book beginnings on Friday: The World’s Strongest Librarian by Josh Hanagarne

Thanks to Rose City Reader for hosting this meme. To participate, share the first line or two of the book you are currently reading and, if you feel so moved, let us know what your first impressions were based on that first line.

worldsstrongest

I have discovered a strange and wonderful new book: a memoir by a Mormon strongman librarian with Tourette’s Syndrome.

Today the library was hot, humid, and smelly. It was like working inside a giant pair of glass underpants without any leg holes to escape through. The building moved. It breathed. It seethed with bodies and thoughts moving in and out of people’s heads. Mostly out.

To me, this beginning establishes the author’s voice, which will be evocative as well as irreverent. One of Hanagarne’s strengths is that he communicates often serious content with a wry twist that sometimes had me giggle out loud. Aside from which, the opening setting of this book is a library, and I am a sucker for that, as I bet are some of you.

I’m sorry to tell you that this book won’t be out until May! But be sure to look out for it then.

This quotation comes from an uncorrected advance proof and is subject to change.

Inés of My Soul by Isabel Allende (audio)

inesIsabel Allende is mostly a well-respected name to me; I had only read her Daughter of Fortune before this one, and found it interesting and enjoyable, but it doesn’t seem to stand out in my memory. (It’s been years.) I picked up Inés of My Soul as I pick up at least half my audiobooks: opportunistically. Because audio is not as plentiful as hardcopy, I take what I can find, in the library or from friends & family. This one came from my mother, and I’m glad I happened upon it, because I found it fascinating and entertaining.

Inés of My Soul is the story of the founding of Chile, told first-person by Inés de Suárez, a real historical figure; or perhaps more accurately it is the life story of Inés, inextricably tied with the founding of Chile, which she (at least in the novel) considers her life’s work. This is a work of historical fiction; Inés really lived but we don’t know everything about her, so Allende necessarily fills in the gaps.

Inés was born in Extremadura, in Spain, in 1507. She married Juan de Mélaga for love (or for lust), but their marriage was troubled; their fiery sexual passion also led to fierce fights, and they failed to conceive the child Inés wanted, and Juan eventually sailed for the New World in search of gold and fortune. She follows, not out of love for her husband – that was mostly dead – but because, as a “widow of the New World,” her horizons in Extremadura were extremely limited, and she sought adventure just as Juan did. Inés travels around Peru, making her living as she did in Spain: sewing clothes and cooking her famous empanadas, which she is careful to provide to the hungry as well as her paying customers. After learning that Juan is dead, she is plagued by men who desire her, and who intend to have her by any means, with or without her consent; and she picks up a housekeeper who will become a lifelong friend & helpmate, Catalina, an Indian woman skilled in healing and with the power to see the future. Catalina foretells an important man to come into Inés’s life and recognizes him when he does: Pedro de Valdivia, a fellow native of Extremadura and a soldier from a long line of soldiers. Their relationship is full of fire and chemistry, as was her initial time with Juan de Mélaga, but will mature into a deeply loving and cooperative partnership. They will never marry, because Pedro has a wife, Marina, back in Spain, and all three are Catholic.

Pedro and Inés travel together to Chile, an area still unconquered by Europeans and especially intimidating because of an earlier failed attempt. They have a small but mostly loyal cadre of soldiers with them and intend to be the founders of a new country there. As partners they fight the Indians and establish the city of Santiago and several more small towns; they live through good times and bad. There is a fascinating subplot involving a young Indian boy who joins their settlement, which I will leave mostly untouched for the sake of spoilers. After ten years of loving cohabitation, during which Inés contributes substantially to the successful founding of Santiago, even in combat against the Indians, Pedro throws her aside. He has grown from the strong & cooperative man she loved into an aging, arrogant, cruel, unhealthy ruler, but his rejection still hurts. Inés then takes a second husband: Rodrigo de Quiroga, a captain in Pedro’s army and a good man with whom she finds another beautifully healthy and loving relationship, also raising his daughter Isabel, to whom this story is narrated.

Inés of My Soul is the diary of an elderly Inés who wants to record her fascinating and important life for the sake of posterity. She is sad that she never conceived a child, but loves her stepdaughter very much and chides her lovingly throughout this narration. She writes more than half of it herself, but by the end is dictating to Isabel, as her age catches up with her; she says she sees death coming very soon, and is not sad, as she looks forward to joining Rodrigo, her final love of 30 years, recently dead.

Again, this is a story of the conquest and founding of Chile, complete with scenes of battle, heroism, victory, glory, and gold. There is plenty of statement on the evils of colonialism: Inés praises the natives of Chile, respects their choice to fight to the death rather than be enslaved, and notes their strengths. She also laments the unnecessary cruelties of the conquerors, including her Pedro. But it is also very much a love story. Inés has three loves in her life, and I think she is lucky (and considers herself so) to have shared passions with three very different men. While not terribly explicit, there is sex, told in an appropriately heated, sensual tone, with some acknowledgment of Isabel’s presumed discomfort where her father is concerned. (Inés also offers to give Isabel advice, in case the latter’s husband proves overly eager or otherwise fails to give pleasure.)

There are obvious links to Like Water for Chocolate, in the fiery, sensual telling of lust, passion, and fine food in the voice of a strong Latina woman, and in Inés’s implicit feminism when she declares her own place in history and her substantial contributions to the new country of Chile. This is an engrossing tale of a woman’s life, and a country’s birth, intertwined. I loved both Inés – a passionate and strong woman – and the history of Chile. Having grown up in mid-south Texas, I have long had an appreciation of Spanish-speaking cultures; I am most familiar with Mexico but have always been interested in traveling further south too. Chile was on my list – it’s so far away and therefore feels exotic and remote – but now it’s an even higher priority. And reading this fictionalized history of the founding of conquered Chile makes me more interested in its history, too. I did do a little Wikipedia reading on Inés de Suárez, the historical figure, enough to know that she was indeed lover to Pedro de Valdivia and involved in the conquest.

Finally, I cannot stress enough the pleasurable experience of listening to this narrator, Blair Brown, tell this story in a musical, lyrical, emotive, accented voice; there is no other way to enjoy it. Allende renders nuanced, very real characters in a lovely tone (aside from the lovely reading Brown gives); she makes a bloody history of conquest appropriately ambiguous; and the remarkable achievement of blending love and passion with war and subjugation is riveting. I highly recommend this story, and I highly recommend Brown’s reading of it.


Rating: 9 empanadas.

movie: The First Time (2012)

More airplane movie-watching here, and I’m a little embarrassed, because it’s “just” a teeny-bopper romantic comedy. But I am here to report to you on my reading & movie-watching, and I am faithfully reporting.

firsttimeThe First Time is a new (2012) movie about two teens. Dave has been pining for his “just a friend” Jane, and is working on getting up the courage to say something to her, but viewers will note that he is firmly in the friend zone with her and things don’t look good. Aubrey has an older (out of high school) boyfriend, but he’s a self-centered, immature jerk who doesn’t seem to notice her creative side. They meet at a party and are clearly drawn to each other. They do some dating. And they have sex. For the first time.

It’s rather pat, and mostly something I’ve seen before, but it’s very sweet. And its teenage interactions are pretty accurate, actually. I couldn’t decide if the philosophizing was accurately teenaged in its grandiosity, or just overdone, but I suspect it might have been fairly authentic, too. I doubt I have any teen readers who will let me know. 🙂 It was only airplane fodder, but I have to admit, I enjoyed it. And I found myself thinking about those cute kids a day or two later, so touché, teeny-bopper romantic comedy, you have gotten inside my head.


Finally, I can definitely understand the kids getting excited over those two darling actors! This is exactly the kind of thing that would have captured my heart in middle school – I would have crushed on that actor (his name is Dylan O’Brien, as it turns out). Better than it might have been.


Rating: 5 nervous glances.

movie: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

Another classic for you that I found on the airplane: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, starring Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell! I had never seen either in a movie before (isn’t that shameful?). And aren’t they both fabulous. I confess, though, I came in rooting for Jane, as the title made her the underdog from the start. [Full disclosure: I was born a blonde and am gradually darkening towards brunette as I age. Does that make me neutral?]

I almost don’t want to bother with a plot synopsis here, as I felt the plot really wasn’t the point, but okay. Jane & Marilyn (I have lost track of their characters’ names) are showgirls. Marilyn is quite a ditzy blonde, and concerned with marrying a man with lots and lots of money. Jane likes to have a good time and wants a man who wants the same, money be damned. Marilyn has a fiancé who is requisitely wealthy, and they intend to marry in France, but his father prevents him from sailing, because he objects to the gold-digging Marilyn; thus Marilyn & Jane sail together. The action of the movie takes place on the ship, where Jane meets a man she might be able to settle down with, and Marilyn meets the owner of a diamond mine and goes bonkers over that possibility. (Enter the song, “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend.” I am rather offended.) From there on it’s all spoilers. But again, the plot isn’t important.


There is mischief and chicanery. This is a comedy, as it turns out, not only an exhibition of the fabulous Jane and the fabulous Marilyn – who do rock every scene in classic, visual splendor. The high-jinks are fun and the slapstick is quite charming. And it’s a musical as well, although there is far less singing than there might be. I was surprised and pleased to note that there is some objectification of the men – how progressive! And they are some nice looking men, too.

I found this film to be more of a fun visual spectacle with great slapstick than such a great story. But there’s no question it was enjoyable – and classic.


Rating: 6 glittery diamonds (naturally).

movie: A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)

On my recent very very long overseas flight, I watched several movies. Thanks Husband for spotting this classic for me! As you may know, A Streetcar Named Desire was a play by Tennessee Williams, published in 1947. I have not read the play, although I studied his Glass Menagerie in high school and appreciated it. Now that I’ve seen the movie, I want very much to read the original, and I would love to see one of TW’s plays performed one day. This film was released in 1951, directed by Elia Kazan, and stars Vivien Leigh and Marlon Brando – wow! [Also in high school, I studied Kazan’s On the Waterfront, alongside Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. Guess what the connection there was.]

You can get a plot synopsis anywhere, so I’ll be brief and spoiler-free. Blanche DuBois shows up at her sister Stella’s apartment in New Orleans from the plantation back in Laurel, Mississippi. She tells Stella that the plantation has been lost and she needs to stay a while. While Blanche is a delicate, swooning southern belle, and Stella a tougher urban woman, Stella’s husband Stanley is all muscle and sensuality. He has no patience with Blanche’s needy weakness, and her presence throws the small household out of balance, just as Stella is expecting a child. There is conflict. I’m stopping there.


This is a masterfully put together film. I positively adored the black and white French Quarter setting: although more than 50 years old now, it was instantly recognizable. I could almost smell the booze and feel the humid heat. Vivian Leigh, Marlon Brando, and Kim Hunter (Stella) are all so perfect, picturesque, and work as archetypes of the characters they play. Kazan is a master of the use of light and dark. Blanche undergoes a metamorphosis of sorts when moving from shadow to light – there is a dramatic scene dealing with the issue. And while I’m on dramatic scenes, the style here is highly melodramatic, with Blanche being the perfect example of what that means: fluttering hands, shrieks and gasps and exclamations, “OH! I just don’t know how I can take it…”, all of which are perfect for her damaged-southern-belle role. And perhaps this adds to the melodrama, but clothes sure do tear easy in this movie. I gave up counting the clothing that got ripped in the action.

Here’s a quick discussion with spoilers. Highlight the following white text to read: I was a little maddened by not knowing whether Stanley raped Blanche in that fade-to-black scene. So I looked it up. Wikipedia tells me that it is indeed only “implied” in Williams’s original. They certainly carried the implication into the film. I think he did rape her. I also learned from Wikipedia that Blanche’s husband had a homosexual affair prior to his suicide, which I had not gathered from the movie; and sure enough, it is later stated in the article that this detail is left out of the film, because of the Hays code. This is unsurprising in context, as I recall from high school that Kazan was a good, government-compliant filmmaker.

Tennessee Williams is absolutely recognizable to me from The Glass Menagerie: he likes his damaged and increasingly crazy southern belles, and their gentlemen callers, doesn’t he? I felt I’d seen Vivien Leigh deliver her closing line before: “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” But I’m sure I hadn’t. Maybe it’s just that famous.


As a piece of excellent directing and acting by all three leads (and isn’t Brando smoking hot), and as a fine production of a very fine play, I give this one a near-perfect rating and recommend it as a classic film.


Rating: 9 fluttering eyelids.

Speaking Truth to Power by Anita Hill, second half review

anitahillI am pleased to report that I had a different experience with the second half of this book, in all the right ways. You will recall (or, I will direct you to) my first half review of same: I thought it was a wonderful book but such a painful story that I had to put it down for a little while. Well, in a nutshell, the second half is: still painful, tragic, and true, but also uplifting, far more hopeful than I expected; and equally well-written and impressive. I wholeheartedly recommend it.

Anita Hill continues to be thoughtful and thorough – I definitely see the mind of a lawyer at work, as she discusses the what-if’s, the precedents, the niceties of the law. She is quite cerebral in her theories on society and stereotyping; far from being a simple revelation of her experiences, this is a treatise on gender & race. She examines the relationship between issues of gender and of race, and the indivisibility of feminism from the fight for racial equality, and the relationships between race and sexism. Hill is clearly an extremely intelligent women! She is also warm and loving about her family, and always seeking privacy, not eager to be a symbol or a leader. In other words, she comes firmly across as a “just regular” person, and someone I’d like to know.

Her story is also entirely convincing. It is beautifully put together and well-written: not lyrical, but methodical, structured, can I say thorough and lawyerly again? And she preaches more hope than I felt in my first-half review. However, the battle is still not over, and I still feel upset & angry that Hill’s experience reads so familiarly more than 20 years later. On that note, I’ll refer you to Jessica Valenti’s lovely speech to my local Planned Parenthood group, here. Well said, Jessica. You give me hope, too.


Rating: 9 strong women, please.

The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith

Sorry for the short review today; I’m a little bushed. But don’t think any less of the book in question, because The Talented Mr. Ripley is a riot of a creepy-crawly good time.

ripleyMy second Patricia Highsmith, and one of her best known, was the perfect airplane book for my very long trip home from Australia recently. Highsmith is a master of engaging, disturbing stories, and I want more.

Tom Ripley is a con man and, I think I can say, a sociopath. He believe that society owes him something, and he’d rather not have to work too hard for it; and he lives in a time when class is very important. He knows what class he wants to belong to but can’t quite figure out how to get there. He’s struggling in New York City when he’s approached by a wealthy man who asks him to sail to Italy and collect his son, the heir to the family business and a vague acquaintance of Ripley’s. This being a paying gig and a chance to see the world and start anew – and escape the possible consequences of his latest scam – Ripley is happy to play a role, something he does exceptionally well. In the small seaside town of Mongibello, he gets along well with Dickie (the desired son) and initially with Dickie’s local American friend Marge, who may or may not be a love interest as well. But Ripley’s imbalances quickly begin to take over. He is jealous of Marge, and admires Dickie to a disturbing degree. He wants Dickie’s life. And soon, he thinks he has found a way to have it.

The storyline is loosely based on Henry James’s novel The Ambassadors, which makes several appearances in this book. Highsmith knows her way around a literary device.

The key to the appeal and memorability of this story is Highsmith’s ability to portray the completely amoral murderer, the obsessed and insane. This is just the author for those who like to be disturbed! It’s Ripley’s distorted sense of right and wrong that is most upsetting in this book. He is entirely, fully, deeply frightening. More so than any murder or wrongdoing, it’s the depravity within him that causes the goosebumps on the reader’s neck.

Now I really want to see the movie.


Rating: 7 suitcases.

The Lady and Her Monsters by Roseanne Montillo

A spirited investigation of the bizarre times that inspired Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

monsters

On its surface, Roseanne Montillo’s The Lady and Her Monsters is an exploration of the genesis of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. But Montillo clearly rejoices in meandering through the volatile times that gave life to Shelley’s gothic classic, and her multifaceted literary study expands to include discussions of anatomy and alchemy, suicides, ghoulish dissections of men not quite dead and the dramatic death of Percy Shelley at sea.

In the early 19th century, Europe grew increasingly fascinated with life, death and man’s ability to control nature. Grave robbers known as “resurrectionists” provided subjects for human dissections that were conducted both in medical schools and for the general public’s entertainment. Scientists and imposters experimented with the capacity of electricity to restore life. Into this environment, Mary Shelley was born to Mary Wollstonecraft (A Vindication of the Rights of Woman) and William Godwin, a famous reformer of the day. Percy Bysshe Shelley was her lover and eventual husband; her sister was lover to Lord Byron. The foursome were traveling in Italy, telling the ghost stories with which Percy Shelley was obsessed, when–as Mary Shelley and legend have it–a human monster appeared to Mary in a waking dream. It was also in Italy that she may have first heard the surname Frankenstein, tied to the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula, as well as to Sir George (he who killed the dragon). In Montillo’s enthusiastic prose, such diverse and macabre subjects make for a lively survey, not only of Shelley’s masterpiece, but of an odd and colorful time in European history.


This review originally ran as a *starred review* in the February 8, 2013 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!


Rating: 5 volts.

Teaser Tuesdays: The Girls of Atomic City by Denise Kiernan

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. The idea is to open your current read to a random page and share a few sentences. And try not to include spoilers!

atomic
I know I just shared with you this book’s beginning, but that’s how good it is! Below you will find a quick picture of life in World War II. The first sentence relates a concept I was already familiar with; but the second was news to me. Here’s my teaser:

Some young women even drew seams up the back of their legs to simulate stockings or hose, much of which had gone to war where their fabric was needed for parachutes. If you were a woman handy with a needle and thread, you might get that fabric back in another incarnation: many young brides had taken to fashioning wedding dresses from the very parachutes that had brought their loves safely back down to earth.

Did you know about the parachute wedding dresses? What an evocative image. Still enjoying this book!

And what are you reading this week?

This quotation comes from an uncorrected advance proof and is subject to change.

The Rage by Gene Kerrigan

A noir crime novel featuring the collision of a motley group of characters in modern Ireland.

rage

The Rage by Gene Kerrigan (The Midnight Choir) is a multifaceted, character-driven story of crime and remorse. Vincent Naylor, freshly out of prison, is back to planning a robbery with his old accomplices, most notably his beloved big brother, Noel. Bob Tidey is an experienced and jaded police detective, still devoted to doing good but with the growing feeling that his employers limit his best efforts. Maura Coady is a retired nun living with her guilt and regrets. When Maura witnesses something out the front window of her apartment that doesn’t look quite right, she calls Tidey to report it, setting in motion a string of events that run counter to the Naylor brothers’ movements toward the next big score. The reader watches each player’s trajectory on this collision course, but still won’t guess the big finish until it crashes into place.

The Rage will please readers of crime thrillers and literary fiction alike. The atmosphere effectively evokes contemporary Ireland, with all its discontent and economic frustration, and in this way brings to mind Tana French’s lyrical Dublin Murder Squad mystery series. Bob Tidey’s cynicism and gruff efforts at romance recall Michael Connelly’s hero Detective Harry Bosch. The intersecting story lines and crescendo of action create a cinematic effect. Kerrigan’s compelling characters carry this thriller breathlessly through to its climax, but it is the engaging dialogue, thoughtful and absorbing prose and social conscience that make The Rage memorable.


This review originally ran in the February 8, 2013 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!


Rating: 6 regrets.