the mysterious benedict society

I rarely buy books that I know next to nothing about; my book-buying dollars are usually directed toward books I’ve loved and therefore must own or books by writers whose work I can count on enjoying. 

But I was wandering through Barnes and Noble’s children’s department with a birthday gift card when The Mysterious Benedict Society caught my eye.  I hadn’t heard anything about it (positive or negative) through my usual channels — family, Twitter, general online buzz — but  I decided to take a chance on it anyway.

It turned out to be a good gamble.  Though the title and the author (Trenton Lee Stewart) weren’t familiar at all, the story itself was — in the very best sense.  Stewart’s novel technically takes place within the United States (as can be recognized by mentions of the President and the White House), but the real setting could more accurately be described as that alternative world that so commonly appears in the best of children’s literature — that world of Dahl and Snicket, where some things appear to be as they are in our own world, but so much else is so entirely different.  It takes a gifted writer to find this place between fantasy and reality, and with The Mysterious Benedict Society, I think Stewart has established himself as exactly this. 

Though the world the story exists within is familiar, the plot of the novel is entirely unique. Eleven-year-old Reynie, a precocious but lonely orphan, sees an ad in the newspaper one day inviting gifted children to learn more about “special opportunities.”  After a series of rather bizarre tests, he ends up setting out on an adventure with three other children, all of whom have their own sets of talents. 

The entire book is simply fun, full of colorful characters and laughable moments, and it transported me right back to my childhood reading.  Stewart has now published three books in the series, and I’m looking forward to moving on to the next one.    Perhaps the highest praise I can give it is this: I’ve already bought The Mysterious Benedict Society as a Christmas present for one young reader on my list, and I would certainly recommend you consider it for any on yours.

in the moment

I’ve long been vaugely interested in On the Road, as I am with most culturally significant books. But it wasn’t until my husband started reading — and recommending — Kerouac that I actually sought the book out.  I’m listening to the audiobook now, and I’m glad he encouraged me to get my hands on it.

I’m about a third of the way through it currently, and one thing I can say is that it’s certainly different than most things I read.  I am first and foremost a reader of fiction — no, I should say a reader of novels.  I’ve never really gotten into the short story as a literary form.  I like poetry well enough, but typically in small doses.  There are specific essayists and humor writers I like, but I don’t generally spend a lot of time in those genres. 

What draws me into reading is the overarching plot — the intricate story with developed characters and a compelling need to know what’s going to happen to those characters.  This is why I read novels (and, to some extent, memoirs); to get to know the characters, to understand their circumstances and take their journey with them — to find out what’s next.

But On the Road isn’t about what’s going to happen to the characters, or what comes next — it’s about what the characters are doing in the moment.  It’s about being where you are when you are, and not knowing for sure how long that will be or where it might lead you. 

That’s not to say there aren’t characters.  There are, and they’re incredibly distinctive at times.  But the narrator himself and the individuals around him seem largely aimless, which doesn’t make for much of a story or plot in and of itself.  The focus of the book is instead their interactions — with other people, with their surroundings — and on Kerouac’s vivid descriptions of both people and places.

All in all, it makes it an easy book to read at a relaxed pace.  When I’m listening to it, I’m perfectly content to be in the moment the book is describing, but at the same time, there’s no dire urgency to move forward.  I can come and go from it as I please without constantly thinking about what’s going to be happening next.  Like our narrator, I’ll find out when I get there.   

 

the books of the thirteenth tale

I finished listening to The Thirteenth Tale over the weekend, and I’m looking forward to writing in more detail about it soon, but I’m not quite ready to yet. There are pieces of it I want to reread and mull over before discussing it in greater detail; it’s a book that takes some serious thought and consideration to fully (or as fully as possible) grasp.

But as I’ve been thinking about it, I came to the realization that I’ve never before read a novel that so fully revolves around other books and stories. Not for the sake of its plot; that is entirely Setterfield’s own. But the atmosphere, the characters, the settings — all are shaped by British literature of 18th and 19th centuries. And the reliance on and repeated mentioning of these books make me want to curl up with them myself.

A quick (and not complete, I’m sure) list of the works mentioned:
Jane Eyre
Sense and Sensibility
The Woman in White
The Castle of Otranto
Lady Audley’s Secret
The Spectre Bride
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Villette
Middlemarch
The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes

I’ve read Sense and Sensibility, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Wuthering Heights to various degrees of enjoyment, and though I haven’t read The Case Book, I am familiar Sherlock Holmes. I’ve long been meaning to read Middlemarch, and I’m now adding the Woman in White to my list as well.

It is my love of Jane Eyre, however, that truly makes me identify with the characters of this book. Jane Eyre is one of the few books where I can distinctly remember when I read it (at least for the first time).* I received it as a Christmas gift when I was 13, and quickly fell for it. I credit Charlotte Bronte’s masterpiece with opening my eyes to the richness of classic literature; though I’ve still only read a fraction of the amazing works out there, I may not have dared to approach even many of those had it not been for Jane Eyre crossing my path first. It’s a book that I’ve read several times but haven’t revisited in years; after finishing The Thirteenth Tale, I’m thinking I may need to make some time to do exactly that soon.

*Pre-Goodreads, of course; now I document approximately when I read everything through their site.

captivated

I keep picking up different things to read: The Mysterious Benedict Society, Blue Like Jazz, copies of The New Yorker. I even made an attempt to start Middlemarch on my iPhone.  But then I keep finding myself putting them down and reaching for my iPod instead — for it is the iPod that holds the story that is currently captivating me.  I’m listening to the audiobook of The Thirteenth Tale, and I can’t seem to pull myself away from it.

Usually I listen to books while I drive or do housework or cook — essentially, when my hands are occupied — and I sit down to read things in book form during down time.  Since I’ve started The Thirteenth Tale, however, my attention has been almost entirely focused on it.  I’m wandering around the house with my earbuds in, looking for things to keep my hands busy while I stay immersed in this mesmerizing story.  It took real willpower to pull myself away long enough to concentrate on typing up this post.

And now I am going to set my willpower aside and return to my book.  I imagine at this rate I’ll have it finished in no time and will report back soon.   In the meantime, if you see me, you might need to wave to catch my attention — there’s a good chance I won’t be able to hear you with my earbuds in.

eight cousins and rose in bloom

The first time I tried to read Little Women — in the fourth or fifth grade, I think — I didn’t get it.  Here was this supposedly great book, and for some reason, it didn’t take.  I put it away and went on to something else (probably another installment of the Baby Sitters’ Club).  But somewhere along the way, I tried again and fell in love with the world Louisa May Alcott wrote about and the characters that inhabit it.  I think this was sometime during high school, because around the same time, the film adaptation with Winona Ryder became one of my favorite movies.  (It’s possible that the movie inspired a rereading of the book, but I don’t remember for sure.)  And not long after, I discovered Little Men and Jo’s Boys, which I have come to adore just as much (if not more).  But for some reason, I never before tried reading any of Alcott’s other work.

Over the last few weeks, though, I’ve been caught up in her world again.  After receiving a beautiful copy of Rose in Bloom for my birthday, I sought out digital versions of it and its prequel, Eight Cousins (which are in the public domain, by the way, and therefore available free online).  Just as Little Women did, these two books pulled me entirely into another time and place: one filled with families and laughter and music and books.

It’s fitting that Little Women is about a family of sisters, and Eight Cousins about, well, cousins; the depth of character development in the former set of books allows for the feeling of the characters as immediate family, which doesn’t quite hold true for the latter. But although our protagonist, the orphaned Rose, and her seven doting male cousins are not developed quite as intricately as Jo and her sisters, their stories are every bit as charming as those of the Marches.  And as with Little Women and its sequels, it’s a pleasure to be able to move from childhood to adulthood with the characters that do come to feel like relatives.

Jo, Meg, Amy, and Beth have long been among my favorite fictional friends to visit again and again; I think I can safely say that their fellow Rose will likely be joining these ranks as well.

WHO: Louisa May Alcott
WHAT: Eight Cousins and Rose in Bloom
WHERE: Public domain downloads from Amazon
WHEN: October/November 2009
WHY: Intrigue sparked by a lovely birthday present
HOW: Ebook format, on my Kindle iPhone app

don miller

I’ve read a lot of books.  But there are a lot more I haven’t read even though I’ve wanted to.  Don Miller’s Blue Like Jazz is one of these.  My husband first read it in college, and though our reading tastes usually differ quite a bit, his high opinion of Blue Like Jazz (as well as Miller’s other work) has long placed it on my mental to-read list.  So when Miller came to the area on a book tour for his new book, we took advantage of the chance to see him in person.

After hearing from Miller, I’m only more interested in reading his work.  Though he didn’t read directly from his new book, he talked about how he has come to view the idea of story and conflict and the roles these play in our everyday lives.  Miller discusses religion and spirituality somewhat unconventionally, and he is entirely unapologetic about voicing his thoughts and ideas, even when they conflict with those generally espoused by organized religion.  But interwoven in everything he had to say were humor and sincerity, and I’m eager to see how these come through in his books as well as his talk.

But besides getting to hear about his written work, we also got to hear about his community efforts.  Miller, who lives in Portland, OR, grew up without a father and has founded an organization called The Mentoring Project to work with boys in this situation.  A significant number of men in prison grew up without fathers, and fatherlessness is also linked to a number of other societal issues, such as unwanted pregnancies.  It’s Miller’s belief that the church has the infrastructure to address the issue in ways governmental organizations can not, and it is this belief that led him to found The Mentoring Project.  Though it is currently only in Portland, the organization plans to launch nationwide in Fall 2010.  It seems entirely too rare to hear of a writer of Miller’s stature putting his beliefs into real-life practice.  The project may still be in its early stages, but it will be interesting to see how Miller’s attention to this issue impacts communities throughout the country.

I’ve read the first few pages of Blue Like Jazz since seeing Miller the other night, and already, I can tell that he has an appealing writing style and an intriguing narrative voice.  I’m looking forward to getting further into it and hearing more of Miller’s story.

the man who loved books too much

I received an offer of a review copy of Allison Hoover Bartlett’s The Man Who Loved Books Too Much via email, and having heard interesting things about the book online, I immediately accepted.  I am now thinking it may be the most expensive free book I’ve ever received.

Bartlett, a journalist, is a book lover who happened upon an intriguing story of two men: John Gilkey, who stole rare books, and Ken Sanders, who was determined to catch him.  She introduces her readers to this story by bringing  us into their inner world, unfamiliar to even most passionate readers, where books are not only to be read, but collected and treasured and protected. 

And in bringing her readers into this world, she brings herself in as well.  As she spends time with both men, she finds herself increasingly a part of the story, rather than simply an objective observer.  She begins to understand the passion a collector feels while continuing to question what makes someone cross the line from law-abiding admirer to fervent thief.  The strength of the book stems from the humanity with which she portrays her subjects; though she never condones the crimes of Gilkey, he is not painted simply as a villain, but rather as an intelligent, earnest man with complex motivations.  Sanders, too, is developed intricately, and his gruff demeanor as well as his noble intentions are evident throughout the book. 

Anyone who can read this book and walk away without a desire to start their own collection is stronger willed than I am.  Though I’ve always been on the look-out for interesting older books, reading about all of the really cool stuff out there now has me inclined to be more proactive in my collecting.  In fact, I bought my first I-can’t-believe-I-just-paid-that-much-for-a-book piece last week — a first edition of Noel Streatfeild’s Children on the Top Floor (though she’s better known for her “Shoe” books and/or as the writer mentioned in You’ve Got Mail).  So as I said before, Bartlett’s fascinating story of theft and detection inside the rare book world could very well turn out to be the most expensive book I’ve ever read.    

WHO: Allison Hoover Bartlett
WHAT: The Man Who Loved Books Too Much
WHERE: Review copy supplied by publisher
WHEN: October, 2009
WHY: Positive buzz online combined with a premise irresistable to the book geek in me
HOW: Hard copy

this week

Just finished: The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, which I promise to write more about soon.

In active progress: Catch-22 on audio and Eight Cousins, both of which I’m really liking, though in very different ways.

About to start: The Guinea Pig Diaries.  And after hearing a lot of good things from my husband about his work, I’m also planning to start some Jack Kerouac.  I’ve requested On the Road on CD from the library and am looking forward to it.

What are you working on?

 

where the wild things are

Ever since the previews for Where the Wild Things Are came out, my husband and I have been very much looking forward to it.  Though a busy weekend last week prevented us from seeing it on opening day, we were able to catch it Friday evening – and were in no way disappointed.

The book, as anyone familiar with it knows, tells a simple story: Max, a boy in a wolf suit, gets in trouble with his mother, is sent to his room, and imagines his way to an island where he makes himself the King of the Wild Things.  The illustrations are classic and tell the story far more than the words do.

And this is exactly what the movie accomplishes that keeps its telling so true to the books.  is also true of the movie — though the film has much more elaborate dialogue, the story could easily be told without any of it; the film’s beauty and strength comes from its cinematography.

The one thing I would definitively say is that this is not a children’s movie.  I think it’s certainly a movie that older children could appreciate, but it is dark and intense at times, with strong conflicts and heavy symbolism.  At its core, the film is about what it means to be in a family: the joy and the confusion, the love and the hurt.  It goes a little deeper than your average picture book adaptation, which in my opinion adds to the experience, but does mean its for a little older audience than the book itself. 

The complexity of the movie is such that I’m already eager to see it again (although will probably wait till it’s on DVD). I am absolutely sure there are pieces of it that I missed the first time around — and the wild rumpus was a lot of fun to watch, too.

a bookish birthday

Yesterday, I made the transition from my mid-20s to my late 20s.  Being the book geek I am, it’s rare for a birthday to come and go without a book showing up as a gift.  This year was no exception, with my husband (who gets to stay in his mid-20s for another 8 months) making up for the multiple cracks about my age by including three wonderful books among my gifts.

The first was A.J. Jacobs’ The Guinea Pig Diaries, which I came so close to buying myself last month but resisted (and have now been rightfully rewarded for doing so).  Having loved everything I’ve read by Jacobs, I’m expecting some very funny stuff.

The other two were more surprising, but certainly just as welcome: two turn-of-the-century editions of Louisa May Alcott’s works.  One is a beautiful brown and gold-covered 1902 printing of Rose in Bloom. The other is a green-covered copy of Marjorie’s Three Gifts; though I can’t find a printing date in it, we found a postcard dated (though never mailed) 1910.  Both are absolutely beautiful and made for amazing gifts.  My only problem now is to decide whether to read them or not.  Up till now, I’ve only ever read Alcott’s Little Women trilogy. Owning these makes me want to get to know their stories, but I’m afraid to put the frail 100-year-old pages through any exertion, so it may be time for a trip to the library.

I can’t help but wonder if this will be a gift my husband comes to regret in the long-term.  I’m currently in the middle of reading the fascinating The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, which chronicles a string of thefts in the rare book world by a man who craved the ownership of valuable editions.  Reading about the world of book collectors has already whetted my interest in the treasures out there, and this small taste of owning beautiful books with histories of their own is only increasing that.  Let’s just hope my intrigue remains within my budget — and the law.