Right Ho, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

Oh, Bertie Wooster. You are so silly and so deadpan. The dialogue is killer. The abbreviations are droll. The voice of Bertie is priceless. (I did get a voice – literally – for Bertie in my head in my first Wodehouse encounter via audio, which if anything has increased my enjoyment. Luckily the narrator was great and I now hear him in my head as I read this.) Wodehouse is a comic genius. These Jeeves-and-Wooster books are light, easy, even fluffy, but also pure gold: so easy to consume and so very pleasurable.

The story is this. Our narrator, Bertie Wooster, is a man of leisure in the London scene, light on the brains, perhaps, but blissfully unaware of it. He doesn’t have real problems, but rather those of a Shakespearean comedy plot. In my limited (two book) experience, they are the problems of confused lovers. Think A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Luckily, Bertie, and his surrounding community, are served by the genius valet Jeeves – so quintessentially useful, wise, clever, and discreet that his name has become an eponym. Jeeves solves all the problems, in the end, with aplomb, good taste, and tact. He even lets Bertie think he’s clever too – sometimes. I should also point out that Wodehouse has a genius for names. Bertie Wooster, Reginald Jeeves, and “the Bassett” are tamely named in comparison to Gussie Fink-Nottle, Tuppy Glossop, and the Market Snodsbury School. (Husband’s favorite is still Whatwhatley, or however you might spell it, from Thank You, Jeeves.)

In this book, Bertie is called to Aunt Dahlia’s country home to help out a pair of troubled lovers: cousin Angela and her fiance Tuppy. They are quickly joined by Madeline Bassett and her admirer, Bertie’s old friend Gussie, who has a debilitating fascination with newts, to the exclusion of everything else until Madeline came along. Gussy is having trouble wooing Madeline; Angela has throw Tuppy over. Bertie finagles Gussy into speaking at the Market Snodsbury grammar school in his stead. Bertie decides the answer to teetotaler Gussy’s problems is to get him drunk just before his speech. This results in a switcheroo (as my mother would say), and Angela ends up engaged to Gussy. Bertie’s machinations not seeming to do the trick, as usual, Jeeves steps in and saves the day. Right ho, Jeeves.

I love these little books and think I need to keep one on the nightstand always. They are laugh-out-loud silly job. If you can find audiobooks read by Jonathon Cecil, I recommend them as well.

Gone with the Wind part 1 (ch. 1-7)

Oh my. Am I ever glad that I have finally begun to read this book! I shouldn’t have waited so long. It IS a chunkster, and I AM busy right now. But what a book.

How did I get here?

The Great Gone with the Wind Readalong is hosted by The Heroine’s Bookshelf blog. This is what finally prompted me to read a book that’s been on my list for years. Thank you so much, Heroine.

Where am I coming from?

I feel like this is weird, but I have never read this book, never seen the movie, and had only the slightest and vaguest idea what it was about. All this, and I am a Southerner (to the extent that a Houstonian is a Southerner… that’s a different post). In my mind, this book is a little bit crossed with The Glass Menagerie. I don’t know why. I read the latter, in high school, although I do not seem to have a lasting impression of it. I think I did admire it; I remember the glass menagerie itself; I remember the suitors and my frustration with the mother. But there are some blurry lines between the one masterpiece of Southern-set fiction which I have never read, and the one I have. By the end of this readalong I certainly expect to have that cleared up!

What’s the drill?

Erin of The Heroine’s Bookshelf is hosting this readalong that involves 5 discussion dates, by which we will all have read 5 sections of the book. I am doing my best to pace myself so that the section in question is still fresh when the discussion comes along. So, we can all hop over there to join in a discussion, which I certainly will. But! I have my thoughts to share with you here, too.

What do I think so far?

This is an extraordinary work, just in the sense of evocative description, Mitchell’s ability to place me firmly in the time-and-place. At the end of the first page, I was hooked and admiring. She chooses very unique adverbs that draw my attention and let me see what she sees. The twins’ “long legs, booted to the knee and thick with saddle muscles, [were] crossed negligently.” Crossed negligently? She could have spent a paragraph trying to tell me what she has shown with that one adverb. “They were as much alike as two bolls of cotton.” Or earlier, Scarlett’s “green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor,” because “her true self was poorly concealed.” I already feel like I know a great deal about all 3 of these characters – with no dialogue – and all this on page one! I’m all the way in.

As promised (threatened?) by Erin, I was indeed tempted to just rush past this first section and keep going. I’ve decided to stick with the schedule, though, which allows me to read other books in between. Part one was delightful, and able to stand alone, at least for a bit. I got to know Scarlett, appreciated her odd and not completely likeable personality and traits. This is a good stopping point, as a chapter of her life ends; part two will clearly begin the next. I look forward to it.

Please be sure to stop by the hosted readalong discussion, too.

Othello by William Shakespeare

Wow, what a work. There’s a reason we still read, admire, study, and act this play today, what, 4 centuries after its creation. I read this, like The Taming of the Shrew, years ago, but I needed the refresher for the performance I’m going to see tonight.

What can I say about Othello? Othello is “the Moor,” a general in the Venetian army. He has happily married the beautiful Desdemona, and they have set out together to Cyprus where Othello has been posted. They are a happy and loving couple, but Shakespeare gives them a tragic fate. There are men about who do not wish them well. Iago is the main villain; he is jealous of Cassio, who Othello chooses as a second in command. He uses Rodrigo, who wanted to marry Desdemona, as a pawn. Iago tricks Othello, who believes him to be a faithful friend, into thinking that Desdemona and Cassio are lovers. He convinces Rodrigo that Desdemona will be his if he will just kill Cassio; really, Iago wants them both dead, and also encourages Othello to kill his wife. His intention is to gain himself political power. He also uses his wife, Emilia, servant to Desdemona. The handkerchief is the fateful detail: Othello gave it to Desdemona; Iago obtains it and plants it on Cassio; and it seals the innocent, saintly Desdemona’s fate. The final tragic scene ends with Othello’s murder of Desdemona, his discovery of Iago’s treachery, and his suicide.

It is classic Shakespearean tragedy, reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet in that final scene as Othello laments over his beloved wife’s body. The important difference, of course, is that there was no murder in Romeo and Juliet; Othello cannot be an entirely sympathetic character. It is especially frustrating to hear the faithful Emilia argue Desdemona’s innocence and have Othello reject it. But Iago, as I said, is the real villain; Othello is victim to his machinations.

I enjoyed this play all over again and always recommend it, as I do all of Shakespeare’s work. I’ve always been a big fan. I tend to think that I prefer the comedies, but in rereading his tragedies I find the same genius and the same ability to wrench my emotions in the desired direction. He was truly a great artist. I do have a fondness for the comedies, though; I forget, until I see or read them again, how accessible and universal the humor is. Last summer I went to A Midsummer Night’s Dream as produced by the Houston Shakespeare Festival, and marveled, once more, at how appealing, funny, and fun it is. Please! If you’re in Houston, don’t miss this annual summer event. Again, this year they’re producing Othello and The Taming of the Shrew, and it’s FREE, and you can sit on the hill with your dog and/or your picnic dinner and/or your beer, wine, whatever. Couldn’t be better. Check out the Miller Outdoor Theatre schedule for details.

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare

I am sure I have read this play before, because I have some vague memory of it; but I don’t know when. My reread is inspired by the Houston Shakespeare Festival: I’m going to go see both this, and Othello, in the next week. Fellow Houstonians, don’t miss this event! These two plays are both showing 4-5 times, in the next 8 days or so, at Miller Outdoor Theatre. For FREE. It’s an awesome summer tradition; I’ve been attending the Shakespeare Fest every summer since I was small. Don’t think I’m going to find time to reread Othello, sadly.

So. The Taming of the Shrew is not one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays (and was rather hard to find at Half Price Books. Lots of Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Midsummer Night’s Dream. Thus my very sweet, but visually unstimulating, little Yale Shakespeare blue cloth-bound hardback, pictured), but I think it’s a nice little romp. It’s a comedy involving two sisters: Bianca, the younger, has several suitors; she is attractive and admired. Her older sister Katherina, however, is very difficult, sharp-tongued, scolding, and generally unattractive to prospective suitors. Their father Baptista forbids any suitors to Bianca until such time as Katherina is married. I’m not entirely clear on whether it was his express intention or not, but the result of this is that Bianca’s suitors set out looking for a husband for Katherina, aka the shrew. They find a willing suitor, Petruchio, who feels that Kate’s wealth is worth the fight, and he has a plan. Thus the title: Petruchio sets out to tame the shrew, using such ugly, abusive, domineering, insane behavior that she gives up being “shrewish” and submits to his every desire, agreeing with any crazy thing he says. (The sun is the moon. An old man is a beautiful young maiden. Yes, husband, anything you say.) Petruchio weds, and tames, Kate; sundry other characters wed too. Lucentio marries Bianca, and Hortensio marries a widow (also for her money). The three new husbands make a bet on their wives, as to who can be shown to be most obedient. Petruchio’s reformed shrew wins him the bet, and she ends the play with a speech arguing that a woman should serve and obey her “lord” (husband).

There has been much controversy over this play, pretty much since it was born, regarding gender/marital roles, misogyny, feminism. I’m a bit inclined to agree with the camp that says Shakespeare was actually on the women’s side and was being instructively tongue-in-cheek, but mostly I’m willing to sit back and hear what you think; I don’t find it entirely clear what Shakespeare had in mind, from this distance. (I never did finish Fraser’s Young Shakespeare and thus have not started his Shakespeare: The Later Years. I found the writing awfully dry. If I ever finish these, or find a more palatable biography, perhaps I’ll take a stab at pretending I know what he had in mind. Until then, I am agnostic on this point.) At any rate, it’s an interesting study. Yes, Petruchio’s treatment of Kate is offensive; yes, her final speech makes me shiver. But she wasn’t a respectably independent woman early on; she was just kind of bitchy. Neither of them is sympathetic. So, it’s not as clear-cut as, Petruchio destroys Kate’s fine and virtous strong-woman spirit, or anything.

At any rate, I’m almost certain the upcoming performance will be the first time I’ve seen this play onstage, and I look forward to seeing how the Festival handles the political problems of The Taming of the Shrew. You can expect to see my write-up of the show soon.

Anybody read this play? How do you react to the chauvinism?

Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead by Barbara Comyns

Thank you so much to Simon from Stuck in a Book for this recommendation. Your future recommendations will be heeded!

Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead is an odd book, a short book, a unique book, and a very enjoyable way to spend an hour or two of your time. The setting is Warwickshire, “about seventy years ago” – published in 1954, so call it the 1880’s. We are mostly concerned with the Willoweed family. The grandmother is rather hateful and gluttonous and deaf; her son, Ebin, is cowed and unsympathetic as well. He has three children who are not in school, but who drift through the Willoweed estate trying to avoid unpleasantness. The town at large plays a role, as well as the Willoweeds’ domestic servants.

The book opens with a flood that disrupts normal life – “the maids pinned their skirts up high and splashed about in the water trying to prepare breakfast.” There are deaths, and then there are more deaths, and then it becomes clear that a plague of sorts has descended upon this sleepy town, which gives Grandmother Willoweed great pleasure. These deaths are treated less as tragedies than as facts of life, no more or less important than the deaths of the hens in the flood at the beginning of the book.

I haven’t given you much of a plot synopsis here, but that’s because the plot isn’t really the point. Things happen to the various characters, rather than them initiating action. But the unique thing about Comyns’ writing is that this book is not necessarily about Things Happening To People, as is usually the case in books. Rather, every event, large and small, and every observation, is treated with equal weight. The descriptions are brief and striking and evocative. The tone is really something different and special; I appreciate this writer’s ability to bring real interest and consideration to items and events that are mundane, or in other cases, horrifying, but in a democratic fashion.

An odd but fascinating book, short and easy to read: I started it in the airport in San Diego and was finished less than halfway into the flight home to Houston. I recommend it, and will be seeking more Comyns. Thanks Simon!

One Day I Will Write About This Place by Binyavanga Wainaina

Binyavanga Wainaina’s memoir, with details of various African backgrounds and his sensitive artist’s perspective, paints a poignant and lively picture.

Wainaina’s memoir of his life in Africa begins with his childhood in Kenya, follows him through university in South Africa, to a family reunion in Uganda, and on to his travels throughout Kenya, to land him finally in New York State as a writer and professor. His tale, however, is far from simply a recounting of one man’s life. At its heart, the book is the story of an artist, his struggles as a child to adjust to his view of the world and his discovery of writing as an outlet. His perspective as a child verges on the fantastical as he confuses colors with shapes and objects with sounds. The lyrical, imaginative writing throughout the book reflects this unusual vision. Wainaina paints pictures with words; his writing is reflective and playful and worth lingering over. Music, too, plays a role–almost as another character–as he describes his intense reactions to the music of Kenya, of Africa and of the world.

Another worthwhile aspect of this book is its intelligent and informed study of the politics of the African continent and the diversity of Kenyan perceptions. Wainaina tells of the battle between tribalism and a united Kenya, and the richness of linguistic and cultural perspectives there. Politics, however, is never the main subject; it is merely a background to his personal story. The Africa evoked is captivating and will be exotic and new to many readers.

Wainaina’s memoir is by turns funny, sad, hopeful and occasionally cynical, but always engaging. Fanciful abstractions of his environment and instructive tales of African politics combine to give us a fascinating vision of his world.


This review originally ran in the July 22, 2011 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!

Shut Your Eyes Tight by John Verdon

A breathtaking thriller in which retired NYPD Detective Dave Gurney can’t resist involving himself in the grisly case of a decapitated bride even as the case threatens his personal life.

Retired NYPD Detective Dave Gurney lives in the Catskills with his wife, Madeleine, trying to adjust to their new life and learn to appreciate nature. Madeleine is content, but Gurney can’t seem to halt his obsession with criminal investigations, so when a former colleague offers him the sensational case of a decapitated bride connected to a bevy of juvenile sex offenders and an international crime family, he can’t resist. The seemingly impossible and horrifying details fascinate him. Gurney ends up endangering himself and threatening his relationship with Madeleine, who resents the gruesome menace he brings home.

The case of the murdered bride expands and contorts to involve sexual psychology and sexual abuse, and is complicated by police forces so bent on thwarting one another that they seem willing to risk the case itself. The puzzle of the murder mystery, in which we participate alongside Gurney, is suspenseful and challenging, and as a psychological thriller keeps the reader breathlessly turning the pages.

Gurney is a likable character, tortured by his own past, and conflicted in his view of himself as a talented detective but an imperfect husband and father. He worries that he may be uncomfortably similar to the sociopaths he hunts: incapable of compassion and caring, more concerned with the chase than with his family. The reader sympathizes, however, as he grows into a fully developed man, battling an evil that increases as the story progresses, until the suspense and fear come together in a final heart-stopping crescendo.


This review originally ran in the July 22, 2011 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!

books that are on their way OFF my TBR shelves

Folks, I’ve said it before: there are too many good books in this world (this is not necessarily a bad thing) and not enough time. I have huge stacks, as do we all, of to-be-read books piled and shelved all around me. If they cave, Husband and two little dogs and I will be crushed. Please help. I’m getting ready to get rid of some of these TBR books that I’m not so sure I need to read, to make room for more. Below are the books that are on my shelves but I can’t remember why. This is your chance to make an argument for any I need to keep. In other words, please remind me why I have these books in the first place. Mom, especially you as I think you’re responsible for a number of them. Otherwise they’re off to better homes (like the library where I work). This is not a tragic fate; they’ll be read, never fear. Just not by me.

(Of course this list does not include all those I KNOW I need to read, sigh. That list is even longer.)

Thank you. GO.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

The Bookmaker’s Daughter by Shirley Abbott

Red House by Sarah Messer

Good Bones and Simple Murders by Margaret Atwood

(I have never not loved anything by Atwood but this has been sitting for like years. Why has it taken me this long? Should I give up?)

Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons

Nanga Parbat Pilgrimage by Hermann Buhl

The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

A Separate Peace by John Knowles

Sanctum by Denise Mina

Scoundrel Time by Lillian Hellman

If I can remember the original reason I wanted to read a book, it has stayed on the shelf. But these need a little push to stay. I await your comments.

the WSJ-YA uproar to which I am late

I had a patron approach me in the library to ask my feelings on this issue.

The background is… more than a month ago, the Wall Street journal published this article by Meghan Cox Gurdon, which immediately became a huge deal. I would encourage you to go read it, because that’s the best way to know what it says, but in a nutshell, this children’s-book-reviewer lady notes an increase in “darkness” in young adult (YA) literature, and comments that darkness is not good for our young adults. While she has some supporters, there was overwhelming indignation among bookish/literary/librarianlike internet dwellers. They have mostly said, in a dark world, kids can actually benefit from reading about situations that are like those they are facing. Also, you shouldn’t censor. The author of the original, offending article has since published, also in the WSJ, a rebuttal.

I resisted entering the fracas, mostly because I feel my opinion is unnecessary (because I’ve read some other excellent responses) and because I don’t feel terribly well-qualified to have an Important Opinion, not being a YA librarian or really much of a reader of YA. Even when I was a YA. But on the other hand, this blog rather exists for the publication of my Not Very Important Opinions, and so I’ll throw it out there.

So. I had a patron approach me here in my (definitively adult) library and ask for my thoughts. I tried to tell her why I’m not qualified to have one but she pushed. So, I told her I agree with those opinions that say, children in rough positions need to read about said rough positions. The cited instances of “darkness” include stories about rape, prostitution, violence in general, poverty, and cutting (self-mutilation). Young people living these situations are in a position to benefit from having them handled wisely in literature, and I appreciate that such things are available. My patron turned out to be (as I understood her position) arguing that children living in darkness need to read about light – happier, brighter situations – to which I say, sure! Great! Let them read that stuff, too! She proceeded to argue that there is too much dark and not enough light; the proportions are wrong; at which point I have to beg off, because my very limited knowledge of current YA doesn’t allow me to debate this point. I don’t know the proportions, quite frankly. I support the idea of diverse options, for sure – in all things, in fact. (For example, there should be more than two political parties in our electoral system.) Lots of options, please. But if you prefer for your YA to read only happier, lighter books, I don’t think that should necessarily limit others – who might be interested in those “darker” ones – in their access to those choices.

I have to take issue with one of Gurdon’s conceptions (from the original article).

In the book trade, [guiding what young people read] is known as “banning.” In the parenting trade, however, we call this “judgment” or “taste.”

I’m afraid she’s confused about “banning.” Or maybe she’s just being imprecise in the phrase, “guiding what young people read.” There are several ways in which parents, guardians, or whoever can guide what young people read. For example, they can pay attention to what their children read, and direct those choices. The Maryland mother whose personal experience begins Gurdon’s article was doing just this. She wasn’t banning anything; she was exhibiting judgment and taste, and guiding her daughter’s reading choices. This is the kind of guidance I recommend; I encourage parents who are concerned about what their children read to pay attention to what their children read, and limit it as they find appropriate. Banning, on the other hand, is what parents and various community members attempt when they submit complaints to public libraries (for example) requesting that certain books be pulled off the shelves. I am in favor of “judgment” and “taste” – I may not agree with yours, but that’s fine as long as your judgment applies only to your child. I am against “banning,” which involves limiting other people‘s access to books. See the difference? Banning is not synonymous with parenting.

I don’t think rape or cutting in books leads to rape or cutting in life. I think it has the potential to offer some relief or catharsis or therapy. Certainly some children don’t need therapy for these traumas; absolutely Gurdon is correct that not all teens are rape victims, thank goodness! But I’m not sure that reading about even those traumas that are outside their experience isn’t necessarily instructive and good, too. (I wasn’t involved in teen violence or gangs, but still found S.E. Hinton’s oft-cited The Outsiders amazing; it was one of my favorite books.) I won’t push these books on your child, certainly, but I fail to see how the availability of these options is a bad thing. Again, I’m all for more options. If I accept my patron’s thesis that there is too much dark and not enough light in YA today, then by all means, let there be more light, in the interest of a multiplicity of options.

But, the vampires I could take or leave, actually.

International Anita Brookner Day


The day is here! Today is International Anita Brookner Day as declared by Thomas over at My Porch. I am 100% behind this celebration, having read first Thomas’s initial argument in favor of Brookner, and then her novel Hotel du Lac which I found lovely (as you can read). So I present to you the

It’s full of book reviews and other reasons to get excited. Go check it out, and find yourself a Brookner book today!