New Century Reading

Bring Up the Bodies

I really am not wild about the American cover (shown above). I much prefer the British cover:

Ah well.

First off, can we all agree that that is a totally kickass title for a book? And it's relevant and used within the book, although not exactly as I expected, which was even better.

Second. I'm generally not a big fan of historical literature, for reasons I've talked about before. But I very much liked the first volume in this trilogy, so I was game for round two.

And hoo boy, it's a miracle, but here's a middle volume of a trilogy that I actually think is better than the first volume. The story is tighter, there's less extraneous matter, Mantel is more cautious in making sure we know who's speaking (instead of the constant "he", meaning Cromwell, in Wolf Hall, here we often have "he, Cromwell", which helps enormously). She does a marvelous job of ratcheting up the tension. I'm no expert in British history, but even I know that Anne Boleyn's life didn't end well. For me to feel anxious as the book went along, even though I knew the outcome, is a big plus.

And the characters are even more fleshed out this time around. Talk about a bunch of flawed, difficult people, operating in a highly politicized court. King Henry is far from perfect, but there are times I really felt for him. Anne is most unsympathetic, and yet when she reaches her end, it's touching.

And Cromwell. Here is a man I'd love to have as a dinner guest. It'd be a delight to have a glass of wine and shoot the breeze with him. But here's the thing: with Cromwell, don't have more than one glass of wine and lose your internal filters, because Cromwell forgets nothing and files everything in his mind for future use. He describes his tactics:

"Look, he says: Once you have exhausted the process of negotiation and compromise, once you have fixed on the destruction of an enemy, that destruction must be swift and it must be perfect. Before you even glance in his direction, you should have his name on a warrant, the ports blocked, his wife and friends bought, his heir under your protection, his money in your strong room and his dog running to your whistle. Before he wakes in the morning, you should have the axe in your hand."

All righty then.

There are several passages that I enjoyed immensely, both for how they fit the story and just the sheer pleasure of reading them:

"There is a pause, while she turns the great pages of her volume of rage, and puts her finger on just the right word."

When Anne Boleyn becomes pregnant:

"The happy news seeps and leaks through the court. Anne lets out her bodices. Bets are laid. Pens scribble. Letters are folded. Seals pressed to wax. Horses are mounted. Ships set sail. The old families of England kneel and ask God why he favours the Tudors. Francis frowns. Emperor Charles sucks his lip. King Henry dances."

And ominously,

"You can be merry with the king, you can share a joke with him. But as Thomas More used to say, it's like sporting with a tamed lion. You tousle its mane and pull its ears, but all the time you're thinking, those claws, those claws, those claws."

Now I'm very anxious for the final volume. I feel like Mantel picked up momentum in this book, and rather than a transitional piece, as second volumes often seem to be, she surged with this. I won't post the final paragraph, but it's fantastic and definitely sets the reader up for the work to come.

Bleak House

Oh, my.

After joking in the earlier parts of the book that this wasn't a very bleak book, we seem to now have come to the bleakest part, and it is bleak indeed.

Poor Lady Dedlock.

Not that I thought I'd say that earlier in the book. Which makes me think about all the reversals that have taken place. Lady Dedlock, so haughty and snobby, turns out to have been possibly in a state of despair most of her adult life, her love life thwarted, thinking her child is dead but then finding out she's not, and yet Lady D can't truly engage with her, and thinking her husband is a bit of a pompous fool. For as it turns out, he may be, but he also truly loved her, to the point that he makes what I assume will be a deathbed statement that no one is to speak against her after his death, nor should anyone say that he would have turned against her. And now I hope he dies before he finds out Lady D's fate. Which will surely kill him if he's not already dead.

Detective Bucket, who seemed ominous at points, turns out to be just like Columbo (thanks for that analogy, V), and his instincts are proven sound, if unfortunately too late. Esther, who was annoyingly cloying early on, continues to break my heart. Ada has gone to the dark side.

What have I missed?

While I was hoping that maybe Lady D. would be found in time, passages like this were too ominously foreboding to give me any real hope:

"There is no improvement in the weather. From the portico, from the eaves, from the parapet, from every ledge and post and pillar, drips the thawed snow. It has crept, as if for shelter, into the lintels of the great door--under it, into the corners of the windows, into every chink and crevice of retreat, and there wastes and dies."

That's a masterful piece of foreshadowing right there. And this: "The day comes like a phantom. Cold, colourless, and vague, it sends a warning streak before it of a deathlike hue, as if it cried out, 'Look what I am bringing you, who watch there! Who will tell him?'"

I leave you with the Gorey of the week, Esther finding her dead mother. Next week: the final installment. It's eight chapters, but they're fairly short.

The Round House

The Round House is the second volume of a trilogy by Louise Erdrich that began with The Plague of Doves. I liked the latter, although I had a few issues with it.

But The Round House? I don't even know where to start talking about how amazing this book is, on so many different levels. Erdrich is really at the top of her game here (which is saying something). This is a hard book to read, because of the violence and the justice system involved, but please don't let that stop you. You will learn many things you didn't know before, but you won't realize you're learning because the story and characters are so gripping that the education slips in almost subliminally.

Joe is the 13-year-old only child of Geraldine and Bazil. When a horrific act of violence is committed against his mother, Joe learns from his lawyer/judge father just how justice works--or doesn't work--when geographical boundaries are crossed involving Indian reservations and the white man's world. Being 13, and all that implies, Joe decides to do some investigating himself, along with his friends Cappy, Zack, and Angus. Beyond that, I can't tell you anything without giving spoilers.

I will say that I could hardly put this book down; my maternal instincts went into overdrive with fear and affection for Joe. I don't know if I've ever seen a better fictional example of the role community plays in the lives of small-town residents than this book. Or how a character who appears to be a bad guy up front may turn around in surprising, yet believable ways.

This is a smaller landscape than Erdrich often paints. She usually covers multiple generations or points of view, or both. Here we are solidly in Joe's head, with everything focused not only through his early teenaged eyes, but from the perspective of the older Joe reflecting back. I thought the choice of narrator was somewhat odd at first, given that the story seemed to belong to Geraldine, but it wasn't long before I realized the value of having Joe tell us the story. He sees reactions in the community that Geraldine probably never saw, and although it's the attack on Geraldine that sets the story in motion, the effects of the attack reach far more people, and Joe is in a better position to report on that.

Erdrich has usually been a very lush writer, downright mystical, but that's toned way back here. (Not completely--there are still lovely passages, especially about nature.) That's fitting with the narration by a 13-year-old boy. He's less likely to wax poetic and philosophically, and more likely to come up with observations like this one:

"Suzette and Josey's married children started pulling up in their low-slung old cars. When the car doors opened, the grandchildren bounced out like Super Balls."

The story is set in 1988, and the quartet of boys are Star Trek: The Next Generation fans, with lots of references to characters and plotlines from that venerable TV show. It's often funny, and yet, if you've ever spent any time watching the idealized world of TNG, it provides a painful undercurrent to the starkly different reality the boys live in.

I wish I could quote more--I marked several passages--but there's a danger of spoilers in many quotations, and I don't want to go there.

Bleak House

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude.

When Dickens decides to start moving the story along, he doesn't waste any time, does he? Well, maybe in the 600+ pages that came before this section (in my edition) there has been a little time wasted here and there, but in this section? Hoo boy.

What worries me, though, is that when I read another one of Dickens' big tomes, Our Mutual Friend (also a lovely and fun read), it too had several intertwining plot points and characters that were leisurely brought to life, and then BAM! it was over. As if he'd suddenly gotten tired of all of them, and with one brisk wiping of his hands, he wrapped everything up and went off to the pub. I hope that's not going to happen here. I've been happily committed to this book for quite a while now (as have you all) and I hope he doesn't race to the end. We shall see.

In the meantime! We now know who killed Tulkinghorn, and we now know (although I for one hadn't been wondering) who George's mother is, and Lady Dedlock has disappeared, and it appears her husband maybe had a stroke (if that's the translation from "apoplexy"), but it also appears possible that while utterly clueless, he may actually care for his wife and be worried for her welfare, even if she brings scandal on Casa Dedlock.

Wow.

There was much to enjoy in this section. Mr. Bucket and his continuous "Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet". Mrs. Bagnet's commentary on lawyers: "'It won't do to have truth and justice on his side; he must have law and lawyers,' exclaims the old girl, apparently persuaded that the latter form a separate establishment." The description of London at dawn: "The frosty night wears away, and the dawn breaks, and the post-chaise comes rolling on through the early mist, like the ghost of a chaise departed. It has plenty of spectral company, in ghosts of trees and hedges, slowly vanishing and giving place to the realities of day." The description of Mrs. Rouncewell as a "handsome piece of old china". And, sadly, the description of Lady Dedlock fleeing her home: "She veils and dresses quickly, leaves all her jewels and her money, listens, goes down-stairs at a moment when the hall is empty, opens and shuts the great door; flutters away in the shrill frosty wind."

The only question I had is: it seems like Mr. Bucket put two and two together pretty early on. So why did he arrest George? And why did he go see Sir Dedlock? What do you think?

Two more weeks, folks. Next week, chapters 57-59. Here's this week's Gorey, the scene where Bucket takes away Hortense after interviewing her in front of Sir Dedlock:

Building Stories

The Tournament of Books' nod to graphic novels comes with this entry: Building Stories by Chris Ware. I wasn't familiar with his work before this showed up on the ToB shortlist, but right after that, he did the post-Newtown New Yorker cover that I found very touching in an understated way. So I was ready to crack this open.

But, if you didn't already know, this isn't really a book. Or it's several books. In a box. With pamphlets and newsprint. When you open the box (pictured above), this is what you see:

Cut off the protective plastic, spread everything out, and here's what you have:

There are no instructions, no suggested navigation. Just a pile of varying types of print matter, all illustrated, some bound like books, some like newspaper, one like a Little Golden Book, one like a folded-up board game.

So that flummoxed me a bit, as I'm a traditional "start at the beginning and make my way to the end" type of reader. After dithering for a bit, I went back to the way the stories were packaged, and read them in that order.

It probably doesn't matter. They're not packed in chronological order. Most of the stories involve the inhabitants of a specific building, but as I got deeper into them, one character in particular took center stage. Her life as a single, lonely woman evolves as she eventually marries and has a child, moves to the suburbs, worries that she's losing herself, especially as an artist.

There are also a couple of stories about a bee. I found the bee annoying. I was much more interested in the people. Having been where the main character is, I found her story compelling, then wondered how I would have found her story back when I was post-college. Would I have found her narcissistic and boring? Probably. I saw a review on Amazon that complained about just that thing, and yet I found many of her stories really interesting and downright moving. There's one pamphlet that focuses on her, and there's no text at all, and it's not quite clear where it begins or ends (it's printed on both sides with no noticeable "start here" point), but it ended up reminding me of that amazing sequence from the movie Up, that tells the story of Carl and Ellie's marriage without a single word. I was moved, and that was surprising, given that overall I found the artwork kind of flat. Often I could only tell the characters apart by their hair color.

It's a mixed bag. Some things were successful, some not so much, and yet I found myself anxious to get back to it and start the next story, and found myself thinking about it after I finished it. The format, crazy as it is, seems to work with the story--how we live our disjointed lives, the different stages sometimes seemingly random in occurrence, parts of the past coming into the present unexpectedly, occasionally in a haunting kind of way.

I also found it interesting that the only blurb came in the way of a gold sticker on the exterior packaging, with a rave review from--can you guess? Who would you expect to blurb a literary graphic novel?

J.J. Abrams.

I don't think it'll last long in the ToB, but I applaud them for including it.

Bleak House

You guys, I just realized--we're almost done! I mean, I know that because I'm reading a print copy of the book, and my bookmark is close to the end. But I really realized it when I looked up the publication schedule to see how many chapters I had to read this week, and saw that after this set, there's only three weeks left! Dickens has a lot of ground to cover.

Which he does, in various ominous ways, in this section. I fear neither Caddy Jellyby nor her child are long for the world, even if Esther brings in Woodcourt and sees Caddy improving. Say what you will against Mr. Deportment, at least he shows up regularly and brings some cheer, as opposed to Caddy's mother, who--good heavens. There are just no words for that wench.

Oh, Ada--what were you thinking? I really do not see how that can end well.

Mr. George, your intentions are noble, and one can certainly understand your antipathy to lawyers, but you're in a very bad spot here, and you need help. Lady Bagnet to the rescue!

Mr. Bucket, I'd watch your step if I were you. And yet, I'm still not 100% convinced it's Lady Dedlock. Last week, Heidi commented that maybe it's the French maid. I hadn't considered that, but it's a distinct possibility, especially since she could dress herself as Lady Dedlock as a way of framing the latter, in revenge for being let go. And perhaps she's behind the flurry of two-worded letters to Mr. Bucket?

I loved this description of Mr. Bucket:

"Mr. Bucket and his fat forefingers are much in consultation together under existing circumstances. When Mr. Bucket has a matter of this pressing interest under his consideration, the fat forefinger seems to rise to the dignity of a familiar demon. He puts it to his ears, and it whispers information; he puts it to his lips, and it enjoins him to secrecy; he rubs it over his nose, and it sharpens his scent; he shakes it before a guilty man, and it charms him to destruction. The Augers of the Detective Temple invariably predict, that when Mr. Bucket and that finger are much in conference, a terrible avenger will be heard of before long."

Next week, chapters 54-56. This week's Gorey: Mr. Bucket observes Lady Dedlock on the stairs near the Wanted poster.

The Plague of Doves

This is another "I have many good reasons to read this book right now" book. Like Wolf Hall, this has been sitting on the TBR pile for too long, and therefore qualified for the TBR Double Dog Dare. Like Wolf Hall, it's also the first part of a trilogy, and the second part (The Round House) is a finalist in this year's Tournament of Books. But what's more, The Round House is also the selection for the March Books and Bars. I understand The Round House reads fine as a stand-alone book, but dadgummit, when I have the first volume of the trilogy sitting around unread, there's no way I'm not going to read it first, then tackle the current volume.

As I write this, I'm trying to decide how I'm going to rate The Plague of Doves on Goodreads. There were parts that were so gripping, so involving and wonderfully written, that I would grade those parts 5+++++++. But then there were other parts that were not quite so gripping, or interesting. At times the book, which covers a great many characters, feels disjointed. It's also difficult, at least on a first read (for me, anyway) to keep track of the characters, many of whom are related in one way or another. The book follows multiple generations, to add to the confusion. A family tree would have been welcome. As one of the characters says, "Nothing that happens, nothing, is not connected here by blood." And yes, there are multiple layers of meaning in that sentence.

Still, overall I'd have to say I really liked this book and am anxious to read the next volume. Erdrich is really at her finest when she explores the lives of people on or near reservations in rural North Dakota. The town in question this time is the fictional town of Pluto, where a horrifying murder took place in the early part of the 20th century, for which even more horrifying "justice" was taken, and both these acts have ramifications through the generations. The stories are told to the younger folks by elderly Mooshum and his brother Shamengwa, who, trust me, are epic storytellers (and not above getting the local priest drunk, than saying things they know he'll consider sacrilegious) and are among my favorite characters.

A lot happens. There's the plague noted in the title; there's murder and kidnapping and infidelity and love; there's an amazing section devoted to the Kindred, a religious group gone awry (that's the part I'd give 5++++++ on Goodreads). And being Louise Erdrich, there's some great writing:

"The music tapped the back of our terrors, too. Things we'd lived through and didn't want to ever repeat. Shredded imaginings, unadmitted longings, fear and also surprising pleasures. No, we can't live at that pitch. But every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence."

She also does a fantastic job chronicling the decline of this small, rural town:

"We are still here because to sell our houses for a fraction of their original value would leave us renters for life in the world outside. Yet however tenaciously we cling to yards and living rooms and garages, the grip of one or two of us is broken every year. We are growing less. Our town is dying."

It reminds me of this website.

Worth reading? Yes, as long as you go into it knowing it's got some ups and downs.

Bleak House

Well then. We've arrived at the final quarter of the book, and Dickens appears poised to really start having things happen. This section is full of sad things--Jo's death (sniff) and Mr. George's arrest for the murder of Mr. Tulkinghorn. I have to admit I love the whole lead-up to Tulkinghorn's death. I figured out fairly quickly what was about to happen, but Dickens was on a roll:

"Not only does the stillness attend it as it flows where houses cluster thick, where may bridges are reflected in it,where wharves and shipping make it black and awful, where it winds away from these disfigurements through marshes whose grim beacons stand like skeletons washed ashore."

But while I'm 99% convinced Lady Dedlock committed this murder, there's 1% of me that isn't so sure. I don't for a minute think Mr. George did it. Certainly he was no friend of Tulkinghorn, but overall he's too honorable. Yet Lady Dedlock letting her maid go so that she wouldn't be tainted by an upcoming scandal, and knowing the Tulkinghorn plans to tell Sir Leicester--yes, that's plenty of motive, but at the same time, I got the impression she let Rosa go because she knew her hidden life was about to be revealed and shock all good society. She doesn't seem surprised that Tulkinghorn is going to reveal the secret.

So...did she murder him on a moment's whim? Did she perhaps see who murdered him (because it seems like Tulkinghorn would definitely have more than a few people who'd like to see him dead)?

And wasn't his death a pointed contrast to poor Jo's? Jo had so very little in his life, but at least he died a safe death in a place where people tried to care for him and wanted him to live. Unlike Tulkinghorn, who was no friend of Jo's, and who was shot in the back.

I knew that Bucket was coming back to haunt us. What a creep, sitting there at the birthday party, pretending all is well, when he's just biding his time before arresting Mr. George.

That said, the birthday party was a much-needed bit of levity in this section. Poor Mrs. Bagnet, with that hideous meal! She knows they're trying and they think they're doing well, but no question she'd rather do it herself.

Next week, chapters 50-53 (and I peeked and see that Esther returns). This week's Gorey: Roman looking down at the corpse of Mr. Tulkinghorn.

Bleak House

Oh, Esther, Esther, Esther. Girlfriend, you are breaking my heart. I can't believe I used to not like you very much. Now all I want is for Woodcourt to declare his undying love for you and that he still finds you beautiful and to stand up to his snobby bitch of a mother and sweep you away. I mean, not that John Jarndyce is a bad match. Not at all. But you're settling. You're the poor little orphan who can't confess to the world who her mother really is, and your face is all wrecked, and you have no inheritance, and and you're doing your damnedest to rescue Richard who just won't come to his senses, and you're lucky and pathetically grateful for the scraps life is giving you. Granted, they're better scraps than many others have gotten (Jo!!). But still.

Interesting timing on Jarndyce's proposal, right after Esther tells him who her mother is. Is he up to something, or is he just trying to protect her?

OMG, Skimpole's family is the most pathetic brood ever.

And who stole Jo away from Bleak House??? Tulkinghorn? Mr. Guppy? What do you think? Nice cliffhanger this time.

I liked many passages this week:

Skimpole's home: "It was dingy enough, and not at all clean; but furnished with an odd kind of shabby luxury, with a large footstool, a sofa, and plenty of cushions, an easy-chair, and plenty of pillows, a piano, books, drawing materials, music, newspapers, and a few sketches and pictures." I'm thinking Pottery Barn should start up a line of Skimpole Shabby Chic. But I suspect Pottery Barn would demand money upfront for the products.

"Mr. Vholes remained immoveable, except that he secretly picked at one of the red pimples on his yellow face with his black glove." Nope, Dickens didn't have to get overly fancy with his description, just some nice use of basic colors, and we've got all we need.

The paragraph that really broke my heart:

"And in [Woodcourt's] last look as we drove away, I saw that he was very sorry for me. I was glad to see it. I felt for my old self as the dead may feel if they ever revisit these scenes. I was glad to be tenderly remembered, to be gently pitied, not to be quite forgotten."

Oh, Esther!

Chapters 47-49 for next week. This week's Gorey: Esther burns the flowers Woodcourt had given her and she'd dried.

May We Be Forgiven

ETA: At 480 pages, this book qualifies as the second of six completed for the 2013 Chunkster Challenge!

Aw, man, I *so* was looking forward to this book. I've been a big fan of Homes for a long time, loving Music for Torching and This Book Will Save Your Life. I've hugely appreciated her dark humor and willingness to go dark places. I can't say I liked The End of Alice, but I deeply respected her bravery as a writer for going there. So when Viking sent me a review copy of May We Be Forgiven, I was delighted.

Until I read it. There are moments of Homes' dry wit and dark humor that made me smile, but unfortunately there were many more moments when I was rolling my eyes and groaning.

It's the story of Harold Silver, who has always been in his brother George's shadow, until George commits a horrific act of violence that change Harold's life forever and brings him into constant contact with his niece and nephew. So, yeah, between the plot description and the title, you can probably figure out we've got a bit of a redemption tale going on. But what we also have is a book that tries to be so many other things. At nearly 500 pages, it's packed full: boarding school shenanigans, elder care issues, the plight of a remote South African village, bar mitzvah planning, suburban sexual escapades, political intrigue, and a subplot in which Harold, a historian and history professor, is writing a book about Richard Nixon, a man he loves.

It's just too much. I haven't given spoilers in terms of what the act of violence entails, but let's just say that it's plenty to build a book around. Adding all the rest is just filler. And worse, it's "clever" filler. At times the humor is so strained, as if the author feels like she needs to be funny but can't think of a good way to do so.

Even worse are the racial stereotypes. Maybe Homes is playing with them to make the reader uncomfortable and to address how we perceive different ethnicities. Well, she made me uncomfortable all right, but more because the Asian people are wincingly stereotyped, and good heavens, the trip to South Africa is just cringe-worthy. As someone on Goodreads noted, there's an appearance by a Magical Negro, and let's not overlook the benevolent role the white people play for the South Africans. Someone else on Goodreads pondered whether or not Homes used this novel as a way to write off a vacation to South Africa. I can't say I find that idea far-fetched.

Oy.