Review: Dracula

2019 CHALLENGE: 1 RE-READ PER MONTH 04 / 12  

5 stars. Hello there! It's been awhile. Several things happened in life this month: 1. reading slump 2. puppy 3. new Kindle, which took awhile to get used to. I'm behind but I'm going with the flow. And the good news is, I really enjoyed re-reading Dracula.I wrote about 4 billion words on it in college but I hadn't read it for FUN since I was maybe ... 12? I was in the mood for something like this: long, eerie, Gothic, old school.

Three things really struck me about Dracula, this time: One - my impression of this book is really tangled with my impression of the Coppola adaptation. I actually love that film, I love the aesthetics and the performances (yes, even Keanu!), but I thought I'd be able to separate from them in reading. Not so, apparently. Which was fine; definitely made the reading experience a little unusual.

Two - this book could use some editing. I see now that The Historian felt so bogged down and slow to me because it pulled from the flavor of the original. There are parts that sing (Harker's experience in the castle; the mountain chase at the end), but there are incredibly slow parts as the characters try to figure out - ON PAPER - what the heck they are dealing with. I care about the vampire, not about his "child-brain" or whatever. I care about his demise, not which river he took to get home.

Three - OH THE MELODRAMA! I kept rolling my eyes at the extreme emotion of it all - the love for Lucy, the love for Mina, the swooning, the practically spiritual way they all worshiped and praised each other. Characters "overcome" left and right. Even for a Victorian novel, there were so many tears and promises and feelings - from men more than women, which is interesting. Obviously there are a ton of ways to interpret the role of women in this book and there are a ton of papers written about that. It's complicated. But I was really taken aback by the amount of detail dedicated to the male characters' seemingly hysterical reactions to everything.

Truly though, this is a masterpiece. It's rich and brilliant and perfect to study. There's so much to unpack about what was feared and admired in Victorian times, and how each character explores and embodies those themes. I'm fascinated by the way mental health and sanity played a part, as well as desire and religion and spirituality and old vs new. So many delicious ingredients!

I'm so happy that my reading challenge took me in this direction. My house has been chewed up by an 8-week old corgi, my new Kindle has Wi-Fi issues, I haven't "felt like reading in awhile" (which means I'm deathly ill, probably), but I really enjoyed sinking into the Carpathian mountains when I could. What can I say? Vampires interest me, and this one is the OG.

Dracula on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

2019 CHALLENGE: 1 RE-READ PER MONTH 02 / 12

4 stars. THIS BOOK IS SO STRANGE! I fucking loved it as a kid but wow - this book is a really, really bizarre acid trip. In a good way.

I know so much has been said about Lewis Carroll and the possible inspiration for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I can't personally add anything about that, except that I hope it's not true and I hope this classic remains untarnished. Because it's truly a one-of-a-kind, unprecedented and kind of unmatched as far as children's literature goes.

(Also, there’s no evidence that Lewis Carroll did drugs. Just sayin’.)

Now that I'm older and more well-read, this reminded me of a lot of my favorite authors growing up: Roald Dahl, Clive Barker (the Abarat series features an interested sort of Wonderland), CS Lewis, Norton Juster, etc. This really felt like kind of a warm up for books like that, or like it sprouted branches and now we can enjoy it’s fruit. It's charm and wit will probably keep inspiring authors as long as books exist. I also personally love books like Alice (Christina Henry) and other dark renditions. 

But the one thing that really stuck out during my re-read was how much I absolutely love Alice. What a badass, world-hopping, roll-with-it warrior!  

"The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: 'No room! No room!' they cried out when they saw Alice coming. 'There's plenty of room!' said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table."

I love her.

“One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away."

She's fantastic. Alice couldn’t stand the squeaky pencil, so she took it away.

"Hold your tongue!' said the Queen, turning purple. 'I won't!' said Alice." 

I don't understand why Alice isn't more regularly recognized and featured as a young feminist heroine. She's so cool and clever and, of course, curious. 

I was also really into the way Lewis Carroll handled the lack of explanation for events. I'm always intrigued by books that don't give you a chance to question things. I know that some people prefer answers to EVERYTHING, they hate ambiguity. I see the beauty in it. I suspect Carroll was aware that children wouldn't mind, even poking at the concept a bit:

"'What IS the use of repeating all that stuff,' the Mock Turtle interrupted, 'if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far the most confusing thing I ever heard!'"

Not as confusing as it may seem, ha. It definitely comes across as a book that's "just for fun," but I wouldn't be surprised if there was playful meaning behind every joke, every twist of dialogue, every story and riddle and interjection. That's what makes it so rewarding for children and adults - the magic and the meaning. It's not for everyone, but it's hilarious and weird and an amazing piece of writing and completely worth your time.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Westing Game

2019 CHALLENGE: 1 RE-READ PER MONTH 01 / 12

5 stars. This book is pure brain food. I like to think of it as a nice blend of Agatha Christie and Flannery O’Connor. You’ve got the clever, wholesome Christie mystery fun mixed with O’Connor’s bold, scathing characterizations. Makes one very tasty, very satisfying read.

The Westing Game opens with our cast moving into Sunset Towers, a new apartment building adjacent to an old mansion belonging to Sam Westing. When Mr. Westing dies (…is murdered?), he, via his lawyer, brings together sixteen of the Towers inhabitants to play a game worth … (drumroll, please) … his entire inheritance.

He leaves instructions for each “heir,” plus specific clues for everyone. We, as readers, get to watch from a front row seat as a feisty African American judge, an entitled, egotistical housewife, an attention-starved secretary, a sparkly, smart little girl, and more unlikely suspects race to solve the puzzle and win the game.

This would be a really bizarre book if it wasn’t written so cleverly, with so much humor, and with so much heart. It’s clear here that Ellen Raskin loved this book - loved writing it, loved playing with the readers, and loved her characters, deeply.

Like Christie’s books, this is a classic whodunnit and like Christie, Raskin drops the mic with the satisfying snap of a puzzle piece being pressed perfectly into place. Like O’Connor, Raskin paints each character with care and with brutal honestly. It keeps things fresh and immensely enjoyable.

And, yes, this probably would’ve been an even better read at 12. But I found myself really captivated by The Westing Game, and really invested. In fact (yikes), I actually found myself tearing up a bit at the end. Who, me? The ice queen with a heart of stone?! I’m meltinggggg…… I know. I just fell in love with these characters and it made me so happy to … well, you’ll see.

This book is full of nostalgia and goodness. I’m so glad it kicked off my re-read challenge for 2019, because it proved how rewarding this exercise can be. So come on! Read The Westing Game. Bask in the glow of transparent tryhards, charming youngsters, charming oldsters, twists, turns, and the joy of unlikely friends.

The Westing Game on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Rebecca

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. Yikes. Yikes. This book.

It's a masterpiece. A true masterpiece.

I feasted on this novel. Absolutely dined on it. I devoured it in two days and was shocked to come to its end. It's incredible.

The writing is masterful and the storytelling is atmospheric and layered. It touches on so many things: the power of a place and its many unrealized secrets; the stubborn naivete and innocence of youth; the wired, uneasy journey into adulthood; the constant inner battle for a certain sense of self; the pressures of society and the lousy insensitivity of human nature; the tragedy of being a woman.

It's very captivating, and very horrifying, and a true gift.

I will admit that halfway through the book I was disappointed. I felt so uncomfortable and awkward reading about a hypersensitive girl making her way through a tough world. This is either a testament to the powerful writing or my own personality, but I personally felt Rebecca's presence, constantly whispering in my ear, telling me I would never live up to her, would never escape her shadow. Anyone who suffers from insecurities or anxiety will relate to the narrator's extremely accurate voice. It wasn't creepy, it was too real.

But then the revelation! The other shoe dropped, and as it turns out, it was a perfect fit. And I truly didn't anticipate the twists and turns - which I really appreciate in a world of predictable storytelling.

To those who criticized the book due to the thoughts/actions of the narrator: just because an author writes from a character's perspective does not mean the author agrees with or supports or resembles the character in any way. This should be obvious. The narrator in this story is sensitive, timid, terrified, ignorant, innocent, naive, misguided, and annoying. This is not my interpretation of her, this is how she is portrayed. It's intentional! Her desire to be loved leads her to stay married to a murderer. That is not a "heroine" in any sense of the word.

It really doesn't matter. It just doesn't. I found myself totally immersed in this story, heartbroken for both Rebecca and the narrator. Am I, as a woman, not somehow both of them? Required to be pleasant yet obligated to be direct? Failing to be simultaneously submissive and independent, as is demanded of me? Caught between doing what's expected and doing what feels right? Navigating a world that wants me to be both the Jezebel and the Madonna?

This book is a nightmare. A perfect, Gothic nightmare.

Rebecca on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Turn of the Screw

5 stars. About halfway through The Turn of the Screw, I almost put it down for good. The language was too dense and intricate, I didn't enjoy the "scary" elements, and I wasn't invested in the characters. But I kept going, and it was worth it. Things clicked. I had been trying too hard. Letting my eyes fly, instead of insisting they ruminate on each phrase or sentence, made this a more rewarding experience than I expected. I would argue it's a masterpiece.

First, for interest, the excerpt from Henry James' notebook on his inspiration for the story: 

"Note here the ghost story told me at Addington (evening of Thursday 10th), by the Archbishop of Canterbury ... the story of the young children ... left to the care of servants in an old country house through the death, presumably, of parents. The servants, wicked and depraved, corrupt and deprave the children ... The servants die (the story vague about the way of it) and their apparitions, figures return to haunt the house and children, to whom they seem to beckon ... It is all obscure and imperfect, the picture, the story, but there is a suggestion of strangely gruesome effect in it. The story to be told ... by an outside spectator, observer."

And so The Turn of the Screw became a ghost story about a governess assigned to care for two children. And care for them she does. Little Flora and her older brother Miles prove to be apt pupils and the governess settles into life in the somewhat isolated estate. Until she starts seeing ghosts. Terrified for herself and the children, the governess attempts to navigate, handle and justify her fear as apparently no one else can see the apparitions. Tragically, her relationship with Flora is destroyed and Miles ends up dead.

SPOILERS BELOW.

The beauty of this story is not in the writing itself, although the writing is very beautiful, and very difficult to appreciate, at times. James is a wordy, wordy, wordy, wordy author. His verbose rambling essentially eradicates any chance for genuine suspense or terror. Don't expect to be scared. But there is beauty here - and I would argue that it emerges via interpretation, or perhaps it is better to say via the many possible interpretations.

It reminded me a bit of Black Swan, a film with a terrific unreliable narrator. Like the governess, Natalie Portman's character seems a bit off, or stunted, or off-putting from the first scene. You root for her, because she's clearly not a villain, but things get weird and you learn not to trust her. The film ends in tragedy, but perhaps without as much ambiguity as the book. Still, it's similarly uncanny and you walk away with lingering questions.

In The Turn of the Screw, the governess is - no doubt about it - the only character to acknowledge the ghosts. To acknowledge them. Other characters might see them, or they don't. They certainly deny it. So the question becomes: is the governess mentally ill? Is she hallucinating?  Is she manifesting her suppressed rage, or suppressed sexual desire, as old while male critics seem to think? Does Miles die because of an implication?

Or are the ghosts real? Are the other characters lying? Is she "gifted" in the sense that she's the only one who can interact with the paranormal? Is she the victim of a conspiracy led against her by the household and the children? Are the ghosts out to possess or harm her? Does Miles die because of a reality - a terrifying, supernatural reality?

Is she insane, or is she a hero? EITHER WAY, I'm disturbed. EITHER WAY, she loses. She is lost. We are lost. As Brad Leithauser writes in a review I love from The New Yorker, 

"Yet—the book’s greatest feat, its keenest paradox—the ultimate effect is precisely the opposite of openness. “The Turn of the Screw” may be the most claustrophobic book I’ve ever read. Yes, you’re free to shift constantly from one interpretation to the next, and yet, as you progress deeper into the story, each interpretation begins to seem more horrible than the other. As the gruesomeness gathers, the beautiful country house effectively falls away, like flesh receding from the skull of a cadaver, and we’re deposited in a hellish, plantless, low landscape of bone and stone: plenty of places to run, but nowhere to hide."

Which is why I like both. I love that it is, or could be, or might be, or without a doubt is, both.

There's another moment in this book I'd like to consider - the moment when Miles confesses about why he was expelled from school. When I first read his admission, I instantly thought that the "words" he said must have been homosexual in nature. I believe Henry James was homosexual, and this clicks really well in my mental comprehension of the story. It's just my comprehension, though, and there are certainly so many possibilities.

This turned out to be much more of a reaction than a review, but I think that's a testament to the book's power. I want to discuss it. I want to do the "further reading." I want to analyze the shit out of that ending. I want MORE. And for that, this crazy, complicated book gets 5 stars. "No, no—there are depths, depths! The more I go over it, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I fear. I don’t know what I don’t see—what I don’t fear!"

The Turn of the Screw on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Katherine

2 stars. My first DNF here at Kelly Book Stuff. DNFs are so, so rare for me that I barely know what to do with myself. The process that leads up to deciding not to finish a book is so agonizing for me, but sometimes it must be done. Here, it's simply an example of "great book, not for me." The writing is admirable, and clearly a lot of research went into this very detailed and very in-depth story. But it wasn't for me. 

Katherine tells the tale of Lady Katherine Swynford, a historical figure known as the mistress and eventual wife of John of Gaunt. It chronicles her early life, her first marriage, and her long love affair beneath a detailed tapestry of historical England and politics. At times it is a romance, at other times a political drama, sometimes a simple record of what went down back then. It is a rich and comprehensive portrait of what life was like when she lived.

And what an extraordinary life she lived! I'm so glad this book exists if only to bring Katherine to life and tell her story. Women - good women, bad women, right women, wrong women, ALL women - should not be overlooked. We must dedicate pages to them and honor their roles, both big and small, in history. 

But Katherine, for me, lacked forward momentum. It lacked a certain spark that kept me from turning pages. It also didn't feel real, at all. The author dances around some issues and it didn't sit well with me. She paints Katherine in a very flattering light that doesn't really reflect enough ... complexity. The romance was too sentimental, too swoon-worthy, and seriouslyyyyy idealistic. Look, to misquote Carmen Electra from an interview I saw with her once, sometimes people fuck and still want to talk to each other afterwards. It's actually that simple.

I've noticed that a lot of these detailed historical romances are long. Way too long, in my opinion. I absolutely love history and love watching it come to life, but this could've really benefited from serious editing. I also noticed that there is some outdated content that likely would not have gone over well in a modern publication. There's a lot of fat-shaming.

I can see why it's a classic, though. I certainly learned from it and might return one day to finish the last 25%. I loved Chaucer and the details about the food and holidays and traditions from that time period. Great book, for sure, but not for me (to finish).

Katherine on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Hobbit

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. The Hobbit is, to me, the most special adventure ever. The most thrilling, creative, amusing, satisfying story there is. It's the ultimate example of how to house a simple plot in a complex world with balance and grace. And it's cozy. So fucking cozy.

Everyone has a Hobbit story, right? I remember, upon hearing it read aloud for the first time (by my father, on a vacation, I can't remember where), trying to comment on the words - "the language is different" - and being eagerly told about Tolkien's background in literacy and language. And the writing does feel different - especially now, many years later. It's really relaxed and informal and occasionally too cute for its own good. The friendly tone kind of takes some getting used to, am I right?

But the language is without a doubt part of Tolkien's brilliance. He is truly an artist. I want to dive - no, I want to burrow, deeply burrow - into the core of this story and hide there until second breakfast.

I know it isn't perfect. I know some readers find it boring or confusing or annoying. I actually didn't pick it up for years because I didn't remember the reading experience to be that enjoyable. But after 6 days in a hotel at a conference during which I had exactly 1 full hour to myself (which I spent having a panic attack), my brain wanted comfort food. And the level of incredible delight I felt upon reading the first chapter of this book ... I felt better. I felt excited. I felt the magic of the words.

And yes, the movies are disappointing. Jackson over-extended middle earth until it became bloated, grandiose, and overreaching in a way that contrasts so painfully with the careful, in-depth, loving look of his LOTR trilogy. It's a shame, really, because so much of the beauty of this book lies in its simplicity. The basic adventure story with its unassuming, humble hero, who takes joy in the simple pleasures of life and would scoff at anything so extra.

But let's get back to the book as an accomplishment. There's something thrilling about reading the words from which archetypes were birthed. Yes - to the people who complain about the archetypes - Tolkien invented them. You are reading about the original wizard, the original magic ring, OG dwarves and elves and dragons. It's like reading a preserved manuscript or something - a rare first edition. Sure, he expertly draws on mythology and literature (influences include everything from Old Norse sagas to Jules Verne) but his narrative style and worldbuilding is unprecedented.

I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't already been said. The Hobbit is just so fucking magical and different and amazing. Thank god for Tolkien and his brain and his talent because I'd go crazy without having a window into his world.

The Hobbit on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Picnic at Hanging Rock

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. How unexpectedly wonderful! I'm delighted! I don't know what I expected - perhaps something slightly pulpier / amateur, but this book is built on some seriously sophisticated writing. It's old school in a way that's completely charming - not so old school that it feels archaic or stale or stuffy.

Joan Lindsay weaves a dark and thrilling tale of disappearance, murder, insanity, and potential forces in the universe beyond our comprehension. She plays with time, nature and mystery - all three intensify into something sinister and disturbing. She's extremely skilled at infusing her characters with strong, tenacious identities (a few of which she is sharply critical) and also extremely funny. "Except for those people over there with the wagonette we might be the only living creatures in the whole world,’ said Edith, airily dismissing the entire animal kingdom at one stroke."

Her nature writing is luxurious and rich. She paints a wonderful and transporting atmosphere through which this simple story swirls and juts and penetrates. There's tension amidst all that beauty and natural splendor. It grows and grows until the very end, at which point I was genuinely shocked.

Picnic at Hanging Rock radiates possibility. I don't believe in magic, spirits, the supernatural ... but this book made me sort of sit back and go, why not? The answer to its central mystery could be uncanny, or there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation. The beauty of this book is that I walked away convinced it could go either way. 6 out of 5 stars.

Picnic at Hanging Rock on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Handmaid's Tale

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

4 stars. What can be said about this book that hasn't already been said? It's awkward to even attempt an analysis - I doubt I could draw a unique conclusion from The Handmaid's Tale even if I spent years trying. Not only has this book been picked apart word by word since its publication, it's also a fairly easy book to analyze. The message is clear. The message is loud.

And yet ... one size does not fit all. The beauty of this book - of all books, really - is that every single reader can interpret something entirely different. What I found to be a deafening warning could be an ideal aspiration for another. Let's hope not, but it could be.

Rather than jump into all the pushing and shoving, instead of extrapolating comprehensively about the overarching themes of this book, I'll just point out a few things that stuck with me, with me personally, when I finished reading it.

First of all, men are barely in this book. We have male characters, and it would seem that a primary focus of the new society is the relationship between men and women. But our protagonist attaches much more significance to the actions of women. She observes more closely - and is much more critical of - the behavior of her female counterparts. This does not mean that she discounts the importance of men; she acknowledges her need and desire for them and also the fact that she is oppressed by them. But complacency comes in many forms, and the women of Gilead, under Atwood's eye, are guilty of oppression just as much as the men are.

Secondly, Atwood's choice of the color red is brilliant. Red symbolizes anger, lust, sin, sexual sin specifically, and adultery. It's also visually striking - the opposite of camouflage. It can be powerful and attractive and distinctive. It's intense. The color red, though, also symbolizes menstruation and fertility - holiness, in the eyes of Gilead's society. Here Atwood demonstrates the hypocrisy of this society's "ideals."

Lastly (and I know this isn't a particularly unique response - see first paragraph above), my reaction to this book was incredibly emotional. I suppose at the end of the day, upon finishing the epilogue, I felt ... hurt. My feeling were hurt. I know that seems lame and petty and like something a twelve-year-old would say, but I felt the accuracy of Atwood's forecast and I felt the fear and the pain and the idea of "wow, I can see this happening."

Disclaimer: I am extremely lucky and have been afforded a tremendous amount of privilege in my life. I do not mean to position myself as a victim. But I'm a woman, so I have faced and will always face the risk of being considered "less." Reading this book triggered a lot of feelings about that, but under all the anger and fury and resentment and determination, it just fucking hurt.

Remember when I said that there is pretty much no room for commentary on this book because it's so universally-analyzed? Whoops. Bottom line: this is one of the most important books of all time and everyone should read it.

The Handmaid's Tale on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Valley of the Dolls

3 stars. Well, isn't this just the tangy, sour glass of lemonade I've been looking for since spring turned to summer.

At first glance, this book, which follows three women as they navigate a merciless and drug-fueled entertainment industry in the 40s and 50s, feels very ahead of its time. The men and the women are equally complex and equally capable of heartfelt good and destructive evil. It explores gender and identity and relationships with a sharp and witty voice that felt especially relevant in the wake of the #metoo movement (yes, fifty years later and not much has changed). I'm not surprised Susann's painfully realistic depiction of sex and sexuality was labeled as "dirty" and slapped with censors. 

Yes, it's mesmerizing, entertaining, witty and rings very true. When the publisher gave the manuscript to his wife to read, she famously said, "I feel like I picked up the phone and I was listening in on a conversation of women talking about how their husbands are in bed. Who would hang up on a conversation like that?" I totally reveled in the juicy bits and enjoyed the lightly-veiled references.

But overall it wasn't, for me, a particular fun or enjoyable book to read. I absolutely adored it and I am in awe of the unusual plotting, but I felt tight with tension throughout the first three quarters, vibrating like a plucked string or taut rubber band. I believe this is because, as a woman, I could feel that under the polka dots and the champagne and the boisterous appeal of show business in the 50s, I was watching a tragedy unfold.

Back before the age when all of us women heaved a collective sigh and admitted, with a combination of fear and relief, that we can't indeed "have it all," there were many Annes, many Jennifers, and many Neelys. Chewed up and spat out by the world - by the men of the world, in most cases. But this is not the tragedy to which I refer. The tragedy is that many of these women, knowingly or unknowingly, jumped into the mouth themselves. 

Valley of the Dolls, much to the delight of its fame-hungry author, will have a legacy as long as its in print. I think it very admirably says a lot, almost unintentionally, about ... well, a lot. But I can't ignore the simmering anger I felt upon finishing. Men are rats. Fleas on rats. And so are women. The end.

Valley of the Dolls on: Amazon | Goodreads