City of Ravens: London, the Tower and Its Famous Birds by Boria Sax

Posted on August 9, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A bird’s-eye view of the Tower of London’s famous raven residents and their role in history and myth.


The Tower of London combines commercial tourism, history and myth in a single site, and its iconic ravens are a part of all three functions. Legend has it that when the ravens leave the Tower, Britain will fall. Boria Sax’s City of Ravens blends a highly readable narrative style with academic research into Britain’s history, the study of birds and Sax’s own interest in animal-human relationships. Sax examines the ravens’ changing significance in London’s imagination, from being harbingers of death and doom as they fed off the bodies of those executed at the Tower to being heralded as guardians of Britain’s Empire–likely due to their role, during the Blitz, of warning of incoming bombs.

Sax’s research largely dispels the popular belief that ravens had been pets at the Tower since medieval times, and he is ambivalent about the accuracy of the historical raven record. After highlighting a few individual ravens’ personal histories, he finishes by considering the ecological questions raised by the captive birds whose wild counterparts have begun to repopulate London, weighing the options for protecting both the ravens and their mythical standing.

These musings, admittedly conjectural at times, draw on diverse resources including newspaper archives, popular literature, early tourist guides to the Tower and other historical sources–as well as fictional accounts. Part history, part deconstruction of myth, part bird study, always lovingly respectful of the birds themselves, City of Ravens is a whimsical, entertaining and informative journey into London legend.

This review originally ran in the July 13, 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 wings.

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Houston Beer: A Heady History of Brewing in the Bayou City by Ronnie Crocker

Posted on August 8, 2012 by pagesofjulia

If you know anything about me, you should realize that Houston + beer = I will read your book. I am so enthused about my hometown, and about beer, and about my hometown beer (that is experiencing a huge boom as we speak – more on that to come, obviously), that all you would have to do to gain my undivided attention is write a book about Houston + beer. Even poorly written and sloppy. Luckily, I can say that this book goes a step further and does it properly.

Ronnie Crocker writes for the Houston Chronicle, and blogs for same under the name Beer, TX. His book is slim – under 150 pages – but not lightweight; he did his research, and uncovers new details about the history of beer in Houston. This is a surprisingly undersung (and under-researched) topic, apparently.

Beginning with the beginnings of the city (see my earlier teaser), Crocker studies us as a drinking city, and those who have served our thirst. Like many cities in this country, we had something of a boom going before Prohibition, and struggled to make a comeback after that failed experiment. We were a Bud town for a while, and Anheuser-Busch (in its new InBev-conglomerate form) still brews in Houston today, to the tune of …so many millions of barrels that it boggles the mind, and I can’t hold numbers that big in my head. [For more on the AB-InBev merger, check out my review of the excellent Dethroning the King.] Fast forward still more, and we’re seeing a veritable, and delightful, renaissance: the long-standing Saint Arnold Brewing Company (hey, seriously, 18 years is a long time in this business in these parts) joined by a promising handful of new brewers. My favorite is Karbach, of course, but I give a head-nod to Southern Star, No Label, and Buffalo Bayou, too. And I’m still anxiously awaiting the announcement that Yard Sale is in business!

Crocker’s book is admittedly reluctant to criticize; it leans towards the positive, even approaching boosterism. And it ends strangely, with an exhortation to support (i.e. buy from) your locals. But I’m with him! I, too, am excited about Houston beer. So, perhaps Houston Beer isn’t impartial journalism – but it’s an invaluable, unique history. I found it enjoyable, just what I wanted and no, never poorly written or relying on my devotion to the subject to keep me engaged. And it was great fun to see a number of people I know pictured, as a bonus!

Rating: 5 pints.

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84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff

Posted on August 6, 2012 by pagesofjulia

This is a truly delightful collection of correspondence. At the time these letters were written, Helene Hanff was living in New York City and scraping together a living writing freelance. She opens with a letter to a bookshop at the titular address in London, naming herself a struggling writer with a taste for difficult-to-find, often out-of-print books, and asking for inexpensive copies of several. This begins a 20-year conversation with several bookshop employees and various others (family, friends) that is rich in many aspects. For one thing, Hanff is often hilarious. She pokes and needles her main correspondent, Frank Doel, “trying to puncture that proper British reserve.” She rails about inferior translations and offensive abridgements. The friendships that develop are heartfelt and helpful: during the years following World War II, when the British rationed meat, eggs, and nylons, Hanff sends her new friends care packages regularly. They reciprocate with lovely, thoughtful gifts, including (of course) books. The bookish angle is, obviously, not the least of this volume’s charms – we are all book nuts, no? My reading actually does not intersect Helene’s (I am switching to her first name, as do Frank et al, as I feel we are now friends) very often, but I appreciate the sentiment, and her reading certainly gives me a feeling for her personality. Yet another angle of interest is the cultural divide: Helene requests that her bills be “translated” into dollars as “I don’t add too well in plain American, I haven’t a prayer of ever mastering bilingual arithmetic.” Currencies form only one of the challenges, of course. Later, Frank’s wife will instruct Helene in making a Yorkshire pudding. (For which I thank her, as I know understand a little better what that is supposed to be.)

A very easy read, these 90-ish pages took me just over an hour. (Remember they’re letters, mostly short ones, so very few of those pages are filled with text.) I found this to be a book of great sentiment. It is sweet, heartfelt, funny, and made me nostalgic for what was in some ways a simpler time.

If you’re interested in a little further reading, there is a website here dedicated to research of the bookstore and its employees, the characters in the drama that is 84, Charing Cross Road.

To whatever book blogger it was that made me go out and buy this book, thank you. It was worth it.

Rating: 6 pagesofjulia.

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preview chapter: Doctor Sleep by Stephen King (audio)

Posted on August 2, 2012 by pagesofjulia

As noted yesterday, there is a teaser chapter at the end of Stephen King’s The Wind Through the Keyhole for his upcoming book, Doctor Sleep. I am giving this one chapter its own post here because it grabbed me hard. Good job, Mr. King, you have me salivating for a book that’s not out til 2013. Thanks.

Doctor Sleep will be a sequel to King’s huge 1977 hit, The Shining, upon which was based the 1980 Stanley Kubrick / Jack Nicholson movie by the same name. I have neither read nor watched The Shining, but after listening to King’s reading of the first chapter of Doctor Sleep, I will. I have a copy of the audiobook (sadly, not read by King) on its way to me now. I got the storyline of both the book and the movie, and the differences between the two, off Wikipedia. I won’t regurgitate what I read; if you too need the background, go read up (book – movie).

Doctor Sleep opens with Danny Torrance seeing dead people again, a few years after the death of his father and other frightening events at the Overlook Hotel. Dick Hallorann comes to town to help him deal with the trauma and the apparently very real risk of the ghosts (are they ghosts? these decaying corpses?) doing him bodily harm. Dick arms young Danny with a tool to protect himself, but the chapter ends with a sort of “and then they were safe… or were they?” moment. Oh the suspense!

Here I am pimping Stephen King, I suppose, and I don’t think he needs my help. But just the one chapter held my interest so thoroughly that it began to eclipse the wonderful Wind Through the Keyhole that I had just finished. I am impressed, am I intrigued, I am seeking out more Stephen King. Check him out.

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The Wind Through the Keyhole by Stephen King (audio)

Posted on August 1, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Edit – Update! I’ve just linked up to The Stephen King Project blog, where we’re being encouraged to read King (or listen!) and share our reviews. Thanks Natalie for the reminder. I didn’t join on purpose with a plan or anything, but I’m happy to be here now. …and back to the book review.

My word, this is lovely. I have never been disappointed in Stephen King, but this is definitely my favorite of those I’ve read. The Wind Through the Keyhole is part of the Dark Tower series, to which I am new, and therefore I appreciates the introductory remarks, in which King notes that it is not necessary to have read others in the series, but it would help to know a few facts about MidWorld, which he then relates. It’s true: I didn’t have any trouble following the action or keeping track of the rules of this alternate world.

King employs the story-within-a-story format here, and puts it inside another story for good measure. I got so immersed in the innermost story, about young Tim and his frightening journey into the forest in the starkblast, that when it ended I expected the book to end! I suppose it might have been jarring to then return to the story of young Bill and the skinman (which is in turn being told to the characters of the outermost story), but it wasn’t. I was just relieved that there was more to hear.

Stephen King reads this audiobook himself, and does it beautifully. I have listened to a handful of author-narrated audiobooks, and they have all been great. The actors, or professional narrators, are often wonderful as well, but some of these authors do amazing jobs too. Barbara Kingsolver’s reading of The Lacuna was extremely impressive, because of all the different accents necessary. It makes me marvel that a person can be such a talented artist in two different media! But I’m getting off track. Stephen King does a great narration, everything felt very real, and I was comforted knowing that the names of his imaginary lands and people were pronounced just as the author imagined them in his head.

So what is this book about? It opens with Roland Deschain and his traveling companions, chatting on the road to who-knows-where (presumably this is part of a larger storyline that I would know if I were reading the series). A particularly strange and threatening storm called a starkblast is coming, and they seek shelter, and find themselves up all night in the howling wind; so Roland agrees to tell them a story. This is where we leave the outermost story and enter the middle-layer story.

Roland is a young man and a novice gunslinger. I quote Stephen King’s foreward: a gunslinger is “one of a small band that tries to keep order in an increasingly lawless world. If you think of the gunslingers of Gilead as a strange combination of knights errant and territorial marshals in the Old West, you’ll be close to the mark.” He has just lost his mother – killed her, in fact, in an obviously traumatic incident that is only alluded to in this book – when he takes a trip with fellow youngster gunslinger, Jamie, to solve a mysterious series of bloody murders in a small mining town. It is theorized that the murders are being committed by a skinman, a shapeshifter. Roland befriends a young boy, Bill, who has witnessed his father’s murder, takes pity on him, and sits down to tell him a story Roland’s mother used to tell him when he was a little boy. This is the innermost story, and it is called – what do you know – The Wind in the Keyhole.

Once upon a time, in an ironwood-logging town called Tree, Big Ross is killed by a dragon in the woods. His partner, Big Kells, marries Ross’s widow Nell, and becomes stepfather to the boy Tim. Tim’s story is an adventure and sort of a dark and frightening fairy tale. He finds out a sinister secret about his stepfather and takes a journey deep into the treacherous forest where his father was killed; he encounters strange creatures, dragons, fairies, tigers, good magic and bad magic. This innermost story is the one we spend the most time with, and is set in a marvelous otherworldly world, fully developed, filled with creatures and characters and conventions and rules, fascinating and glorious and strange and scary, but also rather sweet.

Roland concludes the telling of The Wind Through the Keyhole to Bill, and then concludes the telling of Bill’s story to his companions, so that we close the stories we’ve opened and finish back with the elder Roland and his companions weathering the starkblast. There is a sense of circularity, and completeness.

The outermost story, of Roland and his fellow travelers, is engaging and also set in another world (MidWorld) I found interesting and would like to hear more about. The middle-layer story, of the young Roland seeking the skinman, involves some good old-fashioned detective skills and has a satisfying conclusion. But the story of young Tim and his quest through the forest was clearly the star. I was entranced, and sorry it was over. I shall be searching out more King, without a doubt! And I appreciated his narration, as I said earlier; I hope he’ll continue to narrate his audiobooks.

Stay tuned: tomorrow I’ll tell you about the teaser chapter for an upcoming book that was included at the end of this one.

Rating: 7 puppy dogs.

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Bike Snob: Systematically & Mercilessly Realigning the World of Cycling by BikeSnobNYC

Posted on July 30, 2012 by pagesofjulia

The Bike Snob book! As noted in a previous post, Bike Snob has authored a blog by the same name for many a year. I have been a fan for four years or so; his pithy observations and opinions about cycling and cyclists in all their forms – pro racing, amateur racing, commuters, messengers, hipsters, and more – are wise and hilarious. I admire his writing, both its style and its profusion. I have wondered, does this guy have a full time job? Because he sure does blog furiously! And I thank him.

So it’s rather strange that it’s taken me this long to get a hold of his first book. (There is already a second out there somewhere.) And it’s well worth it! Like his blog, the book is filled with observations and judgments, always irreverent, tongue-in-cheek, and usually laugh-out-loud funny. Yes, I laughed out loud all the way through this short book. It includes chapters like “Velo-Taxonomy” (the various subsets of cyclists, along with their compatibility with other cyclists – funny gold, here) and “A Brief Guide to Etiquette for Non-Cyclists” (which I appreciated very much, and which begins with a request to “let bikes inside”). Bike Snob is an actual, helpful education for newer cyclists, non-cyclists or regular citizens, and yes, for the experienced cyclist as well.

The Snob imparts astute wisdom. Even though I believe firmly in helmets for everybody at all times, I can respect his recommendation that, if you’re only going to use a helmet or brakes, that you should use brakes, because a helmet will only protect you from some injuries. But perhaps the most awesome feature of this book is the laughs. Anybody with a little bit of cycling experience will recognize the truth and humor in his statements about triathletes (“why other cyclists don’t like them: they’re the turduckens of the cycling world. Compatibility with other cyclists: can occasionally mix with Roadies, like when you see a couple of pigeons hanging out with a bunch of seagulls.”) or how bike messengers’ functional gear has become ubercool even where it’s not functional. I appreciate that many of his philosophies of cycling expand to life in general (further proof that cycling is life!). For example: bikes are great, but they’re for riding, not polishing to a high shine and storing with an aura of reverence at the expense of getting out there and experiencing the world. And bikes get stolen. So enjoy them while you can, and know that possessions are ephemeral, while experiences linger. Don’t let your possessions own you.

It is worth noting the visual design of this book. I don’t usually get very interested in physical features of books (I am a reader of print books. but if it’s print, that’s good enough; I don’t go for gilded pages or whatnot), but this one was remarkable. The end and fly pages are decorated with a variety of bicycles and chain rings; there are little design details throughout, including tire treads and whatnot, that draw the eye. I dug the gold color theme, strangely. And as a final bonus, the book came with four Bike Snob stickers! I am the second owner of my copy, presumably, because one sticker was missing and I took a second; there are two left, possibly for the next two owners, but I don’t intend to get rid of it any time soon. Good job with your marketing, Bike Snob, you are now represented on the beer fridge in the garage.

I recommend this book highly. Although, I should point out that one of my cycling friends quit just a few pages in, feeling the Snob was full of himself and unfunny. It takes all kinds, and everybody’s tastes vary; bring an appreciation for the absurd and an expectation that the Snob won’t take himself at all seriously, and hopefully you’ll love his sense of humor as much as I did.

A note on the author: the Bike Snob remained anonymous for years of fame, being photographed (for example) for the very mainstream Bicycling magazine with his face covered, etc. When this, his first book, was released, he knew he’d have to come out of the closet of anonymity to promote it, and that was an event of some newsworthiness (the Wall Street Journal cared). We now know his name is Eben Weiss. I’ve kept “Bike Snob” as the name of the author for this review, because that’s how the book was originally listed.

Rating: 7 bicycle wheels (of varying sizes).

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The Red Queen by Philippa Gregory (audio)

Posted on July 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Ah, Philippa Gregory, my choice “fluffy” historical fiction author. A slightly guilty pleasure, yes.

In a nutshell, this is the (fictionalized) life story of Lady Margaret Beaufort. She is a very pious young girl, married off against her wishes first to Edmund Tudor, who widows her before she gives birth to his son at the age of 13, and then to Henry Stafford. After she’s widowed a second time, she makes her own marriage of politics, not love, to Thomas Stanley. The Tudors’ fortunes have shifted, and her son has been raised by his paternal uncle Jasper, as the House of York holds the English crown. Margaret works to promote her own son’s claim to the throne through various machinations and deceptions, pretending service to the York King Richard III and his Queen Anne. Richard is defeated on the battlefield and her son does finally take the throne himself as King Henry VII. The story is told in Margaret’s voice in first person, aside from a few passages of third-person narration towards the end, describing battles and events that (presumably) Margaret could not have described as she would not have been present.

I found Margaret unlikeable. This does not necessarily preclude me liking the book. She was self-consciously pious to the point of being self-righteous and often hypocritical: as in, “my piety is so great and God loves me so that I am deserving of the highest of honors, you should make me an abbess although I am only 13 years old,” etc. She demanded a life that was unavailable to girls or young women of her time and of her social standing; this struck me as anachronistic. I am certainly fuzzy on my historical accuracy for 15th century England! But I suspect it is unlikely that this young lady, nearly from the cradle, as it were, would be demanding such an unknown level of independence and control over her own destiny. On the other hand, perhaps the point about the young Margaret is just this: that she was odd, demanded unusual or unheard of honors. After all, the book opens with her having visions of herself as Joan of Arc. She certainly saw herself differently. So, my criticism here is qualified. And it didn’t particularly take away from my enjoyment of the book; it’s something I noted, as I continued to listen with interest in what would happen next. Did I like Margaret? Not for a moment. But I enjoyed and was held captive by her story.

There were weaknesses. The political intrigue aspects tended to be painted with a broad brush, in the fairly lazy literary convention of having a character recite the action in a monologue with explication that would not realistically be necessary if she were really making this speech. In other words, an info dump in the voice of a character. [Late in the book, we do get some passages of narration in a third-person-omniscient voice. Unfortunately, this didn’t improve things for me, particularly in this audio format, because a different reader took over; I found it a little jarring. But maybe by that point I was becoming difficult to please.] I felt that the book was most concerned with Margaret’s feelings and internal action, and it was occasionally necessary to fill us in on why so-and-so is riding into battle with so-and-so, and Gregory did it as quickly and easily as possible. This stands out in contrast to a historical fiction author I really like, Sharon Kay Penman, who takes her historical accuracy very seriously and takes the time to spell it all out very meticulously while keeping her characters very lifelike. Now, Penman and Gregory create very different reading experiences, and readers – entirely validly – are likely to prefer one or the other, and both are okay. Gregory’s books are fast-paced, emotional, hopefully riveting, and lighter on historical accuracy. Penman’s are longer, rather denser, accurate, and engrossing in that they bring the world in which they are set fully to life. One is not “better,” but they are different.

A few character developments felt rushed and unexplained to me. There is a certain man with whom Margaret suddenly shares a seeming bond of love, but I missed the progression of feelings; they were just there and then suddenly… staring into each other’s eyes and making declarations (or worse, references to an unspoken but understood shared feeling). And again, Margaret’s loyalty to and passion for her Tudor line came out of nowhere for me. When the book began, her mind was focused on God; and a little later she is full of loyalty to the Lancasters and rebuking those whose loyalty wavered. Again, I seem to have missed the part where she discovered the strong tie she felt to her relatives.

And yet I remained intrigued and kept reading. I was occasionally exasperated, but overall my experience was overwhelmingly one of enjoyment. Verdict? I am more a Sharon Kay Penman reader than a Philippa Gregory reader! I seem to be left feeling like I need to do a little research when I finish a Gregory book. But they’re good fun. And I haven’t found any audiobooks of Penman’s work yet!

Rating: 4 haughty sniffs.

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Racing Through the Dark by David Millar

Posted on July 25, 2012 by pagesofjulia

The unexpectedly inspirational story of a pro cyclist’s “clean” return to the sport after doping.


David Millar was an avid bicycle road racer in his teens, and after he turned pro at age 22, he raced in all the big European events, including the Tour de France, where he wore the yellow leader’s jersey. He resisted doping for years, but not forever; he was eventually busted for the illegal use of performance-enhancing drugs. His story was, perhaps, not highly remarkable in a sport already ridden with doping scandals, but it became noteworthy when he spoke out about his experiences, took a strong anti-doping stand and returned to the sport as a high-profile–and still highly accomplished–“clean” racer. Racing Through the Dark is his story.

Millar’s memoir begins in childhood and follows through rocky years on the pro circuit, the painful decision to dope after abstaining for years, the details of his bust and the raging alcoholic haze of his ban before returning to the sport. It includes anecdotes featuring many of pro cycling’s biggest names, including Mark Cavendish, Stuart O’Grady and Lance Armstrong. Millar’s voice is appealingly open and artless. He takes full responsibility for his poor decisions even as he criticizes pro cycling’s traditional code of silence that overlooks or condones widespread use of illegal drugs. While Millar excoriates the culture of doping, he doesn’t use it as an excuse. He comes across in the end as a surprisingly honorable figure, whose continuing professional career offers a final theme of redemption.

This review originally ran in the July 3, 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 skinny tires.

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The Boy Kings of Texas by Domingo Martinez

Posted on July 23, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A starkly honest memoir of growing up on the Texas-Mexican border in the 1970s and ’80s, with a wry twist.


Domingo Martinez was born in the early 1970s in Brownsville, Texas, on the Mexican border. His youth was marked by violence and family drama; he grew up wanting only to escape, but unsure how to do so. The Boy Kings of Texas introduces readers to Martinez’s embarrassing, philandering father; his terrifying, work-obsessed grandmother; his older sisters (two of whom successfully pose for a short time as rich white girls); his generally forgotten mother; and centrally, his older brother, Dan. (There’s also the passed-down story of his grandfather, who died young–a Mexican criminal celebrity recalled as the Brer Rabbit, the Billy the Kid, the Rhett Butler of his day.) Martinez describes in glaring, painful detail his drug-dealing friends and family–one time, he bought pot from two local thugs who turned out to be his uncles but who didn’t recognize him through their drug-induced haze–and his gradual, excruciating withdrawal from Texas and the life he’d always known.

The Boy Kings of Texas eventually follows Martinez to Seattle and his agonizing attempts at starting fresh there, handicapped by a misguided childhood whose dominant lesson was machismo at the expense of all else. While a final, happier ending is hinted at (“but that is another book”), this memoir is concerned with the deep distress of a bordertown kid unclear on his place in the world. Martinez’s story is heartrending and uncomfortable, but he maintains a surprising sense of humor that keeps his reader cringing and rooting for him.

This review originally ran as a *starred review* in the July 3, 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 tortillas.

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Kristin Lavransdatter: The Cross by Sigrid Undset (trans. Tiina Nunnally)

Posted on July 19, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Kristin Lavransdatter is a trilogy, comprised of The Wreath, The Wife, and The Cross. As my single volume runs nearly 1200 pages, I thought you might permit me three book reviews. 🙂 Here is book three; book one was reviewed here and book two here.

In my reviews of the first two books of Kristin Lavransdatter, I went heavy on the spoilers. It felt difficult to discuss the plot, the action, even the development of the characters – let alone my reactions, without taking that route. I’m going to try to keep this one spoiler-free, though, which also keeps it brief.

In this final installment of Kristin’s life, I felt that she changes more than she did in the first two books. Her children grow up; her circumstances change significantly. Her family grows smaller, between the loss of her children (eventually eight) to death, marriage, and travel, and the deaths of many of her loved ones as she ages. Having done battle with Erlend until the very end, she is left with a sense of remorse that she didn’t appreciate him more, that she focused on the faults. As her world narrows, she’s relegated to the place of an old lady whose values (she’s told) are out of touch; she ends up retreating to a smaller world and focuses on her relationship with God. Kristin experiences a few reunions, towards the end, but the mood of the story continues to withdraw, becoming introspective, turning away from the world.

I found the ending a little strange, circling back as it does to Kristin being an object of admiration… but it did accomplish what felt like the right tone. Kristin Lavransdatter is a fascinating, thought-provoking study of one woman’s life in a time (and place) foreign to me, and to today’s readers generally. It was hard to believe, on finishing, that the trilogy spanned well over 1000 pages. It didn’t feel like it went on that long; it was just one lifetime. But it dealt with all the phases, moods, and issues one could hope. And it was a lovely glimpse into medieval Norway that I would not have otherwise encountered.

I agree with Erin that this is a unique and beautiful book. I also agree that the translation was of high quality, and I’m sorry for those (like my father) who tried older versions and were turned off. It’s long, but it’s an easy read. Check it out.

Rating: 5 babies (whew).

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