- Irene - a "strong" woman with a shady past who ultimately needs to be rescued by the hero
- Mary - a "strong" woman with a shady past who ultimately needs to be rescued by the hero (but isn't)
- Eurus - a "strong" woman with a shady past who ultimately needs to be rescued by the hero
- Molly - a weak woman whose attempts to assert herself are unconvincing and unsuccessful, and who pines for the hero and allows him to manipulate her repeatedly
- Mrs. Hudson - a strong [older] woman played for comic relief
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
1.16.2017
Presented Without Commentary
5.01.2016
Books: The Rejected Writers' Book Club by Suzanne Kelman
For me, this book is the epitome of average. It's got a cute story, is populated with colorful characters, yet somehow fails to rise. I didn't hate it, but there were plenty of places where Kelman slid past things that should have had more dramatic heft. Case in point: A character chains herself to a toilet in a publishing office and the others forget and leave her there. By the time they remember and go back, police and firemen are on the scene. But all we get is, "After a stern talking to by the police officer . . ." Here's a moment that should totally be shown not told.
There is a lot crammed into this book; it almost tries to do too much work. The story—more like stories, plural—is told from the point of view of Janet, librarian of Southlea Bay, which is a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest. She gets roped into a road trip with a bunch of would-be writers who actually seek to be rejected and the adventures roll on from there. Car problems, landslides, bad weather . . . It all gets heaped on.
Truth is, I may not be the target audience for this book. As a writer myself, I thought this might be more about a group of writers attempting to get published. Instead it's possibly more a book for my mother, who might identify with Janet's problematic relationship with her adult daughter (a strong-willed only child like me). All the women in the group are seemingly a generation older than me, and while I can enjoy books that feature such characters, I definitely did not get the sense of connection that one wants between a reader and the characters.
Also, there are almost too many characters, and though each is fun in her own right, overall some streamlining might've lightened the weight of all this story. Because there's a lot of it. This book is densely packed, but maybe not in the best ways.
On the plus side, Janet has a definite voice. She isn't bland. That's what kept me from putting the book down entirely.
Would I read another in this series? I honestly don't know. I'd have to be in a very particular mood, I think. But I will recommend this book to my mom.
There is a lot crammed into this book; it almost tries to do too much work. The story—more like stories, plural—is told from the point of view of Janet, librarian of Southlea Bay, which is a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest. She gets roped into a road trip with a bunch of would-be writers who actually seek to be rejected and the adventures roll on from there. Car problems, landslides, bad weather . . . It all gets heaped on.
Truth is, I may not be the target audience for this book. As a writer myself, I thought this might be more about a group of writers attempting to get published. Instead it's possibly more a book for my mother, who might identify with Janet's problematic relationship with her adult daughter (a strong-willed only child like me). All the women in the group are seemingly a generation older than me, and while I can enjoy books that feature such characters, I definitely did not get the sense of connection that one wants between a reader and the characters.
Also, there are almost too many characters, and though each is fun in her own right, overall some streamlining might've lightened the weight of all this story. Because there's a lot of it. This book is densely packed, but maybe not in the best ways.
On the plus side, Janet has a definite voice. She isn't bland. That's what kept me from putting the book down entirely.
Would I read another in this series? I honestly don't know. I'd have to be in a very particular mood, I think. But I will recommend this book to my mom.
9.28.2015
Books: You're Never Weird on the Internet (Almost) by Felicia Day
Picked this one up prior to traveling to London and it was a nice, quick and easy read for the plane.
I am not, for the record, any particular fan of Ms. Day, though I've seen many of the shows she's been in (I'm a fan of Joss Whedon, so . . .) Why, then, did I decide to read her memoir? Because it sounded interesting. And as I read, I realized we have a lot of personality traits in common.
Anyway. It's a great little book that doesn't require Felicia Day fandom to enjoy or relate, though whether you find her life and experiences interesting may be predicated on how much you like . . . geekdom? Day doesn't say anything specific about time on the Buffy set or other such things, instead focusing on her own work with The Guild and Geek and Sundry. We do get a lot about commercials and auditions, though, and acting classes, etc. And a bit about conventions, of course. (I was the guest at conventions when I was at UT, back when fan fiction had to be published in zines rather than just slapped onto the Internet. I was a fanfic author of some renown at the time—well, and my Sherlock fic from a few years back is still considered the gold standard—and those conventions were so fun. Maybe I'll get to do it again some day. Thanks, Felicia, for giving me permission to own that I got my start writing fanfic before moving on to more "serious" work.)
Other topics covered include mental illness and Gamergate. On the whole, it's a somewhat spotty story, but a good one. Worth the little bit of time it takes to read.
I am not, for the record, any particular fan of Ms. Day, though I've seen many of the shows she's been in (I'm a fan of Joss Whedon, so . . .) Why, then, did I decide to read her memoir? Because it sounded interesting. And as I read, I realized we have a lot of personality traits in common.
- Weird upbringing in the American South? Check. (Though mine was distinctly different from hers, I was equally isolated and had difficulty making friends.)
- Crush on Commander Riker? Check. Named my favorite teddy bear William. Though later MacGyver became my man.
- Creating elaborate worlds that combined favorite book and TV/film characters? Check. Mine had Han Solo and Indiana Jones as identical cousins, Patty Duke style, and for some reason they all spent a lot of time on the Enterprise. Also time traveling into the antebellum South, cuz I love me some houses with big columns.
- Astrology? Check. I still read charts for friends.
- UT Austin? Check. In fact, it sounds as if we attended at about the same time.
- Obsessive/addictive nature? Check. For me it was TV shows and movies rather than video games, but yeah. You should see my scrapbooks.
- Having a friendly support group hold you accountable and get you to start writing? Check.
- A people-pleasing, perfectionist nature? Check. I didn't necessarily need kids my age to like me, but boy howdy did I want my teachers to love me. All my self-worth was caught up in that, and I still struggle with it.
- Wanting to erase yourself from the world (digital or otherwise)? Check. I went through that a few years back, deleting accounts left and right, and I'm starting to feel that way again now.
Anyway. It's a great little book that doesn't require Felicia Day fandom to enjoy or relate, though whether you find her life and experiences interesting may be predicated on how much you like . . . geekdom? Day doesn't say anything specific about time on the Buffy set or other such things, instead focusing on her own work with The Guild and Geek and Sundry. We do get a lot about commercials and auditions, though, and acting classes, etc. And a bit about conventions, of course. (I was the guest at conventions when I was at UT, back when fan fiction had to be published in zines rather than just slapped onto the Internet. I was a fanfic author of some renown at the time—well, and my Sherlock fic from a few years back is still considered the gold standard—and those conventions were so fun. Maybe I'll get to do it again some day. Thanks, Felicia, for giving me permission to own that I got my start writing fanfic before moving on to more "serious" work.)
Other topics covered include mental illness and Gamergate. On the whole, it's a somewhat spotty story, but a good one. Worth the little bit of time it takes to read.
6.14.2015
Books: The Art of the English Murder by Lucy Worsley
It probably requires someone who both likes history and literature—particularly detective stories—to really appreciate this book, but as I am such a person . . . I really enjoyed it.
Worsley works her way through the literary history of crime stories from the kinds of pamphlets and broadsides that came out with news of murders and hangings, on through Gothic literature, the "Golden Age" of detective stories (i.e., Agatha Christie), and finally touching on the decline of same in favor of the rise in thrillers. At the same time, Worsley parallels all this with true crime stories that inspired the kinds of writings that were popular at any given time. She reflects on the draw of Madame Tussaud's Chamber of Horrors and the general psychology behind why we love death (and the more gruesome the better).
Engagingly written and filled with interesting tidbits, I sailed through this book, often choosing to read rather than get any of my own work done. Now I'm only sorry that I've finished it and so don't have an excuse to procrastinate any longer.
Worsley works her way through the literary history of crime stories from the kinds of pamphlets and broadsides that came out with news of murders and hangings, on through Gothic literature, the "Golden Age" of detective stories (i.e., Agatha Christie), and finally touching on the decline of same in favor of the rise in thrillers. At the same time, Worsley parallels all this with true crime stories that inspired the kinds of writings that were popular at any given time. She reflects on the draw of Madame Tussaud's Chamber of Horrors and the general psychology behind why we love death (and the more gruesome the better).
Engagingly written and filled with interesting tidbits, I sailed through this book, often choosing to read rather than get any of my own work done. Now I'm only sorry that I've finished it and so don't have an excuse to procrastinate any longer.
2.24.2014
Television: The Women of True Detective
Cross posted from PepperWords.
So I was sent this link and asked whether I agree with the article. To summarize, for those not interested in jumping over there, the question is whether True Detective is trying to make a point in the way it portrays women.
Honestly, I don't think so. Not intentionally. But the text can be read that way, if you're looking for a reason to justify loving the show despite the fact that it treats female characters badly.
We've got Maggie, the long-suffering wife (now ex) of Marty. She nags and is angry a lot, though with good reason. And she's the closest the show comes to a fully fleshed-out, realized female character. But even then she's not really whole; she's only seen through her connections to Marty and Rust. She is not her own person with her own story line.
And then there are all the others: prostitutes and baby killers and Marty's deranged mistresses. They are all cogs in the writing machinery designed to move the plot along or else to give deeper development to Marty's and Rust's characters. I would and should howl about this, but when I look at my Peter Stoller stories I have to admit my women are—though in at least one instance more developed—equally marginal. My Miranda, like True Detective's Maggie, is seen only in relation to Peter and the others around her. But then again (in my defense), my stories are all told from Peter's limited point of view, so how else can she be portrayed? This is not true of True Detective, the writers of which could easily have chosen to give Maggie or any other woman her own story arc. (And I, one supposes, could always go back and write a story from Miranda's point of view. Hmm.)
Still, I won't try to make excuses for myself or True Detective. I think it's a fabulous show, even though it falls down on the gender front. For one thing, I've come to expect HBO shows will have a lot of naked, objectified women. (No, I don't watch Girls.) I don't like it, but the predominately male audience they're out to capture does. The Slate article talks about perspective, and this is it: HBO and True Detective are told from the male perspective. And it's shameful and sickening that this is how so many men see and treat women. But there it is.
But do I think the show's writers are trying to say something about female power? Do I believe they're being quietly subversive by giving us these flawed men and showing us "strong" women (if "strong" means: an angry, nagging wife willing to walk out; prostitutes that lecture cops; mistresses who go after men in one way or another)? Nah. That's more incidental than intentional. When a young girl waits for a woman to nod before doing what a man's told her to do . . . It won't be impressive until a man is the one waiting for a woman's permission.
So I was sent this link and asked whether I agree with the article. To summarize, for those not interested in jumping over there, the question is whether True Detective is trying to make a point in the way it portrays women.
Honestly, I don't think so. Not intentionally. But the text can be read that way, if you're looking for a reason to justify loving the show despite the fact that it treats female characters badly.
We've got Maggie, the long-suffering wife (now ex) of Marty. She nags and is angry a lot, though with good reason. And she's the closest the show comes to a fully fleshed-out, realized female character. But even then she's not really whole; she's only seen through her connections to Marty and Rust. She is not her own person with her own story line.
And then there are all the others: prostitutes and baby killers and Marty's deranged mistresses. They are all cogs in the writing machinery designed to move the plot along or else to give deeper development to Marty's and Rust's characters. I would and should howl about this, but when I look at my Peter Stoller stories I have to admit my women are—though in at least one instance more developed—equally marginal. My Miranda, like True Detective's Maggie, is seen only in relation to Peter and the others around her. But then again (in my defense), my stories are all told from Peter's limited point of view, so how else can she be portrayed? This is not true of True Detective, the writers of which could easily have chosen to give Maggie or any other woman her own story arc. (And I, one supposes, could always go back and write a story from Miranda's point of view. Hmm.)
Still, I won't try to make excuses for myself or True Detective. I think it's a fabulous show, even though it falls down on the gender front. For one thing, I've come to expect HBO shows will have a lot of naked, objectified women. (No, I don't watch Girls.) I don't like it, but the predominately male audience they're out to capture does. The Slate article talks about perspective, and this is it: HBO and True Detective are told from the male perspective. And it's shameful and sickening that this is how so many men see and treat women. But there it is.
But do I think the show's writers are trying to say something about female power? Do I believe they're being quietly subversive by giving us these flawed men and showing us "strong" women (if "strong" means: an angry, nagging wife willing to walk out; prostitutes that lecture cops; mistresses who go after men in one way or another)? Nah. That's more incidental than intentional. When a young girl waits for a woman to nod before doing what a man's told her to do . . . It won't be impressive until a man is the one waiting for a woman's permission.
9.30.2012
Television: Doctor Who, Season 7 (so far)
Okay, so there have been five episodes thus far this season, one for each Saturday in September. And now we must wait for the Christmas special and then whatever comes in the late winter or spring. I'm kind of fine with that. I have an odd lack of impatience at this point, having become used to the long hiatus gracing all things Steven Moffat.
As a whole, these episodes have been largely uneven in tone and texture. The Doctor, as portrayed by Matt Smith, has been especially off with these strange bouts of rage that (a) don't suit this particular Doctor, and (b) don't suit this actor, either. Matt Smith =/= intimidating in any way, so to believe others would find his ire a deterrent is difficult. Meanwhile, Amy and Rory had already begun to peter out well before the Angels took Manhattan and forced them off the stage.
I suppose the big to-do is over how The Doctor has managed to wipe his slate clean by deleting himself from all, what, databases? Human memory? It's not 100% clear, though it smacks of Moffat trying to be clever with the show's title while simultaneously giving himself a new starting point.
Not that he's reinventing the wheel or anything. "The Angels Take Manhattan" borrowed from Sherlock's "The Reichenbach Fall" by utilizing jumping off a building as the climactic endgame and the discovery of our hero(s) still being alive in a cemetery—even if only for a few minutes. I've argued before about how Moffat steals from himself quite liberally, but the redundancy is starting to be a bit of a drag. (You can argue that Moffat didn't write "Reichenbach," but he's still the producer, and if you don't think a man like that isn't in control of the scripts, you're delusional.)
The misogyny in "Angels" bothered me a bit, too. Women already have enough aimed at them regarding aging and body consciousness without a troll like Moffat adding his two cents. And now The Doctor is off to get himself a cute, young, bubbly new sidekick? We were better off—and so was The Doctor—when the companions were mature women like Donna, or even Martha, who was somewhat young but very level-headed. But maybe the show is hunting for a younger audience.
As for the other episodes so far this season, well, some were okay . . . "The Power of Three" was fun but could have played on the Three's Company vibe a bit more. "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship" was cute. I was underwhelmed by "Asylum of the Daleks" as the opener, but it wasn't the worst. "A Town Called Mercy," though? That one was pretty awful. Again with the unbelievability as The Doctor gets angry. Am I supposed to think he's conflicted and has a dark side? Meh. Smith isn't able to pull it off. Better he stick to manic and occasionally sweet or sentimental. (But only occasionally. Like seriously, not very often, because even then he seems to be stretching his range.)
Now we wait for Christmas, and to see if The Doctor gets everything on his growing wish list. One new companion now on backorder!
As a whole, these episodes have been largely uneven in tone and texture. The Doctor, as portrayed by Matt Smith, has been especially off with these strange bouts of rage that (a) don't suit this particular Doctor, and (b) don't suit this actor, either. Matt Smith =/= intimidating in any way, so to believe others would find his ire a deterrent is difficult. Meanwhile, Amy and Rory had already begun to peter out well before the Angels took Manhattan and forced them off the stage.
I suppose the big to-do is over how The Doctor has managed to wipe his slate clean by deleting himself from all, what, databases? Human memory? It's not 100% clear, though it smacks of Moffat trying to be clever with the show's title while simultaneously giving himself a new starting point.
Not that he's reinventing the wheel or anything. "The Angels Take Manhattan" borrowed from Sherlock's "The Reichenbach Fall" by utilizing jumping off a building as the climactic endgame and the discovery of our hero(s) still being alive in a cemetery—even if only for a few minutes. I've argued before about how Moffat steals from himself quite liberally, but the redundancy is starting to be a bit of a drag. (You can argue that Moffat didn't write "Reichenbach," but he's still the producer, and if you don't think a man like that isn't in control of the scripts, you're delusional.)
The misogyny in "Angels" bothered me a bit, too. Women already have enough aimed at them regarding aging and body consciousness without a troll like Moffat adding his two cents. And now The Doctor is off to get himself a cute, young, bubbly new sidekick? We were better off—and so was The Doctor—when the companions were mature women like Donna, or even Martha, who was somewhat young but very level-headed. But maybe the show is hunting for a younger audience.
As for the other episodes so far this season, well, some were okay . . . "The Power of Three" was fun but could have played on the Three's Company vibe a bit more. "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship" was cute. I was underwhelmed by "Asylum of the Daleks" as the opener, but it wasn't the worst. "A Town Called Mercy," though? That one was pretty awful. Again with the unbelievability as The Doctor gets angry. Am I supposed to think he's conflicted and has a dark side? Meh. Smith isn't able to pull it off. Better he stick to manic and occasionally sweet or sentimental. (But only occasionally. Like seriously, not very often, because even then he seems to be stretching his range.)
Now we wait for Christmas, and to see if The Doctor gets everything on his growing wish list. One new companion now on backorder!
9.24.2012
The Emmys: Why Sherlock Didn't Win
All right, since you've been asking. I could go the easy route and say simply that the competition was stiff, but truthfully, when taken as a whole within its category, most of the other stuff was simply better. I want to be clear here: Sherlock is a fan and critical favorite, but that doesn't always translate to ATAS and/or Emmy gold. And being asked to take A Scandal in Belgravia as a made-for-television movie didn't help things. It doesn't stand well on its own. Look at the first 15 to 20 minutes, which requires both an understanding of Holmes canon and the previous series (season) to fully comprehend and enjoy.
One could argue that, even though the Academy was only voting on the one episode (movie?), they are not entirely able to separate that from their conception of the series as a whole. Psychologically speaking. But it is possible to sit down and watch just the one episode with a completely critical eye. And that's what Academy voters were told to do. Just because they might like it (i.e., find it entertaining) doesn't mean they'll vote it as best.
Here are some of the ways Scandal fell down. 1. Steven Moffat beats viewers over the head with this idea that he's very clever. From the cutesy ringtone on Moriarty's phone to the cutting back and forth as Sherlock and Irene "prepare for battle" . . . Honestly, it's exhausting to see him trying so hard. 2. Benedict Cumberbatch—who is a fine actor, at least some of the time—ran into some problems in this episode: (a) being unable to fake playing the violin very well, (b) spending a good deal of the episode moping and wandering for what seemed like no very good reason, and (c) that tacky scene in which he playacted at being a priest, but which really just came off as bad acting of bad acting. 3. Those who enjoyed the original Irene Adler from Doyle's story found this take to be a shade off, seeing that she doesn't win in the end after all. In fact, Sherlock has to save her? Really? (Moffat's track record in writing and depicting women has been a knot of discussion, and Scandal dragged it all out again.) 4. And this is more general: British and American sensibilities are different. And Sherlock as a character, who goes between bouts of quietude and mania . . . At best he appears bipolar (something viewers understand), but at worst the actor simply seems inconsistent in his efforts. Remember that not everyone watching the show knows Doyle's original, and a good program won't require them to in order to enjoy and connect with the characters as they're currently written and portrayed. I get the sense that during a chunk of Scandal, viewers were asking, "WTF? Why is he acting that way? What's his problem exactly?"
Finally, with all the talk of a new British invasion on American television, it's possible that Academy voters closed ranks to safeguard their side of the industry, thereby shutting out a lot of the British programs.
Downton does better on this side of the pond because (a) Americans can kind of understand WWI Britain in a way we don't understand—and are sometimes even threatened by—modern Britain, and (b) it's quite simply written with more finesse. I do think Sherlock might have had a chance if one of the other episodes had been on offer. Hounds could have stood alone quite neatly, and Benedict had that lovely scene beside the fire in that one which would have showcased his work better.
Rumor has it the third series of Sherlock begins filming this comingJanuary March, and that it will probably be the final series as well. Last shot at Emmy gold for that group, then. Better make it count.
One could argue that, even though the Academy was only voting on the one episode (movie?), they are not entirely able to separate that from their conception of the series as a whole. Psychologically speaking. But it is possible to sit down and watch just the one episode with a completely critical eye. And that's what Academy voters were told to do. Just because they might like it (i.e., find it entertaining) doesn't mean they'll vote it as best.
Here are some of the ways Scandal fell down. 1. Steven Moffat beats viewers over the head with this idea that he's very clever. From the cutesy ringtone on Moriarty's phone to the cutting back and forth as Sherlock and Irene "prepare for battle" . . . Honestly, it's exhausting to see him trying so hard. 2. Benedict Cumberbatch—who is a fine actor, at least some of the time—ran into some problems in this episode: (a) being unable to fake playing the violin very well, (b) spending a good deal of the episode moping and wandering for what seemed like no very good reason, and (c) that tacky scene in which he playacted at being a priest, but which really just came off as bad acting of bad acting. 3. Those who enjoyed the original Irene Adler from Doyle's story found this take to be a shade off, seeing that she doesn't win in the end after all. In fact, Sherlock has to save her? Really? (Moffat's track record in writing and depicting women has been a knot of discussion, and Scandal dragged it all out again.) 4. And this is more general: British and American sensibilities are different. And Sherlock as a character, who goes between bouts of quietude and mania . . . At best he appears bipolar (something viewers understand), but at worst the actor simply seems inconsistent in his efforts. Remember that not everyone watching the show knows Doyle's original, and a good program won't require them to in order to enjoy and connect with the characters as they're currently written and portrayed. I get the sense that during a chunk of Scandal, viewers were asking, "WTF? Why is he acting that way? What's his problem exactly?"
Finally, with all the talk of a new British invasion on American television, it's possible that Academy voters closed ranks to safeguard their side of the industry, thereby shutting out a lot of the British programs.
Downton does better on this side of the pond because (a) Americans can kind of understand WWI Britain in a way we don't understand—and are sometimes even threatened by—modern Britain, and (b) it's quite simply written with more finesse. I do think Sherlock might have had a chance if one of the other episodes had been on offer. Hounds could have stood alone quite neatly, and Benedict had that lovely scene beside the fire in that one which would have showcased his work better.
Rumor has it the third series of Sherlock begins filming this coming
10.11.2011
Book Review: Becoming Jane Austen
Jon Spence
Continuum, 2007
312 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
This is the book the film Becoming Jane was based on. Now to be fair, my husband and I had tried to watch Becoming Jane a couple years back and couldn't get into it, so we turned it off after 15 minutes. Maybe we were just in the wrong frame of mind, or maybe this is the kind of story that doesn't translate so smoothly. Dunno.
I picked up the book because at some point it occurred to me that although I like Austen's writing (and yet I haven't read all of her work, though I probably should), I knew very little about her as a person. So I got curious. And then I went to the library, and this was one of the most recent books they had on the biography shelf. I figured recent information was probably better than, say, books from the 60s and 70s, so . . .
Becoming Jane Austen is good. It's well written, thorough, but not dry. Very accessible. It's almost a shame there's not more concrete information about Austen's life, but Spence does very well with what's available.
And I have to say I find it a fun fact that Jane and I were born almost exactly 200 years apart, plus one day . . . I guess I'd better hope I don't die at age 41, though.
Bottom line is I now know more about Jane Austen than I did, which was the goal. And had a nice time learning, thanks to this book.
Continuum, 2007
312 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
This is the book the film Becoming Jane was based on. Now to be fair, my husband and I had tried to watch Becoming Jane a couple years back and couldn't get into it, so we turned it off after 15 minutes. Maybe we were just in the wrong frame of mind, or maybe this is the kind of story that doesn't translate so smoothly. Dunno.
I picked up the book because at some point it occurred to me that although I like Austen's writing (and yet I haven't read all of her work, though I probably should), I knew very little about her as a person. So I got curious. And then I went to the library, and this was one of the most recent books they had on the biography shelf. I figured recent information was probably better than, say, books from the 60s and 70s, so . . .
Becoming Jane Austen is good. It's well written, thorough, but not dry. Very accessible. It's almost a shame there's not more concrete information about Austen's life, but Spence does very well with what's available.
And I have to say I find it a fun fact that Jane and I were born almost exactly 200 years apart, plus one day . . . I guess I'd better hope I don't die at age 41, though.
Bottom line is I now know more about Jane Austen than I did, which was the goal. And had a nice time learning, thanks to this book.
2.28.2011
Book Review: Disaster Preparedness
Heather Havrilesky
Riverhead Books, 2010
240 pages
hard cover
_____________________________________________________
I picked this one up from the library because one of the myriad of magazines I receive each month did a blurb recommending it. And it was a cute, sweet read, a quick read, something I could take in bite-sized chunks between the kids' naps and such. Nothing I couldn't put down, which sometimes is better because otherwise you let the television babysit a bit too much.
Havrilesky does a nice job of capturing a particular time, growing up in the 70s and 80s, though by my estimation she has about five years on me. Still, my experiences were similar, even though my parents aren't divorced and I don't have siblings--which is a credit to the writer, that I could still relate to what she had to say despite differing circumstances. Maybe it's something about the parents of our generation, or maybe it's that we grew up during the tail end of the Cold War and had to live through the drills of hunkering under our desks as if that would ever do anything to save us if the bombs fell. Maybe it's because I, too, had a day when it was made clear to me that my clothes did not come from a "good" store (weren't clothes just clothes?) and learned then to begin longing for and aspiring to something better. Like her, I had a moment of wondering whether the people at church were all wrong. And like Haverilesky, I can look back and simultaneously mourn my lost innocence and kick a little dirt at it. We all use our histories to our own ends, after all, and sometimes we can extend them for others' use, which is more or less what Havrilesky does. Whether the reader can find anything to use will probably be a more personal issue; the book wouldn't work for a different generation, perhaps, or maybe it breaks along gender lines. I don't know.
What it comes down to is that I can recommend it in general, but at the same time I understand that this book won't be for everybody. Chalk it up to "worth a shot."
Riverhead Books, 2010
240 pages
hard cover
_____________________________________________________
I picked this one up from the library because one of the myriad of magazines I receive each month did a blurb recommending it. And it was a cute, sweet read, a quick read, something I could take in bite-sized chunks between the kids' naps and such. Nothing I couldn't put down, which sometimes is better because otherwise you let the television babysit a bit too much.
Havrilesky does a nice job of capturing a particular time, growing up in the 70s and 80s, though by my estimation she has about five years on me. Still, my experiences were similar, even though my parents aren't divorced and I don't have siblings--which is a credit to the writer, that I could still relate to what she had to say despite differing circumstances. Maybe it's something about the parents of our generation, or maybe it's that we grew up during the tail end of the Cold War and had to live through the drills of hunkering under our desks as if that would ever do anything to save us if the bombs fell. Maybe it's because I, too, had a day when it was made clear to me that my clothes did not come from a "good" store (weren't clothes just clothes?) and learned then to begin longing for and aspiring to something better. Like her, I had a moment of wondering whether the people at church were all wrong. And like Haverilesky, I can look back and simultaneously mourn my lost innocence and kick a little dirt at it. We all use our histories to our own ends, after all, and sometimes we can extend them for others' use, which is more or less what Havrilesky does. Whether the reader can find anything to use will probably be a more personal issue; the book wouldn't work for a different generation, perhaps, or maybe it breaks along gender lines. I don't know.
What it comes down to is that I can recommend it in general, but at the same time I understand that this book won't be for everybody. Chalk it up to "worth a shot."
3.24.2009
Book Review: The Last Queen
C.W. Gortner
Ballantine, 2006
368 pages
hardcover
_____________________________________________________
Disclosure: I read a lot of historical fiction. Love the stuff. From Regency romances to the based-in-real-life, it's one of my favorite genres. In particular I can recommend Judith Tarr's books set in ancient Egypt and Alison Weir's books set in Tudor England.
I can also recommend The Last Queen. This was my first foray into Spanish history; it's the fictionalized life story of Juana the Mad, one of the daughters of Isabel and Ferdinand. (Her younger sister, mind you, became Catherine of Aragon--Henry VIII's first wife.) Gortner tells the story in compelling form; the book was extremely difficult to put down. And at the same time, at those moments when Juana was truly trapped by the politics around her, I almost wanted to throw the book across the room. Her frustration was that real, her predicament that moving.
A little background for those who know even less than I do about Juana's life (I found this book highly educational): she was married off to Philip of Habsburg, who was archduke of Flanders. By rotten luck, she ended up as heiress of Spain when her brother, older sister and older sister's son all died. Most people would count that as great luck, but it worked against Juana. Philip was moved to extreme ambition and attempted to take Juana's throne, and their heretofore happy marriage became violent. Juana suffered severe anxiety, and with reason--her husband effectively imprisoned her in an attempt to control her and use her in his own quest for power. It didn't help that Juana's family had a history of "madness" (most scholars now suspect it was manic depression).
Makes for a great story, and Gortner, who is himself half Spanish and was raised in Malaga, takes the threads and weaves them to advantage via his fine prose. One hears Juana's singular voice echoing through the ages. Sure, it's only an author's best guess, since all anyone can go on are historical facts and primary source accounts. But Gortner's "best guess" is a fine one indeed, at least when it comes to entertainment value.
Ballantine, 2006
368 pages
hardcover
_____________________________________________________
Disclosure: I read a lot of historical fiction. Love the stuff. From Regency romances to the based-in-real-life, it's one of my favorite genres. In particular I can recommend Judith Tarr's books set in ancient Egypt and Alison Weir's books set in Tudor England.
I can also recommend The Last Queen. This was my first foray into Spanish history; it's the fictionalized life story of Juana the Mad, one of the daughters of Isabel and Ferdinand. (Her younger sister, mind you, became Catherine of Aragon--Henry VIII's first wife.) Gortner tells the story in compelling form; the book was extremely difficult to put down. And at the same time, at those moments when Juana was truly trapped by the politics around her, I almost wanted to throw the book across the room. Her frustration was that real, her predicament that moving.
A little background for those who know even less than I do about Juana's life (I found this book highly educational): she was married off to Philip of Habsburg, who was archduke of Flanders. By rotten luck, she ended up as heiress of Spain when her brother, older sister and older sister's son all died. Most people would count that as great luck, but it worked against Juana. Philip was moved to extreme ambition and attempted to take Juana's throne, and their heretofore happy marriage became violent. Juana suffered severe anxiety, and with reason--her husband effectively imprisoned her in an attempt to control her and use her in his own quest for power. It didn't help that Juana's family had a history of "madness" (most scholars now suspect it was manic depression).
Makes for a great story, and Gortner, who is himself half Spanish and was raised in Malaga, takes the threads and weaves them to advantage via his fine prose. One hears Juana's singular voice echoing through the ages. Sure, it's only an author's best guess, since all anyone can go on are historical facts and primary source accounts. But Gortner's "best guess" is a fine one indeed, at least when it comes to entertainment value.
3.18.2009
Book Review: The Blue Cotton Gown: A Midwife's Memoir
Patricia Harman
Beacon Press, 2008
290 pages
hardcover
_____________________________________________________
Perhaps not the best thing for a pregnant woman to read, although the stories are, for the most part, heartwarming--it's just that some are sad, too, and with all my hormones already in an uproar, this book moved me to tears two or three times.
Still and all, there's nothing graphic in this book, nothing to scare off the faint of heart when it comes to hospital stories and such. The author, a midwife, no longer delivers babies, so there were only a couple of mild flashbacks to deal with in that respect. Mostly Harman weaves a lovely narrative of a little more than a year's time spent at the women's clinic she runs with her OB/GYN husband. She focuses on a handful of patients who make repeat appearances, weaving in her own home life at that time, as well as some of the financial woes of running a business. The result is a full picture, well worth viewing.
Harman has a knack for descriptive writing; one easily sees what she imparts. (I only wish I could see some of her photographs; she takes pictures as a hobby.) The book is a quick read, too; I finished it in less than a week, which is no small feat when you've got a toddler and an infant at home and a bazillion things to do besides. Part of the quickness of the read, though, might've been that the stories were engaging enough that I didn't necessarily want to set the book down for very long. I actively looked for snatches of time in which to read it.
I can't say I love the way Harman wraps up the book; the moment she chose seems "off" somehow, though I couldn't tell you what would've worked better. Maybe it was simply that I felt she'd taken an incident and blown it up into something bigger--something that works to her advantage a few times in the narrative, but at the end became slightly too bloated. She tried to make the moment weightier than seemed fair to do, though maybe it was that weighty to her--but it was the one place where her writing failed to get across to me.
Overall, though, a fine read.
Beacon Press, 2008
290 pages
hardcover
_____________________________________________________
Perhaps not the best thing for a pregnant woman to read, although the stories are, for the most part, heartwarming--it's just that some are sad, too, and with all my hormones already in an uproar, this book moved me to tears two or three times.
Still and all, there's nothing graphic in this book, nothing to scare off the faint of heart when it comes to hospital stories and such. The author, a midwife, no longer delivers babies, so there were only a couple of mild flashbacks to deal with in that respect. Mostly Harman weaves a lovely narrative of a little more than a year's time spent at the women's clinic she runs with her OB/GYN husband. She focuses on a handful of patients who make repeat appearances, weaving in her own home life at that time, as well as some of the financial woes of running a business. The result is a full picture, well worth viewing.
Harman has a knack for descriptive writing; one easily sees what she imparts. (I only wish I could see some of her photographs; she takes pictures as a hobby.) The book is a quick read, too; I finished it in less than a week, which is no small feat when you've got a toddler and an infant at home and a bazillion things to do besides. Part of the quickness of the read, though, might've been that the stories were engaging enough that I didn't necessarily want to set the book down for very long. I actively looked for snatches of time in which to read it.
I can't say I love the way Harman wraps up the book; the moment she chose seems "off" somehow, though I couldn't tell you what would've worked better. Maybe it was simply that I felt she'd taken an incident and blown it up into something bigger--something that works to her advantage a few times in the narrative, but at the end became slightly too bloated. She tried to make the moment weightier than seemed fair to do, though maybe it was that weighty to her--but it was the one place where her writing failed to get across to me.
Overall, though, a fine read.
1.15.2009
Book Review: The Bitch in the House
Cathi Hanauer, Ed.
William Morrow/HarperCollins, 2002
275 pages
hardcover (library)
____________________________________________________
This book is a collection of essays in which, as the book's subtitle puts it, "26 women tell the truth about sex, solitude, work, motherhood, and marriage." I don't know about whether these essays tell THE truth, but they do tell SOME truths.
In the way of essay collections, some of these "spoke" to me and some didn't. I could identify with some--sympathize via personal experience, for example--and not with others. Still, I wanted to read this book and be able to revel in my womanhood, but that just wasn't possible. There's nothing in the tone that is cheerleader-like in quality; it's a mostly introspective group of personal experiences. Reading The Bitch in the House was sort of like going to a flea market; some of the stuff you find might be interesting, even tempting, but a lot of it is just someone else's junk.
Maybe I'm just not old enough or experienced enough to see all the gemstones of knowledge embedded in this book. I'll admit that's possible. And even still, a couple of things did grab me. I could identify with "Crossing the Line in the Sand" because I know I have a volatile temper myself, and I do work hard not to take it out on my children. Still, there's that scary notion that one day I'll find myself roaring like a monster and terrify them, and if that does ever happen--and I've come close--will they lose all trust in me? I don't want my kids to be thinking, Which Mommy is it today? Good Mommy or Bad Mommy? And while I had little interest in most of "Erotics 102," one thing in that essay did stand out for me; almost in a throw-away line, the author mentions her "sovereignty." She does so in the context of having the right to buy a sweater she likes, one her husband attempts to force her to return because of the expense. As someone who has a difficult time feeling like I have the right to do much on my own authority (after all, I don't make any money, and I often feel I'm here in my own house on sufferance), this situation caught my attention. I don't know what I'll do with this notion of "sovereignty," but I like it, and it'll swim around in my brain for a while, I'm sure.
Meanwhile, the only essay I had a particular dislike for was "My Marriage. My Affairs." Not because of the open marriage thing. That's not my style, but I don't really care what people choose to do in their own relationships. My problem was with the tone of the piece, in which the author (writing under a pseudonym) seems to come across as feeling as if she's simply more enlightened than most of the world. As if we'd all have open relationships, if we were just evolved enough to follow her lead. Sorry, "Helen Pine," but I'll continue grubbing around in the dirt like an underdeveloped, low-life animal and stick with my monogamous marriage.
As for the rest, most of it is passable. I think any woman who might pick up this book is likely to find something to relate to. Men who attempt it will either (a) find it surprising and illuminating, or (b) run for the hills never to be seen again. Depends on how well they can stomach plain speaking and, in some cases, vitriol from their women folk.
William Morrow/HarperCollins, 2002
275 pages
hardcover (library)
____________________________________________________
This book is a collection of essays in which, as the book's subtitle puts it, "26 women tell the truth about sex, solitude, work, motherhood, and marriage." I don't know about whether these essays tell THE truth, but they do tell SOME truths.
In the way of essay collections, some of these "spoke" to me and some didn't. I could identify with some--sympathize via personal experience, for example--and not with others. Still, I wanted to read this book and be able to revel in my womanhood, but that just wasn't possible. There's nothing in the tone that is cheerleader-like in quality; it's a mostly introspective group of personal experiences. Reading The Bitch in the House was sort of like going to a flea market; some of the stuff you find might be interesting, even tempting, but a lot of it is just someone else's junk.
Maybe I'm just not old enough or experienced enough to see all the gemstones of knowledge embedded in this book. I'll admit that's possible. And even still, a couple of things did grab me. I could identify with "Crossing the Line in the Sand" because I know I have a volatile temper myself, and I do work hard not to take it out on my children. Still, there's that scary notion that one day I'll find myself roaring like a monster and terrify them, and if that does ever happen--and I've come close--will they lose all trust in me? I don't want my kids to be thinking, Which Mommy is it today? Good Mommy or Bad Mommy? And while I had little interest in most of "Erotics 102," one thing in that essay did stand out for me; almost in a throw-away line, the author mentions her "sovereignty." She does so in the context of having the right to buy a sweater she likes, one her husband attempts to force her to return because of the expense. As someone who has a difficult time feeling like I have the right to do much on my own authority (after all, I don't make any money, and I often feel I'm here in my own house on sufferance), this situation caught my attention. I don't know what I'll do with this notion of "sovereignty," but I like it, and it'll swim around in my brain for a while, I'm sure.
Meanwhile, the only essay I had a particular dislike for was "My Marriage. My Affairs." Not because of the open marriage thing. That's not my style, but I don't really care what people choose to do in their own relationships. My problem was with the tone of the piece, in which the author (writing under a pseudonym) seems to come across as feeling as if she's simply more enlightened than most of the world. As if we'd all have open relationships, if we were just evolved enough to follow her lead. Sorry, "Helen Pine," but I'll continue grubbing around in the dirt like an underdeveloped, low-life animal and stick with my monogamous marriage.
As for the rest, most of it is passable. I think any woman who might pick up this book is likely to find something to relate to. Men who attempt it will either (a) find it surprising and illuminating, or (b) run for the hills never to be seen again. Depends on how well they can stomach plain speaking and, in some cases, vitriol from their women folk.
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