End-of-Year Book Survey

Time for my end of the year roundup!  I've adapted this meme from Jamie at The Perpetual Page-Turner, via Amanda over at Ramblings.

1. Best book(s) I read in 2011:  Are best books the same as my favorites?  Some of my favorites didn't necessarily have the best writing or have other flaws, though I still loved them.  So here are the ones that I suppose are the best on a critical level:

The Annotated Persuasion by Jane Austen (annotations by David M. Shaphard)
Germinal by Emile Zola
The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton
Excellent Women by Barbara Pym
Someone at a Distance by Dorothy Whipple

My favorites:  well, keep reading and I think it will be obvious!

2.  Most disappointing book: 

Villette by Charlotte Bronte.  I adore Jane Eyre, so this was a huge letdown.  I know many people love this book, but it just seemed like a huge slogfest, and the payoff sucked.

3. Most surprising (in a good way!) book of 2011: 

This one is a tie:  The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer and A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin.  I expected to hate Sophy because I'm not a fan of Jane Austen wannabees, but this was great -- I could feel the Austen influence, but the characters were fresh and the story was pretty funny.   Not terribly challenging, but a fun read.

And I normally have no interest in epic fantasy but I fell in love with Martin's world of Westeros and its multiple intertwining storylines.  I finished the first three books in the series and I'm dying to know what happens next.

4.  Books I recommended most to people in 2011:  

The three volumes of Jane Austen annotated by David M. Shaphard:  Persuasion, Pride & Prejudice, and Sense and Sensibility  -- though I admit I've only read two so far.  Persuasion and S&S are so wonderfully annotated, Pride and Prejudice must be great also.  I'm also looking forward to the annotated Emma which is out next spring.

And I've been recommending Zola all over the place.  Germinal is a masterpiece, but I loved La Bete Humaine and Pot-Bouille as well.  I first read Zola back in 2010 but this is the year I really fell in love with his work.

5.  Best series I discovered in 2011: Hands down, A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin.  See #3.

6.  Favorite new authors of 2011:  Georgette Heyer and George R. R. Martin.

7.  Most thrilling, unputdownable book of 2011:  Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon.  It's called Victorian Sensation for a reason -- I can see why this book has never gone out of print.  It's a fun Victorian roller-coaster of a novel.  Not very deep, but really fun.

8.  Book I most anticipated in 2011:  Probably Germinal by Emile Zola.  I'd heard raves about it from Amanda, and more than a year ago we put it on the reading list for our real-life classic book group.  I know it's more than 100 years old but it was my most anticipated book of the year, and one of my favorites.

9.  Favorite cover of a book I read in 2011:  Again, it's a tie:

The Night Circus is just beautiful and stylish, and I love the woodcuts in the Wodehouse editions by Overlook Press.  If I had more money and bookshelves, I'd buy the whole series.

10.  Most memorable character in 2011:  Two characters actually, both from A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin.  First, Tyrion Lannister.  He's a rude, lusty dwarf from a horrible family, but Martin makes him so interesting and sympathetic.  Also, Arya Stark, the ten-year old girl who's trying to survive as war breaks out in Westeros.  I can't wait to find out what happens to both of them.

11.  Most beautifully written book in 2011:  Probably The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern.  I did have some problems with this book, but it was really beautifully written.  Unfortunately I can't pull any quotes from the book because there was a huge waiting list at the library and I had to return it immediately after finishing it.

12.  Best book that was out of your comfort zone or was a new genre for me:  A Storm of Swords is my favorite so far in the Song of Ice and Fire series, but it was A Game of Thrones that dragged me kicking and screaming into the epic fantasy genre.  Definitely NOT my comfort zone!


13.  Book that had the greatest impact on you in 2011:  A tie between Zola's Germinal and La Bete Humaine.  From Germinal I realized just how amazing Zola is; La Bete Humaine has moments that still shock me when I think about them.


14.  Book you can't believe you waited until 2011 to FINALLY read:  Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner.  I've wanted to read it for about five years, since I read the wonderful Angle of Repose.  I nominated it for my library book group and we had a great discussion.


15.  Book you read in 2011 that would most likely to be reread in 2012:  The Annotated Persuasion edited by David M. Shaphard.  The annotations add so much to these books -- I get more out of them every time I read Jane Austen.


16. Book that had a scene in it that had me reeling and dying to talk to somebody about it?  (A WTF moment, an epic revelation, a steamy kiss, etc., etc).  No spoilers! : All three books in A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin have moments that made me nearly drop the book and scream, "Oh. My. God!  That did NOT just happen!!"  And La Bete Humaine by Emile Zola had some shocking plot twists as well.


Just for fun, some stats about my 2011 reading: 


Books completed: 105
Pages read: approximately 35,586

Books by male authors: 38
Books by female authors: 66
Books by both male and female authors: 1
New books: 93
Rereads: 12
Fiction: 86
Nonfiction: 19
Short story collection: 7
Plays: 1
Children's books: 3
YA books: 1
Big fat books (more than 500 pages): 8
Books in translation: 11 (6 French; 2 German; 1 Swedish; 1 Norwegian; 1 Japanese)

Repeat: authors: I repeated a LOT of authors this year!  I read three books each by Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, and George R. R. Martin; four by Emile Zola, and seven by P. G. Wodehouse.


Books from my TBR shelves:  26.  An epic fail!!  I read too many books from the library, and I'm sorry to say I bought way too many new books so I could read them immediately instead of taking something off the TBR shelf.

And let's not even discuss the books I bought in 2012 that are filling up the TBR shelf.  I think it's time to adjust my reading goals and habits.

What about you, bloggers?  Did you have a good reading year in 2011?  What are your reading plans for 2012?

La Bete Humaine by Emile Zola

It's actually been several weeks since I finished this book.  I had just been promoted to my new job, so I had a week of orientation, which I found exhausting, then I started my REAL new job, and had to go back to Spanish class. . . and I actually spend time with my family.  Needless to say, this book review kind of got lost in the shuffle.  Which is a shame, really, because it was a really engrossing book, and I feel like it deserves a review.

So,  La Bete Humaine is my fourth read in Emile Zola's twenty novel Rougon Macquart cycle.  Somehow, these novels all feature inter-related characters, but this isn't the sort of series which requires readers to begin at the beginning.  (Zola purists, please refrain from howling).  La Bete Humaine loosely translates to The Human Beast but is also sometimes translated as The Beast Within.  Basically, it's the story of murderers and what does or does not drive them to kill.   Are people born murders, or can good people be driven to it?  Are we really just animals?

There are several intertwining stories in this novel, which is set against the backdrop of the Paris-Le Havre train route, and its employees.  Monsieur Roubaud is a deputy station master, and he and his wife, Severine, live in company housing with several other railway employees.  A chance remark about Severine's godfather, the wealthy and influential Monsieur Grandmorin, raises Rouboud's suspicions, and he begins to suspect he was more than her patron after her parents' deaths.

Meanwhile, a railway engineer, Jacques Lantier, is harboring murderous thoughts of his own.  He is convinced that he can never have a healthy relationship with a woman, because all he can do is fantasize about killing them.  Jacques is the son of Gervaise, the main character in Zola's novel, L'Assommoir (The Drinking Den), and the brother of Etienne from Germinal, and of Claude Lantier, the main character of The Masterpiece. (However, it isn't necessary to have read these novels, as they all essentially stand alone).

Then there are some other characters who may or may not have killer instincts.  Jacques goes to visit his Aunt Phasie, who lives in a small house right next to the railway line near Le Havre.  She's chronically ill and believes that she is being slowly poisoned to death by her second husband, who is forever searching for her hidden cache of money.  Phasie has a daughter, Flore, who is in love with Jacques.  They're still mourning the death of her youngest daughter, who died under mysterious circumstances which may involve characters previously mentioned.

All of these people leave fairly miserable lives on and around the railway, which is so masterfully described, that, like the mines of Germinal, it becomes an important character in the book.  Jacques and his fellow railway men are constantly describing the engine by its name, "La Lison."

In the past, I've referred several times to literary characters as fascinating train wrecks.  It may be a terrible pun, but it couldn't be more apt in this case.  None of these characters are particularly likeable, but once again, Zola manages to intertwine their stories in such a fascinating manner that I couldn't wait to find out what happened next.  Their lives are pretty sordid, with affairs, theft, murder, and gossip, and Zola manages to get in some pretty nasty barbs about the corrupt judicial system.  I wouldn't really want to meet any of these people, but I could hardly put the book down once I got into it.  It must have been incredibly shocking when it was first published in 1890, and the ending is one of the most emotionally draining things I've read in a novel.  It's not particularly explicit for the twenty-first century reader, but I was still aghast at the ending.  I don't know if it's considered among the best of Zola's novels, but I don't think I can ever forget it.

The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy

Yesterday I finished The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy, and honestly, I'm having a hard time finding anything to say about it.  (Which shocks me, because I'm rarely at a loss for words).  I guess I can sum it up by saying I was underwhelmed.

If you haven't read it, here's the setup:  the story begins with Michael Henchard and his wife walking down a country lane with their baby, in England circa 1830 (if I've gotten the dates wrong, I apologize).  Anyhow, he's an itinerant farm worker, looking to find a job gathering hay.  They wander into a town where an auction is going on, and stop for something to eat called furmity, which is some kind of porridge.  The old hag serving up the furmity laces Michael's bowl with rum (which sounds disgusting -- who puts rum in a savory dinner dish?  It should be reserved for tropical drinks served with an umbrella).  The upshot is that Michael gets drunk and angry because he's young and poor, and starts complaining about being saddled with a wife and child.  He threatens to sell them to the highest bidder, just like at the nearby auction.  The other drunkards go along with this, thinking it's a big joke, but a sailor passing through takes him up on his offer.  The wife, who's had enough of his bad behavior, decides she's better off without him and leaves with this complete stranger.  Michael must have been a pretty poor husband.

Later, he sobers up and realizes what he's done, but it's too late, and he swears off drinking.  Years later, the wife and grown daughter show up looking for him, and by now he's sober and respectable, and he's a wealthy upstanding citizen; in fact, he's the town Mayor.  And this is where things start to get interesting, because he feels obligated to this wife and child, but he doesn't want anyone to know about the terrible thing he's done in the past.  If you've read Hardy, you know this will all end badly.

I've read quite a few classics books that I like to think of as fascinating train wrecks -- if you've followed my blog, you'll know they include some of my favorite classics, like Madam Bovary, The House of Mirth, and pretty much the entire oeuvre of Emile Zola -- you know, people on downward spirals.  They're not always very nice characters, yet I can't stop reading about them.  The Mayor of Casterbridge had the potential to fall into this category, but sadly, I didn't find it so fascinating.  It was an easy read, but somehow, I didn't find the characters all that compelling.  I just really didn't care about any of them.

This the second novel I've read by Hardy.  My first was Tess of the D'Urbervilles, which I read several years ago for an online book group.  I remember distinctly that after it was nominated, one of the members posted a comment that said (and I paraphrase) that he'd rather poke himself in the eye with a sharp stick than discuss Tess again.  I don't know if he was sick to death of it, or he hated it, or he was just being a jerk, but that's all I could think about when it came time to read Casterbridge.  I didn't hate Tess, but boy, it took forever for anything to happen.  Having seen the movie years ago, I was familiar with the plot, and it really seemed like endless description of farm life in England.  Tess was forever digging up turnips or haying or milking cows, et cetera.   (To be fair,  I probably shouldn't have been reading it while on vacation in Costa Rica -- really, it was geographically inappropriate.  Hard to get excited about rural England while enjoying a gorgeous vista of banana plants and coffee trees.)

I love Victorian novels, but I'm having a tough time with Hardy.  How is it his books are both readable and slow at the same time?  His books aren't densely written, like Dickens and Eliot can be, but sometimes it takes forever for stuff to happen.  I'm getting a kinda frustrated with Hardy.  Amanda from Ramblings has sworn to me that Jude the Obscure is much better, and I have promised to read Return of the Native, which she loved. If things don't improve, I'm going to delete his books from my to-read list.

Has anyone else read Hardy?  What did you think?  Should I give up or give him another try?

The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

With The Little Stranger, I've not only read another book for the RIP Challenge, I've also finally completed another owned-and-unread book from the TBR shelf.  I bought The Little Stranger at a library sale not long after I finished (and loved) Fingersmith, so I've been looking forward to reading it.  But like my last RIP book, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, it wasn't quite what I was expecting.

Set just a couple of years after the end of World War II, The Little Stranger is an atmospheric story told in the first person by a British country doctor, John Faraday.  He grew in the shadow of Hundreds, a grand country house owned by the local gentry family, the Ayreses.  Though his mother was in service and his father a shopkeeper, Dr. Faraday was able to rise above his station through hard work and his parents' sacrifices.  He's not the Ayreses' regular doctor, but one day he's called out there as a substitute, to check on a young maid who's ailing.

The maid seems to be shamming, but confesses to Dr. Faraday that she's unhappy in the big house, which gives her the creeps.  He dismisses her fears -- the house is nearly empty nowadays, with only a full-time housekeeper; Mrs. Ayres, a widow; her daughter Caroline, who is in her twenties and unmarried; and her son and heir Roderick, who was a pilot in the war and was badly wounded and burned in a crash.

The Ayres family has fallen on hard times, and are barely able to keep the estate afloat.  With the pretext of helping Roderick with an experimental medical treatment, Dr. Faraday begins visiting the Ayreses on a regular basis.  He becomes a close family friend and confidant and is present when a terrible thing happens, the first of many odd occurences.

Three of Sarah Waters' novels are neo-Victorian, but this is her second foray into another historical era -- post-WWII Britain, which I thought she did extremely well.  Of course I'm no expert, but the past year or so I've been reading a lot more fiction written and published in that era, and the mood was very similar.  Waters does an excellent job evoking the period, but what I think was best about the book was her description of an aristocratic family fallen on hard times, and their struggle to keep their lifestyle afloat.  They're desperately hanging on to another era -- they can't keep the farm going, can't maintain the property, and can barely find servants to help them around the house.  It's a real contrast to the books I've been reading recently in which great houses have scores of servants and most women had few other job choices than to be a maid, cook, or governess.

The supernatural aspect of the book is not the best part, in my opinion, and I was a little disappointed in the ending, which didn't quite satisfy me.  But the book is so well written, I read it pretty quickly over a couple of days. I didn't like it quite as much as Fingersmith, but it was well worth reading.   One of my librarian friends is coordinating a historical fiction book group, and the December read is one of Waters' other books, Affinity, so I'm hoping to get to it in a couple of months.  This one is set in a Victorian asylum and also has supernatural elements -- as my friend Jason commented, "Nothing says Christmas like Victorian madhouses!"

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Another RIP read -- and a really good one.  In fact, it might be my ideal RIP challenge read:

1.  It's very creepy.
2.  It's very short (only 146 pages in my edition).
3.  It's a book from my TBR shelves that I've been meaning to read since it arrived in February in that Great Big Box of Penguins.

So, this book was a trifecta for a book challenge from the start.  Oh, and what is it about, by the way?  Well.  Published in 1962, this story is told in the first person by Mary Catherine Blackwood, also known as Merricat.  She's about eighteen when the story takes place.  On the day the story begins, Mary is has to go into town, to the library and to pick up the groceries.  Slowly, as she describes her walk, the reader learns about her very odd family.

Merricat lives with her sister and her Uncle Julian in a large mansion, but she's the only one that ever seems to leave.  Actually, her older sister Constance hasn't left the property in years; Uncle Julian is in a wheelchair, and he might be suffering from mental problems.  Pretty quickly, the reader realizes that almost everyone in the village seems to dislike the Blackwoods.  There are whispers and stares, and people pointing at Merricat.  At first I felt really sorry for her, and wondered what in the heck happened (though if you read the back cover it gives away more of the history. I really wish I hadn't, so I won't reveal it here).   As I kept reading, I realized there was a lot more weirdness going on.

Once again, I don't want to give away too much so I don't spoil it for anyone else.  All I will mention is that Shirley Jackson is just masterful at setting the scene and drawing the reader in, and the tension just escalates -- I couldn't put this book down.  Jackson is wonderful at revealing just enough to give the reader clues without giving away too much too fast.  I will admit that there was one big reveal I figured out pretty quickly -- I've read so many mysteries it's pretty easy for me to pick up on important clues.  However, it didn't take away from my enjoyment of the story one bit.

Before this, I'd really only read one other work by Jackson, her famous short story, "The Lottery," which is also creepy, but in a different way.  If you haven't read it, you can read it online here.  Jackson is well known for showing the darker underside of small-town life, and this book is so worth reading.  We Have Always Lived in the Castle is dark and creepy and Gothic, and I loved it.  A perfect quick read for the RIP season.

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

High fantasy is normally not my thing. In general, I prefer children's fantasy, and low fantasy, to these intricately plotted other-worldly . . . worlds.  Believe me, I have the highest respect for authors who can create these amazing places with characters and settings and creatures, oh my, replete with fantastic names for all of them.  Normally, I just do not have the patience -- frankly, it's all the vocabulary.  I honestly get tired of having to keep it all straight -- I want plot and characters to wrap my brain around.  Children's fantasy has much less world-building for me to keep straight in my head.  (Does this make me a lazy reader?)

So how in the heck did I find myself hooked on A Game of Thrones????  Frankly, I blame HBO.  Yes, it is the antichrist, television, that got me completely obsessed with a a series that is currently numbering more than 4000 pages and threatens to take over my reading list for the next couple of months.  Normally, I ignore all the adult fantasy in my library, except when I'm shelving or helping a patron, and it holds no fascination for me.  But darn it if that pay cable station didn't get me hooked on an epic fantasy series.  I didn't even start watching it until July!  There was a lot of buzz about it, so I set the DVR and promptly forgot about it.  Then one night last month, when everyone else was in bed, I decided to take a look and see if it was any good.

I. HAD.  NO.  IDEA.  Let me just say, first of all, that the series premiere has one of the best cliffhangers I've EVER seen on television, and that, having finished the first book, HBO did an amazing adaptation -- they were able to translate a book of almost 700 pages into ten hours, with very few changes (other than making the characters slightly older).  If you know nothing about this series, it's kind of like a Medieval version of The Sopranos, but with a little supernatural stuff thrown in.  Or, to put it another way, Lord of the Rings, but with sex thrown in.

It's set in the mythological lands of Westeros, which is divided up into Seven Kingdoms.  The lords of the kingdoms have all sworn fealty to the King Robert Baratheon at King's Landing.  When the story starts, the King's Hand, similar to his Lord Chancellor, has died, and King Robert has come far north to Winterfell to ask his childhood best friend, Lord Eddard Stark, to step in as his new Hand.  He comes with an enormous entourage, including his despicable wife Cersei of the House of Lannister, and her two brothers: her twin, valiant knight Lord Jaime, and her younger brother Tyrion, also known as the imp.

Sean Bean as Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell

Well, things start to get very interesting -- plotting!  intrigue!!  backstabbing!  Plus there are illegitimate children, swordfights, ousted rulers, a whole race of semi-savage horse-lords, a crazy prince who claims he has dragon's blood, giant wolves -- and at the Northern border there's an enormous Wall to keep out scary stuff that may or may not be mythological.  And did I mention that in this land, seasons last for years at at time?  It's been summer for about ten years now, and Winter Is Coming.

I eagerly watched all ten episodes in less than a week -- I could have stayed up all night watching if I didn't have other things to do, like supervise children and housework (I hadn't started working at the library yet).  Then I had to decide if I was going to read the books, or wait nine months to see what happens next. . .  . riiiight.  I was on the library's wait list but it was too long, so the other day I broke down and bought it.  And you know what?  Even though I'd just watched the series (twice), the book was even better!  George R. R. Martin has done an amazing job intertwining the book's multiple plots from the viewpoints of about seven different characters -- each chapter takes one character's perspective, and the chapters are quite short.  Martin worked in television for years, so I can see how easily the book was translated into a series. (Martin was also an executive producer and wrote one the episode's scripts).  I say easy, but it couldn't have been, with thousands of extras and costumes and swords and castles and so on.

Anyhow.  I've probably been rambling, but if you have even the vaguest interest in fantasy, this series is really worth it, if the rest of them are anything like the first book.  Seriously, I haven't been this excited about a new series since I read Harry Potter -- sacrilege!  And after I finish the fifth book in the series it'll be a long wait until the next one -- just like the agony J. K. Rowling put me through.

This is so unlike most of the other books I read, but I had to blog about it.  Bloggers, what about you?  Are there any books or series you love that are totally different than your usual reads?  Do you think of them as guilty pleasures?

Germinal by Emile Zola

I am finally back from Florida and well rested -- time to start posting!  After a whirlwind tour of Disney I had several restful days visiting family and friends in Florida.  It seemed sort of incongruous for the setting, but despite the sunny weather I decided to tackle Germinal, this month's selection for my real-life classics group.  Of all the books our group chose for 2011, I think this was the book I've wanted to read most.  Amanda from The Zen Leaf just raved about it, and after reading The Belly of Paris and Therese Raquin last year, I was eager to read more Zola.

The setup:  Etienne Lantier arrives in a small mining village, homeless, starving, and looking for work.  He's a trained mechanic but is happy to take a job as a miner, despite the horrible working conditions.  Through his eyes, we get to see the life of these people, who are scraping a living out of the bowels of the earth.  The work is back breaking and dangerous, there's hardly enough food to go around, and not much else to do except drink, gossip, and procreate.  When the mining company decides to change the payment structure, resulting in less pay for more work, Etienne leads his comrades in a devastating strike during a long, bitter winter.

If this sounds bleak and depressing, it is, but at the same time it's absolutely riveting.  Imagine The Grapes of Wrath, only set in 1880s France -- and underground, where the work in not only exhausting, but you could die at any time from a cave-in, a gas leak, or an explosion.  Plus the eventual death of black lung.  (Not to downplay the plight of the California migrant workers, but picking vegetables isn't quite the same. Though I guess they might get carpal tunnel or skin cancer.  Excuse the digression).

Anyhow.  Zola is just a master at setting these scenes and drawing the reader in -- a large chunk of the book is just Etienne's first day in the mines, so through his eyes the reader learns exactly what life is like for these people.  Zola actually spent six months researching this book, spending time with coal miners and going down into the mines himself.  He's also brilliant at writing crowd scenes.  I tend to zone out and skim over extended action scenes in books, but not here -- there are some scenes of mob violence that are horrifying, yet I couldn't stop reading.

Zola also tells the story bourgeois managers and their families.  The book is blatantly pro-worker, yet he's able to interject some sympathy for some of the managers who are really doing the best they can.  Of course, some of the wives and daughters are unbelievably naive and sheltered about the whole situation,  and Zola's satire would be hilarious if it probably weren't true -- they come off rather like Marie Antoinette wondering why they just don't eat some cake since there's no bread.

This was probably a poor choice to read in sunny Florida but I'm so glad I read it and can't wait to read more Zola.   I have both Nana and The Drinking Den (L'Assommoir) on my TBR shelf and I'm also dying to read The Ladies' Paradise.  I don't know if Germinal counts towards the Paris in July readalong, since none of it actually takes place in Paris, so I guess I'll just have to read another Zola!  Any suggestions?

The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton

It seems like it's been forever since I posted a book review -- okay, only ten days.  I have just felt really uninspired lately.  I suppose reading two massive Victorian books back to back was a bad idea -- what was I thinking, tackling Dombey and Son right before I was supposed to read Daniel Deronda for a book group discussion??  Crazy!  (And no surprise -- Daniel Deronda is still unfinished).

Something shorter was just the thing.  My choice was The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton, which came highly recommended by Simon at Stuck in a Book.  And what a great choice!  This is one of those books that make me glad to be a blogger -- it's one of those books of which I would like to buy multiple copies, so I can hand them out to friends (or random strangers) and say "Read this -- right now!!"

Here's the setup:  It's set in England in 1944, in Thames Lockdon, a London suburb, and the action is centered around the residents of a boarding house called the Rosamund Tea Rooms.  The main character is Miss Roach, a 39-year-old spinster, formerly a schoolmistress, who is still working at a publishing company in London since she was bombed out of her home.  Due to the housing crisis, she's forced to live in this rundown boardinghouse with some depressing people.

The most notorious of her fellow residents is Mr. Thwaites, a nasty, bullying retiree of about sixty.  Miss Roach is assigned a seat in the dining room at the same table as Mr. Thwaites, who manages to take the most innocent conversation and turn it into something unpleasant.  Unfortunately, Miss Roach is his favorite target, and either due to politeness or reticence, nobody ever seems to stand up to Mr. Thwaites and put him in his place.

Miss Roach hopes that things will turn around after she suggests the Rosamund Tea Rooms to her acquaintance Vicki Kugelmann, a German emigre with a lot of spunk.  She hopes that Miss Kugelmann's presence will change the dynamic of the boarding house.  And it does, but unfortunately not for the better, of course.  Everything goes absolutely wrong, and it began to get even more interesting.

This book reminds me a bit of Excellent Women by Barbara Pym, though it has a more melancholy undertone.  It's full of wry observations like Pym, but also a little like Jane Austen.  I'm also finding it almost satirical in parts.  Here's a passage describing the detestable Mr. Thwaites, who simply lives to bully the other residents at the boarding house:


". . . Mr. Thwaites had on fine mornings no one to boom at in the Rosamond Tea Rooms, and spent much of the time writing embittered letters in the Lounge.  These, after he had put on his overcoat and cap, he took round to the Post Office and posted in the most acid way.  He passed pillar-boxes on the way, but did not trust them, as not going to the root of the matter.


After this he would return to the Rosamund Tea Rooms, where he would prowl restlessly, and whence he would, perhaps, make one or two rapid, tigerish excursions into the town, to make an enquiry, to buy something, or to change a book -- invariably tying the assistants into knots, and, in the ironical pose of a stupid man, saying he was so sorry, no doubt it was his fault, entirely."

Mr. Thwaites is one of the most memorable characters I've read about this year.  For literary villains, he's right up there with Harold Skimpole from Bleak House or Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice -- not evil, but someone you'd just love to throttle.  From the moment this character was introduced, I could not wait for him to get his comeuppance.  He was rather a Dickensian character now that I think about it.

This is another of those great books in which technically, not much happens.  However, it's a great character study, and I loved the dynamics of the people involved.  These people are trapped in their circumstances by the war -- they can't find new homes, they can hardly go out at night because of the blackout, and supplies are short, except for what seems an endless supply of alcohol.  Unhappy people and drinking seems like a recipe for trouble.  I could not put the book down because I was so intrigued at how everything would play out -- which it did, in a highly satisfying manner.

Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens

Austen vs. Dickens: two of my favorite British authors.  It was a tough choice, but I've finished all of Austen, so I chose Dickens this time around -- nothing against my beloved Jane, but I'm trying to work my way through the Dickens canon.  For this edition of the Classics Circuit, I'm reading my tenth Dickens novel:  Dombey and Son. 

(Crickets chirping).

Yes, Dombey and Son : one of Charles Dickens' classic novels. . . . the one that nobody's ever heard of! Because, honestly, nobody ever reads it anymore!  Compared to Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, and even my beloved Bleak House, Dombey and Son is one of Charles Dickens' least read works.  Even Hard Times is more popular.  I suspect people read Hard Times because it's Dickens' shortest novel, though I personally think it is the least good of his novels.  My library system -- which includes more than 1 million items --  does not own a single copy of this book.  Not one!  Along with Martin Chuzzlewit (the one where the main character goes to America) and Barnaby Rudge (the one about "the Riots of 'Eighty"), Dombey and Son belongs to the trio of works which are probably only read by the hard-core Dickens fans.  

Anyhow, for those of you who are not familiar with the story, here is the setup, without spoilers.  The novel begins with Mr. Dombey (the father), holding his new baby (the eponymous son); sadly, his wife is dying in childbirth. (Mr. Dombey's sister explains it's all the wife's fault, "because she wouldn't rally" -- i.e., she didn't have the character not to die.  Riiiight.)  Dombey has another child, a daughter,  named Florence, about whom he could not care less; his hopes and dreams are all pinned on his son Paul, who will grow up and take over the family business. Mr. Dombey is some sort of business magnate, so little Paul has some big shoes to fill.  

Needless to say, things do not work out as planned regarding his big plans for his beloved son.  I don't want to give anything major away, but basically, this novel is about Mr. Dombey's relationship (or the lack thereof) with poor Florence, who essentially fills the role of the orphan in this novel.  As you may remember, there's an orphan in every Dickens novel, or someone who is had a terrible childhood without loving parents, if you haven't noticed this already.  

Apparently, this is Dickens' attempt at a feminist novel, though I wouldn't say he's really promoting the rights of women as far as work or property are concerned.  Poor little Florence is rejected by her father at every opportunity, and it seems like he goes out of his way to get rid of anyone who might show her affection, because he's aware of what a jerk he is and he doesn't want anyone else to show him up.  Dickens does make a point about the sad lot of marriageable women.  [Mild spoiler alert!]  

For example:  Mr. Dombey is looking for a second wife and he's courting a beautiful widow, Edith, whose mother is one seriously manipulative gold-digger.  The fact that Edith and Mr. Dombey don't really love each other is irrelevent.  Edith has spent her life looking for husbands and not for love, and she blames her mother:

"What childhood did you ever leave to me?  I was a woman -- artful, designing, mercenary, laying snares for men -- before I knew myself, or you, or even understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt. . . . There is no slave in a market: there is no horse in a fair: so shown and offered and examined and paraded, Mother, as I have been, for ten shameful years," cried Edith, with a burning brown, and the same bitter emphasis on the word.

As usual, Dickens fills this book with minor subplots and eccentric side characters, which sometimes disappear for hundreds of pages at a time.  I really wanted to like this book (which I admit I haven't finished; I have about 250 pages to go), but I don't think this is going to rank near the top with my favorites.  I'm finding it terribly uneven -- some parts are just great, and I could easily read eighty or a hundred pages in a day, and some parts dragged glacially.  I found the parts about the wretched Mr. Dombey to be just depressing and rather boring.  Dickens seems to go out of his way to show that Dombey is a cold, heartless, bastard, but after a while it got tiresome. Things really perked up when the fun supporting characters were in the picture, but I've always found them to be Dickens' best writing.   I haven't given up on the book yet -- I'll stick with it to the end and see if it gets better.  Florence may be one of Dickens' typical ingenues, but I do find myself caring about whether or not her story is going to have a happy ending. 

UPDATE:  I did finish the novel, and the ending was extremely satisfying, so I'm really happy that I read it.  I wouldn't rate this novel in the same tier as Bleak House or Oliver Twist, but it's still a good read and worth sticking with if you're a Dickens fan -- if you're new to Dickens you might try another one first.  But it's still a good book overall.

The Three Musketeers, Part 2

Well, I have finally finished The Three Musketeers.  This is particularly satisfying because it's one of the longest unread books on my TBR shelf, and one that I've owned for about four years, so that's a good thing.  I did enjoy it, but I have to be honest, it's not the greatest work of literature in the world.  It's a fun book, and I'm glad I read it, but it's not particularly deep or literary.

The second half of the book dragged in parts -- first, there was the battle of La Rochelle, which has something to do with Catholics vs. Protestants.  Frankly, action scenes tend to bore me.  I guess I have a hard time imagining them in my head.  Also, there was a section of five or six consecutive chapters about Milady that just went on and on.  I kept trying to slog through them but I'd read a chapter and put the book down, but it was hard to get started again.  I only had a hundred pages to go and I just wanted things to get wrapped up.

The parts of this book that I loved best basically included one or more of the Musketeers, and D'Artaganan -- for me, it started to get boring if it focused on the other characters.  I don't know if these sections weren't as well written, or the story just dragged, but things definitely perked up if one of them was in the scene.  Of course the best scenes of all are the ones when they're all together, usually with some witty banter.  I did get bored with Milady's scheming and Cardinal Richelieu's plotting, though the ending was pretty satisfying.

So -- a good book, overall, though I can't say that I'd ever want to read it again.  I do want to get to The Count of Monte Cristo someday, though is length is a little intimidating.  I'll have to wait until I get through some of the other Big Fat Books on my TBR shelf before I attempt it.

And for those of you who have not seen the trailer for the upcoming film adaptation of The Three Musketeers:

Looks fairly ridiculous -- I don't remember any flamethrowers in the book, nor any scenes with Milady dodging bullets Matrix-style!  Script by Andrew Davies (who brilliantly adapted so many classics for the screen including Pride and Prejudice and Bleak House, two of my favorites) yet directed by Paul Anderson best known for Resident Evil.  Riiight.

Thanks again to Allie of A Literary Odyssey for organizing this readalong. I look forward to reading all the other postings.

The New House by Lettice Cooper

Author Lettice Cooper

Still working my way through the Persephone list.  I've discovered several early editions at the local college libraries, including The New House by Lettice Cooper.

At first glance, this is a book in which not much happens:  after spending 30 years in a large home in Northern England, a widow and her thirtysomething daughter are downsizing and moving into a smaller home.  Sounds boring, right?  Well, this book is so much more than just about moving to a new house.  Set in 1936, this book touches on a lot of topics that are still timely today -- the relationships between parents and children, women's careers, marriage, class differences, socialism.  This book was published nearly 80 years ago, but the themes in it are still so relevant, I was amazed.

Mrs. Natalie Powell is the widow of a businessman who basically gave her everything she wanted for thirty years; after his death, money's tight and the big house has been sold and will most likely be knocked down by a developer and turned into a housing estate.  Over the course of one long day, she and her family -- three grown children, plus a daughter-in-law, future son-in-law, and her older sister --  are affected by the move.

As a military spouse, I have personally changed houses nine times in the last sixteen years, so this book intrigued me.  I can't say I've gotten used to it, but the move in this book is not so much about the physical change of one house to another; it's a reflection of how these people's lives are changing, whether they like it or not.  Mrs. Powell is a horribly selfish, self-centered woman, and all she can do all day is whine about how unfair this all is -- after spending years in a big house with five servants, she spent the last year since her husband's death with only two, and now they're down to one.  Boo hoo!  Her eldest daughter Rhoda, who never married, has basically spent her entire youth running to her mother's beck and call, and she's ready to get out.

Her son Maurice is struggling with a selfish wife (who's an awful lot like his mother), and though he was raised in a privileged household, he's beginning to wonder about the unfairness of his wealthy and upbringing, and whether another sort of life would be better for his own child.  The youngest daughter, Delia, is a real go-getter -- a career woman!  Shocking!   She takes after her father, who was a self-made man, and is urging her sister to break away from home before it's too late.  The book also includes Mrs. Powell's sister, Ellen, who spent her life taking care of her mother -- will this pattern repeat?

The endpapers from the Persephone edition of The New House.

The entire book takes place between the time the family wakes up early in the morning and goes to bed very late that night.  This book is about 300 pages long, but there's a lot packed into it.  Like a lot of Persephones, this is fiction about domestic life, but there are so many other themes going on that it gave me a lot to think about.  Again, this would be such a great book for a discussion group, especially since there are so many relevant topics about downsizing and family dynamics.  I may need to buy my own copy so I can foist it on someone else so we can discuss it.  If you're planning on participating in the Persephone Secret Santa next year, you may find this in your stocking.

TBR Update and Two Book Group Selections

Well, we're into the second week of the New Year, and I've already fallen off the TBR wagon -- I came home from vacation with three library books to read for my real-life library discussion groups!  Maybe I should say that I haven't even gotten on the TBR wagon yet, because I had already committed to these.  I really could not bear to schlep three hard-cover library books in my carry-on luggage, and I wouldn't have had time for them anyway. Besides, when I first committed, book group selections were the exception.  Yes.  That is my story, and I'm sticking to it.

And now I must admit to another small transgression -- the no-buying book-ban for three months.  Sigh.  I was not going to purchase any new books for three months, until April 1.  However (hangs head in shame) I did put in a purchase for some new Persephones on January 1, so I guess I've broken that rule already.  But I do think I have a pretty good excuse -- I got some Christmas money that I really wanted to spend on Persephones, and I seriously didn't have time to purchase the books safely before January 1.  I was a little squeamish about making an online purchase at a public computer at my hotel, and I had so little time with family I didn't want to be rude and start shopping on my sister's computer.  So I was delayed slightly.  Internet security is a good excuse, isn't it?  Oh, I hope I can forgive myself.  I will extend my book-buying ban until April 2 as punishment.  I promise.

As far as the library book-checkout ban goes -- I only checked out three books, and all of them were allowed according to my previous rules:  one of them, Eleanor and Franklin: An Extraordinary Marriage, had been on hold before the ban started (of three total) and two were book group selections.  One is a play, A Raisin in the Sun, and the other is a reread, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

So -- I reviewed my first book group selection, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, in yesterday's post, so I'm quickly going to mention the other two.  The first one was Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey.  Yes, a Western!  My first authentic Western, for my classics book group.  But I just could not get through it.  I read about 84 pages and I really had no desire to go on.  I know book groups are about expanding your horizons, getting out of your comfort zone, etc., but I got really bored with the endless descriptions of canyons.  It seemed extremely predictable, and I felt like I'd expanded my horizons enough for one week with Oscar Wao.  So that was one abandoned book I can cross off my to-read list forever.  I felt a little bad because I was the one who suggested it, but life is too short.

Instead, I did pick up the selection for my other book group selection, The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. Yes, three book group meetings in one week!  That's just the way it turned out because of the schedule.  Usually it's one the first week of the month and two the second.  I don't always read the selection for our Jane Austen book club, but I was cranky one day and needed something easy to read during lunch.  I had actually read this book several years ago when it first came out, and was disappointed.  I did like it much better on the second reading.  I don't know what I was expecting the first time around, but I got so much more out of it this time.  It's not a straight sequel or retelling of a Jane Austen novel, and I really liked that.

The book club has six members and six monthly meetings, and the novel is really six intertwining stories which are loosely related to a Jane Austen novel.  It took me a little time to figure out the connections, and I liked that.  I think the author did a good job of not making it a literal reinterpretation.  Plus there was a lot of background and quotes about Jane Austen, which I also enjoyed.  Our group is supposed to watch the movie adaptation next month, but I'm not as interested in that because I've heard there were a lot of changes from the novel -- plus some of the actors are much too young which changes the whole dynamic of the book, and I find that irritating.

So -- on to the TBR challenge now that I've crossed the book club selections off the month's reading list. I've already started Crescent by Diana Abu-Jaber, which I've owned since 2004.  It's starting out slowly but I'll give it time.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

This is a tough book to review.  It is not for everyone.  Based on what I saw on Goodreads, many people love it, but I'm sure some people will hate it.  I almost abandoned it, and in truth, I did not finish it for my library book group this week -- I was even tempted to skip book group out of embarrassment.  But I am so glad that I didn't miss it, and I think I'm glad that I finished it.

Before I digress any further, here's a brief setup: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is the story of a young Dominican immigrant man living in New Jersey, from about the late 1970s until the 1990s, and his family's history in the Dominican Republic under the Trujillo regime.  He is a massively overweight, science-fiction book-loving nerd who can't talk to girls and is convinced he'll die a virgin.  He lives with his rebellious sister and his mother, and it seems the family is cursed by what the Dominicans call fuku.

This was not an easy book for me to get into, because it seemed at first it was about a lonely teenaged nerd fanboy obsessed with sex, and frankly, that is not my cup of tea.  But I stuck with it for the sake of the book group -- it's supposed to be about expanding my literary horizons.

But I did stick with it, and after about 50 pages or so it got much more interesting.  The story jumps back and forth between the stories of Oscar, his sister Lola, and his mother and grandparents, between New York, New Jersey, and the Dominican Republic.  If you didn't know anything about the Trujillo dictatorship, you will before the book is over -- the book includes lots of background, mostly through footnotes.  In teeny tiny print.

The other thing that makes this book unusual is the language -- it's full of slang, both English and Spanish, lots of references in Spanish (and no glossary), and it is chock-full of the f-word.  If you are easily offended, this is not a book for you.  Plus, a lot of the book is about sex -- Oscar wants sex, and other people are having sex.  It's not horribly graphic or explicit, but it's there.  There's quite a bit of violence as well -- Trujillo was a nasty, nasty character, and that was a terrifying era.  This book is not for the faint of heart.

But I'm actually glad I finished it.  This is not my normal kind of book, and I will admit that as I began I could not help wondering how in the heck this book won the Pulitzer Prize.  I understood a lot better after the book discussion.  I was wondering how it would be received by the group, which is mostly senior ladies.  However, they're extremely open-minded, and we do have one man in the group, who also happens to be Hispanic.  I was really interested in his perspective.  I really love having a man in the group -- most book clubs are the domain of women, and having Danny always makes it interesting.  (The fact that he's brilliant and well-read may have something to do with this).

Anyway.  During the discussion, I learned why the author kept using all the Spanish words and slang with no glossary -- because he was trying to mirror the experience of an immigrant who's learning a new language and doesn't get everything.  There's a lot I didn't get, but I was able to figure out most of it from context, just as an immigrant would.  I also learned a lot about the symbolism and Dominican folklore that comes into the book.  I think it was chosen for the Pulitzer because of its style -- it reminded me a bit of Faulkner and Virginia Woolf, and how their writing styles are groundbreaking and important.  The discussion definitely inspired me to stick with the book and finish it.

I'm probably rambling by now but that's the only way I can describe this reading experience.  I can't say I loved this book, or that I would want to read it again.   But it was definitely thought-provoking and that's why I love going to book group.  Next month we're discussing The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, which could not be more different from Oscar Wao.

Owned But Unread Project

One of my goals for 2011 is to significantly reduce the amount of owned-but-unread books that I have piled up.  I was sorting through the bookshelves the other day and I counted 168 175!  And of course, this does not include any of the books I'm hoping to receive for Christmas . . . or use any Christmas money or gift cards to acquire.  And of course this means I have to have every single one of my unread library books finished before January 1.  All of them. No exceptions!

What's really sad is that I've been schlepping a stack of these from house to house for years. Just for fun, I decided to sort them into piles based on how long ago I'd acquired them.  This wasn't as hard as you'd think -- since I've moved six times in the past 15 years, I just had to remember where I was living when I'd gotten each book.  It's pretty sad -- I have about 20 books I've owned for almost 10 years, some of them even longer.  If I haven't read them by the end of the year, I'm donating them to the Friends of the Library sale.  Period.

So I've decided to make this my project for 2011:  to read as many of these owned-but-unread books as possible.  I'm not signing up for any challenges, though I did sign up for the TBR Dare, which will help me achieve this goal.  With more than 150 books on my TBR shelves, I'd have plenty to read if I didn't acquire a single new book for the entire year, either through purchase or library loot.  But realisticallyI know there's no way this is going to happen -- between my three face-to-face book groups, plus volunteering at my library branch twice a week, I can't swear not to read anything that's not on the TBR pile.

Here are my rules:

• At least every other book I read MUST be from my own shelves;
• No new book purchases for three months, starting January 1;
• Christmas gifts and books purchased before January 1 with Christmas gift cards or money are OK;
• Books already ordered but not received by January 1 are also OK;
• I don't have to finish every single book; if I read at least 75 pages and I'm still not interested, I can give it away.

Now, if something miraculous happens, and I actually get a library job, I'm allowed to start reading additional books if they are work-related.  The library is theoretically hiring librarians next year, so I can only hope.

For those of you who are curious, I am compiling a list of all my owned-but-unread books and will post it as a page with a tab at the top of my blog when it's complete.  It'll take a while.  I'm going to try and tackle the oldest books first.  Here's the list of the books I've owned longest.  Any recommendations from the list would be greatly appreciated -- and that includes recommendations to give them away.

The oldest books -- owned since 2002 or earlier:

• Love and Kisses and a Halo of Truffles: Letters from Helen Evans Brown by James Beard
• Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Berniers
• My Misspent Youth: Essays by Meghan Dowd
• Perfume from Provence by Lady Winifred Fortescue
• Orchid Fever by Eric Hansen
• A Bell for Adano by John Hersey
• Collected Stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
• Collected Novellas by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
• Tasting Pleasure: Confessions of a Wine Lover by Jancis Robinson
• Giants in the Earth by A. E. Rolvaag

Books from 2003-2005 (when we lived in Japan):

• Crescent by Diana Abu-Jaber
• Geography by Sophie Cunningham
• A Treasury of Royal Scandals by Michael Farquhar
• The River's Tale: A Year on the Mekong by Edward A. Gargan
• Murder on the Menu edited by Peter Haining
• A Conspiracy of Paper by David Liss
• Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
• A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami
• The Bromeliad Trilogy by Terry Pratchett
• Nectar by Lily Prior
• Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojurn in Kyoto by Victoria Abbott Riccardi
• Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

So, book bloggers, which should be read first?  Which should be donated to the library sale?  And, confess, how long have some of your books been hanging around on the to-read shelves unread?  And which ones?