guest review: Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky (audio), trans. by Sandra Smith – from Pops

Posted on May 16, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I have an exciting guest reviewer today: my father. He’s off for the season now – he leaves Houston for the hot months (must be nice to be retired!) and does all his favorite things: running, riding his bike, camping and hiking and visiting beautiful outdoor settings all over. Not to mention, visiting all the great craft beer and brewpubs he can find. He’ll settle for a few months at a time in some hip small town with the right combination of culture, outdoors, and beer; and he’ll move on for the next attraction. This summer I sent him off with a small collection of audiobooks for all that driving, and he has hesitatingly agreed to see about writing up his reactions to them for me to post here. Today he’s sharing with us his thoughts on Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky. Pops, you’re on.

This is not a major work, but is indeed unique, intriguing and noteworthy in a number of respects.

Synopsis: this is a work of fiction written contemporaneously with the author’s own experience during the 1940 German onslaught in France and the subsequent occupation and collaboration. Unlike many journal-type works from the period, this is stylishly written with a now-familiar formula using a cast of fictional, intertwining characters to personalize incidents and experiences amidst real-life events. (Among a number of intriguing questions raised by this work – was this formula at all established at the time?)

For me, this reading was reminiscent of Winds of War (Herman Wouk, 1971); while not nearly as ambitious in scope (actually, a strength), Suite Francaise was as engaging both for the characters as well as for revealing historical nuance. I thoroughly enjoyed it, spent time reflecting over it, and was left wishing for the narrative to continue.

So – what’s exceptional about it?

First, 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.

Reading with this background, there are numerous elements that may gain impact or raise questions either in the context of her own experience or a clear sightline to contemporary thinking of the time.

  • There are a number of musings by characters and narrator about the future during and after the war that raised chills for me knowing they were written so early in the war.
  • The story contrasts individuals’ different experiences of war, from common civilians feeling powerless and distant from the passions of aggression versus the anonymous, indistinct elites and politicians driving the conflict.
  • She sharply depicts still-thriving class contradictions that threaten to surmount the national conflict: aristocrats of mixed national heritage, communists, resistance fighters, the Church, city vs provinces, villagers vs farmers.
  • There is one passage that strongly evokes scenes from Lord of the Flies. This includes one of several “arbitrary” non war-related deaths in the story. I was left wondering about the origin and meaning of these.
  • Aristocrats and other characters tending to be collaborators make reference to their sympathies opposing the advance of Jews, communists and Freemasons (a triad central to Nazi propaganda). Freemasons?
  • How the French characters respond to the war depends greatly on whether they experienced the “first war” only 25 years (and one young generation) earlier, or the 1870 war (with Prussia, resulting in a victorious German Empire); for the entire society the immediacy of both was stunning.
  • As often occurs with translated works (and in this case the separation of 60+ years), numerous passages had me wondering about the author’s full meaning.

Well you’ve sold me on needing to read this book; and I certainly didn’t know any of that backstory, which does indeed enrich the experience. Thanks for the guest post! Please do give us more as you keep listening!

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

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler (audio)

Posted on May 15, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I know Chandler as the mystery author who inspired, among others, Michael Connelly. Connelly is one of my favorite genre authors and cites Chandler as an influence on his work. In fact, Shelf Awareness quotes him (as their Book Brahmin on April 22, 2011), in answer to a question of the book that changed his life: “The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler. I was a casual reader of genre fiction. This book made me want to write it.” Thank goodness for that!

I read The Long Goodbye first (and before the above quotation!), and found it to be delightful. I recognized Connelly in his writing style and Harry Bosch in the style of his lead detective. (Of course obviously the influence went the other way around.) So when I saw The Big Sleep on audio – unabridged, necessarily – I snapped it up. I believe the latter was actually his most-renowned work.

You can’t help but like a guy who doesn’t write that “time passed slowly”, but rather writes

Another army of sluggish minutes dragged by.

That’s pretty great. And this:

‘It’s goddamn funny in this police racket how an old woman can look out of a window and see a guy running and pick him out of a lineup six months later, but we can show hotel help a clear photo and they just can’t be sure.’

‘That’s one of the qualifications for good hotel help,’ I said.

You see my point, right? There are some awfully clever, funny, classic moments in this story; Chandler is a fine writer with a distinct style.

The actual story qualifies, too, as clever, funny, and classic. It’s easy to see that this man is one of the fathers of the genre I love. I’m a bit ashamed to note that I’ve read mostly recent authors, and neglected their heritage.

In this novel, Philip Marlowe, PI, is asked to look into a little matter of blackmail for General Sternwood, who has two young, beautiful, highly deviant and troublesome daughters. Marlowe is a man of relatively few, but quite witty words. He fends off both sisters at various point or another while looking into the missing husband of one, unasked. He’s a classic PI; he drinks alone in the morning; I’m pretty sure he wears one of those pulp detective hats – a fedora? At any rate, he releases the Sternwoods from the blackmail and pulls all the pieces together at the end to explain the missing husband too. It’s a tidy little ending, crowned by some grumbled musings on The Human Situation and The Big Sleep.

I liked this book very much and recommend it to readers of detective fiction who want to go back to the genre’s roots.

Do you read in the present or in the past? Do you miss the past, if you read in the present? I know I love my current genre authors (Lee Child, Michael Connelly, James Lee Burke, Elizabeth George) but it’s important and definitely enjoyable also to appreciate the pioneers. I’ve enjoyed Agatha Christie, Raymond Chandler, and one little gem from A.A. Milne; I’ve got a P.G. Wodehouse waiting in the wings. What are YOU up to?

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

another day in the life of a librarian

Posted on May 12, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Remember my earlier post, about bringing home too many books? (sigh) I’m tempted every day, but today especially so. I got in a part of my early-May book order. In no particular order, I bought:

And of this order, I’m tempted by soooo many. I’d like to take home…

(…even though the cover looks awfully much like Clara and Mr. Tiffany, another book I want to read). The story of a developmentally disabled white woman and a deaf black man, their love story inside a state school, their subsequent escape, the delivery of their baby in the outside world, and their eventual reunion.

The story of Arthur and his difficulty relating to his con man father, and the lost Shakespeare manuscript that may or may not be legitimate.

Connors tells of the time he spent alone in a tiny tower as a wildfire lookout in New Mexico. Sounds Edward-Abbey-esque.

Ozma and her father made a promise to read together every night for 100 days; but the tradition continued long beyond that commitment. She tells their story through books.

A service dog helps a veteran live a normal life; but more important is the relationship they come to share.

Which newly-released books are YOU especially interested in?

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

The Red House Mystery by A.A. Milne

Posted on May 11, 2011 by pagesofjulia

What a little treat! This slim volume informs me, on the back, that it’s the only detective novel ever written by Milne, best known as the author of the Winnie the Pooh books. I love Pooh, and I love detective novels, so this seemed like an obvious choice. I noted a few weeks ago that it begins with a tone very like Pooh. I was encouraged.

I thought this was a delightful little book. For starters, I have the Vintage Books “Rediscovered Classic” (as pictured), which opens with a new-for-the-edition introduction by the author. These 3 1/2 pages are worth reading in themselves. Milne is clever and funny, and bothered by the trends of literary taste. He discusses the merits of what he believes to be the perfect murder-mystery. I thought his brief critique of the genre and his own book were very funny and ironic.

This is a mystery in the amateur-sleuth-plus-sidekick tradition. (Holmes and Watson are constantly referenced.) Our protagonist, Antony Gillingham, is a gentleman of leisure who happens upon the Red House just as a murder has apparently taken place in a locked room. Assisted by his friend, Bill, a guest at the Red House (his Watson), Tony sets upon the mystery. Who killed Robert, evil brother to the man of the house, Mark? Where has Mark disappeared to? And what is Cayley, Mark’s right-hand man, up to? There are secret passageways and croquet sets involved. It’s very classic. Tony and Bill make a cute team, and Milne’s tone remains remarkably faithful to what I love about Pooh: tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating, and picturesque. It’s great fun.

When it was over, I felt sad. I do have other reading to do, but this was such an enjoyable experience. I liked that it was short; it was just right for my weekend and just right for the moment in the way that books sometimes are. But I’m also sorry it’s over. I may have to go hunt up some Wodehouse next, what ho!

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

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (audio)

Posted on May 10, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Full title:

Slaughterhouse-Five, or the Children’s Crusade: A Duty Dance with Death

It seems a little odd to me that I’ve never read this book, and in fact I wondered if maybe I had, and had just forgotten. But as soon as we started listening to this audiobook (my parents and I, on the way home from New Orleans) I knew I’d never heard or read this book before. Vonnegut is always thrilling and fascinating! I know I really enjoyed his Cat’s Cradle and Breakfast of Champions, and Slaughterhouse-Five shares with them a very surreal, time-warped, rambling, fantastical tone. It feels like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, particularly the scene in the movie where they take the ether and things turn on their sides.

For those who don’t know, this is Vonnegut’s autobiographical story of the bombing of Dresden, which he experienced, like his protagonist Billy Pilgrim, as a POW in a slaughterhouse. Vonnegut, and Billy, survived only because they were holed up in the meat locker there, while the vast majority of the city burned.

Billy’s story involves war, bullying, sex, time travel, optometry, drinking, and misunderstanding. Overarching themes of death and timelessness tie the winding threads together. The world does not believe that Billy travels in time or that he was kidnapped by little green aliens from the planet of Tralfamadore. We hear of Billy’s whole life, as a small child, as a student, as a soldier in the war, as a young husband, as a professional optometrist, as a feature in a zoo on Tralfamadore, and as an old man. Like Billy, we don’t keep these experiences in sequence, but drop in here and there.

Billy’s story is preceded by a long intro in which Vonnegut narrates, not his experience as a soldier or a POW, but as a writer, many years later, struggling to write about Dresden. He visits an old war buddy and learns of this buddy’s wife’s fear of war. She’s concerned that he’ll write a book glorifying the experience and thereby encouraging future generations to make war. He reassures her that “there won’t be a part for Frank Sinatra or John Wayne” in his book, if he even ever finishes it. He also promises her he’ll call it “The Children’s Crusade”, agreeing with her that they were just babies over there.

This is a very powerful story. Descriptions of the horrors of war are evocative, perhaps even more so the depiction of the POW’s in the railroad cars passing steel helmets filled with their excrement to the men standing near the ventilation slots. War is bad. But there’s much more to this book than the point that war is bad; it’s also a fascinating story about family and relationships. (I’m reminded of Breakfast of Champions with its bizarre family structures and roles and dysfunction.) And the world of Tralfamadore is fantastical, incredibly imaginative, and so fully-developed in its details, I just wonder at Vonnegut. Where does he get this stuff? The turns of phrase are memorable. A drinking man’s breath smells of mustard gas and roses. That’s poetry.

This story is beautiful, strange, and strangely feels endless. It finishes with a question-mark; loose ends are not entirely tied up. How could they be, when events are presented out of sequence, and Tralfamadorian concepts teach that no one moment ever ends? Vonnegut was a genius, and I want to keep reading him all my life. (There are still a number of titles I haven’t touched, and were you aware? just this January, a new volume of his previously unpublished short fiction came out. It’s called While Mortals Sleep.) Oh, and I want to mention the reader of this audio version. He speaks in a strange whisper, and his style is very, very effective for this book. Guess who? None other than Ethan Hawke. I was surprised, and tried throughout to place this handsome actor behind the voice I was hearing; but I couldn’t put the guy I know from Reality Bites and Training Day into Vonnegut’s world. Very strange. I guess that’s the mark of a great actor, that he can fill different roles believably. I’m impressed.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , | 10 Comments »

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Posted on May 9, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Here’s yet another book I can’t believe I waited so long to read! I struggle to categorize this book. I think I thought it was genre romance, and I still tend to shelve it that way, but I also feel that sells it short. (Sorry, romance readers. Bear with me. I’m not trying to be ugly.) Of course, categorization is often problematic, and often doesn’t do a book justice. But we persist in trying to do it, for several good reasons. Labels are helpful in describing a book to your friends, and grouping like items together on a shelf assists browsing. So, I thought Rebecca was romance, or romantic suspense, as it says right on the cover of my paperback copy. And to me, this sounds like genre fiction: readable, easy, even “light”, entertaining, and in accordance with a known structure or format. Not a bad thing – I love a lot of genre fiction (although mostly mystery, and not romance). But I’ve also heard this book referred to as a classic. I’ve seen it written about and referred to repeatedly as a standard of sorts. My curiosity grew, and I had to pick it up.

And what a delicious little treasure it is! From the first page, I was transfixed. The mood is outstanding. I had only the vaguest of notions that something bad happened in this book, and I could feel the ghostly mist creeping unseen around my shoulders from literally the first few sentences. There is an air of foreboding that is absolutely unexplainable, as the plot proceeds in an outwardly staid and steady fashion. How does she do it?

Our narrator, who I believe remains unnamed throughout, is living a painfully awkward underprivileged youth when she meets a striking and tragic widower who abruptly proposes to her after a brief quasi-courtship. (This is not a spoiler, I don’t think, or not a very bad one. It is fairly well known from the first pages.) Anticipating this proposal was great fun for me. She accompanies him back to his famous (or infamous?) estate, and the legacy of the dead first wife looms.

Now I shall stop telling you the story. I might have known this much going in (at a maximum) and it was a real pleasure to breathlessly turn pages in ignorance of what was to come. It is suspense, people, as the cover says! If you haven’t read this, avoid spoilers with great care! And go get yourself a copy immediately! Here, you can borrow mine. (The library has several.)

The suspense is outstanding. The narrator’s awkwardness occasionally gets a little frustrating but it’s so REAL – my frustration is entirely realistic because she is realistic. The bad-guy characters are infuriatingly, in a juicy-delicious fictional way. The striking husband remains tragically striking, sort of admirable and obnoxious by turns, but I suppose the romance part drew me in, because I was right there with the nameless wife, wanting him to love us. And the background moodiness, the ghost-story feel, the gothic mists about my shoulders were entirely pleasurable.

I wish I could read this book again for the first time! I know du Maurier has written much else. I hope it is up to this standard because I thought it was outstanding. Genre fiction? I don’t know, I’m stumped, but whatever it is, it’s worth reading.

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: , , , , | 17 Comments »

Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child (audio)

Posted on May 8, 2011 by pagesofjulia

YAY for Lee Child as usual! Especially after a couple of unimpressive audiobooks in a row, it’s been such sweet relief to hear Dick Hill’s deadpan narrative. I feel like he suits Jack Reacher very well.

Backstory: Jack Reacher is a serial character. He’s a former MP (military policeman), fairly decorated, who’s retired young to travel the country at random. He has enough money to get by just wandering, and seems to want to be left alone (although it’s not clear what would occupy him if it weren’t for the circumstances that keep drawing him in). He is repeatedly pulled, against his will, into events of dangerous or criminal intrigue, and he uses his general bad-ass-ness to beat up the bad guys and uplift the righteous little people.

I really appreciate Reacher. He’s a character that works for me very well. He’s almost a superhero – big, strong, smart, quick-thinking, and with a general inclination to do the right thing. He has integrity. He’s just about perfect; but just when he starts to really look like a caricature, we find he’s not so perfect after all. In Worth Dying For, the bad guys got him tied up and hurt for a little while; I was surprised to see him thwarted. But you can’t keep Reacher down. In Gone Tomorrow, too, he gets captured and held, but not forever! I’m not saying he’s an entirely realistic character or anything, but for my tastes, Child pulls back just in time, right before I say “oh, come on…”

And he’s not just a physical hero – although he is enormous, very strong, has no body fat, is a highly skilled gunman, a formidable hand-to-hand fighter, etc. He’s also smart, and an expert in all things military as well as in many other obscure areas of knowledge. It’s a bit uncanny, how much he knows and how much he can figure out. But in this area, too, he’s pulled back from the brink of cartoonish superiority: for example, Lila Hoth convinces him of the American military’s role in a time and place he didn’t think it was possible. I like that in this conversation he listens, asks discerning questions, and isn’t afraid to learn, even to be wrong. In short, Reacher is, to me, a real hero: almost perfect but with a few human deficiencies and – best of all – aware of them (rare though they be).

I also get these little nuggets of information. Like, he muses that there are experts out there who could look at the dimensions of the bricks, and the arrangement of them, in his unknown little dungeon-cell, and know pretty precisely where the building is and when it was built. But Reacher’s not one of those experts. (I’m paraphrasing the audiobook from memory.) See what I mean? It might have been just a little too much if Reacher had been the brick expert, too, on top of everything else. And what a cool little historical nugget. Of course there are brick experts; it makes perfect sense. It had never occurred to me, though.

At any rate, aside from my ramblings about the wonder that is Reacher, this is a good book. I love the little details. When Reacher wakes up after being drugged, he wonders how long he’s been out; with all four limbs bound, he ducks his head to rub his chin against his shirt, thereby feeling how much stubble he has. Now he can make an educated guess. This is a neat detail – evocative, realistic, and also impressive. Reiterates how proficient this guy is. I just hope we really do have guys this effective in our military and/or law enforcement systems.

I came across just one or two points of contention. I think the 9/11 aftermath and international politics was rather clever but also rather pat; 9/11 politics is a fairly common thread in mystery-intrigue genre fiction, and I was a little disappointed and a little bored there for a minute, although Child handled it fairly uniquely. And I was a little bothered by a certain person, for whom English is not a native language, uttering sentences like “…you employed a deductive process. Do you think you are uniquely talented? Do you think that deductive processes are unavailable to others?” This didn’t sound very realistic for this character to me.

But overall this was another great Reacher story. Fast-paced, gritty, suspenseful, funny and witty, and, for me, just the right balance of realism and hero-worshipping-fantasy. Go get you some Jack Reacher right now if you have any interest in action-adventure, mysteries, intrigue, or loveable heroes.

Filed under: book reviews, musings | Tagged: , , , | 4 Comments »

One Book, Two Book, Three Book, Four… and Five… (a borrowed post)

Posted on May 6, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Well this is a little fun, extra post for you today. I felt flattered by the comment in Simon’s post, over at Stuck in a Book, that he hopes his readers will copy his post format, and I have decided to take him up on it. 🙂 I like reading about what other people are getting their paws on.

1.) The book I’m currently reading:

There are two.


I’m listening to The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler on audio when I drive in the car.

And I’m reading The Stronger Sex by Hans Werner Kettenbach.

2.) The last book I finished:


The Red House Mystery by A.A. Milne, and it was delightful! (My post will be up in a few days.)

3.) The next book I want to read:


I cheated today when I quoted this book beginning; I haven’t started it yet, but expect to get to it this weekend. There are so many in my stack…

4.) The last book I bought:


I don’t really buy a lot of books, what with working in the library and everything. This purchase is a couple months old already now, sorry, I’m boring on this question.

5.) The last book I was given:

This is a good fun one! The Husband and I went out a few weeks ago with an old friend, Fil, who brought us presents!

and

Fil and I are friends on and off our bicycles. He’s done quite a bit of cycle-touring, and I haven’t done much but do aspire to. We’ve also spent a lot of time talking about Mexico, and he used to help me practice my Spanish back when I had some. 😦 The Yucatan is a beautiful place of which the Husband and I have fond memories, including the day he proposed, and our first anniversary. So these books are a highly appropriate comment on my friendship with Fil. Thanks Fil!

Filed under: book reviews | Tagged: | 10 Comments »

Three Lives and Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein

Posted on May 6, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I have this Digireads edition, see

I’m cheating a touch, because I read Three Lives some time ago. But it is bound with Tender Buttons in my edition and I’m going to write about them together. It is my hope that my writing about two Stein conundrums will distract you from the fact that I’m confused.

I found some unexpected free time one evening, and knew that I had reading commitments to fulfill, so I didn’t want to start anything of any significant length. I’ll try Tender Buttons, I thought. It’s all of 30 pages, I thought, how hard could it be? HA! Maybe I should have turned back to one of the stories out of The Things They Carried or a chapter of This Book Is Overdue! Either one of those would have been easier options.

So my interest in Gertrude Stein is entirely born of my intense interest in Ernest Hemingway. As we know, Stein was an early friend and mentor, with whom his relationship later soured; he greatly admired, then denigrated, her work, which is famously… er, unique.

When I read Three Lives I was a bit dismayed at my failure to appreciate it. I didn’t find it as difficult as Faulkner, thank goodness, but she certainly doesn’t follow anyone’s model structure for story-telling. Three Lives is made up of three novella-style life stories, of three women in a fictional small town. Their stories don’t go anywhere particular, nor do they join for any greater purpose, although they are evocative and poignant in their moments. I suppose they are vignettes, and well-done at times in their own way; but unorthodox and a little unsettling.

Tender Buttons is a wholly different proposition. It’s a long free-verse poem of sorts, presented sort of as a series of descriptions or discussions of random nouns. For example.

A MOUNTED UMBRELLA.
What was the use of not leaving it there where it would hang what was the use if there was no chance of ever seeing it come there and show that it was handsome and right in the way it showed it. The lesson is to learn that it does show it, that it shows it and that nothing, that there is nothing, that there is no more to do about it and just so much more is there plenty of reason for making an exchange.

or

A NEW CUP AND SAUCER.
Enthusiastically hurting a clouded yellow bud and saucer, enthusiastically so is the bite in the ribbon.

At first this bothered me very much, because I was trying to make sense of it. Her sentences are not sentences; they do not seem to have meaning, or if they do, I am too dense to find it. Unlike the poetry I am familiar with (and I’m no scholar of poetry, but I have read some, and even free-verse generally has some structure – some clues as to how to read it, like line breaks or, hello, punctuation!), there is no guide for where the natural breaks are in language – where a person would draw breath when reading aloud, for instance. (I tried reading this out loud to the Husband while he worked on our deck and he was NOT tolerant.)

But then I decided that Gertrude Stein’s poetry is like Cirque du Soleil or Cats, in that there is no plot or point to speak of, but there is poetry. Read Tender Buttons aloud; it makes music. This is the best way that I can find to appreciate Stein. She is a challenge, make no mistake. And perhaps there is great depth of meaning and I’m missing it because I’m simple. If so, please do comment here, being gentle and kind about it, and explain what I’ve missed. I’m willing to make an effort to appreciate Stein, for Papa’s sake (unlike Faulkner, who I’ve given up on, I think) but she does require an effort. On the other hand, with effort, I find Tender Buttons an intriguing puzzle and it does stimulate and entertain me; just not in the way I usually expect books to do!

I am claiming this one for credit in the Classics Challenge. I think I’ve earned it. Please don’t make me write a book report as I remain a little baffled. But, I’m also excited at the prospect of reading Janet Malcolm’s Two Lives (a biography of Stein and her lifelong partner Alice B. Toklas. notice the play on Stein’s Three Lives), which has patiently resided on my shelf for years now. Look for that one to come. Perhaps Ms. Malcolm will help me understand Ms. Stein!

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

the theme of maternity: trendy?

Posted on May 5, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I finally decided that I’ve mentioned this, in passing, so many times that I felt it deserved a post of its own.

The gist is, I’ve formed a growing observation over the last 6-8 months or so (ahem, that would be about how long I’ve had this blog) that I’ve read a lot of books that deal with women’s feelings about their children, feelings about maternity, motherhood, family, and mother-child bonds. I have not sought these books out; I don’t read much in the way of “women & relationships” or romance, and I read very lightly in the realm of pop fiction. Where have all these books come from? My favorite genre is murder mysteries, and the bulk of the books I’m referring to come from this genre; including some quite gory, graphic thrillers. I’m pretty sure this thematic trend is new; mysteries have not always been mommy-oriented! What’s up with that? Let’s take a look. I have written about…

Still Missing by Chevy Stevens
Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger
Look Again by Lisa Scottoline
Love You More by Lisa Gardner
These Things Hidden by Heather Gudenkauf
I’d Know You Anywhere by Laura Lippman
My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult

And I’ve also so far avoided Emma Donoghue’s Room, despite being tempted, because I fear more of the same.

There are mothers in mysteries in general. I know a certain woman in my life has had a growing frustration with Elizabeth George’s series of Inspector Lynley mysteries, due to Deborah St. James’s ongoing guilt, one might even say obsession, with an abortion she had that seems to have effected her ability to have children. This is a thread and a theme within the series – not a major one, but one that helps develop the characters who we get to know so well over the many books, which I feel is one of their strengths. Lynley, Helen, Deborah, St. James, Havers, and a whole cast of characters have extraordinary depth over the course of the series. But, my friend is bothered by the politics; she fears that George is making a political statement about abortion. This led me to this website on which George states her politics on the issue, if rather obliquely. Sorry, I have digressed. My point was, there are mothers in mysteries. Always have been. There are mothers in life, otherwise how would we all get here?

But my observation here is of mysteries that are themed heavily around maternal feelings and mother-child bonds. All of the books I listed above treat this theme as central to the plot. I think it’s a current trend in popular fiction, which probably reflects a current trend in our public consciousness. Babies and how to make them are on a lot of minds these days; the related medical industry is doing fairly well I do believe. I think trends in fiction & literature reflect cultural trends. For example, We Need to Talk About Kevin (by Lionel Shriver) and Nineteen Minutes (by Jodi Picoult), both fictionalized stories about school shootings, seemed to come from headlines in the years 2005-2008 or thereabouts. Several novels about autistic children have come out in the last 5 years or so too, as autism awareness has become a growing cause. No coincidence, right?

It makes sense to me that fiction reflects our culture; art follows life, yes? But I get a little bit frustrated with this theme. This theme in particular, or just the repetition of a theme? Well, I can get a little impatient with this particular theme in life (the real world); I’m not anxious to be a parent and fail to empathize with that (seemingly, majority) portion of the world that is. So I’m impatient with it in my reading life, too. But repetition is annoying as well. It’s getting to the point where I feel I need to avoid it when picking out reading material, just to get out of a rut.

What do you think? Am I nuts? Is there no trend? (Insert Freudian remark about my biological clock here?) Or is there a trend, and if so how do you feel about it?

Politico-disclaimer: I’ve tried not to make this a rant of my own opinions on “the issues.” If you’re interested in my rant 🙂 I’ve provided it for you, as briefly as possible, below. If you’d rather avoid (most of) the political angle on this post… stop here.

Briefly (if possible), and in the interest of satisfying your curiosity or confusion on my stances:

I am vehemently pro-choice. The folks who call themselves “pro-life” are not, in my opinion, pro-life at all; they are anti-choice. Lots of people have written very intelligent defenses of this position, so I don’t feel the need to spend a lot of time on this. It’s self-evident to me that women should have control over their bodies and reproductive futures, and to deny them that right is unjust.

I don’t want to have children. I think there are far too many people on this earth; if we don’t cause it to implode and kill every living thing on it, including ourselves, it will be miraculous. There are lots of unwanted babies on the planet; if you want to raise one, please do, but please don’t make more. I think reproduction in today’s world is a politically and socially irresponsible act, and it affects all of us, not just the two parents or extended family.

That said, I have lots of friends who are having babies (some of them at great effort and expense), and I’m not personally angry with any of them. I can’t really get my head around their desire to reproduce, but they’re my friends. I’m happy when they’re happy; when they’re happy to reproduce, I’m happy for them, but from a few steps away.

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

« Previous Page — Next Page »