ljbwell delves into 2012

I'm new to Club Read. For the past few years, I've tracked my reading through the 50 Book Challenge - 2010 here.

For this year, I like the idea of a group that is more interactive and less quantity-oriented. I'll post a ticker, but only because I'm used to it as a visual guide.

I'm looking forward to 2012 and the discussions and new ideas that it will bring.

Despite my hope that 2012 will be less hectic than 2011, the bar's been set a tad lower to give room to focus more on enjoying (and not counting)...

Hi ljbwell - I just moved over from the 50 books challenge as well. I'll be interested to see what you're reading!

Welcome here ljbwell,

Great to see you are reading some other languages as well. It will make the board here more international.

Hi ljbwell, welcome to the Club!

Thanks all! I'm already really happy to have made the switch.

1. The World of Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse (776 p.; short story collection)

Rah! My 1st book of 2012. In fairness, I've been savoring it for quite some time now.

After a few intense reads and in light of what indeed shaped up to be a stressful year, I got a bee in my bonnet that I wanted to read some Jeeves and Wooster. I'd never read any, and kept hearing that they were classic British humor that was not to be missed.

I was not disappointed. Wealthy young Bertie Wooster is extremely lucky to have gentleman's gentleman Jeeves as his valet. Wooster has an uncanny ability to get into awkward situations - be they with his one of his aunts, friends, or an accidental betrothal, etc. It is Jeeves who tirelessly finds ways to get everything to work out - though usually not as Wooster would have planned.

This is an excellent introduction to Wooster and Jeeves, not to mention the various recurring friends and relations who pop up in the stories. I found myself chuckling aloud several times. It is best read one story, maybe two, at a time; otherwise, they bleed into each other too much and the formula risks becoming too repetitive. But the stories are perfect when you need to lighten things up with some well-written humor, or a little something fun before bedtime or to ease into a lazy weekend/holiday day. A really entertaining, enjoyable relief from the usual hectic pace.

Hi ljbwell! Last year was my first Jeeves and Wooster. I read The Code of the Woosters and found the Wodehouse world delightful, as advertised. Since then I've picked up some of the other books at various library sales. Always good to have something light and delightful on hand to read, especially when it's a dark, ghoulish kind of day outside.

In my personal experience, a bit of Jeeves and Wooster is pretty much the best stress-reliever and mood-elevator there is.

>8 theaelizabet: & 9: Absolutely agreed and delightful mood-elevator is the perfect way to describe them!

Living in the UK now, I've also seen a couple of the Fry and Laurie TV version (I only stopped because it meant I knew where a couple of the stories in the book were headed). Now that I've finished, I look forward to watching more.

Well, this year is already off to a slow start! Yikes...

2. Människohamn by John Ajvide Lindqvist (451 p., Swedish)

Ahh, JAL, jag älskar dig. I love his books not just because they are haunting, but because they have come to represent my link to Sweden and my way to keep up with my Swedish reading. Those stated biases aside, JAL once again delivers a haunting novel of love, loss, and sacrifice, not to mention more than a bit of magic and ghosts.

It's winter at Stockholm's Archipelago. Anders, his wife and their 6 year old daughter Maja go out to explore the lighthouse. Maja disappears, seemingly into thin air. She's not the first. She's not the last.

A few years later, Anders, alcoholic and divorced, moves back to the archipelago. He is still struggling to cope with the loss of his daughter, the failure of his marriage. He's also dealing with being back amongst the archipelago residents, including his grandmother Anna-Greta and her long-term partner Simon (both of whom are harboring secrets of their own). People start coming back. Or acting strangely. The setting is as much an active character to the novel as any of the people. The harbor is alive. It swells. It recedes. It gives. It takes. It is mysterious. It provides. It protects.

The easy comparison is to Stephen King - both authors are at their best when they go beyond horror to delve into the psychological aspects of the subject at hand. The novel is not just about ghosts and magic, but about the aftermath of loss, the tricks one's mind plays, the desperation to hold on to memories. It is about the safe haven friends and family and home can provide.

My main criticism is that it sometimes felt there were too many threads that could have been tightened. I believe it was initially a short story that he fleshed out into this novel; at times it did feel it could have been better suited to a tauter novella.

3. The Fry Chronicles (448 p., autobiography)

I wouldn't normally pick up a celebrity autobiography, but found one this one being lent to me after a chat with a co-worker about how much we liked Stephen Fry. I knew his work mainly from 'A Bit of Fry & Laurie', 'Jeeves and Wooster', and 'QI' and figured gift horse and all...

Fry covers 1977-1987, mainly his years at Cambridge and then up to about his 30th birthday. In this time, he throws himself into theater and comedy productions at Cambridge, both as performer and writer, graduates and throws himself into theater and comedy productions. He admits he has a hard time saying 'no', as evidenced by the commercials, radio productions, TV shows, Fringe, West End plays, etc etc.

Fry's anecdotes are witty, smart, usually entertaining. He is both self-deprecating - often surprised at his own situations and successes - and openly craving the limelight. He talks about being devious and also highly insecure, despite his affable Oxbridge-to-the-core-yet-humble-in-his-success. A bit rambly, but the rambles are fun enough. Not brilliant, not bad. No, really, it was fine...

4. Dark Matter by Michelle Paver (288 p.)

I'm in a real ghost story/horror/gothic place these days, and this one held strong appeal. It's 1937, WWI is over, WWII is looming and Jack Miller is asked to be in charge of communications on 1-year Arctic expedition. Jack is already isolated in London and struggling to make ends meet, so, despite feeling inferior to the others on the team, when he witnesses something, he decides to take up the opportunity.

Despite veiled warnings and early dwindling of the team, Jack and the others set up at an abandoned mining camp in Spitsbergen. Early on, Jack senses there is another, threatening presence. As winter and perpetual darkness descend, this feeling of being haunted and hunted becomes more prevalent.

This would be a great book to read on a camping trip, or curled up at night in a cabin in the woods - places where the creeping sense of the story's remote location and its creaks and groans and howling winds can make you jump, where you'd find yourself looking nervously outside your tent or window as Jack does. In the light of day, it is a sparse tale of isolation and ghostliness that sometimes hits the mark better than others.

5. Les Chevaliers du Subjonctif by Erik Orsenna (181 p., French)

I absolutely loved La grammaire est une chanson douce so on a recent visit to France snapped up the remaining books in the collection. This was the 2nd in the series.

Jeanne (age 10) and Thomas (14) are still on the island within the archipelago of Words. Jeanne is on a quest to understand love. Subjunctive islanders are seen as a rebellious threat to Nécrole, the dictator (ou bien, le président-à-vie-et-même-au-delà) of the archipelago. Why? Because he wants order; subjunctive island is constantly changing. The indicative mood tenses are of the here and now, the real, the actual. The subjunctive is subversive because it is the mood of dreams and desire. It challenges the way things are and expresses how people want or wish things to be.

" '...Nous, les Subjonctifs, nous nous intéressons au possible. Ce qui pourrait arriver. En bien ou en mal. Je veux qu'il *vienne*. Je doute qu'elle *guérisse*...Réfléchis un peu, Jeanne. Qu'est-ce que le possible?'

- Quelque chose qu'on pourrait faire...

- Mais qu'on n'a pas fait. Pas encore fait. Pas voulu faire. Réclamer le possible...c'est critiquer le réel...' " (pp. 119-120)

Orsenna blends literature and grammar in a creative, poetic way. Like La grammaire est..., sections of Les Chevaliers would be great to use in a French class to bring life or a different angle to what students often see as dry, confusing rules. In fact, I think he is at his best when explaining and comparing the tenses. Simultaneously sweet, lovely and informative follow-up to La grammaire est une chanson douce.

Interesting review of Les Chevaliers du subjonctif. If I was feeling brave I should go out and buy this and if I was feeling really brave I might read it.

Go for it! If you haven't read the 1st one, I'd start there - to be honest I found the 1st, La Grammaire est une chanson douce, to be a more accessible story and it introduces you to the characters. If you've read Le Petit Prince, I'd say this is at a similar level and length, and complete with illustrations.

That said, Les Chevaliers could definitely be read as a stand-alone, too.

6. Strip Jack by Ian Rankin (279 p.)

I'd only read the 1st, and, despite having acquired a few later in the series, really wanted something airplane-worthy for a fairly long haul. As a result, this 4th in the Inspector John Rebus series came off the shelf.

While it did feel like there were a few things I'd missed by not reading 2 or 3, I really enjoyed this one. As Rankin states in his foreword, this was the start of the Rebus crime novels' having a more distinctly Scottish feel. A prominent, popular MP Gregor Jack is found during a raid on a brothel. Is he not a clean as his image? Or is he being set up? There are a couple murders and some stolen books, plus the doings of two close-knit groups of friends - the Pack from Jack's schooldays, and his wealthy wife's rich and wild crowd. How are all these things linked (because let's face it, we all know these aren't being mentioned just for the heck of it)?

This was a perfect airplane read, and I enjoyed it much more than I did the 1st one. Good crime novel, and looking forward to more in the series.

7. Zac & the Dream Pirates (children's lit, 306 p.)

The book is geared to 9-12 year olds and was shortlisted for the 2011 Scottish Children's Book Awards. It was also written by the son of someone where I work, and other co-workers had gotten it for their kids to read and highly recommended it. This is ultimately destined for younger relatives, but at 3:30 a.m. wide awake with jet lag it was a perfect read.

Zac has very realistic nightmares. One night he follows his grandmother into a pond and ends up in Nocturne, where the Knights are working to fight off the Dream Pirates, who are threatening not only the dreamworld, but also the wakelings (think muggles).

The book treads some familiar territory and throws a bit of everything in (magic! vampires! werewolves! goblins! trolls!), but in the end it is fun, fast-paced, and a page-turner. For anyone who can still remember a particularly vivid nightmare from childhood, this book provides a fantasy otherworld possibility for what is really going on.

Those Rankin Rebus novels are really good. You have much great reading ahead of you.

I was lukewarm after the 1st one, but having skipped straight to this 4th can start to see the appeal!

8. A Sick Day for Amos McGee (children's book)

Children's picture book (pre-K-+ age). Amos McGee works at the zoo and has a special link with each animal - he plays chess with the elephant, races the tortoise, sits with a shy penguin, reads to the owl, etc. Then one day he wakes up, doesn't feel great and calls in sick. The animals miss him and come to him to keep him company the way he does each day with them.

Warm, sweet story of friendship. Caldecott Medal winner.

Next up should be The Archivist.

9. The Archivist by Martha Cooley (336 p.)

Matthias is a university librarian archivist in his 60s, guarding and cataloguing amongst other things a collection of letters from T.S. Eliot written to Emily Hale. According to the bequest, the letters are not to be unveiled until 2020. The main story is told by Matthias himself, revealed over time to Roberta, a young poet in her 30s who wants desperately to see the Hale letters. One section reveals Matthias's wife's journal from her time in a mental hospital.

At its heart, though, this is a novel about guarding & guarded secrets, trust and betrayal. How do they affect relationships? Whose right is it to reveal these truths? What damage is done the longer we hold onto information? How overwhelming can information be when it comes to light?

Religion, in particular during and following WWII, also plays a prominent role in the novel - again, in relation to hiding who we really are, or as a coping mechanism for what life throws at us.

The Archivist delves into the things we catalogue and sequester, that we keep to ourselves, and sometimes only reveal to those we trust only to find it (or feel it's been) used against us.

>1 ljbwell: less quantity-oriented reading
This caught my attention because for years I read about 45 books per year and started (but put aside) as many more. In 2008 I did one of the quantity challenges here, and its focus on finishing books really improved my reading habits. They've stuck and now I read about twice as many, without quantity every really being on my radar.

Have to say: you've piqued my interest in just about every book you've commented on! Your mention of King and a disappeared young daughter (Människohamn) makes me want to get to The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. I see you're currently reading Zone One and look forward to your comments. I have it because I enjoy Colson Whitehead ... but zombies/dystopias not as much.

Thanks, detailmuse! I'll admit I'm doing a bit of battle with Zone One at the moment and am only about halfway through. I usually love Colson Whitehead's books, but don't think his style is suiting my notions of what a zombie book sh/would be (more on that when I actually finish and review) - fair enough, but it just isn't working for me. Vacation has also meant borrowing and being lent books to read which needed to be finished before trip's end. Not to mention just wanting less challenging page-turner books for fairly long hauls each way. As a result, I've been swapping in other reads along the way.

Interesting about the quantity challenge giving you more focus - I see what you mean. It has made me more aware of my choices, and given me concrete goals. I guess that's why I've kept the ticker, but removed the pressure to reach a specific target; I'm tracking out of interest as opposed to out of self-imposed need.

10. Just Kids by Patti Smith (320 p.)

My sister lent this to me and I went into it without many expectations. I'm usually not a huge fan of autobiographies and am not a huge fan of either artist. I was surprised by how much I loved this book.

In the late 60s, Patti Smith picked up and moved to New York. A chance encounter with a bashfully charming and handsome young man led to her 20-year relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe. The book is a simple but poetic and heartfelt recounting of their love, friendship and individual and joint journeys to becoming well-known artists - she in poetry and music, he in art and photography. She describes the tenderness & protectiveness that always existed between them, the absolute trust and belief they had in each other, the shared joys when the other would find success and recognition, the ways in which they remained such an important part of each other's lives even after they were no longer together as a couple. A wonderful book told with warmth and love.

I have Just Kids on my shelf to read. You have encouraged me to read it sooner rather than later.

I was really surprised by how much I liked it - to the point where I'm highly recommending it, keep thinking back about it, etc. etc. Now I just have to hope I haven't built it up too much!

11. One Fine Day In the Middle of the Night by Christopher Brookmyre (373 p.)

After seeing this on all kinds of lists of Scottish books not to be missed, and wanting something not too challenging for a long flight, I picked this up as a binge buy at the airport. It did not disappoint.

A group of people are invited to a 15-year class reunion to take place on an oil rig which has been, or rather is in the process of being, extravagantly renovated and turned into an offshore resort - the kind meant to make reluctant British vacationers experience nothing foreign. The host is one of their classmates, eager to prove he's made the most of himself since having been ignored during their rough Auchenlea (outside Glasgow, Scotland) Catholic school days. While most of his former classmates barely remember who he was, they're curious and, most of all, looking forward to the open bar.

A discussion between one character and a former teacher (see pp. 63-71, 11:08 on the charter coach) outlines 2 types of action films, based on 'bullet-deadliness quotient' (BDQ): high BDQ = not many bullets, but lots of death and low BDQ = lots of bullets spraying all over but miraculously missing the intended targets. Oh, and then Renny Harlin movies, which pretty much just suck. This chapter in particular sets the scene for much of what's to come.

Right from the start, the book is both very darkly humorous and very violent, and that remains consistent throughout. Like some of its main characters, it is self-deprecating in an appealing way. Characters who deserve a comeuppance get it, and characters who seek redemption find it. References range from pretty much any action film to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to Waiting for Godot. There's even an I-should've-seen-that-coming-a-mile-away, but still funny, South Park reference. However, for those offput by and squeamish at a certain degree of violence and resulting gore, no matter how entertaining and even clever, this is likely not the right book. My main critique is that Brookmyre's got so many threads going, some of the potentially interesting ones get a bit lost in the mayhem.

Still and all, Brookmyre captures the essence of adulthood - that we all are trying to prove that we've evolved beyond what and who we were - or how we were perceived - as teenagers, and in reality we're all still carrying those roles around with us. Part Elmore Leonard, part Tom Wolfe, and the odd dash of John Hughes-the-reunion-years, all combined to make an entertainingly bloody good action-packed read.

Good review of One fine day in the Middle of the Night.

Something I have always avoided; getting involved with a class/school reunion meeting and as for being trapped on an oil rig with them, this sounds positively awful. Good idea for a novel though.

I went to one HS class reunion and am pretty sure that does it for me. I cannot imagine willingly going anywhere I couldn't easily escape (which is the thinking of some of the characters, who decide to go if only out of curiosity and, as said, for the open bar).

12. Zone One by Colson Whitehead (259 p.)

I was all set to love this book: Colson Whitehead's take on a post-apocalypse New York (with zombies - not my favorite, but wanted to see what he did with them). For some reason this one just didn't resonate with me, though I did get more into it towards the end. I found it incredibly slow and his more literary writing style, which I normally greatly appreciate, didn't work for me here. Zombies, to my mind, are raw, pared down; his style is more densely packed and almost poetic. The two rarely gelled for me.

The book takes place over three days, though a lot of backstory woven in. That said, not a lot happens. There are metaphors for how zombified we've become - soulless and chasing after technology and brands, etc. The main character's mediocrity in the pre-apocalypse days ends up suiting him as a survivor in this post-apocalyptic world. As with Whitehead's other books, race is introduced; contrary to some of the others, in Zone One it is only very briefly an issue discussed at any real length.

I think if I'd given the 1st part of the novel more attention, I may have gotten into it sooner. For whatever reason, part of me just shut off and didn't appreciate what he was doing until there were under 100 pages left (in a not-long book to begin with). I could see it growing on me (or dawning on me slowly over time) that it was better than I'd originally thought. Or worse. This won't be a book for everyone, but for those who do or have read it, I'm curious to hear what you think/thought.

>31 ljbwell: Thanks for these comments, especially about paying attention. I sometimes catch myself expecting a book's opening to do more than its share of the heavy lifting.

>25 ljbwell: I have zero interest in Patti Smith or Robert Mapplethorpe but keep getting incredibly interested in Just Kids. I think it'll be my next audio.

32> I too had no interest (at least very little) in Smith and Mapplethorpe -- but Just Kids is wonderfully evocative of life in NYC in the 1970s and has a fairytale quality about it. Smith describes their relationship: "We were as Hansel and Gretel and we ventured out into the black forest of the world. There were temptations and witches and demons we never dreamed of and there was splendor we only partially imagined."

>32 detailmuse:: At the risk of over-hyping it, go for it. Given her background in poetry and performance, I can imagine her reading it would really bring it to life.

>33 janeajones:: I hadn't thought of it that way, but you're absolutely right. He is, right from the start, her knight or her prince and they stay true to each other through the years. Lovely quote, too.

>33 janeajones:, 34 her knight
Hey, a nice follow-up to my current audio of Don Quixote ... I've got another month with it probably.

I'm curious about Just Kids as well. I find both Smith and Mapplethorpe interesting but don't usually go for celebrity biographies. I think I'll check this one out though.

13. Raven Black (384 p.)

My mother had read the quartet and was going to give them away. Given the Shetlands, Scotland setting, I figured it could be a fun crime series to go through and so into the suitcase with me they went. On the whole, the 1st of the series was more or less what I expected, and that was just fine.

The story unfolds through shifting limited omniscient points of view. A brash, outspoken, not particularly popular - and not native to the islands - high school girl is found murdered a few days after Hogmanay/new year. Many on the island are convinced that the crime must have been committed by the same man who was let off the hook years before for the disappearance of an 11-year old girl. Detective Perez from Fair Isle isn't so sure, and neither is the lead of the team sent from the mainland, Detective Taylor.

Despite the usual near-breathless bookcover attestations that this is a rollercoaster ride with a surprise ending that'll keep you guessing the whole way, I will say I had it sussed fairly early on. Regardless, though, it was an enjoyable page-turner of a read: perfect for summer or travel. The back story on Perez is interesting, and the book hinted at life beyond the standard tourist image of the islands. I am, in fact, looking forward to the next one.

14. Brouillard au pont de Tolbiac (87 p., French, BD/graphic novel)

Binge buy at a bouquiniste in Paris awhile ago. Seemed a good idea at the time. The book itself didn't grab me, but I may not have concentrated enough to get anything real out of it.

1956, flashbacks, anarchists, etc etc. Sadly, I'm giving this commentary about as much attention as I gave reading it. In this case, don't blame the book, blame the reader.

La Grammaire est une chanson douce sounds interesting. My French is getting very rusty and I was wondering whether this is something one could use to brush up? What say you?

I love Le petit prince and I love grammar. Orsenna references other authors, including Saint-Ex, and brings life to the parts of speech.

If all that appeals, I do think it is a good one to keep up the language skills - especially because if you do like it, there are 2 or 3 more after it.

Checking out your thread for the first time. I love that you have a children's book here (just one, I think). And noting your comments and the discussion on Just Kids.

Thanks! The children's book was a tough call. Still, I figured what the heck - I picked it up and read it, so add it in. Plus, it is a really sweet book and you never know who might stumble across the thread and maybe find it a good tip.

Have you read Just Kids?

No, haven't read Just Kids. It has come up a lot here in CR, though.

15. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood (436 p.)

Snowman is (barely) surviving in a post-apocalyptic world. Through his experiences, we learn about the beautiful and beguiling Oryx and the genius and aloof Crake. They are, in Snowman's mythology, the creators of this new world. The pre-apocalypse world is a cynical? realistic? predictive? take on where we are headed: GMO foods run amok; bio-genetic hybrid creatures created as pets, food, & organ resources; botox, plastic surgery, designer babies; pills and vaccines for everything. All part of the rush to live completely carefree and stay young forever. But at what costs? And can we truly engineer the perfect race, or will certain traits always develop, and ultimately lead to imperfection/downfall?

I particularly enjoyed language in this future, and Snowman's simultaneously reverent attempts to preserve 'old' words together with his cynical ability to create new ones. Products and companies with names like OrganInc Farms, RejoovenEsense and Paradice - all of which sound like plausible bioengineering or pharmaceutical companies (Paradice was my favorite, for its apparent play on paradise and pair-of-dice).

The Handmaid's Tale was my introduction to Atwood and, while I've loved books of hers after that, it was great to go back to another of her dystopian creations.

16. It's Time - Writing on the Wall by Pavel Kostin, translated by James Rann (260 p., translation from Russian)

For years I've been interested in street art & graffiti, keeping an informal photo documentation of pieces I find where I live and during travels. I was intrigued, then, by this Early Reviewers book which is one part of the story.

Max is on the precipice. His mother is worried about him. The mysterious Lady F seems to appear when he most needs her. He meets and befriends a new group of friends who are street artists. His old friend Oksana constantly picks the wrong guys and often needs Max to come to her rescue; plus, she's none-too-fond of his new friends. Meanwhile, Max is growing increasingly concerned as he seems to be forgetting his past.

Part exploration of the self, part exploration of relationships, part journey of discovery. Max is on a quest for truth, love, art.

I was bothered by some editing oversights - and not just spelling errors and inconsistent tense shifts. At one point, unless I really missed something, in once case one character involved in a particular event switched mid-event to someone else.

That aside, it was an interesting enough story, though sometimes a bit repetitive. The philosophy behind the story at times comes through more stridently than others.

Overall, I'm a bit up in the air on this one. At times I found it interesting, at others a tad obvious in its stance.

17. Tjärven by John Ajvide Lindqvist (Swedish, audiobook)

Yup, that's right, I've made my first foray into the world of audiobooks. While I read a fair amount of Swedish, I realised my listening skills were perhaps getting rusty. What better way to brush them up than with an audiobook.

Given it was my first, I stuck to safe ground with another Ajvide Lindqvist work. This one has only been released in e-formats and treads fairly familiar zombie territory. I had thought it might be somewhat of an extension, or aside, to Hanteringen av odöda, but it really wasn't.

It starts off feeling like a current-day Big Chill - it's midsummer and a group of 40-somethings get together for a mini-reunion. They take a boat out to one of the archipelago islands to enjoy a barbecue and midsummer party. The boat gets stolen, and they are left stranded. Then the zombies start to come out.

This is not my favorite of his. I didn't really feel much for any of the characters, and found some of the premise frustrating. In fairness, the first 40 or so chapters (of 59) were listened to on my way to work using very poor earbuds along busy streets. I've since upgraded my headphones and definitely got more out of the final 20-odd chapters. I can't be 100% if my impression that the characterisation was a bit light is fair or if I missed more than I thought. But it must say something that I'm not rushing to re-listen and find out.

18. Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada (608 p., translation)

Loosely based on actual events, Alone in Berlin centers around the ultimately futile resistance efforts in WWII Berlin of husband and wife Otto and Anna Quangel. When their only son is killed in action, and after a few other events at work and in their apartment building, something in Otto snaps and he can no longer stay quiet. He decides to leave anonymous postcards decrying Hitler and his regime randomly (time and place) throughout Berlin. His wife helps him with the postcards. There are related threads involving family, friends, co-workers, neighbors and how their lives are affected by the war, the Nazi regime, and even the Quangels' attempted resistance.

The power of this novel is in its portrayal of the absolute fear and paranoia instilled in people during the war. Neighbor quickly turns against neighbor if it means staying - however briefly - in the good graces of the police, SS, or whichever authority they see fit. The constant overhanging threat of being turned in or discovered looms large.

The book builds up not only the tension of Gestapo inspector Escherich's homing in on the 'Hobgoblin', but of neighbor vs neighbor or even family turning against family, of the results of the slightest - even chance - malfeasance, of psychological and physical terror instilled in everyday people.

Given these dangers, therefore, even the most minor shows of resistance take on so much more power. It shows that there were those who stood up in face of the very real threats of beatings, torture, death, or being sent to camps. They were willing to accept the consequences in order to be able to live with themselves, to create some semblance of justice and good in light of the fear-riddled, unjust world they were living in.

This edition includes an afterword not only about Fallada and the context in which he wrote the novel, but also some of the key differences between the true story and this fictionalized version. There is also a section with copies of some of the actual documents from the case against Otto and Elise Hampel.

Highly, highly recommended.

This is another book that comes up a lot here (and that I haven't read). Very good review.

Yes good review. It must make you wonder how you would react in a similar situation to the Quangel's

Thank you both! It is a very readable story, but not an easy one (hence it sat on the shelf awhile waiting for the right time).

I'd like to think I'd have done *something*, but you see how it was so much easier to put your head down and just try to get on with it. Doing something, anything, meant so much more than the action itself - even if it seems innocuous or futile in hindsight.

19. The Black Book by Ian Rankin (340 p., Inspector Rebus #5)

Another long trip (train this time), another good crime novel. Travel is apparently becoming my equivalent of beach reading.

This one did leave me wishing I'd read 2 & 3 (or even the 1st more recently), as I think there were some characters I might have known already.

Rebus dredges up an old case involving a burnt-down hotel and the unidentified body found inside. This leads to contacts with Edinburgh's gangsters and tough 'businessmen', and those on the receiving end of the business practices.

***POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT***
I was very glad I'd read the Scottish gothic classic Confessions of a Justified Sinner not that long ago. Rankin himself references it in his foreword (which in some ways I wish I hadn't read!) to this 2005 edition of his 1993 original. My one issue is that the link becomes a bit heavy handed in one part.

**** END ALERT*****

The characters are definitely developing and it's turning into a good, reliable series.

20. Jour J Paris Secteur Soviétique (French, graphic novel, 57 p.)

The 2nd in an alternative history graphic novel series: what if the Russians had been the 1st on the moon?; what if Germany won WWI?; etc. This 2nd puts the center of Cold War Europe along the Seine and it is Paris, not Berlin, that has been divided. There's the Soviet Right Bank and Western Left Bank. There's even a Checkpoint Charlie for the American sector.

While usually loathe to read too much of a back cover, for the same reasons I increasingly resent movie and TV previews, the text there provides helpful backstory.

There is a combination of crime (a serial killer is murdering prostitutes on the Right Bank and Capitaine Saint-Elme is sent over the border to help investigate) and espionage (potential threats to peace talks).

I'm predisposed to like alternate histories, and this one wasn't bad. It didn't leave the impression I'd hoped, but I did enjoy reading it. The graphics are very nicely done and well-suited to the genre - hazy lamplighting, lots of shadows, dark rooftops. There are a couple others that look interesting, but I'd be more likely to wait to come across them used.

21. Les Enfants Fichus by Edward Gorey, translation by Ludovic Flamant

Bilingual English-French version of Gorey's absolute classic The Gashlycrumb Tinies. This one changes a couple of the names (for example, Yorick becomes Ysengrin). The gist of the deaths is maintained, but obviously there are some liberties taken/changes made in the effort to keep rhyming couplets. Very interesting for anyone who does translations to see how it is dealt with here.

22. Hungerspelen by Suzanne Collins (303 p., Swedish translation)

While I normally wouldn't read a Swedish translation of an English book, for several reasons I've decided to do so with the Hunger Games series. It worked for me with the Harry Potter series, so why not.

The novel is set in a dystopian future-Romanesque society complete with the titular Hunger Games in which 24 teenagers (1 boy, 1 girl from each of the 12 Districts) are pitted against each other in a fight to the death. The 24 players are chosen in a lottery and forced to hunt and survive in a hostile environment while watched (some eager to follow the edict that everyone MUST watch, others less so) round the clock on TV by Panem (the capital) and the Districts. Everything is orchestrated, voyeuristic, manipulated and brutal.

This first in the series was pretty much as I expected. Overall, though, I felt like it tread some fairly familiar territory - think Shirley Jackson's The Lottery, the movie version of Stephen King's The Running Man and lots of Roman gladiator overtones all jigsawed together into a decent page turner. Happy to read the next 2, but maintaining similar expectations.

I recently read this, and had about the same response. I've opened book 2 (Catching Fire), and was turned off by the first couple chapters...still, it might nice when I need an easy read.

I've heard (from more than 1 source) the 2nd is the weakest/most meandering and the 3rd gets better again. I've also heard (from 1 person) that to have stretched this into a trilogy was pushing it - there was no reason it couldn't have been condensed to one, *maybe* two books. We'll see.

I'm not good about reading a series all in a row, so will give myself a couple books' breathing room before launching into book 2 (with your and others' cautions in mind!).

23. Zero History by William Gibson (416 p.)

Having read both Pattern Recognition and Spook Country it was a no-brainer I'd eventually get around to this 3rd in the Blue Ant trilogy/series. The downside is that I read both of those books closer to when each came out, so with years in between. As a result, while I know I really liked Pattern Recognition, and cooled a bit on Spook Country, I couldn't fully recall who'd done precisely what in each of those - though enough for the main plot points to be enjoyable.

After Spook Country, I was somewhat tentative about Zero History. However, I found this one went back to what I had enjoyed so much about Pattern Recognition. It was a fun, fast-paced page turner about industrial espionage, this time with a fashion focus. It's about branding, creating buzz, beating out competition, and military influence on a number of levels.

In some ways, it reminds me of a James Bond film - lots of techie gadgets that you're not sure how current v. quaint they will be in just a few years' time (some of the wonder expressed by one character about Twitter and tweeting, for example, already seems bordering on hind-, not fore-, sight). Plus, Bigend as the dubious and imposing (not just physically) puppet master is an interesting character. He has many tentacles out, many fingers in a lot of pies, and manipulates people and events to suit his needs and his will.

It can probably be read as a stand alone, though definitely more enjoyable if you've read the other 2. Good end (?) to the trilogy from a cyberpunk master.

24. At the Mouth of the River of Bees by Kij Johnson (310 p., short stories, Early Reviewer book)

I was tentative given a) short stories, which I often find very hit-and-miss and b) an author I didn't know at all in e-book format - two things that haven't always worked well for me in the past.

I was more than pleasantly surprised. Most of the stories apparently have been published previously elsewhere (e.g., 'Asimov's Magazine', tor.com, 'SciFiction' and more). Yes, there are some editing issues which I can only hope will be rectified by the time of printing. That aside...

The stories range from slightly offbeat reality to fantasy to outer space sci fi, with most in some way including animals/aliens - sometimes more directly than others. Settings range from Japan to the US to outerspace, from present to future to fantasy otherworld. Stories run in length from about 4 pages up to 70. As with any story collection, there are stories that didn't work as well - though that could be down to personal taste. For example, 'Schroedinger's Cathouse' was a fantastically clever title, but didn't quite live up to the humor inherent in that.

To my mind, the collection is at its best when the animals recognise or react to something the humans need or want, or when the people find a special relationship with the animals. Sometimes it is the human searching for companionship, comfort or understanding, sometimes the animal - and sometimes they find what they need in each other. There is a deceptive simplicity to the many of the stories, which manage to draw the reader in and, in just a few pages, create a sympathy and/or understanding for the characters - both animal and human.

While not entirely in this vein (though there is exploration of the relationship between the people, the mist, and the inhabitants of the mist), the longest of the stories, 'The Man Who Bridged the Mist,' left me wanting to know more, read more, about Empire, Nearside, Farside, and the river of mist.

Overall, I really enjoyed the worlds she created and the various relationships between people, between people and animals, and between the animals themselves.

25. Fatta Eld by Suzanne Collins (319 p., Swedish, translation)

Oddly and rather unintentionally this is becoming the summer of reading series. Normally, I'd space these out better, especially now that I find myself about to launch into books 2 & 3 of another series. In any event...

This is the 2nd in the Hunger Games trilogy. I'd heard a lot of criticism about this one, and can understand why. It rehashes events from the 1st book, and then moves from one unsurprising, see-it-coming-a-mile-away event to the next. Katniss is surprisingly unable to a) see what's happening (fill in any place, time, and/or event here), b) make a decision, or c) take a firm stand. Yes, I realise she's 16/17 years old, but she strikes me in this one as particularly clueless on *so* many fronts it became frustrating. One assessment I'd heard was that it was a lot of telling-not-showing writing, though enough story to keep turning pages. That about sums it up.

I've heard the 3rd gets better and will only move to get to that one in order to be able to talk about the whole series with my nieces and nephew. My impression so far is that it could have made a tighter, more interesting read as one longer book instead of dragging it out into three.

26. White Nights by Ann Cleeves (392 p.)

The 2nd in the Shetland quartet. After reading the 1st, I was going to hold off longer for the subsequent 3. However, intrigued by a teaser for an upcoming BBC show called 'Shetland', there's going to be a two-parter some time soon based (frustratingly) on the 3rd of the books. That's how I found myself suddenly zipping through book 2 and now already into book 3.

Fair Isle native Detective Jimmy Perez has an odd and relatively brief encounter with a loudly and publicly weeping stranger. When that stranger is later found hanging from the rafters, Perez starts digging to find out who he was, what he was doing in the (fictional) Biddista on the Shetland mainland, and what happened to him.

It is an enjoyable series about a place I've wanted to visit since moving to Scotland. The descriptions of the summer's white nights and low sky remind me of the Nordic countries. She again shows how in such a small community everyone tends to know everyone else's business but also have to be prodded (in the right ways) to talk about it without it being gossip. A good summer read.

27. In the House of the Seven Librarians by Ellen Klages (podcastle podcast read by Rachel Swirsky)

Thanks to a mention and subsequent responses about it on janepriceestrada's thread, I downloaded an audio version of this short story (the text version seems to be about 80 p.) and immersed myself in it over the course of about 3 trips to or from work. I actually found myself walking more slowly so I'd have more time with the story.

A library closes. The librarians remain. A basket is delivered with, amongst other things, a baby in it. The librarians raise the little girl and reveal to her the magic of the library.

This is a very sweet story and has some great moments. My main quibble is that it felt too stereotyped that all the librarians were women. That said, the story is an homage to all that a library provides - access to all kinds of information, fact or fiction. A place where someone can go and learn and dream. A place that grows and shifts with your changing inquisitiveness and yields new surprises at each stage. A place populated by people who care about learning and knowledge and who want to share that (even if they sometimes do get caught up in classifications...). A fun addition to any books-about-books collection.

28. Red Bones by Ann Cleeves (392 p.)

The 3rd in Cleeves's Shetland Quartet with Detective Jimmy Perez once again at the helm. This is the one that apparently will be the subject of the upcoming BBC show 'Shetland'.

Two young archaeologists are working on a dig on the property of a fiesty old woman on Whalsay. She is considered a local character - not always loved by everyone, the subject of a fair amount of gossip. She's also the grandmother of Sandy, who is a policeman under Perez. When she is shot and killed, things begin to unravel. Perez is left to investigate whether it was an accidental death, or whether something else entirely happened.

I enjoyed this one more than the 2nd and possibly a bit more than the 1st. I thought there was more tension, better sense of the claustrophobic feel to the islands despite the wide open spaces. There were better red herrings and, as a result, a less obvious ending. The shifting perspectives mean that information is revealed in subjective bits and pieces. I still think some of the characters aren't always developed consistently. However, it is a good summer series.

29. Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman (263 p.)

I originally heard of this book on the BBC's Culture Show New Novelists: 12 of the Best From the Culture Show.

Pigeon English is the story of 11 year old Harrison Opoku, a recent immigrant from Ghana. He, his mother and older sister have recently moved to a flat in a rough part of London, while his father, grandmother and little sister are still in Ghana hoping to move soon, too. When an older boy is stabbed to death, Harri's and a friend decide to imitate CSI and find the killer.

The novel is told (mostly) from Harri's point of view. It is here that I can see why the book has been compared to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. Through Harri's narration, we end up understanding more than he does about what it going on around him. I think this works in places, and in others have a harder time believing he'd be that naïve. His enthusiasm and energy come through, as do his sometimes conflicting desires to be safe and to be good and true to himself.

There are also interludes narrated by a pigeon that watches over Harri. It took some time for these to work for me. I slowly came around to the metaphor and the role in the story.

I knew the book had a lot of hype, and that tends to make me wary. It also helps me mentally set the bar lower. The result? An original first novel, yes, with its flaws and not a particularly surprising ending, but a voice and story that kept me interested throughout.

Hi, ljbwelll. Returning your visit. In the House of the Seven Librarians sounds wonderful. I loved what you wrote about libraries.

61 - Glad you enjoyed it!

Thank you both.

Avidmom - I absolutely love libraries. I know, I know, I'm part of the problem in that I don't borrow from libraries so much anymore, but I do still love just to sit and read in them. When traveling, I'll sometimes pop into a library just for a look around.

Janepriceestrada - so glad to have caught it on your thread! I realize I meant to write that it isn't only the librarians who reveal the library to her, but the library itself which reveals its wonders to her.

30. REAMDE by Neal Stephenson (1044 p.)

Snow Crash and Diamond Age are both on my favorites list. I was excited when this one came out, as it sounded like a return to a Snow Crash-type novel. Similar to Charles Stross's Halting State, REAMDE involves overlaps between the 'real' and online worlds. Both read like a video game.

The novel is at its best whenever it enters the online MMORPG world of T'Rain (terrain) or deals with those who created it. However, REAMDE is, in essence, a fairly standard thriller, complete with jihadists, implausible action sequences, and lots (and lots and lots) of chase scenes. While fun, and a page turner, clocking in at over 1000 pages, the chase scenes were drawn out and could have used more editing (4-5 pages to climb a ladder? Really?). I found myself wondering when we'd get back to T'Rain, and wishing he'd spent more time there, woven it in better throughout the story. Even at the climax, Stephenson missed an opportunity to drive home the the (humorous) point about how badly the jihadists have misunderstood factions of the US and underestimated where they were heading. In these senses, the book was disappointing.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it. Tough, spunky female characters, quirky main and side characters, and entertaining storylines. It just wasn't the Stephenson I was expecting or hoping for.

Interesting. Maybe a Stephenson to avoid, but I have so many others to read...

I think you either like him or you don't. If you are looking for the more sci-fi/cutting edge future, this isn't it. It is much more firmly planted in the present with its references to Twitter, Facebook, Flickr, etc. In the end there are others of his I prefer, and had thought this one was a return to those.

No, I'm looking for Stephenson, or was at one point. I have Anathem sitting around here somewhere collecting dust. Interested in the The Baroque Cycle (I own Quicksilver). Hopefully I'll get there.

31. Memoirs of an imaginary friend by Matthew Green (458 p.)

Budo, the narrator, is Max's imaginary friend. Only Max and other imaginary friends can see him. Max is different from other kids - and Budo is different from other imaginary friends. Though not specified in the book, Max seems to be on the autism spectrum. When Max is abducted, Budo needs to figure out how to save him.

It is this last part that worked the least for me, and in the end made the book quite predictable. The idea of Budo - of imaginary friends having lives and worries and abilities to the degree they are imagined by their human friends - was quite interesting. I think an exploration of how a child with autism imagines his friend, and the ways in which his interactions with the imaginary friend vs the human world differ, would have made for a compelling book on their own. The descriptions of other imaginary friends in comparison to Budo are not only interesting, but reveal how Max's mind works.

The introduction of the abduction, however, injected a jarring and unnecessary dramatic turn that, to my mind, reduced what could have been a thoughtful, interesting read into a completely implausible and overwrought series of events all leading to an unsurprising end. Add to that at least one unnecessary story line and the novel left me cold and unmoved. Disappointing, as I think there was a seed of a really, really clever idea in there.

Enjoyed your review of Memoirs of an imaginary friend. I notice from the book page that many people rate this book very highly.

>71 ljbwell:, 72
I really disliked that book. I got a pre-US release audio copy for review and when I saw all the high ratings I figured there must have been something different (for the worse) between the UK and US editions. But now there are plenty of high US ratings too. Go figure. I have one of the author's adult novels in my TBRs and remain cautiously optimistic.

>72 baswood:, 73: It reminded me in that sense of The Gargoyle - a book that was pretty highly ranked, but just didn't work for me (I'm being kind). I wanted to like Memoirs..., and thought it would have the appeal of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.

However, after all is said and done, I thought a lot of Memoirs didn't make sense (Budo feels guilty about doing things away from Max, but he is Max's creation - so why can't he do some things because Max hasn't imagined it, but then he can wander off regardless of what Max has 'created' for him?); and, again, *really* disliked the abduction storyline - which becomes the dominating part of the book.

32. To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis (493 p.)

I've been in a bit of a reading rut lately - reading books in so-so series, books by authors I'm very familiar with, books lent to me, etc. Given that, when someone lent me To Say Nothing of the Dog, I went into it with probably a bit more trepidation than usual. I'd never heard of it or the author, hadn't read anything about it, didn't know Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat, and was wary of well-intentioned recommendations.

I cannot begin to say not only how pleasantly surprised I was, but how much I absolutely loved this book. It has been added immediately into favorites, I've located Three Men in a Boat via Gutenberg, and her Doomsday Book has shot to the top of my find-it-and-read-it list.

To Say Nothing of the Dog is the story of mid-21st century time-traveling historian Ned Henry, who has been spending most of his time in the 1940s trying to locate the bishop's bird stump in/around (physically and time-wise) the ruins of Coventry Cathedral. There's been slippage, though, apparently due to the interferences of a beautiful redhead and a cat. Ned ends up in Victorian England, boating along the Thames with a new acquaintance and his bulldog, and heading straight into the origins of the issue.

The result is a clever, humorous nod not just to JKJ's comic travelogue, but to Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Wodehouse's Jeeves, and more. Moreover, it is a novel that manages to be laugh out loud funny while entertaining the big questions of a Grand Design (fate, destiny) vs. free will. A real, unexpected gem.

33. Blue Lightning by Ann Cleeves (357 p.)

This is the fourth in the Shetland Quartet with Jimmy Perez as detective. Given the recent discussion on spoilers going on in the Questions for the Avid Reader thread, it's funny this should come up now, because it is difficult to address certain aspects of the book & series without giving things away - either from this book or the 1st three. But I'll try...

Blue Lightning takes Perez and his partner to his childhood home of Fair Isle. After a celebratory evening at the island's renowned bird watching observatory, a woman is found dead and arranged with bird feathers. Given weather conditions, no one else can get on or off the island. Perez is thus left with a limited set of suspects on this remote, isolated island. As with the previous books, secrets and truths are kept inside, leaving Perez to draw them out slowly, sometimes methodically, sometimes in frustration and anger.

I enjoyed the quartet - more with each book - and by the end found myself more vested in the characters than I'd thought. The setting is interesting and just as important a character throughout the series. A great set of reads for a holiday, summer, or just if you're feeling like a bit of a crime wave.

Nice review of Blue Lightning, Ann Cleeves I will keep the Shetland quartet in mind for summer reading, but it will have to be next summer now.

fun review (even if I don't read mysteries).

Thanks both! They aren't ultra-gritty, but not particularly cosy/twee either. Living in Scotland made the quartet that much more interesting, especially as the Shetland Islands are on my (ever-growing) list of places I want to go.

34. The Breaking of Eggs by Jim Powell (368p.)

It is January 1, 1991 and the western world is changing. Feliks Zhukovski is a Polish-born travel writer who has specialised in publishing a set of guides to Cold War Eastern Europe. A leftist and former communist, he has spent years striving to provide a more accurate view for the capitalist West of life behind the Iron Curtain through his Guide Jaune. Whether he feels it or not, Feliks is aloof and adrift - no sense of 'home', almost no ties or close relationships, lost family. His life is centered around certain strident beliefs, truths. It is only after 36 years renting the same apartment in Paris that 61-year old Feliks Zhukovski's landlady says 2 things to him that set in motion a series of events over the year that call into question or give context to so much of his life to that point.

Zhukovski's distance from everyone, his firmly held beliefs that everything is politics and that there are absolute truths are tested time and again. He himself is stilted, stubborn and awkward in many ways. Eggs must be broken, but to what end? What sacrifices must be made?

I have 2 criticisms, or observations: 1) The novel sometimes feels dogmatic. But is this just a portrayal of Feliks's (and others') beliefs, or do the author's own views bleed into certain sections? 2) Feliks is clearly stubborn and stilted, but sometimes overdone for effect/storyline. Those aside, this is a wonderful novel, one that raises questions about who we are; that challenges what we believe to be true, right in our own lives (and often increasingly so as we get older); that shows what happens when you start to crack the fragile exterior of those beliefs.

Perhaps I should add that I am currently sitting in Russia - for the first time ever - as I type this. Perhaps I should add that I have ancestors who were affected by the politics of the Bolshevik revolution, the politics and events of WWII, the siege of Leningrad, and the Cold War. Perhaps I should add that my view of 'home' is loose, malleable, complicated; my view of 'family' is both tight and broad, flexible. Perhaps none of these things matter. But I have to think that, more than usual, what I brought to the table had some effect on how I read and understood the book and why a trail of sentiment lingers still.

>80 ljbwell: Sounds like an interesting book. Why are you in Russia?

So interesting: I also really liked The Breaking of Eggs, also with a feeling of sentimentality, also probably because of what I brought to the book. I just looked and alas Jim Powell hasn't published anything else yet. Great pairing of the book with your travel!

Very interesting thoughts on The Breaking of Eggs I think it is true that your state of mind at the time of reading can really have an influence on the books that you read, especially if they strike a chord.

There is a lot to be gained by choosing books to read that will resonate with where your head (and your body) is. A careful choice of books to read while travelling can add immensely to the experience.

I agree with baswood & it seems you have a personal connection to the book as well - always makes it more interesting. Our city has a "sister city" in Russia and when I worked at the newspaper one of our reporters would go visit that city annually. It was always fascinating to hear her stories and look at the pictures she'd bring back.

Thank you all for your comments.

avidmom - work trip, but, given the family background I built in a few - not enough! :-) - vacation days.

Funny thing - I'll either pick vacation books for the ability to relax and have fun, or to be able to concentrate on something meatier. In other words, other than maybe language, I usually don't try to match place and content. Something to think about more in the future.

35. Yiddishkeit: Jewish Vernacular and the New Land Harvey Pekar and Paul Buhle, eds. (240 p., graphic non-fiction)

Yiddishkeit brings together a variety of contributors to trace the history of Yiddish, from its origins in Eastern Europe to its lingering influences in the US. There are essays, graphic/illustrated strips, even a play. They explore literature, music, theater, film, journalism - from the famous to the much less well-known.

This makes an interesting introduction to the subject. In some ways, though, it felt at times like Wikipedia - a decent place to start on a wide variety of topics, but sometimes feel you look further into some of the claims. There are some clear biases. For example, Pekar makes no bones about his disregard for Isaac Bashevis Singer.

Having said that, what he then does is highlight the works of several authors he thinks are more worthy. As said, a great springboard for learning about the less famous artists to come out of Yiddish culture.

That the contributors have deep personal relationships to the material is clear. They want Yiddish to survive and are trying to pique a renewed interest in the less well-known artists who tend to be overshadowed by the likes of IB Singer or who are fading into oblivion with the passage of time (and the passing of a generation). They want the reader to understand the politics and history that were behind Yiddish newspapers. And most of all, I think they want the reader to see Yiddish not as an incomprehensible, dying language from the old country, but as a culture that can be understood and appreciated regardless of whether one understands the language itself.

disregard for Isaac Bashevis Singer

Pekar loses points... what's his problem with Singer?

Does anyone speak Yiddish as a first language anywhere anymore?

Ironically, it's hardly incomprehensible to German speakers. Dying, dead, or not, it will haunt Germanophones FOREVER.

In his chapter about the Yiddish modernists, Pekar states that Singer is overrated (p.76), specifically mentioning his 'wise old man routine' and that he was 'a clever and very successful popular writer and certainly knew how to play his Jewish Card (corny sentimentality).' Pekar describes other authors he feels are more impressive and genuine, such as Singer's own brother I. J. Singer, David Bergelson, and Jacob Glatstein.

That Yiddish can be understood more widely than one would think is also a point made a few times in the book. Between it's German & East European origins there are words and structures that are understandable. In terms of Yiddish theater, there was a sense that even if you don't understand the words, the tone conveys what is going on.

A few years ago I did a short paper about Yiddish as an official minority language. One of the points brought up there was that many people have a passive understanding of it. That is to say, though they may not speak or write it, they've grown up hearing it; it is then a question of activating that passive knowledge.

36. Reggiecide by Chris Dolley (101 p., ebook)

An Early Reviewer novella, this is the 2nd of Dolley's Reeves and Worcester adventures. A send up of Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster stories, Dolley once again incorporates steampunk elements (though I'd argue less here than in What Ho, Automaton!) and Worcester's brainless sleuthing as he and Reeves are recruited to locate the recently re-animated Guy Fawkes. Don't expect tight plot, depth of character, or full resolution. That said, it is light and entertaining enough to bring a smile to a commute or dark, rainy afternoon. It probably helped that the entire time while I was reading this, there were (and still are!) fireworks being set off for what has apparently been a whole weekend build-up to Guy Fawkes/Bonfire Night tomorrow.

Well, now, I'll have to dust off my copy of V for Vendetta in honor of Guy Fawkes day tomorrow. (Coincidentally, I bought that movie on Guy Fawkes day. Just happened to work out that way.)

I read of Singer much less than he wrote, but none of it could be called cornily sentimental... maybe I missed it so far. Satan in Goray was the most recent one--anything but sentimental.

What Ho, Automaton! is a title easy to love.

avidmom, the movie V for Vendetta was scheduled to play tomorrow night at my in town Regal Theaters multiplex presumably as a Fathom Events presentation. I, however, do not see it listed in upcoming events in Fandango any more. If it is playing I'm thinking it will be worth seeing on the big screen.

Robert

PS Later research shows that my calendar had it at the wrong theater chain. The theater where it will play often does things independently, so I don't know that it will be playing elsewhere.

R

86-88,91 - A strange criticism of Singer, but then Harvey Pekar seems to have been quite an idiosyncratic personality. I have to suspect Pekar's judgment.

There are Jewish sects in Israel that speak Yiddish first, typically in an effort to avoid speaking Hebrew. Not sure how big these groups are, but walking around Jerusalem this past August we heard a lot of Yiddish.

I'm sure this has been discussed already here on LT, and it is book-related. But since I've only just come across it:

Ever since Bottle Rocket, I've enjoyed Wes Anderson movies, so when looking for something to rent over the Thanksgiving holiday, I was very happy to come across 'Moonrise Kingdom'. I hadn't read or heard anything about it. It completely won me over.

I should also say I always sit through credits in the hopes for some gem. Moonrise Kingdom did not disappoint. Throughout the movie, one of the lead characters reads aloud from stolen library books. The books have wonderful jackets, which come up in the credits. Turns out the books aren't real. Anderson had different artists create the jacket covers. Originally intended to be included in the film, animated shorts were created. Despite not making it into the final cut, they are available here. There are no spoilers in the video clip, so just enjoy the snippets.

Happy belated Thanksgiving.

37. Revolt by Suzanne Collins (Swedish translation from English, 329 p.)

I read it to finish the trilogy. I read it to talk about with my nieces & nephew. I read it in case I decide to see the movies one day. There is nothing surprising in it. War is hell. People die. People are betrayed and betray others. Kat continues not to understand much that is going on around her until someone clarifies the situation for her.

Plus ça change...

Now I'm done and can move on.

38. Donald and the and Donald has a difficulty by Peter F. Neumeyer, illustrated by Edward Gorey (children's, box set)

I'd seen these whenever looking into Gorey acquisitions. Recently, I had the opportunity to read Floating Worlds the letters of Edward Gorey and Peter F. Neumeyer, which revived my interest in reading the Donald books. I was thrilled to get the box set reissue as a gift.

Both of these children's stories are about a young boy, Donald. In Donald and the..., he finds a larva, puts it in a jar and waits to see what comes of it. In Donald has a Difficulty, he gets a splinter. Donald's mother is present in both of these charmingly offbeat children's books. As described in the letters, the Donald books were done in collaboration with Edward Gorey, who illustrated both. His drawings add drama and quirkiness to the stories. In Donald and the... there is the slow visual revelation of the creature. In Donald has a Diffiiculty, keep your eye on the dog.

These make a nice gift for children - or adults - whose tastes veer towards the offbeat: think Maurice Sendak, somewhat along the lines of Pierre a cautionary tale. A great introduction to Gorey's work.

Early Reviewers once gave me Why We Have Day and Night by Neumeyer & Gory...I loved it. My kids found it odd enough to pay attention and ask for it a handful of times. Now it collects dust. But I'm interested in these Donald books. Hope my library has copies.

That's definitely another I'd like to read. Floating Worlds was an Early Reviewer and really piqued my interest in the Donald books.

the slow visual revelation of the creature
keep your eye on the dog

Well, these intrigue!

>94 ljbwell: I went to your "Moonrise Kingdom" fake library book link a few weeks ago - that was fun. We'll get around to watching that one here soon.

>95 ljbwell: I had to snicker at your Hunger Games trilogy reaction. The teenager-y kids I own and me went to see it on the big screen when it came out. Not a bad movie, IMO (as long as you know going in that it's geared for that age bracket). I'm all for a strong, smart teenage protagonist - I see Kat as the anti-Bella.

Those Neumeyer books sound interesting!

>99 detailmuse: & 100 - typical Gorey that the illustrations add wonderful subtext and character to the written text. A collaboration with Neumeyer that worked well.

avidmom - glad you liked the link! Every frame is so carefully crafted, and still the book jackets stand out. The animations are a good reflection of the type of movie it is. Smart, sensitive, warm, quirky, full of charm and heart. It treats the kids with respect.

I actually had a conversation with a friend's teenage daughter while I was reading the 2nd Hunger Games book. We felt it would make a more interesting film than it was a book. I still haven't seen the 1st. Most of my family have read Collins's Gregor the Overlander series and say it is less hyped but much better than the Hunger Games trilogy. It sounds worth looking into. In a totally different vein, if you like interesting female leads and don't mind graphic novels, maybe take a look at I Kill Giants.

typical Gorey that the illustrations add wonderful subtext and character to the written text

As it should be, I guess. But often isn't?

Reminds me of an article I wrote that was accompanied by lots of photos. The editor asked me to write captions, and to write them keeping in mind that some "readers" would look only at the photos and captions, not read the article.

Hmmm... I guess I was thinking of illustrations that depict a scene directly from the text but don't feel like they add much to the text. They can be enjoyable or beautiful or dramatic, etc, but maybe gratuitous.

The beauty of Gorey's illustrations is that there's this seemingly fairly simple, straightforward-sounding text, and then these other things happening in or that we learn from (or are implied by) the pictures.

Ach, not sure I've clarified what I meant or not?!

No, I think my comment misdirected a bit. We agree: illustrations that repeat the text don't add. I suppose veryvery young children need the redundancy in order to translate abstract words into real things. But it happens in adult books too -- graphic novels where the illustrations are just puppets for the text balloons, vs those with less text where so much of the story is revealed through the art. That's where you captured me with Gorey!

No, no, not at all. It was good for me to clarify the distinction in my own head. I enjoy illustrations, extraneous/direct from the text or not. But, as you say, illustrations that bring something extra to the table, reveal something not said in the words, are that much more fun.

39. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (333 p.)

Hmmm... ticker above is not working?!

Every year I try to fill at least a gap or two in my reading history - earlier in the year it was Wodehouse and also Confessions of a Justified Sinner.

This time, I went for Pride and Prejudice. I've seen it so many times, read a variety of parodies (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, some of the Thursday Next series, etc.), but never actually read the original (or, I don't think, any Austen for that matter). Horrors!

I don't think there's much I can add to what thousands before me have already said. Austen's observations on class and propriety are sharp. She is biting, funny, perceptive.

Quick thoughts? Compared to the various TV/movie adaptations, I found that Bingley's sister came across as more overtly condescending, jealous and catty in the book. I found Darcy a mix of aloof, shy and stuck in his role. I was inwardly cheering during the confrontation between Lady Catherine and Elizabeth. And yes, some of the characters have rawther sudden changes of heart.

It was the perfect book to curl up with on cold winter nights and be transported to a different time and place.

That's cool, a first read of P&P. She changed how I spoke for a time.

I'm trying to imagine - I would think it would be difficult on your own (i.e., Austen is so dialogue driven, it would be best if there were 2 of you having quick, clever banter).

I'm suddenly realizing that Whit Stillman's 'Doomed Bourgeois in Love' film trilogy is very much contemporary Austen: observations about social hierarchies, life of the upper classes and those who want to be a part of those circles, etc., revealed through dialogue and party scenes.

#108 late response, but I adore Whit Stillman's films. I have never heard that term for those three movies (Doomed Bourgeois in Love) nor ever thought about them in terms of Austen. Something to think about. Certainly his characters are revealed through dialogue, perhaps the main joy of the movies.

Nor had I, and nor had I! My husband is a big Whit Stillman fan and he knew the Doomed Bourgeois part.

I had seen Metropolitan years ago and, 1st time around, didn't really appreciate it. It's grown on me with age & perspective. It was only in thinking about P&P that I thought Stillman was working with some of the same themes and in some of the same ways.

40. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome (read as ebook)

With a bit of time, now, I'm working to finish the 3 books I've started before the new year. This, then, leaves me with 2 to go...

In backwards fashion, I read To Say Nothing of the Dog first, then went back to read the book that, in part, inspired it. Also, having started the year with Jeeves, it seems fitting to be drawing to a close with this one.

Written in the late 19th century, Three Men is the comic fictionalised tale of the author's boating journey along the Thames. He travels with 2 friends and Montmorency, a rather feisty terrier. The three talk, muse, bicker, reminisce, and occasionally even get some boating in.

The humor in the book still works. Take, for example, the following passage, which had me chuckling. According to those who know me, substitute river for road and boat for car, and, I don't know, tire iron for oar, and the following apparently describes me to a T:

"I don't know why it should be, but everybody is always exceptionally irritable on the river. Little mishaps, that you would hardly notice on dry land, drive you nearly frantic with rage, when they occur on the water...When another boat gets in my way, I feel I want to take an oar and kill all the people in it.../

I did a little boating once with a young lady. She was naturally of the sweetest and gentlest disposition imaginable, but on the river it was quite awful to hear her."

There are a couple awkward spots where something more serious happens - awkward in that they don't fit with the generally lighter tone of the book. That, though, is offset by humorous observations and incidents, tall tales, mishaps, and various encounters both on the water and on land.

The book, like the trip described, meanders pleasantly along, not always going somewhere directly, not always getting where it perhaps planned to be, but in the end leaving the journeyer happy they went along for the ride.

41. La Révolte des accents by Erik Orsenna (French, 122 p.)

La Révolte des accents sees the return of Jeanne and, though less so, her brother Tom, to this third in the series. This time, people haven't been using accents in their writing and the accents themselves are increasingly unhappy. So frustrated are they that they go on strike. The aigus, circonflexes, graves start to disappear not just from text but from speech.

Accents are compared to acting and the theater - they give words drama, punch. They tell you how a word should be pronounced. Without them, they argue, the language is flat. Moreover, in some languages, such as Arabic, without accent marks letters would become indistinguishable from one another.

This is when the book is at its best - when the raison d'être (yes, circonflexe, I still use you!) of accents, not just in French but in a wide variety of languages, is explored. Reading sentences and passages without the accents proved the point; it was disconcerting, jarring. I kept imagining hearing the scenes where characters' speech lacked accents.

I'm somewhat chasing the dragon with Orsenna's series. La Grammaire est une chanson douce was such a wonderful, charming surprise when I read it. It brought grammar to life, gave it personality. The expectation that the subsequent stories would have the same effect has been disappointing. That said, I *much* preferred this one to Les Chevaliers du subjonctif, and will definitely try again with Et si on dansait?.

Sounds like a charming series. Looks like La Grammaire est une chanson douce has been translated to English so I may try.

They are quick, sweet reads that could be seen as young reader stories, but in fact have a lot for adults. Think along the lines of Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince or Tove Jansson's The Summer Book.

Which brings me to a very different...
42. The Barnum Museum by Steven Millhauser (short story collection, 240 p.)

Ahhh, Oxfam, how I love ye. This was bought on a complete whim, stalling and browsing before I was due somewhere else. The three ring circus of sometimes dark, sometimes curious, sometimes magical stories appealed.

"A Game of Clue", for example, is a story about just that, but in three detailed interwoven parts: the dynamics of the 4 players, the interactions of the characters (in particular Colonel Mustard and Miss Scarlet, with Mister Green lurking around), and a description of the board itself. "Klassik Komix #1" describes the panels of a comic book. It is the one that I went back and read again after the lightbulb moment of what the classic was. "Eisenheim the Illusionist", as I discovered later, became the film "The Illusionist" - a movie I've only seen in bits and pieces.

Millhauser's 10 stories are filled with magic, magical realism, and minute detail. They are a funhouse, a carnival, a hall of mirrors and labyrinthine rooms, never quite sure what is real and what is illusion.

congrats on finishing your last three books, but what will do for then next three days (not to mention the previous two)?

Thanks! And in response...

43. The Alchemaster's Apprentice by Walter Moers (384 p., translation from German)

I wasn't going to dip into my holiday haul until 2013, but the heart wants what the heart wants - and, with 5 hours to kill hanging out in a waiting room, it wanted this 4th in Moers's Zamonia fantasy series. Each book works as a stand-alone, though there are usually small references to previous works.

Echo is a Crat - like a cat, but he can speak to any creature. After the passing of his mistress, he roams starving through the streets of Malaisea in Zamonia. Desperate for food, he signs a contract with Ghoolion - Malaisea's bitter, evil Alchemaster. The contract? Ghoolion will feed Echo (and oh, how he feeds him!), teach him alchemy, and entertain him until the next full moon, at which point Ghoolion will render Echo down for his Crat fat. Crat's ability to communicate with other creatures means he befriends, or at least becomes better acquainted with, all sorts of creatures: the Leathermice; the last Uggly in Malaisea; Theodore T. Theodore the Tuwituwu with a verbal apraxia; Demonic Bees; the Snow-White Widow; the Cooked Ghost; and more. So many more.

The alchemy extends to the often lavish, gastronomic meals Ghoolion prepares for Echo to fatten him up. There are Heston Blumenthal-esque levels of fantasy and gourmandise combined into these meals. At times, it felt like an error in judgement to be reading on an empty stomach.

Where The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear and The City of Dreaming Books are more travel exploits, this one takes place not only within Malaisea, but largely within Ghoolion's albeit extensive home. That is not to say there aren't adventures, but the geography is more contained. There are also plenty of unexpected events. It has humor, but also dark moments. There are, as always, a wide variety of new, fantastical creatures.

Oh, and I wish I were better at anagrams; I caught a few, I suspect there are more.

The City of Dreaming Books is still my favorite, and the next in the series goes back to that one. I have grown to love Moers's series. They are clever, fun, imaginative, slightly dark, and full of adventure.

And still two more days. Not sure this is my kind of book, yet I finish your review worried about what happens to this poor crat.

Just in case, then, I won't spoil anything. :-)

Lo and behold, I was able to squeeze one more in in 2012:

44. Tainted Blood by Arnaldur Indriðason (352 p., translation from Icelandic)

Oxfam strikes again... One of two books I picked up there in a post-holiday gift to myself. I've been interested in reading non-Swedish Nordic Noir and had been hearing here and there about Icelandic crime fiction. When I came across Indriðason's 1st Erlandur crime novel, I figured this was as good a time as any.

It is a fairly standard formula: cop with a difficult private life (divorced, smokes too much, adult children with addictions); a murder that may not be as straightforward as the break-in gone wrong it first appears to be; following hunches and delving into the past to help solve the crime; uncovering long-held secrets and shoddy policework from 40 years prior to understand what has happened.

In the end, it isn't so much a whodunit (whether we know the specific 'who' or not) as an unfolding of information and events leading to a fairly inevitable, unsurprising result. That isn't a bad thing, and there are interesting developments throughout. It has left me interested enough to pick up subsequent novels in the series, though not ones I'd go out and buy new.

I've kicked off a 2013 thread over here...