The Penderwicks
The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy by Jeanne Birdsall
This one came recommended to me by my mum and one of her co-workers, and I thought it would be a good read to follow up One Hundred Years of Solitude. And it was! It’s a light, sweet, children’s book about a family of four sisters and their father who go on a family vacation. They’ve rented a cottage, sight unseen, and what they don’t realize is that the cottage is situated on the grand and beautiful estate Arundel. The book tells of the adventures the sisters have on their summer holiday.
If I didn’t know that the book was written in 2005, I might have thought that it was a lost work of Edith Nesbit or Edgar Eager, (whose books I loved as a child) without the magic. Overall, I found that it was a lovely book!
The Penderwicks on Gardam Street by Jeanne Birdsall
The sequel to The Penderwicks. I liked it because I missed the characters from the first book but overall I preferred the first book. The sequel just didn’t have the same element of old-fashioned charm. However, Birdsall’s characters are consistent from the first book to the second, so it was still an enjoyable read.
Eleanor Rigby
Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland
This entry will be proof that I should really write these up as soon as I’ve finished a book, and not a month later after I’ve already returned the book to its owner and forgotten whatever it was that I intended to write about it. (Unfortunately both of these things have happened, and the book does not seem to have made a lasting impression on my memory, even though it really only has been a few weeks since I read it!)
I think that this is probably my favourite of the books by Coupland that I have read so far. I still haven’t entirely made up my mind about how I feel about his writing, even though I’ve now read four or five of his books. I keep reading them because they come so highly recommended to me, and because I feel so ambivalent about the previous ones I’ve read. (This is precisely how I felt about Margaret Atwood until I read Alias Grace.) It’s not that I didn’t enjoy reading Eleanor Rigby but I don’t think that Coupland is my kind of writer.
I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about his books that I don’t like. I think that a large part of it has to do with his pessimistic attitude toward modern society that I don’t entirely agree with. I do believe that our society has its problems, but instead of feeling motivated to fix things after finishing his books, I just have an overall feeling of negativity. I found that Eleanor Rigby was actually better for that than some of his other books.
I realize that this entry makes it sound like I really didn’t enjoy Eleanor Rigby, which isn’t true. It’s more that it didn’t stay with me at all, and now my memory of it is vague and clouded, but I have no intention of revisiting it to clarify my feelings toward it.
The Third Angel
The Third Angel by Alice Hoffman
I’ve had Alice Hoffman in the back of my mind as an author I wanted to check out ever since I saw the movie Practical Magic, which is based on her novel of the same name. I actually meant to start out with Practical Magic, because I just love that story, but I guess it just became one of those many books that I mean to read and then never quite get around to reading. Mum had an advance reading copy of The Third Angel lying around the house, so I borrowed it from her at her recommendation.
The novel tells the stories of three women all in love with men who are somehow wrong for them. As the book unfolds, it becomes apparent that these women are interconnected in surprising ways. Their individual stories build on each other and form the pieces of another, larger story that involves all of them. The book works backwards in time, beginning with Maddy Heller’s experiences when she stays at the Lion Park Hotel for her sister’s wedding in 1999. The novel then deals with a significant event in Frieda Lewis’s life when she worked as a chambermaid in the Lion Park Hotel in London in the mid ’60s. Finally, the book takes us back to twelve-year-old Lucy Green’s trip to the Lion Park Hotel in 1952, where she witnesses a tragedy that will influence the lives of both Maddy and Frieda when they come to the hotel.
I had some trouble getting into the novel at first, mostly because I wasn’t all that engaged with Maddy’s story. I wasn’t sure what to make of the elements of magic and the supernatural events that were running through the story, either, because at the outset the book appears to be simply realistic fiction. Once I got to Frieda’s section of the book, I got really immersed in the story, and accepted the magical elements without trying to figure out their exact role in the story. I actually grew to really enjoy the magical element of her work. Furthermore, I loved that there was a fairy tale called The Heron’s Wife that figured in some important way in each story. Overall, I found that the three individual stories fit together extremely well, with each story leaving a trail of clues for the subsequent tale.
Everything was yellow in the park. When it rained, leaves came swirling down. When it was sunny everything looked golden. Frieda Lewis was nineteen and had been working for four months at the Lion Park Hotel in Knightsbridge. Her favourite rooms to clean were teh ones on the seventh floor. From there, she could look out the windows in the back and see the little courtyard park with its stone lion. From the front rooms, she could see the tops of the trees in Hyde Park. Once she climbed onto the ledge and stood there for a moment, above the traffic and the fumes, mesmerized by the movement of the trees and the clouds in the sky.
Twilight
Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
I’d been meaning to read this one for some time now, since I was feeling out of the YA loop. Then, one of my friends started raving about it, and there was finally a copy available at the library, and that was that.
I was immediately and thoroughly drawn into the book. I was completely absorbed by it, and couldn’t seem to read it quickly enough. In fact, I’m sure that I only skimmed some bits of it in an effort to find out what would happen all the faster.
I finished it quite some time ago and returned it to the library as there were holds on it, so I don’t have too much to say about it (which is really why I should write entries for books immediately upon finishing them) but I’m definitely interested to read the rest of the series. Reading this book recalled memories of reading when I was much younger.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“How long have you been seventeen?”
Cloud Atlas
Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
I don’t entirely know how to begin to describe Cloud Atlas, but I feel that a brief consideration of its structure is essential to understanding the uniqueness of the book. I understand it in terms of a metaphor that came to mind while I was reading. Imagine a set of Russian nesting dolls that have been taken apart. The dolls have been taken apart in such away that the only intact doll is the centre one; the others remain in halves. To reassemble the set so that all the smaller dolls are inside the largest, you nest all the bottom halves of the dolls inside each other, then place the intact doll in the very centre, and then add the top halves from smallest to largest.
There are six interconnected stories in Cloud Atlas that are presented in precisely this manner. Mitchell begins five stories, tells the entirety of the sixth, and then resumes the first five in reverse order (12345654321). The stories are connected to each other, but each happens to a different character, is set in a different time period, and belongs to a different literary genre. This is where David Mitchell’s talents as a writer comes out, because each he handles each shift in the novel with skill and mastery. Each story has its own distinct tone to it, but fits in perfectly with the others.
One of my favourite details was the way that Mitchell altered his language to suit the time period and focalizing character of each story. Not to give too much away, but two of the stories are set in the future, and Mitchell alters the language of these stories to reflect and emphasize the setting. I found it interesting that in one of these stories, spelling and grammar was simplified in a way that Webster might have approved of, but Mitchell still retained the subjunctive mood.
This is one of the best books I’ve read in a long time (and I’ve read lots of good ones lately!). I really recommend reading this one, and untangling the mystery of the stories.
I watched clouds awobbly from the floor o’ that kayak. Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same, it’s still a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud’s blowed from or who the soul’ll be ‘morrow? Only Somni the east an’ the west an’ the compass an’ the atlas, yay, only the atlas o’clouds.
Sevenwaters
Child of the Prophecy by Juliet Marillier
I’ve put off writing about this book because it’s the last book in a trilogy and it feels strange to write about this one without mentioning Daughter of the Forest and Son of the Shadows, which I read a year and a half ago and six months ago, respectively. I’ve decided that instead of giving this one its own post, I’ll put it into the context of the series. Of course I’m also trying to keep this journal relatively spoiler-free, and especially so in this case because I know of people who specifically want to read or finish this series!
Anyways, I read Daughter of the Forest after Rin recommended it to me the summer before last. It is the retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Wild Swans”* set in Ireland in the 10th century. Not only is this one of my favourite fairy tales, but it also happens to be one of my favourite historical periods, so all-round points for that. Of course, I also loved Marillier’s portrayal of the period and her interpretation of the fairy tale. I also liked that she added in some of the folklore of Ireland.
To give a brief outline of the fairy tale – it is about a young girl (named Sorcha, in this story) who must save her six older brothers who have been turned into swans by their evil/jealous/sorceress step-mother. In order to do this, she must weave shirts for each of her brothers out of a thorny plant that rips open her hands, after taking a vow of silence. Of course, she runs into many complications along the way.
The second book in the series doesn’t follow the fairy tale at all, but tells the story of Sorcha’s children. The main plot of this book and the next one, in which the main protagonist is Sorcha’s granddaughter, follow a story introduced but not dealt with in the first book.
My mother knew every tale that was ever told by the firesides of Erin, and more besides. Folks stood hushed around the hearth to hear her tell them after a long day’s work, and marveled at the bright tapestries she wove with her words. She related the many adventures of Cù Chulainn the hero, and she told of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, who was a great warrior and cunning with it….She told tales that had the household in stitches with laughter, and tales that made strong men grow quiet. But there was one tale she would never tell, and that was her own. – the beginning of Son of the Shadows
*”The Wild Swans” is in turn based off of the Norwegian folk tale “The Twelve Wild Ducks,” which was collected by Asbjørnsen & Moe and then translated by George Webbe Dasent in the late-Victorian period. Angela Carter has suggested that Andersen “upgraded” the ducks to swans because swans provide more romantic imagery. (Andersen also cut down the number of brothers by half, but I’m not sure what the significance of that might be.)
The Thirteenth Tale
The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
I have to admit to being drawn to this book entirely because of its cover. Something about it really appealed to me, but when I picked up up in the bookstore I was a little put off because it was labelled as a “Heather’s Pick” and I rather dislike reading anything Heather or Oprah or anyone, really, has picked out for everyone to read (I guess I’m a bit of a snob). But I decided to get over my snobbery and read it.
The book follows the story of a young woman named Margaret, who receives a letter from the popular writer Vida Winter asking her to write her biography. This is unusual because Winter has spent her whole public life as a writer clouding her past in mystery, and now she wants to reveal the truth. As one commentator points out on the back of the book, Winter’s life story is “reminiscent of such spellbinding classics as Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and Rebecca.” It is also described as “a love letter to reading,” which is a description I can only agree with.
My favourite thing about this book was the way that Setterfield created the perfect atmosphere for a gothic novel. (I have a bit of a soft spot for gothic novels, especially ones written during the Victorian period.) I would recommend the book based on her talent to create mood alone. Of course, the plot is also completely absorbing and well tied together, as well as just weird enough to be interesting without being over the top.
All children mythologize their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind, and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won’t be the truth: it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story.
Atonement
Atonement by Ian McEwan
I have decided to begin this blog with my thoughts on Atonement. Although it is has now been a few weeks since I finished the novel, it seems like the appropriate place to begin this record of books because it is one that has lingered with me after I finished the last page.
The first half of the novel deals with the events that take place at the Tallis family home on the hottest day of summer in 1935. These events are described through the perspectives of various different characters, who all come to different conclusions about the significance of these events because none of them understand them in the same way. (Because of this narrative technique, I found the novel to be highly reminiscent of Virginia Woolf’s novel Mrs. Dalloway.) The way that McEwan reveals what happened on that hot summer’s day is where the suspense of the novel lies, because as you look at the same occurrence through the eyes of different people, you get closer to the truth of what happened. Or do you? Part of what I loved about the novel was the way it deals with the issues of truth and reality because it demonstrates that all we know is shaped by our perceptions.
Part II then jumps ahead five years to 1940 to examine the effects of the now 18-year-old Briony Tallis’s misunderstanding of what she saw on that summer’s day, and the crime she commits because of it. I found this to be a rather jarring leap into the future because of the accompanying shift in style; however, I adored the meta-fictional commentary McEwan employed with this change in style.
I think that this novel has quickly become one of my very favourites, and in addition is one I wish I had written myself.
It was thought, perception, sensations that interested her, the conscious mind as a river through time, and how to represent its onward roll, as well as all the tributaries that would swell it, and the obstacles that would divert it. If only she could reproduce the clarity of the light of a summer’s morning, the sensations of a child standing at a window, the curve and dip of a swallow’s flight over water. The novel of the future would be unlike anything in the past. She had read Virginia Woolf’s The Waves three times and thought that a great transformation was being worked in human nature itself, and that only fiction, a new kind of fiction, could capture the essence of the change. To enter a mind and show it at work, or being worked on, and to do it within a symmetrical design – this would be an artistic triumph.
