by Baroness Orczy
ages: adult(ish)
First sentence: “A surging, seething, murmuring crowd, of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate.”
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I’ve heard about this book for years. YEARS, I tell you. From people who love it mostly; I don’t remember hearing much bad about the book. And so, when finally given the push to pick it up and read it (for the in-person book group), I was quite intrigued, to say the least.

Thankfully, I’d been forewarned about the first few chapters; had I not been, I’d have thrown in the towel. As far as gripping beginnings go, this one is terrible. Horrid. Confusing and distracting, it’s supposed to set the mood, but doesn’t really do much for the story. Sure, I get that the Baroness was trying to emulate the novels of the time period (it’s set in 1792), but it was a really, really bad way to get one into an adventure/mystery novel.

Once we settled on Lady Marguerite Blakeney and her husband, the foppish Sir Percy, the story picks up. For those of you who haven’t read it (people tell you they love the book, but they never tell you what it’s about!), it’s the middle of the French revolution, and about a year int’ Marguerite’s, who’s French, and Percy’s marriage. There’s been a bit of an estrangement between them ever since it came out that Marguerite inadvertently said something which sent a couple of nobles to the guillotine. On top of that, she’s incredibly clever and fashionable and Sir Percy is, well…. not. In the backdrop of all this, the folk hero The Scarlet Pimpernel has been, under the cover of night (and under French police chief — I think; I was never quite sure — Chauvelin’s nose) rescuing and transporting condemned French nobles to the relative safety of English shores. This infuriates Chauvelin, of course, who sets out — blackmailing Marguerite along the way — to discover the identity of The Scarlet Pimpernel and get Rid of Him Once and For All.

Not a bad bit of plot, there; except that it seemed to go everywhere and nowhere at once. It seemed that the world was so populated with people flitting in and out that, while it felt busy and it felt like things were progressing, it never gave anyone a chance to really shine as a character. There are pages and pages of nothing, until the book’s nearly over when we finally figure out (called it!) who the Scarlet Pimpernel is and the adventure part begins. Except, since we’re seeing it through Marguerite’s eyes, it never really goes anywhere either. Speaking of Marguerite, there was a lot of hysterical clinging and wishing and crying on her part, which got old quite quickly. And, in the end, the real point of the plot was not really to figure out the Scarlet Pimpernel, or to criticize the French Revolution, but rather a simple love story: to reunite Percy and Marguerite.

Which is okay, I guess. It just didn’t work as well for me as I had hoped.

Defend Yourself When the Lawn Warriors Strike (and They Will)
by Chuck Sambuchino
ages: adult
First sentence: “Keep reading if you want to live.”
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You know you have that zombie invasion handbook sitting on your bookshelf. (Or maybe it’s hidden in your personal safe?) But really, zombie invasion? That’s so not happening. The real threat? Those stupid garden gnomes you have in your yard (or if not you, your neighbors). (Yes, I do have one in my backyard, thankyouverymuch.) Thankfully, Chuck Sambuchino has done the research necessary to help you protect yourself (and your friends and neighbors, should you choose to share).

I found this one through Whimpulsive, and knew I had to find a copy for myself. It sounded so hilarious. And in many ways– mostly because it reads like a 1950s bomb shelter advert — it was hilariously funny. There are instructions, illustrated with pictures of gnomes in various attack modes (too funny!), on how to asses the risk of attack and protect and defend oneself against the homicidal maniacs. It’s too far-fetched to even remotely be realistic, but, it also takes itself seriously enough that I could sense myself almost being convinced: yes, I do need to fortify my house! Then I’d do a double-take: it’s only silliness. Ah, the power of propaganda.

At the very least, it’s a fun way to spend an hour. I think I’m going to go check my garden gnome now, though. Just in case.

by Betty Smith
ages: adult
First sentence: “Serene was a word you can put to Brooklyn, New York.”
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I’ve heard about this book for years, mostly from people who absolutely love it. So, while I knew next to nothing about this going in, I did know it was beloved by many, many people whose opinions I respect.

Happily, it lived up to my expectations. As the Anna Quindlen pointed out in the forward, this book is both about nothing and about everything. It’s so hard to summarize: how do you take a childhood and distill it down into a few pithy sentences? It’s semi-autobiographical, Betty Smith’s childhood was probably not unlike that of her main character, Francie Nolan. It’s a childhood in Brooklyn, New York; but it’s not a glorified childhood: Smith holds nothing back. There’s poverty, discrimination, abuse, drunkenness, attempted rape, murder, death. It’s life, in all its griminess, for all to see. And yet, for all that, it’s not depressing.

In fact, while I hesitate to call it lyrical, it is thoughtful and very evocative, of both a life and a place and a time. There were parts to make me laugh, parts to make me think, and while I think it kind of petered out at the end, it petered out in a hopeful note (I was actually very happy there wasn’t an epilogue; that would have killed the book entirely). I found it to be a very touching portrait of a life, and now I understand what everyone is talking about.

by Philippa Gregory
ages: adult
First sentence: “My father is Sir Richard Woodville, Baron Rivers, an English nobleman, a landholder, and a supporter of the true Kings of England, the Lancastrian line.”
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I have to admit, first off, that I picked this book up after the Cybils on purpose. I wanted something sweeping, something grand, something intricate, and yes, something slightly skanky.

I got two of the four, plus lots of fighting, scheming and plotting, so I’m not disappointed.

Gregory takes leave of the Tudors (oh, how we all love them), and turns her more than capable gaze to the family that preceded them: the Plantangents. Since I knew absolutely nothing about them, historically speaking, I was starting from scratch. The White Queen is the story of Elizabeth Woodville, a widow whose husband fought against Edward of York, and who fell in love with Edward after meeting him to appeal the loss of her lands to her former mother-in-law. They eventually marry, in secret, and when Edward finally fights his way to the kingship, she becomes queen. It’s not a pretty book, or a simple one. There’s a huge cast of characters, and it’s full of intricate plotting and planning and fighting and twisting. There’s no such thing as real loyalty; it’s every man, and every woman out for him/herself. And, at the center of every twist and turn, is Elizabeth.

All this twisting and turning has both its pros and cons. It’s good because it keeps the 400 page book moving, and the reader guessing: what is going to happen next, and where on earth is all this going? There’s enough plotting and backstabbing and turncoating in the book to entertain just about anyone. But, there’s also enough to confuse one, too. I kept flipping back to the beginning where there was a family tree, but it didn’t do much to keep everyone straight in my head. Neither did the Author’s Note at the end, though that at least provided some fascinating historical detail. In the end, I had to put aside all my questions of who, what and where and just throw myself into the novel.

Which worked for a while. But, around two-thirds of the way through, about the time that King Edward dies, it all fell apart for me. The mystery of the missing princes that the jacket flap promised, and that sounded so intriguing, was almost an afterthought to the novel. Things unraveled for Elizabeth, as queen, as a person, and yet, somehow, the book kept going. Until, finally, it just stopped. Which, of course, leaves room open for sequels. It’s not a “to be continued”, but it’s only just short of that.

It’s not as tight as some of Gregory’s other books, but there’s much of what her fans have come to love from her in the book. Even if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I did enjoy much of it. There’s just something about the scheming and plotting of the English royalty that makes for a good story. And, at the very least, this was that.

by Marina Lewycka
ages: adult
First sentence: “Two years after my mother died, my father fell in love with a glamorous blond Ukrainian divorcee.”
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I really wanted to like this book. I’d heard good things about it, or at the very least okayish things. I picked it up at a Friends of the Library sale back in June, I think, and it’s been languishing on my TBR pile since then. I just really couldn’t get excited by the cover. Or the title. Or the back blurb. In fact, if it hadn’t have been one I’d chosen for the 2010 Challenge, I probably would have passed on it altogether.

As it turns out, I’m pretty much passing on it anyway. After one hundred pages, I was still wondering what the point was. I threw a feeler out on Twitter, and SuziQ at Whimpulsive bit: she said it was weird. And I had to agree.

The basic plot: two sisters, daughters of Ukrainian immigrants, are feuding after their mother’s death. Then their 84-year-old father falls in love (or lust), with a blond, 36-year-old Ukrainian divorcee (perhaps; I never could quite figure out if she really was) who’s using him to gain citizenship to the UK. This, of course, leads to tension between the dad and the daughters, which, interestingly enough, manages, in the end, to bring the family back together. Or, so I gathered.

See, I didn’t finish it really. I read the first 100 pages or so, then flitted about a bit, and then read the last 50. And I wasn’t impressed. I didn’t like the characters, didn’t sympathize with them (differing life situations, and I just wasn’t interested in their whining and moaning), and I was bored by the book. I have wondered, off and on, if too much YA has spoiled me for adult fiction; the pace was glacially slow; I kept wondering how on earth Lerwycka was going to fill 300 pages. Was there really that much story? I’m not sure there was.

But, obviously, I’m missing something here; it’s one of those that was nominated for a Man Booker Prize. And, obviously, I have different expectations from books than those who are on the Man Booker Prize committee.

Can’t say I’m too sorry about that.

by Oscar Wilde
ages: adult
First sentence: “Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?”
I’d tell you to go buy it, but you can get this one online for free.

I really don’t have much idea what to say here. I’ve been a fan of the play for ages: my mom had a copy of a BBC production while I was growing up, and I remember watching and finding it hilarious. And I own the Colin Firth/Rupert Everett version which still makes me laugh. Judi Dench is so fabulous as Lady Bracknell.

So, I don’t really know what I expected to get out of reading the play, if I expected anything. I guess I was kind of curious to see how the movie version held up to the actual play, and I also figured since I loved it so much I should actually read the play. That, and I have decided that I really like Wilde’s writing. So, I wanted to read more of him.

And, the long and short of it: I like it better performed. That shouldn’t have come as a surprise; I have a terrible track record reading Shakespeare, and I don’t see why any play should be different. The lines weren’t as funny, the silliness of it all came off as banal rather than hilarious. I’m terrible at reading inflection and timing; I need narration. And while I enjoyed it, I didn’t love it like I love the movie. I did find out (and it’s to be expected) that the movie does take some liberties with the play, giving Lady Bracknell a past, and switching the ages of Jack and Algy around as examples, it’s really quite faithful to the original.

The play itself is a delightful spoof on Victorian England, on class restrictions, and on love in general. No matter how you get it, whether reading or watching, it’s quite worth your time.