August Wrap Up

In August, I participated in the Art of the Novella Reading Challenge. The idea was conceived by Frances over at nonsuchbook, with Melville House, the publisher, graciously getting on board. Frances decided to read all forty-two novellas during August, and blog about each one. Fortunately, she realized that not all of us were up to such a challenge, and invited readers to set their own goals.

Originally, I was planning on just reading one book. Then, after looking at the list, and trying to see what I could get from my library, I decided to go for the “Fascinated” level – three books. I’m happy to report that I met my (modest) goal.

I’m glad that I decided to read three novellas. I hated the first one I read – Leo Tolstoy’s The Devil. I posted a review, and emailed it, along with a notice of my participation, to Melville House. I was surprised to get a personalized email back, with some suggestions with books I may like better. How nice! The next book was George Eliot’s The Lifted Veil, which I enjoyed. The best ended up coming last, though, with Sarah Orne Jewett’s The Country of the Pointed Firs. I’m really glad that I stuck out that challenge and read some good books. Oh, and I also ended up winning one of Melville House’s daily giveaways – and they sent me SEVEN books. Seven! I am in seven book heaven.

Okay, so let’s break down my reading:

14 books total
10 fiction                        71%
4 nonfiction                   29%
8 female authors           57%
3 works in translation   21%
(I've also started two more, but they'll be counted in next month's totals).

My favorites this month were The Salt Roads and The Country of the Pointed Firs. They are completely different, but both excellent.

I’ve already posted reviews for most of these, which you can find by either checking the archive to the right, or by going to the Books Read 2011 tab linked at the top of this page. The title will take you to the review, if I’ve posted it. For those that I haven’t reviewed yet – well, they’re coming, promise. Most are half-written jumbles of my thoughts, or they are mulling around in my head, as yet uncommitted to the page (er, screen).  A couple are even finished and scheduled to post J

How was your month in reading? Anything you’d recommend – either to read, or to stay far away from?

Now I'll Be Adding Lots of Sarah Orne Jewett to the TBR List

The Country of the Pointed Firs
Sarah Orne Jewett

I gave a little preview of this book last week, and I’ve finally sat down to write a proper review.  The novella is set in the fictional seaside village of Dunnet, Maine. The unnamed narrator is a writer who escapes her big sitting residence for the summer to spend some quiet time working. Over the course of the season she gets to know, and love, both the town and its inhabitants. Reading along, I fell in love with the place right along with her.

If you’re looking for an action packed tale, this is not it. Yes, things happen, but the book is set up like you are living this episode with the narrator. She is staying with a Mrs. Todd, a widow who makes a living renting out a room in her home and selling herbal remedies. She keeps a garden packed full of whatever components she may need.

You could always tell when she was stepping about there, even when you were half awake in the morning, and learned to know, in the course of a few weeks’ experience, in exactly which corner of the garden she might be.

I love the idea of bustling about in a garden, releasing the scents of the plants as you go. Even more than that, I love the idea of still lying in bed while someone else is outside working, and getting to enjoy the fragrances wafting through your window. 

Dunnet was traditionally a village of seafarers. Over the years, the inhabitants have stayed closer to shore, concentrating on lobster and other local fish to provide their living. There are the typical characters lamenting the loss of the "old ways" and fear that the young people are becoming soft. Jewett portrays this timeless complaint with care, and a bit of sly humor. The town retains elements of its oceangoing days, though. Jewett's narrator observes the town from a fine vantage point:

We were standing where there was a fine view of the harbor and its long stretches of shore all covered by the great army of the pointed firs, darkly cloaked and standing as if they waited to embark. As we looked far seaward among the outer islands, the trees seemed to march seaward still, going steadily over the heights and down to the water's edge.

I can just imagine those tall, proud trees being used to make great ships and sailing the world, exploring far-flung ports and the open seas.

But it is Mrs. Todd who forms the heart of this book. She always knows what to do or say to make a person feel better. Here are a couple of my favorite quotes of hers:

"There's some herb that's good for everybody, except for them that thinks they're sick when they ain't." 

"Yes'm, old friends is always best, 'less you can catch a new one that's fit to make an old one out of."

I think I've found a new old friend in The Country of the Pointed Firs.

A Bit of Victorian Horror

From Melville House

The Lifted Veil

George Eliot

I never expected to like George Eliot. First of all, I didn’t realize George was really Mary Anne. Then when I realized that, I figured she was going to write like Jane Austen , and (gasp!) I’ve never been an Austen fan.  Then I learned that Mary Anne was quite the radical – she was living with a man who was married, but in an open relationship with his wife. His wife apparently also had a long term relationship with another man. After being intrigued by her life story, I figured I’d try one of her books. I picked up Middlemarch, all 799 pages of it. And I loved it. It was funny! Since then, I’ve wanted to read something else she’d written.

The front flap of my edition (published by Melville House) points out that this novella can be read as revealing “Eliot’s sensitivity to public opinion and her awareness that her days concealed behind a pseudonym were doomed to a traumatic unveiling.”

It’s also a straightforward moody, suspense-filled tale. It follows the life of Latimer, a withdrawn, sensitive boy born into a wealthy family. His mother dies when he is seven, leaving him with his father and Alfred, his half-brother from his father’s first marriage.

After an illness in Geneva, a teenaged Latimer seems to have been given a gift of premonitions. He gets flashes of insight into the motivations and thoughts of those around him. This is a torment, especially as people think of him rather dismissively. The only person whom he can’t “read” is Bertha, the family’s lovely young neighbor, who becomes engaged to Alfred. Of course, this inability to know Bertha’s innermost thoughts makes her completely irresistible to Latimer.

Okay, I have to admit that this reminded me of Season One of True Blood, where Sookie discovers that she can’t read vampire thoughts. This is one of the reasons she’s so attracted to Bill. How’s that for a high-brow comparison? But seriously, I can imagine how overwhelming and tiring it would be to know what is going on in everyone’s head. If you found someone whose thoughts you couldn’t read, it would be such a relief to be around them.

Back to the book: Latimer is definitely a brat. He’s jealous of his big, strapping, healthy, good-natured, selfish brother. He wallows in his unhappiness. But he admits as much, saying

The quick thought came, that my selfishness was even stronger than his – it was only a suffering selfishness instead of an enjoying one.

That bit of self-awareness makes him much easier to handle. Also, you know he’s dying, so that makes him a bit more sympathetic as well.

Overall, I enjoyed this. It felt like the type of scary story you’d hear if you were gathered around the fireplace in a big creaky mansion a hundred years ago. Fun!

Projections for This Week

My reading and blogging goals for the week:

Finish blog post for Cleopatra. I'm having a hard time writing this review, for some reason. It's non-fiction, and it seems that I have to approach my review in a much different way than when I'm writing about fiction. I have another non-fiction post coming up as well, so I have to figure out how to deal with these.






I need to read my second book for the Art of the Novella challenge. My first read was a bit of a dud. I'm hoping the next is better. I'm aiming for the "Fascinated" level, so I'll have one more to go.

I want to finish Season of Migration to the North. It's part of the summer reading challenge over at arablit.

I still have five library books that I haven't even opened, plus I'm in the middle of a book I purchased at the Border's liquidation sale. Must get reading!

Generally, I want to write a few reviews to have ready to go when I get busy, or are in a bit of a blogging slump. Any tips, fellow bloggers?

The Russians are Not My Friends

The Devil
Leo Tolstoy

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? She’s the “devil”?

To be fair, I probably should have seen that coming.

I. Do. Not. Get. It. Why do people like Tolstoy?

It has been nearly three years since I read Anna Karenina, and hated it. The only other classic Russian novel I’d read was Crime and Punishment, which, guess what? I also hated it.

Okay, I will try to stop sputtering and actually talk about the novella. I gave this a try because I thought maybe my problem with Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky was that their books were so needlessly loooonnnnngggg. (Seriously - have you read Crime and Punishment? Have you read The Tell-Tale Heart? Poe does a much better job in like 1/300^th of the pages.)

Apparently, the length is not what is bothering me. This slim little volume checked in at a mere 100 pages, and that was with an alternate ending thrown in.

So, Yevgeny Irtenev is the young master of a Russian estate. He takes over after his father’s death, and tries to rebuild, as dear old dad had run up a bunch of debts, and was in danger of losing everything.

Yevgeny is single, and likes to have a bit of fun with the ladies. Only “for his health” of course.  Now that’s he’s moved out to this estate, there’s no convenient place for him to find some action. He doesn’t approve of relations with a married woman, or with a “maid in his own village,” or a peasant woman. Finally, after two months, he just can’t take it anymore and turns to a trusted family friend to bring him a woman.

It goes downhill from there. There’s the awful woman with the loose morals contrasted with Yevgeny’s perfect, but featureless wife. There’s the hen-pecking mother-in-law.  There’s all this talk about “poor” Yevgeny, who still has the means to take a vacation on the Crimean peninsula for two months.  

The one thing I “liked” was that Tolstoy picked the ending that he did. The alternate was even more awful.

If anyone has a suggestion for a Russian novel that is different from these, and I actually might like, I’d be willing to try it. Of course, I may have to wait another three years to get over this one.