Adult Fiction

The Importance of Being Ernest

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by Ernest Cline
First sentence: “I started writing and performing poetry in the mid-90s when I moved to Austin, TX.”
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Content: Chock full of sex talk (no actual sex, though), f-bombs, and other swearing.

I’m going to start a review — granted this is more a reaction than a review; then again, most of my “reviews” are “reactions”, I’m just being up front about this one — the way I’m not supposed to and say: I dislike poetry.

I don’t “get” it, I don’t particularly like it, and even though we have a shelf of poetry books — collected best-ofs as well as the Shel Silverstein/Jack Pretlusky ones parents are supposed to have — I rarely crack them open.

And so when my manager — who usually is spot-on pinpointing taste and books people will like — suggested I give this one a shot (because I really did love Ready Player One) I didn’t jump up and say, “Sure! I’d love to!”  It was only as we were paring down the inventory after Christmas when she said she thinks it’s worth a shot, and couldn’t I please give it a look over so maybe we can sell it? Please?

So I did.

And.

It’s Geeky poetry. There’s that.
But I’m not sure I’m the target audience.
And they are really foul. Like REALLY. Foul.
I’m not one to get turned off by language, usually,
but I did this time.

Some of the poems — most notably
“When I Was a Kid” —
made me laugh.
And “Nerd Porn Auteur” was spot-on
about smart girls
even though it made me blush.

But some of it was just
very Geek Gamer Guy
which I’m not.
And I don’t care enough
about poetry
in order to care enough
about Geeky Gamers
to like/get/understand
this collection.

That said,
I guess I know who I
can sell it to now.

The Rosie Project

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by Graeme Simsion
First sentence: “
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Review copy snagged off the ARC shelves at work.
Content: A ton of f-bombs, a character who has multiple one-night stands (because he wants to have sex with women from every country of the world), a lot of alcohol consumption (granted, all the characters are in their 30s). Thematically, I could see this having older-teen appeal, but it sits in the adult fiction section at the store.

Someone at work — my boss, perhaps — described this to me as a “romantic comedy.” Nothing of substance, really, but generally enjoyable. But because of the way the characters are, I kind of came to think of this as Sheldon gets a makeover.

Don Tillman is a genetics professor at an unspecified university in Melbourne, Australia. He’s got a brilliant mind, but his life revolves around… routines designed for efficiency. He wears Gortex shirts because they work for both regular life and exercise. He has a designated meal plan — lobster every Tuesday, for example — that enables him to both 1) minimize shopping and 2) free his mind to think instead of having to focus on cooking.

Granted, his idiosyncrasies — I liked that even though in the first chapter Don gives a speech to an Aspergers conference, it’s never stated outright that he’s been diagnosed on the autism spectrum — have made it difficult for him to have a relationship. As in: he’s never had one. He’s never had a second date. At age 38, he’s decided that it’s not only his inability to figure out social situations, but also his inability to find someone he’s compatible with.  So, he initiates the Wife Project: a survey designated to weed out unacceptable potential partners.

Then Don’s best friend Gene (who’s a real jerk, on so many levels) sends Rosie in. Don initially thinks Rosie is a candidate for the Wife Project, but it turns out it’s something more. She’s looking for her biological father, and wants Don’s help. Thus begins the Father Project, to which Don happily agrees. And although Rosie is far from “acceptable” as a prospective partner, Don finds that… well… opposites attract.

So, did it live up to the book talk? In some ways, yes. It was a very sweet book. Don was likable in the same way Sheldon is: you like them, but they drive you nuts. For the record: Don is much less abrasive than Sheldon. But since that’s the extent of my experience with Aspergers, I’m not even going to venture to comment on how Simsion treats it. That said: I get the feeling we’re supposed to be laughing at Sheldon, but I never felt like we were supposed to laugh at Don. It felt more inclusive than that.

I was disappointed that it wasn’t snort-milk-out-your-nose funny. There was only one scene — when Don and Rosie take over making cocktails at an event — that made me actually laugh out loud. But I did smile a lot. And I did like the dynamic between Don and Rosie, which offset the fact that Gene is a complete jerk. (And that’s being nice.) And I did think the ending was endearing.

So, yeah: it’s worth your time.

Absolution by Murder

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by Peter Tremayne
First sentence: “The man had not been dead long.”
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Content: Murders, all off screen, and a lot (a LOT) of historical information to wade through. A novel for people with patience and time and a passing interest in Seventh Century Ireland/England/Catholicism. Nothing untoward (aside from the dead people) though.

This book is about a lot of things:
1. The mid-seventh century.
2. Early Catholicism in medieval England and Ireland.
3. The history of convents/monasteries in that time period.
4. The Saxon-Irish animosity of the time.
5. Saxon traditions that someone Irish would find despicable.
6. A woman court advocate in Ireland.
7. Solving a murder.

This book (I know I skipped the plot. It goes like this: there was a murder. They solve it. There’s 200 pages of incidental historical information.) has the same problem that many of the fantasy books I read have: there’s too much world-building (in this case, it’s medieval Great Britain) and not enough, well, plot.

I had the same problem I had with Deborah Harkness’s Shadow of Night: I felt like Tremayne (who is a professor of Celtic history) thought: “I’ve got ALL this historical information I NEED TO SHARE. Let’s see HOW MUCH I can put in this book!!” and then he proceeded to cram it ALL in. There was a plot — the abbess is murdered and Sister Fidelma (she’s the Irish woman court advocate) and a Saxon male (for the sake of balance) solve it. But I felt like the murder — which is really supposed to be the PLOT of the whole book — was incidental to the history. And I realized (even though I finished this one) that if I really wanted to read a book about medieval Great Britain, I’d find a non-fiction one.

Audiobook: Longbourn

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by Jo Baker
read by Emma Fielding
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Content: There is some talk of sex, but it’s vague and not at all explicit. And some mild swear words. It’s in the general fiction section at the bookstore, mostly because that’s the way it’s marketed. If a 15 year old were interested, I’d give it to them.

This is, to be frank, Pride and Prejudice fanfiction. All the familiar settings — Longbourn, Pemberly, London — are there, as are the familiar characters — Lizzie, Jane, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, Bingley and Wickham (Darcy not so much).The difference is that it’s really only the bare bones of the P&P and the story is told from the points of view of three servants: Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper; Sarah, a maid; and James, a footman.

It basically follows the plot arc of P&P, though the concerns are not the concerns of Lizzie and Jane. And, honestly, I was expecting to love visiting that story from the perspective of the downstairs help. However, I was in for a surprise: unlike Austen’s witty observations on human character, Longbourn is a very pedantic book: every day is get up, do the work, collapse in bed. It’s also a dirty book — literally, there’s dirt, blood, pig slop, mud, you name it; Baker doesn’t whitewash the 19th-century.

There’s a slight love triangle between Sarah, James and Mr. Bingley’s footman, and while it goes somewhere, it feels kind of superfluous. I never really connected with the help; Baker didn’t make me care about all the work they were doing, or how annoying Mrs. Bennett was, or what a creeper Wickham was. And so, when at the beginning of volume 4 (I think; listening to it kind of throws off those things), I got backstory on Mrs. Hill and James, I was more than annoyed. First, at the timing — why wait until most of the way through the book? — but secondly because Mrs. Hill and James were not who I cared about or was interested in.

And then it just kind of petered out at the end. Baker kept the story going past the end of P&P, through the marriage of Lizzie and Darcy and even later until everyone is Old. I didn’t care. I wanted to care, but I was just Tired of the story.

I finished it. But I’m thinking that I shouldn’t have. Which is too bad.

(A note on the reader: she was fine. She was interesting. But it wasn’t enough to make me really like the book.)

Audiobook: Sense & Sensibility

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by Jane Austen
Read by: Wanda McCaddon
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Content: Aside from Willoughby being a bit of a cad (!), there really isn’t anything improper in this one. The main obstacles are with the length and the language and the pacing.

The last time I read this one, five years ago, I ended up liking it. At least more than I did the first time I read it. Well, call me fickle, but I’m back on the “not so much” side of things. Perhaps it was the reader of this audiobook — she had a slightly grating voice; or perhaps it was that I was trying to listen to this driving back from Austin and it kept putting me to sleep. Either way, I was underwhelmed by this Austen novel.

This time, while I was amused at parts, and even laughed aloud once or twice, mostly I just kept thinking how poorly Austen plotted. It took too long to get started, it took too long to get events rolling, and it went on long after it could have ended. None of which is a crime; there are many adult books that suffer from the same issues. But I found myself irritated with it this time around. I wanted the story to be tighter, more streamlined. And while I enjoyed Austen’s trademark wit, I wanted more of it and less, well, austerity.

It’s not a bad book; it’s just not one of my favorite Austen books. I wouldn’t recommend listening to it, however. That was just a bad experience.

Audiobook: The Lowland

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by Jjumpa Lahirir
read by: Sunil Malhotra
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I admit that I picked this up solely because M is currently in the part of India where this is set. I thought: Kolkata, Bengali… I should see if I could learn a little more of where M is staying for the next school year. Other than that, I really had no expectations.

It’s a much more political work than I was expecting. While, nominally it’s the story of the relationship between two brothers, Shubash and Udayan Mitra, Lahriri uses the background of the political unrest and Communist movement in India as a backdrop. The two brothers, who were close as children, grow apart as Udayan (the younger) gets involved with the Naxalite movement and Shubash heads to Rhode Island to pursue a PhD. Udayan gets married to Gauri (which Malhotra alternately pronounced Godi and Gori, so I had to check on the spelling) and then ends up killed by the police. When Shubash comes back for the funeral, he takes pity on Gauri, mostly because she’s pregnant, and marries her, bringing her back to the US.

That is the first third of the book. At which point, I was left wondering: What on earth is Lahiri going to do with the rest of the novel? Well, much like Khaled Hosseini’s And the Mountains Echoed, Lahiri explores the ramifications of those decisions. We follow Shubash and Gauri, and later Gauri’s biological daughter, through the years to present day (when Shubash is 70, and Gauri s in her mid-60s), and experience the fallout. Because there is fallout, and it’s not pleasant.

As I mentioned to people that I was reading this, their first question was “Do you like it?” Well…. no. And yes. It wasn’t bad enough to abandon. Malhotra was a delightful reader, capturing both Indian and American accents well. Perhaps it was him who kept my interest in the book going, because I was constantly annoyed at the characters. Gauri could never get past her dead love and move on with her life. And right up to the end, she never thought about the consequences for her actions, acting impulsively. But the thing that really infuriated me was Shubash’s insistence that because he wasn’t the sperm donor for Gauri and Udayan’s daughter, that he wasn’t her father. He. Raised. The. Girl. He was there for her when her mother abandons her, and yet he still questions whether or not he’s her father. *grumble* Biology isn’t what being a parent is about.

Maybe that was Lahiri’s point, in the end. Because, after finishing the last disc (a very unsatisfying ending, by the way), that’s what I got out of it. Family is what you make, and loving and caring for other people is the way to happiness.

So maybe it was a good book after all?

Deadly Heat

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by Richard Castle
ages: adult
First sentence: “NYPD Homicide detective Nikki Heat double-parked her gray Crown Victoria behind the coroner van and strode toward the pizza joint where a body waited.”
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Others in the series: Heat Wave,  Naked Heat, Heat Rises, Frozen Heat

I’ve always kind of thought that you couldn’t pick up these books without having first watched the show. But, after finishing this one, I realized that really the only frame of reference you need is Frozen Heat. It picks up almost directly where that one leaves off, and ties most directly into it, giving us some nice loose ends all wrapped up.

Nikki knows who actually killed her mother. What she doesn’t know, is who called the shots. And that’s something she’s determined to do, even though the Department of Homeland Security Agents Bell (who happens to be Jameson Rook’s ex) and Callahan keep getting in her way. In addition, she’s faced with a serial killer, nicknamed Rainbow, who is playing games with her. And yes, she’s next on his list.

She’s also getting flack from her incompetent commander for juggling two cases, something which Nikki resents. But, determined as she is, she (and Rook, of course) doggedly persevere, and manage to solve the crimes in the end.

Much like season 5, this was a bit lighter, but also like Frozen Heat, it’s really it’s own beast now. I recognized a few plotlines from the season, but mostly, that’s not what I was reading this for. No, now I’m invested in Nikki Heat the character (not Nikki Heat as a reflection of the way Stana Katic plays Kate Beckett… man, that’s confusing!), and her own personal journey. And this one, I think it’s safe to say, is a pretty decent mystery. I suspected the end, though the clues were there, and if I had been paying attention I would have figured it out. I also liked the way the two storylines intersected in the end, and how they helped each other resolve. I liked that both Nikki and Rook had a chance to shine.

I’m sold on this as a series now, which means I’ll be sad if the show ever ends and these disappear. Unless, of course, the ghostwriter decides to keep it up. In that case, I’ll keep reading them.

Audiobook: Persuasion

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by Jane Austen
read by Greta Scacchi
ages: adult
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It’s been nearly five years since I last visited Anne Elliott and Captain Wentworth’s story, and I thought, especially after liking Emma so much and because of this article in Slate where they ranked it dead last, that maybe it wouldn’t be nearly as good this time around.

Maybe it was the reader — she was delightful — but I really do think that no matter how much I like to pretend otherwise, Persuasion will always hold a special place in my heart. It’s not funny or witty, though it is poking fun at snobby class-conscious people. No, what I said last time still holds:

This book is the best one of Austen’s because it’s a re-finding of love lost, it’s the rekindling of hope, rather than the blush of first love. Anne and Wentworth were torn apart — by pride, prejudice, situation, class… all of which are Austen themes in her other books — and yet they overcome all in order to be together.

It’s still my favorite.

The Golem and the Jinni

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by Helene Wecker
ages: adult
First sentence: “The Golem’s life began in the hold of a steamship.”
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I have sat here for a good while, trying to figure out how to start this off. All I knew about it, going in, was that it was turn-of-the-century New York City immigrants. And that the main characters were a golem — Jewish mysticism — and a jinni — Arabic mythology. Everything else in the story was a mystery left to unfold.

Know what? I loved it that way. I loved not knowing what was going to happen next, discovering connections and twists and turns as they came.

I will tell you this: it’s a fantastic debut novel. Wecker’s writing is lyrical and magical, and she captures the essence of not only her human characters, but the fantastical ones as well. The sturdiness of the Golem and her need to fill desire; the flightiness of the Jinni. One of the things that impressed me (aside from her melding historical details with fantasy) is she managed to have both the Golem and the Jinni grow in their respective ways. And not always together. It’s simultaneously both their separate stories and their intertwining ones.

Which brings me to the end. There are some elements of the book that I wondered how they fit in. Flashback and stories that seemed out of place for much of the book. But the ENDING. Oh, wow. Wecker is a master storyteller that I didn’t even suspect how all the pieces fit together until it was upon me (or maybe I’m just not a careful reader), and the ending blew. me. away. It was amazing and perfect and totally and completely satisfying.

If all adult books were like this, I’d probably read more of them.

Audiobook: Tara Road

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by Maeve Binchy
read by: Terry Donnelly
ages: adult
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I think I’m going to start with the why on this one. Because, honestly, much like a Jane Austen novel, the plot is really inconsequential to the enjoyment of this book. Earlier this year, Maeve Binchy released A Week in Winter, and people came in to snap it up, raving about her work. After the Northanger Abbey debacle, I was wandering the library looking for something light but good, and I settled on this. I knew nothing about it other than the author’s name.

The jacket flap posed this as a post-divorce/traumatic incident/finding oneself house swap story. And while there was a house swap, it didn’t come until late in the novel. Which leads me to believe: the jacket flap writers didn’t know what to do with this one. See: it’s really just a portrait of a woman, Ria Lynch, and the life she led. She married the first man, Danny Lynch, whom she fell in love with, and thought she had a good life. But, as the reader finds out through the pages, that good life was all in Ria’s head. She was surrounded by friends, by her children, in this lovely home, and her husband was off… being a philandering Irish jerk. (He wasn’t stereotypical, though: the role of Irish drunk was given to one of Ria’s friends’ husbands, who thankfully, got his just deserts in the end.) It’s the portrait of a woman who makes choices and stands by them, and then when life throws her a curveball, she goes on. It’s a testament to the power of community and connection: Marilyn, the American Ria trades houses with at the end, is grieving for a dead son and has been unable to move on. But through the connections she makes by being a part of Ria’s life, she is able to find some healing.

In the end, while “nothing” happened (well, lots happened, but it was everyday stuff) it was a compelling novel. A lot of that is credited to Binchy — she (again, like Austen) is a master of the domestic drama, painting gorgeous portraits of the Everyday — but I do have to admit that Terry Donnelly’s voice had me mesmerized. A light, lilting Irish accent; voices perfect for the characters; she had me staying in the car waiting for an “acceptable” stopping point.

I should read (or listen to) more Binchy. Because my first foray was gold.