Book Review Catch-up

It’s time to play catch-up with what I’ve been reading lately. I finished nine books over Christmas break, and I’ve finished four more since, and I've been so busy creating my end-of-year posts that I’ve been unable to post anything else. But I don’t want to just skip these. Since I’m so far behind, these reviews will be shorter than usual, but there’s some good stuff here that I wanted to share.

 

The first book I finished over break was The Ninth Hour by Alice McDermott. Years ago, before I stopped reading fiction altogether for a decade or more, McDermott’s Charming Billy was one of the last novels I truly loved. There must be something about McDermott’s writing that appeals to me, because The Ninth Hour is one of my favorite books of last year. I think this one is something you either “get” or you don’t, that you either love or you shrug off with a “meh” and move on. Well, I got it, and I loved it. It’s a very quiet, low action, slim plot (again, you’re either going to love that or you aren’t) about a widow and her little girl and the nuns who look out for them for several decades. There’s friendship, forbidden love, and lots of Catholic nuns (I think McDermott uses Catholicism in her books a lot). It’s ultimately about service and devotion—both to the church and to our friends and family. There’s a twist toward the end (which you’ll likely guess at along the way) that makes the book what it is. This is a superb novel, in my opinion. I’ve added several other McDermott books to my TBR after finishing it. My rating: 5 stars.

Dear Fahrenheit 451 was a wonderful little book about books. I just looked back and counted that I read eight books about books this year, and this was definitely one of my favorites. Most of the book is librarian Annie Spence’s letters to various books, mostly books she loves, books she hates, and books she’s culling from the library’s collection. It’s at times humorous and at times poignant. She talks about titles you’ve either read or heard of, but also about esoteric oddities lurking on the library shelves. The last part of the book is lists and essay-ish pieces about books. I highly recommend this one for book lovers. It’s one of my favorites—and I’ve read a lot of these books. I will caution you, though, that there is a great deal of swearing in the book, and most of it is gratuitous. If you caught Spence’s interview on the What Should I Read Next podcast, you might be surprised that the mild-mannered, quiet girl in the interview was the same girl swearing a blue streak in this book. My rating: 4.5 stars.

 

I’m a confirmed Fredrik Backman fan, but I definitely have enjoyed his novels more than his novellas. The Deal of a Lifetime is his newest work, a novella of about 65 pages, easily read in a sitting. It has a magical element, which isn’t something that ever interests me, but some folks will like the book because of it. A successful businessman who has a strained relationship with his son meets a little girl with cancer. And then a sort of supernatural plot plays out. Perhaps if this were a novel I’d have enjoyed it more; as it is, I had a lukewarm reaction to it. Some readers will find it poignant and perhaps a bit uplifting. I just didn't find it terribly original. My rating: 3 stars.

 

One of my very favorite poems is Emily Dickinson’s poem about making a prairie with bees and revery. If Bees Are Few takes its title from the last line in that short poem. This collection was published in part to benefit the Bee Lab at the University of Minnesota which is trying to save the bees. One might expect a collection like this to be filled with local and little-known poets of lesser talent, but this was a solid collection. The poems included were of good quality and by well-known poets. It wasn’t too political, hammering home global warming stats or other strident views. It was just a good, solid collection of poems about bees. I enjoyed it very much. My rating: 3.5 stars.

I love A.J. Jacobs’ work. I’ve read all of his books, and with the exception of one, they’re all high on my list of all-time favorite books. (The Know-It-All is my favorite.) Jacobs is one of the first to write “stunt” books where the author takes on a project—often strange or foolhardy adventures—and then writes a book about it. Eat, Pray, Love and Julie and Julia are two others from the genesis of this genre. Wild is another. In the past, Jacobs has read the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica, tried to follow every law in the Old Testament, and tried to become the healthiest man alive. In It’s All Relative, he aims to break the world record by throwing the largest family reunion in history with the notion that we’re all related. He talks about genealogy, explores popular genealogy sites, gives his convoluted relation to various celebrities, crashes family reunions, and throughout the book, gives updates on his own reunion planning. Oh, and Jacobs is funny, neurotic, and self-effacing, which really makes you root for him. I enjoyed the book, but it was a bit of a letdown in the end. I don’t feel like the reunion, when it finally happened, was given enough time, just a short debrief at the very end. Still, I think it was worth the price of admission, and fans of Jacobs will enjoy it, no doubt. My rating: 4 stars.

I’ve been wanting to read a Willa Cather book for some time, so last December I made My Ántonia my Kindle read. Unfortunately, I had a hard time wanting to pick it up (though I liked it when I did), so I finally finished it on audio. The audio version was quite good because the narrator had a bit of a Midwestern Scandinavian accent which fit the narration perfectly. I enjoyed the story, but it is one that is very low on action or drama. I can imagine a high school student being assigned this book and finding herself bored and uninterested. This is the last in a series, which I didn’t realize, but it did stand on its own. The writing is very straight-forward and serviceable. It’s quite simply the story of life on the prairie (specifically, Nebraska) as the west is just beginning to be settled. Ántonia is the young neighbor of the Burden family, and the story is narrated by Jim Burden, Ántonia’s friend.  I’m just unsure what the book means. Is it as simple as it seems, or is it deceptively simple? I enjoyed the book for its portrayal of the life of prairie settlers, but I feel that I missed something overall. My rating: 3.5 stars.

I love the Pioneer Woman cookbooks. Her latest, Come and Get It! is as good as all of her others. I keep waiting for her to run out of good recipes or decide she’s bored and branch out into fad food, but Ree remains consistent and true to her roots (Oklahoma cattle ranching). There are meat—and a few non-meat—recipes, yummy sides, and gorgeous, yet easy, desserts. If you like home cooking, meat-and-potatoes fare with a generous dose of pasta, veggie dishes, and a sprinkling of decidedly non-ranch fare (e.g. quinoa), this one will be a hit for you. She includes a whole section of quick dishes for busy families as well as a section of slow-cooker meals. Also, she’s as funny and charming in this cookbook as ever. I loved the photo series of ballet positions—done in her cowgirl boots, and the photos of her dogs and kids. I was very happy with this one. My rating: 5 stars.

I have long proclaimed my love of Michael Perry’s work, which I’ve been following since my college days (back then, I followed in person). His writing is genuine, self-deprecating, humorous, and very often, touching. He writes mostly about rural Wisconsin, farming, family, and writing, all things that are near and dear to me, having grown up around the same stripe of folks he describes in his books. His work is very consistent, yet never gets old-hat or annoying or saccharine. In an email sent to his readers as this book was released, he warned us that it was a little different, and he was right. I’d long felt that as entertaining as I find Perry's books, he doesn’t often go too deep or too personal, and I’d always wondered what we’d get if he did. Turns out, Montaigne in Barn Boots is what you’d get. Here, Perry explores the essays of sixteenth-century French philosopher Michel de Montaigne and how relevant they are to him today. Using Montaigne’s lines, Perry explores heretofore never explored territory and opens up about his views on politics, sex, fart jokes, marriage, and religious faith. It was all interesting, but as much as it pains me to say it, Perry just didn’t nail it. And I’m so used to him nailing it. Parts were almost painful to read because I could feel he was trying to say something, but he’s too polite to just bust out and say it. Still, I’m hoping this is the beginning of a franker Mike Perry. Maybe it just took an old philosopher to get him to open up. Fans of Mike Perry might be surprised by this one, but I don’t think they’ll be disappointed. My rating: 3.5 stars.

 

For women of my generation, there are two events for which everyone can tell you where they were when they happened: the Twin Towers falling, and Princess Diana’s death. I was on my way out to a back-to-school event at the university I was attending (and where I’ve worked ever since) when the news broke. My roommates and I were shocked and saddened. She’d just gotten out of her disastrous marriage only to have her life cut short in a high-speed car crash of all things. Of course, we didn’t know everything, and no book can tell us everything. Still, there’s much more to the story of Princess Di than her image among young women in America. And there’s more to the story of her marriage than the side story of Prince Charles and Camilla. A couple of years ago I read Sally Bedell Smith’s Elizabeth the Queen, and I loved it no end. It was so conversational and interesting and, though long, it never dragged. It also very pointedly excoriated Princess Diana. So, I knew what I was getting myself in for with her follow-up, Prince Charles, published last year. I really have very little interest in Prince Charles; philandering old Englishmen don’t interest me. much But I had so loved Smith’s book about the queen, I knew I’d read this one, too. After reading, I can say Prince Charles still holds very little interest for me. I’m still unsympathetic to his decades-long affair with Camilla. And I find his causes and interests rather dull and tedious. I think this book could have been trimmed by a third. Smith is an exhaustive writer, giving every detail year by year, but when the details are as uninteresting as those of Prince Charles’ career (or whatever you call the king-in-waiting’s work), you trim it a bit to liven things up. In short, Charles is interested in conservation, was a strong and vocal advocate for organic agriculture long before that was the trend, and he has very strong feelings about architecture, prizing classical to anything new or topping three stories. He seems, not surprisingly, out of touch, has a hotheaded angry streak, pouts like a child, and still holds childhood injustices against his parents. The prince and princess’s marriage is talked about quite a bit, though it doesn’t dominate the book, and it would seem the two were a mismatch from the start, and their years together were fraught with distrust on her part (with good reason) and indifference on his (also, likely, with good reason). Diana is painted as mentally unhealthy from the get-go, which only exacerbated their troubles. All three of the persons in that marriage (to allude to Diana’s famous assessment of her marriage) were cheating on someone. Long before the end of the book I wanted to be done with them all. It’s amazing that princes William and Harry are functioning adults at all with the dysfunction present in their various palaces during their childhoods. If you’re interested in Prince Charles, this is not a bad book, but I’m afraid you won’t find Charles all that interesting, and the bloom will be off the Princess Diana rose, too. My rating: 3 stars.  

 

I’ve read many stellar reviews of Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk, so I decided to listen to it on audio. This is the story of Lillian Boxfish, the highest-paid woman in advertising in the 1930s for R.H. Macy, and it’s based on the life of Margaret Fishback who apparently was the highest-paid woman in advertising in the 1930s for R.H. Macy. Lillian takes a walk on New Year’s Eve 1984, recounting her life in advertising, her failed marriage, her stay at a mental institution, her son, her friends, all while encountering various New Yorkers, some kindly, some out to do her harm. This is the perfect character study. Lillian is a well-fleshed character who is of strong opinion, of sharp mind and mouth, dryly witty, and true to herself without being unwilling to experience new things. This is a truly remarkable book. My one regret is listening to it instead of reading it. With this one, if you miss anything, you miss too much. While I didn’t love every part of the adventure, I was still riveted. And I loved the 1980s references (does anyone remember Coloralls?). I’d like to re-read this one in paper. And soon. If you enjoy books with strong characters and engaging writing, pick this one up. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. My rating: 4.5 stars.

 

I’ve never read anything by P.G. Wodehouse, but he’s been on my TBR for a few years. And now, thanks to Good Night, Mr. Wodehouse, he’s just moved up to the top. When this book came out, I was drawn by the cover, but I couldn’t get a good idea of what the book was about, and since I was still leery about trying new fiction, I forgot about it. Fast-forward several years to last December when I ran across a copy of the book in a used bookstore for $2.00. That’s minimal investment, so I snatched it up. I read a couple pages and could not get it out of my mind, so I moved it up to my January reading list (a third chunkster for the month). You guys, I loved this book. Apparently, it’s one of a number of books in which Faith Sullivan writes about Nell Stillman and Harvester, Minnesota in the early 1900s. This is a book very much like The Ninth Hour where nothing much happens other than life unfolds, people make decisions that affect their whole lives, lives move on to their ends. Nell is widowed with a young son, Hilly, in the early years of the 1900s, and she must make a living for herself and her son. Along the way, she makes friends, falls in love, and finds the books of P.G. Wodehouse, which get her through the various losses that come her way. If you like quiet novels set in small towns with easy characters, this is one to add to your list. It was a cozy, comfortable, at times sad, read. I loved it. My rating 4.5 stars.  

 

I’d read that See You in the Cosmos is the new Wonder. Although I doubted that very much, I was definitely interested in reading it. I like children’s books about smart kids figuring things out on their own. And for the most part, that’s what this one was. Alex is an 11-year-old boy (though he’s 13 in responsibility years) who has a passion for space. He and his dog, Carl Sagan, set out on their own to a rocket launching convention, and along the way, he makes lots of adult friends and discovers things about his dead father and absentee-though-in-the-same-house mother. The book is written entirely as a set of iPod-recorded transmissions by Alex to outer space beings, which Alex plans to launch into space on his rocket, Discovery III. I loved the book for the first half or two-thirds, but then it just seemed to spin out into a tale much too dramatic and intense for a children’s book. Themes of infidelity and mental illness are introduced. A near-fatal accident takes place. It just all felt like too much, especially for a children’s book. I would have enjoyed this one better if it allowed itself to be about Alex and not so much about those around him. I had been planning to buy a copy for my 12-year-old grandson, but I decided against it when I finished, which is too bad because I absolutely adored Alex. The audio version of this one is superb. My rating: 4 stars.