As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales From the Making of the Princess Bride by Cary Elwes with Joe Layden

November 16, 2016 |

Do you need something happy and palate-cleansing to temporarily take your mind off the shithole that our country is descending into? Are you a fan of The Princess Bride? If your answer to both of those questions is yes, and I’m assuming it will be for most of our readers, allow me to recommend As You Wish, an excellent audiobook by Cary Elwes (with some help from Joe Layden) about the making of The Princess Bride, full of fun little stories and a huge heaping of love for everyone involved.

If you’re at all like me, it can be a bit of a bummer to learn that some of the actors or writers or creators involved in a piece of art you love actually hated each other. We want the actors to be as charming and kind as the characters they portray; we want their on-screen friendships to be mimicked behind the scenes. There’s nothing to fear about The Princess Bride in this regard – according to Elwes, Rob Reiner was the kindest of directors, Robin Wright was the most talented and beautiful of co-stars, and Andre the Giant’s stature matched his heart. In fact, everyone got along so well and the movie they made was so magical, many of them remember it as the best movie-making experience of their entire careers.

Elwes takes his listeners on a journey from the time he was cast as Westley to the movie’s release and the cast reunion 25 years later. Other actors and people involved voice their own parts as well, including Rob Reiner, William Goldman (referred to as Bill by Elwes), Robin Wright, Wallace Shawn, Billy Crystal (calling in by phone), Christopher Guest, and Chris Sarandon. Hearing this chorus of voices really does an excellent job of bringing the listener right back into the world of the movie, and I highly recommend you listen to this on audio because of it.

We learn that Elwes, on Andre the Giant’s urging, took Andre’s ATV out for an ill-advised spin and broke his toe, which is why you can see him limping a bit as he and Buttercup race into the Fire Swamp. There’s an amusing story about one of the stuntmen who portrayed a rodent of unusual size, and Wallace Shawn talks about his enduring fear that he could never measure up to Danny DeVito, whom the producers initially wanted for Vizzini (Reiner is quick to reassure us that Shawn was always the top pick and did a perfect job). Billy Crystal and Carol Kane’s improv skills are lauded, and Elwes talks about how difficult it was not to laugh while he was supposed to be mostly dead at Miracle Max’s. There’s nothing hugely revelatory in any of these little stories, and that’s kind of the point, I think. Everyone got along and they all remain friends. The film was a joy to make, and they produced something they’re proud of and that endures. Elwes portrays the film’s making as we all hoped it was: just like the film itself.

Audiobook Roundup

September 7, 2016 |

I’ve been going through audiobooks super fast. Here are a few recent ones.

Vanishing Girls by Lauren Oliver

I really enjoy Oliver’s writing, so even when a storyline doesn’t especially appeal to me, like this one, I figure I’ll mostly enjoy it anyway. Sisters Dara and Nicole (Nick) were close when they were young, but as they’ve grown into teenagers, their differing personalities (Dara is very outgoing, a bit of a rebel, while Nick is more reserved, the “good daughter”) cause friction. And then a terrible accident occurs, and Dara and Nick’s relationship is forever altered. Dara’s and Nick’s stories are told in alternating points of view, and that main plotline overlaps with another subplot about a younger girl who has vanished. There are a number of secrets each girl hides, and Oliver teases them out slowly, knowing just how to manipulate her readers’ emotions in skilled ways. There’s a major twist that I saw coming pretty early on in the book, but it was fun to listen and see just how Oliver made it work. Her writing is above average as always, and the audiobook narration is solid.

The Sin Eater’s Daughter by Melinda Salisbury

The concept of this book is so interesting: Twylla is the embodiment of a goddess and as such, she is able to eat poison every day and then kill with a single touch. She’s used by the Queen to execute traitors to the crown, a job Twylla despises. She’s engaged to the prince and while she feels trapped, she knows that her role as the goddess embodied is important. Then she gets a new guard, and he starts to make her question everything she’s been told. There is a bit of a typical love triangle here and the story isn’t especially fast-moving, but there are enough surprises and emotional reveals to keep a reader’s interest. So while I found the execution a little lacking, I wasn’t disappointed I invested time in it. The narration is good, at times it sounded like Emma Watson was reading the story (she was not).

An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

I have meaning to read this book in print form pretty much since it was published, but every time I picked it up, I just wasn’t in the mood for a long book. But I was almost 100% sure I would enjoy it, so I went the audio route. I’m glad I did: the narration is excellent (it’s told from two perspectives, one male and one female) and the story, while familiar, is engrossing. Laia belongs to the Scholar culture, a group of people who have been conquered by the Martials, and many of the Scholars are now slaves. When her brother is taken prisoner, accused of treason, she knows she must rescue him. She goes to the Scholar resistance, who agree to help break him out of the Martial prison if she will do something for them in return: go undercover as a slave, serving the cruel leader of the military academy where the other protagonist, Elias, currently trains unwillingly. Elias has his own story, and it soon converges with Laia’s. What sets this book apart are the setting and the quality of the writing. Laia’s and Elias’ world is based partly on ancient Rome, but there are also magical elements borrowed from Arabic culture. Many of the characters are non-white (such as Laia) and the world they inhabit lives and breathes, with interesting cultures and complicated politics. The story is always riveting, danger lurking around ever corner, and I was constantly rooting for both leads, even though their goals were often at odds. Highly recommended for fantasy fans.

The Dead House by Dawn Kurtagich

June 22, 2016 |

After reading Amy Lukavics’ excellent Daughters Unto Devils (Kelly has a brief review here), I was craving more good horror reads. I liked the concept of Dawn Kurtagich’s The Dead House, which is told in a found footage style via journal entries, video transcripts, therapy recordings, and other notes. The dead house of the title is a teenage girl’s mind, so this is not a haunted house story – rather, it’s a mishmash of psychological horror with a nice sprinkling of demonology and a dash of gore (just a couple scenes). I can’t watch horror movies because I’m sensitive to blood on the screen as well as the “make you jump” trick so many filmmakers pull, but I can handle most YA horror novels. I wouldn’t recommend this one to the more squeamish readers, but it’s not the most disturbing horror novel I’ve ever read either.

It centers around two identical twin sisters living in a single body – at least that’s how they describe it. Carly is awake during the day and Kaitlyn lives during the night. Their therapist, Dr. Lansing, has diagnosed them with dissociative identity disorder, frequently called multiple personality disorder, and says that Carly is the true personality and Kaitlyn is the alter. Dr. Lansing believes the split happened when Carly’s parents died in a horrible car accident as a way for Carly to cope with the trauma. But Kaitlyn has always been there, even before the accident, and there’s much more going on with the two girls than Dr. Lansing could imagine.

The story begins in a psychiatric facility and then moves to a boarding school that doubles as a transitional home for mentally ill teens who are re-acclimating to normal life. One of the first things we learn is that a terrible fire destroyed this school over ten years ago, and the students all claimed a girl named Kaitlyn Johnson was responsible – though no Kaitlyn Johnson was ever enrolled, of course. The rest of the book is a flashback leading up to those events. Most of the story is told via Kaitlyn’s diary, and through it we get a very intense look at this troubled teenager. It’s never clear to the reader whether Kaitlyn is “real” or not, as she insists, and as the story progresses, Kaitlyn herself even begins to doubt. When Carly’s personality disappears and Kaitlyn is conscious 24 hours of the day, Kaitlyn’s mental health deteriorates even further and she searches in desperation for any way to bring back her sister. It’s at this point that The Dead House really begins to blur the lines between psychological horror and supernatural horror.

Because we get such a close look at Kaitlyn’s mind, both through her diary entries as well as analysis from her doctor and others who come into contact with her, her hallucinations (or are they real?) and paranoia (is it paranoia if it’s true?) come across as exceptionally creepy. Carly’s best friend, Naida, eventually learns about Kaitlyn and tries to help bring Carly back – she’s fully on board with the idea of Carly and Kaitlyn inhabiting the same body. Naida’s methods involve black magic and she believes Kaitlyn is inhabited by a demon…which may or may not be true. Everything is moving along nicely, with a delicious creepiness, as bit by bit Kurtagich enhances the horror. The first truly gruesome scene involves someone cutting off their own tongue with a knife after a misguided exorcism-type attempt, and it’s at that point that readers will realize they’ve left the intro to horror far behind. From then on, it’s a bloodbath, with Kaitlyn driven to violence by the demons (or her own mind?) and eventually realizing an awful truth about someone she loves. Everything comes to a head the day of the fire, culminating in a violent, out of control conclusion that brings the story full circle.

By the end of the book, the reader is unsure whether Kaitlyn/Carly’s illness was responsible for what happened, or whether something supernatural actually had a hand in it. The answer is probably a little bit of both; it’s meant to be ambiguous and isn’t unsatisfying left so.

Kurtagich’s debut novel is ambitious and succeeds on many levels: as a character study of a fascinating and troubled teenage girl; as a horror novel that may keep you up at night; as an interesting way to tell a complicated story. I thought the supernatural aspects were a little weak; the mythology behind it was somewhat muddled and I found Kaitlyn’s mind much more interesting. But for the most part, the elements all work together in harmony. The creativity on display is impressive. I listened to this on audio, and Charlotte Parry, who reads Kaitlyn’s parts, does such a good job of bringing Kaitlyn to life. She draws sympathy even as she terrifies. Highly recommended for horror fans.

The Passion of Dolssa by Julie Berry

May 25, 2016 |

I described Julie Berry’s newest, The Passion of Dolssa, as “a slow burn of a book” on Goodreads. I wasn’t fully engaged initially, but by the end, I was totally immersed, and I can’t put my finger on exactly when that happened – it just happened slowly, over the course of this multilayered, character-driven, wholly unique novel.

It’s 1241 in Provensa (now called Provence, an area in France), and the people are still reeling from the Albigensian Crusade, one of those crusades ordered by the Pope where people killed their own countrymen in the name of God. It was a way to not only cleanse the area of heretics, but also to seize land and grow wealth (which Berry and her characters point out was often the true goal). The Albigensian Crusade ended in 1229, but “heretics” are still burned and the people still live in fear.

Into this fraught environment comes Dolssa, a gentlewoman and mystic who has a personal, almost romantic relationship with Jesus, whom she called her beloved. She’s a teenager who speaks frequently of her beloved to those around her. She’s revered by those who receive her message, and she’s believed to have worked miracles. She eventually catches the attention of church leadership, who aren’t about to allow a woman to hold such religious power. Dolssa is labeled a heretic and sentenced to death, along with her mother. Her mother dies, but Dolssa escapes (thanks to what she believes is the assistance of her beloved) to the town of Bajas in Provensa, where she’s taken in and protected by Botille and her two sisters, who run a pub.

Most of the story is told from Botille’s perspective, though we also get large sections from Dolssa and the obsessed friar pursuing her. There are also occasional snippets from people the friar interviews along the way. The whole book is a frame story, bookended by another friar who is reading about the incident (the story is meant to be the testimony of Botille and the other characters) and feels uneasy about it. Tacked on to the end is a note from the “author,” a modern-day scholar who claims to have found these papers and assembled them; she adds an epilogue that is haunting and will give you chills.

When I read about a book that people describe as “character-driven,” I often find that it’s code for “plotless” and therefore boring. Not so in this case. These people are fascinating and funny and I would love to be friends with so many of them. Botille’s voice is a treat. I listened to the audio version, so I mean that in two ways (Jayne Entwhistle reads Botille’s sections). She’s snarky and hands out as much shit as she’s given (and as a young woman in 13th century France, she’s given a lot). She’s a loyal friend and sister, always does what she thinks is right, and works hard. She’s an entrepreneur too – a lot of the humor in the story is derived from her matchmaking, which she makes a good amount of money from. And she’s good at it! She has a knack for knowing whose personalities will match in the long run, despite her tender years. She loves without judgment, too, most notably her drunk stepfather (her mother died some time ago) who can’t take care of himself or any of the girls but is seen as no less of a person worthy of care. His speech near the end of the book is one of the most moving – you might cry. In fact, there’s remarkably little judgment on the part of most of the characters in Bajas, who are fiercely religious and rally to protect Dolssa when it becomes clear that she does miraculous things and is being hunted because of it.

At times, the book has a magical realism feel, but I wouldn’t categorize it as such, nor would I call it religious fiction. The miracles that Dolssa performs are viewed in the context of the characters, who completely believe that she can do wondrous things – and Dolssa herself believes she can as well, working through her beloved, and that she has an obligation to do so. Berry writes about these miracles in such a way that the reader is free to decide if Jesus intervened or did not – and ultimately, it doesn’t matter what the reader decides. What matters is that the characters believe it, and that’s what propels the story.

Berry sprinkles her novel with lots of Old Provencal, the language spoken by her characters. It’s a little jarring to hear at first. To me it sounded like the audiobook narrator was badly butchering French words. But that’s not the case at all, and the meanings of the words are obvious in context (and probably faster to pick up in print). It’s just another way that Berry adds a feeling of authenticity to her story, making the reader feel as if she’s fallen into another time and place entirely.

Often when I read historical fiction, I find that books fall into one of two camps: the language and behavior of the characters has been modernized so much that they no longer feel historical; or the language and behavior feel so alien that it’s impossible to really understand the characters and their motivations. There’s a fine line that must be walked, and Berry is a master of it here. The beliefs of the people in Provensa, and Dolssa’s beliefs in particular, are not modern. Yet Berry does such a good job of getting us inside their heads that we understand these beliefs and how they lead to actions that we would never take ourselves in our 21st century context. These characters feel like inhabitants of another world, but they also feel immediate and real.

Berry’s author’s note at the end is a must-read, but it won’t completely quench your thirst for more. This is one of those novels where I immediately went to the internet to read more about this time and place, and I’m still curious and thinking about it weeks later. I feel as if my knowledge of real people who lived then has been expanded, and that my understanding of humankind in general has been enhanced as well.

I always yearned for more medieval-era historical fiction when I was a teen, in the vein of Catherine Called Birdy but for older readers. Not that this is a readalike (the tone and subject matter are very different), but teens who want to read more about the Middle Ages after having their interest piqued by Birdy and others should definitely seek this out. It’s also a great pick for historical fiction fans tired of the same eras being written about over and over again (World War II, the Renaissance), and for any thoughtful teen who wants to fall completely into another time, place, and way of life.

Audiobook Roundup

February 17, 2016 |

George by Alex Gino

Jamie Clayton narrates Alex Gino’s debut children’s book about a girl who everyone thinks is a boy. George – or Melissa, as she’d prefer to be called – really wants to play the part of Charlotte in her school’s production of Charlotte’s Web, but she doesn’t know how her teacher or the other students would react. Luckily, her best friend is supportive (though not initially understanding that Melissa is trans), and there is a happy ending for Melissa. This is a gentle story about a trans child that also doesn’t shy away from some of the unpleasantness associated with being trans – Melissa experiences gendered insults, bullying, an insensitive teacher, and a mother who is open to a lot of things but not that thing (at least at first). This book single-handedly attempts to fill a giant hole in kidlit – books for elementary age kids about trans kids – and it does so wonderfully. Told in third person through the perspective of Melissa, George provides both both a mirror for trans kids like her and a window for cis children. Clayton, herself a trans actress most recently known for her work in the Netflix series Sensate, does a fantastic job narrating with sensitivity and bringing Melissa to life. I was crying at the end and you probably will be, too.

The Winner’s Crime by Marie Rutkoski

Justine Eyre narrates one of my favorite audiobooks of all time (Never Judge a Lady By Her Cover by Sarah MacLean), so when I saw she did this production of The Winner’s Crime, I knew I had to read it on audio. The Winner’s Curse was pretty much my number one book of 2013 and it took me way too long to get around to its sequel. I knew it would tear my heart into a million pieces – and that is just what it did. Arin and Kestrel are separated for much of this book, both not saying what they really should say to each other either because they want to keep the other safe or because someone is always listening, always watching. Kestrel is being paraded about as the soon-to-be consort to the next emperor, and Arin is kept occupied as governor of Herran. Both know that the treaty Kestrel arranged by her betrothal is tenuous at best, and there’s a lot going on behind the scenes. Misunderstandings are rife and romantic tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Eyre evokes real fear during some really tense scenes, particularly with Kestrel, and the cliffhanger ending made me salivate for the next book. This is no second book in a trilogy slump. Eyre’s narration is good, but she invented an accent for the Valorians that seems inconsistent and grating; it sounds invented, which the best fake accents shouldn’t do. The rest of the narration is top-notch.

Sold by Patricia McCormick

Justine Eyre also narrates Patricia McCormick’s National Book award finalist about a 13 year old Nepalese girl named Lakshmi sold into sex slavery in India. Normally I don’t read books like this. Much of my reading as an adult focuses on pleasanter topics with happy endings, but I saw that Eyre narrated it, and it was short, and it was a National Book Award finalist. It’s a hard, extremely well-written novel written in first person free verse vignettes from Lakshmi’s perspective. What happens to Lakshmi is made explicit, though McCormick doesn’t linger on details. It’s a heartbreaking book made more wrenching by Lakshmi’s extreme naivete; she didn’t even know prostitution or sex slavery existed until they were forced upon her. Once she discovers that she’ll need to make enough money by sleeping with enough men to buy herself out of the brothel-owner’s debt, she starts keeping careful tally of what she earns. It’s only when she presents these figures to this woman many months down the road that she learns there really is no way out. Her debt will only grow, no matter how much she earns. Still, the book does end on a note of hope. I love Eyre’s narration in general, and she does a good accent to my ear (I haven’t heard a lot of Nepalese people speak), but I do wonder that a Nepalese narrator wasn’t chosen.