Book #178: The Naked and the Dead

Book #178: The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer

March 29, 2015

Prior to reading this book, the only thing I knew about Mailer was that he had a cameo on Gilmore Girls not long before his death. He and his biographer were regulars in an episode at the Dragonfly Inn during the slow lunch hour, ordering only a pitcher of iced tea. Chef Sookie (Melissa McCarthy) blamed Mailer for the failing lunch menu, and even goes off on him. About two seconds after her tantrum, she realizes she is pregnant, and announces this to him (hence the title of the episode, "Norman Mailer, I'm Pregnant"). A very confused Mailer kindly congratulates her. 

I find this cameo to be random as shit. He apparently only did it because they didn't make him memorize any lines, and because he thought the show was less crappy than most crap on TV or something. Just from the little I looked up on him, it seems that Mailer lived a very interesting life. Perhaps I should read a biography sometime.

Anyway, I "assigned" myself this book, to be completed over Spring Break. I'm back to work tomorrow, so I've barely made my self-imposed deadline. That's not from any lack of appreciation for this novel, Mailer's first. It's just that it's quite long, 721 in the paperback 50th anniversary edition. It was slow going at times, but overall I felt like this book could have been longer and I would not have minded. 

This book does not try to glorify the Army or World War II. It was gritty and realistic, and the characters, who represented to some extent the diversity of life in America, seemed quite real. There were no wholly "good" guys or "bad" guys here. The soldiers and the officers were depicted "naked," flaws and all, in this stressful, oppressive environment.

The book tells the story of the campaign on (fictional) Anopopei, a Pacific island. The story is mainly from the perspective of the men in a specific platoon, who are recon (okay, I'm still not 100% sure what that means). But the general in charge of the American troops on this island, Cummings, and Lieutenant Hearn (who is eventually reassigned to recon) are main characters, too. The reader is intimate with the past lives of many of these men, and their current hopes and fears. 

Because of this, I kind of feel the same way about the structure of armies during wartime as I do about slavery: it is fucking scary to put the lives of people in the hands of other people, because human beings are flawed creatures. Cummings is considered a good strategist, but he has a petty and vindictive side, and he's prideful and personally ambitious. The sexual tension between he and Hearn is fascinating. It's pretty obvious that they both have repressed homosexual tendencies; shit, Hearn explicitly says in his "time machine" segment that he's bicurious! I wonder, though, why Mailer only made characters who were officers this way. I also wonder how many privates in the war were "Brokebacking it" in their pup tents, if they were able to get away with that. Anyway, Cummings is not the cool and objective officer that you'd want making decisions about other people's lives; he kinda admits to himself that he sent Hearn on the mission with recon in hopes that he'd be killed, as "punishment" for disappointing him, for not sharing his views on being in charge of soldiers.

Croft, the sergeant who has been in charge of the recon platoon for some time, is very flawed himself. His actions result in the deaths of Hearn and Roth, and for what? His own pride? He's depicted as being heartless, ever since he was a child, but it was his wife's cheating that really drove him over the edge. And he is not without fear; fear of failure, fear of losing control, is the driving force behind many of his actions.

Sexism, racism, and prejudice abound amongst the men in recon. They're pretty hypocritical towards women...you know, the old double-standard. I didn't think there was evidence that Brown's wife was cheating on him, but since his beloved older sister cheated on her husband and got a bad reputation, he's now convinced that his wife and all women are whores. And yet it's acceptable, and funny, for Wilson to be super horny and promiscuous. Of course, poor Wilson does have an STD, which might have killed him if a bullet in the gut hadn't gotten him first. 

The men in this platoon exemplify the fact that anti-Semitism was definitely not limited to Nazi Germany at this time. Goldstein and Roth are both ridiculed for being Jewish. Goldstein bitterly internalizes this, while Roth is flabbergasted. He has personally denounced the Jewish faith, and doesn't like that he can't shake that label. There's no common understanding by the end of the book. Roth is dead, and while Goldstein and Ridges (my favorite character, I think) are cool with each other, Goldstein will probably still be called a "Jewish bastard" or similar when anybody in the platoon is miffed with him. 

In spite of these views (which were, unfortunately, not uncommon for the time), I sympathized with these men. Some of them had it really rough before the war, like Red. Gallagher's wife died in childbirth while he's on Anopopei, and he's afraid that he won't live to see his child. Ridges can't even read and write, and hates the manual farm labor and hopelessness waiting for him at home. Financially, Cummings and Hearn had it easier, but not emotionally, especially Cummings. Everyone suffers. But in these harsh conditions, the men are quick to turn on one another, rather than show a little understanding and lend a helping hand. That's human nature, I suppose.

And that's what makes this book so powerful. It's about human nature more than anything else, what people do when they're stripped of their pride, of their worldly comforts (modest though they might have been). The fact that Cummings' troops win the campaign isn't even the point of the book. I don't know if this book is anti-war, but it is showing what war does to the individual. That's important, because fundamentally, the armed forces are concerned with the whole, not the individual. But human lives and personal narratives do matter. 

Book #177: Shakespeare Saved My Life

Book #177: Shakespeare Saved My Life: Ten Years in Solitary with the Bard by Laura Bates

March 26, 2015

When looking for my next ebook, I wasn't feeling particularly inspired by my wish list selections. This particular book was available to anyone for a limited time, a "Big Library Read," so of course I wanted to check it out. I really ought to join a book club or something! Anyway, I'm very glad I read this, considering the environment that I teach in and the difficulties I've had there lately.

So Dr. Bates is a professor of English (and education, I think) at Indiana State. She got into volunteering as a teacher for inmates years ago, and when she got her Ph.D. with a focus on Shakespeare, she was eager to start up a program in prison. Why? Because she (correctly) felt that inmates could relate to many of Shakespeare's themes. She mainly did this to prove a point for her dissertation or something, but she ended up running the program for a decade or so.

The book is mainly about one particular inmate named Larry Newton. Newton had a history of violence, and had spent a decade in the SHU when Bates met him. He showed himself right away to be a thoughtful reader, analyzing Shakespeare's texts in a way that left her amazed. He helped her to create questions for the program that would allow for self-reflection: racial themes in Othello, revenge in Hamlet, greed in Macbeth, that kind of thing. This allowed him and his fellow inmates to reflect on their own lives, decisions, and feelings. 

This book is valuable for Newton's own insights into the mind of a "criminal." This is where I got the most out of it, as he reflected on why he ended up being convicted of murder at the age of 17. In the program that I work in, I've been told that while most of these young men won't go out and offend anyone sexually (the reason they're there in the first place), it's pretty likely that they'll commit other crimes. But no one ever explained to me why this could be the case. Now I have a better idea; now I get why some kids get so anxious before they leave the program. It gives me such a sense of helplessness. Newton explained to Bates that there are no "magic words" to say to these kinds of at-risk youth that will get them to turn their lives around, and I think I'd been hoping that there was. 

Now, I don't see teaching Shakespeare to the majority of my students as being very practical. That's because many of them struggle just to read on grade level, and would be intimidated, and thus resistant, to such a task. Bates had a group of inmates who volunteered to join her program, so Shakespeare wasn't forced on anyone. But I know I can find texts that students can relate to, maybe ones that can help them to view their own situations at a different perspective. Hell, that's the best way to approach teaching literature to adolescents, regardless of the setting.

Newton said that people can put themselves into prisons in many ways. The criminal who serves his time and is paroled could still be imprisoned by the pressures that caused him or her to turn to criminal activity in the first place. Fear can keep a person from having important experiences. I feel like Newton is a wise, reflective individual, and the only way I would have appreciated this book more is if he'd written it himself.

Book #176: Sweet Tooth

Book #176: Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan

March 20, 2015

As of a few short hours ago, my spring break officially began. I need it! It's been a particularly stressful week at work, and nine days of reading, running, and just relaxing is just what I need right now.

So the only other McEwan work I've read is the acclaimed Atonement, though he's written an extensive body of work. I found it strange that readers on Goodreads would automatically compare that one to this one. Except that there's actually one huge similarity at the end, though the ending to this book is kind of happy. And highly unsatisfying.

I was into this book for the most part, but was confused about why Tony thought Serena would have a good career at MI5 (Britain's version of the CIA) in the first place. I can only think he was blinded by her beauty into seeing her "average intelligence" as more than it was. What I mean is, she's smart, but kind of average as well. I see myself the same way, in fact. I think I have above average intelligence, but when it comes down to it I'm rather unextraordinary. Serena is very good at math, but can barely get her math degree at Cambridge...and probably only gained acceptance as the token chick in the late '60s. She's a voracious reader, but she's kind of shallow in her tastes. She would have made a good accountant or something. But because she wrote some articles expressing anti-Communist views, Tony thought she'd be good for MI5...even though he may or may not have been a double agent. His motive behind promoting her was never ever clear.

I'd say the middle part of the novel was the most interesting. Women in the agency are underlings, but she's given a part in a minor mission called Sweet Tooth. This involved various agents pretending to represent a foundation offering stipends to authors with anti-Communist views, to get them to write what they write best, producing pro-capitalist propaganda without the writers being fully aware of what they were doing. They wanted Serena to recruit Tom, a fiction writer, imagining that he'd write the next 1984 or something. She gets him to take the "foundation's" support, but they also eventually fall in love.

I most enjoyed the summaries of Tom's previous writings; I'd read a collection of those actual short stories. However, I feel a little differently about it now that I've read the "twist" at the end. I'll put it this way: the book was interesting throughout, but the ending sucked. Serena has kind of stumbled into these situations, and she's much more guileless than you would expect a secret agent to be. Yet her job as a whole isn't all that thrilling. That's a big plus for the story, actually! Her affair with Tom, but the conflict of interest at work (including Max's petty jealousy) were interesting. The ending could have been much better.

There are probably better McEwan books out there. This one just happens to be one of the more recent, and it was very recently added to the ebooks in my library. I think it's pretty lame that McEwan used the same ploy in this as in his most famous novel, but I won't take him off my reading list forever. This is still a decent story, just a big let down at the end.

Book #175: The Carnivorous Carnival

Book #175: The Carnivorous Carnival by Lemony Snicket

March 17, 2015

Book the Ninth of A Series of Unfortunate Events. It took me longer than usual to read this one due to weird scheduling at work lately. But I enjoyed it just as much as the previous one. As Sherlock Holmes would say, the plot thickens. Indeed indeed.

For one thing, the characters are becoming more complex. Madame Lulu, aka Olivia, is one of the more three-dimensional adult characters that we've seen in this series. She has someone who has been spying on the Baudelaires...it's from her that Olaf has been learning of their whereabouts. She's also learned some about them from newspapers. Why, oh why, would a newspaper publish the location of three kids who are being stalked by maniacs? And this was before they were framed as murderers!

Olivia is a fake fortune teller, though she was once a member of V.F.D. and an associate of Lemony Snicket. She's torn between helping Olaf (whom she seems to be infatuated with...gross), and aiding the Baudelaires after they learn each others' identities. Unfortunately, before Olivia's death she had betrayed the kids, revealing that they'd been hiding in her carnival as "freaks."

The actual "freaks" in question are absurd, but also facing morality issues. Now, Hugo has a hunched back, which might qualify him as a "freak" in the old-fashioned sense. But Colette is a contortionist, and Kevin is ambidextrous. Kevin constantly laments about what a huge freak he is, which is silly, of course. Besides lacking in self-awareness, these are perfectly decent people. But desperation leads them to be easily manipulated by Esmé, and in the end, they join Olaf's shrinking troupe. In the last book, the obese, androgynous person died in the fire at Heimlich Hospital. In this book, the nameless bald man, along with Olivia, is eaten by starving lions. 

I'm starting to feel a little bad for Olaf's nameless associates. They're mistaken for "freaks," which leads me to think that these people are quite vulnerable. Wicked Olaf was the only one who took a chance on them, though he only uses them for his own devices and doesn't care a thing about them. I wonder if, one by one, they'll all meet a grisley end by the close of the series...including Esmé.

Even the Baudelaires are beginning to wonder if they're becoming a bit evil. They disguised themselves, lied to everyone they encountered, and indirectly caused the deaths of Olivia and the bald guy (he's got a name, now that I think of it, but I can't remember now what it was). But really, would it all have been necessary if Olaf weren't so evil and relentless? No way. They're losing their innocence, but not their inherent goodness. 

The ending of the book was a bit intense. Because...Olaf and his gang have Sunny! I can't even. Having left the carnival in flames and the two older Baudelaires behind, the gang is on their way to the Mortmain Mountains in search of the one Baudelaire parent who may still be alive. I still don't think that it is so, but at least Violet and Klaus know where they're going. Shit's getting more intense than ever.

Based on what I know about V.F.D. so far (even if I don't know what it stands for), I have to wonder: did the Baudelaire parents know that their lives were in danger? After all, Lemony Snicket tried to warn them of this. If they did, why did they not make better arrangements for the kids. They've got an uncle who raises pigs, so why not make him their guardian? I'm a bit upset with the parents about this, how it seems like they've left their children to deal with an enormous mess.

Okay, I'm getting all worked up over this. I may just have to give my students some extra reading time so I can really get into the tenth book before Spring Break!

Book #174: A Study in Scarlet

Book #174: A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

March 15, 2015

This was the first Sherlock Holmes book, and having blasted through it (it's not all that long, but I did have a tough time putting it down), I can see why these works were so popular in Doyle's time, and continue to be so today. The writing style is very clear, and Holmes is a fascinating character, still a fixture in popular culture. Told, of course, from the perspective of Dr. Watson, it tells how the two met and became roommates, and describes the first case that Watson saw Holmes work. 

Holmes is one cocky motherfucker, but it's well deserved. He runs circles around the best of Scotland Yard (Lastrade and Gregson, who are not all that great of detectives), and yet he isn't even upset when they get the credit for solving the case. It's enough for him to be credited by these men (privately) and by his roommate as being the best. He explains his methods to an incredulous Watson, and while his attention to detail and deductive thinking seem necessary and obvious in our time, they were innovative in his. If Holmes' real goal was to spread his method (and he does express this desire), then mission freaking accomplished.

The circumstances of the murders are complex themselves. As Watson and Holmes learn more about the first victim, Drebber, Watson comes to the conclusion that this guy was kind of a piece of shit. In spite of this, he knows that justice must be served. The first part of the book deals with the investigation and the eventual arrest of Jefferson Hope, and the second part mostly tells Hope's story, showing him to be much more sympathetic than his two victims.

All three (Hope, Drebber, and the other victim Stangerson) were all Americans. Drebber and Stangerson had been early members of the LDS church, actually traveling with Brigham Young's group to Utah. They'd been polygamists, of course, and as young men had vied for the hand of young Lucy. But she loved Hope, and her adopted father, who had never truly adhered to the Mormon faith, had approved of this match. The three fled Salt Lake City, but were pursued; Lucy's father was killed when Hope was away from their camp, and Lucy was forced to become Drebber's eighth wife. Hope swore vengeance on both men, following them around the country, then Europe, after they were excommunicated from the church. He finally killed them in London. 

There were two fascinating, well-written stories intertwined here. This isn't the first Holmes book I've read; The Hound of the Baskervilles is entry #1 of this blog, in fact. It certainly won't be the last. In fact, just as I've aimed to read all of Jane Austen's works (quite close there), I would like to read all of the Sherlock Holmes books and stories, eventually. This book was just about perfect, and I'm sure reading the others will be time well spent.

Book #173: The Gunslinger

Book #173: The Gunslinger by Stephen King

March 14, 2015

Since the last couple of books I read were stinkers, in my opinion, I decided to return to a favorite author. The Gunslinger is the first of King's famous series, The Dark Tower, which took him over 30 years to complete. I read the "revised" version of this book, published like two decades after the original. From what I read from skimming the intro, King did this to make the book more cohesive with the rest of the series. Having only read this book, not the original or any of the following ones (yet), I can't judge how necessary it was.

This book presents more questions than answers, which is a good thing for starting off a series, I suppose. I know it makes me want to read more. The setting itself is a fascination and a mystery. It kinda seems like the Old West in some ways. Is it the very distant future? Another universe that has some loose connections to our own? 

Jake, a young boy who came from our time/place (NYC circa 1980 to be exact), is a mystery alone. Why was he meant to cross Roland's path? Why did he need to be "sacrificed"? I sincerely hope we find out more about Jake, and why the man in black killed him (twice!), or I'm going to be seriously pissed off.

What happened to Roland's home town? What happened to his world in general? What's up with the "muties"? Why is Roland seeking the Dark Tower? Like I said, so many fucking questions and not enough answers. If a writer without King's skill tried to pull this, there would be a lot of confused, frustrated readers, who would not pick up the next book at all. 

King crosses a lot of lines in this work: incest and child sex, lots and lots of violence, the forced abortion of a (false?) priestess. It wouldn't surprise me if this book were banned many times over. Roland's world is grotesque, but also fascinating. His childhood home sounds a bit like a futuristic Camelot, with brutal and high stakes for boys like young Roland who train for the honor of being gunslingers. Another question: what's the purpose of a gunslinger, anyway? 

I probably won't jump into the next book immediately. But if I read too many mediocre (or worse) books, I'll go for the next one. Only the first three or four are available through my library's eBook borrowing service, so I may make reading the whole series a mission for this summer.

Book #172: China Dolls

Book #172: China Dolls by Lisa See

March 10, 2015

This book caught my interest because it is a historical fiction novel about a topic that is, perhaps, a bit obscure: Asian-American entertainers of the 1940s. See researched it well, using real figures from San Francisco and New York during that time, and interviewing women who had been entertainers on the "Chop Suey Circuit." For all of that, though, I kind of hated this book. The characters are awful, and the plot is predictable, rushed, and stereotypical. 

The story revolves around three young women: Grace, Helen, and Ruby. The chapters change first person perspectives between the three. But I honestly didn't get a real feel for any of them. They were completely lacking in depth AT BEST, and Helen was the most bat-shit out of the three. Boo to these characters. If the story had stuck to one perspective (Ruby or Helen preferably), and a shorter span of time, we might have had something here.

I felt like the characters' actions and motivations were contradictory at times, to the point where I was like, what the fuck is he/she doing/talking about? Helen's father is one small example. See, he named his seven sons after U.S. presidents (Monroe, Jefferson, you get the idea), yet when he had the opportunity to become a U.S. citizen, he didn't take it. Why? I swear, See was just writing shit without a thought about consistency or continuity. This was quite a frustrating book.

The plot was shallow and stereotypical. Helen's two revelations about her past came up years after the fact, and seemed like lame attempts to add depth to the story. Urg. What's sad is, I feel like Helen had some serious mental issues, like PTSD had made her crazy, and that would have made for a much better story. Oh, and the fact that Grace marries a man who once punched her in the face and broke her ribs? What the very fuck? Losing his leg in the war would not have calmed him down. That was some stupid shit right there. 

Apparently, some readers who typically appreciate See's work dislike this particular book. Therefore, I may give her another chance sometime. But the more I think about it, the more I can't help feeling that this book was highly dissatisfying. 

Book #171: Story of O

Book #171: Story of O by Pauline Réage (translated by Sabine d'Estrée)

March 6, 2015

Okay, okay, okay. I more or less knew what I was getting into when I chose to read this book, considered a classic work of erotica (and French to boot). For a long time I've had a fascination with BDSM, but more as a fetish and not as a lifestyle. This book, about a very sexual young woman who is prompted by her boyfriend to become a slave, is pretty extreme. For being erotic, and French, I imagine that it definitely pushed boundaries when it was first published, which is probably why it's still known and read today. That's the only way I can explain it, because this book is only okay...and incomplete, too.

There are some disturbing elements here. It would be one thing if all participants were consenting adults. O is for sure, she chooses this lifestyle and comes to take pride in it, and bully for her. But there are at least a couple of references to teenage girls (I'm talking like 15-years-old) getting involved in sex with adults. Ummmm, that's not right. It's one thing when curious teens experiment with each other, but plain wrong for an experienced adult to take advantage of a young girl, even if she is willing. Sir Stephen, O's master, wants to take inexperienced Natalie to Roissy, a chateau where women are broken into this lifestyle. So yeah, disturbing.

Also, there's the fact that Sir Stephen and René (O's original boyfriend) want to force Jacqueline to submit to them and become a slave. That's rape, guys. That's not cool at all.

I did find O's feelings about her situation to be interesting. She first goes to Roissy to please René, though it doesn't seem like they've "played" very roughly before. At the beginning of the book, she's terrified at the thought of him leaving her. But when she's turned over to Sir Stephen, René's kinda-step brother, she comes to love her harsh new master and to view René as being almost...inadequate? As far as that goes, it seems perfectly natural. I might have enjoyed the book more if it were actually complete; some early French versions, apparently, featured some different endings, but the common theme is that Sir Stephen, one way or another, leaves his slave. She'd talked herself into the idea of him loving her...he even said so sometimes. But come on, love isn't built on that, and he essentially said as much their first time together.

Obviously this is a work of fantasy, based on the author's appreciation of the works of the Marquis de Sade, but the elaborate BDSM societies described were over the top. Like, all these people have nothing better to do all day than to participate in customs that reinforce dominance or submission, and to have sex. Get a fucking life, people. Had the story just been between the principle characters, and had cut out the Roissy and Samois shit, it would have been a lot less ridiculous, and I might have cared more about those main characters.

As far as the quality of the writing, it was again only okay. The most detail was put into the sex or torture scenes, obviously, and that's fine. But there are lots of other things happening: O's complicated feelings for Jacqueline, René and Sir Stephen's plot, O's overall change in perspective. And the reader is only really told these things, not shown...something that I really hate to see in a narrative. The scene changes at these times are super abrupt. With all of the detail and care put into the sex scenes, you'd think at least half as much could go into the rest of the story.

For the fact that this book is so famous (or perhaps infamous) and I've been curious to read it for quite some time, I'm glad that I picked it up. But if I'm looking for erotica, I can find better on the Internet.

Book #170: I Shall Be Near to You

Book #170: I Shall Be Near to You by Erin Lindsay McCabe

March 4, 2015

Today is an unprecedented triple entry day. I kind of set myself up for this yesterday, since it was a snow day. This particular book is a newer release, and while it wasn't super long, I breezed through McCabe's first publication. 

This book is based on the true stories of women who disguised themselves as men and fought in the Civil War. Rosetta did it for love. Prior to her man Jeremiah enlisting in the Union army, she got him to marry her so that, as she put it, he could leave her as a widow, not a spinster. Their first days together as man and wife are so sweet that it makes his departure all the more painful.

Now, Rosetta was always a tomboy. With no brothers, she helped her father on their rural New York farm. She and Jeremiah planned to get their own place in Nebraska and work it together when the war is done. But living on her in-laws' property, they expect her to be a proper farm wife. From her view, life isn't worth living without Jeremiah. And so, she cuts off her hair, puts on his clothes, and goes to join his regiment.

Jeremiah's feelings over Rosetta's presence are complicated. He's never embarrassed that she's not a proper lady; he is proud of her for being a fighter and for being stubborn. But his worry over her causes him to be angry at times, sometimes not sticking up for her when their friends from home give her shit. But they are able to be intimate in a way that would have been impossible without her deception.

Will, a new friend who comes to learn the truth about "Ross," is interesting. He's attracted to Rosetta when he thinks she's a man. Religious as he is, he expresses some guilt over his homosexuality, though not as much as you'd think. He and Rosetta become good friends, guarding each other's secrets. 

The ending to this story is not happy. I mean, we're talking about the Civil War here. First off, Jeremiah fucking dies. But in his wife's arms, and that alone justifies her actions. Oh yeah, and she's pregnant at this point. After coming clean to her captain (with the aid of his wife, who figured out Rosetta months before), she's allowed to accompany an injured friend, Sully, to D.C., and will undoubtedly make her way home from there. Her alter ego, Ross Stone, died in the same battle as Jeremiah Wakefield.

The voice of the first person narrator is what drove the story. At times plain spoken, at other times cryptic, it is what kept me reading a bit more than I intended to each day. Plus, this book just gave me the feels too much. I would be eager to read more by McCabe, and will be keeping an eye out for any future releases from this new author.

Book #169: Northanger Abbey

Book #169: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

March 4, 2015

I probably enjoyed this Austen work more than any other I've ever read. While it has the typical elements (misunderstandings, back-stabbing, love that overcomes obstacles), it has a bit more. The heroine of this story is Catherine Moreland, a girl of 17 who has just come out of her restless childhood days to blossom into a pleasing young lady. Her adventures begin when she accompanies her childless neighbors, the Allens, to Bath.

Catherine is great for a couple of reasons. First off, her naïvety makes her likeable to readers, who can "see" things that she can't, as unassuming and trusting as she is. But her best trait is her overactive imagination, which really comes to life during her stay at the title location. Her imaginings of conspiracy and murder, hidden messages, and the like (sparked by her love of gothic novels) gives the story a little something extra, and makes it a standout Austen work.

I like the object of her affection, Henry Tilney, as well. He's funny, and forms an attraction to young Catherine at their first meeting. Now, I was convinced that Henry's overbearing father, General Tlney, had designs on sweet Catherine for himself. I knew that the Thorpes' shit talking is what caused him to send her away so rudely from the Abbey (where he'd enthusiastically invited her to visit), but I thought he was jealous. It would have added a dimension to his character had this been the case. But alas, he had been under the impression that Catherine's family was wealthy, and had wanted the connection between her and Henry for that reason alone.

My two issues with the book are as follows. First off, there's never any explanation for why the Thorpes (and as a result, the General) thought that the Morelands were rich. Did silly Mrs. Allen say something of her friends, to exaggerate and show off? But it seems that John Thorpe already had this idea about James Moreland, his classmate at Oxford. Did James lie himself? I didn't get much of a feel for Catherine's brother. I thought it was weird that he was so close to a douche like John, but I definitely felt bad for him when Isabella Thorpe, first accepting his engagement, humiliated him by flirting with Henry's brother publicly when she learned of his modest circumstances. The Thorpes were the main troublemakers in the novel. Jerks.

My other issue is with the very beginning and very end of the book. Austen tells a lot here and shows us nothing, while the rest of the book is so well written. I didn't get into it until the third chapter, but then I was in. Then, the ending was so rushed and abrupt. And this was one of her later works (published after her death); I felt like Pride and Prejudice, for example, flowed much better at the beginning.

Otherwise, this book was excellent. At this point, there's only one Austen novel I have not read: Mansfield Park. While there are very common themes in all of the Austen novels, it is certainly not true to say that if you've read one Austen book, you've read them all. No way.

Book #168: The Hostile Hospital

Book #168: The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket

March 4, 2015

Book the Eighth of A Series of Unfortunate Events, and undoubtedly the best in the series at this point. I don't think I'll be able to express how much I enjoyed this one, but I'll try. First off, the cover itself is totally badass. Klaus is disguised as a doctor, surgical mask and all, holding a huge Bowie knife and looming over the reader, along with two of Olaf's creepy associates in similar disguises. Intrigue!

Secondly, this book has the Baudelaire children at their most desperate. They're on the run from everyone, as in the previous book they were falsely accused of being murderers. Almost caught, they join up with a group of moronic hippie singers called V.F.D...Volunteers Fighting Disease, who go to Heimlich Hospital to sing to patients and give them heart-shaped balloons. Now, obviously there is something to be said about the power of positive thinking (Patch Adams, anyone?), but the folks of V.F.D. sincerely believe that their methods are superior to modern medicine. The kids figure out pretty quickly that this is not the V.F.D. that they are looking for. 

The kids, desperate to hide, volunteer to help out in the records department. The records at Heimlich Hospital, for some reason, are a kind of catch-all for all kinds of files. There's even a file on the Baudelaires...unfortunately, it was confiscated so that it could be used to investigate the Baudelaire fire, or maybe other acts of arson committed by Olaf and his crew. There is a page that leads the kids to believe that one of their parents is still alive, but I'm pretty sure the survivor referred to is Lemony Snicket himself. 

As the kids find the cleaned out file, they are accosted by Esmé, who is in extra psycho mode in this book as she tries to murder them. Klaus and Sunny get away, but Violet falls into her clutches. The two younger Baudelaires must use Olaf's own methods against him and his associates, as they save Violet from having her fucking head cut off. In the end, they're still fugitives on the run, and they, like Olaf, want the missing file...and so they sneak into the truck of his car to follow his crew to their next destination. Oh, shit!

But besides the excitement and the clear break from the old pattern, the best thing about this book were the delightful literary references, which were obviously included for adult readers. Mrs. Dalloway is cited, as moody Clarissa is a patient at the hospital. And guess which author is name checked? Haruki Murakami! Say what??? These references blew my mindhole, and I'm sure that there were others that I missed. That's what really made this book for me.

I'm pretty enthused as I begin the ninth book. My teaching schedule will change a bit next term, so my reading time at work will get cut down a bit. But my goal is still to finish the series by the end of the school year.