Tag: 2010

The Map of True Places

Posted on by Dana

Brunonia Barry’s second novel The Map of True Places is the story of Hepzibah Finch, known as Zee, a Boston therapist. When her patient Lilly Braedon commits suicide, Zee’s life spirals out of control—how could she not have seen the suicide coming? After all, wasn’t Lilly so much like her mother, who committed suicide about twenty years ago? Zee visits her father in Salem only to find the medication he’s taking for Parkinson’s is causing him to have hallucinations that he’s Nathaniel Hawthorne. Furthermore, she discovers that her father, Finch, has broken up with Melville, his partner for about twenty years. Suddenly Zee doesn’t know what she wants. Should she remain a therapist? Is she even a good one after what happened to Lilly? Does she still want to marry Michael?

After my recent visit to Salem, I enjoyed this book very much. The novel is set mostly in Salem. I pulled out my maps a few times to remind myself exactly where Barry’s locations were. I had visited some of them, including the House of the Seven Gables, across the street from the home where Finch and Zee live, Sixty2 on Wharf, Nathaniel’s, the Peabody-Essex Museum, and Ye Olde Pepper Companie candy store, just to name a few. Barry writes with a clear sense of place, and the city is almost another character in the story. She draws in characters from The Lace Reader toward the end—Ann Chase most prominently, but also Rafferty and mentions of Towner and May Whitney. Barry places Ann Chase’s witchcraft shop on Pickering Wharf, right about where Laurie Cabot’s shop is. I know I enjoyed this book more for having visited Salem such a short time before reading it, especially because this book focuses much more on the maritime history of Salem than the witchcraft history. When I visited I really felt a much stronger sense of Salem as an old trading port and imagined the ships returning from exotic places laden with spices two centuries ago.

The plot of the novel is intricately woven, and Barry doesn’t drop a thread. Every puzzler or detail she mentions is resolved by the end, but each had me wondering for most of the book. Why did Melville and Finch fight? What about that strange fortune teller’s story to Zee’s mother? It was obvious too that Barry had done her research about mental illness and her own experiences with her father’s Parkinson’s lend authenticity to Zee’s experiences with Finch.

I think the cover of the novel is gorgeous. I love the colors. The cover is a perfect evocation of the novel’s theme of finding yourself—the novel is really more about Zee trying to figure out who she is and right herself as her world is turned upside-down. I picked this book up late last night and read into the wee hours of the morning. When I woke again, I read straight through until I finished with a few breaks on the computer. I love being swept away by a book, and it was such a lovely visit back to Salem.

Rating: ★★★★★

Full disclosure: I won this book as part of a prize package from Destination Salem and William Morrow.

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Emily’s Ghost

Posted on by Dana

Emily’s Ghost: A Novel of the Brontë SistersDenise Giardina’s novel Emily’s Ghost is the third novel about the lives of the Brontës that I’ve read this year. The other two were Jude Morgan’s Charlotte and Emily and Syrie James’s The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Brontë. Perhaps because Wuthering Heights is my favorite novel, I felt Emily’s presence lacking a bit in these other two novels as they were both told from Charlotte’s point of view. Giardina’s novel is told mainly from Emily’s point of view, but also includes the perspectives of the curate William Weightman, supposed by many to have been a love interest of Anne Brontë’s. Giardina chooses instead to depict William Weightman as Emily’s beloved. As no substantiation exists for a definite relationship with Anne, I suppose Giardina can take the license to offer a different portrayal of Weightman’s affections than is traditionally shown.

Emily’s Ghost is not a sweeping saga of the Brontës so much as a collection of important vignettes. Giardina notes that the story we traditionally read of the Brontës has been Charlotte’s, as she was the sister who survived and her biographer, Elizabeth Gaskell, naturally had Charlotte’s point of view to work with. Emily’s story, at least as Giardina imagines it, is very different. I found her William Weightman charismatic and her depiction of their relationship plausible. Patrick Brontë is particularly well drawn in this novel, and Branwell is portrayed in a much more sympathetic light than usual, due mainly to his concern over Emily’s reaction to Weightman’s death and his care for Weightman as he died. Charlotte, on the other hand, suffers a great deal from Giardina’s characterization. She comes off as a little bit man-crazy, and certainly whiny, self-absorbed, and vain (about her talent, especially). In the final pages, she’s downright appalling.

I actually think of the three Brontë novels I’ve read, I enjoyed this one the most. I was swept away—it’s easy to tell Giardina is a fan of the Brontës. I also felt somehow that this novel captured something accurate, something very real about the Brontë household. Or perhaps a somewhat romanticized version of it. It’s much more like Wuthering Heights than Jane Eyre, which is to be expected. A couple of favorite lines stand out:

They were sisters. They loved one another. They were also rivals, though they never admitted to it.

I can easily picture the Brontës feeling this way—so much talent in so little space.

And Emily, remarking to her sisters, who do not like Wuthering Heights:

And do you despise Heathcliff? Then despise me! Because I—” She jabbed her finger against her chest as she leaned forward across the table. “I am Heathcliff! I am!”

Be sure to check out the much more comprehensive review at BrontëBlog. If you are a fan of the Brontës, you will enjoy this novel.

Rating: ★★★★★

Happy birthday, Emily Brontë.

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Sense and Sensibility

Posted on by Dana

Sense And SensibilityJane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility is the story of two sisters, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood who, along with their younger sister Margaret, are children of their father’s second marriage. When their father dies, their older half-brother John and his wife Fanny decide not to provide for their younger sisters and step-mother, leaving them in much reduced circumstances. Fanny does everything in her power to make her husband’s family feel unwelcome, especially in light of Elinor’s attachment to Fanny Dashwood’s brother Edward Ferrars, which Fanny sees as an inappropriate match for her brother. The family removes to a cottage in Devonshire, where Marianne meets and falls in love with John Willoughby. The novel follows the romantic fortunes and misfortunes of Elinor and Marianne as they learn to strike a balance between sense and sensibility.

I first read this novel in 1998, during my first year as a high school teacher. It was refreshing to return to it again and discover I loved it as much as I remembered. I had completely forgotten Willoughby returns upon hearing of Marianne’s illness to confess he still loves Marianne to Elinor. I can’t remember if that scene was absent from both movies I’ve seen or just the most recent. I have always admired Elinor as the kind of person who puts others before herself and rolls up her sleeves to do what must be done. I wish I were more like her. To Marianne’s credit, she realizes her behavior is selfish and repents of it. Her essential romantic nature and love for music and books is what I admire about her.

I can’t tell if I like this book better than Pride and Prejudice or not. Elizabeth Bennet is a spunky, admirable character, and Mr. Darcy a worthy romantic hero. Yet, the Misses Dashwood certainly have their charms. I have thoroughly enjoyed my re-reads of both books this year.

Rating: ★★★★★

I re-read this novel for the Everything Austen Challenge. It is the second of six Austen-related activities I have planned. Others:

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The Meaning of Night

Posted on by Dana

The Meaning of Night: A ConfessionThe story of the writing of Michael Cox’s The Meaning of Night is an interesting one. Diagnosed with a rare cancer, Cox began to lose his sight. He had begun the novel in the 1970’s, but cancer gave Cox a new sense of urgency. He finished the book, which in my paperback version stretches to nearly 700 pages.

The Meaning of Night is the story of Edward Glyver’s quest for revenge against Phoebus Daunt, who robbed him not only of his Eton education, but all he holds most dear. The book begins memorably as Glyver kills an innocent man to be sure that he will have the resolve to murder Phoebus Daunt when he has the opportunity: “After killing the red-haired man, I took myself off to Quinn’s for an oyster supper.” Following his account of killing this stranger, Glyver tells the story of his childhood, including his expulsion from Eton, his employment with Christopher Tredgold, and his infatuation with the beautiful Miss Emily Carteret, the daughter of the 25th Baron Tansor’s first cousin and employee, Paul Carteret. Glyver uncovers the truth of his parentage and reveals his motive for wanting to kill Phoebus Daunt.

I read this book at the recommendation of my husband, and while I enjoyed parts of it, I had some major problems with it. First, I could find no characters to like. I didn’t feel much sympathy for Edward Glyver. He’s unlikeable in the extreme. He values the wrong things in life, and he spends his days in dissolution, feeling sorry for himself. He was indeed treated unfairly, but he certainly meted out the same sort of treatment to other undeserving and innocent parties. Another issue I had with the book was its length. The story moves at a slow pace, and I found it difficult to plow through the beginning of the book, particularly as Edward Glyver had given me no reason to be interested in or care about what happened to him. I am not sure what should have been cut, but I hate investing so much time in a book this long for so little reward. The story turns on coincidence, which normally I don’t mind and have actually used in my own writing, but for some reason in this novel it bothered me. It seems Alastair Sooke and I are in agreement on our reviews. What Cox does very well in this book is capture a sort of seedy underbelly of Victorian society and the sharp divisions between classes.

Cox succumbed to cancer on March 31, 2009 after finishing The Glass of Time, a companion to The Meaning of Night.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

This book is my eighth book for the Typically British Challenge, bringing me to the highest level of the challenge: Cream Crackered. Looks like I have finished this one.

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The Three Weissmanns of Westport

Posted on by Dana

The Three Weissmanns of Westport: A NovelCathleen Schine’s novel The Three Weissmanns of Westport is a modern retelling of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. I first became intrigued by the novel after I heard Lois Reitzes interview Schine on Between the Lines. Here is the interview:

Cathleen Schine, author of The Three Weissmans of Westport

Schine explains in the interview that her motivation for telling the tale lay in part in the fact that in many ways, women today are as vulnerable to the same financial difficulties as the Dashwoods because of divorce. It was an interesting take. The story begins as Betty Weissmann learns her husband nearly fifty years, Joseph, plans to leave her for a younger woman, the Fanny Dashwoodish Felicity. In an argument over the apartment the Weissmanns share in the Central Park West area in Manhattan, Betty finds herself cut off from the money she has never had to worry about in the past. Meanwhile, Betty’s two daughters have troubles of their own. Schine has recast the characters into older counterparts, and I found it worked well. Annie is the Elinor figure; a librarian with two grown sons, she pines for Felicity’s brother, the novelist Frederick Barrows. Miranda is the Marianne figure, a literary agent who peddles fake memoirs and is outed by Oprah. Cousin Lou, the Mr. Middleton figure, comes to the rescue and offers the Weissmanns his cottage in Westport because they’re “like family.” The three women move in together. Miranda falls in love with the dashing young actor Kit and his son Henry. Betty mourns the death of her marriage like a true widow. Annie wonders how she is going to pay all the bills.

One of the enjoyable aspects of reading derivative works like this—modern updates or retellings—is seeing how an old story can still speak to a modern audience and can still be as fresh and as true as it ever was. I particularly liked A Thousand Acres, Jane Smiley’s retelling of King Lear for that reason. This retelling works. The situations were plausible, and the characters were flawed, but intriguing and funny and even charming enough to keep me interested. In this case, knowing Sense and Sensibility made me wonder how the author might, for instance, deal with Willoughby’s betrayal or Elinor’s introduction to Lucy Steele. It was satisfying to turn the page, then, and see it coming. For instance, as soon as Amber and Crystal walked on the scene, I thought “here come the Misses Steele.” Schine captured those two particularly well. The book has a lot of pop culture references, from James Frey, to Shamwow, to Snuggies, and more, but I wonder if these problems won’t date the book in the future. Then again, maybe it will be a snapshot of the early 21st century. Austen purists won’t like some of the changes made to the ending. I think the ending Sense and Sensibility of is one of the best endings ever. However, I liked the ending of this book. Around about the middle, I had to keep plowing through the book to see how Schine would modernize next.

Rating: ★★★★☆

This is my first book for the Everything Austen Challenge.

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Medieval Lives

Posted on by Dana

Terry Jones’ Medieval LivesTerry Jones is perhaps best known as one of the members of the British comedy troupe Monty Python. Anyone who has followed his career since his Python days knows that he has become a respected medievalist, something my Medieval Literature professor told us one day in discussing Chaucer’s Knight. Jones’s Medieval Lives may be seen as a companion to the series of the same name.

The book is broken down into eight chapters the explore the lives of people of different classes and occupations, sweeping away the glorification given to some (knights) and undue pity given to others (peasant). It’s a refreshing exploration of what medieval life was really like with the most intense focus on medieval life in England, which is clearly Jones’s background. The eight groups Jones explores in this book are peasants, minstrels, outlaws, monks, philosophers, knights, damsels, and kings. My favorite chapter on kings discusses incorrect perceptions and propaganda surrounding medieval English kings and is brilliantly constructed around analysis of the three Richards:

Kings of England can be divided into three types: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly. That, you can take it from us, is a reliable fact… Take all the kings of England called Richard: there’s Good King Richard I—Richard the Lionheart, the idealistic crusader and champion of England—or was he? Bad King Richard II— the vain, megalomaniac tyrant—or has his name been traduced by those who wished him ill? And Ugly King Richard III—the deformed monster of Shakespeare’s imagination—or is he nothing more than that: the product of our greatest playwright’s imagination? (“King,” location 3040)

Jones’s explanation of why Good King Richard the Lionheart was a terrible English king, why Richard II was a fairly good king, and Richard III not at all Shakespeare’s villainous tyrant made for interesting reading, though as an anglophile with a bizarre fascination for the British monarchy, much of it was not new to me.

I also enjoyed Jones’s deconstruction of the knight in the Middle Ages, particularly my favorite William Marshal. I liked Jones’s description of the value of knighthood, perfectly encapsulated by the English defeat of the French at Agincourt: “The flower of French chivalry was cut down by archers on sixpence a day” (“Knight,” location 2523). So much for the French assumption that the English would face them on horseback like proper knights!

Jones’s chapter on damsels gives the lie to the old saw that medieval women were powerless and in constant need of rescue. I was particularly interested in Jones’s discussion of the evolution of the Lady of Shalott:

In the original story the lady was not weak and helpless at all, and she was not under any curse. Nor was she passive and pathetic. She was a wilful, stubborn woman who boldly declared her passionate love for Lancelot. Her tragedy was that it was not returned. (“Damsel,” location 2755).

Later, Tennyson would describe her plight differently:

The story of the Lady of Shalott created an extraordinarily resonant echo in the Victorian and Edwardian imagination; Pre-Raphaelite artists, looking for images that expressed what they saw as a truly medieval perspective, returned to it time and time again… It is an image of womanhood as essentially confined and restricted; full participation in the world is forbidden and fatal. This is sentimentally regretted, but tragically unalterable. (“Damsel,” location 2748-2753).

The entire book is worthy of quotes, and I highlighted and annotated it more heavily than any other book I’ve read on my Kindle. Suffice it to say it’s as entertaining and funny as one would expect from a member of Monty Python and informative and educational enough that you’ll learn quite a lot of history as you read. I highly recommend it. As Jones says in my favorite quote in the book, “History consists of the tales we like to tell each other about our predecessors” (“King,” location 3046). If you’ve ever wondered what “tales” you’ve been told about medieval people, pick up this book.

Rating: ★★★★★

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The Little Stranger

Posted on by Dana

The Little StrangerI have never read anything written by Sarah Waters before. I had no expectations going into this book. The art teacher at my school said I would like it, and that the last page was a doozy. If what I think happened is what happened, then she’s right.

The Little Stranger is the story of Dr. Faraday and his long-standing obsession with Hundreds Hall, the home of the Ayres family. He first encounters the family as a small child when he visits the estate as part of an Empire Day celebration. Taken with the charm of the house, its grandness, its stateliness, he prizes a small acorn decoration from a plaster border in one of the passages in the house. The next time Dr. Faraday enters the house about thirty years later, it is to treat the Ayres family’s maid Betty. Dr. Faraday gradually becomes closer to the Ayres family and even becomes indispensable. Strange things start to happen around the house: a girl is badly bitten by the otherwise docile Gyp, the Ayres family dog. Strange marks begin to appear on the walls and ceilings. Objects move. Is it the ghost of poor little Susan Ayres who died before her younger sister and brother were born? Or is it something even stranger and more mysterious?

The book is as much a gothic ghost story as it is the story of the waning of the British class system, perfectly encapsulated by Mrs. Ayres as quoted by her daughter, “She said families like ours, they had a—a responsibility, they had to set an example. She said, if we couldn’t do that, if we couldn’t be better and braver than ordinary people, then what was the point of us?” In the post-WWII setting of the novel, many of the old gentry like the Ayres family are rapidly losing their money and are unable to keep up their grand estates. Course, nouveau-riche families like the Baker-Hydes are moving into the nearby estates. Keeping Hundreds Hall going occupies all of Roderick Ayres’s time (nice touch with the literary allusion in that name). Meanwhile, Dr. Faraday has risen from a humble background as the son of a shopkeeper and former Hundreds Hall servant to become a doctor. Even as the last vestiges of the class system seem to be dying away, some parts of it hang on with a frustrating tenacity that prevents Faraday from truly advancing in the ways he hopes to.

This book has some genuinely creepy parts. I was a little spooked reading it at night. One portion late in the book concerning the haunting of Mrs. Ayres was actually scary. Readers who like a definitive ending instead of one you have to mull over and determine what you think happened—because Waters does leave it up to your interpretation—might not enjoy this book. It is slow to start, but parts of it are gripping and will keep you turning the pages. I am knocking off a star for the plodding pace in portions of this book and the fact that I didn’t like the characters very much (with perhaps the exceptions of Betty and Mrs. Ayres). It’s been a long time since I read a really good ghost story, and I enjoyed this book a great deal. I know I’ve enjoyed a book when I close it and wish I could write one like it. If you enjoy spooky ghost stories like The Turn of the Screw, Rebecca, and The Ghost Writer by John Harwood, you’ll like this book. I’ve read it is also a cousin of The Haunting of Hill House, but I haven’t read that one yet.

Rating: ★★★★☆

This book is my seventh book in the Typically British Reading Challenge. One more book and I will meet the challenge’s highest level: Cream Crackered.

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The Adventure of English

Posted on by Dana

The Adventure of English: The Biography of a LanguageMelvyn Bragg’s book The Adventure of English: The Biography of a Language is a companion to the documentary series of the same name. It explores the twists and turns in the development and spread of English from its beginnings to the present day. I found it to be an entertaining read, and I certainly learned some interesting things about language that I will use in my American and British literature curricula next year. In many ways, it does seem astonishing that English has managed to become as important as it has given some of the close calls over the years: Alfred the Great’s defeat of the Danes (it was close) and 1066 just to name two. I did wish that Bragg had provided some footnotes and explained some of the etymologies he described. I can’t think of an example now that I’m reviewing, but I do recall as I read that at times I didn’t think his etymology agreed with what I read or learned elsewhere. It’s clearly in the camp of pop-history rather than scholarly writing, so perhaps readers should not expect a dissertation on the development of English going in, but it is highly readable. I did find myself lagging through the late middle of the book until I came to the section on Australian English, which I found much more intriguing than I thought I would.

It might just be me, but I found long lists of words difficult. For instance, when Bragg is describing a list of words from Old English that still appear in everyday conversation on p. 6, he chooses to list them separated by commas. It may be grammatically correct to do so, but I quickly became lost and would have preferred a chart or table. Another quibble: Bragg refers to Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf several times, and while I love Heaney’s translation, Bragg obscures the fact that it’s a translation or interpretation. The first word of Beowulf in Old English is Hwæt, which Heaney translates as “So.” It has been variously translated as “Lo,” “Listen,” “What,” “Now,” and “Indeed,” among others. I really can’t explain why it bothered me that Bragg said hwæt translated as “so” without providing it within the context of a Heaney translation until the following paragraph (pp. 13-14).

The book was a mostly enjoyable diversion. I think anyone interested in the development of the English language will find it interesting. I do plan to view the companion DVD series, which we have at my school.

Rating: ★★★★☆

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Remarkable Creatures

Posted on by Dana

Remarkable CreaturesWhen I was a little girl, I loved dinosaurs. It might be I don’t remember things correctly, but I don’t remember dinosaurs being all that cool when I was a kid. Mrs. Jones taught us about the Trachodon in first grade, the first day of our unit on dinosaurs. I was hooked. The first “chapter” book I ever read was called Prehistoric Monsters Did the Strangest Things. As an accurate dinosaur book, it probably wasn’t very good, but I was fascinated by it. The book was part of a series on animals. I remember clearly that the chapter about Mary Anning’s discovery was titled “What Mary Found.” She wore a pink dress and a white mob cap over her blond curls. I was entranced by the idea of finding a real fossil, just like Mary Anning. Many years later, I still remember much of what I learned, and while my fascination with dinosaurs waned with time, I couldn’t resist picking up a novel about Mary Anning.

Remarkable Creatures is the story of Mary Anning and Elizabeth Philpot, women who paved the way for a great deal of scientific discovery in an age when women weren’t even allowed to join the scientific societies that celebrated their discoveries. Mary and Elizabeth come from two very different classes: Mary’s family is poor, working class, while Elizabeth is solidly middle class. Theirs is an unlikely friendship established over their shared fascination with fossils of the remarkable creatures they find on the beach at Lyme Regis. The novel explores their complicated relationship with each other and with the men of science who take credit for their discoveries.

Chevalier brought the setting of Lyme Regis alive, the beaches teeming with fossil ammonites and belemnites. The reader can feel the sea spray and the hard rock holding the fossils fast until they are released by Mary’s skilled hands. Her attention to detail is precise. I could see the layout of Morley Cottage, where the three Philpot sisters lived as well as if I had been there. If you’ve read Girl with a Pearl Earring or Chevalier’s other books, you know she’s a thorough researcher. Chevalier managed to bring these fossil hunters alive for me—they are my kindred spirits. Some of the male characters seem to run together, and I found them hard to distinguish from one another and perhaps not as fully realized, but I think that was most likely Chevalier’s aim.

I am not sure this book qualifies for the Typically British Challenge, as Chevalier is an American living in England and writing about England, but not an English writer herself, so I’ve elected not to count it. I am, however, tagging the post with my Jane Austen tag because the book mentions her and her visit to Lyme Regis as well as Persuasion, which is set there.

Rating: ★★★★★

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Charlotte and Emily

Posted on by Dana

Charlotte and Emily: A Novel of the BrontësJude Morgan’s Charlotte and Emily is mistitled. It is actually the story of Maria, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Branwell, Emily, and Anne Brontë, as well as their parents. In the UK, the book was titled The Taste of Sorrow, a title much more apt, though one could argue again that the Brontës endured much more than a taste of sorrow. I imagine the reason for the change stems from the notion that Americans will be more interested in Charlotte and Emily, as though we aren’t as likely to buy a book the book with Morgan’s title. I grow tired of this sort of retitling.

Morgan’s novel begins on the deathbed of Maria Branwell Brontë and traces the familiar family story from the coming of Aunt Branwell to help care for the children, to the loss of Maria and Elizabeth, casualties of the harsh conditions at the Clergy Daughters’ School in Cowan Bridge. Branwell is given the gift of toy soldiers, and he and his sisters create imaginative stories. As they grow, they find it difficult to leave behind their created worlds of Angria and Gondal. As adults, the sisters try their hand at teaching and governessing, but they are ultimately unhappy. Their brother Branwell succumbs to drinking and dissolution; meanwhile, they write.

Morgan’s writing style draws you in. He doesn’t attempt to mimic the style of the Brontës, and some expressions (Tabby’s “What’s up?”, for instance) seem jarring, but the overall effect is an admirable piece of work that brings the Brontë family alive. Patrick Brontë, the family patriarch, suffers a little under Morgan’s characterization, but as I don’t know much about the man, I can’t say that the characterization is unfair. Once again, I walk away from a book about the Brontës with the notion that no matter their unhappiness in life, I would really like to have sat at the table with all of them for tea and conversation. Branwell is the great unrealized genius, fiery and passionate. Anne, the dutiful, honest thinker. Emily, the blunt, private dreamer. Charlotte, much like her heroine Jane Eyre, a person whose passions run deep beneath the surface.

I highly recommend this novel to fans of the Brontës. It’s highly readable historical fiction that brings the reader into the world of the Brontës. Don’t take my word for it, however. The BrontëBlog has a glowing review of the book.

Rating: ★★★★★

This book concludes the All About the Brontës Challenge for me and is my fifth book in the Bibliophilic Books Challenge (one more will bring me to Litlover status). This book is also my sixth selection for the Typically British Reading Challenge, bringing me to the “Bob’s Your Uncle” level. I’ll keep going.

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