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The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak

This was an odd book, so odd that I probably wouldn’t have managed to get very far into it if it hadn’t been recommended so highly by so many people. I’m a straightforward, A-Z, kind of gal. Give me a story that starts out “Once upon a time” and ends with “happily ever after.” Or not happily. Tragedy is OK, too. But I like it straight and plain-spoken, or maybe poetic, but not a strange, episodic story narrated by the Grim Reaper himself.

Except I did like The Book Thief, so I’m confused. The book starts out with this comforting announcement:

* * * HERE IS A SMALL FACT * * *
You are going to die.

It ends with Death Himself beng confused and “haunted by humans.”

So, make what you will of that, and decide whether or not you want to read an odd book about Death and the Holocaust and World War II and bombs and Germany with lots of cursing, mostly in German, and lots of the aforementioned death, mostly of everybody in the book. It sounds depressing, but it’s not really. It is gritty and the tiniest bit hopeful, but not too. I can’t decide if kids will like it or not. I don’t think my kids would care for it. But some might. Or this might be the sort of book that will win lots of awards because it’s written in a different, literary sort of way and it’s about a Serious Subject, but it’s mostly loved by librarians and teachers. I can see high school teachers assigning this book in literature classes or history classes.

If I sound ambivalent, it’s because I am. Help? Someone else tell me now that I’ve read it why it was that you liked it so much.

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To This Great Stage of Fools: Born October 21st

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, b. 1772

Sir, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool,
But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.




Ursula K. LeGuin b. 1929. Does this brief piece by LeGuin on “What Makes a Story?” make sense to you? Ms. LeGuin has written some fine fantasy, including the Earthsea novels.

Ann Cameron, b. 1943. Author of easy-to-read chapter books for children. I like the Julian books very much, especially the story in which Julian and his little brother, Huey, eat their father’s special lemon pudding, a pudding that tastes “like a whole raft of lemons, like a night on the sea.” When Father wakes up from his nap to find the pudding gone and Julian and Huey hiding under the bed, he hauls them out and makes the punishment fit the crime.

Janet Ahlberg, b. 1944.

Also on this date in 1879, Thomas A. Edison first demonstrated his incandescent lamp. And it’s the birthday of Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite, who left his fortune to endow the Noble Prizes.

Winter Birds by Jamie Langston Turner

I had never heard of Jamie Langston Turner until Bethany House sent me her newest novel, Winter Birds, to review. I am not on Ms. Turner’s payroll nor is Bethany House paying me. So, I can say without guile or reservations, Winter Birds is a fine book. The characters are interesting and multi-faceted. The story is about an old woman who’s preparing herself for death, so there aren’t many exciting plot developments. When exciting things do happen —an attempted kidnapping, murder, death of a child— the developments either take place “off stage” or they’re described in an understated sort of way that makes it clear that these are abnormal parts of an otherwise ordinary life and that the real excitement and interest is in what these and other occurences do to the characters involved.

I didn’t care much for the narrator of the novel at first. I don’t think I was supposed to like her. “A difficult old woman may be entertaining if you are not responsible for her upkeep.” Sophia Hess, the difficult old woman who writes these words, is not entertaining. Her bitterness is too apparent. She is, however, intriguing. I had to keep reading to figure out why Sophia was so bitter. What made her who she has become? Will she change? How? Will she die trapped in her loneliness and misanthropy?

My care is a responsibility that Patrick has taken upon himself willingly, though, as in most duties, with insufficient understanding of what it will entail.” Patrick and his wife, Rachel, are a childless middle-aged couple. They have given Patrick’s Aunt Sophia, age eighty, an apartment in their home and agreed to care for her until her death. Sophia thinks they are doing this good deed in return for the promise that she will leave them her money when she does die. Patrick and Rachel may have other motivations. Sophia thinks she has Patrick figured out. He talks too much. He is not as intelligent as he thinks he is. He is, according to Sophia, unknowingly racist and inconsiderate and unobservant.

Rachel is something more of a mystery to Sophia. Rachel, who has survived a terrible tragedy, is just good. Sophia keeps looking for the chinks in Rachel’s goodness, but she finds very few. As more and more people enter the lives of the three main characters, Sophia finds that she cannot just sit and wait to die. It’s not that easy, and she doesn’t really want to die. She doesn’t want to live either. She just wants to continue to get dessert every night. 🙂

Jamie Langston Turner is professor of creative writing and literature at Bob Jones University. Perhaps the negative reputation of BJU in some circles is the reason I’ve never heard of Ms. Turner. However, her books reminds me of Madeleine L’Engle, and that is high praise indeed. I plan to find her other books and read them: Some Wildflower in my Heart, No Dark Valley, and By the Light of a Thousand Stars. If those books live up to this one, I think I’ve found a new favorite author.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that Winter Birds is chock-full of references to Shakespeare, a motif that made it lots of fun, and there’s also a recurring theme related to the birds that Sophia sees at her window birdfeeder. I’m not so interested in birds, but both the Shakespeare and the birds were nice ways of tying the story together and drawing analogies and comparisons between the characters and events in the novel and habits of the birds and the characters and thoughts of Shakespeare.

Read it. You’ll be glad you did.

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The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester

Subtitled “A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary,” this book has something for everyone. For bibliophiles and verbivores, there are all the dictionary details. Did you know that it took seventy years to produce the first edition of the OED? Or that there are 414,825 words defined in the OED? Did you know that the team of lexicographers who produced the dictionary included many unpaid volunteers who read and copied out quotations from a myriad of sources? Did you know that they mislaid one word, only one, bondsmaid? It was found long after the volume in which it would have been included was published, and it was later included in a supplement to the dictionary which came out in 1933.

I can tell, though, that some of you are more interested in the murder and insanity. Well, one of those lowly, unpaid volunteers, one who made himself indispensible to the dictionary project, was an American living in Britain. Unknown at first to the editor of the dictionary and his team of lexicographers, this American, a medical doctor, who sent in thousands of useful citations that were used in the final dictionary, was also a resident of England’s second most famous mental hospital, Broadmoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane. It was an interesting collaboration, to say the least.

So if your interests extend to crime, murder, paranoia, mayhem, the development of the English language, or lexicography, you’ll find something of interest in this book. I noticed the other day that Ms. Mental Multivitamin has a copy of this book in her library.
I borrowed mine from the public library.

By the way, did you know that Shakespeare didn’t have a dictionary?

Whenever he came to use an unusual word, or to set a word in what seemed an unusual context—and his plays are extraordinarily rich with examples—he had almost no way of checking the propriety of what he was about to do. . . . Shakespeare was not even able to perform a function that we consider today as perfectly normal and ordinary a function as reading itself. He could not as the saying goes, “look something up.” . . . Indeed, the very phrase did not exist.

Maybe that’s why Shakespeare was so inventive with words and phrases, no dictionaries to hem him in and tell him what he couldn’t do.

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The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

Well, I’ve finished my fourth RIP selection. The Woman in White was a good story. However, I must say that reading it at the same time as Kristin Lavransdatter must have colored my response to the Collins book, especially my response to the characters in the book. About a fourth of the way through the book I was hoping the female love interest, Laura, would die and get out of the way so that her much more interesting half-sister could get the guy. Did anyone else find Laura to be annoyingly weak and helpless? Is she really a type of the ideal Victorian woman? If so, give me a medieval woman any day.

Laura marries a man she doesn’t love because her dead father planned the marriage, and she doesn’t think anyone would condone her marriage to her true love, the art teacher. Kristin Lavransdatter, on the other hand, breaks her betrothal to her father’s choice of a husband, and then she prepares to run away with her own lover and thereby forces her father to approve the marriage. So Kristin’s behavior is disrespectful, dishonorable, and unwise. At least, she has a mind, and she lives with the results of her decision. Laura, on the hand, Lady Glyde as she becomes, glides through her life, letting others move her around like a pawn on a chessboard.

The villain of The Woman in White is, however, a consummate evil genius. Count Fosco is worthy of joining the list of Best Villains. He’s large and dark and hypnotic and smooth and deceptive and ultimately slimy. If I wrote a book with a villain, I’d want Count Fosco to make an appearance at least as tutor to my own villainous creation.

The plot has a few holes. Why does Laura marry such an idiot? Why does her husband put up with Laura’s half-sister coming to live with the married couple even though she interferes with his plans? Why does the WOman in WHite keep floating in and out of the story without ever doing anything significant? Can two people (not identical twins)look so much alike that they can be mistaken for one another even by their own family members? Still, while reading the book, I held these and other questions in abeyance; I just wanted to know what would happen next. I especially wanted to know what would happen to the magnificently nasty Count Fosco.

Read it and find out. Step over the holes carefully.

Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset

With the ‘domestic epic’, a sweeping drama set against a carefully studied social background, she broke a new ground. Undset turned away from the sentimental style of national romanticism and wanted to re-create the realism of the Icelandic sagas and write so vividly, that “everything that seem(s) romantic from here – murder, violence, etc becomes ordinary – comes to life,” as the author explained. . . . Undset’s emphasis on women’s biological nature, and her view that motherhood is the highest duty (to which) a woman can aspire, has been criticized by feminists as reactionary. —Kirjasto

I’m not surprised that feminist critics might not appreciate Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter. What a story! I actually began reading this story of a medieval Norwegian mother and wife a long time ago, but found myself unable to stay with it. This time I read it in three separate paperback books, The Bridal Wreath (Part 1), Mistress of Husaby (Part 2), and The Cross (Part 3). I think the three separate books made it more digestible and less intimidating. Anyway, this time I not only read the entire book, over a thousand pages, but I enjoyed it so much that I plan to add it to my list of the 100 Best Fiction Books Ever Written.

The Bridal Wreath tells the story of Kristin’s childhood, her growth into womanhood, her betrothal, her sin and loss of honor, and her marriage. For better or for worse, the decisions that Kristin makes in this first book determine the remainder of the events of her life and her willfulness in choosing her own husband throws a shadow over even the happiest of times in her later life. Kristin is a likeable protagonist, but very much a fallible one. Book 1 of this trilogy is about rebellion and how easy it is to fall into sin, how justifiable it seems. The story also demonstrates how one sin leads to another and “what a tangled web we weave.”

Nevertheless, Kristin becomes The Mistress of Husaby, the medieval estate of her husband, Erlend. She gives her husband sons, seven sons. They are rich in land, in friends, in family. But their character, or lack thereof, comes back to haunt the two of them and their marriage again and again. Having started off on the wrong foot, so to speak, Kristin and her husband can never manage to live in harmony for long. Erlend is careless and untrustworthy, just as he was when Kristin married him. Kristin is often shrewish and disrespectful in response to her husband’s irresponsibility. Still they build a marriage that, just barely, outlasts the storms of adultery, abandonment, imprisonment, sickness, and disgrace.

In Book 3, The Cross, Kristin is getting old for a woman of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. She’s in her forties as the story progresses. Her sons are growing up, and her husband is growing old. Kristin must learn the lesson of self-denial and letting go of those whom she loves fiercely and somewhat possessively. Perhaps as my children grow up and begin to leave the nest in little ways, I identify with Kristin in this book most of all. She wants so much to shield her sons from harm and from difficulty, but most of all from themselves and the trouble they will bring upon themselves by their own sins and bad decisions. Oh, I do want the same thing.

“When you yourself had borne a child, Kristin, methought you would understand,” her mother had said once. Now, she understood that her mother’s heart had been scored deep with memories of her daughter, memories of thoughts for her child from the time it was unborn and from all the years a child remembers nothing of, memories of fear and hope and dreams that children never know have been dreamed for them, until their own time comes to fear and hope and dream in secret —

But Kristin learns that her sons have their own dreams and their own unwise decisions to make. And she can only pray for them and leave them to the mercy of God. She comes to realize, too, that her own prayers have always been answered by a faithful God, that she has always been in His hand, even when He allowed her to follow the sinful desires of her own heart.

Never, it seemed to her had she prayed to God for aught else than that He might grant her her own will. And she had got always what she wished—most. And now she sat here with a bruised spirit—not because she had sinned against God, but because she was miscontent that it had been granted her to follow the devices of her own heart to the journey’s end.

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Oh, that the Lord would say “no” and put a barrier in my way when I ask Him for what I think I want but what He does not will. And I pray the same for my children. But sometimes He sees that we need to experience the fruits of our willful decisions before we can see clearly that His will is best.

Kristin Lavransdatter is a wonderful book for wives and mothers especially, for those of us who sometimes struggle with those roles and who often delight in the same. If it’s slow going at first, please persist. The language is beautiful, but somewhat archaic and stilted. I think you’ll find the book worth getting through any initial difficulties.

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Books I Think I Want to Read

I’ve put THE LIST (of books I want to read) up on the internet for all to see how crazed and impossibly optimistic I am. THE LIST and I have a love/hate relationship. I love having a list of all the books I find all over the place–the bookstore, the library, on blogs, in newspapers, at book sales, in people’s houses– that I want to read. If I didn’t have a list, I’d never be able to remember even half of them.

However, I hate the fact that even if I read nonstop for the rest of the decade and never add another book to THE LIST, I’ll still never be able to read all the books I already have on THE LIST. “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp-else what’s a Heaven for?” –Robert Browning. Or to put it another way, will I be able to read all the remaining books on THE LIST when I get to heaven? Or will I even be interested? If not, Heaven’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

We’re going to spend another, unscheduled, week in Korea in our homeschool this week. And I’ll be plugging away at THE LIST in one way or another. I hope you enjoy perusing my list as you work on your own.

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Friday’s Center of the Blogosphere

Nature is an infinite sphere of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere. Blaise Pascal

The Queen of the Beehive waxes eleoquent on the subject of Texas Chili Apologetics. “I believe that chili should be crafted toward the purpose of reminding you that you are fully alive.”

Miss Jennifer has a gift exchange going Well, actually, it’s a gift idea exchange. Do you have any great ideas for Christmas gifts? Share them and link.

Joe McKeever recommends laughter as medicine for whatever’s ailing you. “Make yourself laugh. You can do this. It’s not nearly as hard as it sounds. It feels fake at first–after all, you’re forcing it–but the effect is past in a moment. You start feeling so silly that the very act of laughing makes you laugh. At the end of two minutes, you’re glowing. It’s like you have had a tonic.”

Don’t forget to participate in the Saturday Review of Books tomorrow here at Semicolon. Let us know what you’re reading and how you liked it.

Book-Spotting #21

Julia Golding’s Top Ten Characters in Children’s Historical Fiction (Guardian). I may add some of these books to my list. I’ve only read four of the books she lists: Ivanhoe, Treasure Island, A Little Princess and one or two of the Flambards books by K.M. Peyton. The Shakespeare time travel book by Susan Cooper sounds especially good.

David Montgomery on the 10 Greatest Detective Novels.
A long discussion (see comments) at Petrona of why all the authors on Mr. Mongomery’s list are male, and which female authors should have been included. Obviously, Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, and P.D. James should be on any such list.
My Best 10 Detective Novels (in no particular order):

1. The Mother Hunt by Rex Stout

2. The Murder of Roger Akroyd by Agatha Christie

3. Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers

4. The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett

5. The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey

6. The Holy Thief by Ellis Peters

7. The Black Tower by P.D. James

8. The Case of the Fabulous Fake by Erle Stanley Gardner

9. The Long Good-bye by Raymond Chandler

10. A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

You will notice that I have five men and five women authors on my list. Totally unplanned. I also note again that the limitation of such lists made by one person is that I can only consider those books that I’ve actually read. So you may find better books on Mr. Montgomery’s list, but these are MY picks. And Dorothy Sayers is the best of any of the authors on my list or anyone else’s. Because I said so.

Nobel Prize for Literature, 2006

So Orhan Pamuk, Turkish author of My Name Is Red and Snow, won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Thanks to Kimbofo at Reading Matters, I read Snow earlier this year, but it seems that the Nobel Prize committee and I do not have the same tastes in literature. Or I just don’t get it. Or something.

My comments on Snow.

Discussion of Snow at Reading Matters.

Andrei Codrescu reviews Snow.

Fiction writer Christine Fischer Guy and poet Adam Sol, author of Jonah’s Promise and Crowd of Sounds, discuss Snow.

Nobel Prize site with a telephone interview with Mr. Pamuk.

So, have you read any of Pamuk’s novels? If so, what do you think?