My Man Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse (audio)

Posted on October 15, 2012 by pagesofjulia


As recently noted, I am saddened to have to move on past Jonathan Cecil’s narration of the Jeeves audiobooks. Here I give Simon Prebble’s voice a go, with the very first published Jeeves book. This is a short story collection – not a format I’m a fan of generally, but I finally got around to starting at the beginning. Most of the stories here included had been published before, and only about half feature Bertie Wooster and his butler Jeeves. The other half star Reggie Pepper, a character I had not encountered before. Wikipedia claims he was an early prototype for Bertie, but I didn’t taste that flavor at all. I found Pepper much cleverer than Bertie (although he doesn’t always feel that way himself). And while Reggie’s stories were diverting in the usual Wodehouse way, they did begin to feel a little much like the usual Wodehouse: I started recognizing formulaic phrases and the like. It felt a little bit repetitive. I liked the Bertie Wooster stories much more. Were they less formulaic? Or am I just more forgiving of my old friend Bertie? Hard to say. But the ordering of the stories, which goes Jeeves-Jeeves-Jeeves-Pepper-Pepper-Pepper-Pepper-Jeeves, had me a little sad faced until that final Bertie and Jeeves story popped up. My preferences are clear.

These stories really do feel like early Wodehouse. I think he got better with time. And to be fair, there is something formulaic about his writing, and that’s not all bad, if you hit upon a successful formula. Funny and fun (and easily taken in chunks, of course, being short stories), but not the very best of Wodehouse that I’ve discovered.

And the narrator? Maybe he would have pleased me if he had been my introduction to Wodehouse, but having fallen for Johnathan Cecil’s voice, I cannot be persuaded of any other. This may be a problem independent of the specific narrators in question, however, so, grain of salt.

Enjoyable, but fewer belly laughs than I’ve come to expect.

Rating: 4 trouser creases.

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Rules of Civility by Amor Towles (audio)

Posted on October 12, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I have one to proselytize for, friends. Rules of Civility will certainly make the list of the greatest books I discovered in 2012.

The book opens with the story’s narrator, Katey, and her husband Val at an art opening in 1966. A few pages set the scene and the style of this book – and oh, the style! – before we’re whisked back into Katey’s reminiscences, beginning just a few hours before the new year of 1938 will be rung in. She and her best-friend-and-roommate, Eve, are out on the town, and they meet a man who buys them champagne for the toast at midnight. And then we follow Katey through the year.

Katey’s life changes a great deal in 1938, in all its aspects: career, home life, relationships, love, aspirations, her understanding of herself and of her world. I don’t want to mention any more of the plot, because I found such joy in discovering its twists myself, and you should too.

This book has many strengths. Its story is interesting: a single year, 1938, in the life of an ambitious young woman in New York City. And there are such surprises that I dropped my chin on my chest more than once. But the plot alone would not have made the book what it is. The characters are strong as well: Katey is pretty fabulous, as are a number of others. But neither is this the shining facet that draws the eye. I think the real victory is in the writing. You may have noticed (and I hope you’ve forgiven me) that I used not one but three teasers to whet your interest (here and here). It’s very evocative: I could see, hear, smell the New York City described; and further, I felt all the emotions Towles wrote. Driving to and from work and listening to this story (and Rebecca Lowman’s masterful, perfect narration), I arrived at my destination confident and optimistic, hopeful for the future, downcast, flabbergasted, or whatever that chapter called for. It was one of those very rare books that engaged me completely, made me lie awake at night worrying, wishing for certain events to transpire, caring deeply about fictional characters. It was amazing. And of course I have no great understanding of 1938 New York City; but Towles (and Lowman) have me utterly convinced that it sounded and looked and smelled and tasted exactly as described here.

And while I’m praising the writing, the style with which Katey’s voice comes alive, I must praise the reading of this audio version as well. Lowman has a frank, languid tone that feels precisely right for Katey; I love that she slows down. Her pacing is sometimes indolent and sometimes despairing, but it always adds to the sense of nostalgia in the beautiful piece of art that is Rules of Civility.

Oh, and it’s worth adding too that Katey is a reader, and literary references abound, which enriches the overall effect considerably for me and perhaps for you too.

Without having given away much plot, then, I assure you that the setting, the sense of style, and the writing on display in Rules of Civility are all remarkable. This will definitely be one of the best books I read this year, and the audio version is superb. Run out and get a copy.

Rating: 9 martinis.

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In the Electric Mist with Confederate Dead by James Lee Burke

Posted on October 10, 2012 by pagesofjulia

As noted recently in my book beginning, Burke is an old favorite. Between this book’s title and its colorful cover, I felt especially drawn to it. The electric mist and the Confederate dead are some of the odder, more alluring moments in this story, too, but they are not its center.

Detective Dave Robicheaux is the star of Burke’s bestselling series. In this installment, he’s at home in New Iberia, a small community on the Gulf Coast of Louisiana. There’s a movie production in town, which brings with it various complications of the local scene: a group of gangsters come in from New Orleans; the Hollywood actors drive drunk and make trouble; several girls turn up dead in what looks like the work of a serial killer; and a body surfaces that relates to an event in Robicheaux’s own distant past. He continues to attend AA meetings and his alcoholism continues to be one of the sources of conflict in the story. There are some weird, almost paranormal forces at work – or are they just the manifestations of his alcoholism? – and that keeps things interesting and colorful.

This book shares certain themes with all Burke’s work, including racial injustice that persists in the South; a love of nature (and some outstanding, lovely writing conveying the natural beauties of south Louisiana); struggles with alcoholism; and corruption in positions of authority, manifested in the conflicts Robicheaux has with his workplace superiors. One of Burke’s greatest strengths, in my opinion, is the strong sense of place that he conveys with his lovely, lyrical writing. He waxes poetic about the beauty of nature; and both the natural setting and the cultural references evoke south Louisiana unmistakably. His stories, it seems, could be set nowhere else. (This is not true. Swan Peak is set in Montana and is equally successful. But my point about a strong sense of place stands.) While his plots are interesting and his mysteries do indeed keep the reader on her toes, Burke’s beautiful writing and obvious care for natural and cultural settings are the best and most unique parts of his work. I feel that his closest readalike author is Michael Connelly. Connelly’s writing is not nearly as lyrical, but his strong sense of Los Angeles, and Detective Bosch’s love for jazz and LA, and the dark, brooding mood both authors create, make them a matched pair in my view.

In the Electric Mist with Confederate Dead is vintage (1993), classic James Lee Burke, and thus strongly recommended.

Rating: 7 crawfish poboys.

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On a Farther Shore: The Life and Legacy of Rachel Carson by William Souder

Posted on October 4, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Rachel Carson was born in 1927 and by the 1950’s was the author of several bestsellers, a national hero for her lyrical, literary, scientifically accurate books about the ocean. She also published myriad magazine and newspaper articles, both as a government employee and as a freelance writer. In 1962 she published a somewhat different kind of book. Silent Spring retained the literary style for which she was well loved, but its subject – while still the natural world – took a different tone. Carson wrote about the then-widely-used pesticide DDT and its sinister effects, not just on the insects it claimed to target, but on wildlife generally including many fish and birds (hence the title) and even human life.

The immediate reaction to her book was mixed. Critical reviews were more positive than negative, but the government (to varying degrees) and the pesticide industry (predictably and totally) offered less praise. Carson came under attack as a hysterical nature faddist and Communist sympathizer, even as Silent Spring topped bestseller lists and initiated federal investigations. Today, the ecology and environmental movements credit Rachel Carson and Silent Spring with helping to establish what is now a central issue of our times.

William Souder’s new biography of Carson, published on Silent Spring‘s 50th anniversary, begins with the conjecture that Carson’s name is now “unknown to almost anyone under the age of fifty.” There are a few of us, of course (although I confess my personal poll may not constitute a random sampling), but his point is well taken: in 2012, Carson is less on our minds. But even if DDT is no longer sprayed on kids playing at the beach and the rivers we catch our fish out of, environmental issues are among the most pressing of our day. (I am thinking of climate change, overpopulation, water tables, land use, urban sprawl, species extinction…)

That’s the argument for Carson as a biographer’s subject. Now, how did Souder do? As observed yesterday, his style is rather a traditional one. Souder himself does not enter into the story as a character; he doesn’t give us his own impressions (unless you delve into the Notes at the back of the book, on which more is coming in a later post). I am a fan of the newer style of “creative nonfiction” exemplified most recently at pagesofjulia by Soundings, but that doesn’t mean the straightforward sort of biography is necessarily dry, either.

Souder brings his subject to life. His plentiful research (again see those Notes) clearly and exhaustively outlines Carson’s background and personality, and enigmas. For instance, he notes the weekend in college when she went one two dates with a boy from another school, and then as far as we can tell, never dated again. He writes eloquently of her strange single-mindedness, for example in reading Henry Williamson for his nature writing (which she loved) while totally ignoring his frank Nazi sympathies.

I will mention one angle that I noted as absent: there is nothing in Souder’s book about Carson suffering for her sex in the field of science. This seemed like a natural obstacle for her to have faced as a science writer in the 1950’s and 1960’s, and I wonder at its absence, particularly in comparison to Soundings, where Tharp’s professional limitations as a woman are one of the central issues. Did Carson not feel that she was held back? Did Souder miss something? His work feels thorough. I am hesitant to think he missed such an important angle, but it makes me wonder. There are a few references by her contemporaries to her status as a “spinster,” but even these don’t feel particularly biting. And apparently her critics entirely missed the lesbian question. Carson had a very close female friend for the final 10-12 years of her life with whom she exchanged ardent letters. Whether they had a sexual relationship is not known, although Souder makes the case that it’s unlikely; but that’s irrelevant in looking for contemporary criticism of her for it. It seems like such an obvious way for her detractors to attack her. I just wonder.

Despite my questions about the role sexism might have played in Carson’s career, this biography feels well-researched, thoughtful, and finely wrought. It can also serve as a fairly good quick introduction to the history of ecology, environmentalism, and nature writing: Aldo Leopold, John Muir, and Teddy Roosevelt all get put into context. In fact, context is one of its strengths (again, see yesterday’s post). I feel like I know Carson much better now, which is of course what I was looking for, but it was also an enjoyable read. I recommend On a Farther Shore, because Rachel Carson is every bit as relevant today as ever.

Rating: 7 birds’ eggs.

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Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson (audio)

Posted on October 1, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I was already a fan of The Bloggess, Jenny Lawson’s blog-alias. And her local connection (she’s Texas, with some time logged in a Houston suburb) didn’t hurt, either. Well, now having listened to her book as an audio read by the lovely Jenny herself, I can even more wholeheartedly recommend her to you.

Jenny has a quirky, crass sense of humor: she is fond of the word “vagina” and curses a fair amount. These things do not bother me, but fair warning. She combines that style, however, with an occasional earnestness that is endearing and captivating. This is her “mostly true memoir” (which I think is a great way to speak of memoir, in general! my impression is this one is as “true” as most), and therefore it’s the story of her childhood, growing up, marriage, and family life with husband Victor and daughter Hailey, including moving around the state. One emphasis is the crazy upbringing she experienced in a tiny tiny Texas town with an eccentric taxidermist father (whose idea of a loving welcome is tossing a baby bobcat at her new boyfriend) and long-suffering mother. Another is the mental illness Jenny suffers from, including generalized anxiety disorder and post-traumatic stress. (Disclaimer: I have no print version of this book at hand and am going by memory. But I am fairly confident in my memory.)

Her handling of these subjects is on the one hand hilarious, outlandish, and obscene, and on the other, as mentioned earlier, serious and thoughtful. For someone who suffers fairly debilitating bouts of depression and mental illness, Jenny is surprisingly positive in her interpretation of her own experiences. Presumably her feelings in the moment are often much less cheery; but in the format of this book, where she got to think it through and get it right, her philosophies are refreshing, graceful, helpful, optimistic. She comes across in the end as damaged, yes, but also hopeful, wise, and fun. I want to be her friend. In other words, I give Jenny, her book, and her website my ringing endorsement! Oh, and do check out the audio version if you can. She reads it herself (and sings all the chapter titles), there’s a blooper reel at the end (really just a bunch of off-color ramblings), and I always like to get things in the author’s own voice if possible – in a memoir most of all. In fact, I will pay her the compliment of putting Let’s Pretend This Never Happened up next to Tina Fey’s Bossypants, also read by the author and also hilarious. Go check out Jenny Lawson because she is unique and bizarre in the best possible way.

Rating: 8 self-reflections.

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Lost Antarctica: Adventures in a Disappearing Land by James McClintock

Posted on September 27, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A warning about climate change wrapped in a tender package of stories about penguin chicks and fur seals.

Zoologist James McClintock has spent his career in the Antarctic, lovingly examining and meticulously documenting the wildlife, from the leopard seals and emperor penguins to the tiny sea butterflies and plankton, while recording changes in ocean conditions. Lost Antarctica collects a selection of his experiences: deep-sea diving, storms at sea, sightings of creatures large and small and other discoveries of tiny, crucial instances of evolutionary genius. Although he takes his time getting there, McClintock’s most important point is cautionary: Antarctica, he says, is an early warning for the rest of our world.

McClintock has observed climate change firsthand and can lend his firsthand knowledge to other studies that document and explain the crisis. He also addresses “the other CO2 problem”–the increasing levels of carbon dioxide in our oceans that lower the water’s pH levels. The combination of ocean acidification, rising temperatures and melting ice threatens many species and their delicate relationships with one another–and the consequences extend even further, as some organisms that live only in Antarctica have been shown to yield chemicals that can help fight cancer and influenza.

While Lost Antarctica is an alert about climate change and ocean acidification, it ends on a surprisingly hopeful note. McClintock’s message is reasoned and well documented–and his descriptions of a wondrous world of coral, starfish, sea sponges, fish, crabs, penguins and birds of prey make this important scientific message accessible to the general reader.

This review originally ran as a *starred review* in the Sept. 21, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 6 degrees Fahrenheit.

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A Wanted Man by Lee Child

Posted on September 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Jack Reacher’s extraordinary expertise intersects full-speed with the FBI and an unknown threat in rural Nebraska.

A Wanted Man is Lee Child’s 17th novel starring retired military police officer Jack Reacher, who roams the country with a toothbrush in his pocket, defeating bullies, defending the weak, solving problems and charming women. Following on the action of Worth Dying For, Reacher is trying to hitch his way cross-country to find a woman whose voice attracts him from afar. But the driver and passengers in the car that picks him up are not what they seem. Soon, Reacher is pulled into a rural Nebraska murder investigation that somehow draws the interest of the FBI, the CIA and the State Department.

Beautiful and talented women, paramilitary threats, an unidentified murder victim, kidnappings, carjackings and a child at risk allow Child’s hero to shine: Reacher knows to use his brains and investigative skills as well as his brawn and weapons training to overcome the enemy. His skill at arithmetic–what Reacher called in an earlier novel a “junior idiot savant” gift for numbers–is particularly useful here.

A Wanted Man delivers expertly paced building of tension, thrilling, full-throttle action and kick-butt fight scenes, all wrapped in a tautly structured mystery with military flavor and international implications. Fans love Reacher because he’s smart, physically unbeatable and chivalrous, and here they’ll find everything they’ve come to expect. Newcomers will have no problem joining mid-series; as usual, the hardest part is waiting for the next installment.

This review originally ran in the Sept. 18, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 6 shots fired.

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did not finish: Gold by Chris Cleave (audio)

Posted on September 24, 2012 by pagesofjulia

You might recognize Chris Cleave’s name from the significant success of his 2009 bestseller, Little Bee. I did not read that one. But his new book, Gold, appealed to me: for starters and most obviously, it stars two female Olympic track cyclists. This is a rather obscure sport (particularly in the US) that I have competed in. Also it came recommended to me personally. Of course I was going to give it a go.

Hm. I wanted to like this book, for its subject matter if for nothing else. But there are two flaws in that thinking: first, subject matter alone rarely makes for an enjoyable read. Just because a book is about baseball won’t necessarily do it for a baseball player or fan. Secondly, as it turns out, I was too close to this sport. I’m sure Cleave did some research – he had some terms and concepts down, certainly – but he made several errors of inaccuracy that I believe are due to track cycling’s obscurity, and the public’s low awareness. These errors will go unnoticed by a large percentage of the average readership. In this respect I’m far from the ideal reader: I’m so close to the sport that I spot the errors and to me they are egregious. They rankled.

Unfortunately that’s not all that bothered me about this book. I found the characters to be a little one-dimensional (all good, all bad) and unbelievable. Really, the Olympic gold medalist is also model-gorgeous and could make a living posing for photographs?? Come on. (Okay, I guess there’s always Lolo Jones…) And the dialog was stiff, too. Particularly the parent-child dialog: every conversation was a heart-to-heart. I don’t think children really open up and get earnest and profound every time they talk to their parents (at any age). It didn’t feel real, because there were no mundane moments. And here’s the final kicker, fair warning to any who may be sensitive to such things: there is a (fairly central) little girl with cancer. That was a bit much for me personally, considering that I work full-time at a cancer hospital and therefore see enough of this. Just a personal reaction.

I made it a little better than halfway through this book, which sort of surprises me. I was certainly frustrated, annoyed, exasperated with it much earlier than that: in fact, I can pinpoint it for you. I was impatient with the first chapter’s interactions between Zoe and her coach, Tom; but I was really annoyed for the first time on page 11, when Jack relates that Zoe has won her first sprint and he has to get off the phone because her second is starting. The second ride of gold-medal round sprints should follow the first by more than an hour; putting them right back-to-back like that is completely unrealistic and was the first sign that the reality of track cycling would not be taken too seriously in this book.

But I made it past halfway. Why? I’m not sure. I was hoping it would get better? I cared what happened to the characters? But I didn’t, really; I’ve walked away not knowing the outcome of OH so many dramas, and that’s okay. Cleave failed to make me invest in his characters because he failed to make them fully human.

I didn’t read Little Bee; maybe it’s better than this. But Gold didn’t work for me at all.

Minor redemptive points: Emilia Fox’s audio narration was fine. And the only character I liked, related to, felt was human, was the coach. Some of his moments of self-doubt and retrospection felt real. More people like Tom in my fiction, please.

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Keep It Real: Everything You Need to Know About Researching and Writing Creative Nonfiction, edited by Lee Gutkind

Posted on September 20, 2012 by pagesofjulia

This is an excellent and succinct tool. It first offers some discussion of the parameters of creative nonfiction by a man “often referred to as ‘the godfather behind creative nonfiction,'” Lee Gutkind. It’s just what I was looking for. Gutkind’s introduction muses on the definition of the genre (difficult to pin down, of course, as these things always are), and addresses the concerns sometimes raised about the conflict between creativity and nonfiction. He also acknowledges some of the literary controversies (James Frey, Stephen Glass, Jayson Blair, etc.) that have hurt the genre’s credibility. And then the bulk of the book begins: writing advice. “The ABCs of Creative Nonfiction” move from “Acknowledgement of Sources” through “Writers’ Responsibility to Subjects” (the contributing writers apparently didn’t want to force the issue by contriving a Z, for which I respect them).

Each of these sections is concise – the whole book barely makes 150 pages – but packed with good advice. Legal and ethical issues receive more than a few pages, which I think is appropriate. Although the central recommendation there seems to be “when in doubt, get a lawyer,” there’s more to it than that: they cite legal precedent and explore the definition of libel, which I found useful and informative. There were also sections addressing interview techniques and the pros and cons of note-taking vs. tape recording (or other audio recordings). There are bits of creative-nonfiction-specific guidance, like how to get inside the heads of characters who are not you and still stick to the facts. And finally, certain chapters deliver straightforward writing advice: how to show, not tell; find a voice; structure a story; and set a scene.

This is not a book for a professional journalist, necessarily, although I could be wrong; maybe those professionals should read this book, too. It’s certainly brief and informative. But I get the impression that it is more geared towards people like me: laypersons without journalism backgrounds who are interested in writing creative nonfiction and want to know the basics. I found it a valuable piece of instruction at just my level; it gave me things to think about, books to put on my list, and actually inspired me to jot a few passages down towards my own project. I recommend it.

Rating: 7 pagesofjulia.

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Watership Down by Richard Adams

Posted on September 19, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Remember I read Tales from Watership Down a while back? And noted that this was probably really one to have read in order, meaning *after* Watership Down? I was so right. I wonder if I’ll find the time to go back and reread it now; I’d certainly like to.

This is a charming story. It’s about rabbits – but wait, come back! It’s a story of adventure, battles and bravery and trying new things, stepping into the unknown, making new friends. It’s exciting. And while it is enough when read for the explicit story of these rabbits of Watership Down, it can also be considered allegorically, if you’re so inclined.

At the beginning, a rabbit named Fiver has a premonition of something bad coming to the Sandleford warren where he lives. His friend Hazel has learned to trust Fiver’s intuitions, and the two of them attempt to warn the Chief Rabbit; but he will not be warned. Hazel (a leader type) and Fiver (more shy and withdrawn) gather a small group and leave the warren headed for parts unknown. Their comrades include Bigwig, a trained fighter; Blackberry, a cleverer rabbit than most; Dandelion, an accomplished storyteller; and Pipkin, even smaller and less impressive than Fiver. This unlikely crew faces the dangers of traveling through the open, through the woods, and over a small river; they move into a peculiar but welcoming warren for a time, until they discover the strange danger that dwells there, and have to move on again. As a group, they become closer, learn one another’s strengths and weaknesses and learn to work as a team. Finally they settle at Watership Down, and begin to build an idyllic new life, but there’s a missing piece: without does (female rabbits) to bear their kittens, their warren is doomed to extinction. So our friends launch yet another expedition…

As an adventure story, Watership Down has it all: likeable characters with developed personalities; a plot with beginning, middle, and end, during which those characters grow and mature; suspense, danger, excitement, bravery, personal sacrifice, bad guys, good guys, strange and wondrous creatures and happenings. It’s great fun, and I stayed up too late one night because I wanted to know what happened next (always a good sign). This is an enjoyable story.

And then there is the allegory. Much has been written on the topic, and for the most part I’ll leave it for others to cover the concepts of religious symbolism, historical allegory, and the like. I prefer it as a “straight” story of adventure fantasy as experienced by this gang of rabbits. But I will say that I enjoyed the epic-hero aspects, and the fact that the larger rabbit society has its own set of myths, proverbs, and stories passed down through the generation. Story-telling and the remembering of mythical heroes (and the creation of new ones!) play a large role, and this was familiar to me, as I have long loved the ancient Greek myths. Watership Down has been compared especially to the Aeneid; I actually thought of the Lord of the Rings trilogy-plus-one (to include The Hobbit), in terms of the building cadence of action. (Side note: Adams includes a number of quotations and allusions to classical works, lending credence to the idea that he had some of this explicitly in mind.) Also, I found myself musing from time to time on the statements Adams (or his rabbits) might be making about human civilization. The four warrens we see in this story embody four different cultures and styles of organizing citizens; some work better than others. I’ll say no more, because if you read this book, I believe you might enjoy making your own connections as you will. But yes, there is plenty of opportunity to consider allegory at work in Watership Down.

This is definitely an enjoyable read. Early in the book the pace is measured, as we get to know our characters and invest in their fates; when the cards are on the table later on, the pace ratchets up (this is where I didn’t go to bed on time). I thought it was very enjoyable when read “straight”, and would work as a children’s book. But it also offers fodder for serious thought and discussion. I can see why this one has remained in print for so long! Now to track down Tales of Watership Down again…

Rating: 7 bunnies.

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