Category: Book Reviews (Page 43 of 45)

Arcadia by Tom Stoppard is one of my favourite plays, in part because I had to study the hell out of it in unversity and in part because it is one of the first dates that James and I had.

I was excited to see Stoppard’s new play Rock ‘n’ Roll is now published. Rock ‘n’ Roll premiered at the Royal Court Theatre in London, in June 2006.

The cover is a very striking yellow, and the edition that I have includes an introduction from Stoppard. I find the author introductions to plays most fascinating. When I was in school I hated reading any of the extra bits, but now I’m much more interested in the context for the story, what references the author is trying to make, what he or she hopes the reader gets out of the text. The introduction to Rock ‘n’ Roll doesn’t disappoint, and it is a good recap of what was going on in Prague and Cambridge from 1968 to 1990, more directly what effect the Communist regime was having on musicians, philosophers and students.

In case you don’t know Tom Stoppard, he was born in Czechoslovakia in 1937 and moved to England as a child in 1946.

Quote: The Amazon copy says:
Catapulted into the front ranks of modern playwrights overnight when Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead opened in London in 1967, he has become recognized as a contemporary comic master, the brilliantly acclaimed author of The Real Inspector Hound, Enter a Free Man, Albert’s Bridge, After Magritte, Travesties, Dirty Linen, Jumpers, New-Found-Land, Night and Day, The Real Thing, Hapgood, Artist Descending a Staircase, Every Good Boy Deserves Favor, Arcadia, The Invention of Love, The Coast of Utopia (Voyage, Shipwreck, and Salvage), and Rock ‘n’ Roll. He has also written a number of screenplays, including The Romantic Englishwoman, Despair, and Brazil.

Rock ‘n’ Roll highlights the moments of friendship and tension between Jan and Max. Jan is a lecturer at Cambridge who returns to Prague just as the Soviet tanks are rolling into the city. He’s a music fan and in addition to a brief history of Czechoslovakia, you get a brief history of The Velvet Underground, Pink Floyd, Syd Barrett, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Lennon, Andy Warhol, and Frank Zappa. Max is a Marxist philosopher with a free-spirited daughter and a Sapphic philosopher wife who is dying from cancer. Over a 20-year period Rock ‘n’ Roll offers little windows into Jan and Max’s acceptance and resistance to the Communist regime.

The remarkable thing about the play is that it’s heavy in a light way. There’s a sense of bouyancy and humour. In many ways it reminds me of Chekov’s plays, but without the dark, foreboding sense that, as James says, “it’s a godless world and we’re all going to die.”

Rock ‘n’ Roll–a new play by Tom Stoppard–read more on Amazon.ca

Audrey Hepburn: The Paramount Years by Tony Nourmand (published by Chronicle Books) is a beautiful book of photos and essays on Audrey in front of the camera and behind the scenes. In addition to the photos, there’s lots of great images from the movie posters.

Watch my video review on YouTube.

Clare Clark is the author of two very fine novels, both of which deal with elements of the underground and unsavoury human behaviour. Her first novel The Great Stink is set in Victorian England, more specifically in the labyrinthine London sewer system. Hence the great stink. But Clare’s writing far from stinks, it is tight and interesting.

Yes, The Great Stink is a historical novel, but not one with a familiar setting. The Great Stink deals with a sewer engineer, William May, and the solstice his finds in cutting himself in the solitude of the sewers. That is until a murder is committed in the underground and he is implicated.

See what I mean? Underground and unsavoury.

Don’t be dismayed by the setting though, the details of the sewer structures, their repairs and the times of Victorian England are in perfect harmony with the strange and complex story of William May.

Not only do I highly recommend The Great Stink, I’m a fan of Clare’s latest novel, The Nature of Monsters.

In 1718, pregnant Eliza Tally is packed off to London. She is to work as a maid for apothecary Grayson Black, have the child or get rid of it, and do so while protecting the perception of her own virtue and the good name of the father of the child. What transpires instead is a tragic and twisted tale of scientific experimentation on mothers and unborn children. Eliza and a second maid, Mary, are psychologically tortured by the apothecary and his wife in hopes that they will bear monsters instead of healthy babies.

Eighteenth-century England is a time of deep interest in science, medicine and literature, but it is also a time of home remedies and superstitions. A pregnant woman caught in a fire can expect her child to be born with a red birthmark. If a hare runs across a pregnant woman’s path she can expect the child to be marked by the animal–perhaps it was a hare that created half-moon Mary.

Half-there or not, Mary charms Eliza, who discovers the apothecary’s goal and is driven to save Mary. It is too late for her own child.

Both novels are visceral. There is the putrid smell of the sewers in The Great Stink, the descriptions of cutting and the horrors of murder. In The Nature of Monsters it is the monsters of the novel–Grayson Black, his wife and the apothecary’s assistant, along with Eliza’s lover and her mother–who act as monsters. Betrayal and sacrifice for science are the elements of horror here.

Most horrifying to the reader are the descriptions of leeching, bleeding and opium use, which are counter to our modern-day understanding of medicine. We have 250 more years of discovery under our belt, and yet it is the many scientists of this time whose experiments inform today’s understanding of the mind and body. So it is the readers’ good fortune to have such an adept storyteller and historian weaving the tale of Eliza and Mary with the medical curiosities of the day.

I am a fan of Clare Clark. Both novels are great and I truly think readers of The Great Stink should seek out The Nature of Monsters and vice versa. My only caveat for newbies to Clare’s work is to be prepared for the world she transports you to, it is inevitably underground and unsavoury, in the best of ways.

The stories we tell ourselves and others is how we make sense of the world.

In searching for who said the above quote I came across, “Stories are the most important thing in the world. Without stories, we wouldn’t be human beings at all” (Philip Pullman).

I was searching for the origins of these quotes in reference to Neil Gaiman’s novel American Gods. Gaiman has written a book of stories, myths and legends that collide and at times are at war.

American Gods are the gods who have come to America in the minds of its immigrants. Odin, Easter, Ganesh, Anansi. The ancient gods are the left to their own devices, poised to disappeared as they are pushed out by America’s newest gods. The ones we make sacrifices to daily: TV, big cars, the internet, warfare in the name of liberty, the pursuit of happiness.

Both worlds become Shadow’s world. Shadow, who did time for assaulting his bank-robbing partners for cheating him of his share of the proceeds, who is hired by Wednesday to rally the old gods against the new, and Shadow, who represents our look into the shadows. Gaiman asks us to take a closer look at the things that sometimes catch the corner of our eye. The things that we hope not to be true, but deeply believe to exist.

As our protagonist, it is Shadow’s job to make sense of this world. To tell the story. To sort things out. To know under which cup the nut is, into which hand the coin drops.

I enjoyed this book.

Anansi Boys is still my favourite, maybe because I read it first. But American Gods is one of those novels that will hang in my mind like a remembered dream.

I wanted to write about the power of narrative, how it informs what we do, how we understand ourselves, our country, our beliefs. Instead of telling you my story, why don’t you read this one.

Fans of historical fiction must seek out this book.

The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox (McClelland & Stewart, 2006)

Michael Cox is a first-time author from Northamptonshire, UK. and he’s written the confession of Edward Glyver. Fictional? Of course … or is it?

Indeed it is.

Cox, however, has used a literary technique that I quite like. He adds another layer to the story by introducing J. J. Antrobus as the editor of the work. This fictional character borders that fine line between fiction and nonfiction. Allowing readers to be momentarily disoriented–is this a novel or historical work?

The device also allows Cox’s “editor” to add footnotes to the text, informing the reader, in a non-intrusive way, of tidbits of information–some of it fictional and some of it historical. I won’t tell you the end of the novel, but this device does increase the reader’s understanding of the story, in particular the knowledge that this “confession” has been found and the “true” story revealed to future generations.

The writing reminds me of Dickens, or a Victorian-England writer of your choice. The book starts out at quite a clip, has a little lull early on, and then you pretty much roar through the 600 page tome.

Quote: “After killing the red-haired man, I took myself off to Quinn’s for an oyster supper …”

See, speedy intro.

You might wonder how the reader is to sympathize with a main character who kills an innocent man, just to make sure he’ll be able to do it when face to face with his enemy, but this is a story of deceit, murder and revenge. Edward Glyver is definitely one of the most likeable of the leading ladies and lads.

More about the book

Edward Glyver, book lover, scholar and murderer. He discovers upon the death of his mother that he is not who he’s been raised to believe he is. In a twist of circumstances, the boy who had him expelled from school is the man set to inherit Glyver’s intended fortune.

There’s drama, passion, strong writing, a captivating story, interesting characters, and all sorts of goodies.

The Meaning of Night website has a number features about the book and the author.

You can download Part One in PDF.

Having read the book already, I’m less interested in that aspect, however, I did enjoy Michael’s message to readers:

Quote: Thanks for visiting The Meaning of Night website.

I hope readers of the novel will enjoy browsing the images and other material gathered together on the site, and that they’ll provide some entertaining insights into the world of the novel’s narrator, Edward Glyver.

What I’ve tried to do in The Meaning of Night is to create an imagined world that’s solid and circumstantial, but which exists somewhere apart from the mundane and the everyday, a world in which extraordinary things happen, but which still remains plausible and somehow real.

The novel is also a homage to the primal power of story, and to the great storytellers I admire ÔøΩ people like Dickens, Wilkie Collins, Conan Doyle, Robert Louis Stevenson and Rafael Sabatini. These are the writers I return to again and again, and who have inspired The Meaning of Night. If I’ve succeeded in creating a story that grips the reader from the first line to the last, then I’ll feel I’ve done my job.

So if you’ve already read the novel ÔøΩ thank you. If you haven’t, I hope you will soon.

Best wishes,

Michael Cox

The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly is a spin on Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

Twelve-year-old David recently lost his mother and now his father is remarried. Rose is pregnant and when little Georgie comes along the family moves into Rose’s larger family home. David is a reader and a recluse so he’s only happy tucked away in his attic room, where he can read old books and be miserable and jealous of his father’s new-found happiness with Rose and Georgie.

One night David slips away into another world, one of fantasy and adventure. He must make his way to the King, who has a book that might be able to restore him to his world. Along the way there are a number of stories that build upon the Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

I enjoyed this book and thought it was well crafted, but I couldn’t get rid of the eerie sensation that I knew the plot and what was coming next. The Book of Lost Things would be a great read for teens and adults but I suspect that someone uninitiated into the world of Grimm’s would find it more exciting than someone who’s well-versed in fables and fairy tales.

So far I haven’t been inspired by the holiday picks on Amazon and Indigo. At least the Globe and Mail top 100 books had some interesting selections, as did the New York Times. In general though, there were books I thought should be on the list and weren’t.

Here are my reads and picks for the year.

Monique’s Teen, Tween and Kid Picks

I only have 5 picks because a lot of teens and tweens read adult books. But these are the books I read this year and thought were fun. My favourite is You’re a Bad Man, Mr. Gum by Andy Stanton. The jacket copy says, “Good evening. Mr Gum is a complete horror who hates children, animals, fun, and corn on the cob. This book’s all about him. And an angry fairy who lives in his bathtub. And Jake the dog, and a little girl called Polly and an evil, stinky butcher all covered in guts. And there’s heroes and sweets and adventures and everything.”

But if you don’t like my choices, check out Indigo’s Junior Advisor Book Picks: these tweens and teens have picked and reviewed the books they like. If you want to know what to buy for people aged 12-17 then go to the source.

Monique’s Fiction Picks

My number one pick is James’ novel Up in Ontario. I think the storytelling is superb and I’m not just saying that because we live together. It’s a good story for male and female readers. I point that out because men often are reluctant to pick up fiction titles. They tend to prefer nonfiction titles. But this is a good boy story. I highly recommend it.

I have 12 picks in total. All are books I’ve read or am going to read. Highlights are Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman, The Garneau Block by Todd Babiak, A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon, and Margarettown by Gabrielle Zevin.

Monique’s Nonfiction Picks

I have 10 picks here. My ultimate favourite book this year was Made to Break by Giles Slade. It’s the book for people interested in things, how they work, and where and why we do things the way we do. Saying it’s a history of consumerism makes it seem less interesting than it is, but think about how you’d describe Freakonomics or The Tipping Point. This is a book of ideas.

My other fav is A Year of Adventures by Lonely Planet. It’s a coffee table book with beautiful photos and inspiration for every day of the year. The book answers the question: If you could be anywhere in the world today, where would the best place be and what would you be doing?

What’s the book you want to receive as a gift? What book do you want to buy for everyone on your list?

Tell me your holiday picks.

The fourth book in the Summer of the Sisterhood series, Forever in Blue, was the perfect way to spend my day at home.

I am sick with a head cold and the glare of the computer monitor is burning a hole in my already headachy head. This will be a short review.

I loved it.

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants is a great series by Ann Brashares. Lena, Carmen, Bridget and Tibby remind me of combinations of my own teenage friends. The books are a great way to get carried away in your own reminiscence as well as the story of the Septembers.

For anyone already a fan, this final book in the series will not disappoint you.

www.sisterhoodcentral.com

Stephen King has written a love story.

It’s also a story of sadness, loss and remembrance.

I started out not wanting to read the book alone and I finished wishing I was alone, instead of crying my eyes out on a plane full of people. But life is Ralph. I had the whole row to myself, every other seat was full yet none of the middles came to take my aisle seat. Such is the nonplausible reality of life, like when Ralph the dog returns home three years after he disappeared. Life is Ralph.

Ralph is only one of the little tidbits I’ve adopted from Lisey’s Story. It’s ripe with Landon-isms, maybe these are King-isms, I don’t know. But what I do know is that the narrative structure of Lisey’s Story is engaging. King switches between past and present so that you’re left all of a sudden wondering what world you are in. He makes you unease about shadows in the mirror, eating fruit after dark and basically taps into the darkest of superstitions.

Scott and Lisey Landon’s world is so well crafted in this book that it’s hard not to turn it into your own. To adopt Scott’s phrases, the same way Lisey has done. To feel like you as a reader are on a great bool hunt, you’re not just following the bool Scott has left for Lisey, you’re looking for the stations of the bool left for you by Stephen King.

You must be thinking what the smuck am I talking about?

A bool is a treasure hunt, a good joke, something fun, that ends in an RC, or a candy bar, or a story.

But Scott was a bit of a nutter himself. There are good bools, like the one he’s left for Lisey, and there are blood bools, like the ones his father introduced to him. Blood bools are bloodletting, when you cut to release the bad-gunky.

Lisey’s Story is about bools: blood bools and good bools.

But Lisey’s Story itself is a mothersmucking good bool.

And I have a bool for you, but you’ll have to wait until I set it up. Then we’ll play it. Hopefully later today or tomorrow.

Stephen King has never been one of my must-read authors. I generally feel that enough book buyers support Stephen King so I don’t have to. Instead I like to read the lesser-known books, the odd-ball fiction, the high-brow academic books that most people happily left behind after university.

I also tend to avoid Stephen King because he scares the crap out of me. My friend Nicole used to read parts of Tommyknockers to me on the school bus. I’d be haunted for days. Reviewers talk about the craft of Stephen King, the brilliance of his writing–I think he scares the crap out of them too.

The thing about Stephen King is that he’s a genius. I once saw him on celebrity Jeopardy and I recall Alex making a joke about whether he was going to let the other players in the game. The man knew everything. I admire a mind like a steel trap–it’s one of the many elements James brings to our relationship. He remembers the things I forget, like people’s names, places we’ve visited, the driving route to Port Moody or to IKEA in Richmond.

But lately Stephen King has been reinserting himself into my reading sphere. A couple of months ago I came across The Cell and was determined to read it. I posted about the charming Stephen King and his appearance on Amazon Fishbowl. Then I bought a cell phone and decided that my own paranoia about gas stations and cell phones (there’s a warning label on the pumps) was probably generating enough anxiety that I could pass on reading The Cell.

Then a week ago I received an advanced copy of Stephen King’s latest novel Lisey’s Story.

Lisey Debusher Landon recently lost her husband–a famous, cult author. He’s widely admired by academics and fans. Has won the National Book Prize and the Pulitzer. He too seems to have a mind like a steel trap, but his houses demons that Lisey is only just coming to understand. Lisey is a bit forgetful too. As she’s cleaning out his study, she realized that he likely told her the passwords to his computers, but it wasn’t important then so she forgot. Little moments of their relationship are like that too. The light heart–the relationship everyone sees; and the dark heart–the one even they like to ignore and forget. Lisey’s attempt to order and store her husband’s memorabilia becomes, in true Stephen King fashion, a journey to the heart of darkness.

That at least is what I gleaned from the back cover and my dip into the first few chapters.

Stephen King really is a master storyteller. His writing structure is incredibly sophisticated. What drove me mad with The Da Vinci Code was the generic, stereotypical characters and the thriller gender stereotype of plot vs. character. Also, there wasn’t really anything imaginative in the writing. The story was good and fast paced, which is what helped me plough through it. But Stephen King. He’s got flashbacks. He’s got several levels of mystery. And each page feels like a set up for something big and dark, which is lurking around the corner. He’s also got suspense and huge creep factor. This last element is why I avoid Stephen King.

I had every intention of ignoring this novel too but I thought it might be a little softer than the others. The cover copy calls it “perhaps King’s most personal and powerful novel ever … the temptations of madness, and the secret language of love.” See, seems rather charming rather than scare-the-pants-off-you.

I was also pulled in because it is an advance reader’s edition. Scribner has, for several years, not produced advances of Stephen King’s works. The reason is because advance reading copies are not for resale, they are meant to get reviewers and booksellers excited and talking about the upcoming book or ordering more copies. Basically they are the front-line buzz makers, they get the early scoop. Sometimes general public, bloggers and others loosely connected to the industry also get advances. But advances are really expensive to make, often more than the actual book. They cost more as well because they are mailed individually to people rather than via bulk shipments to stores. So I have an advance copy. I’m one of the few people in the world with a chance to read Stephen King before the rest of you. That’s pretty exciting. I’m 100 pages into the book, totally hooked but also rattled.

My new rules for Stephen King are

1. I must never read Stephen King alone.
2. I must never read Stephen King first thing when I wake up.
3. I must never read Stephen King when it is dark and rainy outside, and I’m all alone and I’ve just woken up.

I suspect also that #4 is true: I must never read Stephen King before I go to bed.

I’m going to wait until James comes home from early morning fishing and then when there is sunshine outside and lots of people coming for dinner, I will try to read a few more pages.

Thank you Stephen King for being such a creep. And thank you Scribner for tapping my pride and then punishing me with the anxiety of reading the whole book.

Lisey’s Story is available in stores October 24.