I can't believe there's actually a word for that

Asylum
Patrick McGrath

It's interesting how an author can create a character so repulsive, and yet, still somehow kinda hot. That's all I could think about when reading Asylum, which centers on one woman's obsession with an inmate in her husband's mental hospital.

Stella Raphael is clearly a friggin moron. Despite being married to the asylum's deputy superintendent, she becomes obsessed with a patient named Edgar Stark, who, as an artist on work detail, has been given the job of restoring a old building on Raphael's property. To be fair, though, I could feel Stark's hotness emanating through the pages. I guess you can't blame a girl for throwing away a perfectly stable life for a lunatic artist who beheaded and enuculated his wife in a jealous rage. Right? right.

(Vocab alert! Enuculate means to remove the eyes. Even the word sounds all squishy. Eyeballs = teh grossness.) And yet...there's still something about Edgar.

Asylum is narrated by Dr. Cleave, another of the asylum's doctors. Dr. Cleave might be one of the most fascinating narrators I've encountered in awhile. His observations are astute, sly, and subtle. I just learned that Sir Ian McKellan played him in the recent movie adaptation of the novel, and I couldn't have thought of a better fit.

Cleave's point of view allows readers to simultaneously enjoy both an objective and a highly biased perspective, and Cleave's voice is one that subtly develops over the course of the novel. His narration is one of the novel's strengths, even in areas that lagged. I found Asylum so intriguing that I carted it everywhere I went, reading it even at the expense of appearing rude (like during a meeting between my husband, myself, and the bank. Oh well.)

In a nutshell: It's clear from the beginning that Asylum won't end well, but McGrath manages to retain both suspense and surprise in this fast-paced and thrilling novel.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

For shame!

The Guardian has just posted a books quiz of 2008 that gauges how well you've been following this year's book news. I took this quiz with a swagger, confident I'd pull out an ace score.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Out of a possible 33, I scored a 17. I am deeply ashamed.

To see how you fare, click here, then return and let me know how you've done. Hopefully you fare better than I did.

An ugly whatchacallit and I stand united against false comparisons

Winterwood
Patrick McCabe

Perhaps delayed reviewing is making me a more demanding reviewer, one not so easily pleased. Had I reviewed McCabe's Winterwood immediately after finishing it, I'd probably rate it more highly. Some time has passed, however, and I'm finding myself pretty disappointed by the book.

Winterwood is narrated (unreliably, as soon becomes clear) by Redmond Hatch, who returns to his Irish village seeking to uncover local legends and traditions. There he finds "Auld Pappie Ned," just the man to help Redmond remember all that he seeks to find -- and all that he'd rather keep hidden, as well.

The novel moves both forward and backward in time, and as the novel progresses we simultaneously anticipate Ned's final revelation as well as our narrator's own little surprise.

Unfortunately, it was pretty clear from the beginning where the book was headed, and although a few elements were truly surprising, the heart of the novel was too easily anticipated, leaving me feeling more than a little unsatisfied. The inside jacket describes this book as a "rare hybrid of literary fiction and the most terrifying thriller; not since Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian has there been a story of such horror combined with writing of such beauty."

Hm.

Literary fiction? Absolutely.

Terrifying thriller? Welll...thriller, yes. Terrifying, no.

But as beautiful and horrible as Blood Meridian!?!?

Good day, sir. I said GOOD DAY.

this ugly whatchacallit clearly agrees

In a nutshell: Disturbing, yes, but ultimately disappointing.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

Be not hasty in judgment, O Bibliolatrist

The Interloper
Antoine Wilson

Mr. Wilson, I owe you an apology. See, I had been really intrigued by the premise of The Interloper, but something put me off. That something?

Your name.

Allow me to explain.

A quick overview of The Interloper's plot is enough to convince anyone that the novel has promise. It concerns average ol' Owen Patterson and his quest to avenge the murder of his brother-in-law. Unfortunately, I had recently read The Power of Flies, a very French (read: depressing) novel, and, well, your name sounds French. Therefore, I thought The Interloper would get all heavy, all philosophical in an existentialism-is-so-hot sorta way, and quite frankly I didn't want to deal with it, so I ignored you and your book.

Well, slap my ass and call me Betsy, cause The Interloper was simply fabulous, darling. A hefty 250+ pages, it took only hours to read.

Owen's plan to avenge the death of his brother-in-law is so fascinating that it's impossible to stop reading once he unfolds his idea. It's not that Owen really misses his brother-in-law (he hardly knew him), but rather that the murder has had some pretty adverse effects on his life. His wife has become a ghost of herself, and Owen feels like an outsider when with his in-laws, all too aware of the hole he cannot fill. The murderer, Henry Joseph Raven, sits in prison, but Owen knows this isn't enough.

To punish Raven adequately, Owen sets out to create the ingredients necessary to force Raven to truly understand what he has done. To achieve this end, Owen writes as Lily Hazelton, a lovely, lonely young lady who decides to reach out and write to an incarcerated man. Owen plans to slowly seduce, then abandon, Raven. Soon, Raven will know just how it feels to lose someone you deeply love.

I especially enjoyed how Wilson subtly alludes to the story's resolution, but he never fully tips his hand. The novel's end is both expected and surprising, both brilliant and satisfying.

In a nutshell: Sorry for judging your book by your name, dude.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

An interview with Karen Harrington

Janeology
Karen Harrington

Today I'm pleased to announce that author Karen Harrington has agreed to answer my not-so-original questions about reading and writing. Harrington has written Janeology, and you may visit her website to learn more about her and her novel.


1. How does your reading life influence your writing life?

Very much. Many times when I'm reading a book, the way an author structures his/her book gives me an idea about how to structure a piece I'm working on. For example, after reading Susan Vreeland's Girl in Hyacinth Blue, I felt empowered to include a series of linked family stories in the novel. Reading her book and seeing how it worked made me realize a story like that could be done successfully. At other times, another person's writing just underscores why I love to write in the first place. For this reason, so many of my books have sentences underlined in them or pages dog-eared.


2. What book inspires your "writerly envy" – that is, which book do you wish you had written yourself? Why?

Ten years ago, my answer would have been A Farewell To Armsby Hemingway. That particular story was, and is, so lean and realistic. His style stayed with me for a long time until I realized that, as a reader, I liked stories with a little more meat on the bones. About a year ago, I read Durable Goods by Elizabeth Berg. Right now, that is the book I wish I had written. There’s something very conversational about Berg's writing, as if she is actually telling you a story over a cup of coffee. It reads so easily and simple, with just the right amount of purple prose, which is how you know it was a very hard piece to write.


3. Which classic stands as an example of all that you dislike in writing?

I can't really think of anything that stands out in this way. Of course, I read many of the classics in school and not all of them were inspiring and often they left me thinking, "Why is this book a classic?" Now that I've written a few books myself, I understand more about the challenge of just getting words down on paper in any order so I find that I'm allergic to severely disliking anyone's writing. I expect I may grow out of this allergy one day.


4. Which author, living or dead, has influenced you most? How?

As I mentioned in #2, Hemingway was a huge influence. Two of my favorite writing professors had a great affection for him and their enthusiasm was contagious. In those classes, I remember how all the writers broke down Hemingway's work and could see how lean it was, how it didn't get in the way of the story. Those rules of lean writing stayed with me through my years as a speechwriter and now as a novelist.


5. How do you write, with a paper and pen or with a computer? Does your method of writing change as your work progresses?

When I am outlining a story, I start with pen and paper. Then, I write exclusively on the computer. The method of writing doesn't change from draft to draft, but the location does. When I'm first starting a piece, I can write just about anywhere, with any music or distraction. When I'm really getting into the final drafts and working out the problems of the plot or an awkward passage, I find that I need to be in my house, alone.


6. Do you make time for both reading and writing each day? How do you juggle reading, writing, and motherhood?

I definitely write everyday, even if it's just a paragraph. I don't always make the time to read. I'm probably like most people who wish there was more time. As for the balance of roles between writing and motherhood, I am lucky this year that both my girls are in school three days a week. I have the luxury of fifteen hours a week to myself for the first time in five years, so I use this time exclusively to write and edit. And now that I'm a mother, I realize that I had time to write twenty-five novels! What did I do with all that time?


7. Speaking of reading and writing, which, if you had to choose, is more important to you? Which of the two could you not live without?

I'm going to do that thing with this question that no questioner likes and say "I can't answer this." The truth is that both are equally important to the writer. It's almost a "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" situation because reading is essential to the writer and the more good books you read, the more you want to write.


8. If you could own only three books for the rest of your life (not counting your own), what three books would you choose to keep? Why these three titles?

First would have to be a dictionary for all obvious reasons. I use a dictionary every time I write so I could not live without it. If we are talking strictly fiction, the first would Durable Goods by Elizabeth Berg because I’ve found it's one of the few books I want to read more than once. And for the same reason, I'd keep The English Patientby Michael Ondaatje – another book I've read several times. And last, Madame Bovaryfor its powerful language and story (and because I keep trying to write the modern version of this book).


9. Do you have any special "rituals" to prepare yourself to write? (For example, do you have to have a certain cd playing, or a certain drink in hand?)

For each new project, I do like to choose specific music that gets me into the story quickly. I find that music can get me into the writer mood faster than anything else. I usually create a soundtrack on iTunes for each project. And of course, I must have copious amounts of coffee!


10. Do you ever suffer from writer's block? If so, what techniques do you use to get through it?

I get asked this question a lot and, until I'm proven otherwise, I always say that I don't believe in writer's block. For me, this kind of block usually has to do with fear of something that prevents a writer from continuing. I love the quote from Sylvia Plath – "The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." I think this is so true. It's where the block comes from, which is why a creative person must believe in herself above all things. For me, if the story I'm working on is one that I'd like to read, that's all I need to keep going.


11. Which author inspires your idol-worship? Is there anyone you'd be absolutely gaga to meet in person?

I think it would be great to meet Stephen King – both as a writer and as a person. He seems to have remained very real and true throughout the years. I'd love to have a conversation with him about his career perspective and if he is ever truly satisfied with his work.


12. Beyond simply telling a good story, what do you see as a novel's most important function (or functions)?

When a reader is deeply engaged in a story, she is transported to another place and time. I think this is one of the great balms of life – to be able to get lost in a story and forget one's life for a few hours. Like other forms of entertainment, a book can offer escapism. And many brilliant novels also offer insight into life that may speak to someone's soul or offer them a new perspective. I like to believe that if at least one other person has imagined something and written about, then there must be something both private and universal about it that connects all people. That said, I don’t know if writers should necessarily be conscious of these functions while they are writing. They should just write because they want to personally see how a story turns out. But these ideas do tend to be the end result for readers.


13. Finally, it's an open-mike question. What would you like my readers to know about you and/or your work?

First, I hope readers would enjoy Janeology and be left with a hunger to know more about their own ancestors and family stories, because that was the curiosity that captured my attention as I was writing it. Now that the novel has been out for several months, I have a new perspective on that particular story (I'm still revising it in my head), the publishing business (it takes a certain personality to endure) and how I hope to develop as a writer. Among my favorite novelists, I've noticed that it is often his/her fourth or fifth novel that is the stellar, incredible book that makes me go back and read all the previous books to observe how they developed. Ever so humbly, I hope this is the path I am on.

Sunday Sonnet

LVI
by George Henry Boker


The lagging days crawl slowly to their end,
The weeks sum up in months, and glide away,
The jolly bells proclaim it New Year's Day,
As if they felt the wicked times would mend.
But I, alas! I see the old things wend
Under new names, with scarce a change, to say
How the fresh mortal differs from the clay
Over whose sins the pitying grasses bend.
So we, who boast our love of matchless height,
Might find like boasts were in their dusty bones;
And when beneath such dumb, sepulchral stones
Ourselves are laid forever out of sight,
Some pair may rob us of our sovereign right,
Some poet shame thy poet's tenerest tones.

A Boon of Books

Joy to the world -- a boon of books is mine this Christmas! Not surprisingly, I have no idea where to start, but start I will, even though it means ignoring the seven or so other titles I've already got underway. I'm good at juggling -- I can hack it.

Below are the titles I received yesterday (and a few I won't receive until next week). Please leave your thoughts as to those I should read first.


From husband:

From mom:

From gift certificates:

Any thoughts on which title I should honor by reading first?

too cold to cry when I woke up alone

DIRT: An American Campaign
Mark LaFlamme

Today I have the pleasure of hosting Dirt: An American Campaign, as part of Mark LaFlamme's virtual blog tour. I try to be extremely picky when agreeing to participate in blog tours, because I'd hate to write a negative review and yet I'd hate to lie and say I liked a turd.

Any wariness was immediately erased by the premise of the novel -- the son of a White House contender breaks into the cemetery and steals the body of his wife, then runs off with her -- which told me I wouldn't have to worry about writing a bad review.

My intuition was sound, because Dirt was a great read. The novel is fast-paced, and LaFlamme's prose never dawdles or plods. Dirt begins as a grief-sricken Calvin Cotton exhumes his wife before skipping town. This news is quite unsettling to his father, Governor Frank Cotton, who is currently in the running to be the Republican Party's nominee for president. Deeply concerned about his campaign son, the governor sends in Thomas Cashman to quietly sweep this problem under the rug.

Surprisingly, Cashman decides to enlist the help of Billy Baylor, a man who understands Calvin's point of view. Once a best-selling novelist who wrote about men in just Calvin's situation, Baylor now spends his days in an alcoholic stupor, unable to surmount his own grief. Propelled by the promise of free booze, Baylor agrees to help Cashman find the distraught young man and retrieve the body of his wife, who is quickly getting quite...ripe.

Somehow I don't think Bethany looks this good

After the opening exhumation scene, the novel barrels ahead until reaching the end. I was surprised to see that, although I had anticipated one scene, I never anticipated the full extent of the final revelations. I was also glad to see that Dirt does not descend into preachiness, as the author sides with neither political party. LaFlamme makes clear that ALL politicians have some dirt on their hands, and, in the cutthroat world of Washington, nice guys truly finish last.

In a nutshell: Taut and fast-paced, Dirt grips the reader until the shocking ending. Not for those who believe in the purity of their candidates, however.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet (on a Monday)

CHRISTMAS EVE
by Mathilde Blind


Alone--with one fair star for company,
The loveliest star among the hosts of night,
While the grey tide ebbs with the ebbing light--
I pace along the darkening wintry sea.
Now round the yule-log and the glittering tree
Twinkling with festive tapers, eyes as bright
Sparkle with Christmas joys and young delight,
As each one gathers to his family.

But I--a waif on earth where'er I roam--
Uprooted with life's bleeding hopes and fears
From that one heart that was my heart's sole home,
Feel the old pang pierce through the severing years,
And as I think upon the years to come
That fair star trembles through my falling tears.

Dear Ms. Langan: Write more NOW, please

The Missing
Sarah Langan

I don't know how I heard about The Missing, but if you're the one who mentioned the awesomeness that is this novel, then I owe you a debt of gratitude. Finally, a zombie novel that isn't cliched or melodramatic, that treats the subject matter seriously, and that...wait for it...is well written.

GASP.

Sarah Langan has pulled it off, and The Missing didn't leave my hands until I had finished it, which didn't take very long. The novel surrounds a small Maine community affected by an environmental catastrophe. Infection spreads when a third-grade teacher decides to take her class on a field trip to the abandoned town destroyed by said catastrophe. When a child is separated from the group, he unearths a particularly dangerous substance (although "substance" isn't quite accurate here, but we'll all just have to deal with my poor word choice). The rest, as they say, is history.

(In truth, this setup is the weakest part of the novel: that a teacher would take young children to such a place -- environmental education notwithstanding -- simply doesn't make sense. I could think of another way to lose a child in these woods, but still. I don't care. I loved The Missing, so I can easily overlook this flaw.)

It isn't long before the contamination spreads to the community at large. Bad things happen; people die, and many more wish they had. As this community is ravaged by the effects of this plague, several characters offer us their perspectives on the horror. Overall, this is an intelligent novel that doesn't treat its readers as idiots looking for only a good action scene, not that I'm pointing any fingers.

In a nutshell: The Missing is well written, fast paced, and entirely engrossing. I plan on picking up everything else Sarah Langan has written.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

the gentle rain from heaven

A Mercy
Toni Morrison

My latest review has just been posted at Pajiba, and this time I've tackled A Mercy, the latest novel by Toni Morrison, which many are calling a precursor of sorts to Beloved.

A Mercy is far from an easy read, and it's not the most cheerful of works, either. In fact, if it weren't for the final chapter, my opinion would probably be a lot more negative.

To read my complete review, simply click here.

In a nutshell: Far from uplifting, but definitely haunting; A Mercy will stick with you long after you've finished.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

A heavy price for nostalgia

Being Dead
Jim Crace

Here's another depressing book clearly apropos of the holiday season. Jeez, no wonder I've been down lately. Kinda like the 90s, when all I listened to was Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, and Marilyn Manson -- and yet for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I was such a downer.

Anyway, Being Dead is the backwards tale of Joseph and Celice, brutally murdered one morning at the beach. The novel begins with their deaths and works backward in time, just like the quivering that would be performed by the dead a hundred years ago.

A quivering is a form of mourning that lasts all night as friends and family of the departed both laugh and cry over the deceased. Crace writes, "Their memories, exposed to the backward-running time of quiverings in which regrets became prospects, resentments became love, experience became hope, would up-end the hourglass of Celice and Joseph's life together and let their sands reverse." Being Dead does just that.

Beginning with their deaths, the novel works backward to describe their last hours, their last morning, their last day, week, and so on. It's an interesting formula, and one that works for the novel. Gradually, the deceased live again, and become fleshed out with histories and complexes that reach beyond their deaths.

Being Dead is a fast read, and one that is both thought-provoking and engaging. I enjoyed reading about how this couple arrived at their deaths through various "inconsequential" decisions over the years.

In a nutshell: Although perhaps not the most uplifting of novels, Being Dead ponders the nature of love and time, and reminds us that all is never what it seems.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Womb to tomb

Living Dead Girl
Elizabeth Scott

So I've got good news and bad news.

The good news? I've been reading a ton lately, and the pile of books that need reviewing is pretty thick.

The bad? I don't have time to write adequate reviews, but neither do I want to keep postponing writing them up. The longer I go, the more I'll forget.

The solution? Shorter reviews. Hope you can stand the pain.

Speaking of pain, Elizabeth Scott's Living Dead Girl inflicted some on me. Talk about painful to read. Painful, but easy, as I busted this bad boy out in a day.

Living Dead Girl follows "Alice," a young girl who was abducted at ten. She's been held captive by the demented Ray for the past five years, forced to bear daily beatings and rapes. Over the course of the novel, we are given Alice's reflections on her current situation, the abuse she has endured for the past five years, and the future that is available to her.

Living Dead Girl is described as a novel for young adults, but I'm not sure I'd want a younger reader reading this, since it was very disturbing for me as an adult. If I were reading this as a teenager, I'd probably never leave the house again. Then again, Living Dead Girl is a good reminder that we should all carry swords. Or what about a nice ol' switchblade? What ever happened to those, eh? Not that I'm advocating violence, mind you, but a timely switchblade would have stopped a lot of ish from happening to ol' Alice here. Plus, switchblades are romantic, in a West Side Story kinda way.

Cracko Jacko!

So, anyway. The book. Living Dead Girl was a pretty basic novel, and there's not much I can say about it. Alice as a character was pretty fleshed out -- as was Ray, despite our being limited to only Alice's POV. That said, I felt the novel was still missing something, something substantial that I couldn't quite put my finger on. This feeling might be due more to the novel being aimed at a younger audience, but still: I was left ultimately unfulfilled by Living Dead Girl.

Despite my feeling this way, I was, ironically enough, satisfied by the ending, which was the best one possible given the circumstances (in my humble opinion). That said, I'm still unsure why I wasn't better satisfied by the novel, except to say that feeling this way is my prerogative, dammit.

In a nutshell: Living Dead Girl is a fast, yet very unsettling, read. For mature audiences only.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.5 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

PENELOPE
by Glen Levin Swiggett

Penelope is more than legend, more
Than sign of faithfulness one thinks is due
In marriage, for her story gives us, through
The keeping of the secret vow she swore,
The tale's eternal ending, o'er and o'er
Repeated, since in absence suitors woo
Ulysses' wife who his long overdue
Return awaits to drive them from her door.

'Tis strange that one could write of martial deed
So well and then a tale so simply tell
As Homer has done in his Odyssey,
Where wooers fight in rivalry, and feed,
With interwoven bits of pastoral
And hints of medieval chivalry.



[This sonnet was part of a group of Swiggett's sonnets entitled Famous Women: Sacred and Profane (1960). To read more from this collection, click here

Anything can look perfect...on paper

Perfect on Paper: The (Mis)adventures of Waverly Bryson
Maria Murnane

I've had the pleasure of speaking with Maria Murnane, author of Perfect on Paper as part of her Virtual Book Tour. Unfortunately, Maria's post was scheduled to appear Friday, not Saturday, so I apologize to anyone who expected it yesterday.

First, however, here's a brief word about Perfect on Paper (via Amazon):

Anything can look perfect...on paper. When her fiancé calls off their wedding at the last minute, Waverly Bryson wonders if her life will ever turn out the way she thought it would...or should. Her high-powered job in sports PR? Not so perfect. Her relationship with her dad? Far from it. Her perfect marriage? Enough said.

Perfect on Paper is a humorous tale of Waverly's efforts to cobble the pieces of a broken yesterday into a brand new tomorrow. What does the future have in store for her? Will she finally find what she's looking for?

Her dates? Cringe-inducing at times, definitely entertaining. Her friends? Often amused, definitely supportive. Her new crush? Possibly intrigued, definitely a catch. The results? Hardly perfect, definitely just right.

And now on to Maria, who took the time to answer my (not altogether original) questions. When you're finished reading the article, be sure to visit her websites (which I linked to below). Thanks, Maria!

What is your writing process?

Hmm, right now I'm not working on another book (yet, fingers crossed), but the process for writing the Perfect on Paper was pretty regular. I would write for a couple hours nearly every morning, and then a couple hours nearly every evening. And in between I would jot down a lot of notes to myself on post-its, etc. Many times I'd wake up in the middle of the night with an idea for something I wanted to include in the book, so I'd keep a notepad by my bed. And as for the writing itself, when I wasn't exactly sure where to go next with the story, I would go back and edit/rewrite what I?d already written. It worked well that way because the regular reviewing/editing forced me to stay on track and kept me from looking back and suddenly realizing "holy crap I really need to delete the last 100 pages." Now that would have been a bummer.

How do your family and friends react to your writing?

When I first started writing a book and told my friends and family what I was doing, they all had the same reaction, which was that they were afraid they wouldn't like it! My good friend Lindsay and my brother-in-law Brett both said they were literally terrified to read it because they wouldn't know what to say to me if it was awful. BUT the good news was they fell in love with the story and immediately wanted more (I was emailing them chapters from Argentina, where I was living at the time). My sister Michele told me that five pages into it she completely forgot that I was the author because she got so engrossed in the story. My dad said he was laughing so hard reading it at a café that he actually started crying at one point, and a couple women came up to him and asked him if he was okay. My mom sent me an email saying she was up until four in the morning reading it one night because she just couldn't put it down -- I think her exact words in the email were OH MY GOD MARIA you ARE a writer!!

So I remember thinking that if no one else in the world thought I was a funny writer, at least my friends and family did, which I guess when you think about it is all that really matters anyway.

How do you balance your writing life with your "normal" life?

My "normal" life is doing freelance marketing writing for technology companies (my site for that is www.winksink.com if anyone wants to take a look), and when I'm not doing that I spend my time doing what I can to get the word out about Perfect on Paper. That includes interviews like this, as well as speaking engagements, book signings, and even attending book clubs that have chosen my book. It all seems to work out pretty well; if I had a 9 to 5 job I'd never be able to put so much energy into marketing the book! Being a self-published author is definitely a labor of love, and I really do love it. Every time I get an email from a reader I've never met saying he or she loved my book, it makes my day. Seriously, I've had days where I just felt AWFUL, and then boom there's an email from some lady in Indiana, and all of a sudden I'm smiling.

How does your reading life influence your writing life?

Hmm, good question. My reading life is all over the map, jumping around from non-fiction to novels to history books and back. But now when I read a novel I definitely notice things that I like or don't like much more than I used to. I'm always taking mental notes.

Anything else you want to add about Perfect on Paper?

I actually reread the book last week for the first time in a while, and I have to say its main message is good for me to remember, even now. I still tend to worry too much about how I think my life "should" be like instead of just enjoying my life as it really is. I often tell my friends that no one is keeping score in life but you, so don't worry about what other people think--- but sometimes I forget to do that for myself!

A quick note to readers out there, if you like my book, PLEASE write a review on Amazon and on my site (www.mariamurnane.com) and become a fan of it on Facebook! I am hoping the publishers who turned me down before will change their mind once they see how well my book has been received. Thank you so much for your support!


Further reading...

Maria's website
Perfect on Paper via Facebook
Perfect on Paper via Amazon

A great loss

I've tried to write this post several times since first learning on Monday that one of my favorite bloggers (book or otherwise) passed away. Each time, I deleted the post. The words weren't right.

I've since come to realize that there's nothing I can say about Dewey that those who knew her didn't already know, and many are better than I am at putting words to their grief.

I can honestly say that Dewey was someone I admired, envied, and emulated, even though I never met her in person. She was a voracious reader (I couldn't come close to reaching her numbers), an engaging book blogger, and, most importantly, a community builder. Through her I have been introduced to some great books and even better people. I hope Dewey knows how much she is missed by all of those she touched online.

Please keep Dewey and her family in your thoughts and prayers.

Sunday Sonnet

THE HARVEST MOON
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes
And roofs of villages, on woodland crests
And their aerial neighborhoods of nests
Deserted, on the curtained window-panes
Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes
And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!
Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,
With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!
All things are symbols: the external shows
Of Nature have their image in the mind,
As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;
The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,
Only the empty nests are left behind,
And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

Get your freak on

The Tutu Ballet
Sally Lee

Uh oh! Trouble's afoot (hardy har har) when Ms. Berry teaches ballet to a very diverse group of students in The Tutu Ballet. Instead of following her instructions, each student performs a "signature" move. Ms. Berry decides to make the best of the situation by organizing a ballet that highlights the talents of each of her students. As a result, Ms. Berry and her students perform the best -- or at least the most unique -- ballet ever.

As you could probably tell, The Tutu Ballet is all about individuality. Part of me was a little bothered by the message: Hey! I ranted. Real life isn't like that! You can't jump when you have to twirl! But then I realized this was a book for young children, and I suppose they can have their innocence for as long as possible.

The Tutu Ballet is probably best for really young children: the words, storyline, and pictures are very simple and engaging. I'd read The Tutu Ballet to children six years of age or younger. Or maybe four or five. Hell, we all know I'm bad at judging ages. I'll tell you what: if the kid's really smart, you should probably skip The Tutu Ballet. If, on the other hand, the child is a few bricks short of a load (not that there's anything wrong with that; I'm sure he's just a late bloomer, really) read on.

In a nutshell: Of course, The Tutu Ballet does teach the lesson that "if you want to do it, ef the rules," so caveat emptor and all that.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Long Live the King

Just After Sunset: Stories
Stephen King

My latest review for Pajiba has arrived. This time I enjoyed Just After Sunset, the latest collection of short stories by Stephen King.

I wasn't blown away by every single story in this collection, but I found the majority to be well-written, compelling pieces that solidifed my admiration for this master storyteller.

You can read the rest of my thoughts on the collection here.

In a nutshell: I'm still haunted by more than a few disturbing images from this collection. Well played, Mr. King.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

SONNET
ON A YOUTH WHO DIED OF EXCESSIVE FRUIT-PIE


Currants have checked the current of my blood,
And berries brought me to be buried here;
Pears have pared off my body's hardihood,
And plums and plumbers spare not one so spare:
Fain would I feign my fall; so fair a fare
Lessens not fate, but 'tis a lesson good:
Gilt will not long hide guilt; such thin-washed ware
Wears quickly, and its rude touch soon is rued.
Grave on my grave some sentence grave and terse,
That lies not, as it lies upon my clay;
But in a gentle strain of unstrained verse,
Prays all to pity a poor patty's prey;
Rehearses I was fruit-full to my hearse,
Tells that my days are told, and soon I'm toll'd away!


from Harper's New Monthly Magazine (1852)

Neither so hideous nor so bloody

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
Patrick Suskind

I hate it when a novel you've fully expected to adore utterly disappoints you.

Recently, litblogs abounded with discussion of Patrick Suskind's Perfume, and, based on the dozens of glowing reviews I'd read, I quickly added it to my TBR list. When I finally managed to read it months after initially learning of this "totally gripping page-turner" (so says one critic quoted on the cover of my edition), I was dismayed to find it, well ... pretty shitty.

Perfume is the story of a murderer, a monster gifted with an inhuman sense of smell but cursed with no scent of his own. The novel follows this character, named Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, from childhood until his becomes (allow me to again quote the cover here) an evil genius, a murderer so depraved that only the most hideous of crimes could satisfy his lust...a killer who lives to possess the essence of young virgins...a vampire of scent, whose bloody, insane quest takes him...

I'm stopping here because I have too many issues with the above text to continue. Allow me to explain.

1. The murders themselves are barely even discussed. Are they bloody? Hideous? I wouldn't know. Grenouille hits his victims over the head and cuts off their hair; any other description is left to the reader's imagination.

2. These murders, by the way, don't even occur until the final quarter of the book. The previous pages are Grenouille's development -- an overly detailed and not-altogether-interesting one, by the way.

What the cover blurb does truthfully indicate, however, is the author's affinity for the ellipsis. At first I didn't mind the author's trailing off every once in awhile...but soon the overuse of this technique smacked of...how shall I say it?...lazy writing.

In fact, it wasn't long before I became entirely bored with Perfume, and it took me months to finish what should have been a fast read. Perhaps my discontent stems more from my own preconceptions about the novel than from the novel itself. Besides the tendency toward trailing off, Suskind's prose is sumptuous, bringing the oft-ignored olfactory sense to life. The plot itself is also intriguing (although, to be fair, some parts are way too drawn-out) -- but not when one is expecting more blood, violence, and overall hideousness. After all, I had anticipated Perfume being a "spooky read," and it fell quite short of the mark.

In a nutshell: Well written but powerfully disappointing.

Bibliolatry Scale: 2.5 out of 6 stars

Mercy shines with even more brilliancy than justice

The Shape of Mercy
Susan Meissner

I've been behind on my blogging recently, but not my reading. One book I've recently torn through was The Shape of Mercy, by Susan Meissner.

I was pleasantly surprised by this novel; I was immediately intrigued by the subject matter (the Salem witch trials), but I still did not expect to find this novel as compelling as I did. Contrary to my expectations, I found myself unable to put this novel down and tore through it in about 2 days.

The Shape of Mercy follows two parallel storylines. First, we're given the tale of Lauren Durough, a young college girl who is looking to break free from her wealthy lineage. Trying to "do things on her own," she seeks a job, and finds one transcribing an old diary for a wealthy older woman, Abigail. The diary in question belongs to Mercy Hayworth, a victim of the Salem witch trials.

Soon, we are drawn into Mercy's world as well as Lauren's. The three main characters (Lauren, Abigail, and Mercy) are nicely drawn and never move into stereotype. Meissner creates sympathetic, intelligent characters and a taut storyline whose many facets both intrigue and surprise.

As might be expected, Lauren's world parallels both Mercy's and Abigail's, and the end of the novel satisfies even as it defies expectations. If you're looking for both a fast-paced and intelligent read, look into The Shape of Mercy.

In a nutshell: A fast-paced read that provided entertainment and insights.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

PRETTY WORDS
by Eleanor Wylie


Poets make pets of pretty, docile words:
I love smooth words, like gold-enameled fish
Which circle slowly with a silken swish,
And tender ones, like downy-feathered birds:
Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed deer in herds,
Come to my hand, and playful if I wish,
Or purring softly at a silver disk,
Blue Persian kittens, fed on cream and curds.

I love bright words, words up and singing early;
Words that are luminous in the dark, and sing;
Warm lazy words, white cattle under trees;
I love words opalescent, cool, and pearly,
Like midsummer moths, and honied words like bees,
Gilded and sticky, with a little sting.

the dead pull the living down

>Heart-Shaped Box
Joe Hill

I've been hearing a lot about Joe Hill's highly-regarded first novel, Heart-Shaped Box, and, since I've heard so many people sing its praises and because we were approaching my favorite spooky time of year, I knew I had to pick it up. (I also vaguely remembered hearing that Hill is the son of Stephen King, so, with his lineage in mind, I was anticipating a perfect, autumnal read.)

For the most part, I wasn't disappointed. Heart-Shaped Box is a fairly taut tale of a vengeful ghost. I consider myself a genuinely jaded individual, one who often scoffs at anything not truly scary, and I have to admit that Heart-Shaped Box creeped me out quite a few times. That's not to say it was so scary -- it didn't give me nightmares or force me to stop reading -- but it did provide some pleasurable thrills and some spooky entertainment. Overall, I can't complain.

Heart-Shaped Box follows Jude Coyne, an aging metal god who hasn't been so lucky in love, like so many others used to hard living. Coyne, not surprisingly, has an affinity for the darker side of life. When he finds an opportunity to purchase an actual ghost over the internet, he can't resist the temptation. (I wish I had money to burn, don't you?)

Anyway, he's not purchasing a ghost so much as he's purchasing the dead man's suit -- a suit to which the deceased is reportedly very attached. Jude is skeptical but nevertheless intrigued, and, before you can say boo, the suit -- and the ghost -- is his.

Unfortunately, this is no ordinary ghost, and it isn't long before Jude regrets his purchase. (I, like Jude, am also all-too-familiar with buyer's remorse. Sigh.) Try as he might, however, he cannot rid himself of what is not his property, forcing Jude and his long-suffering girlfriend to fight not only for their lives, but for their very souls as well.

My only complaint was caused by the plot. In certain places it lagged, causing me to skim, eager as I was to reach the next major scene. Certain scenes dragged on a bit too long and could have been condensed, especially during the second half of the novel when things should have been most compelling.

Still, I was pleased overall. Ultimately, Heart-Shaped Box was an intriguing, mostly fast-paced read that provided chills in all the right places, even if certain elements were a shade predictable. I was pleased by the quality of Hill's prose, which is rare for spooky "genre" novels.

In a nutshell: Not perfect, but satisfying overall.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

AZRAEL'S BAR
by Stephen Vincent Benet


He stood behind the counter, mixing drinks;
Pride for the old, who like their liquor tart,
Green scorn frappé to cheer the sick-at-heart,
False joy, as merry as a bed of pinks.
He had the eyes of a sarcastic lynx
And in his apron was a small black dart
With which he stirred, secretive and apart,
His shaker, till it rang with poisonous clinks.
I fumbled for the rail. "The same, with gin?
Love -- triple star -- you like the velvet kick?"
I shook with the blind agues of the sick.
Then, through lost worlds, his voice, "Fini, old friend?"
He poured black drops out, cold as dead men's skin:
"So? This is what we always recommend --"

Disappointing Death

Death with Interruptions
Jose Saramago

My latest review for Pajiba has appeared, and this time I reviewed the latest novel by Jose Saramago, whose Blindness so enthralled me a few years back. Unfortunately, my experience was not repeated this time around.

Click here to see why.

In a nutshell: Ho hum.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

IN MEMORIAM
by George Moreby Acklom


It fell as softly as the winter's snow:
There was no sound of storm nor any stress,
No fevered daring of Death's mightiness,
No struggle for a strong man's overthrow:
Just some few hours of moaning, soft and low,
Some hard-drawn breathing, quickly hushed, ah yes!
And then,--and then,--small white limbs motionless,
While we who wait must whisper as we go.
A face and voice we looked for lovingly
Lost from the fellowship of our small band:
One little ripple of Life's restless sea
Soothed into stillness by the Master's hand,
And missing here:--but a white soul to stand
In the vast Temple of Eternity.

Font this

Recently, The Millions posted a thought-provoking piece by Garth Risk Hallberg, who discussed the effect of the font on the text he's reading. I've noticed myself that some newer publications have chosen more modern, funky fonts than the usual standbys. Hallberg finds some font choices distracting, and I happen to agree, although I'm hard-pressed to name a title now when it matters.

Still, Hallberg raises some interesting points, and I'd like to know your thoughts.

Specifically, I'd like you to answer two questions: (1) As a reader, do you find uncommon fonts distracting? and (2) As a writer, which font do you prefer to use?

Boundless Love

The Dragonfly Secret: A Story of Boundless Love
Clea and John Adams

I’ve never before reviewed a children’s book, so when I had the opportunity to read The Dragonfly Secret, I couldn’t resist. I didn’t know that The Dragonfly Secret was a follow-up to an earlier book, The Dragonfly Door, but it didn’t matter. The Dragonfly Secret stands easily on its own and is a great story for children, especially those who have recently lost a loved one.

The Dragonfly Secret follows Lea, a dragonfly, as she plays in a garden one day. Lea is surprised by the presence of a young boy, who spends some time playing with her. Soon, he gives Lea a task that only she can complete. Lea is puzzled by his request but eager to do what he says, especially since he tells her that she will help with a secret.

The boy and Lea at play

Lea is not quite sure how she will complete the boy’s vague requests, but soon two adults arrive in the garden who are connected to the boy’s tasks. She is able to follow his instructions – with surprising results. Lea learns that that the boy’s special requests had an important purpose and that her role was an integral one.

The Dragonfly Secret is a perfect story for all children, but especially those who have recently lost a loved one. The story comforts children by assuring them that life goes on. Just as importantly, The Dragonfly Secret is neatly told and never difficult to read. Furthermore, Barbara Gibson's beautiful illustrations (one of which you can see above) heighten the beauty of this book. These illustrations are colorful and alive, but never jarring or overly complicated.

In a nutshell: Easy to read with bright, colorful pictures, The Dragonfly Secret is a story that offers comfort as it entertains.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Look at tomorrow, not yesterday

Months and Seasons
Christopher Meeks

Who hasn't effed up royally? Cut off your nose to spite your face? Who hasn't done the one dumb thing you told yourself not to do? If these scenarios do not apply to you, then, well...piss off. But certainly you're familiar with disappointment, fear, loss?

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, Months and Seasons is worth a read. The characters who populate these stories are all quite diverse, and yet they all share one important trait: whether they know it or not, they all face a crossroads in their lives.

Many of these characters can only blame themselves for the problems currently facing them, but all of them -- even those at the mercy of fate -- can control how they react to their problems. And while the problems facing these characters are as diverse as their personalities, they all, generally speaking, respond similarly: that is, they go on. (That's not to say that they "go on" in the best possible way, but such is life. These characters, just like people, do not always make the best decisions.)

There’s Tutti, a seventeen-year-old teen whose divorcing parents have shipped her off to summer camp, despite her age. Then there’s Hugh, whose wife wants a child – even though he's less than ready. In another, a talented playwright loses his home to fire, and still another sees several characters facing potentially fatal illnesses.

Just as the problems facing Meeks' characters vary from story to story, so too does his writing style -- something that highlights Meeks' talents as a writer. I particularly enjoyed that the narrative voice truly changed to reflect the change in point of view and narrative voice, and upon beginning a new story, I believed I had encountered a different storyteller than the one who came before. Equally important is the fact that these stories vary in tone; some are serious, while others are more humorous. My favorite narrator was Frank Philo, the troubled narrator of “The Holes in my Door,” a deft little tale that allows the reader greater insight than is bestowed upon the narrator.

With the exception of the eminent playwright, Months and Seasons does not recount the lives of famous or otherwise "grand" individuals -- these are everyday people, caught up in the months and seasons of their lives. These are flawed characters, and not all of them are likable, but readers can learn a little something from each of them.

In a nutshell: Deftly written, not a word in Months and Seasons is wasted; these stories recount tiny moments of glory in even the most ordinary of lives.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

SONNET MACABRE
by Theodore Wratislaw


I love you for the grief that lurks within
Your languid spirit, and because you wear
Corruption with a vague and childish air,
And with your beauty know the depths of sin;

Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,
And virtue dies in you slain by despair,
Since evil has you tangled in its snare
And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.

I love you since you know remorse and tears,
And in your troubled loveliness appears
The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:

I love you for your hands that calm and bless,
The perfume of your sad and slow caress,
The avid poison of your subtle kiss.

The best is yet to be?

The Development
John Barth

My latest review has appeared over at Pajiba, and I thought some of you might just be interested enough (or bored enough, here on a Friday) to head over and read it.

This time I read John Barth's new collection of short stories, The Development. You may click here to read my review.

In a nutshell: Quick, entertaining, and, oddly enough, moving -- even though thoughts of dry, elderly poon did make me feel a little icky inside.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6

Filling leisure intelligently

Bertrand Russell said that "To be able to fill leisure intelligently is the last product of civilization, and at present very few people have reached this level."

At first I automatically lumped myself in with the proud and few, as I spend much of my leisure time reading. Then I remembered how many hours I waste perusing Oh No They Didn't! and realized that perhaps boasting about my highly evolved nature was a bit premature.

Readers, I'd like to hear how you spend your "intelligent" leisure time -- apart from reading good books and Bibliolatry, of course. How do you fill leisure intelligently?

Sunday Sonnet

Here is the second part to last week's sonnet.

II. AND AFTER
by Hugh Cuthbert


Where all was Eden, all is Eden-less.
The Garden vanished--earth and sea and sky,
The sunbeams, flowers--even as you and I
All sundered stand in stricken loneliness;
The tangled Paradise a wilderness
Of ordered isolations! The great soul,
Which made of all things one harmonious whole,
Shredded to serve the fragments which caress
The separate being they curse! Nought but the Gate
Remains--fronting our Life as day by day
It seeks the happiness it cast away
To snatch a venomed knowledge. Alas! stern fate--
To find its own discarded innocence
Become a flaming sword to drive it thence.

Snakebox Surprise

I was pleasantly surprised yesterday upon receiving a thoughtful email from none other than Kim Powers, star of Wednesday's post about his novel, Capote in Kansas.

Kim was kind enough to enclose some photographs of the real snakeboxes that Capote constructed toward the end of his life. He found these pictures in the online catalogue of Bonham's, the auction house which is selling some of Capote's things.

Hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

A mind of winter

I recently subscribed to The New-York Ghost, a free newsletter that, every once in awhile, arrives via email. The most recent offering contained a poem by Aimee Kelley that I couldn't help but save and reread again and again. I post it here, which is hopefully not a violation of some sort.

At any rate, if you like what you see, you can subscribe (it's free) to The New-York Ghost by sending an email to newyorkghostATgmailDOTcom.



Dick Cheney’s home is only visible
in winter. Those months he sits
underground dreaming

of camouflage, tree leaves, and heavy
boughs. He weeps, stain on his pocket
square. Upstairs his wife

plays piano, completes paint by
numbers, one after another, each brighter
than the last. She neglects

the housekeeping, waves over her
tea at tourists outside in this, her favorite
season. Below, he wanders

by flashlight, running a finger across
lids of preserves, opening orange, never
strawberry. Sitting on water

drums, potable, he eats astronaut
ice cream, testing how slowly he
can chew. He hears snow

falling on his driveway and melting
in a moment. To have a mind of winter,
he thinks. A breach.

—Aimee Kelley

Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor

Capote in Kansas: A Ghost Story
Kim Powers

Today, I have the pleasure of hosting the latest stop on Kim Powers’ Virtual Book Tour for his novel, Capote in Kansas.

Capote in Kansas recounts the odd friendship between Truman Capote and Harper Lee. After the success of both of their novels, the friendship between Capote and Lee fell apart. Rumors abound (no thanks to Capote himself, as Powers posits) that Lee’s success owes more than a little to Capote’s efforts, and Capote has become obsessed with fame and celebrity, to say nothing of his obsession with drugs and alcohol.

Capote in Kansas begins as Capote, addled by booze and pills and haunted by the ghosts of the Clutter family (the victims Capote detailed in In Cold Blood), places a late-night phone call to his old friend. Lee, who hasn’t spoken to Capote in years, is forced to remember both the ups and downs of their friendship, which spanned their childhood in the South to their adulthood in the public eye.

Capote in Kansas is less a literal ghost story than a psychological one. The Clutter ghosts allow both Capote and Lee to return to their respective pasts and ponder where they went wrong, although Capote, numbed as he is, is less introspective than Lee. As Capote's instability increases, he begins constructing bizarre boxes, which he then anonymously sends to a disturbed Lee.

With Capote in Kansas, Powers, currently a writer/producer at ABC’s Primetime Live and a winner of both Emmy and Peabody Awards for his 9/11 coverage for Good Morning America, offers a fast-paced read that never drags. Although I could quibble about his tendency to overindulge in short, one-sentence paragraphs, I found his pacing perfect and the storyline gripping. Furthermore, I learned fascinating details about both of these authors, neither of whom I knew much about besides their most famous works.

In his end note, Powers explains how he blended fact and fiction, and I was surprised to read that some of the more fantastic elements of Capote in Kansas (such as the "snake boxes" constructed by Capote towards the end of his life) were, in fact, true. If you would like to read the first chapter of Capote in Kansas, simply click here; to visit more stops on this Virtual Book Tour, just click here.

In a nutshell: Intriguing and informative, Capote in Kansas entertained me at the same time it educated me about two pivotal American authors.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars