ljbwell: a readin' queen in 2014

And so, here we are again. A new year, new goals. 2013 ended a bit lighter than hoped, and is reflected in a slightly lower goal for 2014. But hey, a lot happened, and this year should be less in flux. Fingers crossed.

Certain traditions hold - the annual selection of the ticker for one.

As always, I look forward to the year, and welcome you to this thread. Happy reading!

And we're off...

1. Khrushchev of the Ukraine by Victor Alexandrov (216 p., translation from French)

I decided to start the year with a 1957 biography of Nikolai Khrushchev. It's a bit tough to write about it because, sadly, it turns out this edition jumped from p.128 to 145. The editing also left a bit to be desired.

It's a funny thing about biographies and autobiographies - one is never quite sure where fact ends and creative interpretation begins. There's a fair amount of that here. The book is accessible and engaging, and paints a colorful portrait of Khrushchev - but that also then raises questions about what is real or not. It starts with a teenage Khrushchev and takes him through events in 1957, when the book was published. It looks mainly at his rise to power and some of the (what were then) present challenges.

It is funny to see the conclusions drawn in the epilogue - what with hindsight's being 20/20.

An interesting start to the year.

I just spent a week in my in-laws house which is full of 1960's era publications. This Khrushchev bio would fit in those stacks nicely. Sounds like an interesting time travel to read such a book.

Hiya and happy new year!

It was, in large part, a fun read, despite (or maybe because of?) its flaws.

2. Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon (628 p.)

It's 2004, Oakland, CA, with tinges of Berkeley. Nat Jaffe (white, Jewish, raised in the neighborhood in part by his black stepmother, has a son in his early teens) and Archy Stallings (black, also from the neighborhood, father is a former blaxploitation actor and all-around disappointment whom Archy would rather never see again, baby on the way) run a used record shop. A popular black former NFL football player is now a business mogul, and he is planning to open a giant music store (à la Virgin megastores) down the road, which is a clear threat to Nat and Archy's Brokeland Records. Nat and Archy's wives, Aviva and Gwen, are also in business together as midwives. Their work, too, is under threat by the tenuous relationship they hold with the hospital, which houses many a detractor.

Let me go on record as saying that The Yiddish Policemen's Union and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay rank amongst my favorite books. I was so happy to get Telegraph Avenue as part of the holiday haul. Unfortunately, on the whole, it was a huge disappointment. Chabon treads overly-familiar territory here: a neighborhood in transition; businesses under threat from impending development; trials and tribulations of multiple generations; pasts catching up to characters; race, gender, age, and sexuality; etc. etc. And, I'd argue, others have done it better before.

While I am not averse to descriptive language, so much of Telegraph Avenue was overwrought, including a host of detracting similes and metaphors that made little, if any, sense.

There is even an incredibly awkward scene involving then-senator Obama. Wincingly awkward.

So yes, while it is quite a feat to have written a section of the book (17 pages) as one sentence that doesn't feel like it, and while the book is its own form of jazz and blues, and although there are some touching moments and occasionally-interesting tension and conflict, overall it felt inauthentic, with overly-worn stereotypes. And that was a shame.

That's too bad. I share your love of Chabon's writing. I guess every prolific author is going to have an off-book?

I think I'm interested in Chabon, but now probably not this book. The "overly-familiar territory" would turn me off too.

I could well be in a minority. Others could find it poignant and beautiful, an intense microcosm of generational and societal change. Or it could be that my tastes have changed more than I think and that the other two books I love so much are similarly written - but to guarantee preserving that possible illusion, there's no way I'll go back and pick up either one again.

Very much appreciating your review of Telegraph Avenue.

I have never been able to get into Chabon, although I haven't tried since The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Enjoyed your review, though.

Thank you both!

>10 rebeccanyc:, Rebecca, if you ever want to try a shorter, less monumental work of Chabon's, keep an eye out for The Final Solution. It's quirky, and not necessarily a surprise ending, but came across as more original and interesting. Plus, I think Chabon's got a thing for parrots (one figures somewhat prominently in Telegraph Avenue, too).

Thanks for the recommendation, but I'm not sure I'll be adding any Chabon to my tottering TBR!

Fair enough! :-)

I love Chabon, but that book didn't appeal to me at all, glad I passed it up now!

Funnily enough, for whatever reason I had thought it was a NY book. This meant I started off disappointed when it was west coast. Nothing against it, just the realisation that the cultural references wouldn't be what I'd expected (and hoped for). A long way of saying, I'm not sure it would have been so high on my list either, had I known.

And so the chick continues to cross the road...

3. Mendelssohn is on the Roof by Jiri Weil (translation from Czech, 283 p.)

Prague during Nazi occupation. A directive is sent down to remove a statue of Jewish composer Mendelssohn before a concert. None of the three men sent to complete the task know which is the right statue. The one in charge has been attending World View classes and so decides to look for the one with the largest nose. He's horrified when the two laborers start to take down the statue of Wagner. This one event brings us into the conditions, events, and lives of those living in and around Prague - both Czechs and Germans; Jews and not; soldiers, government officials, and civilians.

This is a strong companion to Hans Fallada's Alone in Berlin. In Mendelssohn is on the Roof, we again see the ripple effects that such a ludicrous decree can have. We see how quickly individuals turn against each other, feel forced (or reduced) to report others. How safety and protection are never guaranteed, no matter what people believe, or have been told, or convince themselves. How people do things they would never do, get dragged into something only to be punished for it later.

There is a heartbreaking scene where Dr Rabinovich, a Talmudic scholar, dragged into the Mendelssohn affair as a 'learned Jew' (with no detail about what he was meant to be learned about), is later in his museum. He is goaded into blowing the shofar, normally done by a specific person and only at specific religious times (Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur). Rabinovich is disappointed in himself, that he has sinned against God and his people. He is convinced that he has incurred God's anger, 'which would then fall upon the innocent,' and that 'because of him people would be tortured, tormented and sent to a terrible death. For by blowing the shofar, he had allied with the murderers...Indeed, he was even guiltier than they, because...he had betrayed his own people.' He is sure he will be punished.

Bitterly, darkly satiric and sardonic, this is a powerful book by an author who himself was in hiding for most of the war. This book is a powerful product of those experiences.

Sounds very interesting. Thanks for the review.

Great review of Mendelssohn Is on the Roof - thanks.

Excellent review of Mendelssohn on the Roof

Mendelssohn is on the Roof sounds like it belongs on my wishlist, and you should add your review to the book page.

What they all said, great review and thanks.

Thanks, all - and done, NanaCC. If there are already a lot of reviews, I tend not to add whatever I've written, but this one could use a boost.

My one critique is that it skips around a bit, and the story thread isn't always crystal clear. But overall a strong addition to a WWII reading list.

Aw a book can never have too many reviews, plus what you say may be a different approach, either in content or simply in style, and may catch someone's eye more than some other review. Always add them! :)

Adding my kudos to the rest, your review definitely makes that a title for the wishlist.

Love the sound of Mendelssohn is on the Roof, which I hadn't heard of before. Great review!

>23 .Monkey.: - awww, shucks. Thanks.

>23 .Monkey.:, 24 - It's funny, I thought it was one of those books that lots of people had read, and was surprised to see how few had it here on LT. It's always nice to find something that isn't already on everyone's radar.

Ok, ok, I know it's pure rationalization, but I've kept an eye on my thingaversary countdown for some time now. It's today. I got books. It should have been 6+1, but turned into 8 (they were 4-for-3. It would have been crazy not to, right? Right?). A bit limited by the selection, as I've already got a stack of Swedish (and French) TBR, and so was looking purely at English for this go-round.

And so...:

Gillespie and I by Jane Harris
Metro 2033 by Dmitry Glukhovsky
Mr Chartwell by Rebecca Hunt
One of Our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde
The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson
The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides
A Man of Parts by David Lodge
One Night in Winter by Simon Sebag Montefiore

I would totally have taken advantage of the 4-for-3 deal too :) Gillespie and I was fabulous, and I have The Marriage Plot around here somewhere. Great list of books!

Happy Thingaversary!

>27 Cait86: - Having lived in Glasgow, I've had my eye on Gillespie and I for some time now. Marriage Plot worries me a bit - à la Telegraph Avenue. I so, so loved Middlesex that I will be constantly comparing.

>28 Polaris-: - Thanks!! It was a good excuse to meander around a bookstore for a bit.

4. Pelagia and the White Bulldog by Boris Akunin (translation from Russian, 344 p.)

Part of the holiday gift haul. I've read the 1st of Akunin's Erast Fandorin series, and enjoyed it. I read somewhere that he also has this Sister Pelagia mystery series, and thought a late-19th century red-headed nun as investigator could be fun.

It takes place mostly outside of Nizhny Novgorod, with many references to St Petersburg. There are also references to 'previous investigations' in which the unassuming, clumsy, but sharply observant Sister Pelagia has been instrumental in helping solve mysteries. The provincial Bishop, Mitrofanii, gets all the credit. (The two both discuss this at various times, often in the context of their service to God - the Bishop feeling guilty and vain, but also recognizing it means he can send her out to investigate without people getting on edge with her around).

There are basically two crimes: one is the offing of a general's widow's (Mitrofanii's great aunt) prized specially-bred white bulldogs. The other is of two unidentified decapitated bodies that show up nearby. Who's guilty? The family intrigue and jealousies, romantic entanglements and jockeyings for attention, local and farther-reaching political aspirations and manipulations, and other misdeeds mean there are a wealth of suspects to pick from.

It was definitely a fun read, though I found the translation a bit stilted at times. The period is an interesting one. The place of religion in society, the attempts to use it to unite such a vast land, the ethical discussions about how to change the way things are done (corruption, bribery, etc.) - these all provide a historical backdrop to the events in the story. Pelagia herself is a fun character, and we get to see different sides of her as she plays different roles (again, always anchored in discussions about how to reconcile certain activities with her being a nun). A couple of passages, including a chase scene, felt a tad unnecessary, but still within context.

All in all, enjoyable, happy to read the other two, but may look for them used or in a library.

Fabulous haul! I have Gillespie and I lined up for reading soon and I thought The Marriage Plot was excellent. It's certainly my favorite of Eugenides's novels so far. Happy Thingaversary!

>29 ljbwell:, 31 - Good to hear, Kay, that The Marriage Plot is your favourite Eugenides' novel. I haven't read Middlesex yet, but I really love The Virgin Suicides.

>31 RidgewayGirl:, 32 - good to hear about The Marriage Plot. I haven't read The Virgin Suicides - depending how this one goes, I may one day go back and try that one.

I tried to pick up a mix, so that I'd have something to fit different moods (sci fi/near future, humor, period fiction, contemporary, etc). All US, UK, or Russia, though.

I enjoyed The Marriage Plot too...although not as much as The Virgin Suicides and Middlesex - it takes all sorts! And Gillespie and I was excellent.

5. The Finkler Question (370 p)

Contemporary London. Centered primarily around 2 characters in their late 40s, and the 3rd who, in some ways, holds them together. Julian Treslove and Sam(uel) Finkler have been friends since childhood. Treslove is not Jewish, but thinks he is, or wishes he were - but in a way that manages to be offensive. Finkler is Jewish and speaks out against many things thought of/associated with being Jewish, to the point that he spearheads a group called ASHamed Jews. A former teacher of theirs, Libor, about 90 years old, originally from Czechoslovakia and also Jewish. Finkler and Libor are both recent widowers. Treslove has never been married, and can't hold a relationship. (There's also Libor's great-great-niece, and flashbacks to the deceased wives, but really, the central figures are Treslove and Finkler).

What to say that hasn't already been said? The women (be it partners, ex-partners, mistresses, alive, dead, or just women in passing) become objects of the men's thoughts, obsessions, discussions. For Treslove, it is often in the context of their Jewishness. Finkler's wife had converted to Judaism - against his wishes, or in spite of his sheer disregard for her doing so - yet his mistresses tend to be more stereotypical Jewish women. For Libor, it is mostly in the context of his wife, though another character from his past comes into the picture and we get how she looks good for her age, but, well, that's not going anywhere because she's just too old...

The discussions about being Jewish, about Israel, about relationships, etc., like the way Finkler feels about them, all tread familiar, often stereotypical, territory. The title gets explained quickly (I think on p5) - for Treslove Finkler is more than Sam Finkler.

In the end, it reminded me of the movie Philadelphia (Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington) - if you weren't familiar with what was going on with the AIDS epidemic, and/or weren't sympathetic or sensitive to it already, then maybe it was a powerful movie. But if you were, and you were, then it was just another hackneyed Hollywood beat-you-over-the-head-with-its-message film.

But with the Finkler question, there's not even the tear jerking end or massive attitude adjustment. Just a couple jerky guys who've been jerks (but able to rationalize it away), and their jerkiness has had knock-on effects all around them that they notice too late (and even that gets pretty much dropped and not really revisited as the book progresses). At least in that sense it is more realistic - that the shifts are incomplete.

Meh.

Eek, that does not sound like something I ever care to spend my time with!

It was definitely disappointing. I was hoping that, given some of the scathing reviews, I'd actually find myself thinking, 'Well, this isn't so bad'. I didn't.

It also reminded me of my experience with Confederacy of Dunces - a book described as brilliant and funny, but which I loathed. Unfunny, thoroughly unlikeable and uninteresting (to me) characters.

Which brings me to...

6. Mr Chartwell by Rebecca Hunt (224 p)

There's the elephant in the room. The monkey on your back. And then there's Mr Chartwell, the 6 foot 7, imposing, drooling, messy black dog who occasionally walks on his hind legs and insinuates himself into your life. Or at least into the lives of Winston Churchill and Esther Hammerhans. And others, but that's getting ahead of ourselves.

It is late July, 1964. Esther Hammerhans has advertised a room to rent in her home. She is taken aback when she opens the door to greet the only one to respond and finds Mr Chartwell standing there. She's reluctant to take him on as a boarder, and waffles about whether it is a good idea, refuses to commit.

Meanwhile, Winston Churchill is preparing to retire from Parliament.

Chartwell makes a good offer and Esther tentatively agrees to take him on. When pressed for details, Chartwell claims Winston Churchill amongst his clients, but is dodgy on details.

It is a tough book to write about without giving anything away. Suffice it to say that Hunt takes a sensitive, emotional topic and gives it physical form. A way to describe it that makes sense. Even has humor to it. She avoids falling into the maudlin trap, and yet there are definite moving moments. And, while the ending may seem neat and tidy, if you delve into it, listen to what everyone says - what they are really saying - you see it actually isn't.

For those who have read it, already are familiar with what the book is about, or would prefer knowing what the underlying topic is before going into it, go ahead and keep reading. Otherwise, stop here, avoid even reading tags for the book, and give it a go. It's a marvelous book, with good supporting characters (Corkbowl is a particular favorite) and some wonderfully quotable lines.

Esther can sense something is off even before she opens the door. And Churchill, it turns out, took him on long ago. Can't get rid of him, in fact. Chartwell is the heavy burden of depression, trotting in, weighing you down, spreading its fur and slobber and splinters everywhere so that even in those moments when it isn't fully present, it never lets you forget that it's still there, lurking, waiting to pounce. That thing that others may or may not see, may or may not realize the extent of what's going on, don't talk about. Churchill's time with Chartwell shows more experience, is more historical and battleworn. Esther's unfolds slowly, revealing itself in snippets, moments, half finished sentences and thoughts, looks and conversations with those around her. In ways that are odd and charming and angering and melancholy all at once, the book shows multiple aspects of depression - learning to cope with it and get on, and finding ways out.

Well you've definitely piqued my curiosity with that review!

I was curious how you would respond to The Finkler Question. Sounds like you would have preferred not to have read it.

Intrigued by your review of Mr. Chartwell.

>39 .Monkey.:, 40 - Maybe I was in the right headspace for it, but I thought Mr Chartwell was clever and written in a style I responded well to at the time. I wish I hadn't even seen LT tags for it, because it tipped something sooner than if I hadn't known. It's not that you can't piece things together quickly once you start, but still. It is a short, quick read, too.

Re: The Finkler Question, I'm OK having read it, but it left me more annoyed than anything. If I had to do it over, I would have picked up something else at the time and then looked for FQ in the library. I wouldn't have been put off by the critique that it would have made a better or shorter story on the issues if it had put those a fresh spin on them, or given them a new angle.

Hi ljbwell, I appreciate your review of The Finkler Question. Usually when a novel wins the Booker Prize, I think that I'd like to get round to reading it some time, but I've really heard nothing good about this one (from fellow readers, rather than critics, that is). I was listening to an old episode of the Radio 4 programme Open Book and David Baddiel named it as the best "British Jewish" novel (or as the one he'd urge people to read), so it's kind of a shame it sounds so annoying!

Mr Chartwell sounds well worth reading. That topic (yes, I looked at the spoiler) is hard to describe and the books sounds like it may have managed.

>42 Rebeki: - Thanks. I don't hunt out Booker winners, but do pick up ones that sound interesting, with mixed results. Oscar and Lucinda was great; Vernon God Little was thoroughly unlikeable. I kept trying to read The Finkler Question as filled with humor, but just couldn't get that out of it.

>43 RidgewayGirl: - It is short and quick and, I thought, worth it.

7. One Night in Winter by Simon Sebag Montefiore (480 p.)

It is Moscow, 1945. Stalin is in power, WWII is coming to a close. The Josef Stalin Commune School 801 educates the children of the elite - politicians, military, film. While they are meant to be educated to be good Bolsheviks, a small group of the students have formed a secret society called the Fatal Romantics' Club. They read, recite, and re-enact scenes from literature and poetry, especially Pushkin. When two of the members are shot and killed, the children become entangled in a tricky web involving not only each other, but those around them, especially their teachers and their families. Secrets are both dangerous and also a commodity, a potential bargaining chip against punishment and torture.

While the story is, at heart, about love - especially love in a time fraught with paranoia, deceit, and danger - the book is at its best building the historical backdrop. Sebag Montefiore captures the terror felt not only by those in prison, but also by those around them. The runaway train that is an interrogation, the willingness to sign confessions against your better judgment, the inability to call in favors because that would potentially incur Stalin's wrath - and therefore the response to one spouse's plea just to talk to Stalin is, *must be* met with a cold and desperate response that the Organs are always just and all faith must be put in them to do the right thing. There are sacrifices made, betrayals, self-preservation, and more.

Tense, taught novel, some of which is based very loosely on actual events. I wished I'd known more about Pushkin and Chekhov and their role in the period. But even without that, the book brings the reader in to the lives of elite Soviets riding the fine line between privilege and paranoia.

Hey Happy Thingaversary to you! I'm late getting caught up this years but enjoying your great reviews.

Enjoyed your excellent review of One Night in Winter

Nice review of One Night in Winter, sounds like a good read :)

#37 I too didn't like The Finkler Question at all, so I guess I'm glad you didn't either!

#39 A Confederacy of Dunces was probably the first book I read that I decided not to finish because it annoyed me so much. I was in my 20s and that was a liberating experience, so I guess I owe the book something! :-)

#45 I had no idea Simon Sebag Montefiore wrote fiction too. I am a big fan of his Young Stalin, less so of The Court of the Red Tsar, so I will definitely look for this novel.

>46 mkboylan:: Thanks and thanks! Funnily enough, I think I 'celebrated' the thingaversary more than I usually do my own birthday. :-)

> 47, 48: The love story aspect interested me less, but I can see how it fits in leads to the paranoia and subsequent actions.

> 49: Maybe it says something about our senses of humour. It'd be interesting to find the cross-section of people who've read both and see if those who found humour in Finkler also thought Confederacy was funny. It would be fun to create that venn diagram.

Sebag Montefiore in his afterword references his non-fiction, some of which definitely sound interesting to me. As it turns out Sashenka is his first fiction and has some of the same characters/families - though One Night is a stand-alone novel.

8. One of Our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde (416 p., Thursday Next #6)

When I was really little (maybe around 5 years old), I was completely befuddled by how records worked. At some point, I had semi-convinced myself that the band or orchestra or singer was somehow squished into this thin platter and they started playing when the needle touched down. Oddly, this made more sense to me than whatever the actual technical explanation was (again, in my defense, I was very young). And I obviously gave no thought to how they could be playing in more than one place at once - that would have blown my tiny, growing little mind.

BookWorld is a bit like that. Every book we RealWorlders read is a case of Schrödinger's cat - a book isn't a fixed, definite thing, and we don't know what it is until we experience it ourselves. Every time we open a book, the fictional characters jump into action, and it can change with every reading. Sometimes characters need to cover for each other; sometimes they change up their interpretation of the text (there's a great section about Hamlet and how he plays it different ways, to the confusion and endless discussion by students and academics); when something goes wrong, or when there are too many RealWorlders reading a book at once, they can panic and hit 'snooze', making the reader fall asleep.

This 6th in the series takes place mostly in BookWorld, and is narrated by the fictional Thursday Next (Or is it? Or isn't it? Or is it?...). There is trouble brewing in BookWorld, and a war between genres is looming. Peace negotiations are in the works, but are at risk of falling apart when the real Thursday Next disappears. Fictional Thursday Next is called on to step in and find out what's going on, but there's a suspicion that she's been hired for her incompetence, and that unknown forces don't really want the truth to be discovered.

This was probably one of my favorites in the series. It spent a lot of time getting to know BookWorld, created a wonderful image of the different genres, and with all with clever wordplay, lit-related science (or is that science-related lit), and tongue firmly implanted in cheek. Lots of fun for any booklover.

THAT was brilliant!

ETA: Not gonna post it?

Thanks!! Thanks for the gentle arm twist, too. It's up. Embarrassing childhood reference and all.

(Why did I not have the same worries about our reel-to-reel? It never crossed my mind that musicians were squashed on the ribbon and snaking their way from one reel to the next. But those darned records.)

I have enjoyed the Thursday Next series. I can't remember how many of them I read, as it seems like a long time ago. I am guessing I read up to the one before One of Our Thursdays is Missing. They really are quite clever.

>51 ljbwell: Great review! Especially loved your lead-in and then the second paragraph, which made me pull Lost in a Good Book from deep in my TBRs and out onto a visible pile.

Not sure what I would make of the Jasper Fforde series but loved your review.

I found The confederacy of dunces interesting for several reasons, but not particularly funny, and the opposite of witty. Toole tried extremely hard, the book creaks with effort and reeks of writerly sweat, but to me it's a flop.

The bizarreness of New Orleans resists satire. And nobody has succeeded in writing an "intellectual" book about it so far.

I enjoyed your review of One of Our Thursdays Is Missing, perhaps enough to give it a go. I was very disappointed in First Among Sequels, although I had really enjoyed the series to that point. I've been thinking for a while of going back and reading the first few installments, which I thought were so clever.

Thanks for the great review of Mendelssohn on the Roof I hadn't heard of it or the author before, I just bought a copy.

Eek - I've got some catching up to do here!

>54 NanaCC:, 55, 56, 58 - Thanks all! I started off a bit lukewarm to the series, and found it a bit blatantly or overly wink-wink, nudge-nudge funny. That said, it has totally grown on me as I've gone along, and now I laugh aloud when they have to deal with a mimefield. Where some folks were bit put off by One of our Thursdays is Missing, the more I think about it the more I enjoy it. It could be a case of right time, right place, but so be it.

A word of caution, though - you really do need to have read earlier ones, because characters and events to build and reappear through the series.

>57 LolaWalser: - Agreed about Confederacy of Dunces. Interesting thought about books about New Orleans. It feels like there must be something out there, I just don't know what.

>59 yolana: - I don't know why, but that makes me nervous. :-) I hope you aren't disappointed.

9. The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides (513 p.)

The novel takes place in the early 1980s and centers around three characters: Madeleine, Leonard, and Mitchell. The story takes place at Brown University and then the period soon after their graduation. Madeleine comes from WASPy, well-off stock. She falls in love with Leonard. She is friends with Mitchell, while Mitchell is convinced he will one day marry Madeleine. Things that happen while they are students, and even during graduation, have ramifications for the events after.

This is very much an academic novel, though one with a lot of sex. Enough to make me feel like it was worth mentioning. Granted, the sex is tied to the ups-and-downs of the characters, and shows different states of mind at different times. But back to the academic novel part: Madeleine is, in many ways, a romantic, and writes her thesis about the marriage plot. Then book itself is its own marriage plot. It is also about college life, the people you meet, starting out after, finding and losing yourself, etc. One character battles manic depression, and some of the actions in the manic stage, though somewhat minor to the story, were uncomfortable. But yes, the illness is a central part of the story and the relationships that develop.

In complete contrast to One of Our Thursdays is Missing, I think I read this at the wrong time, wrong place. That, or I'm just off the exploration of the contemporary (80s and after) relationship-type book. I didn't love The Corrections, Telegraph Avenue, Girlfriend in a Coma, etc. I did, however, love Middlesex, and so thought I might find more to like in The Marriage Plot.

In the end, I thought it was a perfectly good book, but not what I was in the mood for.

10. Penguin Lost by Andrey Kurkov (256 p., translation from Russian)

This is the follow-up to the Kurkov's popular Death and the Penguin. It is definitely a book that requires having read the first. Much of what happens, plus who the characters are and what has happened to them are all continuations from the first book.

The book is, as the title indicates, Viktor's search for penguin Misha. This search gets him involved in Ukrainian politics (which makes for timely reading!) and takes him to Moscow and Chechnya. There are some sharply humorous observations and critiques about society an politics (the acquisition of artificial limbs for veterans as a charitable display is pretty cutting) as Viktor gets embroiled in all kinds of doings - with various degrees of shadiness. Six-year-old Sonya is also back, and as observant as before. She is, in many ways, the voice of reason and the moral compass for some of the other characters.

While I missed having Misha around more, I still quite enjoyed reading the sequel.

I'm very on-the-fence about picking up The Marriage Plot since most of the reviews I've seen around here are luke warm. I loved Middlesex when I read it last year. I think I'm leaning towards The Virgin Suicides over The Marriage Plot for my next Eugenides book.

I adored The Marriage Plot and it was one of my favorite books last year, but I'm definitely in the minority.

>63 japaul22:, 64: I see what he was doing, and it was an interesting idea. For about 50 or 100 pages, I really liked it. Then, suddenly, I remember thinking, 'Usch, am I still reading this? How much more is there?' That said, it went quickly. I will say, it could be chalked up to my reaction to a few things that happened later in the book, too, that really put me off. I've probably made them disproportionately disturbing, but to me they were. That's down to me, not Eugenides (and if anything, means he did a good job giving such small events such impact).

11. La cote 400 by Sophie Divry (95 p., French)

This slim novella is a monologue by a librarian who, upon finding someone who spent the night locked in the library, unloads the ups and downs about her work, the dismal state and status of libraries, the Dewey Decimal System, and more. It is funny, critical, disappointed about what has become of such a vital community institution.

'Peut-être que j'exagère. Je suis un peu stressée par tous ces livres à ordonner, et en même temps ça me calme d'être ici. Je n'ai pas honte de vous le dire, la bibliothèque anesthésie une partie de mes angoisses.'

I despise shopping, but put me in a library or bookstore, and I can just wander aimlessly, looking at titles and covers, reading dust jackets, just getting lost in all the choice.

There's also a great passage where she describes the library in winter almost as a reflection of 'The New Colossus' (the poem by Emma Lazarus on the Statue of Liberty).

The librarian speaks with sympathy and tenderness about her 'réfugiés du chauffage électrique' much as Lazarus writes:

'Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'.

I have the English version, as well, and will at some point read that for comparison. It's a wonderful book for anyone who loves libraries and is frustrated at seeing them closed down, getting marginalized, or being re-purposed as business centres.

La Cote 400 sounds perfect.

I despise shopping, but put me in a library or bookstore, and I can just wander aimlessly, looking at titles and covers, reading dust jackets, just getting lost in all the choice.
Yes. Exactly!!!!

Avid - The English title is really good, too The Library of Unrequited Love - in part because there is an unrequited love interest, but also because one gets the sense that the narrator has put so much into the library (time, dedication, emotion, etc), and that she realizes in part that it can be a thankless endeavor.

I need to balance out bookstore outings vs visits to the library, otherwise I'll just go broke. ;-)

12. Gillespie and I by Jane Harris (624 p.)

I was afraid that so many people talked about loving this book that I would be disappointed. Not to worry, I was hooked from the start and along for the ride the whole way through.

The story is told by Harriet Baxter, both as a memoir going back to her time in Glasgow starting in 1888 when she was in her mid-30s, and in the present (i.e., 1933) when she is 80 and writing the memoir. Harriet is, at 36, already a spinster when she befriends an artist, Ned Gillespie, and his family during the Glasgow International Exhibition. She spends a great deal of time with the family, helping out in all kinds of ways: encouraging Ned in his art, hiring Ned's wife to paint her portrait, helping out with the couple's two young daughters, saving the family from embarrassment when an awkward situation arises, and more. Harriet mentions and hints at tragic events, events which unfold as the memoir progresses.

Meanwhile, Harriet in 1933 London is elderly, fussy, and increasingly paranoid (or is she?). Again, there are hints that all may not be as it seems.

I am increasingly loving books with unreliable narrators, and this is one is particularly enjoyable. Harriet foreshadows that things will go wrong, but what, and how, are revealed slowly. But all is not as it seems. And Harriet, in both past and present, lets slip little things - tiny in and of themselves, but they add up. Her helpfulness starts to feel more insinuating, her involvement with the family more of an intrusion, her relationship with her stepfather more influential on who she is. The coincidences start to accumulate. And in the present, we are drawn into her increasing fears about her help. While one is fiction and the other based on real events, Gillespie and I also brought to mind Alias Grace.

I'll admit, I also enjoyed the Glasgow setting - the book takes place in parts of Glasgow that I spent a lot of time in. This made it easy to picture, plus was a bit of nostalgia.

13. En man som heter Ove by Fredrik Backman (348 p., Swedish)

After a few stutter-starts, I finally settled on the very popular Swedish novel En man som heter Ove (A man called Ove). This is a good companion piece to Et puis, Paulette by Barbara Constantine.

Ove is 59 years old. He drives a Saab. He has always driven a Saab. He can't understand, and barely tolerates, anyone who doesn't. He is gruff and terse, and many would say bitter and old-fashioned. He has a strong sense of right and wrong. He bitterly despises people in white button-down shirts (i.e., bureaucrats). Every day he is a one-man neighborhood watch - he patrols the neighborhood, noting various infractions, taking note of vehicles in the visitor parking area, removing post-it notes that clearly violate the post-no-bills rules, yelling at cars going through the no-drive areas. This last is how he first starts interacting with the very pregnant Parvaneh, her husband Patrick, and their two daughters (aged 3 and 7). He calls Patrick 'the tramp', and Parvaneh 'the pregnant one' or even 'the foreigner' (he similarly nicknames most of the other people he encounters). Their first conversation sets in motion a series of events which bring about major changes, not just for Ove and especially Parvaneh, but for others.

Interspersed with the present-day chapters are chapters that gradually reveal the backdrop. Ove is the sum of nature and nurture, of events both momentous and seemingly small, that have made him who he is, and explain why he is the way he is.

Given the hype, I was set to be disappointed. Instead, I seem to have managed to avoid enough specifics not to have known a key point in the book, which made it something I did not expect. Ove is a widower, and has decided that it is time to be with his wife. Every time he tries to end things, he is interrupted, and his sense of duty takes over. While described as very funny, and indeed it is, it is also incredibly bittersweet. It heads in a direction you expect, and ends more or less where you think it will, but the road to get there is filled with heart and warmth.

Those last two both sound pretty wonderful!

I hate stutter-starts. BUT I do appreciate stopping instead of wasting my time on a bad book.

>71 mkboylan: They both were good, in very different ways. I suspect Gillespie and I will be coming up on my year-end favorites. En man som heter Ove will be coming out in English in July, plus it's being made into a film here in Sweden and that is due out some time in 2015.

It's funny, I wouldn't say any of the books I abandoned were bad, just not what I felt like reading. I'm hoping to get back to one of them soonish, the other is on a further-back burner. :-) But yeah, stutter-starts are frustrating.

14. Metro 2033 by Dmitry Glukhovsky (459 p., translation from Russian)

Dystopian post-apocalyptic novel set in Moscow, mostly in what is left of the metro system. Remaining humans have been forced into the underground as protection from the radiation above, as well as from various mutants and deadly creatures. There are threats underground, too - weak infrastructure, the 'dark ones', conflicts between stations, radiation leaks into water and soil, and dwindling and limited resources. Society has reformed through the subway system. Stations have formed different alliances: around the ring is Hansa, the traders and businesspeople; there's a Communist red line; a cluster of fascists (the fourth reich); agricultural stations; independent stations; etc.

Young Artyom is on a mission to get from his home station to a central cluster to make contact. His travels take him through the treacherous tunnels and stations, going through (or avoiding) various dangers. He seems able to get through some of the more hypnotic dangers along the way.

In some ways it brought to mind A Canticle for Leibowitz, as well as World War Z (not that this is a zombie book) - though with a more Russian bent. It is dark, claustrophobic, fraught with danger at every turn. Even the more prosperous stations feel constricting.

On the down side, the translation was incredibly stilted and the book could have been better edited. Unfortunately, this got in the way and affected the pace of the story. There has been a video game developed from the story, as well as a sequel. Reading the book, you can easily imagine it, for better or worse, as a video game.

15. Corpus Delicti (Swedish translation from the German, 247 p.)

In short:

Dystopia, near future Germany - health is paramount, to the extent that it has been legislated and mandated under what is called 'The Method'. The central character, Mia Holl, had a brother - an opponent of the Method - who committed suicide when found guilty, based on DNA evidence, of a murder. Mia is convinced he was innocent and fights to prove his innocence. Unlike her brother, she had previously supported the Method, but finds herself up against it.

This was lent to me, and I thought I'd picked a time when my head would be in it (both language and topic). In principle, I should have really liked this book, but it never really clicked. The philosophy felt clunky and drawn out, overshadowing what could have been a tighter story - one which ultimately got bogged down in speechifying. That said, the ending was a good one - in some ways, the best way it could have ended.

Too bad!

Yup! On the one hand I'd be curious to read it in English. On the other hand, if it leaves the same impression, it's just no worth it.

The Method, Juli Zeh is the English translation, it has mixed reviews.

I can imagine - at least it wasn't my Swedish (or the Swedish translation) that was necessarily at issue.

16. Diamond Stories: Enduring Change on 47th Street by Renée Rose Shield (non-fiction, 249 p.)

I had the opportunity to pick a book or two from an academic press, and was drawn immediately to Shield's anthropological study of diamond traders - and the trade itself - in New York. She spent time largely at the Diamond Dealers Club (DDC) on 47th Street in New York, or with those with connections to the club. As she states at the start, she has relatives in the industry, and they were her in for the study. These personal connections opened up doors and enabled her to meet and talk to a wide variety of those involved in the industry - from buyers and sellers and brokers, to those in the cutting and polishing end of the business.

She looks at the history of the industry, how the industry works, the roles and influences of family and women in the business, how modernization is affecting the trade, etc. While the focus is on the DDC and its members, there are inevitably stories and information from around the world, especially Belgium and the Netherlands, but also Asia (especially Japan and India) and elsewhere.

While sometimes a bit repetitive, I have to say this was a really interesting read. The descriptions of and stories about the arbitration process revealed the reliance on traditions in the industry, the ways in which Jewish traditions are very much the norm in the business, and also how the trade has been forced to adapt to new ways. For example, with arbitration, the arbitrators now have to have more formal training, and lawyers are sometimes involved.

This is one of those books where I feel like I could go on and on with tidbits I picked up from reading it. There are some funny and educational stories about the diamond cutting process (how they can shatter in the process, how you can try to bring out the best features and rid of the flaws, how they can go careening across a room, how you can go into utter panic when you think you've lost one). I'd never realized how much control De Beers had on the diamond trade; how much trust there is in the exchange and sale of diamonds; how an agreement to a sale is made on the uttering of the Yiddish 'mazal und brucha' (luck and blessing'), or just 'mazal' - and that this is a binding contract. It is a business that, in the late 80s to late 90s when she did the bulk of her study, was already seeing the passing of a generation vital to the trade; it was not uncommon for some of the men (for it is still largely male dominated) - especially often orthodox or Hasidic Jews - still to be actively working in their 70s, 80s, even 90s.

Let me say, too, I've never understood the whole thing with diamonds - never been anything I felt any need to have or want. While this book didn't change that, I will see them differently. I'll think of the stories of the traders, cutters, and brokers and imagine the passing back and forth of folded envelopes as they mix examining the goods, bargaining and chatting until a deal is 'mazal'.

There are no reviews for this book on the book's page. Since your's is an excellent summary, would you post your review there?

I used to work a stone's throw (a diamond's throw?) from 47th Street, and a very long time ago went out with a guy whose family had been in the diamond business in Amsterdam before WWII, so I found your review fascinating. I agree with Kay -- please post it on the book page.

>80 RidgewayGirl:, 81: Many thanks to you both! Your kind wish is my command. :-)

Rebecca - That families in the NY trade came via Amsterdam or Antwerp around WWII, and several still have relatives in the industry there, comes up often (and in different contexts) throughout the book. She's also clear to say that, while she's changed most of the individuals' names, she was open with her interviewees that they may be identifiable to insiders. Chances are, the guy you dated (or his relatives) could have figured out who some of the subjects were.

It was a very readable book, too - some might even call it a 'gem' (/inserts own groan).

>82 ljbwell: Well, since I dated him in college (the early 70s), I imagine all the people they would have known are long dead.

That definitely comes across in the book, too. A few pass away in the course of her research, including one of her uncles. But there's also a fair amount about how the younger ones in the trade are often 3rd or 4th generation.

17. Flight by Sherman Alexie (192 p.)

Our main city library had been closed for quite awhile as it underwent a whole redesign and got a new facade. It reopened recently and I finally went and scoped it out for some books. I'd read The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian a few years ago and had recently put Alexie on my wishlist. I was really surprised (happily so) to find Flight on the shelves. I jumped right in and was so absorbed by the story that I finished it by that evening.

Zits is 15 years old, half white, half Native American. His father abandoned him and his mother when he was born, and his mother died when he was 6. Since then, he has bounced around from foster home to foster home (some better than others - with better being a relative term), started drinking and getting into trouble. He is well-known to the police.

Zits finds himself in a bank, committing a terrible crime. When he comes to, he has traveled in time and is inhabiting someone else's body. This is the start of a series of jumps through time, into several different bodies, at key moments (think a quicker, more violent Quantum Leap).

Through Zits's experiences - in his present, his past, and his time travel - Alexie raises questions about history, the point(lessness) of revenge and war, and much more. There is anger, hurt, loss, desperation, but also glimmers that things can be different. Zits has been exposed to so much at such a young age that there is a sense at the start that he is a lost cause; that he's been written off by family after family, by the authorities, by his social workers and his therapists; that he never had a chance - and that he wonders if it is nature or nurture that he landed him where he is. When he suddenly is jumping from event to event, he is thrust into violent situations, forced to examine who he is, why things are the way they are.

The ending is on the neatly-wrapped up saccharine side, but otherwise Flight is a tightly-written, staccato, fast paced journey through jarring events.

>85 ljbwell: (think a quicker, more violent Quantum Leap)

I think that right there would be enough to put this book on my wislist, even if I didn't already like Sherman Alexie.

> 86 - Haha - indeed. To avoid disappointment, there's no sidekick Al/Dean Stockwell, either. ;-)

Flight sounds good. I'm putting it on my wishlist. Thank you.

>88 NanaCC: - Thanks! Curious to see what others think.

18. Embassytown by China Miéville (345 p.)

I had recently read about Embassytown in a presentation about the use of language in speculative fiction, so was happy to see it sitting on the shelf at the library here. I've read Perdido Street Station and Un Lun Dun by Miéville, so had an idea what to expect.

And that is both a strength and weakness. On the one hand, Miéville once again creates a fascinating society, complete with interactions, dependencies, and mounting tensions between humans and other (alien) creatures. On the other hand, by the end I felt I had his formula down: create new world, steadily increase tensions between inhabitants of that world, put that world at war, denouement(ish). So in the end, while I was drawn in by the linguistic elements of the story (more on that below), there came a point where I broadly knew where it was going, and where I found myself comparing it to Perdido Street and finding it less intense - and somehow therefore less memorable.

That said, the language angle is an interesting one. Embassytown is set in the distant future on a distant planet. The native inhabitants are the Ariekei, but the planet has also been colonized by humans (Terre). People were quickly able to decipher Ariekei language and create synthesized voice translators to communicate, but found that while they could understand the Ariekei, the Ariekei couldn't understand them. This was, as they discovered, because an inherent part of understanding language was to hear/feel the emotion behind it - a taped version of a human speaking could work, but not synthesized. The language also has two elements - cut and turn. This required two people of the same mind to be able to speak - hence, the development of the Ambassadors, usually seemingly identical and empathic in every way (CalVin, EzRa, MaBel, etc: one speaks cut the other turn).

In addition, the Ariekei can't lie. Language must be based on truth. They are fascinated by the human ability to lie, and, try as they might, struggle and fail to achieve it in any real way themselves. In order for language to be true, the Ariekei require that situations be created so that when they speak them they will be true. Avice, the narrator, is a living simile. A situation was created, which she enacted with Ariekei witnesses, so that the Ariekei could use 'her' phrase to compare things in a truthful way.

Then it gets more formulaic: things happen; tensions and sub-tensions increase; desperation and war break out with factions and sub-factions (enemy of my enemy is my friend - or is it/he/she? - kind of thing); it all comes to a head.

There's a lot more, but that hopefully provides a general idea. Oh, and for anyone interested in the use of language in pop culture, including speculative fiction and much more, you might find some interesting links and information at GotPop The Gothenburg Popular Culture Research Research Consortium.

I am a big fan of China Mieville, but I have not yet got to Embassytown. Thank you for an excellent review which tells me that there is enough in the book to keep me interested.

I think Mieville has a difficult task in trying to better Perdido Street Station or Scar.

>91 baswood: Exactly, bas. I remember feeling completely drained after Perdido Street Station. It was absorbing and intense.

I enjoy grammar, language, and languages, and I joke that, if I were to do it all again, my dream job would be creating languages for sci fi movies and TV. In other words,Embassytown had/has a lot going for it; ultimately, however, it lacked the same depth and, well, relentlessness of Perdido Street.

19. The Observations (432 p.)

I really enjoyed Gillespie and I, and so when I came across Harris's The Observations in the library I snapped it up.

Once again, much of the personality in the book comes from the narrator - this time, 14-to-16 year old (even she's not sure of her age - her mother's always been fuzzy on the details) Bessy, a young Irish girl who unexpectedly is hired as the in-and-out girl at an estate outside Glasgow. Bessy is feisty, and also quite taken with her new 'marm', Arabella.

There are secrets and mysteries on all sides: What is Bessy's story? What is going on, and has gone on, in the house? Why does Arabella behave so oddly sometimes, so hot-and-cold, making Bessy do bizarre tasks?

Harris builds tension well, and her main characters are interesting. She brings up issues, but are they all truly necessary? Certain points that are raised don't really go anywhere. There are also a couple rather unusual shifts where a character who has been adamantly against X suddenly isn't. In short, I liked, but didn't love, The Observations.

I read The Observations a long time ago, but I remember it took me quite awhile to realize that the narrator wasn't exactly reliable. I'd like to reread it.

>94 RidgewayGirl: She's less unreliable than the one in Gillespie and I - but yes, for much of the book, she's not fully reliable. But that to me is one of the waffly changes.

20. Redshirts by John Scalzi (320 p.)

I wanted brain candy, and this send-up of Star Trek and similar TV shows was perfect. It's the 25th century and the Universal Union Capital Ship Intrepid is constantly involved in dangerous away missions. The result? Low-ranking crew members are dropping like flies, often killed in comically unlikely ways in their confrontations with the alien planets. Back on board the Intrepid, some of them have picked up on this, and make themselves conveniently unavailable whenever the officers are putting together away teams.

I loved Star Trek as a kid, and enjoyed the spin-offs, too. I can't count the number of times the central crew would beam down to a planet with some unknown other crew member - and you knew, you just knew, to the point where you'd comment on it, if someone's got to go, it won't be Bones or Spock or Uhura. It'll be that random guy or woman. It's like the teenager in the slasher film who separates from the group, or runs upstairs instead of outside, or who takes the dark alley instead of staying on the well-lit, busy street. Doomed.

Fairly early on, there are strong hints to what's happening - in fact, only hearing what the book was about, my husband figured out what is going on. In that sense, yes, one can see where it is headed from miles away. It becomes a mega-meta, existentialist take on sci fi, with lots of humor and wit. It puts normally minor characters into the center. Scalzi, who worked on Stargate:Universe, plays with and satirizes the formulas of these types of shows.

Redshirts has heart, too. There is a bittersweet storyline which is, in many ways, key to much of the book. And the three codas at the end help tie up some of the storylines. Overall, an entertaining parody of science fiction television programs and a fun read for anyone who enjoys those shows.

The best bits of slasher movies is betting on the next person to get chopped.

>97 baswood: Hahaha. Despite really not being a fan of slasher flicks *at all*, I've seen enough to come up with the following: separated from the herd = dead or guilty, and two guys interested in the same girl = one is guilty, and likely isn't really dead even though he was supposedly offed earlier on.

I shudder to think if Redshirts had been a parody homage to old school slasher flicks and not sci fi/Star Trek shows.

In old western movies, when a minor character starts to make plans for the future (you know, there's this girl at home I want to marry, and then I'll buy a plot of land and we will farm it together), forget about him, he's as good as dead. Only the hero may form plans with impunity.

Thanks for the review of Redshirts, it sounds interesting. I read a book by Scalzi once, it was a nice quick read but I felt a bit cheated. It was a war story but nobody seemed to be especially unhappy or even uncomfortable most of the time, and even though people did die it seemed all too nice and clean for a war if you know what I mean.

>99 FlorenceArt: Westerns and cop movies - the cop who is on the verge of retirement. The minute he starts talking about how happy his family is he's finally leaving, and how he's got a (boat/car/other sideline) to work on - y'know, the project he's always wanted to do and will finally have the time to do it? Yup, guaranteed shoot out (followed by loyal partner's seeking justice &/or revenge).

Interesting what you say about the Scalzi book you read. Thinking about it, there's an argument to be made that it holds for Redshirts, too. On the other hand, part of the point of Redshirts has to do with the humor of who is dying and why, so it's much less bothersome that there isn't much emotional depth.

Actually I only had a vague memory of what I found frustrating in Old Man's War (that's the book I read), but reading the reviews on Redshirts it all came back to me. Especially the comment on characters "barely making it to two dimensions". So I guess he hasn't improved on that front, and I'm not so much tempted to read another one of his now... Better try Georgette Heyer, she sounds like just what I need right now.

Yikes - seriously, over a month? Time to start fixing that....

21. Needed by Nobody: Homelessness and Humanness in Post-Socialist Russia by Tova Höjdestrand (248 p., non-fiction)

Anthropological study of the homeless in Saint-Petersburg, Russia in the 1990s and early 2000s. She has contacts in Moscow Station, as well as through shelters and charities in the city.

Höjdestrand throughout raises some of the issues she herself grappled with (variations on, 'Am I using my subjects?' and 'Are they using me?').

In some ways the book is specific to the Russian, even Saint-Petersburg setting. The tales of becoming homeless due to vagaries of the Russian propiska system, especially when combined with the vagaries of the postsocialist real estate market there, are frightening.* On the other hand, there is a sense of universality that comes through, too. There are common themes of wanting to be visible, to be seen as human by others (including, one senses sometimes, each other); the difficulties - and hardness - of homelessness; the difficulties of getting out of that life. She doesn't whitewash or romanticize the homeless, either. There is hard drinking, sometimes which had a hand in being homeless, and sometimes developed as a needed coping mechanism to get through life. There is violence - she mentions conflicts not only with police, but also with roving homeless youth gangs (in other words, not only from authoritarian figures, but from others in similar situations).

I had a discussion once with a co-worker who had a second job working at a soup kitchen. Time and time again, what she heard through the visitors to the facility was that they felt invisible. People just passed by them, ignored them completely, even avoided them. That sometimes a smile and hello could mean so much - just that someone acknowledged their presence. Höjdestrand's work reminded me time and time again of that talk.

It's an interesting study, and even includes a short update (as best as she could) on what had happened, for better or worse, to some of her interviewees a few years after completing the research.

*There's an interesting article in English about the propiska in The Moscow Times here.

That's a fascinating piece about the homeless in Russia.

>103 baswood: It was a worthwhile read. Parts of it were definitely tough - especially when it dealt with family issues.

And now for something lighter...

22. The Good Fairies of New York by Martin Millar (256 p.)

I'll be honest. As I was reading it, and even now that I've finished, I don't quite know where I stand on this book. It is either clever and funny, or pretty terrible.

The two main fairies are Heather and Morag. They've ended up in New York after being forced to flee from Scotland. They are somewhat punk, and have a love-hate/frenemy relationship with each other, which means they bicker constantly. Each one ends up staying with a human and trying to help that person in some way. Meanwhile, there are, amongst others, several other fairy factions (Chinese, Ghanaian, Irish, more Scottish, and Italian), the ghost of the New York Dolls' Johnny Thunders, and a young-ish homeless woman who can see them all - all of which are inevitably brought into contact with each other.

Millar uses very direct storytelling language, so as an adult fairy tale, the writing style works. Otherwise, the language can come across as repetitive and simplistic.

This is also not a book rich in character development or which will lead to emotional investment in the characters. It did, however, make me laugh a few times, and had enough references that I was familiar with to keep me going. At other times, though, it felt muddled with too many storylines. Millar also squeezes in occasional moments of social commentary, which were jarringly out of place (and in some cases, are raised multiple times but then suddenly dropped and not resolved in any way). Quirky, not for everyone, sometimes enjoyable, sometimes eyebrow-raisingly (odd? offensive? abrasive?), quick read.

23. Boxer Beetle by Ned Bauman (246 p.)

I feel like an idiot even including this, but first off, I misunderstood the back cover inclusion of the description of the book as Beauman's 'time-travelling debut'. There is a present-day line and a timeline in 1936. I only include this to explain why I found the book particularly confounding for a stretch, before realising my mistake.

That aside...

Boxer Beetle is primarily the storyline in 1936 of a gay, Jewish, 9-toed, under-5-foot boxer Seth 'Sinner' Roach and of the more closeted Philip Erskine, a wealthy and privileged young fascist fascinated with eugenics. Erskine wants to study the volatile Roach, and their paths cross periodically. Erskine also studies beetles, which leads to an interesting discovery and takes that part of his research in a new direction.

Meanwhile, fast forward to the present and we have Kevin, a collector of Nazi memorabilia (not a Nazi, he is quick to point out). He, in turn, works for a wealthy collector named Grublock, helping him track down valuable pieces. Grublock's most recent trail leads to the Roach-Erskine story. The past fills in the gaps on what is uncovered in the present, and the present updates us on what developed since the past. The present part didn't necessarily add anything that couldn't have been done in a different way (it often felt more like a distraction and brought in unnecessary crime/violence à la movie treatment).

In many ways, it's a book about breeding - Roach (and his family) vs Erskine (and his family), Jews vs WASP British in England and Europe, Erskine's and the fascists' beliefs about eugenics, the beetles.

A good read - not brilliant, but entertaining and with some unusual characters.

24. Petropolis by Anya Ulinich (324 p.)

Petropolis tells the story of Sasha Goldberg. Sasha is bi-racial, Jewish, and overweight. She lives in Siberia in Asbestos 2 with her mother, a librarian who is aloof and critical, constantly trying to improve her daughter and to tell her daughter what children of the intelligentsia should do/not do and how they should behave. We find out more about Sasha's father as the book progresses.

Through a series of events, Sasha ends up leaving Asbestos 2 and it becomes her attempts to fit in, to find home, to figure out who she is. Beyond that, I won't give other things away.

This was an unexpected library find - part satire, part coming of age, part other things - and I'm glad I read it. That said, in the end, despite everything, I still didn't have much of a sense of Sasha. The narrative never fully pulled me in. The author herself immigrated to the US from Moscow as a late-teenager, making this also an impressive debut from a language point-of-view. Petropolis could easily complement other books on the post-Soviet-Jewish-American novel, with authors such as Gary Shteyngart and Jonathan Safran Foer. *

*Wasn't there a Qs for the Avid Reader about 'if you could put together a literature course, what would it be?' - I'm starting to see one forming here...

>107 ljbwell: *Wasn't there a Qs for the Avid Reader about 'if you could put together a literature course, what would it be?' - I'm starting to see one forming here...

It is the current one . . . a repeat from last year at this time.

>108 rebeccanyc: - :-) I had posted this before catching up on QftAR. Good timing.

25. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell (469 p.)

Mitchell's strength is his ability to capture whatever time and voice he tackles in his ambitious novels. This time, it is 1799, Japan, the artificial island of Dejima, where the Dutch East India Company does its trade. Times, and the century, are changing.

There is nearly always a magical element in his novels, and the one here is interesting, but then disappears suddenly for an extended period. Mitchell's novel covers historical trade between Japan and Europe, the variety of struggles for power, the clashes - cultural, economic, political, social - between various factions, and more. Some of my favorite scenes in the book were between the westerners and the translators/interpreters. My main issue with the book, which overall I quite enjoyed, was that certain threads felt abruptly abandoned or tied together too neatly.

Enjoyed your review of The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, which has been on my TBR for a couple of years. I really need to get to it!

I enjoyed The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. I seem to remember that the first part of the book dealing with the relations between the Dutch and the Japanese although a slower pace than the rest of the novel was really well done.

I thought The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet was excellent. There is some beautiful writing and Mitchell does so well with creating nuanced characters.

>110 ljbwell: I've added The Thousand Autumns to my wishlist. The good thing is that Chris has it so I can borrow from her.

>110 ljbwell: that book has been on my wish list for years. I really need to get to it!

Thank you all. To be honest, I'd finished the book about a week earlier, needed to return it to the library, knew I needed to get the summary up, and in the end felt like I phoned in that write-up, so you are all quite kind.

I thought it was excellent, too, but different sections for different reasons. This is also what made it inconsistent.

>113 RidgewayGirl: - Fully agreed. It's what he does so well in his books. The voice in Black Swan Green, all the different voices in Cloud Atlas - he captures those so wonderfully.

>112 baswood: - Absolutely. After about 100-150 pages, it moves from the more historical fiction portrayal of the Dutch-Japanese trade in Japan, power struggles, and a growing love story into a storyline that involves a religious cult, then back again to the historical trade and the shifts going on at that time. I'm still not fully convinced some of those threads were ever dealt with in a satisfying way.

But again, a fascinating read with lots of intrigue. If you like Mitchell's style, this should work for you - though in a very different way from previous novels.

26. The Red Road by Denise Mina (288 p.)

The Red Road is, I only found out afterwards, the 4th in one of Mina's crime series, but it can definitely be read as a standalone. The book moves back and forth between events now and about 15 years prior. DI Alex Morrow is the lead investigator of the current-day crimes. The events from the past clearly influence and ultimately have led to the present-day murder and intrigue. As Morrow digs into these events, she is forced to confront the agonizingly gray areas that exist between right and wrong.

The only other book of Mina's I've read is Garnethill, and there are clear similarities in tone, not to mention setting. They both explore seamy undersides of Glasgow.

For those who like grittier crime novels, this is a good one.

27. Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart (334 p)

Lenny is 39, an aging shlub in a near future where eternal youth is being sold to an elite few and where social media and marketing have become even more pervasive. Lenny works for the company selling youth to High Net Worth Individuals. His parents are Soviet emigrés. He meets and falls in love with Eunice, a much younger woman who is also first generation American-born, in her case to Korean parents. When they get together, she's the first to tell Lenny that she will inevitably hurt him. The book is told through alternating diary entries by Lenny and communications to and from Eunice and family, friends, Lenny and others.

I went through ups and downs with this one. At times I found it so annoying I nearly walked away from it. At others I could see and enjoy the satire. In the end, the latter kept me going (barely) through the former. In many ways it felt like a version of bits and pieces of books I've already read, such as Feed and Uglies. I also didn't get the sense of just how plugged in people were until much closer to the end; put another way, just how problematic certain developments in the plot are seem suddenly blown out of proportion. On the whole, disappointing.

I was disappointed in Shteyngart's The Russian Debutante's Handbook and in the excerpts from Absurdistan that appeared in the New Yorker, so I've been avoiding him ever since. Sounds like I"m not missing anything with this one!

>119 rebeccanyc: I actually liked The Russian Debutante's Handbook, but feel like it's gone downhill since then. Some books grow on me with distance; this one seems to be annoying me even more.

28. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs (352 p., YA)

Quite frankly, I've been disappointed in books lately. I've also been on a library kick, which can restrict what's available and interesting. I went to the main library, though, in the hopes of finding a surefire winner. Or at least a book that wouldn't leave me frustrated, even angry, at the end. I picked up five and started with the one I thought would be the best bet: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

It was, on the whole, a good choice.

Very, very briefly without tipping much: Jacob is a teenager when he witnesses a terrible and terrifying event. Therapy and the discovery of a mysterious letter and photo lead him to Wales to seek answers.

There is a lot that is interesting about the book. First is the relationship between Jacob and his grandfather. It reflects the special tie that often exists between grandchildren and grandparents, even (or possibly especially) when the parent-child relationship is strained. It's also tough when Jacob no longer believes his grandfather's tales - sees them for what others see - tall tales and fairy/monster stories that can't possibly be true. There are also references to the monsters of WWII that parallel with the unfolding events of the novel; this was an aspect of the book that could have been explored in more depth.

Second is the use of genuine photographs integrated into the story, some of which look like photos of traveling circus side show performers: slightly eerie, slightly weird. Riggs himself collects these kinds of photos, and credits others who lent their photos to the novel. While sometimes the leads into the pictures can be a bit clunky, it's a clever idea that adds to the mood of the story.

On the downside, the book was more YA than I expected. This isn't a bad thing, per se, it was just more Y than A than I had anticipated. This also meant that one of the twists that is revealed felt incredibly predictable.

On the upside, it was a good page turner and it got me back on the reading track and looking forward to making my way through my little library stack.

The story behind my reading this next book is a reminder of the beauty of libraries. I was at the local city library, just browsing the sci fi/fantasy section. I had a stack of books already in hand, including one from that section. The librarian started to use the space I'd just liberated to shelve a book, but then looked at me and held it out to me. We started talking about the book, agreeing it was tough to find good Swedish sci fi. He recommended it. This led further to a discussion about how he'd relatively recently started there and how he was working to build up the collection, as well as just talking about other books. I walked away with a book I probably wouldn't have given a second chance, and more importantly had a fun, interesting conversation with someone genuinely engaged in his role and in the genre. With that, I bring you...

29. Karma Boulevard by Anna Kerubi (303 p., Swedish)

The book takes place in Nya Ionah, a constantly-changing city. While there are three somewhat main characters, the book is constantly introducing and losing characters: this is both interesting and sometimes confusing (well, if you leave off for a few days and forget who's who, at least). The story, such as it is, is loosely that a variety of parties are looking for Tobias, the supposed creator of the Motorway, and key to its access. The main character, however, is Nya Ionah itself, and it is this world that Kerubi puts the most focus on. It is a setting-driven, not story-driven, novel.

More than anything, I'm grateful to the librarian for pointing the book out and for the chat we had, and I look forward to going back and getting more ideas from him.

Oh nice story about the librarian, it's good to know that there are some people still enthusiastic about books in the profession.

>123 baswood: - He was great.

30. Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan (304 p.)

I know people really, really liked this, so I'm a bit loathe to say this but I was really disappointed in this one, largely because it was absolutely not what I expected or hoped. I had thought it was a book about a quirky bookstore and its employees and clientele. What I felt I got instead was an extended isn't-Google-great-it-can-solve-almost-anything offspring of Microserfs and The Da Vinci Code. The quest dragged on and ultimately led nowhere particularly interesting, and the main character's array of friends can best be described as incredibly convenient for different plot developments. The most interesting character is Penumbra himself, and he is woefully underdeveloped and underrepresented.

On the up side, it was fun to discover one dark winter evening here in Scandinavia that the book cover glowed in the dark. This also reminds me of the advice about what to do when you really need to find something positive to begin with when someone's report is truly terrible: start with, 'you chose a lovely font'. That seems like particularly appropriate (faint) praise for this book.

31. The Difference Engine by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling (512 p.)

A steampunk classic that mixes historical figures with fictional ones in a story that plays with the idea of Charles Babbage's designs having actually been built and developed at that time. In the end, though, it suffered similar issues to Karma Boulevard - it is wrapped up in the setting to the detriment of the story, which often felt aimless or muddy. I'm glad I read it, and it gave me the chance to look up and read more about Babbage and the difference engine - how far ahead of his time he was, and what his contributions meant to the later development of computers.

I found Mr Penumbra to be disappointing as well. It seemed like a dumbed down version of something by Umberto Eco. But the cover was cool.

>127 RidgewayGirl: - Absolutely agreed!

And squeezing in one last on the 31st...

32. The Commissariat of Enlightenment by Ken Kalfus (320 p.)

The novel starts with Tolstoy on his deathbed and goes through the death of Lenin. The main character, Gribshin, is a young Russian filmmaker working with Georges Meyer and Pathé. They are in Astapovo to report on the death of Leo Tolstoy. Gribshin realizes the power film has to manipulate the vision of events. This gets him noticed by the likes of Stalin. Another key historical figure in the novel is Professor Vorobev, a scientist experimenting with embalming.

The book is at its best in the passages where Gribshin understands the role of cinema and film, and uses that to portray events in a certain way. Gribshin (and in part Vorobev) draws links between Tutankhamun and Lenin, and sets in motion the power of media and visual branding to create an enduring legend.

I really disliked the book I read by Ken Kalfus, A Disorder Peculiar to the Country, so I enjoyed your review but can't bring myself to try anything else by this author.

>129 rebeccanyc: - Fair enough - I wasn't thrilled with it, either. Yet another where the idea was more interesting than the execution. While there were sections where it worked, on the whole it felt like it didn't find its focus.