by Geraldine Brooks
ages: adult
First sentence: “He is coming on the Lord’s Day.”
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It’s the 1660s, on what is now known as Martha’s Vineyard. There’s a small group of Puritan settlers there, and Bethia’s father is the minister. He is determined not only to lead the English in the ways of the Lord, but to convert the heathen “salvages” to the Truth.

As a girl, Bethia is consigned to a life of labor, even though she longs to be more like her brother Makepeace and study languages and scripture. She is educated to a degree; her father teaches her how to read and write, though after a while he discourages anything further. She is discontent, though, and wanders the island rather than attending to her chores. In doing so, she meets a Wampanoag boy whom she comes to call Caleb.

They develop a bond — not a romantic one — and the book follows their relationship as Caleb comes to live with Bethia’s family and then goes across to the mainland to attend school — first a primer school, and then Harvard; the first Native American to do so. Bethia follows him, at first working in the school and then working in the buttery at Harvard. The book is named after Caleb, but it’s about Bethia and the whole Puritan culture; Brooks has certainly done her research about the time period. The book is in the form of Bethia’s journal, of sorts (it’s not a daily one), and so not only do the characters put forth ideas and thoughts about the time period — Bethia is the only remotely modern one of the bunch — but Brooks keeps up the pretense even down to the spelling of certain words.

Because it’s a series of Bethia’s reflections and memories, the book is incredibly slow. It’s not a book for the plot-driven or even the character-driven. The only character we get to know in any depth is Bethia herself; because most of the other main characters are men, we’re only allowed to get to know them peripherally, as per the Puritan custom. In many ways, the book was interesting for that: because Brooks did her research, she was able to fully immerse herself in that time, and it came through in the writing. However, because I wasn’t terribly interested in the plot, while I found theanthropological look at the Puritans interesting — I did finish the book after all — it wasn’t enough for me to be completely riveted by the book.

That said, Brooks is a talented writer, and this one isn’t a complete waste of time.

by Georgette Heyer
ages: adult
First sentence: “The butler, recognizing her ladyship’s only surviving brother at a glance, as he afterwards informed his less percipient subordinates, favoured Sir Horace with a low bow, and took it upon himself to say that my lady, although not at home to see less nearly-connected persons, would be happy to see him.”
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Ah, Georgette Heyer. (Which I just learned is pronounced “hair”. Now I know.) I think the best way to sum her up is this: when she’s good, she’s really, really good. (And when she’s bad she’s horrid?)

And this one was good.

Twenty-year-old Sophy has spent her life following her father all around Europe. Because her mother died early on, Sophy has become accustomed to being the lady of the house, performing tasks for her father that most women wouldn’t dream of doing. As a result, she’s unpredictable, independent, and, to the fashionable London society, completely shocking. So, when her father dumps her on some little-known relatives (his sister, Lady Ombersley) so he can pop off to Brazil (with the side hope that they’ll somehow manage to marry Sophy off, since she’s — shock — heading towards being an old maid!), little do they know the chaos that Sophy will cause.

Like so many other of Heyer’s books, the point is not the plot. There will be a slight romance, two people will fall in love and get married. It’s the getting there that’s so much fun. And this one is classic Heyer: wonderfully amusing. Initially I wrote “hilarious”, but I think that’s misleading. While the book is funny, it’s not the snort-milk-through-your-nose funny. But it did make me smile and chuckle.

Like (and the characters and situations don’t really matter):

“No, of course I do not!” responded Cecilia. ” But Eugenia never wears modish gowns. She says there are more important things to think of than one’s dresses.”

“What a stupid thing to say!” remarked Sophy. “Naturally there are, but not, I hold, when one is dressing for dinner.”

From the sparing way in which Miss Wraxton partook of a few of the delicacies it was not dificult to see that she considered such lavish hospitality vulgar; but Huber, making a hearty meal, began to think the Marquesa a very good sort of woman after all. When he saw how many coffee creams, Italian rusks, and brandy-cherries she herself consumed, in the most negligent fashion, his manner towards her because tinged with respect bordering on awe.

There are more. Truly.

I think one of the reasons I like Heyer so much is the same reason I like Jane Austen: she pokes fun at socieity, the primness and properness, while endearing us to all these silly, stuffy, stupid characters. She invites us to laugh at them and (in Heyer’s case, at least) their outdated ideas, while, especially in this book, introducing a thoroughly modern character to challenge the others’ ways. It makes for a wonderfully entertaining romp.

by Juliet Marillier
ages: adult
First sentence: “My mother knew every tale that was ever told by the firesides of Erin, and more besides.”
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This book picks up a little while where Daughter of the Forest left off. Red and Sorcha have three children: Niamh, and twins Sean and Liadan. Things are becoming uneasy again; there’s a band of outlaws that are wandering the countryside. Niamh has a forbidden dalliance, and is sent off to marry someone for an alliance. Sean is coming into his own, learning to be the lord of Sevenwaters. And Liadan is just trying to be a healer. That is, until she’s kidnapped by the Painted Man’s outlaws, and taken to their camp. There, everything changes, not only for Liadan, but for Sevenwaters and maybe for Erin as well.

Since we enjoyed the last book, Kelly (she’s in bold; I’m not) suggested reading this one as a buddy read as well.

So, the obvious first question: how did it compare to Daughter of the Forest?

Well, I was a little worried at first. The second book in a trilogy, which this started off being, isn’t usually a big letdown from the first book. I actually enjoyed that in order to keep this fresh book fresh the focus was on Sorcha’s daughter. That being said, this book wasn’t quite as good as the first book. It was a bit too much of a romance for me and there wasn’t as much action. It was basically a set-up for the third book and considering that I still really enjoyed this book, I am really excited for the third book. What did you think of this book?

I enjoyed the first book more as well, but I think it was because that one had a premise (the fairy tale) that I actually knew. I didn’t mind learning about the Irish tales in this one, but it really slowed the book down for me. I didn’t mind the romance so much, though I still have issues with the idea of The One. She’s 16, and she finds (by accident) the guy she wants to spend the rest of her life with? That raises the red flag for me. That said, I did feel that Marillier managed the romance pretty well. I think part of my enjoyment of the first one was that I just happened to like Sorcha as a character better.

The book this reminded me most of was Mists of Avalon; there was a lot of strong women and Goddess-inspired magic in it. Was that just me?

Yes, I was always excited about the first book because of the fairy tale connection. It still took me forever to get around to reading it, but that is what drew me to it in the first place. This book still had tales as its background, but they were not tales that I was familiar with. It made the whole experience a bit different. As to the romance, it didn’t bother me necessarily, but I did just find it more a central theme than in the other book. I would have enjoyed if there was a bit less emphasis on that aspect. I also am getting a bit tired of the story-line where a young girl meets a guy and then that is who she wants to be with for the rest of her life. I didn’t find myself getting as annoyed with this book as others, though, so she obviously carried it off well.

No, I can see that. I have read Mists of Avalon and the other books that Bradley wrote in that series and I can actually see a very strong connection between how Bradley wrote and what Marillier is trying to accomplish with her books. My favourite part of this trilogy so far is the strong women that are portrayed. I always feel like there is not enough of that in fiction.

What did you think of the men in the book? Any stand out for you?

I agree: there’s never enough books with strong women characters. I also wish I knew more about the tales that served as a backdrop for the book; while I like things Irish, I’m actually not that familiar with them. Perhaps I should change that…. As for men, I kind of liked Bran, especially once I figured out (well, it was revealed anyway), how he fit into the Sevenwaters family and his connection to the past. I liked that he was passionate and strict, but also fair and merciful as well. I also liked that he cared about the men he worked hard to save from the edges of society. I also liked Red (can’t remember his Irish name, now), for his strength and balance in the family. Though, speaking of him (and the men in general): I loathed the treatment of Niamh when she was found with her lover. Especially since Liadan turned around and did the same thing (and got pregnant by it!). What a bunch of hypocrites! I know I’m imposing modern sensibilities on this, but STILL! To rip her away from her lover and marry her to a brute who barely cared for her? Horrid, horrid men.

What did you think?

I really enjoy books with strong women. I think part of my problem is the love triangles and other drama in young adult books lately. It doesn’t set a very good example. I always wish I could read more. I know when I read the Fables series, for example, I always figured I was either missing something or knowing that I was missing something. There is just too many things to read!

I enjoyed Bran. He was an interesting character. I knew there was going to be more to him than met the eye and spent the entire time reading trying to fit the pieces together in my mind. When it came together I was thinking I should have known that long before it was revealed. And, yes, the part with Niamh was TERRIBLE! I understand that they thought they had their reasons, but it was really quite sad. It was a bit strange that it was okay when Liadan did it. It was a bit of a double standard. It was particularly bad because we didn’t know why everything played out like it did. It made a bit of sense when it was explained, but it still bothered me.

Head over to The Written World for the rest of the conversation!

by Erin Morgensternages: 16+ (shelved in the Adult Fiction section of my library)
First sentence: “The circus arrives without warning.”
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I am inherently suspicious of anything that receives an inordinate amount of buzz. (Which is why I have yet to read The Help.) People have told me it’s just sour grapes; that if I would just catch a book early enough, I wouldn’t have this violently negative reaction to hip and popular books.

But when Corinne said that I should read it, I listened.

I’ll be frank here: there is a plot to this book, but it’s pretty predictable and fairly cliche. In the end, it’s your basic Romeo and Juliet love story. Two magicians from two differing schools of thought pit their students against one another. This time it’s Celia and Marco. They’re never supposed to meet, they’re not supposed to even know who the other is; yet, they find out, and fall in love. Of course there are ramifications, of course there are hazards and heartbreak.

That’s not the point of the book, though.

The point of the book is the atmosphere. It’s a very slow moving book, one that luxuriates in the descriptions of the circus, of clothes, of the food, of the magic. It’s not a spare and poetic book, but rather weighty and opulent: there’s scenes that for plot purposes probably don’t need to be there, but because they add to the atmosphere and mood of the book, fit perfectly. There’s characters wandering in and out of the book that have little to do with the plot, and yet they add to the carnival-esque feeling. It reminded me strongly of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell; the use of magic is unique and traditional at the same time. Morgenstern uses stage magicians as a launching point, musing on the idea of an the illusion actually not being an illusion. And, surprisingly for me: the book is written in the present tense while still flitting back and forth in time. Usually, this drives me batty, but in this book, in this setting, it worked. (I didn’t even notice until I was halfway through. Which says much.)

I do recognize that all this all might be a downer for some people; I’m not expecting to add to the hype for this book. I don’t think it’s the next Harry Potter, or even the next “big thing”. But, in many ways it is worth the hype: it’s a beautiful, descriptive, haunting and gorgeous book.

by Anonymous

translated by Seamus Heaney

ages: adult

First sentence: “So. The Spear-Danes gone by adn the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.”

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I’ve been intimidated by this for years. Somehow, I managed to miss reading this in college (sometimes the Journalism major was a good thing…) and I’ve avoided it for years. It’s just so… old. And huge. And intimidating.

Enter Seamus Heaney and my on-line book group. (This is why I love this group: they’re always pushing my reading comfort zone!) We decided on Beowulf for this month’s read, and a good portion of us picked this translation for it’s ease.

And in the end? I liked it. I’m not sure how much I “got,” though. I did get an overall image: of a huge group of hairy men (and women) gathered around a fire, listening to a storyteller spinning tales about the heroic Beowulf. I’m sure it’s stereotypical, but I figure since I’m half Danish, I’m allowed. But as for the plot? Not sure I got most of it. Sure, I understood that Beowulf dealt Grendel a fatal blow (but it really wasn’t all that exciting), had to go kill Grendel’s mom (more exciting in my book), and then 50 years later killed a dragon (did it remind anyone else of Smaug, or was it just me?). But the rest of it? Just a bunch of words.

However, I am glad I read it, if only to say that I have. And I am looking forward to the discussion with the group. Maybe afterwords, I’ll understand a bit more.

by Ellen Kushner

ages: adult

First sentence: “I’m not a teller of tales, not like the Rhymer.”

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I know very little about the Thomas the Rhymer tale; just the basic brief outline of the plot. What I got from Ellen Kushner was a lyrical tale, not like anything I expected.

Thomas is a talented harper, but also a bit cocky. He’s in at court, making his living wooing women with his fine words and lies. Something happens and he has to leave court; he finds his way to a farming community, and takes up with an elderly couple. There he meets Elspeth, a country girl with spirit. She falls for him first, but he’s too caught up in himself to notice much. Then, one day, the beautiful Queen of Faeries comes to him, offers him herself in exchange for seven years service. Of course he takes it. She takes him away, without saying goodbye; he serves his time, and returns with one caveat: he can no longer tell a lie.

It’s a very earthy novel, one that’s filled with homespun images of hearth and home. Weaving plays a role, as does bread-making and feasting. The things that Thomas misses most when he’s with the faerie are the work of home. The things that endear Thomas to Elspeth in the end are the things of the mortal world: she’s not as beautiful as the Queen, but she’s more real, more earthy, for lack of a better word.

I liked this book, but it wasn’t quite I was expecting. I think I was expecting more about his time in faerie, or a something more grand or significant when it came to the consequences of his choice to go to faerie. It was a subtle book, almost too subtle. That’s not to say it wasn’t enjoyable; it was incredibly well-written, and Kushner knows how to spin a tale. But it lacks excitement, and while there’s sex (though not graphic), there’s no romance. I enjoyed the tale, but I never really connected with it.

And I missed that.

by Rick Riordan
ages: adult
First sentence: “Ana had to get the baby out of the house.”
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Even after my failed attempt to read Southtown, I wanted to finish out Tres Navarre’s story. Mission Road didn’t sound like such the gritty story, and so I picked it up, hoping for the same sort of thrilling mystery that Riordan had delivered before.

Tres Navarre has settled into a bit of a routine: visit his girlfriend Maia up in Austin, take care of his resident ex-FBI housemate, take a PI job here and there, try not to get killed in the process. But when his old friend Ralph Arguello shows up at Tres’s back door shaking, covered in blood, and accused of being his wife’s, Sargeant Ana DeLeon, shooter, there’s only one thing Tres can do: help him.

That makes Tres a fugitive from the law: he and Ralph have 48 hours to figure out who shot Ana, and solve a cold case from 1987. Because the two are inevitably connected. This, of course, involves getting the help of a notorious San Antonio mob boss, who also happens to be the father of the murder victim in the 1987 case.

Interestingly enough, Tres is more of a pawn in this book than an actual participant. It’s Maia who does all the legwork, getting the information, and actually is the one who solved both crimes. She’s the one who had the intense face-down with the suspect, who put the puzzle pieces together while Tres and Ralph were running around creating a nice diversion while trying to save their necks. I didn’t mind this at all; I like Tres, but I’ve decided that I like Maia more. She’s a tough, intelligent, interesting woman; full of power and vulnerability in all the right ways. It also helped that Tres and Ralph hooked up with another intriguing, complicated woman — Madeline White, daughter of the mob boss — which spiced up their run for their lives.

Even with these two women, the book is populated with less-than-lovely characters. There’s an interesting division between bad and truly evil, between skirting the law and doing unspeakable crimes. Riordan handles something that could be really disturbing — the rape and murder of multiple young women — with sensitivity; the book never crosses over into the truly graphic, which makes it go down easier. First and foremost is saving Tres and Ralph, and by extension, Ralph’s wife and year-old daughter.

As for the mystery: I kind of figured it out halfway through, but only one part of it. There’s a really nice twist in the very last chapter, one that was surprising, but made sense given the characters and the plot.

Very satisfying.

by F. Scott Fitzgerald
ages: adult
First sentence: “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.”
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Ah Gatsby.

I fell for this book sometime in high school during my jazz phase. I don’t remember what it was about the book that captured my fancy; I just remember loving it. However, after using it as a basis for a paper in my class on the history of jazz my freshman year of college, I haven’t opened the book.

Enter John Green and the Nerdfighters. They’re doing a read-along of the book this summer, and while I may not actively participate in the discussion (though I did enjoy John’s first video on the book), I decided I would at least give The Great Gatsby another try to see if it held up over the years.

And it did. I’m not sure I was as enamored over it as I was in high school. Upon rereading, I think what I liked was the feel of the book. It captures the feel of the jazz age — the aimlessness, loneliness after the first World War, and yet the desire to distance oneself from anything destructive — so perfectly. I was caught up again in their mediocre lives of desperation, indulging in the reminder that being rich does not solve any problems, and may only serve to create more. It was also a reminder, this time around, that the past should stay in the past, that any desire to relive it will just end in pain for everyone.

I find the writing lyrical, and the story beautiful in it’s desperation. A true American classic.