SmallWorld Reads: 2009 Book Reviews

Showing posts with label 2009 Book Reviews. Show all posts

Friday, January 1, 2010

2009: A Year of Reading

I read 65 books in 2009, including 20 children's or young adult chapter books (I didn't include history books, picture books, etc.) that I either read to my kids or taught in various literature classes.

It was a good year for reading, although I was often frustrated with myself for failing to read faster. I fell asleep too frequently during my allotted before-bed reading time. Someday I will again be a person who reads during the day, but for this season of my life, I must be content with my bedtime reading.

And so, out of those 45 "adult" books read, here are my favorites:

The Top 10

Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
Cutting for Stone (Abraham Verghese)
Day After Night (Anita Diamant)
Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (Shaffer and Barrows)
Other Side of the Bridge, The (Mary Lawson)
People of the Book (Geraldine Brooks)
Road, The (Cormac McCarthy)
Sarah's Key (Tatiana de Rosnay)
Skeletons at the Feast (Chris Bohjalian)
Prayers for Sale (Sandra Dallas)

It was hard for me to narrow this down. I had about eight other contenders for the Top 10 list, but I'm sticking with the list above. These are books that are especially memorable to me. They were well-written, poignant, and captured my attention and imagination more than the others.

And for my number one favorite novel of the year: Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese. Part of the draw for me is the "sweeping epic" aspect of this novel. I love "sweeping epics" that span generations. A book like this gives me that sense of closure. Nearly all my questions as a reader were answered; the prose was perfect; and I felt truly satisfied upon finishing the novel.

Below are my two lists. Click on the titles for my reviews of nearly all these books. (A few of the children's books didn't get reviewed.) If the book as one or two asterisks** by the title, I can't really recommend it with any sort of enthusiasm.

The Whole List of Books Read in 2009

Monday, December 28, 2009

Book Review: Her Fearful Symmetry

This is one of the books of 2009 that I so anticipated reading. I loved The Time Traveler's Wife (my review here), and I'd read good things about Niffenegger's second novel.

Happily, I was not disappointed. Her Fearful Symmetry is the story of two sets of twins, Elspeth and Edie (the first generation), and Julia and Valentina, the daughters. When Elspeth dies, she leaves her London apartment to her nieces, and then comes back to haunt them—affectionately. Sort of.

Along with the apartment come an assortment of inhabitants, including Elspeth's long-time partner, and a lot of secrets. While Julia and Valentina try to figure out their own identities and sort through secrets, their own relationship begins to fall apart.

Her Fearful Symmetry reminded me a lot of Diana Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale (my very short review here), with a satisfying inclusion of ghosts and cemeteries. The last few chapters of Her Fearful Symmetry fell a little flat for me, but I didn't care too much. Niffenegger is a fantastic storyteller. If the idea of time traveling put you off of The Time Traveler's Wife, I'd recommend starting with Her Fearful Symmetry. (And then—go back and read the former, please!)

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Book Review: The Lacuna

Oh boy, where to start? Reviewing a book by the likes of Barbara Kingsolver is daunting when I'm not, well, madly in love with the book. I want to be able to say, "I was mesmerized! I couldn't put it down!"

But I can't say that about The Lacuna. Let me say right off the bat that I suspect that it's largely my fault as a reader. I simply don't have the depth of intellect necessary for this book right now. I trust Kingsolver enough to know that she is a master storyteller; therefore, I am not connecting as a reader.

So, the story: Harrison Shepherd, known as Soli in the first tw0-thirds of the book, is a Mexican-American—or is he an American-Mexican?—who, as a teenager/young man, words for both Diego Rivera and his wife Frida Kahlo and for Leo Trotsky in Mexico. So we have three big issues in one sentence: identity, art, and politics. Toss in McCarthyism, agoraphobia, yellow journalism, truth vs. perception, homosexuality, and a writer's internal struggle. And, I must add, each of these issues is examined in depth, not just mentioned and left behind.

It's a hefty, thought-provoking, enlightening book, about as far from a quick beach read as you can get. The book is told almost entirely through Shepherd's journal entries, a format which takes some adjustment and a whole lot of concentration. The first two-thirds moved slowly for me, even painfully at times. You'd be best served to read this in large chunks of time, rather than in 15-minute snippets. The last third of the book, when Shepherd comes to America, moved faster and was, for me, more coherent. I really, really liked the second part of the book. In fact, I sort of wanted to go back and read the whole first two-thirds after finishing the book.

But I'm not going to, at least not anytime soon. I feel like reading some Danielle Steele now. (Kidding!) If you read the book—and I do recommend it, after all, it's Barbara Kingsolver, for Pete's sake—my advice is to set aside some good, solid reading time and pay attention.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Book Review: Road to Paris (YA)

While searching for books for our next Literature Circle class, I found this one by Nikki Grimes on the Coretta Scott King Book Awards list. Paris and her brother, Malcolm, have been in one foster home after another for most of their lives. When they are unexpectedly split up and sent to different homes, Paris is devastated. But while she aches for her brother, Paris finds comfort in her new foster home, in spite of the racism in the nearly all-white neighborhood.

Books about foster care can be risky for young readers. As readers, we expect "abuse" to be paired with "foster care," although this is an unfortunate reaction on our part. I'm sure we all understand that there are a multitude of excellent, nurturing foster families who strive to make a good home for kids; however, literature's portrayal (particularly in the memoir genre) of foster care is often harsh and cruel.

So, I was a bit skeptical that a book about a girl's escape from an abusive foster home would be acceptable (G-rated) reading material for 5th-8th graders. In The Road to Paris, however, Nikki Grimes manages to deal with a whole lot of hard issues in a quiet, matter-of-fact way. Yes, Paris's mother is an alcoholic who chooses men over her children, and the grandmother isn't a kindly old lady who will do anything for her grandkids; but neither are demonized. Grimes doesn't dwell on the abusive foster home from which Paris and Malcolm flee. Instead, she focuses on Paris's new life and her struggle to figure out where she, as a foster child and a biracial girl, really belongs.

Highly recommended for ages 10 and up.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Book Review: Chocolat

I have been meaning to read this book by Joanne Harris for, oh, 10 years, and at long last I picked it up at the library. I was prepared to be wowed. I was, instead, woefully underwowed.

So the story, for the other dozen people out there who haven't read this NY Times bestseller or watched the movie, centers on a sleepy town in France that comes awake when Vianne Rocher and her daughter Anouk come to town and open up a store that specializes in all kinds of chocolate delicacies. The conflict overriding the story is between Vianne, who is somewhat of a psychic, and Reynaud, the town's priest.

As I said, I really wanted to like this book. But ultimately, it fell flat for me. The characters seemed like ones I've seen in other books dozens of times: the kind old rebellious woman and her busybody, rich daughter. The stuttering boy and his overprotective mother. The priest with the secret past. The important man in town who beats his wife. The gypsies, who aren't really thieves but who are persecuted by the townspeople nonetheless.

Harris's writing is nice, although often a bit too flowery for my taste. I understand that the writing reflects the richness of the chocolate, but it was a little much for me at times. I began to crave Hemingway-esque simplicity.

And, strangely, I never craved chocolate throughout the whole book.

I am going to watch the movie. I have a feeling this might be one of the very few times I like the movie more than the book.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Book Review: Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress

Imagine, book lovers, a world in which all of your books were destroyed. In this novel by Dai Sijie, set during China's Cultural Revolution of the 1960s and 70s, two young men—sons of intellectuals— are sent to a remote village in the countryside for "re-education." They are forced to become hardworking peasants, carrying buckets of excrement and working in the mines.

Their only solace is 19-year-old Luo's gift for storytelling, which captivates the villagers. Soon the boys are given the special privilege of viewing movies and then re-enacting the stories for the villagers. On one of these trips they meet a friend from the city and discover that he has a hidden treasure: a bag of forbidden Western books.

The young men manage to get their hands on one book by Balzac and devour it, repeating the story over and over again to the villagers and to their newfound friend, the daughter of the tailor. Luo soon falls in love with the seamstress—who falls in love with his stories—, and the trio set about to steal the rest of the banned books.

They read them over and over again until they can tell the stories by heart, and they continue to captivate the village with their storytelling, without revealing the source of the stories. This stash of literature sustains the young men as they endure their re-education and has a surprising effect on the villagers.

This is a quick and highly enjoyable read and reminded me to be thankful for the shelves and shelves of books in my home!

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Book Review: Dancing Under the Red Star

Subtitled "The Extraordinary Story of Margaret Werner, the Only American Woman to Survive Stalin's Gulag," this book really is an amazing story. Author Karl Tobien was an adult before his mother ever revealed her past to him, and when he heard her story, he knew it needed to be told.

Margaret Werner was eleven when she and her parents left Detroit to take a job in Russia in the early 1930s. Her father was part of a group with the Ford Motor Company that was assisting the Soviet Union in starting an auto factory in Gorky, Russia. They thought they would be there for a year.

It was 30 years before Margaret made it back to the United States. The Werner's life in Russia was terrible from the first day, when they discovered their deplorable housing conditions. Soon after they arrived, Stalin began his reign of terror, and the Ford Motor Company essentially abandoned its group of 400 workers. Margaret's father was arrested in 1938 on fake charges of treason and sentenced to prison camp. They never heard from him again.

Margaret and her mother struggled to survive in Stalinist Russia, always fearful for their lives yet determined and amazingly resilient. In 1943 the police came for Margaret, who was about 25 years old. She was charged with anti-Soviet propaganda and espionage, again a totally false charge, and sentenced to 10 years of hard labor.

For a decade then Margaret struggled to survive in the Russian "gulag archipelago," the forced labor and prison camp system mostly in northern Siberia. Margaret's sheer grit, wit, and determination is amazing, and she develops an amazing faith in God throughout her experiences. She also forges close friendships with her fellow women prisoners and is able to keep in brief contact with her mother.

After her release, Margaret quickly marries and has a baby (she is in her late 30s by then) and sets about to find a way to finally get back home, to the United States. Her whole life story is absolutely amazing. While this narrative is certainly not on the level of Solzhenitsyn's Gulag Archipelago, it is extremely readable and provides an incredible view of Stalinist Russia.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Book Review: Cowboy and Wills

When three-year-old Wills is first diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, his mom takes him to buy an aquarium. From that point onward, Monica Holloway rushes to the pet store in an effort to comfort—and distract—herself and Wills from the reality of his diagnosis and all that life with autism entails. Fish, a rabbit, hamsters, hermit crabs: eventually, the only animal left to join their home menagerie is a dog.

Cowboy and Wills goes on to tell the story of how the Golden Retriever Cowboy impacts the life of this little boy as he struggles through a world that simultaneously terrifies and excites him. Cowboy, rambunctious as any pup, forces Wills to get dirty and take chances. She becomes Wills's pathway to navigating the confusing world of relationships and new experiences that come with school and life in general. From speaking to his classmates to setting up playdates to sleeping in his own bed, Wills makes tremendous progress with Cowboy by his side.

I like Holloway's voice. She doesn't hide anything, and I like that honesty. As a middle-class reader far from the excesses of California, I felt shock at the enormous amount of money she spent at the pet stores, therapists, private schools, veterinarian and more. But I loved that she felt shock, too. And what parent wouldn't spend that kind of money for her child's well-being? And I loved that Monica saw her own OCD tendencies and recognized that she needed to get her own behaviors under control for her son's sake. (As a side note, I had a really, really hard time reading about Monica's need to pick giant flakes of dead skin off of Cowboy. I really, really wish she'd left that part out of the book.)

The book leaves off when Wills is still a little guy. I hope Monica will write another one in 10 years or so, letting us know his progress. You can't help but want to be assured that everything turns out great for this lovable little guy.

Would you like a copy of this sweet book? I have an extra one to give away, so leave me a comment if you'd like to be in the running for this book! (U.S. only please.)

Friday, October 16, 2009

Book Review: Day After Night

I haven't read anything by Anita Diamant since The Red Tent, which I absolutely loved. Browsing the "newly arrived" shelves last week at the library, I saw Day After Night and knew I must break my rule of reading books off my current TBR list (which I do frequently) and check it out.

The novel is based on the true story of an internment camp for "illegal" Jewish refugees after World War 2 and the daring rescue of the prisoners there. The whole concept of Atlit, the British-run camp in Palestine, was completely new to me. Even my Dad, who not only fought in WW2 but is an amazing historian, had never heard of Atlit. (Then again, my Dad is somewhat hard of hearing, so he may not have heard my question. Perhaps we'll discuss that later.) It is impossible to imagine the utter horror and disgrace of these Jews, who somehow managed to live through the Holocaust, having to endure yet more imprisonment when they thought they were starting new in Eretz Yisrael.

Diamant beautifully tells the story through the lives of four detainees, all who struggle with being random survivors while their friends and family were killed in the Holocaust: Zorah survived a concentration camp; Tedi survived by hiding in the countryside; Shayndel was a Polish Zionist; and Leonie has been forced into prostitution in Paris. While their stories unfold, the rescue plans are put into place.

I absolutely loved this book. Diamant is a fantastic storyteller, and she has a gift for giving voice to relatively obscure bits of history. I'm definitely going to go back and read Diamant's Last Days of Dogtown, which I missed.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Book Review: Skeletons at the Feast

Why have I not read anything by Chris Bohjalian before? Skeletons at the Feast is my first, and I'm excited to have a long string of other Bohjalian novels to read. In this novel, World War 2 is coming to an end, and the Emmerich family—or what is left of it—begins the journey across the war-torn Nazi Germany to reach the British and American lines before the Russians catch up with them. Along with the Emmerichs, a Prussian artistocratic family, are a Scottish POW and a Wehrmacht soldier, who is really a Jew who escaped a train headed to Auschwitz.

Woven in with the story of the this group of refugees is the story of a group of Jewish women who are forced to march from one concentration camp to another as the war winds down. I read a lot of World War 2 novels, and the description of these women is exceptionally powerful.

I am teaching a class right now to middle schoolers that focuses on World War 2 literature through various perspectives. We've read Number the Stars (Danish resistance); Snow Treasure (Norway); and will read Sadako and the 1000 Paper Cranes (a Japanese girl after the atomic bomb). I really appreciated Bohjalian's bringing several different perspectives together in one novel: traveling together are former Nazi supporters, a Scottish POW, and a Jew. Along the way they meet all kinds of people, and ultimately cross paths with the group of women from the concentration camp. I loved all the mixing of perspectives.

For a great list of World War II reading, be sure to check out War Through the Generations. Some of my other reviews include:
Day After Night by Anita Diamant
Sarah's Key
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
I Have Lived a Thousand Years
The Nazi Officer's Wife
Jimmy's Stars (Mary Ann Rodman)
When the Emperor Was Divine (Julie Otsuka)
Briar Rose (Jane Yolen)
Night (Elie Wiesel)
The Book Thief (Marcus Zusak)
The Endless Steppe (Esther Hautzig)

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Book Review: The Outcast

Sadie Jones's debut novel, The Outcast, is a tragic, heartbreaking novel—but well worth the read. Jones is an excellent writer. Her characters are rich and the story is thickly woven. Set in England in the decade after World War 2, the story opens as 19-year-old Lewis is released from prison and returns to his home in the country. He's hoping to start over, but his father in anything but welcoming.

The rest of the novel goes between flashbacks of Lewis's tragic life and the current story. You can't help but root for Lewis, who lost his beloved mother at an early age and was raised by a cold-hearted father. Lewis spirals into a pit of self-despair, leading eventually to cutting. I had to question the cutting; it seems such a modern thing. I never even heard about this form of self-mutilation until the past decade or so, and I wondered about this aspect of the novel. I did just a little searching for the history of cutting and saw that it has been indeed known and documented in the past 100 years and more. Still, I didn't care for the contemporary twist on the story. Cutting too strongly evokes thoughts of emo kids for me.

But the form that Lewis takes for self-punishment (and there are others, as well), regardless of its modernity in my mind, only slightly distracted me from the excellent writing of the novel. I was totally wrapped up in the world of Lewis and his neighbors, the Carmichaels, who also play a pivotal role in the novel.

This novel reminded me somewhat of Ian McEwan's Atonement. I look forward to what Sadie Jones has next.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Book Review: Dogs of Babel

Carolyn Parkhurst has a handle on dialogue, and I'm a sucker for excellent dialogue. The Dogs of Babel is the story of a man's quest to find out the circumstances behind his wife's death. Paul comes home from work one day to find police at his house; his wife has fallen to her death from a tree in the backyard. The police says it was an accident based on the position in which she fell, but Paul isn't so sure. The only witness to Lexy's death is Lorelei, the couple's dog.

This is why I thought I wouldn't finish the book: at this point, Paul, a linguistics professor, decides to teach the dog to talk so that she can tell him what really happened to Lexy. But I kept reading, because at this point I was greatly appreciative of Parkhurst's skills with dialogue, and Paul was a very likable character. To my relief, the parts about Paul actually trying to teach the dog to talk were minimal. The rest of the book flashes between Paul's grieving process and obsession to find out how Lexy died, including his attempts to teach Lorelei to talk, and flashbacks to his life with Lexy. These flashbacks were fantastic and created an even greater sympathy for Paul. I was actually hoping Lorelei would talk eventually so he'd figure everything out.

There are some strange scenes with a secret society of pseudo-scientists who operate on dogs to make them talk, but on the whole I thought this was a really enjoyable novel. The love story behind the mysterious death is well worth the read.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Book Review: The House on Mango Street

I've had The House on Mango Street on my TBR list for a long time, and I'm so glad I finally read it. This is a story told in a series of simple but eloquent vignettes about the life of Esperanza, a young girl growing up in the Latino section of Chicago.

I love the concept. The short vignettes to me represent both the snapshots we have as adults looking back on our childhoods, and the snapshot feel of living in that time. I can remember that feeling as life as vignette even as a child reflecting on childhood. Cisneros captures that so well.

And while the chapters are short and the language is simple, so much is going on beneath that surface: themes of poverty, racial discrimination, power, abuse, education, dreams, coming of age. Cisneros chooses her words carefully for a powerful impact.

It's not my favorite coming-of-age novel by any means. I love A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and A Separate Peace, though both of those novels show utterly different worlds. What I love so much about both of those novels is the story itself. The House on Mango Street is presented in an entirely different way, and while I enjoyed it, I prefer a novel with which I can linger and savor for more than an hour.

But don't skip The House on Mango Street. It's a quick read and a powerful one.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Book Review: New Stories from the South

Every year for my birthday, I can count on Dr. H. buying me the year’s best collection of stories from the South. I love short stories. I used to be a voracious reader of short stories, and now I seem to only read them once each year. I have no reasons why. I think that it may be because when I read short stories, I yearn to write them. And I right now I just don’t have the time.

Someday I’ll be in that place again. But for now, I look forward to this yearly collection. Only this year: not so much. I have to say this set of stories, edited by JJ Packer, was — for me— the worst collection since Annie Proulx edited the Best American Short Stories back in 1997.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy any of the stories. A few were excellent. Most just left me feeling, um, dirty. Slimy. As if I were sliding against a brick wall in a filthy alley. A few I even totally skipped because I could not connect at all. I have reached the stage where I can say, “I’m skipping this one” without feeling like I might be missing out on something wonderful, or cheating.

Not my favorite. This collection seems to be a tribute to the dirty side of the South that is rapidly becoming too well known. I see faces of meth addicts in the newspaper at least a couple of times each week around here, and that reality is enough for me. I like the sipping-sweet-tea South much better. Yes, it’s called denial. And right now, I can live with that.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Book Reviews: Buster Midnight’s Café and The Persian Pickle Club

After reading Prayers for Sale last month, I was determined to read through the rest of Sandra Dallas’ novels. I’ve already read most but her earliest, so I was left with these two and just a couple more.

I enjoyed both novels for what they were: sweet stories with good endings. I read Buster Midnight’s Café first and liked it better. Because I am just an ordinary person, I always have a hard time with novels that include a hometown girl/boy who goes to Hollywood and becomes famous. But I didn’t care too much in this story of three friends and a secret they share. Set in Montana before and after World War 2, the story is narrated by the very likeable Effa Commander. Again, I have issues with weird names, but that’s my own problem. I liked this book.

I was not as crazy about The Persian Pickle Club, although I don’t regret reading it. My main complaint is that there are just way too many characters to keep straight. I just can’t focus on a dozen quilters with similar-sounding names. Or again, the odd names: this narrator is named Queenie Bean. I crave simplicity. Still, the story was good. These two books are perfect for in-between reading.

As a writer, though, Sandra Dallas obviously has continued to grow. Her later novels are tremendously better than these first ones. She has developed depth and complexity, as well as a sense of seriousness, in her latest novels, particularly Tallgrass and Prayers for Sale. Tallgrass (my review here) remains my favorite Sandra Dallas book, and I continue to look forward to her next one.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Book Review: A Girl from Yamhill

Miss Smith pulled out a paper that I recognized as mine and began to read aloud. My mouth was dry and my stomach felt twisted. When she finished, she paused. My heart pounded. Then Miss Smith said, "When Beverly grows up, she should write children's books."

I can't even imagine how many times I've read one of the "Ramona" books to my kids. And every single time I read one of the books, I laugh. Henry Huggins, Ribsy, Ramona and the Quimby family feel like old friends.

I think it's Beverly Cleary's matter-of-fact, honest voice that I adore so much, and in her memoir, A Girl from Yamhill, her voice is even clearer. Cleary details her life growing up on an Oregon farm and later moving near Klickitat Street in Portland. She had a rather isolated, lonely childhood in many respects, especially in a home where love and encouragement was given reluctantly and infrequently. But early on, her teachers recognized that she had a gift for writing and actively encouraged her.

I absolutely loved this narrative of Cleary's life up through high school. She was just an average girl with a gift of writing and a determination to make things happen, in spite of economic hardships. I don't often read memoirs of writers, and I have no idea why. The few that I have read, I have enjoyed immensely—and I come away feeling inspired. I can hardly wait to get my hands on her second memoir, My Own Two Feet.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Book Review: The House of the Spirits

I've long been a fan of Isabel Allende, but somehow I missed her very first novel, The House of the Spirits. I went back and read it partly because I'd always meant to and partly because a few people suggested it as a novel to teach to my high school World Lit students. While I loved the novel, I can't imagine teaching it to high schoolers. There are just way too many brothel visits, for starters.

The House of the Spirits chronicles a period in Chilean history (although it's called an "unnamed country") through the life of the complex Trueba family. This is a family full of dynamic characters: Clara, the precocious, clairvoyant, telekenetic little sister who becomes the wife of Esteban after her older sister, Esteban's fiance, dies; Esteban himself, devoted to Clara but cold-hearted and cruel to everyone else, including all the peasants who work his plantation; Esteban's children, legitimate and otherwise; and a cast of other richly developed characters.

I'm not always a fan of magical realism, but I had little trouble accepting (or sometimes ignoring) the scenes that focus on Clara, her spiritualist friends, and the spirit world. Although I always gravitate toward realism, the crazy, accepted magic just becomes part of the chaos of the Trueba family and of the country's political upheaval.

This is the kind of novel you live in while you're reading it--the kind that you can't wait to get to each evening. I definitely recommend reading Portrait in Sepia and Daughter of Fortune as well as The House of the Spirits.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Book Review: The Good Earth

It's been a long, long time since I read this Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Pearl S. Buck. I believe we read this in about 8th grade, possibly 9th, and I have vivid memories of the feelings the novel evoked: of a handful of earth, of poverty, and sadness. I read several Pearl S. Buck novels after this one, and I'd like to go back and read them again as an adult.

This is the story of one farmer, Wang Lung, and his family. As a young and very poor farmer, Wang Lung marries the slave O-lan from the rich house, and the two of them work the land until they are prosperous, hiding money in the walls of their hut and buying more land as they can. O-lan bears him several children, including many sons, and as long as she is working beside him, he prospers in all ways.

As Wang Lung becomes more prosperous, his personal life falls apart. He begins treating O-lan with contempt and takes a second wife, who is like a spoiled pet to him. His children grow up to be spoiled, unpleasant adults, and his second wife requires too much attention and material goods. And outside of his own small life, China itself is going through a time of political upheaval that touches Wang Lung in only the most distant ways.

I love Buck's voice; it is simple yet poetic. Her characters absolutely brim with life. Even weeks after reading this book, I can easily conjure up pictures of Wang Lung, O-lan, and the rest of the cast of characters. Rarely do I find images as nearly tangible as those painted by Buck in this novel.

This is one classic re-read that was well worth the the time—and that stands the test of time.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Book Review: Prayers for Sale

Sandra Dallas is an author I am thrilled to have discovered a few years ago. Alice's Tulips was my first Dallas novel, and I absolutely loved last year's Tallgrass, a story of one girl's experiences in a Japanese-American internment camp. The Diary of Mattie Spenser and New Mercies were also very enjoyable reads. There are a few Sandra Dallas novels I've yet to read; you can check them out here on Sandra's webpage.

I noticed as I was perusing Sandra's website above that novelist Jane Smiley (a former professor of mine at Iowa State University) calls Sandra "a quintessential American voice." That's what I love about Sandra Dallas: she slips in well-researched American history lesson with a really good story. I know, I know: it's a particular grievance to many historians that novels are looked upon by some readers as "history"; however, I maintain that a good novel, with accurate historic details, can often teach history more effectively than a dry textbook.

The history lesson in Prayers for Sale involves an isolated mining community in the mountains of Colorado in the late 1800s until 1936, when the primary story takes place. Hettie, who has lived in is in her late 80s, has lived in Middle Swan most of her life. Nit Spindle is a lonely new bride, who has come with her husband from Kentucky for a job. The two strike up a beautiful friendship. Hettie is a natural storyteller, and Nit is an appreciative listener. Hettie has lots of stories to tell that involve the people in Middle Swan and their history.

One of the things I loved about this novel is that it is so gratifying. If Hettie begins telling a story about someone, she finishes. In the vein of Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio, the reader gets a solid story of a resident of Middle Swan: his or her past life, what brought him to Middle Swan, and how s/he ended up. I love things all neatly tied up like that.

While telling the stories of the residents of Middle Swan, Hettie reveals to Nit her own life, with its tragedies and joys. For the first time in her adult life, Hettie tells her own story to someone and trusts that Nit will take her place as the storyteller for Middle Swan.

I look forward to seeing what Sandra Dallas will be writing next!

* Thanks to Wiley from @uthors on the Web again for inviting me to review this novel. You may want to out these other blogs for more reviews:
August 24: http://www.fiveminutesforbooks.com
August 25: http://www.abookbloggersdiary.blogspot.com/
August 25: http://www.lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com
August 26: http://www.lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com
August 27: http://www.rebelhousewife.com/
August 28: http://www.stephaniesbooks.blogspot.com/
September 9: http://blog.mawbooks.com/

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Book Review: The Count of Monte Cristo

Twelve-hundred and forty-three pages with really small print—and The Penguin Classic unabridged version of The Count of Monte Cristo was well worth it. Again, I must ask as I did with the classics Things Fall Apart and A Death in the Family, why have I never read this before?

Alexandre Dumas is a master storyteller, and this is an amazing story. Even though this book took me an uncharacteristic 3 weeks to read, it's not because the story wasn't riveting. It's just a really hefty book! The Count is one of those books I thought about a lot during the time I was reading it and couldn't wait to get the kids in bed so I could have my reading time. I lived in the world of wronged Edmund Dantes for three weeks, and I really miss it. This is one of those books that positively captures the reader.

So the story goes that Edmund Dantes, a young sailor who is filled with good will and integrity, is wrongly accused, on the night of his betrothal, by a couple of greedy, jealous men. And although the crown prosecutor believes in his innocence, he condemns Dantes to prison.

And for the rest of the story: read the book. It is truly a masterpiece.