Booker Long List

And the race is on:

Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger is one of the best books I've read in a while (review coming soon), and Salmon Rushdie's Enchantress of Florence is one of the worst. I say let Rushdie continue to rest on his laurels about Midnight's Children and pass the coveted prize to someone else. Child 44 and Netherland are supposed to be AMAZING, so I will definitely read those. Hopefully, I can read all of them before October.

Aravind Adiga The White Tiger
Gaynor Arnold Girl in a Blue Dress
Sebastian Barry The Secret Scripture
John Berger From A to X
Michelle de Kretser The Lost Dog
Amitav Ghosh Sea of Poppies
Linda Grant The Clothes on Their Backs
Mohammed Hanif A Case of Exploding Mangoes
Philip Hensher The Northern Clemency
Joseph O'Neill Netherland
Salman Rushdie The Enchantress of Florence
Tom Rob Smith Child 44
Steve Toltz A Fraction of the Whole

What's New and Good: August 08

Sweeping and lyrical, spellbinding and unforgettable, David Ebershoff’s The 19th Wife combines epic historical fiction with a modern murder mystery to create a brilliant novel of literary suspense.

An irresistible triumph of the imagination more than thirty years in the making, The Little Book is a breathtaking love story that spans generations, ranging from fin de siècle Vienna through the pivotal moments of the twentieth century.

Can you read your future in a piece of lace? All of the Whitney women can. But the last time Towner read, it killed her sister and nearly robbed Towner of her own sanity. Vowing never to read lace again, her resolve is tested when faced with the mysterious, unsolvable disappearance of her beloved Great Aunt Eva, Salem's original Lace Reader. Told from opposing and often unreliable perspectives, the story engages the reader's own beliefs. Should we listen to Towner, who may be losing her mind for the second time? Or should we believe John Rafferty, a no nonsense New York detective, who ran away from the city to a simpler place only to find himself inextricably involved in a psychic tug of war with all three generations of Whitney women? Does either have the whole story? Or does the truth lie somewhere in the swirling pattern of the lace?

With astonishing charm, grace, and good humor, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Lonesome Dove returns with a fascinating memoir of his lifelong passion of buying, selling, and collecting rare books.

A mesmerizing novel that reimagines Tolstoy's classic tragedy Anna Karenina for our time.

Lara's Thief

Lara, the primary love interest in Dr. Zhivago, has an interesting and startling run-in with a thief in her parlor before she and her useless husband, Pasha, leave for the Urals. The thief pops into the narrative for a moment and pops out, without any real impact on the plot or character development. Yet, the scene is provocative and it nags.

Lara and her friends have spent a crazy night drinking vodka. After hours of dance and drink, they all fall asleep in the apartment, stuffed in corners and propped up on couches. In an early morning haze, Lara is barely awake and she notices a man digging through her belongings. At first she does not know who it is and is not aware enough to raise an alarm. She then believes it is Pasha, which prompts her to wonder, why her husband would be acting in such a covert way in her belongings. He turns his face and what she expects to she, Pasha's visage, is actually a scared mess of a man she does not know. She jumps up, runs at him and yells him out of the house. Nothing has been taken, so she awakens her comrades and continues her packing.

Lara is a stalwart character, tied to her past, passionate in her loves, and largely immovable. She believes, much like Yuri Zhivago, that her life is created without her input. Her reaction to the thief is not surprising; what is surprising is that she believes it's her husband. On the one hand it is natural. She has no context for believing that any other blond haired man would rifle through her things, yet, it leaves an unsettling residue when the reader realizes Lara believes this man is her Pasha. When he turns his face and his horrible scar is evident, it is clear that Zhivago has tricked the reader and Lara.

This scene, though small, foreshadows much. Pasha ends up to be a thief in a true sense of the word, when he disappears from Lara's life and turns into a criminal. This small subtle moment, that's quite private, really, between the reader, Lara, and the criminal provides a brilliant whisper of Lara and Pasha's future.

Love Learning

David McCullough charges the graduates of Boston College to love learning and read. He specifically advises students to read widely and think deeply. Merely acquiring batches of facts does not a wise person make.

Agreed. I'm getting tired of the soundbites.

TV, History, and Alison Weir

It's been a while since I last posted, and I think some of my readers might have given up on me. Summer is a challenging time for blogger writers and readers, but I have resurfaced for the moment, so feel free to start checking back. Was off at the beach, and then was, regretfully, back at work, which has it's own charming way of completely high-jacking my time.

I left for the beach with a bevy of books, none of which I read. When I returned home, The Tudors was waiting for me and Mr. Red Room Library in a red Netflix envelope in my shiny white mailbox. We aren't huge TV people. We gave up cable a few months ago as an experiment, and haven't missed it too much. I say this to people, and they look like I'm from the moon. It's not that we don't watch TV, it's that we don't waste time in front of TV. If it's a good TV show (Office, Weeds) comes to our attention, we get it on Netflix. The Tudors happened along our way, and we started watching it, or should I say living in it becuase life's gotten a little bit more interesting since we started season one. Yesterday, however, we found ourselves woefully without the last disc, and in my real DT moments of Tudors withdrawal, I turned to my The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir and dove into that.

I met Alison about a month ago when she came by the museum for a tour. I readily volunteered to leave my desk in the business office and give her a tour. She is the nicest person, and her husband was also great, though I don't think he quite shared her enthusiasm for all things Gone With the Wind. I have many of her books and truly enjoy her writing and presentation of history. Full review later.

14 Days

...from the cover of The Reserve...

It's a truth universally acknowledged that a book lover in a library will leave with far too many books. When I was little, I once tested the library limit and checked out 40 books. With the flabbergasted grin of the librarian upon me, I stashed the booty in my big canvas bag and couldn't wait to get home to look at them. (I've always been fond at looking at books as well as reading them.) Upon arrival, I went straight to my room and laid out the books on my white comforter. They covered the entire bed, and I was in heaven trying to figure out which one to read first. I don't remember how it ended, but I'm assuming I didn't read all of them in a month, though I bet I really tried. I learned temperance a little bit since then, but not much.

Last week I bounced into my local branch to pick up a few titles I'd ordered, and managed to pick up a few 14-dayers. Two had to go back today - unread - but the other two have been eaten...

I spent the weekend embroiled in Russell Bank's The Reserve, a rich historical novel set in 1930s upstate New York. (Now that I think about it my other book was also set in upstate NY...hmm.) Other folks in the blogosphere weren't too keen on this novel, but I thought it was great. The characters were vivid, the action and plot persuasive, and there was enough open-ended goodness to leave this critical thinker satisfied. At points, though, I had to tell myself that I was reading about the 1930s, and Banks' efforts to remind the reader that it was indeed the 1930s was a little heavyhanded.

I then started The Monsters of Templeton, which I haven't finished yet. I'll be reading Last of the Mohicans as Monsters is a homage to Cooper's work, and I've never read his stuff, so I'm sure A LOT is lost on me. The characters are the most compelling aspect of this novel. Perhaps this will change by the time I"m finished, but the whole "monster coming out of the lake" bit is a little gimmicky. Groff seems to waiver between magical realism (fantastic fiction) and not, and I'm sort of grimacing as I read and mouthing "pick one." Regardless, it's good.

Ok, back to reading Monsters and listening to the rain hit my chimney. It's sort of a pleasant tinny sound...