This is a book I purchased for my library and finally had a chance to read it. From the first page, I was hooked. SAVVY is full of delightful, lovable and inspiring characters. Its funny and magical.
The Beaumonts are a unique family. As each kid hits the age of 13, their inherent power comes to light. They call this talent, "SAVVY." When the Beaumonts celebrate, lucky 13, everyone waits to see what will happen. No matter what, a savvy is one birthday gift you can't return. Rocket can create electricity, Fish can make hurricanes, Grandfather can move mountains, now its Mibs turn. But, her father gets into an accident, turning everything upside down, sending them on an adventure that teaches them some hard life lessons.
Its a refreshing story about growing up, about being different and listening to your own voice in figuring out who you are. I really liked the message that we shouldn't be in such a big hurry to grow up.
This book is a treat for all ages. From start to finish, its a fun journey. I hope that Ingrid Law will continue the story and write a series with these characters.....one is not enough!
Since Pride and Prejudice is a larger work and is naturally divided into 3 volumes, I thought I'd discuss it that way. What I can report is that I found volume II to be much more appealing than the second half of part I. In truth, if I had not already committed myself to finishing it, I might have abandoned it... I find that the sections sans Mr. Darcy don't seem to captivate my attention, but whenever Mr. Darcy is involved, I find the pages turn themselves.
I have enjoyed the world presented here, though the times are different, there is much that is universal. The pursuit of love (or is it that? No, the "right match" perhaps is a better fit), what parents wish and desire for their children (finding a man of the right breeding has become today's applications to colleges, plus let's get a man of good breeding to boot- a doctor, lawyer, engineer... some things never change) all feel familiar and connected to current life. What I find interesting is how little is needed to go from interest to a marriage proposal in the time of Pride and Prejudice. Wowza! It also makes me wonder about the future- we know so much these days of our potential mates before marriage and yet so many seem to abandon their marital vows so easily... (some rightly so, but many just don't seem to be willing to work at it- there will be bumps in the road people!). What will we require to know of our potential life partners 100 years from now? Will we be analyzing DNA and brain scans to see if the match is a quality one? I digress...
What a delightful turn of events to have Mr. Darcy propose to dear Elizabeth! Though he did it Jackass style (yes, let's go ahead and insult her ill connections and upbringing- that will surely charm her), it was still wonderfully exciting. I do find that I understand his thought process and how his decision to choose her came with some serious risk to his position, but maybe that would have been something better left for a discussion outside of a proposal, hmmm? It would be like a man today saying, "I know you are overweight, but your personality has overcome how unattractive you are." So frickin' romantic! Sure, there is truth in it, but DAMN, that is not what one should say when wooing a lady. Of course, our Mr. Darcy has not even been accused of being overly charming, so it suits his character, but I did have to chuckle at how any man EVER could have thought that would be well-received. Jackass.
I also appreciate the character of Elizabeth so much- oh she is opinionated, but can admit her wrong upon reflection. I admire that in a character, fictional or real. I respected Mr. Darcy's decision to provide her with a letter of explanation after her refusal, because dear Lizzy had painted him in a terrible light. I felt genuinely sorry for him to have the woman he hoped to marry, in spite of her lowly stature, think so poorly of him. The letter at least put his truth out there for her to consider. I do find my age showing here though- how does a girl believe anything anyone tells her??? Even at twenty? Even during those naive times? I was so glad to find her analyzing Wickham's actions to seek evidence that Mr. Darcy's viewpoint seemed the most likely.
Anyway, I have begun volume III and am just waiting for Mr. Darcy to pop back into the picture. They haven't seen each other since the letter and I am DYING to see what happens next!
Will I be beaten and flogged for what I am about to say here? Is there something inherently wrong with me, as a woman, for feeling as I do about this beloved piece of literature? Will Heather still love me??? These are the questions swimming in my mind as I prepare to write this update on my dive into the world of Jane Austen.
At first, I found it rather charming. I enjoyed our dear Elizabeth Bennett (and still do or I do not think that I would be continuing on without her). The formality of the world seemed interesting and I was able to, at first, overlook the desperate matching of men and women based on their material worth and "accomplishments." I appreciate that, indeed, much of this world was born out of necessity and the fact that a young lady's future rested purely on the marriage she entered into. What other option did a young lady have? None. And yet, as this has been the ENTIRE focus of the book so far, I am finding myself a little bored. The introduction of the exasperating Mr. Collins, along with Mrs. Bennett (mama), has done nothing but annoy me utterly.
All I can say is that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley better get their butts back in the story soon because I do enjoy the exchanges between Mr. Darcy and our fair Elizabeth. Her spunk self-confidence and ability to overcome the time she is born to makes her delightful. I am hopeful that the second section will charm me more than I have felt as of late. I am not sure that such "proper" classic literature is my cup of tea. I will finish it, but I am not smitten.
Sometimes when you discover some obscure piece of acclaimed literature that you’ve never quite heard of, it turns out to be a secret masterpiece.Other times, it turns out to be pretty clear why you’ve never quite heard of it.
Unfortunately, my first review blog falls into the second category.The book in question is Ask the Dust by John Fante.I heard a compelling interview with Fante’s son on NPR (90% of all my stories/conversations begin with me saying, “I heard a story on NPR about…”).I was intrigued because I’d never even heard of John Fante, and apparently he was a writer of some renown and is still fairly highly regarded.He lived in southern California in the 1930s, and Ask the Dust has a distinctly pre-Beat feel; lyrical, poetic, artistic, irreverent and counter-culture in its own way.It is the story of Arturo Bandini, a desperate young writer living in poverty in Los Angeles, trying to live the ascetic artistic life.He’s in love most of all with the romance of writing and the artistic life, but his writing career (as well as his romantic advances and attempts at artistic authenticity) are all routinely stymied, plunging him into increasing despair and self-loathing.Eventually he falls in love with (or in hate with?honestly, it’s a little hard to tell) Camilla, a Mexican waitress who both attracts and repels him, and together they descend into a strange love/hate/poverty/desperation downward spiral that threatens to destroy them both.
It sounds compelling…but for some reason, this book just fell kind of flat for me.I enjoyed it and it kept me reading, but it just felt quietly unremarkable.It is more about character (Arturo Bandini truly is a memorable protagonist) than plot, and more about an artist coming to terms with himself and the world than about romance, but somehow it just didn’t really come together.I ended the book torn between wanting more, and wanting less – like it should either have been cut down to a short story, or broadened into a more developed novel (its short…about 160 pages in my edition).
It was interesting to me, though, as kind of a bridge piece.You can feel the consciousness of the Beat writers of the next generation waking up in this work.As someone who went through quite a Kerouac/Beat phase in college, I found it really interesting to see who came just before them.I don’t know it to be a fact, but I’d guess that Kerouac and his contemporaries read Fante, and identified with the tortured artistic soul of Arturo Bandini.Fante, though, was born a generation too soon…his attraction to counter-culture is too tepid and prude.Bandini, though he’s supposed to be a kind of off-the-grid independent iconoclast, comes off as a bit quaint; he’s horrified and tortured, for example, when he has consensual premarital sex (with an adult woman!) because it is adultery.Compare that to Ms. Ferrell’s next-generation Lolita.And one character’s dabbling in marijuana is portrayed with all the sinister brimstone judgementalism we would apply to meth or black tar heroin.Fante wanted to break out of society’s cloister, it feels…but not too far.
Originally, I was going to say the feel of Fante’s writing was “like a lost love-child of Jack Kerouac and Raymond Chandler.”But that wasn’t quite right.And it was also just a little weird.Then I tried “an uneasy blend between Henry Miller and John Steinbeck,” but that was even worse.So I’ll have to be content with conceding that Fante is a little tricky to describe, and that I need to read more female authors.
I do love Fante’s language, though.If you like the free verse, lyrical abandon of the Beats, you’d like Fante.To give you a feel: “Los Angeles, give me some of you!Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town.”And another: “This was the life for a man, to wander and stop and then go on, ever following the white line along the rambling coast, a time to relax at the wheel, light another cigaret (sic), and grope stupidly for the meanings in that perplexing desert sky.”Good stuff.
So in the end, I would classify Ask the Dust as fun, but not required reading.If you’re really into Beat writers or want to broaden your experience with the modern American canon, Fante might be a great choice.If you’re looking for a must-read classic for your reader’s resume, this is one you could probably skip.
Although I’d picked out an entirely different book to read this week, I passed this story of AIDS in Haiti and was compelled to pick it up. The topic of AIDS has long been important to me, but as the disaster unfolds in Haiti, I’ve realized that Haiti, the country, the people, their suffering should be important to me as well. I found myself frustrated with those around me talking about Haiti as if they had any authority on the matter, as if they’d been there, seen the poverty, knew the people, knew the struggles. Yet I was in the same boat. I knew nothing of Haiti except what I’ve heard from my husband, and his stories are ones of fear and Voodoo. This book seemed like the perfect way to feed my mind through the eyes and experiences of a doctor charmed by this nation.
I find truth in his experience, not only for myself, but for my friends and family. At some point we’ve all been enslaved by what we feel we should do, say, look like, think, believe. But I’ve experienced my own enlightenment, found something beyond my own little bubble of existence. I’ve watched as friends travel to third world countries and come back different people, suddenly and profoundly aware of life outside of their hometown, their state, their country and striving to make a difference in the lives of others. Dr. Fournier’s truth is also my truth. It’s Dusty’s truth. It’s Anita’s truth. It’s Nathan’s truth. It’s the same truth, yet different words, a different country and different circumstances.
It is that truth and the spark of illumination that I found beautiful.
Ah yes, Animal Farm. A classic. Short and sweet. A palate cleanser. I needed something TOTALLY different than Lolita and honestly, though I considered reading Pride and Prejudice next I just couldn't imagine anything resembling a love story directly after the tainted love (bump-bump) of Lolita.
I am about two-thirds of the way through and I am enjoying it in all of it's alle-glory. OK, that was pretty bad. Sorry. I did appreciate the intro with the discussion regarding the historical context of Animal Farm. I wish I had a better knowledge of Russian history, as I'm sure that I would enjoy more connections than I have with my limited knowledge, but the underlying truth as it applies to all forms of leadership is good to consider nonetheless. The totalitarianism inching into Animal Farm is quite interesting so far with the warping and bending of history and rules to benefit the ruler.
I anticipate finishing soon and I'll let you know. I am ever-so-hopeful that one of my co-authors on this blog will jump on soon to let us know what they are reading. I am quite the blog hog it seems. Oh Danny Boy, the blog, the blog is calling... ;)
How do I begin THIS? To come out and say that I really enjoyed this book brings a smack of disgust to my face. I did really enjoy this book and yet the subject matter was dark and thoroughly disturbing. My choice in reading this book came from my dive into reading, diving as I do with most of what I do. I decided that I was going to read those books I had always heard about, with titles simply familiar, not unlike the face of the Mona Lisa or the twist of Michealangelo's David's wrist (his face, it must be noted, looks completely different viewed in real life. The shots we see in the media are straight on, but David was designed to be viewed by looking up from the ground. This view made me believe that God works in the hand of a true artist because David in life was spectacularly beautiful and infinitely more perfect than any picture I had seen of him. I tell you honestly, that I had tears in my eyes seeing David).
So, I decided upon Lolita in much the same manor- I had heard about it for years and knew loosely what it was about- a sick obsession of a middle-aged man lusting after a young girl. Since I had dipped my toe into adult matters with Indiana Gothic (forbidden love affair within a family) and Slaughterhouse-Five (war and the ugliness surrounding, my forbidden Footloose book), I decided to just plunge into the MOST forbidden of the classics... And I sure do understand the infamy.
So what left the biggest impressions with me in reading this book? First, the prose was akin to the perfection of butter sliding into a hot slice of toast. It soaked and flowed with an ease and beauty that couldn't help but wrap you up in it (and yes, dear reader- style borrowed from Lolita, indulging in a piece of hot toast with butter such as this I find almost as inspiring on certain days). In fact, it is the salvation of the subject matter, Nabokov's language. "...but such suffusions of swimming colors are not to be disdained by the artist in recollection." Like buddah!
The obsession in Lolita was overpowering at times and yet, it felt so real and was pivotal to the entire plot. Without Humbert's level of obsession, there is no book. We would never have gone anywhere. What struck me as a necessary companion to the obsession was Humbert's rationalization to find a comfort in what he was ruminating about and then what he was actually doing. Why I could tolerate this odious character was because he did at least strive to rationalize- he KNEW he was wrong and I found it deeply moving when, towards the end, he allowed himself the gravity of what he had done to this young girl. He damaged her and destroyed her and for all of the obsessing he had done over her, Humbert acknowledged that he did not KNOW her. As a person. He knew her as an object, which was what he focused on during his obsession- Lolita as pleasure. The hints at her pain, which he occasionally glanced upon during the awfulness, were alway whisked away through rationalization, until the end. I am glad for that end, in a very personal way, I am glad for it.
A master of teasing us with his eventual jailing (for what offense, when?) was a teasing hope that was necessary. This monster, though polished in ways and oh how he attempted to NOT be monster when he wasn't indulging his disgusting obsession, was going to get his. Thanks Nabokov, genius, knowing that we readers needed to know, through this vileness, that Humbert would be punished...
Once again, so much more that could be said. So much more to examine, but again, I feel this enough. I invite comments (just click that little "comment" button below this post), questions, observations. I am glad I have read Lolita and I hear there is a movie... nothing in the world could move me to see it.
After my embarrassing reason for selecting Slaughterhouse-Five, I may have diminished your desire to hear my thoughts now that I have completed it, but I hope not. Levity and honesty are good things, no?
So first I must say that I responded positively to this book. Kurt Vonnegut's irreverent style, humor and ability to touch on the difficult subject matter of the Dresden bombing with an isolation and separation from reality was quite understandable to me. Sure, I read that the concept of free will versus resigning yourself to fate were main themes of the book and I see that, but I also would add that his experience in Dresden does hold true experience for the author. It was said that he didn't allow the reader to feel the depth of tragedy that was the war and what I say is this- neither will your own mind when you suffer real tragedy.
The brain often protects from atrocity as you live it and I wonder if this is something that deserves to be looked at when viewing Vonnegut's protection of the reader from the true horror of war, though it was present, mentioned and simply moved past. It was not discussed in the book with "normal" human emotion that we would expect, but war is not normal and extraordinary circumstance does not produce "normal" results in humans. What we think we will do and what we actually do during times of horror are two distinct things. It is so easy to sit from a chair and think of what we believe we would feel when confronted by something horrific... The awfulness was there in this book and with the resignation of "so it goes," which followed every mention of death wasn't meant, to me, to belittle tragedy, but to accept that it is and to find a way to continue.
I have more thoughts, there is so much more to say about this book, but I think this is enough currently. I cordially invite any feedback, comments or questions!
I started this blog with an eye towards sharing my personal experiences with books, but as I thought about it I really wanted to have more perspectives and more books involved than just what I am reading, so I invited a few friends to join me and I am so happy to report that they are "in." Yea for all of our masses of readers (ok, none at this point, but it hardly matters)!
So, you will see posts from me about classic books (and others) as well as posts from 3 other people that jumped out as perfect choices for being regular contributors to this blog. 2 are people I work with, school teacher-librarians in my district- witty and bright people, and one is a cyber buddy and fellow adoptive mom whom I respect deeply as a person. I've read her blog since my adoption journey began and have enjoyed her openness and writing style tremendously.
So, with a new angle... welcome to OUR blog. I'll get them signed up soon and the posts will roll in according to whatever fashion we all wish. There may be others that join us as time goes on, but frankly, I am excited to see what these cats are reading (or going to read) and what they have to say about their literary experiences.
I fear I shall turn into a bonafide Book Nerd because I am altogether TOO excited about this!
In an effort to start this thing off honestly, I will tell you how I decided upon this book. It just so happened that I was poking around Facebook, reading up a little on one recently friended colleague that I was curious about and wanted to know a little bit more about, coincidentally the friend that made the comment about knowing the characters in a book better than those in his own real life, and I stumbled upon a note of his, marking which of the classic books from a list he had read. The dude had read 63. It was stated that the average American has likely read 6 of the listed titles. I, with red face, admit that I only read 4. Yes, my friends, 4 and 2 were children's lit.
So, I looked at the list and decided to read the ones that I had always heard about and thought I should read. I decided to start with Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five for an even more embarrassing reason and I shall share that with you now (honesty, remember). Kevin Bacon. Footloose. One of my favorite movies as a girl (and if you put the theme song on, I can show you a totally bitchin' and all-together all-to-literal dance routing I made up as a child to it... Just imagine "Everybody cut, everybody cut" performed as written and you'll get the idea), Slaughterhouse-Five was mentioned in this classic piece of American cinema as a partner in the "should be banned along with dancing" type of vibe. So, there you go, the forbidden book from Footloose. That's why I picked it. Enjoy snickering at me at will. :)
So here I am, beginning a journey to become well-read. I am a librarian and so I should be, but the truth is I became a librarian in a school in order to promote research primarily. Oh sure, I love books, but I admit that I have not loved them as long or as deeply as many of my colleagues. I have long been a fan of research and with the addition of the Internet to the arsenal of research, my goodness, the potential is limitless. But, my use of the cliched term "arsenal of" show one of my motivations to become well-read... Sigh.
I also will explain that I am going to be sharing how the literature hits me. Me as a person, a thinker, a less-well-read than I should be, non-literary type. I am looking for MY truth in the books and will likely miss out on some of the things I should, so if you happen to follow along, I cordially invite you to help me see what I miss. I invite questions. I invite noticing of themes. I invite it all.
What I would say is this- literature, along with all other art forms, does hold universal truth, but it hits individuals differently and I firmly believe it is meant to. My life experience will differ than yours, so we will perhaps be moved by different things. I plan to be honest here. I plan to not shy from the personal experiences, for better or for worse. I am, to use another cliche, an open book, more or less. So I plan to be open here.
What I have noticed, as I have begun reading classics and adult literature is that there is a deliciousness in the realness and honesty of characters in books and yet, in real life, so many guard who they are and when we see something real in others that dances on the line or leaps widely over the boundaries into ugliness we run from that person much of the time. We cannot stand to see.
Recently, an very well-read colleague of mine commented that the characters in a particular book seemed more real to him than many of the people he knew in real life. Interesting. Truthful. But would he really want to know the characters in his real life better and as deeply as those literary ones is what I wonder... No judgement in that at all, just a question and one that I pose to all of us.
So, I am on a quest to read those classics I missed in high school and college. Those books I always have felt I should have read and didn't as I skipped school and faked my way through the American school system, still managing to pass high school with a 3.2 GPA having missed at least a third of it. In college I finally had real motivation and did actually learn, but I spent much of that time in a Bellingham induced fog, so I don't recall that much. I am here to catch up. I will, too, discuss children's books from time to time because I appreciate their beauty deeply. I hope you don't mind.
And last, I promise you that everything I say here is both true and untrue, to the best of my knowledge. Feel free to join in and share your thoughts at any time if you wish.
