Adult Fiction

Audiobook: The Lady of the Rivers

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by Philippa Gregory
Read by Bianca Amato
ages: adult

So, I have loved Philippa Gregory in the past. The intrigue, the sweeping historical drama, the women behind the kings. And, this one has such a pretty cover (though I like the hardcover one better). So, I got the audiobook and started to listen to it, hoping for that same grandiose, sweeping world that I love from Gregory.

And what I got was a petulant, whining brat.The story is of Jacquetta, a French girl married to the Duke of something or other, who wants her for her “powers” (they never really manifest into anything, and peter away after a while; it would have been better had they gone somewhere and did something). They never consummate their marriage, and when he dies, she ends up with his squire, Richard Woodhouse (I think. I never really cared that much.) From there they go to England, have tons of babies, serve the king (who is a total douche), and then I gave up.

I do have to admit that perhaps a lot of my feelings about this have to do with the person reading the book. She. Drove. Me. Batty. Seriously. What may have come off in print as strong, or at least caring, came off as petulant and whiny. And the plot was moving a glacially slow pace; nothing happens for pages and pages and pages. (I checked the print book: I bailed at 190 pages.) I felt the plot spinning in a hamster wheel: going around and around but never moving forward. (I think reading MG/YA books have completely spoiled me for long, complex, SLOW plots. I can’t stand them.)

On the other hand, maybe the 15th century just isn’t as interesting or sexy as the Tudors are, and there’s nothing that Gregory could have done to make it interesting. Which is a distinct possibility.

Either way, I couldn’t hack this one.

True Sisters

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by Sandra Dallas
ages: adult
First sentence: “The two sisters leaned forward, their hadns flat against the rear of the handcart, waiting, fidgeting, impatient.”
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When this book came into the store last week, they all looked at the jacket flap copy, said “It’s Mormon,” and then looked pointedly in my direction. I took a look at the book, said “It’s the Martin Handcart Company,” and took one home.

See, my ancestors — my grandmother’s grandmother, I think — came over with the Martin Handcart company. I listened to my grandmother tell me stories of hardship and survival. It’s part of my heritage. And even though I’ve never picked up a Sandra Dallas book in my life (um, she’s popular, right?), I needed to see what this woman — someone who is outside of my “tribe”, for lack of a better word — was going to do with my heritage.

The basic story is that of the Martin Handcart Company — a group of immigrants from Great Britain (and Scandinavia, something which she omitted much to my disappointment), who for economic reasons made and pushed handcarts across the plains from Iowa to Utah. It was an ill-fated trip from the start: the handcarts were made of green wood, and weren’t very sturdy; they left late; and winter in Wyoming came early. Out of the 650 that started, more than 100 died before making it to Salt Lake City.

Dallas focuses on four women: Anne, whose husband is a member but who has refused to join the church; Jessie, an unmarried woman with two brothers making it over on their own; Ella, a pregnant woman who is crossing with her husband and sister; and Louisa a young wife of one of the company’s leaders. Their stories never really intersect — I kind of was expecting them to, given the title — but, rather, the narrative switches to follow each one as they cross the plains and experience trials and hardships and setbacks and miracles.

While it wasn’t a great novel — she never really got much tension going, and it seemed as if she was just checking things off a list (mention Joseph Smith? Check. Polygamy? Check. Hardship? Check.) — it was a good one, and she did treat the Mormons sympathetically. I liked how she had characters along the whole spectrum of faith: men who were overbearing and overly zealous to men who were sympathetic and supportive; women who were doubters, ones who were strong (both physically and mentally), and ones who were blindly following their husbands. It gave a more nuanced picture of our faith — unlike books in the past, we are neither all always gung-ho about the edicts we’ve been given, nor are we all dissenters.

It’s not a great book, but it’s a good one, something which I wasn’t expecting.

I, Robot

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by Isaac Asimov
ages: adult (ish)
First sentence: “I looked at my notes and I didn’t like them.”
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This is one of those books that I’ve always heard of but never had gotten around to reading. I can’t really tell you why; it just never seemed like something I’d be interested in.

Thank heavens for book groups.

Framed as an interview with retiring robopsychologist, Dr. Susan Calvin, it’s a series of interconnected short stories detailing the evolution of robotics in the “future”. It’s an interesting look into what Asimov thought our future would be like, and the prevalence of robots in society.

I’m not quite sure what to say about the book other than I really, really liked it I thought it was fascinating to read about what Asimov though the future would be like. I liked the character of Dr. Calvin; she was an interesting person to frame the book around, smart and capable (if a bit cold), and gave the book a good grounding. In fact, the stories went down better for me than short stories usually do, mostly because they seemed like chapters in something larger.

That said, two of my favorite stories were “Liar”, in which a mind-reading robot just tells humans what they want to hear; and “Little Lost Robot,” in which a robot goes missing, hiding in the midst of a bunch of other robots that look exactly like it. I found it fascinating the things the psychologists and scientists go through to figure out which one is the missing robot.

But my favorite was one near the end, “Evidence,” where a man is running for mayor of the region, but there are allegations against him: he’s a robot. The point is to prove he’s not. It’s a fascinating look at the line between robotics and humanity, and the issues about whether or not it’s ethical for a robot to actually “act” human.

It’s a good work, one that stands up to the test of time, even if there were moments when I cringed at the 1950s-ness of it all. Even so, I’m glad I had the chance (finally!) to read it.

Rules of Civility

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by Amor Towles
ages: adult
First sentence: “On the night of October 4th, 1966, Val and I, both in late middle age, attended the opening of Many Are Called at the Museum of Modern Art — the first exhibit of the portraits taken by Walker Evans in the late 1930s on the New York City subways with a hidden camera.”
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The thing that first drew me to this book (aside from the catchy cover), was that someone at work called it “Gatsby-esque.” Adoring all things Gatsby, I figured that I would (eventually) need/want to read this one. So, when it came through at the library, I snatched it, hoping to be thoroughly engrossed by it.

And I was. Sort of.

The setting is New York City, 1938. Our main character, Kate Kontent (the emphasis is on the second syllable), is a working girl from Brighton, trying to make ends meet. She rooms at a boarding house and there makes friends with Eve Ross, who has slightly higher ambitions. They’re out for a night on the town, when they meet — almost by accident — Tinker Grey: young, handsome, rich, suave. They both pounce, grasping at the chance to get out of the dead-end they’re in.

The book follows Kate’s year: one in which, either directly or indirectly because of Tinker, she gets a new (and better) job, dates a couple of rich socialites (while all the while pining, deep down, for Tinker), and watches as Eve managed to nab Tinker and swing into his lifestyle with ease. It’s a remarkable year, if only for the changes, and revelations it brings in Kate’s life.

It’s Gatsby-esque for the time period (roughly) and the love of jazz (again, roughly), but it’s missing all the other things — regret and fate as well as Gatsby’s elusiveness — that makes The Great Gatsby great. But, even though the characters are rich and reckless, with their lives and their money, there lacks a certain gravitas about it that would help give it a center. Perhaps it’s because Kate is really the least interesting person in the book: Tinker, Eve, and eventually her friends Wallace and Bitsy are all far more elegant and interesting. Once in a while Kate shows some class — like her love of books, and their organization system — but it wasn’t enough for me to truly care about the ups and downs of her year. And the end, the final twist and reveal, fell flat as well.  Perhaps it was because by that point, I was really quite past caring.

I make it sound worse than it was; there was enough to keep me going, since I actually did finish the book. But, it’s not enough to make me love it.

Highland Fling

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by Katie Fforde
ages: adult
First sentence: “‘I gave you a home, for goodness’ sake!’ said Henry.”
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After being laid off when her IT firm went bust, Jenny Porter decided that she’d never work for anyone but herself again. She became a virtual assistant, which is essentially a glorified secretary, even though she rarely meets her clients. Then, one of her clients, M. R. Grant-Dempsey, decides to send her into the wilds of Scotland to check out Dalmain Mills, and see whether or not it’s worth salvaging.

Once up in the wilds of Scotland, away from her increasingly insufferable boyfriend, Henry, (yes, he really is that bad) she discovers that not only does she really like Scotland, enjoys working in a fast food stand, and wants to find a way to salvage the mill, she is really attracted to possibly the least amiable man in the region: Ross Grant. (Yes, it is who you think it is.)

It’s fluff. Really. There’s no way around it. It’s predictable, enjoyable, fluffy romance, where you want the guy to get with the girl, and the stupid, silly boyfriend out of the way. Everything else about the plot is immaterial. There isn’t much sex (just one scene, in a snow cave… cozy…), though Fforde does know how to write a good kiss. And to be gratuitous in my review, this is who Ross Grant looked like in my head:

You’re welcome.

Not a bad way to spend some time, I think.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

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by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
ages: adult(ish)
First sentence: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.”

I avoided this book when it was all the rage a few years back for one reason: zombies. I really don’t do zombies. That, and I really like Jane Austen and I suspected that I probably wouldn’t be amenable to a mash-up of one of my favorite books.

I was right, on both counts.

For my mother-daughter book group (they’re in 6th and 7th grade), one of the girls picked the prequel to this one, Dawn of the Dreadfuls, as her book choice for this past month. (By the way, the discussion was quite good, even though no one finished it, or even liked it.) I decided here was my chance to see what everyone was talking about, and chose to read this one.

I didn’t finish it, and I didn’t like it. Partly because of the zombies, true. It’s not exactly for the squeamish. The basic plot is that of Pride and Prejudice, except the countryside is swarming in zombies, and the Bennet sisters are skilled zombie killers. They have to be in order to survive.

Which brings me to my second issue: they just smashed zombies into P&P, without a thought to characterization, plot, or even if it would work in Austen’s work. Which it doesn’t. (For me.) Adding zombies changed the characters, and instead of having charming, witty, loveable Lizzy, we’re left with this weird, strange, honor-bound, vengeance-seeking woman. Who beats Darcy up when he proposes to her. (Which is completely out of character. Even if he deserves it.)

So, while I can see the humor in it and the appeal of it, no, it didn’t work for me. Now I know.

A Discovery of Witches

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by Deborah Harkness
ages: adult
First sentence: “The leather-bound volume was nothing remarkable.”
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Although I liked this one quite a bit — more than I was expecting, actually — by the end of it, I was quite torn. So, let’s just say, up front, that my enjoyment of this one was tempered by some hangups.

The good:
I loved the world that Harkness created. It’s basically our world, except it’s inhabited by vampires, witches, and daemons. They’re generally brilliant, generally long-lived, and generally go unnoticed by humans. Our main character, Diana, is a witch who, ever since her parents’ deaths when she was 7, has shunned her magic. She’s a historian of 17th-century science, which means she dabbles in Alchemy. She’s pretty content with her life. Until she meets Matthew. Who is a vampire.

Which brings me to good point number 2: Harkness has a debt to owe to Stephenie Meyer, but she one-ups her. Matthew is 1500 years old, which makes him incredibly fascinating. (And I suppose it’s kind of creepy that a 1500 year old would fall in love with a 37 year old?) There’s a lot of history in this book, and no accident that Diana, as a historian, is fascinated by Matthew.

The bad:
It’s still True Love, and while it’s not as stifling as Edward and Bella’s love, it’s still pretty sappy. (What is it with vampires and a reluctance to have sex?) There’s also that element of over-protectiveness that drove me batty in the Twilight series. The only difference is that Diana can — and does — hold her own as a witch, though it takes her most of the book to do so. She also struggles against Matthew’s edicts, which helps with the whole damsel-in-distress thing. That, and the fact that she’s in REAL danger as opposed to supposed danger helps temper Matthew’s irritating behavior.

The good:
The plot is intriguing and complex: there’s a lost manuscript that all the “creatures” (as they call themselves) are longing to get their hands on. But, more importantly, there’s the forbidden love (really?) between Diana and Matthew: it seems the creatures aren’t suppose to cross-mate because of an age old (like centuries) covenant that the creatures made with each other. This leads to a lot of things, the most important being an impending “war” between the creatures who are okay with Diana and Matthew’s love and those who are not.

The bad:
On some levels, the idea of anyone being able to love anyone they want is a good story. But my main complaint with this book is that it’s 576 pages, and they don’t get to the point until the last 1/4. The plot pacing is bad as well: it’ll be interesting, then Harkness will divert into pages and pages of wine, food and romancing (M contended that if she cut out all the bits about wine, she would have lost about 75 pages…), none of which had anything to do with the plot. More than once, I nearly lost patience with the book.

That said, I’m invested now, and I’m interested in where Harkness is going to go with the sequel. Hopefully, it won’t be nearly as long. (Then again, she’s a historian, so I’m not really expecting a more tightly written book. Just hoping.)

Audiobook: The Spellman Files

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by Lisa Lutz
Read by Ari Graynor
ages: adult
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I first heard about the Spellmans through Jen Robinson who blogged about them a few years ago. She mentioned that they’re for people who love quirky characters, and since I’m all for that, I stuck it on my TBR list and let it sit.

One of the things I’m doing through my audiobook listening is going back through my age-old lists and finding ones that have been sitting there forever to listen to. This one definitely qualifies.

Twenty-eight year old Isabel Spellman grew up working in her parent’s PI buisness. Which means that she’s excellent at stakeouts, can pick a lock with the best of them, and has absolutely no respect for the privacy of others (yes, she really did run a credit check on ex-boyfriend #6). However, when she meets Daniel (ex-boyfriend #9), things get a little, well, sticky. After he breaks up with her, she decides she’s had Enough. But, before she’s allowed to quit the family buisness, her parents give her a 12-year-old cold case to “solve”. And, before that’s solved, a case closer to home pops up, one that may be the most important of Isabel’s life.

Okay, that makes it sound all dark and dangerous, and honestly: it’s not. This book is mostly an introduction to the Spellmans and all their quirkiness (why, yes, Mom does hire out someone to stake out Isabel, not to mention bugging her apartment). Mom and Dad don’t really play much of a role (except as ominous yet loveable background players); the more important figures in Isabel’s life are her lawyer brother David, her Uncle Ray, and her teenage sister Rae. Between the four of them — and the back-and-forthing they do — they drive what plot there is.

And there really isn’t much of one. It didn’t seem to matter, though: I was captivated by Isabel’s voice (and Graynor’s reading of her), her observations of her ex-boyfriends, the cases, and her family. It was a lot of fun to listen to.

That said, there is one glitch: I didn’t realize until the very end (when the credits said “adapted by”) that this was an abridged novel. Nooooo! Now I’m going to have to get the book and read it: I want to know what I missed!

In spite of that, it was quite an entertaining way to spend my time.

Midnight in Austenland

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by Shannon Hale
ages: adult
First sentence: “No one who knew Charlotte Constance Kinder since her youth would suppose her born to be a heroine.”
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 Since her husband cheated on her then left her and married his mistress, Charlotte Kinder has been completely numb. Sure, she still runs her very successful web business and takes care of her two kids, but in her personal life, she has no hope. No matter how many dates her friends set her up on, she figures she will never love again.

Then, she discovers an old bucket list of hers, which has “read Jane Austen” on it. She does, falls in love (just with the idea of falling in love, of course), and as a present to herself, goes on vacation to Pembrook Park. For a good, old-fashioned Regency Romance.

The best way I can think of to describe it is thus: if Austenland (which you don’t need to read before reading this one, but why wouldn’t you?) is Pride and Prejudice, Midnight in Austenland is Northanger Abbey. There are a couple of mysteries — both real and made-up — to solve; there’s a lot of running around at night; but most of all, there’s a Gothic feel. That, and the book just isn’t as light as Austenland is. It’s not only Charlotte’s hurt from her husband’s infidelity and betrayal, and the mysteries, there’s just a lot more brooding going on. The romantic interest, Mr. Mallery, is Heathcliff — okay, I know: not Austen, but it’s the best description — reincarnated. He attempts to do the Regency thing, but mostly he just skulks in the corner. Thank goodness there’s Charlotte’s “brother” (for the two weeks, not in real life) Eddie Grey, who lightens and mixes things up. Some of the minor players from Austeland are back: the formidable hostess, Mrs. Wattlesbrook (who is not quite as formidable), and the goofy-yet-vulnerable Miss Charming. There are new characters as well, including a starlet that’s using Pembrook Park as a place to escape not just from the press, but from real life.

The only complaint I have is that it’s not as funny as Austenland was (or that I’d hoped it would be). That’s not to say it isn’t good. Admittedly, I adore Shannon Hale, but I do think this one is worth reading (if only for this sentence: “But in life, rarely do we encounter an onslaught of beauty, enter a hive of handsomeness, find ourselves awash in an ocean of attractiveness, drowning ina miasma of hotness.”). It’s sweet and it’s tender; it’s light enough to be fluffy, but has enough weight so that it’s not a waste of time. (I need to say it: there was a moment when I needed to shout “GO CHARLOTTE!” Hooray for heroines who can save themselves!)

In other words: it’s another delight from a delightful writer.

Ready Player One

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by Ernest Cline
ages: adult
First sentence: “Everyone my age remembers where they were and what they were doing when they first heard about the contest.”
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It’s 2044, and as a result of the energy crisis, the world has basically gone to pot. That’s okay, though, because most people spend their lives in OASIS, a virtual utopia where you can be whomever and whatever you want. Five years ago, the creator of OASIS died, and as his dying act, set up a contest: be the first one to find the Halliday “Easter Egg” and you will inherit Halliday’s fortune of billions of dollars. Wade is one of those obsessed with the contest, and with Halliday, which means he’s into all of Halliday’s interests: everything 80s. As Wade delves deeper into the contest, he finds friends and allies and makes enemies who will go so far as to kill him in real life in order to get to the prize.

This was a last-minute impromptu buddy read with Kelly from A Written World. We traded questions for our review; click through to her blog to see her answers to my questions.

1. This book has had a lot of hype surrounding it around the blogosphere. Did it live up to the expectations you were expecting as a result?
Actually, I missed the hype surrounding this one (one of the side benefits of working, I guess) — I did pick it up as a result of a review on a friend’s blog, though — and so I went in with a fairly clean slate.  I suppose, if I had read a lot of hype, if it had been one of those books I’d been seeing everywhere, I would have had a worse attitude. I think going in with no expectations was the best way to go here.
2. What did you think of Wade, the main character? Was he he someone you could enjoy enough to read the book from his perspective, or did he bother you?
Oh, I liked Wade. He wasn’t perfect, but I’m enough of a geek (and I had two geeky brothers as well) to relate to the social awkwardness, the obsessive side of his personality, and the way his mind worked. He was a fine narrator for me. (Though I think I’d like to see the world from Aech’s point of view.)

3. What were some of your favourite (geeky) references?
Ah, I ate up the 80s stuff.  Seriously. War Games! (Loved the movie.) Ladyhawk! (Ditto) All the little ones (Back to the Future, Hitchhiker’s Guide, Knight Rider, John Hughes movies, Pac Man) that were sprinkled throughout just gave me little bursts of glee. The only things I didn’t get were the gaming references — I wasn’t, and am not now, a gamer — but Cline explained things enough that it didn’t bother me that I didn’t get the in-jokes.

4. What did you think of the secondary characters? Did any stick out for you?

I loved Ath3na. Seriously, she rocked. She’s smart, she’s determined, and she was awesome enough to get to the top on her own accord. (I kept wanting to say, “In your face, gamer boys.” But maybe that’s a bit harsh.)


5. What did you think of the whole idea of the book? Did the game and the Dystopian aspect work for you?

I’m not sure the dystopian aspect worked. As I was talking to my husband about the book, and he kept asking questions about the world: how do they survive? Where do they get food?  Money? Everyone in the world can’t all always live inside the virtual one? But, I’m not sure I really cared. Because I got sucked inside the virtual world as well, wrapped up in the game. The parts when Wade wasn’t playing — like after Art3mis dumped him — were the sluggish ones for me. But, when Wade was fully immersed in OASIS and the game, the book was hard to put down.