The End

You have probably noticed that I haven't been able to update this blog with much regularity. It hasn't been as successful as I would like and I have decided to focus my time and energy on other pursuits. I appreciate your loyalty and hope you will follow my other blog, Gardening Upstream, which is enjoying a great deal of growing success. Thank you friends and followers!

-Madeline

"Tess of the D'Urbervilles" by Thomas Hardy

Review by Madeline Salmon

"The corpses of those old fitful passions which had lain inanimate amid the lines of his face ever since his reformation seemed to wake and come together as in a resurrection."

Sentences like this fill Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles, the crowning achievement of an author who began and ended his career as a poet. They make for arduous but rich reading. This is the first caution I will give in regard to Tess: Don't expect the story to unfold quickly. Depending on your point of view, you will either slog through page after page of scene setting and flowery language, or you will let Hardy transport you to the agricultural fields of Wessex and immerse you in the most beautiful use of the English language since William Shakespeare. If you can't tell, my opinion falls on the latter end of the spectrum.

My second warning is this: Tess is a story without joy. I think Hardy invented angst before it was cool. At least he had the decency to set the tone early in a conversation between the heroine and her younger brother:

"'Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?'

'Yes.'

'All like ours?'

'I don't know; but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound--a few blighted.'

'Which do we live on--a splendid one or a blighted one?'

"A blighted one.'"

If you like a story told with poetry and you can bear the sadness, Tess of the D'Urbervilles is a work of beauty.

"Listening Woman" by Tony Hillerman

Review by Madeline Salmon

My greatest concern about reading a series is always that the stories will all be the same. When I was eight and reading The Boxcar Children, I accepted and even enjoyed this predictability, but I'm jaded and less easily satisfied now. How will the same author, dealing with the same protagonist and the same setting, craft an original story?

This is my second Tony Hillerman novel, though it's the third in his Navajo mystery series. Don't read anything into my skipping Dance Hall of the Dead, which comes after the debut of the series, The Blessing Way (you can read my review of that one here). My source for these books is my mom's bookshelf and for whatever reason she doesn't have Dance Hall. It seemed like far too much work to go to the library and get it when there were already 16 others to choose from, so I decided I could live without it, despite its 1973 Edgar Award for Best Novel.

But this review is not about Dance Hall of the Dead, it's about Listening Woman. I'm happy to say that Listening Woman is even more suspenseful than The Blessing Way and except for Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn's fascinating detective skills and the marvelous desert setting, the two novels have very little in common. And Listening Woman is never predictable. Even though I knew there was a whole shelf full of books about Joe Leaphorn in the other room, I wasn't always entirely sure he would make it to the end of this one alive.

"Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" by Jules Verne

Review by Madeline Salmon

Legend has it that an eleven-year-old Jules Verne ran away from his Nantes, France home, stowing away on a ship bound for the West Indies, and was caught by his father awaiting him at the next port.
Thereafter he promised his mother he would only imagine traveling. I wonder if his mother had any notion of the imagination her son was brewing.

In Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, questions abound: Who is Captain Nemo? What price is revenge worth? Which is more valuable to the human soul, freedom or learning? These questions, along with the marvelous setting of the vast oceans that are only slightly less mysterious to us today than they were to Verne and his contemporaries, drive a rich and compelling narrative.

If you're the kind of reader who needs a shark attack or underwater fistfight on every other page, this is not the story for you, but it is more thick with action and suspense than almost any other novel I've read from the era (it was written in 1869).  It is particularly delightful if you can place yourself into the mind of a reader from that time period--someone who, if he or she were wealthy, would have traveled on the sea perhaps a handful of times, and could only have wondered at the world beneath its surface.

*Please see my comment on this review if you are interested in a note on the translation.

"The Mad Farmer Poems" by Wendell Berry

Review by Madeline Salmon

Wendell Berry's collection of 19 poems about how to live simply in a society increasingly tainted by technology and politics takes some getting used to. The poems are, after all, narrated by a farmer a few kernels short of a corncob.

At first I could only find myself thinking, What's his angle? And while I noticed moments of beauty in the first few poems, the mundane moments and sights he chose to celebrate weren't quite enough for me.

But as I read on in The Mad Farmer Poems I found myself swept up in those earthly glories, and seeing them, at least for a moment, through the Farmer's eyes. By the end of the brief book I longed to cut myself off from the world as we know it and live isolated from technology and bureaucracy--"to be a true human being," in the Farmer's words. And even as I longed to be a true human being I ached with the knowledge that I never would be, because even the Farmer acknowledges that it is no longer possible, not with the complexity and globalization of this world we live in, and not with the comforts I have come to depend on.

The Farmer certainly does have an angle, presumably the angle of Berry himself: don't let the politicos and marketers control you. "Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing." It wasn't difficult to succumb to the ravings of this lunatic, which are much more pleasant than the rants one might encounter in any given media outlet. And the Farmer's goal is honorable:

"My purpose is a language that can make us whole,

though mortal, ignorant, and small.

The world is whole beyond human knowing."

"The Blessing Way" by Tony Hillerman

Review by Madeline Salmon 

I have read just a handful of mysteries in my lifetime. I've always been under some bizarre impression that I shouldn't waste my time with them when I have more important books to read. But recently I've decided that, God willing, I have a long life ahead of me filled with thousands of books and reading a few mysteries won't set me back too far. And I've always known that if I read any mysteries in substantial numbers they would be by Tony Hillerman or Agatha Christie. I chose to start with Hillerman.

The Blessing Way is the first of Hillerman's Navajo mysteries, the series for which he is most remembered. Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn must balance his love and respect for the ways of The People with his duty to the law. And he must wrestle with the fact that all signs point to a murder committed by witchcraft, something he may or may not believe in. This is the great draw of the story--I doubt many other mysteries feature a culture the way Hillerman portrays Navajo life, which really functions as a shadowy character on its own, always present and always influencing every decision and action the characters make.

Of course I expected Hillerman's mastery of suspense (he wouldn't have gotten very far in the mystery genre without it), but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that he is also a remarkably gifted writer.  He has not just written a plot that drives the suspense forward but has actually crafted a compelling story, not to mention characters that are as believable and well-rounded as in any "real" novel.

Eighteen books comprise the Navajo mystery series, and while I may not read every one, I certainly enjoyed The Blessing Way and look forward to continuing the series, even if it means saving some Charles Dickens and Wallace Stegner for another time.

"Between Shades of Grey" by Ruta Sepetys

Review by Susan Simonton

Night, 1941, Vilnius, Lithuania, fists pounding on the door, mother calling everyone to pack everything they can and come downstairs. Fifteen year old Lina, still in her nightgown, grabs her drawing pad, helps her little brother and hurries down stairs. Her mother is breaking all the china and glassware in the dining room.

“I’ll leave nothing for them.”

And so mother, Jonas and Lina are taken by the Soviet troops, loaded into cattle cars with many others. The old, the sick, a woman, bleeding, who had just given birth, children all crammed together in a railroad car labeled “Thieves and prostitutes.”

Thus begins a long journey across Russia to Siberia and the forced labor camps and finally to the Laptev Sea in the Arctic circle. A journey of hardship and sorrow but finally, hope.

Between Shades of Grey is listed in the library as Teen Fiction, but it is a good read for anyone — a good story, a piece of history, knowledge of which few of us have any idea, and a young survivor at the heart of it.

The author is the daughter of a Lithuanian refugee. She carefully researched the events in the story with survivors in Lithuania. 

"To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee

Review by Madeline Salmon
What is there to say that hasn't already been said about one of the best books ever written?

I could tell you what To Kill a Mockingbird is about if you haven't read it: growing up, prejudice in its many forms, sibling relationships, childhood adventures, the American legal system, discovering that our parents are real people,  learning how to live in a world that is not quite as it should be.

This isn't getting us anywhere.

Maybe I'll just tell you why I love it so much. I first read it for school in ninth grade and have been longing to reread it ever since. It's the kind of book you want kids to read and then pick up again when they're old enough to get even more out of it.

To begin with, there's Harper Lee's loving and honest portrayal of her characters. One would never doubt that Scout, Jem, and Dill are real children. And to some extent, they are. It seems that the story may have strong autobiographical elements, with Scout based on Lee herself and Dill based on her childhood friend Truman Capote. And the relationship between Scout and her older brother Jem is lovely and true without being sentimental.

The story itself holds us in thrall, too. It starts off easy enough, with the children's Boo Radley adventures, but becomes more sinister as their attorney father Atticus is called upon to defend a black man accused of raping a white woman. Scout and Jem have a lot to learn about the ugliness and the greatness of people, and so do we.

And then there's Atticus. I do not kid when I say that his courtroom speech should be required reading for everyone serving on a jury. I could hurl all sorts of great Atticus quotes at you. Probably the most popular is this one: "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." But my favorite is when he's talking to Jem about Mrs. Dubose, an old woman made mean from chronic pain and illness. Before she died she wanted to defeat her morphine addiction so that she could die "beholden to nothing and nobody." Atticus was always kind to her even though she cursed him for defending a black man. Jem can't understand Atticus' respect for Mrs. Dubose and why he made Jem read to her when she was ill. Atticus says, "She had her own views about things, a lot different from mine, maybe...I wanted you to see something about her--I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do." If all the lawyers in the world had a smidgeon of Atticus' integrity, we might be living in something approaching a utopia. No, scratch lawyers. Fathers.

But Scout may get to speak the wisest words of the book. Jem is trying to figure out the different classes of people in their town of Maycomb, Alabama, and he has it down to four: the white collar folks, the blue collar folks, the white trash, and the black people (these are my own terms because Jem's don't make sense without reading the book). Scout thinks Jem is just acting too wise for his own good and responds, "Naw, Jem, I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks."

What a thought.

"A Short History of Nearly Everything" by Bill Bryson

 Review by Madeline Salmon

 I'm bending my own rules by reviewing this national bestseller from 2003, but I think enough years have passed since the publication of Bill Bryson's fascinating and charming tale of our universe.

In A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bryson undertakes a feat just as monumental as the book's title suggests. He takes us on a tour of all the major scientific fields, from geology to physics to chemistry to astronomy to biology. What he doesn't do is bore us.

Bryson's real stroke of genius is his decision to tell the story of science through the history of how it was discovered. Rather than telling us just how gravity works, for example, he tells us the story of its discovery as a force, and along the way we learn that Edmond Halley did almost everything except discover the comet that's named after him, and Sir Isaac Newton was absolutely mental and believed in alchemy as fervently as science. Only Bryson would have the patience and wit to find and relate such details as geology giant Charles Lyell's habit of taking up such strange positions in furniture that his colleagues worried about him.

The first part of the book (including the sections on astronomy, geology, paleontology, and physics) is the best. I didn't love Bryson's lengthy account of biology, although I could just be sick of the subject, having reluctantly majored in it. But I also think the characters just aren't as interesting. The characters (I shouldn't call them that--they're real people, though it's hard to remember at times) are the real reason to read A Short History of Nearly Everything. The book says much more about people than it does about science, whether that was Bryson's intention or not.

That doesn't mean to say I didn't learn any science--I did, but most of what I learned tells me that it's more fluid than we like to think. It's amazing that a nine-year-old book can be dated, but the world of science moves quickly. Bryson discusses Pluto as a planet (I mourned in silence for the lost little space rock of my youth as I read those passages) and there are probably other obsolete references, but since this is a general overview of science and not a detailed review of any one field, I think most of the information is safe to believe. Just remember, though: if Bryson's great-to-the-ninth-power-grandchild writes a similar book in another millennium, they'll all be laughing at the things we held as gospel truth.

Don't let the scientific jargon or the high page count turn you off of this book. It's a fun read from cover to cover, and it will teach you something, whether you stopped taking science after ninth grade principles of biology or you have a doctorate in particle physics.

"Affinity" by Sarah Waters

Review by Kara Erstad

Sarah Waters’ Affinity makes for a great weekend read. Once you start reading this passionate love story, it’s hard to put down.

In late 19th century London, Margaret Prior begins writing in a journal of her visits to Millbank Prison. There she meets and is immediately drawn to one particular prisoner, Selina Dawes, a medium convicted of fraud and assault. Selina is, in turn, drawn to Margaret and begins to form a unique bond with her, sending Margaret gifts and tokens as a show of her true power as a medium.

Margaret’s past slowly unfolds in her journal entries, bringing to light her own transgressions and former troubles. This book is unique in that it addresses lesbian relationships prior to the 20th century. Margaret not only develops a romantic relationship with Selina, she has also had a female partner in the past and has been “outed.” There’s not a lot of fiction out there that brings this topic to light in such a casual manner. 

As my second read by Sarah Waters (I read Fingersmith, which I would also recommend), I should have been wary of unexpected twists and turns in the story. But I was again deceived and felt betrayed at the end of this book. Upon reading books by Waters I have often found myself thinking “Did she really just do that?”

I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to read a sensuous love story set in another time and place. Don’t read this book if you aren’t prepared to be thrown off your guard. Be ready for anything.

"A Wind in the Door" by Madeleine L'Engle

 Review by Madeline Salmon

 I couldn't read A Wrinkle in Time without reading its even better sequel, A Wind in the Door. This time Meg has to save her dying brother Charles Wallace with the help of an odd assortment of companions, the most loathsome of whom is her former principal Mr. Jenkins.

I'm not sure why I like A Wind in the Door better than its more famous companion. The story is probably not quite as nail-biting and may even be more difficult to wrap your mind around. But it reaches depths few young adult books dare to explore. Madeleine L'Engle never shies from topics like God, responsibility, and love in all its forms. As you might have guessed, love will once again save the day, but not in the way you'd expect. Meg and her friends have to learn that the love that doesn't come easily is the kind that's most important.

L'Engle also has a gift for seamlessly weaving together such disparate topics as math and music, biology and poetry, the factual and the metaphysical. I can't say much lest I give anything away, but the climax scene of A Wind in the Door is one of her best examples of this.

The rest of the books in the Time quintet don't do much for me. They're enjoyable once through, certainly, but it's the first two that I come back to time and again. In a world of young adult fiction with a lot of shimmer and not much substance, A Wrinkle in Time and A Wind in the Door stand out as rich and compelling alternatives.

"A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'Engle

Review by Madeline Salmon
This was my third time reading Madeleine L'Engle's classic story of interplanetary adventure. I picked it up again because I was going to see a stage production of A Wrinkle in Time and I thought it would be fun to compare the book to the play. Oddly enough I didn't read it for the first time until I was 16, which is beyond its target age group. Even in the height of my snotty, incredulous teenage years, it enthralled me, as it still does today.

 I have heard the story described by someone who didn't much like it as L'Engle throwing every sci-fi/fantasy idea that struck her fancy into a microwave and zapping it into a book. I actually buy that description. On the quest for their missing father, Meg and Charles Wallace, along with their friend Calvin, encounter bizarre but friendly aliens, stars with souls, and the haunting villain IT. IT is remarkably simple in ITs form and what IT means to accomplish, but IT never fails to creep me out. (Aren't you getting a little nervous just reading about IT?)

I will admit that L'Engle--who is possibly my favorite author--has her flaws, and the Time series is actually not my favorite of hers (I prefer the Austin series). But I admire A Wrinkle in Time tremendously. I rarely reread books. The fact that I've read it three times and have been on the edge of my seat each time says a lot. She really does weave a crazy story together and make it work.

The main element I love is L'Engle's characterizations. Meg, the protagonist, is a prime example. There is nothing lovable about Meg. She's whiny, short-tempered, and not even pretty (or at least she doesn't think so). You get the impression that she'd be just fine when she's at her best, but you only ever see her in dicey situations, when she's sad and afraid. But in spite of all this, even though Meg is decidedly not lovable, we love her. L'Engle crafts her characters so well that they are supremely real--albeit infinitely quirky--and we love them for their gifts and their flaws. And it turns out that love just might be what can save them from the clutches of IT.

"The Spanish Pearl" by Catherine Friend

Review by Caroline Beattie
I'm wary of romance books, particularly historical ones. I can't get past poor language, obvious plot points, and little-researched settings. However, sometimes I really want a read that's light and fun. I don't finish books I'm not into, so my bookshelves are full of half-read novels that fit "light and fun" but fall short of satisfying my qualifications for good writing.

I'm happy to report that The Spanish Pearl by Catherine Friend was refreshingly well-written and enjoyable. 

Kate Vincent and her partner, Anna, travel to Spain to adopt a son. The morning of the adoption, Kate explores a nearby cave and ends up being transported to 1085, when Spain was overrun by fighting between Muslims and Christians. She falls in with the band of the legendary El Cid who take her to a nearby Moorish palace where she stays in the harem. Of course there's a love interest--the dashing Luis Navarro who isn't what he seems. The back of the book states this and it isn't that hard to figure out his secret, though you have to wait awhile for it to be revealed. Kate has to choose between going back to the modern day or staying in the past with Luis and all the perils of 11th century Spain.

There were a couple of obvious turns and the book could have used a good copy editor, but overall the writing was rich and painted a vivid portrait of the times. The things that I saw coming didn't detract from the reading--I didn't become impatient with Kate to figure out what I already knew, which too often happens with leading ladies in romance. Kate was overall likeable and relatable. She's a multidimensional character, sometimes damsel in distress but more often an independent woman finding her way in an unfamiliar world. The book isn't solely about her love affair with Luis but also her friendships with other women in the harem and the start of an independent painting business. Plus, the treatment of Luis' secret (once out to Kate) was brilliant.

I picked up the book because I've really been longing to go back to Spain. I was pleasantly shocked to find a novel about Moorish Spain--with lesbians in the leading roles, no less. I'm not an expert on the 11th century, but Friend appears to have done her research and this book really hit the spot.

"Little Dorrit" by Charles Dickens

Review by Madeline Salmon
In Little Dorrit,  Charles Dickens introduces us to a wealth of characters, some of whom we despise, some we laugh at, and some we fall in love with. With a story so full of people, you might think we wouldn't get a chance to know any of them well, but the 850 pages give us plenty of time. The story is so complex, however, that on many occasions I had to turn back to an earlier chapter to remind myself what happened, or reread a passage a few times to make sure I understood it clearly. In fact, if I hadn't already been familiar with the story before reading the book I'm not at all convinced I would have gotten it completely.

I'm afraid that by writing this review you're going to think I'm an advocate for not reading classic literature (see my post on Moby Dick). Please believe that is not the case. I read more old books than new ones and Dickens is one of my favorite authors. But I'm not sure I would recommend reading Little Dorrit.

Here's why: In 2009 the BBC and Masterpiece Classic produced a miniseries adaptation of Little Dorrit for the screen. Marvelously written, acted, and directed, I loved it so much that I wanted to read the book. Having just accomplished this harrowing feat, I can now say that the miniseries is remarkably true to the book, both in letter and in spirit.

One of the reasons to read Dickens is for his beautiful language, and that doesn't shine in Little Dorrit as it does in, say, Great Expectations. Dickens is at his most satirical in Little Dorrit. In it he writes eerily timeless commentary on the ineffectiveness of government and the danger of financial hubris.  But his bitterness in this book interferes with his pen doing what it does best. The other reason to read Dickens is for the characters. They aren't the most realistic or three-dimensional people, but that doesn't make it any less fun getting to know them, and they do manage to squirm their way into our hearts. Happily, the miniseries captures each of them splendidly and I think even the author himself would have approved.

Getting through Little Dorrit requires an immense amount of patience and hard work. I don't regret the effort, but I'm not sure it's necessary with such a masterpiece of film making within easy reach. I'm not telling you not to read Little Dorrit, I'm just telling you to consider the time and energy you'll spend on it when you don't have to. And whether you read it or not, you absolutely must watch the show. The only effort that requires is microwaving a bag of popcorn--or several, actually, as it's eight hours long. I told you it was true to the book.

"Moby Dick" by Herman Melville

Review by Madeline Salmon

Be honest: If you’ve ever read this book, it was for a 19^th century literature course in college and you actually read chapters one and 135, skimming everything in between. Moby Dick had been on a list somewhere in the back of my head of books I should read but probably never will. That was until my criminally attractive environmental studies professor recommended it to me my junior year of college. I had such a crush on him he probably could have told me to eat birch bark and cricket legs and I would have listened. So at his recommendation I hastily added Moby Dick to my list of books I actually intend to read, and a few years later I finally got to it.
 

Eating birch bark might have been more pleasant. At least it would have been over faster. In defense of Herman Melville, the narrative parts of the book are quite riveting, and I love his characters—narrating Ishmael, kind islander Queequeg, pious Starbuck, and, of course, Captain Ahab, the stormy soul with the peg leg. If only Melville spent more time developing these characters and letting his readers watch them in action.

What we are instead subjected to is chapter after chapter describing, for example, the harpoon used to kill the whales, the various parts of the ship, the different kinds of oil that are harvested from the whales, not to mention painfully bad marine science. It is within the realm of possibility that 19^th century audiences, not having ready access to information regarding the exciting and prosperous whaling industry, found all this fascinating. I did not.

I may not have the world’s longest attention span, but I regularly read Victorian literature for pleasure, so I like to think I have the patience to read dense and dated material and find the value in it. And there is value in Moby Dick. I have always thought abridged novels were for lazy people, but an abridged version of Moby Dick that takes out the dated science and longwinded descriptive passages might not be a bad idea. The chases are exciting, one can certainly gain some historical knowledge, and Captain Ahab is one of the most famous characters in all of literature with good reason. But I could not get over the distraction and boredom of slogging through two chapters of unnecessary material for every one chapter of narrative.

If you have the patience of a saint or an inordinate fascination with the 19^th century whaling industry, read Moby Dick. If not, look for a well-reviewed abridged version and read that instead.

"Selected Stories" by William Trevor

Review by Madeline Salmon
William Trevor’s Selected Stories will not give you much fuel for laughter. In fact, each one of the 48 stories pulled together for this weighty volume will break your heart in its own way. Sometimes while reading the book I wondered what right some elderly Irish author had to invade my living room and toy with my heart so carelessly, and yet I kept reading. In no other author have I encountered the ease and brilliance with which Trevor creates the realistic and painfully human characters that populate each of his stories. Some of those stories are sad, some creepy, some irritating, and some even subtly joyful, but all have something to tell about humanity. I recommend reading “Selected Stories” along with another book because I felt the need to take breaks between stories. I could only take so much at once and many of the stories command reflection.

But don’t let the heaviness of the material turn you off—Trevor drops in just enough glimmers of light to help you remember what that light looks like, and why we need it so desperately. And even the darkest moments possess a richness no one should miss out on.