I love my book groups. I’m proud to count myself a member of three – two face to face groups, and one online. I love the interaction with other readers, and I love the book choices that are often out of my comfort zone. Choosing books in a book group is also a fun part of the book group experience, and each of my book groups makes their picks differently.
My online group votes via Facebook poll for a book. The leader of the group selects the genre, and members of the group submit choices or vote on a book that another member suggested. It’s a very democratic and fun way to pick books. The only drawback to this method is that I find myself adding all the books in the poll to my reading list, not just the one chosen for the group read.
My Awesome Book Club is very lucky to have an Awesome Maven. Our Maven maintains a rotating list, letting each of the members know when it is their month to choose a book for the group. She does a terrific job keeping us straight, even when members swap months or change their minds about their book choice. This is also a very democratic method, and every member has a voice in the choices of the group. For the past few years, another member has created a lovely bookmark that lists all the books we read throughout the year. It’s a useful and creative souvenir of our year in books.
My PTA Refugees also uses the one member = one book approach, but the methodology is different. Each year, our December meeting is the designated annual book exchange. Each group member chooses, and purchases, a book they would like the group to read. We wrap our books in the most tantalizing way we can, hoping to entice another member. Some members adorn their wrapped books with little gifts for the receiver.
Then we sit down with the wrapped books, and the evening’s host makes the first pick. Whoever wrapped the book that was chosen is the next person to pick, and so on, until all the books are unwrapped. We read the books in order through the year.
In 2014, The PTA Refugees will be reading:
I know that a movie will be made of the book I just finished, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce. I know it will be sentimental, funny, and undoubtedly, freakishly maudlin. And that’s a shame, because while this book does veer into sentimentality, it is never maudlin.
The premise of the book is outwardly quiet and simple: Harold Fry, recently retired, receives a letter from an old friend, Queenie Hennessy. She is in hospice, dying of cancer, and wished to say goodbye, and thank Harold for his friendship. Harold writes a letter in return, and heads out to the post box to mail it. But he keeps going. Initially he continues because he feels his letter is inadequate, and then, after a conversation about faith with a young woman at a garage, decides to walk to the 500 hundred miles north to Queenie. His faith in his walk will save her.
While walking, Harold meets many people who share intimate details of their lives with him. He attracts attention and becomes a bit of a celebrity. His wife, Maureen, however, is not amused and just wishes Harold would come home.
While Harold’s feet carry him north toward Queenie, he makes another pilgrimage through his mind and memory. Harold revisits painful memories, and recalls the events that led him to his current humdrum life, curiously removed from his wife and other people.
In this pilgrimage of the mind is where the magic of this book happens. Joyce is able to convey Harold’s inner pain, his utter anguish, and regret in such a way that I was very deeply moved. Through his pain, Harold grows to understand himself better, and catches glimpses of the inner beauty of others:
He understood that in walking to atone for the mistakes he had made, it was his journey to accept the strangeness of others. As a passerby, he was in a place where everything, not only the land, was open. People would feel free to talk, and he was free to listen. To carry a little of them as he went.
And this interior life, so richly described by Joyce, will never, ever be honestly conveyed on a movie screen. There will be flashbacks, and memories retold to others, but a film will not be able to capture the complicated progression of Harold’s thoughts.
Joyce walks a fine line with her novel. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry could have descended in to the hyper emotionalized realm that is usually the domain of “chick lit,” but the novel remains poignant. Chick-lit novels tend to make me angry in the way they manipulate my emotions, but I never felt this way with Harold Fry. Instead, I was consistently and deeply moved through the book.
I highly recommend the audio version of this novel. Jim Broadbent is the reader, and he is a gifted interpreter of the text.
There’s an uncanny intersection of fiction and nonfiction in the character of Sherlock Holmes and the case of Jack the Ripper. In fact, stories combining the two make up a significant subset of Sherlock Holmes pastiches. The website Goodreads has a reader contributed list here:
I just finished reading Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson by Lyndsay Faye. This is a newer entry into the Holmes/Ripper list, published in 2009. Dust and Shadow is an enjoyable read. For the Sherlockian, it is a credible imitation of Watson’s narrative voice, albeit a little bit precious and artful with the vocabulary. For the fan of Ripper stories, it is an exciting, first person account of the murders, complete with bloody details and a plausible solution to the murderer’s identity.
I’ve been ruminating over why this combination of fictional detective and real-life gruesome murderer fascinates readers. Is it because we believe that Sherlock could have solved the case? Or do we simply want a Victorian match up of good versus evil?
Perhaps it goes deeper than that. Senseless murders such as the Ripper case, and modern mass murderers such as Jeffrey Dahmer or John Gacy fascinate us. I think we are fascinated because we, as lay people and readers, do not understand the psychoses of these people.
Sherlock Holmes is also a fascinating character, and almost as difficult to understand as the Ripper or Dahmer. The modern television incarnation of Sherlock Holmes, as portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch, is a “highly functioning sociopath – not a psychopath.” It’s not easy to understand Holmes and his ratiocination.
I think we want more than for Sherlock to just solve the Jack the Ripper case. I think we want Sherlock to explain it to us. How could a person be capable of such barbarity and inhumanity? Could Sherlock tell us that?
Modern mental health practitioners can label psychotic conditions for us, but explaining the why is challenging. Sherlock, with his amazing powers of deduction and reasoning, could be the person to finally explain it all.
Oh, I want to love BookMooch so much. What a fabulous concept, people sharing books across the country! I will nobly give a home to your orphan books, and you take in my unwanted books. Sadly, it hasn’t worked into the feel-good thing I thought it would be.
Here’s how BookMooch works: You create an account, where you list the books you want to give away (or find homes for, if you’re feeling sentimental). You also list the books you are looking for. BookMooch uses Amazon’s database, and you can search by ISBN as well as title and author.
Other BookMooch users can browse your listings, and request books they want to mooch. BookMooch assigns each transaction a point value – send a book, get a point; mooch a book, spend a point. You can see other moochers’ point balance, and see very quickly if they are more of a giver than a taker. But a moocher does have to give away a book before mooching their first book.
When my sixth mooch request came in, and I’d already been to the post office 3 times, mailed 5 packages, and spent over $12.00, that I started to question this BookMooch thing. And then one of the moochers wanted to know what condition my book was in. I thought, “What? Don’t you want to just read it?” But I suspect that moocher was a reseller, taking my book that may have been worth more than free, and making a profit.
So I have soured on BookMooch, and that’s a sad thing. But when giving my books away is costing me money, I had to stop and think. If my object is to have others READ the books I give away, I would do much better by donating them to my library, who operates a sale table as a fundraiser. Or I could just do what I’ve been doing all along.
Hey, have you read this book? No? Take it, read it, pass it on!
This time I didn’t even realize it. I read another celebrity written novel, this one chosen solely on the merits of its very interesting cover art. (My first blog post about celebrity authors was The Wishing Spell by Chris Colfer.) This time, the celebrity author is Colin Meloy of the folk-rock group The Decemberists, and the illustrator is his wife Carson Ellis, the “illustrator in residence” for the band. Looking at Carson Ellis’ website, I realized she had illustrated The Mysterious Benedict Society series by Trenton Lee Stewart, which I loved – the drawings and the story. The novel is titled Wildwood, and it is the start of a fantasy series aimed at middle grade kids.
Ok, now I need to back track a bit. I didn’t sit down and read this story, I actually listened to the audiobook, which was read by the amazing Amanda Plummer. I wish I had read it – I would have seen more of Ellis’ charmingly rustic drawings.
Wildwood is a fantasy tale, drawing on many fantasy archetypes and plot devices. There is a stolen child. There is a character with a secret about their birth. There is a quest, and an animal friend (or two or three). There is magic, plus an evil witch. When I first started listening to the novel, my first inclination was to classify this story as Labyrinth (the movie) meets The Chronicles of Narnia.
And that’s pretty accurate, but add an overlay of Portland west coast hipster. There’s no Turkish delight á la The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Instead, the main characters of Prue and Curtis munch on gorp while hiking through Wildwood. Prue eats squash dumplings while an animal companion tries lentils and greens. Prue rides a fixed gear bike and looks at vinyl records. These details were amusing, creating the hipster vibe.
The plot is fairly simple: Prue’s baby brother is stolen, and she goes after him into the woods – the I.W. – the Impassable Wilderness. Prue is followed by a classmate, Curtis. While in the woods, they are discovered and chased by a group of militarily dressed coyotes who capture Curtis. Prue manages to escape, and travels to Southwood to appeal to the government for help to rescue her brother and Curtis. Bureaucracy and then downright fascism lead to Prue escaping Southwood to go on a quest to consult the Mystics of Northwood. Meanwhile, Curtis enlists in the coyote army, which turns out to be the force of Alexandra, the evil Dowager Governess of Wildwood. Curtis quickly realizes he’s signed onto the wrong team. Prue and Curtis finally meet up again as they help the citizens of Wildwood, both animals and human Bandits, form the Wildwood Irregulars in order to defeat the Dowager Governess.
A few plot details sat uneasily with me. Prue’s parents are strangely absent, delegating much of the baby brother’s childcare to Prue, and then later in the story, they are strangely acquiescent to Prue’s decision to return to the wood. I also was uncomfortable with Curtis’ decision at the end of the story (I am trying not to give away spoilers here). I also found myself wondering how coyotes held their Napoleonic rifles without opposable thumbs. I think this means I wasn’t engaged enough to suspend my disbelief involuntarily.
Aside from these minor distractions, Wildwood is an entertaining story with much to recommend it – interesting magic and lore, a charming blend of mundanity and fantasy, and very likable main characters. The west coast quirks add to the enjoyment, and I will be looking forward to the next installment – this time in print, so I can enjoy Ellis’ illustrations.
This summer, I had the good fortune to take a day trip into Oxford and visit a good friend. After cappuccinos, a good stroll through a street market, and lunch, we did what your average bibliophiles would do while in Oxford.
Magical Books is an exhibit of original art and manuscripts of some of the most beloved fantasy texts of the past century. Narnia, Middle Earth, and Camelot are all well represented. The featured writers are informally known as the “Oxford School,” and include Susan Cooper and Philip Pullman as well as J.R.R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis.
For me, seeing Tolkien’s original artwork from The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings was thrilling. I have loved these books since I first read them as a child, and the old Ballantine paperbacks that I owned used Tolkien’s art for the covers. The originals were familiar, yet fresh, and I am so glad I was able to see them.
Alan Gardiner is another featured author in Magical Books. American readers like me are not as familiar with his work, but his books are well-loved by British children. My husband Nick has lovingly saved a few favorites of Gardiner’s from his childhood. Perhaps they will finally make it onto my reading list this year. One of the most lovingly created artifacts in Magical Books is Gardiner’s handiwork, a calligraphic rendering of the inscription that legend has was put on King Arthur’s tomb:
Hic iacet Arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus
Here lies Arthur, king once, and king to be
Magical Books is open until October 27, 2013.
When Books Collide: People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks and Manuscript Found in Accra by Paulo Coelho
Have you ever read a book and have it make a kind of crazy convergence with another book you just read? This just happened to me, and I’m finding the contrasts and the comparisons between the two books have made the reading experience richer, and more thought provoking.
Last week, I read/listened to Manuscript Found in Accra by the Brazilian novelist Paulo Coelho. I’ll be honest, my hopes were not high for this book. I had read The Alchemist a few years ago and it did not appeal to me at all. Modern allegorical tales like The Alchemist and Jonathan Livingston Seagull leave me cold and unmoved. But I have so many friends whose insight I value that have enjoyed Coelho’s writing , so I was willing to give him another try.
Sadly, Manuscript Found in Accra was not my kind of book. It was a sermonizing bore. The central figure of the book, the Copt, lectures and takes questions from his audience of citizens of Jerusalem, as they await the invasion of a crusader army. The audience is a group of Muslims, Jews, Christians, men and women, who ask vague questions about loneliness, beauty, and love, and the Copt answers in long, tedious philosophizing detail. Not my taste.
Geraldine Brooks’ novel People of the Book I read closely on the heels of Accra. People of the Book tells the fictional history of a real manuscript – the Sarajevo Haggadah – through the lives of the people that come in contact with the book. Brooks tells the history of the book both backwards and forwards, through the conservator that repairs the book in war torn Sarajevo, and the men and women who created the book, and protected the book through the countless pogroms and exoduses of modern Europe.
Here’s where the books collide. Manuscript Found in Accra waxes poetic about medieval Jerusalem, how it was a welcoming place where Jews, Christians, and Muslims were neighbors and lived together peaceably. The audience listening to the Copt is this mixed group of people, listening to the wise man together. I don’t know how accurate this picture of Jerusalem is, but I can tell you that it didn’t feel real when reading it.
People of the Book shows the reader religious conflict in abundance. Muslims, Christians, Jews are constantly on tenterhooks when dealing with each other, dancing around propriety and predjuce in a constantly shifting balance of power. But the book, this precious, beautifully illustrated book, gives the characters a common ground in their desire to preserve and protect it. Jews, Muslims, and Christians all conspire to save the book.
That felt true. People of different faiths – or no faith at all – coming together to preserve an object of beauty.
I think if I hadn’t read Accra just before People of the Book, I would not have appreciated the idealistic viewpoints of either book. Both books present the idealistic view that people of different faiths can live together and prosper through that life. However, People of the Book demonstrates this through the collective acts of compassion that the characters show to each other in order to save the book. Manuscript Found in Accra simply shows the nameless, multi-faithed audience, listening raptly to the Copt.
For me, the cliché – actions speak louder than words – held true.
Earlier this month, my family traveled to the United Kingdom to have a mini vacation in London, and then visit family further south in Hampshire. One of my husband’s favorite touring spots is the Portsmouth Historic Dockyard, home to Nelson’s Victory, The Royal Navy Museum, the ironclad ship the Warrior, and the newly designed museum housing the Mary Rose, the Tudor warship that sank in Portsmouth harbor in 1545. The dockyards are a terrific day out, and I highly recommend visiting if you are ever in Portsmouth. I, however, must confess to being a bit tired of visiting the same sites, and this year I asked to be dropped off in Portsmouth and I would walk down to the harbor later.
You see, Portsmouth is home to a couple of literary pilgrimages that I’ve been wanting to make for a very long time. This year, I visited 1 Mile End Terrace, home of the Charles Dickens Birthplace Museum. One Mile End is a small, unassuming Georgian terrace home, on a residential street. So unassuming that according to a museum display, that Dickens himself could not identify the house when he visited Portsmouth as an adult. His strongest memory of Portsmouth seems to be of leaving Portsmouth as a child, with the city covered in snow.
The furnishings at Dickens’ birthplace are mostly period furnishings, but not authentic to the time when the Dickens family were renting the house. I really enjoyed the illustration display in one of the bedrooms, showing different artist interpretations of Dickens’ characters. There was also quite a bit of ephemera – a lock of Dickens’ hair, period photographs, playbills, and small personal items. Dickens was so famous during his life, that people saved all sorts of items he owned or touched. There were quite a few checks written by Dickens on display. Apparently, people preferred to keep a check written by the famous Boz rather than cash it!
The most important item in museum’s collection is the couch from Dickens’ home Gad’s Hill, upon which he is supposed to have died. It’s possible that he may have died elsewhere – possibly at his mistress Ellen Ternan’s home, and then moved to the couch at Gad’s Hill where his death was reported.
However, my favorite piece in the museum was a pair of bookcases that Dickens owned. It was donated to the museum by a family member, and contained souvenir porcelain, mainly toby jugs, featuring Dickens’ characters. I just loved the bookcases, and I wish I knew what Dickens kept on the shelves.
If you are a fan of Charles Dickens, and happen to be in Portsmouth, I would recommend stopping by. It’s a tiny place, and will only take an hour of time to enjoy, even if you linger. It’s probably not enough of a “pilgrimage” to warrant a special trip on its own.
However, if you are also a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle, Portsmouth may be worth a stop for you. Doyle spent the early years of his writing career practicing medicine in Southsea. Portsmouth was bequeathed an extraordinary collection of Doyle writings, which is house in a research library called the Arthur Conan Doyle Collection Lancelyn Green Bequest. While the archive is open by appointment only, there’s a permanent exhibition called A Study in Sherlock at the Portsmouth City Museum. Guess where I’m headed the next time the family goes to the dockyard?
Summer means extra time to read books, and to watch baseball. Sometimes the two come together in a magical confluence, combining the pleasures of the mind with the pleasure of sport. My baseball reading list isn’t long, regrettably, but these are the baseball themed books I love:
“The Thrill of the Grass” by W.P. Kinsella has to be one of the most perfect short stories ever written. Combining insights about family, change, and baseball, the only problem with this gem is that it’s a short story and ends all too quickly. Kinsella is famous for his baseball themed literature, most of all for his 1981 novel Shoeless Joe, which will live forever as the basis for the classic movie Field of Dreams. I first heard “The Thrill of the Grass” on Selected Shorts, a NPR radio show that features actors reading short stories. Humorous moments, such as the narrator’s feelings of betrayal as his daughter chooses to watch the game from the “other”, third base, side with her boyfriend, rather than his customary first base side, are abundant. The ending leaves the reader smiling, and perhaps a bit teary.
Quite possibly the best quote I’ve ever read about baseball is from this book:
The fundamental truth: a baseball game is nothing but a great slow contraption for getting you to pay attention to the cadence of a summer day.
Michael Chabon, Summerland.
Summerland is a difficult book to describe. Eleven year old Ethan has been selected by the ferishers (fairy-like small people based on Native American mythology) to be their champion on their baseball team. The villain, Coyote, is trying to bring about Armageddon, and he’s kidnapped Ethan’s father, who is the inventor of the personal zeppelin. All this sounds odd and convoluted, but trust me, it’s enjoyable novel and many games of baseball are played.
What happens when you get what you wish for? Will you choke and be unable to handle it? Will you embrace your dream fully? And what if it wasn’t your dream, but someone else’s dream for you?
Henry Skrimshander is a college shortstop phenomenon, about to break the college record for innings without errors, when he lets loose a wild throw that sends his roommate and fellow teammate into the hospital. How Henry handles his vulnerability is at the heart of this novel, but the other characters face equally terrifying self revelations. The character of Mike Schwartz, Henry’s mentor and baseball team captain, is a compelling portrait of a college athlete with worn out knees, and a possible painkiller addiction.
Henry’s personal bible is a book called The Art of Fielding, written by a major league shortstop. I found this metafictional aspect of The Art of Fielding especially fascinating, since Summerland also uses this device. Summerland‘s fictional reference is called How to Catch Lightning and Smoke, a reference book for would-be catchers by E. Peavine, and is the “source” for my favorite quote above.
The zen-like wisdom from the fictional The Art of Fielding is both a guide and frustration to Henry. Mulling over some of the wisdom of the fictional The Art of Fielding, I stumbled upon this very well written blog piece: The buddhist-baseball-wisdom-of-aparicio-rodriguez. The author and I have a different approaches to The Art of Fielding – he comes to the novel through an enjoyment of sports themed literature, while I enjoy the literature and am surprised by the sports themes.
But I believe that this is the most basic truth about baseball novels: they are never really just about baseball.
As always, if you can recommend any other baseball themed books you have enjoyed, please let me know the title in the comments section. Thanks!