I can’t remember how this made it on my “gotta read” list; chalk it up to “old” age and kids, right? Anyway, I wasn’t disappointed. This book, written by Dorothy and Thomas Hoobler, is geared toward middle-age readers, but that didn’t stop it from being incredibly interesting. It’s set in 18th-century Japan, the age of the samurai and the shogun, and is a great Sherlock Holmsian mystery. A 14- year-old boy, Seiki, the son of a tea merchant, longs to be a samurai. But, because he’s the son of a merchant, it’s not possible. That is, until he witnesses a “ghost” perform a theft at an inn he and his father are staying at. Seiki falls in with Judge Ooka (who was actually a real person), and assists in solving the crime. It’s an engaging book, with lots of great detail on samurai life and life in Japan at that time in general. A good book.

This book , the story of author Jung Chang’s family history, is very long, but very engrossing and fascinating though in a very morbid sort of way. It’s the story of Jung, her mother and her grandmother, spanning nearly a century of China’s history. The book moves from the Manchu empire and Japanese occupation, through the revolution by the Kuomintang and then the counter-revolution by the Communists, and finally the whole of Mao Tse-tung’s reign/rule. Fascinating Chinese history, if you’re interested in that sort of thing. But, above that, it’s a story of three women and their struggle to survive. I wasn’t that interested in the grandmother or the mother (except it paints a very interesting portrait of life as a woman Communist official, and it isn’t pretty). What fascinated me most was the intellectual journey Jung took from a child worshipping Mao, to a staunch disbeliever in Communism in general, and what Chinese communism has become. This book reminded me a lot of a couple of great movies by Zhang Yimou: To Live and The Story of Qiu Ju; all three deal with every day life under the Communists, and paint very interesting personal stories. The parts about the Cultural Revloution give and interesting comparison (from what I can remember) to Life and Death in Shanghi. And makes me very interested to read Chang’s new book, Mao: The Unknown Story. Good read.

A quick review: This book, by Cynthia Voigt, is one that I can credit my obsession with youth fiction to. I was given it by an old friend about 10 years ago, and was hooked. I finally went out and bought myself a copy (and discovered that Voigt has turned it into a series, need to read the other two —On Fortune’s Wheel and Elske). I’m not sure if I liked it as much as I remembered, but I still was thoroughly captivated by the story. In short — Gwyn, a peasant, loathes the inequity among the people (and between the people and the Lords) and discovers the costume of Jackaroo, a folk legend among the people. She decides to become Jackaroo, to help those in need. Yes, it is a female Robin Hood character. It’s not an action-adventure book, though. It’s much more thoughtful and introspective, dealing with issues of class and worth and deserving. It’s a good read, though.

This book by Stanton Rabin has a great — and amazingly, true — premise: Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte is exiled to the island of St. Helena after his defeat at Waterloo, and ends up developing an intimate and very deep friendship with a 14-year-old girl.

Unfortunately, while the book is often fun and adventuresome and Besty is an intriguing and worthy heroine, the book gets much too sappy and silly. It’s hard to place my finger on it, really. Like the part when she has a terrible crush on an officer, and is told that she’s only “liked” because they figured she put out for the Emperor. Or the part when she sees her brothers’ tutor die in a hot air balloon accident, that is partly her fault, and then goes to the ball a couple nights later. No remorse, no punishment, no consequences. Besty has a tendency to be petulant, too, whining and often acting much too young for her age. And the Emperor — well, I know that Rabin did her research, but really. I found it hard to believe that Napoleon would act the way he did.

The end notes to the book are almost more interesting than the book itself. Rabin mentions that the real Besty wrote an autobiography of her relationship with Napoleon (Recollections of the Emperor Napoleon by Elizabeth Balcome Abell), which probably would be the better read. Unfortunately, it’s out of print.

UPDATE: So, Julie forwarded an email sent to her by Rabin, which, among other things, informed me that I was wrong saying the book is out of print. It was out of print for quite a while, but has since been reissued as To Befriend an Emperor (an “attractive, illustrated edition,” according to Amazon). I still think it would be more fascinating to read Betsy’s own story, even if it’s not great “literature”. 🙂

So, I was checking out books from the library here a couple weeks ago, and turned around to see the latest, brand-spanking new Orson Scott Card book staring at me. “Get me! Get me!” it said. So, I did. And it sat, patiently waiting, on my nightstand until I was done with all the other books.

I’ve had a long and troubled relationship with Card. Some of his books, I adore. Some, I can’t stand. I’ve found that he’s gotten much much too preachy in his later life, and that I, as a general rule, enjoy his earlier stuff better. So, I came to this one without much hope for it being very good.

Thankfully, I didn’t let that stop me from reading this book. It’s excellent. Which really surprised me. It takes from Midsummer Night’s Dream, and runs with it. It’s set in Baldwin Hills, a middle-upper-class black neighborhood in LA. Mack Street just appears in a grocery bag, out of supposedly nowhere. And is raised by a single woman in the neighborhood and her next-door neighbor’s youngest son. After a few years, Mack starts having what he refers to as “cold dreams”: the deepest wishes of his neighbors. The problem is, when he dreams them, they come true, but in a really twisted way. He grows up, discovers Puck, Titania and his role in the whole good versus evil of the play.

Pretty simple, but there are a lot of fun twists and references here. And yes, Card gets preachy, but ironically, he puts the words into the mouth of a preacher (and a fairy queen) so they don’t sound out of place. At least to me. And amazingly, the ending held up. Not quite what I expected, but it worked, and was satisfying.

My only complaint is that sometimes the plot seems a bit convoluted, and I had to re-read sections over. It didn’t bother me, though, in the long run. And I would be curious to know what black people thought of Card’s portrayal of them. It didn’t interfere with my enjoyment of the book, but I’m sure someone out there will call Card on it. After all, he’s a white, Mormon writer from North Carolina.