Happy New Year!

May 2010 be full of good surprises, both in your reading and in your personal lives. See you in the New Year!

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2010 in Challenges - The Post of Doom

Ah, reading challenges. I appear to have a bit of a love/hate relationship with them, and yet I can't seem to quit joining them. The name "challenge" is of course somewhat of a misnomer - the goal isn't so much to challenge ourselves as it is to do some themed reading along with other book lovers. And likewise, what makes challenges fun is that the emphasis isn't so much in the accomplishment as it is in the experience. In 2009, I didn't complete some of the challenges I'd joined - this for the first time in three years of joining them. Oddly enough, I'm actually a little proud of this fact, since it means that I've finally internalized the fact that there is no challenge police.

The challenges I failed to finish in 2009 were: The Dream King Challenge (ha! A challenge devoted to my favourite author and I failed it. Booo.); What's in a Name II (I'm so sorry, Annie!); My challenge with Rhinoa (I feel awful, because the one book I failed to read - Moon Called by Patricia Briggs - was the book Rhinoa was kind enough to send me as a gift. I'll read it in January, though. Promise.); the TBR Lite Challenge (ironically enough, in a year when I was supposed to be climbing Mount TBR. The pre-made and unchangeable list was my undoing.); and the Support Your Local Library Challenge (I read 11 library books when I was supposed to have read 12).

Ah well. Better luck next year. Without further ado, these are the challenges I'm joining in 2010. Believe it or not, I actually used some self-restraint and refrained from joining several challenges that were calling to me. For now. These, though, suited my reading interests so well that they were impossible to resist.


First of all, there's the Graphic Novels Challenge that I'm co-hosting with Chris this year. I had to at least join my own challenge, no? I'm going to aim for the expert level and read at least 10 graphic novels this year. I don't think that finishing this one will prove very challenging.

Next there's the Women Unbound Challenge, which started back in November and about which I posted before. So this time I'll just say I'll go for the Bluestocking Level and read 5 books, at least two of which will be non-fiction. No list ahead of time - for all these challenges, my only rule will be to pick books from my tbr whenever possible, rather than books I don't own.

For Amanda's glbtq Challenge, I picked the Lambda Level, which requires me to read 4 books. Yes, I'm picking the lowest level for all these challenges - I don't want to overcommit. I'll probably end up reading more anyway, since one of my goals for 2010 is to add diversity to my reading. Again, I'll be focusing on my tbr pile, where enticing books by Sarah Waters, Alison Bechdel and Julie Anne Peters await me. There's also Orlando by Virginia Woolf, which goes very nicely with the beautiful button and which I'm planing to read for Woolf in Winter anyway.


The Cashier at Ankh-Morpork Mint level of Marg's Terry Pratchett Challenge requires me to read 1 to 3 books by my other favourite author in 2010. Let us hope this goes better than the Dream King challenge.

Aarti and Kristen's Flashback Challenge is going to encourage me to be a good bookworm and re-read at least 3 books next year. I want one of them to be Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, and we'll see about the rest.

The Science Book Challenge requires me to read 3 science books in 2010. I have Parasite Rex by Carl Zimmerman and The Canon by Natalie Angier in my tbr pile and can't wait to get to them. We'll see that the third book will be.


The goal of Meghan's A Tournament of Reading is to read books from, about, or set in the Middle Ages. The minimum requirement is to be a Peasant and read three books, which sounds perfectly doable. A Morbid Taste for Bones and Mistress of the Art of Death, here I come.

Rhinoa's Manga Challenge is returning in 2010, and once again participants are asked to read at least 6 Manga books. This will give me a chance to finish the Death Note series, and also start After School Nightmare, which I've had my eye on for a while. Or maybe read something else altogether.

Finally, Amanda's Our Mutual Read is a Victorian Challenge. Let me repeat that - a Victorian challenge. Was there any chance at all I wouldn't join? I'm going to be read least 5 Victorian books - two of which have to be real Victorian, as opposed to pseudo-Victorian or about the Victorians. This works out nicely because I can read all the neo-Victoriana in my tbr pile, and get the real Victoriana from Project Gutenberg. I could read more Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell or Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Or I could be brave and venture beyond Dicken's Christmas books and ghost stories, or even read Middlemarch at last. We'll see.


Last but not least, something that is not-quite-a-challenge: I'll be joining Kailana and some other bloggers and reading Madeleine L'Engle's Time Quintet in 2010.

ETA: I almost forget! Rhinoa and I are swapping reading lists again this year, and since I didn't get around to Moon Called, that will be on my list for 2010. The other two books she picked for me were Camelot's Shadow by Sarah Zettel and Uglies by Scott Westerfeld, both of which sound right up my alley.

What about you? Are you joining any challenges in 2010? Why or why not?

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Woodson, Wodehouse and Beagle

This post is an attempt to catch up with book blabbing so that I don't start 2010 with 2009 books I've yet to tell you about. Of course, it won't work, because since I first drafted it I finished three more books. But that's a good thing - an excellent thing, actually, after a few weeks of barely even reading - so I won't complain.

First of all, let me tell you about If You Come Softly by Jacqueline Woodson. Almost everyone who reads that book says it made them cry, and no, I'm not going to be an exception. It really amazes me how Woodson can pack so much into such short books.

A brief summary: Ellie is a white Jewish upper-middle class girl from New York. Jeremiah, the son of a famous movie director and an equally famous writer, is black. They meet in highschool and fall in love. And very soon, Ellie is confronted with the invisible knapsack. Things that she didn't think happened anymore, not in our day and age, not in her circle of tolerant, sophisticated family members and friends, become undeniable as she and Miah grow closer. That's not all there is to the story, but I really can't tell you more without spoiling the shattering ending. Just... Woodson is amazing. Her characterization is great, her writing is lovely and extremely effective, and her themes are powerful, raw, and all too relevant. For other opinions, check out Alexa's, Jill's, Amy's and Lu's reviews.

Next I read My Man Jeeves, my very first P.G. Wodehouse. This is an early Wodehouse book, collecting four Jeeves and Wooster stories and four stories featuring Reggie Pepper, who I hear was an early incarnation of Wooster. I enjoyed My Man Jeeves, but the fact that it's an early collection definitely shows. Let me start with the good: I loved the humour, of course, as well as the language, which is full of "whats!" and "chaps" and "deucedly"s. And I can see that the characters have the potential to become outstanding and memorable.

But the problem is that for me they weren't; not quite yet. I guess I expected more, but I'm not worried. I will continue to read Wodehouse and I'm pretty certain I will become a fan yet. Terry Pratchett has often cited Wodehouse as one of his influences, and I can't imagine anyone who only reads The Colour of Magic being able to understand what Discworld is all about. I think that's more or less what happened with me and My Man Jeeves. (See what Darla D and Book Psmith thought.)


Finally, on Christmas Day I read Peter S. Beagle's lovely A Dance for Emilia, which probably qualifies as a novellete. The story opens when Jacob, a middle-aged actor living on the West Coast, gets a phone call telling him that Sam, his childhood friend from New York, has died suddenly. I don't want to tell you much more than this because this is such a quick read, and one that it's best to discover on your own. I can say that the plot has some fantasy elements - I guess this could be qualified as a ghost story. But it's not scary, nor is it meant to be. What makes A Dance for Emilia so beautiful is the human side. As always, Peter Beagle's writing and characterization are top notch, and anyone who has ever dealt with loss of any kind will most likely find this story worth reading. A Dance for Emilia is a gentle ghost story, but most of all it's a study of loss, grief, and ultimately the decision to carry on with our lives, even after we lost something we never thought we could live without.

That's all for now. I do want to tell you about two amazing non-fiction books - Cold by Bill Streever and The World Without Us by Alan Weisman, and also about why I'm the newest member of the Mary Russell fanclub. But those all deserve long gushy posts of their own, so they'll have to wait until the New Year. And before that, I'll be back with a Challenges I'm Joining in 2010 Despite Saying I Would Cut Back Post of Doom.

(As always, if you've posted about any of these books, leave me your link and I'll be happy to add it.)

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2009: The Year in Review

I can't believe it's time for an end of the year post again. It feels like I was writing last year's just a couple of months ago. Before I tell you what my 28 favourite reads of the year were*, a few words about my giveaway: first of all, a big thank you to everyone who played along. Secondly, after the post was up and a few of you had already guessed, I realised that I had forgotten to tell you about a very important rule: my end of the year list would only include one book per author. And obviously, if I left a comment clarifying that so late in the game, I'd be rigging future guesses, and it wouldn't be fair to people who had already tried to guess.

I felt really bad for those who guessed two books by the same author, especially when they'd definitely be on my list if not for the rule. So in the end, what I did was put the names of everyone who got at least four books right in the hat. Which was pretty much everyone who tried. I remember that last year I was a bit surprised that so few of you got all five books, or even just four books, right. But this year everyone did guess. I suspect it's because I was quite a bit more shameless about unleashing by inner gushing fangirl in 2009.

Anyway, without further ado, the winner is:

Priscilla at The Evening Reader - congratulations, Priscilla! Just e-mail me your address and your book of choice, and it shall be yours. And now on to my favourite reads of 2009, not necessarily in order (except for number one):

Fiction

• Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan - I've been gushing about this book all year, and for a reason. It's dark and uncomfortable, yes, but also wise, moving, beautiful and necessary. Remembering certain scenes still brings tears to my eyes.
  


• Fingersmith by Sarah Waters - I shan't say a thing, because the first rule of the Fingersmith Club is that you don't talk about Fingersmith. (This will make sense if you read it, promise.)
  


• The Fox Woman by Kij Johnson - A beautiful story about love, longing, loss and shape-shifting foxes set in Old Japan.
  
  
• The Children's Book by A.S. Byatt - Like Eva, I want to crawl into this book and live there. (Except I'd magically stop time and never actually get to the shattering final section, which is about WW1 and made me cry pretty much all the way through.)
  
  
• The Love We Share Without Knowing by Christopher Barzak - A novel in stories, also set in Japan and also featuring kitsune, only this time it's modern Japan. And now that I think of it, it deals with many of the same themes as The Fox Woman. They also have the fact that they're beautifully written in common, but they each have their own distinct feel. Still, I loved them both for many of the same reasons.
  
  
• Paper Towns by John Green - I almost left this out because somehow I was convinced I'd read it last year. But no, it was in 2009, and what an amazing reading experience it was.
  
  
• The Knife of Never Letting Go and The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness - Okay, so I'm kind of breaking my one-book-per-author rule, but it's a series! It's the same story! It's practically one book, really. And what a book - smart, action-packed and completely heartbreaking. Boycolt! (Another thing that will make sense if you read it.)
  
  
• What I Was by Meg Rosoff - I loved everything I've read by Meg Rosoff, but this touched me more than any of her others.
  
  
• Bone by Jeff Smith - Hey, I read the one-volume edition, so it counts as one book.
  
  
• Little Brother by Cory Doctorow - Like Fyrefly so brilliantly said, this book is not even dystopian, it's just thopian. A scary yet hopeful portrait of a reality that seems increasingly closer to our own.
  
  
• Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith - A beautiful modern myth about gender and sexism and, clichéd though this sounds, the power of love.
  
  
• Mortal Love by Elizabeth Hand - Gothic, subtly fantastic, Victorian, wonderfully written, and a joy to read.
  
  
• Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin - Le Guin at her best.
  
  
• Saplings by Noel Streatfeild - I couldn't stop thinking about this book for days after I finished it. A brilliant psychological account of the effect of WW2 on a group of children.
  
  
• Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood - My favourite Atwood to date.
  
  
• The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenagger - Yes, it was every bit as good as everyone always told me it was.
  
  
• Nights at the Circus by Angela Carter - The things Carter does with language make my head spin. In the best possible way.
  
  
• The Secret History by Donna Tartt - Again, you were right all along. I couldn't put this book down.
  
  
• The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins - I had a lot of trouble deciding between this and The Woman in White, but in the end I think I had more fun with The Moonstone.
  
  
• Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett - Not one of my favourite Discworld books like I said, but the truth is that I still enjoy even my least favourite books by Terry Pratchett more than most other books.
  
  
• Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin - Beautifully written, tragic, and very moving.

Non-Fiction

• Bad Science by Ben Goldacre - This should be required reading in schools everywhere.
  
  
• Shakespeare Wrote for Money by Nick Hornby - My favourite of the "Stuff I've been reading" collections, and that's saying a lot.
  
  
• Virgin: The Untouched History by Hanne Blank - A fascinating look at the history and meaning of the concept of virginity.
  
  
• Maps and Legends by Michael Chabon - The book that confirmed my brain crush on Michael Chabon.
  
  
• Reasonable Creatures by Katha Pollitt - I love Pollitt's sarcasm, insight, and plain good sense.
  
  
• 84 Charing Cross Road and The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street by Helene Hanff - Okay, so I'm cheating again, but they were in a single volume! Helene Hanff was such a pleasure to spend time with.
  
  
• Bluestockings by Jane Robinson - A fascinating book about what the first women to fight for the right to an education had to endure.
  

Honourable mentions: Galápagos by Kurt Vonnegut, Old Man's War by John Scalzi, Emma by Kaoru Mori, Flora Segunda by Ysabeau S. Wilce, Lost at Sea by Bryan Lee O'Malley, The Savage by David Almond & Dave McKean, How to be Good by Nick Hornby, Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan, Cheek by Jowl by Ursula Le Guin, Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente, Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Bayou by Jeremy Love, Dramacon by Svetlana Chmakova, My Most Excellent Year by Steve Kluger, The Brontës Went to Woolworths by Rachel Ferguson, Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block, Howards End by E.M. Forster, Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons, Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, and I'll shut up now.

Reading Stats

I hesitated about whether to include these or not - I'm a bit wary of numbers and of anything that makes reading seem like a competitive sport. I don't think numbers mean very much at all, I hate comparisons, I'd take quality over quantity any day, and I don't think more of people or their intelligence the more or the faster they read.

Stiil, in the end I decided to include these because I did in previous years, and because stats can be fun. But please please please don't congratulate me for having read a lot (relatively speaking of course), because it's not necessarily a good thing, even for a voracious bookworm. If given the choice, I'd have done other things with my time too.

Total: 262 books
Novels: 145
Short Story collections/Anthologies: 6 (A noticeable decrease from last year's 17. Please read more short stories, self.)
Comics aka Graphic Novels: 56
Non-Fiction: 42
Poetry: 1 (Boooo. Bad Ana. Well, to be fair, I read this one book - Atlas by Katrina Vandenberg, which has been on my nightstand since February - like 15 times, but it's still just one book.)
Plays: 12
In Translation: 21 (Almost all from Japanese, and Manga inflated the number.)
By women: 138
By men: 124
By people of colour: 41
By new to me authors: 136 - which is far too much. I need to devote more of my time to reading authors I already love.
Classics: 24 (Not that bad a year for classics, it turns out.)
Re-reads: Only one, Pobby and Dingan. How can this be?! Thank goodness for the Flashback challenge. I need it.
Chunksters (450+ pages): 17
Favourite authors discovered this year: Easy - Margo Lanagan, Kij Johnson and Sarah Waters. I honestly can no longer imagine my reading life without them. Also Patrick Ness, Meg Rosoff, David Almond and Wilkie Collins.
Least favourite book: The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton. Apologies to any Kate Morton fans, but I honestly hadn't hated a book this passionately in a long, long time.
Best reading month: February (30. The explanation is that I read two Manga series. Also, it was a month off between the end of the first and the start of the second school semester, so other than working part time, all I did was read.)
Worst reading month: December (15)

* Why the weird number? Well, I could say "my blog, my rules", but the truth is that while I meant to make it 25 - 20 fiction and 5 non-fiction - I just couldn't leave any of these books out. I tried!

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I Haz New Books!

(Click to enlarge)

As I'm sure you can guess from the pictures, I couldn't be happier with my Christmas loot. What about you? Any exciting bookish gifts under your tree? I hope you all had a fabulous Christmas. I'm going to spend the rest of my Holiday weekend doing something I haven't had the chance to do in a while: reading. Must finish all my current books so I can get started on this pile!

I'm not sure if I'll get around to posting my favourite reads of the year tomorrow, but if I don't, I will on Monday for sure. Of course, this gives you an extra day to try to guess them if you're so inclined. Have a great weekend, everyone!

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Happy Holidays!

(I tries to, anyway...)

I wanted to take a moment wish you all a very Happy Christmas, or a belated Happy Yule, a Happy Hanukkah, Yalda, etc. And if you don't celebrate any of the Winter holidays, I hope you have a happy and relaxing extended weekend. Thank you all for being here - for the constant encouragement, insight, and fabulous book recommendations, and for just making my life a bit more interesting.

I will return sometime after Christmas, hopefully with a gushy post about my book loot!

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The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey

Give me research. After all, the truth of anything at all doesn’t lie in someone’s account of it. It lies in all the small facts of the time.

I wonder how exciting the premise of The Daughter of Time will sound if I simply tell you it: Inspector Alan Grant of Scotland Yard is in a hospital bed recovering from a broken leg, and there he remains until the end of the book. But to pass the time, he decides to have a go at solving one of the greatest mysteries of British history: that of Richard III and the little Princes in the Tower.

It all begins when his friend Marta brings him a portrait of Richard III. Without knowing who it is, he decides that the face must belong to a wise and kindly man—perhaps a judge. Inspector Grant is naturally taken aback when he realises it belongs to a notorious murderer: after all, he takes pride in his ability to read faces. This is the point where the premise would have lost me in shuddery reminiscences of phrenology and other criminal theories with less than subtle racist undertones, if not for ther fact that Inspector Grant says,

“There isn’t a murder type. People murder for too many different reasons.”

…which caused me to promptly forgive him, and, if not exactly believe that anyone can tell innocence or guilt from a face, at least suspend my disbelief. I’m glad of that, because The Daughter of Time is an excellent book. It’s an academic mystery, with the investigation solely taking place in old history books and archives, but trust me, it’s exciting all the same.

Sadly, I don’t know enough English history for The Daughter of Time to truly work for me as a mystery. I knew about Richard III, of course (mostly the Shakespearian villain, which I naturally didn't fully buy, not only because he's fictional but because I don’t believe in monsters), and I knew about the murders, or supposed murders. But I don’t know enough to be able follow the historical clues and make my own deductions. The case presented here seems completely convincing to me, but then again, what do I know about its historical accuracy or likelihood? (But I bet Meghan has an opinion, and I’d love to hear it.) In any case, The Daughter of Time still very much worked as a wonderful written history lesson and as a reflection on what exactly history is.

Regardless of whether or not one accepts the arguments in favour of Richard III, this book makes some excellent points about the fact that history is always just one side of the story. This is inevitable, because if there’s one thing humans are, it’s storytellers. And when we tell a story, we pick a perspective, no matter how dispassionate we try to be. As the saying goes, history is written by the victors, and I’m sure there are plenty of figures who have been unjustly villanized—or undeservedly glorified.

For this reason, The Daughter of Time is very much a book about critical thinking and shades of grey and the power of propaganda. Like I said, it doesn’t really matter whether or not we believe Tey’s Richard III to be closer to the truth than the villain most of us learned about. What matters is that the point — that things are always more complex than they seem — is one that sill stands, and always will.

Favourite bits:

“I liked the Portrait Gallery best because it gave one the same sense of proportion that reading history does. All those Importance who had made such a to-do over so much in their day. All just names. Just canvas and paint.”

He turned the pages and marvelled how dull information is deprived of personality. The sorrows of humanity are no-one’s sorrows, as newspapers readers long ago found out. A frisson of horror may go down one’s spine at wholesale destruction but one’s heart remains unmoved. A thousand people drowned in floods in China are news; a solitary child drowned in a pond is a tragedy.

It’s an odd thing but when you tell someone the true facts of a mythical tale they are indignant not with the teller but with you. They don’t want to have their ideas upset. It rouses some vague uneasiness in them, I think, and they resent it. So they reject it and refuse to think about it. If they were merely indifferent it would be natural and understandable. But it is much stronger than that, much more positive. They are annoyed.
Very odd, isn’t it?

Other opinions:
Booklust
Andrea’s Book Nook
Reading Adventures
Shelf Love

(Did I miss yours?)

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Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

If you have not yet read Never Let Me Go, then I’m afraid I can’t tell you what it’s about. I can say it’s a dystopia, that it’s set in an alternate modern-day England, and that the narrator, Kathy, is reminiscing about her childhood at an idyllic boarding school named Hailsham. Or at least that’s what she seems to be doing. But I really can’t say more, because I suspect that the least you know, the greatest the impact of this book will be. I say “suspect” because sadly, after years of successfully avoiding spoilers, I read a one paragraph blurb in a list of reading recommendations that gave away everything. Dear internet: no major spoilers in plot synopses please? But anyway, the good news is that I still absolutely loved Never Let Me Go.

First of all, a warning: I’m not going to include any outright spoilers in this post, but to talk about why I loved the book so much I’m going to have to hint at things. And it’s likely that my hints will allow you to put two and two together, so proceed at your own risk!

I really loved Kathy’s voice. Ishiguro has done it again. Kathy is very different from Stevens from The Remains of the Day, but I think both are brilliant narrators in somewhat similar ways. In a way, Never Let Me Go is also a book about relationships and transience; about silence and regret. What Ishiguro does so well is to make everything completely understated and yet incredibly moving and impossible to ignore. Kathy’s social world is dominated by unspoken things, by subtle connections, by feelings that remain covert for far too long. As she looks back on her life, she actually acknowledges this and explains the perceived meaning of interactions that were never openly discussed. And the reader, as an outside observer, can tell just what went wrong in terms of communication.

The story focuses as much on Kathy as it does on Ruth and Tommy, her two best friends. The strength of Kathy’s connection with Tommy in particular is obvious from the very beginning, yet they only discuss it far into the book. The result of this is that when things are finally out in the open, they are bittersweet and tinged with regret. And this made me so immensely sad.

(Warning: particularly spoiler-y paragraph.) But the saddest thing of all about Never Let Me Go is the deferral rumour, and the answer that Kathy and Tommy are finally given. Of course, even if it had been positive, it would only have bought them a few more years, but that extra time matters so much that we almost forget this. What I found particularly brilliant was the fact that their quest and their faith in the rumour were remarkable alike what we do in our non-dystrophic world; what we seek and what we believe in—and this is especially striking considering that Madame tells them that the rumour seems to begin again spontaneously even if they deny it. We’re all after more time, and we’re more than willing to embrace ideas that suggest that we will be given it. Even the whole... system that allowed Kathy and Tommy and Ruth to exist in the first place is all about deferrals; about postponing the inevitable, about gaining time. There’s something very human about this, and very moving too.

I’m mostly focusing on characters and relationships here because that was what impressed me the most, but there’s also, of course everything else that’s not being said; all the things about the world where the novel is set; all that we don’t know because Kathy doesn’t know it. And though they’re only hinted at, they speak loud and clear. Never Let Me Go raises questions about identity, about how much people will accept if only they’re raised to believe that a horrifying reality is natural and inevitable, and about how willing we are to dehumanize others if it proves to be convenient.

The premise behind Never Let Me Go is shocking and horrifying, yes, but, perhaps because the book was spoiled for me, I skipped being horrified and jumped right into being sad. And that’s how I felt for days after I finished this book, and how I still feel if I think about it: filled with a quiet sadness and with regret.

Favourite passages:

And though we just kept on walking, we all felt it; it was like we’d walked from the sun right into chilly shade. Ruth had been right: Madame was afraid of us. But she was afraid of us in the same way someone might be afraid of spiders. We hadn’t been ready for that. It had never occurred to us to wonder how we would feel, being seen like that, being the spiders.

It couldn’t last, of course, but like I say, just for those few months, we somehow managed to live in this cosy state of suspension in which we could ponder our lives without the usual boundaries. Looking back now, it feels like we spent ages in that steamed-up kitchen after breakfast, or huddled around half-dead fires in the small hours, lost in conversation about our plans for the future.

‘I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold on to each other, holding on as fast as they can, but in the end it’s just too much. The current’s too strong. They’ve got to let go, drift apart. That’s how I think it is with us. It’s a shame, Kath, because we’ve loved each other all our lives. But in the end, we can’t stay together forever.’

They Read it too:
Raging Bibliomania, Stuff as Dreams are Made On, Reading Through the Night, Kay’s Bookshelf, Shelf Love, The Zen Leaf, Becky’s Book Reviews, Stuck in a Book, Save Ophelia, books i done read, Trish’s Reading Nook, S. Krishna’s Books, Care’s Online Bookclub, Books of Mee, DogEar Diary, Vulpe Libris

(I’m sure I missed a ton of them. Apologies in advance, and if you leave me your link I’ll be happy to add it.)

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The Sunday Salon - A Guessing Game

Like many other bloggers, I've been thinking about what my favourite reads of the year were. I already have a good idea of what will make my final top twenty (and have in fact written a draft), but usually I only post my list on the final week of December because I'm hopeful until the very end that another book will blow me away.

As some of you might remember, last year I had a game/giveaway in which I asked people to guess my favourites, and rewarded one winner with a book of their choice from my final list (credit to Literary Feline, who I think was the first blogger to do this back in 2007). I had a lot of fun with this little contest last year, so I thought I'd do it again. Here's what you need to know:

• If you click here you'll find a list of all the books I read so far this year.
  
• After taking a quick look through the list, leave me a comment with five titles that you think will make my final Best Reads of 2009 list.
  
• The books don't have to be published in 2009. As long as they're books I read this year, they're fair game.
• ETA: It's totally okay to just guess randomly if you have no idea. Who knows, you might get lucky!
• I will put the names of those who guess correctly in a hat and draw a winner.
  
• If nobody gets five books right, I'll draw from among those who manage to guess four.
  
• Order doesn't matter. You don't need to guess my favourite five reads of 2009; just five books that will make my final list.
  
• The winner will receive a book of their choice from my final list, which I plan to post a week from today.
  
• This means that you have until Saturday the 26th to play.

Good luck! I think plenty of you will get many books right this year, as there were quite a few titles I was particularly loud and gushy about.

---

Another thing: as I mentioned last week, Chris and I are hosting the 2010 Graphic Novels Challenge. Quite a few people who are new to the comics medium have asked us to put together a list of recommendations for beginners, and we plan to do just that. But to make the list as complete as possible, we'd like to ask for your help. Please click the link for details - I have to say I'm a little sad that the post has been up for a while and we got zero e-mails with suggestions so far. You don't have to to be an expert in comics and graphic novels to contribute; if you read one that you'd recommend to others, please send it in. Thank you in advance!

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Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Yes, I’ve finally read it! And I’m glad I picked this time of year to do it, because this is such a cosy, homelike, Winter-y book. And I’m not just saying this because it begins with a Christmas scene. Should I attempt a plot summary? Little Women is what I suppose is usually called a coming-of-age story. It opens when the March sisters – Jo, Meg, Beth and Amy – are children and young teenagers who anxiously await, along with Mrs March, their father’s return from the American Civil War. And it closes about a decade later, when they’re all no longer little women, but adults who have chosen their paths in life. The nature of the book is almost episodic, with each chapter dealing with a specific event. But there’s certainly continuity as well.

Even though I’m usually a fan of nineteenth-century literature, most of what I’ve read is European; I still have a lot of reading to do when it comes to what was going on in America at the time. So one thing that surprised me about Little Women was how much looser and freer the lives of the March girls were when compared to what I think of when I hear the words “Victorian Girls”. I was particularly interested in how this book would deal with gender because I know it’s often referred to as a proto-feminist classic. As is usually the case, I found that there were several angles to the matter.

On the one hand, Little Women is still very much all about the separate spheres. We are fully immersed in the world of the March girls, and it feels like a complete world in itself; one where they’re allowed to be real people. But this is very much an insulated, domestic world. It’s not the same world Laurie inhabits; the world where he, say, goes off to college. And every now and then we have passages such as,

…learning, as Meg learned, that a woman's happiest kingdom is home, her highest honor the art of ruling it not as a queen, but as a wise wife and mother.

My dear nineteenth century: as much as I love you, and as aware as I am that my own time is still full of people who think like this, I'm so glad I don't live in you. But on the other hand, Louisa May Alcott clearly rejects some of the common notion of her time regarding women, namely the idea of marriage as a career. And the girls are clearly spirited and independent, earning their own keep from a young age (from necessity, granted, but this is not presented as demeaning) and going off to places like Europe or New York.

I have to say that I enjoyed part I, Little Women, quite a bit more than part II, Good Wives. I felt that Good Wives was more traditional, less subtly subversive, and that at times Alcott just barely managed to avoid becoming preachy. The reason why she does avoid it is because the story is too alive to crumble under the weight of its morality; the characters feel too real to ever become mere actors in an allegory. And that’s no small feat. Plus the narrator knows where to add little touches of humour, which help keep the tone from becoming too didactic. For example: Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has during this little homily).

But one example of what I meant earlier, though, is the whole episode regarding Jo, sensation stories, and “moral corruption”. I wasn’t surprised to learn, after I finished the book, that Louisa May Alcott herself had written sensation fiction in her youth. Take this passage:

Jo soon found that her innocent experience had given her but few glimpses of the tragic world which underlies society, so regarding it in a business light, she set about supplying her deficiencies with characteristic energy. Eager to find material for stories, and bent on making them original in plot, if not masterly in execution, she searched newspapers for accidents, incidents, and crimes. She excited the suspicions of public librarians by asking for works on poisons. She studied faces in the street, and characters, good, bad, and indifferent, all about her. She delved in the dust of ancient times for facts or fictions so old that they were as good as new, and introduced herself to folly, sin, and misery, as well as her limited opportunities allowed. She thought she was prospering finely, but unconsciously she was beginning to desecrate some of the womanliest attributes of a woman's character. She was living in bad society, and imaginary though it was, its influence affected her, for she was feeding heart and fancy on dangerous and unsubstantial food, and was fast brushing the innocent bloom from her nature by a premature acquaintance with the darker side of life, which comes soon enough to all of us.

Sigh. This made me sad, and also quire curious to read a biography of Mary Elizabeth Braddon, the unrepentant author of Lady Audley’s Secret and other sensation novels. I can only imagine what she had to go through.

When I mentioned that I was reading Little Women for the first time, Kailana from The Written World decided to read it along with me, since the last time she’d read it had been when she was a child. Meanwhile, life got in the way, and we didn’t manage to keep the same reading pace. But because Kelly has read it before, she still was still able to ask me a few questions (I’ll ask her some as well once she finishes):

What did you think about the book overall?
As you’ve all probably realized by now, I enjoyed it a lot. Even though I complained a little about part II, I read everything eagerly and I never lost interest. I had a great time with it, and I grew to be quite attached to all the characters. I cared what happened to them; I laughed, cried or was angry along with them or on their behalf—what else could I ask for?

Which of the sisters was your favourite?
Jo! And not only because she was a bookworm, though that did immediately endear her to me. She just feels more…alive than the others, somehow. I had the distinct impression that she was Louisa May Alcott’s favourite too; that she put a little more into Jo than into the other characters (this despite the fact that her characterization in general is very good, and that all the characters did feel real).

Have you watched any of the movies based on the novel, or was this your first experience with the story entirely?
I have – the early 90’s version starring Winona Ryder and Kristen Dunst – but it was so long ago that I didn’t remember much at all. I did remember a few specific scenes, like when Jo gets home and removes her hat and everyone sees – I don’t think this is much of a spoiler – her short hair, or – this is a spoiler – what happens to Beth (though I was convinced it would happen in part one, not part two).

What was your favourite scene?
I don’t care how much of a cliché this is: the Christmas surprise just at the end of part one. It’s a wonderful, heart-warming, wonderfully written scene. The tone is just right: yes, it’s a bit sentimental and all, but it never really becomes sappy. It both moved me and made me very happy.

Do you think it deserves its distinction as a classic? Why or why not?
This is always such a difficult question! But you know, my default answer is always yes. I think that sometimes brilliant books are unfairly neglected and forgotten, but I don’t think the opposite happens .I don’t think books that don’t speak to people endure the test of time. Little Women clearly does still speak to people, and if that doesn’t make of worthy of its status, what would?

Has anyone read Little Men and Jo's Boys? Are they good?

Other Opinions:
The Literary Stew
Book Psmith
DogEar Diary
A Work in Progress
Books.Lists.Life
Shona's Bookshelves
The Zen Leaf
somewhere i have never travelled

(Did I miss yours?)

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Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons

The farmhouse was a long, low building, two-storied in parts. Other parts of it were three-storied. Edward the Sixth had originally owned it in the form of a shed in which he housed his swineherds, but he had grown tired of it, and had had it rebuilt in Sussex clay. Then he pulled it down. Elizabeth had rebuilt it, with a good many chimneys in one way or another. The Charleses had let it alone; but William and Mary had pulled it down again, and George the first had rebuilt it. George the second, however, burned it down. George the third added another wing. George the fourth pulled it down again. (…) It was known locally as ‘The King’s Whim’.

When Flora Poste becomes an orphan, she decides to write to all her remaining relatives asking who will take her in. The most appealing response comes from Cousin Judith in Essex, whose family lives at Cold Comfort Farm—a place complete with cows by the names of Feckless, Graceless, Aimless and Pointless.

From the moment when she hears from cousin Judith, Flora expects to find oversexed young men by the names of Seth and Rueben at the farm, and a Seth and a Rueben she finds—along with reclusive Aunt Ada Doom, who ‘saw something nasty in the woodshed’ as a child and hasn’t been the same ever since. But that’s just one of the many problems that Flora, armed with a book called The High Common Sense, decides to sort out.

Those of you who warned me some time ago that it was a bit odd to compare Cold Comfort Farm to I Capture the Castle were right—the only connection, other than that they are both well-beloved classics, is perhaps that Flora would have a thing or two to say to Cassandra’s family, especially her father. And well, I can maybe think of a third connection, which is the fact that, even if in completely different ways, they are both awesome.

I knew Cold Comfort Farm was funny, but I didn’t really know why. In fact, I didn’t know much about the book at all. It turns out that the reason why it’s so funny is because it parodies dramatic, romanticized novels about English rural life along the lines of Thomas Hardy or Wuthering Heights. And it’s funny even if you like the originals—sort of like The Colour of Magic, which is mostly appreciated by fantasy fans. Cold Comfort Farm is my favourite kind of parody: it’s incisive, but it never really belittles its target.

And like the best parodies, it’s true. More than about dramatic literature, it’s about life. It touches on something I often think about (because believe me, I actually know people like this): The idea that Suffering Is Heroic; that negative emotions are somehow more real and superior to positive ones; that happiness and comfort are frivolous or silly, and only appropriate for people who aren’t all that bright.

I don’t want to sound dismissive or unsympathetic towards people who are unhappy for whatever reason. And trust me, I know that there’s plenty in the world to be unhappy about. But no, you don’t have to be shallow to be happy, and no, it’s not silly to do the best you can with what you’ve got. This puts me in mind of an embarrassing conversation I had with my literature teacher in highschool (in my defence, I was seventeen). I told her I didn’t think intelligent people could ever truly be happy because they were “too aware”. She laughed, not unkindly, and told me that another thing about intelligent people is that they adapt. Sadly, I’ve known people who have remained seventeen forever. But hooray for Flora, who is all about adapting, finding solutions, turning things around, and pointing out to people that really, isn't having a good time so much nicer than wallowing in misery and self-pity?

One last thing: it’s a bit subtle, and it might be possible to miss it altogether if you’re not paying attention, but Cold Comfort Farm is actually set in a futuristic alternate-history kind of world, which means there are little touches and little references here and there that make you stop and go, “wait a minute…” And this, of course, warmed my speculative-fiction loving heart.

Memorable bits:

If she intended to tidy up life at Cold Comfort Farm, she would find herself opposed at every turn by the influence of Aunt Ada. Flora was sure this would be so. Persons of Aunt Ada’s temperament were not fond of a tidy life. Storms were what they liked; plenty of rows, doors being slammed, and jaws sticking out, and faces white with fury, and faces brooding in corners, and faces making unnecessary fuss at breakfast, and plenty of opportunities for gorgeous emotional wallowings, and partings forever, and misunderstandings, and interferings, and spyings, and, above all, managing and intriguing. Oh, they did enjoy themselves! They were the sort that went trampling over your stamp collection, or whatever it was, and then spent the rest of their lives atoning for it. But you would rather have had your stamp collection.

For it is a peculiarity of persons who lead rich emotional lives, and who (as the saying is) live intensely and with a wild poetry, that they read all kinds of meanings into comparatively simple actions, especially the actions of other people, who do not live intensely and with a wild poetry. Thus you may find them weeping passionately on their bed, and be told that you—you alone—are the cause of it because you said that awful thing to them at lunch. Or they wonder why you like going to concerts; there must be more to it than meets the eye.

Other Opinions:
What Kate’s Reading
Stuck in a Book
Framed and Booked

(Did I miss yours?)

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A Persephone Under my Tree

Okay, so I might have gone a little overboard with bookish Secret Santa swaps this year. In addition to hosting the Book Bloggers Holiday Swap, I joined Book Psmith’s Persephone Secret Santa and LibraryThing’s very awesome SantaThing. The Persephone gift was the first to arrive, and if the other two are even half as awesome, this will be a very happy holiday season indeed.

My Santa was the lovely Danielle at Leaning Towards the Sun, and while I haven’t opened my gift yet—I decided to be good and actually wait for Christmas this year—I can tell by the bookmark that it’s Alas, Poor Lady by Rachel Ferguson, quite simply the Persephone I’d been coveting the most.

Thank you so much, Danielle! And thank you also to Book Psmith for organizing everything. And an additional thank you to Claire and Verity for introducing me to Persephone earlier this year. I will be on my way to work when this post goes up, but I can’t wait to get home and see which Persephones everyone else got.

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Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species – a Graphic Adaptation by Michael Keller and Nicolle Rager Fuller

Yes, Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species – a Graphic Adaptation is exactly what it sounds—only more awesome than you’re thinking, promise. The book is divided into two parts: the first chronicles Darwin’s life from the time of the Beagle’s return to England (which was in 1836) until the publication of On the Origin of Species: we’re shown how he systematized his theory; how he came across works by other researchers such as Malthus, and how these helped him find answers to questions he was still unsure about; and how he hesitated for years until he finally decided to publish his controversial book in 1859.

The second half is an actual chapter-by-chapter adaptation of On the Origin of Species—and if you’re wondering how well that could possibly work, worry not. The answer is very well indeed. Michael Keller does an excellent job recapping Darwin’s main points in a way that’s completely accessible even to enthusiastic but not all that knowledgeable humanities amateurs such as myself. He also adds editorial notes with updates or corrections whenever one of Darwin’s suppositions has been disproved in the meantime (which actually doesn’t happen nearly as often as people tend to assume), and he draws examples from discoveries that were made long after Darwin’s time.

One of the reasons why this adaptation is so accessible is because of Nicolle Rager Fuller’s stunning art. There are not only some seriously gorgeous illustrations, but also schemes and diagrams that really help convey complex ideas in a simple way. Besides, any nature lover will find Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species – a Graphic Adaptation a feast for the eyes. I wanted to share a few panels so badly that, when I couldn’t find any online, I took my own pictures. Apologies for the appalling quality—it’s not that I’m careless; it’s that I’m a complete disaster behind the camera. But anyway, these should still give you an idea of what to expect:

ETA: Quality pictures! Because Nicolle Rager Fuller is awesome like that:














Another thing I loved about this book was the fact that it really captures the sense of awe that the best science and nature writing always fills me with. It’s such a lovely feeling, and so final-chapter-of-Nation. For me, thinking of life in terms of a struggle for survival isn’t bleak in the least—it’s actually wonderful and completely awesome that such a seemingly ruthless system has led to so much beauty and diversity:

We continue to turn the focus knob, bringing the world into crisper and crisper view. As we do it, it becomes apparent that the improbably complex web of life on this planet is more beautiful and more elegant than I could have imagined (…) It’s beautiful, the way it all comes together, isn’t it? Like a giant chaotic orchestra replete with a cast of all the organisms that now exist or have ever existed. There is a grandeur to it.

I know that sadly the two have become nearly indivisible, but while I’m always interested in talking about Darwin, I’m actually not nearly as interested in debating what the implications of his ideas might or mightn’t be in terms of Life, the Universe, and Everything. I’m sure most of you have realised by now that I’m not a person of faith, but you’d never ever catch me saying things like “Religions Are Evil”. And I think that these matters are mostly far too personal to be worth arguing about. Live and let live is pretty much my philosophy—but one thing that does bother me is the amount of misinformation that exists about Darwin and evolutionary biology. Shocking distortions of his ideas are constantly disseminated, not only by those who oppose them for religious reasons, but even by those who vaguely accept Darwinism but simply don’t know better.

Example: last week I couldn’t help but overhear a discussion among a small group of undergraduate students. One of them was a creationist, and her main objection to evolution was: if humankind came from apes, then why did apes stop evolving? As I’m sure you all know, Darwin never ever ever said humankind evolved from modern-day apes, but that we all have a common ancestor. There is a world of difference there. Another student, who said he supported evolution, argued that while we evolved, over species have, er, de-evolved—some apes are furrier than we are, for example, or have opposable thumbs they don’t use (?!?), and there are also lizards that have legs while snakes don’t (?!!!1). (Yes, these were the actual examples used.)

It all seemed to make sense in this student’s head, but what he said actually shocked me a lot more than the creationist’s argument. His idea of evolution seems based on some Platonic notion of Perfect Forms, in which having less fur and more legs is Better and More Perfect than having lots of fur and no choice but to crawl. Therefore, animals that are distant from this ideal of perfection have “de-evolved”.

Also, I’d better not get started on how impossible it is that someone with even a very basic understanding of evolution could ever utter the word “de-evolve”. I swear, I had to fight the urge to ask this student for his name and address so that I could mail him a copy of this book. The only thing that stopped me was the vague awareness that to do so would be slightly on the creepy side. But it took all my willpower to keep this in mind.

So: hooray for books like this! Hooray for science literacy and for efforts of this kind; efforts whose aim is not to argue with people about their faith, but to disseminate a real understanding of how science works and what evolutionary biology is.

Other Opinions:
Dick-o’s Deep Thoughts (In case you’re thinking, “Pff, and just what do you know, O you humanities major, you?”, Rich is a biologist and he gives it the thumbs up!)
Graphic Novel Reporter

(Did I miss yours?)

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Graphic Novels Challenge 2010

Apologies for the double post today - this is just a brief note to let you know that my friend Chris and I are hosting the Graphic Novels Challenge in 2010, and that the sign-up post is now up. Laza, this year's host, was kind enough to let us use the same challenge blog, so that's where we're doing the sign-ups and will be posting most challenge-related stuff in the future. Click over for all the info you need, and also for a chance to help us with a question we've been debating.

We've made the challenge really easy - the Beginners level only requires you to read 3 comics/graphic novels in 2010. That's nothing! You could finish it in one afternoon! Come on - you know you want to join.

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Bookworms Carnival: 43rd Edition

The whole thing about myths, is that they need to stay fluid, they need to keep moving, and they need to be dynamic. And that's why we can go on retelling them, so that what is valuable is passed on from generation to generation, across time, through cultures.

Jeanette Winterson

Welcome to the 43rd Edition of the Bookworms Carnival! This edition's theme is mythology, and I have posts to share about myths retold, about books that make use of mythic elements, about primary mythological sources, about non-fiction books on mythology, about why myths still matter, and so on:

Gaskella shares her thoughts on Here Lies Arthur by Philip Reeves, a Carnegie Medal winner that approaches Arthurian Myth from a completely new angle: Reeve's book for teens presents a totally different take on the stories that is highly original, and uses the Welsh Mabinogion as the basis for the tale rather than Mallory or any of the later romances. What's more this interpretation of the story could so easily be the real thing!

Anastasia at Birdbrain(ed) Book Blog very much enjoyed Kevin Crossley-Holland's Arthur Triology: "If you have any interest at all in the Arthurian legend or historical fiction, get these books. I’ve been shoving them onto all my other medieval studies friends and I’d love to be able to squeal about them with you, too!

Gavin at Page247 reviews Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin, a retelling of the Aeneid from a female perspective: Out of myth Ursula K. Le Guin has created the voice of a women who had no voice. Based on the last five books of Virgil’s unfinished epic, The Aeneid, Lavinia is the story of a character barely mentioned in the original poem.

Nicole, Raych, Mee and Mel all read The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood, another retelling of a myth from a female perspective. For Mel, this book "...shows Penelope growing from a totally helpless 15 year old to a woman of 35 with many capabilities", while Nicole thinks that "...unfortunately Penelope got lost in the retellings of other people’s stories. Her story is everyone else’s story but her own, and I considered given this is Atwood the commentary that she is making on women’s lives and how they make their choices."

Raych wasn't a big fan of The Penelopiad: "Atwood's whole retelling is clumsy and obvious. She gives carefully-manufactured winks to various Odyssey-tropes, and then feels she has to explain them to you several times to make sure you get how clever she's being."

And finally, Mee was also a little let down: "The book started strong for me. I thought, great, this is exactly my kind of book! Mythology (fairy tale, or folktale) with a twist, or variation of it. After a while though, I got a bit bored. Penelope in the book is just exactly what I imagined her to be, so are most of the other characters, so I didn’t experience any new revelations or surprises."

Lenore at Presenting Lenore tells us about Radiant Darkness by Emily Whitman, a YA retelling of the myth of Hades and Persephone: "This was a very clever and thoughtful spin on the Persephone myth, which even offers up a touching subplot involving a young mother Persephone meets in the underworld and her undying love for the daughter she left behind.

And since we're talking about myths retold from the point of view of female characters that are relegated to secondary roles in the original, we can't leave out The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. For Chris, ..."The religious struggle between the old ways and Christianity is a major theme in Mists. It seems to me it came down to a power struggle and not really about the spiritual well-being of Britons. The old religion wanted women to hold the power, and Christianity wanted them not only to have none, but be ashamed of being women. (I've always had a problem with that.)"

Still on Arthurian Myth, Shanra at Libri Touches read Twilight of Avalon by Anna Elliott, a retelling of the myth of Tristan and Isolde: "... Obviously, anyone interested in Arthurian legend and retellings of the Tristan legend are heartily recommended this book. Unless they’re the kind that like their retellings with a touch more realism. They might want to stay away. Beyond that… It is a gorgeous, gorgeous tale and I’d heartily recommend to anyone who wants a damned good story. "

Teresa at Shelf Love writes about Ice Land by Betsy Tobin, a novel based on the Nordic pantheon: "Tobin tells an old story in a way that feels fresh. I can’t speak to her faithfulness to the original tales, but I can say that her retelling piqued my interest in the originals, which is certainly a good thing."

Finally, Bart at Bart's Bookshelf tells us about Jane Yolen's Young Merlin Trilogy, a reimagining of the great wizard's childhood: "Aimed primarily at the 8-12 market there is enough about the books that they will probably appeal to the adult reader as well. The books are extremely slim (as I said, around 90 pages a piece) so they are more glimpse into the story than a fully fledged epic. Each an simple sketch into the boy who would become the most famous wizard ever."
The following are reviews of books that, while not being retellings of any particular myths, incorporate elements from several mythological traditions. First of all, we have The Dreaming Place by Charles de Lint, which makes use of Native American myths and legends. Stephanie tells us that this book "...just didn't have the flare some of his other works do. Not that it's a bad book/story, because it's not. The idea behind it is really interesting. And I loved the Shamen Bones and his description of the Otherworld. I also liked the folklore and mythology behind the manitous. Maybe I just expected too much from this little book. "

Shona reviews Percy Jackson and the Olympians, a series that places the Greek Gods in the 21st century. Shona says, "Rick Riordan does a good job at giving us all the necessary material to fit in to the jig saw puzzle. So what are we waiting for ? Let the War begin....

Robin at A Fondness for Reading wrote about one of my all-time favourite mythic books: Dream Angus by Alexander McCall Smith: "Alexander McCall Smith is a wonderful storyteller, and in this book he took the traditional story (there’s even a traditional Scottish lullaby about Angus), and explored the myth in modern settings."

At Estella's Revenge, Jodie from Book Gazing writes about another book from the Canongate Myth Series: Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith: "The story incorporates the feeling of a written myth in the poetic retelling of the original Iphis myth and the magical description of a fantasy wedding ceremony where gods mix with mortals."

Time to visit West Africa and the Caribbean Islands: Trisha at Eclectic/Eccentric tells us about Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman, a book that explores the way in which stories are a fundamental part of what makes us human: "find the idea of stories directing human thought and behavior fascinating. I teach literature and film, which are primarily aimed at understanding how ideologies are communicated through print and visual media - in other words, how stories shape humanity."

And since we're talking about Neil Gaiman, Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made On re-reads the first book in the highly mythical Sandman series: "I had forgotten just how much I love this series. I hadn’t forgotten that I loved it, but just how much is what was lost. Mind you, this is probably my least favorite book in the series, but it still brought back floods of memories meeting Dream and Death for the first time again and recalling how wonderful that feeling was when I first discovered The Sandman.

And Kay at Kay's Bookshelf shares her thoughts on American Gods: "I have also found very interesting the way the author has chosen to represent the gods: born in people’s minds and brought from their native places to America carried in the stories the immigrants told, the American gods are in a way copies of their original selves."

Moving away from Mr Gaiman, Jackie at Literary Escapism tells us about Wild Hunt by L. Devoti: "If you’re familiar with the fae and other mythos about the sidhe, then you’ve probably have heard the term “the wild hunt” before. Both Laurell K Hamilton (the Meredith Gentry series – Lord Sholto) and Eileen Wilks (her novella featuring Kai and Nathan that I can’t think of the name right now) have made references to it, but there really isn’t any novels based around the Wild Hunt and it’s characters. In addition to that, the heroine is part Valkyrie and that’s another new area for me. I love reading mythologies and the various takes many authors take on them, so finding this novel was actually fun."

Like Shona, Amanda at The Zen Leaf tells us about Rick Riordan's Olympians series. Her review of The Last Olympian was written in collaboration with her son Morrigan: "Amanda: This book was on par with The Battle of the Labyrinth (book 4). It was better than #2-3, but not quite as good as the first one. (...) Morrigan: It wasn't as good as the other ones, because it was repetitive. It just had them destroying monsters over and over again and that got boring."

Florinda at The 3 R's Blog read Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips, a book that, like the aforementioned Rick Riordan series, imagines what the Greek Gods would be up to today: "I'm a little weak on my Greek mythology, but Marie Phillips seems to have a good grasp of it, and she makes clever use of it in a very modern setting. The writing is sharp and witty, and the mortal characters in particular are quite likeable."

Last but not least, Chelle at Tempting Persephone reviews Metamorphosis: Junior Year by Betsy Franco, a YA book focused on the life and work of the Roman poet Ovid: "I could have pulled several quotes from this book, random lines that would have really spoken to my teenage self and ones that tugged at me now, but I really like that one above. I like that it keeps to the idea of reshaping mythology to suit contemporary problems and issues."
At 5-Squared, Jason shares his thoughts on the old Nordic Volsungasaga: "Holy freakin' crap. Vikings? They were Messed. Up. People. Not kidding even a little. Messed Up." (And it gets better!)

Gricel at Things She Read writes about "Cupid and Psyche", which happens to be my very favourite myth: "Like the story of Eve and the apple, you can read Psyche’s transgression in several ways. I choose to read it as Psyche’s desire to know. It’s a very powerful notion, to think of Psyche challenging Cupid’s mandate and taking control of the situation."

Heather J. has the following to say about Homer's The Iliad: "I truly enjoyed listening to this one. It was huge and epic and amazing. At times, especially in the extended battle scenes, my mind wandered a bit but my attention was always drawn back when the characters I loved came on scene."

And Aarti tells us why the Indian epic The Mahabharata is worth reading: ...the Mahabharata remains a rolicking good story no matter your religion. I highly recommend the read, and I liked Menon's take on it".
Teresa at Read All Over reviews The Red-Haired Girl From the Bog by Patricia Monaghan, which chronicles the author's return as an adult to her native Ireland: "She leads us on a journey of the Irish countryside and to many of the places overlooked by those of seeking a Celtic path. We are introduced to sacred pools, hills, dolmens, wells, caves and more all of which house their own tales of days long past. Patricia also does an incredible job of reclaiming the meaning of the ancient Irish agricultural festivals, as well as those introduced today in Ireland."

J.T. Oldfield at Bibliofreak Blog is very enthusiastic about Joseph Campbell's Myths to Live By:"Oh Joseph Campbell, how I love you. If you weren’t dead, I would find you and stalk you until you married me. I want to live inside your head. No other one scholar has influenced me like you have. It was your work which inspired me to major in Comparative Religion, possibly the most useless of all liberal arts degrees (except maybe Art History), and I have never really regretted it.". How could I not want to read this book after this?

And Nymeth at things mean a lot (Me! Here!) writes about A Short History of Myth by Karen Armstrong, which was overall interesting but very disappointing in its lack of rigour: "The one problem I had with the book was the fact that Karen Armstrong sometimes makes categorical affirmations about things that can only be speculation."
Masha shares "Owl and Goose" by Caroline Leaf, a stunning stop-motion animation based on an Inuit myth: "As told in this interview she worked with Agnes Nanogak, an Inuit artist who created the animal silhouettes necessary for sand animation."

Paolo at Rocket Kapre tells us about Treasury of Stories, a collection of Filipino Myths: "...when I grew older, I discovered that our myths and legends were more varied and interesting than I’d surmised from the sanitized, committee-approved versions of the old tales that were fed to school children. However, actually finding these stories, or at least those not studied in schools, can be difficult given that most of these tales form part of our oral, not written, tradition. Fortunately, there do exist quality compendiums of stories that shine a spotlight on lesser known tales, and the “Treasury of Stories” from Anvil Publishing is both one of the broadest in scope, and one of the most accessible to an English speaking audience." I absolutely need to read this!

Finally, Cara at Ooh Books invited J.T. Oldfield to write a guest post about why myths still matter: "Myths are stories, yes, but they’re more than that. They’re what define our culture, our abstractions, our ideals and yes, our very selves. And that’s why they’re as important now as they ever were." The post also includes a giveaway of two fantastic sounding mythic books.

Over the centuries we have transformed the ancient myths and folk tales and made them into the fabric of our lives. Consciously and unconsciously we weave the narratives of myth and folk tale into our daily existence.

Jack Zipes

A sincere thank you to those who participated! Also, and as promised, the winner of the Bribery is Awesome giveaway is: Shona - congratulations! Shona gets to pick one of the books reviewed for the Carnival. E-mail me your choice and your mailing address and I'll send it your away as soon as possible.

The next edition of the Bookworms Carnival will be hosted by the awesome Jodie at Book Gazing, and the theme is one I wish I'd thought of: rebellious women. You have until Christmas Day to e-mail Jodie your submissions.

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"Young Adult Friction"

Dear blog of mine: I promise I have not forsaken you. I'm having a rather busy week at work (not with the letters, which wait for me ever-patient, but because we're hosting an event), so I think the wisest course of action is to take a mini-blogging break. I'm excited to tell you about the very awesome graphic adaptation of On the Origin of Species I read last weekend, about what I thought of Little Women (which yes, I read for the first time recently), and about If You Come Softly by Jacqueline Woodson (*sniff*). But those will all have to wait until next week - as will have replying to comments, e-mail, and visiting all your lovely blogs.

I'll be back on Sunday with the 43th Edition of the Bookworms Carnival - which you can still submit posts for, by the way. The more the merrier, and there's even bribery involved! Meanwhile, here's a somewhat bookish song that I like. Have a great (rest of) week!

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Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

First published in 1956, Giovanni’s Room is a classic of lgbtq literature. It’s the story of a young man called David who, in Paris, meets and falls in love with an Italian waiter named Giovanni. The story is set during the night before Giovanni is to be executed (for reasons readers are later given), but it spans several years, as David reminisces about his childhood in America, his first experience with another boy, and his brief but intense relationship with Giovanni.

There were many reasons why I loved this book, but the main one was that it’s not often that I find writing that touches me as much as much as James Baldwin’s did. As you can tell by the fact that the “bits I liked” section is longer than the post itself, I completely fell in love with his prose and must now read everything he’s ever written. He captures longing, pain, regret and shame better than anyone else I’ve read before.

I didn’t want to tell you too much about the plot, but as you might suspect due to my use of the word “execution”, this is not a happy story. It’s a beautiful one, yes, but it’s also painful and filled with loss and regret. It’s as much a book about love and longing as it is a book about homophobia. David and Giovanni’s relationship is doomed from the very start because both have interiorized and try to live up to an ideal of hypermasculinity that has nothing to do with who they truly are. As much as they try to achieve true intimacy, there is always a barrier between them.

There were several passages in the book that made me cringe—passages in which David expressed his contempt for older gay men, for example, or where Giovanni gave his opinion of David’s girlfriend, Hella, and of women in general—but they were not gratuitous; they were part of the point. It’s not that Giovanni’s Room is endorsing these attitudes; it’s that they’re an essential part of a world (and of a mindset) whose tragic consequences the book portrays. Some of the love scenes between David and Giovanni are achingly beautifully, but all are trained by the self-loathing that both—well, David in particular—can’t help but feel.

I wish there had been someone around to tell them, “There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing dirty or shameful about this love you feel.” Though I know it would take more than that, a lot more, when directly or indirectly, the whole world told them otherwise. It kills me that fifty years later, countless people are still taught to believe the same; still forced to live in shame because of who they love.

Bits I liked (a whole lot):

I suppose this was why I asked her to marry me: to give myself something to be moored to. Perhaps this was why, in Spain, she decided that she wanted to marry me. But people can’t, unhappily, invent their mooring posts, their lovers and their friends, anymore than they can invent their parents. Life gives these and also takes them away and the great difficulty is to say Yes to life.

We had our arms around each other. It was like holding in my hand some rare, exhausted, nearly doomed bird which I had miraculously happened to find. I was very frightened; I am sure he was frightened too, and we shut our eyes. To remember it so clearly, so painfully tonight tells me that I have never for an instant truly forgotten it. I feel in myself now a faint, a dreadful stirring of what so overwhelmingly stirred in me then, great thirsty heat, and trembling, and tenderness so painful I thought my heart would burst. But out if this astonishing, intolerable pain came joy; we gave each other joy that night. It seemed, then, that a lifetime would not be long enough for me to act with Joey the act of love.

'And if you think of them as dirty, then they will be dirty—they will be dirty because you will be giving nothing, you will be despising your flesh and his. But you can make your time together anything but dirty; you can give each other something which will make both of you better—forever—if you will not be ashamed, if you will only not play it safe.'

He locked the door behind us, and for a moment, in the gloom, we simply stared at each other—with dismay, with relief, and breathing hard. I was trembling. I thought, if I do not open the door to get out of here at once, I am lost. But I knew I could not open the door, I knew it was too late; soon it was too late to do anything but moan. He pulled me against him, putting himself into my arms as if he were giving me himself to carry, and slowly pulled me down with him to that bed. With everything in me screaming No! yet the sum of me sighed Yes.

Reviewed at:
Fizzy Thoughts (Jill=awesome. Thank you again for sending me this book!)
A Guy’s Moleskin Notebook

(Let me know if I missed yours.)

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