Princess Mia by Meg Cabot: B

January 8, 2009 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
It’s so typical: Mia can’t even attend a performance of Beauty and the Beast with her best friend’s boyfriend without it ending up in the New York Post. And that’s the last thing she needs after her dramatic breakup with Michael.

But that’s the life of a princess. And to make matters worse, Mia’s been asked to deliver a speech for the Domina Rei women’s society—and she has absolutely no idea what to say! Still, being down is no reason for her parents to force her to see a therapist. And just when things couldn’t get any worse, Mia discovers the long-hidden diary of a teen princess and stumbles upon revelations that will make everything else seem like a walk in the park.

Review:
My first inclination is to complain that “nothing much really happens in this book,” but that’s really not true. A good deal happens, but it’s just mostly inner stuff. Mia is still reeling from her breakup with Michael, and stupidly agrees with his suggestion to be just friends, rather than voicing any objections to this plan. She spends a week in bed, and eventually begins parent-mandated therapy sessions that ultimately help her realize that she’s waiting for other people to solve her problems for her. This leads to some good things and some bad things.

I’ve long wondered why on earth Mia likes Lily, when Lily often engages in really crappy behavior. In Princess Mia, Lily is giving Mia the silent treatment for various angsty reasons, and I was happy that this prompts Mia to wonder whether she even wants Lily’s friendship back. Mia’s not portrayed as entirely in the right, though, as Lily’s complaints about Mia aren’t invalid. Mia may not have intended to do various things that hurt Lily, but that doesn’t stop the fact that they happened anyway because of her wishy-washyness. I like that their relationship is not mended by the end of the book, and hope that, in the next and final installment, Mia will realize how she is actually at fault in some measure.

I also liked that, when Mia receives a love confession from J.P., she responds by saying that she needs to take some time to figure out who she is without Michael before she starts going out with someone else. Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long, and by the end of the book, maybe a day or two after her stated need for time, she is seeing him as acceptable “moving on” material and snogging him in a freak September snow flurry. It’s not that I think teen romance needs to last FOREVER AND EVER OMG, but J.P. is just so boring. I can’t imagine that anyone reading this series really wants her to end up with him and not Michael.

While seeing growth from Mia is nice, she’s also incredibly annoying sometimes, like when a week of missing school results in heaps of make-up work and she whines a lot about how unfair it is. She also continues to be oblivious to obvious things, like J.P.’s feelings and the fact that Boris has been in communication with Michael. I guess I just didn’t find her very likable this volume, even though she definitely made progress.

Cabot’s writing style also continues to be annoying. Here’s an example:
1. Mia goes on a shopping trip with two popular girls from her school, Lana and Trisha.
2. Then she goes to hang out with Tina fewer than ten pages later.
3. Mia does not tell Tina about the outing “You know, with Lana and Trisha.”

Um, yes, I do happen to recall that! It was fewer than ten pages ago! I am not a moron. I seriously think Cabot has a word count that she’s contractually obligated to meet, so she just sticks those kinds of needless reiterations in as padding.

Princess Mia is not bad, and I appreciated the emphasis on inner growth. The challenge ahead for Forever Princess is an interesting one—it should be atypical and feature Mia realizing that she is responsible for allowing certain things to happen but be typical and satisfying by having her back with Michael at the end (or, at least, not dating the dull J.P.). At least, that’s what I want to see.

Filed Under: Books, YA Tagged With:

Life As We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer: B-

December 31, 2008 by 3 Comments

From the back cover:
When Miranda first hears the warnings that a meteor is headed on a collision path with the moon, they just sound like an excuse for extra homework assignments. But her disbelief turns to fear in a split second as the entire world witnesses a lunar impact that knocks the moon closer in orbit, catastrophically altering the earth’s climate.

Everything else in Miranda’s life fades away as supermarkets run out of food, gas goes up to more than ten dollars a gallon, and school is closed indefinitely. But what Miranda and her family don’t realize is that the worst is yet to come.

Told in Miranda’s diary entries, this is a heart-pounding account of her struggle to hold on to the most important resource of all—hope—in an increasingly desperate and unfamiliar time.

Review:
This book is like a cross between The Princess Diaries and Parable of the Sower, only the average likability factor of Mia and Lauren (the protagonists of those books) far exceeds that of Life As We Knew It‘s Miranda. Mix in a generous dollop of a whiny and grating teen (I must admit that Dawn from Buffy the Vampire Slayer would fit the bill) and it’ll be about right.

The plot involves an asteroid that is due to impact the moon. Astronomers encourage folks to go outside and watch this rare phenomenon, but nobody realizes there was an error in the calculations. The moon ends up knocked scarily close to earth, and causes all kinds of environmental repercussions, like tsunamis and volcanic explosions. Millions die. Conditions for the survivors worsen and, like Parable of the Sower, folks figure off “anywhere is better than here,” and so head off to supposedly better places, never to be heard from again.

Miranda’s world gradually shrinks throughout this ordeal until she and her family are living huddled up in the one room of their house with a wood stove. She begins the book (told in a series of journal entries) by complaining about tests and drama with her friends, passes through a period where she inanely prattles on about kissing, and finally, with agonizing slowness, (mostly) stops being so self-pitying and resolves to be more appreciative of what she has, since her family is better off than most. I figured such character growth would be occurring, but was annoyed that at several points she appeared to be on the verge of improvement, only to lapse and instigate petty and annoying arguments with her mother. I suppose this cycle of progress and regression is normal, but that doesn’t make it fun to read about.

While I might not have liked Miranda for the majority of the book, I still really liked hearing about the creepy and disturbing deterioration of civilization that the lunar disaster caused. Part of me is a little unnerved that I seem to enjoy details like that, but when I hear a newscaster announce that the Statue of Liberty has been washed out to sea, I think, “Cool!” Pfeffer also does a good job at conveying the family’s sense of isolation as well as the monotony of having canned tuna and string beans day after day. I like the ending, too.

There’s a not-quite sequel to this book, The Dead and the Gone, which recounts the same events from a different character’s perspective. I plan to check it out.

Filed Under: Books, Sci-Fi, YA Tagged With:

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum: B-

December 26, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the book jacket:
Every child knows about Santa Claus, the jolly man who brings gifts to all on Christmas Eve. There are many stories that tell of his life, but the delightful version related in The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus is by far the most charming and original. Only L. Frank Baum, the man who created the wonderful land of Oz, could have told Santa’s tale in such rich, imaginative detail.

Deep in the Forest of Burzee, a wood-nymph discovers an abandoned baby and raises him as her child. Young Claus is taught by the wise mythological creatures of the Forest, who love him as one of their own. Though he lives among magical beings, he comes to cherish his fellow humans, especially the children. When Santa Claus whittles his first toy, he knows he has found the way to bring happiness and love to children all over the world.

Review:
In The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, L. Frank Baum sets out to provide a complete story of Claus’s origins, from his idyllic childhood spent raised by immortal creatures in a secluded forest until the time when his life of good deeds earns him the precious Mantle of Immortality.

The story, as told, differs from the accepted legends about Santa Claus. For example, Claus (as he is called in the novel) does not live in the North Pole along with Mrs. Claus and a merry band of elves who toil cheerfully to craft toys for all the good little boys and girls of the world. Instead, he lives alone in a place called the Laughing Valley, with four immortal creatures who became his helpers only after the population boomed so much that he could no longer handle the task alone. This Claus also makes no distinctions between naughty and nice children, conceding that even naughty children can be good, and vice versa.

Throughout the story, explanations for various traditional Christmas beliefs and customs are provided, like stockings and Christmas trees and how Claus first came to employ a team of reindeer on his yearly errand (though none bears any familiar name). Baum also works in a rationalization for the involvement of parents, saying they’re Claus’s deputies, and that Claus even sends heaps of toys to stores so that the parents can acquire them for their kids. I wonder if parents point their kids to this book to explain why Santa left a tell-tale price tag on their present.

The edition that I read was published in 2003 and is illustrated by Michael Hague. While many are nice to look upon, I found them rather confusing at times. For instance, the size of the “newborn” Claus changes radically amongst illustrations; in one he looks at least two and very tubby indeed. Also, the immortal creatures from the story appear liberally, but I’m never sure which is supposed to be which, since the images don’t always illustrate a particular, recognizable scene.

There are also a couple of inconsistencies in the story that bother me. In the beginning of the book, there is a line that reads “All the immortals are full-grown; there are no children among them.” This was used to explain why they felt such fascination when Claus was brought into the forest and allowed to be raised in their midst. Yet later, when Claus is outfitting his sledge, he reaches an agreement with the Gnome King (clearly shown as immortal by his presence at the council which grants Claus his immortality) to trade him toys FOR HIS CHILDREN in exchange for sleigh bells.

The second inconsistency involves Claus’s decision to leave the forest and live among mankind. Until his youth, he had known nothing of the existence of other members of his race, and after finally witnessing their suffering, he resolved to quit the forest. The book says that “he went forth bravely to meet his doom—the doom of the race of man—the necessity to worry and work.” Except that he doesn’t. Once he gets to the Laughing Valley, immortals pop up and build his house, promise to keep his cupboards stocked, and essentially take care of his every need.

Despite some grumblings I might have about certain particulars, I found the story to be decently entertaining, especially some turns of phrase. There’s one scene where a lioness called Shiegra is waiting in Claus’s house when he returns from an outing, while his pet cat cowers in the corner. Baum simply writes, “She did not care to associate with Shiegra.” I love that line, as it perfectly evokes a cat’s offended dignity.

I don’t know that I’d care to read this again, or any other Santa origin tales for that matter, but I think The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus would probably be fun to read aloud to a kid, particularly one who was open to embracing differences from the established legend.

Additional reviews of The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Children's Fiction, Fantasy, Triple Take

Sixpence House by Paul Collins: B+

December 21, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the book jacket:
Paul Collins and his family abandoned the hills of San Francisco to move to the Welsh countryside—to move, in fact, to the little cobblestone village of Hay-on-Wye, the “Town of Books,” boasting 1,500 inhabitants… and forty bookstores. Antiquarian bookstores, no less.

Inviting readers into a sanctuary for book lovers, and guiding us through the production of the author’s own first book, Sixpence House is a wonderfully engaging meditation on what books mean to us, and how their meaning can resonate long after they have been abandoned by their public.

Review:
Books, Britain, and buildings are three of my favorite topics, and when one tosses them together in one book, odds are that I’m going to like it. Even if, as in the case of Sixpence House, there is no real plot to speak of. Seriously, this family moves to Wales, tries to buy a house, fails, then moves back to the United States. Despite the title making one think that they’ll be buying and renovating a particular house, that never actually comes to pass.

I couldn’t really get into the book at first, because the style of writing is incredibly tangential. Collins will be relating a story in which he has just gotten off the Tube in London, and will suddenly switch to a description of a rotunda built in San Francisco in 1915. He never really stops doing things like this, but I got used to the side trips and even came to enjoy them.

On books—Collins very clearly loves them, and delights in quoting passages from obscure publications. I enjoyed all of the excerpts from these forgotten tomes and felt a momentary stirring of desire to hunt for such abandoned treasures myself. He also talks a good deal about the capacity of books to live on far beyond the span of their author, leading to different reflections upon mortality. That’s not a subject I prefer to dwell on, but he handles the topic thoughtfully, and with a practical bent seemingly influenced by the practices of the Brits themselves.

On Britain—More than any other source, Sixpence House has provided me a good idea of what life in Britain can really be like to one coming from an American perspective. Some things are better—television and print media assume a far greater level of consumer intellect than their American equivalents, for example—and some worse, like the lack of right to privacy laws in the UK. My one complaint is that sometimes I couldn’t be sure what was actually true and what was just dry humor. For instance, when I looked up a thoroughly silly-sounding practice called gazumping, I found that it was genuine, but I’m still about 95% sure that a comment about Welsh pronunciation isn’t.

On buildings—now I understand why some people I have known who tried to move to the UK have ended up returning to America! I could never grasp it before; it seemed such a wonderful place! But it turns out there are no agents to look after the buyer during the sale of a property, no contract to keep all of your work from being for naught, and no requirement for the seller to share information about the property, forcing the seller to pay for an expensive survey for any house in which they might be interested. To an American, this seems crazy!

Collins does an excellent job in describing all of the quaint old buildings around Hay, as well as the village and its denizens. I appreciated that he and his wife wanted a home with a lot of history, but understood completely when they eventually gave up their search after being stymied by outrageous asking prices, weird stipulations about proceeds from land sales, and daunting renovations. My desire to visit the UK is as strong as it ever was, but I’m also left with the impression that I really wouldn’t want to live there. Even if their TV is awesome.

Collins has written several other works of nonfiction, including one called Banvard’s Folly (subtitled Thirteen Tales of People That Didn’t Change the World) that gets mentioned a good bit in this narrative. It seems he also is instrumental in bringing forth some of the lost gems that he loves so much, like English as She is Spoke, a phrasebook written by men who didn’t actually speak English. I hope to read both of these at some point, if the library is successful in acquiring them on my behalf.

Additional reviews of Sixpence House can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Memoir, Nonfiction, Triple Take

Post Captain by Patrick O’Brian: B+

December 18, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
“We’ve beat them before and we’ll beat them again.” In 1803 Napoleon smashes the Peace of Amiens, and Captain Jack Aubrey, R. N., taking refuge in France from his creditors, is interned. He escapes from France, from debtors’ prison, from a possible mutiny, and pursues his quarry straight into the mouth of a French-held harbor.

Review:
There were certain things about this book that I loved very much, but on the whole it was sprawling and went on a bit too long. In addition to the events listed above (note: Jack did not escape from debtors’ prison; he evaded those who wished to send him there) there were many more, including romance, jealousy between Stephen and Jack, an interval in which Jack is disguised as a dancing bear, a planned duel between the two protagonists, riveting navel battles, a promotion, and the appearance of approximately sixty thousand bees.

Probably the most significant thing that happened in Post Captain was the conflict between Stephen and Jack, arising partly over women and partly over Stephen’s secrets. When peace is initially declared, Stephen and Jack took a house in the country and there became acquainted with a family of eligible daughters (and a cousin). Jack was quite taken with the eldest daughter (Sophie) and Stephen with the cousin (Diana), though neither man had wealth enough to be considered a good prospect. After Jack’s prize agent skipped out with all of his money, he was so out of matrimonial contention that the girls’ mother whisked them off to Bath to get away from him and everyone discovered that they’d never liked Jack much anyway.

For the rest of the novel, the guys mooned about over their chosen women, though Jack also seemed to fancy Diana. After witnessing all sorts of hidden sides of Stephen (a capacity for “a hard ruthlessness,” a proficiency with weapons, general secrecy), Jack finally erupted and they got into a jealous quarrel, culminating in insulting accusations and plans for a duel. All of this conflict was extremely interesting, though it reflected well on neither of them. Jack could not make up his mind about the two women, and Stephen was fixated upon Diana, whom I just couldn’t like. I thoroughly understand a woman’s need to do as well for herself as possible, but she was very manipulative of the guys’ feelings and about as high maintenance as they come.

I liked better the funny bits between Jack and Stephen, during which there were many lines and scenes to crack me up. One of the best was the method by which they escaped from France, and how it took a few pages before one realized that the bear trainer and his furry charge were actually our two protagonists. There was also an absolutely wonderful bit where Jack pondered giving a sermon to the crew and Stephen erupted in uncontrollable, squeaky laughter.

Another big thing in Post Captain was the amount of development Stephen received. I’m not exactly sure when he began spying for the Admiralty, but he was doing it all over the place here, and displaying all sorts of hidden talents and such. In many ways, he and Jack are the perfect slashy couple. You have the open-hearted, robust one who follows his passions with little self-governance, and is hurt when he discovers facets of his friend that he hadn’t previously been aware of, since he himself has withheld nothing. Then you have the cold and logical one who nonetheless adores his friend and looks out for him and his happiness. It’s pretty squee-inducing.

Though I did enjoy this novel, it was, as I said, quite sprawling. I think I’ll take a little break before I continue on to the next installment.

Filed Under: Books, Historical Fiction Tagged With: ,

Farthing by Jo Walton: B-

November 27, 2008 by 2 Comments

From the back cover:
Jo Walton crosses genres without missing a beat with this stunningly powerful alternative history set in 1949, eight years after Britain agreed to peace with Nazi Germany, leaving Hitler in control of the European continent. A typical gathering at the country estate of Farthing of the power elite who brokered the deal is thrown into turmoil when the main negotiator, Sir James Thirkie, is murdered, with a yellow star pinned to his chest with a dagger.

The author deftly alternates perspective between Lucy Kahn, the host’s daughter, who has disgraced herself in her family’s eyes by marrying a Jew, and Scotland Yard Inspector Peter Carmichael, who quickly suspects that the killer was not a Bolshevik terrorist. But while the whodunit plot is compelling, it’s the convincing portrait of a country’s incremental slide into fascism that makes this novel a standout.

Review:
I’m a fan of England, mysteries, and gay-themed literature, so I expected that Farthing would be my cup of tea. As it turns out, I was quite disappointed. Though the majority of my complaint can be summed up as, “It was just kind of weirdly put together,” there are some specific areas that bothered me enough to merit their own place on a spiffy numbered list.

1. Punctuation.
I’m starting with the most minor quibble, though it did truly bug me. A couple of times there were lists of buildings or people that were improperly punctuated. Here is an example:

There was a church, larger than most, a pub, the Eversley Arms, a row of cottages, and a high wall containing a pair of wrought-iron gates…

The way that’s written, the pub and the Eversley Arms appear to be two different things. There should be a semicolon after “most,” as well as after “Arms” and “cottages.” Because of this, a later list of attendees at the gathering had me confused as to whether Lucy’s dad and the Earl of Hampshire were the same person.

2. Woefully undeveloped gay characters.
There are, if I counted correctly, eight nominally gay or bisexual characters in this book, nine if you count Lucy’s deceased brother. For some, that’s practically all that’s known about them. Frankly, it started to get ridiculous. I’m beyond cool with having gay characters, but just having a cardboard cut-out standing there with a nametag reading “Gay” on his chest does not really count.

3. A pretty boring mystery.
The investigation into this mystery was kind of meh, with Inspector Carmichael and his sergeant doing a lot of theorizing in advance of the facts. It also seemed to hinge on locating one particular girl from a photograph who, when found, blurted out the culprit pretty anticlimactically. Granted, it was obvious by that point, anyway. The impact of the increasingly fascist government upon the investigation was kind of interesting, as Carmichael had to keep in mind that whomever he arrested would be hanged (and so he had better be absolutely certain before arresting them), but also frustrating, since the innocent Jewish fellow everyone kept insisting was guilty (even when presented with evidence to the contrary) was one of the few likable characters in the book.

When I try to recall something I particularly liked, I come up empty. The conclusion was decent enough, I suppose, though the final chapter from Lucy’s point of view ended rather ominously. I will probably finish up the rest of the trilogy, because I am a completist and because I hope it gives more closure on the Lucy front. I think the other books might feature different characters, though, so I shan’t hold my breath. Neither shall I expect to enjoy them any more than I did Farthing.

Filed Under: Alternate History, Books, Mystery, Triple Take

Between Good and Evil by Roger L. Depue and Susan Schindehette: B

November 21, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
No one gets closer to evil than a criminal profiler, trained to penetrate the hearts and minds of society’s most vicious psychopaths. And no one is a more towering figure in the world of criminal profilers than Roger L. Depue. Chief of the FBI Behavioral Science Unit at a time when its innovative work first came to prominence, he headed a renowned team of mind hunters. In a subbasement sixty feet under the Academy gun vault in Quantico, he broke new ground with analytical techniques and training programs that are still used today. After retiring from the FBI, he founded an elite forensics group that consulted on high-profile cases.

But coming face-to-face with the darkest deeds human beings are capable of took a horrific toll. After suffering a devastating personal loss, Depue, on the brink of despair, walked away from the outside world and joined a seminary. And it was there, while counseling maximum security inmates, that he rediscovered the capacity for goodness in people, and made the decision to return to the world to resume his work.

Here is Depue’s extraordinary personal account, from growing up as a police officer’s son to tracking down some of today’s most brutal murderers. With its harrowing descriptions of human depravity and passionate call to fight against evil, Between Good and Evil is both a riveting dispatch from the front lines of a war against human predators… and the powerful story of one man’s journey between darkness and redemption.

Review:
Between Good and Evil was pretty good, but wasn’t quite what I expected it to be. Reading over the back cover blurb again, I see that it’s not at all deceptive; I simply got the wrong impression.

The book chronicled Depue’s professional career, including the development of the FBI Behavioral Science Unit. Depue wrote of the struggle to get profiling accepted as a legitimate investigative technique and how it proved its worth time and time again. Quite a few specific cases were featured as were the research efforts (primarily interviewing the notorious perpetrators of heinous crimes) the agents undertook in order to ensure they could devise the best possible profile. Without a doubt, profiling is useful, but I wanted to see how it is done.

For example, in one case, the Unit concluded that a kidnapper likely drove a conversative family vehicle, a sedan or station wagon, four years of age or older. It turned out they were right, but I wanted to know what about the crime made them come to that conclusion! There was only one such detailed analysis included—of the ransom note in the Jon Benet Ramsey case—and I would’ve liked more examples.

As a memoir, it was pretty interesting, though Depue seemed to take special pride in his high school fighting prowess and was fond of anecdotes wherein he got to say something tough and intimidating to somebody. There were plenty of gruesome crime details, too, including some things that I had never imagined and will probably never forget. The chapter on the death of Depue’s wife was affecting, but a some of the religious stuff near the end was a bit much.

All in all, Between Good and Evil functions better as a life story than it does as an introduction to the actual task of criminal profiling.

Filed Under: Books, Crime, Memoir, Nonfiction

Someone in the House by Barbara Michaels: B+

November 20, 2008 by 4 Comments

Book description:
An English Gothic mansion, transported stone by stone to the isolated Pennsylvania hills, Grayhaven Manor calls to Anne and Kevin. Here is the ideal summer retreat—a perfect location from which to write the book they have long planned together. But there are distractions in the halls and shadows of the looming architectural wonder luring them from their work—for they are not alone. Something lives on here from Grayhaven’s shocking past—something beautiful, powerful, and eerily seductive—unlocking the doors of human desire, of fear… and unearthly passion.

Review:
Someone in the House was a recommendation of sorts from Margaret, not coming from her personally but from an archival index. It’s the first book I’ve read by Barbara Michaels, who also writes under the name Elizabeth Peters.

When Anne arrives at Grayhaven, her intention is to work on a literature textbook with her coworker, Kevin, but a feeling of complacency seems to settle in, and little work actually gets accomplished. This air of contentment lingers even after Kevin’s Aunt Bea notices strange noises coming from her nephew’s room which lead into an investigation into possible spiritual phenomena within the house. The ensuing investigation is pretty interesting, at least at first, with plenty of nifty cameras, crypts, and brittle old documents. It does drag a little in spots, though, and by the end, when Anne keeps talking about how she’s figured it out but yet doesn’t divulge the answer, the result is irritating rather than riveting.

Anne herself is an interesting character. Fiercely feminist, she bristles at the notion that she might wish to cancel her own career-minded summer plans in order to accompany her current boyfriend on a trip overseas. Her ardent independence and lack of concern for his opinion of her actions are refreshing. After occasionally enduring weak-willed female protagonists that make me want to scream, Anne is a welcome change. I also like that she’s a feminist without being portrayed as the extreme, man-hating variety.

The rest of the characters, though, are not very interesting. Anne’s coworker and eventual love interest, Kevin, hasn’t got much of a personality and I never bought the romance that develops between them, though the reasons for that are made evident by the end of the book. The conclusion itself could’ve been more climactic, but it does provide a new light with which to see the events of the book, so I suppose that technically qualifies as a twist.

All in all, I enjoyed the book. It was fun and not too long and I’d probably read more by Michaels in this vein.

Filed Under: Books, Mystery, Supernatural, Suspense Tagged With:

My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor, Ph.D.: B+

November 6, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
On the morning of December 10, 1996, Jill Bolte Taylor, a thirty-seven-year-old Harvard-trained brain scientist, experienced a massive stroke when a blood vessel exploded in the left side of her brain. A neuroanatomist by profession, she observed her own mind completely deteriorate to the point that she could not walk, talk, read, write, or recall any of her life, all within the space of four brief hours. As the damaged left side of her brain—the rational, grounded, detail- and time-oriented side—swung in and out of function, Taylor alternated between two distinct and opposite realities: the euphoric nirvana of the intuitive and kinesthetic right brain, in which she felt a sense of complete well-being and peace, and the logical, sequential left brain, which recognized Jill was having a a stroke and enabled her to seek help before she was lost completely.

A fascinating journey into the mechanics of the human mind, My Stroke of Insight is both a valuable recovery guide for anyone touched by a brain injury and an emotionally stirring testimony that deep internal peace truly is accessible to anyone at any time.

Review:
My Stroke of Insight can be divided into three main topics, each of which prompted different reactions from me.

It begins by focusing on the science of the brain—how it works, what the hemispheres do, the types of stroke. Although this section proved to be essential later on, I found it pretty difficiult to slog through initially. I think my own brain has pretty much rejected the idea of learning facts and terms by lecture now that I am so many years out of school.

I felt I learned much more in the section where Dr. Taylor recounts her own personal story, which is the second main topic of the book. She recreates the morning of the stroke in vivid detail and it’s quite fascinating. Additionally, she chronicles the steps of her recovery and informs readers of things they should and should not do when caring for someone recovering from stroke.

Dos:
* Be calm. Tone of voice and body language can still be interpreted by someone whose left brain is damaged, even if the words themselves aren’t understood.
* Make eye contact.
* Be patient. This person is not deaf nor stupid; they’re wounded.
* Be optimistic. Your faith in this person’s ability to recover will help them to believe it, too.
* Correct the person if they make a mistake.

Don’ts:
* Evince trepidation at approaching this person.
* Become exasperated when repetition of tasks is necessary.
* Finish sentences or prompt when this person hesitates to search their brain for the right word. If their brain is to heal, it must be challenged and reforge new connections to the information hidden within.
* Ask simple yes/no questions. Providing a variety of options instead will force the brain to attempt to identify the potential choices.

My only real complaint about this middle section is that it is often repetitive, dwelling beyond the point of necessity on the differences between the brain hemispheres and how she lost the sense of her body’s physical boundaries and felt “at one with the universe.”

The last section is kind of like a self-help book, again talking about the differences between the hemispheres and how one may choose to overcome negativity and find the “deep inner peace” afforded by the right hemisphere. Sometimes, this section recommends actions I deem silly, like when Dr. Taylor talks about her nightly ritual for verbally congratulating her cells for doing their job (“You go, girls!”) or advises readers to meditate with the mantra “I am an innocent and peaceful child of the universe,” but she does actually have some interesting ideas about diverting one’s brain’s attention when it threatens to get caught in an unwanted loop of stress or worry.

Ultimately, the most useful and interesting section of the book is the story of the stroke and the recovery. Not only can it help readers distinguish what’s happening if they find themselves experiencing similar symptoms, but it’s an excellent resource for the caregiver of a stroke victim who wishes to provide their loved one with the best support possible.

Filed Under: Books, Memoir, Nonfiction, Science

A Suitable Vengeance by Elizabeth George: C+

November 2, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
Award-winning author Elizabeth George gives us an early glimpse into the lives of Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley, forensic scientist Simon Allcourt-St. James, and Lady Helen Clyde in a superlative mystery that is also a fascinating inquiry into the crimes of the heart. Lynley, the eighth earl of Asherton, has brought to Howenstow, his family home, the young woman he has asked to be his bride. But the savage murder of a local journalist is the catalyst for a lethal series of events that shatters the calm of a picturesque Cornwall village and embroils Lynley and St. James in a case far outside their jurisdiction—and a little too close to home. When a second death follows closely on the heels of the first, Lynley finds he can’t help taking the investigation personally—because the evidence points to a killer within his own family.

Review:
It took me ages to finish this. Well, okay, more like a month.

The chief problem with it was this: the first third or so was entirely comprised of relationship angst. Not only that, it was flashback relationship angst, so the outcome was already known to anybody who’s been reading the Lynley books in publication order. There was some family angst, as well, since Lynley had issues with both his brother and mother. The most frustrating part was that most concerned preferred to ignore obvious problems or feelings. This resulted in a pretty boring story at the start, and I was clamoring for someone to get murdered already!

Once someone finally died, the book improved though the angst never quite subsided. The case focused on a journalist from the village nearest Howenstow, and whether his death was related to personal quirk, some fairly hefty misdeeds, or a story someone wanted to suppress. It wasn’t the most fascinating investigation I’ve ever read (I figured out the victim’s Big Secret on page 230 and had to wait sixty-eight pages for the characters to catch up with me), but the end result was a surprise and I liked seeing so much of the action from the perspective of Simon St. James, Lynley’s friend and a forensic expert in his own right. There was one detail about the solution that bothered me, though. Here are some paraphrased quotes:

Lynley: What about the condition of the room and the missing money?
Suspect: I don’t know. Maybe Red Herring took it.

A few minutes later…

Simon: Lynley, who’d you tell about the money?
Lynley: A few people. Why?
Simon: But not Suspect?
Lynley: No.
Simon: … Then how did Suspect know?! (dun dun dunnn…)

Me: Um, because y’all basically just told him?

Enduring all of the angst paid off towards the end, when people finally started saying what they had needed to say to each other for years. Though it was kind of cheesy, I actually really loved the scene where Lynley forced himself to watch as his fianceé freaked over Simon’s supposed death and then clung to him once he revealed himself to be alive. I think I’m a sucker for the tortured, self-loathing type.

So, yes, definitely not my favorite of the Lynley/Havers mysteries so far (I despaired of the latter’s absence, but she actually did make a brief appearance), but tolerable once the investigation got going. It wasn’t so awful that I’m discouraged from reading the rest of the series.

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