The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane

I came into this book with a vague notion that it is a classic that was taught in schools more commonly before my day, and that it was popular with boy-children, also mostly before my time. It is a Civil War story. “The youth,” as we mostly know him, Henry Fleming, signs up against his mother’s wishes to go fight for the Union, and the book follows his war experience.

The bulk of this story is taken up not with events but with the turmoil inside Henry’s head. He is fascinated by war and wants to participate; it takes a certain amount of internal argument before he signs up, and then he thinks he’ll make his mother proud. Then after much waiting in camp, when it appears that he might actually see battle, he becomes petrified with the fear that he’ll run. He meets battle, stands and fights at first, wondering at his nonchalant courage; and then turns and runs. While a fugitive deserter in the woods on his own, he convinces himself that running was in fact the wise and respectable decision; then upon encountering the army again he comes filled with self-loathing. He watches a friend die. He rejoins his regiment with an excuse for his absence and becomes confident again. And on and on – you get the idea. It’s the story of a young boy’s difficulty with the concept of fighting and, most centrally (as in the title), the concept of courage. I’m not sure we ever learn the age of “the youth,” which I regret; I kept wondering how old he was, but maybe the point was that we’re unclear on that question. There is more fighting; our youth stays and fights; there is a victory. (Perhaps it is The Victory; I’m not sure.) At the end of the story, Henry has found a peace and a confidence in himself; the war seems to have helped him grow up.

I kept track, off and on, of the uses of the color red in this book. Aside from the obvious red of blood, war is repeatedly characterized as a red animal, and the flag is a red and white woman who demands and inspires Henry’s courage. And red is not the only color to receive repetitive attention. Yellow is cowardice and men’s pale, sickly, frightened or wounded faces. (Henry’s mother threw a yellow light on the color of Henry’s ambition, by opposing his wish to join the army.) Purple is twilight; blue is the Union uniform as well as the sky, and rage is variously red, black, and purple.

I like this passage; note all the colors used:

He was being looked at by a dead man who was seated with his back against a columnlike tree. The corpse was dressed in a uniform that had once been blue, but was now faded to a melancholy shade of green. The eyes, staring at the youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seen on the side of a dead fish. The mouth was open. Its red had changed to an appalling yellow. Over the gray skin of the face ran little ants. One was trundling some sort of bundle along the upper lip.

Honestly, though, I was not particularly taken with The Red Badge of Courage. It had its moments of colorful imagery that I found charming; and at times Henry’s turmoil felt very human and sympathetic. But for the most part I was a little bit bored. Relatively little action takes place; mostly we hear about Henry’s anguish. I hate to be callous about his struggles – this is war, he is but a “youth,” war is terrible – but it felt to me like rather much circling around the same emotions. It wasn’t as evocative, at least for me, as it could have been. Books about the war experience should twist the knife deeper than this one did.

I also found a few aspects of Crane’s treatment of war a little surprising. For one thing, we almost never heard about the enemy; aside from being dressed in gray and being the antagonist of the battle scenes, the Confederates aren’t developed at all. Many war stories, and especially Civil War stories, paint the opposing army as tragically familiar, thus illustrating the futility and ultimate tragedy of war. This book seemed to take a pass on any such message, which left me feeling a little hollow.

As I sum up my experience reading this book, I have to say I didn’t find it very moving. I would love to hear from someone else who did, though. Any fans of The Red Badge of Courage out there?

One Book…

Hey Simon, look at you with your successful meme! 🙂 Thanks for doing this one again. I agree with you that is was great last time around (Simon’s post; my post) and I can’t resist playing along, again.

Simon from Stuck in a Book has posted another round of One Book, Two Book, Three Book, Four… and Five, in which he lists his current reading, with pictures. Go check him out. And, here’s mine:

The book I’m currently reading is Louise Erdrich’s Love Medicine. This was a recommendation from my aunt Laura several years ago. I bet she thought I forgot, but I didn’t! It’s been on my shelf and I have finally picked it up, prompted by the Where Are You Reading? Challenge. It’s set in North Dakota, and it’s about an extended family of Native Americans. I’m enjoying it.

And, on audio, I’m currently “reading” Margaret Atwood’s The Year of the Flood. It’s fairly thought-provoking. I’m glad to be revisiting Atwood; she’s so talented and always makes me think. This one is a bit creepy but oh so delightful, too. It’s speculative fiction set in some unknown future, after the “waterless flood” which has wiped most of the population off the earth, it seems, combined with flashbacks into a dystopic world ruled by corporations.

The last book I finished was The Story of Beautiful Girl by Rachel Simon, and it was so beautiful. (My review should be up next week.) I highly recommend it.

The next book I want to read is definitely We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. I’ve been hearing about this one for so long! And I finally got my hands on a copy! I don’t usually participate in the reading of spooky books for Halloween, but just by coincidence, I have this one packed in my bag for our weekend trip. (I’m very excited: we’re off to a 6-hour mountain bike race near Dallas, leaving tonight!)

And along the same lines, I’ve picked out a few audiobooks for the drive, including James Lee Burke’s Bitterroot (love Burke, haven’t read this one yet), Grisham’s The Appeal (why not, Grisham is solid if predictable), and Ken Follett’s Hornet Flight (have never read him, this will be a first try) but – back to the spooky theme – also including Stephen King’s Stationary Bike. There is a joke in there somewhere about the bike being the evil force in this story, and us driving towards a bike race. 🙂 This will be only my second Stephen King experience, the first being From a Buick 8, in which the car was the bad guy. Is this a coincidence? Or is Stephen King all about transportation-as-evil?

The last book I bought was, oh heck, I don’t buy books very often (working in a library is the best!). I think the last books I purchased were the four memoirs relating to Hemingway that I mentioned here. They were: Papa: A Personal Memoir by his son Gregory (Gigi), With Hemingway by Arnold Samuelson (“the Maestro”), Papa Hemingway by longtime friend A.E. Hotchner, and Running with the Bulls: My Years with the Hemingways by Valerie Hemingway, Gregory’s ex-wife (who was originally a secretary or assistant to Papa).

The last book I was given would also be a list of several, and as usual came from my good buddy Fil. (Fil, you’re a doll. They’re still on the shelf.) I’ll Gather My Geese by Hallie Crawford Stillwell is a memoir of a young woman in the early 1900’s who left home to travel west, into deep west Texas desert of Big Bend country, and had all kinds of adventures. Fil knows and shares my interest in and love of this area, which I’ve mentioned before.

He also brought my The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros (I should have read this already! but I haven’t) and The Road to Wellville by T.C. Boyle. And, he brought the Husband Spokesongs: Bicycle Adventures on Three Continents by Willie Weir, about bicycle touring. We’re interested in doing some touring – particularly, in Husband’s case, off-road touring, and self-supported. So far my experience is mostly supported, or just 2-3 days self-supported, but in fact next weekend we’ll be riding out to camp at a state park near the coast, so there you go. 🙂

Thanks, Fil! And thanks, Simon, for putting this together again!

EDIT: And oh heck, I just remembered, I have been gifted a book since those (but I’m leaving them up for your perusal!): my parents came home from France with some delicious delectable macaroons for us, and a copy of Hemingway on Paris for me. Yum, and yum. 🙂 Thanks, parents!

Play With Fire by Dana Stabenow

I picked up this Kate Shugak mystery just to satisfy my need for an Alaska-set book, for the Where Are You Reading? Challenge. (This is becoming an issue around here.) But unlike some I have picked up just for their settings, this book was worth the time.

Kate Shugak was a police detective in Alaska but is now retired; she is also an Aleut (one kind of native Alaskan), with an interesting background. In Play With Fire, a forest fire the fall before has caused an extraordinary crop of morel mushrooms to pop up in the backcountry, and Kate is picking them to sell to an enthusiastic international market when she discovers a decomposing corpse. The same day, a young boy named Matthew shows up with some crumpled bills and hires her to search for his missing father. If this sounds awfully much like a coincidence, you are correct.

The mystery takes Kate into a small town with a very creepy religious tyrant and undertones of Jerry Falwell. Stabenow shares some details of the natural environment, flora and fauna, especially mushroom trivia. For me, the best part was learning about Shugak’s experience as a young “native” in Alaska, with snippets of cultural information and language; I would go back to this series for more of the same. I really enjoy a strong sense of place in my mystery novels, and this one has it. I would also return for more of Kate’s romance with Jack Morgan. So far he’s rather typical-romance-novel-hero by which I mean, perfect – but I’m not sick of him yet. Not a new favorite, but noteworthy.

The Most Dangerous Thing by Laura Lippman

The three Halloran brothers, Tim, Sean and Go-Go (Gordon), and two neighbor girls, Mickey and Gwen, were inseparable for a short time in childhood. During that period, they played in the enormous wooded Leakin Park behind their neighborhood, did normal childhood things, learned about some adult things, and maybe did some bad things. At the start of this book, the adult Go-Go dies. The other four – but mostly Gwen – look back at their childhood, consider guilt and responsibility, and wonder how well their secrets have been kept over the years.

Lippman handles family relationships, and friendships, and neighborhood whisperings fairly well. I felt that the most effective moments, the most evocative and emotional scenes, are the ones dealing with secrets and relationships. I feel for Tim in his desire to befriend his three daughters, and his feeling that his all-female family overwhelms him. Sean’s fear that his own son is gay is less sympathetic, but still feels very real. I thought Mickey was a pretty interesting character, both as a child and in adulthood. And the parents – Tim Sr. and Doris, Rita and Rick (and her various other men), and Tally and Dr. Robison – were very well drawn; they came across as real people to me.

The suspense was well done in that I had to keep coming back and opening the book; I was drawn along, I wanted to know what was going to happen next. The parent-child dynamics, and the development of them – Gwen’s observations of her adopted daughter, for instance – were engaging.

But the plot was weak, in my opinion. The mystery of what happened in the woods, after all the questions and all the intrigue, wasn’t as outrageous or shocking as it should have been; the big reveal was something of a let-down for me. I regretted not getting to know Go-Go better. The mystery of Go-Go was sort of the mystery of the book – that we didn’t know him was the point – but still, I missed more knowledge in that area; I think it might have improved my experience. Considering how well Lippman draws characters, relationships, and emotional impacts, I think she could have done a lot with him.

So while this book was engaging and entertaining during the reading – I couldn’t put it down for a day or two, and enjoyed it during those hours – I didn’t take much away from it. I fear I will forget it quickly. (I read Lippman’s earlier novel, I’d Know You Anywhere, and it kind of went the same way. My memory of it is vague; another similar book I read around the same time, Chevy Stevens’s Still Missing, made a far greater impression.) I can’t get all that excited about Lippman, although I do read rave reviews, so I know some people do.

I read this book to cover Maryland for the Where Are You Reading? Challenge, and it did its job. Although, here’s another minor beef: I love a strong sense of place in a mystery novel. If I’m reading about a place I’m familiar with, it’s great fun with to get a sense of familiarity. If I’m reading about a place I’m not familiar with – like Baltimore – I enjoy learning about a new place without actually traveling there. But Lippman’s Baltimore didn’t come alive; it didn’t make an impression on me as a city with personality. (Maybe Baltimore really doesn’t have a personality. But I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt. Most cities do.) So, this book didn’t do too much more for me than fulfill my need for a Maryland-set story. I think I’m about done with Lippman.

guest review: In Session by MJ Rose, from Mom

I posted my review of In Session a few days ago; now here’s my mother with a very different impression of it. For fairness’ sake. 🙂

In Session is a short but sweet introduction to the work of M. J. Rose and her character Dr. Morgan Snow, a sex therapist. I’ve never read her, but I will be looking for more of her work. The premise of this short story is that she manages to make contact with three fictional characters and involve them in her work. She makes a very satisfactory connection with Reacher, Lee Child’s hero, and the only one I have any experience with.

The first session (as in therapy session) is with Cotton Malone, who’s the creation of Steve Berry. Dr. Snow finds a way into his antiquarian bookstore to look at an erotic book from the 15th century. Discussion of the book leads to some discussion of his personal hang-ups, and a point is scored in favor of reflecting on and starting a resolution of these issues.

Calling this work erotic seems a bit of a stretch; there is certainly a lot more explicitness in many romance novels, I think. Perhaps in a full-length work, there’s more opportunity for a theme to blossom. In these sessions with the doctor, the issue of a sexual nature in couples’ lives is strong, but, as it should be, it’s also mixed with other aspects of people’s needs, such as dominance and trust. Eroticism is not the focus of the doctor’s work, but rather an important part in human nature that’s her area of expertise.

In the next two sessions, she meets with Reacher and Barry Eisler’s John Rain. I have to presume that she gives them accurate characterization, as all three authors have approved – and applauded – the work. The meetings are not contrived, but arranged so that the sexual issues can be raised with men who would never have consented to any kind of therapy. This book is just a taste of Rose, but I see lots of promise in her character and style.

I read a digital galley from NetGalley.

Thanks Mom! I’m glad you liked it.

Turn of Mind by Alice LaPlante

This was a sad and fascinating book. I read it in a day – not unheard of, but fairly rare considering that it was a regular work day. Started on my lunch break and finished before bedtime. It was absorbing and unique. A murder-mystery, yes, but also sort of a psychological thriller. The unique framing element of the book is this:

Dr. Jennifer White is sixty-four, and has dementia. When the book opens, she’s in the early-to-mid stages of the disease, living at home with a full-time, live-in caretaker. Her best friend of several decades, who is also her three-doors-down neighbor and godmother to her daughter, has been murdered, several fingers cleanly amputated. Dr. White (whose specialty was hand surgery, ahem) is a suspect, and doesn’t know herself whether she did it or not. Her story is told in first-person; we read snippets from the notebook she keeps, hear conversations, and listen to her private thoughts as she struggles with the questions. The questions are only rarely about Amanda’s murder. In reading about this book I thought the murder case was the main focus, but it’s not. Dr. White is only occasionally aware of the question of her friend’s death, because she’s only occasionally aware that her friend is dead. Her disease and its progression, her confusion, the attempts by her adult children to shape her future, and her eventual fate are the book’s main concern – because we see through Dr. White’s eyes.

The mystery of who killed Amanda is different from the usual mystery we encounter, because we don’t see a murderer trying to cover his or her tracks. Dr. White’s children, and the lawyer they hire, work to protect her from an investigation that may damage her fragile mental health. At one point it is decided that she did kill her friend, but the legal system of course won’t take its normal course even in that event. (I’m not giving it away; there are still twists and turns.) And again, the mystery is not the primary focus of the book. As Dr. White’s story unfolds – backwards, in snippets, jumping around chronologically, and never reliably – talk about an unreliable narrator – we learn more about her husband, Amanda, Amanda’s husband, and Dr. White’s two children, as well as the hired caretaker and even the primary police investigator. Of course, no one’s story is simple or unblemished.

A fascinating and engrossing mystery is only part of the attraction of this book. It’s an exploration into the head of an Alzheimer’s sufferer, engaging and overwhelming and sad and riveting. Make no mistake: this is a terribly sad story. Being young myself, and having parents in excellent health and with plenty of youth and life left, I hadn’t thought much about nursing homes, but this book’s portrayal terrified me. If you can steel yourself for the tragedy, though, this is a beautiful story, communicated in a unique format, gripping and sensitive. I recommend it highly.

In Session by MJ Rose

In Session involves a sex therapist named Dr. Morgan Snow (MJ Rose’s serial character), who undertakes to treat three heroes of serial fiction: Steve Berry’s Cotton Malone, Barry Eisler’s John Rain, and finally Lee Child’s Jack Reacher. Those of you who follow this blog will recognize which of these guys brought me to Dr. Snow’s office – I’ve never read any Berry or Eisler, but Reacher is my fictional main squeeze these days. That said, my brief glimpses of Rain and Malone weren’t bad; maybe I’ll check them out one day, too.

Rose apparently challenged the three authors’ heroes to sex therapy sessions, and they told her if Dr. Snow could wrangle the guys she could treat them. So this book consists of three episodes in which the good doctor meets each of the three men, outside of a standard doctor’s office/therapy setting, and chats with them – to some effect.

I had no history with MJ Rose and didn’t know what to expect. The blurb my mother got from NetGalley referred to Rose (or this book? it wasn’t exactly clear) as… Erotica, Health, Mind & Body, Literature & Fiction, Mystery & Thrillers, Romance. Wowza! What the heck have I gotten myself into? Well, I think these genres must refer to Rose’s work in total, because they don’t all apply to In Session. One sex scene is described in minimal detail; it doesn’t qualify as Erotica. Health, Mind & Body must refer to the therapist character; but her work isn’t covered in any depth. Literature & Fiction? I don’t think so (more in a minute). Mystery & Thrillers is the most likely candidate, just based on the home environments of the three male leads, although there’s not much mystery & thriller in their stories here. And not much Romance, either.

I wasn’t very impressed. Dr. Snow approaches one man under false pretenses and sneaks him some therapy while he wasn’t looking. The next she approaches with an appeal to his services, and they both learn from their interaction. And the third stumbles upon her in a time of need, and he ends up telling her (upon her repeated demands) about a particular sexual experience. In each case, the characters are completely lacking in development and dimension. The therapy is pitifully simplistic and straightforward. Dr. Snow repeats a few lines to several “patients.” The therapy – the growth, the learning about oneself and making progress as a sexual or emotional being – is too facile to feel real. Would it help if I came in with a familiarity with all three male heroes, rather than just one? Maybe; but the Reacher scene wasn’t really any more satisfying than the others. His voice didn’t sound like Reacher to me. Perhaps these tales were just too short. I read them in about an hour (total); there wasn’t time for the characters to develop or for there to really be a problem, a solution, a catharsis, a resolution, any meaningful change. But that reasoning isn’t fair to the short story format, because we all know that there are plenty of artists who paint beautiful pictures in brief snippets. It’s certainly possible to develop a character and, well, tell a story in the short story format. It’s just not done here.

I think the appeal of these three stories is in seeing your favorite hero in a different light, maybe getting into a different aspect of his character. It was a fun concept in theory; it got me: I wanted to see Reacher on the sex-therapy couch. But I was disappointed.

Anybody else check this one out? Any positive impressions? I think my mother liked it and maybe she’ll tell us about it here. How about any fans of Rain or Malone??

I read a digital galley from NetGalley.

Gone with the Wind part 5 (ch. 48-63)

Follow the Great Gone with the Wind Readalong at The Heroine’s Bookshelf. Today we discuss part 5.

So first off, head’s up: this post contains spoilers. I imagine there are still folks out there who have never read OR seen Gone With the Wind (I hadn’t!) and if that’s you, I recommend you go away (she says very sweetly) so that you can enjoy the surprises that I enjoyed as I discovered this book for the first time. Fellow discussers and readers-along, welcome.

Oh, Scarlett. Sigh. This was a painful section to read because of all the missed opportunities for happiness that she and Rhett bungled in their respective pride. It was clear to me throughout that they had tender feelings for one another, but they’re both so proud, and Scarlett is so thick, that they don’t get it together in time. For me, that was the tragedy of part 5 – yes, eclipsing even deaths.

So in this section, Scarlett and Rhett are married, and Scarlett achieves relative contentment; she finally has money and security, and has some fun with her new unscrupulous friends. Her relationship with Rhett is only partially stable, and she’s bothered by his odd attitude and the fact that she has still failed to control him, but she pushes these thoughts away. Melanie continues to be a rock, several times solidifying her role as supporter and true friend to Scarlett, who learns to grudgingly appreciate her, at least most of the time. Scarlett’s lust for Ashley seems to cool, but she’s so accustomed to pining for him that she continues to do so even as his polish fades. The birth of Bonnie sets Rhett off in a whole new direction in life; it’s odd to see him so doting and blind to the spoiled child he’s creating, but of course it’s also endearing to see his love for his daughter.

What did you think of Melanie not believing in Scarlett and Ashley’s unfaithfulness? Is she showing again her admirable strength, or is she a fool for her naivete and blindness? I do feel a hint of the latter; but on the whole I agree with Rhett and (as far as I can tell) Mitchell, that she behaves heroically. Once she decides that a person is her beloved friend and deserving of her support, this woman holds on, doesn’t she? I think Scarlett respects her, too, somewhere deep down. I really liked the maturity that finally came out as a result of the “hair shirt of shame”:

With one of the few adult emotions Scarlett had ever had, she realized that to unburden her own tortured heart would be the purest selfishness. She would be ridding herself of her burden and laying it on the heart of an innocent and trusting person. She owed Melanie a debt for her championship and that debt could only be paid with silence.

Finally, here’s Scarlett showing some personal growth! And no great surprise that it comes through Melanie.

I marveled a bit at a society so deeply concerned with gossip that apparently no one thought to say… “Look, Melanie, I don’t care if Ashley boinked Scarlett or not. I like you and I like India and I’m just going to be neutral on the bedroom concerns; is that okay?” I feel like Melanie might have been open to that kind of frank dismissal of her private business; really that might be her first preference: to have people consider her marriage a private matter and butt out. This is a modern angle, I guess, but as a modern woman it’s the first reaction that comes to my mind, if I were an outer-circle acquaintance of the parties involved.

The end-of-book tragedies that destroy Scarlett’s world all over again fell a little short for me. Bonnie was gorgeously cute, but also spoiled and obnoxious. She wasn’t developed much beyond her role as Rhett’s plaything, his doll, and at best, his new lease on life; I was excited for him in that last aspect, but as a character Bonnie didn’t hold great value for me. I think I felt her death coming on, and when it happened it didn’t move me as deeply as I think it was supposed to. Scarlett grieves, but again not profoundly; she’s never cared that much for her children, and if Bonnie was her most loved, that still wasn’t saying much. Her love was heavily tainted with jealousy, too. I felt that Bonnie’s death was a plot device: things had to fall apart again, and she was the object on which all of Rhett’s energies had focused, and around which Scarlett’s world had begun to revolve, so she fell. But it struck me as a clinical move made by Mitchell, rather than the wrenching death of a child that might have twisted my heart. It fell flat.

Melanie’s death, now, got to me much more – Melanie having been such a strong character who I’d come to love and admire. Although she had her flaws right til the end, too: a blind love for Ashley in all his flaws and a refusal to see Scarlett’s duplicity, which was part of her virtue but also earns some disrespect. It was heart-wrenching that she died, yes. But Scarlett immediately then began her triple revelations, and I lost patience. She loves Melanie! Melanie was a real friend! Ashley is boring! Rhett is a) wonderful, b) just like Scarlett, c) loves her and d) gasp, she loves him too! The reader, of course, knew all these things 100’s of pages ago, so her dramatic realizations and emotional flailings just exasperated me. It’s a shame, really, because this book had me firmly in its grasp for the bulk of it. But in the end I think I lost patience.

I spent the book rooting for Scarlett. I identified with her in her worst moments, and refused to pass judgment. But she let me down by not meeting reality when she most needed to, and for coming around when it was just too late, and then for being so dramatic about it at the end. Rhett became more and more sympathetic, admirable, and crush-worthy as the book went on; but he, too, failed to step up when it most mattered. While I accept his argument that Scarlett valued what she didn’t have, I think he was a bit late in letting her see his love; I think he might have won her with a little tenderness. But maybe he was right and her “love” for Ashley needed to run its course. The ending was certainly tragic – two people destined to be together missing one another like ships in the night. But it may have gone on just a bit too long to hold my interest.

On another note – what do you make of that night that Scarlett and Rhett shared in chapter 54? I know that it is understood as a rape scene by some, but I’m not sure I buy it, for this reason: she enjoyed it, and women don’t enjoy being raped. Clearly it was rough and passionate and she wasn’t sure what to make of it; but she enjoyed it, both in the moment and in thinking about it again the next morning. She blushes, thinking that a “lady” doesn’t enjoy such things (i.e. rough sex). But I think rape is a stretch. What do you think? It seemed like the stark honesty of that night, if nothing else, offered the couple one of those chances to share their feelings for one another and seek happiness, but of course they missed the chance when he dashed off the next morning.

So to wrap up here: I loved this book very much. It’s a page-turner. It has heroes, villains, real human characters, war, love, death, and perseverance. It had me completely wrapped up in its pages – I sat by the pool in Key West and trembled with Scarlett and Melanie on that bumpy ride out of Atlanta with the world burning around us. A hell of a great book, although with some real issues regarding racial sensitivity. But the ending fell a little short for me; the tragedies felt a little manufactured, Scarlett’s pain was a little protracted and tiresome, and I was disappointed that her tortured romance with Rhett didn’t have the least final redemption. I thought we’d earned some, but clearly I was wrong. On the other hand, I did appreciate the note of hope or at least the note of uncertainty it ends with. Where is Scarlett headed next?

Finally, thank you so much Erin for finally getting me to open these pages. It was well worth it. Thanks also to my fellow readers-along; it’s been fun to have someone to share with and to see our different reactions. I’m betting some of you found the ending much more satisfying than I did, and I look forward to hearing your reasons.

The Enemy by Lee Child (audio)


The 8th book in Child’s Jack Reacher series is a flashback, a prequel, set in Reacher’s days of employment with the U.S. Army. He is an MP (military police) major and it’s New Year’s Eve, 1989. The Berlin Wall has just come down, Soviet Russia is collapsing, and the U.S. military is facing major changes. Reacher has just been transferred from Panama to Fort Bird in North Carolina when people start dying. He enlists the help of young Lieutenant Summer and the two of them quickly find themselves drawing outside the lines – the military establishment repeatedly orders them off the case, makes threats, and finally demands their arrest. As we expect of Reacher, though, he solves the crimes and fixes everybody up right.


This is fun for several reasons. We finally see Reacher on the job. We see him and his brother Joe interacting; Joe is only treated in the past tense in the other books. (Well, there is the short story The Second Son also, in which the brothers are teenagers.) We meet Reacher’s mother and learn something about her past that her sons never knew; this is an especially poignant moment.

A few things are different in this book, too. For one thing, Reacher does fix up the problems and solve the mysteries; but it doesn’t end on quite as hopeful a note as the other books tend to. In his retired, roaming life, Reacher generally sets off into the sunset at the end of the book, headed for unknown adventures, with a world of possibilities ahead of him. At the end of The Enemy, he’s still in the army, but things have changed irrevocably; the end of his career is foreshadowed, and we begin to understand why he chose to get out. There’s a sadness. He wasn’t able to right all the wrongs. Something that’s not different in this book: I’m sad to see Summer go. But the characters we come to love in each book are always necessarily gone at the end; Reacher moves on.

Suspension of disbelief is necessary in every Reacher book; he’s too good, too strong, too smart, too perfectly-timed and awesome to be real. But I have a good time and I can play along. This time I had a little more difficultly with the suspension of disbelief, though, because he went so far off the reservation while in the army. I’m accustomed to seeing him not play nice, but he’s usually a renegade wanderer; it’s a little more bizarre to see him be just as much a rebellious loner while he’s still in the military.

But putting that quibble aside, it’s a highly enjoyable book as usual, and fans of the series will appreciate the backstory and further character development (of Reacher, as well as his brother and mother) provided by this flashback.

Once Upon a River by Bonnie Jo Campbell

Once Upon a River is a beautiful book. The story is not joyful, let me say that right off. But it’s beautifully wrought, and in fact, when I finished it and stepped back and viewed it as a whole, I decided that the story has a certain beauty, too. A sad beauty, but a beauty that’s true to life.

This is the story of Margo. She grows up in a little town on the Stark River in Michigan, hunting, fishing, and living and breathing the river. She is close to her grandfather, and lives in the outdoors; school and social situations are difficult for her. She’s a very skilled outdoorswoman, and an especially good shot; Annie Oakley is her hero. Bad things happen. Margo’s mother leaves, and as her situation further deteriorates, she takes off upstream in the boat her grandfather gave her to look for her mother. Margo lives off the land and the river, mostly. She makes a few alliances but they all fall apart. People and relationships are not as reliable as the river and the outdoor world in which she feels safe and comfortable. More bad things happen. She grows up some, learns about people, and learns more about the natural world. She moves upstream and downstream, learns how to survive with her hands, a few tools, and her skills, along the lines again of Annie Oakley (she will eventually own two biographies, among her few prized possessions).

This story is painful in more than a few spots. Plenty of bad things happen, including several rapes and quite a bit of death. There’s no shortage of young people having sex, to which your reactions may vary. (Consensual? In itself a “bad thing”?) You will cringe. But like many books that are both sad and realistic, the cringing might be worth it. Margo’s story actually looks skyward, hopefully, at the end. She finds and makes some good things, too.

Campbell has full grasp of metaphor. The river flows on, and Margo learns its rhythms, and how to assert herself while following its current. She finds the river to be a more constant (if not predictable) force than human nature. Campbell has full grasp of language, too; she writes beautifully, lyrically, symbolically. In the end it’s a gorgeous book and I recommend it wholeheartedly. So, to recap: bad things happen, but beautifully. It’s a book about life.