STACKED

books

Once Upon a Time in the North, by Philip Pullman

|

I’ve mentioned before how much I love Philip Pullman and his trilogy His Dark Materials, so it comes as no surprise that I went into reading Once Upon a Time in the North knowing that I would love it. A few years ago, Pullman published a little red volume called Lyra’s Oxford, a companion to the trilogy that told a short story about Lyra set a few years after the events of the last book took place. Once Upon a Time in the North is a similar companion book, a little blue volume that tells a sort of prequel to the famous trilogy, focusing upon Lee Scoresby (the aeronaut from the country of Texas – Mr. Pullman knows how to flatter us Texans!) and how he came to befriend the great armored bear, Iorek Byrnison. The story is essentially an adventure tale about a corrupt politician, a greedy oilman, a seedy bar, a few hired killers, two pretty but very different ladies, and the cowboy who gets embroiled in it all. It has a distinctive Old West flavor (despite being set in the far, frigid North) and is written with the considerable level of skill I’ve come to expect from Pullman. This book is a treat for fans of His Dark Materials, who finally get to see how two of the most pivotal characters met each other. It’s also heartwrenching at one point, when Pullman makes reference to an event that will happen much, much later.

The story is only about a hundred pages, so naturally it left me wanting more. Still, it was a good way to tide me over until The Book of Dust is published (hopefully sometime before I die), and I’ve read there will be a third little green volume that tells Will’s story.

While I love audiobooks, listening to these books on CD would be unconscionable. Once Upon a Time in the North is a beautifully-made book, and it’s chock full of “extras” that require hands-on reading. Aside from the short story, the reader is also treated to two letters from Lyra concerning her doctoral dissertation, snippets from a manual on aeronautics, beautiful woodcuts by John Lawrence, and an honest-to-goodness board game in a pocket at the back, which I am going to coerce someone to play with me very soon. It has thick, high-quality paper and is all wrapped up in a beautiful cloth cover. It’s a perfect complement to Lyra’s Oxford, which contains similar extras, including woodcuts by Lawrence and a postcard from Mary Malone. Instead of a board game, the story about Lyra features a beautiful fold-out map of the alternate universe Oxford in which Lyra lives (pictured to the right). I have always loved the tactile feel of a book, but these volumes take my love to another level.

I’m interested to see how libraries deal with books such as these. At the library where I work, the copy of Lyra’s Oxford includes the fold-out map, but the copy of Once Upon a Time in the North does not include the board game. My local library, on the other hand, retains the board game as well as the map for patrons. I haven’t been able to get my hands on the library copy, so I don’t know if all the pieces in the game are still there or if the map has been torn.

I’ve always loved the extras that books sometimes have. When I was very into epic fantasy as a teenager, I’d pick the book with the map on the endpages over the book without the map every time. I especially loved it when the author’s world was so intricate and detailed, it merited a glossary at the back. Is there a particular book you’ve read where the extras really enhanced your enjoyment? How does your library handle books with easily torn components or parts that are easily stolen/lost?

Unreliable Narrators

|

I started listening to the next Amelia Peabody book – The Hippopotamus Pool – a few days ago. It started out a little differently than the previous books. Instead of Amelia diving right in to the narrative without much preamble, the “editor” of Mrs. Amelia Peabody Emerson’s personal diaries sprinkled her own commentary via footnotes throughout a rather lengthy introduction by Mrs. Emerson herself that recounted the major events of the previous books. It served a dual purpose: catch the reader (or listener, as in my case) up to speed on the pertinent events of the previous books that would impact the events of the current one, and make us laugh. Take this passage:

Text: “The date of my birth is irrelevant. I did not truly exist until 1884, when I was in my late twenties.”

Footnote: “This is not consistent with other sources. However, the editors were of the opinion it would be discourteous to question a lady’s word.”

The “other source” the editor refers to is in fact the first novel in the series, when Miss Peabody tells her readers that she is thirty-two years old in 1884. The editor points out other inconsistencies throughout the introduction, and they all made me grin. While I love Amelia all the more for it, it also made me wonder…exactly how much should I take her at her word? Is her dashing husband really all that dashing, or is he only dashing when seen through her eyes? (Isn’t the latter much more romantic anyway?) It helps that the editor is voiced by Davina Porter, who is one of my top five favorite audiobook narrators.

A few other famous unreliable narrators include Dr. Sheppard from Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and Briony Tallis from Ian McEwan’s Atonement. I have varying levels of tolerance and appreciation for stories with unreliable – or outright dishonest – narrators, and it depends on the purpose of the character being written in such a way. With Amelia, it’s done for comedic effect, and I love it. In Atonement, it seems as if Ian McEwan did it to make me cry (it worked). Oh, and to bring up all those fancy meta-fiction issues while he’s at it. I thought it was brilliant, and it helped lessen my antagonistic feelings toward Briony. (I also thought the movie adaptation was just as good as the book, a quality that is very rare.) I can just imagine Dame Agatha patting herself on the back and grinning slyly when she first devised the events of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. I’m still undecided on whether I believe what she did was a genius move or a dirty cheat. Then again, it can be argued that fiction needs to be related by a less than honest narrator in order for the fiction to be honest at all, another one of those true oxymorons.

If you’re interested in reading books with a narrator who may not be entirely trustworthy, check out the three I’ve mentioned above and the few below:

Odd Thomas, by Dean Koontz
Odd Thomas (not short for Todd) is a twenty year old fry cook who sees dead people. It’s much better and much less creepy than the Sixth Sense, and Odd as a narrator is engaging, likable, and honest – usually. In the first installment (it became so popular it blossomed into a series), Odd must stop some very bad men from perpetrating something horrible upon his small California town. Unless you have a cold cold heart, the ending will make you cry.

The True Story of the Three Little Pigs, by Jon Scieszka
I outgrew picture books very early on in my reading life, but this is one that I returned to many times. Scieszka is just so clever with everything he writes. Here, Alexander T. Wolf sets the record straight – he was not an evildoer who huffed and puffed, he simply had a very bad cold. And the pigs were rude anyway. Telling classic stories from the point of view of the “bad guy” has always been popular, but no one has done it better than Scieszka.

The Banned and the Banished, by James Clemens
You probably haven’t heard of this series. I don’t blame you if you haven’t – it’s a fantasy that is typical of its genre, with a lot of magic, black-hearted villains, and young good-looking heroes. It’s the kind of stuff that I just eat up. The editor prefaces each book with a notice that everything you will be reading is false, the author of the book is a traitor, and in order to even be allowed to read his/her lies, you must be an advanced scholar, put your thumbprint on the page, and swear to tell no one what you have read. It’s up to you to determine which person – the editor or the author – is the unreliable one. This aspect of the series is what hooked me, although it tells a very entertaining story too.

While searching Goodreads and Librarything for books tagged as unreliable narrators, I came across James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces. Two Librarything users had tagged this nonfiction book, now notorious for its falseness, as having an unreliable narrator. I suppose in the strictest meaning of the phrase, it’s true. But there’s a sense with fiction that it’s okay for the writer to deceive us – it’s not the writer who’s doing the deceiving anyway, is it? The deceitful one is the narrator, who we all learn in grade school English classes is a separate entity from the author. So perhaps I should give Christie a free pass after all – Dr. Sheppard is the one who pulled the wool over my eyes.

What’s your take? Do you like reading books with unreliable narrators, or would you prefer it if the narrator just told it to you straight? Did you want to strangle Christie after she so blatantly and inexcusably broke one of the primary rules of detective fiction? What are some other books with unreliable narrators that I should check out?

My Faves, or, Three Books That Changed My Life

|

Hello readers! As Kelly mentioned, the idea behind our inaugural posts is to give visitors a taste of each of our reading personalities. Without further ado:

Kimberly

My Favorites

When I read a book, it takes several years and multiple re-readings to become a favorite of mine. I think the hallmark of a great book is that it keeps you thinking about it long after you turn the last page, and the three books I’ve listed below all share that quality. Additionally, they are all books that have impacted my life in a big way. I wouldn’t be who I am now if I hadn’t read them. Unlike Kelly, mine are listed in order.

His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman

On the surface, Pullman’s trilogy is about a girl named Lyra who discovers a way to reach parallel universes. Underneath, the books explore notions of heaven and hell, love, maturity, and the nature of the human soul. I wrote my college admission essay on these books. (I hope I was admitted because of the essay, not in spite of it.) It’s impossible to describe just why the trilogy matters so much to me without getting too personal, but it’s enough to say that it changed my life.

I keep coming back to these books because they truly have the literature trifecta: elegant and powerfully written prose, a fascinating plot, and an important ideology that merits serious thought.

Harry Potter, by J.K. Rowling

If this list is to be honest at all, I have to confess that Harry Potter belongs on it. I grew up on Harry Potter, and it is impossible to separate my childhood from him. Every year or so, I had a new book to look forward to. I waited in lines at midnight for them. I taught myself basic HTML in high school by creating a fan page for the series (now mercifully located in Internet no man’s land). I learned how to make cockroach clusters and turned a green t-shirt into a Slytherin quidditch jersey. When the seventh book came out, I helped organize a release party and stayed up until the wee hours to read it. After I finished it, I joined a facebook group called “Finishing Harry Potter 7 is like destroying the 7th horcrux of my childhood.” If I ever feel blue, I pop in one of the books on CD and Jim Dale’s voice immediately makes me smile. Harry Potter is more than a guaranteed pick me up; it’s part of what defines me.

I’ve had conversations with family and friends about the life expectancy of the series’ popularity. One person thinks the books will become classics like Alice in Wonderland. Another believes they would have already been forgotten if the movie machinery weren’t still carrying them long past their expiration date. I’m sure you can tell with which person I agree. The books are such a part of me that it is impossible to take the necessary step back and evaluate them objectively. I don’t see that as a bad thing at all. It’s what great books are meant to do – grab you and never let you go.

Biting the Sun, by Tanith Lee

Probably the least well-known book of the three on my list, Biting the Sun is a dystopia set in a future world where consequences do not exist. You can jump off a building if you want to see what it feels like, and your consciousness/soul/life force will be salvaged from your wrecked body and placed into a new body of your own design. With no limits on what humans can do, things get pretty bizarre. Genders are interchanged, people routinely walk around with antennae or leopard spots, and thinking up creative ways to kill yourself is considered a fun hobby. For awhile, it’s all well and good for the unnamed protagonist, a member of the Jang (similar to our own teenagers, except being Jang lasts several decades instead of a few years). Then she begins to realize that she feels empty, and she notices the same symptoms in her fellow Jang. So she does something radical, and suddenly, the word “consequences” has meaning again.

It’s one of the more unique dystopias I’ve read. Lee has created her own set of slang that is quite fun to pick up on. What has really made this book stick with me for so long, however, is the ending. It’s daring and new for its sub-genre, but also completely honest and satisfying.

On My Bookshelf

Considering my top three books are all fantasies, I hope these next three selections will give you a greater idea of my range. I do love to read all kinds.

The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog, by Elizabeth Peters

This is the seventh book in a mystery series featuring 19th century Egyptologist Amelia Peabody and her irascible husband Emerson. I’m listening to this one as an audio mp3 download. I’ve never actually read one of Peters’ in print, because the narrator, Barbara Rosenblat, is such a joy to listen to. What I like about these books is the strong female protagonist, the interesting historical and archaeological tidbits, and the humor. Told in first-person by Amelia herself, these books are funny. I laugh out loud while listening to them on the bus and startle the people around me. The entire series is of a consistently high quality.

To D-Day and Back, by Bob Bearden

I bought this book from Bearden at a bluebonnet festival about a year ago and am just getting around to reading it now. It’s a World War II memoir about Bearden’s experiences as a paratrooper and as a German prisoner of war after being captured on D-Day Plus 2. This is usually how I like to read my historical nonfiction, from the pen of a person who lived it. More than just being enjoyable, I also think books like these are important.

The Explosionist, by Jenny Davidson

Davidson’s debut novel explores what the world may have looked like in the 1930s if Napoleon had defeated Wellington at Waterloo. I’m always fascinated by the concept of alternate history books but have been generally disappointed by the ones I have picked up. I’m about fifty pages into this one and am still interested. Sophie, the teenage protagonist, lives in a world where seances are considered legitimate, young women join a mysterious group called IRLYNS after they graduate high school, and Scotland – part of the New Hanseatic League – is on the brink of war with Europe. Interesting stuff.