Dark Congress by Christopher Golden: B-

January 23, 2010 by Leave a Comment

darkcongressFrom the back cover:
Since the beginning of time, the demonic races have gathered every century to resolve conflicts among them and to determine the course of their future. This centennial event is called the Dark Congress.

Buffy is horrified and disgusted to be included as an arbiter of these conflicts. After all, she is not a demon… is she? She knows so little about her powers that she cannot say for certain where they truly spring from. How can she spend so much time wallowing in the darkness without becoming part of it? Can she possibly agree to a truce with all the horrors of the world and allow them to come to the Hellmouth in Providence, Rhode Island without any attempt to stop them? And does she have a choice?

Review:
Dark Congress is unique because of it’s one of only two Buffy tie-in novels set after the conclusion of the series. (Here is the other. Its apparent cracktasticness is most appealing.) This removes some of the constraints placed upon a media tie-in author, and, free from said limits, Golden seizes the opportunity to do what many a fanfic author has done before him: break up Willow and Kennedy and resurrect Tara. Oh sure, lots of other stuff about demons happens, but c’mon. Who really cares about that?

Tara’s resurrection is actually handled admirably well for a novel such as this, prompting some very in-character reactions. Buffy, for example, wants to be happy but is cautious and worried. Later, after Tara proves herself to be genuine, she is fiercely protective of their happiness, a characteristic Buffy has displayed towards her friends’ relationships on the show, too. My favorite reaction, however, comes from a horrified Giles, whose very first words to Willow are, “What have you done?” I shan’t spoil how everything turns out, but their reunion is quite compelling.

Golden also has a good ear for the characters’ speech patterns, and there were many lines that I could hear perfectly in the actors’ voices, Oz and Faith especially. The plot about the demon council is really not very interesting, but it’s an excuse to bring all of our core characters (and a returning character from Golden’s Gatekeeper trilogy) together again. Although the whole back cover is devoted to the history of the Dark Congress, all you really need to know is that the lead demon, Kandida, wants to broker peace between demons and humans, but she’s killed, and a “mystery” ensues wherein the Scooby Gang seeks to find her killer(s). I say “mystery” because it is completely and utterly obvious who is responsible.

Obviously, most of this story is not going to fit with the canon Season Eight comic book series from Dark Horse. It seems Golden had a little bit of knowledge about it, though, since a mention is made of Dawn being away preparing a castle in Scotland to serve as the new Slayer headquarters. This book was published in August 2007 and the first issue of the comic was released in March of that year, so it seems possible that the reference was intentional and not merely a lucky guess.

In the end, this is one of the better Buffyverse books I’ve read so far. It seems like the demonic threats are always going to be lame in these stories, so the best anyone can hope for is a successful depiction of the characters, and Dark Congress does deliver on that front.

Filed Under: Books, Media Tie-In, Supernatural Tagged With:

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl: A-

January 19, 2010 by 6 Comments

charliechocolateFrom the back cover:
Willy Wonka’s famous chocolate factory is opening at last! But only five lucky children will be allowed inside. And the winners are: Augustus Gloop, an enormously fat boy whose hobby is eating; Veruca Salt, a spoiled-rotten brat whose parents are wrapped around her little finger; Violet Beauregarde, a dim-witted gum-chewer with the fastest jaws around; Mike Teavee, a toy pistol-toting gangster-in-training who is obsessed with television; and Charlie Bucket, Our Hero, a boy who is honest and kind, brave and true, and good and ready for the wildest time of his life!

Review:
I’m not sure why we spent what seemed to be the entire last week of fourth grade sprawled on the carpet of the media center wearing out one of those new-fangled videotapes of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory by watching it over and over again, but sprawl and watch we did. I don’t remember anyone complaining when, after the movie ended, it was immediately begun again, but perhaps my recollection is clouded by how much I loved (and still do) the film. Until now, however, I had never actually read the original book though I’ve owned it for several years.

As most people probably know, this is the story of humble and poor Charlie Bucket who loves chocolate very much but must be content with nightly meals of watery cabbage soup. As luck would have it, a huge and world-famous chocolate factory is on his way to school and every day he pauses to sniff the air near Wonka’s Factory, though his family is so poor they can only afford to give him one bar of chocolate each year on his birthday.

When Wonka announces his Golden Ticket contest—in which five Golden Tickets are hidden in Wonka chocolates, each entitling one child to a tour of the facilities and a life-time supply of candy—Charlie tries not to get his hopes up, but is nonetheless disappointed when his birthday bar fails to contain the golden prize. A second bar paid for from his Grandpa Joe’s secret fund yields the same results, and Charlie has almost given up hope when a lucky dollar found on the sidewalk buys him a bar containing the fifth and final Golden Ticket. The next day, Charlie and Grandpa Joe join four other children and their parents in a tour of the fantastic factory. Each of the other children has a flaw—eating too much, being spoiled, chewing gum constantly, and watching too much television—and is disqualified along the way by some means connected to it. In the end, only Charlie remains and it’s a happy ending for the well-deserving child.

Although the basic flow of the plot is the same and indeed, some lines of dialogue are used verbatim in the film (“Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!”) there are some differences. No one in the book sings except for the Oompa Loompas (who are not orange and are sometimes female), and their songs are not nearly as catchy in print form. Charlie and Grandpa Joe do not commit the grievous sin of sampling fizzy lifting drinks, although the beverages and the method to combat their lifting powers are discussed, and Veruca’s exit is facilitated by nut-evaluating squirrels rather than an egg meter. I seem to recall that Tim Burton’s film version (which is pretty awful) keeps the squirrels, so perhaps special effects in 1971 were simply not up to the task of bringing them to life on the screen. Most importantly, there’s neither Mr. Slugworth nor any testing of Charlie to see whether he will protect Wonka’s secrets. When I was a kid I didn’t like that part because Wonka was mean to Charlie, but now that it’s gone, I find I miss it. In the book, Charlie is an observer who wins mostly by process of elimination, but in the film he’s required to prove his goodness and is a more interesting character.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is thoroughly charming and is undoubtedly a classic of children’s fiction. The fact remains, however, that I still like the movie more. Gene Wilder brings so much to the role of Willy Wonka, retaining his eccentricities but also endowing him with both warmth and menace, that even the original pales by comparison. Add to this the film’s more fleshed-out portrayal of Charlie and my choice is clear.

Filed Under: Books, Children's Fiction Tagged With:

Avatar by John Passarella: C+

January 18, 2010 by 2 Comments

avatarFrom the back cover:
When Angel arrived in Los Angeles, he assumed he’d find enough evil to keep himself busy for, well… eternity. Up until now, he’s had his hands full in real time. So when Cordelia suggests starting up a web site for their detective agency, he’s hesitant. As Doyle puts it, “People in trouble want to interface with a face.”

Soon, though, the police discover a trail of desiccated corpses stretching across the city. The only thing that binds these victims (other than their cause of death) is their pastime pursuit: online chatting. One by one, they are being hunted by a techno-savvy demon. And when this monster has claimed his final victim, he will have completed a ritual that extends the arm of his evil far beyond the reaches of even the Internet…

Review:
Much like Ghoul Trouble, a Buffy the Vampire Slayer book by the same author, Avatar features a pretty lame plot brightened by some entertaining moments between the characters and a good feel for each character’s voice. It occurs early in season one, seemingly before episode eight, “I Will Remember You,” because Angel doesn’t seem to have seen Buffy since he left Sunnydale.

Frankly, the less said about the plot of Avatar the better. It makes sense, I suppose, but there’s nothing great about it. I did find one thing interesting, though. Often, media tie-in books are prohibited from having anything genuinely important happen to the characters. In Avatar, that still holds true but some events are inflated to seem like they are very important. For example, after Angel saves a bunch of teenagers being held prisoner by some sewer-dwelling demon bugs—slipping into vampface in the process—one of the teens says something like, “What are you?” Angel slinks away and the text reads, “Never before had his human face felt so much like a mask.” Really? A fleeting encounter with a teen in a sewer eclipses all of the other times Angel’s had angst about the duality of his existence?

The best part about Avatar is the depiction of the main characters, especially some nice conversations between Doyle and Cordelia and Angel’s observations about Doyle’s chances for a romantic relationship with her. Many fans agree that the worst episode of Angel‘s first season is “She,” featuring Bai Ling as a violet-eyed, leather-clad leader in a flimsy story meant to serve as a metaphor for female circumcision. Angel’s supposedly attracted to her, but no one can figure out why because she’s so boring. Avatar is certainly not as good as the best episodes of season one, but it is definitely better than “She.”

Except for the part where Angel dances. That part is awesome.

Filed Under: Books, Media Tie-In, Supernatural Tagged With:

The Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer: B-

January 15, 2010 by 6 Comments

masqueradersFrom the back cover:
Temporarily abandoned by their scapegrace father, Prudence and Robin Lacey are forced to masquerade as the opposite sex to avoid capture by their political enemies.

Prue makes a devilishly handsome young man and her brother Robin is equally beguiling as her “sister.”

This, however, makes for some dangerous entanglements when Prue, as Mr. Merriot, falls in love with Sir Anthony, and her brother, posing as Miss Merriot, finds his heart struck by the lovely heiress, Letty Grayson…

Review:
Long have I nurtured a desire to read the works of Georgette Heyer, and what better place to start than the one with all the cross-dressing!

The Masqueraders is best described as a romantic farce. Siblings Prudence and Robin Lacey are the children of an exceedingly clever father who repeatedly gets them both involved in his schemes. Most recently, this involved being part of the Jacobite rebellion, causing them to go into hiding garbed as members of the opposite sex. Their father sends them to stay with a family friend where they are introduced into society as Peter and Kate Merriot.

Prudence, in the guise of Peter, begins to develop affection for the large and observant Sir Anthony Fanshawe while Robin, as Kate, comes to feel for a young heiress called Letty Grayson. To top it off, their father soon arrives, claiming to be Tremaine of Barham, heir to a Viscounty. Because he is an infuriatingly circumspect fellow, he won’t give them a straight answer as to whether he really is this person or if it’s just another of his masquerades, and both children have their doubts. Insert into this narrative blooming romance, a surly rival for Letty’s affections, a masked ball, a second claimant, a duel avoided, a duel provoked, a rescue, a death, an arrest, a subsequent rescue, and a pleasant though predictable ending and one gets an idea of the nature of this lighthearted tale.

While I did enjoy reading The Masqueraders, it never succeeded in surprising me any. Too, I found the siblings’ father to be quite tiresome—especially his tendency to proclaim himself a great man—and never did see what Robin liked so much about Letty other than her looks; her head is full of thoughts of romance and little else. More to my liking was the pairing of Prudence and Sir Anthony. Stolid and wry, he’s a likable fellow and also admires Prudence for the best of reasons, citing that he has never once seen her betray fear or lose her head.

All in all, this is a frothy confection that amuses without offering much substance. Still, I definitely liked it will enough to persevere in my goal of reading all of Heyer’s works. I know her fans are many, so if anyone has any particular recommendations of what I ought to read next, I’d be happy to receive them.

Filed Under: Books, Gender Hijinks, Historical Fiction, Romance Tagged With:

The Princes in the Tower by Alison Weir: B+

January 11, 2010 by 4 Comments

princesintowerFrom the front flap:
Despite five centuries of investigation by historians, the sinister deaths of the boy king Edward V and his younger brother Richard, Duke of York, remain one of the most fascinating murder mysteries in English history. Did Richard III really kill “the Princes in the Tower,” as is commonly believed, or was the murderer someone else entirely? In this utterly absorbing and meticulously researched book, English writer Alison Weir, an authority on the history of the British royal family, at last provides a conclusive solution to this age-old puzzle.

Review:
There are two schools of thought on Richard III. One group, dubbed “revisionists,” believes that Richard’s unsavory reputation is undeserved and that he did not do the awful things attributed to him. The second, “traditionalists,” hold that Richard was tyrannical and ambitious and certainly did commit many terrible acts. Alison Weir is firmly in the traditionalist camp and, after reading her work, I must (reluctantly) conclude that Richard probably was behind the deaths of his nephews.

The way Weir organizes her information is interesting. After devoting the entire first chapter to an introduction and evaluation of her sources, especially contemporary ones, she proceeds to tell the story by citing many of the sources in turn. These do not always agree, and when they don’t, she points it out and explains which, in her opinion, is likely the most accurate account. The result is a narrative that feels thorough and yet not unnecessarily bogged down by detours into conjecture. While I lament the passing of my romanticized view of Richard III, Weir ultimately did compile enough irrefutable evidence to convince me of his villainy.

Some things about the way the information is presented rankle a bit, however. It’s clear from pretty early on that Weir, despite claiming that she approached the question of Richard’s guilt with an open mind, is completely dismissive of the revisionist view, saying “the majority of serious historians have rejected it.” Too, she often seems to base her arguments on behavioral assumptions like (paraphrased) “Surely a man of such integrity would verify his facts” or “This was published during a time when many people who knew Richard III were still alive and would spot inaccuracies.” Okay, sure, but in a political climate where beheadings occur frequently—and when the monarch (Henry VII) in power wants to avoid attention being called to the House of York, as Weir points out herself—are these people really going to feel free to defend him? It’s not that I dispute her conclusions based on the evidence, and I’m by no means a historian myself, but I do have to wonder whether this is how research is normally conducted and presented.

In any case, Weir’s account of Richard’s life, deeds, and legacy is a fascinating and, ultimately, convincing read, even to someone like me who has enjoyed (and likely will continue to enjoy) reading historical fiction in which Richard is presented in a positive light.

Filed Under: Books, Crime, History, Nonfiction Tagged With:

Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers: A+

January 9, 2010 by 3 Comments

gaudynightFrom the back cover:
When Harriet Vane attends her Oxford reunion, known as the “Gaudy,” the prim academic setting is haunted by a rash of bizarre pranks: scrawled obscenities, burnt effigies, and poison-pen letters—including one that says, “Ask your boyfriend with the title if he likes arsenic in his soup.” Some of the notes threaten murder; all are perfectly ghastly; yet in spite of their scurrilous nature, all are perfectly worded. And Harriet finds herself ensnared in a nightmare of romance and terror, with only the tiniest shreds of clues to challenge her powers of detection, and those of her paramour, Lord Peter Wimsey.

Review:
I’m trying to recall precisely when I first heard of Gaudy Night. It must’ve been somewhere around 2001 or 2002, because my first attempt to read the Wimsey series (I couldn’t just jump straight to the penultimate novel, after all!) occurred early in 2002. In any case, here is a book I’ve been waiting to read for at least eight years and, unlike so much else in life, it completely lived up to (and even exceeded) my expectations.

Because I blindly accepted the accounts of this book’s excellence, I didn’t read much about it before its time came. Therefore, it was an exceedingly pleasant surprise that the narrative is told from the point of view of Harriet Vane, a mystery novelist and long-time object of Wimsey’s affections. After discovering a couple of disturbing messages when attending her Oxford reunion, Harriet is later called back to the college to conduct a discreet investigation. While investigating the origins of poison-pen letters, foiling pranks, and settling into the academic life once more, Harriet also engages in many conversations with the members of the Senior Common Room on the virtues of a life devoted to scholarship as opposed to the traditional womanly duties, and uses the experience of her former schoolmates to help form conclusions about whether marriage is worth it. The overall message is an unapologetically feminist one, though some characters do persist in advocating for stereotypical gender roles.

Of course, this isn’t the first book to present Harriet’s point of view. Have His Carcase is similar, but it’s more breezy and amusing. This time, it feels like we really get to know Harriet inside and out and understand exactly what it is that keeps her from accepting Peter’s marriage proposals: her belief that she has so thoroughly messed up attempts at love (Peter first meets her in Strong Poison when she is on trial for killing her lover) that she had better give up, and, most strongly, the pesky feelings of gratitude toward Peter that would forever keep them on unequal footing. As fond as she is of Peter, she can’t really believe he would be happy with her or treat her as an equal, and it’s in this novel that he finally, finally manages to convince her that both are true.

Eventually, Harriet reaches a point in the case where it’s necessary to call for Peter’s assistance and it’s here that she begins to compare the kind of marriage he would offer as opposed to the variety more normally encountered. For example, Peter doesn’t want a sweet, uncritical, and dependent spouse: he wants an honest and independent one. “Anybody can have the harmony,” he says, giving voice to a lovely musical metaphor, “if they will leave us the counterpoint.” It takes a little bit for this to sink in, however. Instead of trying to dissuade Harriet from continuing the investigation when her life is in jeopardy, for example, Peter teaches her self-defense moves. He basically encourages all the independence she could ask for and more, giving her the freedom to risk the life she still believes she owes to him. Lastly, he reveals more of his own weaknesses, showing that he’s flawed and human, too. At last she realizes that he truly means to accept her as she is and when Peter proposes one last time, she accepts.

While the disturbances on campus and Harriet’s investigation are truly fascinating—I’m thinking particularly of the fabulous scene where the culprit is dashing about removing fuses from all of the buildings and casting everyone into darkness—it really is the relationship between these two that shines most brightly. In terms of intelligence and independence, Harriet and Peter perhaps the closest thing 20th century literature has to a couple like Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy. Without them, Gaudy Night would’ve earned a solid A, which is nothing to sneer at.

Reiterating that Gaudy Night is highly recommended is unnecessary at this point, but I do advise reading at least the Wimsey novels that have been linked to here before tackling it so as to have a better idea as to the origins of Harriet and Peter’s relationship and how they’ve circled around one another for the last five years. That’ll make the novel’s conclusion all the more satisfying.

Filed Under: Books, Mystery Tagged With:

Memories of the Future 1 by Wil Wheaton: B

January 1, 2010 by 6 Comments

memfuture1From the back cover:
The away team returns from the planet with some very good news: it’s clean, it’s beautiful, it’s populated with friendly humanoids… and they really like to do the nasty.

“At the drop of a hat,” according to Geordi.

“Any hat,” Tasha says knowingly.

Picard sends a second, larger team down to the planet to see exactly how many hats they’re going to need.

From “Encounter at Farpoint” to “Datalore,” relive the first half of Star Trek: The Next Generation‘s unintentionally hilarious first season through the eyes, ears, and memories of cast member and fan, Wil Wheaton (Wesley Crusher) as he shares his unique perspective in the episode guide you didn’t even know you were dying to read.

Review:
I came a little late to Star Trek: The Next Generation. I don’t come from a family of Trekkies and didn’t know anyone who watched the original show, so I was not glued to my set for TNG‘s 1987 debut (like I’d later be for Deep Space Nine‘s). Instead, I got into it in 1992, when my brother was watching the episodes in syndication every afternoon and hanging TNG action figures (still in the package, of course) on his walls. I began watching with him and was soon hooked, acquiring Larry Nemecek’s The Star Trek: The Next Generation Companion so that I could read all about the making of the episodes and keep track of the ones I’d seen. (Side note: I still haven’t seen 1.5 of them, but I kind of like it that way. It makes it seem like it’s not quite over.)

Although I eventually came to prefer DS9, TNG still holds a place in my heart. Like many people, I never did much care for the character of Wesley Crusher, but when I spotted Wil Wheaton’s episode reviews on TV Squad, I did read a few of them. In his introduction to Memories of the Future, Wheaton explains how the site lost a chunk of its funding and, therefore, the ability to pay him, but that he wanted to at least complete reviews for the first season, and so this book was born.

If you’re looking for a tawdry tell-all book, you’re not going to find it here. Wheaton doesn’t talk specifically about his castmates much, but when he does, he has nothing but positive things to say about them. Instead, his vitriol is reserved for the writers; he critiques the way various characters are written (Wesley, primarily, but also Worf and Troi, who are particularly one-dimensional during the first season) and points out many logic flaws and other problems with episode construction. I found his arguments to be compelling—especially how, contrary to many fans’ beliefs, Wheaton himself was in no way responsible for Wesley’s tendencies to save the day and be smug about it—and insightful.

There’s a chapter for each episode including a synopsis, quotable dialogue, obligatory technobabble, behind-the-scenes memory, bottom line, and final grade. The synopses are very snarky, though occasionally he’ll break from that mold to praise a particularly nice piece of acting. Many, many pop culture references abound—Strong Bad, Pulp Fiction, Animal Farm, et cetera—which is okay when I get them but rather annoying when I don’t. I have a feeling I was supposed to find some of the snark funny, but I never did, though I think there was a pretty clever/esoteric shabu shabu joke in there.

Memories of the Future is published by Monolith Press, which was founded by Wheaton “on the idea that publication should not be limited by opportunity.” I’m not sure, therefore, whether anyone else ever read and edited the book before its release. There are a few instances where an incorrect but not misspelled word is used—“marshal arts” or “when Picard apologies or something”—and a lot of inconsistency in the treatment of words that come after colons (don’t capitalize them unless they’re proper nouns!). Also, the header for each episode is accompanied by some grey bars with a lot of random numbers on them. I could never figure out whether they have any significance; perhaps they’re supposed to look like an Enterprise computer display or something? In any case, some tighter editorial controls would’ve provided a bit more polish.

(Update: After realizing that the numbers never go above 26, I tried my hand at cryptanalysis. All I could figure out is that the letters for the Introduction spell “Wesley.” Beyond that, it’s either gibberish or a code too complex for a lazy person like me to bother with.)

Ultimately, while I had some complaints I still wished I had volume two immediately on hand after finishing this one and I wish, too, that Wheaton will continue beyond the first season. While he is occasionally (and rightly) critical of some aspects of the show, his perspective is undeniably interesting and, above all, affectionate.

Additional reviews of the first volume of Memories of the Future can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Memoir, Nonfiction, Television, Triple Take Tagged With:

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris: B-

December 22, 2009 by 8 Comments

holidaysFrom the front flap:
Holidays on Ice collects six of David Sedaris’s most profound Christmas stories into one slender volume perfect for use as an emergency coaster or ice scraper. This drinking man’s companion can be enjoyed by the warmth of a raging fire, in the glow of a brilliantly decorated tree, or even in the backseat of a van or police car. It should be read with your eyes, felt with your heart, and heard only when spoken to. It should, in short, behave much like a book. And oh, what a book it is!

Review:
I’m not usually one for holiday-themed entertainment: I don’t voluntarily listen to Christmas music and, beloved classic or not, the thought of watching Ralphie pine yet again for his Red Ryder BB gun fills me with despair. And yet, who could resist the allure of a piece entitled “Dinah, the Christmas Whore”? Not me, surely!

Holidays on Ice collects six short works, three of which ( “SantaLand Diaries,” “Season’s Greetings to Our Friends and Family!!!,” and “Dinah, the Christmas Whore”) have been published before and three of which ( “Based Upon a True Story,” “Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol,” and “Christmas Means Giving”) have not. Both “SantaLand” and “Dinah” take the form of nonfiction (see note) essays while the others are clearly fiction.

I’ve never actually read anything by Sedaris before, though I’ve heard him on NPR a time or two. Perhaps, then, it was a newbie’s mistake that I expected that these stories would be funny. Instead, most feature unpleasant people doing unpleasant things. I realize that sort of humor is popular with many, but it’s not something I personally find amusing. The worst offenders in this regard are the fiction works, like “Season’s Greetings,” in which the shrill narrator’s shrieking at her slutty new Vietnamese stepdaughter goes on interminably, or “Christmas Means Giving,” in which competitive and outrageously rich neighbors attempt to outdo each other in extravagant generosity. Some unpleasant types turn up in “SantaLand” and “Dinah,” though their stays are brief and much more tolerable.

That isn’t to say there are no laughs to be had at all. At his best, Sedaris possesses a talent for noting absurdity that jives nicely with my own sense of humor. I particularly like his self-deprecating account of his own youthful pretensions in “Dinah,” like how he thought that by wearing black in protest of others’ holiday consumption he could somehow cause them to rethink their ways.

My very avoidance would set me apart and cause these people to question themselves in ways that would surely pain them. “Who are we?” they’d ask, plucking the ornaments off their trees. “What have we become? And why can’t we be more like that somber fellow who washes dishes down at the Piccadilly Cafeteria?”

Of the fiction works, my favorite is “Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol,” in which a theatre critic savagely reviews several elementary school Christmas pageants. Here, rather than feeling like the extended rant of an unlikable person, it feels like the joke is on Thaddeus, who clearly is missing the point of these performances. This impression is aided by Sedaris’ expert imitation of a know-it-all columnist’s style; if this story were excerpted and anonymously posted somewhere I bet it’d fool many into believing it genuine.

While these six stories were hit or miss with me, I’m given to understand that this collection is not considered to be Sedaris’ best. I own a few more of his books, and will surely read them eventually. I’m sure I’ll encounter a few things to make me smile and a few observations to make me nod in recognition of a truth well stated, but I’m also confident there’ll be more of those unpleasant people whom I just simply don’t enjoy reading about. And that rather puts a damper on my enthusiasm.

Note: While I’m in partial agreement with the argument that Sedaris exaggerates too much for his essays to be rightly classified as nonfiction, I nonetheless think they’re nonfiction enough to merit inclusion in that category here. I only hope that the made-up bits are obvious enough that I never embarrassingly ascribe too much significance to them.

Filed Under: Books, Essays, Humor, Memoir, Nonfiction, Short Stories

Matilda by Roald Dahl: A

December 10, 2009 by Leave a Comment

matildaFrom the back cover:
Matilda is a genius. Before she was three years old she was reading the newspaper. By the age of four, Matilda was reading classics by Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. By the time Matilda becomes a student at Crunchem Hall, she’s bored stiff. When Matilda’s teacher, Miss Honey, tries to get her moved up a few grades she runs up against the Headmistress, Miss Trunchbull—two hundred pounds of mean, nasty, kid-hating bully.

Can even a genius like Matilda survive the rampages of Miss Trunchbull—or should she come up with a crafty plan to rid the school of the bully once and for all?

Review:
Matilda Wormwood is a genius, though her idiotic parents are completely incapable of recognizing this fact. Just when she’s about to start school, her father badmouths her to the cruel headmistress, Miss Trunchbull, who thereafter persists in having a negative opinion of Matilda, even after the girl’s teacher, Miss Honey, describes what a phenomenal child she is. When Matilda discovers that she possesses the ability to help the desperately poor Miss Honey and get back at Miss Trunchbull simultaneously, she leaps at the chance.

I really do think Dahl is remarkable among writers of children’s fiction for being able to craft stories that are equally appealing to children and adults. For example, although Matilda is moved to seek revenge against some odious adults in her life, grown-ups in general are not portrayed as villains, since her closest confidante is Miss Honey. And though the humor is clearly geared for children, it’s never stupid or crude and Matilda is generally polite and thoughtful. Probably a lot of this has to do with Dahl’s being British; I’ve seen plenty of obnoxious American tales about smug children humiliating adults and Matilda is nothing like them.

That said, how I wish I had discovered Matilda when I was ten! Like the lead character, I was the bookish daughter of TV-inclined parents, though at least mine were generally encouraging. I also had a dreadful experience in fourth grade of being presumed guilty by a teacher of something I didn’t do simply because I was away in Gifted class at the time and, unlike all of my other classmates, had not been given the opportunity to deny the accusations. Reading about Matilda and the similar plight in which she finds herself probably would’ve buoyed my spirits enormously at the time and made me feel less powerless.

I’ve now read and enjoyed two books by Dahl, which has spurred me to consider embarking on a more comprehensive effort. Stay tuned!

Filed Under: Books, Children's Fiction Tagged With:

The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers: B

December 8, 2009 by 5 Comments

theninetailorsFrom the back cover:
The nine tellerstrokes from the belfry of an ancient country church toll out the death of an unknown man and call the famous Lord Peter Wimsey to confront and contemplate the good and evil that lurks in all of life and in every human’s actions. Steeped in the atmosphere of a quiet parish in the strange, flat fen country of East Anglia, this is a tale of suspense, character, and mood by an author critics and readers rate as one of the great masters of the mystery novel.

Review:
Before I checked The Nine Tailors out of my local library, I was laboring under the misapprehension that it would feature a nonet of suit-making suspects. Imagine my surprise when instead of haberdashery, I got campanology, as the title actually refers to the nine tolls of a church’s largest bell (dubbed Tailor Paul) that announce the death of a male adult in the parish.

When Lord Peter Wimsey is stranded in the village of Fenchurch St. Paul over New Year’s Eve while awaiting repairs to his car, he is drafted by the kindly yet absentminded rector to fill in for a sick man for a nine-hour spate of change ringing to celebrate the new year. Wimsey proceeds on his way the following day, but when a body turns up in the parish some months later, the rector writes to ask whether he would be willing to assist the local investigators. Although the cause of death cannot be determined, it’s obvious that the body didn’t find its way into someone else’s freshly dug grave on its own. Wimsey is intrigued and very quickly works out that the case might have something to do with a jewel theft that occurred 20 years ago.

On the whole, I found The Nine Tailors to be an entertaining read. It doesn’t provide any new character development for Wimsey—he doesn’t seem to show much emotion when Harriet Vane’s not around—but offers a nicely puzzling mystery in a quaint and unusual setting. While I found the identity of the dead man relatively easy to guess, I was genuinely surprised by the ultimate solution. Two things dimmed my enjoyment of the title somewhat. First, each chapter is prefaced by an instructional quote about change ringing and egad, are these passages both boring and confusing! Second, the local official seems to be a bad influence on Lord Peter, because the two of them together spend a great amount of time concocting various scenarios that would make all the clues fit together. I’m sure that’s human nature and all that, but I suppose I subscribe to Sherlock Holmes’ caution against theorizing in advance of the facts.

Gaudy Night is finally next, and I’m feeling pretty giddy about that, though I really hope I don’t find it disappointing after hearing so much good about it. You may expect a review before the year is out!

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