The Chalk Girl by Carol O’Connell

Posted on February 2, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Carol O’Connell’s Mallory returns to take on a case with nonstop twisting intrigues.


The little girl in Central Park has red hair, starry blue eyes and a dazzling smile; she reminds people of an elf or a fairy, and tells stories of blood raining out of the sky and an uncle who turned into a tree, and demands hugs from everyone she meets. The fairy tale halts abruptly, however, with the discovery of a body in a tree, hogtied and seemingly dead. And it’s not the only one. Coco, as she calls herself, presents a perplexing mystery. Where did she come from? Who does she belong to? Where did she get the strange explanations for the blood on her shirt and, most important, what kind of a witness will she make, if the NYPD ever manages to solve the homicides?

Detective Mallory, the protagonist of nine previous novels, is just back from three months of unauthorized down time and is none too stable herself; she and Coco may have more in common than meets the eye. But the case quickly grows bigger than a wandering child and a series of well-planned murders. Conspiracies and deceits connect Coco with the upper echelons of political power in the city, from high society to the DA’s office, even the police department–and Mallory’s investigation will reveal a chilly tale of torment stretching back 15 years. Unlike the spritely Coco, though, Mallory is a terrifying force to be reckoned with. Her methods are cold, merciless and conniving; her colleagues doubt she even has a heart. If nothing else, Coco’s tormenters can expect justice at Mallory’s hands.

This review originally ran in the January 20, 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!

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | 1 Comment »

My Life as Laura by Kelly Kathleen Ferguson

Posted on January 30, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Kelly Kathleen Ferguson grew up in the belief that she was Laura Ingalls’s long-lost twin, or perhaps her reincarnation; she was bored and frustrated by her suburban upbringing and longed for the simplicity, beauty, and utility of the world of the Little House books. After earning an English degree and attempting to be a rock-n-roll star, she ended up waiting tables… for decades. At thirty-eight, unhappy with work and her love life and feeling like a failure, she sets out to follow in her hero’s wagon tracks across the United States, visiting the sites of the various Ingalls homes as represented in the books. My Life as Laura is the story of Ferguson’s travels, and her reflections on her own life and what lessons she can learn from Laura.

She dons a “prairie dress” (which mostly makes her miserable, but occasionally helps her get into the spirit of things) and drives her Camry west. Laura’s home sites sometimes feature the preserved original structure, sometimes a replica or a monument to the location; sometimes tours are available; but they seem to always feature a gift shop. Ferguson’s most adventurous moments involve interacting with hotel and gift shop staff while wearing her period costume; but these conversations are generally perfunctory. She spaces out during tours, but reads a few books purchased in the gift shops and learns more about the object of her admiration – like the disturbing news that there is some question as to Laura’s authorship of the books, and the level of her daughter Rose’s involvement. Ferguson discovers that, while she’s a first-class expert on Laura the character of the books, she really didn’t know Laura the (arguable) author of the books very well.

Nothing much happens in this book. If you’re looking for adventure, experience, the trying of new things (or any attempt to live the Ingalls’ nineteenth century lifestyle), look elsewhere. Rather, what action there is is inward-looking, as Ferguson contemplates and picks apart her own past through the lens of Laura’s experiences. At the end she has made some personal growth and undertaken to write a book (ta-da!). The changes she makes to her life are modest, but she’s honest about what she’s able to take on.

This book has its strengths, humility and honesty being chief among them. But I was disappointed with the action component, and had expected more brave and outgoing feats than registering for a hotel room in an odd dress and subsisting on junk food. It didn’t feel like Ferguson’s boundaries were expanded much, even in a cross-country solo road trip. Perhaps the greatest downfall of the book was Ferguson’s success in convincing me of her own weakness and tendency towards failure. I feel badly writing that, but it was my reaction; I don’t mean to be unkind, but she had me talked into the thesis of her underachievement. Also, I have to note her repeated reference to the Amish driving around in their minivans. In nonfiction especially, that kind of sloppy error really stands out to me. [The Amish don’t drive cars.]

In conclusion, this book has a mild feel-good effect, and there are certainly some positive reviews out there. Ferguson is always brutally honest about her own weaknesses, and I respect her for it. But its lack of action and growth, and a few sloppy details, left me decidedly lukewarm.

I received a copy of this book from the author and I’m only sorry I didn’t have a more positive reaction to it.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , | 2 Comments »

Fire on the Mountain by Edward Abbey

Posted on January 29, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Oh my. I have difficulty beginning this review. I found this book very moving and beautiful. I’m glad to have found such joy in Edward Abbey this time around; I was disappointed in Black Sun, but I knew he had this in him.

Abbey tells us that this story was “inspired by an event that took place in our country not many years ago” but is fictional in its particulars. Billy Vogelin Starr has just arrived in southern New Mexico to spend another summer with his grandfather, on the ranch that has been in Grandfather’s family since the beginning. Billy is twelve, and he loves the land, the terrain, the work, the ranch, and his grandfather very much; they move something deep inside him. He only gets to be a cowboy for three months a year, but he takes this time seriously. He’s also very excited to see his friend Lee again; Lee is handsome, charismatic, a real cowboy, his grandfather’s best friend, and Billy’s hero. This year things are different, however; the United States government intends to take the Box V ranch away. The story is, they need it for national security. We’re fighting the Soviets, at least in theory and in spirit, and the land is needed for rocket testing (thus explaining the cover image, if you can see it that clearly). Grandfather’s response is that his land is not for sale. He was born here; his daddy died here, and he’ll die here, too. If he has to do battle to retain his right to his land, he’s willing. And of course, Billy wants to be right by Grandfather’s side.

A short book at under 200 pages, Fire on the Mountain is incredibly powerful. In few words – just like a cowboy – Abbey teaches his reader about old men like John Vogelin, whose tie to the land and to an older way of life is stubborn. The descriptions of the natural phenomena of Southern New Mexico are awesome, and I challenge you to resist respecting Grandfather’s final stand. Not for nothing is Abbey called (by Larry McMurtry) “the Thoreau of the American West.” This is a coming-of-age story for Billy Vogelin Starr, whose twelfth summer sees drama that will change his world forever; it’s also a lovely evocation of the beauty and power of nature, and the story of the classic, iconoclastic, Western loner resisting a world of change. An incredibly powerful and touching book, beautifully written, irresistible, exhibiting the greatness that I expect from Edward Abbey. More, please.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | 6 Comments »

Believing the Lie by Elizabeth George

Posted on January 28, 2012 by pagesofjulia

The latest gruesome, yet touching, mystery starring Inspector Thomas Lynley and his friends.


Elizabeth George’s long-awaited 18th installment in the Inspector Thomas Lynley mystery series sees our Tommy back at New Scotland Yard, having returned from wandering the English countryside mourning his murdered wife. His new illicit relationship with a superior officer is interrupted by a mysterious secret assignment–to look into a drowning that has already been ruled accidental. A powerful patriarch (like Lynley, a peer of the realm) requests further investigation into his own family–most obviously, the recovering drug addict prodigal son. But as Lynley, with the assistance of the reliable Deborah and Simon St. James, delves deeper into this family’s history and entanglements, he uncovers myriad lies, betrayals, deceptive identities and plenty of cause for scandal.

Fans of the series will rejoice in rejoining Lynley, the St. Jameses and Sergeant Barbara Havers, who unwillingly undergoes a makeover in this book. George also delivers the fully wrought, sympathetic, very human minor characters her readers have come to expect. Longtime fans may find Deborah’s increasingly obsessive distress over her failure to conceive beginning to wear thin; the subject becomes a full-fledged plot thread here. But George’s strengths–character development, plot twists and shocking tragedy–continue to shine.

While Believing the Lie can stand alone, series readers will find a deeper appreciation of the complex relationships at play. Look out for a serious cliffhanger at the end, which will leave George’s fans panting for the next Lynley episode.

This review originally ran in the January 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!

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | Leave a comment »

A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf

Posted on January 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A Room of One’s Own is a compilation and expansion of two papers Virginia Woolf presented in response to the prompt, “Women and Fiction.” It’s an essay of just over 100 pages, in my edition, in which she meditates on the subject, does a little research, and muses as to what we can expect from women in the world of fiction, what we’ve gotten from them in the past, and why. The final conclusion drawn, which forms the title, is that if a woman has five hundred a year and a room of her own she can be another Shakespeare. She points out that these requirements are symbolic: “five hundred a year stands for the power to contemplate… a lock on the door means the power to think for oneself.” She acknowledges that her demands are rather materialistic, and defends them by pointing out that resources are required for great art, that all our greatest artists and poets have been (almost entirely) men of means.

She makes some interesting arguments about the differences between men and women, and claims that women shouldn’t try to write like men; we are different, she says, and shouldn’t try to be the same. I guess this is a liberating argument in some ways, and I certainly agree that women shouldn’t try to be men; but in some ways this argument strikes me in a separate-but-equal fashion. I don’t necessarily appreciate having the “innate” differences harped upon, between sexes or ethnic groups or any of it. Part of celebrating diversity is about recognizing the diversity of the different groups, meaning their innate differences, yes, but part of tolerance and acceptance of diversity is about acknowledging our basic sameness too, right? It actually reminded me a little bit of VS Naipaul’s extraordinary and controversial remarks about female writers last year. Some of the response to his ignorant statement that women writers are always inferior to men came in the form of quizzes where, given a short excerpt of writing, the quiz-taker was to guess the writer’s sex. We all got a lot of them wrong, proving that a good writer is not necessarily a “woman writer” or a “man writer” but just a writer, which is a position I tend to agree with. (Same goes for poor writers, too, of course.) It’s odd to me that she also spends a certain amount of time exhorting women not to react to men’s exclusion or prejudice, but to write, as it were, in a vacuum, to not let the “opposition” color their work – either by apologizing or aggressing. Also a strong point, but seemingly a little at odds with her “women are different” point, perhaps. I got a little muddled here.

All in all I did not have the reaction to A Room of One’s Own that I expected to. I wholeheartedly applaud her basic sentiments, and I respect her for being the female writer in the face of male disapproval that she was. But some of her arguments got a little bit questionable to me; I suspect they may be a little dated. The course of the essay, too, was a touch rambling for my taste. As a persuasive essay it was a little more poetic and meandering than I was expecting. Is this slightly genre-bending? Maybe I came at it from a strange angle. At any rate, I respect it, I enjoyed it somewhat, and I congratulate Woolf; but I was not enraptured.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , | 6 Comments »

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

Posted on January 23, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Another gift from my buddy Fil, and another hit! Fil says he hasn’t read this one yet, himself, and I say to him and to all of you: hurry up and read this slim but powerful book! My 25th anniversary edition includes an introduction entitled “A House of My Own” by Cisneros, which was gold; do find an edition with this intro, because it’s wonderful. I would say it was my favorite part of the book but I can’t relegate any other part to less-than-favorite.

So first, the introduction. (A bell rang for me as I opened this book, as I was reading A Room of One’s Own simultaneously.) Cisneros describes a former self, the woman pictured on the opening page, a young woman living in her own apartment in Chicago, after graduate school, working to become a writer. It’s a really lovely essay all on its own, describing some of the challenges that faced a young Latina writer and looking at that former self through her older, wiser eyes. It was beautiful. I cried a little, not because anything was too terribly sad (okay, there was that one bit), but because it was so well-done. And it served as a beautiful introduction, as it introduces the young woman who composed the short stories, the episodes, the anecdotes that make up The House on Mango Street, not yet knowing that they would become a book. Rather, she was working on her MFA thesis in poetry, so those fiction fragments (or “little-little stories”) were extracurricular, failed to fit into a known body of work. But oh, the book that they became…

The House on Mango Street is a collection of short stories, and I mean short – the longest run to 3-4 pages, most 1-2, some just a paragraph long. As a whole, they follow Esperanza (the narrator) through the first year of life at the first home her parents own, on Mango Street. It is not the home they aspired to and Esperanza doesn’t like it very much. She has a lot in common with Cisneros – the city, the time, and the ethnic background; but I know from “A House of My Own” that Esperanza is really a combination of Cisneros’s students, people she’s known and people she’s made up, and herself. There is a coming-of-age element, as well as a theme of home – what makes a home, what a person need from her home.

The stories are entrancing. The style is great, is dynamic; it’s both poetic and conversational. It’s not formal; sometimes a sentence runs on until it loses track of itself, but I’ve come away with the strong impression that every word was carefully chosen and exactly in its place. The economy of language reminded me of Hemingway, although I don’t suppose Cisneros gets compared to him very often, and I don’t mean to say that they’re very similar. Rather, they both seem to have very carefully created what looks like simple language but turns out to be poetry. (There is of course always the danger that I see Hemingway everywhere because I’m crazy about his work.)

The subject matter is mostly mundane and ordinary (a young girl’s life and disillusions, her disappointment that she has to wear old shoes with a new dress to a party) but also serious, weighty, and sad (because such things happen to a young girl, too). I only knew Sandra Cisernos by reputation before I picked up this book; that will have to change, because she’s amazing. It’s only about 100 pages long (including the introduction), a super-easy read, and so powerful. No excuse! Go get yourself a copy.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | 7 Comments »

The Innocent by Taylor Stevens

Posted on January 22, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A whirlwind thriller about a seriously ass-kicking female renegade’s battle against a hair-raising cult.


In this sequel to The Informationist, Vanessa Michael Munroe is back. Taylor Stevens‘s heroine has been compared to Jack Reacher, Jason Bourne and Lisbeth Sanders, and evokes each–but also possesses certain qualities all her own.

The traumatized Munroe, facing her horrific past every time she tries to sleep, vacillates between insomnia and drug-induced oblivion. Her private battles are interrupted, though, when her old friend Logan shows up begging for her help. Eight years ago, when she was five, Hannah was kidnapped by members of a religious cult called The Chosen. As a former member, Logan know first-hand how desperate her situation must be–and though his gruesome childhood is not quite like Munroe’s, he has an understanding of her damaged soul. Now, eight years after her capture, Logan finally knows Hannah’s location, and he needs the help of Munroe to free her. But to get Hannah out of The Chosen, Munroe will have to go in.

The Innocent is tight and fast-paced, an adrenaline rush of a novel with vibrant settings ranging from Morocco to Buenos Aires and characters who jump off the page. The descriptions of The Chosen’s abuses of its own members are heartwrenching; Stevens’s own experience in such a world makes this semiautobiographical novel’s emotional impact even stronger. But the story’s greatest strength may be Munroe herself: gender-bending, starkly violent, as lethal with her bare hands as she is with a knife, she steals the reader’s heart, tortured psyche and all.

This review originally ran in the January 10, 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!

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | Leave a comment »

Spokesongs: Bicycle Adventures on Three Continents by Willie Weir

Posted on January 21, 2012 by pagesofjulia

This slim (140-page) volume is less traditional travel memoir and more a series of one-to-two page reports on individual experiences, or meditations on what it means to be a cycle-tourist in underdeveloped areas. The eponymous three “continents” of India, South Africa and the Balkans make up only a small portion of Weir’s experience as a cyclist and as a cycle-tourist (that is, someone traveling by bicycle). He also has experience as a bicycle courier in Seattle, something which will always increase credibility in my eyes. (I did the same in Houston for a few years, in an earlier life.) He calls his brief vignettes “verbal songs of the road,” which I think is a nice turn of phrase.

Each episode or anecdote tells a very simple, brief story; as a whole they don’t make up much of a sum narrative, which is not a criticism. This could be a coffee-table book, to be picked up time and again at random. It’s very easy, an effortless glimpse into one man’s adventures, with a touch of a love story coming in at the end. The writing isn’t sophisticated (nor even consistently correct, grammatically) but it’s sweet, and it’s real. While there are certainly far more complete, involved stories of bicycle adventures of various kinds, this might be the simplest to enjoy and one of the briefest. It was a gift from our buddy Fil to Husband, the Not-Reader, and I think it actually has a chance of being read by him, at least in parts, which is saying something. I recommend it for what it is: a brief look at cycle-touring in the developing world, or a collection of brief, captivating experiences.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , , , , | 3 Comments »

The Moon is Down by John Steinbeck (audio)

Posted on January 19, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I don’t remember where I got the recommendation for Steinbeck’s The Moon is Down. As far as I can tell, it’s not one of his better-known works; I know and love his Of Mice and Men, Cannery Row, Travels with Charley, saw the movie East of Eden though I haven’t read it (yet!), also have The Grapes of Wrath on my radar. But this one I hadn’t heard much of. It was recommended to me (by someone) and I found the audio, and it’s just a short little thing on three cds, so it was easy to make time for. I do love Steinbeck’s style and subject matter, and this one is worthy of his high reputation.

Published in 1942, it handles the occupation of a small town in northern Europe by an army that has a lot in common with Hitler’s Germany, though it’s never named. There are references to “The Leader” and a war twenty years past that bears a resemblance to WWI.

This small coastal town is conquered with very little fanfare; 6 of the town’s 12 soldiers are killed, and it takes the people and the mayor a little while to realize what’s happened. The town is a center for coal production, which makes it an important possession, and the occupying force lodges its officers in the mayor’s house while managing coal production. Colonel Lancer has seen war before, and is weary of the tragic consequences of the orders he must carry out; he’d rather rule in peace and order, but the occupation quickly turns ugly. The local people learn to resist, and the occupiers live in fear. One memorable line occurs when one of the occupying officers – lonely for his homeland, friendly faces, and female attentions – wails at the senselessness and unpleasantness of their situation. “Flies conquer the flypaper!” he bitterly says of the occupation.

It’s been a while since I’ve read any Steinbeck, but I recognized his style. The prose is simple, yet moving. This is both a straightforward story of one fictional town’s experience, and an allegory and statement about the futility of war. I’m sure this short novel would make for extended discussion in an educational setting, and I wish I had a professor to help me pick it apart! But as a quick read for entertainment’s sake, too, it’s satisfying, if not happy.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , | 3 Comments »

Bad Luck and Trouble by Lee Child

Posted on January 16, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I began reading Lee Child in late 2010, with Echo Burning, and loved him. In 2011, I ran through almost the entire Jack Reacher series. I’m glad I saved this one for 2012, because it’s the last one I hadn’t read yet (not the last in the series, you realize, but the last that I got to). It was a treat, and now I’m left waiting for him to write more books. I’m concerned that it may be a little while because maybe he’ll be busy helping make the One Shot movie. I don’t know, are authors involved, or is his work done?

That’s right, they’re making a movie out of One Shot, and so the controversy begins. Like many Reacher fans, I would love to see film versions of the whole series, but: the Hollywood folks have gone in the wrong direction picking a Reacher. For those who don’t know, Reacher is a charismatic, handsome, intelligent, super-strong post-military man, 6’5″ and about 250 pounds, and blonde. And they’ve chosen Tom Cruise to play him. Sigh.

The interwebs are in uproar over this choice; not surprisingly, followers of Reacher don’t feel that the short, skinny-ish, dark-haired Cruise can play Reacher appropriately. Apparently Lee Child has come to terms with this choice, which is something that I, personally, have not come to terms with yet. I will not be able to bring myself to see this movie. I think the movie – and if it goes that far, the film franchise of Reacher movies – will end up having a different fan base than the books. I fear that no one who has come to know and love the written Reacher will be able to love Cruise in that role.

But! Reacher-in-media updates aside, I was writing a book review. Sorry! Back on track.

Bad Luck and Trouble opens with a gruesome death, and then checks in with Reacher. The former military policeman has been roaming the country with a folding toothbrush in his pocket and is not looking for any trouble, but his past catches up with him. Specifically, Frances Neagley (whom we met in Without Fail) makes contact, requesting his help. A member of their one-time elite and closer-than-blood special investigations unit has been thrown out of a helicopter and, as Reacher will repeat, you don’t throw his friends out of helicopters and get away with it. A small group of Reacher-esque badasses thus reunite to avenge their friend’s death and save the world.

This is the 16th Reacher novel I’ve read, and I confess there are a number of predictable elements. For example: Reacher’s side will win. Sorry if this spoils the ending, but he always does. For another, the hot chick will insist on sleeping with him. And finally, he’ll fade out into the sunset rather than settle down at the end, after winning, and sleeping with the hot chick.

But you know what? Predictability in these areas doesn’t lessen my enjoyment. Reacher’s cleverness and the fast-paced action and ass-kicking have never gotten old. And the action itself is not predictable; I was trying right up to the end to figure out whodunit and how we were going to get out of this pickle. Knowing Reacher will get out of the pickle is not the same as knowing how he’ll do it. I continue to eat these books up, and will continue to do so. Child, more please!

Item of interest: Bad Luck and Trouble included a much more math-heavy side of Reacher than I can remember having seen before. We know he’s good with numbers, does complicated arithmetic problems in his head for fun and all that, but this special skill (I believe he calls it a “junior idiot savant” ability) plays a larger role here than usual, which is fun if you’re into that sort of thing.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | 2 Comments »

« Previous Page — Next Page »