MAJOR PETTIGREW'S LAST STAND, by Helen Simonson

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, by Helen Simonson, is an excellent first novel, but felt as though two writers were struggling to work together and bind the simplicity of the first chapters to the romantic and dramatic events of the last. I believed the characters wholeheartedly and thoroughly enjoyed their quirks, humanity, and genuine emotion--except for the events following the knitting-needle fiasco. At that point, the reader is led through a series of action scenes incongrous from the rest of the book. However, Simonson recovers her tone and her story for the epilogue.

Despite the few scenes that make you wonder if you accidentally switched the channel from As Time Goes By to a movie adaptation of Ethan Frome, the book is both charming and sad: a portrayal of life in change that at reaches a surprising and resounding poignance. There is a persistent heartache as you read about the Major's disappointed expectations, which contrasts nicely with the Major's conservatism and elitism. He isn't a character you believe to always be right--and indeed, some of the most believable passages show the Major's understanding of his own prejudices, often pointed out to him by the women he loves--but he is a character that you want to win.

Perhaps the saddest, and at the same time, the most lovely and true writing occurs when the Major has flashbacks contrasting with his present reality. It is so easy to relate to his emotions and experiences during these times; remembering fondly a time his wife told him what was what, regretting a moment that he did not fully appreciate, and so on. These flashbacks--in tandom with his lively, sensual, tangible relationship with Mrs. Ali--make the book successful.

Mrs. Ali and her family are similarly endearing, and though the book is written solely from the perspective of the Major, the reader feels keenly for this character who is forced to experience both the prejudice of her town--the members of which appear especially daft as they persistently address her as a foreigner, though she points out she grew up in Cambridge--and the conservatism of her family, which denies her the independence she enjoys during her marriage and later ownership of the village shop. Mrs. Ali truly drives the novel, either by her keen perception and bold action, or by her ability to inspire action in others.

The true winners of this novel are the women, and for every Gertrude, Amina, and Mrs. Rasool that exists in the world, one hopes there is also a Grace, whose eventual realization of her own natural beauty, personality, strength, and self-worth is not only the spark that sets the novel on the path to a happy ending, but also the least one could wish for every woman.

Also, because I am that person, I have to point out that the novel successfully navigates a breadth of relationships--from the obvious multicultural and multiracial, to the more subtle differences of individuals who are presumed by the masses to share the same heritage and race, yet see the world from a unique and valuable perspective.

If you like this book, try:

As Time Goes By (TV show)
A Month in the Country, by J. L. Carr
The Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan

Mixed Thoughts: Banned books and more dangerous thoughts

I found this article while searching through lists for Banned Books Week, but it brings up many frustrating and personal issues. Please read (or skim) the article before reading this blog so you understand the context of my post.

    As someone who never received curriculum based on a multi-ethnic heritage (did the school board ban all the books written about people with multiple ethnicities?), I somehow survived. Probably because it is harder to rally all those JapaSpanIriPolFrench people out there to create such a curriculum, you just take what you get and accept that your heritage is going to be what you create every day. I had some incredible history and literature teachers growing up, and even with their intelligence and appreciation for representing diverse populations, there were gaps. As a student who has always been completely full of myself, I took the initiative to fill those gaps with family history and the research I could accomplish with the books and websites available to me.

    This is why I feel personally insulted when I hear that resources are banned for their controversial nature. Just because I'm bringing it up, some government official is going to ban Sherman Alexie, Haruki Murakami, James Joyce, Wislawa Szymborska, and Victor Hugo--just in case I start getting ideas. I don't usually wax political, but when people mess with the books in a country founded in ideals of freedom, it's just not cool. I'd rather live in a country in which multi-ethnic literature studies is possible, even if it remains an idealistic dream, even if I conduct and create it myself, than a country that bans books so we can avoid standing up for the teachers who share such books or the rights of the creators to write them.

    If people do not have the personal strength or education to retain their ideas and values without forcing those ideas and values upon others, there are many countries in the world that do enforce silence and appreciate cultural homogeny, and perhaps such people belong in such countries. If we in the United States are not willing to support an education system that teaches people how to critically analyze information representing multiple viewpoints, even if those viewpoints do not represent our own--if we can not somehow teach our future generations to agree to disagree while coexisting in the same space--then we deserve all the one-dimensional, egregiously exaggerated caricatures that represent us.

For those interested, here are some banned book links.

The official website for Banned Books Week

A Google map of the most recent challenged/banned books

Frequently Challenged Books of the 21st century

GAME OF THRONES, from series A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, by G.R.R. Martin

When I visited Hadrian's Wall in the Spring of 2007, I saw a UNESCO World Heritage Site that hinted at civilizations, feuds, and bodies long disintegrated, as had the once foreboding wall. As exciting as it was to explore the history of Hadrian's Wall, I saw this:

My own picture. My caption at the time: 

"the actual wall of roman awesomeness that doesn't go much 

of anywhere anymore but is still completely frikkin' cool."

Enough of that . . . Here's what G.R.R. Martin saw: 

http://gameofthrones.net/resources/48-images/589-the-wall-hbo-game-of-thrones.html

. . . a 700-plus foot wall made of ice, meant to discourage unwanted tourists, such as undead White Walkers with frosty blue eyes, and the "children"--a people of long forgotten magic--who watch through the blood-red eyes of the white weirwood trees.

And this must be how G.R.R. Martin imagines his toilet.

http://www.makinggameofthrones.com/production-diary/2011/1/16/latest-photo-the-iron-throne.html

Martin's ability to dream on a grandiose scale is what makes some compare him to Tolkien; his ability to cruelly obliterate hope is what makes the reader realize that this is not another Tolkien novel.  The environment may be a fantasy, but the characters are all too realistic, leading Anne McCaffrey to describe Game of Thrones as a "fantasticorical" (and other readers to try and force the two words together in less fantasticorical ways). 


Among the 2,529 customer reviews on Amazon.com (not counting the 4,000+ "likes" for some of the reviews) and the 4,908 reviews on Barnes and Noble, one can find the enraged, embittered, offended, disgusted leavings of readers who were looking for Frodo and Richard Rahl, only to find the gross, disappointing, conniving, broken, and utterly human characters true fans have come to love. 

"Love" is a light word in this case. For what Twihards have in volume and soprano range, Game of Thrones fans have in sheer devotion, following Martin's five-book series over fifteen years. Thank goodness Stephanie Meyers didn't force her adolescent following to wait six years for Breaking Dawn, which is the length of time Martin spent writing book five, Dance with Dragons.


The release of Dance with Dragons coincided with the start of the HBO TV series, the re-release of the board game, the creation of the role playing video game, and the emergence of fans old and new on a Martin-esque scale (as evidenced in part by the 274 patrons still in line to read the first book on AACPL's e-book waiting list). Moreover, 2011 experienced the thorough integration of Game of Thrones into modern culture's most precious commodity, social media: the ability to make, remake, comment, like, and share. If you haven't seen the Game of Thrones characters as presidential candidates on Facebook yet, here is your link out of the stone age: Click here to rejoin society. 

If you are one of those 274 people on the waitlist for GoT (or another rare being who has avoided the book as of yet), here are a few spoiler-free details to summarize what you're up for:

1. You should know that there's lots of sex, nudity, violence, drinking, swearing, and other things gory, vulgar, and grim. 

2. Your moral compass will flip out, as will your expectations. As Lev Grossman says in his review, "The only way to tell the heroes from the villains is that the hero is the guy with the knife in his back." 

3. You will have to work hard for a book that is not nice, fun, or uplifting. If you aren't in the mood for ploughing through a dense thicket of words that leave you disheartened and frustrated and dismally awaiting the sixth book, there is plenty of enjoyable book candy out there. Go pick up a Xanth novel. Or a Harry Potter.

By the way, I did not read every single one of those 7,437 reviews mentioned above. I will leave that for you, voracious reader, if you are one of the deprived souls suffering from both the end of HBO's Game of Thrones season and the seemingly endless wait for the sixth book, The Winds of Winter. If you fit this description, you are likely reading this review solely in a vain attempt to quell your vampiric thirst for more Martin. I likely know who you are.


In the meantime, the rest of us bookworms will just have to suffer through more of this.

If you liked Game of Thrones, I recommend:

• Shakespeare's Macbeth
• Lost or The Sopranos (TV)
• Historical documentaries, biographies, and autobiographies (like the U.S., France, and Great Britain between 1900 and 1939. Or Ghengis Khan.)
• The game Risk

Enjoyable trivia:

On Tuesday, July 10, 2012, an exact word search in the New York Times Book Review for "Game of Thrones" returns Nuns Behaving Badly, apparently listed under Children's Books, about nuns who train as assassins. Review by Jessica Bruder, published April 6, 2012. Gotta love web searches.

Sources:


Grossman, Lev. G.R.R. Martin's Complex Epic for an Ambivalent Age
NPR Staff. Author George R.R. Martin 'Playing For Keeps'  
Jennings, Dana. In a Fantasyland of Liars, Trust No One, and Keep Your Dragon Close.
Amazon: Game of Thrones (book)
B&N: Game of Thrones (book)

THE SHADOW OF THE WIND, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruis Zafon . . . Anything I say about this novel can not approach the experience you will have reading it. And you should read it. My advice to you: take notes. The plot is thick, tangled, and fascinating, connecting even small, unexpected characters the way life does every day. I found myself turning the pages backwards as often as forward.

Carlos Ruiz Zafon is a genius. He is able to see through the eyes of a young man who speaks with the voice of a poet and receives wisdom from the most unlikely corners of life. I read the translation by Lucia Graves, and the words are elegant, poignant, sometimes startlingly vulgar; clearly, the writer loved every one of them, selecting only the choicest morsels for his readers to devour. Check out his website, and read his explanation for why he writes. Carlos Ruiz Zafon is an artist, and his work-even the gnarly bitter parts--is beautiful.

The novel walks through Barcelona and its layers of history, describing a tangible place affected by true events, occupied by people whose lives--though fictional--are woven into the life of the city itself.  There is a sense of reality in the way changing times impact the characters, in small details like the introduction of television to larger events like the weight of the World War.

But underlying this veracity is a world of shadows, filled with drama, anguish, torment, blood, death, revenge, and all the best elements of a nineteenth-century gothic novel brought into the twentieth-century. It's as though the author is reminding us that even when we think world grows ordinary, familiar, and mundane with the passing of time--even as wires and hard science tell us how the world works--no matter what era we live in, the mystery never truly subsides. There is something in us that yearns for the intensity of greatness: profound love, grotesque horror, devastating loss. Guided by the perspective of a curious young man, readers interact with the city and its people knowing that the presence of otherworldly events and characters is constant, that myth and dreams shape the world as much as bullets and cinema.

And perhaps that is where the book steps in, because a crucial theme of the novel is a love of the actual, physical book: its ability to hide in the depths of the Cemetary of Books, on your own shelf, or somewhere in your past; the contrast of the material printed page and the ethereal word, added to the suspense of the unexpected only discovered if you turn the page. We may be able to translate the content of an authors work into multiple media, but there is something special about the book that transports us and adds to our reading. There is a sense of sadness in the novel as the presence of a modern author's consciousness converses with the narrator of the past, watching the world of books begin to slip away.

I loved this book, and I highly recommend it!

If you liked The Shadow of the Wind, you may also like:

George Eliot, Daniel Deronda
Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
Edgar Allen Poe, The Tell-Tale Heart
Caleb Carr, The Alienist
Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles

THE LEVIATHAN series by Scott Westerfeld

THE LEVIATHAN is an alternative history trilogy written by Scott Westerfeld and powerfully illustrated by Keith Thompson.   Leviathan, the first book in the series, launches the reader into WWI with the assassination of the Archduke of Austria--with a few significant differences.

For one thing, the world is split in two, not just by alliances but also by technology.  There are the Darwinists, countries who support evolutionary science that blends the genetic traits of different lifeforms to create new species--even species that are entire ecosystems unto themselves, like the airship Leviathan.  The airship is based on the body of a whale, but floats in the air with the hydrogen waste of the creatures living aboard, such as bats and bees.  The "whale" steers through the air using cilia along its sides.  The bats also serve as weapons; they eat flechettes, and are prompted in proper Pavlovian style to discharge the weaponry on enemies below.  Like any proper airship, the living Leviathan supports a human crew--from captains to middies.

Then, there are the Clankers--countries who resist Darwinist technology and instead develop giant mechas, powerful steam-driven robots capable of bringing down even an airbeast the size of the Leviathan.

As the assassination of Austria's Archduke rocks the world's nations and heightens the cultural divide between Clanker and Darwinist powers, there are two individuals whose actions--small as they may be--have the power to influence the course of the war.

One is Aleksander, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne.  Forced to flee from his own country after his parents are assassinated, Aleksander faces a life hidden from his own people, hoping that soon, he can fulfill his destiny to end the war and claim his rightful lega--that is, until the Leviathan crashes into his life with Dylan Sharp aboard.

Dylan Sharp is actually Deryn--a girl forced to act as a boy in order to achieve her dreams of flying with the British military.  Deryn's wits quickly win her a place aboard the Leviathan. But when the airship crashes into Aleksander's life, she finds an unexpected ally and friend--who, nevertheless, can never know her greatest secret.

Scott Westerfeld creates a masterpiece with this trilogy.  His books contain exciting innovations, intriguing characters, and insightful interpretations of history (and how history might have been impacted IF . . . ).  Plus, the illustrations in these books are incredible.  Keith Thompson really captures the essence of the era and Westerfeld's imagination.  In my estimation, this is a series worth buying, or at least reading in print rather than on an e-reader, if only to enjoy the amazing illustrations at their best quality.

Between boffins and counts, Stormwalkers and "perspicacious" lorises, Westerfeld and Thompson create a truly exceptional world with a powerful story.  I believe that Westerfeld accomplishes two major things with this work: he inspires every person to create their own destiny, and he convinces me that there still is potential for truly innovative authors.  Now, we just need more adult books as good as Leviathan.

On a side note, I am also convinced that Westerfeld plays a mad game of Risk.

You can read more about Westerfeld and his Leviathan series at his website: http://scottwesterfeld.com/books/leviathan/.

If you liked the Leviathan series, I recommend reading:

The Book of Atrus (Myst, Book 1) by Rand Miller
Found (The Missing) by Margaret Peterson Haddix
Alanna (The Lioness Quartet) by Tamora Pierce

Or watching

Avatar, the Last Airbender

A MONSTROUS REGIMENT OF WOMEN, by Laurie R. King

A Monstrous Regiment of Women, written by Laurie R. King, continues the story of Mary Russell, a Oxford graduate just coming into her inheritance.  Russell lives in two worlds throughout the book: she is first a researcher publishing her thesis, enjoying recent academic attention while poring through theological tomes in the Bodleian Library; when this world fails to stimulate her, she takes the train out of Oxford and navigates the streets of London, providing the reader with observations about post-World War II British society.

As a portrait of life after the war, a time when theological, social, and scientific revolutions were taking place, I believe the book.  As a discussion of feminist theology, King succeeds in starting an excellent discussion.  As a mystery novel, the novel falls flat.  Mary Russell is not a detective; she is a woman of action, a brave and intelligent woman capable of discerning character traits in others.  The book is not about her ability to tease clues from suspicious scenarios; the author actually delves very little into the mystery itself.

Instead, the crux of the novel is Mary Russell's romance with her mentor, Sherlock Holmes of 221b Baker Street.  Call me a conservative, but at this point, I stop believing the novel. The idea of a romance driving a Holmes novel is sacrilegious, while the idea of a romance driving Russell's novel instead of the mystery undermines her own abilities, accomplishments, and potential.  She only exists to romance the man.  How is that a feminist novel? Holmes is believable as a mentor, even to a woman; I cannot accept his identity as a lover.

As far as I'm concerned, his very immortality makes him untouchable.

Perhaps no character in the mystery/thriller genre remains as popular as the innovative and eccentric Sherlock Holmes.  No character since has achieved such legendary status as the Baker Street detective, with his passion for modern forensic methods and a power of observation that verged on supernatural--yet, as Holmes reminds us, is merely "elementary" deduction.  Sherlock Holmes amassed so much popularity that his own creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, lost complete control: an attempt to kill off the character resulted in such an outcry that Holmes came back to life, as immortal in fiction as he has been in our culture.

Of course, as a celebrity, the character of Sherlock Holmes has been the subject of numerous movies and subsequent books. Take Basil Rathbone's portrayal in the 1940s, Jeremy Brett's rendition during the 80's and 90's, and Benedict Cumberbatch's in the current TV series "Sherlock."  Rathbone often plays a detective in the midst of World War II, quoting Churchill, promoting democracy, and taking down Nazis.  Jeremy Brett takes Sherlock back to his turn-of-the-century period, and successfully portrays the eccentric, ingenious roommate who one moment succumbs to a depressed cocaine-infused funk and the next moment, inspired by intellectual stimulation, leaps energetically (and arrogantly) into the fray with unwavering focus.  Cumberbatch plays "A New Sleuth for the 21st Century," using wireless connections to solve cases; Dr. Watson publishes his stories on a blog.  Mark Gatiss, the co-creator of "Sherlock," notes in his own blog that Rathbone and the modernization of Holmes's setting influenced the TV show, and that "police may be able to put clues together, but only Sherlock has the vast brain power and imagination that can make the huge leaps of deduction."

Interestingly, we have never had a Holmes from Holmes's point of view; we are always on the outside, with Watson, admiring a brilliant bohemian intellectual unfettered by societal myopia.

I'll admit, I have no idea how to comment on the Hollywood movies and Robert Downey Jr.'s representation of the famous detective.  I like the movie; I enjoy it; but I also separate this version of Holmes from the literary legend, as though they were two separate entities instead of the same character.  And perhaps I should allow for this in A Monstrous Regiment of Women.  For Holmes to be a figure of romance, he would have to grow and change; this is not within the ability of an immortal, of a legend.  So maybe, King's novel portrays Holmes as even more human than Doyle himself could manage.   This isn't a crime against nature.  However, if you are looking for a feminist and Holmesian novel, I would rather recommend you to Stieg Larsson's novels.

For more information about Laurie R. King's book (and image), visit A Monstrous Regiment of Women.

The Sources of Library Anxiety

Theory of Information Behavior Number 39: Library Anxiety

(eds. Fisher, Karen.  Sanda Erdelez. Lynne McKechnie.  Theories of Information Behavior.)

Now you have a name for those feelings of dread whenever you have to ask a librarian for help.  Or maybe it starts before then--maybe the hairs on your neck rise as soon as you step through the intimidating machines that scan for books you might steal.  Perhaps your knees tremble when you meet the glaring beady eyes of the librarian, who makes you think about that Charlie Brown comic book you forgot to return when you were eight years old. Whenever the feeling arises, there is an actual term for it: library anxiety.

A professor named Constance Mellon found that when asked about their library experience, students talked less about finding information and more about the fear they felt inside the library.  But where did this fear originate?  Why does the public hesitate to approach a librarian?  Why isn't the library space a welcoming place?

I would like to present a few images of libraries and librarians in popular culture that may help us understand the origins of library anxiety.

River City Library

The Music Man's Marian is perhaps the epitome of the librarian stereotype: the tightly-wound, hair-in-a-bun, shushing female librarian (complete with glasses)!  Professor Harold Hill says it all: "the civilized world accepts as unforgivable sin any talking out loud with any librarian!"  But clearly all a librarian needs is a good-looking con man to loosen up and dance on their antique furniture.  Don't you love how everyone enters the library in a march?  And how the men have to remove their identical glasses to dance?

The New York Public Library

Poor Alice!  Imagine being attacked by incorporeal beings while wandering the labyrinth of musty-smelling shelves!  If this is what lives in the library, it's understandable that people hesitate to spend any great length of time here.  That chill you feel in the air? Not the air conditioning, dude--it's probably a hint that some ectoplasmic residual is coming your way.  At least you know who to call . . .

Your local library?

Hopefully not.  But just in case, you'd better brush up on your Dewey.  Or just avoid the library altogether.

Sunnydale High School Library

Don't think school libraries are any exception to the rule.  This particular library is built over the entrance to the Hellmouth.  Pros? The cage of weaponry, the largest occult collection in print, and a resident Vampire Slayer.  But is it worth the risk? Don't forget to factor in the distance, the time spent researching, and the likelihood of an apocalypse . . .

Conclusion

Obviously, these are extreme cases of people and events that cause library anxiety.  But there are some valuable lessons for librarians:

1. If you sing and dance, the library becomes a happier place.

2. Library ghosts are crankier than librarians.  Just let them play with the card catalog and they will calm down.

3. Refrain from wearing your barbarian suit to work.  Oh, and leave the cleaver at home.  I know RUSA doesn't state this in their ethics, but I guarantee this will increase your approachability.

4. Don't establish your rare books collection on a Hellmouth.  Oh, and don't scan demons into your database.  They really mess with your network.