In Memory of C.

Today I write in memory of my very dear friend and fellow booklover C., who died on this day three years ago. C. and I met in graduate school, and although after that we always lived in different cities, and even different countries during two different stretches of time, we always visited back and forth, called, wrote, and emailed. And we always, always talked about books. We exchanged book recommendations, opinions about recent books, and -- occasionally -- worries about the direction of contemporary fiction. Whenever we were in the same city for a visit, we went to bookstores. Our friendship had many strands, but this one -- our mutual love of books -- was one of the strongest ones. C. read more than anyone else I know or knew. She had impeccable taste, and read widely and deeply. For example, she had lived in and had a deep love for Japan, and read extensively about Japan and Japanese literature, especially haiku. We did not always agree about specific authors or books, although far more often we did. When one of us discovered a “new,” to us, author, we eagerly told the other about that writer, sometimes sending a copy of a favorite book to the other. Some of our mutual favorite writers were Carol Shields, Penelope Lively, Diana Athill, and William Trevor, among many, many others. C. was also -- and this meant a lot to me -- a staunch supporter of this book blog, and at my request, even contributed two guest blogposts (10/17/10 and 10/18/10). Here I write about her booklover side, but I want to add that she was a wonderful person in so many ways: successful in her professional career; immersed in art and music and theater; extremely well traveled; generous and kind; and most of all, caring and fiercely loyal to her family and friends. I wrote here about her on 2/16/10 and on 4/29/11. We had known each other for almost 40 years when she died. I miss her very much.

"Alena," by Rachel Pastan

On 3/8/14, I wrote about how I re-read (and very much enjoyed) the classic novel “Rebecca” because I was planning to read a new novel that is an homage to that classic. I have now read that novel, “Alena” (Riverhead, 2014), by Rachel Pastan, and I am so glad I read the two novels one right after the other. The immediate comparison allowed me to see and appreciate the way “Alena” manages to match many plot points and characters from “Rebecca,” but not too slavishly; the two are clearly very separate novels. To begin with, they take place 75 years apart; “Rebecca” was written in 1938 and “Alena” is a contemporary novel. There are many other differences, but the similarities are fascinating. In fact, “Alena” would stand up well on its own, even for readers who don’t know “Rebecca,” but those readers would miss the enjoyment of making the connections. There is the nameless young heroine who is swept up by the older man, but in this case she is hired as a curator to a small museum rather than acquired as a wife (and the museum owner is gay, so there is no question of romance). The narrator of “Rebecca” feels her dead predecessor (as Maxim de Winter’s wife) Rebecca’s presence everywhere; the narrator of “Alena” feels her dead predecessor (as curator of the museum) Alena's presence everywhere. Both of the dead women had overpowering and slightly dangerous (in retrospect) personalities. In both cases there is a sinister friend of the dead woman – Mrs. Danvers in “Rebecca” and Agnes in “Alena” – for the new young woman to contend with. Each novel has a central mystery: how did the woman of the book’s title die? And each novel is suffused with a sense of dread and uncertainty. There are many other points in common, all executed very cleverly by author Rachel Pastan. I enjoyed reading “Alena” both for its echoes of “Rebecca” and for its own sake. In fact, I must add that “Alena” is better written than “Rebecca” was.

"Half the Kingdom," by Lore Segal

I have such contradictory feelings about Lore Segal’s recent short novel, “Half the Kingdom” (Melville House, 2013) that I hardly know where to begin. On 7/22/13, I wrote here about my admiration for her 2007 novel “Shakespeare’s Kitchen.” One of the main characters in “Half the Kingdom” – Joe Bernstine – was also a main character in “Shakespeare’s Kitchen”; a few other characters have also appeared in her earlier novels. So, the contradictions in my feelings: This current novel is short, fragmentary, constantly interrupts itself, and often feels frustrating and unsatisfying to read. On the other hand, Segal compellingly describes the world of the emergency room at a large New York City hospital, a chaotic world that seems to represent life in the 21st century and especially life as it is for the aging. The premise is that all patients over 62 arriving at the emergency room start “going around the bend,” in an epidemic of what one doctor terms “copycat Alzheimer’s.” Joe Bernstine, the retired director of the Concordance Institute (the site of the earlier novel “Shakespeare’s Kitchen”) is conducting a sort of unofficial, semi-secret, slightly mad research project investigating this epidemic. He enlists some of his relatives and friends to do undercover research, but they themselves, or at least those over 62 themselves, get caught up in the drama when they pose as patients, leading to questions about the thin line between the investigators and the investigated. There is a certain Kafkaesque quality to the story, and the novel itself quotes Kafka. Yet there is also much justified questioning and wisdom about the state of medicine, of the country (including references to Abu Gharib), strained family relationships, and most of all, the state of life for aging people. (I must say, though, that the thought of counting those 62 years of age as “aging” doesn’t sit well with me! But this is perhaps in fact how the world looks at those of this age or older. And it is important, as I have written here before, to have more fiction illuminating the lives of older characters.) The novel has been described as “darkly comic” and I suppose that is a good description; there is definitely humor and there is definitely darkness. At times it seems the humor overtakes the darkness, perhaps because it would be too depressing for readers otherwise. In any case, I still admire this wonderful writer, Lore Segal, but I am also not quite sure what to make of this quirky, hard-to-classify, irritating, thought-provoking novel, “Half the Kingdom.”

On Taking the BBC Book Quiz

Several of my Facebook friends have posted BBC's quiz on how many books one has read from its 100-item list. Well, naturally I could not resist this challenge. And I did quite well, with a score of 78. But I found myself feeling a little miffed that, given what an obsessive reader I am, my English major background, and the many years I have been reading, my score was not still higher. The reason I give myself for this is that some of the books on the list, despite BBC's imprimatur, are not classics, and are not even highly esteemed by critics and reviewers; they are popular but not necessarily of high literary quality. Of the 22 books I hadn't read, I would say half of them were books that I have never wanted to read, or thought important to read. I realize this may sound judgmental and/or defensive, but I wish the list were more consistent. I have to remind myself that, like so much on the Internet, this list is fallible and subjective, probably made up on the spur of the moment, and does not claim to be the definitive list of the best books of all time. I also remind myself to quash the competitive part of me that wants to have the best score in this area, an area where I do think of myself as strong: being well-read. So, dear readers, please forgive the self-indulgence of this post -- my true confession for the day!

"Clever Girl," by Tessa Hadley

How I admire and savor the ultra-competent, beautifully etched writing of certain contemporary English and Irish women writers. Their writing is cool and controlled, yet somehow gets at the essence of both daily life and the larger themes in life. These writers include Anne Enright, Penelope Lively, and Emma Donoghue (now living in Canada), among others. And Tessa Hadley! Hadley’s books include the novels “Accidents in the Home,” “The Master Bedroom,” and “The London Train,” as well as the story collection “Married Love,” all of which I have read, enjoyed, and stood slightly in awe of. Hadley also often publishes stories in The New Yorker. I have just finished reading her new novel, “Clever Girl” (Harper, 2013), and it is as good as her earlier work, maybe better. It tells the story of one young woman growing up in England in the late 1950s and onward. The novel provides snapshots of Stella’s life at various critical points. She lives, she loves, she aspires, she struggles, she works, she tries alternative lifestyles, she has children, she loses loved ones to flight or death, she goes through crises and self-doubt, and she settles into her life. She, like so many young women, plans to live a life very different from and much more exciting than her mother’s, yet somehow ends up reproducing many aspects of that life. But she does so with her own twists and turns, and her participation in her own time in history. In a sense there is nothing unusual about her life, but that is the point, I think. Each of us is, like Stella, both ordinary and extraordinary. Hadley perfectly captures this woman’s thoughts, feelings, and experiences, as well as the changes in England during the second half of the 20th century. Her writing is impeccable. Part of the pleasure of reading Hadley is knowing you are in such good hands that you can trust her wherever she goes in her writing.

"The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles," by Katherine Pancol

Three of the back cover blurbs of the French novel “The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles” use the word “delicious.” One says the novel is “delicious, tender, funny, heartwarming”; another describes it as a “delicious treat”; the third calls it “a satisfying Cinderella story… Delicious!” No, this novel by Katherine Pancol (Penguin, 2013, originally published in French 2006) is not, as so many novels these days are, about food, menus, meals, cooking. The word “delicious” here indicates a sort of light, enjoyable read. To further quote the blurbs: The author is “France’s most irresistible writer”; “There is a gorgeous and invigorating zip and sparkle to the writing”; and it is “touching, entertaining, and vibrant.” I don’t usually quote blurbs in my posts, but I think these give you the flavor (no pun intended) of this novel. Despite those blurbs, there is a bit of a serious side to the novel (only a bit): One theme is family dynamics and their sometimes difficult aspects. The main plot line is that the central character, Josephine, a scholar whose marriage has recently broken up, agrees to her richer sister Iris’ proposal that Josephine write a novel about the 12th Century (her field of research); Josephine will receive the profits but Iris’s name will be on the novel and she will receive the credit. This in fact happens, but Josephine eventually regrets the arrangement. And of course it is harder to keep this secret than Iris initially thinks. Meanwhile there are several other plot strands, some highly unlikely, involving the sisters’ mother, stepfather, husbands, lovers, children, and friends. The writing (in this translated version, and I assume in the original French) is fine, and the novel is structured well and moves along briskly. There is always something new happening at every turn. Many of the characters are outlined in too-broad strokes, and many are not particularly likable, but that is OK. Overall “The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles” is a fluffy confection well executed, and thus a good read.

"Rebecca," by Daphne du Maurier

Oh, Rebecca! What a hold you have on our imaginations! I last read the huge bestseller suspense/romance/slightly gothic novel “Rebecca” (Doubleday, 1938), by the romantically named English author (and it is her real name) Daphne du Maurier, perhaps 40 years ago. There was also a classic, very popular movie, directed by Hitchcock, based on the novel. Recently, reviews of a new novel (“Alena,” by Rachel Pastan) loosely based on “Rebecca,” prompted me to re-read the original. (I plan to read the new novel too, and will likely post on it here as well.) This classic novel holds up quite well. Granted, the level of suspense and goth-ness seems tame by today’s standards (but that is fine with me!). And true, the novel is consistently overwritten. For example, there are far too many portentous hints of terrible events to come, foreboding sentences such as (I paraphrase these here from many examples) “I felt a chill, as if something terrible was about to happen,” or “I knew then that nothing would ever be the same after this.” It is also overwritten in terms of its frequent redundant sentences and phrases, such as (again, paraphrased) “I felt all alone, as if I were the only one in the world; no one else was there for me; no one would help me; maybe no one ever would.” But despite these faults, this novel is still compelling, even gripping, and I truly enjoyed re-reading it. The nameless narrator, the pretty but shy and a bit mousy second wife of Maxim de Winter, goes to his magnificent country home/estate, Manderley, after their marriage, and finds that the ghostly presence of his first wife, Rebecca, pervades the house and surroundings. There are many mysterious events and cryptic comments, and the narrator feels she cannot escape the shadow of her beautiful and apparently perfect predecessor. One false but perhaps necessary note is that the narrator is amazingly dense about putting together the various clues about Rebecca’s true character and about the events of her life and death. Mostly this new young wife is intimidated and even, at one point, close to a mental breakdown. The evil housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, who was a fierce supporter of Rebecca, seems intent on destroying the second wife. But when her husband encounters difficulties, the new Mrs. de Winter seems to mature and gain in confidence; she becomes strong on his behalf. To say much more would be to spoil the suspense of the novel. I am glad that I re-read this classic novel of romance and suspense, one that has influenced generations of other writers and filmmakers.