Posts Tagged ‘4 out of 5’

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace is one of those books that I guess you could say is on my bucket list; last year when the Infinite Summer readalong was taking place, I was sorely tempted to give it a try, but I know that massively long doorstop books are just not my style. And yes, I was woefully intimidated. While I wanted to read Wallace, I wondered if Infinite Jest was really the best place for me to start… I decided it wasn’t and instead decided I’d try Wallace’s first, and much shorter, novel, The Broom of the System, on for size and see how it fit. Rather than cannonballing (or bellyflopping, let’s be honest) into the deep end, I figured I’d spend some time wading about in the paddling pool instead.

If Infinite Jest is a full marathon, I’d say Broom is a half-marathon. It may look considerably slimmer than its successor, but you’d be foolish to consider this a trifling 5K. It starts off simply enough, with a fun chapter involving college party shenanigans, and while the novel certainly has a healthy dose of the absurd coursing through it, this is not a light or flippant novel.

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With the completion of Agnes Grey I can now say that I have read a novel apiece by each of the Bronte sisters. Hurrah! I didn’t really know what to expect going into an Anne Bronte novel, though this Hark! A Vagrant Cartoon that I was directed to by Jenny of Shelf Love during my read through of Jane Eyre last year caused me to suspect she might be my favorite sister of the three.  I mean, I like neither assholes nor alcoholic dickbags for my male heroes in fiction… What can I say? I’ve never been one of those girls who goes for the brooding, badboy. It’s just never been my shtick.

Turns out, it’s not Anne Bronte’s thing either. If there’s such a thing as a proper romance (or a romance of manners), then that’s exactly what Agnes Grey is. In many ways it was like Jane Eyre, but it was far less epic and not at all gothic. Essentially, if you were one of those people who when reading Sense and Sensibility just wanted more of Elinor and Edward and swooned at their polite and reserved interactions that masked their deeper passions, then Agnes Grey is the novel for you.

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When I picked up a copy of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao I only knew three things about it: 1) it had won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction; 2) it had a bunch of Spanish in it; and 3) it involved a lot of “geeky” sci-fi/fantasy references. The first point was certainly not a deterrent, and I figured that being fluent in French and having taken one year of highschool Spanish would probably be enough to make it through any smatterings of Spanish throughout the book. I’d only heard effusive praise for the book, even by those readers who didn’t have an extensive background in genre fiction, so I was pretty excited to give it a go.

I think the first thing I have to say is something that you’ve probably heard in other reviews but which I must make very clear: THERE IS A LOT OF SPANISH IN THIS BOOK. Sometimes it’s just a word thrown into a sentence here or there that doesn’t completely undermine your comprehension of the book… but other times it’s an entire phrase, and it’s not likely to be one of those phrases you learned in an introductory language course. This isn’t holiday Spanish, this is contemporary, living Spanish that uses a lot of slang and idioms, that will probably be lost on you unless you’re a native speaker or extremely fluent. If you know how to ask where the beach is or proclaim your love of chicken and rice, that’s not going to cut it. Consider yourself warned! (As an aside, you need to worry less if you know nada about sci-fi and fantasy. I’m sure some references didn’t hit home, but I didn’t feel these detracted from my comprehension of the novel.)

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So way back in 2009, I read Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, because I had heard it was a really engrossing page-turner that was super fun to read, and its 500+ pages really just whipped by. I did largely enjoy the novel, but wound up thinking it was good, not great; it did, however, pique my interest in Eugenides’ first novel, The Virgin Suicides, which is perhaps better known for its film adaptation. Well, by everyone but me, because I have of course not seen the movie (though I have now rented it from Netflix, so it’s only a matter of time!).

On a whim, I recently decided now was the right time to finally try on Eugenides’ debut and see whether it was a better fit than Middlesex. The premise was certainly just as tantalizing as Middlesex (the story of a hermaphrodite): The story revolves around the suicides of the five young daughters of the Lisbon family, although predominantly it looks at the effects of the youngest daughter’s suicide (the first to commit the deed) on the rest of the family. Through the eyes of an anonymous group of boys who have been long fascinated by the beautiful and mysterious Lisbon girls, we watch as the family unravels and slowly spirals into decay and derelict dysfunction. Throughout it all, the boys try to solve the mystery of what caused Cecilia Lisbon to jump to her death.

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A cracking good read!

For years I’ve been hearing about how Three Men in a Boat is the funniest of books, a book that will truly tickle your funny bone. Some have even claimed this might be the funniest English book ever written. Such claims cause ambivalence within me, because I LOVE me some British humor, but I also get worried because I fear that when I finally get on the boat (as it were), I’ll find the item in question only kind of funny rather than a rip-roaring side-splitter. I mean, for all their stiff upper lips, those Brits do dry humor better than pretty much anyone in my book (Blackadder, anyone?), and we all know I fell head over heels for P.G. Wodehouse last year, all to say that any declarations of being the apex of humor are going to come under some pretty harsh scrutiny when I’m the one doing the judging.

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A few weeks (months?) ago, I had the good fortune to be asked to join Claire from Kiss A Cloud, Claire from Paperback Reader, and Nymeth from Things Mean A Lot in a little group read-along of Love by Toni Morrison. I was thrilled for the opportunity because Toni Morrison is an author whom I feel I can always stand to read more of, but rarely feel confident enough to do so on my own prodding. Still, I’ve dutifully gone out and procured as many copies of her various books that I can find (my only requirement being that they are not horrifically ugly, because there are some less than covet-worthy editions of her books floating about out there) during my frequent bookstore visits. I then proceed to stockpile these books, happy in the knowledge that I have more Toni Morrison ahead of me. But of course, books are meant to be read, and it’s always good when others remind me of this, so this was the push I needed to get back on the Morrison love train (no pun intended, as I didn’t capitalize the “L” in “love”).

I’m not sure that if given my own druthers that Love would have been the next Morrison I would have attempted, simply because I still haven’t read Beloved, which is Morrison’s masterpiece and I know I need to read it. So I always say it will be my next read, and then, well, as you can see, it isn’t! That said, I’m really glad that I did read Love because it was a really interesting and compelling novel, and it certainly broadened my notion of who Toni Morrison is as an author in several ways.

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Please do not let the ugly cover put you off... there is a newer, far cuter cover now available!

After finishing the first Mary Russell novel, The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, I immediately put a hold on the second book in the series at my local library (though not before heading to the used bookstore to see if I could pick up a copy of my very own… no such luck, though I don’t blame readers for clutching these books closely to their chests and never letting them out of their sight!). I was jonesing pretty badly for Holmes and Russell’s next adventure, so when I finally had the opportunity to lay my own grubby paws on book two in the series, A Monstrous Regiment of Women, careful and measured reading wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. No, I pretty much tore through this book in a single day, and you know what? I don’t regret it one bit! (Also, I’ve now procured the remaining books in the series, so I can read them at my leisure whenever the desire strikes!)

In A Monstrous Regiment of Women, Mary is all grown up and on the cusp of finally receiving her rather sizeable family inheritance. Now a woman, no longer a girl, things have become rather strained between herself and Holmes, as neither can deny the sexuality of the other any longer (though certainly they try). Confused and conflicted by this change in their relationship, Mary pulls away from Holmes, throwing herself into her studies as well as a rekindling a relationship with her old school chum, Veronica Beaconsfield, a friendship which opens Mary’s eyes up to an intoxicating new world. Veronica takes Mary along to a meeting of The New Temple of God, led by the charismatic and compelling Margery Childe, a woman who champions women’s issues in all shapes and forms, and who Mary believes may be mystic. As Mary is slowly drawn into Childe’s inner circle, she discovers that something is horribly amiss: Childe’s most wealthy patronesses have the unfortunate habit of dying in rather gruesome ways… conveniently leaving behind the bulk of their fortunes to The New Temple of God. Still needing her space from Holmes, Mary takes on her very first case of her own, determined to discover what shady dealings are underfoot, but little does she realize in so doing, she puts her own life (and fortune) at stake…

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One thing that I love about the book blogging world is that it helps me discover so many books that I never would have stumbled across on my own. Laurie R King’s Mary Russell series is definitely an example of this. Prior to blogging I had never heard of these books, even though: a) I love cozy British mysteries that set during the turn of the 20^th century (an extremely specific niche, I realize!); and b) the series has been around since the mid-90s, so I had plenty of time to find it on my own.

For those who are unfamiliar with the idea behind the series, the premise is that Sherlock Holmes (yes, I do mean THE Sherlock Holmes) has retired to the English countryside where fifteen-year old Mary stumbles upon him (quite literally) while out for a morning walk (with Virgil on hand). Holmes soon realizes that Mary has a rather uncommon mind, one that is nearly as observant and shrewd as his own, and the two soon strike up a friendship. Holmes takes Mary under his wing, tutoring her in the art of detection and setting small tests for her to solve in order to keep her mind sharp. Together they tackle and solve a few innocuous mysteries at hand, but soon the stakes are raised when Holmes is called to consult on a prominent kidnapping case. Even that, however, is but a rudimentary primer for the next conundrum they face… one where their very lives hinge upon them discovering the culprit who lurks in the shadows and is clearly out for blood.

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Tom Wolfe is one of those authors whom I’ve heard tons about, but up until recently, I’d never read. You know the type: John Irving, Stephen King, and others of that ilk. A couple of years ago, I picked up a copy of Bonfire but then was immediately put off by its 600+ page count, because I am scared of books that weigh more than I do.

Other than its impressive size, I knew pretty much nothing about this book when I picked it up. I recall that I read somewhere that it’s one of those books that often goes overlooked and that this was a shame, but that’s about it. I didn’t even know why it was purportedly so egregious for the book to be the perpetual wallflower. For those of you who need a little bit more to go on in order to take a book out on a first date, the gist of the book is as follows: Sherman McCoy is a highflying Wall Street bond trader who has it all: the designer apartment in Manhattan, the perfect family, not to mention the mistress on the side. One night when he picks up his lady on the side, the two wind up taking an unforeseen detour through the Bronx… a side trip that has disastrous consequences. As Sherman struggles to do the right thing, he soon finds the life he’s built and the power he’s earned is more fragile than he ever imagined.

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Lately Tony and I have been bitten by the travel bug, and been bitten hard. It’s probably for the best that our Puerto Rican vacation is under a month away (!!!), because these days my productivity has been shot as I spend most of my time daydreaming about hitting the road (or the skies, as the case may be) for far off foreign lands. However, since I still have this thing called grad school to finish up before I can conquer the world, for now travel books and memoirs will have to slake my thirst.

One book I’ve been really excited to read for months now has been Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven, which has garnered rave reviews all across the book blogging world. Pretty much everything I’d read about this book suggested it was “unputdownable” not to mention shocking and thrilling.

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