Death Comes to Pemberley: A Review

P.D. James's latest novel is a sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (I know, I know, don't leave yet).  James gives Austen's creation the mystery-novel treatment, in which Wickham involves the Darcy's in a murder investigation by being found in the woods at Pemberley with a dead body.  Despite that intriguing premise, the novel gets off to a slow start; she begins with a somewhat amusing summary of Pride and Prejudice, clearly meant for people who had never read it, but a bit tedious for those who have.  She then directs us to Pemberley, six years after Elizabeth and Darcy's wedding, where preparations for a ball are underway.

Most strikingly: Elizabeth has changed.  Throughout the novel, she is constantly described as anxious, apprehensive, exhausted.  She is given to vague, but grim forebodings.  James has done little to capture the witty and practical heroine of Austen's novel (though, likely, Elizabeth Bennett cannot truly be reproduced to the exacting standards of Austen's readers, so why try?).  James's Mrs. Darcy seems to serve as an emotional conductor, relaying the appropriate sensations to the reader to create the right mysterious atmosphere.  Darcy fares better and is more complex, a mixture of intelligence, compassion, and propriety.

The mystery itself is suitably interesting, but we are subjected to numerous reiterations of the facts--we read exactly the same story, in nearly the same words repeated from the first encounter with the Wickhams, the interviews with the witnesses, repeated to the magistrate, at the inquest, at the trial.  The redundancy seems fairly inexplicable, as it really adds nothing to the plot or our understanding of it.  A final gripe: inelegant information dumps.  We 21st century readers can't figure out that the legal system is different in the 19th century, so we have long speeches where one character relates text-book style information to another character.  This, of course, can only be for our benefit, and it seems that it could have been more gracefully integrated.  Honestly, I would prefer an editorial footnote to these little lectures that are fooling no one.

As a whole, though, the book is a good read, a page-turner that I flew through pretty quickly.  The dialogue (even some free indirect discourse) is pretty convincing, and there are a few, fun mentions of characters from Emma and Persuasion.  A light read, though lacking many humorous touches--it seems there is a bit lost in transforming a comedy of manners into a mystery.  Recommended for Austen fans with the understanding that this is not a purist's sequel, and for mystery fans looking for a historical setting with a minimum of grit and gore.

Consider the Cross: A Book Review

Disclaimer: I received this book for free in exchange for my honest review.  The author also linked this blog on her website.

I met Kirsten Oliphant in graduate school when we were both TAs for the English department.  Since we have graduated, I have kept up with her through Facebook and her blog I Still Hate Pickles.  After reading her book Consider the Cross, I wish I had more of an opportunity to get to know her while we were still in school together.  Kirsten's writing on her blog is often funny and frank, but is also reflective and raises serious or provocative questions.  These latter qualities take the forefront in her new book.

Consider the Cross is an Easter devotional.  Released on Ash Wednesday in order to be read through Lent, it contains forty devotions focusing on the last week of Jesus's ministry before the crucifixion.  At the beginning of each day's reading is a primary scripture reference, along with parallel references from the other gospels.  The text of the Scripture is not provided, and while this does de-emphasize translation issues (since you will use whatever translation you have), toggling between Bible and devotional on an e-reader is tricky--you'll probably want to go old school with your print Bible.  Each entry is short--a reflection on the scripture and several thought-provoking questions at the end.  Oliphant intentionally avoids getting into study-driven theological issues.  She writes, "These daily devotions are less me trying to teach you something, but more to engage you in thinking about what God might have to teach you" (2).  The approach is well-suited to the Lenten-season when we often reflect and meditate on the meaning of Christ's sacrifice for us.

I think one of Oliphant's biggest strengths is in setting a scene by pointing out details: for example, the intimacy of the Last Supper or the look Christ gives Peter at his denial in Luke's account.  Her second strength is in the questions she raises: they are pointed, even piercing, but they are clearly questions she has already asked of herself.  Although some of these questions are best-suited for self-reflection, I think that many of them would be great for group conversation--the book as a whole could be easily adapted for group study.

Ultimately, I enjoyed the experience very much.  I find it difficult sometimes to truly focus and prepare for Easter--we often are so busy that it is over and gone before I even let it touch my heart.  Reading through this devotional for the last six weeks has given me an opportunity daily to reflect on Christ's work and love.  Although I plan to return to it again next Lent, it certainly does not have to be reserved specifically for Easter-time.  Anytime is a good time to "consider the cross."

Kirsten's book may be purchased from Amazon, here: http://www.amazon.com/Consider-Cross-Devotions-Lent-ebook/dp/B00BF9C6C0/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_3

Check out Kirsten's blog here: http://www.stillhatepickles.com/

Book Review: Ann Patchett's State of Wonder

At first, I resisted Ann Patchett's recent best-seller, State of Wonder.  It begins with death, and I have a cowardly disposition toward such painful subjects.  But, it kept appearing on "must-read" lists, so I gave it a shot, and the novel proved worth it.  It does begin on a somber note: the protagonist, Dr. Marina Singh, a research scientist at a pharmaceutical company, learns of the death of her colleague Anders Eckman and must face, first, relaying the news to Eckman's wife, and then, traveling to the Amazon where Eckman died while trying to locate a rogue scientist.  The first part of the novel is uncomfortably morbid, as Marina reflects on the Eckman's death and the resulting destruction in the life of his wife and sons.

The novel picks up pace, however, as Marina transitions to Brazil, commissioned both by Eckman's wife and her employer to discover what happened to Eckman and locate Dr. Swenson, the scientist Eckman was trying to reach.  Swenson was also Marina's professor during her medical residency years earlier, and Marina harbors a deep reverence and also fear of her former teacher.  Swenson is formidable, growing almost legendary before she ever enters the novel midway through.  Her research centers around extended fertility among an Amazonian tribe--a pharmaceutical gold-mine that could deliver babies to women in their 60s or even 70s.  The company is then, understandably worried that Swenson has apparently gone AWOL.

Marina's adventures are many: breaking through the gates and gatekeepers Swenson has left behind her, surviving fevers, snakes, and angry tribesmen.  The novel, however, is not merely action-packed.  It raises a number of interesting questions, especially when measured against what obviously must have been the inspiration for the story: Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness.  The disciple-like reverence that so many develop for Swenson mirrors the devotion shown to Kurtz; thus, a good part of the novel is spent considering how Marina will, like Marlow, experience the disillusionment that comes from seeing the dark heart of the idol.  The novel, too, raises questions, if obliquely, about colonization and its effects, both on the  native populations and the environment.  Indeed, even the research that seems so miraculous, comes under intense and painful scrutiny.

The novel continues to unfold unexpected twists, and even if you have read Heart of Darkness, the resolution of the novel may come as a surprise.

Ultimately, an exciting story, but one that doesn't leave your mind behind.

The Flight of Gemma Hardy: Book Review

An orphan girl, despised by her aunt and cousins, is sent to a boarding school where privations and abuse are mainstays.  The girl grows up and takes a position in a remote manor house teaching a little girl whose guardian is both charismatic and mysterious.  Sound familiar?  It should.  Margot Livesey's The Flight of Gemma Hardy (Harper Collins, 2012) is a retelling of Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre.  Set in Scotland in the 1950s and 60s, the novel is both clever and inventive in how it manages the parallels to the original work.  Gemma, born in Iceland, is taken to live with her mother's brother's family at Yew House when both of her parents die.  The opening chapters closely match Brontë's work, from the "not taking a walk" first lines, to the a "bird book" enjoyed in a secluded window-seat.  Claypoole (read Lowood) is a house of horrors: Gemma is taken on scholarship, and in return, she must serve as a "working girl"--basically an unpaid servant, which allows for interesting class dynamics as the divisions between the working girls and the regular students are severe.

In the first part of the book, the primary differences between Jane Eyre and Gemma Hardy are in the heroine's allies.  Unlike Jane, Gemma not only remembers but loves her uncle, who is a kindly minister who dies just before the beginning of the book.  No Betsy, but there is Mrs. Marsden, Gemma's aunt's housekeeper.  No Miss Temple, but, interestingly, a Mr. Donaldson, the teacher at Gemma's school before she leaves for Claypoole: he tries to warn Gemma off the boarding school, but becomes a victim of his own good intentions.  The Helen Burns character is rechristened Miriam Goodall, an asthmatic regular student who befriends Gemma.  She doesn't seem to have the same degree of influence on Gemma as Helen has on Jane, and lacks Helen's stoic faith.  Faith in general seems to be in short supply in this novel, despite Gemma's uncle's vocation, and, more crucially, despite the overwhelming importance of both Christian themes and images in Jane Eyre.

The second part of the book, Gemma's sojourn at Blackbird Hall (there is an extended bird motif through the whole novel), is perhaps the most enjoyable.  Gemma's advertisements land her in the Orkneys, the islands in northern Scotland, working for Mr. Hugh Sinclair, teaching his niece Nell (rhymes with Adele!)  It is in this section, however, that the story begins to spin away from the Jane Eyre story most clearly.  Gemma as adult is less like Jane than she was as a child.  She lacks Jane's unflinching self-possession, and this is demonstrated most strikingly in her reasons for running away from Blackbird Hall after Mr. Sinclair's secret has been revealed (Mr. Sinclair, by the way, is not nearly as much a bad boy as Mr. Rochester).  Jane leaves Rochester, not because he has deceived her and tried to trick her into bigamy--she forgives him the instant he asks before she ever leaves Thornfield.  She does not leave because she is angry with him.  She leaves because of a moral impulse--she is terribly tempted by his pleading that they remain together even though his wife lives.  She flees because she wants to be able to maintain her self-respect--she would rather risk starvation on the moors than to act on her passion for Rochester.  Gemma leaves because she is angry.  She leaves because she has been deceived.  There is no real moral compulsion to flee, so her reasoning takes on a self-righteous tone.  She leaves because she wants to "find herself."

OK.  Enough fussing.  The novel is actually really good.  I sped through it, intrigued to find out what would happen to Gemma (although, of course, you can probably guess).  The novel is an original work in its own right, and although I feel that the novel didn't truly capture the essence of Jane's character and choices (and I think it could have and still maintained it's originality), it is entertaining nevertheless.  It is fun to find the clever ways that Livesey alludes to the original work, and at times I was reading the novel with the memory of the corresponding passage in my mind, almost superimposed above the words on the page.  This is definitely a novel that I would love to dissect with another Jane Eyre fan---so, get on it!

Recommended if you love or even like Jane Eyre, enjoy coming of age stories, are interested in Scottish geography and a bit of history.

On a related note: my review of Fukunaga's film adaptation of Jane Eyre

Review: The Winter Sea

Susanna Kearsley's The Winter Sea was an enjoyable first read on my new Nook Color.  The novel follows two parallel narratives, one being that of modern-day writer Carrie McClelland who settles into a rented cottage on the Scottish coast to work on her newest historical novel, and the other is that of Carrie's heroine, Sophia Patterson, named, on a whim, for one of Carrie's ancestors.  Carrie's novel, the story within the story, is set in 1708 at Slains Castle and follows Sophia as she finds romance and danger in the midst of an early attempted Jacobite uprising.  At modern day Slains, Carrie becomes concerned when she discovers that her imagined scenes between characters are born out as true by her subsequent research.  She comes to believe that her novel is less fictional that history--she has inherited the memory of her ancestress, and her writing uncovers a variety of twists and surprises that had not been included in the family record.

Despite the quirky framing and occasional references to genetics and DNA to explain how Carrie could possess the memories of her great-great-great-great-great grandmother, the story is less sci-fi /fantasy and more historical novel.  The Carrie narrative arc is gentle: her encounters with the locals who are eager to supply her with material for her novel, the fairly harmless triangle that arises between herself and the two sons of her landlord, and the descriptions of her writing process.  Despite its relative quietude, I liked the Carrie arc--I wanted to know who she ended up with, and as someone who has been attempting a bit of writing myself, I am interested in other writer's descriptions of the process (and surely Carrie and Kearsley share ideas on this subject?).  The Sophia arc was also interesting, if, again, a bit quiet.  There is danger, but most of Sophia's trials are mental--the references to chess games are apt, as she attempts to hide the information she possesses from those who might harm her loved ones and their mission to bring back the Scottish king.  Her's is a more likely true look at the dangers women faced--domestic dangers, the trials of waiting, knowing but being unable to act.

The book reminded me quite a bit of Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series--both take place in 18th century Scotland and involve "time-travel" in a way.  But Kearsley's is a gentler tale--far less sex and violence than Gabaldon's lusty adventures.  I definitely recommend the novel as an engaging but tranquil historical read.

Fukunaga's Jane Eyre: An English Teacher's Perspective

Jane Eyre is quite possibly my favorite book ever (I say possibly because, really, who can pick a single favorite?)  I have read it at least half a dozen times since the fateful first encounter when I was sixteen and absolutely riveted by Jane and Rochester, the breath-catching romance and the flesh-creeping spookiness.

I was, however, rather nonplussed when I first heard that a new film version was coming out.  I have seen several different renditions of the novel in film and am unimpressed with all of them, except for the 2006 Masterpiece Theatre miniseries.  That version, starring Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson was quite good, so much so that I didn't think there really needed to be another version already.  After seeing the film on Saturday, however, I feel that Fukunaga's version has definite merit.

There are a few problems, the most significant being length.  It is just too problematic trying to cram a 500+ page Victorian "loose baggy monster" into a 2-hour feature film format.  Several scenes that I found important (though, admittedly, not essential) were cut, in particular the ones in which Mr. Rochester attempts to deck his fiancee in finery, which she is having none of.  Of course, this is no doubt due to my interest in fashion in literature, but I see these scenes as important in establishing Jane's resistance to attempts to manipulate her sense of self and identity.  The other significant scene cut is Bertha ripping Jane's veil and blowing the candle out in her face the night before the wedding.  I was particularly shocked that this was eliminated, since from the trailer it looked as though the film was going to play up the Gothic elements.  However, Bertha actually gets very little screen time at all.

Also, while overall the casting was quite good (and excellent in Mia Wasikowska as Jane, but more on that later), I was a bit dissatisfied with Michael Fassbender's Rochester.  He's just a bit too....mean.  Particularly in the earliest scenes, he is vicious.  Which doesn't match the Rochester of the book, where he is stern and gruff and commanding, but also funny and tender; Fassbender seems to forget the latter in his efforts to convince us of the former.  Jamie Bell's St. John Rivers is also problematic, but for the opposite reason: he is too nice.  The film insinuates that St. John is actually attracted to Jane and wants to marry her for romantic, as well as evangelical purposes; we have none of the St. John of the book's icy "you were formed for labor, not for love" pronouncements.  And there is, of course, no Rosamund Oliver.  Oh, and Jane being a cousin to the Riverses is not mentioned at all....

But, enough with the problems.  First, the film is gorgeous.  It opens with Jane's flight across the moors as she leaves Thornfield, a red sky with rain in the distance behind her, and it just gets better from there.  There seems to have been a commitment to authenticity in many of the details.  For example, the scenes shot in those dark corridors of the Thornfield appear to be lighted by only the candle the actors are carrying--no mysterious, bright-as-day "moonlight" creeping in--you actually see what it might have been like to live in a pre-electric time.  The clothes are also wonderful, from the chemises, petticoats, and corsets outward.  Jane appears in her blacks and greys of course, but with subtle plaids and stripes.

And, then, Jane herself.  Mia Wasikowska is fantastic.  She looks like Jane, who is described as small and plain.  The plain part is easy: even the prettiest woman stripped of her make-up and forced into that distinctive 1840's hairstyle with that severe center part and braids looping around the ears is going to look plain. But Wasikowska is able to pull off expressions that convey the sense of passion being forced back by reason.  It's all about restraint.  I like Ruth Wilson's Jane, but she is a bit too jolly, smiles a bit too easily, and cries a bit too heartily.  Wasikowska is more subtle: a flicker of flame hinting at (but neither revealing nor hiding) the inferno beneath.

There were so many really good scenes, but I'll just mention two that were particularly memorable--the proposal beneath the oak tree really demonstrates Wasikowska's restraint.  I have told my students that I think the most important lines in the novel are probably the ones where Jane says "Do you think that because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little that am soulless and heartless?"  And Wasikowska nails it.  It was during this scene that my husband, who has never read the book and does not profess any great interest in classic British literature, looked at me and announced, "This is good."  The other scene that is particularly well-done is the one where Rochester is trying to convince Jane to stay after the discovery of Bertha.  Oh, the agony.  But, oh the restraint.  You can see Jane struggling, not allowing herself to touch Rochester, literally crying out to God for help.  It's breath-taking.

If you haven't seen the film, it is definitely worth watching (and I would love to know what you think).  Good luck finding it in a theater near you: we drove to the next county to find it in a small, artsy theater.  But it was certainly worth it!

Chalice

I just finished Robin McKinley's beautiful new novel, Chalice.  I love this book - it is lyrical and warm and the first book in a long time that I have devoured in under 24 hours.  McKinley is a young adult novelist who writes fantasies and fairy tale retellings - my favorite is Beauty, a retelling of "Beauty and the Beast."  Her novel The Hero and the Crown won a Newberry Award  and the prequel, The Blue Sword was a Newberry Honor book.
Chalice is set in a mythical world where each region is governed by a Circle - the highest ranking members are the Master and the Chalice.  Marisol is an obscure beekeeper when she is chosen to be Chalice - she bears a cup that has the power to bring people together and to heal.  She is uncomfortable in this new position, but determined to help the new Master - the younger brother of the previous wicked Master.

The story is a mixture of parts - fairy tale, fantasy, romance.  It is knotty in parts - long sections of exposition without dialogue and a convoluted time-line that often loops back on itself - but overall, it is a very enjoyable and engrossing read.

Best Books: Young Adult, Part 2

1) Summer of My German Soldier, Bette Greene:  It's been years since I read this, but it is a powerful work - a young girl hides a German POW, deals with an abusive father, racism, and all the drama of being a teenager in 1940's South. 

2) A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith: Another one that I haven't read in a while, but also a coming of age during difficult circumstances novel - the main character grows up in Depression-era New York in a tenement and deals with poverty and other heavy issues.  I really need to lighten this up, huh?

3) The Phantom Tollbooth, Norton Juster: I do not like math, but this fantasy novel about a world of mathematic principles (it's kind of hard to explain) is very funny and fun to read.

4) The Mozart Season, Virginia Euwer Wolff: This novel about a young violin prodigy struggling to be herself, please her parents, and deal with the identity issues arising from being half-Jewish, half-Gentile didn't receive great reviews, but I loved it and checked it out from the library multiple times.

5) Just as Long as We're Together, Judy Blume: Blume is a nearly ubiquitous feature of teen girl reading lists, and I read them all.  This was my favorite.

There are more, of course.  I'm beginning to see patterns in my reading from younger years.  Why was I so enamoured with these heavy coming-of-age novels?  There were abusive parents, poverty, death, identity issues, on and on.  And I know the adult equivalents of these - you know, the books that read "Sarah thinks her life is perfect until a tragic accident and her husband's death causes her to re-examine the life she loves and to consider the possibilities...."  I put these back down in a hurry - why is teen angst appealing, but adult angst is just depressing?  Thoughts?  Anyone?  It's a problem.  With the young adult novels, I would pick up anything on the shelf at the library and read it.  Now with books for grown-ups, I scan the back, read the first paragraph, ponder and debate and still generally end up hating everything I get from the library.  It has gotten so bad that I hardly read fiction at all - there is so much drivel out there.  And it is all so depressing.  The "good" books, the ones that win Pulitzers and National Book Awards are generally boring and depressing and bleak.  The "popular" books are just awful and depressing and maudlin - Nicholas Sparks, Jodi Picoult, yikes.

I would like to grow up, but the young adult books are much more satisfying.

What I'm Doing Now

What I am currently reading:
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova - again. I loved this book the first time I read it a few years ago, and since I recently picked it up for $1 at the used book store, I am loving it again. It is surprising how much I had forgotten, which is actually a great thing for me - I often mourn that I can only read a book for the first time once. I love the mystery and adventure and history, and all those little details about academia. Fun, fun, curl up under the covers and read fun.

Shakespeare by Another Name by Mark Anderson. This one was lent to me by my cousin Jan and it is quite intriguing. A biography of Edward deVere, the "man who was Shakespeare," it asserts that Shakespeare's plays were not written by the glover's son who was born in Stratford-upon-Avon and married Anne Hathaway, but Edward deVere, Earl of Oxford. So far, the evidence for this claim has mostly been based on the coincidences from deVere's life that match events from the plays, which is not the most convincing, but it is still early in the book - I am willing to be persuaded.

Fodor's England 2008. Maybe, maybe, there will be a trip this summer. With our fingers crossed and our bank account unravished.

Jane Eyre - still meandering my way through this much-read, much-beloved book. Good stuff.

Movies I Want to See:
New Moon - of course. It looks better done than Twilight - at least the hair does, anyway. Everyone's hair. And the feeling is more epic and grand in scale, it seems. And, as long as they stuck to the book, which the director has been claiming he has at every point, they should be OK.

The Road - I haven't read the book yet, but the film looks fantastic. Viggo Mortenson (one of my favorite actors - it really seems that he becomes the character and you don't have that feeling that you are watching Viggo pretend to be someone, but you are actually seeing that character) and Robert Duvall (a legend, of course) in a post-apocalyptic survival story. It looks gritty and beautiful at the same time - which is think is true of Cormac McCarthy's other writing as well.

The Last Airbender - I will admit, I have seen the cartoon on Nickelodeon, and I will give my attention to almost any anime/manga style thing that comes on, at least for a while. And this looks like a nice, epic, big-budget film, and perhaps M. Night Shamaylan's chance to redeem himself after Lady in the Water and The Happening (which I didn't even bother to see.)

Review: Martha Stewart's Cooking School

I have found a cook book that I really love. Because it it actually a cook book. It is fully illustrated with color pictures, showing how to make things and perform basic recipes. It's not about special versions of things - there's no "Ginger and Carrot Orange Glaze Teriyaki Butterflyed Shrimp and Steak." It tells you how to make steak. Period. It is divided into types of food - meat/fish/poultry, vegetables, grains/beans, desserts; and then, divided into "lessons" on basic methods - how to grill, how to broil, how to steam. There are detailed instructions on how to slice vegetables, separate eggs, carve a turkey, patty out hamburgers - all the instructions that most recipes take for granted. It has basic recipes, such as the one pictured above - chocolate cupcakes. As it turns out, it is almost as easy to bake from scratch as it is from a box. While the concept is extremely simple, I don't think that it is for simple cooks. I know how to cook, of course; so it is not about learning how to cook. I think it is more about learning the foundations of cooking so that you can be more confident, and not rely on store-bought prepped foods. It shows a basic recipe, then variations on it. I made a basic creamy tomato soup from the book that knocked the socks of anything I have had from Campbells. At $45 (I got it on Amazon new for $30) it is a splurge, but definitely worth it. There is nothing faddish about it. It is a reference book, that I have already used far more than any other cook book I own. Highly recommended.

Fun with Rochester and Jane

I recently, at the strong recommendation of a friend, saw the 2007 BBC adaptation of Jane Eyre. Why I had not seen this sooner is a mystery, but it is wonderful. I had previously seen two versions (the 1997 Zeffirelli version with William Hurt and the 1983 BBC version starring Timothy Dalton) and neither of these greatly impressed me, both, primarily because of the leading men: William Hurt came off as too old, and didn't have that charismatic spark that I believe Rochester has, and Timothy Dalton... I mean, come on, Timothy Dalton? He's too pretty to be Rochester. However, the BBC got it right in 2007 with Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson. However, the film isn't great just because the casting matches up with my conceptions of the characters. It is surprisingly faithful to the text, both in letter and spirit. Much of the dialogue is lifted directly from the book, and every important event is accounted for. Of course, there are a few minor changes: for instance, Rochester hires a gypsy woman and hides behind a screen while she predicts the future for his guests, which isn't accurate, but it must be a bit unsettling to see the leading man actually in drag. At any rate, the film is definitely worth seeing, especially if previous versions left you a bit cold, and even if you enjoyed them, this is still a great adaptation. It must really mean something if I can get choked up watching a story that I know so well, and that makes me want to read the book again - which I am currently doing for at least the fifth time in my life.