The Raven Saint is the third entry in MaryLu Tyndall's Charles Town Belles series, and the second that I've read. As in any good historical romance, opposites attract in this series. In The Blue Enchantress, the godly and good-hearted captain rescued Hope Westcott, whose poor judgment and dubious virtue had landed her in a pickle. Poor Captain Mason then struggled with his unsuitable attraction for Hope.
The situation is reversed in The Raven Saint. This time it's the pious Westcott sister, Grace, who is in a bad situation and struggling with her unwise attraction for the nefarious ship's captain. To further complicate matters, the captain is the one who's gotten her into trouble. Captain Dubois is definitely not a godly man, but he believes he's doing the right thing when he kidnaps Grace, planning to deliver her for a handsome sum of money to one of her father's enemies. After all, her father is his enemy, too. And the money he will be paid for the act will build a hospital for the poor. Remember the saying about the road to hell and good intentions?
But Captain Dubois soon finds himself drawn not only to Grace but to her God, as well, which complicates his life romantically and spiritually. It could also cost him his life if he decides to back out of his deal.
As with Tyndall's other books, there are twists and turns, romantic misunderstandings, and heart-pumping battles at sea. And of course, good spiritual lessons as the rogues are reformed. If you enjoyed Tyndall's other books, you'll enjoy this one. And if you haven't read any of her books yet, it's all right to start with this one. Although it's part of a series, it can easily stand alone.
As for me, my favorite parts of MaryLu Tyndall's books are turning out to be the secondary characters and subplots. There's the mysterious Mr. Thorn, who may be trying to help Grace, or may be manipulating her for his own purposes. And he has an attraction for a Caribbean servant named Annette, who dabbles in voodoo and causes all sorts of creepy happenings.
And then of course, there's the one-eyed ship's cat, Spyglass. My favorite line of the book comes as Spyglass trounces out of his cabin with Grace after she has quarreled with Captain Dubois: "The woman had not only stolen his heart but his cat as well."
The Raven Saint is great fun if you're looking for seafaring thrills and historical romance.
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
A Quick Word on Terminator: Salvation
I've been trying to paste this in for a while, and it's not working. Thus, I will link to my facebook note, and hope anyone who wants to read this can read it there. I apologize. Not sure why the copy/paste was not working.
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?created&&suggest¬e_id=190132775381#/notes/kristi-israel/a-quick-word-on-terminator-salvation/190132775381
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?created&&suggest¬e_id=190132775381#/notes/kristi-israel/a-quick-word-on-terminator-salvation/190132775381
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Strange and Wonderful Book: The Little Stranger
A friend recommended The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters a couple of weeks ago. Even though it's in our current fiction collection at the library, she said it was an old-fashioned gothic. She also said it scared her silly, even though it wasn't violent or gory. Well, that was enough for me. I dove right in, and oh my--what a book!
This is one of the few books I've read that left me thinking, this is the book that I want to write. This is the WAY I want to write.
On the surface, The Little Stranger might not sound all that different. It's a typical gothic-type story set in an old, creepy house in the English countryside. The time period is just after World War II, and though electricity and indoor plumbing are advancing throughout the country, Hundreds Hall is isolated enough to be missing out. It's still lit by candles, warmed by fires when the family can afford it. Because even though the Ayres family has been living at Hundreds for generations, like many aristocratic British families, they've fallen on hard times and in some ways live no better than the poorest people in the village. The Ayreses are not seen often anymore, keeping to themselves in their crumbling mansion, so Dr. Farraday is surprised when he is called out to Hundreds to see to the sick maid.
Farraday finds that the young maid is not so much sick as terrified. She swears that there's a frightening presence in the house. Farraday doesn't put much stock in her story, but this is the beginning of his relationship with the Ayres family, including the family matriarch and her son and daughter, who are both in their twenties. Farraday holds onto his scientific skepticism even when stranger and stranger tales come to him from first one, then the other of the family. Their gentle old dog suddenly turns savage and attacks a visitor. Strange noises are heard. Objects move themselves around. One by one, the family members begin to believe they're being persecuted by a strange presence, while Farraday believes there's a kind of hysteria in the house, partly brought on by the stress and isolation of their circumstances.
Of course, even though Farraday is supposedly the uninvolved narrator of the Ayres family's story, it soons become apparent that he, too, is connected in their bizarre situation. First because of his feelings for Caroline Ayres and Hundreds, and also because his mother was once a nursemaid at the Hall.
I don't want to say much more, because this is another of those books that has so many wonderful twists and turns. This is not one of those ghost stories that starts out with things going bump in the night and ends with an explanation of exactly what's been happening--and perhaps with a ghost or a demon popping out of a closet. Neither does it leave you frustrated because there are no answers. When you reach the end of the book, you'll know enough to draw your own conclusions, but you'll also have plenty to think about and discuss with other readers.
This is one of the few books I've read that left me thinking, this is the book that I want to write. This is the WAY I want to write.
On the surface, The Little Stranger might not sound all that different. It's a typical gothic-type story set in an old, creepy house in the English countryside. The time period is just after World War II, and though electricity and indoor plumbing are advancing throughout the country, Hundreds Hall is isolated enough to be missing out. It's still lit by candles, warmed by fires when the family can afford it. Because even though the Ayres family has been living at Hundreds for generations, like many aristocratic British families, they've fallen on hard times and in some ways live no better than the poorest people in the village. The Ayreses are not seen often anymore, keeping to themselves in their crumbling mansion, so Dr. Farraday is surprised when he is called out to Hundreds to see to the sick maid.
Farraday finds that the young maid is not so much sick as terrified. She swears that there's a frightening presence in the house. Farraday doesn't put much stock in her story, but this is the beginning of his relationship with the Ayres family, including the family matriarch and her son and daughter, who are both in their twenties. Farraday holds onto his scientific skepticism even when stranger and stranger tales come to him from first one, then the other of the family. Their gentle old dog suddenly turns savage and attacks a visitor. Strange noises are heard. Objects move themselves around. One by one, the family members begin to believe they're being persecuted by a strange presence, while Farraday believes there's a kind of hysteria in the house, partly brought on by the stress and isolation of their circumstances.
Of course, even though Farraday is supposedly the uninvolved narrator of the Ayres family's story, it soons become apparent that he, too, is connected in their bizarre situation. First because of his feelings for Caroline Ayres and Hundreds, and also because his mother was once a nursemaid at the Hall.
I don't want to say much more, because this is another of those books that has so many wonderful twists and turns. This is not one of those ghost stories that starts out with things going bump in the night and ends with an explanation of exactly what's been happening--and perhaps with a ghost or a demon popping out of a closet. Neither does it leave you frustrated because there are no answers. When you reach the end of the book, you'll know enough to draw your own conclusions, but you'll also have plenty to think about and discuss with other readers.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Blue Enchantress: Reviewed
Today I'm reviewing MaryLu Tyndall's new book, The Blue Enchantress. On Thursday, I'll be interviewing MaryLu, so be sure to come back!
Betrayed by the man she longed to marry, Hope Westcott finds herself on an island in the Caribbean being auctioned off as a slave to the highest bidder.
Raised in an unloving home and after enduring a difficult childhood, Hope's search for love and self-worth have led her down a very dangerous path. All she ever wanted was to find true love and to some day open an orphanage where she could raise children with all the love she never experienced as a child. But how can a woman with a sordid past ever hope to run an orphanage, let alone attract the love of an honorable man?
Determined to overcome the shame of his mother's past, Nathaniel Mason worked for many years to build his own fleet of merchant ships in an effort to finally acquire the respect of Charles Towne society. Ignoring the call of God on his life to become a preacher, he forges ahead with his plans for success at a distant port in the Caribbean, when he sees a young lady he knows from Charles Towne being sold as a slave.
In an effort to save Hope, he is forced to sell one of his two ships, only to discover that her predicament was caused by her own bad behavior. Angry and determined to rid himself of her as soon as possible, Nathaniel embarks on a journey that will change the course of his life.
If you've known me for awhile, you'll know I love a good pirate story. And since M.L. Tyndall is known for writing a great pirate story--complete with romance, swashbuckling adventures, and feisty heroines--you would think I would have gobbled up everything she's written. I'm embarrassed to say The Blue Enchantress was my first Tyndall read, but it definitely won't be my last.
The story opens up with Hope being auctioned at the slave market in St. Kitts. Of course things are looking dire. It seems pretty obvious why the lecherous old men are bidding for Hope. Apparently their plans are also obvious to Nathaniel Mason, who sees what's going on and recognizes Hope from Charles Towne. Even though he barely knew Hope back home, except for her occasional haughty snubs, he realizes he has to save her. It's his Christian duty. So Nathaniel sells his ship to raise the money to buy her, intending to escort her home to Charles Towne. That part of his plan, at least, succeeds, but it doesn't make him particularly happy.
Betrayed by the man she longed to marry, Hope Westcott finds herself on an island in the Caribbean being auctioned off as a slave to the highest bidder. Raised in an unloving home and after enduring a difficult childhood, Hope's search for love and self-worth have led her down a very dangerous path. All she ever wanted was to find true love and to some day open an orphanage where she could raise children with all the love she never experienced as a child. But how can a woman with a sordid past ever hope to run an orphanage, let alone attract the love of an honorable man?
Determined to overcome the shame of his mother's past, Nathaniel Mason worked for many years to build his own fleet of merchant ships in an effort to finally acquire the respect of Charles Towne society. Ignoring the call of God on his life to become a preacher, he forges ahead with his plans for success at a distant port in the Caribbean, when he sees a young lady he knows from Charles Towne being sold as a slave.
In an effort to save Hope, he is forced to sell one of his two ships, only to discover that her predicament was caused by her own bad behavior. Angry and determined to rid himself of her as soon as possible, Nathaniel embarks on a journey that will change the course of his life.
If you've known me for awhile, you'll know I love a good pirate story. And since M.L. Tyndall is known for writing a great pirate story--complete with romance, swashbuckling adventures, and feisty heroines--you would think I would have gobbled up everything she's written. I'm embarrassed to say The Blue Enchantress was my first Tyndall read, but it definitely won't be my last.
The story opens up with Hope being auctioned at the slave market in St. Kitts. Of course things are looking dire. It seems pretty obvious why the lecherous old men are bidding for Hope. Apparently their plans are also obvious to Nathaniel Mason, who sees what's going on and recognizes Hope from Charles Towne. Even though he barely knew Hope back home, except for her occasional haughty snubs, he realizes he has to save her. It's his Christian duty. So Nathaniel sells his ship to raise the money to buy her, intending to escort her home to Charles Towne. That part of his plan, at least, succeeds, but it doesn't make him particularly happy.
I appreciated the fact that Nathaniel, as a sincere Christian man, consistently tried to do the right thing--and frequently hated every minute of it. I've been there myself. I want to please God and help people and make noble sacrifices. But then I find myself feeling grumpy and used and having to overcome a bad attitude in spite of my grand gestures. So Nathaniel's moods seemed quite human to me.
By no means wealthy, Nathaniel has struggled to raise himself from poverty, become a captain, and build two ships of his own. Now Hope has single-handedly wiped out half his fleet. It would be different if he could bask in her gratitude, congratulate himself that he had saved an innocent maiden from a terrible fate. But he can't help but feel that Hope has brought most of her troubles on herself by throwing herself at men--even married ones.
Even after being rescued by Nathaniel, Hope faces her own struggles. The man she thought she loved has betrayed her. In fact, he's the one who left her to be sold into slavery. The whole business has shocked her into wanting to reform her life, but that seems easier said than done. Her reputation prejudices most women against her and causes men to expect the wrong things from her. More and more, she finds that the only man she wants anything from is Nathaniel. She would like to have his good opinion, but after their bad beginning things just get worse. One misunderstanding follows another, and poor Nathaniel seems to suffer nothing but bad luck when she's around. By the time she's finished with him, well...let's just say he should have been grateful he had even one ship left.
To earn their passage to Kingstown, where his one remaining ship is waiting for him, Nathaniel hires himself out as a navigator on another vessel. But soon a freak storm causes them to be shipwrecked and stranded for a time on an island. Rescue comes in a strange form--pirates! (I had been wondering when the pirates would show up.)
My two favorite characters played a large part in the story during this period. Captain Poole, the pirate captain, was strong and menacing, but could be persuaded to do the right thing. Poole apparently had a brush with God sometime in his past that caused him to be intrigued with Abigail, a young missionary who was marooned along with Hope and Nathaniel. There was no easy, convenient conversion for Captain Poole--at least not yet. But I have hopes for his future, especially if he shows up in another Tyndall book. And let's hope he does!
The Blue Enchantress is the middle book of a three-part series. I didn't find myself at all confused by not having read book one (The Red Siren), but I was intrigued enough that I'll probably go back and read it now. Loose ends are tied up pretty well for Hope and Nathaniel by book's end, but another adventure is beginning, so if you want more, you won't be disappointed.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Christina Berry's Familiar Stranger: Reviewed
"Craig Littleton has decided to end his marriage with his wife, Denise, but an accident lands him in the ICU with fuzzy memories. As Denise helps him remember who he is, she uncovers dark secrets. Will this trauma create a fresh start? Or has his deceit destroyed the life they built together?"First, I must apologize to Christina Berry.
Yes, I looked forward to reading her book. After all, she's a friend--at least a virtual, online friend--so I'm excited that her first published book is now a reality. Plus I knew from reading her blog and newsletter that she's a good writer. However, I really thought I could predict the whole story from reading blurbs like the one at the start of this review.
Boy, was I wrong.
I almost read the entire book Sunday and finally made myself put it down and go to bed, because I really, really wanted to know what the heck was going on in The Familiar Stranger.
The story starts with a long-married couple, Craig and Denise. They're arguing because Craig is planning to skip not only church, but a deacon's meeting as well, and go hiking instead. The tension is simply crackling in this house, and you just know things aren't going well in this marriage. Because the story is told in alternating viewpoints, you soon learn that things are even worse than bickering and tension. Although we don't know exactly what Craig is up to, it's apparent that he isn't just going hiking.
Denise takes their sons and goes on to church, as usual. But at the end of the service, she gets a horrifying phone call. Craig has been in a car accident that's left him badly injured and another man dead. She soon finds out that Craig remembers nothing about his life, or about her.
Okay, at this point and from the blurbs, I thought we had a nice, straightforward contemporary fiction book about a man who was probably cheating on his wife. Through the accident, Denise would discover Craig's infidelity, but the accident would cause him to depend on her, to see her in a new way, perhaps even to repent of his past actions. It would be compelling but not terribly suspenseful.
Instead, Ms. Berry thickened the plot on me at every turn of the page. Who was the man who was killed in the crash? Why was he seen arguing with Craig before the accident? What about the mysterious teenage girl who is also in the hospital?
I don't want to say much more, because I don't want to give away the delicious twists and turns. I must say, though, that I'm amazed at the intricacy of Christina's plotting, and her ability to create suspense. She knows exactly how much to reveal and when, and how to phrase things to throw us poor readers off. At one point I actually figured out what was going on, but her misdirection was so skillful that I doubted myself and she led me off in another direction entirely.
The Familiar Stranger is the kind of suspense that I love. Not the campy kind with a villain chasing some poor heroine with a gun. It's the kind of suspense that comes from believable characters and skillful writing. From the psychological "evil that lurks in the minds of men." I absolutely urge you to pick up a copy of this book.
Oh, and by the way, Christina is giving away several copies of The Familiar Stranger. Just leave a comment on this post and she will enter you in the drawing to be held at the end of this month. How easy can you get! (Now that I've gotten you all curious about what Craig is up to, however, you might not want to wait.)
Single mother and foster parent, Christina Berry carves time to write from her busy schedule because she must tell the stories that haunt her every waking moment. (Such is the overly dramatic description of an author's life!) She holds a BA in Literature, yet loves a good Calculus problem, as well. Her debut novel, The Familiar Stranger, releases from Moody in September and deals with lies, secrets, and themes of forgiveness in a troubled marriage. A moving speaker and dynamic teacher, Christina strives to Live Transparently--Forgive Extravagantly!
More places to find Christina:
Thursday (9/17) at Novel Journey, the next stop on her blog tour (where you can also enter again for her book drawing)
Her blog: http://www.authorchristinaberry.blogspot.com/
Her "infrequent, humorous newsletter":
www.ashberrylane.net/update.aspx
(Just by signing up, each person will be entered to win a 4GB iPod Shuffle or free books for the life of her writing career!)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Magicians by Lev Grossman: A Review
About a week ago, I first heard about The Magicians by Lev Grossman, and then it seemed to be everywhere. It arrived in our current fiction section at the library, and another librarian brought it to me so I would have the first turn with it. She thought it sounded like my kind of book, but I'm so bogged down in my reading that I waved it away.
Then I read an enthusiastic review of it in a blog that I follow. Then on another blog. Suddenly, I just had to read it. I couldn't wait to get my hands on it--although, of course, it had been checked out by then. So I downloaded the audio version.
I couldn't wait to start listening. I zipped through the first sections and was hooked. I couldn't wait to get further into it.
Somewhere along the line, things changed. I realized I couldn't wait to be done with it and try to forget it. Hopefully I wouldn't need therapy.
So what's the story about that made me so anxious to read it?
Here's what I heard. It's about a young man named Quentin Coldwater who's about to graduate high school and go to college--probably Harvard or somewhere Ivey League, because he's brilliant and competitive. He's also very unhappy and can't seem to find much meaning in life. One of his main joys since childhood has been reading fantasy books, particularly a series about a land called Fillory--which is more or less exactly the same as Narnia. As they say, only the names have been changed, probably to protect the author from a copyright suit. Quentin knows he should be growing up and letting go of such dreams and longings for Fillory and magic, but he can't seem to do it.
Then suddenly, something bizarre happens. Quentin receives an invitation to an exclusive, secret college of magic. Yes, if you're thinking Harry Potter right about now, the author probably expects you to. There are lots of similarities between Brakebills College and Hogwarts--except that Hogwarts is a magical, delightful place that children of all ages dream of going to, and Brakebills is a depressing, difficult, and frankly perverted place that this child, at least, wouldn't be caught dead in.
So. Quentin discovers that magic doesn't make him happy any more than his previous life did. Then he graduates from Brakebills and because of his magic, can pretty much do anything with his life that he wants to. He chooses to drink, carouse, and cheat on his girlfriend. He's not happy, you see.
The book was frankly making me unhappy, too, at this point. Remember Kristi's post about Revolutionary Road? It felt like that, only with magic. But I stuck with it, because I'd heard what was coming in Part 3 of the book, and I thought the payoff would come. I knew that Quentin would discover that the land of Fillory was real, and that through his magic, he could actually get there. There was even mention of the fact that one of the Chatwin children in the Fillory series (like the Pevensies in Narnia) had disappeared at the end of the last book. Because the author died before writing the next book, no one knew what had happened to him. So the logical assumption is that Quentin will go on a quest to find the missing Martin Chatwin.
Finally it happens. Quentin and his friends are off to Fillory. And they do find Martin Chatwin, only they weren't particularly looking for him. As usual with Quentin and his bunch, they don't really have a purpose in going there any more than they have a purpose in the rest of their lives. As the Fillory ram Ember (a disappointing stand-in for the great lion Aslan in Narnia) tells them, Fillory is not a theme park for them to come play dress-up in--because that's the flip way they are treating its struggles and wars, and the possibility of becoming kings and queens there.
The whole Fillory expedition is a disaster. And--I'm sure you'll find this shocking--Quentin is unhappy there.
That could pretty much sum up this whole book: "Quentin is unhappy." He never really gets happier--but my mood had certainly plummeted by the end of this book.
I'm trying to figure out why people I respect are writing that this is such an important book. Maybe it's one of those literary things I don't understand. John Granger, whom I respect and who wrote Looking for God in Harry Potter, goes on about the importance of The Magicians because of its attempt to merge the post-modern novel (like Catcher in the Rye) with fantasy. But then, a lot of what Granger and other literary critics say is over my head.
I understand that Grossman is trying to say that our fantasies, even if they come true to the letter, won't make us happy. That kind of joy has to come from somewhere else, somewhere inside us. I agree on those points. In fact, one of my works that has been in progress for decades has that same general theme.
The trouble is, Grossman points out that fulfillment of our fantasies won't make us happy or give us purpose, but then he doesn't seem to have a clue what will. Quentin is worse off at the end than when he started, because he's tried everything, and everything has failed him. True, at the very end, Quentin is finally ready to use magic again and to go on another magical adventure, but frankly that came out of the blue and seemed tacked on. I couldn't find any evidence of a change of attitude or any particular self-discovery. And if you're looking for anything spiritual, well...forget about it.
We've mentioned on this blog before that C.S. Lewis has identified our yearnings that come from fantasy as a longing for the eternal. Since Grossman doesn't seem to believe that, we're left with a yearning after nothing, as meaningless as Quentin's life. But then, Grossman may not think much of C.S. Lewis and his ideas, anyway. He certainly didn't make the Lewis stand-in character (the writer of the Fillory books) very admirable. The old man stole the Chatwin children's stories for his personal gain and was "diddling" one of them. Apparently, trying to hide from the man's perverted advances was what led to the child's hiding in a cabinet and discovering the passage to Fillory to begin with. Ick!
So what am I missing? Why do people who enjoy fantasy still seem to like this book, when it came perilously close to ruining Harry Potter for me--and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at Narnia the same way again.
I was listening to The Magicians audiobook on my iPod, and when it came to the end I couldn't move for a minute. I was stunned. That was a good thing, because the iPod promptly started playing the next audiobook in line. It was a book called Peter and the Starcatchers that I downloaded weeks ago because it was on sale and because it was narrated by Jim Dale, the fabulously talented narrator of the Harry Potter audiobooks. Suddenly, there was Jim Dale's cozy voice starting a story about Peter (destined to become Peter Pan) boarding a ship called the Neverland to start his fantastic adventures. I felt myself starting to smile.
Thank goodness for Jim Dale!
Then I read an enthusiastic review of it in a blog that I follow. Then on another blog. Suddenly, I just had to read it. I couldn't wait to get my hands on it--although, of course, it had been checked out by then. So I downloaded the audio version.
I couldn't wait to start listening. I zipped through the first sections and was hooked. I couldn't wait to get further into it.
Somewhere along the line, things changed. I realized I couldn't wait to be done with it and try to forget it. Hopefully I wouldn't need therapy.
So what's the story about that made me so anxious to read it?
Here's what I heard. It's about a young man named Quentin Coldwater who's about to graduate high school and go to college--probably Harvard or somewhere Ivey League, because he's brilliant and competitive. He's also very unhappy and can't seem to find much meaning in life. One of his main joys since childhood has been reading fantasy books, particularly a series about a land called Fillory--which is more or less exactly the same as Narnia. As they say, only the names have been changed, probably to protect the author from a copyright suit. Quentin knows he should be growing up and letting go of such dreams and longings for Fillory and magic, but he can't seem to do it.
Then suddenly, something bizarre happens. Quentin receives an invitation to an exclusive, secret college of magic. Yes, if you're thinking Harry Potter right about now, the author probably expects you to. There are lots of similarities between Brakebills College and Hogwarts--except that Hogwarts is a magical, delightful place that children of all ages dream of going to, and Brakebills is a depressing, difficult, and frankly perverted place that this child, at least, wouldn't be caught dead in.
So. Quentin discovers that magic doesn't make him happy any more than his previous life did. Then he graduates from Brakebills and because of his magic, can pretty much do anything with his life that he wants to. He chooses to drink, carouse, and cheat on his girlfriend. He's not happy, you see.
The book was frankly making me unhappy, too, at this point. Remember Kristi's post about Revolutionary Road? It felt like that, only with magic. But I stuck with it, because I'd heard what was coming in Part 3 of the book, and I thought the payoff would come. I knew that Quentin would discover that the land of Fillory was real, and that through his magic, he could actually get there. There was even mention of the fact that one of the Chatwin children in the Fillory series (like the Pevensies in Narnia) had disappeared at the end of the last book. Because the author died before writing the next book, no one knew what had happened to him. So the logical assumption is that Quentin will go on a quest to find the missing Martin Chatwin.
Finally it happens. Quentin and his friends are off to Fillory. And they do find Martin Chatwin, only they weren't particularly looking for him. As usual with Quentin and his bunch, they don't really have a purpose in going there any more than they have a purpose in the rest of their lives. As the Fillory ram Ember (a disappointing stand-in for the great lion Aslan in Narnia) tells them, Fillory is not a theme park for them to come play dress-up in--because that's the flip way they are treating its struggles and wars, and the possibility of becoming kings and queens there.
The whole Fillory expedition is a disaster. And--I'm sure you'll find this shocking--Quentin is unhappy there.
That could pretty much sum up this whole book: "Quentin is unhappy." He never really gets happier--but my mood had certainly plummeted by the end of this book.
I'm trying to figure out why people I respect are writing that this is such an important book. Maybe it's one of those literary things I don't understand. John Granger, whom I respect and who wrote Looking for God in Harry Potter, goes on about the importance of The Magicians because of its attempt to merge the post-modern novel (like Catcher in the Rye) with fantasy. But then, a lot of what Granger and other literary critics say is over my head.
I understand that Grossman is trying to say that our fantasies, even if they come true to the letter, won't make us happy. That kind of joy has to come from somewhere else, somewhere inside us. I agree on those points. In fact, one of my works that has been in progress for decades has that same general theme.
The trouble is, Grossman points out that fulfillment of our fantasies won't make us happy or give us purpose, but then he doesn't seem to have a clue what will. Quentin is worse off at the end than when he started, because he's tried everything, and everything has failed him. True, at the very end, Quentin is finally ready to use magic again and to go on another magical adventure, but frankly that came out of the blue and seemed tacked on. I couldn't find any evidence of a change of attitude or any particular self-discovery. And if you're looking for anything spiritual, well...forget about it.
We've mentioned on this blog before that C.S. Lewis has identified our yearnings that come from fantasy as a longing for the eternal. Since Grossman doesn't seem to believe that, we're left with a yearning after nothing, as meaningless as Quentin's life. But then, Grossman may not think much of C.S. Lewis and his ideas, anyway. He certainly didn't make the Lewis stand-in character (the writer of the Fillory books) very admirable. The old man stole the Chatwin children's stories for his personal gain and was "diddling" one of them. Apparently, trying to hide from the man's perverted advances was what led to the child's hiding in a cabinet and discovering the passage to Fillory to begin with. Ick!
So what am I missing? Why do people who enjoy fantasy still seem to like this book, when it came perilously close to ruining Harry Potter for me--and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at Narnia the same way again.
I was listening to The Magicians audiobook on my iPod, and when it came to the end I couldn't move for a minute. I was stunned. That was a good thing, because the iPod promptly started playing the next audiobook in line. It was a book called Peter and the Starcatchers that I downloaded weeks ago because it was on sale and because it was narrated by Jim Dale, the fabulously talented narrator of the Harry Potter audiobooks. Suddenly, there was Jim Dale's cozy voice starting a story about Peter (destined to become Peter Pan) boarding a ship called the Neverland to start his fantastic adventures. I felt myself starting to smile.
Thank goodness for Jim Dale!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Benjamin Button Review, Part II
So, where did it go wrong? If you missed the first part of this review, you should know that I loved the first part of this movie- probably about a third of it, as it is a long film. But then The Curious Case of Benjamin Button took a turn, and I have been trying to put my finger on exactly why the last part did not work. The answer, I believe, is that there are several reasons!
First, the writing...Maybe the writer thought the concept itself was interesting enough to carry this short-story-turned-loooonnnngggg-screenplay, but it wasn't. Like anything, without a strong story, it suffers. Things do happen in Benjamin's life along the way, things which should and could be interesting, but for some reason they aren't. He had a lifelong deep love with a woman, played by Cate Blanchett, and I didn't care. He went to war and worked on a boat, and I didn't care. He had a child, and I didn't care.
One of my problems with the story is that the viewer is robbed of the pleasure of discovery. Why write a story about someone so extraordinary if no one, beyond his father and foster mother initially, ever seems to find it strange that he gets younger instead of older. I love discovery scenes. I was left sorely wanting.
A friend of mine said it was a regurgitated version of Forrest Gump, and I have to agree that there are similarities, mainly in tone. The two movies feel the same. Also, they are both about extraordinary boys who live interesting lives in spite of what others see as their handicaps. But BB's is not nearly as interesting, in my opinion, as Forrest's. This leads me to character development, which also goes to poor writing.
Story is important, but when we don't care about characters, who cares what happens to them? I think this was a major part of the problem. Looking at FG again in comparison, we can see strong character development in Forrest and Ginny from an early age. They BOTH face great obstacles. In fact, I would venture that Ginny faces more trouble than Forrest, many either of her own making or as a result of her abuse growing up. We care about both of these characters, and we feel what happens to them, both the good and the bad.
In BB, Cate B's character, Daisy, is one-dimensional. She is a beautiful dancer. She shows up every few years and eventually she and Benjamin do get together and then split up, and that's about it. We have no idea of who she is outside of the knowledge of her as a dancer and someone who likes Benjamin. Usually, I LOVE Cate Blanchett. She is one of my favorite actresses, but somehow, she could not make this one work.
Thus, we have our second problem...the acting. I mentioned in Part I of this review my opinion that Brad Pitt does excellently as his first incarnation of BB, when he is a really old, small man, with a little boy's mind. He is subdued, but you can see the twinkle of youth in his eye. It really was great. But I have a MAJOR CORRECTION to make here to the first blog- even though he looks a lot like Brad in the face, IT IS NOT HIM IN THE FIRST PART OF THE MOVIE. You may be thinking this should have been obvious since he was so small during this segment, but they made the hobbits in Lord of the Rings look much shorter than they were! The actor with the convincing twinkle was actually, according to www.imdb.com, Peter Donald Badalamenti II. Sorry for not doing this research sooner! I knew something wasn't right there!
When Brad took over the role, I believe he tried to show us his version of growing up, which was just to grow dull. He lost the twinkle of youth created by his predecessor, and with it went his personality. He shows very little emotion during his adulthood.
There was also no chemistry between Pitt and Blanchett. I have a suspicion that Angelina Jolie was hanging out on the set scaring the blazes out of them. This is something the director (third problem) should have caught in casting, but he also should have pulled better acting out of these guys. I mean, the last part of this movie was a perfect storm of bad choices, but better acting and chemistry between the principals could have saved it partly.
Good things? Make-up, atmosphere, the old people in the home (one of whom is always telling about his seven instances of being struck by lightning), and nice performances from Taraji P. Henson, who played Benjamin's adoptive mother, Jared Harris as Captain Mike, and Badalamenti.
Melanie, one of our faithful readers, commented on the last review, asking how could a story with this premise end well? My answer is that it can end as well as any story about a person's life from beginning to end, but it should have given us a reason to care about the stuff in between. I like to joke that the movie ends when he becomes an atom and then splits and explodes, but that footage ended up being cut. Actually, it ends by randomly tying in Hurricane Katrina. We see the flood waters rising at the train station, and we are shown the basement, where the old clock still resides. Not, I imagine, the original intent of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
First, the writing...Maybe the writer thought the concept itself was interesting enough to carry this short-story-turned-loooonnnngggg-screenplay, but it wasn't. Like anything, without a strong story, it suffers. Things do happen in Benjamin's life along the way, things which should and could be interesting, but for some reason they aren't. He had a lifelong deep love with a woman, played by Cate Blanchett, and I didn't care. He went to war and worked on a boat, and I didn't care. He had a child, and I didn't care.
One of my problems with the story is that the viewer is robbed of the pleasure of discovery. Why write a story about someone so extraordinary if no one, beyond his father and foster mother initially, ever seems to find it strange that he gets younger instead of older. I love discovery scenes. I was left sorely wanting.
A friend of mine said it was a regurgitated version of Forrest Gump, and I have to agree that there are similarities, mainly in tone. The two movies feel the same. Also, they are both about extraordinary boys who live interesting lives in spite of what others see as their handicaps. But BB's is not nearly as interesting, in my opinion, as Forrest's. This leads me to character development, which also goes to poor writing.
Story is important, but when we don't care about characters, who cares what happens to them? I think this was a major part of the problem. Looking at FG again in comparison, we can see strong character development in Forrest and Ginny from an early age. They BOTH face great obstacles. In fact, I would venture that Ginny faces more trouble than Forrest, many either of her own making or as a result of her abuse growing up. We care about both of these characters, and we feel what happens to them, both the good and the bad.
In BB, Cate B's character, Daisy, is one-dimensional. She is a beautiful dancer. She shows up every few years and eventually she and Benjamin do get together and then split up, and that's about it. We have no idea of who she is outside of the knowledge of her as a dancer and someone who likes Benjamin. Usually, I LOVE Cate Blanchett. She is one of my favorite actresses, but somehow, she could not make this one work.
Thus, we have our second problem...the acting. I mentioned in Part I of this review my opinion that Brad Pitt does excellently as his first incarnation of BB, when he is a really old, small man, with a little boy's mind. He is subdued, but you can see the twinkle of youth in his eye. It really was great. But I have a MAJOR CORRECTION to make here to the first blog- even though he looks a lot like Brad in the face, IT IS NOT HIM IN THE FIRST PART OF THE MOVIE. You may be thinking this should have been obvious since he was so small during this segment, but they made the hobbits in Lord of the Rings look much shorter than they were! The actor with the convincing twinkle was actually, according to www.imdb.com, Peter Donald Badalamenti II. Sorry for not doing this research sooner! I knew something wasn't right there!
When Brad took over the role, I believe he tried to show us his version of growing up, which was just to grow dull. He lost the twinkle of youth created by his predecessor, and with it went his personality. He shows very little emotion during his adulthood.
There was also no chemistry between Pitt and Blanchett. I have a suspicion that Angelina Jolie was hanging out on the set scaring the blazes out of them. This is something the director (third problem) should have caught in casting, but he also should have pulled better acting out of these guys. I mean, the last part of this movie was a perfect storm of bad choices, but better acting and chemistry between the principals could have saved it partly.
Good things? Make-up, atmosphere, the old people in the home (one of whom is always telling about his seven instances of being struck by lightning), and nice performances from Taraji P. Henson, who played Benjamin's adoptive mother, Jared Harris as Captain Mike, and Badalamenti.
Melanie, one of our faithful readers, commented on the last review, asking how could a story with this premise end well? My answer is that it can end as well as any story about a person's life from beginning to end, but it should have given us a reason to care about the stuff in between. I like to joke that the movie ends when he becomes an atom and then splits and explodes, but that footage ended up being cut. Actually, it ends by randomly tying in Hurricane Katrina. We see the flood waters rising at the train station, and we are shown the basement, where the old clock still resides. Not, I imagine, the original intent of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
What's This Business with Benjamin Button?
SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I finally got to see this movie a couple nights ago, and I felt it deserved some reflection and commentary. As most of you probably know by now, the story is about a baby born as a tiny old man, and as he grows, he gets younger. It is based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
The story starts with a lot of promise. In fact, I loved the first third of the movie. It was long, a little over 2 1/2 hours, I believe. There is this fascinating opening sequence about a clockmaker during WWI who loses his son in the war. He is supposed to make a clock for the new trainstation in the town, and even Teddy Roosevelt comes to see the unveiling. When the clock is revealed, it is shown that it runs backward. He says this is because he wishes that all of the boys who died in the war could be safe again. And then he rows out to sea and is never seen again.
The clockmaker is never mentioned again, but I believe we are supposed to think the clock has something to do with the birth of Benjamin. It is a really sweet story at the beginning. Benjamin's mother dies in childbirth and his father is so horrified by him that he takes him away, planning to throw him in the lake (Lake Ponchetrain, I guess- it's set in New Orleans). He finally leaves him on the steps of an old age home, and a black woman who works there takes him in and raises him as her own child.
The first third of the movie works on every level for me. The story is great and the acting is on point. It is a beautiful thing to see the acceptance of Benjamin into this world of people who are in their last stages of life. They all think Benjamin is going to die soon, but instead he keeps getting stronger. Also, the acceptance of him by his adopted mother is lovely. She believes he should have life because he is one of God's children. Even Brad Pitt's acting, which I have never thought was particularly strong, especially in dramas, is really good during this part of the movie. Here, BB has the mind of a child in an old man's body, and Brad Pitt really seems to capture the childlike innocence and mischief of a ten year old boy.
After that, though, the movie takes a turn for the worse. Stay tuned for the rest of this review...
I finally got to see this movie a couple nights ago, and I felt it deserved some reflection and commentary. As most of you probably know by now, the story is about a baby born as a tiny old man, and as he grows, he gets younger. It is based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
The story starts with a lot of promise. In fact, I loved the first third of the movie. It was long, a little over 2 1/2 hours, I believe. There is this fascinating opening sequence about a clockmaker during WWI who loses his son in the war. He is supposed to make a clock for the new trainstation in the town, and even Teddy Roosevelt comes to see the unveiling. When the clock is revealed, it is shown that it runs backward. He says this is because he wishes that all of the boys who died in the war could be safe again. And then he rows out to sea and is never seen again.
The clockmaker is never mentioned again, but I believe we are supposed to think the clock has something to do with the birth of Benjamin. It is a really sweet story at the beginning. Benjamin's mother dies in childbirth and his father is so horrified by him that he takes him away, planning to throw him in the lake (Lake Ponchetrain, I guess- it's set in New Orleans). He finally leaves him on the steps of an old age home, and a black woman who works there takes him in and raises him as her own child.
The first third of the movie works on every level for me. The story is great and the acting is on point. It is a beautiful thing to see the acceptance of Benjamin into this world of people who are in their last stages of life. They all think Benjamin is going to die soon, but instead he keeps getting stronger. Also, the acceptance of him by his adopted mother is lovely. She believes he should have life because he is one of God's children. Even Brad Pitt's acting, which I have never thought was particularly strong, especially in dramas, is really good during this part of the movie. Here, BB has the mind of a child in an old man's body, and Brad Pitt really seems to capture the childlike innocence and mischief of a ten year old boy.
After that, though, the movie takes a turn for the worse. Stay tuned for the rest of this review...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Reading Lives
Until recently, I wondered why anyone would read nonfiction books when there are all those thrilling novels out there. I adore history and at one point could tell you a good bit about the kings and queens of England and the times they lived in. But that was because I read so much historical fiction, especially a prolific writer named Norah Lofts, whose career spanned a large portion of the 20th century.
I think I've collected almost all her books (at least 50 or so), and they cover every time period of English history--from the Saxon invasion and the occupation by Caesar's troops, through Civil War and Restoration and right on up until current times. Although her stories sprawl across time periods, most of them take place in one small area of England, with characters and families that are interconnected. Once you've read enough of her books, the fragments of English history start falling into a memorable pattern. Now, that's my way to learn facts. Read a suspenseful, thrilling story and have the educational bits slipped in like medicine in a spoonful of sugar!
As a part of research for my fiction writing, I have to dip into nonfiction, of course. I usually consider this a chore. But lately, I've started reading biographies to help me get an insight into people. Maybe I need details on a certain career, or insight into a unique personality, and a biography seems like a good resource. In the past two weeks, I've dipped into several different bios, and I'm surprised to find myself actually zipping through them.
One was called If I Am Missing or Dead, by Jeanine Latus. I picked this one up because I may soon be writing a character who is obsessed with a particular man and will do almost anything to hang onto him. She blinds herself to his abuse and manipulations and rationalizes everything he does. I have trouble understanding the motivations of someone like that, but I need to be sympathetic to her. In real life, both Jeanine Latus and her sister put themselves in that situation not once, but over and over--until sister Amy ended up dead. Latus's book covers their lives and "loves" from childhood until the time of the tragedy in an attempt to understand, and help us understand, what went wrong. It's a sad and disturbing story, but it broadened my knowledge of people who are different from me.
On the other hand, the celebrity bio I'm reading makes me realize that people in different walks of life can be pretty similar under the skin. There And Back Again is an autiobiography by actor Sean Astin, maybe best known for playing Sam in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Astin is the son of Patty Duke and John Astin (remember Gomez Addams?) and has been acting since childhood, including a major role in The Goonies when he was a kid. What fascinates me about his story is that, even though he was born into a successful show biz family and has been acting professionally and successfully since childhood, the angst and self-doubt he experiences sound incredibly similar to what Kristi and I write on this blog!
Astin is open about his experiences and his feelings, and even though I've only read about a third of the book, it's fascinating to know this "star" agonizes over feeling untalented, or insignificant, or what direction he should take. Just as Kristi and I do, he wonders whether he should do things that are commercial that don't interest him, or follow his art. He'll have a major success, followed by...nothing. Then he'll worry that it's over and he'll never work again. He knows there are games and strategies to be played to get ahead in Hollywood, but doesn't really know how to go about them. He knows that ultimately he wants to be a filmmaker and director, but has trouble staying on goal, or figuring out whether taking certain jobs will help or hinder him in his direction.
And just like me, he gets distracted from his goals. I had to laugh when he confessed that, in the middle of his most successful acting phase, he tried to fit in going to college because he felt inadequate without a college degree. I, on the other hand, always take college for granted but feel inadequate because I have no real artistic accomplishments!
People are indeed complex creatures. I'm glad I'm finally catching on so I can enjoy some of these real-life stories.
I think I've collected almost all her books (at least 50 or so), and they cover every time period of English history--from the Saxon invasion and the occupation by Caesar's troops, through Civil War and Restoration and right on up until current times. Although her stories sprawl across time periods, most of them take place in one small area of England, with characters and families that are interconnected. Once you've read enough of her books, the fragments of English history start falling into a memorable pattern. Now, that's my way to learn facts. Read a suspenseful, thrilling story and have the educational bits slipped in like medicine in a spoonful of sugar!
As a part of research for my fiction writing, I have to dip into nonfiction, of course. I usually consider this a chore. But lately, I've started reading biographies to help me get an insight into people. Maybe I need details on a certain career, or insight into a unique personality, and a biography seems like a good resource. In the past two weeks, I've dipped into several different bios, and I'm surprised to find myself actually zipping through them.
One was called If I Am Missing or Dead, by Jeanine Latus. I picked this one up because I may soon be writing a character who is obsessed with a particular man and will do almost anything to hang onto him. She blinds herself to his abuse and manipulations and rationalizes everything he does. I have trouble understanding the motivations of someone like that, but I need to be sympathetic to her. In real life, both Jeanine Latus and her sister put themselves in that situation not once, but over and over--until sister Amy ended up dead. Latus's book covers their lives and "loves" from childhood until the time of the tragedy in an attempt to understand, and help us understand, what went wrong. It's a sad and disturbing story, but it broadened my knowledge of people who are different from me.
On the other hand, the celebrity bio I'm reading makes me realize that people in different walks of life can be pretty similar under the skin. There And Back Again is an autiobiography by actor Sean Astin, maybe best known for playing Sam in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Astin is the son of Patty Duke and John Astin (remember Gomez Addams?) and has been acting since childhood, including a major role in The Goonies when he was a kid. What fascinates me about his story is that, even though he was born into a successful show biz family and has been acting professionally and successfully since childhood, the angst and self-doubt he experiences sound incredibly similar to what Kristi and I write on this blog!
Astin is open about his experiences and his feelings, and even though I've only read about a third of the book, it's fascinating to know this "star" agonizes over feeling untalented, or insignificant, or what direction he should take. Just as Kristi and I do, he wonders whether he should do things that are commercial that don't interest him, or follow his art. He'll have a major success, followed by...nothing. Then he'll worry that it's over and he'll never work again. He knows there are games and strategies to be played to get ahead in Hollywood, but doesn't really know how to go about them. He knows that ultimately he wants to be a filmmaker and director, but has trouble staying on goal, or figuring out whether taking certain jobs will help or hinder him in his direction.
And just like me, he gets distracted from his goals. I had to laugh when he confessed that, in the middle of his most successful acting phase, he tried to fit in going to college because he felt inadequate without a college degree. I, on the other hand, always take college for granted but feel inadequate because I have no real artistic accomplishments!
People are indeed complex creatures. I'm glad I'm finally catching on so I can enjoy some of these real-life stories.
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Dark Man (Review)
The Dark Man by Marc Schooley is an interesting book to be reviewing over Fourth of July weekend, because it paints a chilling picture of an America that has lost freedom of religion.
Sometime in the unspecified future, following Christianity will land you in a reclamation center, where the powers that be will use some pretty scary forms of "therapy" on you to attempt to bring you back to your senses. If that doesn't work, you will probably end up dead. Christians sneak into utility rooms in malls and back rooms of businesses to meet with one another and worship. The Christians' greatest fear is that one of them may not be who he seems, but might instead be the infamous master of disguises, Charles Graves.
Charles is sort of a modern-day Paul--or more appropriately, Saul. He pursues the Church stragglers with a frightening zeal, and the reclamation centers are full to bursting because of his undercover work. Since the book begins with a terrifying scene from Charles's childhood when he sees his Christian mother dragged away by the agents, this is a little hard to understand at first.
But it's soon obvious that Charles is a very traumatized young man, and he perhaps blames Christianity for taking his mother away from him. There's also the mysterious "Dark Man" who haunts Charles, but also talks Charles through his missions and helps him achieve his brutal goals. Charles has a complex relationship with the Dark Man, who taunts him and makes life miserable but also helps him survive. Charles at times wants to be rid of him, and at times panics at the idea of life without the Dark Man.
Following in Saul's footsteps, Charles has a sort of Damascus Road experience--only his occurs during a meeting of the underground church he's infiltrating. Charles is astounded to find himself suddenly a Christian, fleeing from the agents he used to work with. He's not nearly as surprised as his girlfriend, Julia, however. Because of Charles, she also ends up working with "the other side" and fleeing for her life, but without the advantage of his new belief.
Charles and Julia both join forces with the Reverend James Cleveland, the leader of the underground church in Houston and the city's most-wanted Christian. They go on the offensive, attacking a reclamation center, attempting to free a well-known prisoner, and making some surprising discoveries about Charles's family and past.
Rev. Cleveland helps Charles discover who the Dark Man is and how he can be rid of him. Of course, Charles first has to decide he wants to be rid of him--a struggle that tests the limits of his new faith.
First, the positives about The Dark Man. It's fast-paced and exciting, with hair-raising capers and heart-pumping twists and turns. It paints a chilling and all-too-believable picture of an American city without freedom. Characters are well-drawn and believable. In fact, it's disturbing to see that a nice, smart girl like Julia could be using her computer skills to track down Christians. But within the context of her world, it makes sense. Charles's sudden conversion is all the more believable because it's a rare case. Other characters start to question the way the world is being run or to show some interest in the Gospel, but they don't start falling to their knees like Christian dominoes. It's a real struggle for all.
The things I didn't like were mostly stylistic and had to do more with my own tastes. I've never enjoyed dream sequences or bizarre visions, and Charles is prone to them. Even worse, he sometimes lapses into cartoon-like visions in the middle of one of their missions, which made me wonder how he had survived, let alone become such a successful agent.
I also had a slight problem with the ending. There's a huge, exciting climax, so that's not the issue. But during it, I wanted to scream at the good guys that they were being stupid, and felt that the climax was partly big because they were stupid, which made the ending one of the least believable parts of the story to me.
Overall, however, I truly enjoyed The Dark Man. It's a unique story told in a unique voice--one that I think men and women readers would both enjoy. And those books don't come along often.
As part of Marcher Lord Press's spring 2009 releases, The Dark Man can be found at Marcher Lord's website or at amazon.com.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
My "Revolutionary Road"
This is part movie review, part attempt to share just a small tip of the iceberg of what God has been doing in my life lately. That part, in particular, will probably be spread out over several posts. I started to write about it recently and had to stop, because I was having a difficult time explaining. But I'll try, because it really is awesome, and it just shows how God truly "works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose." (from Romans 8:28) Hopefully you can follow my efforts...
First- the review, or perhaps it's more of a synopsis and how it bares on my own life. Therefore, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW! "Revolutionary Road" came out recently on dvd, and it was the first pairing of Kate Winslet and Leo (I call him Leo) DiCaprio since they starred in "Titanic" together. The reason I was drawn to the film is how similar the themes sounded to themes I've experienced in my own life. It is about the Wheelers, a married couple in the 50's who move to the suburbs and are basically destroyed by the emptiness they come to associate with their mundane, typical lifestyle. As I watched previews for this movie, I strongly empathized with the idea of finding yourself suddenly living a life separate from the one you had envisioned. At one point, April, played by Winslet, says, "I saw a whole other future. I can't stop seeing it."
April is an aspiring actress when she meets her husband, Frank. Next thing you know, they are married and have two kids. They have moved to the suburbs to a place on Revolutionary Road, hence the name. They moved because that's what people do when they have kids, right? You can't raise kids in the city, right? They always thought of themselves as a special couple, who would do something big- something DIFFERENT- with their lives, and they have both become miserable in the life they have chosen. Frank soon starts an affair to try to fill the void.
Eventually, April gets it into her head that the solution to all their problems is for them to move with their children to Paris. This is where Frank said he had been the most alive, when he had been there before, and he always wanted to go back. April says she will work over there and he can take time to discover what he wants to do with his life- what will make him happy. Kate Winslet, as usual, delivers a stellar performance, as her desperation to escape the mundane is always just barely contained, keeping you dreading the moment when the plan will surely fall apart, not knowing what she might do when it does.
And, of course, it does. She discovers she is pregnant, and sees her unborn baby as an impediment to getting to what she thinks will really make her happy- moving to Paris. Meanwhile, Frank has been promoted and offered a lot more money, and his dedication to the move is already being tested. When he discovers his wife's condition and her desire to abort the baby, and sees her attitude of motherhood in general being a mistake for her, which apparently he had somehow missed all along, he is horrified and tells her the trip is off.
The rest of the movie is a devastating series of events which show the result of Frank's continuous deliberate self-delusion, and April's final acceptance of the fact that she is in a life she neither wants, nor can leave. She does leave, though, through the unholy act of killing her baby and herself in the process. I personally wanted to see them get to Paris with all their kids and live there for a while, only to find themselves in basically the same state of spiritual and emotional bankruptcy they had endured in the States. But, alas, the writer went in a different direction. It gets to the same point, though.
One of the interesting aspects of this film is that there seem to be no characters who find the answer to filling the "emptiness" and "hopelessness" which pervade their lives. One character- one of their neighbors who recently spent time in an asylum- is the only one besides the Wheelers who actually admits to the harsh reality of reality, but he can offer no solution. The rest simply find less drastic, but no more effective ways to deal with these feelings, which they cannot afford to admit to themselves.
An older couple on the block, in the final scene of the movie, sits together in their house speaking of the Wheelers. The wife, played by Kathy Bates, drones on about how they were never suitable to take that house to begin with, and so on and so on. Meanwhile, the husband looks at her and slowly turns down the volume on his hearing aid, until there is silence. And that ends "Revolutionary Road."
Uplifting, huh? Why, you might be asking yourself, would I want to engage my time in such a heavy, depressing movie? I'll get into that more in my follow-up post. But let me leave you for now with this question: What do you think is the solution for the real-life Wheelers out there? Because in one way or another, whether we live in Paris or Alaska or Los Angeles, whether we are incredibly poor or really rich, whether we cure a disease or homeschool our kids, we are all the Wheelers in one way or another, or at least we all start out that way.
To be continued...
First- the review, or perhaps it's more of a synopsis and how it bares on my own life. Therefore, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW! "Revolutionary Road" came out recently on dvd, and it was the first pairing of Kate Winslet and Leo (I call him Leo) DiCaprio since they starred in "Titanic" together. The reason I was drawn to the film is how similar the themes sounded to themes I've experienced in my own life. It is about the Wheelers, a married couple in the 50's who move to the suburbs and are basically destroyed by the emptiness they come to associate with their mundane, typical lifestyle. As I watched previews for this movie, I strongly empathized with the idea of finding yourself suddenly living a life separate from the one you had envisioned. At one point, April, played by Winslet, says, "I saw a whole other future. I can't stop seeing it."
April is an aspiring actress when she meets her husband, Frank. Next thing you know, they are married and have two kids. They have moved to the suburbs to a place on Revolutionary Road, hence the name. They moved because that's what people do when they have kids, right? You can't raise kids in the city, right? They always thought of themselves as a special couple, who would do something big- something DIFFERENT- with their lives, and they have both become miserable in the life they have chosen. Frank soon starts an affair to try to fill the void.
Eventually, April gets it into her head that the solution to all their problems is for them to move with their children to Paris. This is where Frank said he had been the most alive, when he had been there before, and he always wanted to go back. April says she will work over there and he can take time to discover what he wants to do with his life- what will make him happy. Kate Winslet, as usual, delivers a stellar performance, as her desperation to escape the mundane is always just barely contained, keeping you dreading the moment when the plan will surely fall apart, not knowing what she might do when it does.
And, of course, it does. She discovers she is pregnant, and sees her unborn baby as an impediment to getting to what she thinks will really make her happy- moving to Paris. Meanwhile, Frank has been promoted and offered a lot more money, and his dedication to the move is already being tested. When he discovers his wife's condition and her desire to abort the baby, and sees her attitude of motherhood in general being a mistake for her, which apparently he had somehow missed all along, he is horrified and tells her the trip is off.
The rest of the movie is a devastating series of events which show the result of Frank's continuous deliberate self-delusion, and April's final acceptance of the fact that she is in a life she neither wants, nor can leave. She does leave, though, through the unholy act of killing her baby and herself in the process. I personally wanted to see them get to Paris with all their kids and live there for a while, only to find themselves in basically the same state of spiritual and emotional bankruptcy they had endured in the States. But, alas, the writer went in a different direction. It gets to the same point, though.
One of the interesting aspects of this film is that there seem to be no characters who find the answer to filling the "emptiness" and "hopelessness" which pervade their lives. One character- one of their neighbors who recently spent time in an asylum- is the only one besides the Wheelers who actually admits to the harsh reality of reality, but he can offer no solution. The rest simply find less drastic, but no more effective ways to deal with these feelings, which they cannot afford to admit to themselves.
An older couple on the block, in the final scene of the movie, sits together in their house speaking of the Wheelers. The wife, played by Kathy Bates, drones on about how they were never suitable to take that house to begin with, and so on and so on. Meanwhile, the husband looks at her and slowly turns down the volume on his hearing aid, until there is silence. And that ends "Revolutionary Road."
Uplifting, huh? Why, you might be asking yourself, would I want to engage my time in such a heavy, depressing movie? I'll get into that more in my follow-up post. But let me leave you for now with this question: What do you think is the solution for the real-life Wheelers out there? Because in one way or another, whether we live in Paris or Alaska or Los Angeles, whether we are incredibly poor or really rich, whether we cure a disease or homeschool our kids, we are all the Wheelers in one way or another, or at least we all start out that way.
To be continued...
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Win a Copy of Words Unspoken (Reviewed)
If you read Monday's interview with author Elizabeth Musser, you know that her latest book is titled Words Unspoken. In my humble opinion, it's her best yet, and I say that with confidence having read all her others.
I dare you to put it down after the prologue--the sudden hailstorm on the Interstate, the nervous young driver, and the freakish accident that sets the rest of the events in motion.
Chapter one begins with the aftermath of that incident. Bright, high-achieving Lissa Randall's life has come to a standstill as a result of the wreck that took her mother's life--and because of the voices in her head that constantly tell her she's a failure and guilty. Those voices have basically trapped her in her home. She's unable to drive, unable to take any risks, unable to start college. The only thing that seems to motivate her is a desire to be able to drive and see the mysterious "Caleb," someone who apparently needs her desperately. But after once again failing the test to get her driver's license reinstated, Lissa hits rock bottom. In a moment of despair, she comes close to swallowing a handful of pills and ending it all, but instead decides to grasp at one remaining hope, a driving instructor named Ev McAllister who has been recommended to her. Lissa phones Ev MacAllister, a wise old man who seems to offer driving lessons as a ministry to troubled young people like herself. And so begins one of the most important relationships of Lissa's life.
The only part of Words Unspoken that might give you a problem is the second chapter--at least, if you're not expecting it. The story seems to be about Lissa and Ev and the driving lessons, but then in chapter two, we're introduced rapid-fire to several characters that seem unconnected to the pair or each other. There's a young missionary in France who has just lost her son, a wheeling-and-dealing stockbroker, an ambitious young man at a publishing company, and a socialite in the midst of a divorce. If you're not expecting the shift or if you don't like multiple points of view, you might feel a little lost. But trust me, the payoffs start to come soon as you discover, bit by bit, the fantastic story that connects all these threads and all these people.
One of those threads involves a sub-plot about a famous author named Stella Green, a reclusive woman who has published numerous best-sellers and received critical acclaim but who refuses to reveal her true identity, grant interviews or allow herself to be photographed. No one knows who she really is or why she's hiding her identity, but bit by bit we see that Stella Green's story touches all the other disparate characters in the book.
Some of the central characters are kind and giving, some are grasping and ambitious, but they all have another thing in common: the voices in their heads. We come to see that the ones who appear so noble may be trying to make up for some misdeed in their past, and the ones who seem so loutish on the outside are fighting their own mental battles.
Another unique feature of Elizabeth's novels is that they are "recent historicals." This one takes place in 1987, which may seem like a totally random date to you young folks. But to me I remember being very insecure in my job in 1987 and quite fearful of the future because of the stock market crash. So I figured that crisis was probably looming for these characters, too. As Elizabeth has mentioned in her interviews, she had no idea when she was writing just how timely this subject would be.
I suppose you've figured by now that I highly recommend this book. The characters and settings are rich and you'll keep turning the pages to pick up clues and try to piece together the mysteries.
I'll end with some good news. I'm giving away a copy of Words Unspoken! If I've gotten you interested, be sure to post a comment and let me know you'd like to be entered into the drawing . I'll announce the winner next week.
I dare you to put it down after the prologue--the sudden hailstorm on the Interstate, the nervous young driver, and the freakish accident that sets the rest of the events in motion.
Chapter one begins with the aftermath of that incident. Bright, high-achieving Lissa Randall's life has come to a standstill as a result of the wreck that took her mother's life--and because of the voices in her head that constantly tell her she's a failure and guilty. Those voices have basically trapped her in her home. She's unable to drive, unable to take any risks, unable to start college. The only thing that seems to motivate her is a desire to be able to drive and see the mysterious "Caleb," someone who apparently needs her desperately. But after once again failing the test to get her driver's license reinstated, Lissa hits rock bottom. In a moment of despair, she comes close to swallowing a handful of pills and ending it all, but instead decides to grasp at one remaining hope, a driving instructor named Ev McAllister who has been recommended to her. Lissa phones Ev MacAllister, a wise old man who seems to offer driving lessons as a ministry to troubled young people like herself. And so begins one of the most important relationships of Lissa's life.
The only part of Words Unspoken that might give you a problem is the second chapter--at least, if you're not expecting it. The story seems to be about Lissa and Ev and the driving lessons, but then in chapter two, we're introduced rapid-fire to several characters that seem unconnected to the pair or each other. There's a young missionary in France who has just lost her son, a wheeling-and-dealing stockbroker, an ambitious young man at a publishing company, and a socialite in the midst of a divorce. If you're not expecting the shift or if you don't like multiple points of view, you might feel a little lost. But trust me, the payoffs start to come soon as you discover, bit by bit, the fantastic story that connects all these threads and all these people.
One of those threads involves a sub-plot about a famous author named Stella Green, a reclusive woman who has published numerous best-sellers and received critical acclaim but who refuses to reveal her true identity, grant interviews or allow herself to be photographed. No one knows who she really is or why she's hiding her identity, but bit by bit we see that Stella Green's story touches all the other disparate characters in the book.
Some of the central characters are kind and giving, some are grasping and ambitious, but they all have another thing in common: the voices in their heads. We come to see that the ones who appear so noble may be trying to make up for some misdeed in their past, and the ones who seem so loutish on the outside are fighting their own mental battles.
Another unique feature of Elizabeth's novels is that they are "recent historicals." This one takes place in 1987, which may seem like a totally random date to you young folks. But to me I remember being very insecure in my job in 1987 and quite fearful of the future because of the stock market crash. So I figured that crisis was probably looming for these characters, too. As Elizabeth has mentioned in her interviews, she had no idea when she was writing just how timely this subject would be.
I suppose you've figured by now that I highly recommend this book. The characters and settings are rich and you'll keep turning the pages to pick up clues and try to piece together the mysteries.
I'll end with some good news. I'm giving away a copy of Words Unspoken! If I've gotten you interested, be sure to post a comment and let me know you'd like to be entered into the drawing . I'll announce the winner next week.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Review: The Girl Who Stopped Swimming
I did something truly bizarre last week. I read a current book of fiction--something that's actually popular right now.
I'm always playing catch-up, not just with laundry and dust-bunnies, but with popular culture. I generally get excited about books that other people read years ago. But a couple of weeks ago, a colleague recommended a book called The Girl Who Stopped Swimming, by Joshilyn Jackson. In fact, she handed it to me, or I probably still wouldn't have gone out and looked for it. I opened it up and this was the first sentence: "Until the drowned girl came to Laurel's bedroom, ghosts had never walked in Victorianna."
Whoa! That's my kind of beginning. I'm not into the occult and don't like books that dwell on that sort of thing, but I love a little creepiness right around the edges. And the ghosts in this book are more of the literary sort--kind of like Hamlet's father, who shows up to make Hamlet realize there's something rotten in Denmark.
The ghost of Molly, whose body is found floating in Laurel's swimming pool, seems to be making a similar point. After all, how did a thirteen-year-old girl end up dead in Laurel's yard in the middle of the night? Why was she even in their back yard? Does Laurel's own thirteen-year-old daughter have anything to do with it? Laurel's husband? Is there a pervert sheltering in one of the neighborhood's pretty Victorian homes?
Laurel doesn't feel she has the emotional stamina to pursue these questions, so she calls in her bold, unconventional sister to help her investigate. As they interact, it becomes apparent that this isn't the first violent death in their family, or the first ghost to try to draw Laurel's attention.
Although the story kept me turning the pages from start to finish, I was afraid I saw exactly where this book was going. Victorianna is a pleasant suburb where people seem content with their jobs and families and traditional lives--including Laurel and her family--but I've read enough books that start with a premise like that. Based on past experience, I expected Laurel to realize how shallow that life is, what a sham her marriage is, how unsatisfying it is to be just a mother.
Laurel's sister, Thalia, certainly seems determined to draw Laurel to that conclusion. So I braced myself for the finish--and was pleasantly surprised. I can't say much more without giving away all the delicious twists and surprises, but just let me say I found the ending to be positive and satisfying.
Even so, I have to warn you that this is most definitely a secular book. As I mentioned, I don't read a lot of current, secular fiction so the foul language and sexual references that occasionally sprang up jarred me. If you're trying to stay away from that sort of thing altogether, you might want to give this one a miss.
I'm glad I read The Girl Who Stopped Swimming because it reminds me of the theme and structure of one of my works-in-progress, and it's quite well-written. It weaves in the secrets from the past with a current crisis in a seamless way. It also breaks some rules that I, too, would love to flaunt. For example, that opening that I loved is in the much-maligned omniscient point of view. Oh, and have you writers ever heard the "rule" that you can't give back-story until page 35? Jackson begins the back story in the second paragraph. And it works! In fact, both these devices made the story richer to me--and I want to learn to do that.
I'm always playing catch-up, not just with laundry and dust-bunnies, but with popular culture. I generally get excited about books that other people read years ago. But a couple of weeks ago, a colleague recommended a book called The Girl Who Stopped Swimming, by Joshilyn Jackson. In fact, she handed it to me, or I probably still wouldn't have gone out and looked for it. I opened it up and this was the first sentence: "Until the drowned girl came to Laurel's bedroom, ghosts had never walked in Victorianna."
Whoa! That's my kind of beginning. I'm not into the occult and don't like books that dwell on that sort of thing, but I love a little creepiness right around the edges. And the ghosts in this book are more of the literary sort--kind of like Hamlet's father, who shows up to make Hamlet realize there's something rotten in Denmark.
The ghost of Molly, whose body is found floating in Laurel's swimming pool, seems to be making a similar point. After all, how did a thirteen-year-old girl end up dead in Laurel's yard in the middle of the night? Why was she even in their back yard? Does Laurel's own thirteen-year-old daughter have anything to do with it? Laurel's husband? Is there a pervert sheltering in one of the neighborhood's pretty Victorian homes?
Laurel doesn't feel she has the emotional stamina to pursue these questions, so she calls in her bold, unconventional sister to help her investigate. As they interact, it becomes apparent that this isn't the first violent death in their family, or the first ghost to try to draw Laurel's attention.
Although the story kept me turning the pages from start to finish, I was afraid I saw exactly where this book was going. Victorianna is a pleasant suburb where people seem content with their jobs and families and traditional lives--including Laurel and her family--but I've read enough books that start with a premise like that. Based on past experience, I expected Laurel to realize how shallow that life is, what a sham her marriage is, how unsatisfying it is to be just a mother.
Laurel's sister, Thalia, certainly seems determined to draw Laurel to that conclusion. So I braced myself for the finish--and was pleasantly surprised. I can't say much more without giving away all the delicious twists and surprises, but just let me say I found the ending to be positive and satisfying.
Even so, I have to warn you that this is most definitely a secular book. As I mentioned, I don't read a lot of current, secular fiction so the foul language and sexual references that occasionally sprang up jarred me. If you're trying to stay away from that sort of thing altogether, you might want to give this one a miss.
I'm glad I read The Girl Who Stopped Swimming because it reminds me of the theme and structure of one of my works-in-progress, and it's quite well-written. It weaves in the secrets from the past with a current crisis in a seamless way. It also breaks some rules that I, too, would love to flaunt. For example, that opening that I loved is in the much-maligned omniscient point of view. Oh, and have you writers ever heard the "rule" that you can't give back-story until page 35? Jackson begins the back story in the second paragraph. And it works! In fact, both these devices made the story richer to me--and I want to learn to do that.
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