Saturday, April 17, 2010

"Solar" is "fine"

My friend C. is the person who persuaded me several years ago to start reading Ian McEwan's novels, and I am grateful to her for that; since then I have read and very much enjoyed several of his novels, most notably "Atonement" and "Saturday." A few days ago, in an email about something else, C. mentioned that she was reading McEwan's current novel, "Solar" (Random House, 2010), and that it was "fine." I had to smile, as the phrase "damning with faint praise" came to mind. I haven't discussed the novel with her since, so I don't know how she feels about it as she has read more or perhaps finished the novel. But in the meantime I too have been reading "Solar," which I finished last night. I have to agree with C's assessment that it is "fine." I mildly enjoyed it, but it didn't grip me the way some of his other novels have. Perhaps it was because of the pages and pages of prose about physics and solar energy. Of course I admire the idea of solar power, but that doesn't mean I enjoy reading about the scientific details. This probably says more about my limitations than it does about the book, and I am sure some readers truly savor the very parts that I skim over. Or perhaps my lack of involvement was because the main character, Michael Beard, is -- intentionally, as I heard the author say in a radio interview -- a rather unlikable, completely self-centered character who doesn't connect to other human beings very well, even his five ex-wives, his small daughter, his dozens of lovers, and his scientific and business colleagues. Of course main characters do not have to be likable in order for a book to be good or even great, but such choices on the part of the author do make it harder for the reader to get emotionally involved with the story. I do note though that the power of seeing a story through a certain character's perspective is very strong: I found myself rooting for Beard even when he was covering up a crime, and then being appalled at myself for doing so!

Friday, April 16, 2010

"Lark and Termite"

In a bookstore yesterday, I saw that the novel "Lark and Termite" (Knopf, 2009), by Jayne Anne Phillips, is now in paperback (Vintage, 2010). Seeing the stack of paperback copies reminded me of how much I liked this compelling novel when I read it last year, despite having had some mixed feelings about Phillips' writing in the past. I believe it is her best book so far. It is the story of Termite, a little boy who is very disabled yet has a striking personality and loving temperament, and Lark, his nine-years-older half-sister who loves him dearly and is his main caregiver. Their bond is extremely close, made closer by the fact that they have few reliable and available adults in their lives. Their aunt does as much as she can, but she works long hours to support them and thus is gone most of the time. There is also a powerful back story about Termite's father, who was a soldier in Korea, and whom Termite never met. This is a truly original novel, as well as a moving one, with strong characters, and a sad but inspiring story.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

"The Private Lives of Pippa Lee"

"The Private Lives of Pippa Lee" (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2008), by Rebecca Miller, is an eccentric little novel. Pippa, 50ish, has been married to Herb, 80, for 30 years, and they have just moved to a retirement community. Pippa loves Herb but feels out of place and vaguely unsettled in her new home. The story flashes back to Pippa's very troubled relationship with her mother, her adventures and misadventures as a very young woman, and the drama of her early years with Herb. Back in the present, various surprising events ensue, leading to some new beginnings. (I don't want to give away the plot twists.) The tone of the novel is an odd mixture of light and dark, but Pippa is an intriguing character, and the originality of her personality keeps us reading. Although I have a slight feminist reservation about mentioning the following, believing that women shouldn't be identified by the men in their lives, I will tell you that Rebecca Miller is the daughter of Arthur Miller and is married to Daniel Day-Lewis. (I resolved my concerns by realizing that I would have given you this information if the genders had been reversed; besides, the connections are just too interesting not to pass on!) Miller has also made this novel in to a movie, which I haven't seen, but may look for now.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

"The Professor"

I seem to be reading more memoirs than ever...hmmm...not sure what that means, if anything... I just finished a new one: "The Professor, and other writings" (HarperCollins, 2010), by Terry Castle. Castle is a professor at Stanford University, but is not the professor in the book's title. The book is actually a collection of essays, but each of them is written through a memoiristic lens. Whether the topic of the essay is the writer Susan Sontag, the artist Agnes Martin, the musician Art Pepper, or the author's mother, the real topic is always Castle herself. This is by design, as the author has found herself tiring of traditional scholarly writing, and choosing to include herself and her life in her writing. This focus does not come across as (very) self-centered or arrogant, but as an exploration of her life and experiences, and of how they shed light on other topics, and vice versa. The longest essay by far (at almost 200 pages) is "The Professor," which describes a lesbian affair Castle had during graduate school, some three decades ago, with a charismatic but destructive professor. The story is full of drama, intrigue, shock, despair, humiliation, and even a bit of humor. Although the affair was short-lived, it had a major influence on the author, and it is only now, these many years later, that she feels ready to process and write about what happened. As she tells the story, we also learn much about Castle's life before and after this episode. She is now a well-known professor, the author of several well-received scholarly books (e.g., "The Apparitional Lesbian: Female Homosexuality and Modern Culture"), and in a long, happy relationship with her partner Blakey. Castle is an engaging writer, adept at weaving her story into the various stories of others included in this collection.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Birthday Thanks for All Things Book-Related

As today is my birthday, I am using today's post to pause and thank all the people and institutions that have allowed me to have a life full of the joys of books and reading. First, I thank my dear parents for reading to my brothers and me, for being role models of people who love to read, and for always making sure we had access to plenty of good books. Next I thank all my teachers, from childhood through graduate school, especially my English teachers and professors. In addition, I thank libraries and librarians, bookstores and those who work in them, publishers, editors, literary critics, book reviewers, and good friends who are fellow readers. Most of all, I thank the writers of all the books I have read over the years. I feel fortunate to live in a time and place that provide abundant access to books, and to have the education and resources to take advantage of these reading opportunities. So I send a huge "thank you" out to everyone involved in the world of books. And I send a special thank you too to those of you who read this blog!

Monday, April 12, 2010

"Tamalpais Walking"

One of the joys of living in beautiful Marin County is seeing Mount Tamalpais from many different angles throughout the county, and in many different lights throughout the day. We live quite close to this lovely landmark, so I was happy to peruse "Tamalpais Walking: Poetry, History, and Prints" (Heyday Books, 2009), by Tom Killion and Gary Snyder. Killion grew up in the shadow of Mount Tam, as it is affectionately known, and has made a series of prints of and from the mountain, many of which are featured in this book; the prints are strongly influenced by the style of Japanese woodcuts. Killion also contributes essays about the history of the mountain. The great poet Gary Snyder, who was affiliated with but also independent from the Beat movement, provides poems he has written over his years of walking Mount Tam. He took the tradition of "walking meditation" from his time in Japan, Nepal, and elsewhere, and began walking up and around Mount Tam in the same meditative fashion, and then writing about it. A few writings from others who often walked Mount Tam, such as Kenneth Rexroth and Jack Kerouac, are also included here. This large, beautifully produced volume is a wonderful weaving together of the prints, the essays, and the poetry. The prints are stunning and the poems are evocative. An added attraction for those of us who have treasured Gary Snyder's writing since the late 1960s is revisiting his poetry in this specific local context. Still another draw, for me, is the good memory of hearing Snyder read his poetry when I was in college. So this book resonates with me on a number of levels. But you don't have to live near Mount Tamalpais to appreciate this gorgeous volume, one that is clearly a labor of love on the part of Killion and Snyder.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

"The Three Weissmanns of Westport"

"The Three Weissmanns of Westport" (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2010) is the latest novel by Cathleen Schine, known for her earlier novels "Alice in Bed," "The Love Letter," and "The New Yorkers," among others. Schine has a light, humorous style, while addressing real issues, difficulties, and sad situations (here, divorce, financial troubles, miscommunications among family members, and more). The novel is loosely based on Jane Austen's "Sense and Sensibility," but set in contemporary times, and with its own twists. A mother and two daughters -- here, middle-aged rather than young as in Sense and Sensibility -- are suffering genteel poverty and various setbacks, and move to a cottage provided by a generous, jovial cousin. Both daughters fall in love and are badly let down by their love interests. One daughter, Annie -- who represents Sense -- is responsible and keeps her sorrow inside, while the other daughter, Miranda -- representing Sensibility -- is sulky, dramatic, and self-centered in displaying her unhappiness. The two sisters and the mother love and support and even balance each other. And, as in the original novel, it turns out that each of the daughters actually shares some aspects of the other's character. There are some surprises at the end of the story, adding to the delight and enjoyability of this well-written confection of a novel.
 
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