First, a definition: Parnassusian (parnassus isn’t in my dictionary) — from the Greek parnasios; Parnassus, mountain in Greece sacred to Apollo and the Muses. Of or relating to poetry.

There. Now everyone’s learned something today.

This was a slim little nothing of a book, wrtitten in 1915 by Christopher Morely . But, it was totally enjoyable. I’m not sure I expected anything grand or life shattering; it wasn’t. The basic story: Helen McGill was completely content to live in the New England countryside baking bread (over 6,000 loaves, as she later calculates) and cooking meals for her brother. That is, until he decides to become “literary” and write a book. She gets increasingly put out with him and his escapades off to gather material for his books. So when Roger Mifflin stops by the farm with a wagon — the Parnassus — wanting to sell it to her brother, she up and buys it. And off starts her adventures. Which really aren’t life-shattering (though they are life-changing for her). It is amusing, though. And completely charming. I’ve been reading a lot of charming books lately, it seems. Not that there’s anything wrong with charming. It was actually quite refreshing to put down a book and think, “Now that was charming.” Maybe I wanted there to be something more — it did tie itself up quite nicely — but that’s quibbling.

Besides, I learned what a parnassus is.

Something about this post by Lisa made me want to read this book by Leif Enger. I went back and tried to pinpoint what it was, but couldn’t quite figure it out. Which is kind of what I felt about the book. There is something about this book, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about — people kept asking me that, and I couldn’t ever really come up with an answer. It wasn’t about anything. It just was. Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m usually a plot-driven person (I usually like my books to be about something!), but I found myself drawn into this one. And I can’t quite pinpoint why. Was it the miracles? Was it the characters? Was it the writing? Don’t know. But I did finish the book, and found myself mulling over it for a day or so after. I guess it must have been good.

So, I was happily engaged in reading the Deptford Trilogy when the libarary called and said I had a couple of inter-library loan books waiting. And since they aren’t renewable, I reluctantly pulled myself away from the Robertson Davies book and picked up this one by Kate Fenton.

And I’m glad I did. The premise: take Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and not only update it, but completely switch the roles. Mr. Darcy becomes Mary Hamilton, big-shot movie director (who, incidentally, is filming a mini-series of Pride and Prejudice). Mr. Bingly is the lead actress Candia Mayhew. Lizzy is Nick Brevan, a witty, slovenly, novelist down on his luck. And Jane is Nick’s ex-brother-in-law John Simmonds: handsome, poor, yet with a heart of gold. And the rest of the characters were there: from Wickham and Lydia to Charlotte and Mr. Collins (even Lady DeBerg) and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Sounds trite? It could have been.

Aside from the language (I probably shouldn’t complain so much about the excessive use of the f-word in adult novels, but after a while it does grate on me. And I think it’s unecessary…), it was a funny, engaging and thoroughly enjoyable. Fenton did a good job updating the characters and situations and keeping it fresh while also keeping the spirit and the basic outline of the original. For one who loves the original, it was a lot of fun seeing how everything unfolded (even though I knew exactly what was going to happen).

In the end, it was worth the time away from the Davies book.

Admittedly, I am not a huge fan of crictics’ darlings, or even “English Lit” books. I keep trying, though, to broaden my horizons, guilting myself into checking out and reading various classics or critically acclaimed books. And every once in a while, I surprise myself by actually liking the book.

This was one of those times. I hadn’t even ever heard of A.S. Byatt (male or female?) or the book (hey, wasn’t that a movie with Gwyneth Paltrow?) until Laura recommended this one to me. It was slow going at first — I mean, really how much do I want to know about English PhDs in the late 1980s — but as the story progressed, I found myself more and more intrigued and involved in the story. I admit that I skipped most of the poetry (and probably missed out on some plot points, but I survived), but I read and enjoyed the letters, and honestly loved the feeling of discovery and chase. (Look: it’s a thriller for English Lit geeks! My husband commented one night, “Didn’t she kind of make English PhDs look cool?” Well, um, yeah.) Maybe it’s the journalist in me; maybe it’s a buried family historian. I don’t know. But I loved that Roland and Maud were discovering hidden secrets and stories. And I didn’t even mind the twist ending, or the three flashback chapters, though perhaps I would have preferred it all be discovered through the letters.

Granted, it’s not a perfect book in my opinion: too long, too many poems, too many minor characters (that really didn’t DO anything in the end). But, I’d say it was worth the time spent reading it.

Julie, who has read (by her own admission) most everything Orson Scott Card has written, was appropriately shocked when I had no idea what Basilica was when she mentioned it in a comment a while back. After informing me it was the city in Memory of Earth, she “assigned” me to read it, hopefully before we met up for not-coffee in Ann Arbor last weekend. Well, I didn’t quite make the deadline, but I did read it.

My first reaction on picking up the book was: “Oh, yeah, this one.” I was in college when it came out and I remember when it hit the bookstore. I took one look at the book jacket, and was put off by Card’s blatant stealing of the Nephi story in the Book of Mormon. I didn’t want to give it the time of day; the man plagerized scripture (or what I believe to be scripture) after all.

Now, though, I’m glad I was encouraged to give it a chance. Yes, the plot for any good, church-going, scripture-reading, LDS member is completely predictable. I knew what was going to happen, especially as the book got going. That said, the way Card adapted and fleshed out the story was completely fascinating. Basilica is truly a fascinating place; what city that has existed for 40 million years (my mind can’t even begin to wrap itself around that one) isn’t? But beyond that, I found that the motivations for Elemak and Mebbekew to be completly believable; no longer are they just punk, bullying older brothers. And Nafai’s whole “conversion” process is understandable. Of course he would have questions and doubts. Okay, there were some weak spots (aside from the obvious plot hangups) and Card did spend a lot of time on probably needless details. And Gaballufix wasn’t excatly totally believeable as a bad guy. But overall, it was a decent read. I haven’t decided, though, whether to read the others or not.

I had three reactions to the book: the first section depressed me; the second enraged me; and I was resigned to the fate of these women by the end of the third. What a book.

So. The story: three different women (the Mrs. Kimbles) marry, in succession (not at the same time; that might have provided some interesting plot points), a man who is, by all counts: a pig, a jerk, a liar, a manipulator, and a crook. I suppose the real draw of the book is figuring out why all these women marry this guy. I wasn’t impressed. The first wife drank herself into oblivion after Mr. Kimble left her. She couldn’t hold a job, she couldn’t remember to buy food, and the biggest crime in my book, she couldn’t remember that she had kids to take care of, and therefore a reason to get going in the morning. I felt depressed and repulsed by this character. I know I’m supposed to be on the woman’s side, because the guy was a jerk — he had an affair and left her for the other woman — but how can I be if she’s so despicable?

Second wife wasn’t much better. She convinced herself that he was a Jew (he wasn’t), and married him. Fell for all his tricks because she was suffering in silence from a mastectomy and was vulnerable. She thought he loved her and she loved him for that. Okay so far. Then she up and convinces him to kidnap his kids. WHAT? Thankfully, she dies pretty quick of breast cancer so he can inherit her millions and go on to his third wife.

The third wife was the only one that I actually felt sympathy for. She was the babysitter for him and his first wife and had a crush on him. Anyway, they cross paths, he pays for surgery to correct her major facial birthmark, they get married. But, she’s the only one not to have any delusions about him, at least after 15 years of marriage (Why did he stay wtih her that long?? No answer.). She’s the one who has an affair (though I assume he’s had ones, too), and in the end, she manages to hold on to her life and even make it a happier one, after he does the predictable thing and bolts.

Honestly, I would have never read this book if it wasn’t for the book group. I don’t go in for the divorced/men-are-pigs/women can’t seem to get on with their lives/Oprah-self-help books. I don’t enjoy the feeling of “well, at least I’ve got it together” once I finish a book. So, I’m not exactly happy I read this one. Thankfully, it was a quick read so I didn’t have to spend too much of my time involved with these people.

As a general rule, I like science fiction. Really. So I was quite excited to read an Ursula Le Guin book for the first selection in our book group. And I wasn’t (entirely) disappointed. The premise is great: you’re sitting in an airport, bored stiff (the first chapter about time in airports is great. There’s this wonderful line: “In this, probably its true aspect, the airport is not a prelude to travel, not a place of transition: it is a stop. A blockage.” So true.) and you realize that you can slip to another plane and visit other worlds. Wow. Fascinating. Fabulous.

But from there, the book isn’t consistent. It’s a series of short stories from the various planes the “author” visits, or has had friends visit. Some — like “The Silence of the Asonu” (a planet where the adults never speak); “Seasons of the Ansarac” (a bird-people who used to migrate north in the winter, but technology introduced convinced them to stop for a time); “Great Joy” (about the exploitation of a plane for the use of Americans as a permanent Christmas Island — great holiday descriptions!); and “The Fliers of Gy” (bird-people, again, this time some who grow wings and either choose to fly or choose to stay grounded) are wonderful. Others are just plain weird. Some, because I think I was trying to hard to “get” the social commentary (especially in “Woeful Tales from Mahigul” — a series of depressing tales from a land that has seen much violence and conquering and “The Building” — a people who travel for days to build a building they don’t ever plan on living in). Others I didn’t like because I just didn’t like the story all that much (“Wake Island” — they breed people who don’t sleep, much too disturbing; and “The Royals of Hegn” — everyone’s royalty and they’re obsessed with the one non-royal family the way we’re obsessed with celebrity. Got the point, but it was a bit crass for my taste) And I just didn’t get the last story “Confusions of Uni” at all. Where was it trying to go?? If someone could explain it to me, I’d appreciate it.

I’ve had a bumpy “relationship” with Le Guin, liking some of her works, and disliking others. She never does write what I “expect” as a reader, but then perhaps that’s why she’s considered a great writer. Otherwise, she’d be predictable and boring.

Sorry this is longer than usual; the book group doesn’t meet until October 20th, and I want to remember what I thought. 🙂