The Robber Bride, by Margaret Atwood

Genre: Fiction

Rating:   ★  ★ ★  ★  ★      

Published: 1995

Publisher: Bantam Books

Pages: 528

YO, so I'm actually really exciting to be writing a review for this book since I was SO PUMPED to read it (and had been looking for it for a few months) and no one else I know has read it. I read The Handmaid's Tale* by Margaret Atwood my freshman year (of college), and immediately went on the hunt for this puppy afterwards. Atwood has a reputation as a feminist author, and I would say that I agree with that title. Whereas The Handmaid's Tale is a more dystopic novel (taking place in the fundamentalist Christian state of Gilead), The Robber Bride is a more intimate and modern story that takes place in Canada in the very early 1990s (I'm dating it around 1990, maaaaaybe 1991). 

The Robber Bride focuses on a small group of friends — Tony, Charis and Roz — whose lives have become intwined since college thanks to the bewitching and devastating Zenia. Zenia stole their men, undermined their careers, and effectively threatened their Way Of Life before disappearing into thin air. The last the trio had heard of her was her death, and after attending her funeral, considered to be a ghastly warning from the past. Tony, Charis and Roz have since begun a slow healing process, trying to move on from the damage that Zenia has caused. But one day, while the three women are out for lunch, who should walk into the restaurant but Zenia — very much alive. What does she want? Why has she come back? And what does she have in store for Tony, Charis and Roz?

The Robber Bride is over five hundred pages long, and I flew threw it. The book is divided into different section, with Tony, Charis and Roz serving as "perspective" narrators for each section. While The Robber Bride detailed Zenia's relationship with the three women, it also detailed the life experiences of Tony, Charis, and Roz, and touched on issues such as mental illness, sexual abuse, divorce, death, and money and class. Personally, I think that Atwood did a fantastic job at juggling the three women's perspectives. While each character's perspective chapter was openly characterized by one of the three women, Atwood maintained her style overall. (I feel like that was a bad explanation, so let me try again: Atwood asserts the characteristic differences of the three women throughout their respective chapters while maintaining a specific writing style throughout. Some very, very tricky writing, I think.)

The Robber Bride continuously reflections on issues relating to gender and power relations in the modern (or post-modern?) era. While Tony, Charis and Roz each lead lives that (I feel) they want to lead (Tony as an academic, Charis as a free spirit, Roz as a businesswoman), they are each constrained by gender roles and expectations. Tony is frustrated that, as a woman, her work relating to military history is taken less seriously. Charis is often at odds with her daughter, a strict by-the-book individual. Roz constantly juggles the difficulties of being a mother, being an executive, and being a "good feminist." 

Zenia, however, does not seem to reflect on such identity politics or issues. Zenia is portrayed by Atwood as a third sex; someone who is able to easily navigate male and female world and roles. Unlike the three women, Zenia isn't boxed in by social expectations, and doesn't seem to be at odds with her gender. Zenia is also, however, not at the beck and call of her sexual appetite as often as the men in The Robber Bride are. It is because of her "third role" that she is presented as a terrifying question and an unpredictable actor to Tony, Charis, and Roz. The Robber Bride doesn't deal very much with topics like gender fluidity and queer identification (and it also only touches upon homosexuality), but does discuss and elaborate upon the choices that women are often forced to make regarding their families, careers, and love lives. 

I'd absolutely recommend The Robber Bride; I thought that it was a super engaging and engrossing read, and that the book's heft ceased to be intimidating once I got into the swing of things. Tony, Charis and Roz are women whose strengths and weaknesses (and vanities) differ greatly from one woman to the next. I enjoyed reading about their relationships with each other as much as I enjoyed speculating on what Zenia was planning.

*The Handmaid's Tale was spooky and thought-provoking and presented a situation I thought to be absolutely terrifying: zero bodily autonomy. (Unfortunately I don't have a review for it; just take my word for it, it's fantastic.)

The Chaperone, by Laura Moriarty

Genre: (Historical) Fiction

Rating:  ★ ★ ★      

Published: 2012

Publisher: Riverhead Hardcover

Pages: 384

The Chaperone grabbed my attention for a pretty shallow reason, and it is that it is set (at least somewhat) in Wichita, Kansas. Now, I'm not from Wichita, but I do enjoy Kansas lit every now and then that a) is not The Wizard of Oz, or b) is not In Cold Blood. You would think that those are pretty easy qualifiers, but alas — the supply of Kansas books is dreadfully thin. What do I have to do to read about my home state?

The Chaperone details the story of one Cora Carlisle, a well-to-do lady in 1920s Wichita who volunteers as a chaperone for the young, wanna be dancer/actress, Louise Brooks. Louise has been awarded a space in the prestigious Denishawn School of Dancing for a month-long training camp, and — being a young woman — obviously needs someone to look out for her "wellbeing" (read: to make sure she doesn't drink and have sex). Cora is motivated to accompany Louise not out of a sense of moral righteousness (although she does give some morally upright speeches to Louise, who promptly brushes them off), but for her own personal reasons. 

Fun fact: Louise Brooks is actually a real person — something I didn't know before reading this book. After her time with the Denishawn School of Dancing, Louise became a silent movie film star, although her career did fade over time. But despite Louise's celebrity, I wouldn't say that she overpowered Cora's personal narrative.

The real Louise Brooks. Via. 

The Kansas Theater in Wichita, KS. Circa 1922. Via.

Identity is a central theme to The Chaperone; who do you think you are, who do others think you are, what do you think others think of you... Moriarty shows in The Chaperone how exhausting the constant scrutiny of being a young (and older) woman is. Throughout the book, both Cora and Louise undergo some sort of identity crisis, although at different points. Cora's search for identity spans more or less the entire book, whereas Louise's crisis is more acute in the last third of the book. Although both characters pursue their interests and desires differently, although it is clear that Cora is obviously shaped (some would say "liberated) by her short time with Louise. 

The Chaperone spans decades and covers a huge variety of historical events — orphan trains, the women's suffrage movement, Prohibition, The Depression, World War II... It's a huge undertaking, and obviously required a huge amount of research on the part of Moriarty. 

The Chaperone is a pretty fast and easy read. That aside, it does delve into darker subjects, and Moriarty isn't one to shy away from character confrontation. So while I wouldn't say that The Chaperone was particularly challenging, and it didn't upset or enthrall me like The Mayor of Castro Street (for example), it did spark my interest in several historical events (like orphan trains and the women's suffrage movement), and certainly gave me some "food for thought" regarding America in the early twentieth century and the fairly dramatic social changes going on then. 

For all of those of you who're interested in reading The Chaperone, I'd recommend pairing it with a nice ragtime playlist and your best suffragette hat. (And maybe some white wine, if you're feeling particularly rebellious.)

Kindle Reads: Doomed Queens, by Kris Waldherr

Via.

Genre: Biography, Non-Fiction

Rating:  ★ ★ ★ 

Published: 2008

Publisher: Three Rivers Press

Pages: 176

Fun facts about me: I considered being a history major in college before deciding that I actually hated all of the history classes I had taken and was waaaay more interested in examining political mechanisms of historical events. (I'm looking at you, twentieth century anarchists.) But despite that, I love reading history books and learning more about dead people and past events (a quick way to my heart: buy The Rise of the Third Reich for me, plz), so when I saw Doomed Queens mentioned on a blog I really like, I decided to get it for my Kindle before I left for my semester abroad.

In Doomed Queens, Kris Waldherr basically sits you down in a coffee shop (or bar), and over drinks talks to you about powerful women throughout history who met their ends in...less than pleasant ways. Doomed Queens is basically the equivalent of having a late night talk with one of your best friends about "that girl" who was a little too fab or too crazy for this world, and what happened to her ("Like, can you believe she was caught trying to overthrow her husband?"). Also: there are chapter quizzes that ask us, "What have we learned?"

Waldherr tackles more than 400 years of queens (and regicide) in this book, from Athaliah (from Biblical times) to Princess Di. Because of the huge scope of this book, and its relatively short length, it's basically impossible to get a totally comprehensive history of all of the people mentioned in it. While I did appreciate how there were a lot of queens presented and written about in Doomed Queens, I sometimes felt a little frustrated when I felt like their section was super short, or that their section could have gone more in-depth. But, I mean, some queens just weren't going to have a lot of background sources available (I'm looking at you Athaliah). Waldherr crafts a narrative and history within Doomed Queens that tries to make the most out of the (sometimes minimal) resources available to her.

I also had a few annoyances with the Kindle version of this ebook. Mostly, that I felt like the various graphics that were included in the text were either blurred or not formatted well. I pulled up the Kindle app on my computer to try to get a better glimpse of one of the illustrations in the book, but it wasn't much of an improvement. These technological glimpses sometimes annoyed me, but luckily the narrative wasn't really affected by it.

 

Some nifty illustrations (drawn by Waldherr). Via. Via.

While I'm not sure if I would reread Doomed Queens, I did appreciate how Waldherr introduced me to a lot of new historical figures that I can potentially research in the future. I would recommend this book to anyone jonesing for a quick, informative read or anyone who is interested in learning more about past female leaders or past royal families.

The House of Hades, by Rick Riordan (Heroes of Olympus #4)

Via.

Genre: Fiction, YA

Rating:  ★ ★ ★ ★ 

Published: 2013

Publisher: Hyperion Books

Pages: 583

Okay, so I know that I'm like a year late to the House of Hades party (and that The Blood of Olympus just came out), but I told myself that I was going to catch up with my reviews, and anyway I can't help it if I forget to read my books sometimes. (Plus, it was totally spoiled for me on at least two counts, so forgive me if I wasn't super desperate to learn major plot development.)

The House of Hades is the fourth book in Rick Riordan's "Heroes of Olympus" series (the follow-up to the "Percy Jackson & the Olympians" series), and immediately follows the events of the previous book, The Mark of Athena. Annabeth and Percy are in Tartarus, fighting their way towards the Doors of Death (along with every other monster and titan they've basically ever faced). The rest of the crew (Leo, Nico, Piper, Hazel, Frank, and Jason) is on the lookout for the House of Hades, where they expect to close the (aforementioned) Doors of Death. Basically, drama llamas abound as the eight demigods continue on their quest to prevent the giants from raising the awakening Gaea.

I really enjoyed this book, although I do wish that there had been additional characters that had received their own "point of view" chapters (I'm looking at you, Nico and Reyna...). I think that sometimes the action in this book came and went in bursts — which was alternately refreshing and irksome. I think I really appreciated hearing more about the Roman and Greek gods and goddesses, and also really enjoyed glimpses of Camp Half Blood, as well as (my gurl) Reyna. I do expect there to be more of Reyna (and Nico!) in Blood of Olympus, so I'll just have to wait a little while longer...!

I also liked how House of Hades explored Percy and Annabeth's relationship. Percy/Annabeth is obviously R. Riordan's main ship, but it was nice (in my opinion) for the author to explore his reasoning for the couple's coupledom while examining Percy and Annabeth's thoughts about the other. I feel like in a series like Heroes of Olympus (and Percy Jackson & the Olympians) where there are characters with a history that spans several books, it's really useful to sometimes stop and take a breather and question characters' motives and opinions. 

I would definitely recommend House of Hades to those familiar with the series, or anyone who is  interested at all in Greek or Roman mythology. (Honestly, the mythology aspect is probably what interests me most in the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus series.) I look forward to reading the next one when I get back home for break, and will hopefully have my fill of Reyna and Nico then. 

The Mayor of Castro Street, by Randy Shilts

Unfortunately, I'm still playing catch-up with my reviews. Stay with me, kids.

Genre: Biography, Non-Fiction

Rating:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Published: 1982

Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Pages: 348

Last year, I read Randy Shilts's And the Band Played On , which is his account of the early years of AIDS public policy and scientific research. DESPITE it being a little over 600 pages (of small, frequently scientific print), I wouldn't hesitate for a moment to put it on my "favorites" list on the basis that it was infuriating, informative, heartbreaking, and then some. After reading it, I decided that I wanted to check out his other books, so I picked up The Mayor of Castro Street: The Life and Times of Harvey Milk.

I originally wanted this review to coincide with a few events: Milk's birthday, the issuing of a Harvey Milk stamp , and the release of HBO's The Normal Heart (which is more about AIDS than it is about Harvey Milk). Unfortunately, this review is quite a few months overdue. (Talking about my good intentions is just as good as actually following through, yeah?)

(I guess I'd also like to give a quick disclaimer before this review to say that I identify as straight, and so I might fail to convey some important information in this review.)

The Mayor of Castro Street is a comprehensive biography of Harvey Milk, who became the first openly gay person to be elected to public office in California when he won a position on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977. The book begins with his childhood in Long Island and follows him throughout his adulthood in New York City, Texas, his time in the Navy, and his eventual move to the Castro District in San Francisco. 

As Shilts details these personal details, he also assesses the social and cultural events that caused the Castro to emerge as a gay neighborhood. Shilts also spends time detailing San Franciscan politics (as well as "gay" politics) prior to Harvey's arrival, including the activist José Sarria (who was the first only gay candidate for public office in the United States), as well as gay political organizations such as the Alice B. Toklas Memorial Democratic Club.

I found The Mayor of Castro Street to be as inspiring and interesting as it was heartbreaking and infuriating. While the book does focus on the "gay" movement, "gay" in this instance refers to (almost exclusively) as "male," since (asides from Anne Kronenberg, a political aide of Harvey) lesbians receive little mention in this book. Transgender individuals also receive little to no mention. This...lack of political representation made me wonder if the change that Harvey inspired would be been possible if he were lesbian, transgender, or an LGBT+ person of color.

From left to right: Harvey Milk, George Moscone, Dan White. White was convicted of the manslaughter, as opposed to murder, of Milk and Moscone. White served only five years of a seven year sentence.  Via .

The Mayor of Castro Street is at times an infuriating recollection of local, state-wide, and national politics of the 1960s and 1970s. Gay politics then relied almost exclusively on straight, liberal allies. Harvey, Shilts, notes, was regarded as radical by many members of the "old guard" gay political community because he argued that gays should seize power for themselves and not rely on handouts or favors from said "allies." 

I found that it complemented Shilts's And the Band Played On very nicely, as Band discussed the effect that Harvey had nationwide on gay politics and attitudes. I also noticed parallels between Shilts's discussion of gentrification in San Francisco during the 1970s and now.

I do not think Shilts tried to pull many (or any) punches when it came to describing Harvey, and so I would like to think that Mayor enabled me to develop a more complex view of Harvey Milk.

In The Mayor of Castro Street, Shilts has crafts a work that is as suspenseful as it is detailed. Shilts slowly sets the state, introducing characters, their motivations, and their eventual fates. His subtlety is devastating. (I say "devastating" because it feels like a sucker punch to the gut — I had a lot of "oh my god, of course" moments while reading this book.) 

I think The Mayor of Castro Street absolutely deserves a five star rating. This book made ​​me think about my own (straight, cis white) privilege, how that privilege has carried into the current/modern era (especially regarding political representation), and how "radicalism" can be as benign as saying that marginalized peoples and communities should represent themselves in government. It made ​​me consider how much progress we have made ​​(as a society, as well as legally) in the LGBT+ civil rights movement. This book both enthralled me and upset me while providing me with a rich history of San Francisco and the LGBT+ civil rights movement. I would absolutely recommend this book for anyone interested in American history, LGBT+ issues, or civil rights.

Interested in learning more? See Before / After Stonewall , The  Castro , and  The Times of Harvey Milk .

Not My Father's Son: A Memoir, by Alan Cumming

Basically the only decent picture I could get of the book. Via .

Genre: Memoir

Rating:  ★ ★ ★ ★

Published: 2014

Publisher: It Books

Pages: 288

Many like my age (I'm sure), the first time I saw Alan Cumming on the big screen (or any screen, tbh), It Was the first Spy Kids  movie. He played the villian-turn-good guy (spoilers?), Floop, a reclusive toymaker / TV star who lived in a crazy, Gaudi-esque mansion on a remote island. Was he weird? Yes. Was he sympathetic? Oh, totally. Have I seen anything else he's been in since That? No, not really.  (Just kidding. I saw him in the Emma movie too.) 

This past spring, It Books reached out to book bloggers interested in reading and reviewing Cumming's memoir, Not My Father's Son. Interested in learning more about Cumming, I kind of blindly requested a copy. I would say that I'm generally pretty clueless about celebrities' personal lives, and haven't really read celebrity memoirs / autobiographies before (The sole exception being Is Everyone Hanging Out ​​Without Me?  by Mindy Kaling).   I kind of forgot about it, actually, until one day when I got a copy in the mail! (Surprise packages are AWESOME, and doubly so when they're books.)

In Not My Father's Son, Alan Cumming discusses and details the years of abuse he endured at the hands of his father, spanning from his childhood and lasting into his adult life. As Cumming grows up and begins to question his father as well as the reasons for his father's abuse, Cumming also starts to differentiate himself from his father's person and develops an interest in acting.

Cumming's voice caries through the narrative easily, and I was almost surprised at how quickly I fell into the pages of this book. Cumming gives, I think, a very full and detailed account of his childhood as well as more recent events pertaining to the taping of "his" episode on the show Who Do You Think You Are? Because I found Cumming's tone to be conversational, I wasn't entirely surprised when he would digress from the subject at hand (his father, his identity, etc.) in order to talk about his hair, Eurovision, and his fear of losing his Masterpiece! job at PBS to Patti Smith. 

I found Not My Father's Son to be a very engaging book. Cumming's style is at times self-depreciating, but is also very raw and open. He is very open about his life, and rarely (if ever) shies away from "uncomfortable" subjects. I would personally recommend this book depending on whether or not you have an interest in "celebrity" books or are interested in learning more about Alan Cumming. Not My Father's Son has piqued my interest in reading more "celebrity" books and memoirs. By the end of the book, I found myself with a new appreciation for his work. I look forward to his next project(s).

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy #2), by Douglas Adams

Genre: Science Fiction

Rating: ★★★★

Published: 1980

Publisher: Pocket Books

Pages: 250

I was first introduced to Douglas Adams's series, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, last summer. I read the first book, loved it, bought the rest of the series, and promptly forgot to pick it up again until last week.

Considering I read the last book almost a year ago, I experienced little difficulty getting back into the plot or characters. There were, of course, details I had forgotten — like Zaphod's third arm — but I was grateful to slide back into was Adams's terrific sense of humor and style of writing. However, I would add that I definitely recommend reading the first book (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) before picking this one up because there is a very important subplot that Restaurant spends little to no time recapping. Good news, I would say that this book and the previous one are excellent series installations in the respect that they do not end on an obnoxiously terrible cliffhanger. (I'm looking at you Rick Riordan, Suzanne Collins.)

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe picks up where The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy left off, with ex-Galactic President Zaphod, depressive robot Marvin, Betelgeusian hitchhiker Ford Prefect, and Earthlings Arthur Dent and Tricia McMillan ("Trillian") bound for space exploration on the precisely Improbable Heart of Gold spaceship.

A lot happens: time travel, rock concerts, tax evasion, and The End of the Universe, for starters. Adams reflects on the Universe (its infinite size and horrific end, to be specific), the nature of civilization (namely, what happens when a bunch of midlevel nitwits are in charge of establishing a society and "culture"), and continues to ask just what the deal with the number forty-two is.

I found this book to be immensely enjoyable. Adams's humor is a treat; his absurdity (or is it improbability?) is at the top of its game. The book's lighthearted attitude doesn't stray away from asking the serious questions (chiefly, the meaning of life, questions of civilization, etc.), which I think just adds to the "trilogy's" depth and insight. The last bit of the book was definitely more somber (or at least introspective) in tone, but I enjoyed it. I appreciated the character development that I witnessed between Arthur and Ford over the course of the book (most notably the last chapters), and am interested in seeing how they continue to change in the series's next installment (Life, the Universe, and Everything). While my first impression of this book wasn't "It changed my life! Give it five stars!" I could see my opinion changing in the near future.

If you're even remotely interested in checking out The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (based on this or any other review), I would urge you to immediately pick it up, along with the other books to the series.

When you're finished, I'll see you at Milliways.

The Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson

It's been a long time since I've written a review! If any of y'all follow me on Goodreads, you'll notice that I've finished some books that I've neglected to review properly on here. Starting with this post, I'll be attempting to play catch-up. 

Genre: Nonfiction, U.S. History, Crime, Urban Studies

Rating: ★★★★

Published: February 10, 2004

Publisher: Knopf Doubleday

Pages: 464

I've been interested in reading Erik Larson's Devil in the White City for a while now; I'm interested in crime, the Columbia Exposition (aka, the Chicago World's Fair), and Chicago in general, so this book seemed like a good match for me. I was further intrigued by the connection that Larson set out to depict in the book between the 1893 Chicago World's Fair and the serial killer, H. H. Holmes. Larson's intentions in White City were very clear to me: to describe the cycle of creation and destruction that two men, Daniel Burnham (the leading architect and planner for the Chicago World's Fair) and H. H. Holmes influenced during the fair, and how the fair changed the course of American architecture, culture, and history.

The Devil in the White City is, first and foremost, a history book that chronicles the buildup to and the execution of the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago. Held to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Columbus's arrival in the Americas in 1492, the fair was also a chance for the city of Chicago to announce that it had "arrived" on the world's stage. In total, over 27 million people ended up visiting "the White City."

The Devil in the White City operates along two parallel story lines: the first chronicling the entirety of the fair, from its inception to its end; the second tells the story of H. H. Holmes, the serial killer operating under the protection of the fair, from his childhood to his eventual incarceration.

Despite the title, I didn't find Holmes or his crimes to be the real focus of this book; while Holmes was certainly an ominous force that Larson alluded to repeatedly, I feel like the majority of this book's action and splendor came in the descriptions of the fair.

I thought that this book was really interesting in examining American society, Chicago's history, and how the fair changed them both immediately and later on. (And example of "further down the line": Walt Disney's dad was part of the construction team; he applied what his dad told him about constructing the White City when creating the Magic Kingdom.) I think this book is good for anyone who doesn't mind sorting through multiple characters and plot lines, while also being interested in American/Chicagoan history. 

However, since there is so much exposition regarding the fair, I'd say that any other reader would have to be pretty tolerant due to the fact that there is a lot of material regarding architecture and construction. So, yeah, the book gets dry at times. But I'd say that Larson deftly deals with the unglamorous parts of the fair, crafting a narrative that is both enticing and intriguing. 

brb drowning

Believe it or not, this is "clean."

Hey, peaches. Sorry for the total radio silence for the past months, but things on my end have been so busy it isn't even funny. I joined two new organizations on campus, and one of them requires me to not only be responsible for myself, but also other people (and writing. That too.). I've been reading a lot (not necessarily books, unfortunately), and I'm writing a ton (as is fitting for a liberal arts/humanities student). Because things are winding down, I'm having to look forward to studying abroad, what I'm going to do this summer, etc. I'm ready to be gone, but I have to put a little bit more time in first.

I haven't been treating myself very well, so that's one of my main priorities right now.

I hope you are staying safe and healthy and are loving whatever it is you're doing now. Hopefully I'll have some new reviews up soon(ish).

The Name of the Star (Shades of London #1), by Maureen Johnson

Thanks for sticking with me for the last few months, guys. School has been insane, and now that it's spring break I've finally had some time to read a bit more and work on some backlogged blog entries. Anyways, all of that aside, here are my thoughts on Maureen Johnson's The Name of the Star. 

Genre: Young Adult, Supernatural

Rating: ★★★

Published: September 29, 2011

Publisher: Penguin

Pages: 372

So, I've been aware of Maureen Johnson since maybe middle school? That's about six years. And in all of that time, I've only read two things by her: her short story in Let It Snow, and this: The Name of the Star (three, if you count her blog...). It isn't that I haven't been totally interested... I just don't usually find her books when I'm out browsing. I don't really read books because they're by a certain author  (unless it's Sarah Dessen, in which case my system has proved to be imperfect), so I often stumble upon books by authors that I like by mistake.

The Name of the Star came out a little over two years ago. I became aware of it sometime last year, when I started following Johnson on Tumblr. All I really remember is that some readers were messaging her, saying that now they were totally afraid of using bathrooms, or something like that. (After reading the book, I can say that I'm any more afraid of bathrooms than I was before, so...) It piqued my interest, but I quickly forgot about it. Then, this past Friday night before I left on spring break, I saw that one of my friends had a copy in her room. She let me borrow it, and I spent most of Monday reading it.

The Name of the Star is about a 17 year-old girl, Rory Deveaux, who moves to London in order to spend a year at a British boarding school while her parents teach at a university in Bristol. Coincidentally, the day that she arrives in London is the same day that a murder victim is found, the details of which mimic Jack the Ripper. While Rory learns more about her new home and slowly gets acclimated to English living, "Rippermania" takes over the city. As the body count increases, London police are left with few leads and no suspects - until Rory spots a person who could be the very killer the police are looking for. The problem? No one else can see him, and he's made Rory his next target.

I feel very...average...about this book. It reminded me a bit of Libba Bray's The Diviners in that there were supernaturally creepy murders going on, and a cracking team of juvenile ghostbusters was needed to solve the case/catch dat ghost. (Which isn't bad; gimme supernatural thrillers any day, I say!) But The Name of the Star, in my opinion, started very slowly. It took around 70 pages for me to feel like the plot was really going somewhere, and that the action had finally "started." (However, I will say that once things got moving, all of the action was ramped up and got very thrilling very quickly.) 

Johnson also did a good job at introducing facets of English life - what A-levels are, pubs being a part of regular life, "college" vs. "university," etc. - without overwhelming the reader with information. The reader learned about these things as Rory did (unless the reader is British, in which case - sorry), as she slowly became accustomed to living in London. I was pleased to note that London, as the setting of the book, wasn't blown out of proportion as some magical place inhabited by queens and Doctors and wizards. Rory lived in London without acting like a giant tourist or aggressively trying to assimilate. Her life was just very...normal. And as an American reader (with friends going abroad to study in England next year), it was nice to be able to read about Rory without being reminded over and over "Hey! She's in England! How neat is that? England England England *insert "clever" pop culture reference here*."

I also appreciated how the book's English setting continuously undermined Rory as she worked out the cultural differences between her old life in Louisiana and her new life in London. Rory was reminded frequently that she was an "outsider," and that there was some information she was not going to be privy to due to that status. (Well, at first. Obviously not everything was kept from her forever.) Her outsider status also made her a more sympathetic and interesting character. It gave me a chance to see how she responded to non-supernatural change, which I think was important in revealing parts of her character and personality.

As for some of the things that kind of bothered me as I read the book (no spoilers): 

• There were some organization issues; basically, information that could have or should have gone in the beginning of the book was added in at the end. I feel like - at least as far as character development goes - this should have been addressed in order to further develop Rory's nuances and personality.
• Halfway during the book, certain characters were abandoned as the plot kind of shifted towards ghost hunting. (Is that a spoiler? I hope not.) While I understand that Rory's priorities changed during this portion of the novel, I feel like Rory (as the narrator) could have addressed that shift better. Said characters had been kind of major up until that point, and so having them suddenly shunted to secondary status was... pretty abrupt.
• I didn't really care for the interval chapters; I felt like they interrupted the pace of the plot somewhat. While I do think they provided a "behind the scenes!" look at the murder investigation, I also feel like they could have been treated better. Maybe the characters that the interval chapters were about could have been referred to after their appearance? In the ending, to give a sense of closure?

These issues aside, I'll probably pick up the next book in the series. I'm interested where things will go for Rory post-TNotS; namely, who the villain will be. (The same friend who let me borrow this book has the sequel, so as soon as she's done with it, I'll be trying to get my hands on it.)

Has anyone else read The Name of the Star? I'd be interested in reading more books by Maureen Johnson, so if anyone has any recommendations, they can leave them in the comments.

I Love... Whodunnits

Not this Who, but close. Very, very close. Via. 

OK, here's something you should know about me if you're ever going to watch a movie, TV show, or read a book with me ever:

I hate suspense.

I don't mean "suspense" as in when an author leaves you hanging at the end of a book in a series.  It's more like the "what's going to happen next? Is there a killer in the next room? Is this character going to die?" (If what I'm watching is Game of Thrones, then, yeah, probably). It isn't that I think suspense is contrived or stupid, or whatever - I hate it because it winds me up and makes me anxious and nervous and I feel like I have to leave the room because there is TOO MUCH TENSION GUYS. WHY IS THIS STILL HAPPENING. Suspense makes me completely unable to watch or enjoy a perfectly good movie or TV show or book or whatever.

(It doesn't have to be serious suspense. Hell, when I was ten I left the room while watching The Little Mermaid 2 because yeah. I'm a baby.)

But for WHATEVER reason, a classic whodunnit mystery is one of my favorite things in the whole wide world.*

I think it what sold me on the whodunnit front, no question asked, was Agatha Christie's absolutely marvelous book, And Then There Were None. Agatha Christie is now one of my absolute favorite authors (usually for this precise reason), but then in the eighth grade, when the only thing I was reading was Harry Potter fanfiction? Oh my god it blew my mind. Agatha Christie's books are famous for being impossible to predict, and And Then There Were None is no exception.

I'm not going to spoil the ending for you, but And Then There Were None was a light in the dark. It was a lightening bolt that I needed to make reading even more active and fun than it already was.**

I moved on from And Then There Were None to other Agatha Christie books. And then I saw her play, The Mousetrap, which is like f*cking whodunnit theatre. And while I really liked what I was finding, I always felt like there should be... more.

Enter Clue.

J'accuse! Via.

I was a huge fan of the board game when I was a kid (I mean, come on, I was allowed to accuse my mom of murder, what kid wouldn't enjoy that), but for whatever reason, I had never decided to watch the movie until this past summer, when I was in the middle of a Netflix haze and decided that I might as well. What's the worst that can happen? I figured. Maybe I'll stop watching it because I hate it. That's the worst. 

Well, I didn't hate it - I loved Clue completely. (And have rewatched it at least twice because it's necessary)

I'm not going to pretend for a minute that Clue is a serious movie in any respect. It's dramatic and hilarious and homicidal, and basically had me trying to figure out the murder(s) for myself as best as I could. I failed, obviously - but it got me thinking: Why aren't there more Whodunnit movies? I've been trying to get a hold of Gosford Park for a while (I let it slip through my clutches because I suck), and in looking for lists online, the movies suggested are... well, they're old. They're old movies, and a bunch of them are just adapted from Agatha Christie books and I think that's silly. There need to be more Whodunnit movies. They're suspenseful in all the best ways, they're creative, and sometimes they're silly or overly dramatic, but I don't care! They're great!

Sorry, Wrong Number is Grade-A drama. Via.

So, this is my grown up Christmas list  reasonable request: More Whodunnits in 2k14, please. I'm looking for them as best as I can as far as books are concerned, but come on, guys - this is 2014 and we have face computers and wrist phones and we don't have more Whodunnit movies? That needs to change. Whodunnits are fun and crazy and dramatic and they engage people in ways that are pretty unique to the genre, and they're one of the few ways I like not knowing what's going to happen. They can be scary, but they're, like - the good scary I guess? (But that's more subjective) I may still strongly dislike/hate suspense, but thanks to this awesome genre of books and movies available to me, I'm able to recognize the necessity of it.



* I'm trying really hard not to swear too much. You should appreciate my restraint. 
** Or maybe it was Scooby Doo instead...

The Tiger's Wife, by Tea Obreht

Genre: Fiction/World Literature

Rating: ★★★★

Published: November 1, 2011

Publisher: Random House

Pages: 368

OK, so. This review has been kind of difficult for me to write, not because I didn't like the book or anything, but because I feel like it's kind of a hard book to summarize concisely. I got The Tiger's Wife for Christmas a few years ago from my grandma, and despite it looking absolutely fascinating - there was a tiger! And great cover art! - it sat on my shelf until I decided last week that enough was enough, and that I needed to finally read it. 

The Tiger's Wife takes place in an unnamed Balkan country picking itself up after war, where Natalia - a young doctor - finds herself compelled by the mysterious circumstances surrounding her grandfather's death. In searching for clues, she turns to the stories he has told her over the years of "the deathless man," as well as his well-worn copy of The Jungle Book. But perhaps the most revealing story is one he never told her - the story of the tiger's wife.

(Mmmmost of that description came from the back cover.)

Before reading The Tiger's Wife, I hadn't read any book set in the Balkans, and had little knowledge about it (the region). And I don't want to say that it's like, necessary, to know about the region before cracking open the book, but it certainly helped me a lot. This is a thick book, you guys. And I don't mean that it's super difficult to understand, it's just that there is a lot of history and information and myth layered on top of each other to create a very rich, very dense book. 

The Tiger's Wife is primarily about the use of myth and allegory in history, as well as the necessity of personal narratives during wartime. And when I say that, I mean taking a very complex issue that is not your own - a bombing, a war, whatever kind of event - and finding your personal story in it. Finding a way to make the events in your life - no matter how out-of-control they seem - your own. 

The use of myths and stories are used throughout The Tiger's Wife to discuss other complex issues, such as nationality, ethnicity, religion, belonging, and - ultimately - death. Because the novel takes place in the Balkans after "a war," and because Obreht is originally Yugoslavian (meaning, to me, that parts of her identity have now been reassigned to difference countries, different nationalities), The Tiger's Wife is very fluid in regards to geography, language, etc. And while a lot of books deal with war, and the realities of living in wartime, The Tiger's Wife gave me a new perspective on what it is like to life while a war is ending, when new identities are being created and old unions are being destroyed, and how families and cities can become easily estranged. 

A map for your viewing pleasure. Via.

Obreht deals with these questions of nationality as well as death by creating a narrative so intricate that, frankly, I was amazed that she was able to tie everything together in the end. She used flashbacks on flashbacks in creating a story-within-a-story-within-a-story narrative that was actually really satisfying and not as confusing as it sounds. It might have been a little slow to start, but once I got hooked, I was hooked  - I almost took the book with me to a job interview to read in the car after my meeting because I just had to know the end right then. 

I'd recommend this book to those who aren't adverse to flashbacks, or story-within-a-story structure. Because, seriously guys, there is a ton of it. I also might recommend reading the Wikipedia page on the Balkans? Or having a map or something? Because that area has been dominated forever (by the Ottomans, and then later there was the Habsburgs, and then WWI happened... you get the idea), and there is just so. much. damn. history. But don't let that stop you - The Tiger's Wife has been on countless lists as a "to-read" book. Go and find out the truth about the tiger's wife and the deathless man and see if you can maybe see the world a little differently when you're done. 

The Gardner Heist, by Ulrich Boser

Genre: Nonfiction/True Crime

Rating: ★★★★

Published: February 24, 2009

Publisher: Harper Collins/Smithsonian

Pages: 223 (260 counting notes and index)

The first time I ever heard about the Gardner Museum theft was during my senior year of high school, when I was channel surfing trying to find some adequate background noise for my homework. An old feature on MSNBC was coming up that it covered an old art theft. I love art, and am interested in crime, so it sounded like a good idea.

The "old art theft" the program covered was none other than the infamous robbery of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990. After the first line of the program, I was hooked. And, after reading Boser's The Gardner Heist, I can tell that such sentiment is not uncommon when it comes to the Gardner theft.

The Gardner Heist does more than just describe the theft itself; due to the ambiguous nature of the theft, there is still a lot that remains unknown about the theives' motives, as well as the question of what happened to the art. Because the heist itself lacks that sort of resolution, Boser's story lies more within describing his own personal investigation into the crime - meaning talking to old Boston underworld figures, private detectives, as well as FBI investigators. Taking careful stock of the facts known about the case - like, how the crime was committed - Boser picks up leads, tracks down potential sources, and eventually becomes obsessed with the Gardner theft mystery. In a way, The Gardner Heist is as much about the twisted nature of the Boston criminal underworld - with its connections to the IRA as well as political figures like John Kerry - as it is about the question of why we care and obsess over this theft.

I thought that this book was really accessible; I didn't know a lot about the theft going into it (I had forgotten most of the details from the program), but found that despite the large cast of characters, I had a relatively easy time of remembering who was who and who did what. Boser was careful not to overwhelm the reader, and at clocking in a little over 200 pages, The Gardner Heist strives for conciseness.

Boser's obsession with his private investigation eventually drives him to stop his work on the Gardner theft. He stops tracking down sources, or chasing loose ends, or following up on tips. Despite his years of work on the case, the Gardner theft remains as mysterious as ever; rather, the plot becomes more complicated, eventually leading him to conclude that "Everyone was guilty and no one was." While it was a little worrying, as the reader, to see him become more obsessed by the case and increasingly blinded by the mystery, the book ended as satisfactorily as it could have without a clear answer or solution.

The Gardner Heist didn't cover it, but: This past year, the FBI updated the public on the case, claiming that it knew who the thieves were, and that they had a good idea of where the paintings had gone over the years. (Of course, where the paintings were was another story.) It's possible that after almost 24 years, the Gardner case may finally be coming to a real end.