Misgivings

  

At the beginning of the year I decided that this year's reading goal would be to work through a list of 100 books the BBC thinks you should have read but probably haven't.  Several of the works I had not read I have really liked, and several I haven't.  These are two that fall into the latter category.  

Kent said Catch 22 was really funny.  Maybe for a guy.  It didn't really do anything for me.  I read probably 50 or so pages (how much I should read being under 50), then skipped through the rest, reading bits and pieces.  The rest beyond was pretty much like the first, and I was done.  I read the last chapter and didn't feel like I had skipped most of it.

Several years ago I selected Reading Lolita in Tehran as a book group selection.  I loved it.  It was fascinating to read about Iranian women trying, in subtle and clandestine ways, to overcome the oppression they face.  I had not, however, actually read Lolita.  On the cover of the copy I have is a quote from Vanity Fair.  It says, "The only convincing love story of our century."  This disturbs me.  The protagonist is an aging man obsessed with a child, a twelve year old girl he considers a nymphet.  I could not get past the fact that the man telling the story is a pedophile.  And how awful is it to think that "the only convincing love story of our century" is about an illegal, disgusting relationship?  Seems depraved to me, but more and more I suppose that describes our culture.  Maybe the fact that I am raising a sweet daughter I want to shelter from such horror as long as possible colors my view here, but whatever the reason, I didn't make it to page 100, and I'm not going to.  

I like to consider myself intellectually open-minded and diverse in my reading tastes, but I couldn't bring myself to like either of these books.  Even if some snob at the BBC thinks I should.

Lord of the Flies

The Lord of the Flies is another selection from the BBC list.  Over the years, I have heard about Lord of the Flies.  I knew there were boys on an island, they turned savage, and some boys killed other boys.  I knew no details, however.  Now that I have read it, I can say The Lord of the Flies is a book about a group of boys who are trapped on an uninhabited island following a plane crash.  Initially they form a tribe and work together to build shelters, find food, and maintain a fire on the top of the island to serve as a beacon to ships that may pass by and could rescue them.  Within a short span of time, some of the boys form a separate tribe and give in to their more savage tendencies.  Boys are killed.  They are eventually rescued.  Not much different from my initial understanding.

This book has been hailed as one of the 100 best English language books.  Rave reviews all around and required reading in many schools (although I escaped high school and college without reading it).  I'm not sure why.  I didn't find it all that spectacular.  It was a fine story and it was well written.  I cared about the characters and I hoped that they would be rescued.  I knew almost immediately which character would be killed and why, and I wasn't wrong.  From a literary perspective, I can see how it is allegorical, but I guess I am sort of past caring about that sort of thing.  I can see how it could make an impression on high school aged children, but I wasn't enthralled.  

This was certainly a fine read and has been popular now for decades, so perhaps I am missing something everyone else appreciates.  While it was interesting and engaging, I'm not sure I would recommend it to others as a "must read."  Save it for one of those days when you have absolutely nothing else to read, and then see if you can't find something else first.

Devil's Food Cake

Devil's Food Cake was the fluff I needed after reading the two war books (Birdsong and Captain Corelli's Mandolin) that I was looking for in Notes From a Small Island and didn't really find.  I found this book on a friend's book club list, and thought I would give it a try.  

Kilpack has written several murder mysteries all bearing titles of tasty desserts.  They feature a woman named Sadie Hoffmiller who is something of a nosy Parker.  The story line in this book takes place in a 15 hour time period, so the story moves along quickly and the murder is solved within a short period of time.  I liked the character of Sadie Hoffmiller, I thought Kilpack did a fine job of maintaining suspense, and the whole thing is a very quick read.  I finished this in a day without completely ignoring my children (although I did spend an hour reading it while I rode my bike, and more time while the children played outside).  I would not call this a fine piece of literature that is likely to stand the test of time, but it was fun and light.  

The recipes sounded tasty too.  

Notes From a Small Island

You know how I'm reading through the list of books the BBC thinks no one has read but probably should have?  This is one of those books, and I had to ask myself, "Why?"  

Bill Bryson is an American humorist who lived in England for two decades.  Prior to his return to the States, he took one final trip around Great Britain visiting places he had always wanted to go (and some he hadn't), and then wrote this travel log.  It was apparently very well received by the British, but I'm not sure why.  I found Bryson to be snarky and intent on finding fault with most places he went.  There were cities and villages that he seemed to like and moments he enjoyed himself, but they were few by comparison with all the places he seemed to loath.  

I had hoped for a light read after the two books about wars, and I would say Notes From a Small Island is light.  It has little or no real substance.  I know that many would say this was an amusing read, but I really didn't like it.  Bryson was far too cynical and seemed to be trying too hard to be funny.  The book is full of interesting tidbits about places he is visiting and about England in general, but I wasn't impressed.  On the back cover of my copy, one reviewer said that the book was like a valentine to Great Britain.  Well, I can tell you, it is not the sort of valentine I would like to receive.

Telling Memories Among Southern Women

When I finished reading The Help a few months ago, I was happy I had read it, but I wanted more.  I suppose this has something to do with my graduate work, but I wanted to read actual stories of actual women who had been domestic workers in the South.  At the end of The Help, Kathryn Stockett makes mention of a book she found very helpful when she was writing and thanked the author, Susan Tucker.  That book was Telling Memories Among Southern Women.  This was the book I wanted.

The book is a compilation of interviews Susan Tucker and an assistant conducted of women who were domestic workers or those who employed them.  These are first hand accounts, edited somewhat for length and ease of readability.  These are the voices of actual women like those portrayed in The Help.  Having read The Help first, I was pleased to see that much of what was Stockett had written was validated by the first person narratives in Telling Memories.  There was good and bad, funny and sad, and perspectives of both black and white women.  Tucker is white, but her assistant, Mary Yelling, is black.  Tucker says Yelling was able to speak to and record the stories of many women who would not otherwise have opened up to her because of racial differences.  

The oral narratives are powerful and I recommend this book as supplemental reading material if you read The Help.  It may be difficult to find, however.  I looked for it unsuccessfully at our local library, but found a copy at BYU.  It is available for purchase on Amazon (but not really very cheap).  Worth the search, however.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

By way of introduction, I'm going to include the information you would read on Amazon if you wanted to know what this book is about.

From a single, abbreviated life grew a seemingly immortal line of cells that made some of the most crucial innovations in modern science possible. And from that same life, and those cells, Rebecca Skloot has fashioned in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks a fascinating and moving story of medicine and family, of how life is sustained in laboratories and in memory. Henrietta Lacks was a mother of five in Baltimore, a poor African American migrant from the tobacco farms of Virginia, who died from a cruelly aggressive cancer at the age of 30 in 1951. A sample of her cancerous tissue, taken without her knowledge or consent, as was the custom then, turned out to provide one of the holy grails of mid-century biology: human cells that could survive--even thrive--in the lab. Known as HeLa cells, their stunning potency gave scientists a building block for countless breakthroughs, beginning with the cure for polio. Meanwhile, Henrietta's family continued to live in poverty and frequently poor health, and their discovery decades later of her unknowing contribution--and her cells' strange survival--left them full of pride, anger, and suspicion. For a decade, Skloot doggedly but compassionately gathered the threads of these stories, slowly gaining the trust of the family while helping them learn the truth about Henrietta, and with their aid she tells a rich and haunting story that asks the questions, Who owns our bodies? And who carries our memories?

When I was doing my graduate work in Albany, I took a class called something like Black Women and Feminist Theory.  This book would have made a fabulous addition to our curriculum.  The author, Rebecca Skloot, became interested in HeLa cells when she was in a high school  biology class, and her interest remained until she graduated from college.  She doggedly researched the medical history and personal life of the obscure woman whose cells  live on and then wrote this fascinating book of her discoveries.

For class, we could have discussed medical care for blacks versus whites in the 50s as well as currently, and employment options for black women.  Another major theme is how we interact and support family members and keep memories of loved ones alive.  And then the question, as mentioned above, of who owns our bodies and what can be done with our tissues after they have been removed from our bodies.  There is also the currert debate among some about the HPV vaccine and who should receive it.  I can imagine a very heated discussion about trust in both our public and private lives.  Great stuff.

This is a good read.  Not only is it educational, it is compelling (I read it in about three days, while still taking care of my family).

The Beekeeper's Apprentice

The Beekeeper's Apprentice was this month's book for my book group.  It is a new Sherlock Holmes book, but obviously not written by Arthur Conan Doyle.  Like all Sherlock Holmes stories, it is a mystery, and it is the first of a series by Laurie King introducing a young woman named Mary Russell.  Mary, or Russell as Holmes calls her, is Holmes' intellectual equal.  They meet by chance on the moors where Holmes is watching bees and Mary is walking while reading.  She nearly steps on him.  This meeting is the start of a friendship that eventually grows into a romance (but not really until book 2, I'm told, although there are hints in that direction in this book).  Holmes takes Russell under his wing and begins to train her in the art of detection, something she is very good at as she is as observant of small details as Holmes himself.  

I really enjoyed this book.  The mystery was well developed and sustained until the end, the character development was convincing, and I felt King was able to capture the original Holmes very well.  There was nothing objectionable in this book by way of language, sex, or violence, and I finished this book wanting to read more.  At my suggestion, Kent is reading it, and he is enjoying it.

Captain Corelli's Mandolin

To quote Renée Zellweger in Jerry Maguire, this book had me at "Hello."  The first chapter is so funny, I almost want to include the whole thing here, but I won't.  I will include the first paragraph, however, as a small  taste of what a great writer Louis de Bernières really is.

Dr Iannis had enjoyed a satisfactory day in which none of his patients had died or got any worse.  He had attended a surprisingly easy calving, lanced one abscess, extracted a molar, dosed one lady of easy virtue with Salvarsan, performed an unpleasant but spectacularly fruitful enema, and had produced a miracle by a feat of medical prestidigitation.  

Isn't that wonderful?

The last book I read, Birdsong, was about World War I.  It was sad.  I have moved forward a war.  Captain Corelli's Mandolin is set on the Greece island of Cephallonia during World War II.  It, too, was sad, but so funny too.  I cried as I rode my bike (again), but chapters were so amusing I had to read them out loud to Kent.  The characters are wonderfully well developed and the story enlightening (I knew nothing about Greece during the war).

I turned down corners of several pages, moving and delightful passages about children, love, and death.  Here are a couple of quotes, in brief.

Children see more than we do.

Did you know that childhood is the only time in our lives when insanity is not only permitted to us, but expected?

Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides.  And when it subsides you have to make a decision.  You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.  Because this is what love is.  Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body.  No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths.  That is just being "in love," which any fool can do.  Love itself is what is left over when being in love has been burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

When loved ones die, you have to live on their behalf.  See things as though with their eyes.  Remember how they used to say things, and use those words oneself.  Be thankful that you can do things that they cannot, and also feel the sadness of it.

I think this is a great book.  I would love to read it as my choice for our book group, but I'm not sure I can.  There is a fair amount of bad language and graphic descriptions of wartime atrocities, plus talk of sex although no actual sex scenes, and I'm not sure it would be "appropriate" considering the book group started out as a Relief Society sponsored thing.  I did love it though.  I need to have someone else read it and tell me if I can select it.

Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon

http://xfinity.comcast.net/articles/news-national/20110427/drives.grand.canyon/

The link is to a story about a man who drove his car into Grand Canyon and survived.  The car fell about 200 feet and then got lodged in a pine tree.  Having read Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon, I can tell you that the man is very lucky.  Very lucky indeed.

I picked up this book at a yard sale last year.  It seemed something of a macabre sort of read, but the subtitle claimed to contain "gripping accounts of all know fatal mishaps" that have occurred in Grand Canyon, and how can anyone resist that?  It was also part of my goal to read as many non-fiction books as fiction.  I didn't get it finished last year.

The authors do provide detailed stories of those who have died in the canyon from falls, air plane crashes (including helicopters), drownings, suicide, and murder.  I was amazed at some people's stupidity and/or rotten luck.  The stories are interesting, especially appealing to those who find others' immortality less painful to consider than their own.

A Guide to the Birds of East Africa

There is a segment on Classical 89 called "Bookbeat."  A woman who works at the Bookstore at BYU gives a book review each week.  I like Bookbeat and Linda Brummett, the reviewer.  She is insightful and selects a wide range of books to literature to discuss: children's and young adult works, fiction and non alike.  

A Guide to the Birds of East Africa was a novel she reviewed, and based on her review, I thought it would be a fun one to read out loud with Kent.  She compared Nicholas Drayson's writing to that of Alexander McCall Smith's, one of my favorite authors, so I was eager to read it.  Although the premise of the story is engaging, the actual writing isn't, at least initially.  Kent and I are not nearly as consistent with our reading as we were 3B (before baby Brandt), and even less consistent now that we are 2K2B (KentKatherineBrandtBlythe), and this book was just not engaging enough to make us want to read every night or even every other night.  Kent especially couldn't get into it.

That said, I did finish reading it on my own and I enjoyed it.  The story is this: Mr. Malik, a quiet widower, has a crush on Rose Mbikwa, the leader of a weekly bird walk he attends.  He wants to ask her to the Nairobi Hunt Club Ball, but is too shy to act.  A man whom Mr. Malik knew in his youth, Harry Khan, returns to Nairobi and also takes a liking to Rose.  A bet is wagered between Mr. Malik and Harry Khan: he who can identify the most individual species of birds in one week wins the right to ask Rose to the Hunt Club Ball.  

After a bit too much ground-laying, the story becomes very engaging, and perhaps had Kent and I endured a bit longer together he would have gotten into it.  As it was, I found the book charming, but it took a number of chapters before I was really excited to read it all the way through and not just jump to the last chapter to see how it ended.  It isn't really a very long book and is a quick read (if not reading out loud), and without any objectionable subject matter or bad language.  

Birdsong

Although I have finished reading several other books since I finished this one, it has been on my mind.  It is a piece of literature that stays with you, that causes reflection, that has made me think--a lot.  This is another book from the BBC list (which I am going to post) I am working through, and I am glad I read it. 

The cover of the copy I have reads Birdsong: A Novel of Love and War.  It certainly begins as a romantic novel.  The main character, an Englishman named Stephen Wraysford, goes to France for work and stays in the home of a man who owns a textile factory.  He falls in love with the man's wife, Isabelle, and they have an affair.  As a side note, there are several erotic passages; Faulks leaves little to the imagination.  They run away together, but after a time together, Isabelle leaves Stephen.  

The story then takes us several years forward to WWI.  Wraysford is in the army, fighting in the trenches in France.  Faulks introduces us to the men fighting alongside him, and again, in vivid detail, describes life during that terrible war.  I have yet to read All's Quiet on the Western Front, but I imagine much of this portion of the story--the death, disease, loneliness, heartache, injury--is very similar.  It is distressing and at times very difficult to read.  

Part of the plot centers around Wraysford's granddaughter who wants to know more about him and what his experience during the war was like.  This part of the story is really secondary to the main plot line, but it provides an added depth to the overall narrative that I thought was touching.

I have been thinking about the subtitle, A Novel of Love and War.  I have not been ignorant of the events of WWI, nor the awful conditions endured by those who fought and died or survived that time.  Faulks, however, made it all very real to me.  He is a powerful writer and, I felt, truly evoked a time and place in so detailed a way that I could see the scenes so clearly.  In many instances, it was horrifying.  

There was a different sort of war being fought too.  Several of the characters seem to be at war with themselves.  Wraysford feels deeply and passionately about Isabelle, he feels strongly about his men and colleagues, and struggles with his motivations to fight, and he is not really able to resolve any of those feelings. He had great difficulty finding peace, even after the war.  Isabelle, as a woman, is at war with social mores.  She is trapped in an abusive marriage and wants more for herself, but can't see a way be greater freedom.

This novel is also about love in a variety of forms: erotic love, love of one's comrades in arms, love of country, and parental love.  There is a touching passage near the end of the book when a man describes his love for his son.  The son has died and the father is going to die too.  He says,

I loved that boy.  Every hair of him, every pore of his skin.  I would have killed a man who so much as laid a hand on him.  My world was in his face.  I was not so young when he was born.  I wondered what my life had been about until he came along.  It was nothing.  I treasured each word he gave me.  I made myself remember each thing he did, the way he turned his head, his way of saying things.  It was as though I knew it wouldn't be for long.  He was from another world, he was a blessing too great for me.

This just made me weep.  Actually, several passages throughout the book made me weep.  I read large portions as I biked on my trainer, and I would add, again as a side note, that it is difficult to bike and weep at the same time.  Hard to breathe adequately.  This is a moving book.  I consider it a fine piece of literature, but as with many pieces of fine literature, it is difficult to read (not literally, but figuratively).

Rebecca

Another book off the BBC list.  I have now read 61.  It seems to me as though I have read this before, but I don't remember, and I don't think so.  I was familiar with the story and have seen the movie, so the book didn't really hold much surprise or suspense, but it was fun.  I suppose in a way it could be considered a romance, but it is also a mystery.  

The unnamed narrator, the second Mrs. Maxim de Winter, is haunted by the memory of Rebecca, Maxim's first wife, even though she never knew her.  Upon their marriage, Maxim takes his new bride home to Manderley, where they hope to begin a new life together.  But Rebecca's shadow falls over everything they do.  The narrator feels that she is not as good as Rebecca, that she is always being compared to her.  She eventually comes to learn of Rebecca's true character and the real nature of her relationship to her husband, but at a tragic cost to her and Maxim.  

At the conclusion of the book, I was left wondering why, as a couple, Maxim and his wife are leading such a nomadic existence, when there is really nothing preventing them from having a stable life someplace other than Manderley.  At the very end of the book Manderley is burning, and I can understand them not wanting to stay there.  But why not buy a little place somewhere else in England, or even abroad.  Why live in a string of hotels all the rest of their days, never putting down roots.  Makes no sense to me.  I was left unsatisfied in that regard.  Otherwise, I agree with the cover that this book is "a classic tale of romantic suspense."

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is an interesting read.  I chose to read it because it is on the BBC list of books everyone should have read and most people probably haven't, so it meets a new year's resolution.  The narrator is Christopher, a fifteen year old with autism.  While up late in the night, he finds his across the street neighbor's dog stabbed to death with a pitchfork.  He decides to find out who did it, in true detective style, and to write a book about it.  Mark Haddon, the author, worked for many years with autistic people, and I found Christopher's voice very convincing.  I believed I was reading the words of an autistic boy.  

The story itself is both funny and sad.  My heart hurt for Christopher in many instances.  I appreciate a writer who can make me feel deeply for a character, and I think Haddon was very successful in making me what to more about Christopher and to want good things for him.  The novel is short (226 pages) and a quick read, but engaging and moving, too.  

A word of warning--there is a fair amount of profanity in the book.  That aside, the book is quite good.  And just as a bit of humor, one of the blurbs on the back of the book describes it as, "Moving. . . . Think of The Sound and the Fury crossed with The Catcher in the Rye and one of Oliver Sack's real-life stories."  I need to look up Oliver Sack (I don't know who he is), I haven't read Catcher in the Rye (that I remember), and I'm not reading The Sound and the Fury at Kent's "suggestion." but I think The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is both convincing and readable.  

The Help

I read The Help for my book group this month.  It is about southern women in the 60s and the maids that work for them.  Yesterday was book group and I only picked this up to begin reading a week ago, but I finished it quickly.  It is a fast read, mostly because I think it is a well-told story.  We had a lively discussion about many different topics; the book brings up issues about both whites and blacks.

I have read several negative reviews about the book, all of which were written by black women.  Most of the reviews, however, have been very favorable, and people like it enough that it has remained on the NY Times Best Seller List for over a year.  I, too, liked it, but I wanted more.  I liked the characters, although I agree with the negative reviews which have said they were fairly stock characters, somewhat stereo-typical.  I enjoy the sense of the south Stockett shared in her writing.  I was able to catch a glimpse of a past era and culture I have no personal experience with.

My favorite quote from the book: "We are just two people.  Not that much separates us.  Not nearly as much as I'd thought."

One review I read complained that Stockett did not actually speak to anyone who had been a maid during this period, and that as a white woman, she couldn't possibly understand what it was like, even though Stockett grew up with a black maid.  Considering that the book is about a white woman wanting to capture the voices of black maids, I found it ironic that Stockett did not do the same in order to give her work greater authenticity.  

I was pleasantly surprised, however, to find that Stockett did consider firsthand narratives, actual Primary source material.  At the end of the book, in the acknowledgements, she thanks Susan Tucker, the author of the book Telling Memories Among Southern Women, "whose beautiful oral accounts of domestics and white employers took [her] back to a time and place that is long gone."  I was intrigued by this short note and the book, so I had my mom check it out of the BYU library for me.  It is a scholarly work of recorded interviews of women who worked as black maids and also of those who had black maids.  I began reading this one last week and will post on that when I am through.

I have help.  I have a Peruvian woman named Blanca who cleans my house for me.  She only comes once a week, but I find that I am encountering complications in our relationship.  I pay her for four hours of work at my house, and for four hours of work at my in-laws, and she only works three and a half for me and far less for my in-laws.  Sometimes she isn't even at George and Merlynn's house for two hours.  I need to talk to her about working more or being paid less, and I don't want to do it.  

I like Blanca.  She is widow with two teenage daughters, one who has major emotional problems.  She works hard to provide for them and I know she struggles to make ends meet.  I have made an effort to find her work, and feel good that many of my neighbors have begun using Blanca to clean their homes, thus providing her with increased income.  We have all that we need and more.  We have been incredibly blessed and I want to be able to help others and share the bounties I enjoy.  In this case, however, I feel somewhat like I am being taken advantage of.  I know that Blanca must look at my situation--large and lovely home, husband who works to provide for us--and think that I should be able to pay her what I pay her and more.  I am rich in her eyes.  And yet I'm not.  We are careful with our money and I don't want Blanca to think I owe her something because I have more than she does.  I will need to talk to her when she comes next Monday to clean the toilets so I don't have to.  I want to be kind, I am grateful to be able to afford a house cleaner, but Blanca works for me and I want something more from her.  I am going to pray about how to talk to her so that neither of us come away feeling that we are misunderstood.  Wish me luck!

The Ladies Auxiliary

I picked up this book because it was on a friend's book club list.  It tells the story of a tight-knit Jewish community in Memphis.  Who knew there were Jews in Memphis?  A single mom and Jewish convert moves into the neighborhood and unknowingly stirs things up.  Batsheva is religious (think devout), but she has an unknown past, is an outsider, and does things differently.  She makes the other women in the community look at themselves and their lives, their religious practice and devotion, and she makes them nervous.  Although technically one of them, her differences are enough to make her the target of ill feelings when the protective wall the women have built around themselves begins to crumble.

Although I am not Jewish, I do live in a community that is predominantly Mormon.  My daily activities and interactions are largely among those of my own faith, and my close friendships have been forged through mutual church activity.  For many women living in Provo, I'm sure this is typical.  I think most women would say that their social networks are also their church networks.  

I do, however, have an across the street neighbor, Kristie, who no longer attends the Mormon church; she and her husband are not active.  In fact, they attend another church altogether.  They have three children including a daughter, Maia, just a year older than Brandt.  When the weather is nice and I am outside with my kids, Kristie is frequently out with hers, too.  We will sit in one of our driveways and talk as the children race and ride up and down the street.  I like talking to her, I am comfortable with her, and I enjoy the time we spend together watching our children and being outdoors.  And yet I never do anything with her socially.  We have never gone to lunch or been swimming at my parent's house.  I don't think to invite her when I think of gathering friends for an activity.  I ask myself why and only come with the lame-o answer that we don't go to church together and so I don't think about her.  

Because we don't go to church together, I should  think about her.  She is surrounded by Mormons and technically is one herself.  And yet I'm fairly sure that Kristie probably doesn't feel that she has many friends to do things with.  Every woman knows how important other women friends are, and after reading this book, I think I will make a greater effort to be more friend-like to Kristie, not just friendly.

The Sweet Life in Paris

Kent bought me The Sweet Life in Paris for Christmas.  It was a yummy read.  Lebovitz lived in San Francisco, was a chef and cookbook author, but decided he wanted a change and moved to Paris.  I would like a change like that.  In this book, he shares what he has learned about Paris and Parisiens, and how to adapt to living in a glorious but perplexing city.  His writing style is very readable and funny and because he has experienced everything first-hand, I got a real sense of the city seen through the eyes of an actual inhabitant.  It was amusing to see how Lebovitz made his way.  I felt he showed the good and bad of Paris, but always tempered with a real love of the city and its dwellers.  

In addition to the narrative, the book contains over 50 recipes.  He includes everything from soup to nuts (literally); appetizers, desserts, entrées, bread.  I haven't actually tried any of the recipes yet, but several sound yummy.  I'm going to try the chocolate mousse, the bacon and blue cheese cake, the chocolate chip cream puffs, and the orange sorbet.  In my defence, bacon and blue cheese cake is actually savory, so not everything is sweet.  Maybe I'll look at over savory recipes.

As a side note, unimportant to the enjoyment of the book, Lebovitz is gay.  I've decided, after reading this book, I'm gay too.  I really like men.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I have been working with Brandt as he is trying to master the toilet.  To encourage him to poop, I will read out loud to him.  For Christmas, I bought the collected works of Roald Dahl thinking that I would read them to Brandt.  Kent thought I was a bit pre-mature.  Brandt is only four and these books don't have very many pictures, and Kent believed that they wouldn't hold Brandt's attention.  Little did he know how captivating Dahl’s writing really is. 

I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to Brandt in two days.  This is a 200 page book with very few pictures, but Brandt did not want me to stop.  He loved it!  We had just seen the movie two weeks before as we were on our way to Las Vegas.  The movie version with Johnny Depp playing Mr. Wonka follows the book very closely, much more closely than the Gene Wilder version.  I think the movie was playing in Brandt’s head as we read making it easier for him to follow along, so that might have played a part in his captivated interest.  But even so, he was with me as I read. 

Roald Dahl is creative, funny, and entertaining.  We are nearly done reading Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, the sequel to Chocolate Factory, and I am delighted that we have over a dozen more Dahl books waiting to be read.  Although these books are meant for children, they are engaging for adults too.  I am looking forward to future reads.

The Birth of Blue Satan

I like to consult lists when I am considering what to read.  I find it tremendously satisfying to be able to cross something off my "to-do" list, or to line out another book read.  The Birth of Blue Satan came from a friend's book club list, and it looked interesting.  This is a historical novel, part adventure, part romance, part mystery.  Set in 1715, in the early-Georgian period, I learned much about the political discord of the period.  I was also entertained by the story.  Patricia Wynn, the author, writes romance novels, and this book has that feel without any bodice ripping scenes typical of a historical romance.

A young and dashing Viscount (heir to an earldom), Gideon St. Mars, is wrongly accused of murdering his father.  He is wooing a beautiful (though stupid) woman and finds his hopes of marrying her vanish as he tries to discover who really did kill his father.  He finds an ally in the cousin of the woman he wishes to marry, Hester Kean.  She is true to him, believes in his innocence, and his intellectually his equal.  She is in love with him.  He should be in love with her, but is blinded by the other woman's beauty.  

Some of the plot elements and questions are resolved by the end of the book, but others are not.  I was left wanting answers, which I think was a deliberate choice by Wynn.  This is the first of now three books, so leaving situations unresolved will insure that those who read this first book will want to read the second, and beyond.  I liked the book well enough to buy a used copy of book two, The Spider's Touch, though I only paid a penny for it.

A Room with a View

We are reading A Room With a View for book group in February.  I think it is appropriate to be reading a "romance" in February.  I love this book.  It has all the elements of a true romance--stolen kisses, conflict in getting the the hero and heroine together, and nudity--and yet it is a more intellectual read than say a Barbara Cartland romance.  I know this because I read a number of Barbara Cartland novels when I was much younger and going through a romance stage.  

But back to Room with a View.  I love the characters in this book.  Lucy has depth without knowing it, George is perfect for her with out her knowing it, and Cecil is so decidedly unfit for marriage.  Florence is a city so full of passion and beauty you can't help but want to rush to the computer and buy a plane ticket to Italy departing immediately.  The book also contains one of the funniest scenes I've read in literature, the pond bathing scene that makes me laugh out loud every time I read it.  And I've read it several times.

The Merchant & Ivory film version of this book is also wonderful.  That same pond scene is funny.  I just checked.  The movie is rated R for that scene; full frontal male nudity.  How often do you see that?  I would say, however, to absolutely anyone, see this movie, even with the scene.  I would watch it with my mother, or my grandmother.  In fact, I think I did.