Happily, the aforementioned level of neglect hasn't entirely applied to my reading this year and on that count, I couldn't be gladder because there have been some awesome books this time around - alongside some pretty exciting acquisitions - thanks to A Night with Neil Gaiman, the Sydney Writers' Festival, a very awesome workmate taking me on a trip to the local Vinnie's, even more awesome workmates recommending and lending and hell, even an awesome chance find while trying to kill time between a baby shower and a 30th. Yeah, the books on my shelf and my desk are multiplying like bunnies and the proportion of unread to read books only continues to grow... ok, I may have a sickness...
Anyway, on to bookage!
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Ah nothing like coming of age and self-discovery, particularly in Middlesex. Second to last literary entry, I was getting nicely stuck into it. Having read both The Virgin Suicides and The Marriage Plot, I am a definite fan of Eugenides style although I will say this was my least favourite of the three books. The story is actually pretty enthralling and so imbued with mythology and history that it led me to look further into the Smyrna Massacre and the Detroit Riots, two events of which I'd known nothing. Furthermore, Eugenides' ability to delve so vividly into Cal's 5-alpha-reductase deficiency was insanely fascinating, conjuring a visual not unlike those videos that shoot out from Earth into space and continue travelling outward into the Universe while the eye remains on Earth till it rapidly transforms into a mere dot in the distance. I also enjoyed the family history a lot, its potential soapiness often negated by Eugenides' charm, something undoubtedly contributed to by the fact that he was so often drawing from his own life. Having said that though, I do question the ultimate length of the book. I don't often have issues with pacing, whether it be movies or books, because being a rambler by nature myself, I tend to enjoy a good digression. But here, I have to admit, there was some definite slog. Regardless, I remain ever a Eugenides fan.
Hmmm, so these reviews are going to sound very lackluster to begin with because again this was not my favourite Hornby book, though again I am a massive fan. Funny and often insightful though the story was, even prompting me to take stock of just how much active good there was in my own life, I was underwhelmed. I appreciate the realities presented within it - that no matter how much good you want to do, there will always be obstacles whether from within or without, that so much of the world just cannot be fucked - but at the same time, I do think the book lacked a degree of cohesion and then sort of tied itself up neatly at the end. I actually wouldn't definitively say it was a bad book, the story just didn't speak to me personally. I appreciate that ultimately, one can do one's best to be good and run with that in life, but as a story, I just came away a little cold.
Speaking of ugly realities, who better to arrive at than Palahniuk? This story is every shade of messed up you expect from ol' Chuck and much like his other stories, you get pulled into all the morbidly entertaining catastrophes and you find yourself pondering the benefits of all out self-destruction. I may have been in a lesser mood for cynicism while I read this as I did find myself tiring of the commentary for a bit there, but ultimately Palahniuk does what he does best - shine a light on the crazy in this world and in society and in ourselves and pull no punches in doing so. Harsh though it is to admit, this is the world. Of consumerism, of appearance, of selfishness, of betrayal, of confusion and it can get fucking ugly. And yet, I think this character actually has closure, not something I've seen in his books so far. I won't lie, after the bog of societal and personal anguish, that was kinda nice.
A happy re-read. This remains my favourite Eugenides. I love this book, happily sinking back into the beige tinted world of obsession, illusion and adoration. As often ridiculous as their fixation on the Lisbon girls gets, the boys are just so hard not to feel for. Life was mysterious enough during puberty without a family of earth angels in your neighbourhood to mystify you day in and day out. The growing sense of realisation of just what they were doing only adds to how keenly we take in moments, events and situations and transform them into so much more, without any ability to control it. And the girls, well, we all understand a desire to feel, to know, to fight and to escape. Despite what little we really know, all that desire comes sharply through and we understand the boys in their responding need to also know, dream and help. A great read.
This was interesting as I was curious as to whether or not I would leave this Atwood feeling as low as I did after The Handmaid's Tale. This tale, however, was not one of a doomed future, but of a very guarded past and, well, sorry to the lady at Beecroft books who so highly recommended Handmaid over this story, but I definitely enjoyed The Blind Assassin far more. That's not to say it was better per se, rather that I found it more enjoyable as a reading experience. I do find myself somewhat enamoured by Atwood's clever style, but her stories are intricate and captivating in themselves and she enjoys employing news cuttings and reports and other similar devices to lend an authenticity to them as well. Funnily enough, what appears to have been a twist in the tale was an aspect I had assumed from the beginning and admittedly, it confuses me that anyone else didn't think so either considering character voice and tone. Saying that, even working on my original assumption, I enjoyed the characters and sans twist, it still made compelling reading.
I loved this book. Being non-fiction, I enjoyed the book for what it was, a retelling of Piper's experience, as a young woman caught up in drug trafficking who then shuts the door on that life only to have it blow up in her face a number of years later. What is really interesting about it is that she is writing from the perspective of the privileged. A short sentence, a loving husband waiting for her once she finally got out, countless friends who were there to support her, visit her and send her books, and even a job ready and waiting. I know to some people that would zap the story of some of its edge but really, why undermine her experience? Considering she spends a good amount of the book clearly aware of her good fortune, highlighting those around her who aren't so lucky, I think it's great she's not only told her story and the many stories of the women in prison with her, but has since worked so hard to reform a clearly flawed system. I really do recommend it. Her story doesn't need grit, it just is what it is and it presents the reality that no matter who you are, you're vulnerable to consequence, and does well to provide some insight into how things operate in these institutions with honest wit and good humour.
Ah, Capote. I think essentially we were reading you. Just, you. For that alone, I highly recommend this book. As a story, it jumps and then falls and ponders on itself quite a bit, but that is coming of age at its core and the style could not have complimented the story more. Everyone feels that isolation, however long it lasts or however deeply into your life it embeds itself and here, Capote reaches a hopeful acceptance of that isolation which so tellingly grounds his own history. Beautiful book.
So I'm going to say outright that this is the better version of Gone Girl. Quite honestly, there's not a whole lot to say about the book. Early established mysterious incident following clearly obsessive and fantasised involvement with people as yet unmet immediately gives us a question we want answering and succeeds in throwing the jumbled puzzle pieces of that answer at us, with a good mix of romantic intrigue and psychological confusion. I will admit to finishing it in one sitting and knowing I will likely never read it again. Very entertaining story and far less over the top than Gone Girl.
As my last entry probably made clear, I am in love with this book. Story, style, language, history, detail... all of it executed so beautifully and absolutely drawing me into every city, every moment and every character. I could not recommend it more. I had neither heard of the book nor the author when I was casually browsing at Myer in the city and honestly, I'd no inkling that I would actually leave with a book in tow, but I picked it up and read one, maybe two, paragraphs and my decision to buy was made. Doerr's language sculpts the most amazing imagery and it never stops from beginning to end. The warplanes, hell, even the bombs dropped, are alive, singing, searching... worlds exist within worlds as Marie-Laure's father sculpts miniatures of Paris and Saint Malo and buys her classics like 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. Doerr speaks of invisible lines and connections and in introducing us to Werner, launches us into the world of science, physics, mechanics and of course, the rise of the Reich as seen through the eyes of innocents. The story had me completely bound till it was done, so much so that I actually gasped, not once, but twice, before it was over and forced to reluctantly close the book. The narrative is set out perfectly. I read some who criticized it as a device but I'm with Doerr on this one. He wrote it newly aware of constraint and it damn well works, especially for my damn sensitive little reader heart. I recommend it to everyone, such an amazing story, told with brilliant elegance. Doerr, I say ten years absolutely well spent. Please, more.
Now Reading:
I am excited to get started on this, being as obsessed with German history as I now am thanks to a fascination rooted first by a childlike understanding of the fall of the Berlin Wall, further fed by high school Modern History and then finally ignited by The Reader and actually visiting Germany itself, finding myself unable to escape sheer History. I unfortunately didn't visit the Stasiland Museum while I was in Leipzig this year, but a high cheers to my workmate and fellow Germanophile, Wendy, for lending me the book. I can't wait.
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The To Read list remains laughingly the same so no need to embed covers. Clearly I jump from book to book much like I hop from moment to moment in life, planning to get to some things and getting either waylaid or distracted or simply moving in a different direction. Saying that though, the process has never really let me down. This year in reading, as well as in life, has proven quite the trip and one I've absolutely enjoyed and continue to enjoy, high moments and low. Only confirms what I've always known though - reading is my life.
Belle knows what I'm talking about.
