Amanda's List for 2010

Alas, I only made it to 48 books last year, but I'm going to give it another go! Currently I'm reading Stephen King's Under the Dome and Kurt Vonnegut's Galapagos.

Welcome back!

Glad to see you back, Amanda!

Thanks! I just hope I can reach my goal this year!

1. The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (****)

I have come to a basic conclusion: Oscar Wilde was the man. And this play proves it. Full of zingers, witty banter, the well-crafted insult, and all things that make Wilde, well, Wilde, the play had me laughing out loud at lines like "The only way to behave to a woman is to make love to her, if she is pretty, and to someone else if she is plain" or, as a resigned Jack realizes none of them may be married, "Then a passionate celibacy is all that any of us can look forward to."

Also characteristic of Wilde is that there is a lot more going on here than comedy. With a sharp eye, Wilde cleverly satirizes all aspects of aristocratic life. For all their cleverness, these are despicable people. They are petty, vain, arrogant, and vapid. And hysterical.

great review!

2. Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut (***)

As a fan of sarcasm, cynicism, pessimism, and nihilism (yup, I'm fun at parties), as well as an absurdist plot, I'm a smitten-kitten when it comes to Vonnegut. However, I'm not in love with Galapagos. In deep like? Yes, but, for me, the gold standard when it comes to Vonnegut is Cat's Cradle, followed by Mother Night. I did, however, like Galapagos better than Slaughterhouse-Five.

Galapagos is set one million years after 1986, when the world as we know it ended and, through a series of fluke events, one man and several women are stranded on the island of Santa Rosalia in the Galapagos. The end of civilization was brought about by mankind's "big brains" (although not necessarily by man himself, as man is fundamentally good--just led astray by his inability to control his thoughts and his imagination), along with the help of a bacteria that leaves all the women of the world sterile. However, on the secluded island of Santa Rosalia, the female castaways still young enough to produce are spared and, with an unwilling sire and a little help from a high school biology teacher, they are all impregnated. Thus, life continues to flourish on Santa Rosalia. Not only that, but after millions of years, mankind has evolved so that they have smaller brains, flippers for hands, and a lifespan of 30 years (at which point we're easy prey for sharks and killer whales). Welcome to utopia! With our Darwinian advancements, we no longer have the ability to lie, cheat, steal, etc. We also lack the capacity for simple thought or creativity of any kind. (Admittedly, it's a shit utopia, as far as utopias go, and I would gladly swim out to meet the sharks myself.)

If you think I've just divulged several plot spoilers, I haven't. You learn all this at the beginning of the novel and the rest of the novel circles itself like a dog chasing its tail as these events are told over and over again, but with additional details added with each retelling. This structure could become somewhat repetitive for some readers, but didn't really bother me. As with most Vonnegut novels, fragmented and nonlinear narrative is to be expected, as is the theme of "people are dumbasses." However, there is hope in the novel as it serves as a cautionary tale--if we learn to rein in our big brains, then maybe we'll be spared the evolutionary chain of events that leads to the utopian existence of lounging around on a beach somewhere, clapping our flippers together while while chewing seaweed cud and hoping for some seal-like lovin' before the sharks come for us. And I think that's a lesson we can all learn from, don't you?

I still have not read any Vonnegut, but Galapagos sounds like one I would enjoy. Thanks for the review, Amanda!

3. Under the Dome by Stephen King (***1/2)

More like 3 1/2 stars. This is my first full-fledged Stephen King novel, so I'm not sure how it measures up against other King classics like The Stand, It, Salem's Lot, or Carrie. Sure, I've read The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, but only because it was described as a young adult novel (King-lite, if you will). I have spent most of my life actively avoiding Stephen King and here's my story as to why Mr. King and I parted ways before I even read anything by him.

When I was but a wee little girl, full of innocence and a precocious love of reading, my mom was also a voracious reader. As I was consuming Little House on the Prairie books (my earliest encounter with book rape--thanks, grandma) and Nancy Drew, I began noticing that mom was always reading these big ass books with KING running down the spine. When she wasn't reading these books, they were always placed on top of the refrigerator which was well out of my grasp. Eager for us to share this love of reading (Mom had no interest in the plight of the Ingalls family), I begged and pleaded to be allowed to read the King books. "Gee, wouldn't it be fun if Mom and I read the same books? Then we could talk about them!" I thought. Days, weeks, months went by and, eventually, my constant wheedling became too much. She relented, but the deal was that she would pick the scene I was allowed to read. She chose a particularly horrific and descriptive scene from The Stand. I read with increasing horror--Nancy Drew never encountered messed up shit like this! When I finished that scene, I handed the book over and never asked to read King again. And I stepped lightly around Mom from that day forward. I suddenly understood that, if that woman snapped, it would be ugly--and she would know what to do with the bodies.

Therefore, unlike most teenagers, I skipped over the desire to consume everything King between junior high and high school. And this brings us to present day and my first King novel. At 1,072 pages, this is definitely a doorstop of a book. However, it read fairly quickly. My main complaint was that many of the characters were one dimensional stereotypes. There are no shades of gray in the small town of Chester's Mill. At first, this bothered me; however, I think maybe individual characters had to be sacrificed in order to portray the real character--small town America and how it reacts to cataclysmic events. If King shorthands individual characterizations, he nails the panic and herd-like mentality that takes over when uncertainty is the order of the day.

The premise of the novel, as blatantly presented by the title, is that Chester's Mill one day finds itself cutoff from the outside world by a mysterious dome that perfectly conforms itself to the borders of Chester's Mill. In the days ahead, the people wait and worry as the United States government desperately tries to free them. As hope begins to dwindle, reason is in short supply as people trade in their humanity for mass hysteria and panic.

The dome is not, however, the ultimate villain in this tale. The real villain is Big Jim Rennie, the town selectman who has been waiting for just such a "clustermug" so that he can claim control of the town. Big Jim is the most vile type of Christian, one who believes that being able to quote scripture and abstain from saying cuss words is all it takes to be amongst God's chosen. Big Jim does everything in the belief that God is on his side and damn anyone who tries to get in his way, for not only are they his enemies, but enemies of Christianity itself. It is possible to have religion without true faith, and Big Jim is proof of that. He has customized his religion to serve his needs; indeed, his belief in God is little more than a manifestation of his own belief in himself as superior, as "chosen," to be above all others.

It appears that my review may be destined to be as long as the book, so I'll cut it short. Weaknesses: there were a few clunker sentences that pulled me out of the story, there was an abundance of detail that I could have lived without, and I was disappointed in the reason for the dome because it seemed so obvious. Strengths: King deftly keeps his cast of characters straight and realistically interacting with one another, he captures the terror and bovine-like stupidity that takes over when day-to-day life is disrupted and threatened, there are some colorful cuss words that I hope to employ in the near future, and there's a catastrophic scene toward the end that is one of the most terrifying and well-written that I've ever read.

This is a great review! Interested in more King?

Definitely. I'd like to read one of the more "classic" King's in the near future--I may go back and tackley The Stand and see if what terrified me so as a youngster will still do so today!

Duma Key is a more recent one that's in the spirit of his early work - I really liked it!

Thanks! That's the second recommendedation I've had for Duma Key; one of my friends recommended it after learning that I had liked Under the Dome. Two recommendations in one day means it definitely goes on the "to read" list!

I read The Shining when I was in college. I came back to school a day early and spent the night in an empty dorm - just me and Stephen. I was never so spooked reading a book. I had to force myself to close it and stop reading.

If you're looking to experience King without all the crazy typical horror stuff, you may want to try Eyes of the Dragon. It was the first King my father let me read with I was about 10 or so (he always let me read just about anything trusting me to put it down if it was too much for me). It's more typical fantasy-ish than many of his other books are. I also loved The Stand and The Dark Tower books by King.

4. Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier (*****)

Re-read to teach for AP English 12.

I've reviewed this one before, so I'll just say that this is one of the most heartbreaking novels that I have ever read. The story of Inman and his journey to redemption is moving and beautifully written.

5. The Gates: A Novel by John Connolly (***1/2)

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I hate my neighbors. Yeah, I know I'm supposed to love them, but it would be easier if they were just a little more lovable and not so loathable. Between the late night beerfests, the trucks without mufflers, the pit bulls tied to trees, and the Jerry Springer style public arguments (not to mention just a general lack of hygiene), there's not a lot I can be thankful for. Until The Gates. Now I can at least say, "Well, at least they didn't accidentally open a gateway between our world and Hell during a seance gone wrong." I feel confident that they'll never do this as they don't appear to be readers of books, and a book is indeed used by the Abernathys (who have the misfortune of living at 666 Crowley Road) to summon forth the legions of Hell.

When I bought the book, I had no idea that it was a young adult book, so that was a little disappointing. However, once I got over that fact, I really enjoyed the tale of precocious Samuel Johnson and his little daschund, the only hope mankind has in the face of the apocalypse being brought about by Ba'al, who is preparing the way for The Great Malevolence. The book is often clever, frequently humorous, and just dark enough for the intended age group (although it might frighten some as this may be more of a "tweener" book than young adult novel). There are also footnotes aplenty (but not boring ones--my favorite explains how astronomers found a substance in a dust cloud in the center of our galaxy called ethyl formate, which smells of raspberries and rum--which I think is pretty kick ass for a galaxy).

It reminded me of Neil Gaiman's writing for young adults (at one point I even thought it was like Good Omens--For Kids) and, like Gaiman, John Connolly never underestimates his intended reader's intelligence nor appetite for the macabre.

#16/17: I will look for both of those. Thanks for the recommendations, Amanda.

Hi Amanda. The Gates sounds interesting, I just finished The Book of Lost Things by the same author which I thought was really good.

>18 alcottacre:: I don't think you'll regret either one. They're very different books, but both are excellent. Cold Mountain is slowly paced, but very rewarding if you stick with it. It's like The Odyssey set during the Civil War.

>19 souloftherose:: I'm glad to hear that The Book of Lost Things is good--I just bought it and hope to read it soon! It's my understanding that it's much more of an adult book than The Gates: A Novel, so I may enjoy it even more.

6. How Not to be Popular by Jennifer Ziegler (****)

Definitely one of my more enjoyable forays into young adult literature. Sugar Magnolia "Maggie" Dempsey is the surprisingly well-adjusted daughter of hippie parents. While loving and supportive, her restless parents uproot Maggie every few months and move to another part of the country. As a young girl, Maggie loved the adventure and diversity of her parents nomadic lifestyle. However, Maggie is now in high school and this latest move has resulted in a break-up with her first serious boyfriend. Tired of making friends only to tearfully leave them a few months later, Maggie decides that she will protect herself this time by refusing to make friends. Thus begins her quest to become unpopular.

The book is laugh out loud funny as Maggie does her best to shun popularity through a series self-inflicted, horrifyingly embarrassing situations. The problem is that she's unwittingly setting trends as she goes against the social hierarchy of her new school. No matter how hard she tries to be a social outcast, she becomes the new "it" girl.

What makes the novel so relatable is Maggie. Maggie's smart, but not precocious. She's level-headed, but not so much so that she doesn't screw things up along the way. She's neither obnoxiously mature or immature--she just seems like a real teenager. And, to top it all off, she's funny and not wistfully pining for a vampire--my current requirements for young adult heroines.

#21: not wistfully pining for a vampire

Or werewolves, or fairies, or any other supernatural being. Way too much of that kind of thing in YA literature. Thanks for the recommendation of that one, Amanda. I will look and see if I can find it.

7. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (*)

***spoilers and bitterness ahead--be forewarned**

I'm not sure that I can capture my utter disdain for this book in words, but I'll give it a shot. I read this book about three years ago and just had to re-read it for book club. It was a steaming pile of crap then and, guess what?, it's a steaming pile of crap now. The main reason I hate this book: it's trite inspirational literature (there's an oxymoron) dressed up as an adventure quest. You go into it thinking that it's going to be about a boy's quest for treasure. If you read the back, there are words like "Pyramids," "Gypsy," "alchemist." Turns out, this is just The Purpose Driven Life dressed up with a little fable. It's Hallmark Hall of Fame territory set in an exotic locale. Which pisses me off to no end as I normally try to dodge that sort of thing, but here it is masquerading as the type of book I normally like. It's cliche, didactic, and poorly written.

Just as with Aesop's Fables, there's a moral to the story. And Coelho keeps backing up and running over it just to make sure that we get it (and he capitalizes important key words necessary to understanding it, lest we overlook their significance). If there's one thing Paulo Coelho can do, it's flog a dead horse.

Essentially, boy thinks he's happy in life. He's a shepherd who gets to travel the world, has all of his needs met, and owns a book which he can always trade for another book when he goes to market. What more can a boy need? Boy is then told by a mysterious stranger that he's not happy at all. Why not? He has failed to recognize his Personal Legend. Everyone has a Personal Legend, which is life's plan for you. However, most of us give up on our Personal Legend in childhood. If you are fortunate enough to hang onto and pursue your Personal Legend, then The Soul of the World will help you obtain it. All of nature conspires to bring you luck and good fortune so that you can fulfill your destiny, whether it's to be a shepherd on a quest for treasure at the pyramids, a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker, or, one would assume, a prostitute, drug dealer, or porn star. Hey, we're all fate's bitch in The Alchemist. But I digress. Boy seeks out his Personal Legend and finds it's a long, hard road to obtaining what you want in life. But with faith, perseverance, and just a little goshdarnit good luck, the boy learns to speak the Language of the World and tap into The Soul of the World and fulfills his Personal Legend. And what does he learn? That what he sought was back home, the place he started from. Oh, silly boy.

So, in summation, here is what you should learn from The Alchemist:
1) Dream. And, while you're at it, dream BIG
2) Follow your bliss
3) Don't be surprised if you find obstacles in your way, but you will
overcome
4) It's good to travel and encounter people from other cultures
5) What we most often seek is right in front of us, but sometimes we
have to leave home to realize it
To all of these important life lessons, I can only say, "Well, no shit, Sherlock." If Coelho knew anything about alchemy, he would have been able to transform this crap into gold. Alas, it's still crap.

8. The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan (***)

I hate trying to review a book like this because I'm never certain if I should review it from the perspective of an adult or from the perspective of the intended audience. As a result, let me take a stab at both.

If I were reviewing the book from my perspective, it would be more of a 2 to a 2 1/2. The book is fun, especially for those who love Greek/Roman mythology, and Riordan has some inventive twists. For instance, the half-blood children of the gods are often diagnosed by their teachers as dyslexic and ADHD. The dyslexia is a result of their brains being hard-wired to read only in Ancient Greek and the ADHD is the result of their hyper-alert, battle-ready reflexes. When a new character appears, it's also fun to guess at which Greek myth is making its appearance as a modern day incarnation. However, the characters, especially Percy and his friends, are flat and never really come to life. The gods also seem watered down; they practically scream PG and the gods were, if anything, X-rated in their endeavors. For adults, the Incarnations of Immortality by Piers Anthony or Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips are just as entertaining and able to include all of the sex and violence inherent in the original mythology. Also, my biggest pet peeve--why did Riordan feel the need to make Pallas Athena, a virgin goddess, the mother of so many children? I don't see the necessity of such a blatant disregard for myth; the plot offers no explanation or justification for this erroneous portrayal. And it doesn't seem the slightest bit necessary as Annabeth never seems to do anything worthy of "Wisdom." Wouldn't it have been just as easy for the character of Annabeth to be the daughter of Demeter or Aphrodite?

Having said all of this, back when I would have been part of the target age group (I'm guessing 9-12), I would have loved this series. If I had children, I would gladly purchase every book in the series and read them together. I can see where children would love the constant adventure and the gods and monsters that appear on practically every other page. If a series like this can get children to read and to love mythology, then that's definitely worth a 3 star rating.

I just found your link, and I think you may now be my favorite LT'er. I love your writing style and reviews. I can't wait for your next post.

I was at once delighted and ashamed to find your comment. Delighted because someone appreciates my twisted sense of humor and skewed perspective, and ashamed as I now feel as though I've disappointed you since I haven't posted in quite sometime, but never fear--reviews of 1984, Blood Meridian, and Unwind are forthcoming!

9. Unwind by Neal Shusterman (***)
I'm a little on the fence about this one. Shusterman has created a fully realized future, and that's definitely part of the genius of this young adult novel. When authors write about the not-too-distant future, the world about which they write is completely unrecognizable (too many new gadgets, too many new species from outerspace, too many shifts in cultural view) which is fine but, for me, it sometimes causes a disconnect. I can't really empathize or identify with the characters because I can't relate. Shusterman's future is at once recognizable and vastly different from our own, which only adds to the horror of the plot.

In the novel, children who are unwanted at the age of 13 (for a variety of reasons: they're juvenile delinquents, they're not artistically talented enough, they fail to show intellectual prowess, or they have simply been abandoned) can be "unwound" for spare body parts. Because medical science has perfected a process that allows for every part of the unwind's body to be grafted onto the recipient's body and because the unwind never "dies" (the unwind is awake and conscious through the entire process), then this practice is acceptable because it saves the lives of others without technically ending a life. Medical science no longer bothers with trying to cure disease; they simply replace the affected body parts with healthy young ones.

In addition to this fascinating premise is the shift in religous thought. Parents who are zealous in their religious beliefs begin tithing their 10th child to show their piety to God and, in this world, it's easy to attain 10 children as the practice of "storking" is acceptable by law. Storking is the law that allows the mothers of unwanted children to dump their children on the doorstep of an affluent house, so long as they are not caught in the act of doing so (even this act is religiously based; the law cites the story of Moses as the first "storking"). The "storked" family is required, by law, to take the child into their own family--thus, tithing also becomes a socially acceptable way of getting rid of children one does not want. Tithed children are raised from birth knowing that they will be unwound and are accordingly treated like martyrs.

Here's my main complaint with the novel. All of the above sounds like an intriguing premise, but I find fault with the catalyst for all of this social change. In the novel, the abortion issue becomes such a heated debate that it eventually leads to the Second Civil War, known as The Heartland War, in which the Pro-Life and Pro-Choice proponents literally go to war. After a prolonged battle in which we can assume many lives were lost, the process of "unwinding" is proposed as a compromise to end the war. Since a child can be retroactively unwound at the age of 13, the Pro-Choice side is appeased and, since the child never technically dies, the Pro-Life side is appeased. To which I call "bullshit." Because such a solution doesn't take into account the motivation behind each side of the issue.

Granted, there are shades of gray all over the place when we talk about abortion, but, for Pro-Choice proponents, the issue is about a woman's right to have control over her body and not be forced into an unwanted pregnancy. So how would being able to unwind a kid later on appeal to the Pro-Choice advocates? If a kid is 13, they're now a separate entity from the mother and, in addition, the mother has already had to endure the physical part of an unwanted pregnancy. Kind of defeats the whole premise of the Pro-Choice argument, no? And as for the Pro-Lifers, I think it's safe to say most are fundamentalist Christians who would never be like, "Oh, so the kid doesn't 'die' since he or she is still alive when we slice and dice them? Well, golly gee, why didn't we think of this sooner?" If that were okay with them, then I think they might not be so vocal on the stem cell debate as, technically, that's what unwinding is--using one life to save another life.

So in the final analysis, I think that's where Shusterman dropped the ball. Granted, it could be argued that both sides might be willing to consider such a flawed proposal simply to end a violent and bloody war, but I doubt it. Still, I would highly recommend the book for its intended audience as it presents an action-based story that's not didactic in its presentation of the issue and will motivate teenagers to think about the issue in new and different ways.

A very intriguing premise but I have to agree with you about the plausibility. I think opposition to abortion isn't just on religious grounds but I think the "compromise" here wouldn't appeal to people on either side of the debate (I'm pro choice but would find this "solution" horrific as well as failing to address any of the possible reasons why women don't want to continue a pregnancy.

10. Pipsqueak by Brian M. Wiprud (*)

When I bought this book, I had dreams of Christopher Moore and Carl Hiaasen dancing through my head. The cover proclaims that Pipsqueak is "Demented and fun!" and "The flat-out coolest mystery I've read in years, not to mention the funniest." My verdict: not funny. Not at all. Other than the occasionally peculiar turn of phrase, this is a rather pedestrian mystery that, frankly, I just didn't give a shit about. The book reminds me of the run-of-the-mill comedies that everyone will rave about and when you watch it you can see the jokes coming from a mile away; you know the punchline long before the actors seem to. This is just a bland vanilla little book that is inoffensive and only marginally entertaining. I'll take absurd and vulgar any day over this. When it comes to comedy, I'll stick with Christopher Moore. I could tell you more, but I've already lost two days of my life to this book and really don't wish to lose another second.

Wow - that good huh!

#29: Yikes! One I can safely skip. I hope your next read is better, Amanda.

11. Morrigan's Cross by Nora Roberts (*)

Take one dead sexy vampire
+ one dead sexy sorcerer
+ one dead sexy witch
+ one dead sexy queen
+ one dead sexy shapeshifter
+ one dead sexy vampire slayer
= one hot mess

This is just . . . well, indescribable. I found this book on my bookshelf the other day and couldn't believe that I had ever purchased a Nora Roberts book. A quick look at the back cover held part of the explanation: "A battle is brewing between the forces of good and evil--a war will be fought across the planes of time--as Lilith, the most powerful vampire in the world, gathers her dark minions around her. The goddess Morrigan rises up to stop her--and with her, a circle of six . . ." Okay, maybe not high-brow literature, but it sounded pretty kick ass--I mean the Morrigan, the three-phased Irish goddess of battle? As I was reading, the other part of the explanation became evident when the receipt from Sam's Club fell out. I apparently only shelled out a couple of bucks for this when I bought it. I like to think that, if I had paid more, I would have investigated a little further as to what exactly I had in my hot little clutches. Oh, sweet irony, I've managed to book rape myself.

I'm all for a little mindless brain candy; after all, I willingly admit to enjoying Sookie Stackhouse novels. The problem with this is that Roberts has thrown in every fantasy stereotype and stock plot available to her. We have time travel, we have locales that lend themselves to fantasy (Ireland--both 12th century and modern day--and New York), vampires and wizards, unspeakable evil versus unbelievable good, alternate worlds, a final battle pre-ordained by the gods, and the list goes on and on and on. And so do Roberts' descriptions. Never, not once, did I have to wonder about what the quilt on the bed looked like or the glass from which a character drank. Her color descriptions read like paint swatches from Sherwin Williams. For all this excitement, the plot basically boils down to the following repetitious cycle: train with medieval weaponry, cook a meal, train with medieval weaponry, discuss magic, train with medieval weaponry, and have mind-blowing sex. This is, apparently, all that's required to stave off the apocalypse.

And who has instigated this apocalypse? Lilith, the world's oldest and most powerful vampire. However, her motivation for this apocalypse is standard issue power-hunger with only nebulous explanation as to what she actually plans to do with the world once she has it. She spends her days skulking around the caves off the coast of Ireland, wearing sumptuous clothes (oh, except, for when she's lying around bare-breasted in bed) while preening, whining, and bitching about how, damn it, she can't see her beautiful self in the mirror.

And Morrigan? She just pops in every now and then like a good-natured fairy godmother wanting to check on the fate of our heroes.

Will I be able to resist reading the rest of the books in the series? That would be a hell yes. Now please excuse me while I trot on over to Swaptree to hopefully swap this piece o' trash.

I like Nora Roberts books because they are mindless brain candy and sometimes I need that, but I took one look at the Morrigan's series and decided it was not for me. I never cracked one of them open and it does not look like I missed a thing.

I hope you find something much more to your liking in your next read, Amanda.

It had the potential to be good, but she was just all over the place with it. She crammed everything in but the kitchen sink and a Golem crooning for his "Precious." If she had focused on one or two characters and narrowed the scope of the plot, she could have really had something here. Unfortunately, it just kind of crumbled under its own weight. I, too, like a generous dose of brain candy every now and again, but this just wasn't what I was after. I may try one of her other non-fantasy books sometime as I've heard that's where her real strength lies.

#34: I love her 'In Death' series, written under the pseudonym J.D. Robb. You might give those a try.

12. Dirty Work by Larry Brown (*****)

This is one of those books that I use to size up other people. If you've read Dirty Work and you didn't love it, I don't want to know you. This was the first Larry Brown book that I ever read and, after re-reading it, it is still as powerful and haunting the second time around.

The novel focuses on two Vietnam veterans in the VA hospital two decades after the war has ended. Braiden, a black quadraplegic, has spent this entire time in the hospital and his imagination is his only means of escape. When Walter arrives under mysterious circumstances, Braiden thinks he's found his salvation. Walter's face was horribly mutilated and shell fragments lodged in his brain cause him to have uncontrollable "blackouts" from which he awakens with no memory. As these two men talk about their lives as they were and as they are and as they revisit the painful landscape of Vietnam, Brown reveals how the war took much more from them than their bodies. The damage is emotional, spiritual, and mental (as Braiden says at one point, "It do something to you to kill another person. It ain't no dog lying there. Somebody. A person, talk like you, eat like you, got a mind like you. Got a soul like you . . . You look in somebody's eyes, then kill him, you remember them eyes. You remember that you was the last thing he seen.") The novel also reflects how it was the poor and, in particular, the black soldiers who were asked to give the most and expect nothing in return--not even valid reasons for fighting.

Brown's writing is simple, direct, and often bitingly funny when you least expect it. He knew how to capture the cadences and culture of working class Americans always one paycheck away from the brink of poverty and he always did so with the utmost respect, never denigrating or lessening their value to American society. When Brown died, we lost one of the finest writers of the American South and this novel is a testament to his gifts.

#36: I have not read anything by Larry Brown. I must rectify that! Thanks for the recommendation, Amanda.

Oh, you must! Dirty Work is my favorite and reads very quickly (I finished it in a day, and I'm a notoriously slow reader). However, The Rabbit Factory is also good. I haven't read his others. Since he died, it's a bit like I'm saving them because I know that, sadly, there won't be any more coming our way.

#38: Based on your recommendation, I put Dirty Work on hold at the local library, so I am hoping to have my hands on it in the near future. Thanks again, Amanda.

13. Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell (*****)

I've put off writing a review for 1984 because it's simply too daunting to do so. I liked 1984 even better after a second reading (bumping it up from a 4 star to a 5 star) because I think that, given the complexity of the future created by Orwell, multiple readings may be needed to take it all in. I thought it was genius the first time and appreciated that genius even more the second time.

Orwell had a daunting task: creating a future nearly half a century away from the time period in which he was writing. This future had to be its own complex, independent society, but it also had to be the natural end result of the totalitarianism Orwell witnessed in the communist and socialist regimes of World War II. That's part of the horror of 1984: this future is a recognizable one, even in 2010. It's easy to see how those in control can, through manipulation and propaganda, maintain that control simply for the sake of sating their own power hunger. It's easy to say "no one could ever tell me what to think or what to do," but the Party's use of Big Brother, the Thought Police, the Two-Minute Hate, and Doublethink make it easy to see how a person's ability to think independently and discern fiction from reality can be eroded when there is no touchstone to fact. Revising and rewriting the past to make certain that Big Brother and the Party are always correct has effectively eliminated historical accuracy. How can one think and reason in a society where everything is a fabrication?

Another facet of 1984 that I find fascinating is the relationship between Winston and Julia. Winston claims Julia is a "rebel from the waist down," engaging in promiscuity and hedonistic indulgences forbidden by the Party. She doesn't care about social injustice or defining "reality"; she only longs for what will make her feel good in the moment and only rebels far enough to get what she wants. By comparison, Winston is an intellectual rebel, constantly worrying over the issues of truth and freedom and the real, unvarnished past, but limited in how far he's willing to push the boundaries (until he meets Julia). Together, they make a complete rebellion--physical and mental, but apart they find themselves impotent to stand up to the Party.

A cautionary tale, social commentary, and exemplary example of dystopian fiction, 1984 is one of those perfect novels that not only entertains, but forces one to think about the danger associated with giving any one person or entity too much power or control over our lives--issues well worth consideration in post-9/11 America.

Nice review!

#40: I need to get to that one soon. I agree with Roni - nice review!

I started that one a long time ago and something made me put it down. Perhaps it's time to go back.

14. Arcadia Falls by Carol Goodman (**)

**This was an advanced reader's copy I received through LibraryThing**

In the beginning, I really wanted to love this book. I really, really did. Toward the middle of the book, I was just hoping to like it. By the end, I was ready to bid it a not-so-fond farewell and move onto something else. The novel sounds as though it's tailor made for me: there's the strained mother/daughter relationship, the pastoral setting at a private school for the arts, dark and eerie fairytales, a judicious dollop of death, and a mystery from the past that is being explored in the present. It's an ambitious mix and, in the end, the novel crumbles under its own weight of interwoven plot lines as it desperately tries to tie everything up into a neat little bundle.

Meg Rosenthal is trying to build a new life in the wake of her husband's unexpected death. Even more unexpected is that he mismanaged their finances and, despite the lavish lifestyle to which they were accustomed, he left them with virtually nothing. In the middle of her PhD in literature, Meg sells everything they own and moves her sullen and distant daughter, Sally, to Arcadia Falls, the site of a private school for the arts where she has been offered a teaching position. The job is ideal for Meg as she is studying the feminist fairytales written and illustrated by the school's founders, Vera Beecher and Lily Eberhardt. Sixty or so years ago, Lily died under peculiar circumstances while going to meet her lover, Virgil Nash, and her body wasn't recovered for several months. While it appeared as though she fell off a cliff during a blizzard, rumors and gossip have circulated in the art community and in the small town of Arcadia Falls for years as to whether Lily's death was just an accident. When a young student, Isabel Cheney, falls to her death (in the exact same way Lily did so many years earlier) during the pagan celebration that traditionally opens the new school year at Arcadia, the questions about Lily's death resurface and Meg finds the key to unraveling the truth about what really happened at Arcadia.

The book is beautifully written, although Goodman does have a tendency to throw in too much minutiae that slows down the pace of the story. Other problems that I had with the novel include:

A) Weak, one dimensional characters. The school dean, Ivy St. Clare, walks around the school with apparently little to do other than harass Meg (which begs the question of why she would hire her to begin with). She's so obviously the villain that I'm surprised she didn't walk around rubbing her hands together and cackling with all her maniacal might. Sally is the stereotypical sullen teenager who hates her mother, hates her new school, hates the new town, hates their new house, and, well, just hates everything. Then there's the town sheriff, Callum Reade, our knight in shining armor who shows up occasionally so Meg can get irritated at him without knowing why and he can get irritated with her without knowing why and then they can have sex later without knowing why. I didn't give a rat's ass about any of them.

B) Meg is also an unlikable character. She seems passive, just allowing things to happen to her. At the school, she shrinks away from or avoids any situation in which she might have to act like an adult authority figure. She spends her days reading Lily's journal and never seems to have any actual teaching responsibilities. She occasionally comes up with a lesson plan while crossing the school campus, but that's about it.

C) Meg finds Lily's hidden diary and, while reading it, begins to piece together the events that led to Lily's tragic death. However, she takes for-eh-ver to read it (I would have had that puppy read in one night) and I found the story in the diary to be far superior to the one in present day. Lily and Vera were lovers, but Lily also fell under the spell of Virgil Nash, the painter for whom she became a muse. This love triangle and these characters are far more intriguing, but sadly take backseat to Meg and Sally.

D) The book seems to want to be in the gothic or magical realism genre, but just can't quite bring itself to commit. This just pissed me off because it was billed as both.

E) So many things are just half-assed: Isabel's death is forgotten as soon as it happens, the folk legend of the white woman of the falls is a bizarre little footnote, a promising character named Toby Potter is made unforgettable and then readily forgotten, etc.

F) Women in this book have a nasty habit of running to the cliff when in danger. It's akin to the slasher film phenomenon of the beautiful girl running upstairs instead of out the front door. Everyone knows disaster happens at the cliff, but they take off like lemmings for it when things go wrong.

G) I had the end figured out halfway through the book. I won't spoil it for you, but I saw that one coming from about twenty miles away and it requires some serious suspension of disbelief. At one point the main character says, "I have to admit it all sounds a little far-fetched." And to that I say, spot on, Meg, spot on.

OK, skipping that one!

Great review of 1984. I finished it last night right before bed and was scared I'd have nightmares. I've given it 5 stars but will be waiting before it settles in my brain a bit...

Thanks for the review of Arcadia Falls. Nice to get some un-recommendations sometimes!

#46: Amanda can un-recommend with the best of them. Her un-recommendations are some of the greatest reviews ever, Cushla.

#46: I know the feeling--the end when Winston is taken to Room 101 and the mental torture through which they put him are horrifying. What makes it even more frightening is that form of psychological torture can really happen. I used the novel this year in my AP English class and the students enjoyed it, but several found it unsettling.

#47: LOL--I've actually had people tell me they love it when I hate a book! I do have a knack for the "unrecommend."

I am one of the people who loves it when you hate a book, Amanda!

Yup, I have to admit it too: I'm actually disappointed when I come to your thread and find that you enjoyed your most recent read. I'm a terrible person, I know.

15. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton (*****)

Part of why I love The Age of Innocence so much is for the very reason my students hate it--the subtlety of action in a society constrained by its own ridiculous rules and mores. In Old New York, conformity is key and the upper-crust go about a life of ritual that has no substance or meaning. Both men and women are victims in this world as both are denied economic, intellectual, or creative outlets. All the world's a stage in Wharton's New York and everyone wears a mask of society's creation. Such is the norm until Newland Archer.

Symbolically, Newland represents an America on the cusp of modernization, the awkward period of transition between the Victorian era and World War I. At first a devout member of New York aristocracy, Newland is awakened as one from a trance with the arrival of Countess Ellen Olenska. Ellen decides to separate from her abusive husband, Count Olenski, and is rumored to have escaped the Count by having an affair with his secretary--a scandalous circumstance that brings her back home to her native New York. Vibrant, intellectual, and free-spirited when compared with the dowdy and restrained women he's known, Ellen's predicament is a revelation to Newland. As he himself has just ended an affair with a married woman and seen the ease with which society forgave his indiscretion when contrasted with Ellen, Newland begins to acknowledge the inequality amongst the sexes. However, there's a serious roadblock to Newland ever being with the captivating Ellen: Ellen is the cousin of May Welland, Newland's fiancee.

Wharton writes with cutting wit about the hypocritical and ludicrous customs of blue blood society and cunningly plots events to work against Newland, the archer whose target is a "new land" in which he and Ellen can be together. The pity is that, ultimately, May proves to be the more cunning huntress who cleverly hunts and traps her quarry in the labyrinth of society.

#51: That is one I need to re-visit one of these centuries. Nice review, Amanda!

Ditto - great review. I read this last year and loved it too.

16. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (***)

In a word: unsettling. Lolita is beautifully written, full of lyrical prose and clever word play, and I commend Nabokov for the obvious skill and talent it took to write a novel in a language other than his native Russian. Having said all of that, no matter how beautiful, how inventive, how genius: I don't want to read about a pedophile, especially from the perspective of a pedophile. There's not a whole lot that I shy away from while reading (all sins are welcome here, for the sake of entertainment), but a pedophile who kidnaps the object of his affection and repeatedly rapes her during a cross country journey just isn't my bag, baby.

What makes the novel particularly terrifying is Humbert Humbert. To the outside world, he is a suave, sophisticated intellectual with movie star good looks--he's decidedly not someone one would look at and think, "Hmm . . . I bet he gets his jollies from playgrounds and little girls." I think many of us expect a pedophile's tendencies to somehow manifest themselves in the physical appearance: we expect the old man with a nervous twitch and a wanky eye (or the pop star with a high pitched giggle and a freakin' Ferris wheel on his property), but not someone who appears as civilized as Humbert. Admittedly, this is a stroke of genius on Nabokov's part as there are probably far more Humbert's in this world who slip under the radar than we would like to admit. Even worse, Humbert seems to displace the blame on the girls themselves. Oh, sure, there is the occasional reference to himself as a beast or an ape and he comes to mourn Lolita's lost childhood at the hands of his unwholesome desires, but far more often there's the view of the nymphettes as demonic--something otherworldly, tempting little femme fatales in boy shorts with scraped knees and poor Humbert is powerless against their siren song. In addition, he seems to justify or rationalize what he does because he's an intellectual with the capacity to appreciate the aesthetics and sublime pleasures of the young (he often compares himself to poets and artists who loved their young muses, as though this somehow justifies his actions). The man is sick and, while I think he knows it, he doesn't know how to handle it.

To all of this, I can only offer a highly intellectual "blech" or "yuck" and move on as quickly as possible to the next book.

#54: I really like Nabokov, but Lolita is one of his I have never had a desire to read. Your review did not make me change my mind.

I would definitely consider reading another of Nabokov's books as his prose style was very striking and original, but the subject matter of this one was too much for me. I don't think he was going for shock value or anything and I can see why this is an important book, but I read for escapism--and I've never wanted to escape into the mind of a pedophile.

I wanted to thank you for the bump on reading A Separate Peace. I finished it in the wee hours this morning and really liked it.

Oh, good! I teach that book every year and always enjoy it--I'm glad you liked it!

17. You Suck: A Love Story by Christopher Moore (***)

Funny, with some definitely quotable moments. However, for me, Moore's vampire series is the weakest of his work. That's not an insult--I still enjoy them and definitely snicker out loud in ways that make those around me pick up their things and stealthily move away from the crazy person, but they're a little too "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" sometimes in their humor. What impresses me with Moore is that, often among all of the wacky chaos, he can sneak up on you with a beautiful turn of phrase or moment that catches you off-guard. The scene where Jody feeds off a man with terminal cancer is beautiful and touching without being maudlin. Don't worry that there are too many moments like this, though, as there's plenty of "heinous fuckery most foul."

#58: Are there any of Knowles' other books that you would recommend?

I haven't read any of his other books, but recently found a companion piece to A Separate Peace entitled Peace Breaks Out. I think it's set at Devon school, but after World War II and may not revisit any of the same characters. It's on my to read list, but I haven't had an opportunity to track down a copy yet.

#61: My local library has that one, so I will give it a shot. Thanks, Amanda.

18. People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks (****)

Brooks' novel is a fictionalized account of the real Sarajevo Haggadah, a Jewish religious text noteworthy for its inclusion of an illuminated manuscript and for its survival through turmoil and the hostility towards Jews that has erupted time and again over the centuries in Europe and Eastern Europe. The novel is told from the perspective of Hanna Heath, an expert in book restoration, who is called in to restore the text for display. While working on the book, Hanna finds a few curiosities that she keeps and carefully labels: a butterfly wing, a small sample of some wine stained pages, salt crystals, a white hair, and notation of some missing decorative clasps. As Hanna investigates each of these items and their origins to gain insight into the Haggadah's past, the reader is presented the story of each noteworthy item in its own stand alone chapter (stories that Hanna herself can never learn as the evidence she finds only provides her with a basis for conjecture and hypothesis). Each story is unique and not necessarily connected to the others. While the novel has been compared to The Da Vinci Code, it's a far cry from Robert Langdon's action-adventure chase through Europe in pursuit of an explosive secret that might change religion as we know it. Instead, the pacing is slower, the pacing of a scholar motivated by the desire to simply know, even if definitive answers aren't available. And, though the novel explores the nature of Jewish/Muslim/Christian relationships throughout the ages, it doesn't seek to lecture about morality or about what one should (or should not) believe.

Despite how much I enjoyed it, I will admit that People of the Book had some flaws. The story of Hanna Heath and her strained relationship with her ultra-feminist, professional mother is cliched and not given enough room to become a realistic exploration of a such a complicated relationship. In addition, a few plot points are contrived, but I can forgive that simply because the book appealed to the book lover in me. Which is a nice segue way into . . . WHY I HATE THE KINDLE (and all other eReader devices).

First off, don't lecture me about how this is the future and I need to embrace it. If you own a Kindle, fine. Enjoy. I'm not suggesting that the privilege be taken away from you. However, I'll not be tempted by the siren song of fashionable technology. I love books. I love the way they feel. I like physically seeing the progress I've made as I turn page after page. I love the cover art. I love how books look on a shelf (in home decorating magazines, I delight in trying to identify the books on the shelves of well-appointed dens and studies). I like to select which books are going on vacation with me, agonizing over which ones might suit my mood. And, when I see someone reading a book, I will often become a creepy Peeping Tom of sorts as I try to catch a glimpse of the book cover so I can see what they're reading. I judge you by what book you're reading--if you're reading Neil Gaiman, I want to know you; conversely, if you're reading Twilight, I may be silently hoping that you get to join the undead (but in a more permanent dead sort of way). So much of that is lost with an eReader. And, after reading People of the Book, I'm aware of how much history can be lost. Not just the tiny fragments that get wedged into the bindings and between the pages, but the history of the people who owned and cherished the book. A world where physical books become obsolete and everyone has an entire library on one portable reading device is also a frightening possibility. How easy then for the next dictator to destroy our beloved texts. Smash one eReader and hundreds, thousands of books efficiently and permanently lost--far more efficient than book burnings. It's the impermanence of it all that scares me. Not only that, I think that obsession with books, recognizing and identifying with others because you notice the Christopher Moore font on the book cover or the tell-tell cover art of a Tim O'Brien paperback, helps create a reading community that we're connected to and a part of. How many chance encounters, spontaneous conversations, or just the simple nod of respect to complete strangers with whom we briefly feel connected when we realize we're reading the same author on the same bus--how many of those moments are lost when we're all carrying around the same reading device that indicates no individuality or reading preference to those around us? Will we feel as open to asking a complete stranger, "What are you reading?" Obviously, not all books are as important as the Haggadah, but I like to think that we all cherish our own quaint libraries and someday perhaps they will tell the world about who we were.

#63: I liked that one, too. I am glad you enjoyed it, Amanda.

19. Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard (****)

Bank robber Jack Foley didn't plan to take U.S. Marshal Karen Sisco hostage when he escaped from prison, it just sort of happened. It's one of those in the wrong place at the wrong time scenarios. And as so often happens when two people spend any quality time together in the cramped trunk of a car, especially if one has just spent part of the evening crawling through a tunnel carved out of the odiferous Everglades muck and the other is hiding a Sig Sauer between her thighs, love and attraction quickly blossoms. And they say romance is dead.

What follows is typical Elmore Leonard, which is to say amazing: snappy dialogue, complex characters, and a fast moving narrative. Leonard books aren't traditional crime/mystery novels. Sure, there's usually a crime and unsavory characters abound, but that's not the point of his books. Leonard's novels are character studies. He examines the lives of the not-so-bad-guys while simultaneously acknowledging that there is plenty of badass evil in the world. Take Jack for example. Leonard doesn't sugarcoat the fact that Jack is a criminal. He robs banks, he's good at what he does, and it's the only life he's ever known. He's no Robin Hood; his only interest is self-preservation and making easy money. He knows it's too late to go straight and try to live a normal life. However, does this automatically negate the fact that, in terms of personality, Jack is just a damn likable guy? No. And that's what draws Karen to him, despite her instincts. These two aren't idiots: they know there's no happy ending for them. There's a moment that they can choose to take advantage of or not. And does any of this negate the fact that Jack has gotten himself mixed up with some truly bad people? Nope.

This is one of those cases of "wish I had read the book before I saw the movie." I really hate it when this happens because I can't help but picture the actors as the characters, which robs me of the opportunity to "see" them for myself (which was particularly jarring in the case of Karen Sisco who, in the book, is slim, willowy, and blonde--in other words, the physical opposite of Jennifer Lopez, though Lopez was good in the role).

And in a continuation of Why I Hate the Kindle: I was sitting in Bass Pro Shop (not my favorite place in the world, but heaven on earth to my husband) in St. Louis and reading this book. A very nice lady sat down on the bench next to me and asked if I had seen the FX show Justified, which led to a very serious and intellectual literary conversation (okay, so maybe it was just about how hot Timothy Olyphant is in that role and what Leonard books the series is based on). My point being: would she have approached me if I had been sitting with my non-descript Kindle? Maybe, but maybe not.

I have never read anything by Elmore Leonard. I will have to look for some of his books. Thanks for the recommendation, Amanda.

20. City of Bones by Cassandra Clare (***)

Fifteen year old Clary is different: she can see the real world that's hidden from the rest of humanity. As such, she is the only witness to a murder in a hip nightclub and, when those responsible for this death find out, they have questions for her. Clary's world is turned upside down when she learns that what she witnessed was actually a demon-slaying at the hands of the Shadow Hunters, an elite group created by the Angel to rid the world of demons and protect the world of man. As Clary finds out the truth of her own connection to this world of faeries, vampires, werewolves, wizards, and demons, she comes to realize that she's not the person she always thought she was.

This is yet another entry into the teen fantasy category and, as such, you can practically see Clare going down the checklist for popular teen fantasy. Like other books in this genre, it's well over 400 pages. There's also a love triangle between a girl and two guys, one of whom is oh-so-right for her and one of whom is oh-so-wrong (and later we find out just how really, really, really wrong he is). There's a smorgasbord of supernatural creatures and enough twists and turns to qualify for a ride at Six Flags.

However, for the most part, the story takes some original twists and often veers away from the more predictable scenarios that tend to plague this type of book. There's also a dash of humor that was refreshing. The female character, while not as strong as Katniss in The Hunger Games and not as whiny as Bella, is a nice cross between the two, which makes her a little more realistic. However, the narrative could have been improved if the novel were around 300 pages in length and focused more on the shadow hunter storyline (but, no, we must save that for the next two books, as all teenage novels are now required to spawn a trifecta). There was so much filler that took away from the momentum of the storyline (the scene with the vampires comes to mind, a completely unnecessary chapter that seemed to only exist so the novel could include the popular Supernatural Flavor of the Week).

Despite these weaknesses, it was overall a pretty good book and I'm sure I'll read the sequels sometime in the future.

I have read the whole trilogy, Amanda, and think that the other two improve over book one.

That's what I've heard, so I have the other two sitting on my summer "to read" pile. For me, I always find that it's usually the first book in a trilogy that I find the weakest--I think I'm impatient with all the set-up and world-building because I want to get to the action! I did enjoy it and thought the world that she has created is an intriguing one, so I look forward to the next in the series.

I will be interested in seeing what you think of them when you have had a chance to read the other two.

I know exactly what you mean about being impatient with all the set-up!

21. Original Sins by Peg Kingman (*)

**This was an advance reader's copy that I received from Library Thing**

There will be spoilers. Be forewarned.

If it hadn't been for the fact that I had agreed to review this book in order to receive a free copy, I would have abandoned it long ago. Alas, I am a woman of my word when it comes to getting free stuff, so I trudged through all 400+ pages. I may have to alter this view and just stick to paying for the good stuff in the future.

Why did I volunteer to read this book, other than the fact that I received it ex gratia? The advertised premise intrigued me: "Why would a runaway Virginia slave—having built a rewarding life in the East Indies as a silk merchant—risk everything by returning to America in 1840, eighteen years after taking her freedom?" Hmm. I like stories about the East Indies, I like stories about the silk trade, and I like stories about repressed people making good. That was my line of thinking. However, did I get a story about the East Indies? about the silk trade? about repressed people making good? The answer to all of these is a resounding no. What did I get instead? A story about an insufferable and arrogant New England portrait painter who goes and plays Nancy Drew for 3/4 of the story at a Southern plantation. And now I shall, in list form for clarity of organization, enumerate the many reasons why I did not like this book.

Things I Did Not Enjoy About This Book:

1) The main character of Grace MacDonald Pollocke, the fiery, short-tempered, independent red-head (what I wouldn't give, just once, to meet a literary red-head who isn't a cliche; if all fictional blondes aren't dumb, then why are all red-heads tempestuous and feisty?) who is our protagonist. Grace was born in Scotland, but raised in India and China and now lives in America. She's a cultural mutt. Grace is a self-sufficient woman, an atheist, a political astute, and an abolitionist. Grace is something of a superwoman. There's nothing she can't do. If there's a wrong being done, she'll recognize it. If there's a clue overlooked, she'll find it. If there's a flaw in a line of reasoning, she'll mend it. She is so obnoxiously perfect that I just once wanted to see her fail. But, oh, no. We can't have that. In one scene, it's even revealed that she can read a daguerreotype of a document (which appears backwards) without the aid of a mirror, all thanks to an unexplained childhood accident (seriously, that's all it says--because of a childhood accident). Why couldn't the author have just let Grace go get a friggin' mirror like everyone else?

2) The novel relies heavily upon coincidence. Everything falls into place just perfectly for perfect Grace. The narrative feels contrived and loops back around so nicely to tidy everything up that I could never give myself over to the story. I was always too aware of it as something being "made". It's akin to seeing a beautiful item from a distance, but when you get up close you can see the seams or stitches holding it together. You can see every seam and every stitch here.

3) And another thing about Grace. Oh, how she hates America. We're a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites who know nothing of our founding documents or about proper grammar. Grace takes every opportunity to contemplate what a bunch of assholes we are, far inferior to every other culture that she's ever lived in. I'll admit that, yes, all of that probably was (and is) true to an extent, but all Americans (with the exception of Grace's husband and Miss Julia Grant, the beauty who would have been as ignorant as everyone else if she weren't marred by her lazy eye; being seen as undesirable has left her with oodles of time for independent thought) are portrayed as ignorant, religious zealots. But it's like having family members that you hate--you can bad mouth them, but woe upon anyone else who does. It just gets tiresome, this intolerance she has of everyone while at the same time bemoaning how intolerant Americans themselves are.

4) A lot of the book reads like a 2nd grader proudly saying "Look what I learned!" There is so much unnecessary historical detail crammed in that it bogs down the narrative. Much of it is also presented in the form of long-winded dialogue, because there's no legitimate way of making it part of the story without doing so; one character may espouse the merits of bleach for an entire page, as well as explain how the process works. It's very obvious that Kingman did her research, but what a wealth of information is included here. A historical fiction should have historical detail, yes, but it should be applied judiciously. It is, after all, still a fiction. If one wants to write about chemistry in 1800 or about the daguerreotype process, maybe one should consider writing a non-fiction book. Just saying.

5) In one scene, Grace plays a chess game against the plantation master. The master chooses the white chess pieces (which remind Grace of white supremacy) and Grace chooses the black chess pieces (which remind her of Cleopatra and the other dark races). Grace wins. Got symbolism?

6) The most fascinating character, Anibaddh Lyngdoh, is seldom on the page. This should have been her story. Anibaddh began as a slave known as "Annie Bad" for her unruly ways and was sent to Scotland with Miss Johnstone (who was sent to bring her brother-in-law's orphaned niece, Grace, back to America). When things go awry, Miss Johnstone kidnaps Grace, but it's Anibaddh who saves Grace and obtains her freedom when she runs away from her white master. Anibaddh later marries the Rajah of a West Indies nation and becomes a wealthy, educated, and independent woman. She returns to America to search for and buy the freedom of the mulatto daughter she had to leave behind. However, Anibaddh's story is subjugated to Grace's story as it is Grace who is sent to the plantation to find out if Anibaddh's daughter is still there. Why this is necessary is still a mystery to me--Anibaddh seems perfectly capable of finding her daughter on her own. As she tells Grace time and again, she's not ignorant. She has already taken proper legal steps for protecting herself from reenslavement while in America and for securing her daughter's freedom. In a novel whose main character is constantly reminding us that blacks should be equal to whites in this time period, it's rather ironic that we have to get the black woman's story through the white woman's.

7) The most intriguing part of the book is when Anibaddh's daughter is spirited away from the plantation where Grace is staying. Grace strongly suspects that Anibaddh arrived in the middle of the night and rescued her daughter (again, begging the question posed in #6--why was Grace even needed?) During the following days, the plantation crops are destroyed by a variety of caterpillars and silk worms (about which Anibaddh was an expert). Grace begins to think, while suffering qualms of loyalty for so doing, that Anibaddh unleashed a series of plagues upon the plantation as retribution for past sins. But did she? We never find out and there is the suggestion that it was all coincidence, which just takes an awesome premise and undermines it for fear that we might see Anibaddh as a bad person then. Damn it, I want to know for a fact that she went back there and wreaked havoc and I want to know how.

Things I Did Enjoy About This Book:

1) Finishing it.

22. Pronto by Elmore Leonard (*****)

Why did I love this book? Two words: Raylan Givens, my favorite kick ass modern day cowboy with a fondness for ice cream.

Pronto, however, is not exclusively Raylan's story, though he figures as a prominent character once he does arrive on the scene. This is actually the story of Harry Arno, a bookie who has decided that in one more year he's going to retire and go to Italy. Italy holds a special place in Harry's heart because he once shot a deserter there during World War II and it was there that he saw Ezra Pound (not once, but twice!). This leads to a peculiar obsession for a man like Harry--he's an expert on Ezra Pound (the English teacher in me loved this quirky little twist), can quote lines and reads Pound biographies despite the fact that he doesn't really understand his poetry (does anyone, really? And if you thought to yourself, "Why, yes, yes I do", then I think you're a damn liar). It's also amusing how his fixation on Pound affects those around him (his girlfriend, Joyce, memorizes all of the terrible things about ol' Ezra and even Raylan, after being assigned to escort Harry, goes to the library and checks out some of Pound's poetry, though he's puzzled by everything he reads and soon gives up). But I digress.

Harry's plan seems simple and obtainable, but, in true Leonard fashion, things go caddiwompas. The police want to bring down Harry's boss, Jimmy Cap, a 350 lbs. mob boss with a penchant for butterflies and sun tanning. So what do they do? They indirectly inform Jimmy that Harry's been skimming from him. The problem is that Harry has been skimming--for years, in fact. Jimmy Cap puts out a hit on Harry and, ciao, baby, Harry decides to move up his retirement date and leave the country. Raylan Givens is the U.S. Marshal who decides to go to Italy and try to save Harry from himself and from the hitman he knows has followed Harry.

I will readily admit to knowing nothing about the character of Raylan until watching Justified on FX. On the series, Raylan is a BAMF in a Stetson. That's played down a bit in the book, but I enjoyed it just the same. In the novel Raylan comes off as being a few bricks shy of a load, a good ol' boy in over his head, until you begin to realize that's the persona he's trying to project. It catches people off-guard and gives him an edge. No one knows exactly how to take him, but, make no mistake, Raylan is smarter than your average bear and is capable of extreme violence if necessary. If Raylan has a flaw it's that his sense of justice is so old school black and white that it creates a type of naiveté. In a world where words mean little, Raylan still expects a promise to mean something (after all, it's his willingness to take Harry Arno's word that allows Harry to elude Raylan's grasp twice and thwart his hopes of a promotion with the Marshals service). With his Old West code of ethics and hardscrabble Kentucky coal mining background, Raylan is a complex and entertaining character who makes for an intriguing juxtaposition with the world of Miami's crime syndicate. I'll definitely be reading Riding the Rap and tracking down the Raylan Givens' short stories to sustain me until the next season of Justified.

Things I Did Enjoy About This Book:

1) Finishing it.

LOL!!! ...well, that just about says it all.

#71: I daresday I do not need to worry about adding that one to the BlackHole!

So you picked up on the subtle suggestion that I didn't like the book? :-)

23. Dead to the World by Charlaine Harris (***)

After thoroughly enjoying Club Dead, I thought this one back-pedaled a little. When Sookie finds Eric Northman (the Viking vampire who owns the vampire bar Fangtasia in modern day Shreveport, Louisiana) on the side of the road, he seems dazed and disoriented. And with good reason--he's lost his memory. Gone is the smug, sarcastic, and arrogant Eric that Sookie's always known and, in his place, is a scared and dependent vampire. And that's part of why I didn't like this as much--Eric's just not as much fun in this one.

I won't wax profound over this novel. These books are the equivalent of cheesecake bites--they're addictive and you feel a little guilty for indulging in one because this is not great literature. In fact, the writing really is pretty terrible, but what she lacks in writing skill Harris makes up for in a vivid imagination and a savy for knowing how to keep us interested in the life of Sookie Stackhouse.

#75: If that is 'subtle', I would hate to think what 'in your face' sounds like!

24. The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue (****)

Feeling ignored and tired of his twin baby sisters getting all of the attention, young Henry Day decided to run away one day in the 1940's. Henry never returned home; in fact, he ceased to exist, but no one noticed. Why? Henry was abducted by the hobgoblins who lived in the nearby forest and a changeling was left in his place--a changeling who had been studying everything about Henry and knew how to mimic him so perfectly that no one could tell the difference. The novel follows the boy and the changeling for the next 30 to 40 years and tells their story in alternating first person narratives that, in the beginning, were a little confusing, but rightly so as both children are confused about their identities as they adapt to their new world. Their lives run parallel to one another and occasionally intersect to disastrous results.

A friend of mine described this book as "melancholy," and I think that's the perfect adjective to sum up my feelings after reading this book. For one, the changelings are not villains. They are all children who had their lives stolen from them and are now biding their time until they can reclaim what was forcefully and brutally taken from them. As a result, I feel sorry for both Aniday (the name given to Henry after he becomes one of the changelings) and Gustav (the changeling who takes Henry's place). Often in a fantasy, you get the joy of hating the evil-doer or the monster lurking in the dark, but here the evil is something nebulous and never clearly defined. I think this is partially due to the allegorical nature of the plot. In a sense, life is the monster in that it's a force of nature that can't be stopped or reasoned with. For each of us, our childhood must eventually end and, as children, we often can't wait to grow up and find out who and what we'll be. To do so, we have to cut ourselves away from the child we were so that we can embrace the adult we'll become. We leave a "changeling"--a collection of memories and childish desires and emotions that revisit us throughout our lives, but the child version of ourselves is like a stranger we once knew.

Also, as we get older, many of us look back on the innocence of childhood with a sense of nostalgia and think, if only upon occasion, "if only I could go back" or "wouldn't it be great to be a child forever?" The answer provided by Donohue is no; that the romantic view of childhood is just that--the tinge of rose-colored glasses. The changelings are not The Wild Boys; sure they are given to fun, frivolity, and mischief, but theirs is not a life to be envied. It is a constant struggle for survival against the harsh elements and the encroachment of man as civilization and suburbia threaten the wilderness where they were able to secret themselves away. They long to grow up and are trapped in tiny bodies while their emotional and mental maturity continues, unimpeded. They wait and they yearn and they think about all they will never have and all they will never be.

In presenting the changeling myth for modern times, Donohue has given us a haunting and beautiful examination of childhood and the search for identity. And he has done so in humanity’s most enduring medium: that of myth.

Wow -- what a interesting story, and a terrific review!

#78: I already have that one in the BlackHole. I will have to bump it up some!

25. The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness (*****)

In a world where we're bombarded with technology, our senses are often overwhelmed by the amount of noise in the world and it's becoming increasingly difficult to find true quiet anymore (especially since most of us just plug into our computer or iPod as soon as it is quiet). A constant stream of noise and images feed us information, prod us toward rampant consumerism, and entertain us. I've become increasingly aware that many of my students seem uncomfortable with simple quiet--always wanting some sort of noise to help them concentrate and focus. It's sad that our world has become one in which quiet is such a rare and undervalued commodity. And that, according to Patrick Ness, was the inspiration for The Knife of Never Letting Go.

Inventive and unlike anything I've ever read, The Knife of Never Letting Go is billed as a young adult dystopian but there's very little that's young adult about it other than a 13 year old protagonist. In fact, a lot of the language is violent, graphic, and brutal by young adult standards, but it has to be to capture the world that has been created by Ness.

Todd Hewitt is only days away from becoming a man by Prentisstown standards. Prentisstown is a town on New World, a planet that is being "settled" by the people of earth. What's unusual about Prentisstown, though, is that it's a town that consists entirely of men. The women were killed twelve years earlier when the Spackle, the indigenous alien race, utilized germ warfare in an attempt to win the war against the pioneers. The men, however, were not entirely immune to this germ. Instead of killing them, it made every man's inner-thoughts (both verbal and visual) visible to those around him. There are no secrets in the Noise. As a means of coping with the noise, some men turn to drink, others attempt to run away, and some kill themselves. Life here is bleak under the totalitarian rule of Mayor Prentiss and the bizarre radical teachings of the holy man, Aaron. As far as Todd knows, Prentisstown is the only place on the planet.

As Todd nears his 13th birthday, he finds something in the swamp that shouldn't exist--silence. Shortly after discovering this peculiarity and unable to find its source, he's forced to flee Prentisstown and go on the run with only his dog, a knapsack of supplies, a hunting knife, and a book written to him by his mother. To tell you the how and why of all of this would be to spoil it as it's the suspense that motivates the entire novel. Todd struggles for survival and begins to unravel the lies that he's been told his entire life. During his journey, he discovers the truth about New World and about Prentisstown.

The novel is told in first person stream of consciousness, which really works because it's like we as readers are able to "hear" Todd's Noise just as the other inhabitants of Prentisstown would. It also means that we learn as Todd learns and, as his mind shies away to avoid truths that he can't yet accept, information is sometimes withheld from us. In addition, some of the words are written in dialect to help better capture how Todd sounds. There are some unusual narrative techniques used throughout, such as a different font being used to indicate the Noise of different individuals and animals (that's right--even animals have Noise; I particularly enjoyed the depiction of Todd's dog Manchee) as Todd encounters them. Instead of finding them gimmicky, I thought it was a very effective way of visually demonstrating the intrusion of other people's thoughts into one's own.

In some ways, the novel reminded me of the television series Firefly, but only in that these space travelers are the new pioneers. While they have a lot of new technology, the struggle for survival is a very real one and never certain. The novel ends with one hell of a cliffhanger and I find myself for the first time in a long time wanting to dive right into the second novel of the series.

#81: I just bought that one recently. I really must bump it up!

I hope you like it--I can't wait to get the second one (and the third one will be released this fall)!

26. The House on Oyster Creek (***)

**This is an advance reading copy provided by Library Thing**

Love can cause us to do some really dumb shit. Take Charlotte for example. Emotional, naive, and needy Charlotte fell in love with an idea--the romantic notion that she could somehow emotionally connect with and save Henry Tradescombe, the distant, reclusive, excessively liberal, and aggressive intellectual of some noted repute as a journalist. In return, Charlotte would be sculpted and molded by Henry, who is twenty years her senior, and gain entree into the world of the New York intellectual elite. What she gets instead is a petulant and sadistic husband who worries more about global warming, the Bush administration, and quoting obscure poets than he does about his own wife or daughter. Of course, Charlotte doesn't come to realize this until years later. She is resigned to her fate, however, because she at least has her four year old daughter, Fiona, and a life that, however emotionally starved it may be, is one of comfortable wealth and reputation that many would envy.

Charlotte's life is thrown into upheaval, however, when Henry inherits his family estate on Cape Cod and Charlotte, in a sudden act of defiance against Henry's neglect, takes the reins and moves the family to the house of Henry's childhood. While adapting to life on the New England coast, Charlotte meets Darryl Stead, an oyster farmer and jack of all trades who--you guessed it--"completes her." Now Charlotte is torn between her obligation to her marriage and her longing for Darryl. To complicate matters, by selling off a piece of the property to a wealthy prick, she may have single-handedly destroyed the entire economic system upon which Darryl and the other oyster farmers depend. Ain't love grand?

Some things I liked:

1) Schmidt perfectly captures the distrust of newcomers (especially of a higher socio-economic class) inherent in rural small-town America. The town of Wellfleet closes ranks against Charlotte when it becomes evident that she wants to be part of the community, believing that her romantic notion of pastoral life is just a whim that she can indulge in because her wealth allows her to try on lifestyles as easily as trying on designer clothing.

2) The characters are, for the most part, realistic. There were some stereotyped town eccentrics, but Schmidt does an excellent job of portraying the inner-life of a woman who worries that she may have made the wrong choices in life and it may be too late to do anything about that without destroying the web of relationships that are delicately attached to her. Her struggle between what's right for her family and what's right for her is real and authentic. I can even see how she would fall for Henry, ass though he is. Who hasn't had the "crush on teacher" syndrome, however fleetingly? It's just that most of us have these crushes while we're still in high school and are thus jailbait to the object of our affection (which tends to effectively thwart any romantic entanglements).

3) This is a nice "slice of life" book that avoids depicting life on Cape Cod as quaint and idealistic. Schmidt shows the back-breaking labor, the desperation, and the poverty of families just trying to make ends meet. These are the people who are left behind everytime the tourist season ends to face the bleak realities of winter and survival. It was also interesting to read about life in a New England fishing community, a place to which I have never been, and Schmidt provides just the right amount of detail in this respect.

4) The novel avoids the cliched ending that I thought it was careening toward and had a more mature, realistic resolution that I expected. That's all I'll say other than I thought the ending was perfect and satisfying.

Some things I didn't like:

1) Despite all her protestations to the contrary, I saw Charlotte's attraction to Darryl as a repeat of what had happened years earlier with Henry. Again, Charlotte is in love with the idea more than the man; this time she's in love with the hard-working, salt-of-the-earth, brawny shouldered working class man who will take her away from her stilted marriage and awaken passion in her that she's never known (okay, it doesn't say that, but I was getting strong whiffs of this stank with or without it being directly stated). Darryl is damaged goods and Charlotte has set herself up to once again save the man who can't be saved--which she spends the better half of the novel doing. To which I could only shake my head and think, "Stupid girl."

2) Some disjointed leaps in time and sudden, unexpected switches in the point of view made it somewhat confusing. Not overly so, but just enough to irritate the piss out of me as I tried to pick up the thread of the narrative once again.

3) Every time Charlotte and Darryl had one of their heart-to-heart talks, the dialogue read like a trite script submitted to Lifetime. For your groaning pleasure:

"I just want to come over there and drag you up the stairs and . . . make love to you. . . . " He spoke so roughly she likely should have been frightened, but naturally she was thrilled.

"I want you just as badly! I think about you all the time. I think, if we'd met each other when we were younger . . . but . . . "

"If you knew me back then you'd have spit in my face."

"I'd have made love to you like it was my religion."

Puke, buzzard, puke. Nothing triggers my gag reflex like this kind of romantic nonsense. (Granted, my idea of romance is a little along the lines of Ash in Army of Darkness saying "Gimme some sugar, baby" while revving up the chainsaw that has replaced his arm. But I digress.)

Overall, this is a quick, enjoyable read when Charlotte and Darryl aren't trading sweet nothings. Because Schmidt has done so many other things so well in the novel, I'm willing to forgive that.

#84: Skipping that one, although as usual, I enjoyed your review, Amanda.

It's not something that I would have picked up in the bookstore, but since I was getting it for free I thought it would be interesting to read about the New England towns that depend on the sea for their livelihood. In that respect, it didn't disappoint. However, it wasn't the type of novel that's going to stick with me and I probably could have lived a long, happy literary life without having read it.

#86: Well, if nothing else, you did get to learn something about New England. Too bad the book was not better though.

27. The Ethical Assassin by David Liss (****)

I had to follow up The House on Oyster Creek with something gritty, and this certainly was what the doctor ordered.

Set in the 1980's, Lem Altick has just graduated high school and desires nothing more than to escape the cultural vaccum that is Florida by going to college at Columbia. That Lem is actually a nice guy is pretty surprising given the hand that life has dealt him so far: a deadbeat dad who stopped calling ages ago, a mother so zoned out on pills that she naps all day and only awakens to prepare meals and clean house, and a verbally abusive step-father who has reneged on his promise to help pay for Lem to attend an Ivy league college. Desperate to make money quickly so he can pay his tuition, Lem becomes a door-to-door encyclopedia salesman. If he can just get through this summer, then he might be able to escape his life. But life isn't finished screwing with him yet, not by a longshot.

Lem's carefully constructed plan for his future begins to fall apart when an assassin walks into the trailer where Lem is about to close his last encyclopedia sale for the day. Lem watches in horror as the trailer's occupants, Karen and the aptly nicknamed Bastard, are shot in the head. Now a witness to a murder for which he may be blamed, Lem finds himself mixed up in a tangled criminal web that includes an on-the-wagon pedophile, a rapist town cop, a bikini-clad Siamese twin, and an assassin who is, of all things, ethical and the only person Lem can trust. As Lem and the assassin navigate this world of drugs and animal cruelty, Lem learns more about who he is and what he's capable of than most people learn in a lifetime.

This is messed up stuff and Liss is definitely treading on ground traditionally covered by Carl Hiaasen or Elmore Leonard, so it's no surprise that I enjoyed it. There's a dark comic streak throughout the novel and several witty one-liners (and not so witty; I readily admit that my favorite line may have been "It smelled like the shit that shit shits out its asshole"--sophistication is never an adjective to which I've laid claim). In the beginning of the novel, it's a bit confusing as it changes from Lem's 1st person point of view and moves to a 3rd person examination of some of the other key players, but if you just let yourself give into it, Liss is giving background about characters that will be prominent later. He wraps everything up and doesn't leave a loaded gun in the corner unless someone's going to blow someone else's ass off with it. And that's really all I expect from an author.

#88: That does not sound like one for me, but great review as usual, Amanda!

>88 snat:: I enjoyed that one quite a bit...the dark humor kept me totally involved in the story. I really hope there are some sequels.

>89 alcottacre:. As always, thank you for the compliment! I always think I have nothing to say until I sit down to write a review. :)

>90 TadAD:. This was perfect for me as I love black humor and a witty rapport between characters. I was even more impressed when I went to look up other books by David Liss and found that this was very far afield from his usual fare. A sequel really would be wonderful. I would love to know what eventually happened to Lem.

28. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (****)

While stranded in a Barnes and Noble for a couple of hours without the book I was currently reading, I started The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo mainly to see what all the fuss was about. I was pretty certain that I wasn't going to like it as I'm generally not a big mystery fan, but saw this as an opportunity to at least have a passing acquaintance with this cultural phenomenon. I was hooked by page 65. Why? Two words: Lisbeth Salander. And why was I so fascinated by Lisbeth? Because she is 4' 11", 90 lbs. soaking wet, and she can still kick your ass.

The plot is fairly convoluted and, in the interest of maintaining suspense, I won't provide a huge plot summary. Basically, journalist Mikael Blomkvist is hired by Henrik Vanger, a wealthy but aging Swedish industry magnate, to find out the truth behind how his niece, Harriet Vanger, disappeared decades earlier. Reeling from a set of professional setbacks, Mikael accepts the case though he has little hope of unearthing any new evidence about Harriet's likely murder. As the novel progresses, he hires Lisbeth Salander to help him as he begins to unravel the truth behind Harriet's disappearance and stumbles upon several dark secrets hidden by the wealthy Vanger family.

As previously mentioned, I avoid mysteries because the "whodunit" aspect is usually unrewarding to me. As the daughter of a mother who could, 15 minutes into a suspense movie, point to a character, and off-handedly say, "He did it," I'm fairly adept at figuring it out before the end. But Larsson threw me; I smugly thought I knew who did it, Larsson let me believe I was right (even including a lengthy scene which I thought was building to the denouement), and then--WTF?!?--a twist I never saw coming. I was right, but at the same time was not right. Well played, Mr. Larsson. I thoroughly enjoyed being caught off-guard.

In addition, he had strong and compelling characters in the form of Blomkvist and Salander. Blomkvist is an admirable, yet flawed man (though they are, for the most part, flaws we can easily forgive and make him seem all the more human; most derive from the fact that his passion for his job supersedes what should be more important human relationships). Lisbeth Salander, however, is the real driving force in the novel. I probably wouldn't have made it through the first few chapters of the novel if I weren't eagerly awaiting my next peek at Salander. I've read in other reviews, and agree, that Salander is like a character from a Tarantino movie. She is over-the-top awesome, but that's what is so enjoyable about her. Pierced and tattooed, antisocial, and seemingly emotionless, we learn why Salander is the way she is. Salander is the product of a state-run system that mislabeled her mental state early on; she is the monster created when no one wants to take the time or initiative to properly diagnose an emotionally or mentally troubled individual. Despite what should have been obvious setbacks, Salander is a genius but understandably has some serious authority issues. She is at once a fascinating, yet troubling character that I look forward to reading more about in Larsson's sequels.

#92: I am surprised that you thought you would not like the Larsson books, Amanda, but glad you enjoyed the first one after all!

29. The Dust of 100 Dogs by A. S. King (****)

Young Emer Morrisey has a loving family and a happy childhood until her parents are brutally killed and her village destroyed during Cromwell's invasion of Ireland. From that point on, Emer's life is one disappointment after another: poverty, arranged marriage, abusive uncle, hunger, imprisonment, and rape. It's no wonder that she loses hope in goodness and kindness and, when fate brings her to the pirate haven of Tortuga, she decides to take from others as viciously as life has taken from her. That's right--Emer is kicking ass and taking names as the captain of her own pirate ship and it's not long before she manages to make a name for herself as one of the most cunning and bloodthirsty pirates to ever sail the seven seas. When Emer crosses the wrong man, she is killed and cursed with "The Dust of 100 Dogs," meaning that she will be reincarnated 100 times as a dog before finally being reincarnated as a human being and able to take care of unfinished business.

The novel begins with the birth of Saffron Adams, the human reincarnation of Emer after she has endured several canine lifetimes. Saffron is her own person, yet still has all of Emer's memories and knowledge. As Saffron searches for the treasure Emer was able to bury before her death, the novel deftly switches from past to present as we learn of Emer's past and Saffron's future. If all of this sounds bizarre and confusing, well, it is, but in a good way. The novel maintains suspense and draws all of the storylines together to a satisfactory conclusion. The one expectation that wasn't met for me is that we learn very little about Emer's dog lives; instead, the chapters are interspersed with short vignettes about what Emer the dog learned about human nature from various owners in various time periods. This was probably a smart move on the part of King as reading about the lives of 100 dogs, while intriguing, could become pretty tedious somewhere around the third Milkbone treat given, leg humped, or fire hydrant peed upon.

In reading other reviews, many readers were shocked by the brutality and the sexuality in the book (which I actually found to be pretty tame). Um, yeah, I think that it could be because it's a FREAKIN' PIRATE book and not a Disney theme park ride. Others seemed to be shocked to find such content in a young adult book, but I have no such worries. I'm sure teenagers have already figured out the sex thing, yeah? And they've probably done it from unsupervised watching of cable television and unmonitored Internet usage their parents make accessible. And it's a hell of a lot better than reading three books of Bella lusting after sparkling Edward's cold, marble . . . well, you know. (*removes self from soapbox and drags it back to the corner*)

So, yes, good book, definitely enjoyed it, and suffered no negative side effects other than a desire to walk around saying, "Arrrggghhh, me matey" to everyone I met for a week.

30. A Separate Peace by John Knowles (****)

(This is a yearly re-read for the AP English class that I teach, so I'll just post my prior review)

I recently re-read this book for the AP class that I'm teaching and I was reminded of what a deceptively simple book this appears to be on the surface. Set in an all boys prep school during WWII, A Separate Peace explores how the encroaching reality of war affects the psychological and social development of all the boys at the school. The poignant irony of providing these young men with a classics based education at a prestigious school just to be sent into war to kill and be killed effectively shows how, before they even make it to the battlefield, the war cripples them--for one physically, for the others psychologically. The book focuses on the relationship between Finny, the popular and perfect athlete, and Gene, the intelligent and dangerously introspective one. Gene's all-consuming envy toward Finny causes him to shake the tree limb both are standing in; Finny falls to the ground and breaks his leg. However, this is a metaphor for how Gene's betrayal of the friendship has broken Finny.

Effective use is made of Finny as a Christ figure and we witness as Gene grows psychologically in response to the realization that he has destroyed Finny. Gene comes to realize that the real enemy is the enemy within and, through Finny, Gene finds a form of salvation from his dark, neurotic tendencies.

Knowles does so much with setting and imagery in the book that I pick up on something new every time I read it.

31. The Terror by Dan Simmons (*)

September 7, 2010: I don't want to talk about it right now. It's too soon and the pain is still too fresh. I shall review on another day.

September 17, 2010: It's been well over a week since my encounter with The Terror and the thought of writing a review still exhausts me, but here it goes.

I have read many glowing reviews of The Terror. That is, in fact, why I bought it. I mean, check out this kick ass plot:

Two British ships, the Terror and the Erebus, are frozen in the polar sea for years, waiting in vain for a summer thaw. This is, of course, based upon the doomed Franklin expedition, so we have some serious history going on here. Now, add to that a dash of the supernatural--something is out there on the ice. It terrorizes the men, seeming to materialize from nowhere. It's three times the size of a polar bear and has the vicious, bloodthirsty nature of a predator, as well as the keen intelligence of a man. It's like a giant cat toying with two ships as if they were terrified mice in a corner. There's nowhere to go, guns don't faze the the thing the men dub "The Terror", and, now, the food supply is running out.

That's some frightening shit. It's the arctic. That alone is frightening. It can drive a man insane. It's the nothingness. The whiteness. The endless-ness. Howard Moon and Vince Noir knew not to take the tundra lightly:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9IjGNJPNy...

And that's part of what ruined the book in the beginning. All I could think as I read the first few chapters was "Ice floe, nowhere to go." I think that might have taken away from the tone a little bit.

But here are some other more text-based reasons for the seething black pit of hatred that I have for this book:

a) History or supernatural, Simmons needs to pick a side, because the two storylines always seemed to run parallel to one another and never quite came together. It was like, "Okay, for 100 pages, I'm going to have the men fearing for their lives as this thing attacks them. I'm going to build tension and suspense and have my readers empathetically shitting down both legs! And then I'm going to flashback for 50 pages to boring nautical talk amongst stuffy British types before the expedition and then spend 150 pages talking about Welsh Wigs and Goldner food tins and building sledges and maybe I'll even talk about buggering, but no mention whatsoever of the monster for another 50 pages!" Simmons was at his best when describing the encounters between the men and the thing on the ice, but these moments were so few and far between that I just got to the point where I didn't care anymore.

b) Too much historical minutiae. The book should have been 300 pages shorter. There were entire sections that I didn't feel added anything to the narrative. I like my history how I like my men: short and concise.

c) Scurvy is some wicked bad shite. A slow death by scurvy is undoubtedly one of the worst ways to die. But do you know what's worse? A slow death by reading endless accounts of the symptoms of scurvy.

d) There are no likeable characters. In fact, there is little to differentiate one man from another. If you left out the dialogue tags, it would have sounded like one man having a conversation with himself. The only character that I like is Pangle, who only appears in a chapter or two of this 766 page behemoth.

e) I was really pissed when I finally found out what the thing was. The main reason? THAT'S what I wanted to read more about. And it took roughly 700 pages to get to a point where I was actually interested and intrigued and it cut me off.

There were some bright spots. When Simmons wrote about the thing attacking the men, leaving bait for them and taunting them, he evoked moments that were truly terrifying and suspenseful. However, there just weren't enough of them. Sure, the attempts to survive against cold, hunger, and disease should have been compelling stuff, but they made for anemic reading when pitted against a terrifying adversary without name nor shape. Also, the chapter in which the men throw a carnivale and erect tents that mirror the rooms in Edgar Allan Poe's The Masque of the Red Death was admittedly brilliant.

When it comes right down to it, though, The Mighty Boosh did a far superior job of capturing the terror of the arctic. When Howard admonishes Vince that "The arctic is no respecter of fashion," I still get chills. Alas, the same cannot be said of my reaction to The Terror.

#94: I will be on the lookout for that one.

#95: I read that one earlier this year thanks to your review.

#96: Sorry you did not like The Terror more, Amanda. I hope your next book is a better one for you!

Thanks! The book I'm reading now is much better--I'm reading Mockingjay and loving it so far!

Good! I am going to get to that one some time soon too.

32. It's a Book by Lane Smith (*****)

Dear Amazon Kindle,

Do you know what else is portable? Do you know what else allows me to read anywhere at any given time? Do you know what else I can read on a beach or in any light? Do you know what else has crisp black and white contrast for easy reading? Do you know what else I can fit in my purse? Do you? Do you?

A book.

I'm not a technology curmudgeon (although my use of the word "curmudgeon" alone probably indicates that I'm well on my doddering way into old people-ville). There have been many technological advances of which I'm quite fond--just try and pry my iPod out of my cold dead hand. However, when it comes to technology, I see two categories: 1) technology that saves time and adds to the quality of my life and 2) status technology. For the most part, I think e-readers and their ilk fall into status technology. It screams "hey, look at me and my nifty gadget." Sure you can download several books within seconds, but going to a bookstore and browsing through the selections with a cuppa joe in my hand is one of my favorite things. I like walking around, basket on my arm, adding to it any item that catches my fancy. I like agonizing over which of my carefully selected books will be going home with me as I weigh my wants against what my meager bank account will allow me to have. I love the feel of books, the smell of books, the covers of books. I love turning pages. I love seeing what others are reading.

And that's why I love It's a Book. In a world of techno-abundance, it reminds the jackasses of the world that the book is already perfection.

#100: I love the feel of books, the smell of books and the covers of books too, Amanda, but I also love my Nook. It will never replace print books for me, but it does help me fill in the gaps of books I want to read that my local library does not have.

And I certainly respect everyone's right to own one and concede that there are benefits. However, I worry that we're going down the road of no return to the biblio-apocalypse. I wonder if a few generations from now people will forget the joy of books and if print texts will be harder and harder to find. Fortunately, I'm usually wrong about such things. :)

33. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins (****)

It looks as though the reading public is split pretty evenly on this one. However, I thought it was a fitting end to one of the best young adult series out there (and that is not a compliment to be taken lightly as I only love about 1/4 of the young adult books I read).

The character of Katniss has evolved throughout the books and I think some are disappointed because she's not as bad ass as she was in the beginning of the trilogy. However, I think this is fitting. In the first book, Katniss is a somewhat introverted, anti-social character who only volunteers for the Hunger Games to save her sister, Prim, from being chosen. Katniss never chooses to be a Big Damn Hero. Her first and foremost priority is the survival of her family. By the time we reach the end of the trilogy, Katniss has been through the mental, emotional, and physical trauma of the Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell, and the sadistic threats of President Snow. Like a soldier who has seen the worst humanity has to offer, both within the self and within others, Katniss is suffering from PTSD. She's not as assured and ruthless and, as the politics of both sides ramp up, she's no longer certain as to who she can trust.

At the hands of the rebels, Katniss is reduced to an ineffective emblem, a rallying point around which the rebellion hopes to win over the general populace. As the Mockingjay, Katniss is removed from real combat and reduced to little more than an ad campaign--but one that is effective. That Katniss has been weakened by the horrific events in her life and by her use as a pawn makes her relatable. Everyone has a breaking point and it may be that Katniss has reached hers.

While Katniss has suffered, Peeta has been completely broken. Tortured by President Snow, Peeta now associates Katniss with danger and as a threat to his life. This conflict adds an interesting angle to the relationship that was developing between them in Catching Fire. I will say no more as the love triangle between Katniss, Gale, and Peeta provides much of the novel's suspense.

The ending was pitch-perfect, but I won't say more than that as it, too, may ruin the experience for many readers. There is violence and bloodshed, but this is ultimately a book about the ruthlessness that exists hand-in-hand with absolute power. The epilogue is also beautifully written and I think nicely ties up the loose ends to the reader's satisfaction

In The Hunger Games Triology, Collins has created a series of books that is well-written, inventive, and intelligent--something we see too little of in the young adult section of any bookstore.

#102: I hope you are wrong too, but am afraid you are not. I hate to see the death of books in print.

34. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston (*****)

(Just re-read for the third time, so I'll go with my review from last year)

Another book that I recently re-read that stands up well to a second reading. Hurston's novel, unlike many classics, is as impressive and as relevant today as it was when written.

Hurston's story of Janie, a fair-skinned black woman caught in the time period between the end of slavery and the civil rights movement, is the first woman in her family who has the opportunity to be defined as something other than property. Janie is unable to define herself or seek out the independence for which she longs; however, this is not due to the racism or prejudices of white society (in fact, there isn't a prominent white character in the book). Instead, Hurston takes a fascinating look at intraracial racism. Janie's obvious "whiteness" sets her apart from the black community. At first, she's envied for her pretty hand-me-down dresses and hair ribbons that she obtains from the kind white family for which her grandmother works. Coupled with her straight hair (which hangs down to her waist), her exquisite beauty, and her light skin, she defies color categorization and leaves the question of "What is black?" lacking a definite answer. Later, she's an outcast because her second husband's "big voice" and quest for power in the all black community of Eatonville comes to be identified with the white masters of days gone by, and Janie comes to be seen in the role of the Southern plantation "mistress."

In addition, Hurston explores the repression of women in a patriarchal society. Janie's grandmother tells her that the black woman is the "mule of the world," the lowest of the low. Janie finds this to be true in her first two marriages, as she is treated like property by Logan Killicks and is later objectified by Jody Starks. It isn't until she meets Tea Cake, a man half her age, that Janie begins to live life on her own terms and not by the definition her man has set forth for her.

Whether you like the novel or not, it's importance to African-American and feminist literature is undeniable.

#105: I loved that one! I read it for the first time last year. I am glad to see that it holds up for re-reads.

#106: I teach it every year for my senior level AP English class and I have a policy of re-reading the book along with them, no matter how many times I've read it. So far I've found that Janie's story gets better with every reading!

35. The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness (****)

I'll be back with a review at a later date. Busy, busy, busy!

#108: Ack! I still have not read the first book in the series!

I look forward to your review, Amanda.

35. The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness (****)

**Some spoilers for those who have not read the first book**

I just wrote an exhausting review of this novel, but Goodreads screwed me and lost the entire thing. Pissed does not even begin to cover what I feel right now. All of that brilliance, now lost to the cyberspace void forever.

I didn't so much read the first book in this series, The Knife of Never Letting Go, as inhaled it. Original and disturbing, Ness is not afraid to take some risks as he tells the story of Todd Hewitt, a boy about to become a man in Prentisstown--a town inhabited only by men. As we read, we find out that Todd lives on a colony planet so distant from Earth that it takes decades to get there. Upon arrival, the first colonists went to war with the indigenous inhabitants, the Spackle. In a desperate effort to defeat the invaders, the Spackle release a germ that kills all of the women. The men survive, but with a strange side-effect: they can hear each other's internal monologue. At least this is the story Todd was always told, but when he discovers a real girl in the swamp Todd is forced to flee for his life and learns that everything he thought was true is a lie.

The Ask and the Answer picks up where The Knife of Never Letting Go left off. Todd and Viola, whose uneasy truce forged a devoted friendship, are separated when Mayor Prentiss (the antagonist from the first novel) names himself President, quarantines the women from the men, and establishes martial law in New Prentisstown. As Mayor Prentiss exerts his power, a female rebel force known as the Answer rises against him, and Viola finds herself swept up into the Answer. Meanwhile, Todd is forced to do President Prentiss' bidding in order to keep Viola safe. He's put in charge of managing the enslaved Spackle workforce being used to build the New Prentisstown envisioned by the President.

What is so fascinating about the novel is how Ness explores the brainwashing and mind games employed by each side as they use Viola and Todd as expendable pawns in their quest for victory. Viola struggles with the terroristic tactics used by the Answer against innocent civilians in the name of their cause, while Todd is forced to face his shame in killing a Spackle in the first novel as he witnesses the dehumanizing treatment of the thinking and feeling alien race. As Viola and Todd try to navigate the labyrinthine truths, loyalties, and beliefs that are relics from a war that occurred before either of them were born, they begin to question themselves and their trust in each other. This psychological complexity is heightened by the fact that the reader still isn’t sure who the bad guys and who the good guys are—if, in fact, there are any good guys. There are no easy answers and Ness forces readers to think through the complex issues of war, justifiable violence, and racism.

I still need to read the first book! I have to find where I put it first though!

36. The Help by Kathryn Stockett (***)

I liked this book. I really did. But here's the problem: I wanted to LOVE it. And, maybe, if I had read it before all of the hype, I would have. As it stands, I can only say that it was entertaining, but unexceptional.

Set in Mississippi circa the 1960's, the story focuses on three women: Skeeter, a white woman from a wealthy family who dreams of becoming a writer; Abileen, an intelligent black maid (with a closet love of reading and writing) who happens to work for one of Skeeter's friends; and Minny, a spitfire who has trouble keeping her mouth in check around the white women for whom she works, putting her at odds with another of Skeeter's friends. The narrative is told, in alternating points of view, by these three women who begin meeting in secret to write an anonymous book about what it's like to work as a black maid in Mississippi.

The book is funny, never veering too far off into heart-warming territory, and captures the dividing lines between race and class in the South. The characters are likable and the message is clear, but not overly didactic. And yet, there were a few things that bugged me enough to keep me from giving it a 4 star:

A) Other than a half-hearted stab at dialect, there's little to differentiate the voices of these three women. They have radically different backgrounds and personalities, but these differences seem "told" rather than "shown" in a truly distinctive voice for each character.

B) The character of Skeeter goes through a transformation toward the end of the book and becomes a hippie. The catalyst: hearing Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changing" and buying a mini-skirt. That seemed a sloppy and shorthand way of communicating a radical shift in values and perspectives. As a result, I just couldn't buy what Stockett was selling in terms of Skeeter.

C) What happened to the naked guy that Celia beat the holy living shit out of? Apparently the police never found him, despite the fact that he was last seen running through the woods with an unhinged jaw and what was apparently quite an impressive member in his hand. Bizarre.

D) Despite the fact that all of this took place during a particularly race-charged time period when blacks were beaten, lynched, etc. for crossing racial barriers, you never really feel like these women are in palpable danger. Even toward the end, things work out a little too neatly for them. Stockett pulled her punches, though she is to be commended for writing about the violence done to others during that time period.

Final analysis: I liked it, I would recommend it, and I would read another of her books. I just hope that I get to it before I develop any preconceived notions of what to expect.

37. The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien (*****)

(Another re-read for this year and a re-post of my previous review)

Awestruck may be the best way to describe how I felt upon reading this book the first time. So how did I feel upon reading it the second time? I just want to bow at Tim O'Brien's feet while muttering a Wayne's World style "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy."

Using non-linear narrative and stringing together seemingly unrelated stories into one ultimately cohesive work, O'Brien achieves something that traditional narrative never could: his work reflects the emotional truth of what it was like to be a soldier in Vietnam and to be a veteran still living with memories that, when triggered, seem as real and visceral as if they were happening in the present. This is memoir, metafiction, magical realism, and a whole grab bag of other literary genres rolled into one. O'Brien himself admits that we as readers may not know which of the stories are "happening-truth" (what objectively happened) and which of the stories are "story-truth" (stories that may not have happened but because they strike the right emotional chord are more valid than what really happened). However, the reader should not feel manipulated by this storytelling technique as it seeks to forge a connection between those who were there and those who were not; it does not seek to tell what happened, but to make you feel what it was like to be there. The book is nothing short of a masterpiece.

38. The Shallows What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr (****)

For the last few years, I've noticed that I seem to have developed a form of ADD. This was always the most apparent during the first few weeks of summer vacation when I would start and stop projects with lightning speed, when I couldn't sit still to read a book or watch a movie all the way through, when I couldn't clean my house all in one day, when I couldn't keep my mind on just one train of thought. As someone who had always lived for structure, who craved the routine and the predictable, who always finished one task completely and thoroughly before moving on to another, this was quite alarming to me. I blamed teaching. My mind had adapted to the need to deliver content, monitor student behavior, answer questions, pass out papers, remind everyone for the umpteenth time that classwork is to be turned in to the orange basket, run the PowerPoint, avoid saying anything that might get me fired (“do not tell little Johnny that there is such a thing as a stupid question and he just asked it”)--and the need to do so all at once. Turns out there may be something to my theory. And it turns out that this manner of thinking, the need to hyper-multitask, may be exacerbated by the rise of technology as a conduit to information. It’s comforting to know that, if I’m becoming stupid, it’s not entirely my fault.

In The Shallows, Nicholas Carr questions the impact technology has upon our lives. What’s most important here is that Carr is in no way advocating a return to the pre-technology era. He admits that much good has been done and will be done by technology, and he fesses up to loving and relying on technology himself. However, he examines the idea of neuroplasticity—the idea that the brain rewires itself to adapt to the stimuli it encounters. During the age of the book, the brain had to rewire itself to be able to focus for long periods of time upon text and to think about that text deeply. This didn’t happen all at once, but was accelerated as books became more readily available to a more widely educated public. Our minds became accustomed to taking in information if not rapidly, then intensely as our brains had time to ruminate on and process the information they encountered. The result was a deep thinking, literate individual. People became experts in specific areas and the keepers of knowledge associated with their particular field of specialty. They were responsible for filtering, critiquing, and judging the quality of new knowledge which had to be “vetted” before it could be accepted as accurate and true.

So what have we sacrificed in this age of point and click? We’re losing the idea of specialization, which is one of the more frightening aspects to me. Any idiot with access to a keyboard and an Internet connection can post anything they want online and it’s accepted as truth. A society that becomes accustomed to finding any and all information online may never learn anything deeply (and what will happen when Skynet becomes self-aware, takes over, and the machines rise against us, eh?) Instead, people will have little pockets of knowledge supplemented by what they can find online. Also, I have to wonder how many innovations and ideas were serendipitously created when answers weren’t easy to find. When an answer can be found through a quick web search, the deep thinking that may lead to phenomenal breakthroughs and intense creativity may be forfeited. In addition, our attention spans are suffering. We bounce from hyperlink to hyperlink, chasing new pieces of information which we scan quickly and, because we read over it so quickly, it’s never stored in our long-term memory. The next time we need that information we’ll have to log back on and find it again instead of relying on our ability to recall it.

Carr’s book is not the ramblings of an ill-informed radical. This book is well-researched and Carr traces how the human brain has evolved throughout history, including pre-technology, to show that neuroplasticity has allowed us to adapt to our ever-changing environments. There’s hard science here as well. If you don’t agree with Carr’s thesis by the end, there’s no denying that he’s done his homework.

I love technology and I think Nicholas Carr does, too. Carr’s book is not an indictment of technology, but rather a call for the public to be cognizant of the ways in which technology is affecting us—both the good and the bad. Our society has so quickly and readily embraced technology that we haven’t thought about the potential long-term tradeoffs. When we think about it and realize, “Hey, wait a minute. This food I’ve planted on Farmville—I can’t eat one damn bit of it”, then we might become more responsible about how and when we use technology (and maybe we’ll go plant a garden in the backyard). I know that I, for one, have started logging off more frequently and making sure that the time I do spend online is enriching my life in some way.

39. Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell (****)

To be reviewed

Amanda, you are planning on joining us again for 2011, aren't you? The group is up and running: http://www.librarything.com/groups/75booksin20111

I do indeed. I'm determined to crack this 75 mark! If for no other reason then for the sake of my poor bookshelves which are overladen.

40. The Mystery of Grace by Charles de Lint (**)

**Some mild spoilers ahead**

On the front of this novel, Alice Hoffman is quoted as saying “No one does it better.” That’s not true. A lot of people do it better. Alice Hoffman, for example. Or Robin McKinley. Or Neil Gaiman.

Altagracia "Grace" Quintero is a self-described gearhead covered head to toe in tattoos, and she gets pissed when people judge her for her ink instead of her character. She loves classic hot rods (which she rebuilds), rockabilly and surf guitar, and Ford Motor Company (and she's a bad MoFo with a FoMoCo tattoo running down her leg to prove it). It's not important that you remember any of these things because she'll repeat them, over and over again. Oh, but other than her referring to her grandfather as "abuelo", you will have to remember that she's Mexican-American, which begs the question as to why this was important, unless it's so that de Lint can show off his limited and stereotyped surface knowledge of Mexican culture and the American Southwest. He must have watched a special on the Travel Channel.

Grace has just met the man of her dreams--John. Sure, he's pretty straight-laced and doesn't have any ink, but what he lacks in body art, he more than makes up for in . . . well, I'm not sure. It's just one of those "eyes locked across the crowded room" scenarios that lead to them going to bed together. But here's the problem for Grace: she's dead. Yup, kicked the bucket, pushing up daisies, groundhogs are bringing her mail, she has shuffled off this mortal coil. She's only allowed two passes back to the real world each year (Halloween and May's Eve) and, wouldn't you know it?, she doesn't meet her true love until she's all corpsified. Ain’t death a bitch? The rest of the novel is about these existence-crossed lovers trying to figure out how to be together. John, as he waits for the months to pass by, develops a stalkerish interest in—you guessed it—classic hot rods, rockabilly and surf guitar, and FoMoCo. Grace, as she waits, decides to rebuild a car in the afterlife. The afterlife Grace finds herself in isn’t heaven or hell, but seems to be a purgatory where people who die within the area in which Grace lived cross over, along with the building in which they died. So the landscape is constantly shifting, but everything else is pretty much just like life. The dead play cards, read books from the local library, listen to music at the local record shop, and basically wait for their two “get out of jail free” passes back to earth.

So what was my problem with this novel? Oh, there were so many. Weak characterization; long, tedious passages (the afterlife has never been so boring); conversations that offer shortcuts to exposition; and the fact that the last 1/3 seems to belong to a totally different novel. Some plotlines are just dropped altogether (for example, John just disappears off the page part of the way through the book after de Lint has spent so much time developing this relationship upon which the entire plot seems to hinge). This may be my first and last de Lint novel as I have the sneaking suspicion that the best thing about his novels is the cover art.

#117: Good for you and your determination! I am glad to know you will be back.

Snat - I am new to LT and this group, but reading some of your 2010 reviews helped convince me to join up! I really enjoyed the insights and humor so I'm glad you'll be at it again in 2011. I'll be starring your thread for sure.

Katiekrug: Thanks! I'm glad you've enjoyed my incessant rambling! I should be doing some more in 2011. Here's the link:

http://www.librarything.com/topic/107156&newpost=1#lastmsg