Tagged: fiction
Norse Mythology
Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman, 5/5
I am not a fan of Neil Gaiman’s work in general, but there is no denying the excellence of this retelling of tales from Norse mythology. The tone is fresh, without too much anachronism; sensitive and poetic, not melodramatic; and witty without flippancy.
Why I read it: my husband enjoyed the audiobook and I liked the bit that I overheard, so he bought a hard copy.
Bertram
Bertram; or, The Castle of St. Aldobrand by Charles Robert Maturin, 3/5
Drama is my least favorite literary genre and via ebook is my least favorite method of literary consumption, but my curiosity was adequately rewarded by this obscure, yet affectingly tragic and well-written play from the early 19th century, made available online by the University of Virginia Library.
Why I read it: A dramatic quote from this play, used as a chapter epigraph in The Hidden Hand, piqued my curiosity:
“By hell and all its host, he shall not live.
This is no transient flash of fugitive passion—
His death hath been my life for years of misery—
Which else I had not lived—
Upon that thought, and not on food, I fed,
Upon that thought, and not on sleep, I rested—
I come to do the deed that must be done—
Nor thou, nor sheltering angels, could prevent me.”
Von Ryan’s Express
Von Ryan’s Express by David Westheimer, 4/5
The movie portrayal of this suspenseful WWII prison escape story was a beloved family favorite at my house, growing up, and I’m embarrassed to admit my shock upon discovering, much later, that it did not in fact portray a true event, but was based on a work of historical fiction. Despite substantial differences between film and novel, I really enjoyed the latter’s believable personalities, exciting events, and overall tone of confident authenticity that no doubt can be attributed to the author’s firsthand POW experience.
Why I read it: A recommendation from my sister, who lent me her copy.
The Hidden Hand
The Hidden Hand by Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth, 3/5
I was annoyed to realize, after finishing this novel, that I had already read and reviewed it fourteen years ago! Interestingly, I felt pretty much the same about it this time around as I did before. However, this vintage edition was more pleasant than the previous one and did not contain so many italics. There was still an unusual (one might say, excessive) amount of exclamation points, but they did not rankle like before. Perhaps I am mellowing grammatically as the years go by.
Why I read it: a recommendation and loan from my sister.
Bel Canto
Bel Canto: A Novel by Ann Patchett, 5/5
This exquisitely written character study of a group of hostages and their guerilla captors is effortlessly beautiful and surprisingly well paced, given the confined context provided by the story’s extreme constraints with regard to location and plot. Like a poet adhering to a particular rhyme scheme, the author works within these constraints to explore the inner workings and relationships of a seemingly disparate cast, including a world-famous soprano, her most devoted admirer, rebel generals, child soldiers, assorted international businessmen, and the translator whose language skills link them all together.
Why I read it: I encountered a glowing review on Facebook, which was almost definitely, in retrospect, written by AI.
Winterset Hollow
Winterset Hollow: A Novel by Jonathan Edward Durham, 1/5
I respect the hard work and courage required of first-time novelists, but…this was so bad. At the heart of this fantasy story is an imaginary work of poetry, supposedly written in the early 1900s and of enduring popularity and influence. Unfortunately, the poetry excerpts throughout the book are not convincing at all: for no apparent reason, the introductory verses and a handful of other snippets are in a different rhyme scheme than all the rest, and the overall effect is not consistent with the work’s era of origin. As a lover of poetry, it was hard to maintain suspension of disbelief in the face of verses like the following (21-22):
You know I love it here, said Runny, you know I am a happy bunny
But still I wish to spread my wings and fly beyond the trees
I promise you that I’ll be back, I promise I’m not lying, Flack
I promise I just need to go see what I need to see
And with those words, his shoulders dropped, and Runny hopped a might hop
And turned to face the hedgerow that he’d known for all this time
And jump, he did, as rabbits do, for this was sad for Runny too
It was no treat to go and leave his bestest frog behind
Poetry aside, the descriptive passages are self-indulgently tedious, like someone telling you every detail of a dream they had the other night. The author’s word choices are often contrived in their novelty, trampling across the line between “inventive” and “incorrect.” Words used in unexpected ways are usually a sign of excellent writing, but not when they fail to enhance the effect of the text and merely serve as a distraction. I was particularly baffled by the appearance of the word “ingrace” in three different contexts, none of which were consistent with the solitary dictionary definition (from 1913) that exists online. Adding to my annoyance were petty complaints like an increasingly repetitive use of “well” as an intensifier towards the end of the book (I guess you could say I was well annoyed by it), multiple instances of comparing things to lanterns, and more than one reference to “serendipity.” Scenes of gruesome violence and a somewhat banal plot twist work feverish overtime to cover for characters lacking in depth and development. The cover blurb by Diana Gabaldon (author of the Outlander series) describing Winterset Hollow as “astonishingly powerful and multilayered” is so ridiculous in light of the book’s crucial shortcomings that I have to assume she was treating the review as a creative writing exercise.
Why I read it: The author is absolutely hilarious on Instagram.
Adulthood is a Gift!
Adulthood is a Myth Gift! A Celebration of “Sarah’s Scribbles” by Sarah Andersen, 3/5
This fifth book in the “Sarah Scribbles” collection contains some fun comics and fifteen illustrated, short essays of varying interest. I enjoyed learning about the process behind Andersen’s trademark style, even if it did steal a bit of the “magic.”
Why I read it: I visit sarahcandersen.com once in a while to catch up and saw that I was behind a couple books.
Oddball
Oddball by Sarah Andersen, 3/5
The fact that this collection of comics made me lol instead of rofl is a testament to how much I’ve changed as a person over the last few years. What used to be extremely relatable to me as an anxious, single, bookish introvert, has become less so as my sense of identity has shifted more towards being a wife, mother, and active member of the local martial arts community. That said, Sarah Andersen is still hilarious and the amount she can communicate with a few squiggly lines is incredibly impressive.
Why I read it: I visit sarahcandersen.com once in a while to catch up and saw that I was behind a couple books.
Gulliver’s Travels and Baron Munchausen
Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift and Baron Munchausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe, 2/5
When I finally get around to reading an enduring classic, it is usually fairly obvious what timeless merits ensured its survival. In the case of Gulliver’s Travels, however, I was surprised to find it exceedingly dull and tediously obsessed with the author’s now-obscure political feuds. Perhaps the most entertaining aspect of this 1888 edition is the unfiltered disapproval evident in the editor’s preface and biography of Jonathan Swift, who apparently played rather fast and loose with the ladies (at least by the standards of the time) and did not shy away from the occasional crass flight of literary fancy. The editor baldly states that he “has not disguised his want of affection for the character of this hero” (10) and is “unable to make the biography a eulogy” (10). He continues further to claim that “The greatest difficulty in the analysis of Swift’s literary character is to discover by what depravity of intellect he acquired a taste for loathsome and filthy ideas, from which every other mind shrinks with disgust” (50). Adding further insult to injury are the numerous footnotes pettily highlighting instances of incorrect grammar in Swift’s at-that-time 162-year-old work. The whole effect was so judgy, self-righteous, uptight, and just stereotypically Victorian that, in retrospect, where I expected to find a commentary on 18th-century morals and issues, I instead encountered an unintentional commentary on 19th-century ones.
The second part of this book consists of the bafflingly ridiculous tall tales of Baron Munchausen, in two volumes. I did not enjoy this unillustrated edition as much as the other that I previously reviewed.
Why I read it: Gulliver’s Travels has been on my to-read list for ages, but I didn’t realize I owned a copy until I was searching for a boring book to combat pregnancy-induced insomnia.
Flatland
Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin A. Abbott, 4/5
This bizarre little story is told from the perspective of a two-dimensional “Flatland” dweller, whose visits to one-dimensional “Lineland” and three-dimensional “Spaceland” encourage the reader to consider how very plausible it is that there exist in reality unlimited additional dimensions, of which humankind is arrogantly ignorant.
Why I read it: my dad lent it to me and I had heard of it before (I can’t remember where).
OmniRambles 