esprit de l'escalier

Impromptu book club

The lovely Miss Andrea of Scout has started a new blogging venture - Book Scout - devoted to her love of books. She currently has a post up about reading aloud that got me a bit misty. I only seem to read aloud to small children, and the occasional article or passage I feel the need to share. I love the connection of reading aloud though. Lately, I have had the luxury of reading and discussing at length some books I've read with a couple of girl friends.

It started sometime in January, or very possibly before because time has become a bit unhinged for me lately, when my friend Julie and I realized that we had checked out the same books from the library. It seems we both found the New York Review of Books imprint appealing and zeroed in on the same three books (two by Elaine Dundy and one by Tove Jansson). A sort of impromptu book club was born.

While we never sat down to officially discuss Dundy's books, we chatted about them in passing several times. We read them in opposite order and ended up liking the opposite ones better. She preferred the black comedy The Old Man and Me and I preferred the frothy The Dud Avocado. We liked both, don't get me wrong. Rather, I just wanted to be in fun romp through 1950s Paris, via The Dud Avocado. In his introduction, Terry Teachout said something about how it was a book you'll press on your friends. I plan on doing just that. I love Dundy's gift for dialogue and she had a way of putting things that is unique, true and absolutely hilarious. It was just what I needed to get through the snowy depths of February. Which ever book we preferred, we agreed that Elaine Dundy seemed like one hell of a woman. I wish I could have met her.

The third book we read was Tove Jansson's The True Deceiver. Our friend B ended up reading it too, so we decided we'd formalize our book group and meet up over dinner to discuss it. Jansson is the Finnish author/artist who is best known for her Moomin characters. The True Deceiver is a character study that takes place in a small Finnish village during one winter. It's about human interactions - group thought and interpersonal relationships, deception, community, and self-awareness. I joked that every time someone asked me about what I was reading that it was about Finnish winter. It was not quite that bleak, but it was fairly stark.

What I loved about our discussion of the Jansson book was how we each had completely differently opinions and reactions to the characters. It was probably very telling in each of our reactions, but the discussion gave me a fuller understanding and appreciation of the text. It also reminded me of why I missed English classes.

Our second official book was a pick by me - Fifth Business by Robertson Davies. I read the book three years ago, but it struck a deep seated love of Davies. It is the first in a triology, which I quickly finished, and then I went on to devour several other of his books. I have suggested the book to others to read, but I really have wanted a chance to discuss it in length. I am so glad I did. Davies is such a fun, multi-layered writer. He's funny, fully develops interesting characters and senses of place, all the while dealing with metaphysical topics of humanity and religion. I love him dearly. With Fifth Business, there is so much subtext with mythology and saints, and I was lucky that one of my co-readers did a bunch of research as she read, and explained a bunch of the hidden meanings behind the characters names and whatnot. 

In the end, re-reading the book makes me want to re-read what I have read of Davies, and more of his cannon. Actually, he's someone that I've been meaning to post about at length. I have notes from several years ago for just this, and I may do so soon. What are you all reading or can suggest?

Books not from my youth

I decided, when I graduated six months ago, that I was going to read books that I should have read when I was younger, but some how missed them in my frequent visits to the library. (Fun fact, I grew up five houses down from a magnificent suburban public library. It was huge and I spent many, many hours there reading and goofing off.) This was originally inspired by Lance Mannion and his endless prattlings about Terry Pratchett's Discworld. (I kid, Lance, I kid.) I decided that once I had some free time, I would see what the fuss was about. But I don't actually have much to say about Discworld at this juncture, except that I want to explore more of it. I've decided to read storylines in order, and I've started with Rincewind, the somewhat lovable loser and failed wizard who reminds me a bit of Arthur Dent. I've only read two books so far, but there is much to explore.

This endeavor was also somewhat inspired by my reading Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones when I was about 24. I stayed up all night and read it in one go. Right, 24 was quite some time ago, but it resonated with me. You see, I have a deep and abiding love for young adult fantasy books that started when I was in elementary school. They are my ultimate escape. I do not keep up with the genre, but will turn to them from time to time. Hence this little foray.

When I started in on the Discworld books, I also started in on one of Jones's series, the Chrestomanci series. And because those six books handily come in three volumes, I've read them faster. In fact, I've just finished the last book last night. (There are some short stories I have yet to read, but the novels are now done.) I really, really liked this series. Chrestomanci is a title for the most powerful enchanter in this universe, where there are multiple worlds and multiple variations of those worlds. (There are nine sets of worlds, with nine worlds in a set.) The Chrestomanci has nine lives, which is unique, and can be summoned, not unlike Beetlejuice, by calling his name three times. He is the magical arbiter and tries to keep magic users from abusing their powers.

What I really liked about this series is that Jones doesn't want you to read them in internal order. I like that she jumps around time and gives us only glimpses into this world. It gives me the feeling of a world teeming of possibilities. Instead of the plotlines directly relying on what came before: first A lead to B that lead to C, it gives us a variation that must free her up to noodle about anywhere in the timeline. The characters are strong and well-written and I like this approach. It reminds me a little of why I like Doctor Who so much. Yes, the seasons for that show have connections between each episodes, but there is the possibility for so much that we don't see. There is life to those characters when we're not watching, and adventures had. I love that. I love the feeling that there is more than what we see. It makes the possibilities feel truly endless.

If you are interested in YA fantasy books and want a bit of an escape, I encourage you to dive into either Pratchett or Jones's worlds. They are rich and worthy of your discovery. I've slowly been giving my 11 year old cousin (who happens to share the same taste in books I had at her age) some of my favorites in this genre. It's so much fun to discuss them with her.

More Nick Hornby

Yesterday I went to the library to pick up some books I had on reserve. I found it fitting to find the newest John Irving tucked in with a couple of Nick Hornby's. When I was in my late teens, end of high school/early college, I went on a John Irving tear. I've done this many times, getting into an author or a film director and gobble up anything I can. I have a feeling I'm starting one with Hornby.

In fact, I saw An Education on Sunday, for which Hornby wrote the screenplay. It's getting buzz due to the marvelous performance by the star Carey Mulligan. I've been keeping my eye on her since she was in Bleak House a couple of years back. She was also Kitty in Joe Wright's Pride and Prejudice and the wonderfully named Sally Sparrow in one of my favorite Doctor Who episodes.

I enjoyed An Education. It's one of those movies I feel was made for me. It's full of actors I love and it's an English period piece. I'm such a sucker for those. Mulligan plays a 16 year old in 1962 London who gets swept up by an older man. I giggled uncomfortably through some of it, because I can see how and why she gets caught up, but I kept waiting for the shoe to drop. Mulligan is wonderful. And I want the soundtrack. All in all, I give it a thumbs up.

Oh, you know. All sorts.

"I do. I love music. But..."

"What are you into, then?"

"Oh, you know. All sorts."

"Like what?"

This, she thought, was unbearable. Did this question still come up, after all these years? Clearly it did, and clearly it became harder to answer as you got older.

From Juliet, Naked, by Nick Hornby. It's always funny when you read a passage in your book and it mirrors something you just discussed. The rest of that paragraph is good, but very long. It's about her realization that she no longer has the framework to describe her musical tastes - especially with people who may not have the same arts background as her. I stayed up too late finishing this book last night. It was excellent.

Although I haven't read many of Hornby's novels, I have read the compilations of his columns from the Believer magazine on reading and loved them. I like the way he writes about books and music, two things I don't think are very easy to write about.

I don't feel like writing a whole review of this book. It's about our connections to music and art, how the internet changes our abilities to find like-minded people, fandom, and inertia in a way. The story is told from three perspectives: the reclusive musician whose career stopped 22 years ago, the obsessive fan and expert on said musician, the fed up long-term girlfriend of said fan. All in all, I thought it was a very satisfying read.

The Resurgence of the Undead

The undead are everywhere these days - vampires are all over television, movie screens, and book covers. Zombies are having a moment in the sun, as it were, too. Jane Austen got ravaged by a zombie hoard, as did America in Zombieland. As someone who read Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles at a probably too young age and who was an early fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I get the appeal of vampires. It's sex, right? I mean, yes, good vs. evil, etc. But when it boils down to it, vampires are about sex. But I never really got zombies.

Now, having recently finished reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and recently seen Zombieland, I think I get it. Zombies seem to be about gore. I might be missing something, as I am not well versed in zombie fiction. In fact, I think the first real zombie movie I've ever seen was Shaun of the Dead, but it remains my favorite. All three of these examples also deal with the silliness of the undead. Sure they are trying to eat your brains, but zombies are pretty silly with their shuffled walking and moaning. And maybe zombies are just a way of giving humans an opportunity to kick some ass.

I enjoyed Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, although it was pretty silly in and of itself. In this alternate reality, the Bennett girls have been trained in the deadly arts by their father and even went to China to train. (Although this shows their social status, as the true elite go to Japan to study - something Elizabeth is derided for throughout the book.) I especially liked the slow demise of poor Charlotte, and the understandable way that throughout the story people would politely vomit into handkerchiefs and napkins. It was never explained, but I assumed that with the undead about, good society will ignore the occasional queasiness.

I also thought Zombieland was good fun. Gory, yes, but funny and entertaining. The characters are known by their hometowns, and everyone in the theater shouted with glee when Jesse Eisenberg's character said he was from Columbus, Ohio (where we were all watching it). Of course, the feeling was slightly different when we heard our hometown's fate. I really like Eisenberg as an actor, but I felt like some of the early scenes were written for Michael Cera. Last month, Gawker joked about who the next "hoodie heartthrob" would be after Cera, and from some of this movie I can see why. I think I am not alone in getting tired of seeing stereotypical Michael Cera characters. 

All in all, though, Zombieland is a fun ride, even if there isn't much of a plot. I liked Columbus's rules for surviving zombies and they were a nice line that connected everything. Woody Harrelson is great and the cameo by Bill Murray is hilarious. It seems he has yet to outstay his welcome.

Waiting for good news

(Ominous title, no? It's not like that, I swear.)

I have recently returned to my old bookworm ways. Grad school severely hindered my reading for pleasure habits. When I was living in Chicago and commuting by rail, I was in a reader's heaven. I had a solid two hours of daily reading to myself, if I could tune out the huddle masses in the train car. (Which, of course, any seasoned commuter via public transport can do.)

Reading for school and commuting by car almost destroyed my pleasure reading. About once a quarter, but probably less, I would gorge myself on a novel, putting off my homework and reading into the night. I would never quite regret it, although those binges always set me back. Since regaining my autonomy, I have been a little slow to return to my reading. Lately, though, I have rediscovered my voracious reading appetite, as evidenced by the rotating stack of books next to my bed.

I am currently house/cat sitting for friends of my parents and I took a lazy Sunday on their couch and read Kate Atkinson's latest, When Will There Be Good News? (Whose title I'm riffing on for this post.) It reunites her readers with her reluctant private detective, Jackson Brodie. He first turned up in Case Histories, the first Atkinson I read. This is his third book, and like the others, it is in no way a standard private eye story. People are lost and sought, but it feels less boxed in by the standard genre. Her Brodie books feel less like mysteries (though they are), and more like excellent stories that involve a mystery of some sort. They feel more like life than an Agatha Christie or a Raymond Chandler.

Her characters are all survivors of something tragic, an accident or a horrific murder. These stories are about moving forward through even more loss. Bad, nasty, sometimes random things happen to good people, but Atkinson tells us about the strength people find to move forward (or not). She does it all the while showing us the humor and absurdity in everyday life. Her books, especially the Jackson Brodie ones, are hard to put down. They always include several parallel stories lines end that up colliding in a satisfying way.

I really love Atkinson as a writer. Her voice is distinctively feminine and British. I've also read her first book, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, and Human Croquet, both of which employ a magical realist touch. I would suggest all of them.

Hiding in the Spotlight

I wake up to NPR in the mornings. On the weekends, if I hear something interesting, I'll let it play instead of hitting snooze and slowly wake up, listening to a story unfold. Saturday I did this with an interview with Diane Rehm. (My favorite part was her story about how Julia Child responded to her question about how Child keeps up her energy. Child quipped she ate well, "red meat and gin.")

I left the radio playing and bolted awake with the next story, Hiding In Spotlight. Not only was the story a good one, but the interview was with my good friend Aimee's Dad and Grandmother, Greg and Zhanna Dawson.

Aimee's Grandmother and her great aunt escaped Nazi death marches in the Ukraine in 1941. Both were gifted musicians; Zhanna was a piano prodigy. They changed their names and were presumed dead. (In fact their names are included on walls of the dead in Israel and Ukraine.) They survived much of the war by playing music, and often for German soldiers. Scott Simon, who was interviewing them, asked her if playing for the Nazis scared her. Her response was interesting. She said she was more afraid of people she knew recognizing her than she was the soldiers.

Eventually they were able to get to America. Zhanna went to Julliard and ended up teaching at Indiana University. (Which is where I met Aimee.)

Aimee's Dad, Greg, is a columnist with the Orlando Sentinel. He recently published a book about Zhanna's escape and life during the war. The NPR piece has reminded me that I have the time now to read it and should do so. Listen to the interview (and read an excerpt) here. More information about the book here. Buy it here.

Heart (part 1)

The weather continues to be wacko around here, but I'm looking forward to the purported 70 degree weather tomorrow. Has anyone else been watching Flight of the Conchords this season? Because I *love* the song above. It's from an episode directed by Michel Gondry. How could I not love it?

I happened to catch Writer's Almanac on Tuesday, just in time to hear the poem "Late Winter Rains" by Amber Coverdale Sumrall. Lance has been talking this week about reading aloud, and I had just heard this poem, which is gorgeous by the way. I encourage a listen. I think poetry should be heard.

Not only is the weather getting better, but I've got three trips ahead of me. I'm off to Charleston over my break with some old friends. I can't wait for a break from school, hanging out by the beach - even if it's cold - and taking some photographs. In early April I'm going to Chicago to see Andrew Bird with Natasha. Over my birthday I'm heading to Minneapolis for a week to visit family and go to a professional conference. It just so happens that M. Ward is playing and I'm going to meet up with a friend/old professor to see the show. I cannot wait. 

As an extra treat, here's an awesome video that Bird did with my favorite post-apocalyptic marching band, Mucca Pazza. God does this video make me miss the Hideout.

Andrew Bird with Mucca Pazza - "Fitz & The Dizzyspells”

More things that I am loving Monday. Have a good weekend!

Poetry for you

My ex-roommate, the lovely Miss Natasha, is trying to pull the strings around here. Which is just as well, since I have been remiss in my blogging the past week or so. (I am blogging in such fits and starts lately, I apologize. I am spending more time on Flickr, and I invite you there to see some photos.)

She tells me to add this project to my blog, so I shall.  It fits in nicely with our celebration of Robert Burns' birthday (which was this weekend - his birthday not the celebration, our celebration is happening this Saturday).  Natasha is a poetry enthusiast, which is an excellent quality in a friend, because she is always sending me lovely gifts via email.  This project is called American Life in Poetry and was initiated by former Poet Laureate Ted Kooser.  It's sort of like The Writer's Almanac for newspapers. American Life in Poetry is a weekly newspaper column featuring a contemporary poet, with an introduction by Kooser.  It is supported by the Poetry Foundation and the Library of Congress.

The archived poems can be found here.  Treat yourself to a little poetry today.

Burns Night is coming up

A Winter Night

by Robert Burns

When biting Boreas, fell and doure,

Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r;

When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r,

         Far south the lift,

Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r,

         Or whirling drift:

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,

Poor Labour sweet in sleep was locked,

While burns, wi' snawy wreeths upchoked,

         Wild-eddying swirl,

Or thro' the mining outlet bocked,

         Down headlong hurl.

List'ning, the doors an' winnocks rattle,

I thought me on the ourie cattle,

Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle

         O' winter war,

And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle,

         Beneath a scar.

Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing!

That, in the merry months o' spring,

Delighted me to hear thee sing,

         What comes o' thee?

Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing

         An' close thy e'e?

Ev'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd,

Lone from your savage homes exil'd,

The blood-stain'd roost, and sheep-cote spoil'd

         My heart forgets,

While pityless the tempest wild

         Sore on you beats.