Novels Now

The Nobodies Album by Carolyn Parkhurst
Doubleday, 2010
Fiction; 320 pgs

For more information about the author and her books, visit her website.

Source: Received book through BookBrowse First Impressions Program.

31 Hours by Masha Hamilton
Unbridled Books, 2009
Fiction; 240 pgs

House Rules by Jodi Picoult

Pages: 532 pages
First Published: Mar. 2, 2010
Publisher: Atria Books
Rating: 2/5

First sentence:

Everywhere I look, there are signs of a struggle.

Reason for Reading: I have Asperger’s. My son is autistic. I have never read a Jodi Picoult book before as they have never interested me but when I heard the topic of this one was Asperger’s I obviously just had to read it.

Comments: As a person with Asperger’s I am dismayed with Picoult’s portrayal of an adult with Asperger’s Syndrome. Picoult starts off by showing us all the sources she has used for her research but once one starts reading it is obvious she is so full of research she doesn’t know what to do with it. She has taken every possible symptom of both Asperger’s and autism (which are two different diagnoses) and put them all into the character of Jacob. Not only is Jacob loaded down with every single symptom of both diagnoses, each of his symptoms are of the most extreme variety. A real-life ‘aspie’ (as we call ourselves) will have some, perhaps even many, but certainly not all textbook examples, of the symptoms and then they are at varying degrees at that. What Picoult has done here is a disservice to the Asperger’s community.

From the mother: “Since there’s no cure yet for Asperger’s, we treat the symptoms …“. Asperger’s is not a disease or an illness! There is no cure because one is not needed. Just from reading the positive reviews of this book I see the word “illness” being used over and over to describe Asperger’s! Simply because the book has left readers unfamiliar with AS with that impression. I could sit here and write an essay refuting all the quotes on the dog-eared pages I created while reading, but I won’t. If you want a realistic view of a young man with Asperger’s I urge you to read the book “Marcelo in the Real World” by Francisco X. Stork. The main character is 17 years old and is very comparable to Jacob only the author has done an excellent job in portraying Asperger’s, showing the struggles we face but also shows that we do indeed function and do not need anyone’s sympathy.

BTW, I did give the book 2 stars because if I removed the whole Asperger’s element I thought the mystery was quite interesting with a fun little twist to the solution.

Cassandra understood the media cycle well enough to know that Callie would disappear within a day or two, that she was a place-maker in the current story, the kind of footnote dredged up in the absence of new developments. Callie had been forgotten and would be forgotten again. Her child had been forgotten, left in this permanent limbo – not officially dead, not even officially missing, just unaccounted for, like an item on a manifest. A baby, an African-American boy, had vanished, with no explanation and yet no real urgency. His mother, almost certainly the person responsible, had defeated the authorities with silence. – from Life Sentences, page 12 -

Cassandra Fallows is casting around for her next book idea after having published two highly successful memoirs and one floundering novel, when an evening newscast brings up a name from her past. Calliope Jenkins had shared an elementary school classroom with Cassandra. She was later held for seven years in prison for refusing to reveal the whereabouts of her infant son…who is still missing and presumed dead. Now released from prison, Calliope provides the perfect backdrop for another memoir of sorts for Cassandra. Cassandra returns to her childhood home in Baltimore to try to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Calliope and her son, and ends up reconnecting with her old friends. What she discovers are buried secrets about her own life, and another perspective on what constitutes truth.

Laura Lippman takes her time in developing her characters in Life Sentences, switching back and forth from the past to the present, and giving the reader multiple perspectives of Cassandra’s life. Cassandra is not wholly likable (she has a tendency to go to bed with other women’s husbands and seems oblivious to how her literary portrayal of the people in her life might impact them) yet I found myself wanting to give her a chance at redemption. Part of the conflict in the novel is internal – that which lies within Cassandra herself. Although her goal was to write a book and not rethink her life, Cassandra ultimately is forced to deal with her own weaknesses, learn another way of seeing the world, and revisit her version of the truth.

Lippman apparently used to write straight forward mysteries and suspense novels, but in Life Sentences the mystery takes second stage to the deeper issues raised in the book. Using the historical backdrop of the civil rights movement in Baltimore and the assassination of Martin Luther King, Lippman explores the difficult subject of race relations. Cassandra’s unfaithful father leaves her mother to marry a black woman. Cassandra’s childhood friends are all black (she is white) and the division between them (and their later anger around Cassandra’s memoir) centers largely around unspoken race issues. One huge event in Cassandra’s life (when she is attacked by a group of white girls in her school) takes on a different meaning when seen outside of Cassandra’s narrow view and is explained from the viewpoint of a black friend who witnessed the attack but did nothing to stop it.

Another huge theme in the book is that of memory and perspective – how two people can experience the same thing and yet remember it differently. As Cassandra tries to mine her past for her next book, she discovers her memories about important events vary significantly from that of her friends.

Ultimately Lippman gets to the mystery and provides an answer for her readers, but she arrives there after a meandering journey through the lives of her central characters. And that is perhaps my only complaint with the novel – it moves a bit slowly at times. This is not a book a reader will plow through in one sitting. Despite this minor complaint, I can recommend Life Sentences to those readers who enjoy their mysteries character-driven vs. plot driven.

Please visit my TLC Book Tour post which includes a guest post by the author.

“Raven is the patron saint of the Tlingit. He’s responsible for bringing the sun and the moon and water and almost everything else, to the earth.” – from Raven Stole the Moon, page 24 of the ARC -

“Do you understand, Ferguson? Raven didn’t just give us the sun, moon, and stars. He had to steal them from someone else.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Stealing is an act of evil. But giving is an act of good. So was Raven good or evil?”
Ferguson felt a little dumb for having to be led to the answer.
“Both.”
“Both. Exactly. You now have a complete understanding of the Tlingit religion.” – from Raven Stole the Moon, page 46 of the ARC -

Jenna Rosen used to have a wonderful life – married to a man she loved, raising a little boy who meant the world to her. But a fateful trip to Thunder Bay, a lavish resort in Alaska, steals away everything. Bobby, Jenna’s five year old son dies in a drowning accident and Jenna feels responsible for his death. Her way of dealing with the guilt is to turn to alcohol and prescription drugs. Her husband, Robert, turns his grief to anger and directs it mostly at Jenna. Two years after Bobby’s death, Jenna  impulsively leaves Robert and boards a ferry from Seattle to a tiny town in Alaska where her grandmother once lived…looking for answers in  the cold and remote wilderness of Alaska.

Jenna’s journey for closure quickly becomes a terrifying ordeal where Jenna must not only sift through the legends and beliefs of her ancestors, but must face the devastation of her marriage.

On its surface, Raven Stole the Moon is a supernatural thriller which brings to life the Tlingit (pronounced Klink-it) legend of the Kushtaka – otter people who steal the souls of the dead. The Kushtaka are shape-shifters who can appear in whatever guise they desire to trick people into going with them. Jenna almost immediately encounters the Kushtaka upon her arrival in Alaska … and Stein amps up the tension and fear, successfully driving the story forward.

But to classify Raven Stole the Moon as just a thriller would be wrong. There are deeper issues embedded in the novel: how does a parent survive the loss of a child? And how does a marriage evolve or devolve in the aftermath of such an event? What role does religious faith play in recovery? How does someone forgive themselves for a tragedy for which they feel responsible? These questions resonate through the story. Jenna appears to have no religious faith until she discovers the religion of the Tlingit which puts her on a pathway to self-discovery and provides closure for the loss of her son. Her journey is not just a physical journey, it is a spiritual one.

As the sky regained its color and the birds awoke, Jenna stood naked before the world, wondering what was real and what was imagined, trying to fathom an absolute truth, a set of values assigned by some kind of higher being that she could live by, a belief system that would give her the answers she wanted and that she could depend on to survive more than a few thousand years. – from Raven Stole the Moon, page 227 of the ARC -

I read this novel in just under three days. The story pulled me in and made me want to continue reading to find the answers. I loved the German Shepherd who makes an appearance as Jenna’s spirit guide. I admit to being terrified at some of the scenes when Jenna was being pursued by the Kushtaka. That said, the writing is not perfect. At times the dialogue felt stilted and I longed for more development of some of the supporting characters. I did not always understand Jenna or her motivations.

Raven Stole the Moon is Garth Stein’s debut novel – released initially 13 years ago, it is now being re-released by Harper Collins after the success of his bestseller The Art of Racing in the Rain. I loved The Art of Racing in the Rain which I read last year (read my review). There are many differences between the two novels – perhaps most obvious the level of the writing. Stein has certainly grown as a writer in the 13 years between books. Despite some of the flaws in the prose, Raven Stole the Moon is still a worthwhile read, especially for those interested in Native American legend. The strengths of the book are its engaging storyline and the theme of recovery through spiritual awareness.

Cameron switched off both flashlights. But in spite of the claustrophobic dark that fell on them, Uma sensed a new alertness in her companions, a shrugging off of things they couldn’t control. They were ready to listen to one another. No, they were ready to listen to the story, which is sometimes greater than the person who speaks it. – from One Amazing Thing, page 70 -

One Amazing Thing begins in a nondescript passport and visa office where nine people are waiting to secure their travel papers to India: a black man named Cameron (who is a Vietnam Veteran), a Chinese woman (Jiang) and her granddaughter Lily, a young Muslim man named Tariq who is struggling to find his place in the world after 9-1-1, an older couple (Mr. and Mrs. Prichett) whose marriage is strained, Uma (a college girl) whose parents live in India, the visa office manager Mangalam and his assistant Malathi. Suddenly an earthquake strikes and the building collapses, trapping everyone. Immediately Cameron takes control, treating injuries, calming people and making a plan for survival. But as time slips by and water begins to fill the basement, panic and fear take hold and some turn on each other. Uma, a young woman who has learned the power of stories, suggests they sit together and share one amazing thing about their lives, something perhaps they have never shared before. The stories range from childhood abuse and loss to unrequited love and help give depth and understanding to each character who, until now, have mostly been viewed through the lens of stereotype and bias (for example, Cameron’s black skin makes some characters fearful of him being violent, and Tariq’s unkempt beard make others think he is a terrorist).

Divakaruni’s writing is fluid and at times beautiful – especially during the story-telling sections of the book.

“When had it happened? Looking back, I could not point to one special time and say, There! That’s what is amazing. We can change completely and not recognize it. We think terrible events have made us into stone. But love slips in like a chisel – and suddenly it is an ax, breaking us into pieces from the inside.” – from One Amazing Thing, page 90 -

As the characters reveal their backgrounds through one event in their life, the reader gains a deeper understanding of what motivates, frightens, and defines them. Divakaruni develops tension between the characters well, and creates a sense of urgency as the situation grows more serious and dangerous.

As a whole, however, I am not sure the novel worked as well as it could have. At times, the narrative felt like a linked collection of short stories, and the earthquake seemed like a prop in order for the characters to be revealed through story. In this way, the novel felt a bit contrived. The end of the book is abrupt and readers who like loose ends tied up will find themselves frustrated.

This is a short, quick read and I admit to being curious enough about the characters’ fates to keep reading. However, when the last page was turned, I felt oddly unsatisfied.

Divakaruni is an award winning and bestselling author of fifteen books, including the short story collection Arranged Marriage (winner of an American Book Award). Her writing is sublime and her character development admirable…and because of this, I am interested to read something else by this author even though this particular book did not totally work for me.

One Amazing Thing explores the themes of identity, class, story-telling as a way of healing, and coping in the face of crisis. Readers who like unique story set-ups and who enjoy linked short stories, might want to give this novel a try.

This was not an ordinary pandemic: it wouldn’t be contained after a few hundred thousand deaths, then obliterated with biotools and bleach. This was the Waterless Flood the Gardeners so often had warned about. It had all the signs: it traveled through the air as if on wings, it burned through cities like fire, spreading germ-ridden mobs of terror and butchery. The lights were going out everywhere, and now the news was fading away; systems were failing as their keepers died. It spelled total breakdown which was why she’d needed the rifle. Rifles had been illegal for years, but laws were no longer a factor. – from The Year of the Flood, page 18 of the ARC -

The year is far in the future, a time when animals are becoming extinct at a rate faster than people can document, and the level of pollution requires individuals to don nose cones in order to go outside. The government is horribly corrupt – creating weird animals like liobams (part lamb, part lion) and embedding diseases into vitamin supplements. Criminals are either executed or sent to serve months “playing” Painball, a deadly form of today’s paintball.

Welcome to Margaret Atwood’s latest dystopian novel which serves as a prequel to her previous work Oryx and Crake. The Year of the Flood takes place roughly during the same time period as Oryx and Crake, but jumps back and forth from the post-pandemic months and the years leading up to the disaster. Jimmy (Snowman) makes a reappearance in The Year of the Flood, but the main characters are two women – Toby and Ren. The novel is narrated first in Toby’s voice then in Ren’s, alternating chapters to provide significant background on not only the state of the world, but each woman’s personal story as well.

The heroes of the novel are members of a (mostly) pacifist, eco-friendly group called the Gardeners. Headed up by a Christ-like man called Adam One, the Gardeners rescue people off the streets (and from morally reprehensible lives), prohibit meat eating of any kind, document the animals being lost to extinction, and work underground to gain information about the various corrupt practices of the government. Both Toby and Ren become members of the Gardeners – Toby as a healer and eventually one of the Eves (female members who take on a leadership role in the group), and Ren who joins the group as a child.

Nobody does dystopian literature better than Atwood – and in The Year of the Flood she provides complex female characters who are faced with futuristic horrors which involve women as sexual tools for men, plenty of violence, and lots of cynicism. There is also Atwood’s signature sense of humor embedded in the story which is often graphic while exploring serious subjects such as pandemics, government corruption, and loss of our natural resources.

I love Margaret Atwood’s writing. I am always astonished by the brilliance of her prose and her ability to tell an engrossing story. But The Year of the Flood is not without its faults. I could have lived without the insertion of Adam One’s sermons and song lyrics from the Gardener’s “hymn” book. I also felt the ending was rather abrupt and left the reader wondering what the future held for the characters (in this way, it was a lot like Oryx and Crake).In some ways, I felt Atwood wrote the ending to connect the novel to Oryx and Crake – it felt a bit contrived.

Despite its faults, The Year of the Flood will appeal to readers who enjoy an engaging dystopian tale and who have read and liked Atwood’s previous work. I would be interested to see if Atwood is planning a third book in the series…and if so, where she might take her characters next.

The Flying Troutmans by Miriam Toews

Pages: 274
First Published: Oct. 1 2008
Rating: 4.5/5

First sentence:

Yeah, so things have fallen apart.

Reason for Reading: The publisher’s plot synopsis grabbed me right away.

Summary: Hattie in Paris, who has just been dumped by her boyfriend, receives an urgent message from her niece in Manitoba to come home quickly. Hattie’s sister Min is in a deep depression and needs to go into the hospital again and when Hattie arrives she finds the kids in a state. Teenage Logan retreats into his hoodie all the time, rarely speaks and the neighbors have a backyard full of hatchets. Thebes, on the other hand, does not stop talking, ever, and looks as if she hasn’t changed clothes in a few weeks nor combed, let alone washed her hair in months. Hattie is totally not up to the job of looking after two children so she takes the children in the van on a road trip to the States to find their father whom Min chased out of their lives when they Logan was a toddler and Thebes newly born. With only the name of a place of where he was ten years ago they set off.

Comments: What a wonderful, brilliant book! A humourous, heart-felt, sometimes poignant story of a family of the most quirky characters. This family is both dysfunctional and each member is suffering their own mental health problems but they are also lovable, unique and become accepted to the reader just the way they are. The only character I didn’t connect with nor grow to like was Hattie, who was quite negligent with looking after the children and as a 32yo woman had no excuse for her behaviour except that she daydreamed about her ex-boyfriend back in Paris and hadn’t looked after children before. I didn’t buy it. However, the children and Min (who we get to know through Hattie’s memories) were extremely outlandish yet totally believable characters.

A great story that will have you chuckling, shaking your head and growing fonder of these two children the more you read. I really enjoyed this, my first foray into Toews, and I will be looking into her other work hoping to find the same quality of story. The book vaguely reminded me of the movie “Little Miss Sunshine” and I pictured Logan just as the teenage son in that movie. If you enjoy an offbeat story populated with eccentric characters this book will certainly fit the bill.

I’ve always felt almost human. I’ve always known that there’s something about me that’s different than other dogs. Sure, I’m stuffed into a dog’s body, but that’s just the shell. It’s what’s inside that’s important. The soul. And my soul is very human. – from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 3 -

Enzo is a dog – but he is not just any dog. Enzo is a philosopher and an observer of humans…he is a dog with the soul of a man. He lives with Denny Swift, a semi-professional race car driver, and Denny’s beautiful wife Eve and daughter Zoe. Enzo’s story begins at the end, and then rewinds to the beginning and works forward again. It is a simple story, really…the story of a family seen through the eyes of their dog; but Enzo’s insight into the human condition is what turns this simple story into something special. Like his owner Denny, Enzo loves car racing and he takes what he learns from the sport (through Denny) and uses it as a metaphor for living one’s life.

This is what Denny says. He says racing is doing. It is being a part of the moment, and being aware of nothing else but that moment. Reflection must come at a later time. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 14 -

I must admit, I was very reluctant to read this book – not because I didn’t think it would be a great read (I heard Garth Stein speak last year at the San Jose Book Club Expo and immediately bought The Art of Racing in the Rain afterwards); but because I knew it would make me cry. And it did. Enzo is a wonderful character and his view of life, and ultimately of death, is tender and moving. Stein makes the reader embrace his characters. For me, it was easy to believe that a dog could think and feel as Enzo did…and so I internalized his story and it became real for me. Despite my tears, Enzo’s story is not all tragedy and sadness. There is joy, exhilaration and hope in the novel as well. There are many messages embedded in The Art of Racing in the Rain, but one of these seemed the most important: we are what we manifest.

Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 43 -

As Denny and his family face challenges and tragedy, this concept (’that which we manifest is before us‘) becomes a recurrent theme. Another recurrent theme is facing our darkest fears in order to overcome them. For Enzo, it is a stuffed zebra who embodies evil intent…and now I know why Garth Stein inscribed my book: “For Wendy, Beware the zebra!”

There are many beautiful passages in Stein’s novel. His writing is graceful and insightful. Enzo’s ruminations on life, on what makes a good human, and the state of our souls upon death…are simple, tender and thoughtful.

Here’s why I will be a good person. Because I listen. I cannot speak, so I listen very well. I never interrupt, I never deflect the course of the conversation with a comment of my own. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 101 -

We could learn a lot by listening to our dogs, perhaps.

The Art of Racing in the Rain is a beautiful novel on many levels. Readers who love animals will certainly be drawn to Enzo. This is a novel about family, love, loyalty and spirituality. It is about overcoming obstacles and moving forward through tragedy. But mostly it is about our connection to others – whether they be beast or human. Those readers who have recently lost a beloved pet will find this a tough read at times, but it is worth the journey.

Highly recommended.

My interest – okay, obsession – with math is genuine, and has been since the first time I was ripped away from the life I loved. I buried myself in numbers and word problems where an answer was certain (or at least in the back of the book) and I knew I’d found something I could count on. – from The Girl She Used To Be, page 5 -

Melody Grace McCartney has been in the Witness Protection Program since the age of six, along with her parents who have since been murdered by the mob they testified against. Moved by the federal government dozens of times to small towns across America, Melody wishes for only one thing: to have a normal life and her own name. So when one night she meets Jonathon Bovaro, the son of the man who was responsible for killing her parents, she is especially vulnerable to his charms…and his promise to protect her.

And for some reason I feel free, that I have been in touch with both sides, with the light and the dark of my existence, and that I have somehow managed to find peace. Whether there is validity to this notion is irrelevant; right now, it feels valid. I’m not going to destroy it by overanalyzing. – from The Girl She Used To Be, page 48 -

David Cristofano’s debut novel is a fast-paced, compelling look at identity, and our ability to trust and love after tragedy. The Girl She Used To Be is a well-constructed novel with a complex protagonist. Melody’s journey from child victim to rebellious adolescent to independent young adult is painful. The core of the story revolves around the question of how we form our identities, and how early experiences impact our development.

I have to admit that I was not sure how I would like this novel. At times, the story felt a bit contrived – but ultimately I found myself unable to stop turning the pages. I wanted to know how Melody’s life would turn out; I wished for something better for her; I ached for those things missing in her life – a family, a person who loved her for her, a normal life. Melody is not always likable – at times she is whiny and petulant – but as the story unfolds, her behavior becomes understandable.

Cristofano has crafted an unusual novel – one of imagination and depth – which kept me interested from start to finish. Readers who like their literary fiction with a touch of mystery will greatly enjoy The Girl She Used To Be. I will look forward to reading more from this talented new author.

Recommended.

Her Fearful Symmetry
By Audrey Niffenegger
Completed October 22, 2009

It’s very hard to write a review of Her Fearful Symmetry - the latest book by Audrey Niffenegger – without giving away spoilers. I usually summarize a book before I offer my opinions, but with this book, I will remain vague about its plot. I don’t want to spoil it for future readers!

In a nutshell, Her Fearful Symmetry was the story of twins, Julia and Valentina, who were bequeathed a London flat by their estranged aunt, Elspeth. The estate came with some strings attached: the girls must live there for one year before selling it, and their parents could not step foot into it. The twins were at a crossroads in their early lives and decided to accept these terms. They moved to London, soon realizing that they have a ghostly roommate – the spirit of their Aunt Elspeth.

The plot moved around from there, and I will leave my summary intentionally open-ended. I can tell you this: the book has many twists and turns (some more believable than others); it’s a fascinating account of the historical Highgate Cemetery in London; and the characterization was outstanding. While Julia and Valentina did not move me, the other characters did. The ghost of Elspeth left me hanging on to every page, curious of her next moves. Her former lover, the tortured Robert, played the perfect lost soul (I really did feel sorry for him). And most fascinating character was Martin – the twins’ OCD neighbor whose battle against his condition offered humor and empathy.

The plot has flaws – one must remember this is a ghost story – but the characters made this book move. I am one of the few readers who disliked The Time Traveler’s Wife, but I am glad it did not taint me from books by Niffenegger. Her Fearful Symmetry offered enough creepiness, family drama, and history to satisfy this reader. If you like these types of stories, then this is the book for you. ( )

Go smiled, said, “When we see ourselves without judgment, then we’ll begin to see and accept others without judgment. We’ll turn the volume down on the external world, and we’ll see we’re all connected, we’re all same-same.” – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 175 -

Cesar is a troubled seventeen year old, growing up on the streets of Los Angeles. His father is mostly absent. His older brother, Wicho, is serving time for the murder of two teenage boys. Cesar is fast following in his brother’s footsteps – a member of a gang whose violence is pulling Cesar into a world where there is no future. Concerned about her son, and wishing to start over, Cesar’s mother decides to move back to the small town of Unalakleet, Alaska – a fishing village where she grew up. Cesar at first believes the move to be temporary…and makes a bet with his cousin Go-boy that he will move back to LA within a year. But Cesar is unprepared for the power of his cousin’s optimism. Go-boy believes in a Good World Conspiracy…and he is ready to lead the way, sporting an Eskimo Jesus tattoo on one arm while philosophizing about the strength of goodness in their small town.

Go was the only person I’d ever known who could take a good perspective on anything, and the only person I knew who assumed I could and would do the right thing, the good thing. It was obvious that when Wicho told me he believed I would go to college and get him out of jail, he was just messing with a little kid, trying to cheer up his sorry- and lonely-ass little brother. But when Go-boy bet me I’d stay in Alaska, and when Go-boy encouraged me to pursue a hundred other interests and plans, even invited me to help him, it felt authentic. All of it. It was real. And I liked the version of myself that Go-boy saw. – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 116 -

As Cesar adapts to life in Unalakleet, his vision of the world begins to change. Together, with Go-boy and Go-boy’s half sister Kiana, Cesar begins to envision a different future for himself.

I wrote that if we had grown up here, Wicho wouldn’t have shot anybody. There were no gangs on the tundra. Nobody was shooting to claim shoreline. Nobody was walking around town flashing anything but a wave. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

And when it was deep up here our boats didn’t get stuck, and when all of life’s shit landed on a single day, when the moment arose that we wanted to reach for our guns and spray a bullet or two through a couple people, instead we could drive up North River till we ran out of gas, sit on the shore, skip some rocks, and never see another person. Time was everywhere. We could wait anything out. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

Mattox Roesch’s debut novel is about hope born of our connectedness with others. Dark at times, the story explores the roots of despair and how easily an individual can choose the wrong path in their search for identity. Narrated in the original voice of seventeen-year-old Cesar, Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same reveals the struggle in choosing a moral path, the guilt of past actions which can not be undone, and the attempt to find meaning in one’s life.

Roesch’s prose is marked by breaks in the narrative, a shifting between past and present. This style did not always work for me, and although it did create a tension in the novel, I found it mostly annoying. Despite this, I thought Roesch got the voice of Cesar “right.” Tough and occasionally insensitive, Cesar was not always a likable character. Although the novel is about Cesar’s growth, I was more strongly drawn to Go-boy who is a quirky, sensitive guy wanting desperately to believe in the goodness of others. Go-boy’s decompensation, as Cesar becomes stronger, was a powerful aspect of the book.

I finished this book with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I loved the message of the book and the originality of the prose. On the other hand, I found Roesch’s style sometimes difficult to read. I believe young adults will be drawn to Roesch’s teenage narrator and Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same would make for an excellent book discussion. Readers looking to gain insight into a troubled teen’s thoughts will find this novel compelling.

In The Kitchen
By Monica Ali
Completed August 23, 2009

In The Kitchen by Monica Ali was like a good-looking, sweet-smelling dessert that held so much promise – until you sunk your teeth into it. Despite its delectable exterior, it turned out to be a book with little taste or appeal.

The recipe was classic. Gabriel Lightfoot was on the brink of culinary success, entering into a business agreement with investors for his own restaurant and involved in a promising relationship with the perfect woman. Then, one night, one of his porters died in the restaurant’s cellar, marking a downward spiral for Gabriel – his life methodically spinning out of control.

As if watching a character deteriorate was not hard enough, it was even harder to read how Gabriel made no attempt to get his life back together. His affair with Lena, a stone-cold wisp of a woman, and his treatment of his dying father did little to add to Gabriel’s plight – or his likeability. Not every character has to be likeable, but at least there should be a purpose in his general “unlikeability,” and I struggled to find that purpose in Gabriel.

I do applaud Ali’s attempts to elucidate the issues of immigration, sex trade and xenophobia in this story, but it was not enough. Her themes were right, but the story wasn’t.

While I had issues with the characterization and the plot, Ali’s writing was superb, and I do plan on reading more by this author. Simply put, In the Kitchen was not the story for me. ( )

The Help
By Kathryn Stockett
Completed August 9, 2009

Set in the turbulent Jackson, Mississippi during the early 1960’s, The Help was the debut novel by Kathryn Stockett. Many times, when I read a novelist’s debut book, I think: “that’s not a bad start” or “some flaws but a promising career.” Rarely does a debut knock my socks off – but that’s exactly what The Help did.

The Help was narrated by two black maids, Aibileen and Minny, and a young white woman, Skeeter. Through their stories, we learn about what it was like to be black maid to white employers during the time of segregation. For many maids, the experience was humiliating – backbreaking work for little pay, hostile employers and segregated bathrooms, forks and dish towels. Other maids, however, formed warm and loving relationships with their employers, especially with the children they helped raise. This love, however, was always disguised and hidden. It would be deadly for anyone to know to about it.

To me, the hallmark of a good Southern novel are the excellent characters, and The Help was no exception. I grew angry when the maids were mistreated, cheered for them when something good happened to them and admired the bravery of every woman – black and white – who defied the racial norms to make things better in Jackson. You’ll cheer and jeer throughout this novel – but I don’t think anyone could be very disappointed.

Highly recommended, The Help will go down as one my favorite books of 2009 – a must-read for anyone interested in Southern Literature, race and gender relations and just plain good writing. I wait anxiously to see what the future holds for Kathryn Stockett. ( )
 

What had persuaded her to buy the house, though, were none of these sensible reasons but the thought that sprang into her mind at the first sight of the address – 41 Fortune Street – that her grandfather would have liked the name. “Straight out of Dickens,” she could hear him say, straw hat rocking. The pleasure of that image more than outweighed her own faint twinge of superstition. - from The House on Fortune Street, page 275 -

The House on Fortune Street is a leisurely novel about how our past reflects upon our future, and how our relationships with others are inextricably linked to how we integrate events from our childhood.

The book is broken into four separate parts – each narrated by a different character. Abigail  is an actress and playwright who immerses herself in loveless sex, protecting herself from the intimacy she knows may hurt her. Sean has left his wife and struggles to complete his dissertation on Keats. He moves into the Fortune Street house with Abigail and finds himself regretting his decisions. Dara is Abigail’s best friend from college. Highly sensitive, she works as a counselor and longs to find true love and start a family, but her questions about why her father abandoned his family when she was a young girl overshadow her happiness. Cameron, Dara’s father, is living with a secret and struggling to come to terms with yearnings he is unable to explain.

Early in the novel, a pivotal event occurs … and from this point onward the reader searches for understanding of each character’s motivation, desire, and fears. Livesey has given each character “a literary godparent” – an author who the character relates to and provides further understanding of that character’s personality. For Sean, Keats provides that role; for Abigail is is Charles Dickens; Dara relates to Charlotte Bronte, and the novel Jane Eyre; and Cameron connects with Charles Dodgson (better known as Lewis Carroll).

“My grandfather thought he could learn everything he needed to know about England by studying Dickens. He said everyone had a book, or a writer, that was the key to their life.” – from The House on Fortune Street, page 258 -

Margot Livesey’s prose is gentle and probing. In The House on Fortune Street she brings her story together with patience, carefully flushing out each character and putting together the pieces of their lives as though constructing a psychological jigsaw puzzle. Thematically she explores the idea of luck or chance vs. choice, and examines the role which early childhood plays in the development of our personalities. Specifically, she gives the reader a glimpse into the complexity of women’s friendships – the intimacy, as well as the secrecy which these types of relationships engender.

I found myself deeply involved in the lives of Livesey’s characters – I grew to care about them, to wonder about their choices, and to sympathize with their struggles. The format of the novel – a series of interlocking narratives – gave depth to the story which might not have happened if told only through the eyes of one character.

The House on Fortune Street is a heartbreaking tale which deals with some uncomfortable subject matter. It is not filled with action, but requires patience and a slow reading to fully appreciate. There are no sudden “aha” moments, but rather a gradual realization and understanding of the underlying message of the novel. At times I wanted to flip ahead to get to the nitty-gritty of the story, but I am glad I restrained myself from doing so as I think I would have been disappointed that there are no easy answers in this book.

Readers who enjoy well-written literary fiction will like Livesey’s style. Written with sensitivity and compassion, The House on Fortune Street is recommended.

The Elephant Keeper
By Christopher Nicholson
Completed August 2, 2009

For an animal lover like me, it’s hard to dislike The Elephant Keeper by Christopher Nicholson. The main character, Tom Page, is a likeable guy, who devoted his life to care for two elephants in late 18th century England. The elephants were all personality – characters that you loved and wanted the best for.

The Elephant Keeper, however, is the perfect example on how interesting characters alone can’t make a good book. The writer must add other ingredients – writing style, plot development and credibility – to the book to make it a story. Unfortunately, these final key elements were lacking in Nicholson’s debut novel.

What frustrated me about The Elephant Keeper was that Nicholson had these elements in the first book of the book. This is the section written by Tom as a “history” of the elephants under his care. Then, the story shifted to the present day, and the whole thing lost its luster. I questioned Tom’s reliability as the narrator, found his conversations with the elephant Jenny to be troubling and was disappointed that the ending tied no loose ends. If only Nicholson could have kept everything as a “history,” I think the story would have fared better.

Where I give Nicholson credit, though, was his depiction of Jenny. Her calm demeanor as an observer of the human race was insightful. Like Rose from Water for Elephants, Jenny had a sense of right and wrong, a wicked sense of humor and love for those who loved her. She was Tom’s faithful companion and the one constant thread throughout the novel.

If you can take The Elephant Keeper at face value – a story about a man and his elephants – than you will enjoy this book. It’s a nice escape into historic England and love between humans and animals. ( )

He had no memory of a beginning – of a mother or father, sister or brother. His life was simply there, at Saint Anthony’s, and what he remembered began in the middle of things – the smell of boiled sheets and lye; the taste of watery oatmeal; the feel of dropping a brick onto a piece of stone, watching the red pieces split off, then using those broken shards to write on the wall of the monastery, and being slapped for this, and being forced to wash the dust away with a cold, wet rag. – from The Good Thief, page 4 -

Ren, missing a hand,  has lived for eleven years at an orphanage in New England – a place where children are whipped for infractions and schooled in Catholic doctrine. His friendships are few and his questions are many. Then one day a man named Benjamin Nab arrives at Saint Anthony’s claiming to be Ren’s brother. His wild stories convince the authorities at the orphanage to let Benjamin adopt Ren – and thus begins Ren’s second life filled with grave robbery, violence, and lies. Along the way, Ren makes friends with a paid assassin, a dwarf, a landlady who has a heart of gold, a nun, and a drunkard. He also begins to uncover the mystery surrounding his birth.

The Good Thief is a fast read and filled with unexpected events and excitement. Hannah Tinti’s story is a bit Dickensonian, but with more violence. Ren’s character is likable (he is the good thief, in case you were wondering)…he wants to do good, but is forced to lie and steal to survive. The writing in the novel is clean and vivid.

But, despite these strengths, I did not really enjoy this book. At times I felt the plot was too contrived, and the violence overdone and gratuitous. The number of evil characters in the novel turned me off a bit. I found myself wanting a better life for Ren and wondering if there were any loving adults in his world. Luckily, Mrs. Sand (the landlady) ends up being someone who provides the love Ren has never known. And although Tinti redeems some of her “bad” characters,  the novel overall was just too dark and depressing.

Many readers liked The Good Thief – in fact, it has won a host of awards including:

When I read through that list, I wonder if I was just not in the mood for this book at the time I read it. Reader’s who like fast-paced fiction and are not overly disturbed by graphic violence, might give this one a try.

The Author’s Website