First of all, this is a really quick read. I started it last night. I finished it last night. I stayed up later than I usually do, though, and so I’m a bit tired today.

I wish I could say it was one of those books that’s worth staying up late. It’s not. It’s not a bad book; it’s just that it’s not Gail Carson’s Levine’s best.

It is an interesting premise, though. Take Snow White, set it in Ayortha (from Ella Enchanted), and give it a slight spin. I liked the story well enough: Aza (the Snow White character) is an innkeeper’s daughter (though adopted), she becomes a lady-in-waiting for the new queen (by accident and, um, persuasion), and ends up in prison and then exile. There are the dwarfs (gnomes, actually) and the poisoned apple, the prince, the happily ever after.

The spin though (spoilers ahead), was definitely unique: make the mirror evil. The queen is as much a victim here as Aza. But the mirror was selfish and evil, and plotted to get the people he was given to killed. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. It just wasn’t developed enough. When Aza finally encountered the mirror, it came out of left field. What? The mirror was evil? Huh? And it was given by the fairy Lucinda? Why? Huh? (Lucinda didn’t really even need to be brought into the story; she was only there by inference.)

Which leads me to other problems. While I liked the “moral” (accept the way you look, stop trying to look like everyone else, you’re unique and beautiful the way you are) of the story, I felt that Levine was a bit heavy-handed with it. Okay, we get it. Aza’s not really an oaf. The prince always loved her for who she was. She was her own worst critic. Etc.

Actually, I thought that Levine short-changed the prince. I didn’t like or dislike him at all. He was really a non-entity in the story . When I was talking to M about it this morning (she read the book first), I asked how she liked the prince. “Well,” she said, “I liked his dog.” I like that Levine has strong female characters who figure out things for themselves. But happily-ever-after endings don’t work if there’s not any real buildup to it.

One final note: I’d be curious to see what a reader does with the book-on-CD for this one. Much of it was “sung” (there are quite a few song poems and the characters don’t speak so much as sing). M’s biggest complaint was being bugged by the lack of tunes to put the songs to. It’d be interesting to see what a professional could do with it.

There are whimsical books (like Winnie the Pooh), there are silly books (like anything by Dr. Seuss), and then there’s Lewis Carroll. He really is in a class by himself. Part dream, part reality, all nonsense.

Out of the two, I liked Looking Glass better. It seemed it made more sense, or at least the nonsense was less, well, nonsensical. I was often annoyed by Alice in the first book — it seemed she was always getting offended or annoyed or crying. But then, I suppose, that would be a natural child’s reacation to being in such strange situations. But Looking Glass was fun. I don’t understand chess, so I didn’t really “get” that part of the book. But the rest was just plain dream-like silliness. I liked the puns (they were very punny), and I liked the poems. Jabberwocky is just fun to read aloud.

I’m sure people have dissected these books and come up with political and hidden and adult meanings to all this. But I think it’s fine as it is, even if I didn’t understand half of what was going on.

Three down for the classics challenge.

Last fall, I read Little Women, and while I didn’t totally hate it, I didn’t totally love it either. For which I got chastised a bit by commenters. 🙂 At any rate, one person (Inkling) said she preferred Louisa May Alcott’s other books better, especially Eight Cousins (and its companion Rose in Bloom), to Little Women. Given that Inkling usually gives good recommendations, I jumped at the chance to read another Alcott for the Classics Challenge.

The verdict? I liked it. It was enjoyable, in a quaint sort of way. It did get preachy at points (like the chapters when Rose “reforms” her cousins, and one of the aunts sets into the boys about reading dime novels), which was mildly annoying and distracting (even if I agreed). But even the preachiness (which is actually quite modern-thinking: no corsets, healthy exercise and dieting and moderation in everything) in the end, came off being quaint.

The basic plot: Rose’s parents have died, and she’s been left to the guardianship of her father’s brother, Dr. Alec. But he’s been away at sea, and she’s been living at Aunt Hill (after trying, and being miserable at, a boarding school) until he comes back. Once he does, he sets her on a regiment to fix her “poor constitution” (Aunt Myra said that — she thinks everyone is just about ready to pop off) and get her to enjoy life. And (of course) he succeeds. She’s a perfect little angel (again — even when she’s “bad” it’s really not bad at all — though I don’t know what I’d do if my daughters got their ears pierced by a friend!) who’s helpful, kind, inquisitive, earnest and loving, and above all that, a thoroughly likable character. And of course Dr. Alec succeeds in winning over Rose, and improving her health, and expanding her mind, and even getting all the Aunts (who originally disapproved) to agree with what he was doing.

Finally, my favorite bit of “medicine” from Dr. Alec: “If you dear little girls would only learn what real beauty is, and not pinch and starve and bleach yourselves out so, you’d save an immense deal of time and money and pain. A happy soul in a healthy body makes the best sort of beauty for man or woman.”

Oh, I should probably add… this was my second book for the Classics Challenge. Only three more to go.

Since it’s January, I was feeling in the mood for something a little exotic. And food-related. I had originally checked out A Year in Provence, but after reading several reviews of this book, opted for it instead.

And I’m not sorry I did. Madhur Jaffrey (whom I mostly know of as a cookbook writer; I was surprised to find out she was an actress) has put together a wonderfully exotic, fun, interesting memoir of her childhood. I loved reading about her education (in a couple of Christian convents, one in Kanpur, one in New Delhi), I enjoyed her stories of her mother and sisters (especially the haggling with local salesmen), I loved the descriptions of the holidays (I need to add Holi to our list of holidays we celebrate; anyone know when it is?). But mostly I loved the descriptions of the food.

Before I quote something, I have to explain this. I have avoided eating Indian food for years. I had an Indian friend when I was younger, and I’d go over to her house, but for some reason the smell of Indian food is linked with the smell of my friend’s grandfather’s hookah pipe. I’d always leave with a headache, and as a result, never tried the food. And have avoided it since then.

However, Madhur Jaffrey has changed my mind. For example (she’s talking about an experience getting food at the Lane of Fried Breads in Delhi):

Before any real food arrived, we would start dipping our fingers in the
condiments and licking them. Then came the vegetables — meats did not belong in such places — carrots stir-fried with young fenugreek greens; potatoes, and peas cooked with cumin, asafetida, and tomatoes; cauliflower with ginger and green chilies. As soon as the vegetables were on our plates, the hot, hot parathas floated in, whichever we had ordered, all puffed ready to be deflated and devoured even before all the steam had hissed out.

They’re all like that: yummy sounding. I guess I must find an Indian restaurant and at least give it a whirl. Either that, or try out one of the recipes in back.