strange and random happenstance

This isn't Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, despite her name being on it and the depiction of Bath as a cacophonous, nightmarish horror that might be the only onscreen depiction that accurately aligns with her opinions of the place. This is a Georgian Fairy Tale by way of Lewis Carroll and Kate Bush. An eighties fever dream that almost defies explanation or categorization. Music that literally breathes, synths and smoke machines aplenty, and is that an anachronistic sax solo? Why yes it is. Kenny G has been transported back in time to before the existence of saxophones to try to help Henry woo fair maiden. But is he wooing her in actuality or in fantasy? Because while I thought it was fun and unique in the 2007 adaptation of Northanger Abbey when they showed Catherine's fantasy life, it worked because it was used sparingly. Here the ratio of reality to reverie is heavily weighted to scenes of Robert Hardy washing his hands in baptismal fonts of blood. But then again, red is his color. As it is the color of all antagonistic characters, General Tilney, Frederick Tilney, and Isabella Thorpe, in her Wonderland finery. They even throw in a Carrollian Marchioness and her young black servant who leads Catherine into a garden to watch him do cartwheels. Though once we get to Henry spouting nonsensical verse; "since you have left the white rosebush has died of grief," I think we had definitely gone too far. But there literally was no looking back. The path out of the hedge maze had disappeared. Years ago when my most hated Jane Austen adaptation of all time came out, the 1999 Mansfield Park, my Mom's best friend said it helped if I pretended it wasn't based on the Jane Austen book. Advice I couldn't take, because no matter what rose-tinted glasses you are wearing they can't replace Francis O'Connor. So I tried that trick here, this is so weird, verging on historical fantasy, with all the insanity and nightmare inducing imagery of a film marketed to kids in the eighties, but I couldn't get beyond the Henry Tilney of it all. Even if I were to disconnect him entirely from Austen, the complete lack of chemistry and his attitude destroyed any chance of this becoming a weird cult classic for me. But if we do look at it as an Austen adaptation they are guilty of the greatest sin. They destroyed Henry Tilney. To me, Henry Tilney is the best of Austen's men. He is funny, he is self-deprecating, he is so alive. He's not just brooding, he's vital. Forget Darcy, I want Henry! Which is why it's such a sin what they do to him here. He is a condescending pompous prig. He's someone who totally believes in "teachable moments." Peter Firth's portrayal of Henry belittles Catherine. Why would she ever marry this insufferable twat who is so self-impressed he thinks he can sing Italian? Which he can't. Also, how does he have his own estate? He's supposed to be a humble clergyman, not running some estate that so wouldn't have gone to him because he has an elder brother. I mean, did anyone involved in this know anything about the Regency? Men and women sure as hell didn't bath together in the public baths that's for sure. It might make a nice scene, but it's all fantasy. Which, actually, yeah, that tracks for this production. It was all a dream. A very lucid fever dream. Cue the Kate Bush music.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Bath, Catherine Morland, Eighties, Fever Dream, Fifty-Five Years a Masterpiece, Frances O'Connor, Henry Tilney, Jane Austen, Kate Bush, Lewis Carroll, Mansfield Park, Music Video, Northanger Abbey, Peter Firth, Robert Hardy

The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Published by: Penguin Books
Publication Date: August 11th, 2009
Format: Paperback, 402 Pages
Rating: ★★★★★
To Buy

Quentin Coldwater is special. He has a GPA higher than most people realize they go. But every time he reaches a goal he no longer wants it. He is dissatisfied and disillusioned with his life at seventeen. Then something happens to him that feels like it could be lifted straight from his favorite book series by Christopher Plover, Fillory and Further. On a cold bleak fall day in Brooklyn after discovering a dead body and having an odd interaction with an attractive paramedic, Q walks through a community garden and ends up on a sea of freshly cut summer lawn. There's someone waiting for him. His exam is about to start. Never mind that Quentin knows nothing about this mysterious place or this exam, something in him tells him that the fictional Chatwins would rise to the challenge and so will he. After a series of honestly baffling tests he is told what he has started to suspect since he walked onto that lawn; magic is real. Not only that but he has been accepted to the prestigious Brakebills University for Magical Pedagogy. Here, after five years of matriculation, he will graduate a magician. His former life will be left behind and a new world will be opened to him. Quentin leaps into his new life but is distressed that his dissatisfaction seems to have followed him. His new life is nothing like his old life and yet the depression is seeping in. He has a new group of friends, the Physical Kids, Eliot, Janet, Josh, and Alice. Especially Alice. They are a prestigious clique, hanging out in their cottage and just drinking in their youth and their powers. But this grows stale. Eliot, Janet, and Josh graduate a year before Quentin and Alice and by the end of their final year at Brakebills Quentin seriously doesn't care about anything, not even his relationship with Alice, which he spectacularly destroys by sleeping with Janet and Eliot. And just when the entropy of his life is almost too much to bear in walks what might save him, what has to save him... The knowledge that Fillory is real and that they can go there. These books saved Q's life again and again. Who knows, maybe they will save him again? Or perhaps he's doomed to a life of despair and disillusionment.

I have now read this book three times in order to write a review that will do The Magicians justice. The problem is that each time I have read it my opinion has been so vastly different I don't know how to take in all these variables. I mean, how much of my opinion was shaped by my love of the television series? Well, the second time I read it, a lot. I was even changing Janet to Margo in my head. But four years after the show has ended so much has changed that I feel like I'm seeing the book with new eyes. There's such a jaded quality to Q. Nothing will ever bring him satisfaction or contentment. This is postmodernist Brideshead Revisited, or, as my friend Flavia said, nothing more than a "wall of pure nihilistic snobbery." And yes, that is true. But given the way of the world and all that we've been through over the past few years, I'm feeling in a very jaded and nihilistic mood. What really connected to me this time though was the fallibility of authors. Christopher Plover's Fillory and Further series is like Narnia or Harry Potter. That comfort read that so many children retreat to even as they age. Because the more adult you are the more you need that comfort blanket. Though much like real authors of that era, J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carroll, Plover had a dirty secret. A secret that changed Fillory forever. But time and time again these older authors aren't mentioned, it's J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter that is entwined with The Magicians. And J.K. Rowling is such a problematic author I don't even know where to start. There were rumors for years that she wasn't the beacon of light many people took her to be. It was only in 2013 when she started writing under a pseudonym chosen because Robert Galbraith Hall created conversion therapy that the mask started to slip. Though not many people picked up on the significance of her nom de plume. By Troubled Blood, the fifth book published as Galbraith in 2020, the mask was fully off. She's a full on TERF. The hate she spews is almost incomprehensible, unless you look at the world around us. Make America Hate Again! That disillusionment with her means this hit just right. Throw in the horrors of what Amazon and Netflix are frantically trying to cover up about Neil Gaiman, and well, this book reads less postmodernist, less open to interpretation, and more, the world sucks, magic isn't going to help, everyone is horrible. And somehow that was very cathartic. Unvarnished truth.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Brakebills, Brideshead Revisited, Christopher Plover, Fillory, Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, J.M. Barrie, Lev Grossman, Lewis Carroll, Magic, Neil Gaiman, Nihilism, Quentin Coldwater, Summer School, The Magicians

The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Published by: Penguin Books
Publication Date: August 11th, 2009
Format: Paperback, 402 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Quentin Coldwater is special. He has a GPA higher than most people realize they go. But every time he reaches a goal he no longer wants it. He is dissatisfied and disillusioned with his life at seventeen. Then something happens to him that feels like it could be lifted straight from his favorite book series by Christopher Plover, Fillory and Further. On a cold bleak fall day in Brooklyn after discovering a dead body and having an odd interaction with an attractive paramedic, Q walks through a community garden and ends up on a sea of freshly cut summer lawn. There's someone waiting for him. His exam is about to start. Never mind that Quentin knows nothing about this mysterious place or this exam, something in him tells him that the fictional Chatwins would rise to the challenge and so will he. After a series of honestly baffling tests he is told what he has started to suspect since he walked onto that lawn; magic is real. Not only that but he has been accepted to the prestigious Brakebills University for Magical Pedagogy. Here, after five years of matriculation, he will graduate a magician. His former life will be left behind and a new world will be opened to him. Quentin leaps into his new life but is distressed that his dissatisfaction seems to have followed him. His new life is nothing like his old life and yet the depression is seeping in. He has a new group of friends, the Physical Kids, Eliot, Janet, Josh, and Alice. Especially Alice. They are a prestigious clique, hanging out in their cottage and just drinking in their youth and their powers. But this grows stale. Eliot, Janet, and Josh graduate a year before Quentin and Alice and by the end of their final year at Brakebills Quentin seriously doesn't care about anything, not even his relationship with Alice, which he spectacularly destroys by sleeping with Janet and Eliot. And just when the entropy of his life is almost too much to bear in walks what might save him, what has to save him... The knowledge that Fillory is real and that they can go there. These books saved Q's life again and again. Who knows, maybe they will save him again? Or perhaps he's doomed to a life of despair and disillusionment.

I have now read this book three times in order to write a review that will do The Magicians justice. The problem is that each time I have read it my opinion has been so vastly different I don't know how to take in all these variables. I mean, how much of my opinion was shaped by my love of the television series? Well, the second time I read it, a lot. I was even changing Janet to Margo in my head. But four years after the show has ended so much has changed that I feel like I'm seeing the book with new eyes. There's such a jaded quality to Q. Nothing will ever bring him satisfaction or contentment. This is postmodernist Brideshead Revisited, or, as my friend Flavia said, nothing more than a "wall of pure nihilistic snobbery." And yes, that is true. But given the way of the world and all that we've been through over the past few years, I'm feeling in a very jaded and nihilistic mood. What really connected to me this time though was the fallibility of authors. Christopher Plover's Fillory and Further series is like Narnia or Harry Potter. That comfort read that so many children retreat to even as they age. Because the more adult you are the more you need that comfort blanket. Though much like real authors of that era, J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carroll, Plover had a dirty secret. A secret that changed Fillory forever. But time and time again these older authors aren't mentioned, it's J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter that is entwined with The Magicians. And J.K. Rowling is such a problematic author I don't even know where to start. There were rumors for years that she wasn't the beacon of light many people took her to be. It was only in 2013 when she started writing under a pseudonym chosen because Robert Galbraith Hall created conversion therapy that the mask started to slip. Though not many people picked up on the significance of her nom de plume. By Troubled Blood, the fifth book published as Galbraith in 2020, the mask was fully off. She's a full on TERF. The hate she spews is almost incomprehensible, unless you look at the world around us. Make America Hate Again! That disillusionment with her means this hit just right. Throw in the horrors of what Amazon and Netflix are frantically trying to cover up about Neil Gaiman, and well, this book reads less postmodernist, less open to interpretation, and more, the world sucks, magic isn't going to help, everyone is horrible. And somehow that was very cathartic. Unvarnished truth.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Brakebills, Brideshead Revisited, Christopher Plover, Fillory, For the Love of Book Clubs, J.K. Rowling, J.M. Barrie, Lev Grossman, Lewis Carroll, Magic, Neil Gaiman, Nihilism, Quentin Coldwater, The Magicians

Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women by George MacDonald
Published by: A Public Domain Book
Publication Date: 1858
Format: Kindle, 165 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Anodos's father has died. When going through his late father's desk he finds a compartment containing an old female fairy. She describes to him the land of Fairy and he dreams of it as he falls to sleep that night. When he awakes his room is transformed. There are recognizable objects, but the forest is encroaching on them. As he alights from bed he realizes that he is in the land of Fairy and that his adventure has begun. He soon learns that the land of Fairy isn't all wonder, there is both good and evil in this magical realm. The evil of the Ash and Alder Tree are notorious, and he has a frightful enounter with the Ash, being saved and protected by the Beech Tree. The Beech turns him to thoughts of love and he falls for a beautiful marble statue, but is tricked by the Ash once more. But soon the Ash isn't the only evil pursuing Anodos, his own shadow becomes antagonistic, and this evil presence weighs on him night and day. When he finds a palace he finally finds respite from the shadow. The library of the palace contains many books. But the magic of the realm of Fairy is that reading one of these books isn't like reading other books, you actually live the story. The adventure is your own. With this magic he lives many lifetimes, but his heart still belongs to the marble lady. He believes he sees her in one of the lives he reads but finds out the truth, she loves another, someone whom he has met. Yet still Adnodos searchs for her. He becomes obsessed that in the long checkered hall of the palace that the statues dance when he is not looking. And he believes that she is there. He is not wrong, but by now he should have realized you need to be careful what you wish for because pursuing the woman means leaving the palace and his shadow returns. The weight and despair plunge him into the depths of his psyche. He has been travelling for he doesn't know how long, always in one direction, towards the rising sun. But what little adventures he has had meeting with people begin to weary and tire him. Is he headed towards a goal? Will he be able to find redemption for the shadow he carries with him? An old woman holds some answers behind four doors. But will reliving his past trauma heal him? He remembers the death of his brother and it's two brothers that will help him to find purpose. They seek to slay tyrannical giants and it's Anodos's songs of his journeys and adventures through Fairy that give them strength in their preparations. But who will give Anodos strength to find his way home?

George MacDonald is probably best known for At the Back of the North Wind and The Princess and the Goblin, children's classics of the highest order. But his book Phantastes is probably the most influential. Within the first few pages you can see why C.S. Lewis referred to him as his "master." And yes, that's because there is a rather prominent wardrobe in the wilderness. You can just picture the Inklings bending over a table at The Eagle and Child and dissecting this tome page by page. Therefore it's hard to discuss this book on it's own. Because Anodos's journey through Fairy is rather prosaic. Nothing much happens and yet the vignettes showcased lit a fire in the minds of other authors. It's not hyperbole to say that Phantastes created the fantasy genre. It's a solid adventure on it's own and competently written, but my true enjoyment from reading it was every time it blew my mind because it connected to another piece of literature or film that I saw in a new light. C.S. Lewis and the wardrobe that took root started here, Lewis Carroll and his humorous turn of phrase to describe the surreal can be read in these pages, but don't forget L. Frank Baum and Dorothy! Though the two examples that most struck me happen in the palace that Anodos discovers. There there is a long hall with a checkerboard floor and music and mirrors and statues and red curtains. Two filmmakers took this as inspiration in their work. The first was Ridley Scott in Legend. When Lili dances with her shadow self and eventually becomes the darker version we then see in the mirror at the end, that was inspired by this! But then again Legend is heavily influenced by fantasy literature, as Terry Gilliam has said Legend is the only film that successfully captured the way he viewed the kitchens in his unrealized production of Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast. But the other auteur might surprise you because it's David Lynch. The antechambers of the Fairy palace's hall are the Black Lodge. The checkerboard floor, the statues, the red curtains, and there's always music in the air? Check, check, check, and check. Mind utterly blown. I'm sure if there was ever an annotated copy of this slim volume it would bulk it out to encyclopedic levels. One day I'd like to read that encyclopedia, as well as rereading Phantastes for itself. Though I have a feeling I'd still find the ending too preachy about "what we call evil." But MacDonald was a minister after all when he wasn't creating entire literary genres.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: C.S. Lewis, David Lynch, Fantasy, For the Love of Book Clubs, George MacDonald, Gormenghast, L. Frank Baum, Legend, Lewis Carroll, Mervyn Peake, Phantastes, Ridley Scott, The Black Lodge, The Inklings, Twin Peaks

The Rebecca Notebook and Other Memories by Daphne Du Maurier
Published by: Virago Press
Publication Date: 1981
Format: Paperback, 180 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy

From first hearing of the abandoned estate to several failed attempts to finally glimpse the house, Menabilly captured Daphne's imagination. She would eventually sit for hours on the lawn, gazing at the boarded up house imagining what once was and what ghosts might lurk there still. The seeds for Rebecca were thus planted and came to fruition years later while stationed with her husband in Cairo. She mapped out her story, staring an unnamed heroine and her husband Henry and the ghost of his dead wife haunting them still. Du Maurier was inspired by Cornwall and Menabilly, but her inspiration came from her family as well. The lauded author and grandfather she never knew, George Du Maurier, to her father, the famous stage actor, Sir Gerald Du Maurier, to her "uncle" J.M. Barrie. She was surrounded by artistic genius and it almost seemed predestined that she would make a name for herself in her own right. But seeing her name in lights? That was a humbling experience for the author. She longed for the days when authors would disappear behind their work and let it speak for itself. Yet, if called upon to give her opinion, despite her caustic wit tearing other authors to shreds for doing so, she would give it, without censor. Daphne Du Maurier might be remembered most for Rebecca, but that's not all she was.

Years ago, when I rediscovered Daphne Du Maurier by stumbling on a hoard of books at my local used bookstore I took to the Internet to see what other works she had written that were no longer in wide release, especially in the United States. That is when I first heard of The Rebecca Notebook. Not only is Rebecca the seminal work of Du Maurier, but one of my most favorite books ever. Therefore I needed The Rebecca Notebook to get further insight into Du Maurier's masterpiece and was willing to pay the exorbitant shipping from England in order to learn more about one of my favorite books. So was it worth it? Yes and no. There are insights to be learned but with the "other memories" there is a lot of filler, which is saying something as this slim volume is only 180 pages. I felt that seeing as Du Maurier cherry-picked essays from her back catalog she should have stuck with pieces relating to Cornwall and the house that inspired Manderley, as "The House of Secrets" is a wonderful little piece showing the genesis of Rebecca and has the lyricism of her fiction, which is sadly absent in her non-fiction, making it clunky and often painful to read.

As for "The Rebecca Notebook" itself? It's interesting to see how she plotted her writing chapter by chapter, showing what big reveals needed to happen when with snatches of dialogue she had hoped to use. Yet at the same time I feel this only truly interesting to writers or lawyers. Why lawyers? Because Rebecca was at the heart of a plagiarism case and "The Rebecca Notebook" was brought forward as evidence for the defense. This fact makes me leery of the veracity of the notebook. I don't doubt that Du Maurier wrote Rebecca and it was all her own creation, but I do doubt the notebook... it's a bit too convenient to have a chapter by chapter breakdown of the book being questioned. Yes, it could be real, but it could also be fabricated. I know this might seem very cynical of me, but Du Maurier was talented but also, as evidenced in her writing, she was devious. So it's more a compliment then a criticism to say that she fabricated this entire notebook just to win a court case. As for the book that supposedly was similar to Rebecca? Edwina L. MacDonald's Blind Windows? I'd really like to get my hands on a copy to see for myself the similarities but the book is lost to the mists of time.

Yet for how technical "The Rebecca Notebook" is and how depressing Rebecca's original "Epilogue" with the second Mrs. de Winter and Maxim, originally called Henry, were disfigured by a car accident, there was a very interesting reveal. Between these two pieces you see that Du Maurier had originally planned Mrs. Danvers to be insignificant. She is almost irrelevant until they need her to dig out Rebecca's planner and show that Rebecca had an appointment in London on the day she died leading to the reveal that Rebecca was dying and her greatest fear was pain. While this is very important to the resolution of the story not having Mrs. Danvers looming over the second Mrs. de Winter the whole time makes Rebecca an entirely different book! That this mousy second wife would just accidentally choose the same portrait Rebecca did to emulate at the masquerade? That seems unlikely. To have Mrs. Danvers push here to do it? Evil genius! There's a reason Hitchcock took Mrs. Danvers even further to her fiery end, it's because he knew that she is the linchpin that holds Rebecca together. Of course I disagree with what he did, but that doesn't mean he wasn't right in the significance of this one character.

As for the filler that makes up the rest of The Rebecca Notebook? In my mind it's best avoided. It's not just the fact that Du Maurier isn't the best writer when it comes to nonfiction, it's that she sometimes reveals things you really didn't want to know. A theme she keeps returning to is her family, from the more direct tales about her grandfather and father, "The Young George du Maurier" and "The Matinee Idol" respectively, to her ideas on love and the importance of family in "Romantic Love" and even to what it is like to lose love in "Death and Widowhood." While she tries to paint it as a lovely family unit, it's really a fucked up family unit. Seeing as she views Emily Bronte dying months after her brother Branwell from a cold she caught at his funeral romantic and just, because obviously Emily couldn't live without her "genius" brother, an opinion only held by Du Maurier I might add, gives you a hint at where she's going. And yes, she's going straight towards incest. And it's interesting to point out here that the only time she refers to it directly and not obliquely she refers to it as something "denied to us." Like we'd all be clamoring like Lannisters if it wasn't a sin? Eww. Just no.

Even putting aside the whole yeah incest, she has a lot of politically incorrect views. Yes, you could say she's a product of her time, but her stance against religion would have been viewed divisive even in it's day. As for comparing the stigma of widowhood as similar to the oppression suffered by people of color, I'm going to pretend I never read that. It's just SO offensive I can't even and that's why I've now categorized her as one of my favorite authors with reservations. I have many authors on this list, Lewis Carroll is one because he was a pedophile. J.M. Barrie, interestingly enough the adoptive father of Daphne's cousins, is another pedophile. Daphne's cousin Michael Llewelyn Davies, the favorite of Barrie's, committed suicide, which should easily prove the whole pedophile charge to any doubters. But my problem is I had already read and fallen in love with Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and Rebecca long before I learned anything of these authors personal lives. And unlike authors like Orson Scott Card and the dog whistles peppered in his writing, these authors work stands apart. You wouldn't know anything about the ick factor of their lives unless you read up on them, or in the case of Du Maurier, read their non-fiction. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. But I prefer in the end to be an informed reader.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Daphne Du Maurier, Du Maurier December, Family, George Du Maurier, Gerald Du Maurier, Incest, J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carroll, Mrs. Danvers, Pedophile, Plagiarism, Rebecca, The Rebecca Notebook and Other Memories

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter
Published by: Penguin Classics
Publication Date: 1979
Format: Paperback, 176 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy

A young and blushing bride is rushed by her new husband to his isolated castle. She doesn't love him, but he is wealthy, and that decides her mother. Once in his domain he subjects her to humiliations and sexual sadism. Yet this is just his character. A character that will test his new wife beyond sanity. For he purposefully leaves her alone to her own devices and she finds that which brings her husband joy. Torture. Murder. Death. All his previous wives' corpses in the cellar. All brutally slain at her new husband's hand. Man's baser desires and his ability to overcome or embrace them run thematically through these ten classic stories which are reinterpretations and retellings of some of the most famous of fairy tales. Or distillations if you will, as Carter said, "My intention was not to do 'versions' or, as the American edition of the book said, horribly, 'adult' fairy tales, but to extract the latent content from the traditional stories." Beasts from vampires to werewolves stride across the pages of Carter's collection. Some of the beasts look dangerous but are truly kind, while man may look harmless yet he can be the most dangerous of all. And while they are adult, brutal and sensual, they aren't just versions, despite Carter not wanting them to be labelled as such she can't escape the classification, but they are something more. They are subversive, they are feminine, they are something entirely new that spawned many imitations and inspired many authors with her magical realism. They are their own thing, but the beginning of something new is often not the best or the final version of what was attempted.

There is no doubt in my mind that The Bloody Chamber is a classic. Female empowerment through the retelling and restructuring of fairy tales was at the time it was written original and has now evolved into a subgenre all it's own thanks to the groundwork laid by Carter. Yet because something is a classic doesn't mean it's enjoyable. Yes, you can have admiration for something that you just don't quite like, and that's how I feel about this collection of short stories. I feel as if they were written to be studied, not enjoyed. Carter was pushing boundaries, establishing ideas that would development into today's literary tropes, but these stories come across as experiments, some failing and some succeeding. As a whole they are overly written with obscure words meant to be studied for hidden and double meanings. This style of writing doesn't really flow. It has meaning but that doesn't mean it's fun to read. Of the ten short stories the titular story is the strongest. Based on "Bluebeard" this overly sexual story plays with the underpinnings of the original tale of a beastly marriage and allows it to become somehow modern with the introduction of technology and also feminist with the bride being saved by her mother instead of her brothers. Yet what I was forcibly struck by is how this story has effected other storytellers. You can see how it influenced Susan Hill's writing of The Woman in Black. But more importantly, I defy you to think of any world in which Guillermo del Toro could have made Crimson Peak without The Bloody Chamber having existed first.

Despite how groundbreaking a collection this is there is a repetitive quality that just grinds on you. Carter is in several instances taking the same source material and trying to spin it into a different interpretation. Of the ten stories two are based on "Beauty and the Beast" while three, almost a third of the book, are based on "Little Red Riding Hood," though one of them, in a way I can not fathom, supposedly incorporates Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. Was it the mirror? Please someone explain this to me! So when you get to the end of the book and you have three stories all coming out of the same source, you might like the first, by the second you feel as if you've already read it, and by the third you are just sick of the story. It doesn't help that she literally uses the same turn of phrase again and again. Observations, words, structure, they add to the repetitive feeling. Yet if we were to take a bigger view, using the same theme, the same story, the same language over and over is like an artist creating a series of paintings. There's a unifying theme. There's a similarity. There's something undefinable that the artist is bringing to the work that makes them all a unit. So while the stories in The Bloody Chamber might repeat, might make clunky transitions from one story to the next, I find it fascinating how you are looking at her process. You are seeing her develop a series of ideas. Like the visual artist, she is working through shit, and as I've said previously, that is why this collection is interesting. You can studying it, you can break it down, and you can see how she's working through it.

Carter isn't just working through concepts, she's also working through ways in which to tell a story. So yes, occasionally the stories can end up feeling like writing exercises watching how she plays with narrating the story, but never once did it slip into that smugness that defined the "codas" in John Scalzi's Redshirts. There it felt like pretension, here it feels like experimentation, and that is the saving grace. The two stories that play with this the most are "Puss-in-Boots" and "The Erl-King." The later story is almost incomprehensibly dense and there's a weird disconnect with the narration slipping between second and third person, and yes, I will always have issues with second person narration, there's something about it that rubs me the wrong way. Yet "Puss-in-Boots" works in switching between first and third person. The slipping between the two from personal to detached just becomes the personality of a cat. Through this little narrative slip she is able to make her whole story imbued with the personality of her protagonist. So while I may criticize this roughness to the stories, this literary exercise feel, sometimes it works so well that I can not fault her for trying something again and again until she got it right. I guess what I just find most interesting about this book is that it's an author willing to show their flaws. Their process is on display and once again I come back to the importance of this work, not as a book you sit down and read for fun, but one you sit down and study. You embrace the lessons you learn. Though not this time through fairy tale morality, but through the tricks of the storyteller.

All the tricks and twists and literary play mean that while some stories are long others are brutally short and brutally violent. While "The Courtship of Mr. Lyon" could fall under the brutally short descriptor, a retelling of "Beauty and the Beast" at top speed, only one story falls under both categories, "The Snow Child," which even Wikipedia deems nothing more than a vignette. After I read this story my only thoughts were "WTF did I just read!?!" The story is literally only two pages long and involves a Count wishing a child, a "young woman" into being who dies and he then rapes her corpse and she turns into snow! What the hell is this story supposed to be about? What is the moral? Most versions of "The Snow-child" are about infidelity and desire, so sure, we've got that here what with the Count raping a young girl in front of his wife... but I just don't know how to handle this. Fairy Tales have always been about subjugation, teaching lessons so children and wives will behave, yet Carter has made her stories more about empowerment and belonging, finding you place in the world even if it's amongst the beasts. What does the rape of anyone, let alone a snow corpse, have to do with any of the messages and themes she's been toying with? Why didn't anyone go, you know, your stories, they can be a bit brutal, but this one, well this one is a step too far, so let's just nix it and move onto the moody vampire? OK? Seriously, MOODY VAMPIRE no more rape! I'd even take a fourth retelling of "Little Red Riding Hood" than to EVER have to think of Carter's version of "The Snow Child" ever again.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Angela Carter, Beauty and the Beast, Bluebeard, Crimson Peak, Fairy Tales, Going Gothic, Guillermo del Toro, Lewis Carroll, Little Red Riding Hood, Rape, The Bloody Chamber, The Snow Child, The Woman in Black

Bloodstains with Bronte by Katherine Bolger Hyde
Published by: Minotaur Books
Publication Date: December 12th, 2017
Format: Hardcover, 288 Pages
To Buy

The official patter:
"Classic novels and crime solving intertwine in Katherine Bolger Hyde's charming series. Bloodstains with Bronte is the second in a series that will puzzle and please fans of mystery and masterpieces alike.

Windy Corner is being remodeled into a writers' retreat. Two of the young workers, Jake and Roman, are showing too much of the wrong kind of interest in Katie, Emily's young single-mother housekeeper.

It's a stormy autumn and Emily is reading Wuthering Heights. Roman, a dark and brooding type, reminds her of Heathcliff. At a Halloween murder mystery fundraiser at Windy Corner, someone is found stabbed to death. Windy Corner's very own detective, Luke, is reluctantly forced to investigate Katie.

Luke digs into the background of the contractor, Jeremiah Edwards, and Emily, now reading Jane Eyre, realizes Jeremiah resembles St. John Rivers in his obsessive, tormented piety. Will Luke figure out who the murderer is before Katie ends up in jail or someone else is killed?"

Because what says good cozy read other than Brontes and murder? Only me then?

Mad Hatters and March Hares edited by Ellen Datlow
Published by: Tor Books
Publication Date: December 12th, 2017
Format: Hardcover, 336 Pages
To Buy

The official patter:
"From master anthologist Ellen Datlow comes an all-original of weird tales inspired by the strangeness of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There.

Between the hallucinogenic, weird, imaginative wordplay and the brilliant mathematical puzzles and social satire, Alice has been read, enjoyed, and savored by every generation since its publication. Datlow asked eighteen of the most brilliant and acclaimed writers working today to dream up stories inspired by all the strange events and surreal characters found in Wonderland.

Featuring stories and poems from Seanan McGuire, Jane Yolen, Catherynne M. Valente, Delia Sherman, Genevieve Valentine, Priya Sharma, Stephen Graham Jones, Richard Bowes, Jeffrey Ford, Angela Slatter, Andy Duncan, C.S.E. Cooney, Matthew Kressel, Kris Dikeman, Jane Yolen, Kaaron Warren, Ysbeau Wilce, and Katherine Vaz."

So... I'm more interested in this to see if anyone can actually succeed, because all Alice inspired writing I've ever read has failed miserably, because seriously, there's no one like Carroll.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Alice in Wonderland, Bloodstains with Bronte, Bronte, Catherynne M. Valente, Ellen Datlow, Jane Eyre, Katherine Bolger Hyde, Lewis Carroll, Mad Hatters and March Hares, Seanan McGuire, Wuthering Heights

Angelica by Arthur Phillips
Published by: Penguin Books
Publication Date: April 3rd, 2007
Format: Paperback, 331 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

The Barton household is about to be violently upset. Whether it's of a supernatural nature or a more prosaic nature is dependent on who you are listening to. The simple facts are these. Constance Barton and her husband Joseph had a hard time having a child. Two painful miscarriages and finally Angelica was born. In an attempt to thwart her husband's sexual advantages Angelica has been living in their bedroom for four years. Constance couldn't handle more disappointments and Angelica is enough for her. Angelica is her everything. But things are changing and Joseph finally imposes his will, which is a rare occurrence, and Angelica is removed to her nursery and the master bedroom is once more home to the martial bed. That is when the trouble starts. Constance views it as a haunting. There are smells and spectres and while Joseph points out that it could all be due to her high strung nature, she is convinced something more is at play; and is Angelica playing along? Could the child actually be scared or is she feeding off her mother's emotions? When Joseph claims his martial rights with Constance the spectre takes on physical form and something must be done. The maid Nora has heard of a spiritualist who specializes in cleansing houses, Anne Montague, a failed actress who is supplementing her income via overwrought housewives. But Anne sees something in the Barton household to change her mind about her "calling" and helps Constance. As for Joseph, he is easily taken care of... and as for Angelica? It turns out this is her story in more ways than one.    

If you're looking for a book strewn with contradictory stories and lack of resolution, than this here is the book for you! If instead you're looking for a psychological thriller that has supernatural elements, then I'd suggest you walk away. Or at the very least only read Constance's viewpoint, because the only thing going for this book was, aside from Phillips's ability to capture the language of the time period heavily reminiscent of Lewis Carroll, the first section with it's paranormal activities. Because this book isn't about the supernatural it's about unreliable narrators and the fallibility of memory and how each and every person sees the world differently. Which is all fine and good, it's just not the book I thought I was signing up to read and therefore I was a very dissatisfied reader. But more on my complete dissatisfaction later, with spoilers aplenty, so you've been warned. The problem with having four distinct perspectives is that they will never agree, add to this that Angelica is technically the vehicle for the other three narrators, and it's a jumbled mess. Yes, it's interesting to see the different interpretations of the same events, but overall it needed some grounding. There needed to be some character that you could connect to over the others, someone needed to be a little more believable so that you could take that away as what you believe is the truth. Instead, by not having this element the inconclusive ending makes for dissatisfied reading.

Seeing the story in order from the POVs of Constance, Anne, Joseph, and finally Angelica, who we've really been hearing from all along because this is her therapy session, Phillips seemed to want to discount the previous POV. Yes, everyone sees the world in their own unique way, but he seems determined to lessen the book in each section by paving over what came before and making it unbelievable. Therefore instead of being able to pick apart the POVs and find some thread of truth, we have each subsequent narrator totally disproving what came before. With Constance it's a ghost, but then Anne comes along and it's not a ghost it's sexual abuse, though she still lets Constance think it's a ghost. Then along comes Joseph and it's not sexual abuse it's that women be crazy yo. As for Angelica... she confirms nor denies any of these stories. So all is plausible. Say what!?! All is true and nothing is true? I know you can mimic the writing of Carroll, but please, no. Phillips you are no Carroll when it comes to nonsense and riddles. Unreliable narrators are really popular at the moment from Gone Girl to The Girl on the Train, heck this book technically has the ever popular "girl" in the title with Angelica's name, but these books succeed, and I really can't believe I'm saying there's something successful in Gone Girl, but they succeed because you get closure, not some supposedly deep yet ultimately aggravating non-ending.   

But then again, this is a book that basically writes itself off in the end. In fact, rarely have I hated a book so much in it's last few sentences that I grew to despise it and wanted to throw it more than anything."Flames, on the side of my face, breathing-breathl- heaving breaths. Heaving breaths... Heathing..." So let's break down that ending. At the conclusion of the book Angelica, the gimmicky narrator/manipulative bitch we've been hearing from tells her therapist to just ignore everything she's said, he will never understand her and he should just bring on the next "pretty hysteric." Now I've had long talks with one of my friends over this abrupt ending, seeing as we read this book for book club. Her conclusion, in as simplified a manner as I can make it, is that Angelica realizes that the therapist will never understand her, a complex modern woman, and the slight is to the therapist. Whereas I think it's the exact opposite. I think it's the author not bothering to understand women but just flipping them off at the end. They're women, they aren't worth figuring out because this wasn't Angelica's story it was Joseph's story all along. And why do I think this? Because Phillips, while writing so much about women here can't help that he is a male and as evidenced strongly in Joseph's section all his sympathies are with the male of the species so he's just writing from his entitled white male POV. Yeah, so let's throw this book out a window shall we?  

Going back to Joseph's section, not only does it discount everything that Constance and Anne have said, it makes Joseph this tragic figure who isn't understood at work or at home and he just has no friends and blah blah blah blah. I'm sorry your wife doesn't want to sleep with you, could it be because there is no birth control and she doesn't want to almost die having a stillborn child again? Every aspect of Constance's life is put under the microscope, every thing she does, says, feels, is up for debate, whereas Joseph, well, it's just poor Joseph don't pick on him, he's having a bad day, so let's let him be. Why not scrutinize Joseph? Put him under the harsh lights he uses in experimenting on animals, a job that is noble and not at all amoral! The true theme of this book isn't about memory and differing POVs, in Joseph's section we see Phillips's true motive, everything comes down to "poor men." Because obviously, like the recent Portlandia sketch, men have been pushed aside and marginalized too long. All women want from them is to trick them into marriage so they can have babies. Yeah, that's right. This very modern and topical view that women are out there to trick men into baby making is thrust into this Victorian period piece. I just kept thinking, yes, things are cyclical and men could have felt that way then, but more I kept thinking, is the author's girlfriend trying to get him to put a ring on it and a bun in the oven?

So as you can imagine by this point, I'd sworn off the book. Whatever good had happened with Constance and Anne, all was washed away by the modern hypocrisy just screaming at me from these pages that made up Joseph's section. Was there hope that Angelica could redeem the book? As you've read already. No. There wasn't. In fact Angelica's section is so slight it barely deserves a mention, except for one point; Constance and Anne hooking up. This is an issue I have with many male authors, they think that women will just randomly be lesbians if it suits the needs of the men. George R. R. Martin might be the worst, but can't they get that people are born who they are and that's that? You can see why Constance and Anne might be drawn to each other, Constance hasn't fared well at the hands of men, especially in regard to reproduction, and Anne is a wonderful protector and provider. But like the male entitlement that just oozed off the pages earlier, this just seems to be another nail in the coffin of women as manipulators. They got the child they wanted, killed Joseph, and now can live happily ever after. Or you could look at it as Constance doesn't like Joseph or his attentions so therefore she must be gay. In other words, everything in this book is seen through male entitlement glasses, I wouldn't say they're rose colored, they're more shit colored, because what makes you think that it's OK to think like this? Women are people too. I know many men are trying to change this, and reading a book that thinks that way... it just enrages me.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Abuse, Angelica, Arthur Phillips, George R. R . Martin, Ghosts, Going Gothic, Gone Girl, Lesbian, Lewis Carroll, Male Entitlement, Portlandia, POV, The Girl on the Train, Unreliable Narrator

The Lake House by Kate Morton
Published by: Atria Books
Publication Date: October 20th, 2015
Format: Hardcover, 512 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Midsummer has always been celebrated at Loeanneth with a grand gala. The lake house is strewn with lanterns and gondolas float on the river with fireworks dazzling the night sky above the great bonfire. While the Edevane family might enjoy their solitude in Cornwall, they still keep this tradition alive. It is 1933 and this will be the last year the family holds this celebration. Soon the house will be shuttered and it will be a time capsule of that night; the night everything changed. Young Alice Edevane would usually be reveling in these festivities, but this year is different. She no longer has time for Mr. Llewellyn, artist in resident and family friend, or her mother who wants her to help with preparations. She only has time for two things, plotting her first mystery novel and Ben. Ben is the gardener and she fancies herself in love with him. He listens raptly when she tells him about her book and talks to her like an equal. But could her book be what destroyed everything? Because in the wee hours of the night her baby brother Theo was taken from his crib. Seventy years later the case remains unsolved. Alice is now a successful mystery writer but she has never resolved what happened to her baby brother. Enter Sadie Sparrow. She's on leave from the MET with a forced vacation in Cornwall at her grandfather's house. Yet she can't sit still. Sadie stumbles on Loeanneth and the cold case consumes her. Will a fresh set of eyes find the truth of that long ago midsummer night?

There are times in your life when you just need to get away from reality and hide in a book. Sometimes it works and you fall into the story and it consumes you. Other times it backfires on you and all the troubles you were trying to escape are reflected back at you through this medium. Not only is the book too close for comfort, but once you put it down you'll be faced with reality again. Which is the situation I found myself in with Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, leading to me not being one of the worshipful majority. But that's another story for another time. When I finally picked up The Lake House it was precisely the book I needed at just the right time. It had just enough mystery with just the right level of predictability that I wanted to stay there as long as possible. I usually devour a book in a matter of days, but here I spent a week, taking my time and having a well deserved respite from reality. I languished at Loeanneth. The book became so much a part of me that I dreamt of Cornwall. I remember quite vividly being in the half-dream state where I wasn't quite fully awake but I had already started to leave my dream behind and hearing the garbage trucks making their morning rounds. The beeps were confusing and incongruous to me. There was still a part of me that knew they were garbage trucks, but my thoughts were consumed with the fact they didn't belong. The technology didn't exist yet and they would never spoil the idyll that was the lake house, because that is where I was. I haven't had this kind of dream disassociation since years ago when I thought some crop dusters were Messerschmidt's, again another story for another time.

Kate Morton's books aren't for everyone. In fact they only occasionally work for me. They spend loving detail on atmosphere and if you are more interested in narrative, well you can feel like you are languishing in a story with no forward momentum. The mysteries Morton concocts are very pedestrian. Her own creation, Alice Edevane, would weep for their simplicity. In fact the only thing that didn't ring true to me in The Lake House is that Alice Edevane is this grand dame of mystery writers the likes of P.D. James and Ruth Rendell yet she was never able to solve this mystery in her own life. Yes, you could say it's because she didn't want to know the truth, but that seems cliched. But the truth you need to remember in Morton's book is the mystery is always secondary. Yes, she did a better job this time of spacing out the clues so just when you thought nothing would progress, bam, new evidence showed up on the scene. That doesn't mean I didn't figure it out hundreds of pages earlier, but I liked the pacing. I also liked the characters, I felt like they were more fleshed out in this tale. Morton likes to have the old lady with these wonderful stories and secrets that must be passed on or solved by younger generations. It's her thing, it's her trope. But here Alice was so alive. She was the spark that kept things together. She's a spunky old lady who plays her cards close to her chest, and I just loved that. Instead of a dead aunt, a mother on her deathbed, or an old lady in a nursing home, the elderly lady this time around was active not passive and it made a huge difference.

While having the disappearance of the one Edevane son as the fulcrum this book is really about women. Particularly the bond between mothers and daughters and all the shapes and forms these bonds come in. I liked that we had mothers who knew the best thing for their child was to let them go, while also having mothers so selfish they pushed their daughter away for the sake of their own appearance. It really cast a light on the fact that there's not just one single and simple way that mothers and daughters interact. People are so different and to assume that their relationships are all the same is folly. What is also interesting is to see how the mother daughter relationship is formed by experience and also by society's conventions and how those conventions have changed over time. The relationship between Alice's mother and grandmother, women of the previous century, was more staid and reserved, because of the time and also a tragedy Alice's grandmother endured. Going forward Alice's mother wants to have a better relationship with her own daughters but realizes that her husband stands in the way of her being the "fun" parent and therefore sadly accepts her fate. Then we look to Sadie and how her own mother threw her out because Sadie got pregnant and opted to give the baby up for adoption. Just a few women, and yet their relationships are so complex and we are given insight into each one, we get to understand if not empathize with how they lived and loved.

But if I'm honest what really intrigued me with The Lake House was the real life parallels. Theo's disappearance has parallels to the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby, which the book doesn't shy away from pointing out. There's something about these unsolved crimes that echo down the generations and draw us in and therefore make for great inclusions in fiction. As for my Lindbergh baby obsession, it's not as bad as my Jack the Ripper obsession, though both make me wish I could time travel just to solve unsolved crime. The thing is Lindbergh went to the same university as me and I can actually see the house where he lived from my office window. As for the kidnapping, I saw a riveting one person play on the convicted kidnapper Bruno Hauptmann that has always stuck with me. Though it wasn't just the Lindbergh allusions that I loved. Mr. Llewellyn and his children's book based on Alice's mother had so much Lewis Carroll in it I could sqwee for joy. Plus Morton played with our preconceptions based on this real life connection. She threw suspicion on Mr. Llewellyn but also called into question his relationship with the family, much as Carroll's was with the Liddells. Oh, and to hark back to those great dames of detection, there's more than a little Anne Perry in Alice Edevane. Of course Anne Perry's childhood crime of murdering her best friend's mother prior to becoming a bestselling crime writer was immortalized in the wonderful film Heavenly Creatures. This crime occurred in New Zealand, a stone throws from Morton's Australia. The idea that Alice might somehow be guilty and therefore an unreliable narrator, I can't tell you how much I loved this. Also the Mitford parallels, with Deborah, Alice, and Clemmie Edevane mirroring Diana, Nancy, and Jessica Mitford respectively was just the cherry on top of the sundae.

The only real problem I had with the entire book was Sadie Sparrow. While you might think it's a hatred of her pigheadedness and her just not really listening to people, it has nothing to do with that, I could overlook that as character flaws. My problem is her name: Sadie Sparrow. I'm sure when everyone first saw the Doctor Who episode "Blink" written by Steven Moffat they all thought that Sally Sparrow was the coolest name ever and were wishing that they had thought of it first. I know I did and I'm a reviewer not a writer! In fact my handle on my knitting site actually is Sally Sparrow, I am unashamed of my geekiness and I fully admit it. It's such a unique and distinctive name that once you hear it you can't ever forget it. Now here we have Sadie Sparrow. She's like a weak imitation, a bad knock off, a wannabe Sally but alwaysbe Sadie. Why would you EVER choose this as your characters name? Why would an editor ever let you do it? Yes the name might seem perfectly acceptable to you, the author, but it's not. This name wasn't your invention. To make matters worse Sally and her friend Kathy joke about being investigators, Sparrow and Nightingale! A bit ITV, but I'd still watch it. And here's "Sadie" being all investigative and then a PI! I'm sorry. This is just unacceptable. You could argue it's coincidence, that Kate Morton has never even seen Doctor Who. Guess what? I don't care. Yes her book has lots of real life connections and allusions, but she makes them her own. If it was a original thought or Sally just became Sadie, it's too close and MUST be changed. This isn't Moffat, it's Morton. And the last thing any writer wants to be is Moffat.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Anne Perry, Blink, Charles Lindbergh, Cornwall, Doctor Who, Downton Denial Denouement, Fangirl, Heavenly Creatures, Jack the Ripper, Kate Morton, Lewis Carroll, Mitfords, P.D. James, Steven Moffat, The Lake House

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Published by: Simon and Schuster
Publication Date: 1955
Format: Paperback, 453 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Yossarian is stationed on the small island of Pianosa in the Mediterranean west of Italy. He's on a bombing raid, he's on leave in Italy, he's in hospital, he's out of hospital, he's in the mess, he's not welcome in the mess, his friends are dying, he might die, he just wants to go home. He knows he's in real and immediate danger, which is the thought of a rational mind. If he asks to go home he's admitting that he knows he's in danger and therefore sane. If he wants to stay he is obviously insane and must be grounded. Yossarian is trapped in a frustrating situation by contradictory regulations because of a non-existent clause. But the genius is the simplicity of this clause that controls everyone's life, it is Catch-22.

Sometimes a book just isn't for you. You read it, you give it a try, and it's not that you hate it, you just don't like it. There are many books I love which some of my best friends dislike and a few they outright hate. I let them have that hate because it's an educated hate. They read the book or books and decided it wasn't for them. I'm not here to judge, it happens, and it is a two-way street. I just didn't like Catch-22. I tried. I really wanted to like it knowing how special a place it holds in some of my friend's hearts, but it just wasn't for me. Like Austen tends to alienate a good portion of the male population, I felt that Heller alienated a good portion of the female population. This book is a guy book, and that's the clearest way I have of saying it wasn't for me.

And I don't think it's the war aspect that makes it a guy book, but more that the depiction of the women alienates women readers. In fairness, not many of the characters are likable. They can be fascinating and compelling, but likable, not at all. The problem I had was that Heller depicted all women as whores who have a love of money or as wanton sluts. OK, this can be the starting point of a character, but you need to build beyond that. Don't make this a cookie cutter stereotype that applies to every single woman in your story. There's this misogynistic undertone that carries through the book and finds it's outlet in the rape and murder of the innocent Michaela, the one realistic woman. I can ascribe many what ifs to justify Heller's writing that he was parodying the way soldiers denigrate women or that he was trying to make women on a lower par with his men, but whatever I say or whatever is true, it still made me, as a woman reader, uncomfortable and not wanting to finish the book.

Though the content of the story bothered me far less then the literary techniques that Heller used. I didn't take issue with the non-linear narration, I only mention it because I have a feeling that this technique makes the book a better re-read then initial read, so I have that working against me. My main problem was that the book doesn't feel of it's time. How can I explain this? The book is about World War II but it was published in 1961. It feels like a book from the sixties instead of a book from the forties. The unattributed dialogue, the narrative structure, even the narrative tense felt more in line with writers like Hunter S. Thompson, Jack Kerouac, and Kurt Vonnegut.

This disassociation between the time the book is set and this later writing style jarred my sensibilities and never meshed into a cohesive book for me. The best comparison I can give is between Catch-22 and Slaughterhouse-Five. I love the later book while disliking the former. The reason this newer writing style works for Vonnegut where it doesn't work for Heller is that Vonnegut's story goes forward and backward in time, it isn't just about World War II, so it is able to accept these new literary techniques, whereas Catch-22 is fighting against them every step of the way. A book needs to have harmony with itself to work. And a book really needs harmony to be an enjoyable reading experience.

The unattributed dialogue is on of the techniques that annoyed me the most. I know I'm not alone in being against this stylistic wordplay. I distinctly remember in one of my high school English classes that we had to read this short story that was all unattributed dialogue. Whomever had the book before me was obviously not a fan of this style either because they had gone through the entire story and written who was talking when, like in a screenplay. I was almost annoyed enough to do this here, but I really got to a why bother phase with this book rather fast. The writing would veer between being lugubrious to nonsensical, like an unsuccessful Lewis Carroll parody. At times it felt unoriginal and derivative of the worst and most repetitive of vaudeville sketches. Vaudeville can work, but think clearly, it works because there are actors delivering the lines and therefore keeping you away from the unattributed dialogue trap. This was like reading a vaudeville sketch; who's on first? Who knows, and really, do I care?

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 1960s, Catch-22, Hunter S. Thompson, Italy, Jack Kerouac, Jane Austen, Joseph Heller, Kurt Vonnegut, Lewis Carroll, Mediterranean, Non-Linear, Slaughterhouse-Five, Unattributed Dialogue, Vaudeville, WWII

The Lake House by Kate Morton
Published by: Atria Books
Publication Date: October 20th, 2015
Format: Hardcover, 512 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Midsummer has always been celebrated at Loeanneth with a grand gala. The lake house is strewn with lanterns and gondolas float on the river with fireworks dazzling the night sky above the great bonfire. While the Edevane family might enjoy their solitude in Cornwall, they still keep this tradition alive. It is 1933 and this will be the last year the family holds this celebration. Soon the house will be shuttered and it will be a time capsule of that night; the night everything changed. Young Alice Edevane would usually be reveling in these festivities, but this year is different. She no longer has time for Mr. Llewellyn, artist in resident and family friend, or her mother who wants her to help with preparations. She only has time for two things, plotting her first mystery novel and Ben. Ben is the gardener and she fancies herself in love with him. He listens raptly when she tells him about her book and talks to her like an equal. But could her book be what destroyed everything? Because in the wee hours of the night her baby brother Theo was taken from his crib. Seventy years later the case remains unsolved. Alice is now a successful mystery writer but she has never resolved what happened to her baby brother. Enter Sadie Sparrow. She's on leave from the MET with a forced vacation in Cornwall at her grandfather's house. Yet she can't sit still. Sadie stumbles on Loeanneth and the cold case consumes her. Will a fresh set of eyes find the truth of that long ago midsummer night?

There are times in your life when you just need to get away from reality and hide in a book. Sometimes it works and you fall into the story and it consumes you. Other times it backfires on you and all the troubles you were trying to escape are reflected back at you through this medium. Not only is the book too close for comfort, but once you put it down you'll be faced with reality again. Which is the situation I found myself in with Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, leading to me not being one of the worshipful majority. But that's another story for another time. When I finally picked up The Lake House it was precisely the book I needed at just the right time. It had just enough mystery with just the right level of predictability that I wanted to stay there as long as possible. I usually devour a book in a matter of days, but here I spent a week, taking my time and having a well deserved respite from reality. I languished at Loeanneth. The book became so much a part of me that I dreamt of Cornwall. I remember quite vividly being in the half-dream state where I wasn't quite fully awake but I had already started to leave my dream behind and hearing the garbage trucks making their morning rounds. The beeps were confusing and incongruous to me. There was still a part of me that knew they were garbage trucks, but my thoughts were consumed with the fact they didn't belong. The technology didn't exist yet and they would never spoil the idyll that was the lake house, because that is where I was. I haven't had this kind of dream disassociation since years ago when I thought some crop dusters were Messerschmidt's, again another story for another time.

Kate Morton's books aren't for everyone. In fact they only occasionally work for me. They spend loving detail on atmosphere and if you are more interested in narrative, well you can feel like you are languishing in a story with no forward momentum. The mysteries Morton concocts are very pedestrian. Her own creation, Alice Edevane, would weep for their simplicity. In fact the only thing that didn't ring true to me in The Lake House is that Alice Edevane is this grand dame of mystery writers the likes of P.D. James and Ruth Rendell yet she was never able to solve this mystery in her own life. Yes, you could say it's because she didn't want to know the truth, but that seems cliched. But the truth you need to remember in Morton's book is the mystery is always secondary. Yes, she did a better job this time of spacing out the clues so just when you thought nothing would progress, bam, new evidence showed up on the scene. That doesn't mean I didn't figure it out hundreds of pages earlier, but I liked the pacing. I also liked the characters, I felt like they were more fleshed out in this tale. Morton likes to have the old lady with these wonderful stories and secrets that must be passed on or solved by younger generations. It's her thing, it's her trope. But here Alice was so alive. She was the spark that kept things together. She's a spunky old lady who plays her cards close to her chest, and I just loved that. Instead of a dead aunt, a mother on her deathbed, or an old lady in a nursing home, the elderly lady this time around was active not passive and it made a huge difference.

While having the disappearance of the one Edevane son as the fulcrum this book is really about women. Particularly the bond between mothers and daughters and all the shapes and forms these bonds come in. I liked that we had mothers who knew the best thing for their child was to let them go, while also having mothers so selfish they pushed their daughter away for the sake of their own appearance. It really cast a light on the fact that there's not just one single and simple way that mothers and daughters interact. People are so different and to assume that their relationships are all the same is folly. What is also interesting is to see how the mother daughter relationship is formed by experience and also by society's conventions and how those conventions have changed over time. The relationship between Alice's mother and grandmother, women of the previous century, was more staid and reserved, because of the time and also a tragedy Alice's grandmother endured. Going forward Alice's mother wants to have a better relationship with her own daughters but realizes that her husband stands in the way of her being the "fun" parent and therefore sadly accepts her fate. Then we look to Sadie and how her own mother threw her out because Sadie got pregnant and opted to give the baby up for adoption. Just a few women, and yet their relationships are so complex and we are given insight into each one, we get to understand if not empathize with how they lived and loved.

But if I'm honest what really intrigued me with The Lake House was the real life parallels. Theo's disappearance has parallels to the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby, which the book doesn't shy away from pointing out. There's something about these unsolved crimes that echo down the generations and draw us in and therefore make for great inclusions in fiction. As for my Lindbergh baby obsession, it's not as bad as my Jack the Ripper obsession, though both make me wish I could time travel just to solve unsolved crime. The thing is Lindbergh went to the same university as me and I can actually see the house where he lived from my office window. As for the kidnapping, I saw a riveting one person play on the convicted kidnapper Bruno Hauptmann that has always stuck with me. Though it wasn't just the Lindbergh allusions that I loved. Mr. Llewellyn and his children's book based on Alice's mother had so much Lewis Carroll in it I could sqwee for joy. Plus Morton played with our preconceptions based on this real life connection. She threw suspicion on Mr. Llewellyn but also called into question his relationship with the family, much as Carroll's was with the Liddells. Oh, and to hark back to those great dames of detection, there's more than a little Anne Perry in Alice Edevane. Of course Anne Perry's childhood crime of murdering her best friend's mother prior to becoming a bestselling crime writer was immortalized in the wonderful film Heavenly Creatures. This crime occurred in New Zealand, a stone throws from Morton's Australia. The idea that Alice might somehow be guilty and therefore an unreliable narrator, I can't tell you how much I loved this. Also the Mitford parallels, with Deborah, Alice, and Clemmie Edevane mirroring Diana, Nancy, and Jessica Mitford respectively was just the cherry on top of the sundae.

The only real problem I had with the entire book was Sadie Sparrow. While you might think it's a hatred of her pigheadedness and her just not really listening to people, it has nothing to do with that, I could overlook that as character flaws. My problem is her name: Sadie Sparrow. I'm sure when everyone first saw the Doctor Who episode "Blink" written by Steven Moffat they all thought that Sally Sparrow was the coolest name ever and were wishing that they had thought of it first. I know I did and I'm a reviewer not a writer! In fact my handle on my knitting site actually is Sally Sparrow, I am unashamed of my geekiness and I fully admit it. It's such a unique and distinctive name that once you hear it you can't ever forget it. Now here we have Sadie Sparrow. She's like a weak imitation, a bad knock off, a wannabe Sally but alwaysbe Sadie. Why would you EVER choose this as your characters name? Why would an editor ever let you do it? Yes the name might seem perfectly acceptable to you, the author, but it's not. This name wasn't your invention. To make matters worse Sally and her friend Kathy joke about being investigators, Sparrow and Nightingale! A bit ITV, but I'd still watch it. And here's "Sadie" being all investigative and then a PI! I'm sorry. This is just unacceptable. You could argue it's coincidence, that Kate Morton has never even seen Doctor Who. Guess what? I don't care. Yes her book has lots of real life connections and allusions, but she makes them her own. If it was a original thought or Sally just became Sadie, it's too close and MUST be changed. This isn't Moffat, it's Morton. And the last thing any writer wants to be is Moffat.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Anne Perry, Blink, Charles Lindbergh, Cornwall, Doctor Who, Downton Denial Denouement, Fangirl, Heavenly Creatures, Jack the Ripper, Kate Morton, Lewis Carroll, Mitfords, P.D. James, Steven Moffat, The Lake House

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
Published by: Starscape
Publication Date: 1985
Format: Paperback, 324 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy (different edition then one reviewed)

Ender Wiggin is the shame of his family. He is a Third. On an Earth where the population is still reeling countless years later from the last alien "Bugger" invasion, children are limited to two... unless there is a government mandate or the parents live outside the laws of decency. Ender was government mandated. In order to save humanity, the government has decided that children who are gifted should be trained to be their saviours. Ender's siblings, Peter and Valentine, both showed potential as being the most gifted children ever to be monitored for training. Yet Peter's violence and Valentine's empathy ultimately doomed them to a life on Earth. Still, the potential was so great that Ender Wiggin was "commissioned."

Ender has spent years being monitored to see if he would fulfil the potential of his siblings. Despite appearances to the contrary, the government decides that Ender is indeed their ideal savior. Yet, in order to achieve this end result, the rules will be broken. Battle School has been run in a space station orbiting Earth and training the youths in a very set curriculum of schoolwork and mock battles. Divided into armies and platoons, the students fight each other in a safe environment to hone their skills that will be used against the Buggers. When Ender arrives, all the rules are changed. By isolating Ender and promoting him beyond his age group, they hope to create the greatest military mind the universe has ever seen. He is a tactical genius, thinking outside the box and is able to embrace concepts that other students can't even understand on the most rudimentary level.

Soon Ender is promoted out of Battle School before even reaching his teens and sent out to the far reaches of the galaxy to Command School, where he is trained by the greatest military mind ever, before him that is. Put in a simulator, Ender is virtually learning how to control a fleet and fellow commanders who must answer to him. Yet, deep in his mind he starts to question if the Buggers are the real threat. While back on Earth, his siblings might pose a far greater threat because they have realized something that Ender has only guessed at. They are spurned geniuses, and they have the world at their feet.

A space age Lord of the Flies, a tale of justified violence and uncompromising brutality. This are the criticisms that are often written about this book. Yet... this was not what bothered me. Growing up when I have, the world around me has desensitized me to violence. Not to say that I didn't consider this book violent, I just considered that to be the least of it's flaws. I have never read a book by Orson Scott Card previously, nor will I ever again. While many believe this book to be the pinnacle of science fiction, I personally was left, not only scratching my head, but with the taste of bile in my mouth.

If not for the fact that this was for my book club I would not have finished it. If Card isn't spewing hatred, he is plodding along with his mind numbingly boring plot. This book is very much a battle movie, in that, you can see Michael Bay loving getting to set children into combat with lots of gore and death. This did not make for a good book. Moving past the fact that it is badly written, you really have to give me this, it's clunky, awkward and the little "omniscient narrations" before each chapter where laughable, the language and hatred that spilled out of the book just shocked me. The racism and bigotry floored me. I don't believe in censorship or taking away free speech. But the fact that there are children out there reading this book and thinking this language is acceptable, chills me to the marrow of my bones. From homophobic slurs against a little boy Shen, who comes to be called worm because of his effeminate walk, to racial anti-Semitic language used against Ender's first army leader because he is Jewish, and not only that, having Rose himself "self deprecatingly" joke about it himself shows even more that it's acceptable to children who don't know better! The book just compounds hatred and bile into this big mess that I wanted to fling out the window.

For many years I have tried to come to grips with the fact you sometimes have to separate the artist from their art. A beautiful painting might have been painted by a horrible bigot. A classic of literature might have been written by a pervert, ie, the Lewis Carroll/J.M. Barrie conundrum. Yet this is impossible when the views and opinions of the author are so a part of the text that they are inescapable. After a few chapters I realized that Orson Scott Card must be one of the biggest homophobes the world has seen. Therefore I did some goodreads trawling. Going past all my friends who mysterious loved this book (they are going to have a lot to answer for at book club!) I went to those reviews who gave the book a star. Or as I call these reviewers, "my people." There a found a link to an online article where he railed against homosexuality saying that homosexuals are allowed to marry, so long as they marry the opposite sex, not where their heart lies. Not that Card believes that homosexuals have hearts... because "the dark secret of homosexual society -- the one that dares not speak its name -- is how many homosexuals first entered into that world through a disturbing seduction or rape or molestation or abuse, and how many of them yearn to get out of the homosexual community and live normally." WHAT!?!

Card, you can believe what you want to believe, just like anyone who is reading my blog can, just, don't do it around me. I'm not trying to preach here or anything. I was raised to believe in love. But to spew this bile and not be called out on it. To be lauded with awards for this hate spewing work? You have an amazing mind, you where able to envision how technology would evolve. In the eighties, you saw the rise of the Internet, the rise of bloggers like me and the power we would have. You saw children working on desks that are quite literally our tablets, such as the iPad. You pre-saged all this amazing technology, yet your belief system lives in the dark ages. I'm calling you out on it. Hopefully one day people will realize that your book is nothing more than a platform for your hate.

*If you would care to read the full article referenced above, it can be found here. I will warn you though that it has many inflammatory opinions, none of which I hold with.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Antisemitism, Ender Wiggin, Ender's Game, Hatred, Homosexuality, iPad, J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carroll, Lord of the Flies, Orson Scott Card

Something Rotten: Thursday Next Novel the 4th by Jasper Fforde
Published by: Viking
Publication Date: August 5th, 2004
Format: Hardcover, 389 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Battenburg Cake, Bismack, Emma Hamilton, Goliath, Hamlet, Jasper Fforde, Jurisfiction, Landen, Lewis Carroll, Minotaur, Something Rotteh, Spec Ops, Terry Pratchett, The Eyre Affair, Thursday Next

The Wee Free Men (Discworld Book #30) by Terry Pratchett
Published by: Harper Collins
Publication Date: 2003
Format: Hardcover, 264 Pages
Challenge: Terry Pratchett, Fantasy,1st in Series
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy
Tiffany Aching has grown up on the chalk surrounded by sheep. She's never quite trusted the fairy stories that show the princesses as blond and blue eyed and the witches as all being evil and likely to entice you into a candy covered cottage. First off, being a brunette, she's not exactly princess material, secondly, ever since the day a harmless little old lady was killed because she was suspected of being a witch, Tiffany decided she'd grow up to be a witch and prove those fairy tales wrong. Because if her grandmother was still alive she would have protected the little old lady, because them that can has to stand up to them that can't. The thing is, nobody told Tiffany that witches aren't bred on the chalk, it's not proper steading. But it seems that, despite what other witches think, the chalk views Tiffany as a witch. After an encounter with a rather nasty water sprite, wherein Tiffany uses her brother Wentworth as bait, she has gotten the attention of the local critters, in particular the Nac Mac Feegle, a fierce little blue warrior clan with bemusing accents, little being the operative word as they're only six inches high. When Tiffany's little brother disappears, just as the baron's son did a few years earlier, all signs point to mystical mischief. With the help of the Nac Mac Feegle she learns from their ruler, the Kelda, that the Queen of the Fairies has taken Wentworth, as she took the baron's son before. The Queen lives in a land of cold and nightmares, a land where the Feegles are no longer welcome, they caused a bit too much mischief. And the Queen sense a weakness in the chalk and decides perhaps it's time to strike. The Kelda on her deathbed appoints Tiffany the clan's new Kelda so she will have unswerving loyalty in the fight to rescue her brother and save this world from that of fairy. Armed with a frying pan and a posse of little blue men they set forward into the land of snow. Where nightmares become manifest, where paintings are reality and the label on a pouch of tobacco can be entered into and hounds have razors for teeth. It's up to this little girl who wants to be a witch to save the world.

The first book in the Tiffany Aching series is the beginning of one of my favorite arcs in the Discworld oeuvre of Terry Pratchett. Tiffany is a girl as hard as flint and with a mind made to solve problems. Plus, she's a fellow book nerd, she read the dictionary straight through because no one ever told her not to. While the basic plot is akin to any coming of age story where a girl learns her responsibility to her family but also her own strength, thus drawing comparisons to Labyrinth, especially as there is a scene very reminiscent of the ballroom scene in that film, it is so much more. And in the more I'm speciafically referring to the Nac Mac Feegle. I don't think I love anyone in fiction as much as I love these pictsies with there lawless ways, their fear of lawyers and their stubborn loyalty. You want to read their lines aloud to revel in their dialect of half Scottish half absurd, where ships are the wooly things that eat grass and go baa, not to be mistaken for the other. If the book could be said to have a failing it would be that of the impossibility of properly building a nonsensical world. There has only been one person, in my mind, who has ever built a 100% believable world of absurdity, and that would be Lewis Carroll. Terry Pratchett does far far better than most, but a dream world of no logic based on memories, dreams and nightmares is a hodge-podge world wherein the plot gets chunky and doesn't flow. It makes it sectional and not cohesive. But in the end, it's a great start for one of my favorite witches. It's almost like reading about a young Esme Weatherwax, with all her future still to come.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Discworld, Fantasy Reading Challenge, Kelda, Labyrinth, Lewis Carroll, Nac Mac Feegles, Terry Pratchett, The Queen of the Fairies, The Wee Free Men, Tiffany Aching

In the spirit of what this day is... Random Magic Day I present you with something very neat. Here is some interesting Random Magic Trivia!

* The name of the artist, Rasa Oddvilla, is an anagram for Salvador Dalí.

* The Floating City can be considered to be allegorical.

* Only 2000 copies of the first edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland were printed, then discarded as waste paper.

* “Two fathoms” refers to Mark Twain.

* Anagrammatic homage to Douglas Adams in -- Ch. 42, of course.

* Ergot-tainted rye can cause hallucinations. Historians suggest that ergot-tainted rye was the spur for the Salem Witch Trials in 1692.

* Guédé is a voodoo entity; he guards the gates of the cemetery, and is privy to all the secrets of the dead. He's also known as Baron Samedi. Although he is a much-feared entity, he has a wicked sense of humor. He is fond of children, and will sometimes intervene to spare the life of a dying child.

* The invention of the word game of "doublets" is attributed to Lewis Carroll.

* Hypatia of Alexandria was a mathematician and the victim of a political assassination -- she was torn to pieces by a mob in 415A.D.

* Professor Literati's eyes are the color of absinthe, a drink which was popular with artists, writers and poets in the 19th century. Absinthe is also referred to by the moniker "The Green Fairy."

* Gone is the feline retort to the paradox of Schrödinger's Cat. He's rumored to be related to the Cheshire Cat, but we can find no definitive proof.

* The nickname "Wiggy" refers both to Beethoven and to Ludwig II of Bavaria, a/k/a the Swan King, the Dream King, and, natch, the Mad King of Bavaria.

* Mort = la mort (death, Fr.)

* Nyx is the goddess of night.

* Charon is the ferryman of the dead. The ancient Greeks buried loved ones with a silver coin under their tongues for Charon, to ensure safe passage.

* Moirtha the cook (one of the Wyrd sisters, related to the Norns) is one of the Moirai.

* Nevermore is named for the well-known poem, "The Raven," by Edgar Allen Poe.

* The book Winnie and Henry read in the library is Der Struwwelpeter, a ghastly/funny children's book of cautionary tales published in 1845. Mark Twain translated the book into English in 1891.

* The woman in the Garden of the Nine Muses is actually a tarot card representing hidden knowledge.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 1:49 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 42, Alice in Wonderland, Baron Samedi, Charon, Douglas Adams, Gone, Hypatia, Lewis Carroll, Mark Twain, Mort, Muses, Nevermore, Nyx, Random Magic, Salem Witch Trials, Salvador Dali, Trivia, Wiggy