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books

Three Mini-Reviews

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The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern

While reading The Night Circus, I felt like I was the only one to not quite understand the immense hype that has surrounded this novel since way before its publication. Revolving around a mystical circus that appears without warning and features stunning beautiful attractions, strange illusions, and compelling players, The Night Circus also features the battle between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been groomed for this showdown since youth and gradually fall in love with one another.

However, one thing I realized while reading is that for me to fall in love with a book, I need a gripping, well-developed plot and three-dimensional, deep characters. The Night Circus had neither. While the writing in this was utterly beautiful and the descriptions deep and luscious, it felt like Morgenstern relied too much upon descriptions, to the neglect of plot and characters. And while there was a central ‘competition’ that this book revolved around, it really didn’t feel that gripping to me and I never quite felt the intensity of the stakes, partially because of the shallow characters. The characters, especially Celia and Marco themselves, never felt well-developed. While I did get plenty of descriptions of the characters’ appearances and clothing, the characters themselves were all just cardboard cutouts, with not a lot of emotional depth. Other readers (in fact, most people) seem to adore this book, however, so those in the mood for lush descriptions and an atmosphere you can fall into should not hesitate to pick it up.

Book purchased.

The Daughters Join the Party, by Joanna Philbin.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this series thus far, which follows three daughters of celebrities as they go about their lives in New York City and seek to establish their own identities apart from their famous parents. There was Lizzie, who became a model in the shadow of her own supermodel mother; Carina, who sought to escape from her media conglomerate father’s influence; and Hudson, who tried to achieve a solo singing career in a style much different than her pop diva mother Holla (shades of Madonna). Each of the previous three novels wasn’t anything heavy or substantial, but they were cute, and portrayed issues that, beyond the trappings of wealth and privilege, girls could relate to.

This book, the fourth in the series, just seemed tacked on to me and really didn’t seem to fit with the other three, as it introduced another character entirely, one who hadn’t even been in the series beforehand. I understand that in high school, students make new friends, but why add another character to this group of best friends if the new girl, Emma Conway, the daughter of an aspiring presidential candidate, doesn’t really even interact with the original three at all? The plot’s conclusion also just seemed too rushed and easily wrapped up to me, especially the subplot regarding Emma’s brother. Fans of the series will still enjoy this book, however, especially with the appearances from the original Daughters and Philbin’s light, breezy tone. I can see fans of The Mother-Daughter Bookclub and the Gallagher Girls books enjoying this tone particularly.

Copy generously provided by publisher.

Just Your Average Princess, by Kristina Springer
Jamie Edwards loves working at her family’s pumpkin patch. Especially during the fall season, it’s the place to be in her small town of Average, Illinois, where there’s not much to do but cruise the strip at night. She feels needed there, loves the people in her community, and also, and most importantly, it’s where her longtime crush Danny works. But when her cousin Milan, the famous daughter of two Hollywood celebrities, comes to visit, Jamie is shocked that they’re not as close as she had anticipated they’d be. Milan turns down her nose at everything in town–the people, the patch, even Jamie herself. And even worse than Danny being seemingly attracted to Milan is Milan’s announcement that she is planning to run for Pumpkin Princess, the town pageant that Jamie has been dreaming of winning since she was a little girl!

I really enjoy Kristina Springer’s writing style: The Espressologist, her debut novel, was one of my favorite little-known books that I read last year, and Just Your Average Princess has the same endearing, adorable atmosphere pervading it. There aren’t any serious issues in this book, so it is fairly light, but to the characters, their problems still feel important. However, to me, this novel took that adorable atmosphere a bit too far, as Jamie came off as a bit of a goody-goody. I understand that there are some people who truly enjoy their towns and genuinely enjoy helping out at home, but the level of outrage that Jamie felt when Milan didn’t meet her “standards,” especially when it came to issues of food, was a bit over the top. Jamie didn’t feel realistic and wholesome, she just came off as judgmental. Additionally, the novel’s conclusion and reconciliation seemed way too sudden for me–there really weren’t any clues about what spearheaded it, so the characters’ changes of emotion really had no weight behind them. On the whole though, I did enjoy this light, quick read, and it will definitely find its place on the shelves.

Copy borrowed from my library.

Silent in the Sanctuary & Silent on the Moor by Deanna Raybourn

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I enjoyed Silent in the Grave so much, I promptly picked up its sequel, Silent in the Sanctuary, and devoured it within a couple of days. Lady Julia has taken a holiday with some of her family in Italy to recover from her husband’s murder, but she is called back to England early by her father. With her comes a young Italian man who seems to be quite taken with her. To Julia’s surprise, her father has invited Brisbane to stay at the family estate, and he has brought a fiancee.
The gathering at the estate is actually quite large, including several of Julia’s siblings, a couple cousins, a few friends, and a frightful aunt (of course). Several of the guests dislike one another (hilarious conversations are had due to this) and soon, a murder occurs. To everyone’s surprise, Julia’s cousin confesses, but Julia and Brisbane are unconvinced she is guilty. Naturally, they team up to uncover the truth.
I really enjoyed getting to know more of Julia’s immediate family. Their personalities are as colorful as their names (examples: Eglamore and Lysander), and they provide subplots that are nearly as interesting as the main mystery. Speaking of subplots, the best one here is Brisbane’s fiancee. Does he really love her? What about Julia? The explanation is interesting and surprising.
In Silent on the Moor, Brisbane has bought a property on the moor in Yorkshire and invited Julia’s sister, Portia, to stay to help him settle in. Despite the fact that he has explicitly told Julia not to come, she does, and there she finds that Brisbane is sharing the house with a strange family. The family has secrets to rival Brisbane’s, and Julia becomes caught up in both.
Silent on the Moor was a bit of a disappointment. In this third installment, Raybourn makes a pretty big shift in tone as well as plot. While the first two books had juicy, interesting mysteries as their centerpieces, Silent on the Moor forgoes a strong mystery entirely. In its place is a spooky tone and a few strange happenings that never add up to a true whodunnit. I read page after page, waiting for the mystery to present itself, and it never did.
Instead, Raybourn focuses on Brisbane’s tortured past and Lady Julia’s attempts to figure out if he wants her or not (and if she wants him or not), all set on the moody moor that Brisbane calls home. Those parts are interesting, but they’re not enough to sustain an entire novel. The style is very reminiscent of Wuthering Heights, a classic novel I don’t particularly care for. The main reason I dislike it is because the characters are so unlikeable, and Raybourn comes dangerously close to doing the same thing with Brisbane here. Raybourn’s trademark humor is also almost entirely missing, including the witty repartee between the two leads. Instead, they mope.
Will this less than stellar installment prevent me from reading the rest of the series? Probably not. I fell in love with the characters in the first two novels, and the end of the third seems to indicate a shift back to what I loved there. I can’t really fault an author for trying something a little different, maybe a little ambitious. It certainly worked for other readers. As for me, I’ll be glad to get back to Lady Julia and Brisbane exchanging barbs while getting into far too much trouble solving crimes.

I Am Half Sick of Shadows by Alan Bradley

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In order to save Buckshaw, the de Luce family home, Flavia de Luce’s father, the perennially broke Haviland de Luce, has agreed to host a movie filming. The production company was looking for a grand but somewhat gloomy home, and Buckshaw fit the bill. The film crew arrives for the holidays, and with it comes Phyllis Wyvern, the beautiful star of stage and screen. Flavia is at once enchanted, but it quickly becomes clear that the other members of the crew may not be so taken with the famous diva. Naturally, Phyllis winds up dead, and Flavia takes it upon herself to determine the culprit.
I’m a big fan of the Flavia de Luce novels. She’s got one of the best voices I’ve read in a protagonist lately, and the ancillary characters are well drawn. Flavia’s relationships with her family members (both immediate and extended) are written particularly well, and they’re expanded upon with each novel, which gives the series a cohesive feel. While each mystery can stand alone, the relationships build upon each other.
The mysteries themselves are generally good, but I was a bit let down by this most recent one. Firstly, it seems pretty similar in concept to one of its predecessors, The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag. In both, a famous entertainer comes to stay at Bishop’s Lacey and ends up murdered. But while the mystery in Hangman’s Bag is multi-layered with interesting subplots and red herrings, the mystery in Flavia’s most recent adventure is pretty simplistic with almost no subplots and a solution that’s puzzling due to the lack of clues.
This is not to say the book is bad. I certainly enjoyed it quite a lot, but it seemed a bit like Bradley chopped out about 75 pages somewhere 2/3 of the way through. In that missing section, he would have included more clues that eventually led the reader to the culprit as well as explanations of the red herrings he introduced and then dropped.
I get so frustrated when an author seems to just drop a storyline, however small, with no explanation. There’s nothing wrong with a continuing arc for series books, but when the mystery is supposed to be wrapped up in a single installment, I expect all clues to be explained. I also expect to be able to re-read the book and pick up on clues I may have missed before. That’s almost impossible here – I’m still a bit befuddled at how Flavia figured it all out.
Flavia’s voice is as good as ever, of course, and the family drama aspect continues to shine. I still motored through the book in under 24 hours and I’ll be eagerly awaiting the next. Part of the problem is I have rather high expectations, so when they aren’t met, it’s more disappointing.
Book borrowed from my local library. I Am Half Sick of Shadows is available now.

Making an Exit by Sarah Murray

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It’s been a while since I’ve talked about a non-fiction book, and admittedly, it’s because little has struck my interest lately. I’m not a huge memoir reader, and I’m not a reader of celebrity biographies, and it seems to me that’s where a lot of the push has been lately. I’ve found fewer of the sorts of things that work well for me. But when I stumbled upon Sarah Murray’s Making an Exit, I knew I stumbled upon something that was right up my alley.

Murray’s book is an exploration of a topic most people don’t like to talk about: death. But it’s not a grim book by any means. Rather, it’s a book about the different means of celebrating or mourning the deceased that span the globe. This aspect of the book is paired with a small narrative thread that talks through the experience of Murray losing her father. Her father — who she refers to only as Fa throughout — was not a religious man, and he believed heavily in the idea that the physical body was merely “organic manner,” an idea that emerges over and over throughout the book. So for Murray, the burial aspect of his death is really quite absent, and it’s the precise reason she finds herself curious how other cultures approach grief and loss.

The two lines of the book don’t get overwhelming, and more specifically, the secondary thread about the loss of Fa is small enough that it never detracts from the greater purpose of Murray’s book. It’s rather a means of comparison and discussion, and it works as breathing room after reading about some of the heavier methods other cultures have in burial rituals. Moreover, what works so well in this book is that the chapters are not dependent upon one another, and I bring this up because it’s an important reason why this book worked for me — I love non-fiction, but sometimes, I am not always interested in the entire book. If I can skip around and not feel I’m missing out, it gives the book that much more power. That’s not to say there’s not merit in non-fiction that builds upon itself, but rather to say, a book like this one is strong because it doesn’t employ that tactic. Reading this never felt like work. Though this isn’t a fast paced book by any means, the set up permits readers to go at it leisurely. It’s the kind of book you can pick up and put down for periods of time without missing out on anything.

Perhaps most importantly, this book is never morbid. Where it could have tread that world, it didn’t. Murray skillfully explores without exploiting either the topic nor the reader.

The more interesting rituals I found included, first and foremost, the tradition in Ghana for the dead to be buried in elaborate coffins. That means instead of thinking about death like we do in America, which involves somewhat stuffy and standard coffins, Ghana tradition allows people to decide what sort of bright, elaborate or symbolic coffin they’d like to be buried in. We’re shown this in a picture at the start of the chapter, where there is a coffin made in the shape of an airplane. Murray commissions one of the top coffin makers in the country to build her a coffin in the shape of the Empire State Building. While she muses about how many could think this a strange piece of furniture to store in her living room in New York, she offers a lot of interesting insight into the idea that Ghanaians are celebrating life in death through these cheerful caskets.

Easily, the most engaging chapter for me was the one set in the Czech Republic and looked at the tradition of the ossuary. If that’s an unfamiliar term, I suppose the image might be helpful a bit — an ossuary is a cathedral of bones. The idea has always fascinated me, but I’ve never quite thought about why these things exist. Murray though has, and it turns out these were developed out of necessity of space. Centuries ago, space in burial grounds was at a premium, and rather than bury the dead as whole, it made more sense for bodies to be separated bone from flesh. The decomposition of flesh is quicker than bone, and it was easier to bury flesh, as it’s smaller than bone. The bones were put into these “cathedrals,” and the reason sometimes they’re not whole but instead are in interesting or unique displays had to do with the person in charge. It makes sense that when you’re surrounded by death, sometimes you have to have a sense of humor, right? I could have easily read an entire book on this topic because Murray approached it in such an engaging manner.

Other chapters that stuck out to me included the one about Mexico’s Day of the Dead — perhaps what struck me most about this was less the topic at hand and more the complete fascination with which Murray approaches it. I’m quite familiar with the rituals of this day, but Murray herself was unfamiliar, and the curiosity in her writing and exploration was simply fun to read. There is a respect in her tone that resonated with me as a reader, and it strengthened my trust in everything she was doing. This is the sort of experience I desire when reading a non-fiction book because it’s key to what makes the book work. If I don’t trust the authority, I can’t trust the book. Reading Making an Exit reminded me a lot of my experience in reading Eric Weiner’s The Geography of Bliss — there is a balance of respect and curiosity in the topic, and never once does the reader feel cheated or belittled in the process. These two books have an interesting conversation with one another, as both explore a heavy topic through a cross-cultural lens.

My only complaint about the book is the photography: there are black and white photos that open each chapter, and they relate to something of the ritual in the country in which the chapter’s set. However, the photos are small and only in black and white, and I found them to sort of be a lost opportunity, especially in the chapter about Ghana. I would have loved seeing the full color image, and more photos throughout would have made this book just that much stronger.

Hand this book off to readers of non-fiction, those interested in other cultures, and those who love reading about social rituals. As I mentioned earlier, it’s not at all a morbid book, despite the topic at hand, and I would have no problem handing this off to teen readers of non-fiction, even though it’s technically an adult non-fiction publication. It’s the kind of book I would have devoured in my teens, and because of the set up, it keeps the readers interested by allowing them to cherry pick what they want to read (and also has a payoff for those who read cover to cover).

Making an Exit is available now. Review copy received from the publisher.

Texas Book Festival 2011

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I wrote about my experience at the Texas Book Festival last year, and I was fortunate enough to be able to attend this year as well. The weather was almost perfect – slightly cloudy, a little breezy, and only too hot when you couldn’t find shade. The House and Senate chambers were open once again (a plus), although security gates and guards were still placed at each of the four entrances. The security lines at some points during the day were so long they stretched outside, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. I really do miss being able to walk right into the Capitol building (my favorite building, as I mentioned before).
Despite that, this year’s experience was rich and rewarding. Here’s some highlights.
Saturday
I started the day off with a nerd panel: The Secret Life of Pronouns with James Pennebaker in the Capitol Extension. Pennebaker is a psychologist who became drawn to how people’s use of pronouns relates to their personalities. A few interesting tidbits: women tend to use “I” more frequently than men; men tend to use “we” more frequently than women; the more frequently a politician uses the word “we,” the less well-regarded he is by voters, and conversely, the more frequently a politician uses the word “I,” the more well-regarded he is. He also gave us some analysis of Barack Obama’s speaking style, and I’ll never listen to him speak in the same way again.
Next up was “Playing With Your Fiction” with Meg Wolitzer and Louis Sachar. I got to nerd out a little since Wolitzer’s book, The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman, is about a kid who goes to a Scrabble competition, and typically, I’m a big Scrabble fan. There were a few interesting moments, but overall I felt this session lacked the energy and interest that I expected. Sachar was there to speak about The Cardturner, but the kids in the audience only wanted to talk about Holes. Something I did appreciate about this session was each author had a chance to read an excerpt from the book, and Sachar did somehow find a way to make the game of Bridge interesting. Both Sachar and Wolitzer said they don’t read kids’ books, which I found very surprising (and a little disappointing).
We got some lunch and wandered the tents before heading to hear Jay Asher, Ellen Hopkins, David Levithan, and Jessica Lee Anderson talk about book challenges. The most interesting parts of this panel were the stories of the author’s first or most memorable book challenges. David Levithan shared the time when people showed up at a library he was speaking at to protest Boy Meets Boy with picket signs and everything. Most of the conversation was preaching to the choir, but the four authors had great camaraderie and were cracking jokes, so it was lots of fun. 
The last author session of the day that I chose to attend was Gabrielle Hamilton’s Blood, Bones and Butter. Luckily, my boyfriend Matthew had read the book and filled me on its contents, because otherwise I would have been totally lost. The moderator did not address what the book was about and conducted the session as if the audience had already it. It mostly just confused everyone. That said, Hamilton was a good speaker and had some interesting thoughts to share about food television (“Won’t you come to my restaurant even if I’m not on tv?”).
I had planned on going to the Texas State Cemetery to hear all of the festival’s YA authors talk about their books at 9 PM, but instead I chose to head home, eat Chinese food, and have a drink. I’m sure it was an awesome session, but I’m an old woman at heart and the prospect of a 45 minute program just wasn’t enough to get me out of the house (and make the 60+ minute drive) again.
Sunday
Sunday started off with a fantastic session with Newbery winners Rebecca Stead and Kate DiCamillo. Stead shared that she got the idea for the time-travel aspect of When You Reach Me from a story in the New York Times about a man with amnesia. She also mentioned that DiCamillo’s books were part of her inspiration for writing for kids. As in all the best sessions, there was a lot of laughter. DiCamillo loved the spotlight, and the moderator actually ended the session by saying, “I’d like to thank our moderator, Kate DiCamillo.”
Next up was a panel with four fantasy/science fiction writers for adults: Charles Yu, Thomas Mullen, Erin Morgenstern, and Lev Grossman. The TBF likes to give themes to their panels, and the theme for this one was the tension between literary fiction and genre fiction. The four panelists were all pretty cool with being called genre writers, so the theme felt a little forced. The lack of pretension was refreshing. Lev Grossman is a huge Harry Potter fan and actually mentioned how he did not in any way intend his book to be a critique of Rowling’s. Also, two of the panelists wrote books about time travel. Awesome.
We headed back down to the Extension to see Kenneth Oppel speak. He read a little bit from This Dark Endeavor (it made me want to finally start my copy) and shared how his first book was published at age 18. Evidently he had been writing a book – like a lot of teenagers do – without any real intention of publishing it. A friend of his family’s knew Roald Dahl and decided to show Oppel’s book to him. Dahl liked it, the book got an agent, then it got a publisher, and thus began Oppel’s career. He actually refused to tell the audience what the title was, but Wikipedia tells me it’s probably Colin’s Fantastic Video Adventure. The funny thing about this tidbit is that he only told the audience this story after being prompted by a stupid question (yes, they do exist). A man had walked in about half an hour late and started his question with, “So this is your first book?” Oppel’s reply: “No, it’s my 27th, but close.” 
I’m actually really disappointed by how sparsely attended Oppel’s session was – the man came all the way down from Canada, after all. He was a great speaker and his books are popular with kids as well as being critically acclaimed. I think it was because he was relegated to late Sunday afternoon, a dead zone for TBF. 
We closed out our TBF experience with some Amy’s ice cream and a talk by Dava Sobel, author of A More Perfect Heaven, in the House Chamber. She talked about Copernicus’ life and her research, as well as her visit to Poland to see the original handwritten manuscript of De revolutionibus. Evidently very few people get to see it in person, but she was allowed, and she told the audience of how she looked at the page where a hole had been made in the paper because the writer had used a compass to draw several concentric circles. It’s just the detail book nerds love.
Final Thoughts
Overall, I was pleased with the quality of the audience’s questions. Many times, audience members get up to speak and instead of asking an interesting question, they relate a personal story, make a statement about the author’s books, ask a question that was already answered in the presentation, or are simply incoherent. The audience this time did themselves proud, with the notable exception of the man in Kenneth Oppel’s session.
I noticed that this year’s festival seemed to attract fewer people, despite the beautiful weather and big-name authors. It was probably due to the record number of festivals going on that weekend in Austin (I think there were at least five in addition to the TBF). Still, many of the sessions were packed and the tents were full of book-buyers. I’ll definitely be heading back next year.