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I'm totally copping out on this and sending you to Little Willow's long and lovely detailed review: I might have bypassed Looks if Little Willow hadn't made me read it in the first place. She was right. So right.
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Petals in the Ashes
So I guess I'm a sicko. Tell me there's a book about the Great Fire of London and I've gotta have it. Oh, and it's the sequel to a book about the plague that I've already got on my very own bookshelf? Bonus. Pardon me while I lay aside my sequel prejudice once again. It's been at least three years since I read At the Sign of the Sugared Plum, so it's pretty safe to say this sequel stands on its own -- just enough info about the first installment to jog my memory without being conspicuous. As for the plot, I was hoping for a bit more time in the flames and smoke, but it still made for a nice afternoon in the hammock. If you're an historical ambulance-chaser like I am, it's worth your time.
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Crossing to Paradise
I'm NOT going to tell you how long it took me to realize this is a companion to Crossley-Holland's Arthur trilogy. (Gimmie a break -- it's been at least five years since I read The Seeing Stone.) I will tell you, however, that this guy just knows how to handle this slice of history. I love the way the characters speak, and how their feelings and attachments sneak up on you. Not a quick read by any means, but a worthy one if you have a taste for the holy land in the 1100's. (Available in September)
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The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks
Fun, with a couple subjective quibbles: 1. I get a little antsy when the plot isn't apparent after, oh say 60 pages or so. In this case, the plot's more of a web than a line, and the real thrust of if doesn't show up until longabout page 179. Not ideal in my opinion, though the setup is still a good ride. 2. Overt ideology isn't something I handle gracefully. Granted, in this case it's interesting and thought-provoking, but I still prefer more subtlety. In any case, heaps of folks are lovin' this book, so don't just listen to me -- try it for yourself!
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One for the Romanov-junkies. (Who else is going to import a book about the last 13 days of the dynasty?) Let's face it -- with the 90th anniversary of the imperial family's execution looming next month, nobody's likely to turn up a heap of new evidence on the murders at this point in the game. If you're looking for a smorgasboard of fresh facts, you're doomed to disappointment no matter whose book you pick up. Nevertheless, this volume is not a rehash; Rappaport's even-handed perspective and tight focus make Ekaterinburg a worthwhile read. For my money, the combination of new domestic tidbits and the author's assessment of the Romanovs' personalities and family dynamic made up for the cost of shipping from the UK. Rappaport's approach neither sanctifies nor demonizes the imperial family, and that in itself is refreshing, lemme tell you. She also gives a good sense of the climate and mood in Ekaterinburg during the Romanovs' captivity that's lacking in other accounts. An American edition is scheduled for release in early 2009, so unless you live and breathe Romanovs, you can save 30% by waiting a few more months. [6/24/08 Edited to add: This book's grown on me even further over the last two weeks; I've upgraded it to a 5-star read :) ]
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This isn't going to work for everybody. It's just not, considering: A) It's narrated by a dog. B) The dog has a zen attitude which he expresses through his fondness for racecars and driving metaphors. Are you still with me? Because if you are, and if this story works for you, you're going to freaking LOVE it. Last year I went bonkers over Patricia Wood's Lottery. The Art of Racing in the Rain is my new Lottery. Enzo the dog is my new Perry. I can't pay a much higher compliment than that. ps: You dog lovers will want to know about the end, won't you? Well...um...it's a dog story. Need I say more?
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Whew -- Fulghum's still got it. I devoured his stuff from the time I was in middle school, but you just never know if your old favorites will hold up after a long absence. In this case, I'm going to pretend I wasn't at all worried, and that I was just saving his new book for a lazy day in the hammock. Now and then I wish he'd lop off the last few sentences from an essay and let me get the message all by myself, but on the whole, Captain Kindergarten's still my main man.
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Yep, I'm biased. Hopelessly so. But you know, big, big fans have high expectations. Such as: -Immersion in time and place (check) -Sensuous language (check) -Fierce bonds between characters (check) You know what the secret of Donna Jo's retellings is? She makes you forget you already know the story. Sure, you pick up Spinners because it's about Rumplestiltskin, or The Smile because you recognize the Mona Lisa on the cover, but before long the characters and their world invade and sweep you away. When you finally arrive at the end you should have been expecting all along, it feels like...magic. And she did it to me again. (Available in October)
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Knucklehead
I have an inkling this is going to be a Big Hit, particularly among young dudes who haven't yet figured out that reading kicks butt. From an author who used to choose his own reading material by its thickness (or lack thereof) comes a slim autobiography sporting all the hallmarks of a reluctant reasder's paradise: ultra-short chapters, loads of pictures, and vocabulary that won't make your head hurt. Plus, it's spattered with explosions, fires, wisecracks, throw-up, and general hilarity. Back in my Halfway Down the Stairs days, we had what you might call strong feelings about literary sexism -- boy books vs. girl books and all. Well, there's just no way around this: Knucklehead is most certainly a boy book. Hordes of budding goofballs are going to eat this thing alive. It's like a 9-year-old's version of Chris Crutcher's King of the Mild Frontier. Antsy parents may raise their hackles at some of the Scieszka boys' escapades, but I say let 'em squirm. (Just hide your plastic drycleaner bags, folks.) Oh, and am I the last bookish person in Michigan to know that Scieszka grew up in Flint? Michael Moore, Patrick Jones, and now Jon Scieszka -- what is it about that town? (Available in October)
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Homecoming
If I hadn't been a fan of the movie first, it's entirely possible I would have given up on Homecoming. It's astonishing just how much of the book was condensed for the film version -- I'd guess about 75% of the novel is smushed into the first third of the film. So part of me was impatient to get to the part with Gram (aka: Anne Bancroft), and kept pushing ahead. Meanwhile, another part of me was fascinated with the old-school feel of this book. There's something I can't quite put my finger on that runs as deep as the pacing and the sentence structure and reminded me of books I read as a kid -- something distinctive to children's lit of the 70's and early 80's. I hesitate to label it "quiet" or "thoughtful" as those are often tactful euphemisms for boring. Subdued, perhaps. Whatever it is, that quality is common to the early work of E.L. Konigsburg, Madeline L'Engle, and Katherine Paterson, as well as Melvin Leroy's Alan and Naomi. I will have to think more on this idea: how children's & YA literature has changed over the last generation.
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Slam
It's entirely possible that this book will grow on me. At the moment, though, my feelings are pretty neutral. I nearly gave up around page 50, loved the middle third, then waned a bit for the final 100 pages or so. The business with Tony Hawk didn't do much for me, but I can't say it took away from the story, either. Good voice, good portrayal of a confused 16-year-old, but I dunno...just not a zinger for me, I guess. Then again, when I think about how these two very everyday families muddle along to try and make a teenage pregnancy work -- cripes, the story's already growing on me. It's very real in that sense. Still, for books about teenage fathers, I think I prefer Angela Johnson's First Part Last.
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100 Cupboards
How on earth is it possible to love an author's writing yet not like his stories? Well that's how it is for me with N.D. Wilson. I love his sentences -- they're full of peppy verbs and pert turns of phrase -- but the books themselves leave me cold. As with Leepike Ridge, by the time I reached the middle I could not shake the feeling that I'd been skimming instead of reading 100 Cupboards. Something about these books simply does not get through to me, and that's all there is to it.
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Booth
Not exactly as gripping a read as I expected given the topic, but good enough that I'm suddenly prowling through the library catalog for non-fiction on the Lincoln assassination. I'll be curious to see if learning more about the conspirators will make me appreciate the plotting of Booth even more, or if it will turn out that the author has taken more historical liberties than I care for. At this point I can say it's an enjoyable story for the novice, but I'm not so sure if a Civil War buff would agree. The reactions on Amazon are decidedly mixed. Either way, for a fictional glimpse inside John Wilkes Booth's psyche, I prefer Anna Myers's YA novel, Assassin.
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Enna Burning
Honestly, how much more can I gush about Shannon Hale at this point? For knock-out language, my favorite is still Book of a Thousand Days, but Enna's got nothing to be ashamed of. On to River Secrets! (And I'm hoping Shannon the Great will grace us with a new fantasy soon after I'm done -- I'd sure hate to run out of Hale books, even temporarily.)
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The Diaries of Adam and Eve
I probably never would have heard of this little book if not for Helen Keller's second autobiography, Midstream. Helen was a great fan and friend of Mark Twain, and recounts reading The Diaries of Adam and Eve from the lips of Twain himself, helpless with laughter as he recited. It was too charming a scene to pass up, and as I read, I couldn't help imagining that Adam's irritation with Eve's insistence on naming everything in sight would have especially tickled Helen. As an added bonus, this scanty 63 pages also fulfills a quarter of my obligation to Becky's Five Author Mini-Challenge, in which I've committed to read two works each by Twain and one of the Bronte sisters.
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Assassination Vacation
Hee... Quite the amusing follow-up to my recent read of Booth, in which Sarah Vowell guides an irreverent historical whirl through the nation's first three presidential assassinations. You can say she had me at hello. "Hello" in this case being: "Going to Ford's Theatre to watch the play is like going to Hooters for the food." I am SO glad I wasn't drinking milk when I read that. Plus, as a historical ambulance-chaser myself, how could I not be charmed by someone who professes to be obsessed with, yet opposed to, death?
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The Viper Within
Partway through The Viper Within, I stopped turning the pages just long enough to wonder if the story was maybe a little far-fetched. Maybe it is, but I don't care; it's compelling as all get-out. If you're intrigued by stories centered around religious cults, this is like The Patron Saint of Butterflies' evil twin. It's even written by a former cult member. By the way, don't let the the cover fool you into thinking this is historical fiction -- it's very much contemporary. I'd imagine that the end will make some readers squawk and launch this book toward the nearest wall, but not me. Heh. Maybe because I'm a fan of Sunset Boulevard...? Aesthetic quibble: the choice of font face was just a little much for my taste. (See the white text on the bottom of the cover.)
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The White Elephant
In all honesty, I grabbed this off the library shelf solely by virtue of its slim page count and the name "Fleischman" on the spine. Turns out, it's quite the tasty morsel for an elephant-lover like me. I'll bet you The White Elephant would also make a fun read-aloud for little ones eager to dive into chapter books. It's quick, fun, low intensity, and Run-Run, the sassy young mahout who bests an arrogant Siamese prince, is loaded with kid-empowering appeal. To top that off, it's full of darn fine writing. (What else would you expect from a Fleischman?)
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The Man Who Made Lists: Love, Death, Madness, and the Creation of Roget's Thesaurus
Into every vacation, a Persistence Book must fall. [persistence book: n. a book in which a compulsion to finish inexplicably overrides disappointment or frustration with the style and/or content.] Apparently, I was hoping for a book about the creation of Roget's Thesaurus, as opposed to a book about Roget himself. Peter Mark Roget may be an interesting dude, uniquely suited to compiling a compendium of synonyms, but I mostly wanted to know more about how he did it. Think about it -- without a computer or even a typewriter, how on earth would you manage the logistics of such an enormous task? Snarky nitpicks:
2. I lost count of how many times the author began a paragraph with some version of "The date was..." At first, I figured such a lead-in must be reserved for dates of profound significance, but eventually I figured out it was just a transition.
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Keturah and Lord Death
Nice. Not as dark as I expected, with an appealing fairy tale feel. I cottoned on to Keturah's true love well before she did. Usually getting wise to the plot far ahead of the characters bugs me, but not in this case. Can't tell you why. There may not be a tactful way to say this, so here goes: I'm somewhat surprised that Keturah and Lord Death was a National Book Award finalist. That committee usually tends toward heavy, dark books, and this is significantly lighter fare than the norm. It's not fluff by any means, but still -- an interesting choice.
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Walt Disney:
That is One. Big. Book. If you want to get technical about it, I've been working on this bugger for roughly 18 months, though the bulk of the reading 'only' took 6 days. I can't pretend it wasn't a long haul, but it was worth it. This is probably the most thorough and honest biography of Walt Disney I've read so far. Gabler doesn't vilify Disney, not by a long shot, yet he makes it clear Walt was no saint. The man chain-smoked, cussed, and he had a temper. He could be demanding and contrary, and this book is straightforward about the frustrations of working or living with Walt Disney. Walt shines, however, when it comes to vision, innovation, and devotion to quality. Surprises for me included Walt's lifelong restlessness, and his relative disinterest with and distance from animation after releasing his first few feature films. Perhaps it's only fair to say that for me, a significant chunk of the fun of reading this tome had to do with my personal collection of Disney cartoons and movies. I own probably 80% or better of the films Gabler discussed, right down to the government-commssioned training films, so this became a bit of a mulit-media endeavor. Incidentally, the cornerstone of my fascination turned out to be Snow White. It'd been a few years since I'd last seen the movie, but I popped it into the DVD player and sat in front of the hi-def screen with my mouth hanging open. I'd forgotten what the earliest Disney feature animation was like -- more akin to paintings than cartoons. Even the camera work demanded my attention. The care and expense they lavished on that film is astonishing. I came away wanting to know more about the process of animation. I can tell you right now that my copy of Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston's The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation is due for a re-read. About the writing itself in Walt Disney: it's more than competent, and definitely held an uber-Disney fan like me. I have a suspicion however, that it might not be quite compelling enough to captivate a reader with only a casual interest in Walt Disney for the full run of 633 pages. Even I did some skimming over the business-oriented stuff.
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