Bride of New France by Suzanne Desrochers

Posted on August 29, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A heartfelt novel about a 17th-century young woman’s journey from Paris to the Canadian wilds.


As a young girl, Laure is torn from her parents’ arms on the streets of 17th-century Paris–destined for the Salpêtrière, a notorious institution housing destitute, insane and criminal women. She grows up with minuscule rations, sickness and tragedy, dreaming of becoming a seamstress and marrying to improve her station. Instead, she finds herself on a ship bound for the colonies of New France in Canada, as a fille du roi (“daughter of the King”)–not an opportunity but the worst of punishments.

Laure’s new life is in some ways worse than she’d imagined. She is to serve as wife to a fur trapper or soldier, doing her part to increase the population of New France, but learning how to make fine lace has left her unprepared to chop wood or defend herself in an uncivilized world of deadly cold winters, wild animals and savages. Her ill-suited husband immediately leaves her alone in a rough-hewn cabin to fend for herself, and she must turn to one of the feared Iroquois for her survival.

Suzanne Desrochers’s well-researched debut novel captures Laure’s challenges and complexities admirably, with a candid account of an era that is often glorified. The settings of squalid Paris and feral New France are well evoked, and Laure’s emotions and frustrations are easily understood. Though flawed, she is a fully human character; the future that she and her counterparts face is bleak, but hopeful as well.

This review originally ran in the August 7, 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: 5 furs.

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Deep Down by Lee Child

Posted on August 28, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Jack Reacher is back. In this e-book-only short story, he’s back in the army, in his 20’s, making it chronologically one of the very early Reacher tales. He’s been called in from Frankfurt to Washington, D.C., where he’s put undercover as a sniper sitting in on a pre-committee… I know, bear with me… of politicos discussing a possible requisition for sniper rifles. Apparently the prior two meetings of these subcommittee politicos with military representatives have resulted in sensitive weapons information being leaked overseas, and Reacher is to find the leak. His handler in this operation is sure the leak is one of four women, and encourages Reacher to use his woman-wrangling skills as he sees fit. As we watch Reacher getting briefed and prepped in a slightly-too-small suit, we simultaneously see one of the women jogging into work. And the action begins. I’ll leave it at that in case you want to read it yourself.

Reacher fans will be able to predict how things play out. There are a few obligatory features: Reacher seems to read minds; he makes observations the average bear would not, and draws correct conclusions. There is flirtation. There is violence. He gets things right in the end. In these ways, it fits within the other Reacher stories we know and love.

What’s different here, though, is the format – and I don’t mean the e-book part, although I’m still not excited about that aspect either. No, I think I’m coming to the conclusion that short stories do not best showcase Reacher’s abilities. This is the second I’ve read, and The Second Son was interesting for the light it shed on Reacher’s past, brother Joe’s personality, and their relationship. I felt that Deep Down had some shortcomings. A lot of what I love in a full-length Reacher novel is development, the careful playing out of string, the stinginess with which we learn details, the way we get to know our characters better, often the development of a steamy relationship to boot: all things we need a full-length novel to do. While this story had all the elements Reacher needs (as observed), it didn’t give them the space they needed to grow. It didn’t do it for me. Instead, Deep Down read to me like what I fear it is: a hastily-produced holdover for Lee Child’s fans to satisfy themselves with while we await his new novel (A Wanted Man comes out in September). It was fun, and Reacher did kick butt, and it only took me 30 minutes to read – but that’s part of the problem. Only so much plot can come to fruition in a 30-minute read.

That last statement makes me wonder – is this really a problem inherent to the short story? And I don’t think it is. I’ve certainly read some very impressive, moving short stories by my favorite master of that genre, Hemingway. But you know, I don’t read a lot of short stories; I do find it a difficult genre, and I think I’m dissatisfied more often with short stories than I am with novels. New question, then: am I a poor reader of short stories, difficult to please? Or is this a difficult genre to do well in? I suspect the latter (although I’ll allow the former): with less space in which to develop characters and plot, an author has to be very precise and economical. This would help explain why Hemingway was so good at them, precision and economy being his hallmarks. And that author may need to take on less, plot-wise, so that he has time to flesh it out.

I have managed to make a rambling mess of this review. Perhaps I am not so strong on precision and economy, myself? At any rate, I found this a fine but decidedly below-average Reacher story; I am anxious for the next full-length book. Many thanks again to my mother for her loan of the e-reader so I could knock this one out on a lunch break!

Rating: 4 tough guys.

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Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe

Posted on August 27, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Moll Flanders is our first-person narrator, presented in the Author’s Preface by Defoe as a real person whose story he has ostensibly edited; but don’t be fooled. It is a novel.

Moll begins with her birth and infancy as she understands it: she was born to a convicted thief in Newgate Prison, who “bled her belly” and was allowed to live until her baby (our titular character) was born. This is the story of Moll’s life, from gypsy infant to favorite child of a widow running a school for small girls, to the charity case in a rich family’s house where she is the elder brother’s mistress and then the younger brother’s wife. This first husband dies young and she leaves the family, starting afresh with a new husband who flees bankruptcy and debtor’s prison, telling her to make her own way and feel free to remarry. This leads her to a third husband, and now it begins to get really juicy: after traveling to Virginia together to farm a plantation, Moll gets to know her mother-in-law and discovers in horror that she is… her own mother. Moll has married her brother, and born him three children. At this point (after some drama) she returns alone to England.

Moll is befriended at Bath by a man who becomes her lover, and she his kept woman, until his near death causes him to repent his adultery and leaves her again shifting for herself. She is courted by an eligible banker – well, he will be eligible as soon as his divorce comes through… but in the meantime, marries a handsome man named Jemmy for his fortune as well as for the affection she feels for him. But she’s not yet to be happy: theirs is a union of double trickery, in which everyone loses, for he has married her for her (nonexistent) fortune as well, and gone into debt courting her, to boot. They part, and Jemmy, like husband number two, releases her to remarry if she finds a good option; but they share some loving moments, and he says he hopes to find her again one day when he’s made a (real) fortune.

At this point Moll intends to return to her banker, now divorced, but finds she is pregnant with Jemmy’s baby, so she takes a quick respite at the house of a woman she calls Mother Midnight. This woman is competent and caring, but criminal in her business of birthing unwanted and illegitimate babies and then disposing of them. After Moll has seen her child into adoption, she does marry the banker, and gets five years or so out of him before he dies. At this point I count five husbands, three of whom are still living, and my entirely casual count gives her something like 10 or 12 children, none of whom she has maintained a relationship with (the latest, the banker’s, she has Mother Midnight pass on). She is, again, destitute, and turns to petty theft and finally back to her friend Mother Midnight for help. This matron takes pleasure in training Moll in the fine arts of pickpocketing and conning, and the two become fast friends and make a fine living together; for the longest period yet, Moll is without male companionship and seems perfectly satisfied, indicating that her liaisons were more for the sake of financial security than anything else, although she has certainly enjoyed herself sexually as well. (There is a brief interlude of prostitution, in the most respectable manner, with a solitary high-class client.)

Moll’s criminal career goes smoothly; she is very good and very lucky. But her name (that is, her alias, “Moll Flanders” – we never know her real name) becomes well-known, and Newgate Prison, place of her birth, looms. Eventually, of course, she is captured, tried, and given a life sentence. During her time in Newgate, which she describes as the hellish place I have no doubt it was, she repents her life of sin (“a horrid complication of wickedness, whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft; and, in a word, everything but murder and treason”) and finds God. Eventually, with the ongoing friendship of Mother Midnight on the outside, Moll’s sentence is commuted to transportation, meaning she will be sent overseas into the New World, as was her mother. As a final coincidence, she is reunited with Jemmy, husband number four and rather a true love, who is imprisoned and also facing death for highway robbery. Things are worked out so that they travel together into the New World, where they start fresh with Moll’s still-considerable criminal savings. She meets the son of her incestuous brother-marriage, inherits a plantation from her mother, and continues to repent her days of wickedness. She and Jemmy, at the time of her supposed writing of these memoirs, have resettled in England with great fortune and happiness in their old age.

Whew.

It is a heck of a narrative: entertaining, spicy, lusty, juicy, well-told. There are interjected moral moments: I am amused to note that I’m that audience member Moll worries about, more tickled by her transgressions than moved by her repentance. As a story of her life, I find it diverting, and an interesting look into 17th century England, particularly the difficulties of being a woman without substantial fortune and male relatives to look after her – which good luck would have come with its own tribulations. As my edition’s notes repeatedly explained, Defoe himself spent a few years in Newgate Prison, and could write both passionately and accurately about the horrors of that place.

I read a “Barnes and Noble Classics” paperback, and found it, if anything, over-notated. Some of the helpful hints seemed aimed at a reader who had never ventured out of 20th and 21st century literature before; it was elementary for me, but no harm done. If you’re comfortable reading 18th century writings, I see no need for this edition, but it has something to offer if you’re less comfortable with some of the usages of that time. The introduction makes a case for Defoe writing possibly the first English novel – that was definitely a point of interest.

I enjoyed this book, and think it has an important place in classic lit: it both moralizes and sensationalizes, and entertains to boot. Moll is a rather outrageous character and I like her very much. Her spunk and determination to take care of herself presage Scarlett O’Hara, and her freedom with her own sexuality recalls Madame Bovary and Lady Chatterley somewhat. Yet another banned book, of course, if you’re looking for a read for upcoming Banned Books Week! (That’s Sept. 30 – Oct. 6.)

Rating: 7 illicit relations.

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Death of a Valentine by M.C. Beaton (audio)

Posted on August 23, 2012 by pagesofjulia

This is my first experience with M.C. Beaton, who I know is popular for both her Agatha Raisin series and her Hamish Macbeth series, of which this is one. You know me, I’m unafraid to jump in mid-series; and when it comes to audiobooks, I’ll take what I can get, which is how I ended up listening to Death of a Valentine.

I’ll start on a positive note. I liked the Scottish Highlands setting, with those local-flavor items like food & culture, and particularly in audio form when I was able to get the accent as well. Hamish Macbeth is an unoriginal but likeable bachelor policeman, unhappy with his recent promotion to Sergeant, which has landed him with an assistant. And here is my first negative: the assistant, Constable Jodie McSween, is intolerable. She became a policewoman more or less by accident, and has always capitalized on her good looks and general affability to get by. She has no interest in or aptitude for police work. And her raison d’être in Macbeth’s precinct of Lochdubh is… to land him as her husband. Never mind that all those good-looking, intelligent, proficient policewomen (and other professional women) out there just took a blow from this miserable character. She didn’t do this book any good, either.

The mystery story is unremarkable but mildly enjoyable. The local beauty queen in the next town over has been blown to bits by a letter bomb on Valentine’s Day, and as soon as the coppers start looking into things, her reputation falls apart. It becomes increasingly clear that instead of a dear, sweet, innocent, Godly little beauty, she was a manipulative jerk bent on stealing other girls’ boyfriends, and worse. And then lovestruck boys start dropping like flies. Hamish is on the case, and he’s pretty competent. There’s a rather fun interlude involving an elderly escaped lion that Hamish befriends; and he has a dog and a cat who accompany him around the countryside a good bit, and that’s nice and cute at all, although they’re not very well-developed characters. Hamish also has a small collection of female friends that he discusses his case details with (not advisable, I wouldn’t think, but this is a fairly fantastical story) and that drive Josie mad with jealousy.

But the sideplot of Josie’s love for Hamish is altogether nauseating and truly offensive. I’m pretty tolerant of the mistreatment of women in the fiction I read, when it’s in pursuit of a good story, but this is just rubbish. She’s worthless, unlikeable, mooning, needy, and dumb as dirt. Am I supposed to care about what happens to this woman? No, I join Hamish in being perplexed and annoyed by her strange behaviors. She tries to drug and date-rape him, in consummately inept fashion. I mean, really.

I finished this book. I wanted to see (hear) what would happen. I generally interpret this desire to finish a book as a redeeming quality. I don’t know, there were some cute moments, but there were also some distasteful moments. I can’t quite decide, for example, if all the moaning about marriage as a miserable end of all the fun (“those who were not married found the whole idea of a wedding romantic, and those who were had a feeling of schadenfreude that some other poor soul was about to be chained in holy matrimony”) is funny or just plain offensive. In the end, while I found some moments in Death of a Valentine cute, my overall impression leans towards a) being offended by the insufferable Josie and the depiction of women in general, and b) rolling my eyes at a ridiculous plot and underdeveloped characters. No more M.C. Beaton for me, thanks.

Note: good marks to narrator Graeme Malcolm, who was funny and heck, I don’t know Scottish accents very well but I found his amusing and convincing. I don’t hold this book against him.

Rating: 3 puppy dogs.

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Soundings: The Story of the Remarkable Woman Who Mapped the Ocean Floor by Hali Felt

Posted on August 22, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I’m so glad I picked this book up (and bought it for the library where I work). It sounded like just the sort of thing I appreciate: a biography of a little-known historical figure who made an important contribution to the world as we know it but was herself forgotten. In this case, the “remarkable woman” of the subtitle is Marie Tharp, whose meticulous study and cartography of the ocean floor established the concept of plate tectonics that science now recognizes as fact, but was at best a blasphemous and ridiculous notion before Tharp came along. Her achievements, however, were minimized by a scientific culture in which women did not belong. This biography is additionally appealing to me for its mood: author Hali Felt takes a whimsical, dreamy, almost fanciful tone at times. She describes her own attraction to Tharp’s story (born in part of Felt’s mother’s, and her own, fascination with maps) and the relationship she felt to her subject. She dreams of Tharp coming to her to explain the mysterious and unspoken parts of her life. This book is nonfiction, but it’s honest, personally related, and warm.

There is also an enigmatic love story of sorts hiding within Soundings: Tharp’s career and life were both tied to a man named Bruce Heezen. Heezen was her coworker, then her technical superior; but they shared a partnership in work, in science, in discovery, and apparently in all things. It is known that they were a couple, although they never married and the details of this side of their relationship are very few.

Felt follows Tharp from her childhood with a science-minded father she adored, through her education in English, music, geology, and mathematics, and to her first job in the oil & gas industry (oh, how familiar to this Texas girl). But she was held back: this was the 1940’s, and women in science were mostly expected to make copies, compute numbers, and brew coffee. Eventually Tharp found her way to New York, to Columbia University and the Lamont Geological Observatory. This is where she would meet and work with Heezen and quietly make history.

The science in this book is very friendly and accessible to a general reading public; the story that Felt set out to tell is more that of a woman’s life and accomplishments despite the limitations of her society, than that of tectonic plates per se. For that matter, Felt shows that it was Marie’s combined backgrounds in art as well as science that made her perfectly suited to play the role she did in history. Her meticulous re-checkings of data and attention to detail were indispensable – but so was her interest in visually representing the data available in a way that would show the general public (not just academics) what she’d discovered. So her achievement was artistic as well as scientific. Soundings does make the science side clear, but doesn’t dwell, and is never dry. Rather, Marie Tharp comes to life: she is a precocious child; an ambitious, able, frustrated student; a dedicated scientist; a life partner; an eccentric aging woman caught up in her own past, campaigning to honor and preserve the legacy of her other half.

Hali Felt was honest about the role she plays in the story she relates. She begins in her Introduction by briefly describing her own attraction to maps, and then follows a chronological format, beginning with Tharp’s childhood and following her life, and eventually her death. And then Felt returns to the story: her discovery of Marie Tharp’s existence, her interest, her decision to follow that interest, her research, her relationships with the living descendents of Tharp and Heezen’s world (the “Tharpophiles”), and in the Acknowledgements at the end, she even hints at the process by which she came to write and publish this book. I found all of these Felt-related details interesting too.

In a word, this is a lovely biography, and the style and tone of it may be my favorite part.

Rating: 9 double-checkings of data.

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The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger (audio)

Posted on August 20, 2012 by pagesofjulia

In October 1991, a number of factors converged to create a storm of inconceivable strength off the Massachusetts coast. Vessels large and small struggled in its path, and a few didn’t make it out. Sebastian Junger follows a few of the men, women and boats involved in this remarkable work of nonfiction. He begins by introducing us to Bobby Shatford and his girlfriend Chris, and their town of Gloucester, Mass. Bobby and Chris wake up hungover – Bobby has a black eye – and drive around town, visiting with friends and Bobby’s mother Ethel, bartender at the Crow’s Nest, and making final arrangements for Bobby’s departure on the Andrea Gail, a small fishing boat with a crew of six. We then follow Bobby’s path and that of his fellow fishermen: the two men who get funny feelings and refuse to sail with the Andrea Gail, and the five who join him on her for an intended 4-week fishing trip. We track their fishing, the decisions made by their captain Billy Tyne, the radio communications between Tyne and other fishing boat captains. We watch the storm approach, checking in with meteorologists and getting quick lessons in storm formation, and we visit other boats as well, including the Satori, a 32-foot sailboat, and the Eishin Maru, a Japanese longliner, both fated to have complications and exciting moments. We also get to know two rescue crews, made up of Air National Guard pararescue jumpers and Coast Guard rescue swimmers. I won’t give too much away (although, all of this being a matter of historical record, it’s out there), but not all of the characters introduced survive the storm.

That’s about all I want to say about the events detailed here; you can find out more by reading the book yourself (or listening to the audio, as I did – more on that in a bit), which I highly recommend. And here’s why. This is an incredibly adrenaline-pumping adventure tale. There are sad endings for some of the men and women involved, yes, but there is also great heroism, amazing skin-of-your-teeth survival, drama, even a love story or two mixed in. The human interest, in other words, is huge. For excitement, really, could you ask for more than rescue swimmers jumping out of a helicopter into the storm of the century to rescue men and women from sinking ships or from the open ocean? I submit that you could not.

In addition, the story is told in a unique way. Junger jumps subjects throughout: we meet a few characters in Gloucester, then we review the fishing history of the town of Gloucester, then we study up on commercial fishing for a bit, back to the characters… eventually we get lessons in meteorology, the physics of boat building, wave formation, and what exactly happens when a person drowns. As I wrote before, Junger is fairly strict and journalistic in following the facts. Where parts of the story he tells are unknown, he doesn’t claim to know, but he does interview people who have been through similar scenarios and survived; so we get an educated estimation of what the players might have been through, while making nothing up. It’s a method I respect; I found it both dramatic and fully-wrought, and reliable.

The audiobook I listened to is excellent, too. Read by Richard M. Davidson, it has all the taut, tense action it needs without ever feeling over-dramatized. And as a bonus, it includes a recording of the author speaking about the making of the book. This flows like his-side-only of an interview; I imagined someone in between asking specific question. Like the foreword, I found this a substantial addition. At the time of the storm, in 1991, Junger was working as a high climber, taking trees down for a tree company, and selling freelance magazine articles for a living. The storm inspired him, and he wrote a chapter about it, initially for a book he conceived about various dangerous jobs: the commercial fishermen of Gloucester would have been joined by loggers, smokejumpers, forest-fire fighters and the like. But his agent landed him a deal for a whole book about “the perfect storm” – whereupon Junger became anxious. How would he fill a whole book with just the storm? he wondered. (I loved hearing the author, in his own voice, discuss his nerves! And the whole process, really.) So he decided to follow all the sub-plots and related topics he could, to flesh it out, and this is why we are treated to the lessons in weather, boats, the fishing industry, etc. What struck me about this is that it is a rather Moby-Dick method, and ironically, while that classic work of fiction is notoriously difficult to read (come on, even its fans admit this, right?), this work of nonfiction – even though readers often fear nonfiction will be dry or cumbersome – flowed delightfully and effortlessly. Those subplots mightily enriched the whole. Even the questions left unanswered, about the fates of those who disappeared and whose remains were never found, Junger turns to advantage. As he says, because he investigated the experiences of others who lived through similar situations, we get a richer, more layered story than had he interviewed a sole surviving fisherman.

Sorry for another long review! (Usually this means I really liked the book.) In a nutshell: moving, emotional, adrenalizing, scientific, faithful, thrilling! Check it out.

Rating: 8 swordfish.

EDIT: I also reviewed the movie, here.

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Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

Posted on August 16, 2012 by pagesofjulia

In an abrupt about-face from yesterday’s hefty subject matter, here’s another round of great silliness from P.G. Wodehouse. I’ve reviewed a number of Wodehouse’s Bertie-and-Jeeves stories here (search “Wodehouse,” you shall see), so just a moment of background: Bertram Wooster is your archetypal harebrained British peer, and Jeeves is his archetypal “man,” his gentleman’s gentleman, who repeatedly has to swoop in and save the day. Bertie’s problems generally involve girls threatening to trap him into marriages, his aunts’ unreasonable demands, and his old school friends’ shenanigans; he will usually be pressured to steal some small object from an intimidating older gent (usually nobility), issuing in new threats and hilarity. And hilarity is the point. The characters are silly caricatures (with funny names to boot), and the odd positions Bertie gets himself into are always ridiculous. Jeeves is priceless.

Here, we return to Totleigh Towers, where the action of The Code of the Woosters took place. The plot is a continuation of that earlier story: Stiffy and Stinker are still engaged, unable to marry until Stinker gets a vicary, and the indomitable Sir Watkyn Bassett is reluctant to bestow it. Gussie Finknottle is still engaged to the soupy Madeline Bassett, but until their marriage is official, Bertie is always on the hook: she expects to marry Bertie if not Gussie, so Bertie has great motivation to see them married. And Aunt Dahlia (the more palatable of Bertie’s aunts, but still a threat) will eventually come up with another scheme to steal from Sir Watkyn – who is of course a competitor with Uncle Tom in collecting whatnots. Add to this an American girl who turns up on the scene and catches Gussie’s eye, and another of Stiffy’s crackpot schemes, and Bertie is as usual in trouble.

There is nothing novel in this plot, but it’s okay, because the plot is just a device to see Bertie get put in ridiculous positions (hiding behind a couch, ready to jump out a window but for the Aberdeen terrier waiting below) so that Jeeves can go to lengths to rescue him (impersonating a Scotland Yard detective; serving temporarily as butler to the enemy). The dialogue – and again, the funny names – are where Wodehouse shines.

I continue to be amused, and will continue to pick up Bertie and Jeeves (or Psmith, he was fun too) wherever I can. I have one complaint, though. I have been blown away by Jonathan Cecil’s narration of a few Jeeves audiobooks, and frustrated that I can’t find more. I’m addicted; Cecil is the Wodehouse voice in my mind, and I can’t tolerate any other reading. Why so few? I went and checked, and unfortunately my man Cecil left us in 2011. Am now mourning. If you see any Cecil readings of Wodehouse, I highly recommend. But if you get addicted, be aware, there is a limited supply. 😦

Rating: 5 funny names.

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Escape From Camp 14 by Blaine Harden (audio)

Posted on August 15, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Shin Dong-hyuk was born in 1982 inside Camp 14, one of North Korea’s no-exit political prison labor camps. He was raised in the camp, starving, ill, beaten, and forced to work for his life. His education was meager and consisted of the bare understanding of camp politics necessary to make him a compliant worker; he was trained from birth to snitch, to betray his classmates and relatives, to serve his masters. The concepts of love, kindness, trust, and familial relationships were unknown to him. At age 23, he escaped the camp and traveled on foot out of North Korea, into China, and would eventually make his way to South Korea and later, the United States. As far as we know, Shin is the only prisoner ever born in one of these camps to escape.

Blaine Harden is an experienced journalist, who covered North Korea for years, as well as other declining nations. He tells Shin’s story in a professional manner. Many of the details of Shin’s life, and camp life generally, cannot be confirmed or denied, because we have so few sources of information on the subject. (North Korea maintains that there are no such camps, although they are visible on satellite photographs.) Harden treats this information as a professional journalist, researching and confirming where possible, and giving his well-thought-out reasons for believing (or not) those details that are not confirmable. More difficultly, in this book, Shin recants an important fact about his life as he had claimed it for years. I felt that Harden made a reasoned case for believing the later story given. I was impressed with how he handled the problems of his source’s reliability, which I found an interesting issue. Additionally, Shin does not speak English, so Harden conducted his many interviews with interpreters; this of course raises new questions. When Harden says Shin chooses a certain word to describe a certain time in his life, I wonder who in fact chose that word. Naturally it was the interpreter who chose the word, and not knowing Korean, I can’t know how literal a translation it was, or whether there were several English words that might have been used. I don’t mean this as a criticism of Harden’s (or the interpreter’s) work; I just want to note that I’m always intrigued by the questions raised.

Shin states that Kim Jong-Il (and his successor) is worse than Hitler, because while Hitler tortured and killed his enemies, North Korea does so with its own people. This book makes that argument: the atrocities committed at these labor camps are appalling. It’s true, I was not well educated on North Korean conditions before I found this book. I suspect there are many of us who could learn a lot on this subject. I am not sure I can communicate to you here how shocking the details are – I’d really rather you go out and get a copy of this book – but I will tell you that no one is spared, no human dignities are allowed, there is murder and torture. These details are not spared, either, so be prepared for the graphic explanation of the torture Shin endured leading up to his mother’s execution. It’s not an easy book; but I do think it’s important that we know, so still I recommend it.

Shin’s story is mind-boggling. It is perhaps too obvious to state, but he had terrible luck to be born in the camp, and terrible things happened to him there; but his escape began a run of rather astonishing good luck. Harden puts the escape, and Shin’s overland journey (as well as many other parts of this story) in perspective by interjecting the accounts of other escaped prisoners and scholars on the subject. In this case, he describes the political climate at the time of Shin’s escape, showing how much luck it took for him to make it out of the country as he did. His good luck, though, mostly applies to his physical escape. Not surprisingly, his mental, emotional, psychological escape is still underway. As Harden points out at the beginning, most survivors of the Nazi death camps, the Soviet labor camps, and other centers of atrocities tell a story that has three parts: a relatively good life before capture; horrors on the inside; and then attempts at recovery after escape or release. Shin’s story is fundamentally different. Having been raised for 23 years on the inside, from birth, his release was to a world unknown. The trauma he is still trying to repair is staggering, unimaginable to the rest of us. Apparently Shin is like many North Korean defectors in being inclined to refuse psychological treatment – related to difficulties with trust – and his road has never been an easy one. His story as told here does end with a modicum of hope. But he is still struggling.

Again, this is a deeply disturbing book to read (or in my case, listen to), but I think it’s important to know what Shin and other North Koreans are going through. Please look out for Escape from Camp 14. I recommend the audiobook, which Harden reads himself. His delivery is matter-of-fact but that serves his story well.

Rating: 8 grains of rice.

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The Curious Case of Benjamin Button by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Posted on August 13, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I was vaguely aware that the movie of several years ago was based on a book by F. Scott Fitzgerald. A new copy (the movie tie-in one, of course) crossed my desk at the library and I cracked it open. It’s a short story, as it turns out, just a little thing that they presumably built upon a great deal for the movie. I did not see the movie (I see very few movies), but I got the impression that it was more of a love story. This is not so of Fitzgerald’s original.

In the year 1860, Roger Button is dismayed, horrified and disgusted that his wife gives birth not to a screaming, red-faced infant but an old man, with the appearance of a 70-year-old. (And thus ends the role of Mrs. Roger Button in this story, strangely.) The little old manbaby is mildly disappointed, as well, with the strange reactions of his parents and, indeed, the world at large. Mr. Button tries to make Benjamin play with toys and other little boys, but neither man is pleased with the results. Benjamin is driven out of kindergarten by the disapproval of the teacher, but eventually finds a happy place at his grandfather’s side, smoking cigars and discussing what is wrong with the world today.

As the years pass, Benjamin grows younger. Roger sends him off to college at Yale, where he passes the examination but is turned away for his appearance: he looks like a man of fifty, despite being just 18. This works out fine, however, because he and his father get along swimmingly and find that they have much in common. Benjamin goes to work in the family business and makes a great success. He meets an attractive young woman at a dance and miraculously, she is attracted to 50-year-old men! (I can’t help but observe that male authors like to write this fantasy) and they marry. But as the years pass, he finds her unattractive as she ages, and she is exasperated by his appearing younger and younger. She seems to take this personally. He becomes a real man about town, going out, charming the young ladies, partying, and eventually neglecting his business concerns. He goes off to the Spanish American War, and earns a rank of lieutenant-colonel. Upon his return, he is feeling so young and spry that he gives college another whirl, this time at Harvard. In his freshman year he is a big hit, mature for his age, the star of the football team; but by his senior year, he finds the classes hard and he can no longer play football because his peers are bigger and stronger.

When he returns home, his wife has taken off, so Benjamin moves in with his son. The years pass, and a grandchild is born, and Benjamin becomes young enough to play with his grandson as peers. They attend kindergarten together, until the grandson moves on to first grade and Benjamin remains in kindergarten… until, in his third year, this becomes too challenging for him and he retires to be cared for by a nursemaid. He ends his life as an infant in a cradle, unaware of his surroundings.

It is a strange tale, imaginative, and well told; Fitzgerald knows his way around a phrase. There is a wryly funny tone to the early parts, with Roger Button trying to make an infant and a little boy out of an old man. Later, sadness becomes the dominant sentiment. There is an episode when the Army calls Benjamin back in for service, as a general; but when he shows up as a 13-year-old (or thereabouts) boy in a general’s uniform, he is laughed at and turned away in tears. Towards the end, as Benjamin begins to lose hold of his memories of the good times (newlywed happiness, military glory, playing football at Harvard), I thought of Flowers for Algernon.

This is a short, easy, very worthwhile story by a fine storyteller, and I recommend it. I do not feel especially interested in the movie which I fear is different, not as good, likely to disappoint – and maybe I’m wrong, but that’s my pro-book prejudice, and probably explains why I don’t watch more movies. Anybody have a movie review for me? Anybody both read and watched, and can make a comparison?

Rating: 5 buttons.

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Dream Team: How Magic, Michael, Larry, Charles and the Greatest Team of All Time Conquered the World and Changed the Sport of Basketball Forever by Jack McCallum

Posted on August 10, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A funny, respectful, expert, complete–and literary–examination of 1992’s Olympic Dream Team and its permanent effects on basketball.


The U.S. Olympic basketball team of 1992 was known as the Dream Team because it included the game’s biggest stars, including Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan.

Sports Illustrated‘s Jack McCallum (Seven Seconds or Less, Unfinished Business) brings these colorful personalities to life as he recounts the creation of the Dream Team and its path to Olympic gold. When a meat inspector from Belgrade came up with the idea of rescinding the amateurs-only clause of Olympics competition, it made it possible for the U.S. men’s basketball team, traditionally made up of college players, to become a squad of NBA All-Stars, characterized by outrageous and iconic players and an unusual vision of the game. As McCallum tells it, this team took its ambassadorial role seriously, as the superstars relinquished their playing minutes to the greater goals of victory, teamwork and honor in a manner arguably absent from today’s game.

Dream Team‘s tone is occasionally reverent, but just as McCallum begins to speak in mythic terms, he reminds us that these men were only human, tapping into their personal lives and private sides (when his shared history with them allows). McCallum is nothing if not opinionated, but always fair in his analyses, and the quotations and one-liners that pepper his text are pure gold in terms of entertainment as well as illumination of the fine sport of basketball.

This review originally ran as a *starred review* in the July 17, 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: 7 points.

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