The House at the End of Hope Street

I picked up The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna van Praag because I wanted something light. The book is about a magical house that becomes a haven for women in trouble. The house provided a place of solace for notable people from Sylvia Plath to Virginia Woolf, and their talking portraits now line the hallway (much like the past headmasters of Hogwarts in Dumbledore's office).

This book is definitely light, but it has its moments of sadness. The main protagonist is Alba Ashby, the youngest PhD student at Cambridge University. After her professor steals her ideas for a paper, Alba confronts the advisor and is dropped from her program. She comes from a rich family with a lot of dark history, of affairs and murder accusations. There are other residents at the house--Greer, a down-and-out actor, and Carmen, a singer who is escaping the haunting of an abusive relationship. Peggy is an older woman who is the house's caretaker/landlord with psychic abilities.

I liked the magical elements of this novel and all of the literary references to Plath/Woolf/Dorothy Parker/etc. There are several instances in the novel when characters are brought together by sharing preferences in books, proving that a good novel can unite lovers and estranged family members. This use of books to move along relationships and plot points was lovely.

I was very interested in what was going on in Alba's life, but was less interested in most of the plot lines of the other ladies in the house. Their stories were not as deeply developed as Alba's, and I had a harder time connecting to them. There were also some very one-dimensional characters, like two of Alba's siblings who are so mean and self-centered that they seem like sad cliches of "evil" older siblings (think wicked stepsisters type of thing).

My other complaint was that I found a lot of the lines of prose to be a bit cliched. Point and case: "The twenty-year-old crack in his heart has never really healed" (101). The references the book makes are so focused on the literary that I wish some of the prose/dialogue was stated a bit differently.

I do have to give a thumbs up to van Praag because she portrayed a lesbian relationship in the book in a really natural way, which is something I usually don't find too often in the books I end up picking up by chance (9/10 times the books I grab off the new release section in the library don't give voices to LGBT relationships at all, so this was a nice change).

The book has a nice promising concept, but just needed a little extra uumph--a little more character development, a faster plot in the beginning (I felt like the first bit dragged), and some more aptly-picked prose. I would really only recommend this to those are looking for a light, magical read with some family drama thrown in for good measure.

I am finally back to writing- A review is coming soon!

Wow, blog, it's good to be back. After working two jobs for months and months, I finally quit one of them and will have more free time on my hands. I got sucked into the abyss of work for longer than I would have liked. The past ten months or so has involved working days, and nights, and weekends, and sometimes 11 or 12 days with no days off and multiple 12-13 hour days in that chunk. This is the life of a graduate in a recession--all of that for a small chunk of money in the grand scheme of things.

But I couldn't do it anymore, so now I am just working the normal Monday thru Friday kind of gig.

And I finally have time to review.

It's starting to become spring where I am, and I want to read something uplifting and spring-like. I picked up this book at the library today, and a review will be coming once I finish it.

I want to thank everyone who has ever looked at this blog, and I feel bad for abandoning it for so long. So here's to more reviews, a less hectic life, and more books.

The Snow Child

            The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey is delightful but not without faults. The novel follows the lives of Mabel and John, two Alaskan homesteaders. Their lives are hard—Alaska is barren, and they tend rough land and hunt for food. They are also childless, a fact that has created a great rift between them. Their lives are very desolate at the beginning of the novel. They have little interaction with each other or anyone else. As the novel progresses, however, they befriend their neighbors, Esther and George, and taheir sons.

           
The crux of the novel, though, is the story of little Faina, a girl who appears one night in their yard after they build a snow child on their lawn in the first flurry of the season. Faina’s story is part harsh reality, part mysticism, and the girl quickly becomes like a child to the old couple. Mabel believes she is a snow child, like that in a story she heard as a child. The girl appears to walk on snow without really sinking in; she cannot stand the heat and disappears every year at the end of winter. Remarkably, she can survive alone in the brutal Alaskan wilderness. To John, Faina appears a feral child. He knows that her father is dead, for the child lead John to her father’s lifeless body one day. As the novel progresses, Mabel and John’s opinion of Faina change and change again. The reader is left wondering: how mystical and magical is the child? And how fallibly real is she?

           
There are some great things about this novel. The story of John, Mabel, and Faina is mimetic of the tale that Mabel knew as a child—that of an old couple who builds a snow child only to have her come to life but disappear every spring. This feature is interesting, and I enjoyed some of the underlying criticism of fairy tales (they are often very cruel even though they are meant for children). The characters, although a bit stereotypical at times, are enjoyable. The portrait of Alaskan homesteading was particularly fascinating for me, since it is a part of American history I knew nothing about.

           
I spent a long time trying to figure out what was “wrong” with the novel. As I was reading it, I knew it had shortcomings but couldn’t totally pinpoint them. I think, however, it lies in the fact that at times the dialogue seemed a bit stale or halted. Sometimes I wondered if this was just supposed to be halted because of the time period of the novel and the way people spoke back then, but I am not sure. Ivey did a pretty good job with everything else. Like I said, at times the characters seemed stereotypical, but they rounded themselves out as the novel progressed, although perhaps not as fully as they could have. The final portion of the story seemed a little too rushed, and the first part a little too slow. The pacing simply needed a small shift.

          
In spite of my criticisms, I did enjoy The Snow Child. If you like fantasy novels that have mere elements of magic and not a completely transformed world, I would recommend this book. 

The Girls

I have never read a book like Lori Larsens The Girls. The novel is about a lot of the things that all novels are about: love, friendship, family, relationships. But The Girls is not any old novel, and the narrators are not your usual could-be-anybodies. At the time that they are writing their co-authored autobiography, Ruby and Rose Darlen are almost thirty, sick, and working in a library (The Girls is one of those books within a book…a fiction novel that reads like an autobiography). They are also the world’s oldest surviving craniopagus twins. That means that they are joined at the head, sharing a major vein. They can never be separated, and because of the way they are connected, they have never seen the other’s face except for in mirrors or photographs.

Rose is the academic, and the main writer of the autobiography. She is sporty and bookish at the same time, with a verbose yet poignant way of looking at the world. She weaves in her own story with that of her sister’s, her Aunt Lovey and Uncle Stash—her adoptive parents.

Ruby is interested in history, and a fan of TV. Although Rose often says that Ruby is the weaker of the two, Ruby comes across strong in the chapters that she writes. Although she is clearly not as “writerly” as her sister, her chapters add simplicity to the complex narrative that Rose writes, breaking the novel up in a pleasant way.  

There are stories of lost children, pregnancies, crushes and loves, death. There are tales of magic and witches, of superstition and fact. Of crows and family. Of growing up and being a child and being different during all of that.

It took me a while to read The Girls. Rose’s chapters are very thick feeling and take some time to get through, but I think the main reason that I was so slow to finish the book was that I didn’t want it to end. This book…I will never forget this book. It is everything I love about a novel—great characters, good plotlines, fantastic language—with the added punch of being about a topic like growing up as a conjoined twin. It is unique, without feeling gimicky. If the book was just about two sisters not joined at the head, it would be still stand up as a great novel. 

I give author Lori Lansens major credit for being able to write about being a craniopagus twin, when she obviously isn’t, with such clarity. She doesn’t leave out details—questions about love-relationships and being a conjoined twin were in my mind when I started reading this novel, and they get addressed because one of the twins conceives at one point in the story. She also doesn’t make the whole novel about the twins. Aunt Lovey and Uncle Stash’s relationship are woven beautifully into the tale, and they become fascinating with all of their flaws and perfections.

I can’t even express how much I recommend this book—if you want to read a good, different, and beautifully written novel, pick up The Girls. 

Friends Like Us

Okay, so I picked Lauren Fox’s Friends Like Us thinking it would be like watching a rom com (romantic comedy) at the movie theater but that I would get to read it. I think anyone who majored in English or creative writing sometimes feels like you shouldn’t read books that are rom coms or “lesser” fiction…like we’re supposed to sit around and read Moby Dick and A Tale of Two Cities all day. But sometimes, I just want a break. Friends Like Us was my break (not like I actually sit around and read Moby or A Tale…I haven’t picked those up since high school. I was just making a point, I guess).

Friends Like Us has a 3-star rating right now on Goodreads, and up until I got to the end of the novel, I agreed. But I think the end pushes it up to a 3.5 or 4-star rating. The premise of the story is this: Willa and Jane live together, and are the best of friends. They went to college together and are now in their mid-twenties. They work shitty jobs. They are in the transition phase, just like the rest of us post-grads. At a high school reunion, Willa reunites with her best friend from high school, Ben. He confesses to her that he had a huge crush on her in high school. They make out, but then decide that it all feels weird. They agree to go back to being friends.

Ben starts hanging around a lot at Jane and Willa’s apartment, and Willa sets them up. The plot is predictable for the most part. Willa dates a guy who is kind of a jerk, and they break up. Jane and Ben get engaged. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but in the prologue of the book you know that Jane and Willa are no longer friends. And as the end of the book nears, I knew there were a few turns the book could take. Sure enough, it took one of those. But the ending was surprisingly realistic—I thought Fox was going to wuss out and sugar-coat it. She doesn’t thought, and the characters all kind of end up where they need to be, even though it might not be as glossy of an ending as a rom com at the movie theater. For sparing us from another unrealistic end to a romance book, I commend Fox. It’s not a life changing novel, but it is good for chick lit.

There are a few problems with it. Mainly, the characters motivations need to be fleshed out a bit more. Sometimes I found myself wondering why: Why is Willa self-sabotaging? Is Ben only with Jane because she is so similar to Willa?

My favorite part of the novel was not necessarily the plot, but the dialogue. I have not read such true-to-life dialogue in a long time. Ben, Willa, and Jane talk like me, like people I know. I dog-eared page 141 where Fox writes the following passage:

“A few weeks ago, Jane sent me an e-mail (she was in her bedroom and I was in mine). Can you teach me how to talk dirty? She wrote.

            Mud! I wrote back. Motor oil!

            Seriously.

            Why do you think I know? I typed back.

            You have more experience than I do. You’re more slutty.

            Let’s roll around in a pile of sewage, baby.

            Seriously, she wrote again. I would like to know what it entails.

            Entrails!

            Julian said you’re supposed to, like, describe what you want. Jillian was a girl we knew in college who worked part-time at Hooters. She had a worldly quality about her. Like, ‘Take me from behind,’ or whatever.”

The dialogue is very natural, but also has the over-use of puns, much like an episode of the Gilmore Girls. I have to say, because of her use of funny and witty dialogue, I am probably going to read Fox’s first novel Still Life with Husband. I recommend Friends Like Us, but probably for those looking for a lighter read with some funny dialogue and not quite as glossy of a finish as When Harry Met Sally. 

Growing Up Amish

This book popped up on my Goodreads account a few weeks ago, and I decided I would check it out. I was always interested in the idea of Rumspringa--the time in Amish life where the youth run wild before joining the church as adults. Sometimes this means leaving their communities, sometimes it just means sneaking around and experiencing the outside world on the sly. The Amish believe that only adults can fully accept Christ, so people are baptized around the age of 18, give or take a few years.

Ira Wagler in Growing Up Amish runs wild for a period of several years. When he is 16, he runs away in the middle of the night from his community in Bloomfield, Iowa with his friends. They live like cowboys, working on a farm. They drink. They smoke. They meet girls. This would be the first of Ira's five trips out of the Amish community and into the world.

For the next ten years of his life, he lives in a constant state of longing. If he is in the Amish community, he longs for the outside world. For cars. For booze. For freedom. When he is in the outside world, he longs for his family and the stability that comes with the Amish lifestyle. Not even a total believer in God or the church's message, and guilt-ridden because of his many sins, Wagler also worries that he will die on the road and go straight to hell. Eternal damnation is a lot of pressure, and one of the other reasons he returns home so many times.

After returning from his third trip into the outside world, Wagler comes home and joins the church. When he is baptized he feels nothing. But he tries desperately to settle into Amish life and have what his parents have. He begins courting a girl named Sarah, and the two even get engaged. However, as life moves along, Wagler becomes increasingly aware that he cannot stay. He misses the outside world. He knows he will not be happy. So he leaves. Again. And is excommunicated

But after being out in the world, he once more wishes to return to the Amish way of life. He is also concerned with his soul. He writes, "The Amish have always taught, always preached, that once the desire to return leaves, that's when you are truly lost." Afraid of being truly lost, Wagler grasps onto his feelings of sorrow over abandoning the Amish. He attempts to return to the church. The Amish church in Bloomfield accepts him back, but he leaves Bloomfield for a different settlement, trying to create a different but still Amish life for himself.

It is on his fifth return to the Amish church he has a spiritual awakening and begins to believe in God. He also believes that God forgives him for his sins. Less concerned for his soul and the threat of eternal damnation, he starts to realize that maybe he can leave the church and not be damned forever. He decides to do this, and makes his final, permanent exit from the Amish church. He moves to Pennsylvania and joins a Mennonite church.

Growing Up Amish is moderately well-written. In writing classes you always hear, "Show, don't tell." As in, paint a picture for your reader, don't just tell them what events happened. Wagler does a good amount of showing, but sometimes he simply tells and can get a bit repetitive. These problems happened most clearly towards the end, where the book begins to get a little bit rushed. However, some of his sentences are beautiful and he turns a nice metaphor every now and then.

This book may not be highly literary, but it is highly informative and sometimes, surprisingly, relatable for those of us in the outside world. There is one scene where he discusses a boy in his school who was brutally bullied by the other children. One wouldn't imagine such holy societies to have such horrifying bullying problems (the child is beat up on a daily basis, mocked, etc.), but in that sense their schools are just like ones in the outside world. Wagler also explains all of the ins and outs of Amish life, which I appreciated. I learned a lot about a culture I didn't know much about.

I also could relate to Wagler's pull between one world and another, to a small degree at least. I often felt that way about college. When I was away at school, I missed home. Then I would go home and miss school. I know there are other boomerang generation-ers out there who know what I'm talking about. Obviously there was a lot less riding on these torn emotions. Being conflicted between home and college is much different than an Amish person being torn between their community and the outside world. When I was at school, I wasn't concerned about the fate of my soul or forever being exiled from my parents. One of the successes of this book is the fact that Wagler did a great job at making a very unique experience seem somewhat relatable.

For memoir readers out there, I definitely recommend this one.

Night Flying

Night Flying by Rita Murphy is a tiny little book, clocking in at just over 120 pages. It’s a nice book to read when you need some fast yet fulfilling fiction. I read this one a few years ago, and re-read it this week while I was waiting for a book in come in at the library. The premise is about, well, night flying.

Narrator Georgia Louisa Hansen is from a family of female fliers. Her Great-Great-Great Grandmother Louisa Hansen lost her husband and baby boy in a boating accident in the 1800s. She used to fly out across the water at night in her sleep looking for her loved ones. Thus, the flying gene was passed down but only to the Hansen women.

The Hansen women are one for rules. Only fly at night. Only eat meat. No men allowed. Do not fly alone until you are 16. No pets allowed. Fifteen-year old Georgia’s life is regimented by these rules, which are enforced by her grandmother. Her mother, Maeve, a frail woman, is not allowed to fly. Georgia learns the way of the skies through her aunts Suki and Eva. The three sisters, Grandmother, and George make up the Hansen household. George has never met her father. 

The women never have to worry about money. Georgia’s great-grandfather created a special part that makes flushing a toilet easier, and the women live off of the inheritance, or as they call it the “toilet money.” Georgia’s grandmother threatens banishment from their estate and the seizing of their “toilet money” if the sisters or Georgia break any rules. Georgia’s Aunt Carmen was banished from the family after she broke the rule—Georgia has never been clear on the details.  

But when the week of Georgia’s sixteenth birthday rolls around, Carmen flies into town (literally), and family secrets begin to creep out of the Hansen sisters. And a rebellion against Grandmother’s rules slowly starts.

There are a few gaps—for example, I would have liked to understand the grandmother’s relationship with her husband. What happened in their marriage? Was he banned from the premises? The grandmother refused to let any of her children have a man around—for fear they will challenge her authority—but how did she have four kids with the same man? He must have been around for at least a few years.

Night Flying is a wonderful little piece of young adult fantasy, and a great piece for the young feminist reader. It’s about strong women, making their own rules, and fighting oppression (in the form of the grandmother character). In some ways, it appears very radical—with the “no men allowed” rules and all. However, as the book goes on, those old rules begin to dissolve and the reader is left with strong women who are not anti-man, but anti-authoritarian. A quick google search finds Night Flying on many lists of young adult feminist books, like this one. I definitely recommend this one for a quick, thoughtful, feminist read.