Mini-review on Instagram: When mechanic Alex Barnaby ("Barney") realized a friend is missing, she enlists the help of her hot boyfriend/coworker/NascarMini-review on Instagram: When mechanic Alex Barnaby ("Barney") realized a friend is missing, she enlists the help of her hot boyfriend/coworker/Nascar driver to find Rosa. Hijinks and high-speed chases ensue.
This was a fun little book, but I feel like I missed half of what's going on because I haven't read the books about Barney and co. But for fans, I bet this would be very rewarding!...more
Mitchell Hundred is a superhero turned politician struggling to shed his vigilante past and step into his position as mayor of New York. Yet politics Mitchell Hundred is a superhero turned politician struggling to shed his vigilante past and step into his position as mayor of New York. Yet politics may prove far more fraught than heroism ever was.
Hundred, a civil engineer who picked up his powers in a strange encounter under the Brooklyn Bridge, is soon faced with a rash of murders during a blizzard. Is it the resurgence of his arch nemesis, or a new threat?
In an alternate history with a timeline that jumps from Hundred’s childhood to the acquisition and deployment of his powers to present day (2002), the first volume explores vigilantism, responsibility, politics, freedom of speech in art, and more. It’s a compelling start to a promising series that somehow blends superheroes and political science.
I really enjoyed Wait for You, the first book in this series. It was incredibly sexy, and it explored serioCheck out my full review at Melody & Words!
I really enjoyed Wait for You, the first book in this series. It was incredibly sexy, and it explored serious issues relating to sexual assault and identity. While this book didn’t quite have the same effect on me, I still enjoyed it.
I wasn't quite as pulled in by the relationship between Teresa and Jase. I loved the constant tension between Avery and Cam in the first book, but the volume seemed turned way down in the second installment.
However, Teresa is a very compelling character–a real fighter. When Jase seems unwilling to risk a relationship with her, she calls him out on it. When her roommate shows signs of partner abuse, she helps her confront him. Teresa is not one to let a man walk all over her–not after her first boyfriend turned violent and threatened to ruin her life a few years ago.
Domestic violence is a recurring issue throughout this book. I applaud Armentrout for addressing an issue that is prevalent, even among young couples, but so often overlooked. Armentrout finds an excellent balance between telling a fun, sexy story and addressing important issues in this series.
Her writing isn’t exactly literary (at one point, she describes Jase as appearing to be “drowning while being nom nom’d on by cookie cutter sharks”), which often held me back from truly getting into the story.
But I loved Teresa’s pugnacious spirit, and her humor.
Despite my qualms about Armentrout’s writing style, I appreciate how well she tells stories about serious issues without coming across as preachy. I’m looking forward to the next book in the series....more
This is one of the best books I’ve read all year, and a welcome addition to my collection of well-loved pioneer stories.
This book covers so much grounThis is one of the best books I’ve read all year, and a welcome addition to my collection of well-loved pioneer stories.
This book covers so much ground: race, class, women’s rights, war. It’s as though Little House on the Prairie grew up and developed a racially and culturally aware conscience. African-American homesteaders are rare enough in pioneer literature, but Weisgarber doesn’t stop with the inevitable racial tension that follows the DuPrees; she places these pioneers in the tumultuous years leading up to World War II, when African-Americans flooded cities and race riots ensued.
Weisgarber adds a further level of complexity by mixing in the uneasy status of Native Americans, whom Isaac DuPree detests but who help Rachel in her greatest hour of need. As if that’s not enough, Weisgarber centers the tale around a woman’s decision to stand up to an insensitive and overly ambitious husband–not an easy thing for a barely literate African-American rancher’s wife in the early twentieth century to do.
I grew up loving pioneer stories, from Laura Ingalls Wilder to Janette Oke to Willa Cather. The freedom promised by the solitary plains tempted me as a young girl surrounded by siblings, and the ambition and willpower it took homesteaders to eke out a living on the wild prairie inspired me to aim for the impossible as well.
Rachel struggles, in the story, with summoning the strength to survive the harsh summer and coming winter; to care for her children, both born and unborn; and to preserve a marriage built on ambitious expectation. She struggles to reconcile her dreams for her life and the reality that she is given. Ultimately, she finds the strength to do the right thing. It’s probably not what Willa Cather or Laura Ingalls Wilder would have done… and that’s why Rachel’s story is so riveting. Will Rachel stay with the man she has loved since she first set eyes on him, or will she give back to their children the childhood that is slipping from their grasp?
Rachel is a well-developed character, riven but not paralyzed by a decision that will change her life and the lives of her children. She is personable, and her voice feels authentic. The book’s layers of complexity unfold with perfect pacing, and the book never misses a step. In case you didn’t notice, I highly recommend it!
Oei is a painter in her father’s studio, his oldest and most faithful disciple. Her father, Hokusai, is a famed artist throughout Edo, and his influenOei is a painter in her father’s studio, his oldest and most faithful disciple. Her father, Hokusai, is a famed artist throughout Edo, and his influence is reaching other parts of Japan as well. Despite the shogun’s censorship of art and free speech, Hokusai’s work only grows in popularity, and he even sells his art to the Dutch traders who are allowed limited engagement with Japan.
From the day she was born, her mother—Hokusai’s second wife—gave Oei up to her father, and the two became a pair. As Oei grows older, she becomes more and more like her father, and as the old man’s fame increases, he depends upon her steady hand and eye for vibrant color—though he rarely acknowledges their symbiotic relationship. The charismatic Hokusai claims Oei’s talent as his own even as it begins to take on its own life and outshine the old man’s famous style, and Oei submits to him out of duty.
Hokusai is eccentric, to say the least. After his second wife dies and he is gripped by palsy, Hokusai depends upon Oei to support him. “Suddenly he was all I had, and I was all he had,” she says. Her support of him is physical, emotional, and artistic, and it leaves Oei no time to branch out on her own. Such independence would be a betrayal. Hokusai’s life improbably stretches twice the length of the average Japanese man of his times, but after the old man’s eventual death, Oei is offered a chance to claim her many works under Hokusai’s name. Will she leap at the chance for greatness, or will she continue on as a ghost brush?
One of the most interesting aspects of the book is the unstoppable influx of foreigners into a closed Japan. As Oei ages and becomes more and more independent, the world seems to be opening up to her. “My old life and its people were becoming relics,” she comments. “A new world was advancing on us.”
The author explains in the afterword that she first became interested on Oei—“the ghost brush”—after seeing an exhibition of Hokusai’s many works in D.C.’s Freer Gallery of Art. Comparing his works side by side, it becomes apparent, she writes, that the painter known as Hokusai could not have done this alone. Especially not the final painting, said to have been completed in his eighty-ninth year, with fine details and a total departure from the old man’s style.
She writes, “I knew then that no matter how difficult it would be for an amateur and a non-speaker of Japanese to crack this world, I would write the story.” Employing short, staccato sentences for much of the book, Govier explores what Oei’s life might have been like. Govier appears to have done her research into the fascinating theory that there were two artists painting under the seal and signature of Hokusai.
But a theory a story does not make. I need conflict, I need shape, I need to feel that this is story and it is going somewhere. Instead, we see a woman’s life stretch and meander over six decades as she grapples with her and her father’s identities as artists. That’s a cool idea, but where is the rising action, the climax?
Anything would have spiced up the narrative. Without conflict, without that certain sense of something about to happen, there can be no true tension. Any tension feels fabricated, false, unsupported. The only tension I could find was Oei’s struggle to find herself and to be true to that self. That’s a nice theme, but you can’t tell a story about themes.
The best part about the book is the end. That sounds cheeky, but it’s true. At the end, Oei’s life as a painter and, therefore, a kind of historian/storyteller culminates in the ultimate ghost story: the story of the ghost painter, the woman who was hidden from history but whose art lives on. A great idea, but one that could have been refined and shaped into a more compact and powerful story.
Anna Lefler, stand-up comedian and writer at Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder, has a fresh, intelligent sense of humor that shines in The Chicktionary.Anna Lefler, stand-up comedian and writer at Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder, has a fresh, intelligent sense of humor that shines in The Chicktionary. Meant as a reference book to the sometimes mystifying and always evolving language of women, Lefler’s satirical book is a barrel of laughs.
From bandeau (“From the French word meaning ‘there’s no way that’s staying up’) to clitoris (“the original ‘Like’ button”), Lefler’s book is amusing and informative, though it occasionally verges on TMI (speculum: kind of like “a really mean platypus” beak).
Much of the humor seems directed at women, such as her description of maxi pads (“Some pads even come wrapped in sassy colors to match your sassy uterus”) and her instructions on diagnosing your face shape (“Stand in front of a mirror, view your face, and ask yourself this question: ‘What shape is that?’”) But even Jack found several of the entries funny, reading aloud the entry for bangs.
The one aspect of the book that I didn’t like was its rigid structure. It adheres to the structure of a dictionary, which makes it fun to flip through but not something you’d want to, say, read all the way through in almost one sitting. (Ahem.) Despite that qualm, I’m going to start reading more from Ms. Lefler, starting with her blog.
The book raises a few questions that it can’t answer, such as whether men really call their penises “Mr. Shock-and-Aw-Yeah!” But overall, The Chicktionary is the perfect gift this holiday season for the frenemy who has everything–especially a good sense of humor.
In 1941, Nazi Germany easily defeated France and struck a deal with a well-loved World War I hero, Marshal Philippe Pétain, who would lead the occupieIn 1941, Nazi Germany easily defeated France and struck a deal with a well-loved World War I hero, Marshal Philippe Pétain, who would lead the occupied country. In return, the Vichy government would collaborate with the occupiers.
But not every Frenchman—or woman—was as content as Pétain to collaborate with the Nazis, and a Resistance movement sprang up almost immediately. Caroline Moorehead’s impeccably detailed book follows the story of several Frenchwomen in their efforts to stymie the occupiers—and the unimaginable punishment that awaited them.
The French police, for the most part, assisted vigorously in the round-up of their fellow citizens who participated in the Resistance. One man, unsuccessfully fleeing before his execution without trial, cried out as he was caught, “Look what French police are doing to Frenchmen!”
This was a common refrain among resisters, but still their harsh treatment in the hands of their countrymen was shockingly unfettered. One French policeman, Poinsot, tortured his subjects so brutally that the Gestapo would threaten to hand other prisoners over to him if they didn’t cooperate. (At the end of the war, Poinsot was charged for the “death in deportation” of 1,560 Jews and 900 French political prisoners, as well as the execution of 285 men and “for torture so extreme people were ‘literally massacred.’”)
Women in France in the thirties and forties were considered weak, less-than, a second-class citizen. Contraception was made illegal after World War I to replenish a faltering population, and during World War II, punishment for abortionists meant the guillotine. Women did not have the right to vote. But the bright side of the women’s marginalization was that they were treated differently when they were arrested. Only the most ebullient were tortured, as opposed to what seems to be the majority of the men, and Moorehead makes no mention of women being among the hundreds of untried men who were executed every time a German was attacked.
For a time, their femininity saved them. Before long, however, they faced a fate that may have been worse than death: Nazi death camps.
First in Auschwitz, the infamous extermination camp, and then in Ravensbrück, ostensibly a work camp but one in which death ruled supreme, the women faced unimaginable horrors. Of the 230 women who were deported, only 49 survived. Moorehead reports that if a woman lost her shoes—whether they were stolen by another prisoner or sucked into the ubiquitous mud at interminable roll calls—she was immediately sent to the gas chambers, “women being easier to replace than shoes.”
That any of the Frenchwomen survived is surprising. Moorehead describes the horrific treatment of the prisoners in detail, and the images of disease-ridden, rat-bitten corpses sprawled in the mud and babies drowned in barrels are stark. The survivors say that what kept them together was their selfless solidarity; they looked out for each other in ways that few of the other women at the camp did.
In a time of unprecedented brutality and innumerable crimes against humanity, these women knew that the only thing that might allow them to survive would be solidarity. They cared for each other selflessly with little thought to their individual survival, and that, they believe, is why any of them survived the death camps.
At first, the book’s timeline sprawls, moving from one region of France to another as it introduces a seemingly endless cast of characters. But by the end, the book has moved in to focus on a handful of women as they move from prisons to camps.
I would have liked to see better references; there were many quotes, figures, and studies cited in the text that were not backed up by sources in my advanced reader copy. However, Moorehead’s heavy reliance upon interviews with survivors and their relatives gives this overlooked corner of history a new urgency. The book is dark, but rightfully so, and Moorehead somehow imparts an unshakeable faith in the ability of people to help each other survive no matter the circumstances.
The book is in many ways a send-up of war novels as a whole, where the overall context of the battle is never explained because the reader presumably The book is in many ways a send-up of war novels as a whole, where the overall context of the battle is never explained because the reader presumably already knows how these two armies came to be facing one another. While the reader is given only vague hints about the historical context of this confrontation, it truly doesn’t matter much to the characters involved. All that is important is the fighting that must be done.
Abercrombie in many ways returns to his bread and butter when he describes the action between these two contrasting sides. In comparison, Best Served Cold followed the action of several battles in the far-off continent of Styria, which was not fleshed out very well. Often the reader had to provide his own idea of what sort of place it was and what sort of people lived there (I found myself imagining Italy before the Renaissance).
The Heroes does not make this mistake. Instead, it is set in the frozen North, a place much easier to imagine and already well established in the previous First Law Trilogy. The two sides are easily distinguishable and, as a reader, you are free to pick whichever side you hope prevails.
Abercrombie seems in his element in a war novel setting, unafraid to introduce military jargon to describe the movements of divisions and regiments while still capable of maintaining a human perspective in the struggles involved. The book focuses on a very short time period (all but the final chapter of the book takes place over only five days) and one specific locale around the Northern town of Osrung.
This is a surprisingly unusual approach in fantasy, where sweeping scale is so often a key element in storytelling. But considering that this is a self-contained novel, having a comparatively tight story is effective and essential, and another element that made this installment superior to Best Served Cold.
This was a guest review by Jackson Schreiber. For a full review, visit Melody & Words!...more
This book is a nice, quick read for kids between the ages of ten and thirteen. I recommend it for a parent who wants their kid to read more.
Twig seemsThis book is a nice, quick read for kids between the ages of ten and thirteen. I recommend it for a parent who wants their kid to read more.
Twig seems like an average kid who struggles to be accepted by his peers. He doesn’t feel any different from them, so he doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to make friends. He tries to force himself to be a creature he can’t be, and he’s frustrated when he doesn’t look, sound, and act like everyone else. I think any kid who feels like he doesn’t belong would identify with Twig a lot.
Twig isn’t a particularly complex character, but he is just a kid, so that’s not surprising. I think the authors are trying to make a point that throughout the series, Twig will learn and grow. However, sometimes it seems like the authors are trying too hard to emphasize how young he is. Twig seems a little too whiny and kind of weak for a 13-year-old boy, especially given his upbringing among rough-and-tumble wood trolls.
Of course, if I were walking through dark woods full of carnivorous plants, I’d be scared too.
This is not a picture book, but it does combine its intricate and interesting descriptions with black and white sketches that give good guidelines for what the creatures look like, allowing the readers’ imaginations to spring into action and fill in the finer details. The prologue pulls the reader in with vivid, poetic prose that brings the imaginative world and its creatures to life.
Beyond the Deepwoods is pretty unlike any other fantasy or young adult books I’ve read. The authors have strong imaginations, and they have created a wonderful adventure filled with many types of creatures and people. Though the main character could be a little more complex, I look forward to seeing how he grows and matures in the rest of the series.
This was a guest review by Ruthie Brown. For her full review, visit Melody & Words!...more
Lukas does a good job of showing, not telling; I slowly began to dislike Reverend Muehler, but the author never makes an outright judgment of his charLukas does a good job of showing, not telling; I slowly began to dislike Reverend Muehler, but the author never makes an outright judgment of his character. Similarly, with just one sentence you get an immediate picture of the Sultan’s Grand Vizier: “A nervous man in a white silk robe and green turban, he had the aspect of a well-fed rodent and eyes the color of unripe grapes.”
His measured, steady pacing, even during exciting parts, can be frustrating at times, but it succeeds in making the story seem like a folktale or a historical account.
Leave it to me to begin categorizing as many fairy-tale elements as I could find. A plethora of birds grace the novel, from Eleonora’s unlikely flock to the Sultan’s bird-watching endeavors; birds are some of the most popular animals in fairy tales, from Mother Goose to the Ugly Duckling.
Eleonora’s voicelessness for part of the novel is reminiscent of “The Little Mermaid”; Eleonora’s grief and powerlessness manifest themselves in her silence, and she remains mute until she makes the conscious decision to move beyond her own pain.
In an interview about this book, the author has stated that there are many lessons to be learned from the sprawling, multiethnic Ottoman Empire. For example, when the Bey invites Muehler over for dinner and the Reverend attempts to talk politics, I can’t help but think about current domestic and international affairs.
This book is a good choice if you are interested in history, particularly of the Ottoman Empire; I’ll admit I didn’t know much about that region’s history, so I still feel a little puzzled about certain references. However, I don’t think it impeded my overall understanding of the book or its events.
I came to this book expecting to hear a sermon about the value and merit of forging a hard-working life as a pioneer. While the difficulties of tamingI came to this book expecting to hear a sermon about the value and merit of forging a hard-working life as a pioneer. While the difficulties of taming the wild land are always present in any book about pioneers, much of this story takes place after Alexandra has already achieved success, so the homage to work ethic that I expected was quite subdued.
But the tale does some heavy moralizing nonetheless. Extramarital affairs are obviously condemned—even if the marriage in peril is very unhealthy for all involved. Emil and Marie understand that their love is sinful and forbidden, and Alexandra does not condemn Frank for his crime because, in a way, the lovers deserved retribution and Frank vengeance.
Marie, as some have pointed out, is a symbol of the wild land around her. She encompasses all of the temperamental beauty, the exigent passion, the far-off and forbidden dreams of success in face of the hardship pioneers face. Emil’s attraction to her parallels other stories of immigrants wanting to make their mark (and livelihoods) on an impossibly wild and beautiful land.
Alexandra’s love life is confusing at best. Though she never shows much interest in members of the opposite sex—to the point that I assumed she was gay or asexual—by the end she marries a childhood friend who has been far less successful in life, simply because life seems too hard alone. The point seems clear: no matter how intelligent a woman is or how hard she works, she needs a man in order to be complete.
I can see why this little book is not as widely read as My Ántonia. But I’m a sucker for a halfway decent pioneer story, so I enjoyed it.
This is probably the best nonfiction I've read in 2010. It doesn't take long to be convinced that the author is someone we should listen to (The Good:
This is probably the best nonfiction I've read in 2010. It doesn't take long to be convinced that the author is someone we should listen to (this man is clearly OBSESSED!!), but more importantly, the book is extremely readable. If I were to write a book on the same topic with the same information, it would probably come out reading like the DSM-IV, but Ferriss does a good job of including plenty of entertaining anecdotes and humor to help us along, not to mention simple and concise explanations.
As the subtitle promises, the content of the book is definitely uncommon. There are some very unusual techniques and advice that I've never seen before. However, the greatest uncommonness of the book is its "Tipping Point" approach to health. Following the trend of The 4-Hour Workweek, a major theme of The 4-Hour Body is how to see the most results from the least amount of effort. Ferriss is not necessarily saying that conventional wisdom (hard work, discipline, keeping up with research) is wrong--just that there's an easier and smarter way through hacking the human body. I think this approach works great for a generation with a low attention span and an immediate results mindset.
The Bad:
Critics are going to run wild with this book. Everything from advice on mixing different over-the-counter drugs and supplements, to consuming high amounts of cholesterol, to his claims of gaining more than 1 pound of muscle a day for a month are going to feed the fire for skeptics, trolls, and haters.
I, for one, believe it's impossible to gain 34 pounds of muscle in 28 days as he's claimed to have done. Yes, it is possible to gain that much total weight, mostly water, especially if you're an experienced dehydrator-rehydrator as he is, but muscle is completely different.
Claims like these are going to make a lot of people call the author a snake-oil salesman, and I think to an extent he is. While it will help him sell books, unfortunately I think it will also cause people to label him as a fraud and therefore dismiss all the other information that is definitely worth reading and considering.
The Ugly:
The author actually weighed his poop.
This was a guest review by Edward Bartlett. For his full review, please visit my site, Melody & Words! ...more
This is an excellent dessert cookbook, just in time for the holidays!
Chef Richard intersperses his recipes with endearing anecdotes, cute drawings, anThis is an excellent dessert cookbook, just in time for the holidays!
Chef Richard intersperses his recipes with endearing anecdotes, cute drawings, and full-blown essays on his history with food and what he has learned from his unceasing experimentation. I particularly enjoyed his homage to microwaves.
I appreciate the chef’s inventiveness and his willingness to incorporate nontraditional elements and techniques in his quest for efficiency and ease. I was particularly impressed by the value he places on flavor over sugar and fat. He constantly tries to improve flavor by limiting competing (and unhealthy) tastes.
Richard’s classical French training, combined with his decades of experience as a chef in the United States, gives him a unique perspective on food. His contagious curiosity and good humor encourage any would-be cook to get in the kitchen and whip up something fantastic.
When I bake, I tend to find one recipe that I know works, and stick with it. Baking can be very complex, and, as Richard notes, a pastry chef can’t taste his dish and add seasoning midway through like a savory chef can. But Richard doesn’t rest on his laurels once he has found a good recipe; he constantly attempts to make that dessert better, tastier, and not quite so bad for you.
Michel Richard exhibits playfulness and a true passion for taste, flavor, and texture; I found myself laughing at his anecdotes and making notes of his efficient shortcuts. What’s more, he has inspired me to stop playing it safe in the kitchen—the sign of a truly good cookbook!
Bo Forbes, a longtime therapist and also a yoga practitioner, struggled with the disconnect she saw between the physical and emotional therapy worlds.Bo Forbes, a longtime therapist and also a yoga practitioner, struggled with the disconnect she saw between the physical and emotional therapy worlds. Often, she says, “we can feel, rather than think, the emotional experiences that heal us.” Instead of just talking through emotional patterns, she began introducing breathwork and restorative yoga poses into her clients’ therapy plans.
This was a time before the emotionally healing benefits of yoga truly took hold in Western society, and Forbes was amazed by the transformation she saw in her patients. Rather than repeating the same mental “stories” over and over in therapy sessions, her patients began to address—and overcome—their negative emotional patterns by physically incorporating emotional balance.
Restorative yoga is based on the idea that the mind and the body speak to each other more often when we think. It combines the physical motions of yoga with the mental workout of meditation, thereby embodying the emotional healing process.
Forbes presents the medical explanations for why yoga has such an astounding effect on our health, and she introduces five ways to transform one’s emotional patterns: calming the nervous system; regulating the breath; connecting with direct experience; quieting the mind; and changing the narratives you tell yourself that reflect your self-concept and world view.
She then outlines the differences between those who suffer anxiety, depression, or some blend of both. According to the kind of anxiety-depression afflicting you—and this can change as your emotional patterns change—Forbes then recommends restorative poses that will help calm or reinvigorate your nervous system.
I truly enjoyed this book. It illuminates the often murky world of emotional imbalance, while also offering simple, no-equipment-required solutions. This review could’ve been a lot longer; I underlined and bookmarked countless passages. I would recommend this to anyone interested in a medicine-free way to ease stress and develop healthy emotional patterns.
I love books involving D.C. in any way, and this is the quintessential D.C. book. As Stephanos walks through the city, I see so many of my favorite siI love books involving D.C. in any way, and this is the quintessential D.C. book. As Stephanos walks through the city, I see so many of my favorite sights, from the impressive to the mundane: the statue of General Logan on his horse, Yum’s Chinese food; the fountain at Dupont, the scars of U Street’s riots; the graffiti lining the metro’s tunnels.
But more than simply preserving familiar sights, Mengestu ably captures the feeling, the intense emotion, of a D.C. community caught between two worlds. Logan Circle, once impoverished and rather seedy, has been whitewashed: the crumbling, crowded buildings have been “rehabbed” and the character of the community has changed almost entirely in the last decade or so.
But despite their obvious differences, Stephanos observes, those who resist the redevelopers and those who are moving into the neighborhood are not so dissimilar: “We all essentially wanted the same thing, which was to feel that we had a stake in shaping and defining what little part of the world we could claim as our own.”
While the changing personality of Logan Circle is a prominent character, Stephanos’s experience as an immigrant, a man, an American, is what truly shines in this story. His place in society, and by extension his identity, is subtly explored.
Stephanos’s transformation is as quiet and unobtrusive as the man himself, but it exists nonetheless. He often quotes his father, who was fond of aphorisms. But Stephanos takes ownership of this family tradition and begins to strike out on his own.
The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears is a powerful story of loneliness and loss, but also of renewal and self-discovery. The spare, efficient prose is slow-moving at times, but that only showcases a narrative that is simultaneously rich and raw.
The Lotus Eaters explores love and obsession, fear and fulfillment, belonging and betrayal. Soli’s tight prose reflects the jarring hardness of war, tThe Lotus Eaters explores love and obsession, fear and fulfillment, belonging and betrayal. Soli’s tight prose reflects the jarring hardness of war, the allure of obsession, and the tenderness of love in turns.
At times, Soli’s prose is lean and to the point, as when she introduces Linh: “Once there was a soldier named Linh who did not want to go back to war.” However, her prose is far from simple; her description of Linh’s physical and emotional loneliness is pure poetry: "One came to love another through repeated touch, he believed, the way a mother bonded with her newborn, the way his family had slept in the communal room, brushing against one another, the patterning through nerve endings, a laying of pulse against pulse, creating a rhythm of blood, and so now he touched others, strangers, only fleetingly, without hope."
Ironically, Linh is an outsider in his country’s war; he observes but takes as little a part as possible in the Vietnamese and American sides of the conflict. Linh’s mixed allegiance—to the SVA and NVA; to his bosses, Helen and Darrow; to his former and future loves—reflects the tumultuous and undefinable conflict around them. Linh serves as an embodiment of the Vietnamese people, torn between two sides and hoping only to forget the pain that has descended upon their lives.
Soli does a great job of capturing the long hot boredom and the sudden action of war. But between battle scenes, she also paints a vivid picture of Vietnam: "The air boiled hot and opaque, the sky a hard, saline blue. For miles the black mangrove swamp spread like a stagnant ocean, clotted, arthritic. Farther on they passed the swollen tributaries of the Mekong. Papaya, grapefruit, water palm, mangosteen, orange—fruit of every variety grew in abundance, dropping with heavy thuds on the ground to burst in hot flower in the sun."
Helen is an intriguing main character. Her addiction to Vietnam, to the danger of covering a foreign war for ten long years, is a mystery that is slowly unwrapped in layers. She struggles to deal with loss in her life by pushing deeper and deeper into the war, but she only puts herself in more danger. When Linh arranges for Helen to photograph the Ho Chi Minh trail, Helen’s pain and grief transforms into something timeless: "After three days, Helen no longer thought of the crooked apartment or Saigon. Even Darrow changed from a pain outside, inflicted, to something inside, a tumor, with only its promise of future suffering. The fastness of the jungle struck her again in all its extraordinary voluptuousness, its wanton excess. It enchanted. Time rolled in long green distances, and she took comfort in the fact that the land would outlast them, would outlast the war—would outlast time itself."
Helen’s journey becomes more than simply covering conflict; she falls in love with a land and its people, and these are perhaps the only things that can save her.
Soli’s exploration of the emotional and physical effects of the war on all sides—Vietnamese and American, soldier and civilian—delivers a simultaneously heartwrenching and heartwarming story. The prose can be terse and jarring at times, but that only serves to reinforce the atmosphere of war around the characters. At other times, the descriptions are sumptuous and enveloping to reflect the characters’ amorous or nostalgic feelings.
This book was a solid and enjoyable read, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in Vietnam and its conflicts.
Recently, I’ve been looking back on some of my favorite books from childhood–especially old and new stories about smart, strong women. It’s good to knRecently, I’ve been looking back on some of my favorite books from childhood–especially old and new stories about smart, strong women. It’s good to know that I’m not alone in my reminiscing; Erin Blakemore, for one, often returns to her well-worn copies of girlhood classics.
“Our favorite authors and their plucky protagonists have much to teach in times of strife,” she writes. Blakemore proposes that reading a book is the perfect antidote to the hassles life sends your way–and some of the best books to read in those times are the childhood classics that have been faithful friends through the years. Blakemore revisits her old favorites in search of the heroic qualities that readers have emulated for centuries. These traits, and the heroines who exemplify them, include:
- Elizabeth Bennet’s unshakeable sense of self in Jane’s Austen’s Pride and Prejudice - A fervent faith like Janie Crawford’s in Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God - Anne Shirley’s happiness in Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery - The unbreakable dignity of Celie in Alice Walker’s The Color Purple - The importance of Francie Nolan’s family ties in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith - Claudine’s unabashed indulgence in Colette’s novels - Scarlett O’Hara’s fighting spirit in Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind - The unerring compassion of Scout Finch in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird - Laura Ingalls’s simplicity in The Long Winter - The steadfastness of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre - Jo March’s unadorned ambition in Little Women by Louisa May Alcott - The power of Mary Lennox’s magic in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden
Blakemore’s survey of books written by women with strong female main characters examines both those authors and their heroines in equal measure. One theme running throughout the book is the adversity faced by these female authors.
The Heroine’s Bookshelf is guaranteed to return you to times (and bookshelves) past, leaving you to reflect over fond memories of reading and, if you haven’t read some of these titles yet, searching for your own copy of these girlhood classics.
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