by Ara 13
ages: adult
First sentence: “While in the cavalier guardianship of the forest of Marlay, I first saw the lowland tapir.”
Review copy sent to me by a publicist.

I’ll be honest: I married a guy who thinks a lot. In fact, his whole PhD and first five years of teaching was mostly teaching about thinking. And philosophizing. And thinking about philosophizing. Me, on the other hand: I’m a tactile person. I think, sure (even critically sometimes), and I like discussing ideas as much as the next person (well, maybe not every next person). But, honestly, when I’m reading, I like to lose myself in the work, to enjoy the ride, to escape.

Which means: I. Didn’t. Get. This. Book. Metafiction, which I am told this book is an example of, eludes me.

I did get bits and snatches of the plot — and while there was a plot that I was getting bits and snatches of, I enjoyed it — which basically went like this: Daniel is a priest, who decides to go into the jungle to convert the “savages” to the Gospel. However, when he gets there, he discovers that the “savages” are actually very sophisticated, and already have a religion. One that’s based on a picture book — Alice in Wonderland, of all books — that has been handed down for generations. This sends Daniel into a tailspin of doubt, especially when a couple of the natives take his example and decide to become missionaries himself.

The problem with the story is not the plot, it’s the narrative. It was odd. Very odd. (And not funny odd.) Sometimes it was funny. But mostly, it was rambling, shifting, and very confusing (at least to me). The narrative voice would shift from one person to the next, and the narrative would simply stop and switch to one of a number of sub-plots, which were confusing and led nowhere.

That said, I think the end is the key:

I’ve decided to set aside my fear of sounding trite and to leave you with a kernel of wisdom, one simple verb: Read… And look beyond the culturally ascribed worth of the artifact. Often, the value may be a lesson contrary to what is apparent or universally believed…. Scoff not at fictions merely on account of their fabrications. Nonfiction too is manufactured, therefore subject to the same human imperfections upon production, relieving no reader of the onus of deciding that which is sound judgment. So, digest not only fact; read fiction. Certainly there is much to gain from the made-up as well as the real. The lessons learned and the consequential defenses taken to avoid life’s miseries do not diminish in value because of their source.

There you have it. Metafiction. I just wish it made more sense.

by Elodia Strain
ages: adults, but if there’s interest, 14+
First sentence: “Apparently, weddings are breeding grounds for disaster.”
Review copy sent to me by the publisher.

First, some history: I did as little as possible to make my wedding my “special” day. It didn’t help that I was getting married in a state halfway across the county from where I lived at the time (relatives.), but really, I’m just not a frou-frou-y person. My mom made my dress, a friend did my flowers (on the wrist, not a bouquet), I didn’t have maids of honor, I didn’t have a line, or even a “proper” reception (opting for some more casual get togethers in three different states). Really, the only thing that mattered (you can see it coming!): the cake.

Sometimes I say that if I could go back and do it again, I’d do a period costume piece (either Renaissance or Regency — again, no surprises there), but really, the whole idea of a Bride Wars-inspired wedding hoopla turns me off (and for sweet revenge — or blessed irony — watch each of my four girls need something HUGE when/if they get married).

So, to be honest, I’m not the target audience for this book.

Annabelle Pleasanton is a Monterey-based writer who’s been dating her boyfriend, Isaac, for nine months, and she knows (in some visceral womanly way) that he’s going to propose to her. Except, things keep getting in the way. It doesn’t help that Annabelle’s old flame, Alex, shows back up in her life, throwing gifts and memories at her. It also doesn’t help that Isaac’s personal agent is a former model and flame from High School. Nor does it help that Isaac wants to move down to L.A., taking Annabelle away from her job — at which she’s applying for a promotion, her family, and her beloved Monterey. In addition, Annabelle has just won a $50,000 Dream Wedding — high couture, stunning settings, the best food — and it seems that even though it’s absolutely perfect, things keep falling apart at the seams.

It seemed to me that Strain was going for a Shannon Hale-esque cutesy chick-lit humor. But, while that generally doesn’t bother me, in this case it didn’t work. Not by a mile. The humor was grating (but then — as I’ve mentioned before — humor is such a fickle thing), as were all the “dear reader” asides. The dialogue was flat, and the vague Mormon-ness (it was published by a small LDS publisher) was awkward (either go all out, or don’t go there at all). But, what really bothered me was that Annabelle was shallow. Okay, so she attempted to redeem herself by being interested in philanthropic endeavours (like the company that recycles wedding flowers by giving them to women’s shelters), but really: shallow, one-dimensional, predictable, and (worst of all!) wedding-happy.

Yes, I did finish the book, and yes, there will be some people — read: wedding-happy women — who will really like this book. I am just not one of them.