Archive for the ‘Books’ Category
Some attributes of people like Bill Gates and Steve Jobs may find their way
into David Guterson’s Ed King, but the strongest similarity to anyone is
Oedipus Rex. This story begins in the 1960s introducing Ed’s birth parents,
a married insurance actuary and a 15-year-old British au pair. That’s the first
clue that something’s amiss. It moves from Ed’s conception to well into the
21st century in his prominence as an Internet wiz. A lot of similarities to
the title character and the modern day wunderkind exist, but those parallels
are garnish. They’re not nearly as intriguing, nor repelling, as the connection
with the ancient story of Oedipus.
At the risk of revealing too much, once the first half of this modern-day Greek
tragedy is identified, it’s easy to anticipate the completion. It is at this point
that Guterson changes tone and voice to suddenly directly address the
reader: “Who could blame you for being interested in this potential hot part …”
And just as quickly (well, little more than a page) reverts to the objective
third person narrative.
This book is heavy on characters, and many seem extraneous. Nonetheless,
a surprising number are well-developed, but the question is why? Set in the
Pacific Northwest, Guterson’s favored locale, the likelihood of many of the
events is about as possible as a talking sphinx; oh yeah, that was part of
Sophocles’s play, too.
Although the well-known plot’s twisted one, Guterson is a master storyteller
writing about destiny, desire, and manipulation.
Ed King
Three-and-a-half Bookmarks
Alfred A. Knopf, 2011
304 pages
The Night Circus is like a fine etching, rich in detail and artistically crafted. Although
black and white are the dominant hues, the nuances of lighting and shading result in a
rainbow of detail.
The word magical to describe Erin Morgenstern’s novel is inadequate. The story is so
much more. The circus, only open at night and in various places around the world,
transports its audience members, and thus readers, to beyond the suspension of dis-
belief. Taking place between 1873 and 1903 the story moves from one time frame to
another, from character to character, from love story to mystery, while Morgenstern
tells a very tall tale that is engaging and exciting.
Magic, or the manipulation of what people believe they see, is the backdrop. The
circus is the venue for a battle of the beautiful and incredible between Celia and
Marco. They have been trained their entire lives by masters who have no regard
for emotion or repercussions. Although Marco and Celia are destined to try to sur-
pass each other through their skills of illusion, no one is prepared for the direction
their relationship takes.
The vivid cast of characters demonstrates the human element of magic and mystery.
Attachments develop among them, and with the reader, creating plenty of tension
wondering not only what will happen between Marco and Celia, but to those whose
lives depend on the night circus.
Morgenstern’s black and white portrait is as lively as any circus, but far more fantastic
than any that can be imagined.
The Night Circus
Four-and-a-half Bookmarks
Doubleday, 2011
387 pages
Just because everyone has a story to tell, doesn’t mean everyone should. It’s
nice, though, that Adriana Trigiani shares hers in the memoir, Don’t Sing at
the Table: Life Lessons From My Grandmothers.
Trigiani imparts memories and the advice given by both of her grandmothers:
Lucy (on her mother’s side) and Viola (on her father’s). Although the two
had little direct interaction with one another, they had a profound influence
on the author. Both were hardworking, independent women who raised families,
ran their own businesses, suffered personal losses, but lived long rich lives.
This describes many grandmothers today, but this was the 1940s and ‘50s.
These Italian-American women weren’t just role models to their granddaughter
(and others); they also had plenty of advice to dispense, from parenting to
femininity, from marriage to adventure. Trigiani’s writing is conversational.
It’s easy to imagine the time spent with Lucy and Viola, and to feel the im-
pact they had. These were tough but caring women who found success at work
and happiness at home.
The title is what caught my attention. Not singing at the table was one of
many family rules when I was a kid, but there was never an explanation.
Trigiani provides one. It comes from an Italian proverb: “Chi e canta a
tavola e piu stupido che fuma a letto, which translated means ‘He who
sings at the table is more stupid than the one who smokes in bed.’” This
is debatable, but it certainly makes for a good title.
Three Bookmarks
Harper Collins, 2010
204 pages
Even though my own name belies the family stories I’ve heard about Echo Park,
I admit I judged Brando Skyhorse by his. I didn’t expect him to know much, if
anything, about Echo Lake, Chavez Ravine, and Elyssian Park near downtown Los
Angeles. Lo siento. His novel, The Madonnas of Echo Park, proves that he knows
the geography well and the community, too. Although not written in an especially
unique format, he creates a cohesive portrait of Mexican Americans in a time when
it is easy to overlook the fact that one word is an adjective and the other a noun.
Skyhorse relies on different narrators, all of whom are Latino, to relate varied
perspectives of a series of coincidently overlapping events. In their quest to wake
up in the American Dream, they recount nightmarish experiences.
Aurora Esperanza is the character about whom everything is connected. The story
weaves in and out of her childhood in the Echo Park area (when its residents were
primarily Spanish-speaking families) to the gentrification now underway. The grown
-up Aurora acknowledges that she has trouble recognizing her old haunts. Skyhorse
plays and replays the theme of being cast out of one once-distained area into an-
other with numerous references to Chavez Ravine. Families were forced to leave
their homes there to make room for Dodger Stadium.
I know the verdant Echo Park that sits like an island in a sea of automobile traffic,
and Skyhorse doesn’t just describe a neighborhood, he portrays its heart and soul.
“The Madonnas of Echo Park”
Three and a half Bookmarks
Free Press, 2010
199 pages
I can’t remember all the books I read this past year. This says more about
my memory than necessarily reflecting poorly on the ones I can’t recall.
The standouts, however, are another story. They feature characters with
depth, situations I had never considered, and writing that practically
dances off the page in its lyricism and rhythm. In no particular order,
here are my favorite reads of 2011. Enjoy!
Room by Emma Donoghue
Cutting for Stone* by Abraham Verghese
State of Wonder by Ann Patchett
The Lonely Polygamist by Brady Udall
The Snowman* by Jo Nesbo
Freedom by Jonathan Franzen
Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef* by Gabrielle Hamilton
The Hunger Games (Catching Fire and Mockingjay) by Suzanne Collins
* The Blue Page Special reviews.
Two very sad things are conspicuous about Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent
Education of a Reluctant Chef by Gabrielle Hamilton: she was essentially abandoned
as a kid, and her parents probably have no clue what they missed. In spite of being
neglected, or perhaps because of it, Hamilton developed an inner strength and the
talent to express herself through food – and writing.
Hamilton appears as baffled by her life circumstances as any reader. She recounts
a happy early childhood as the youngest of five children in rural Pennsylvania.
However, those years were short-lived. Her family disintegrated through her parents’
divorce, and she was left to her own devices. With only a trace of bitterness
(mostly directed toward her mother), Hamilton recalls what it was like eking out
a living when she was still a kid.
By age 13, she knew she needed a job. She hasn’t stopped working since, and much of
her employment has been in restaurants or catering, it’s almost always been related
to food. Hamilton’s writing is vividly descriptive making it easy to not just see the
images she depicts, but also to feel the cool morning dew or to smell the smoke from
a pit fire or taste “a cold ham sandwich on good buttered grainy bread.”
Today, Hamilton is an accomplished chef and owner of Prune restaurant in New York City,
and her writing is stellar. Still, who leaves an almost-12-year-old to fend for herself,
even if the ultimate outcome appears to be exceptional?
Four and a half Bookmarks
Random House, 2011
291 pages
After reading the first eight – practically in one sitting – Stephanie Plum
comedy-mysteries, I knew I had to stop. And I did, cold turkey. I’d notice
a new catchy title, or a friend would mention the Morelli/Ranger lines of
division; but I stayed away. Except, for the past six months Smokin’ Seventeen
by Janet Evonovich has been languishing on my nightstand. It doesn’t matter
how it got there, only that I had successfully ignored it, for a while.
A few pages in, I remembered why I had abandoned Stephanie and all the other
whacky characters, the silly repartee and the inane situations. Nothing had
changed. Yet, I kept reading, and as I did, I was hooked. The banter became
less hare-brained: it was laugh out loud funny. I found myself enjoying the
flaws I had identified years ago.
Smokin’ Seventeen once again finds bounty hunger Stephanie in Trenton, N.J.
She remains caught between feelings (the ones that stir certain body parts
and emotions) for Morelli, the good cop, and Ranger, the sexy equivalent of
a bad cop. The story centers around a rash of dead bodies left near the places
Stephanie works and lives. Several corpses have notes addressed to her. The
possibility of a third romantic interest, one who can cook, also appears.
Evanovich is nothing if not prolific and humorous. Explosive Eighteen is now
in bookstores, but I plan on exercising self-control and not reading it any time
soon. Sometimes too much of a good thing gets old fast.
Three Bookmarks
Bantam Books, 2011
308 pages
The trouble with reading Joan Didion’s Blue Nights is that I feel I have
eavesdropped on a private conversation. And it’s one she’s having with
herself.
This is Didion’s most recent work since The Year of Magical Thinking. It,
like Blue Nights, focuses on loss. In the former, it was the death of her
husband, John Gregory Dunne; and in the latter, the death of their daugh-
ter Quintana Roo, also known as Q. These are heart-breaking events but
Didion candidly shares a range of emotions. She writes, “When we talk
about mortality we are talking about our children.” Then, before I can
phrase the question myself, she asks what that means. I am still not sure.
What I do know that is Didion loved her daughter. Q was adopted, an only
child, insightful and perhaps a bit frightening, as a young child, in her
assessment of situations. Didion acknowledges she was not prepared to be
a parent, although it was something she wanted. Nonetheless, much of the
book has her questioning the decisions she made as a mother – something
not necessarily unique.
Surprisingly, the book has a lot of humor, after all who names a child
Quintana Roo (after the state in Mexico)? Didion also addresses the issue
of growing old, of experiencing physical decline. Overall, the strength
lies in her descriptions of those moments that set one family apart from
another: memories. In doing so, she may not be talking to herself as much
as thinking out loud.
Three and a half Bookmarks
Alfred A. Knopf, 2011
188 pages
Feeding Christine by Barbara Chepaitis has most of the themes I enjoy
in a novel: friendship, food, mystery and personal growth. Unfortunately,
the plot and creativity, two fundamental elements for a truly engaging work,
lack flavor.
The book centers around four women who gather to prepare for the annual
holiday party hosted by their catering company. A fifth woman, Nan the
deceased sister of Teresa, is also a prominent character. And, Nan is the
mother of the title character. Rather than hold the party at their shop,
Teresa insists on having it in her home. The story takes place over three
days, but retells memories that span years.
Three of the women spend much of the time cooking in Teresa’s kitchen.
Meanwhile, the fourth is tied up in the basement – and everyone knows
it. I am not making this up. It’s difficult to know if Chepaitis’s intent
was to create a dark comedy, or if that was a consequence of the weak
storyline. Occasional references are made to the “hostage” but each
woman goes about her business. Trips are made to the grocery store,
delicious sounding ginger trout is prepared, love is a topic of conversa-
tion, and all the while someone they care about is secured in the cold,
dark basement. It’s almost comical.
The lone strength of the novel lies in the description of food and its
bond among the women. However, a menu at a nice restaurant could
provide the same thing without the contrived drama.
One Bookmark
Bantam Books, 2000
244 pages
Considering the content of The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas, this book probably warrants an R rating; not
for violence as the title might suggest, but its strong sexual content and graphic language. That aside,
this Australian Literary Society Gold Medal winner is riveting in its cross-cultural, cross-generational look
at parenting, friendship, family and marriage.
Told from eight different perspectives, the story follows the events that lead to and from an adult slapping
the young child of another couple at a family barbecue. It’s a slap felt by everyone related to, or friends
with, hosts Hector and Aisha. The ripple effects go well beyond the afternoon gathering.
Although there are eight different viewpoints, including Hector and Aisha’s, the omniscient narrator remains
the same, and the story moves forward rather than being retold from various angles. This is a clever way to
demonstrate the impact without repeating the actual event multiple times. The slap is never far from the sur-
face, but neither is is it a repetitive action. The ultimate question within the book – and for readers, as
well – becomes which side is right: those who agree with the boy being slapped and those who don’t.
The primary weakness of the novel is the whiney, self-absorbed characters who populate it. With few excep-
tions, it is hard to feel an affinity with any of them. Sure, it was a bratty four-year-old child who was hit,
but some of the other characters might have benefitted from a quick smack, too.
Three and a half Bookmarks
Penguin Books, 2010
482 pages
