Booklog 2007: Week 9
Mar. 5th, 2007 11:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneWeek 9: 26 February—4 March
48. Antique Bakery (Vol. 1), Fumi Yoshinaga — I don't have much to say about this. It's manga, it's yaoi, it's quite cute... This one's about a trio of guys working in a pastry shop. Interestingly, the first few chapters have them all working there and then the later chapters are flashbacks to show how that came to happen. This is surprisingly effective, because you get to see, for example, that Tachibana was not always a pastry expert, as the reader initially takes for granted; he had to learn it, of course. I actually really want to get my hands on the next volume, which I didn't feel the need to with, say, FAKE.
49. The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, Helene Hanff — Reread, 'cause having read 84, Charing Cross Road again, I had to read the sequel. This is even better than I remembered—I think I recalled it being a bit of a disappointment after 84. It's not; it's just different. And it especially resonated now that I've actually been to London and recognize some of the places Hanff describes and the feeling of finally being in the city you've read about so many times even more. (Although Hanff wasn't exactly going, "Just like it's described in Neverwhere!" She's rather more classical than I am.) Like 84, this book is realistically bittersweet—it acknowledges lost opportunities and lost friends—but Hanff's are consistently a wonderful pair of eyes to see the city, and the travel experience in general, through.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roz_mcclure, you said you wanted a book to make you feel nostalgic about London? This is so perfect it seems tailor-made.
50. The Sparrow, Mary Doria Russell — Oh, man. There's no easy way to sum up how I felt—how I still feel—about this book. I've already talked about it extensively withwychwood and siriaeve and, well, my mom. It's both fascinating and incredibly traumatizing. The basic story is this: "Singing is heard coming from a planet in Alpha Centauri. A Jesuit mission is sent there. It all goes horribly, horribly wrong." I could actually tell you more—specific details, even—and it still wouldn't spoil it, because the story is really in the wonderfully crafted characters and in the way the whole thing unfolds, with the timeline of the mission interspersed with its aftermath and the return to Earth of the sole survivor. (For the record, I haven't given away anything that you don't learn in about the first ten pages.) There is amazing amount of stuff going on in this book—anthropological and linguistic investigations, as well as an investigation of faith. Russell makes it all fascinating; where I had problems was a little in the pacing—things unravel with a startling suddenness that may be realistic, but makes the book seem somewhat unbalanced (Siria has even more interesting things to say about the pacing here)—and more so in trying to discern what Russell intended the readers' overall conclusions to be. After all the horrible things that happen to Emilio, are we supposed to feel some transcendent moment, some renewal of faith or hope? It just wasn't there for me, and I can't tell if that's me or the book.
51. The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Brian Selznick — There are a couple of really cool things about this book. One, it's about Georges Méliès, film pioneer and director of A Trip to the Moon, which I'm willing to bet you know even if you don't recognize that title or his name. (Picture a rocket sticking out of the eye of the man in the moon...) Two, the book is designed so it's like a silent movie: drawings are interspersed with text, so you get part of the story visually and part from the text (with more emphasis on text than there would be in a film, naturally). It's like a different approach to the graphic novel, and in that respect it's very, very cool. The story did less for me; it's intended for 9 to 12-year-olds, and I found it a bit simplistic (which is too bad, because there are other children's books that I find complex even now). Still, I think if I had read it when I was younger, I'd have been enchanted (I certainly remember Selznick's The Houdini Box with tons of fondness), and even now, even just as an objet d'art, it's lovely.
52. Tam Lin, Pamela Dean — Mixed feelings, once again! On the plus side, I absolutely could not put this book down. Dean makes the setting—a midwestern liberal arts college in the early '70s—come alive so completely that even when the biggest issue at stake is what classes Janet, our heroine, is going to take, I was utterly entranced. In fact, the straightforward college narrative is so convincing and so good that I would have been perfectly happy for the book to be about nothing but that. Which is not to say that I didn't like the undercurrent of weird supernatural goings-on—on the contrary, I LOVE that kind of thing. I love hints that something's not quite right, of something "off" just beneath the surface. I love that at the beginning of a story—but I must put the emphasis there on the beginning. In a 460 page novel, I think it's a problem if said undercurrents stay nothing but undercurrents until page 425. The revelation ends up feeling rushed; the mystical climax oddly tacked on. It got to the point where I kind of wanted Janet's rescue of her Tam Lin stand-in to remain metaphorical, not magical—an atypical response for me. Especially when all the characters seem so blasé about what's just happened. I was like, "Hello! You only had about 20 pages to get used to this! How are you back to discussing Pope already?"
That said, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend this book because I did enjoy the build-up so much, and because Janet is such a wonderful character. Also: it's a book where the hero's an English major! That, alone, makes me extraordinarily happy.
53. Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, Mary Roach — A nonfiction exploration of the various uses bodies are put to after people die. This was interesting and full of light humor, if not necessarily revelatory—I feel like I learned some cool details, but my outlook wasn't exactly changed or anything; I wasn't blown away by the information contained within these pages. I also wasn't squicked by the descriptions of what goes on, with the exception of 1) a few instances involving cannibalism, 2) some descriptions of head-swapping experiments that have implications that still freak me out, and 3) MAGGOTS. Ever since an incident with a dead squirrel when I was little, I cannot abide even the thought of maggots or larvae or...well, you get the idea. And personally, I won't be eating Rice Krispies for a while. (Think about it.)
Anyway, like I said: interesting, but definitely something I'm glad I got from the library as opposed to purchasing.
Total Books: 53
And while I'm here and have your attention (or not), two other points of interest (or not):
1. Dude, what's up with The Dead Zone? Season 2 was so, so good, but then...was it just me, or did it, suddenly and abruptly, really start to suck?
2. I can't stop listening to The Smiths. I find this worrying. Anyone want to help me and prescribe a cure? (And no, not The Cure. I need something happy-making, dammit!)
48. Antique Bakery (Vol. 1), Fumi Yoshinaga — I don't have much to say about this. It's manga, it's yaoi, it's quite cute... This one's about a trio of guys working in a pastry shop. Interestingly, the first few chapters have them all working there and then the later chapters are flashbacks to show how that came to happen. This is surprisingly effective, because you get to see, for example, that Tachibana was not always a pastry expert, as the reader initially takes for granted; he had to learn it, of course. I actually really want to get my hands on the next volume, which I didn't feel the need to with, say, FAKE.
49. The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, Helene Hanff — Reread, 'cause having read 84, Charing Cross Road again, I had to read the sequel. This is even better than I remembered—I think I recalled it being a bit of a disappointment after 84. It's not; it's just different. And it especially resonated now that I've actually been to London and recognize some of the places Hanff describes and the feeling of finally being in the city you've read about so many times even more. (Although Hanff wasn't exactly going, "Just like it's described in Neverwhere!" She's rather more classical than I am.) Like 84, this book is realistically bittersweet—it acknowledges lost opportunities and lost friends—but Hanff's are consistently a wonderful pair of eyes to see the city, and the travel experience in general, through.
roz_mcclure, you said you wanted a book to make you feel nostalgic about London? This is so perfect it seems tailor-made.50. The Sparrow, Mary Doria Russell — Oh, man. There's no easy way to sum up how I felt—how I still feel—about this book. I've already talked about it extensively with
wychwood and siriaeve and, well, my mom. It's both fascinating and incredibly traumatizing. The basic story is this: "Singing is heard coming from a planet in Alpha Centauri. A Jesuit mission is sent there. It all goes horribly, horribly wrong." I could actually tell you more—specific details, even—and it still wouldn't spoil it, because the story is really in the wonderfully crafted characters and in the way the whole thing unfolds, with the timeline of the mission interspersed with its aftermath and the return to Earth of the sole survivor. (For the record, I haven't given away anything that you don't learn in about the first ten pages.) There is amazing amount of stuff going on in this book—anthropological and linguistic investigations, as well as an investigation of faith. Russell makes it all fascinating; where I had problems was a little in the pacing—things unravel with a startling suddenness that may be realistic, but makes the book seem somewhat unbalanced (Siria has even more interesting things to say about the pacing here)—and more so in trying to discern what Russell intended the readers' overall conclusions to be. After all the horrible things that happen to Emilio, are we supposed to feel some transcendent moment, some renewal of faith or hope? It just wasn't there for me, and I can't tell if that's me or the book.51. The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Brian Selznick — There are a couple of really cool things about this book. One, it's about Georges Méliès, film pioneer and director of A Trip to the Moon, which I'm willing to bet you know even if you don't recognize that title or his name. (Picture a rocket sticking out of the eye of the man in the moon...) Two, the book is designed so it's like a silent movie: drawings are interspersed with text, so you get part of the story visually and part from the text (with more emphasis on text than there would be in a film, naturally). It's like a different approach to the graphic novel, and in that respect it's very, very cool. The story did less for me; it's intended for 9 to 12-year-olds, and I found it a bit simplistic (which is too bad, because there are other children's books that I find complex even now). Still, I think if I had read it when I was younger, I'd have been enchanted (I certainly remember Selznick's The Houdini Box with tons of fondness), and even now, even just as an objet d'art, it's lovely.
52. Tam Lin, Pamela Dean — Mixed feelings, once again! On the plus side, I absolutely could not put this book down. Dean makes the setting—a midwestern liberal arts college in the early '70s—come alive so completely that even when the biggest issue at stake is what classes Janet, our heroine, is going to take, I was utterly entranced. In fact, the straightforward college narrative is so convincing and so good that I would have been perfectly happy for the book to be about nothing but that. Which is not to say that I didn't like the undercurrent of weird supernatural goings-on—on the contrary, I LOVE that kind of thing. I love hints that something's not quite right, of something "off" just beneath the surface. I love that at the beginning of a story—but I must put the emphasis there on the beginning. In a 460 page novel, I think it's a problem if said undercurrents stay nothing but undercurrents until page 425. The revelation ends up feeling rushed; the mystical climax oddly tacked on. It got to the point where I kind of wanted Janet's rescue of her Tam Lin stand-in to remain metaphorical, not magical—an atypical response for me. Especially when all the characters seem so blasé about what's just happened. I was like, "Hello! You only had about 20 pages to get used to this! How are you back to discussing Pope already?"
That said, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend this book because I did enjoy the build-up so much, and because Janet is such a wonderful character. Also: it's a book where the hero's an English major! That, alone, makes me extraordinarily happy.
53. Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, Mary Roach — A nonfiction exploration of the various uses bodies are put to after people die. This was interesting and full of light humor, if not necessarily revelatory—I feel like I learned some cool details, but my outlook wasn't exactly changed or anything; I wasn't blown away by the information contained within these pages. I also wasn't squicked by the descriptions of what goes on, with the exception of 1) a few instances involving cannibalism, 2) some descriptions of head-swapping experiments that have implications that still freak me out, and 3) MAGGOTS. Ever since an incident with a dead squirrel when I was little, I cannot abide even the thought of maggots or larvae or...well, you get the idea. And personally, I won't be eating Rice Krispies for a while. (Think about it.)
Anyway, like I said: interesting, but definitely something I'm glad I got from the library as opposed to purchasing.
Total Books: 53
And while I'm here and have your attention (or not), two other points of interest (or not):
1. Dude, what's up with The Dead Zone? Season 2 was so, so good, but then...was it just me, or did it, suddenly and abruptly, really start to suck?
2. I can't stop listening to The Smiths. I find this worrying. Anyone want to help me and prescribe a cure? (And no, not The Cure. I need something happy-making, dammit!)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-03-06 12:06 am (UTC)But...I'm trying to change? Oh, who am I kidding. Not really. *puts The Smiths back on*