The Code of the Woosters: Jeeves to the Rescue by P.G. Wodehouse

Posted on January 15, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Here we are again with Bertram Wooster and his unrivaled valet, Jeeves. This is the third full-length novel in the series (see my reviews of the first two, Thank You, Jeeves and Right Ho, Jeeves). In this installment, Bertie is recovering from a hangover following his old pal Augustus “Gussie” Fink-Nottle’s bachelor party, when his Aunt Dahlia sends him off on an errand to sniff derisively at a silver cow creamer (it only gets weirder from here, stay with me) and thereby hopefully lower the price for his Uncle Tom who desires it. But a rival collector buys it out from under Uncle Tom, and Aunt Dahlia sends him off a step further: to the country home of the cow creamer’s new owner, Sir Watkyn Bassett, to steal it from him. Bertie was already on his way there, at Gussie’s request, to help patch the rift in Gussie’s engagement to the Bassett daughter, Madeline. Upon arrival, he finds the cow creamer extremely well-guarded, suspicious and threatening parties all around, and a second couple on the rocks: the Bassett niece, Stephanie “Stiffy” Byng, and the local curate Harold “Stinker” Pinker, another old school chum of Bertie’s. Before he knows it, he’s engaged to steal cow creamers on the behalves of several rival parties, and that’s just the beginning of the mix-ups to come. Bertie (and Gussie, and Stinker) are threatened with incarceration and bodily harm as well as called-off weddings, or Bertie’s enforced marriage to one or the other of the girls, among other frightening fates.

If you haven’t figured it out, funny names are among Wodehouse’s several areas of genius. Husband is still laughing at What-Whatley from Thank You, Jeeves.

This was decidedly another delightfully laugh-out-loud funny and silly Jeeves book. I had a grand time. The antics of Bertie Wooster, his many incompetencies, and the completely deadpan assistance provided by his “man” are incomparable. This series is also incomparably silly, so if you struggle with silliness, beware. If, however, you appreciate silliness, also beware: other drivers think I’m crazy as I laugh out loud while driving around with these audiobooks in my car. I highly recommend Jonathon Cecil’s narration and hope I can listen to him narrate the entire series.

On the other hand, I struggled with something in Code of the Woosters that I don’t remember encountering in the first two books: misogyny. This is Bertie’s misogyny as opposed to Wodehouse’s – although of course there is not necessarily or even very often a difference, is there? (This book appears to have been published originally in 1938, partially explaining the issue.) Bertie is afflicted by the women in his life. These are generally his female peers in their relationships with his old school friends, and his aunts (“the aged ancestor” etc.). The first person voice of Bertie, then, laments the difficulty of the female sex. What the reader finds easy to observe, of course, is that it is not just the perversities of the females that accosts him – it is also his own ineptitude, and that of his male friends. (Gussie Fink-Nottle is a hopeless wreck in ways that can be blamed on no female, unless of course one blames his mother.) If this element was present in the first two books I loved, I missed it. Here, it came up repeatedly, until I got a little exasperated with hearing about how obnoxious, trying, immoral, and difficult Bertie finds women. I wonder if he ever becomes attached to one throughout the series? I’m not put off enough to give up, so I’ll let you know in our next installment of the comic Bertie & Jeeves duo.

My final (and minor) quibble with The Code of the Woosters is in the final fate of Constable Oates. I won’t give the finish away, but suffice it to say: when we first meet Oates he is assaulted by a vicious Aberdeen terrier while riding his bicycle, resulting in a crash, and he earned my sympathy (obviously) immediately. He does nothing more offensive in the rest of the story than want his personal property returned to him; he doesn’t even appear to share in Sir Watkyn Bassett’s ambition to throw the thief in the “chokey.” For him to come up for Bertie’s hostility seems unfair to me; I felt for Oates, myself. But that’s the final quibble.

I enjoyed this hilarious book far more than I was bothered by it, and highly recommend Wodehouse for giggles aloud. Audiobook lovers, please look out for Jonathon Cecil; he has come to embody Bertie, Jeeves, and the rest to me. Laugh on.

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I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith

Posted on January 14, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I shall set the scene: Cassandra Mortmain is seventeen years old. She lives in an impressive but largely ruined castle that represents various historical periods, in the British countryside near the town of Godsend. Her household is composed of her father (known as Mortmain), who had one extremely successful novel and has been writer’s-blocked ever since; her stepmother Topaz, a free-spirited New Age-y retired artist’s model; her older sister Rose, who laments the lack of attractive, romantic, wealthy marriageable men in their neighborhood; her younger brother Thomas, a schoolboy; and the household help, Stephen, who is crazy about Cassandra. They live in rather abject poverty, about to scrape bottom when the book opens. Cassandra is an aspiring writer, and is practicing by keeping a journal; I Capture the Castle takes the form of three volumes of that journal, a fairly unique format for a novel.

The action of the book begins when a pair of American brothers arrive at the local estate, having just inherited it, and bring fresh life into the Mortmains’ little world. Rose finds men to work on. Stephen pursues Cassandra. The entire family tries to goad Mortmain into finally working again. Thomas matures; Topaz worries; everyone’s world is widened by a little bit of travel, made possible by a friendship with the new Americans; and Cassandra falls in love. I won’t give it away.

This book is rapturously admired by many readers, writers, reviewers, and bloggers whom I respect, and I was excited about it. My final reaction is disappointment; not because I didn’t enjoy the book, but because for me, it didn’t live up to the hype. Cassandra is indeed a sympathetic, clever narrator. I like her. I wish her the best. Her writing is witty, lyrical, reflective, and funny. The entire cast of characters is really great fun; I thought Mortmain and Topaz were especially amusing, and Stephen is poignant. I liked it, really I did, but I read this book much more slowly than usual (the holidays, me having been sick for three weeks now, general malaise), and I didn’t miss it when we were apart; that’s not a particularly good sign. I feel that I will quickly forget it. I’m sad that I didn’t receive the strong vibrations that so many readers do – and again I must stress that I did like this book! It just didn’t take me to the heights reached by others.

By the end of the book Cassandra has grown up a bit, and the family’s circumstances have changed. It’s a coming-of-age story, involving a charismatic young woman, and it comes in a unique format, with lovely, quirky writing. I liked it. If you read it, hopefully you’ll love it, as many do. I cannot give a resounding enthusiastic endorsement, but there are lots of those out there if you’re interested.

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The Castrato and His Wife by Helen Berry

Posted on January 9, 2012 by pagesofjulia

An intriguing story of a castrato’s unprecedented marriage and its implications for society at large.


Giusto Ferdinando Tenducci was an 18th-century Italian opera singer and a celebrity in England. Part of his mystique and mystery, and the reason both for his reportedly divine voice and his unusual social standing, was his status as a castrato. Tenducci had been castrated as a young boy in the hopes that he would make his fortune out of his singing. As historian Helen Berry explains, a surprising number of Italian youths underwent this dangerous operation in Tenducci’s day, although (like today’s hopeful rock stars) few actually succeeded. Tenducci not only beat the odds by making a (sometimes tenuous) fortune in opera, but also accomplished a surprising feat: he married a young English girl of good family.

The Castrato and His Wife is the story of that brief marriage and its annulment in an extremely curious extended legal case. It is also the story of Italian opera in the 1700s, both as an institution and as a business; of castration and its relationship with the Catholic Church; and of the institution of marriage and society’s changing concepts thereof. Berry’s prose can be a touch long-winded and academic at times, but Tenducci’s heart-wrenching story is unusual and evocative. Berry addresses a topic we still find mysterious, and Tenducci’s distinctive situation is surprisingly relevant to the ongoing question of what constitutes legal marriage.

This review originally ran in the January 6, 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!

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Girl in Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland (audio)

Posted on January 8, 2012 by pagesofjulia

This was a lovely little audiobook. The writing beautifully, lyrically evokes the setting. At the start of the book, I recognized the tone and I’m sure there’s a literary term for it, although it escapes me; it actually reminded me of The Picture of Dorian Gray (which, however, I didn’t like). There was that same tone of desperate passion for a work of art; there was a similar element of a painting dominating a man. It was emotional, emotive. But it seemed to calm down as the book progressed, getting more contemplative, quieter, more introspective. And that was really nice, too.

The book is about a painting of a girl in a blue smock, taking a moment’s break from sewing buttons onto a shirt to look out a window. It is variously named by different characters in the story; the title is one name for it. The book opens in a present-day setting: a teacher invites a colleague back to his house to show him a painting he’s kept secret until now. He claims it is a long-lost Vermeer. (Vermeer is the real-life Dutch master who painted The Girl with a Pearl Earring.) From there, we trace the painting’s history backwards through time, through its various owners and caretakers, back to its painter and the moment of inspiration, visiting the girl who sat for it.

An obvious comparison to this book presented itself immediately: Tracy Chevalier’s very successful Girl With a Pearl Earring, which was made into a movie starring Scarlett Johansson. I thought both the book and the movie were lovely, and for others who enjoyed either, I highly recommend Girl in Hyacinth Blue. Not only is the subject matter very like (a fictionalized explanation of the history and inspiration of a Vermeer – or a questionable Vermeer), I found the tone to be reminiscent, as well. It’s interesting to think of these two as companion pieces. It’s been a few years since I read Pearl Earring (maybe that was 2004 or thereabouts?), so maybe my memory is warped, but they struck me as very alike. And for the record, it looks like both were originally published in 1999, so I don’t think anyone copy-catted anyone else!

The portraits of life painted (no pun intended – really she’s an artist) by Vreeland are remarkable. They’re very clear and realistic and whimsical, lovely vignettes into a nice selection of times and places. We meet Dutch, German, and American characters spanning several centuries, and each is neatly portrayed and very enjoyable even as brief snippets – meaning, each might stand alone nicely even without being part of a larger story. In fact, they stand alone so well that in the audio format, with a different reader for each, I kept thinking the book had ended! A person might even say each brief portrayal of a person or family’s life resembles a Vermeer painting, particularly when we get to the middle-class Dutch folks of his own period.

Girl in Hyacinth Blue is an effortless read with beautiful characterizations and scenes of life from a number of times and places, presenting the engaging puzzle of a beautiful painting and its questionable provenance. I highly recommend it.

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Left Neglected by Lisa Genova (audio)

Posted on December 31, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Left Neglected evoked strong reactions from me, which I think is always a recommendation.

Sarah Nickerson is in her late 30’s, happily married to Bob, with three children (Charlie, Lucy and Linus), and a successful career in a male-dominated hectic corporate world of 80-hour work weeks. She is accustomed to using every odd moment to send emails, make phone calls, or read up on work; she would be lost without her nanny Abby; a slight traffic delay costs her the chance to read to her daughter before bed. In other words, she likes her life, but it’s jam-packed-full with no room for error.

The error comes one rainy day on the freeway; a traffic accident leaves Sarah with a unique sort of brain injury called “left neglect.” She’s missing the left side of her consciousness of the world. She can’t find or use her left arm, her left hand, her left leg; she can’t see things or people on the left side of the room, her dinner plate, her world. She can’t conceive of left. Sarah wakes up in a hospital and has to laboriously relearn everything. Juggling international corporate intrigue with a staff of 1000’s is no longer her primary concern; she can’t even dress herself.

Sometimes post-accident Sarah’s whining and frustration with her condition annoyed me, and sometimes pre-accident Sarah irritated me with her material and work-related priorities. But overall, she was definitely a sympathetic character; and if I was sometimes mad at her, that only made our relationship stronger in the end. As in a real friendship, we had our ups and downs, and our bond increased through those trials.

I sometimes felt that Genova tried to maximize the angst. Sarah’s flashbacks to the childhood death of her brother Nate, and its repercussions for her present-day relationship with her mother, might have been pushing the psych-drama angle a little bit. But overall, it worked.

I was reminded of another book, My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor. I read that one pre-blog so no review here, but it touched me very deeply. Taylor’s book is nonfiction, and deals with a different brain injury; but the two are similar in that they describe a brain injury from the patient’s perspective, along with the recovery. I suffered a brain injury in a bicycle accident in 2007, and while I was lucky to suffer less severe injury than either of these protagonists, I still found myself identifying. My own recovery was fascinating to me and made me think about things I’d never considered before; when I read My Stroke of Insight a year or so later, it helped me look at my own experience and learn from it. Left Neglected held a similar self-referential interest for me. (To go even further out on a limb: I’m now doing physical therapy following my knee surgery, and trying to get back to mountain bike racing. The connection is vague and yet I can’t help but compare my frustrations to the fictional Sarah’s. Again, my injury is very minor by comparison. But the cycle of optimism and pessimism, frustration and success, crosses over.) All of this means that when Sarah gets annoying – failing to recognize how lucky she’s been; refusing to work hard with her therapists; wanting to give up and cry – I’m annoyed, and yet I understand, too.

The massive change in the way Sarah views her world – and not just in terms of right and left – may seem ambitious, even unrealistic, to some readers. This might be said too of Taylor’s change in philosophy in My Stroke of Insight. But in both cases it rang very true for me. I felt that I had traveled so far with the protagonists, both fictional and non, that I was right there with them at the end of their stories. Is my outlook unique? Possibly, but I doubt it. I think we’ve probably all had some life-changing experience (hopefully less painful than the ones detailed here) that allows us to get inside Sarah Nickerson’s head a little bit.

Maybe it’s odd that I’m drawing such a strong parallel between two books that are really rather different, but they both affected me strongly. In the end I give Left Neglected very high marks, and I’m interested in Genova’s earlier novel, Still Alice. For those who are curious, she does have credibility in this subject matter: she has a PhD in neuroscience. Check it out. And if/when you have/do, please let me know if this book touches you as it’s touched me. Here’s to being thankful for our health!

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did not finish: Upgunned by David J. Schow and Cosmopolis by Don Delillo (audio)

Posted on December 28, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Just very briefly here, because I didn’t get very far into either…

David J. Schow was the screenwriter of The Crow and Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning. These credentials are not terribly meaningful to me, not being a fan of horror movies, but they did give me some hope. Upgunned begins with the perspective of a semi-celebrity photographer of the scuzzy, scummy upper crust – drug-addled anorexics and the like. He is kidnapped and forced at gunpoint to take blackmail photos of a local politician. And then the perspective shifts to the man behind the gun.

The plot premise was mildly interesting to me – I can get into a good thriller regardless of framing elements if it’s done right – but the writing and characters didn’t hold up. I found both early characters a little bit cartoonish and overdone, the society in question was just a little too sickening for my taste, and the writing did nothing to redeem it. Nancy Pearl would be disappointed as I quit just 48 pages in, but I couldn’t motivate any further than that.

This DNF review is based on a galley sent to me by the publisher. Many thanks!

I have fond memories of Don Delillo from his amazing White Noise (and also my buddy Jerko is a big fan and I value his opinions). But Cosmopolis didn’t hold up. (And to be fair, Jerko specifically did not recommend it.) I made it maybe an hour in, which I think should count as 50 pages, if only just. 🙂 The story of Eric Packer’s billionaire troubles while wending his way through the city in his limousine (as pictured on the cover) failed to make me feel anything deep. Delillo’s trademark tone of detached despair is there, but the writing feels a little stilted, a little overdeveloped. Mostly though, I just couldn’t get interested in Packer’s fate.

Am I a little disenchanted and difficult-to-please these days? Hey, it’s possible. We all go through those phases. I will point out, though, that I attempted these two DNFs within a week of reading my two most recent additions to the Best of 2011 list: 11/22/63 and The Home-Maker. So maybe everything else pales in comparison. 🙂 At any rate, I’m sure there’s more outstanding reading right around the corner, and I hope the same for you as well!

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Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky (audio), trans. by Sandra Smith

Posted on December 26, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Pagesofjulia earlier published a guest review of this audiobook by my father. He did an excellent job of telling the backstory, so I’m just going to quote him here.

Much of the impact derives from knowing the author’s own story and how the book came to life. Born 1903, she was a Russian Jewish immigrant to France (1918), converted to the Catholic Church (1939), published numerous works of renown before the war (including one brought to film), was denied French citizenship in 1938 due to Jewish heritage, and has since been criticized for being a self-hating Jew. She was in the course of writing this work as events unfolded, expecting to create a novel in 5 parts. She finished two parts, was denounced by French collaborators and deported to Auschwitz where she died within a month. Many more of her writings were published since the war. But her daughters retained this notebook manuscript, keeping it unread until 1990 due to anxiety over the expected pain of reading her wartime “journal” – only then, before donating the pages to an archive, did they realize what powerful words those pages held. Written 1940-42, it was published in 2004, acclaimed, translated and read internationally.

(I don’t know where he gets his info from, but his write-up appears to agree with what the rest of the interwebs tells me.)

The backstory does indeed increase the impact of this story for me. For one thing, knowing that she wrote without knowledge of how the story ended makes some of her predictions and judgments especially poignant.

I think the most remarkable aspects of this book for me were the beautiful writing, and the tone of dry humor. See my Teaser Tuesday and Book Beginnings posts featuring this book for a few snippets I appreciated. The poetry flowed so naturally and yet painted such lovely pictures, without ever feeling forced. And as for the tone – Némirovsky does not spare the French, particularly the upper classes. While they are “victims” of the Nazis, they don’t read as sympathetic characters most of the time; see again that teaser post above for some of her cutting satire (and it goes on from there). The Germans sometimes come across more sympathetically, which I found interesting and not entirely expected. It’s easy to denigrate the Nazis, right? But Némirovsky gives us a truth: these were all just people, elementally.

Perhaps the point that drove Némirovsky’s story home for me the most – that is, both Suite Française and her own real-life story – was the ending of the book. Némirovsky’s daughter chose to publish as one book the first two in an intended series of five novels (so says Wikipedia). She also left behind the outlines of the third part. But in effect, this book ends very abruptly to me, leaving many threads unresolved. The abruptness of the ending was of course made more stark for me in audio format – I’m walking along, listening to the book on my earbuds, and then, nothing. What? Is that the END? I had gotten so engrossed in the story – worried about Bruno, wondering what Lucile would do next – that I’d forgotten the similar plight of the author herself (in that her future was being torn apart and eventually her life ended by the same forces at work in the book). So the cutting off of her work in progress ended up telling the same story for me that her book tells within its pages. I found that very powerful.

Suite Française has an interesting story to tell, both between its covers and without. It is beautifully written, humbling, stark and poignant. The same Wikipedia page (above) calls it “possibly the earliest work of literary fiction about World War II.” It’s really something, and you should check it out. But beware unintended cliffhangers.

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Here Be Dragons by Sharon Kay Penman

Posted on December 24, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I continue to be enthralled by Sharon Kay Penman’s works of historical fiction. Here Be Dragons is the first in the Welsh trilogy, and is concerned with 13th century Wales, the rule of Llewelyn Fawr (Llewelyn the Great) and his wife Joanna, bastard daughter of England’s King John. The book opens with Llewelyn at age 10, unhappy in his new status as stepson to an Englishman; his Welsh culture was drastically different from that of the nearby neighbor, and he found it difficult to assimilate. It only took a few years for him to go home to Wales and undertake to regain the crown that was rightfully his. One of the unique and questionable points of Welsh culture was that sons were expected to share their father’s property, rather than it all (unfairly) falling to the eldest son as in England. This most often resulted in fratricide, and family violence had previously cheated Llewelyn of his birthright to rule. Llewelyn went to war at 15, and won himself many decades of power in Wales, but almost constant conflict and challenges to his power, too. Alongside the story of young Llewelyn, we meet Joana, on her 5th birthday, living with her ostracized mother; her mother’s death just a few days later takes her to the court of her father, John, who eventually became king of England.

The book follows Joana and Llewelyn, their split loyalties, their many friends, relatives, and associates… and as always in Penman’s epic novels of British royal history, we’re treated to the tangled webs of intrigue, betrayal, and power struggles. One of the most powerful threads in this novel – arguably the dominant one – is the romance of Llewelyn and Joana’s marriage. I find myself most charmed by the threads of romance that Penman reliably delivers. I love the court dramas and the intrigue, but I love the romances, too. I’m not a reader of romance novels, and that’s not what this is; it’s so much more. The drama, the tragedy, the heartbreaking complications of family dynamics, the strained loyalties… this is truly a sweeping epic deserving of every minute of concentration it demands. I read these 700 pages in just over 2 days – while on break from work, yes, but given the time to devote to it, it was easy to do.

I find myself learning history from Penman somewhat. This is a slippery slope, to learn history from fiction, as I’ve discussed before. But if it’s ever permissible, Penman might be your author; she is very faithful to her extensive research, and her Author’s Notes at the back of each book offer good outlines of where fact meets fiction.

My first Penman read was The Reckoning, which happens to be the third in this Welsh trilogy. (Once I get through Falls the Shadow I’ll have to decide if I want to go back and reread The Reckoning yet again!) That’s where my fascination with Welsh culture, customs and language began. I am interested in traveling to Wales to explore what I’ve learned, but I’m also sorry to know that Llewelyn, alas, is long gone from our world! If you haven’t picked up Penman yet, I must say – do it now! And I’m off to pass this book on to Pops for his enjoyment.

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The Home-Maker by Dorothy Canfield

Posted on December 22, 2011 by pagesofjulia

homemakerOh my. This has got to be one of my top *five* books of the year. What a delight! I’m reeling! First I would like to thank Thomas at My Porch, again, for sending me this book along with the also-lovely Some Tame Gazelle. (This was because I have cute dogs. Lucky me!) Thank you, Thomas! You did so splendidly selecting books for me.

I have a lot to say about this book and will try not to be too long-winded.

The Home-Maker is the story of the Knapp family. The mother, Evangeline, is the home-maker – of course, because how else could it possibly be done? (This book was published in the 1920’s and seems to be set about then, too.) She is efficient and hardworking, and miserable; and her three children are miserable as well, and two of them physically ill. Her husband, Lester, is a lackluster breadwinner, also miserable. In an accident (or was it? read the book), Lester is paralyzed, and their world turns on its ear. Eva ends up going to work, and Lester staying at home to play Mr. Mom. And presto change-o, everyone blossoms! It’s lovely. Eva is fulfilled, challenged, in her element; she earns raises and promotions and everyone’s respect and appreciation. Lester gets to know his children, marvels at their youthful struggles, their individuality, their talents. He learns to cook, bake, and darn socks. And the children become healthy, rosy-cheeked, encouraged – and the troublemaker amongst them gazes adoringly up at his father. It’s remarkable, and heartwarming, and, gosh.

As a story of a family, it is engaging, droll, actually laugh-out-loud funny at times. As an instructive tale – which it obviously is – it is straightforward and sensible. Who could not agree that we should all do what we’re best at and enjoy, if we’re so lucky as to have those two things coincide with one another, and to have a family comprised of all the roles necessary for universal happiness? It’s almost so obvious as to be dull; but the sad trick is that even in 2011, when we congratulate ourselves for being enlightened on such topics as gender roles, we still need this book. I can only imagine that this book’s contemporaries felt their feathers ruffled; but surprisingly, the introduction of my Cassandra Edition claims, “very little of the criticism was harsh or outraged.” This edition also includes an article Canfield wrote for the Los Angeles Examiner on marital relations; it’s well worth reading, too, and succinctly echoes the novel’s point: do what you do best, and be happy. That’s a big duh, right? But again, I’m afraid we still don’t have it right!

For example, one point that SCREAMED off the page at me was the same set of ideas applied to the currently uproarious debate about gay marriage. Canfield actually does refer to “a man and a woman” several times, but I’m going to give her credit and believe that if she were writing today, she’d apply the same logic she did to hetero-marriage. Two people who love each other and want to make a family should do it in the way that takes the best advantage of everyone’s skills and passions and makes everyone happiest! To me, this is abundantly easy to understand, but alas, still, we have debate. Sigh. I’m not trying to have that debate here (rather because I don’t think it merits much discussion) but it was an obvious corollary of Canfield’s position here so I wanted to mention it.

For those who fear a heavy-handed instructive tone weighing down a lovely story, don’t. I’m sensitive to that fault, myself (okay, it was nonfiction, but I loved County while lamenting its overly-obvious point). But it’s not an issue here. Canfield is matter-of-fact in her portrayals; I think the strength of the “issues” at play here are that they’re too clear-cut to BE issues. Does that make sense? And the story itself is delightful. “Cosmic Stephen in his pink gingham rompers!”

I really enjoyed this as much as just about anything else I read this whole year. It’s the first to compete with Fire Season by Philip Connors, which I’ve been calling my #1 best of 2011. (Rather different books they are, too.) Thomas, you’ve done me a great service, and here, I’ll try to pass it on: the rest of you, go find The Home-Maker today.

BUT.

Here’s my one caution for seekers of the book. I appreciated that my Cassandra Edition included the newspaper article that I mentioned above, and it’s a nice edition all-around, but for a single glaring flaw: page 134 is followed by page 119, which then runs back up to 134 and then skips to 151. So while reading this book and really enjoying it, I was suddenly thwarted! The publisher (after some discussion of what might be a reasonable way to deal with this issue) promised to put another copy in the mail to me. So it’s a nice edition, but find yourself a different one! Perhaps I’ll be able to make a recommendation when my new copy arrives.

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11/22/63 by Stephen King

Posted on December 21, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Wow. What can I say? This book was a thrill, a wild joyride, emotional and tender, thoughtful, had me on the edge of my seat. I guess I’ve not bothered to seek out Stephen King (aside from one book I read for the horror section of my genre fiction class in grad school, From a Buick 8, and a short audiobook for a car trip, Stationary Bike) because I don’t have much use for horror; but of course he does more than horror, doesn’t he. There are reasons why he’s a mega-bestseller, and this book illustrates several of those reasons very well.

I’ll back up a bit and give you the premise. Jake Epping is an English teacher in small-town Maine in 2011. His alcoholic wife has just divorced him in favor of a man she met at AA meetings when Al, of the local Al’s Diner, calls him up. Al has aged 10 years overnight and is clearly dying, like right now, but how can this be when Jake just saw him yesterday looking healthy if chubby? We’re thrown into the weirdness immediately as Al sends Jake through his diner’s pantry, and through the rabbit hole, into 1958. This strange loophole through time always takes a visitor back to the same moment in 1958, and no matter how long one stays, he’s always gone just 2 minutes in 2011. Al has returned from 1962 with terminal cancer. He tried to make it to 1963 to stop the Kennedy assassination, thinking to prevent as well the assassinations of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the tragedy of the Vietnam War, and – why not? – all the bad since then, too. But now Al is out of the game, and with very little instruction, Jake is in it.

I’ll go ahead and tell you that Jake takes on the challenge, because I don’t feel it’s much of a spoiler. (This book runs over 800 pages; something had to happen.) But I won’t tell you much more. This is a suspenseful ride through time and history with the most serious of potential consequences. It’s awesome. Jake is an awfully likeable character, very human, fairly well developed, with good intentions but human weaknesses as well. There is definitely some humor in his preordained knowledge of the past; and before you go thinking he can see everything’s future as he travels through 1958, and onward, across the United States, remember (as Jake will remind us) that he’s an English teacher, not a history teacher. In particular, the regular people he meets are beyond his future-sight, as he didn’t study up on them beforehand. And it’s the little people, the regular folks he comes to know in the Land of Ago, that will turn out to be important to Jake. How could it not be so? He’s just a regular folk himself.

As my mother (who read this book first and prompted me to do so; thanks Mom) pointed out, King is not terribly poetic or lyrical in his writing style. (For the exception that proves the rule, see my recent Teaser Tuesday.) But not all books have to be poetic, and this one loses nothing for it’s more straightforward style. What King does right is build characters, make us care, paint the world of the late 50’s and early 60’s so completely that we taste and smell it. The storyline is fabulous, and this book is a page-turner; if only I had started it sooner during my week off work I might have tried to do it in one or two sittings!! As it was I stayed up past my bedtime on a work night to finish it.

The history and culture of the past is great fun; the characters are engaging; the action is suspenseful. This book is fun and exhilarating and I highly recommend it! Go ahead and add it to my Best of 2011 list. (See, I knew I was jumping the gun…)

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