Retro Review: The Golem and the Jinni

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. I would go so far as to say that certain aspects of the golem and the jinni's experiences are very relatable. We have all felt like outsiders. We have all felt frustrated with our natural inclinations or limited by our tendencies. We have all felt restless or stuck by societal constraints. We have all, at some point, lived in fear of judgment by others. Why is it so challenging, then, to apply this mutual understanding - this compassion - to people who don't look like us? Who don't talk like us? Who don't share our religious beliefs?

It's a complicated and disheartening question that's easy to pull from this seemingly quiet narrative. Helene Wecker uses the perspective of an outsider - not only a cultural outsider, but a physical one - to whisper insights about our differences and our similarities and especially our rush to judge.

Yes, the message is critical in that sense. But I was struck by the depiction of goodness in this book; the resilience of human nature and the strength of human kindness. For some reason, we are prone to reject those who are different. But some of the characters in this story demonstrate a deep consideration for others despite (because of?) their differences.

Logistically - this book ran a little long for me. It drags in the middle, as many others have pointed out here. It perhaps could have benefited from some narrative editing. But the writing is so simple and elegant it almost feels suited for a slower, luxurious pace. The author develops her characters with tender loving care and dedicates space to illustrate their thoughtful layers.

Along those lines, the author, in my opinion, successfully demonstrates female complexity - especially when it comes to sexuality. We have several characters here that serve as willing, enthusiastic participants in sexual activity. No bewitched, confused victims here. There's ignorance maybe, or a disregard for consequences, but these women experience sexual pleasure and in some cases even initiate it. More of that, please.

I am neither Jewish nor Arabic, so forgive my error if I observe incorrectly here: the author seems to depict these cultures lovingly, carefully, and (unlike her obvious encouragement of tolerance and open-mindedness) without agenda. The customs and beliefs and traditions portrayed aren't labeled as right or wrong - they are simply vehicles for comfort, familiarity and perhaps true magic. I don't know if it is pro-religion, per say, but it certainly isn't anti. It's just part of the story.

I felt this book as a woman, and as an American.

The Golem and the Jinni on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Witches of New York

4 stars. In this charming and fiercely feminist story, three witches unite in 1880 New York: seventeen-year-old Beatrice (a talented young lady looking for magic and a new life in the big city), Eleanor St. Clair (a thirty-something owner of a useful shop called Tea and Sympathy - would like to go there, thanks!), and Adelaide Thom (a courageous young woman living with scars both visible and unseen). All three find companionship, support and magic by leaning on one another to fight traditional expectations, societal constraints and supernatural threats. There’s a surly talking raven, a Civil War vet, a Bird Lady, a Giant Obelisk, a villainous preacher and a couple of colorful ghosts ("Just as a child learns reading, writing, and arithmetic, the dead had to tackle their three Rs as well: revenge, regret, and reconciliation.") plus demons. It’s quite a crowd.

McKay's tone is matter-of-fact and humorous, but there's an undercurrent of anger, causing The Witches of New York to feel light and heavy at the same time. It tries to be fun and deep. The danger never seems real and we completely expect a happy ending, but it tackles such important, weighty subjects: the strength, courage and fortitude of women, the power of friendship, the complicated and wonderfully imperfect nature of being female, the struggle of being female, the struggle to push against the patriarchy when it pushes back twice as hard. It's lovely, really, and sends an important message.

It's not flawless. There are a lot of characters here - fleshed out characters with agency, to McKay's credit - but it almost feels Dickension (not in a good way). It was a little hard for me to keep track of; a little too expansive for its own good. Perhaps McKay was trying to emulate Jonathan Norrell and Mr. Strange? A lot of it just seemed unnecessary. I love stories with layers, but this one had too many. I also question the romantic subplot(s) - ladies, you don’t need a man/significant other to live fulfilling lives!

And there's a very, very, very apparent lack of diversity. This is about female empowerment - as it turns out, white female empowerment. I would've been very interested and very happy to read any included diverse voices, and I think, considering the time and place of this book's setting, they would've added a lot. Overlooking these voices is counter to the aforementioned message. 

Despite these weaknesses, The Witches of New York is strong. It made me smile. It's very well-researched and the details are absolutely charming, which reminded me somewhat of The Alienist (only the tidbits about New York! That book is not for the faint of heart!). I really rooted for our heroines and appreciated such an intense (if not well-rounded) exploration of female identity. I’ve never read Practical Magic, but I’ve seen the movie, and can guess that it has similar vibes. I found myself wanting to bookmark the tea recipes and try the little magic tricks for warding off evil. Ami McKay is an excellent and sophisticated writer and it shows. I wanted something soothing and quiet, and this delivered, with a lot of meaning tucked in its pages. 

The Witches of New York on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Perfume

3 stars. I have this thing that I would probably describe as perfect music memory: if you play for me a song I've heard before, I can tell you when I heard it last, even if it was 20 years ago, and where I was when I heard it, down to the very last detail. Trust me, I'm of average intelligence, and it's basically just a useless party trick, but that part of my brain is, I guess, extra cool.

This book is about a man whose nose is, apparently, also extra cool. Perfume tells the story of Jean-Baptise Grenouille, a young man in eighteenth century France with a perfect sense of smell. He is able to identify, analyze, dissect and produce even the faintest aroma, and his skill lends itself to an obsession - a drive to capture and cultivate an ultimate perfume made from the scent of beautiful young virgins.

Grenouille is a psychopath - which adds a compelling layer to the character study. His entire existence is driven by scent. The premise itself is wonderfully challenging and the writing - as in, the way the author stitches together his words - is lyrical and lovely. But my eyes glazed over many, many times. I should've eaten this up, but it took me a bit long, primarily because, I think, there is literally no one to root for in this book. I'm all for an anti-hero, but this sort of feels, occasionally, like a writing exercise the author did to prove he could write abhorrent characters. And he succeeds, mostly:

Grenouille broke out in a different jubilation, a black jubilation, a wicked feeling of triumph that set him quivering and excited him like an attack of lechery, and he had trouble keeping from spurting it like venom and spleen over all these people and screaming exultantly in their faces: that he was not afraid of them; that he hardly hated them anymore; but that his contempt for them was profound and total, because they were so dumb they stank; because they could be deceived by him, let themselves be deceived; because they were nothing, and he was everything!

But it's detrimental to Perfume's overall success as an engaging novel. It can apparently be quite boring, venturing into the mind of one male selfish bastard after another. And it gets weird, too, and not in an interesting, fascinating way - in a kind of uncomfortable, this-author-is-jerking-off-to-himself, sort of way (I'm pointing in particular to the middle of the book, when things dragged and rambled a bit).

Ultimately, though, I sincerely enjoyed the exploration of scent, maybe only because I'm a huge nerd about sensory triggers and the way our senses impact and interact with our brain waves. Pheromones and all that: 

For people could close their eyes to greatness, to horrors, to beauty, and their ears to melodies or deceiving words. But they could not escape scent. For scent was a brother of breath. Together with breath it entered human beings, who could not defend themselves against it, not if they wanted to live. And scent entered into their very core, went directly to their hearts, and decided for good and all between affection and contempt, disgust and lust, love and hate. He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.

And then, that ending. Brilliant! I loved it. An astonishing and perfect conclusion. Enough to bring this up from 2 stars to 3 - I really, really liked it. Read this if you're in the mood for something luscious and unique. I think of it sort of as a Rembrandt - an intelligent, eye-catching, stimulating portrait painted with dark, moody colors. There are components of this (the premise, the writing, the ending) that are truly memorable and great.

Perfume on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Girl with a Pearl Earring

4 stars. I picked this up because I felt like I should. I bought my copy years ago at a library book sale for like $3 or something. The movie had just been released and everyone was swooning. I believe I recall my parents trading it around with neighbors. Plus, I really, really, really love art - the power of art, the history of art, the artistic process. And I wanted something a little mellower than all the straight-up horror I've read in 2019 so far. Something lighter.

And it was lovely. This is a shimmery book, very visual and full of color. It is the story of Griet, a young woman who is hired by Vermeer's family as a maid in his household. As she goes about her duties and tends to the many children, the artist recognizes a like-minded, observant individual in her and they develop an intimate friendship culminating in his masterpiece painting, The Girl with a Pearl Earring. 

It's a gorgeous example of historical fiction. And the movie is wonderfully faithful, so I knew what to expect. This is a quiet story, a narrow story, that is somehow able to explore many big themes: coming-of-age, a young girl’s sexual awakening, one’s awareness of class, one’s obedience to that class, one’s sense of duty and honor, strength of character, unrequited lust, female rage … the list goes on. I particularly enjoyed the way the author addressed art - that anyone can be an artist, yes, or recognize and enjoy and consume potent art, and that it can consume you.

I also really appreciated Tracy Chevalier’s succinct storytelling, in fact, I read this in half a day. Not much is known about the artist Vermeer and this peek into his life and process was compelling and kept me turning pages. Griet is also lovely character and I rooted for her. In fact, I wanted it all to be true. There is a story behind every painting (and Chevalier’s version is likely inaccurate, but); I would love to think that the model in the masterpiece experienced some sort of transcendental intimacy with the artist and that lent itself to such a beautiful work of art.

To be read on a rainy day, when you’re in the mood for a prolonged and meaningful daydream.

The Girl with a Pearl Earring on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Song of Achilles

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. This book tells the life story of Patroclus, a friend (in this case, lover) of Achilles, legendary fighter and son of a goddess. Patroclus first encounters Achilles as a young boy, and readers witness their friendship develop into something deeper. Eventually, they head to war - the Trojan War - and the story concludes with both heroes fulfilling their destinies.

I hated this book until I reached the last few chapters. Actually, I hated it entirely. Actually, I loved this book. I can't decide. Regardless, I found it to be amazing.

The Song of Achilles wasn't at all what I was expecting. I picked it up because of my interest in Greek mythology, hoping for a fresh and captivating look at the Trojan War. I suppose I actually did get that, in the end, I just didn't expect to see it through a romantic lens.

Yeah. FYI, this is a romance. Fully blown, agonizing infatuation, profound obsession, there-is-no-life-without-you romance. (Also, I would not describe it as erotica, though there are erotic parts.)

At first I found it to be boring, actually, because so much attention was paid to Patroclus and Achilles' relationship. By the end though, I realized that so much attention was paid because it made the ending that much more of a gut punch. Even though we all saw it coming (it is history, after all) ... ouch.

The language is stunning. This is not a sloppy book. I loved the inclusion of the gods and goddesses and all the things the Greeks believed in. And yeah, that painful ending really got me. I couldn't believe how suddenly, over the course of a few paragraphs, I became so emotionally invested in the characters of a book I almost didn't finish.

I feel so weird about this one. I loved it and I hated it. I appreciated the writing and commend the author for her skill. No other book has shocked me into tears like this one has. Which sounds kind of horrible, like why would you ever want to be shocked into tears? But I really, really, really appreciated the story. This is a difficult one for me, but I say read it, for better or for worse.

The Song of Achilles on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Tangerine

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.

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I spent this entire book expecting some sort of Flight Club / Mr. Robot twist. Yup, I totally thought Alice and Lucy were the two different personalities of the same person. I'm not crazy, I swear there were clues EVERYWHERE!

Exhibits A, B, C, D, etc.: (spoiler alert) when Lucy introduces herself to Joseph as Alice, when Alice says Lucy's name and Tom thinks she's introducing herself, when John reveals that he married her in an arranged deal between his mother and her aunt (to keep her out of the loony bin!), when Lucy looks at the two of them together in the window and sees only her own reflection, when Lucy suddenly appears to Alice out of nowhere, also, they both suffer from weird medical quirks (ringing in the ear, shadows in the eyes) and they both have an obsession with certain words, also, the incident with the bracelet, the incident with the clothes .... COME ON!! It actually occurred to me that the author might have been overly obvious about it on purpose, to throw me off the scent. I was so wrong!

Okay. Now that I have that out of the way, here's the thing: Tangerine is, and I hate to use this word, but I'm going to use it: derivative. It smells too much like Rebecca or Notes on a Scandal or Carol or The Paying Guests or Patricia Highsmith or even The Secret History for me to be truly impressed. I know the publisher used that as a selling point, and it definitely caught my attention, but instead of evoking those works Tangerine felt like a ... weird, less satisfying spin-off, or something.

I also, for maybe the first time ever, was very aware that this book was written by a debut author. I'm sorry - I know that's mean to say, but it just felt ... amateur. I really enjoyed the depiction of two complicated, multifaceted women, both as villains and victims, but in this case their voices were way too similar. I think that's partly why I thought they were the same person - there was virtually no distinction between their narrative tones. There is some great imagery, but the tension is almost non-existent. Also, I think this could have been a very successful short story instead of a short-ish novel.

The best scene, in my opinion, is the first one involving the bracelet. I'm sure I stopped breathing. Mangan managed to write something profoundly and intimately unsettling, turning my grasp of the situation completely on its head. If she channeled that talent into something a little less ambitious, if she kept things closer and more tightly bound, we'd have something really amazing to read.

Tangerine on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Historian

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.

3 stars. It's odd that the title refers to a single historian; because this book, as it turns out, is about many historians: young, old, ancient, scholarly, accidental, academic, serious, casual, etc. The reader too becomes a historian by default, simply because the story in so many places emulates a textbook or reference guide. Which was actually kind of weird! And unexpected, in a book about vampires.

Anyway, as a whole, this book tells the story of how all these different historians converged together on a monster hunt.

And, in my opinion, it's just okay.

First of all - it's very atmospheric. I loved the descriptions of the libraries and old books and the villages and the hotels and the train rides. Those parts made me feel transported, and ready to quit my desk job for more scholarly pursuits.

But as much as I love epistolary novels, I actually found myself a little confused about the nonlinear structure. It felt like I was trying to keep track of too many parentheticals at once: He ran to the store on a Wednesday (but not a Tuesday [or a Thursday {or a Friday}]). Too many stories within stories within stories! I'm sure if I read it straight through without stopping I would be able to keep better track, but several times in the course of reading I picked up the book and had to remind myself who was narrating.

The writing style reminded me of Arthur Conan Doyle - fans of Sherlock Holmes will certainly love this, and stick with it to the end. It's a mystery with unlikely detectives finding clues in the most basic and tedious ways - through academia. Unfortunately, for me, the emphasis landed on tedious. I almost couldn't get through this, to be honest, and the ending was a little confounding.

More than a little, actually. Was the monster even that monster-y, in the end? Was anybody secretly hoping Rossi would say, "YES - OF COURSE - I will be your scholar and forever be entrusted with the greatest collection of books the world has ever seen!" Sigh. It just didn't seem to fit. Dracula's evil nature was revealed only through descriptions of the way his eyes looked, and the way his voice sounded; not through his actions. Aren't we trained to not judge a book by its cover? I found myself looking for clues into Dracula's secret character, hoping to find out more. Unfortunately, when they finally caught up to him, all the characters found was a man with cold eyes and a raspy voice who didn't really do much of anything.

Bottom Line: I can see why this book was a huge hit for some people. It was only a semi-hit for me, but that doesn't mean I can't truly appreciate it all the same. The author deserves 3 stars for her impressive writing and the thorough amount of research she incorporated into the book.

The Historian on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Terror

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. I decided to revisit this book in anticipation of the TV adaptation (which is highly entertaining and I recommend). I enjoyed it so much the first time and was once again completely shocked, completely impressed and completely immersed. Mr. Simmons has crafted an epic masterpiece and I can't wait to watch it become a classic.

I've written before about how a historical fiction novel is successful, to me, when I feel inspired to learn more on the subject. The Terror definitely sparked an intense curiosity about the arctic, arctic expeditions and the age of icy exploration. It truly is a fascinating subject and I appreciated Simmons' level of research.

And beware: there is a lot of research-based content. The length to some may have felt cumbersome, but it felt luxurious to me. Some books go deep instead of wide, some books go wide instead of deep. This book goes deep AND wide.

I didn't find it to be as scary as some readers, but I was disturbed - certainly as I was meant to be - by the detailed portrait of man's hubris in the face of nature. I'm not sure what to call it, exactly: hubris, ego, toxic masculinity, misplaced faith ... I'm referring to the stubborn streak that drove these men to the end of the earth only to be bitten, chewed and swallowed (quite literally). I wouldn't go so far as to call it poetic justice, but when these men do meet their fates, there's a sense of inevitability, acceptance, or maybe the urge to shake your head and whisper "you fools."

The writing itself is consistent. The author treats every character, every development, and every subplot with as much care and dedication as the last. He uses his skill to avoid tripping over tropes - the monster could've been a cartoon, the men could've been caricatures, the descriptions of the landscape could've been stereotypical. But this is truly unique and special.

I read an article recently about art and the author posited that there is only one true way to identify a "masterpiece:" you know one when you see one. I'm afraid that isn't a terribly objective form of measurement, but I feel like it applies here. Not only do I understand what this book is trying to do, I was also really, really entertained. 5 frozen stars.

The Terror on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Queen of the Night

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. I savored this. I bathed in the words. I was unsettled and entranced and deeply, deeply inspired; a testament to Alexander Chee's unapologetic, romantic world. His fluid, dream-like words mingle in rich, dramatic ways. His portrait of the time is immersive and researched and, though filled with much sorrow and hardship, glitters with magic. Chee seduces with twinkly lights, dazzling dresses, stories and songs and all things that sparkle and glow next to all things rough and grotesque.

There are encounters with women and men and music and death and fear and true, true hunger. It's not a coming-of-age story in the typical sense, despite the lessons learned. Uniquely, Lilliet's identity - her intentions for herself, her obligations to herself - seem very intact from the beginning. She doesn't just tell her story, she muses and wonders and wanders and lets things percolate. And so we escape into her journey - the spectacular, unimaginable journey of a woman surviving in the heart of a spectacular, unimaginable time.

Chee has a talent for capturing emotions for which there are no words. I admired this book the second the main character's dress turned against her, which is to say, immediately. Never have I seen that specific emotion described so beautifully. It's an emotion I don't think I've ever even acknowledged in a tangible way, to myself. The emotion you experience when you realize you don't look like you thought you did. Shudder.

And there is much to say about men.

"In this world, some time ago, far past anyone's remembering, women as a kind had done something so terrible, so awful, so fantastically cruel that they and their daughters and their daughters' daughters were forever beyond forgiveness until the end of time - unforgiving, distrusted, enslaved, made to suffer for the least offenses committed against any man. What was remembered were the terms of our survival as a class: We were to be docile, beautiful, uncomplaining, pure, and failing that at the least useful return we might be allowed something like a long life. But if we were not any of these things, but a man's reckoning, or if perchance we violated their sense of that pact, we would have no protection whatsoever and were to be treated worse than any wild dog or lame horse."

There are some aspects I didn't like: the flashbacks, the foreshadowing, the cliffhangers, the smirky way certain details were included (or not included, like the tenor’s name). The timeline was a bit confusing, or self-indulgent, or far-fetched, even absurd - although that may have been intentional, to demonstrate the swirly-whirly nature of time and place and memory. Lilliet seems oddly distanced from her story, at times, as though she's telling it from a separate space, from a different perspective, completely removed.

There's also an interesting exploration of choice and fate, sort of a cage match between "our fate is sealed" and "we seal our own fates." I had a visceral reaction to our protagonist's sense of entitlement and could not relate to her expectation of a free pass. I admired her refusal to accept anything less than her desires, and of course I appreciate that she lived in a world designed to limit her, but life is difficult for everyone. Sometimes, you just can't escape. You must face consequences, you must resist the temptation to run. All that being said, the last few lines of the book call into question my resentment and demonstrate Lilliet's previously hidden level of self-awareness and regret. Noted: "And the gods did not kill for hubris-for hubris, they let you live long enough to learn."

Complaints aside, the power of an incredible historical fiction novel is, for me, unveiled in the pathways I pursue upon finishing it. The Queen of the Night, which is full, decadent, lush and perhaps excessive at times, did inspire me to seek out more. I listened to Chopin, researched the plots of operas and read biographies of the players who made an appearance. I found myself wishing for an illustrated version, or a guide of commentary to which I could refer and compare and explore. Finishing Lilliet's story did not mean I was done with her world.

I realize it's melodramatic and intricate and perhaps it is easy to grow tired of the victory, defeat, victory, defeat, victory, defeat. But ultimately I didn't mind the melodrama because the writing was so thoroughly badass; that specific type of badass I would use to describe an orchestra, or flan, or the word "cornucopia." 5 stars for this book and may we bask in its glow forever.

The Queen of the Night on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Wreckers

3 stars. Taking it way back this week with The Wreckers, a Yearling classic published in ‘99. My husband recommended it as a beloved read from his childhood and I couldn't resist the "high seas adventure" promised. I was immediately shocked by the sheer technicality of a shipwreck - I feel like I would've understood this better had I possessed an intimate knowledge of boats and sailing - but slowly relaxed into a tale that reads like a story heard aloud by the fireplace.

This is the tale of John Spencer, a 14-year boy determined to take to the sea. He accompanies his father, owner of the Isle of the Skye, on a trade voyage, until they are violently shipwrecked off the coast of Cornwall, England. Waterlogged and alone, he witnesses something horrible, something inhumane and tragic. He discovers that the coast is home to a town of wreckers - those who wreck ships on purpose, murder the survivors, and steal the cargo.

It's a nonstop adventure from there - John makes enemies, and friends, and unravels the mystery of the town. He meets murderous monsters and treacherous villains and journeys across moors and through hidden caves. He makes daring escapes and good, heroic choices. It's all really ridiculous, and unlikely, and fun and scary. It was almost a relief to read this from a young person's eyes and recognize the heart and morality of the story. I could depend on the hero.

I can't go without a quiet cringe at one of the story's antagonists - the character of Stumps could be described as downright derogatory. The Americans with Disabilities Act had been around for almost 10 years when this was published - regardless, Lawrence should've known better. It made me uncomfortable - okay, more than uncomfortable - to see a character whose disability was used as an instrument of fear. To make him scarier. Not okay at all.

But this was a page-turning, action-packed adventure, for sure, and a nice, nostalgic break from the angst of adult reading. I might even describe it as a beach read. There's a lot of good luck and a lot of bad luck and an enduring sense that everything's going to be okay. Despite issues with character and plot, the writing is atmospheric and strong. It's a practically nonsensical swashbuckling adventure pre-Pirates of the Caribbean, and like Pirates, it works. 

The Wreckers on: Amazon | Goodreads