"In the Driver's Seat," by Helen Simpson

Reviewers and blurbers have called the writing in the British writer Helen Simpson’s collection of short stories, “In the Driver’s Seat” (Knopf, 2007), “electric,” “virtuoso,” “faultless,” and “brilliant,” and although these descriptions may be over the top, the writing does deserve high praise. Many of the stories in this collection feature (mostly female) characters who are preoccupied with aging, illness, death, and grief, which makes for sad reading, yet because of Simpson’s original (and sometimes acerbic) take on these topics, I found myself completely absorbed in the stories. The last and longest story, “Constitutional,” is a bit more upbeat; as a middle-aged science teacher takes a mid-day walk, she observes the vegetation and people in the park at the same time as she ponders various events in her life, including a recent surprise that will change her life. This is a small book, and one I was intrigued and impressed by. Parenthetically, I have to thank my local library's book sale for, once again, putting in my path a book I might not have known about or read otherwise. And on a seasonal note: Happy New Year to readers everywhere!

"Mrs. Queen Takes the Train," by William Kuhn

Those who enjoyed Alan Bennett's "The Uncommon Reader" (which I wrote about on 3/12/10) will like William Kuhn's "Mrs. Queen Takes the Train" (HarperCollins, 2012), a sedately humorous and rather sweet novel about a fictional unexpected train trip Queen Elizabeth takes from London to Scotland. Although perhaps lacking the affectionately sharp wit of Bennett's novel, this novel also displays an endearing affection for the Queen. The story takes its time, and although there is a plot, it seems to be mainly an excuse for exploring the Queen's character and personality, and her loyalty to the British people. There are several other interesting characters, members of the Queen's household (an Equerry, a butler, a lady-in-waiting, a young female stable worker, etc.), and some lovely alliances -- even a couple of romances -- develop during the course of the action. This novel is ideal for Anglophiles and fans of the British royalty. But it is not at all -- or if so, very indirectly -- political, and no matter whether or not one supports the tradition of royalty, a reader can thoroughly enjoy this journey with the Queen.

"Prosperous Friends": Questioning the Flap Copy

I read one or two good reviews of "Prosperous Friends" (Grove, 2012), by Christine Schutt, and always being interested in "discovering" new (to me) writers, I read the novel. Here I want to focus on the front-flap copy, which I found misleading, and the back-flap blurbs, which I found both misleading and overwrought. I write about this because misleading flap copy is common, and perhaps I should just expect it and allow for it, but this particular verbiage seemed to me particularly disconnected from the actual book. The front flap describes the book as a contrast between two married couples: a young, doomed-to-fail Ned and Isabel, and an older Clive and Dinah "who seem to prosper in love." The description of the first marriage is correct, but that of the second is only accurate in that Dinah gives up much of herself in order to build her life around Clive and tolerate his multiple infidelities. The men in the two couples are both unfaithful and unreliable, so it is hard to celebrate even the older, sort-of-happy-at-odd-moments couple. It is true that all marriages, even the best ones, are imperfect; realistically, all couples make their own compromises and their own adjustments in order to stay together. But I dislike seeing women making most of the compromises. So, getting back to the flap copy: to present the two couples as a simple opposition between one that works and one that doesn't just glides over what Dinah has to accept to make her marriage work. As for the overwrought back-flap blurbs: It is true that many blurbs on many books are overwrought. But these -- from excellent writers, several of whom I have read and admire -- seem unusually over the top. A selection among several blurbs: Kate Walbert says that "no one writes like Christine Schutt"; Gary Lutz states that "It is no longer a secret that Chrstine Schutt is the finest writer among us, and Prosperous Friends is her finest work yet...a classic"; Sam Lipsyte claims that Schutt writes "some of the most original and rewarding prose I've ever read." The one blurb that I thought was accurate and not overstated was by Stewart O'Nan (whose own wonderful work I have written about several times here): "With her elusive, suggestive prose, Christine Schutt examines the mystery of one couple's dissolution [with] spare delicacy...." And I must say that some of the writing is beautiful, especially the last few pages.

"Beautiful Ruins," by Jess Walter

When I requested Jess Walter’s novel “Beautiful Ruins” (Harper, 2012) online at my local library’s website, I was 128th in line to get it. I am often far back in line on the library lists, but this was an unusually long list, so apparently the book is hugely popular. I have also read a few positive reviews of the novel. In any case, I waited patiently to see what all the fuss was about, finally got the book, and now have read it. It is a “big” book, covering several time periods (mainly two, fifty years apart) and several places around the world, most notably a small seaside village in Italy and Hollywood in the U.S. There are some very original characters, as well as some real life people, including the actors Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton during the filming of the movie “Cleopatra.” Two of the characters in particular -- Pasquale, the Italian owner of the Hotel Adequate View, and Dee, an American actress -- are very sympathetic, and we come to really care about what happens to them. Others are not so appealing, but their eccentricities and foibles are fun to read about; see especially the Hollywood producer Michael Deane. The author weaves some true details into the fictional events of the novel. Satire and sentimentality, show biz and real life are intriguingly intertwined. The "beautiful ruins" of the title perhaps refer both to the Italian scenes and to the way the characters change over the 50 years. Although the novel moves around so much in time and place, clear chapter headings make it easy to keep track, and the narrative is an absorbing one. By the end of the novel, all the stories have been woven together in a very satisfactory way. This book is well written and a “good read.”

"Married Love," by Tessa Hadley - WOW!

As I have written before (7/12/11 and 7/13/11), every time I read something by British writer Tessa Hadley, I get that “WOW!” feeling that tells me I am reading something original, something with the power to surprise. Her latest collection of short stories, “Married Love” (Harper Perennial, 2012) amply confirms that feeling. Each story is a gem, a mini-novel, a small masterpiece. The characters are original yet recognizable, as are the situations in which they find themselves. What happens when a teenaged student marries her professor who is old enough to be her grandfather? How does each member of a young couple in the 1960s feel when she/he brings the other to meet her/his family? What is it like for three middle-aged adults to reunite 35 years after they had been playmates at the home of their mutual godmother? What change in fortune reverses the social statuses of two childhood friends from different backgrounds? These and other situations are very character-driven, and are almost always located in the setting of family lives and relationships. They often deal, very subtly, with social class and gender, but never in a didactic way. I had to stop myself from galloping through the stories, because they were so compelling. Slow down and savor them, I had to tell myself. And they are definitely worth savoring.

Holiday Gift Suggestions: Some Favorite Books of 2012

This is the season of making “best books of the year” lists, which are both interesting and useful for those buying books for holiday gifts. Below I offer a list of some of my favorite books published in 2012. So this is not a general “best of…” list as much as a very individual, personal “some of the books I have most enjoyed” list. As I said last year at about this time, I urge readers to give books for gifts, and to buy those books from independent bookstores when at all possible. The dates I posted here about the books are in parentheses. FICTION: -The Beginner’s Goodbye, by Anne Tyler (4/15/12); -Carry the One, by Carol Anshaw (4/8/12); -Coral Glynn, by Peter Cameron (5/1/12); -Dear Life, by Alice Munro (12/6/12); -How It All Began, by Penelope Lively (1/21/12); -Married Love, and Other Stories, by Tessa Hadley (not yet posted about); -NW, by Zadie Smith (10/2/12); -The Odds, by Stewart O’Nan (1/26/12); -Shout Her Lovely Name, by Natalie Serber ((8/27/12); -The Theory of Small Earthquakes, by Meredith Maran (7/6/12); -The World Without You, by Joshua Henkin (8/19/12); NONFICTION: -Are You My Mother?, by Alison Bechdel (6/23/12); -Letters to a Friend, by Diana Athill (6/9/12); -The Secret Life of Objects, by Dawn Raffel (9/11/12); -Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail (8/4/12): -Yes, Chef, by Marcus Samuelsson (7/21/12).

Obama Reading Novels

I just read a fascinating article about President Obama in the October 2012 issue (OK, so I am a bit behind in working my way through my pile of magazines!) of Vanity Fair. Writer Michael Lewis spent time with Obama in the White House, at one of Obama's regularly scheduled basketball games (where he, apparently, plays hard and smart, despite his age), and on Air Force One. Lots of intriguing behind-the-scenes insights. But one that jumped out at me, as a "fiction person," was that Lewis noticed a pile of novels on the desk of Obama's inner, private office; sitting on top of the pile was Julian Barnes' recent novel, "The Sense of an Ending." (See my post about this novel on 1/6/12.) I can't help feeling that a president who reads good novels is a better president for it.

On Reading What Writers Recommend

The ways we decide what to read are various and complicated. As I have written before, I generally decide what to read based on a. seeing that one of my favorite authors has just published a new book; or b. reading a review of a new book that piques my interest. Occasionally I read something because it was recommended by a friend or by an author I respect and like. As examples of the latter: in the last couple of days, I have looked for books because they were mentioned by authors I like. First, author Caroline Leavitt posted on Facebook a link to her blogpost on why she reads Joan Didion. This reminded me of how much I have liked Didion's work over the years, despite its frequent bleakness. I have read most of her fiction and nonfiction, most recently "Blue Nights" (which I posted about on 1/17/12). I have also gone back to some of her earlier work, such as "Play It As It Lays" (see my post of 3/23/11). Leavitt's reminder made me go back again to more of Didion's earlier work -- "Slouching Towards Bethlehem" and "The White Album" -- which I have just obtained and will soon read. Second, I read an interview with the great short story writer Alice Munro (whom I have written about here several times) on The New Yorker online (11/20/12), in which she spoke of Eudora Welty as a writer she admired; she spoke of "The Golden Apples" in particular. This led me to request "The Golden Apples" at my local library, and I look forward to re-reading it as well. I read all three of these books many, many years ago; re-reading them after all these years will be a different experience than the original reading. This reminds me of something else about my reading, and that of many readers: We read many new books, but we also revisit books we have read and liked in the past, in a sort of dancing loop. Both are essential parts of our ongoing complex relationship with the books in our lives.

"Where'd You Go, Bernadette," by Maria Semple

I am not quite sure what to make of the quirky, breezy yet serious, down-to-earth yet unpredictable novel “Where’d You Go, Bernadette” (Little, Brown, 2012) by Maria Semple. The character of Bernadette is fresh and variously funny, sad, annoying, and sympathetic. She is an immigrant from Los Angeles to Seattle, where she has escaped from a complicated, messy past caused by an unfortunate mixture of her genius and her stubborn nonconformity. She is a misfit in Seattle, and through much of the novel, she mocks that city. (And, I have to say, although I love Seattle myself, her portrayal of the city and its residents is very funny.) Because she doesn’t care what others think, she has troubled relationships with those at her daughter’s elite school and with her neighbors, among others. She loves her husband and her daughter, and her daughter in particular is her guiding light. But in a complicated set of events, including misunderstandings, mysteries, and surprises, she disappears for a while (thus the title). Somehow the story finds itself in Antarctica – don’t ask! The fun of the story is the originality of the main character, the poised but worried voice of her daughter, and the random-seeming surprises in the plot. In other words – the old-fashioned virtues of character, plot, and originality. So, although I would not rate this book, or the writing, “great,” it is certainly enjoyable and satisfying.

"Dear Life," by Alice Munro

Readers may remember that I (along with many, many others!) am a huge admirer of the Canadian short story writer Alice Munro. (As a former Canadian, I also take pride in her worldwide reputation.) Many critics and readers call Munro the greatest living short story writer writing in English, equaled only, perhaps, by the British William Trevor (whose stories I also greatly admire). Even those who don't read her books may have read her stories in The New Yorker, where she has often been published. Munro's new book, "Dear Life: Stories" (Knopf, 2012) shows us, once again, her greatness at portraying human nature. Munro is now lauded more than ever, perhaps partly because this new book provides intimations that it may be her last, or one of her last (she is 81 years old); specifically, a prologue to the last four stories in the book is titled "Finale" and states that "The final four works in this book are not quite stories. They form a separate unit, one that is autobiographical in feeling, though not, sometimes, entirely so in fact. I believe they are the first and last -- and the closest -- things I have to say about my own life" (p. 255). Although this statement does not say that she will stop writing stories completely, it has an elegiac tone. Let us hope that she will in fact continue to write for many years to come. I find myself wanting to say eloquent things about this book, and about Munro's writing, words that would show how amazing her work is, and how much it means to me, but I find that because so many others have written so much more eloquently about her, I hesitate to add my meager, inadequate words. Perhaps I will just refer readers to my blog entry of 7/22/10, "Ode to Alice Munro," and add that "Dear Life" only reinforces my love of her work.

Listening to Colm Toibin on Fresh Air

I usually don't remember to listen to "Fresh Air" regularly, as listening depends on when I am in my car, whether I am currently listening to a book on CD, etc. But when I do remember at the right time, it is always both intellectually stimulating and a joy to listen to. Yesterday I stumbled on Fresh Air host Terry Gross' interview of the wonderful Irish author, Colm Toibin. I have read several of his works, most notably the novels "The Master" (a fictional version of Henry James's life) and "Brooklyn," which I posted about here on 1/28/10, and the short story collection "The Empty Family," which I posted about a year later, on 1/28/11. All of these books are absorbing, beautifully written works. On Fresh Air yesterday, Toibin was talking about his new book, "Testament of Mary," which tells a fictionalized version of the life of Mary, mother of Jesus. In that novel, he writes of Mary's doubts about whether her son was the son of God, and of her unhappiness with Jesus's disciples after his death. Toibin grew up steeped in Catholicism, an altar boy, and although he is no longer traditionally religious, he told of the influence of his Catholic childhood in Ireland. I found the interview fascinating, and enjoyed hearing Toibin's distinctive Irish accent. He now lives part of the year in Ireland and part in New York City, where he teaches at Columbia University. I am intrigued enough by the description of the book, added to the fact that I think he is a great writer, that I will likely find and read this latest novel from a great author.

"This Must Be the Place," by Kate Racculia

Reading an author’s first novel is always a gamble. Many -- probably most -- of the novels I read are by authors I have already read; some of these authors are on my “always get and read their latest books” list. So I usually don’t read a first novel unless I have either read an excellent review of the book, or had the book recommended to me by someone whose taste I trust, and know is similar to mine. One exception is sometimes books-on-CD. Since there are far fewer such CDs than there are books, and even fewer available at my local library, I sometimes take a chance on an unknown book, in interests of having new books to listen to in my car. I recently picked up at the library “This Must Be the Place” (Holt, 2010; CD Tantor, 2010), by Kate Racculia, a first novel full of quirky characters and surprises. The vividness of the characters is the main positive attribute of this novel; the mystery about the characters’ pasts is another. However, the latter attribute is slightly marred by the frequently overwrought telling of the story, with dramatic pauses and secrets dragged out a bit too lengthily. Arthur Rook’s wife Amy Henderson has died suddenly in Los Angeles, where they have been living, and Arthur -- in shock and not knowing what to do -- on impulse tracks down and stays with Amy’s closest childhood friend, Mona Jones, and her teenaged daughter Oneida, at their boarding house in the small town in New York State where Amy and Mona grew up. There are many portentous references to the long ago summer when the teenaged Mona and Amy ran away to the Jersey shore, to the mysterious events and repercussions that ensued, and to the way that summer set in motion a series of events that are now about to be revealed. A side story is that of Oneida’s boyfriend Eugene and his artistic, offbeat family, a family with secrets of its own. The story is enjoyable and even gripping at times, if a bit overwritten. A side note: the description of the author on the back cover of the CD includes the following sentence, which readers of this blog will know contains at least two elements always of interest to me (“Jane Austen” and “Canada”): “Kate Racculia grew up in Syracuse, New York, and attended college in Buffalo, where she studied illustration, design, Jane Austen, and Canada.”

"Sweet Tooth," by Ian McEwan

I was bowled over when I read Ian McEwan's novel "Atonement" some years ago. It was riveting, moving, powerful. Since I read it, I have read several others of his novels, and have had varying reactions to them. They are all wonderfully well written, but only some of them have engaged me. "On Chesil Beach" definitely did (see my post of 10/23/10); "Saturday" did to a lesser degree. But "Amsterdam" did not at all, and "Solar" mostly left me cold. Now I have just read McEwan's latest novel, "Sweet Tooth" (Doubleday, 2012), and although as usual it is well written, with an intriguing story, it just didn't draw me into its world. It should have, as it features several aspects that I usually like: it takes place in London in the early 1970s, with side trips to Brighton; and it features a female main character, Serena, who falls in love with a writer during the course of her work with him. Because she works for the M15 (equivalent to the U.S.'s CIA), there is secrecy built into the story and the character, and perhaps that is why I couldn't really relate to her or any other character in the novel. Then the ending provides a twist, a sort of "meta" surprise that also explains -- aha! -- a gap in readers' understanding of, and feeling for, Serena. Although I sometimes like surprises in fiction, I often just feel manipulated, especially by authorial games of this type. So although I more or less enjoyed this novel, and, as always, felt I was in good hands, I was left with a slightly hollow, disappointed feeling. Nevertheless, McEwan is such a good writer that he is always on my must-read list, and I am sure I will eagerly find and read his next novel when it appears.

"Toby's Room," by Pat Barker

I had been hearing about Pat Barker's novels for a while, and when I finally read "Life Class," I was very impressed. Now I have just read her newest novel, "Toby's Room" (Doubleday, 2012), and although I liked it, I felt a little let down; although it is a sequel to "Life Class," it didn't seem as strong a novel. Both novels deal with young people in London and environs during World War I; some of these young people fight in the "Great War," while all of their family and friends back home are also deeply affected by the war. The main characters in this novel are Elinor Brooke, an art student and independent young woman, and her brother Toby, who goes off to war. The two of them are very close, and when he is reported "missing, believed killed," she cannot rest until she finds out his fate and how it happened. Part of the appeal of this novel, for me, is its setting in England, during this critical time period in England's history, when life seemed to be more intense for everyone. I am also interested in stories of young women of the time who were realizing they could be more independent, and have careers and love affairs. The writing is good, the story is compelling, and the characters are well-drawn. There is romance, friendship, suspense, and more. So I am not sure why I felt let down, but there it is... By the way, I found it interesting that the publisher mentions in the inner-cover prose that "admirers of 'Downtown Abbey' will be enthralled."

"Elsewhere: A Memoir," by Richard Russo

Richard Russo has written a reflective, thoughtful, self-aware memoir ("Elsewhere," Knopf, 2012) about his long, loving, but fraught relationship with his deeply troubled mother. From his childhood she made sure the two of them were a unit, a team, with a special relationship. His father was a presence in his childhood, but not a regular or reliable one, partly because of his gambling problem, and partly because he early on decided that his wife, then ex-wife, was "nuts." The author and his mother lived with his maternal grandparents in the small upstate New York town of Gloversville for a good part of his childhood, and although Russo needed to get away from that town, he still feels formed by it. Russo always tried to be a good son, and his mother depended on him inordinately until her death in her 80s, in 2007. This often made life difficult for Russo and his own family; Russo's wife Barbara seems to have been a saint to deal with all this entailed. But the book is not an extended complaint; Russo tells the story compassionately, and gives credit to his mother for being, when she was young, a strong and independent woman, and for being the one who inspired him as a reader and a writer. He also examines himself to see if he did the right things in the way he treated her; was he an enabler? Finally, after his mother's death, Russo realizes -- spoiler alert -- that his mother probably had OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). Although the condition was not a well-known one until fairly recently, he feels sad that he didn't realize she had a clinical mental illness. He is hard on himself, yet also philosophical. It seems to me as a reader that he (and his wife) did much more for his mother than most sons could or would have done, letting her needs and wants and psychological issues determine many parts of his and his family's life for nearly half a century (she generally moved with the family every time they moved to a new location, and although she had her own apartments, Russo would find those apartments for her, visit her almost daily,and take care of all her shopping, financial business, doctors' visits, and other needs). There is another unhappy turn of the story toward the end of the book (after the author's mother's death), but thankfully one that can be addressed and managed. For some time I have been a big fan of Russo's wonderful novels, such as "Empire Falls," "Bridge of Sighs," "Straight Man," and "That Old Cape Magic." These novels are "old-fashioned" in the sense that they are not experimental, and they have interesting, moving plots and compelling, believable characters. They often deal with working class characters and families, or characters who have come from the working class, even if they are now middle class. Aside from admiring his great gifts as a writer, I have always gotten a sense that Richard Russo is a good man; the word "decent" comes to mind. This memoir reinforces that impression. If you haven't read the Pulitzer Prize-winning Russo's novels, I strongly recommend them.

"Read This!" Say Indie Bookstores

I am generally a bit suspicious of books telling me what to read. They often strike me as gimmicky, slapped-together. But "Read This!: Handpicked Favorites from America's Indie Bookstores" (Coffee House Press, 2012), a small book edited by Hans Weyandt, had me at the word "indie"; the book immediately had credibility. I am (as I am sure you are, and as I have written about here before) a great supporter of independent bookstores. Although they are threatened by various forces, mainly electronic, and although many of them have -- sadly -- closed over the past few years, there are still many vibrant, wonderful, sometimes quirky such stores, and they are a great pleasure to visit. One of their characteristics is employing well-read, knowledgeable booksellers who are happy to help customers figure out what to read. This book expands on that concept. The editor asked booksellers at 25 independent bookstores across the U.S. to "name fifty books you love or love to pass on to other readers." The lists are the core of this book. Each "chapter" introduces the bookstore and then the bookseller at that bookstore who chose the list of 50, lists the 50 books, and then annotates a handful of those choices. The book opens with an introduction by the author Ann Patchett, and closes with some interesting facts about the lists, such as "Which book is listed most often?" (Answer: "The Things They Carried," by Tim O'Brien), and "Which author is listed most often?" (Answer: William Faulkner). Another reason to buy the book is that the proceeds go to the American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression. I am particularly glad to see that two of my favorite local bookstores, Book Passage and City Lights, are among the bookstores providing lists. My only small regret is that only a few of the books listed are annotated, but obviously annotating them all would be a major space issue. This book is enjoyable to browse in, check which books one has already read, and get ideas for new books to read. "Read This" is a small treasure.

Happy 40th, Ms. Magazine!

I have written about how important Ms. Magazine is to me (2/19/10). The current issue (Fall 2012) of Ms. celebrates 40 years of publication. The magazine has gone through various changes over the years, but from the beginning, it has been inspirational, informative, and most of all, feminist. This issue includes letters from readers who have been inspired and influenced by Ms. over the years; some feel Ms. changed their lives. I have been subscribing to and reading Ms. since the beginning, and it has meant a lot to me. I was surprisingly moved to see my name on a list of Ms. supporters published in the current issue. It made me feel part of a community of feminists who have supported not only Ms. but the causes it represents. I have been a feminist since the early days of the second wave women's liberation movement in the heady 1970s; I have woven my feminism into my life and my teaching all these years; feminism continues to be extremely important to me. I thank Ms., once again, for its influential and important part in the movement, and for being there for so many women over these 40 years.

Saving Newspapers While Away From Home

I have written more than once about how much I love reading the newspaper, the physical newspaper (online only in a pinch or for updates on urgent news). The main newspaper I read, as a San Francisco Bay Area resident, is the San Francisco Chronicle, which I have subscribed to for many, many years. My day doesn't feel complete unless I have read the Chronicle. (I also, supplementarily, intermittently read the New York Times on paper and online, and have subscribed for years to the New York Times book review.) When I travel, I always ask my husband to save the newspaper while I am gone. If we both go, I ask someone else to pick it up and save it for us, or ask the Chronicle to hold and then deliver all copies. Of course when I get back, it takes a while -- usually gradually over a period of a few days -- to work through the pile of back copies. For example, I got back from a five day conference trip to Seattle this past Monday, and only this morning finished plowing through the backlog of Chronicles. And I do skim through them faster than I would normally. I have had some friendly ribbing about this from various family members and friends, but I can't, and don't see any reason to, change this habit. (At least one of my brothers does the same...). Even if I have read local papers at the place I am visiting, or the New York Times, while I was gone, I want to catch up on state and local news, my favorite columnists, and more. I guess I am one of a diminishing tribe of addicted readers of the old-fashioned paper newspaper...and proud of it!

Baseball Fever!

San Francisco Giants fever has taken over in our house, as it has throughout the Bay Area, and we were all thrilled when the Giants won the National League championship last night. Actually, as some of you might know or guess, I am not a big sports fan. But when a team from my city, or from a college I or a family member has attended or worked at, I do support them. I support them more enthusiastically when they are doing well, which I admit puts me into the "fair weather friend" category. In any case, this was the perfect time to read (actually listen to) "The Art of Fielding" (Hachette Audio, 2011), by Chad Harbach; I completed it during the Giants playoffs. This book was a big bestseller that I resisted when it was first published (see my post of 5/10/12) because it was about baseball, but when I listened to it in my car, I found that although baseball was the focus, there was much about relationships, family, love, and others of my favorite topics. The plot centers on the baseball team of a small liberal arts college, and the main characters are three student players, the president of the university, and the daughter who has recently come back into his life. The college part was, of course, of interest to me, as a college professor. I actually found the baseball part much more interesting than I expected to, as well. This book was quite engaging, and I got caught up in it and enjoyed it.

Hilary Mantel Wins the Booker!

Hilary Mantel just won the UK's very prestigious Booker Prize for literature! She won for "Bring Up the Bodies," the sequel to the extremely well-received "Wolf Hall," and the second novel of a planned trilogy. "Wolf Hall" itself was the Booker winner in 2009. The San Francisco Chronicle describes "Bring Up the Bodies" as a "blood-soaked Tudor saga." On 10/13/12, I wrote about Hilary Mantel as portrayed in a New Yorker profile, so I post this news about the Booker as a follow-up to that post.

"The Age of Desire," by Jennie Fields

How could this devoted reader of Edith Wharton resist a well-reviewed novel based on Wharton's life? Although I have read biographies of the great author, I knew I had to read this novel. And for the most part, I am glad I did. The biographical events are not "new" to us, but Fields delves into Wharton's emotional life in a revealing way. She focuses on Wharton's sad, depressing, sexless marriage to a man who had no interest in her writing and who was probably bipolar, and on her tempestuous but ultimately also sad and disappointing relationship with her lover, the younger journalist Morton Fullerton. She also shows the steady importance of, and support provided by, her longtime assistant, Anna. We are able to see Edith's life at a different angle through Anna's eyes. But the most conflagatory aspect of the novel is the portrayal of Wharton's sexual awakening, in her forties, by Fullerton. Fields brilliantly details the infatuation, the discovery of exciting new feelings, the constant awareness of the loved one, the torture when he doesn't visit or write, and all the other accompaniments of a great passion. At times the descriptions of these feelings (not to mention the sexual scenes themselves) are overwrought and repetitive. Variations on the theme "she had never felt like this before" are too common. And this reader wishes there had been more about Wharton's books in the novel. We do see some glimpses of her writing process, but not enough. But overall, I very much enjoyed this novel.

Hilary Mantel in The New Yorker

The New Yorker comes through again! I have said this several times over the years, but I am so grateful for the great articles in The New Yorker, especially those about writers, books, and related literary topics. In this week's (10/15/12) issue, there is a terrific profile of the author Hilary Mantel, written by Larissa MacFarquhar. Titled "The Dead are Real: The Imagination of Hilary Mantel," this 11-page article details Mantel's difficult life, her discovery of her love of historical fiction (NOT, emphatically, "historical romance"), and the intriguing contrasts between her contemporary novels and her historical novels. The former are bleak; the latter are full of life and richly reflect her love of the eighteenth century, and then of the era of Henry VIII. Her most well-known and well-received book, and the one she herself says is her best, is "Wolf Hall," about Thomas Cromwell, an advisor to King Henry VIII. "I knew from the first paragraph that this was going to be the best thing I'd ever done," she says. Personally I greatly admire her work, yet have trouble getting into it. I read a couple of her contemporary works, but they are so pessimistic, so savage, that I can't read any more of them. I also am not generally drawn to historical novels, even ones that are as highly acclaimed as "Wolf Hall," so I have not read it. Yet. After reading this article, I am tempted to read the novel. This profile of Mantel is riveting, and I am appreciative once again of the New Yorker's giving readers such well-written, compelling articles on writers and literature.

"Triburbia," by Karl Taro Greenfeld

Karl Taro Greenfeld’s novel's title “Triburbia” (Harper, 2012) seems to gently mock the hip Tribeca area of Manhattan in the late 1990s and early 2000s as more suburban than its inhabitants would like to admit. As the author lives in Tribeca himself, he is able to draw the area in loving, knowing detail, despite his (or at least his characters’) ambivalence about the neighborhood and all it symbolizes. These characters, after all, are proud of themselves for living in Tribeca. As I read “Triburbia,” I kept thinking it should be subtitled something like “Bobos Behaving Badly.” Readers may remember David Brooks’ 2000 book, “Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There,” describing a particular blend of the bourgeois and the would-be bohemian found in certain U.S. cities, especially New York. Greenfeld’s characters fit this profile almost perfectly. The novel is structured around a rather long list of characters living in Tribeca whose children go to the same school. The focus is on the fathers, although there is plenty of bad behavior to go around. These are not bad people, but they are caught up in trying to have both artsy cred and money/privilege, and it is an uneasy mixture. Most of the men are rather angsty throughout the events of the novel; the women seem more likely to just do what needs to be done without constantly second-guessing their status and decisions. There are many affairs, lots of drugs (especially marijuana), crises about children, and more. Much of the focus is on social class status. Near the end of the novel, with the decline of the U.S. economy, some characters become very anxious and have to make some big changes. Yet somehow they are all (some more than others, of course) cushioned by enough safety nets and back-ups that they survive quite nicely. The two main problems I had with the book were, first, that it was sometimes hard to keep track of all the characters, and, second, that sometimes the author slipped into too much exposition/talkiness about the issues. The novel, although enjoyable, is a bit precious, seeming to describe a very limited world. However, we know that what happens in New York is often an indication of what happens elsewhere. And as a San Franciscan, I cannot deny that we have had as many or more “bobos” here as anywhere else.

"NW," by Zadie Smith

Zadie Smith’s “White Teeth” bowled me over. What a window into the multicultural lives of so many in London! What rich, detailed writing! When her second novel, “The Autograph Man,” came out, I had a hard time with it. It seemed dry and – OK, dull. I didn’t get very far into it before abandoning it. But her third novel, “On Beauty,” was riveting. And I savored and learned from her thoughtful essay collection, “Changing My Mind.” Her latest novel, which has just appeared to huge fanfare, is “NW” (Penguin, 2012). (The title refers to a less prosperous section of London.) I heard that the novel was somewhat experimental in form, which discouraged me a bit; I tend to prefer my fiction the old-fashioned way (with exceptions for such transcendent authors as Virginia Woolf). I wavered: should I read it or not? But I did, and I am very glad I did. First, it isn’t actually so very experimental. One character’s – Natalie’s – section is written in 185 mini-chapters, most less than a page long, some only a sentence long. But this is easy to navigate and flows well. Second, “NW” is in some senses an old-fashioned British novel, full of plot and, especially, well-developed characters. It deals with social issues, which I do like, as long as a novel is not too didactic; this one is not. The novel tells the stories of four young people from the “NW” part of London, and their quite different fates. It also tells of the psychological cost of moving among worlds. Natalie in particular, the one who travels farthest from her roots career-wise and money-wise, yet chooses to stay fairly close to those roots geographically, is torn among her various identities until she doesn’t know who she really is. Her situation, and to a lesser degree her friend Leah’s, show both the good and the difficult aspects of moving in and out of different socioeconomic and racial settings. Others of their friends and neighbors pay even steeper prices as they become adults. Smith has said in an interview that from now on, despite having written about the U.S. in “On Beauty,” she will focus her writing on London, the place she knows best. Comparisons have been made to Joyce’s portrayal of Dublin; these are heady comparisons, but I can understand them, as the sense of place in “NW” is so intense, so knowing, so detailed. Reading “NW” makes me curious and eager, already, to know what Smith will write about next, and to read that next novel, whenever we are fortunate enough to have it.

"Tiny Beautiful Things," by Cheryl Strayed

"Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar" (Vintage, 2012), by Cheryl Strayed, might as well be titled "Tiny Jagged Pieces of Heartbreak." Strayed wrote the "Dear Sugar" advice column for the online literature-oriented community, The Rumpus, and this book is a collection of some of the questions and answers published there. There is nothing mundane or light about these questions; they are of the heavy-duty, worst-that-life-can-bring-you type. Sad and abusive childhoods and relationships, horrific losses, and terrible dilemmas are common themes. Strayed, also the author of the wrenching but ultimately inspiring bestselling memoir "Wild" (about which I posted here on 8/4/12), writes the most amazing answers to these questions. She is full of empathy, shares her own experiences generously, and gets to the hard truths of the matter. She always find some hope, some possible way out, but it is honest and hard-won hope, not easy comfort. The online and then the book format allow for long questions and answers, so each of Strayed's answers is a mini-essay, rather than the short, clipped answers provided in most advice columns. Readers will leave the book with great admiration for the way Strayed always -- although not indulging in Pollyannaism -- finds common humanity in every situation. This book is sad and hard to read, yet compelling and life-affirming as well.

The Fun Side of Feminism

Who says feminists don’t have a sense of humor? Gender studies graduate student Danielle Henderson, appreciative of but overwhelmed by the density of much of the feminist theory she was studying, took a break and went to the movies, and then started posting photos of Ryan Gosling on a blog, just for the fun and distraction of it. Soon she started melding her notes on feminist theory with those photos, and suddenly her original five or so blog readers turned into thousands. So she published a small (clearly stated on the cover as “unauthorized”) tongue-in-cheek book, “Feminist Ryan Gosling: Feminist Theory as Imagined from Your Favorite Sensitive Movie Dude” (Running Press, 2012). She admits that “There’s no way to tell if Ryan Gosling is actually a feminist….He hasn’t actually said anything in this book. But he is charming, talented, and intelligent; he has said some things in the media that can be construed as feminist. He loves his mom and takes ballet….It’s not too far-fetched, right?” The book has a different color photo of Gosling on each page, in each of which he has a different expression, tending toward the intense and/or sensitive. Each photo is accompanied by a short ostensible quotation, always beginning with “Hey girl.” The author likes the juxtaposition of the “Hey girl” meme with feminist-related text, calling it hilarious. “I’m not making fun of feminism; I’m having fun with feminism,” she says. Although the premise for the book is flimsy and whimsical, it is best to go with the flow, leaf through the pages, enjoy them, laugh, and maybe at the same time absorb or be reminded of some important feminist points as well. Following are a few quotations to get you started (unfortunately I can’t reproduce the photos of Gosling to accompany the quotes!). “Hey girl. All I want for my birthday is a subscription to Ms. Magazine.” “Hey girl. Is there a merit badge for transcending normative cultural beliefs about femininity?” “Hey girl. I believe Foucault’s theory of marriage is a governmentally developed tool that interferes with the appropriation of land rights and normalizes heterosexuality, but I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.” “Hey girl. Betty Friedan called it ‘the problem with no name,’ but I call it the patriarchy.” “Hey girl. We’d be more successful in reclaiming public space for women if we were willing to address the patriarchal fixtures that made it unsafe in the first place.” “Hey girl. Just listening to you talk about Patricia Hill Collins’ matrix of domination as an ideological tool that reveals the hegemonic social structure makes me thank my lucky stars for you.” Some of the quotations contain literary allusions: “Hey girl. You built a room of your own and a room in my heart.” Other quotes are as much popular culture as feminist theory. For example: “Hey girl. Being a guest on The Rachel Maddow Show might be a pipe dream, but it’s my happy place.” OK, so maybe this is dorky feminist humor, but I got a kick out of it.

Not Quite Sure What This Novel is Really About...

Is it a family story? A glimpse into Washington history? A suspense story? A love story? A portrait of a community that is just a little too involved in each other’s business? A psychological portrait? “You Are the Love of My Life” (W. W. Norton, 2012), a novel by Susan Richards Shreve, is a “good read,” but a little confused and a little contrived. Lucy, the main character, someone with several secrets in her life (about what happened to her father, and about her own children’s father), moves from New York back to her childhood city, Washington, DC. Others in the close-knit neighborhood have their own secrets. Gradually Lucy and her children become more enmeshed in the neighborhood; towards the end of the novel, the secrets gradually come out. I won’t say more, so as not to give any surprises away.

Finally, the Details of Rushdie's Life in Hiding

I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Salman Rushdie to have to hide, in fear of his life, with limited contact with his family, friends, and literary connections, for the many years he was under Khomeini’s fatwa condemning him to death for what was perceived, in his book “The Satanic Verses,” as blasphemy against Islam and its prophet. Now we have a fascinating, gripping and detailed glimpse into Rushdie’s experiences in his current New Yorker (9/17/12) essay titled “The Disappeared.” We read with mounting dread and sympathy of how Rushdie’s life was turned upside down in 1989; he was in hiding (protected by the British government and police) for over nine years, and continued to receive threats even after that. Rushdie’s book, “Joseph Anton,” describing this whole experience, will be out later this month. I have followed this story from the beginning, was fortunate enough to hear Rushdie speak in the San Francisco City Arts and Lectures series a few years ago, and look forward to reading the new book.

"Matrimony," by Joshua Henkin

The title "Matrimony" reminds me of 19th century novels, which in my view is a very good thing; I treasure novels that look deeply into the lives of a small group of people, exploring their relationships, their values, and the events that change them (or don't). This novel (Vintage, 2007) is by Joshua Henkin, author of the more recent novel that I posted (very positively) about on 8/19/12: "The World Without You." It was because I liked that novel so much that I went back and found "Matrimony." The two novels share -- unsurprisingly -- a certain tone and sensibility that I find attractive: thoughtful, modest, probing, understated. "Matrimony"'s subject matter reminds me of that of Eugenides' "The Marriage Plot," but the styles of the two novels are very different. There is something brasher about "The Marriage Plot" that -- although I generally enjoyed the novel -- was a little off-putting to me. (See my post about it on 11/26/11.) I also like the main characters in "Matrimony" better than those in "The Marriage Plot." The four main characters met in college, and the novel follows them for some years after. Julian and Mia fall in love and marry, but suffer some upheavals in their relationship. They also have an ambivalent relationship with their friend Carter. Most of the novel takes place in various college towns. I like the everydayness of the lives described. Big things happen, yes, but somehow the small events of daily life are as interesting as the big ones. Although the novel is of medium length, and covers about 20 years, there is a somewhat leisurely, unrushed quality to the telling of the story, another quality I value.

Sloppy Proofreading

The novel I am reading now contains many errors. In the first few pages, the name of the neighborhood that the main character moves into is spelled two different ways, alternating between the two. The name of another important character is also spelled two different ways. There are other annoying errors, such as an extra space between the last word of a sentence and the period. I know that publishers have had to cut costs, and that there is much less hands-on editing going on than in the past. And I know that at the proofreading level, no matter how carefully a book is proofread, errors can creep in. But there shouldn't be as many errors as there are in this book already, when I am only a quarter of the way into the book. The publisher is a longtime, well-known and respected one (W. W. Norton), so this is no fly-by-night outfit. I have to say, these frequent errors bother me. The more errors I see, the more they bother me, to the extent of interfering with my enjoyment of the novel. Am I being too picky?

Teenager Delivers Books on LGBT Themes

Brava to San Francisco Bay Area teenager Amelia Roskin-Frazee, who at age 15 is the organizer of the Make It Safe Project; she donates and delivers boxes of carefully chosen fiction and nonfiction books on LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender) themes to schools and youth homeless shelters. Amelia remembers when she herself could not find such information in her school library and, as quoted in the San Francisco Chronicle (8/25/12), says “When there are no books with LGBT characters, it gives LGBT (and questioning) kids the message that it’s not normal, that nobody else is like them, that something is wrong with them. And that’s a really dangerous thing.” The Chronicle article goes on to point out that “nonfiction books are also crucial for basic sex education as well as advice on how to come out in a positive way.” I am sure that it took courage for Amelia to embark on this important work, and I truly admire her for it.

David Foster Wallace: "Empty Cleverness"?

Was David Foster Wallace "obsessed with empty cleverness"? Caille Millner, a San Francisco Chronicle columnist, thinks so, as she wrote yesterday (9/1/12). She cannot understand the high regard Wallace is held in; for example, she tells us that the Guardian called him "the most gifted and original American novelist of his generation." Millner, in contrast, says he "represent[s] the worst of everything in contemporary literary fiction....His novels are long, plotless, obsessed with their own cleverness, and a cacophony of styles and voices minus character development." She also feels his popularity is gendered. She writes that "his audience isn't just an audience but practically a cult: a walking army of the kinds of upper-middle-class boys who collect vinyl records, all of whom speak of him...with three breathless letters...: D. F. W." She writes, further, that most people who read novels want plots and characters, rather than "slogging through 1,200-page novels whose chief purpose is to demonstrate the author's superb understanding of the Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein." All of this is strong stuff -- extremely critical, even harshly so. I tend to agree, but have mostly thought of my lack of interest in Wallace's work as my own preference. I have even wondered if not liking or even always understanding the little of Wallace's work I have read was my own shortcoming, my own limitation. (Not that I have ever stayed up nights worrying about this!). My main response to Millner's arguments is that I mostly agree, but on the other hand, any (iterary, at least) author that gets people to read has value, and I am glad that there is a variety of types of novels out there.

"The Secret Life of Objects," by Dawn Raffel

We all have certain meaningful objects in our lives; most often their meaning comes from who gave us the objects, and/or from the circumstances in which we acquired them. Each essay in Dawn Raffel's collection of very short (from a half page to three pages each) essays, "The Secret Life of Objects" (Jaded Ibis Press, 2012), focuses on one such meaningful object in her life. She describes the objects and -- especially -- the circumstances of acquiring the objects, and her feelings about them. As we read these short pieces, we learn about the author's history, family, and character. In the brief introduction to the book, she writes that "Surveying my house I found myself surrounded by surfaces and vessels, by paper and glass, by cloth, wood, clay, paint, and also my late artist mother's renditions of things....Objects are intractable. We own them. We don't. All memoir is fiction. We try to fit the pieces together again." The titles of the approximately 50 pieces include "The Mug," "The Moonstone Ring," "The Wedding Gift," "The Tea Set from Japan," "The Bride's Bible," "The Rocking Chair," "My Grandmother Bern's Recipes," "My Father's Hat," and "The Dictionary," to name just a few. Many of the essays are accompanied by lovely, evocative black and white drawings by Sean Evers. Each piece is a sort of meditation. Although this book is short (158 pages), it is best savored over time, a few selections at a time. It is certain to remind readers, as it did me, of meaningful objects in our own homes and lives, and of the histories and feelings attached to them. I highly recommend this unusual and beautifully written book.

R.I.P. Shulamith Firestone

The feminist writer and activist Shulamith Firestone has died at the age of 67. She was a leader in the women's liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s, a true pioneer and theorist who was enormously influential at the time, and whose work is still taught in women's studies classes. She is most famous for the book she published at age 25, in 1970, "The Dialectic of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution." In this book, she utilized the work of Marx and Freud, among others, and argued that biology, and women's capacity for reproduction, was used by a patriarchal society to keep women unequal. In her activist role, she was the co-founder of three feminist organizations: New York Radical Women, the Redstockings, and New York Radical Feminists. She was also a painter, and wrote another book, but she found the fame that came to her after "Dialectic" overwhelming. In later years Ms. Firestone's life and work were derailed by mental illness, and for many years before her death she had largely isolated herself. It is very sad that this was so. But her contribution to the women's movement and its intellectual underpinnings, and her influence on so many women, are something to be proud of, and something that will live on. I remember reading this book when I was in college and just discovering the women's movement, and I remember being very impressed by it, with its radical and liberating ideas. She was an important part of those heady years when women felt they could truly change the world and make it a more equal place.

"Shout Her Lovely Name," by Natalie Serber

"Shout Her Lovely Name" (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012), by Natalie Serber, is a collection of short stories, all interconnected except for a few stories. The interlocking stories feature a mother (Ruby), from the time she was young, and her daughter Nora, each going through various adventures, loves, and losses. Although mother and daughter are very different, they have some commonalities, and they always stay connected. The title story, which is not one of the interconnected stories, is a powerful portrayal of a mother's dealing with a teenaged daughter with a serious eating disorder. Her heartbreaking fear and attempts to do the right thing in the face of her daughter's massive denial and resistance seem very realistic and are very moving. All the stories engage with women's lives, families, sexual and romantic relationships, and most especially the fraught but so very important mother-daughter relationship. As a daughter and a mother of a daughter myself, I can relate to some of these interactions, although the specifics of my life are quite different from those of the stories' characters.

I Remember Those Color-Coded Reading Boxes

Does anyone else remember the SRA Reading Boxes? I happened to see a reference to them recently, and it reminded me of past connections to them. I remember them from school, and then later from using them many, many years ago in some reading classes I taught. For those who don’t know them: There are several boxes in each series, at graduated levels; each box has a set of reading cards of various color-coded levels; each card has a short reading followed by comprehension questions. The idea is that students move at their own pace through the various levels of cards. If they read, for example, three cards at one level with no more than one error in answering the questions on each card (I don’t remember the exact requirements), they may move to readings at the next color/level. The value is in allowing students to move as quickly or as slowly as they they are able, and to monitor their own progress. A whole classroom of students can each be reading at her or his own level; teachers set aside a certain amount of time a week for this activity. The downside is that the readings are often very dull. I don’t know if these are still used in classrooms, but I am guessing they are. I see that McGraw Hill still sells them. Although I found them a bit dull and bland both when I read them and when I taught them, there is something that appeals to many students about them, and this system offers a different kind of reading practice than the usual practice of the whole class reading and discussing the same readings. It allows students at all levels to feel a sense of accomplishment; it also harnesses the competitive spirit that many students feel, even if they are only competing against themselves. The hope is that reading these cards will lead to increased skills which then will lead to reading longer and more varied materials.

Another "Missionary Kid" Memoir

Regular readers of this blog may remember that I am doing some research involving memoirs of “missionary kids” (“MKs”), and that I have written about a couple of them here as well. Some of the 31 MK memoirs I have read for my research so far are very well written; others are not, probably because most of the writers are amateur rather than professional writers. (I should state, though, that I find them all interesting and to varying degrees compelling, both for my research and because as an MK myself, I am always making comparisons and connections to my own experiences, and among the experiences of the various MKs.) One of the better written MK memoirs I have read lately is “Mish Kid to Mystic: Memoirs of a Missionary Daughter” (self-published, 2011), by Mary Lou McNeill Jacoby, which, although Jacoby is not a professional writer, is engagingly written. Jacoby’s parents were missionaries in West Africa. Her stories of her childhood there are interesting, but what I found even more of interest were her stories of her life afterward, and how she has been influenced by her MK background throughout her life. Jacoby, now in her 80s, has led a full and fascinating life in which she has always been a seeker. Although continuing in the Christian tradition and as the wife of a minister, she has also investigated and learned from various religious and spiritual traditions and innovations. It seems that she has been fully and intensely involved in her spiritual life, her family, her work, her travels, and her life. I admire how attentively, thoughtfully, and joyfully she has lived her life, and enjoyed reading about it. I had a brief email correspondence with Mrs. Jacoby when I ordered the book, and both that correspondence and the book itself made me feel she is someone I can imagine as a role model, as well as someone I would enjoy sitting down with for a long conversation. The photographs and drawings, some done by her mother and some by the author herself, add to the interest of the book.

Piles of Books for the Taking

I have written before (e.g., 3/27/12) about how books move around in my life, as they probably do in yours: to and from the library, to and from bookstores, to and from friends, from home to office and vice versa, etc. I also mentioned that sometimes colleagues at work put piles of unwanted books outside their office doors for students or others to take if they want them. Over the summer there have been several moves on my office floor and the floor above, as one person retired, another became a Dean and moved to a Dean’s office, another moved to a different floor, and new faculty moved in to their offices. The moving around and packing up of office contents made people go through their shelves and discard books they no longer used, older editions, etc. So in the past couple of months, I have seen several of those book piles in our hallways. Sometimes they have a hand-lettered sign saying “Free,” or “Help yourself,” or “Take what you want.” Even without signs, it is generally understood that books in the hallways outside office doors are up for grabs. I am oddly fascinated by watching the piles diminish. One day I will see a tall pile, the next day it is smaller, the following day smaller still, with perhaps a lone rejected book or two left. And then somehow even those disappear. It is a simple and elegant solution to the problem of too many books, which is a problem most people in my field (education) have eventually. The former owners clear space on their shelves, and a student or perhaps a fellow faculty member picks up a new book or two of interest, free. I find this whole interchange strangely satisfying to observe (and occasionally participate in). It makes me happy to see each book find a new home.

"Alys, Always," by Harriet Lane

It is hard to categorize the brief, gripping British novel, “Alys, Always” (Scribner, 2012), by Harriet Lane. It is a literary novel, but also has elements of suspense and psychological gameswomanship. Reviewers and blurbers have mentioned the author Ruth Rendell and the classic novel “Rebecca” as influences or antecedents. The main character, Frances Thorpe, stops at the scene of an accident and is the last to speak to the dying woman driver, Alys Kyte, who turns out to be the wife of a prominent writer, Laurence Kyte. (A side note: what is it with characters meeting at the beginning of novels at the scenes of accidents? This is at least the third novel I have read recently with this plot device.) What follows is her increasing connection with Alys’ family, as she learns more about them and becomes associated more with them. The psychological aspect of the novel comes into play here, as we readers slowly realize there is more going on under the surface than initially appears, and that Frances is a much more complicated and less innocent character than we might have thought at first. This is a well-written, compelling but somewhat disturbing novel. I can’t decide whether I liked it or not, but it definitely kept me reading.

"The World Without You," by Joshua Henkin

Female authors have, over many years and then with renewed objections in the past couple of years, spoken out about how male writers are still taken more seriously. In particular, they have pointed out that when women write about families, relationships, and other “female” topics, their work is considered less important, but when men write about those topics, they receive kudos. A case in point, they say (and I agree) is the novels of Jonathan Franzen. To quote Jennifer Weiner (from an interview in the Huffington Post, 8/26/10), whose objections to the high praise for Franzen’s novels for their attention to family I have written about before: “It’s a very old and deep-seated double standard that holds when a man writes about family and feelings, it’s literature with a capital L, but when a woman considers the same topics, it’s romance, or a beach book.” She also says that the big reviews and articles in The New York Times and other prominent periodicals tend to be about “white guys. Usually white guys living in Brooklyn or Manhattan, white guys who either have MFAs or teach in MFA programs.” I have just read “The World Without You” (Pantheon, 2012), by Joshua Henkin, who, according to the back flap, “directs the MFA Program in Fiction Writing at Brooklyn College.” Bingo! This book -- very much about family and feelings -- has already been extensively reviewed, and since it just came out last month (and since his earlier novel "Matrimony" was well-reviewed), it is likely that it will be reviewed much more in the months ahead. Although I agree with much of what Weiner has said, for some reason I feel different about Henkin’s novel than I did about Franzen’s “Freedom” – I like it better. (Readers may remember my extreme ambivalence about "Freedom"; I did like Franzen’s earlier novel, “The Corrections.”) “The World Without You” tells of a family torn apart by their grief at their son/brother Leo’s death in Iraq, where he was a journalist. The family meets at their summer house one year after Leo’s death for his memorial service. Leo’s parents David’s and Marilyn’s marriage is suffering because they don’t know how to comfort each other, and each is going a different way. The responses of his older sisters Clarissa, Lily, and Noelle are each affected by their complicated relationships with their parents and with each other, not to mention with their spouses, partners, and children, as well as their very different relationships with being Jewish. Leo's widow, Thisbe, is there with her toddler son Calder, wondering about her future and about her relationship with Leo's family. The main focus of the novel is on the family and their complex reactions, interactions, and expressions of grief. But an also important although less emphasized theme is the unnecessary tragedy of the war in Iraq and of all the terrible losses so many families suffered (and still suffer) because of it. This novel puts a human face on those great losses.

"The Receptionist," by Janet Groth

The New Yorker. New York. Literary stories and gossip. An independent woman figuring out what she wants in life, having adventures, (mostly) happy in her work, longing for love as well. All of these elements and more make Janet Groth’s memoir, “The Receptionist” (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2012), a delight to read. Groth, like so many other Midwestern young people, moved to New York after college to seek a bigger and more exciting life. In her case, the move was from Minnesota, and the year was 1957. She became a receptionist at the offices of The New Yorker magazine, and stayed there for 21 years. During those years, she met and became friends (and sometimes lovers) with many well-known writers, editors, artists, and other members of the New York literary/art world. She went to their parties and became their confidant. She knew about their writing blocks, their affairs, their secrets. She herself hoped to be a writer, but it took a while. She was also a great traveler. And she loved literature, and knew it well. After a few years at the New Yorker, she started studying for her PhD in English literature, and only ended her receptionist job when she got a position as a university professor. She finally did write; her main publications have been on the great critic Edmund Wilson. And now she has written this generous memoir, candidly sharing her experiences and feelings during those 21 New Yorker years. And although the literary stories are wonderful, so too is the portrait of a young woman making her own way in a time before it was common for women to be single, self-supporting, independent, and adventurous. Although she had her troubles and doubts, she seems to have had a strength and belief in herself, and a desire for a full life, that carried her through. This book is beautifully written and a great pleasure to read.

"They Knew Mr. Knight," by Dorothy Whipple

I have now written about several of Dorothy Whipple’s novels, thrilled with having “discovered” her work. (See my posts of 1/24/12, 1/30/12, 2/10/12, and 7/24/12.) I seem to be slowly working my way through her fiction, feeling fortunate that the USF Library has several of her books. The most recent I have read is “They Knew Mr. Knight” (originally published 1934 by John Murray; Persephone republished version, 1968 – and once again, I thank Persephone for these republishings of Whipple and other women writers who would otherwise have faded into the woodwork of the past). This novel tells the story of a robber baron type, Mr. Knight, who seems to succeed at everything he touches in business, and who becomes a benefactor to Thomas and Celia Blake and their family. He helps them prosper, and they are grateful. But, well, not to give away the ending, things change…. This novel was published at a time of a problematic economy (in the U.S. and in England too), and reading it now in another time of a seriously struggling economy is chilling. Mr. Knight prefigures the same class dominating the economy and the news today: a ruling class of businessmen (and I use the term “men” advisedly, although of course there are a few women involved as well) who think it is acceptable to do anything that benefits their businesses and profits (or simply don’t care about the ethical or even legal aspects of what they do, or about whom they hurt along the way). Such names as Bernie Madoff spring to mind. But this novel is not simply a polemic; there is much more in the story, regarding the psychology of the family that gets drawn into the world of Mr. Knight, and regarding the relationships among all the characters, as well as regarding the place of money and class in England and in its people’s lives. In this, as in her other novels and short stories, Whipple’s writing is so very good that the reader luxuriates in reading it.

"The Forever Marriage," by Ann Bauer

I know I sounded a little crabby when I wrote about “The Kissing List,” “Seating Arrangements,” and a couple of other books recently, and now I am going to be crabby again, this time about “The Forever Marriage” (The Overlook Press, 2012), by Ann Bauer. It is hard to warm to a novel that starts with a wife’s being happy when her husband dies of cancer. Not happy because he is no longer in pain, but happy because she is finally released from a marriage of 22 years in which she has been disappointed from the very beginning. Carmen knows and fully admits that Jobe is a good man, but she has never been in love with him, and their love and sex life has been tepid and unsatisfying for her. She married him because she felt grateful to him, and sorry for him, and because she felt grateful to his mother (I know, this reason is strange, but true in this story), and because he had the money that would allow them a comfortable life. She did her duty as a wife and mother, and took good care of him in his illness, but did have affairs. Although it is clear that the marriage was unhappy, one still does not feel comfortable rooting for a character such as Carmen. Yet it slowly becomes clear that Carmen is not a bad person, and that there is more to the story than it seems. The tone of the book is an odd tension between the wrong and even -- seemingly -- despicable, and on the other hand, the heartwarming. This would be unsettling in a good way if the book were better, but as it stands, it just seems a bit artificial. There is a subplot about Jobe’s being a genius mathematician, and about what will happen to his ideas and discoveries in that area; this subplot is mildly interesting but seems tacked on, especially as it brings us to a sort of false-feeling closure at the end of the novel.

"The Kissing List," by Stephanie Reents

Is it my age that makes me come close to disliking the stories and their characters in “The Kissing List: Fiction” (interlocking short stories) (Hogarth, 2012), by Stephanie Reents? Although well written, the stories seem like so many others I have read about smart, well-educated, urban twenty-somethings stumbling their way through life, full of angst, having lots of sex and doing lots of drinking, but not seeming to really enjoy even those pursuits. The characters are not unlikeable but not particularly likeable either. Some of the characters blur; their lives are so similar and so intertwined. I am sure that even for these privileged young people, Reents’s portrayal of the disappointment and difficulty involved in searching for meaningful work and fulfilling relationships is accurate. I also suspect that – except for the unfortunate young woman with cancer – these characters will land on their feet and lead comfortable lives. It is not that I don’t like reading about young people. I do. I enjoy reading about characters of all ages. But this particular subset of young people has been done, and done, and done by young writers. Although each book, including this one, has its own twists and its own rewards, the problem is still a sort of wearying predictability. (P.S. I confess that I skipped one story; when I saw that it featured a mouse, my rodent phobia kicked in, and I thought “No, I just don’t want to read this." So it is possible that this is the one story that would change everything I have written above. But I doubt it.)

"Lulu in Marrakech," by Diane Johnson

Like Alix Kates Shulman, about whose novel “Menage” I posted last time, novelist Diane Johnson was born in the early 1930s. Both of these writers started writing about 1970, and now in their late 70s are still publishing. This is impressive and inspiring. Today I am posting about Diane Johnson’s 2008 novel, “Lulu in Marrakech,” which I just finished listening to in my car on CD (Books on Tape, 2008). I have read most of Johnson’s novels over the years, so when this novel came out, I thought about reading it, but somehow it didn’t sound appealing, probably because the main character is a spy, although a nontypical one, and I am not at all drawn to spy stories (even knowing this novel – despite the spy character - wasn’t actually in that genre). But when looking for books on CD for a recent driving trip, I saw this one on the library shelf and decided to try it. Johnson’s novels, such as her French trilogy (“L’Affaire,” “Le Mariage,” and “Le Divorce”) tend to be beautifully written but light and entertaining rather than profound, although they do make interesting points about marriage and about cultural differences. “Lulu” too has some of this light, comic aspect. But it also reminded me of Johnson’s earlier (1998) novel, “Persian Nights,” about an American woman’s visit to Iran; it has some of the same balance of almost frivolous lightness and more intense political and cultural commentary. To me the main question about Lulu is whether she is intended by the author to be taken as a serious character, or a sort of parody, or a representative of the sort of clueless bungling that spies – American and otherwise – are sometimes known for…or some combination of these elements, or maybe something else entirely. The way Lulu is portrayed, as a kind of girly-girl and yet an independent and fearless woman, is intriguing. Overall I thought this novel was lesser Johnson, but I must admit I enjoyed it more than I expected to.

"Menage," by Alix Kates Shulman

Alix Kates Shulman has had a permanent place in my pantheon of admired women, ever since I read her classic feminist novel, "Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen" (1972). She is (or at least was) also well known for being one of the first to write about how married men and women should share housework (and everything else). Let me take a minute here to thank, once again, the pioneering second wave feminists of the late 60s and the 70s who made such a huge difference for women. As for Shulman: I have only read a couple of her books over the years since then, but I just read her new novel, "Menage" (unfortunately I can't figure out how to insert the accent mark over the first "e" in this blog program)(Other Press, 2012). This is the story of a married couple who invites into their home an intense, respected-for-his-celebrated-past-work-but-with-no-recent-work emigre writer originally from an unnamed Eastern European country. He has fallen on hard times, and they provide him with a space to live and write in their large, luxurious house in the woods of an upscale part of New Jersey, where the couple has moved from Manhattan. The husband, Mack, is an expansive, kindly-but-calculating real estate entrepreneur. His wife, Heather, wants to be a writer but so far mainly only writes an online column on the environment; she rationalizes that she will write more - preferably a novel - when their two children get older. Meanwhile, she is vaguely dissatisfied with her life, and Mack thinks that inviting Zoltan to stay with them will be good for her, as she will be able to discuss writing, literature, and other intellectual topics with him. Complications arise when the prospect of sex enters the picture, and when the expectations of the three main characters teeter out of the delicate balance of who will get what from the arrangement. This novel is quite interesting as a psychological study of the three characters and of their complex interactions. Overall, though, it does not have the heft, the impact of a book that the reader will remember much past reading it. (Now, on a completely different note, I would like to register a small complaint against some paperback books' being given an inside cover flap, similar to those on a hardback book's paper cover; these are fine for hardbacks, and eventually get removed anyway, but on paperback books, since the flap is actually attached to the front cover, it is thicker, and can't be detached (especially as in this case, when the copy I read is from the library), and keeps rising up and getting in the way. I think the publishers who use these are trying to raise their paperbacks to a higher level than the regular ones, to "class them up," so to speak, but the annoyance outweighs any such positive impression.)

"Seating Arrangements," by Maggie Shipstead

“Seating Arrangements” (Knopf, 2012), by the first-time young (29-year-old) novelist Maggie Shipstead, is an example of books that evoke a specific, albeit complicated, response in me: I “enjoy” reading them, or at least find myself wanting to keep reading, yet feel a bit dismayed and even slightly repulsed by them. This novel tells the story of one weekend on a New England island before, during, and after a wedding. The characters are the bride Daphne and groom Greyson and their families (parents, multiple siblings, grandparents, aunt), with a few friends and others (e.g., a chipper wedding planner) on the fringes of the action. Complicated but somehow not very interesting family dynamics loom large, as do rehashings of old grievances, flirting, and random sex, with resultant jealousy and other bad feelings. But the main character and his limitations take center stage: he is Winn Van Meter, the father of the bride. Winn comes from an upper middle class family, went to Harvard, was a member of its most desirable club, is financially successful, but is still striving, still feeling he hasn’t quite made it in the social world. He desperately wants to join the prestigious Pequod Club on the island, and can’t understand why his application has been stalled for three years. His open striving, his one-sided rivalry with a neighbor with a perceived higher status, as well as his doomed flirtation with one of his daughter Daphne’s friends, Agatha, make him appear very shallow and lamentably foolish. No one in the novel does anything truly terrible, but none of them appears very admirable, interesting or likeable either. I can’t be sure whether the author expects us to dislike these characters, and is focusing on the social satire that exposes them, or if she wants us to see them as flawed but very human characters that we can all in some ways identify with. In any case, it was with a sense of relief that I finished and closed the book.

"A Queer and Pleasant Danger," by Kate Bornstein

One of the great things about reading is its allowing us to enter whole worlds that we would never have known much or anything about without books or other written works. This is an obvious observation, a cliché, but occasionally certain books powerfully and even viscerally remind us of its truth. I just finished reading Kate Bornstein’s “A Queer and Pleasant Danger” (Beacon, 2012), a memoir described on the front cover as “The true story of a nice Jewish boy who joins the Church of Scientology and leaves twelve years later to become the lovely lady she is today.” This description is a good short summary of the “plot” of Bornstein’s life, but doesn’t begin to capture the way she invites readers into the painful and exhilarating highs and lows of her life. About those worlds that we learn about (“we” here meaning “I,” and others like me who are well read and somewhat knowledgeable about the worlds within our world, but have only superficial – even if open-minded and accepting – real understanding of some of those worlds): Here we learn about the worlds of scientology, transgender, and sadomasochism (and various permutations in the complicated taxonomy of gender and sexuality). Our guide, Bornstein, is a complex, troubled, yet resourceful and resilient person who has somehow survived (sometimes just barely) a complicated dance of insiderness/outsiderness throughout her life, and now is at what seems to be a place of hard-earned (at least relative) peace and happiness. Her person and voice are candid, confiding, bracing, even endearing. She is a pioneer in her openness, as well as a good writer; I thank her for her honesty and courage, and wish her well.

"Wild," by Cheryl Strayed

"Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail" (Knopf, 2012), by Cheryl Strayed, is not the type of memoir I would normally read. A book about a long, tough, physically and mentally bruising 1,100 mile solo hike? For this not-at-all-athletic, camping-averse reader, there was nothing compelling about the prospect of reading a 300-plus-page book about a young woman's trek up and down mountains, through alternately freezing and steaming weather, encountering bears and rattlesnakes, carrying a backpack that is so heavy that the author calls it the Monster, experiencing aches and pains and blisters and calluses that she has never imagined, often going days without seeing another human being, and sometimes suffering hunger and thirst, among other hardships. Strayed had had no experience with long-distance hiking, but decided it was the challenge she needed in order to deal with the blows life had dealt her and the unhealthy ways she had been living in order to blot out those blows. The most devastating loss was her mother's death when Strayed was only 22. She then embarked on aimless traveling, used destructive drugs, and entered unhealthy relationships. But after four years of this, she pulled herself together to plan and earn money for the big trek along the Pacific Crest Trail. The story of her adventure is both painful and inspiring. Despite my initial reservations about the book, I found myself completely caught up in Strayed's recounting of the journey, as well as her flashbacks to the earlier events in her life. There is an honesty and openness in her writing that is hard to read but also makes it easy for the reader to connect with the narrative and the narrator.

Farewell, Gore Vidal

The great author, politician, intellectual, and provocateur Gore Vidal died yesterday at the age of 86. As the Associated Press, The New York Times, and other news outlets pointed out, he was one of the last of the "generation of writers who were also genuine celebrities" (AP); we saw him on TV and in the gossip columns as well as in literary venues. He was a real "public intellectual" -- he fearlessly (and even joyfully) challenged orthodoxy wherever he found it. I didn't always agree with him, and it was clear that he was often purposely being outrageous, but I was happy that such a thinker and dissident was speaking out regularly. As for his novels: they were sometimes wonderful, sometimes very disappointing. But overall he made a tremendous contribution to literature. I will never forget reading, many years ago, "Burr," one of his very best books, and a revelation to me. It is a wonderful combination of history and literature, and I couldn't put it down. A related happy personal memory is that my late father and I both read some of his novels and had good conversations about them. Vidal's essays, which I found in many of the magazines and newspapers I read, and was always happy to see, were often masterpieces of criticism, and pointed (some say sly and devilish) humor as well. Farewell, Gore Vidal. Your presence and voice will be missed.

"The Man of My Dreams," by Curtis Sittenfeld

Curtis Sittenfeld's first novel, "Prep," was a fascinating look at the East Coast boarding school set. Her "American Wife" was a fictionalized version of the life of a Laura Bush type character. I enjoyed both. I have just listened on CD to her novel, "The Man of My Dreams" (Books on Tape, 2006). As in "Prep," Sittenfeld's main character here is a distinctive, somewhat eccentric, somewhat lonely "outsider" type. We meet Hannah when she is 14, and reeling from the recent separation of her mother from her abusive father. We follow her life up to her late 20s. She is smart and observant, blunt and somewhat socially inept, and continues to be a bit of an outsider. She is the kind of person who is almost always insecure, but who is capable of feeling both superior and inferior at almost the same time. She would love to be loved, but on one level doesn't feel she deserves true love and, perhaps consequently, keeps choosing (or being chosen by) the wrong men, and seems not to quite know what to do about that. All of this is painfully and realistically portrayed in this novel. The author is brave enough to make Hannah a bit unlikable at times, yet we readers understand and sympathize with her, and ultimately cannot help liking her. This novel felt very immediate, very real to me. It wasn't always comfortable to listen to, but ultimately I admired and enjoyed it.

"High Wages," by Dorothy Whipple

Some readers may remember that a few months ago I “discovered” the writer Dorothy Whipple, whom I had not known about before. Now that I have read some of her fiction, I find that although she wrote mostly in the 1930s and 1940s, many besides me still read her today. This was a humbling experience. Not because I claim to know all writers, of course (!), but because Whipple’s work is exactly the kind of fiction I like, and I am surprised and a bit chagrined that I had not heard of her before. In any case, I did recently “discover” her, loved her fiction, and posted about three of her books (one short story collection and two novels) on 1/24/12, 1/30/12, and 2/10/12. After that, I had been meaning to read more of her fiction, and knew that the USF library had several of her books, in the beautiful Persephone editions with their grey covers and gorgeous, colorfully patterned inner covers. I have now just read “High Wages” (originally 1932, republished by Persephone 2009), and enjoyed it very much. This novel is different than most of Whipple's other works, in that instead of focusing on middle and upper class characters, it features a main character who starts out very poor. Jane becomes an orphan in her early teens, doesn’t get along with her stepmother, and soon is out on her own. At first she works in a haberdashery shop, at the lowest level possible, living behind the shop, badly paid and badly fed. But she is a bright, talented, hardworking, observant young woman, with a vision of how to do things better, and with ambition, and she gradually raises her station in life, eventually owning her own very prestigious and successful shop. The story tells not only of her work, but also of her friendships, hardships, romances, and more. Unlike most English novels that are set in London, this one takes place mainly in northern England, in a small town near Manchester. Some of the scenes that most impressed me were Jane’s outings to increasingly far away cities – first Manchester, then Liverpool, and finally London. She was fascinated by everything about these cities, wandering the streets, observing the people, looking at the shop windows, soaking it all in. This suddenly reminded me of how even today, even in my prosperous city of San Francisco, there are children in some districts of the city who have not only never been out of the city but have not even been to Golden Gate Park or to Ocean Beach. This was a sad reminder that a seemingly unchanging fact about the world -- the gap between the rich and the poor, and even the middle class and the poor -- is still huge, and still something we need to be aware of and fight against.

"Yes, Chef," by Marcus Samuelsson

Readers of this blog know that one of the genres I enjoy is books about the restaurant world, and especially memoirs of chefs. I just finished a new example of this genre, “Yes, Chef: A Memoir” (Random House, 2012), by Marcus Samuelsson. This is the story of a man who was born in Ethiopia, was adopted as a toddler by a Swedish family, loved to cook with his Swedish grandmother, started working in restaurants as a young teenager, and at the practically unprecedented age of 24, became the chef at New York’s Aquavit and earned a New York Times three-star review for the restaurant. He was the youngest chef ever to receive a three-star review from the Times. Along the way, he worked in restaurants in Europe, and while in New York and elsewhere, he roamed the various neighborhoods and explored the cuisines and markets of many different countries and cultures. He also recently won the Top Chef Masters television competition, and planned and cooked for the first state dinner at the Obama White House. At a certain point, he felt the need to reconnect with his Ethiopian birth family and background, and with his black identity as well, so he went back to Ethiopia several times. His own path to success was not as direct and easy as the above description might indicate; he overcame many challenges and missteps along the way, both in his professional life and his personal life. Now, bringing together many aspects of his life, talents, identity, and character, he is the creator, owner and chef of the successful and well-reviewed Red Rooster restaurant in Harlem. One of his goals in life is to bring more attention to Harlem and its rich history and culture; another goal is to bring more black chefs into the restaurant world. This story is well written. Although no co-author is listed on the title page, the author mentions in the acknowledgements that “the real work of writing this book began when my friend Veronica Chambers agreed to help me tell my story….This is my story, but the fine touch on the words is all hers,” so it is not clear how much of the writing is his and how much hers. In any case, it is a readable and compelling story. Samuelsson has a unique and inspiring story, and his “voice” is both proud and humble, a good balance. He seems very likable, although I did question his decision for many years to support his illegitimate daughter financially but not see or communicate with her. Fortunately, he eventually, as he became more mature, established contact with her and built a belated relationship with her. I like the fact that he often acknowledges and thanks the people in his life who helped him succeed, not only as a chef but as a person, most notably his beloved and admirable Swedish parents. Now, back to the reason Samuelsson published a book in the first place: his life in and love of cooking. He is obviously a tremendously talented chef, and has been able to blend various aspects of his background, identity, and gifts to produce amazing, creative food and a wonderful experience for those who dine at his restaurants. A few years ago, I was fortunate enough to eat at Aquavit while he was still the chef there, and it was an impressive and memorable meal and experience.

"Gossip," by Beth Gutcheon

On 2/8/10, I wrote about “middlebrow literature,” and gave as examples of middlebrow writers Anne Rivers Siddons, Anita Shreve, Elizabeth Berg, Nancy Thayer, and Joanna Trollope. I would add Beth Gutcheon, several of whose novels I have read in the past, and whose new novel, “Gossip” (HarperCollins, 2012), I just listened to on CD (Books on Tape/Random House, 2012). She, like the other authors I just mentioned, writes solidly and well, and although her novels are not "great literature," they “give good value,” as the English say. They give readers an entertaining read, and the escape that they (we) are often looking for; at the same time, they move us, inspire us, and make us feel connected to humankind. “Gossip,” although in some ways light, deals with some serious issues as well: relationships over the years and how they can go right or wrong, the human tendency to want to gossip about others, loneliness, fractured families, friendship, and more. These issues are presented in the entertaining context of New York, posh apartments and country homes, private schools, society, money, fashion, and the entertainment world. So we readers get the best of both worlds: enjoyment and emotional connection. The three main characters met at an elite private school for girls, and the novel follows their lives, and the lives of their spouses, ex-spouses, lovers, and children over perhaps 40 years. One of the three, Luvia, narrates most of the story, and acts as the calm center and confidant for the others as they live out their more tempestuous lives. Again, this is not great literature, but it is not trashy or badly written either, as is so much on the market today. It does the job it sets out to do well, and provides satisfaction. And what’s wrong with that? I for one am grateful for these middlebrow authors and their novels; they have provided me with many hours of enjoyment over the years.

"A Sensible Life," by Mary Wesley

I was slightly familiar with the English author Mary Wesley’s name and reputation, but don’t remember actually reading any of her novels before. At the local library sale that I have written about several times, I recently picked up Wesley’s 1990 novel, “A Sensible Life” (Penguin). It looked like one of the kinds of novels I like: English, about a group of young people and their families who meet on vacation in France, just before World War II, and their intertwined lives over the following 35 years. Country houses, hotels, parties, dinners, romances, family dramas, friendships, jealousy, loyalty, and more…wonderful! I did, however, feel a bit uneasy about the first part of the novel, because of the sadness of the main character, Flora, a 10-year-old whose parents in their utter self-absorption neglect her unforgivably. But Flora is a strong, observant girl, and I wanted to know what would happen in her life. Slowly the story caught me up, and my fascination with how people’s lives work out over time, and with the relationships among those characters, kept me interested to the end. A few unexpected twists and turns along the way also kept me engaged.

"Bookshelf," by Alex Johnson

A few days ago, I was at our university library to pick up an academic book I had requested from Link-Plus, a service that allows us to borrow books from other libraries in a consortium. While I was at the library, I checked out the “new books” display in the lobby area, as I usually do when I am in the library for any reason. I never know what I will find. This time, a square, brightly colored book picturing a curved bookshelf on its cover caught my eye. Titled “Bookshelf” (Thames & Hudson, 2012), by Alex Johnson, it beautifully features one or more unique bookshelves on each of its 269 pages. There is a brief description of each illustration, listing the designer, materials, etc., and these are interesting and useful, but the illustrations are the stars of the book. What a wealth of gorgeous, creative, artistic shelves! What a variety of materials, sizes, shapes, and colors! Some of them are both practical and beautiful; others look more artistic than realistically usable, but all of them blend art and an unspoken tribute to the power of books in people’s lives and homes. The colors, layout, and thick, coated paper all contribute to the aesthetic pleasure of perusing this book. A bonus enjoyment for those of us at USF is that the book includes a picture of the Cable Car Book Cart that was custom built by students and staff at the USF Gleeson Library two years ago. This cart is made of wood, and “was built in homage to San Francisco’s iconic cable cars.” The cart is occasionally displayed in the library lobby. Book lovers and artists alike will enjoy this book.

"The Essential 'Dykes to Watch Out For,'" by Alison Bechdel

What a feast “The Essential ‘Dykes to Watch Out For’” (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2008) is! It is a generous selection from over 20 years of Alison Bechdel’s comic strip (and from several earlier collections) portraying the lives of a group of lesbian friends and lovers, parents and children, neighbors and coworkers, and their friends and families. The book is physically large, to accommodate the 10-12 panel comics, each filling a page, which are crammed with drawings and dialogue, so that it is easy to read them and to enjoy all the wonderful details in each. The facial expressions alone are priceless. The book is full of life, of observations, of politics, of social history, of romance, of flirting, of sex, of commitment, of breakups, of gossip, of issues about money and housing and education, and best of all, of friendships and relationships as they shift and grow and change and sometimes end. Getting lost in the book is like getting blissfully lost in a sprawling Victorian novel. Why is Mo (who seems to be the author's alter ego) so fixated on the state of the nation and of politics? What is it like to be estranged from one’s parents, or to take care of them as they age? What are the lives of the pioneer lesbians who started raising children like? Why does Sparrow take up with Stuart, a man? Do Clarice and Toni get tired of being the married couple role model? How about the child who is born a boy but knows she is a girl? Somehow Bechdel manages to seamlessly weave together the social history of the times with the stories of the individual characters and their families, communities, and relationships. This book and its characters are variously funny, moving, sympathetic, maddening, unpredictable, charming, annoying, informational, illuminating, and inspiring. And whatever the reader’s own sexual identity is, she or he will identify with some of the characters, and want others of them for friends.

"Mending," by Sallie Bingham

I had read good reviews of “Mending: New and Selected Stories” (Sarabande, 2011), by Sallie Bingham, but when I read the collection, I only mildly enjoyed reading the stories. The adjectives that kept occurring to me were “pensive” and “plaintive.” When I look again at the stories, I see that they are perfectly good ones, but somehow they didn’t engage me. So that is all I will say about “Mending.”

"The House of Tyneford," by Natasha Solomons

Did you love “Upstairs, Downstairs”? And “Downton Abbey”? If so, you will love “The House of Tyneford” (Plume, 2011), a novel by Natasha Solomons, as well. It is one of those very English stories, and tells of a lovely, rather isolated area on the coast of England, with its old English country house and all its traditions, along with the village people nearby, fishing and tending sheep. It is all very charming, old-fashioned, and idyllic. But it is also very serious. The time is just before World War II, and Elise, a young Jewish woman from an educated and well-off family in Vienna is sent to the English house to be a housemaid, a common event during that time period, used as a way to keep the young woman out of harm’s way during the increasingly brutal treatment of Jewish people in Austria and elsewhere. She is separated from her novelist father and her opera singer mother, who are hoping for visas to the United States, and from her older sister, who has already emigrated to the United States with her professor husband. Elise soon begins a romance with the son of the house, and she moves in and out of various strata of people in the house and in the village, not quite belonging anywhere, but making friends and connections nevertheless. She also falls in love with the area, and especially with living by the sea. Meanwhile she is constantly worried about her family members, misses them desperately, and is consoled just a little by her possession of a family viola with her father’s latest novel manuscript stuffed into it. As the war begins and proceeds, there are many twists and turns to the story. There is danger, sweetness, romance, sadness, loss and redemption. This is an affecting story, one that I enjoyed very much.