Beautiful Ruins, a Perfect Holiday Read

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter begins in a postage stamp sized coastal village in Italy where a young hotel proprietor dreams of attracting glamorous American tourists with an ill conceived tennis court and a crumbling hotel. One day a beautiful American actress happens on the hotel, and the proprietor's life is forever changed. 

This early portion of the book, set in Italy in 1962, reminded me of an old, remastered movie of the sort I used to watch with my mom over Christmas holidays. Perhaps a young Grace Kelly would play the young starlet; although Princess Grace was probably always too sophisticated (but not too beautiful) for such a part. 

The actress and the proprietor are together for only a few short days, and they share a strong attraction that is never discussed or consummated (which, of course, it wouldn't have been in an old movie). They continue on their separate paths living wildly different lives, but they never forget each other. The story picks back up 50 years later when they finally meet again in the United States. 

There are many other characters who Walter weaves into this story, all of whom are unique and compelling. This was a fun, enjoyable read, something you might throw in your carry on or rip into on the beach, a cool drink and a shady umbrella both close at hand. My book club agreed, this was a winner, and we all liked how Walter did a short "where are they now" profile of all of the characters at the end of the book, so we weren't left to wonder what becomes of each of them after the last page is turned. 

Read Child 44 for the Political Intrigue, Not the Mystery

Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith is part historical fiction, part political intrigue, and part murder mystery. I would rate the novel highly in the first of those two genres (and highly overall), but if you're a reader on the hunt for a great murder mystery, you may be a bit disappointed.  

Leo Demidov is a cog in Stalin's Soviet Union, a rising member of the MGB, the State Security Force. As an investigator, Leo lacks imagination and blindly follows orders, never questioning whether the State might be wrong. In this world murder does not exist, and those who are suspected of crimes against the State are always guilty and must be rooted out and removed from society. 

However, in this "crime-free" society, a serial killer is on the loose. His targets are defenseless children, their bodies abandoned near train tracks. This serial killer is given refuge and ultimately unfettered freedom to kill by the State because the State would rather sacrifice a few than allow the spread of fear by acknowledging that any murders have even occurred. This, of course, is an interesting philosophy in a society that we all now know was ruled by fear. 

When Leo questions what is happening, he too is quickly recast as an enemy of the State and turned out. Rather than bending to the will of the State, Leo sets out on a lonely and dangerous path to find the truth and stop the serial killer from striking again. This quest for truth costs him dearly, but he is ultimately successful in tracking down and rooting out the killer. The mystery is relatively easily solved, but I don't think Smith intended to write a complex murder mystery, as his story is about so much more. 

Nab The Book Thief for an Exceptional Read

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak was my favorite read this year.  I am typically reluctant to attach star reviews or ratings to books immediately after reading them.  I much prefer to wait a bit, to let the memory of the book simmer on the back burner of my mind and to come back later to decide how I really think it stacks up to everything else.  This book just really moved me.  I knew it would be a favorite before I even finished it. And now, some time has passed since I finished it in August, and I am still thinking about it.

I loved the characters. I loved the story. I loved the creative use of Death as the narrator, and I thought it was very well written. The story is both tragic and uplifting, and it is immensely entertaining.

It's just a small story really, about, among other things: a girl / some words / an accordionist / some fanatical Germans / a Jewish fist fighter / and quite a lot of thievery

Zusak tells a wonderfully creative story. Liesel Meminger is nine years old and on her way to live with a foster family when she and her mother are forced to disembark from their journey to bury her little brother. Standing in the snowy graveyard, she spots and snatches up a book lying on the ground, a small souvenir of that tragic event. She can't read it, but with the help of her foster father, she learns how, and she develops a love of reading that rescues her both figuratively (at first) and literally (later) in the turmoil of war ravaged Germany.

But the characters even more than the story are perhaps what make this book so rich and wonderful. Even the smallest, least consequential of characters is layered and quirky. There's the accordionist who also happens to be Liesel's foster father, her midnight tutor, and a painter; the Jewish fist fighter who hides in the basement during the war, fights Hitler in his imagination, and paints for Liesel; Liesel's loud mouthed foster mother who feuds with her neighbor, slaves away laundering clothes to help put food (horribly cooked food) on the table, and loves her foster daughter dearly despite her cold as ice exterior; and Liesel's ragamuffin best friend who is always seeking trouble and has a soft spot for Jesse Owens.... The story is a patchwork of these fascinating small town people, most of whom are not particularly political but all of whom become caught up and molded by the war around them.

Layered on top of this wonderful story and these fascinating characters is the narrator: Death. I loved reading Death's perspective on the war and on Nazi Germany, and I loved that he complained about his job just as an accountant or lawyer might complain about the tedium of their own workday. Without the unusual narrator, this would have been a terrific book, but the creativity of this narrative device just added an extra something special that made this book excellent. Do yourself a favor and read this book.   

An Ode to Nicci French

If you aren't reading Nicci French, I have only one thing to ask you.  Why the heck not!?!?  For the uninitiated, Nicci French is a husband and wife British psychological suspense writing team.  First of all, I find it fascinating when two people can write a novel together. I mean, how does that work?  I, of course, went to wikipedia to find out.  Apparently, they write in alternation, and then they edit each other's work.  It's completely amazing that there never seems to be a hiccup with a change in styles.  An interesting tidbit, yes, but that's not why you'll want to read these books.  You'll want to read these because you won't be able to put them down.  It's like book crack.  You'll be addicted.  I always deliver a few warnings to anyone who is picking up a Nicci French book for the first time.  One, start it on a weekend, because you won't go to bed on time on a week night and will likely be late or exhausted at work the following day.  Two, do not pick this up when you have other plans in the immediate future.  You will cancel them.  

My favorite two are Land of the Living and Secret Smile.  Until It's Over was good, and I definitely didn't want to put it down, but it's not as fantastic as these other two.  

The main character is always a vulnerable young girl, typically with no family connections or a bit of a distance from her family.  You will doubt yourself, doubt the characters, and be completely compelled to turn the page.  You'll love it.  Unless, of course, you're just weird.  Yep, I just said that.     

Forget the Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright

The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright was our book club selection for August, and it was uniformly panned. The primary criticism was that we hated all of the characters, particularly the narrator. That's a hard one to get past.

This is the story of a woman who is married to a man who is never really painted in a negative light. That woman falls in love (we all though it sounded much more like lust though) with a married man who has a little girl with some sort of mental disability who also suffers from seizures. The woman eventually leaves her husband and treats him worse than you would treat your worst enemy despite the fact that she is the one who has been cheating and despite the fact that she also really sounds like a bit of a drunk and not such a great catch. The married man who is wildly in love with her (according to her) moves in with her but doesn't really leave his wife. In fact, on Christmas he goes home to his family and leaves some flowers and booze in the toolshed for her to find after he sends her an afterthought of a text message late that night. It's melting your heart, right? And that's it. End of story. 

I actually think I liked it more than some of the other members of our club. Wouldn't have guessed that from my review, huh? Enright is clearly a talented writer. The problem was that I felt like she wanted me to sympathize with the narrator, and I just didn't. She was kind of a bitch to everyone - her husband, her sister, the child of her lover, and she seemed to justify it all because of this magical love affair. I know what it's like to have magic, to be truly, madly, head over heels in love. I don't think Enright does. This so clearly wasn't it. A married man who likes having sex with someone who is not his wife does not a love story make.  

Marilynne Robinson's Gilead - 2005 Pulitzer Winner

Alright, so I know that I'm TERRIBLY behind on my blogging. Pregnancy seems to have turned me into a single minded bump on the couch, much more interested in reading reviews of strollers and cribs than actually reading literature. But you read it here first, my brain (at least the part of it not controlled by these crazy hormones) is staging a comeback! So here goes, I'm finally reviewing my Grand Cayman reading list.

I have to confess that I was REALLY dreading reading Gilead. Take a look at the description from amazon: 

In 1956, toward the end of Reverend John Ames's life, he begins a letter to his young son, an account of himself and his forebears. Ames is the son of an Iowan preacher and the grandson of a minister who, as a young man in Maine, saw a vision of Christ bound in chains and came west to Kansas to fight for abolition: He "preached men into the Civil War," then, at age fifty, became a chaplain in the Union Army, losing his right eye in battle. Reverend Ames writes to his son about the tension between his father--an ardent pacifist--and his grandfather, whose pistol and bloody shirts, concealed in an army blanket, may be relics from the fight between the abolitionists and those settlers who wanted to vote Kansas into the union as a slave state. And he tells a story of the sacred bonds between fathers and sons, which are tested in his tender and strained relationship with his namesake, John Ames Boughton, his best friend's wayward son.

Let's be honest, it sounds unbearably boring. Iowa? Preachers from Maine? Don't tell me you're hooked by the description. You'd be lying. Worse, you'd be one of those people that my girlfriend A in Houston and I roll our eyes about when they say their absolute favorite book is ________ (pick the most pretentious, least likable book you can think of, and insert title here). Aren't those people the worst? But I digress.... 

Despite the snooze-fest of a synopsis, the reviews for this book by actual readers on sites like amazon or goodreads were pretty outstanding. I must say, however, I did suspect some of those reviewers came from the aforementioned group of literary snobs.... So, it was with great trepidation that I plunged into this book. 

However, I was again pleasantly surprised. It turns out the Pulitzer Committee may know a thing or two about great fiction (despite what my mother has to say on the matter). True, the subject matter is not as captivating as the latest gripping thriller, but the prose are beautifully written and the narrative voice is unique and so believable. As a soon to be first time parent, I also enjoyed the musings on parent-child relationships and the narrator's attempts to leave a legacy for his young son who he knows he will never truly know.  

John Ames is very much a simple man. He remained in his small hometown in Iowa his entire life and entered into the family vocation (preaching) without giving either much thought at the outset. He does not believe himself to be an outstanding man or even a particularly talented preacher. He is simply a man who knows he will soon die and knows that his little boy will never have the chance to know him. With this knowledge, he attempts to capture a bit of his own family history, nuggets of advice he wants to pass on to his son, and the simple truths of his own life. In this way he hopes that his son will someday get to know him posthumously. It's a simple idea that is beautifully executed. 

There were so many wonderful passages in this novel. I am typically not an underliner, but I found myself marking short passages on my Kindle while reading this book. I guess I was just drawn to John Ames' voice. As he begins his exploration of the father son relationships in his family, he muses:

You can know a thing to death and be for all purposes completely ignorant of it. A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension.    

See what I mean about the style and the narrative voice? I think this captures so many father and son relationships perfectly. Ultimately, Ames' son will likely know more about his father from the journal his father leaves behind for him than he otherwise would have known had he lived. 

Ultimately, I came away from Gilead with a great admiration for Robinson as a writer, but I'm not running out to buy her other books. I still need a bit more of a story.    

Grand Cayman Reading Vacation

The view from my reading
spot on our balcony.

My husband and I just got back from four nights in beautiful Grand Cayman. We soaked in the rays on the beach and spent a lot of time beachside, poolside, and on our balcony reading. Thanks to Tropical Storm Ernesto, we also spent an entire afternoon in the room with our books. My husband tackled 11/22/63 by Stephen King, which he really loved. I finished off Gilead by Marilynne Robinson; read The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright, Until It's Over by Nicci French, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak; and started reading Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith. This means I have a lot of blogging to do, so stayed tuned in for reviews of those books.