"The Hand That First Held Mine"

"The Hand That First Held Mine" (Houghton Mifflin, 2010), by the English writer Maggie O'Farrell, tells two stories in alternating chapters. Each story is compelling in and of itself, but the gradual convergence of the two is a masterpiece of storytelling. O'Farrell achieves this feat without pyrotechnics, without seeming gimmicky, and with a purposeful lack of hyped-up suspense; in fact, at certain points she explicitly announces future events, as if to say "This novel isn't about the suspense; it's about how I take you there." The first story takes place in the 1950s and focuses on Lexy, a fiercely self-made and independent young woman during a time period when such independence was not common; Lexie is a journalist/writer/critic. The second story takes place roughly 50 years later; the main character is Elina, an artist. These two characters as well as the other characters (parents, lovers, husbands, friends, co-workers) are exquisitely well portrayed. In both cases, readers can also enjoy the snapshots of the artistic milieu in London. Some of the most powerful portions of the novel are the pictures of the characters' lives as new mothers. Only a mother, as the author is, could immerse us in the piercingly joyful and scarily overwhelming world of the first days and weeks with a newborn. Elina in particular lives in a sort of unreal twilight zone, with the lack of sleep that makes mothers unsure what time of day it is, what is going on in the outside world, and where their own minds are. Also powerful is the portrayal of how childhood events, especially those involving parents, can have a lasting effect on children. This is a beautifully written novel with vivid, original yet somehow familiar characters; I highly recommend it.

Uh...Thanks! Really!

I had to smile when I read a blogpost by Darragh McManus in the Guardian online Aug. 18, 2010 (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2010/aug/18/book-recommendations-go-wrong) about the question of what to do when a friend or colleague presses a book on you, telling you you will love it, and it turns out you don't love it at all. I am sure we have all experienced this, perhaps from both sides -- being the presser and the pressee, so to speak -- at various times. I know I have. Generally my friends know my taste well, and I have often been thrilled to discover new books and authors through their recommendations, but sometimes I am surprised by a book that I really cannot get into or enjoy. I still appreciate their generosity and thoughtfulness, of course. On the other side, I am sure I have misjudged in some of my recommendations or gifts. I admit that one could say that this whole blog is a kind of pressing books on people; my rationale is that at least it is not targeted to any one person, so no one is put on the spot. The feeling of being put on the spot is what McManus was humorously getting at: What do you say to the giver/recommender who asks you later, with eagerness, how you liked the book? Should you be honest? Or fake it? Or dodge the question? Or...?

E-mail in Fiction

Much has been written, including on this blog, about how new technologies affect, may affect, and will affect the reading experience and the publishing world. What about the Kindle, the Nook, the I-Pad? What about copyright issues for books online? Etcetera. In addition to pondering those questions, I was just recently thinking about how the actual content of fiction has changed with the new technologies. I remember reading, a few years ago, a novel that was largely an ongoing exchange of e-mails among the main characters; this reminded me of the epistolary novels of the 18th and 19th centuries, but the e-mails were much faster, shorter, and more conversational than the letters. And I recently (7/31/10) posted on this blog about the novel "Landing," which is about a trans-Atlantic relationship between two lovers; much of their communication is by phone, text, and, especially, e-mail. This is a relationship that literally could not have existed without access to technology. The couple meets briefly, and only because of e-mail do they develop and continue their relationship. So the evolving technology is not just something that affects the publishing world, and is not even just something that now appears in fiction, but is a force that actually shapes which stories are possible.

Evocative Poem about Reading

Today's "Writer's Almanac, with Garrison Keillor" (which, as I have mentioned before, you can have emailed to your mailbox every day if you choose) has a lovely, evocative poem about reading. It is titled "Midsummer, Georgia Avenue," and it is by the esteemed poet Mary Jo Salter. I am not sure what the copyright status is about reproducing a poem from that website, so I am posting the link here, and hoping you will read the poem. If for some reason you have trouble with the link, just Google "Writer's Almanac" for today's date. The link is: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/ If you are looking at it tomorrow or in the future, just use the "previous" button to get back to Aug. 19 and this poem. Enjoy it!

Plenty of Family Drama But It Made Me Sleepy

Joanna Trollope turns out reliably entertaining, and reasonably well written, novels; I have enjoyed several of them in the past. Her new novel, "The Other Family" (Touchstone, 2010), is in the same vein as her other novels, and is fairly enjoyable to read, but I felt a little let down by it. I had trouble getting into it during the slow first section, and in fact I kept falling asleep while reading it. It seemed "talkier" than her usual novels, "telling" rather than "showing." Readers are not given enough of a sense of any of the characters to really know or care much about them. The storyline is vaguely interesting, as we learn that a famous musician has died and left two families behind, causing -- unsurprisingly -- tension and resentment. However, there is a sense of optimism, connection, and closure at the end, so that is all fine, if a bit pat. If a friend lends you this novel, or it otherwise crosses your path or shows up on your bedside table, and you feel inclined toward a quick, decently entertaining read, go for it. But I wouldn't recommend going out of your way to find, borrow, or buy it.

Piracy and Book Publishing?

A article in the September 2010 issue of Opera News (p. 8), written by Brian Kellow and passed on to me by my friend B, asks the question "Will piracy take book publishing the way of the recording industry?" Kellow believes that "book publishing is day by day being pulled into the same black hole that the music industry dropped down years ago. Over the past decade, so many composers I know have seen their already far-from-princely incomes further decimated by online piracy." He fears that the electronic availability and low pricing of books for Kindle, the Sony Reader, the Nook eReader, etc., will drive down the already-small royalties for authors and profits for publishers, and thus make it harder for writers to write and for publishers to publish. I have heard this view expressed elsewhere as well, and it makes me very nervous.

When Harry Met Sally...UK Style

"One Day" (Vintage, 2009), by the English writer David Nicholls, tells the story of Dexter and Emma, who had a very brief fling just as they were graduating from college in 1988, and then for almost two decades had a long, bumpy, but always connected friendship. They each had their own romances and even marriages, but their friendship always continued, with undercurrents of something more. Then finally...well, I won't spoil the suspense, in case you read the novel yourself. The unifying structure, which is somewhat gimmicky but doesn't come across that way, is that each chapter takes place on July 15 of a given year: 1988, 1989, 1990, and so on. Each July 15 is a kind of "checking in" as to how Emma's and Dexter's lives are going, and how they intersect. Part of the appeal of the book is watching these characters as they get older, (very slowly, and with many stops and starts) figure out what they want to do with their lives, have both failures and successes in their careers, deal with illnesses and deaths in their families, watch their friends become married and settled and suburban, sometimes drink far too much, make late night calls to each other, write each other long letters, and always consider each other their best friend, the one person they really want to talk to when things are very good or very bad. Sometimes the characters -- especially Dexter -- are very annoying and make bad decisions, yet somehow we root for them to find happiness, individually and -- we hope -- together. Sometimes the book is larky and funny, and other times sobering and saddening. But the author's best feat is that he makes us really care about the two characters. An absorbing novel.