Booking Through...Yes, It's Still Thursday!

Do you get on a roll when you read, so that one book leads to the next, which leads to the next, and so on and so on?

I don’t so much mean something like reading a series from beginning to end, but, say, a string of books that all take place in Paris. Or that have anthropologists as the main character. Or were written in the same year. Something like that… Something that strings them together in your head, and yet, otherwise could be different genres, different authors…

Hmmmm...this is a good question to which I will answer yes and no. I get burned out really easily when I read too much of the same thing at once, so I would say no, I don't really get on a roll in that sense. I try to mix up my reading so everything's a little new and fresh so I don't get bored and fall into the dreaded reading lull. I find myself wanting to join all the sparkly reading challenges in the litblogosphere and then quickly second-guessing myself because I don't know if I'll have the attention span to stick to any one theme because of this whole "variety is the spice of reading" thing I've got going, and I fear that I'd miss my reading being a bit unpredictable.

On the other hand, though, if I read something I really love about a certain topic or decide some random topic is wildly interesting to me this week as a result of something I'm doing, something I'm thinking about, somebody I met who has an interesting job that I happen to know almost nothing about, I'm very prone to going on crazed wish list addition fests. For example, I read two really great books about circuses, found that was something that really interested me and combed Amazon all night to find more ideas for books about the circus. No, I didn't want to read them right then, but I did want to file them away for the future while I was thinking about it, so I'll have no shortage of circus books when I decide I'm ready for another. Last year in January I took a road trip from Pennsylvania to Montana (yeah, I know, some time for that road trip, right?) and decided I just had to read more about the American west/ranching/Native Americans and found myself wandering the bookstore in Wall Drug with a notepad writing down titles of books to read about the west which have been deposited on my wish list for, again, future enjoyment.

So, no. But, well, yes.


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In other news, I just finished my 53rd book of the year which makes this year a record year of reading in terms of quantity since I've begun keeping track of what I read. I think it's been about 5 years that I've kept track, so it's been awhile since I've read this much in a year...and it's not even over yet. Yay me!

On "Sisters," Mist, and Employment

This year, I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is over. My imposing "sister" has been safely packed off to her home without too much stress. My tactic in dealing with her was to welcome her to be here but not to cater to her every whim, so if I was planning on watching a TV show or playing a game with my family or helping my grandparents with their computer I went forth and did so and found that not up-ending my life on her behalf made it a good deal easier to deal with her over-intrusion into my life. Upon her arrival I discovered that her boyfriend had insisted on being the gentleman and bringing her down and that she would have just as gladly taken a bus. I can't very well blame her for that and was again reminded that her boyfriend, a very decent if rough around the edges sort, has a much better basic grasp of manners in the presence of my family than she seems to, so I was able to embrace his presence a bit more - that and he was great to me when I was living in Boston, so I feel like a jerk for being so bent out of shape about him coming. He thanked my mother profusely for dinner, watched whatever TV show we were watching without complaint, and proclaimed himself to be homicidal ("I'd kill somebody to get another piece of this!") over the dessert my mom prepares every year - and so won our love because my "sister" did none of the above. Another year passes without confrontation, so I've got until next year to work through my feelings about this situation again.

On a slightly more bookish note, I went to see The Mist this past weekend, yet another film adaptation of Stephen King's abundant body of work. Usually I pass on horror-type movies. I'm ridiculously squeamish and can't stand horror movies' portrayal of people being unreasonably stupid. Alas, I had read the story and enjoyed its depiction of how people react in the face of the unknown and the knowledge of their imminent deaths as a result of said unknown, and I couldn't help but be curious about how it would look on the big screen. Needless to stay, the film version took a perfectly decent story and screwed it up. Yes, the element of putting a group of people in a room with only their imminent deaths and big, scary creatures from the unknown to think about remained intact. The human part was actually rather well-executed. The people start out working toward a solution and end by fighting to the death with each other in a way somewhat reminiscent of The Lord of the Flies. Marcia Gay Harden turns in a great performance as Mrs. Carmody, an insane evangelical Christian sort, who is really, really loathesome and far scarier than gigantic spiders and creatures with distressing-looking tentacles as, I think, Stephen King intended.

Nonetheless, I left the movie feeling disappointed. Despite the success of the human part of the story the horror part was just well...horrible. Full in the knowledge that something is waiting outside to kill them, the characters don't rush to their destination, no, they lollygag and ogle the ominous otherworldly mist until the promised gigantic bug/tentacled creature/monstrous spider attacks them leaving just about everyone paralyzed in fear until the body count can mount sufficiently at which point some blessed soul will finally have the presence of mind to bash the evil creature with a big stick giving the few remaining survivors time to get away. Run, people! What's wrong with you? Even that aside, my biggest bone to pick, by far, was definitely the artsy, ironic and depressing ending which is a rather considerable departure from the original story not to mention being painful to watch. Even had I not read the story, this ending would have driven me to an intense dislike of this movie. Having read it, the ending becomes that much more unbearable for its unwarranted change from the written work.

Finally, in news that should make me happy but really doesn't - the last document that will enable me to become a temp for a major local hospital which is one of the few truly good places to work in my area of residence arrived in today's mail. Yes, I'm happy that I can say that I've got a job again and that I will have income and feel productive again instead of laying about fiddling with my computer and mooching off my parents, but gosh I'm bummed that I'll be spending the happy holiday season learning everything there is to know about working in healthcare administration which is rather a lot. I fear that my brain has atrophied over these last few months of unemployment, and it's just going to be a little much to take. Not to mention I won't have nearly as much time to fiddle around with my computer. And read. And write. And buy Christmas gifts. And enjoy happiness.

Okay, so maybe I'm just scared of doing something new. And maybe I feel a little bit like you do when you've gone on a nice and enjoyable vacation only to find it's ended a few days short of when you expected to as a result of unpleasant circumstances. I'm 23, I've been working in some respect for about 7 years...is it really too early to retire?

The week or so in books and some whining

It's slowly dawning on me that I'm probably going to be too lazy/busy to compile the 13 things I'm thankful for today/tomorrow, and the old blog has been a bit light on content the last few days, so I bring you a recap of my week in book acquisitions and a special bloggish Dear Abby letter.

I gave up on The Alienist. I'm not proud of it, nor am I proud of the exboritant amount of money I then I had to put out to ship said initially free book to the fair country of Australia (almost $10 - and that's not as bad as I thought it was going to be). I read about 150 pages trying desperately to become interested enough to want to continue, but being a spoiled instant gratification-craving modern American I couldn't help repeatedly thinking that I could get the equivalent of this story minus the historical atmosphere (which I found to include not quite enough gentle shaping of the environment and a little too much boring info-dumping on the part of Carr's narrator) on this week's or any week's episode of Criminal Minds. Criminal Minds is one of the two TV shows on of late that I would say is a "can't miss," for me, at least. So off The Alienist has gone to Australia, with nary a regret from me except for the the regret that comes with emptying my bank account.

This week's reading includes a copy of After You'd Gone by Maggie O'Farrell which I've heard much good about, interspersed with a few sparkley ARCs from Elle Magazine. Last year I had the privilege of taking part in their Reader's Prize program and read a few great books as a result, and, of course, a few duds, too. Happily, when I came crawling back asking to play again, they said yes and sent me three of the above-mentioned sparkly ARCs with the promise of 5 more sparkly brand new hardbacks come next summer and the potential to be published on the shiny pages of Elle magazine which is always a nice rush. My joy and happiness at receiving these books in the mail was slightly tempered by the fact that the first of the books I've deigned to read appears to be bona fide chick lit. I guess I lucked out last year by not receiving any really real chick lit. And I loathe really real chick lit - which can be defined as any chick lit that can't make me feel like I'm not reading chick lit. Loathe it. The shallow characters! The name dropping! The superficialty of it all! Argh! I will try to get a grip and give it a fair shake, but I'm sure it will be a bit of struggle if it continues on as it has begun. Speaking of struggles, in order to not anger the fine folks at Elle who send me shiny books and on occasion put my writing and my name in their magazine, I probably should withhold my reviews from here until they've published the March magazine. Which is why I'm attempting the reading of two books at once, which I've done before but with dubious consequences. Stay tuned to see how and if it turns out.

In other exciting book news, I managed to end up with The Book Thief in a BookObsessed historical fiction swap last week. I've heard so many great things about this book, and can't wait to get my hands on it! Also, I managed to win one of the raffles at Love of Reading during their online book fair, which if I were a decent sort of blogger I really would have gotten around to posting the link before it was over instead of say...now. I'll pause here for a moment so you can throw rotten vegetables at me, and then will gleefully announce that I'm expecting a copy of Ask Now the Beasts to arrive on my doorstep thanks to them sometime in the nearish future.

Of course, all the happiness wrought by books in my life is overshadowed by the struggles of this thing we call real life where distant relatives are passing away causing funerals and memorial events to coincide with major holidays, pets are sick, and Thanksgiving lurks over my shoulder. Thanksgiving, yes, that brings me to the next part of my lengthy post of randomness which will take the form of a Dear Abby letter. I'll expect all of my readers' wise responses within the next few hours so that I'll still have time to solve all my life's problems before sitting down to enjoy my turkey dinner.

Dear Abby,

I am really close to my family and as tradition dictates, when holidays come around we have fantastically large and tantalizingly awesome family get-togethers. Thanksgiving is hosted by my very own mother in our very own house which, is, I'll have you know, not all that large. I also have a friend whom I view as practically a sister who I have kept close in touch with for something like the last 10 years. Having been invited to and attended Thanksgiving dinner with my family once, she now makes it a point and a tradition to come to dinner every year. This is fine. As a matter of fact, at first we were honored to be her second family and be graced with her presence as we were giving her something she hadn't experienced in her own family. However as the years have passed, this has become increasingly burdensome as she views herself as even more a part of the family than we have given her license to be. This year, having sold her car, she has prevailed upon her boyfriend of a year to bring her to my home from Massachusetts for dinner. So, not only do we have to feed and keep happy all of our own family members, we also have to cater to the whims and needs of my best friend and her boyfriend who, while a decent guy, doesn't really fit in with our family and was never actually invited to Thanksgiving dinner. All this difficulty is compounded by the fact that she stays in my grandmother's house when she comes to visit - leveling great amounts of stress on her as she prepares for their 4-day stay. And today, my friend says to me that she wants to invite her brother along to dinner as well so he won't be alone on the holiday. All of this puts a strain on my family whose kindnesses are being abused which then puts a strain on me because I want everybody to be happy with each other and with me. I want her to keep coming because I love her, but I don't want to cater to or be judged by every virtual stranger she decides she wants to bring along without ever asking if it's okay. So, how do I tell the "sister" who has made herself a bit too much at home the stress she is putting on all of us and the bitterness she is engendering in much of my family by taking this all a bit too much for granted without seeming like a jerk who doesn't mind her glomming on to our holiday tradition but couldn't care less about the rest of her loved ones and where or how they spend their holiday? Please help!

Sincerely,

Ticked About T-Giving

A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

Mattie Gokey has big dreams for her future in a difficult present. Around the turn of the century, she finds herself serving as a farm hand for her father whose oldest son has fled as well as mother to her three sisters after her own mother dies from cancer. As she deals with her day to day struggles Mattie takes refuge in words, looking up a new one every day in her mother's treasured dictionary and committing it to memory. Mattie aspires to get her high school diploma and go to school in New York City where she can develop her talent for writing stories and eventually write books of her own. However, much stands in her way. Even attending school past the age of fourteen is unusual and puts a strain on her relationship with her father who counts on her help with the farm in the absence of her mother and older brother. The family has little money, and Mattie knows she can't count on any financial help to make her dream come true. And there's the "problem" with the handsome Royal Loomis who, it seems, is sweet on her.

When her father allows her to spend the summer working at the Glenmore, a lake resort of tourists, Mattie's dream seems within reach, but her love for Royal and a promise made to her mother on her deathbed force Mattie to reconsider her formerly single-minded pursuit of a college education. In the meantime, a mysteriously drowned young woman is taken from the lake, and as Mattie reads the dead woman's letters to her beloved as her own life marches on, Mattie finds the answers she's been looking for.

Donnelly creates parallel storylines; one which begins with the discovery of the drowned Grace Brown at the Glenmore and the other which explores Mattie's life up until that point. Each "past" chapter is headed with Mattie's word of the day which not only helped to enrich my vocabulary but also helped to shed light on crucial plot points. The portion of the story involving Grace Brown and her letters, though weaker than the rest, still serves to illuminate Mattie's experience; and when the two stories meet with a brilliant "ah-ha" moment for Mattie, the use of this structure really pays off.

Donnelly spectacularly channels Mattie's first person narrative making it seem like we truly are in Mattie's head. Down to the finest detail she stays in character, describing feelings, events, and even other characters' facial expressions in ways that always relate to Mattie's experience. Take, for example, Mattie's reaction to Royal's appraising look at her:

He looked at me closely, his head on an angle, and for a second I had the funniest feeling that he was going to open my jaws and look at my teeth or pick up my foot and rap the bottom of it.

Using Mattie as a jumping off point, A Northern Light thoughtfully works through problems facing women at the turn of the century that continue to apply in some measure today. At the time, new doors were opening for women that didn't involve husbands or babies, but strong expectations that women would still follow that path were still predominant. Even today, I felt like I could see parts of myself in Mattie as she struggled with whether to follow her dream to attend college and write books of her own or to choose to value marriage and family more. Donnelley is successful in portraying the good and bad things about each scenario, which really impressed me. While I appreciate how far women have come, I feel that so many women have become overeager to deride "traditional" roles, and I really appreciated that Donnelly didn't seem to stoop to that level. The balanced view of things really helped me to care deeply about Mattie and what decision she would make in the end. All in all, A Northern Light is a spectacular read about a young woman learning who she is and what she wants out of life and then choosing to go after it. I look forward to reading more from this author in the future.

Read another review at Valentina's Room.

Thursday Thirteen #5 - Excuse Me

Last week's Booking Through Thursday about "volume" gave me the idea for this one. I read quite a bit, but I used to read so much more...

Thirteen Excuses for Why I Don't Spend As Much Time Reading Books As I Should/Want To 1. TV (My parents are addicts, and they've sucked me into their evil web! EVIL!) 2. Magazines (My dad got this weird thing about his frequent flyer miles expiring and we used them to get roughly a zillion periodicals. One of my choices was The Economist - as poli sci major, it just makes my heart go thumpathump) 3. My Attention Span (Uh...what attention span?) 4. Blogs (I write in this one, I've got a growing list of ones I read, I have a growing list of ones I should visit so I could start reading them) 5. LibraryThing (Why read my own books when I can covet other peoples'?) 6. Pets (Obviously, my sole purpose in life is to feed the pets, play with the pets, let the pets outside, let them back inside, give them treats, make sure they aren't being bad, etc.) 7. Chores (You know the ones. The ones you have to do one day and the same the next day and the next day endlessly forevermore - laundry, dishes, yuck.) 8. Guilt (I'm sure there's something "productive" I should be doing. Or there's something that needs done rightnow before I forget!) 9. Employment (Not such a problem at the moment, but that whole earning a paycheck think sure takes a chunk of time out of the day.) 10. Bed (When I lay in it to read, which I often do, it lures me to sleep! Evil!) 11. Family (I love them, but when I pick up a book, they they emerge in force to talk about...well...usually nothing of consequence) 12. Shopping (Can't read, must go purchase more books!) 13. Book lust (I heart my book collection. I like to look at the books and touch the books and smell the books and contemplate reading another book than the one I'm reading or contemplate other peoples' books via their blogs and think of even more books I could/should buy that I can look at and enjoy but oddly not read...)

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