy Drew and the Little House books would qualify as "chapter books" rather than novels, but whatever). I bought it and Wuthering Heights at a school book fair when I was in grade five, at my mom's suggestion. I read it, and I'm sure I only understood about 50% of any given scene, but I also fell in love. This love affair only exacerbated my obsession with orphans and mansions (possibly first inspired by The Secret Garden). I also trace some strange childhood ideas about punctuation and the word "for" to this book. In my mind's eye, it's the size of War and Peace most likely because of the fact that I was much smaller when I first read it.
The point of all this is that I can't possibly think of Jane Eyre in an objective way at this point, but I have to say that on this latest rereading it stood up rather well.
Anyway I really hate to see it in a list with Because of a Boy and all the rest, but I'm glad I read it again after Wide Sargasso Sea. It's definitely better than that other book, and all the romnovs on the list so far.
If I were to regard it with the same standards and attitudes as the other romnovs, I'd say that it gets off to a rather slow start: male lead Edward Rochester doesn't appear until over a hundred pages in. I'd say that Charlotte Brontë has very bizarre ideas about semi-colons, perhaps even bordering on obsession. I'd say where the hell is all the sex (except that we all know that no one in England had sex throughout the entire reign of Queen Victoria, so this may not be a valid complaint)?
My edition of the book (from Tor, and surprisingly full of typographic errors) certainly casts itself in the light of an ordinary romnov. The front cover byline thingy reads, "A haunting tale of young love—and deadly secrets..." and the back cover continues even more melodramatically—though to be honest, not exagerrating at all about the book's actual content.
For those of you that I'm confusing, I should probably give at least a brief explanation of what the book is about. Jane Eyre is an 18 year-old governess with basically no family or friends. She works for and falls in love with Edward Rochester, teaching his "ward," Adèle Varens. Rochester is 40ish, but the age difference isn't as big of an obstacle to their happiness as is the fact that Rochester is already married to Bertha Mason aka Antoinette Cosway, which Jane literally discovers at the altar. Jane refuses to become Rochester's mistress, a bunch of pretty neat/coincidental things happen, and various of the book's characters get to live happily ever after.
If the ending isn't quite satisfying, I hardly care. If pages are "wasted" in the beginning to tell about Jane going to boarding school, those pages are certainly more interesting than the best parts of The Single Dad's Virgin Wife. If there's no sex, there's lots to read between the lines.
Anyway I'm sorry if this has turned into just a bunch of gushing over a book I've loved since childhood. Just read it, okay? And definitely have a look at this one before Wide Sargasso Sea.
(Sorry about all the parentheses, I got a bit carried away!)
Quotations:
"Sir, I was too plain; I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that it was not easy to give an impromptu answer to a question about appearances; that tastes mostly differ; and that beauty is of little consequence, or something of that sort."
And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.
Pages: 485Pairing: governess and ... gentleman, I guess?
First Sentence: There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.
Climax: lol yeah right... but I don't think any of these words mean what Charlotte Brontë thinks they do: Again came the blank of a pause: the clock struck eight strokes. It aroused him; he uncrossed his legs, sat erect, turned to me.
Review:
Although I may have read some of the Little House books, Nancy Drew, and maybe Anne of Green Gables before the first time I read Jane Eyre, when I was ten years old, I always think of Jane Eyre as the first novel I ever read (I guess arguably Nancy Drew and the Little House books would qualify as "chapter books" rather than novels, but whatever). I bought it and Wuthering Heights at a school book fair when I was in grade five, at my mom's suggestion. I read it, and I'm sure I only understood about 50% of any given scene, but I also fell in love. This love affair only exacerbated my obsession with orphans and mansions (possibly first inspired by The Secret Garden). I also trace some strange childhood ideas about punctuation and the word "for" to this book. In my mind's eye, it's the size of War and Peace most likely because of the fact that I was much smaller when I first read it.
The point of all this is that I can't possibly think of Jane Eyre in an objective way at this point, but I have to say that on this latest rereading it stood up rather well.
Anyway I really hate to see it in a list with Because of a Boy and all the rest, but I'm glad I read it again after Wide Sargasso Sea. It's definitely better than that other book, and all the romnovs on the list so far.
If I were to regard it with the same standards and attitudes as the other romnovs, I'd say that it gets off to a rather slow start: male lead Edward Rochester doesn't appear until over a hundred pages in. I'd say that Charlotte Brontë has very bizarre ideas about semi-colons, perhaps even bordering on obsession. I'd say where the hell is all the sex (except that we all know that no one in England had sex throughout the entire reign of Queen Victoria, so this may not be a valid complaint)?
My edition of the book (from Tor, and surprisingly full of typographic errors) certainly casts itself in the light of an ordinary romnov. The front cover byline thingy reads, "A haunting tale of young love—and deadly secrets..." and the back cover continues even more melodramatically—though to be honest, not exagerrating at all about the book's actual content.
For those of you that I'm confusing, I should probably give at least a brief explanation of what the book is about. Jane Eyre is an 18 year-old governess with basically no family or friends. She works for and falls in love with Edward Rochester, teaching his "ward," Adèle Varens. Rochester is 40ish, but the age difference isn't as big of an obstacle to their happiness as is the fact that Rochester is already married to Bertha Mason aka Antoinette Cosway, which Jane literally discovers at the altar. Jane refuses to become Rochester's mistress, a bunch of pretty neat/coincidental things happen, and various of the book's characters get to live happily ever after.
If the ending isn't quite satisfying, I hardly care. If pages are "wasted" in the beginning to tell about Jane going to boarding school, those pages are certainly more interesting than the best parts of The Single Dad's Virgin Wife. If there's no sex, there's lots to read between the lines.
Anyway I'm sorry if this has turned into just a bunch of gushing over a book I've loved since childhood. Just read it, okay? And definitely have a look at this one before Wide Sargasso Sea.
(Sorry about all the parentheses, I got a bit carried away!)
Quotations:
"Sir, I was too plain; I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that it was not easy to give an impromptu answer to a question about appearances; that tastes mostly differ; and that beauty is of little consequence, or something of that sort."
And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.
94. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
(I'm definitely of the opinion that the statute of limitations is up on this one, but just in case: beware of Jane Eyre spoilers. And hey, they're making a new movie of it, starring Alice in Wonderland as Jane, and Billy Elliot as St. John. -M.R.)
Year Published: 1966
Pages: 190
First sentence: They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.
Review:
To my complete surprise (I'd never heard of this book before, and the title suggests absolutely nothing), I discovered from the inside blurb that Wide Sargasso Sea is a sort of Jane Eyre prequel, the story of Edward Rochester's first wife.
Before I continue to review it, then, I have to tell you that I have a long and very fond relationship with Jane Eyre, however I haven't reread it for quite some time. Immediately after finishing Wide Sargasso Sea, though, I decided to call Jane Eyre a romance novel and read it for next week, at which time I'll wax poetic about it in greater depth.
For now, though, I have to operate based on previous readings, and of course the present reading of Wide Sargasso Sea. It's told in first person, mostly by Antoinette Cosway, the first wife in question. There's also a few bits told by Edward Rochester, though I don't think he's ever named as such. If, like me, you don't remember much about her story, I'll say that she's a sort of Creole heiress whose mother was essentially driven to insanity and who has a bit of craziness of her own. The story elaborates on the one Rochester tells in Jane Eyre about how he was tricked into marrying Antoinette, and gives a rather new perspective on the lunatic in the attic.
This book is interesting as a sort of companion novel to Jane Eyre, but I'm really not sure how effective it would be in its own right. Antoinette is a sympathetic character, Rochester rather less so, and there's certainly enough story available for a novel, it just seems like it might fall flat without the other work there to prop it up. I'm completely unable to say any of that objectively, though.
There's also, as usual, the matter of style. Aside from the first person narration, Jean Rhys and Charlotte Brontë are very vastly different. Between Antoinette and Jane this makes sense, considering that one is a crazy Creole and the other is a Victorian governess, but Edward's voice doesn't seem much different from Antoinette's. In any case, the sharp contrast makes Jean Rhys' style seem kind of pretentious and artsy. I don't think it's any different in reality from that found in The Ginger Man, for example, but it's the contrast that makes it seem ridiculous.
So, like I said, interesting by association, but not, perhaps, on its own.
Quotations:
Then Tia would light a fire (fires always lit for her, sharp stones did not hurt her bare feet, I never saw her cry).
I went to parts of Coulibri that I had not seen, where there was no road, no path, no track. And if the razor grass cut my legs and arms I would think "It's better than people." Black ants or red ones, tall nests swarming with white ants, rain that soaked me to the skin—once I saw a snake. All better than people.
"You are a damn hard man for a young man."
"So you say, so you say."
"I tell her so. I warn her. I say this is not a man who will help you when he sees you break up. Only the best can do that. The best—and sometimes the worst."
Rating: 2/3 (meh)
Year Published: 1966Pages: 190
First sentence: They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.
Review:
To my complete surprise (I'd never heard of this book before, and the title suggests absolutely nothing), I discovered from the inside blurb that Wide Sargasso Sea is a sort of Jane Eyre prequel, the story of Edward Rochester's first wife.
Before I continue to review it, then, I have to tell you that I have a long and very fond relationship with Jane Eyre, however I haven't reread it for quite some time. Immediately after finishing Wide Sargasso Sea, though, I decided to call Jane Eyre a romance novel and read it for next week, at which time I'll wax poetic about it in greater depth.
For now, though, I have to operate based on previous readings, and of course the present reading of Wide Sargasso Sea. It's told in first person, mostly by Antoinette Cosway, the first wife in question. There's also a few bits told by Edward Rochester, though I don't think he's ever named as such. If, like me, you don't remember much about her story, I'll say that she's a sort of Creole heiress whose mother was essentially driven to insanity and who has a bit of craziness of her own. The story elaborates on the one Rochester tells in Jane Eyre about how he was tricked into marrying Antoinette, and gives a rather new perspective on the lunatic in the attic.
This book is interesting as a sort of companion novel to Jane Eyre, but I'm really not sure how effective it would be in its own right. Antoinette is a sympathetic character, Rochester rather less so, and there's certainly enough story available for a novel, it just seems like it might fall flat without the other work there to prop it up. I'm completely unable to say any of that objectively, though.
There's also, as usual, the matter of style. Aside from the first person narration, Jean Rhys and Charlotte Brontë are very vastly different. Between Antoinette and Jane this makes sense, considering that one is a crazy Creole and the other is a Victorian governess, but Edward's voice doesn't seem much different from Antoinette's. In any case, the sharp contrast makes Jean Rhys' style seem kind of pretentious and artsy. I don't think it's any different in reality from that found in The Ginger Man, for example, but it's the contrast that makes it seem ridiculous.
So, like I said, interesting by association, but not, perhaps, on its own.
Quotations:
Then Tia would light a fire (fires always lit for her, sharp stones did not hurt her bare feet, I never saw her cry).
I went to parts of Coulibri that I had not seen, where there was no road, no path, no track. And if the razor grass cut my legs and arms I would think "It's better than people." Black ants or red ones, tall nests swarming with white ants, rain that soaked me to the skin—once I saw a snake. All better than people.
"You are a damn hard man for a young man."
"So you say, so you say."
"I tell her so. I warn her. I say this is not a man who will help you when he sees you break up. Only the best can do that. The best—and sometimes the worst."
Rating: 2/3 (meh)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)