Laura mentioned she liked this one a while back; I looked for the specific post, but granted not very hard, so I didn’t find what excatly she wrote about it that led me to check it out. At any rate, I’m glad I did. It’s a beautiful, simple book. There really isn’t much to say about it: it’s a fictional (based on one of the author, Nancy Taylor’s, ancestors) journal of a woman, Sarah Prine, from 1881 to 1901. There isn’t anything really remarkable about the story; it’s just her jottings from life. Yet, she is one remarkable woman. She is honest, just, fair, hard-working, admirable in just about every way. And yet, she isn’t lofty or unreachable. Sarah is a woman I’d love to know and spend time with. And I was with her through all her trials, her marriages (she was married twice; her first husband died!) and loves and births and deaths. And I admire a writer who can capture that.

Books like this are wonderful for the soul.

This was another one of my Chinaberry reads. I guess I was in the mood for some historical fiction, and (surprisingly — I never cease to be amazed) our library had this one by Phillipa Gregory.

It’s set in 16th century England — the time of Queen Mary and Elizabeth vying for the throne. The main character is a girl, Hannah, who also happens to be a Jew (running, with her father, from the Inquisition in Spain) who has the Sight — she can see visions of things to come. She, mostly inadvertently, gets involved with Lord Robert Dudley, who begs her off as a fool to King Edward before he dies. From there, she becomes a companion/servant/fool to Queen Mary and from there a companion to Princess Elizabeth. You see Hannah grow up over the years — following her relationships not only with her masters, but with her betrothed (an arranged marriage). She’s an incredibly sympathetic character, traditional enough to make her fit into the time period, but modern enough to relate to her and her plights and predicaments.

I think I liked this book solely because of Hannah; there weren’t many other sympathetic characters in the book (many interesting ones, though). It’s not a pretty book. It could have very easily gone the way of the train wreck — everyone just falling apart and it’s not very enjoyable to watch. Gregory doesn’t spare the details of life, war, the purging of heretics, tragedy, sex, gossip, animosity, and love/lust at this time. However, she does it in a way which actually adds to the book and makes it more believable. And all the decadence at court was a great juxtaposition to Hannah and her innocence and trust and charity.

In the end, I couldn’t put it down.

I found this one while searching for The Secret Life of Bees; it was right on the shelf where the Bee book (which I will get around to reading, someday; I’ve been meaning to for ages, so many people have talked about it, but it’s never in. I know, I know: why don’t I put a hold on it? I don’t know. ) was supposed to be.

Anyway, it’s a thin book, about two couples in Kabul under the Taliban written by Yasmina Khadra (which turns out is an alias for Mohammed Moulessehoul, who was an Algerian army officer). Sounded interesting. And it was. It’s beautifully written and very evocative. I could vividly picture an Afghan summer and the oppressive heat that mirrors the opressive actions of the Taliban. It’s a great English class image. Where the book fell short was in the characterization. Two couples — Atiq and Musarrat and Mohsen and Zunaria — are dealing with trials, life under the Taliban, and failing marriages. They both manage in different ways, and I’m not sure I got the motivations behind all their actions. Atiq was bursting with rage toward everything, but I’m not sure I understood why. Mohsen was an incompetent and confused. He was a bit easier to understand, but I’m not sure if I fully grasped the meaning of his actions. Zunaria was full of suppressed anger towards the Taliban and took it out on her husband. Musarrat was dying, and was, really, the only humane character in the book.

I think the author was operating on the assumption that his readers would understand more about Islam as a religion and a life than I do. Perhaps if I did know more, I would have enjoyed this book more. Still, I’m not sorry I read it.

Okay, so this book was really popular 4 years ago. And it’s been on my “list” (neverending as it is) to read for about that long. As has the movie. But with a nudge from the book group (which is why I like them), I finally got around to reading Girl With a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier. It was well worth it, too.

I have seen Vermeer’s paintings, once. Unfortunately, I was suffering from morning sickness and the gallery was over crowded (it was at the National Gallery in early 1996, right after they re-opened after the famed Government Shutdown) so I really didn’t get a really good look at them. Still, I do remember some of them.

That’s important for this book. Because it’s written like a Vermeer painting. It’s all about description and feeling and atmosphere rather than action. Usually, that turns me off… I’m a plot person. But, there’s enough here to make me want to dwell on the pages, savoring each word. Chevalier does an excellent job of describing the paintings, the process of painting (at least how she imagined it for Vermeer) and a painter’s relationship to his subject. That’s what I found myself wondering about as I finished the book, and I mean to ask my artist brother next time I see him: how does an artist look at the subject he/she paints? Is it as a person, or mainly as the form, line and color they represent for the painting? Because, in the end, it’s that relationship that drives the novel.

It really is an excellent book.

As I was reading Sarah, by Orson Scott Card, I began wondering what I really liked about Rebekah. Honestly, I couldn’t remember. I then decided I needed to be a lot more specific about what I do and don’t like about the books I read. Otherwise, it does me no good. Right?

So. I liked Sarah, but I wasn’t estatic about it. I liked the story Card wove; as seen through Card’s imagination, Abram and Sarai had an interesting life.

But, I also have problems. Because while Abram and Sarai were in an ancient surrounding, they were very modern. And, well, Mormon. It seemed to me that you could just pluck Abram and Sarai out of the book and put them into any ward as Brother and Sister so-and-so and their actions and language (from their prayers to the way they interacted with each other) wouldn’t seem out of place. It’s not that it bothered me while I was reading the book. But whenever I put it down, that’s what I dwelt on. It’s a good story. It’s also a very Mormon re-telling of the story. Though, I have to admit, that I’m quibbling with Card writing from his experience and for his audience here. Honestly, even though I found these at my library here (which I was suprised by), who else is going to read these books?

It is a good portrayal of a strong, faithful woman. Sarai was a strong woman with doubts and questions and yet is always willing to come back to her faith in God. She’s an honest and good woman, who loved her husband and was willing to stand up to and by him. And for that, I think it’s worth reading.

The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant is a very earthy book. It’s also a very, well, female book. It’s all about menstration and childbirthing and I’m not sure why any man would care to read this one. It’s not a bad book… there were some elements that I like. It’s the story of Dinah, and through her the story of Leah and Rachel and Jacob and Joseph. I liked the younger Dinah years, before things got, well, complicated. I liked that Diamant spun out a viable and interesting story to compliment the account in the Bible. I didn’t particularly like the whole pagan Mother Earth Goddess thing, but I suppose if you’re writing a book about Biblical times, the whole Mother Earth Goddess thing is going to come up. I also didn’t (and this is my Mormon theology coming out) particularly like her treatment of Jacob and Joseph. It wasn’t a great book, but it didn’t really suck either.

I’m generally an escapist reader; I tend not to read to learn. Historical fiction is a good compromise: good stories to satisfy that side of me, while I feel like I’ve “learned” something in the end.

The Great Turkey Walk and Oh, Those Harper Girls!, Kathleen Karr
Fun little books, set in Texas. I liked Turkey Walk better.

The Examination, Malcom Bosse
Perhaps it’s my interest (however vague) in China, but I really liked this book. The plot is essentially two brothers traveling to the state-run examinations. It doesn’t sound very exciting, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. It’s well-written, the history is interesting (if one was ever vaguely interested in Confucian or Taoist thought, this is a good book), and the ending is just perfect (which says a lot).

Mary, Bloody Mary, Carolyn Meyer
A good bit of historical fiction. Interesting characters, interesting plot, well told.

The King’s Fifth, Scott O’Dell
A fascinating story about Spanish explorers in America and their obsession with finding gold. Really interesting and really well-told.

When My Name was Keoko, Linda Sue Park
About Korea during World War II, while it was occupied by Japan. Not a whole lot of story, but I was fascinated by the details of life in Korea during the occupation. (Russell didn’t find it interesting at all, though.)

An Acquaintance with Darkness, Ann Rinaldi
Good historical mystery, set right after the Civil War. Deals with “body snatching” by the physicians at the time and their desire to know the anatomy of the body.

The Coffin Quilt, Ann Rinaldi
Set in the hills of West Virginia and Kentucky and looks at the Hatfield-McCoy feud in the 1880s. I didn’t know anything about this feud (though Russell had heard of it), but the book was a fascinating look on grudges, revenge and hatred and what it can do to a family.

The Outlandish Knight, Richard Adams
Interesting, though I got lost with all the detailed English History.

Alias Grace, Margaret Atwood
Fascinating story about a convicted murderer and the “reason” why she killed. Based on a real case in the 1800s.