A Good Day

Today was one of those days that just leaves you smiling.

First, my amazon order arrived...

Although, seriously, look at how awful a packing job they did! They just tossed the books in and added some brown paper. Poor books. :( Now they'll be loved. (the books are: The Rest Falls Away and Rises the Night by Colleen Gleason, The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio, Marked by P.C. and Kristin Cast, and Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrless; I'll talk more about them later).

Then, I finally broke and bought a poppet! Actually, two poppets: I wanted the Little Purple Poppet to have a friend, so I also got a Little Black Poppet. (if you have no idea what I'm talking about, go here, and if you know what I'm talking about and want to get one, go here.

Now, I've decided to wait to review Coraline until the poppets come in, so I can take a picture! Yay!

Then, I spent seven hours with a good friend who I hadn't really seen for a couple a weeks. Good day. :)

Latest Acquisitions

I realised I haven't posted a book pile in awhile! So I suppose the time has come for my latest confessions. :)


First, a member of bookmooch was running a 3-for-1 deal, and I saw two books that'll be great additions to the R.I.P. II challenge (if I get through everything else early). The Italian Secretary by Caleb Carr is described as a gothic take on the supernatural Holmes from Hound of the Baskervilles. I adore Laurie King's take on Sherlock Holmes, and I don't expect Carr to live up to her, but this one sounds much spookier. I'm not a Holmes purist, so I'm just hoping for a good story. :) I also grabbed a *gorgeous* edition of The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, which isan awesome take on Dracula. I read it for the first time last year (borrowed it from my mom), and that I've been meaning to buy a copy ever since. Since I got another free pick, I went with Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue, which I've seen recommended here and there. I'm not sure what to expect, since I really didn't enjoy The Lady and the Unicorn, but a friend who's read both assures me that The Virgin Blue is much better. Plus, that happens to be one of my favourite colours!

I ended up mooching quite a bit this past month. I grabbed War in a Time of Peace by David Halberstam after reading about him at Book Chase. He sounds like a great writer, and this book which sounds really interesting and discusses US military action taken during the Clinton era (i.e.-peacekeeping, a topic near and dear to my heart). My final original R.I.P. II challenge pick is The House Next Door by Anne Rivers Siddons, based on a glowing review at Super Fast Reader (for sure this time!). A bookmooch member and I made a 'trade' off each other's wishlists, so I got Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys (a 'prequel' to Jane Eyre). I also managed to grabThe Golden Compass by Philop Pullman in the Knopf edition. I love the series, but I'm picky about covers, so I already had the second. Now I'm just waiting for the third to appear on bookmooch! Finally, The Kitchen Boy by Robert Alexander, a historical novel of Russia (another topic near and dear to my heart), which I somehow expected to be as big as The Historian. It's gotten good reviews, but I probably wouldn't have mooched it if I knew how small it was!

All of that leaves three 'guilt' books: Midwives by Chris Bohjalian, Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, and Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See. I found them on the 3-for-2 tables at B&N; I've been coveting the Ishiguro forever, plan on reading the See soon, and Midwives sounded very interesting.

Simple Question and The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon

Question time first (and then an actual review!).

The deadline for the next bookworms carnival is fast approaching. Book Nut's theme is classics, and she's told me that the submissions can be from the beginning of July on. Since I read nine classics for the Summer Reading Challenge, this leaves me with a bit of a dilemma:
should I choose
my post on Emma, which is more personal, but talks about an author everyone knows of,
my post on Cousin Bette and Les Liasons Dangereuses, which is more literary (I use that term broadly), but perhaps a bit dull,
or my post on Candide, The Eustace Diamonds, and The Scarlet Pimpernel, which is quite superficial, but includes two awesome classics that don't get discussed that much?

I just don't know, and I have to decide by Friday. Input would be welcome! (and yes, I'm aware I'm probably taking this too seriously, but I have an indecisive streak as wide as an interstate running through me)

And now, on to a discussion of a real, live book.

I read The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon by Richard Zimler as part of my personal Reading Across Borders challenge, the sequel. I finished it some time ago, but I wasn't really sure how I felt about it, so I decided to give it time to settle.

Low and behold, I still don't know how I feel about it.

I first heard of it at the Amazon "Grownup School" feature, which asks famous authors for ten book recommendations in a field related to their own. (btw, if you've never checked it out, you ought to fix that. run on over. I'll be waiting) It was recommended as "a murder mystery set in the 16th century during a Christian purge of the Jewish faithful in Lisbon. It's absorbing, full of suspense, and not a little gory in parts but it is also well researched and you can learn a lot whilst being entertained."

Let's examine those claims. First of all, the gore. It's definitely there; Zimler doesn't pull his punches when describing the massacre that occurred. Let me offer a representation of the graphic passages in the first half of this book :

I stared at the [severed] woman's head. Her eyes were not vacant. What then? Recoiling from the world? Taking back the cask now offered me, a shiver twisted through my chest as if made by a fleeing spirit. The bearded man held the dangling head up, licked her cheek twice as if savoring the sweat of a lover. Opening the draw string of his pants, he allowed the filth of his uncircumcised pen*s to unsheathe into the air. The woman's black mouth was pried open by fingers cracked with dirt. To his waist she was held. He began to do something unspeakable. The other watched while pressing himself with the palm of his hand. I dated not close my eyes, but I turned away. When his grunting had finished, he laced his pants together and said, "Be careful where you go. People are being mistaken for Jews!"

Definitely not for the squeamish. Oddly, perhaps, I found this graphic writing to be one of the book's strengths; the reader isn't allowed to politely look away from the atrocities. Zimler really brings the horror and terror and profound evil of it all to the forefront.

So, the book was gorey. But was it also "suspenceful" and "absorbing"? Honestly, not really. Reading this and The Book Thief at the same time was interesting; they both deal with genocides against Jews but in very different ways. I think that the stunning brilliance of The Book Thief has quite a bit to do with my hesitations about The Last Kabbalist: almost any book would pall in comparison. Zusak spends the book making the reader fall in love with both the actual narrator (go Death!) and the pseudo-narrator (Liesl); this empathy is essential to the story. Zimler, on the other hand, makes an adolescent boy the first-person narrator of his tale. And the kid is so self-important and whiny (although perhaps the whining may be excused since he's facing genocide), it really alienates the reader. At least, it alienated this reader. So, while I wanted the murder mystery to be solved, I also couldn't bring myself to pick the book up for long stretches of time. This made it slow going.

On the other hand, I truly enjoyed the way that Zimler incorporated Kabbala into the book; I know the bare outline of the philosophy, and it was fascinating to see how the narrator (when his Kabbala overtook his whining) viewed the world through it. Of course, I can't find any passages now that I want to share them with you. However, I think that it's the incorporation of Kabbala into the book that makes some compare this to Eco's The Name of the Rose. While I can see a general similarity, I would call them second cousins more than long-lost brothers. Eco's control of language, which allows him to just play in his novels, certainly isn't present in Zimler's work. At least, not in this, his first novel.

In the end, I'm still torn about whether to give The Last Kabbalist two stars or four. In terms of themes, and descriptions, it's above average. However, its readability and characters are below. I compromised and gave it three, but that's not really accurate. This book is anything but average.

Favourite Passages:
It was the first time either of us had signalled the verb "to kill" in the first person. We realized our language of gestures had to change to keep up with this new, Old Christian century. (87)

Do you know what it means to look at a headless baby sitting in a shovel? It is as if all thelnaguages in the world have been forgotten, as if all the books ever written have been given up to dust. ANd that you are glad of it. Because such people as we have no right to speak or write or leave any trace for history. (87-8)

Short Story Sunday (Gilman, Atherton, and Wharton)

This week, I read three stories from the Witches' Brew collection: "The Yellow Wall Paper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, "The Striding Place" by Gertrude Atherton, and "Afterward" by Edith Wharton. I very much enjoyed all three, and they felt significantly creepier than last week's reading.

"The Yellow Wall Paper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Several people commented on the blog that they weren't huge fans of this story. Aparrently, it's one of those stories that is often part of the high school curriculum, so students have to analyse it to death. I can see how that would make it annoying; however, reading it for pure pleasure, I was impressed! The first sentence is great:

It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer.

The story is written as a first-person diary, kept by a woman who is recovering from a "nervous condition" on the orders of her physician-husband. She's staying in the upstairs nursery, which takes up almost the whole floor, and has hideous yellow wall-paper. The diary covers three months, and as time goes on, the narrator becomes more and more captivated by the paper. It's pretty creepy, and an enjoyable read at twenty pages. Towards the end, Gilman can't resist the temptation to wallop the reader over the head with symbolism, but I'll forgive her. ;)
Favourite Passage:
It is the strangest yellow, that wall paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw-not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things.

"The Striding Place" by Gertrude Atherton
This story is very short: a mere seven pages. However, it has an incredibly creepy last sentence (that I won't share, for obvious reasons). It follows Weigall, who is part of a hunting party a England, and goes out later that night to walk and think. His best friend has disappeared a couple of days earlier, and while Weigall is almost sure that it's a prank, he's still nervous. The writing is very polished; I'd never heard of Atherton before, but I'm impressed with her descriptive ability. For example,

He went down to the river and followed the path through the woods. There was no moon, but the stars sprinkled their cold light upon the pretty belt of water flowing placidly past wood and ruin, between green masses of overhanging rocks or sloping banks tangled with tree and shrub, leaping occasionally over stones with the harsh notes of an angry scold, to recover its equanimity the moment the way was clear again.

I think, based on this story, I'll be seeking out more of Atherton's work.
Favourite Passage:
"You believe in the soul as an independent entity, then-that it and the vital principle are not one and the same?"
"Absolutely. The body and soul are twins, life comrades-sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, but always loyal in the last instance."

"Afterward" by Edith Wharton
I love Wharton's novels, but this was my first experience with her short stories. "Afterward" is rather on the long side, coming in at thirty-five pages, but it needs that length to really develop its narrative. I was most impressed by the first three-quarters of the story, when Wharton is setting the mood. An American couple, having struck it rich through some kind of mining speculation, move to England and settle into an old county seat. They've been told that it has a ghost, but there's a twist: no one realises it's a ghost until long afterward. Hmmm...I wonder what will happen? ;) Wharton's narrative ability is very impressive, but I felt that towards the end the story began to fall apart. Granted, it's told from one character's p.o.v., and that character is very distraught, but I felt the writing slacked a little. Then, it picked back up at the very end. I don't think I'd have noticed the poorer quality of the little penultimate section, except that the writing surrounding it so good. I'd like to get my hands on the collection of Wharton's ghost stories one day (jealous of Petunia). The story also wasn't quite as hair-raising; I think because it's more of a conventional ghost story than the other two. Still well worth reading!
Favourite Passage:
"I should never believe I was living in an old house unless I was thoroughly uncomfrtable," Ned Boyne, the more extravagant of the two, had jocosely insisted; "th eleast hint of 'conveniance' would make me think it had been bought out of an exhibition, with th epieces numbered, and set up again." And they had proceeded to enumerate, with humorous precision, their various doubts and demands, refusing to believe that the house their cousin recommend was really Tudor till they learned it had no heating system, or that the village church was literally on the grounds, and till she assured them of the deplorable uncertainty of the water-supply.

Distractions

I haven't read at all yesterday or today! That almost never happens. But, yesterday, I got my amazon order in...

Based on my previously mentioned obssession with The Office, then I had to have a marathon viewing session. I've now finished it (I only saw a few-maybe four-episodes while it was being aired), and I was very, very impressed. I am so excited for season four!

And then, I went to see this movie tonight-you guys probably haven't even heard of it-but it's based on a novel, apparently by some author called Ned? No..Neil. ;) Yep-I just got back from Stardust!!! I was kind of nervous going in, because I really liked the book, but I haven't read the book in quite a while (going to reread it soon), so I figured I was safe. And it was so much fun. :D Especially how Tristan suddenly becomes super-hot half way through. I'm thinking Stardust will be on the list of Swoonworthy Reads now! Come on...take a look (note my shameless cropping of as much of the girls as possible)...

It's amazing what some hair texture and a kickass coat can do! Of course, the knee high boots + pantaloons certainly don't hurt. ;)

Well, I was just checking in. I promise there's bookish talk to come soon! And for now...well, I'll be basking the afterglow of Stardust. Hope everyone's having a good weekend!

Edited to add: in the preview, all of the pictures of Tristan were lined up, but in the actual blog, they're taking up more space. *pout*

The Fatal Flaw

When I signed up for all of these challenges, I knew my own limits. After all, I thought to myself, I've been averaging 14 books a month this year, so I should be able to handle it. Ah, hubris. Because here's what I failed to consider: if all of the books I'm reading are for challenges, then I have to review them all. Oy. Currently, I'm two books behind, and the month is five days old. We'll see how this goes, shall we? Especially since I like writing non-review posts as well!

On the plus side, I've been very impressed with the blogosphere lately (not that I'm not always impressed). And I have some thoughts and links to share. :)

+First off, there's a Jane Austen reading schedule up at Brooklyn Arden. I've read all of Austen's works, most multiple times, and this calendar seems spot it; it has a book every two months and is mainly based on seasons.

+The new Estella's Revenge is out, and I very much enjoyed it. My favourite articles? "The Seven Deadly Reading Sins," "Confessions of a Closet Reader," "Confessions of a Hopeless Book Addict (Photo Essay)" (go bookfool!), and "Confessing a Literary Crush."

+Oh, and there was an interview with Mark Zusak (the author of the book that wrung my heart recently). Who knew how cute he was?! Good looking, reads, writes...I'm thinking I might have to move to Australia. ;)


+On an almost-unrelated topic, that last Estella article I mentioned segues nicely into an idea I've been toying with for awhile now. I even have a draft post to prove it. :) It's an idea for a challenge, but for sometime in 2008 (definitely including February), based on literary crushes. Something like "Swoonworthy Reads" (yep, corny, I know). I think it would be a lot of fun to compile a list of everyone's favourite crushes and then pick however many books to read. And of course I'd have to do something special for Valentine's Day. And I'm thinking at least one of the buttons would involve a certain wet-shirted gentleman we all know and love. ;) So, begin brainstorming all of your crushes! (of course, crushes on girl characters are welcome as well!)

+I guess I'll start with my first literary crush ever. That would be Gilbert from the Anne of Green Gables series. He was tall, intelligent, kind, but also mischevious. How could I resist the twinkle in his eye? I reread most of the series several times as a kid, and in the early ones I would get very, very upset with Anne for her treatment of him. But it all comes together in the end. :) Oh, that night when he was at death's door...I was afraid to get to the end of the chapter. What if L.M. Montgomery does the unthinkable? How awful would that be?! And relief flooded me as fully as it flooded Anne at sunrise. Whew. I might have to make this a regular feature leading up to the challenge; crush of the month. lol

+It's almost time for the next edition of the Bookworms Carnival. It's hosted at Book Nut, and its theme is classics. The deadline is September 14th; I'm not sure if the submitted posts have to be recent or not. As a shameless plug, I'll be hosting the December carnival with the theme of "non-fiction." (hmmm-I wonder why that could be?)

+Watch this space for: why Coraline confirms that Neil Gaiman is one of my favourite-est authors, my mixed feelings on The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon and how it might be connected to The Book Thief, and a pile of my latest bookmooches.

+Oh! And check out my thoughts on The Ghost Writer below this. I have the sneaking suspicion a lot of y'all would like it. :)

The Ghost Writer

Imagine that A.S. Byatt's Possession and Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale had a baby. Now imagine that Henry James agreed to play godfather, but Charles Dickens also popped in from time to time.

That baby's name is The Ghost Writer, and John Harwood is the proud papa. I read about this book on a blog; I used to think it was over at superfastreader's, but now a search on her site isn't bringing up the title. So if you've reviewed The Ghost Writer lately, let me know so I can give some credit. :) It duly went on the TBR list; then, the R.I.P. II challenge appeared, so I went off to bookmooch. There, I obtained a *gorgeous* copy (it looks like it's never been read before), and the cover has been teasing me for the past week. I mean, look at it:


I was planning on waiting awhile for this one, since I just finished my first R.I.P. II read; but, as Oscar Wilde puts it, "I can resist everything except temptation." Then, I was planning on reading it only at night; that would make it creepier and make it last awhile longer. But today was full of thunderstorms, and the baby took a really long nap, and that cover was just crying out to me.

I finished it about half an hour ago, but I wasn't go to review it; I was going to review a couple other books I finished earlier for other challenges. However, the perfect introduction formed in my head, so I had to run on over to blogger and share the news.

This book kicks ass.

For all of you who enjoyed The Thirteenth Tale, for its shamelessly gothic plot twists and book references, for all of you who loved Byatt's use of several distinct styles in Possession, I have someone I'd like you to meet.

The Ghost Writer tells the story of Gerard, an Australian librarian (told you it was for bookish people) who grows up on his mother's stories about her idyllic childhood in England. When he's thirteen, he gets a British penpal, Alice, who he tells about the mysterious photo and story he found hidden in his mother's vanity. The story was written by "VH," which happen to be the initials of his great-grandmother, Viola Hatherley; after Gerard finds the photo and story, his mother refuses to talk about England ever again. Meanwhile, Gerard and Alice become close friends, and Gerard decides to travel to England. While there, he explores the mystery of his mother's past, coming across more stories written by VH. As events get eerier and eerier, Gerard begins to wonder...is he going crazy? Or stuck in the middle of a ghost story?

The best part of this novel are VH's stories; they're all included, and take up 167 pages (of 369). Harwood has done a very good job of weaving them into the plot, but really these stories (they're all ghost stories) could stand alone in their own collection. They're just stunning (and very creepy); I hope that Harwood writes more of VH's tales in the future.

There are weaknesses to the book: sometimes Gerard seems incredibly dense (I was on to the twist by at least half way through, whereas Gerard can't figure it out until the very, very end) and the ending is quite abrupt. While I personally enjoy endings that leave a lot up to the reader to figure out, some people might feel annoyed. The ending definitely leaves room for a sequel, or related book, with more of VH's work, which made me very excited.

I realise that perhaps I should provide a sample passage from one of VH's stories, so that y'all can recognise the sudden obssession I have; the following is from "The Gift of Flight." The main character, Julia, was reading the the British Museums's Reading Room when she suddenly looked up and realised the room was blanketed in a thick fog. Then she hears someone sit down in the chair next to her...

Very slowly, keeping her eyes on the fog-bank between herself and her invisible companion, Julia began to ease herself off her chair, hoping to slip away silently in the other direction, towards the catalogue. Her chair creaked loudly, and as it did so the wall of fog to her left rose up like a curtain.
In that first glimpse, Julia was relieved, though startled, to discover that the chair beside her was occupied by a child, a little girl of no more than eight, with golden curls and pink cheeks, dressed in a starched white frock and petticoat. The reassurance lasted only an instant. There was something fixed and unnatural about the bright, smiling face turned towards Julia, and especially about the eyes, which had been slightly downcast, but suddenly opened wide with an audible click. They were the shoe-button eyes of a doll; the face looked as hard and rigid as porcelain; and yet the creature was alive, for it was swinging its legs around with evident intention of sliding off its chair and coming over to Julia.

Isn't the writing beautiful?

I'm very glad that I read The Ghost Writer for the R.I.P. II challenge; it almost seems like it could be the poster child for the challenge, since it's very gothic and focuses on ghosts. Another one I'd recommend to just about anyone; it's both literary and a page-turner. Gosh, it seems that so far the R.I.P. II challenge can do no wrong! Two great books down; I hope the other two can live up to them. :)

Something Wicked This Way Comes (thoughts)

I started off the R.I.P. II challenge with Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes. Thus, the first words to greet my eyes were

First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys.

Very appropriate! And the book just kept getting better.

I've never read anything by Ray Bradbury before; I haven't actively avoided him, but he wasn't on my TBR shortlist. I have a friend who's in (platonic) love with Bradbury, and who has corresponded with him for several years. Somehow, his enthusiasm never wore off on me. Now, I'm going to have to eat crow. Because Ray Bradbury can write. Man, can he write.

Wait, maybe I should back up a little. A quick, no-spoilers, no-details plot review is in order. A carnival comes to a sleepy, Midwestern town. But this is no ordinary carnival: it's supernatural, and very evil. Best friends Jim Nightshade and Will Halloway (born a minute after and a minute before Halloween, respectively) get on the wrong side of the carnival and find themselves locked in a battle of good and evil.

The book has an interesting feel to it; as you're reading, you almost feel as if you're hallucinating in parts. The point of view shifts between characters, and each character seems to go off on his (usually his) own thought tangents; the reader gets carried along for the ride. For example,

Boy, it's the same old thing. I talk. Jim runs. I tilt stones, Jim grabs the cold junk under the stones and-lickety split! I clumb hills. Jim yells off church steeples. I got a bank account. Jim's got the hair on his head, the yell in his mouth, the shirt on his back, and the tennis shoes on his feet. How come I think he's richer? Because, Will thought, I sit on the rock in the sun and old Jim, he prickles his arm-hairs by moonlight and dances with hoptoads. I tend cows. Jim tames Gila monsters. Fool! I yell at Jim. Coward! he yells back. And here we-go!

I very much enjoyed these digressions, since Bradbury is such an awesome writer. I think he can pull of stream-of-consciousness. :)

However, for those readers who prefer action to thought, there is a definite plot line to follow, and Bradbury provides a very satisfactory, concrete ending. As the book progresses, the plot picks up, and the dreamy sequences are cut to a minimum. The book also gets creepier and creepier, as the boys progress from feeling in danger generally, to being terrified of very specific people. Reading the book rather feels like following a triangle; from a very broad beginning, everything begins to narrow to a sharp point. This style increases the tension, and by about two-thirds of the way through it, there was no way I wanted to put it down.

**Note: the next two parts have very general spoilers, i.e.-they discuss events that happen pretty far along in the book. It doesn't give away the ending, but I thought I'd let you know nonetheless, in case you're planning on reading the book soon and want a complete surprise. The spoiler section ends at the photo.**

While I love both the boys, my favourite character was Will's father. He goes on an incredible journey through the book. When we first meet him, we're in the library...

Way down the third book corridor, an oldish man whispered his broom along in the dark, mounding the fallen spices...Will stared. It was always a surprise-the old man, his work, his name. That's Charles William Halloway, thought Will, not grandfather, not far-wandering, anciet uncle, as some might think, but...my father.

From these inauspicious beginnings, Charles becomes a kickass, evil-fighting, son-protecting super hero. Best of all, his main plan of attack: researching in the library! Charles is at home in the library, and Bradbury gives him his best soliloquays in those musty corridors. A short sample:

The stuff of nightmare is their plain bread. They butter it with pain. They set their clockes by deathwatch beetles, and thrive the centuries. They were the men with the leather-ribbon whips who sweated up the Pyramids seasoning it with other people's salt and other people's cracked hearts. They coursed Europe on the White Horses of the Plague. They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers half-price in the grand March sale.

Speaking of the library, I loved how important it was to the book. The creepiest scene, by far, takes place there: Jim and Will are hiding from the Mr. Dark, aka The Illuminated Man, who runs the carnival, and who isn't happy with them. It's a five-page chapter of simple incredible writing. Unfortunately, I can't share it all. But here's a taste (no spoilers, I promise):

Somewhere in the recumbent solitudes, the motionless but teeming millions of books, lost in two dozen turns right, three dozen turns left, down aisles, through corridors, toward dead ends, locked doors, half-empty shelves, somewhere in the literary soot of Dickens' London, or Dostoevsky's Moscow or the steppes beyond, somewhere in the vellumed dust of atlas or Geographica, sneezes pent but set like traps, the boys crouched, stood, lay sweating a cool and constant brine.
Somewhere hidden, Jim thought: He's coming!
Somewhere hidden, Will though: He's near!
"Boys...?"

If that doesn't make you want to read the whole book, check out the best chapter ever:
To sum up: this was the perfect start to R.I.P. II. I love Ray Bradbury. Go read Something Wicked This Way Comes.

More Favourite Passages
They opened the door and stepped in.
They stopped.
The library deeps lay waiting for them.
Out in the world, not much happened. But here in the special night, a land bricked with paper and leather, anything might happen, always did. Listen! and you heard ten thousand people screaming so high only dogs feathered their ears. A million folk ran toting cannons, sharpening guillotines; Chinese, four abreast, marched on forever. Invisible, silent, yes, but Jim and Will had the gift of ears and noses as well as the gift of tongues. This was a factory of spices from far countries. Here alien deserts sulmbered. Up front was the desk where the nice old lady, Miss Watriss, purple-stamped your books, but down off away were Tibet and Antarctica, the Congo. There went Miss Wills, the other librarian, though Outer Mongolia, calmly toting fragments of Peiping and Yokohama and the Celebes. (13)

It was the silence that made Will pull back, even as Jim leaned forward, eyes moon-bright.
A carnival should be all growls, roars like timberlands stacked, bundled, rolled and crashed, great explosions of lion dust, men abalze with working anger, pop bottles jangling, horse buckles shivering, engines and elephants in full stampede through rains of sweat while zebras neighed and trembled like cage trapped in cage.
But this was like the old movies, the silent theater haunted with black-and-white ghosts, silvery mouths opening to let moonlight smoke out, gestures made in silence so hushed you could hear the wind fizz the hair on your cheeks. (51-2)

Will slung off lim-falling clothes with tipsy arms and delightfully aching legs, and like a fall of timber chopped himself to bed... (140)

"For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where Octoboer follows Septmeber and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ's birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenxy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles-breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them." (192-3)

Short Story Sunday (Radcliffe and Shelley)

One of Carl's perils for the R.I.P. II challenge was to discuss scary short stories every Sunday. Mine will come from Witches' Brew, a collection of gothic and scary stories by women writers. There are seventeen stories, so I'll discuss two or three a week. In the collection, they're arranged in chronological order, and I think this is a good way to approach it. That way, I can watch styles evolve. :)

This week, I read "The Haunted Chamber" by Ann Radcliffe and "The Last Man" by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Both of these women are known for their gothic works: Radcliffe brough the genre to popularity with works such as The Mysteries of Udolpho, and Shelley created a horror legend with Frankenstein.

"The Haunted Chamber" by Ann Radcliffe
I haven't read any of Radcliffe's novels (although I know a little about them from Northanger Abbey) so I wasn't sure what to expect. "The Haunted Chamber" is about eighteen pages long, and it tells the story of Ludovico who agrees to spend then night in the haunted wing of a chateau and duel the spirits within (he actually receives a sword to do this). Within that plot, Radcliffe provides readers with another ghost story, since Ludovico has chosen (wisely?) to occupy himself with a book of Provencal folktales. I found myself both disappointed in and enjoying Radcliffe's style. I enjoyed her descriptions of the chateau, and the way she structured passages. However, I needed more specifics. Instead of just having the servants scared and screaming, I wanted to see a ghostly lady, or something like that. At one point, we do hear music, and voice so exquisite as to appear un-human, but that's the only specific haunting in the story. I wanted the hairs on the back of my neck to rise, and they never did. Also, in a little footnote at the end of the story, Radcliffe explains away all the ghostly incidents with a Scooby-Doo feeling revelation. I thought it would have been a better story without that! Nevertheless, I think that I'd really enjoy Radcliffe in novel form, so I'll definitely be picking up some of her books.

Favourite Passage:
...this led to the question, whether the spirit, after it has quitted the body, is ever permitted to revisit the earth; and if it is, whether it was possible for spirits to become visible to the sense? The baron was of opinion, that the first was probably, and the last was possible; and he endeavoured to justify this opinion by respectable authorities, both ancient and modern, whih he quoted. The count, however, was decidedly against him; and a long conversation ensued, in which the usual arguments on these subjects were on both sides brought forward with skill and discussed with candour, but without converting either party to the opinion of his opponent. The effect of their conversation on their auditors was various. Though the count had much the superiority of the baron in point of argument, he had fewer adherents: for that love, so natural to the human mind, of whatever is able to distend its faculties with wonder and astonishment, attached the majority of the company to the side of the baron...

"The Last Man" by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
This is a post-apocalyptic tale, set in France. The survivors of a massive plague have banded together and are walking from Versailles to Switzerland, but really just passing time until they too die. Over the course of their trip, their numbers are reduced from 1500 to 50; meanwhile, they have several spooky encounters which end up having rational explanations. Finally, the meat of the story, is the ending; the survivors find a lone girl playing the organ for her blind father, who isn't aware of the plague that has decimated everything around him.
Shelley painted an effective picture of people coming to terms with the inevitably of death, both of themselves and their loved ones. Really, the story seems an meditation on the tragic insignificance of people. This one really touched me, especially knowing some of Shelley's background. Her own life was surrounded by so much death, I think she had a unique ability to draw this kind of world. In fact, I wish that this short story was at least a novella; it's rich enough in material to warrant that.
Favourite Passage:
But the game is up! We must all die; nor leave survivor nor heir to the wide inheritance of earth. We must all die! The species of man must perish; his frame of exquisite workmanship; the wondrous mechanism of his senses; the noble proportion of his godlike limbs; his mind, the throned king of these; must perish. Will the earth still keep her place among the planets; will she still journey with unmarked regularity around the planets; will the seasons change, the trees adorn themselves with leaves, and flowers shed their fragrance, in solitude? Will the mountains remain unmoved, and the strems still keep a downward course towards the vast abyss; will the tides rise and fall, adn the winds fan universal-nature; will beasts pasture, birds fly, and the fishes swim, when man, the lord, possessor, perceiver, and recorder of all these things, has passed away, as though he had never been? O, what mockery is this!

The Best Laid Plans

I was so excited to post on my bookpiles of TBR on September 1st. And then what happened? Yesterday seemed to slip away...

+my sister's in town, so that's super fun

+I got a great new hair cut!

+we run a lot of errands

+we watched a couple movies

Thus, the piles come to you a day late. I've divided them up into fic and non-fic-apologies for the bad lighting. For some reason, my overhead light refuses to turn on, and it's dark outside, so the only alternative is a flash. :)



Here're the plans for this month's non-fic, from top to bottom (all for my personal non-fic challenge):
Death at the Priory by James Ruddick: it's as close to cozy English mystery novel I can get to and still be reading truth. I've been looking forward to this for months!
Fast Food Nation by Eric Sclosser: I think it'll be an interesting read (I'm already a vegetarian, so I'm not sure how much it'll affect my eating habits); I'd like to get it done this month so I can get it back on bookmooch, and let someone else read it.
Reason For Hope by Jane Goodall: I plan on reading one memoir/biography a month, and I thought this one would be a good antidote to all of the creepy fiction I'll be reading!
Stiff by Mary Roach: after the disappointing Spook, I'm not expecting much the second go-round. I'd like to get this read so it can get back on book mooch as well. Plus, it seems very appropriate for the R.I.P. II challenge!
The Persian Puzzle by Kenneth Pollack: a continuation from last months' reading. I'm enjoying it, but the tiny print makes it a slower read.
Making War to Keep Peace by Jeane Kirkpatrick. I read about this in the NYT book review this weekend, and my library had a copy. Considering that I did a huge research project my senior of college on peace keeping, I think it'll be fun to read what Kirkpatrick has to say. :)

Now for the dessert side of this month's reading: fiction! Once again taking it from the top...

A Morbid Taste for Bones by Ellis Peters: one of my Unread Authors challenge selections. I think I'll be in the mood for a mystery at some point, and I've heard good things about this series. :)
Seven Gothic Tales by Isak Dinesen: one of my R.I.P. II choices. Don't you love the Gothic type font?! Very excited about this!
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman: a reread for the Reading the Author challenge. I'm looking forward to revisiting this; I haven't read it in a couple of years.
Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury: another R.I.P. II book, which I started last night (after midnight). I'm already entranced.
The Ghost Writer by John Harwood: I'm not sure if I'll get to this one this month or next (it's another R.I.P. II selection), but look at the creepy spine. How could I not include it in the pile?
The Last September by Elizabeth Bowen: for the Outmoded Authors Challenge. I'm excited to visit Ireland in the prewar years, on a plantation no less; it'll be a new experience for me!
Embers by Sandor Marai: for my personal Reading Across Borders challenge; this is a Hungarian novel. I love Vintage Press-their books are always so pretty. :)
The War of the Saints by Jorge Amado: a carryover from last month (I'm about a third of the way through), and another Reading Across Borders choice. So far, I'm loving it! Its happiness and hope is a good antidote to the spookier books.
Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen: for the Book to Movie challenge. I ILLed it, so I have to finish it by October 4th. It sounds interesting: a nun at a convent shows signs of, well, ecstasy. Is it real?
Witches Brew: my already-discussed source for the Sunday Short Story aspect of R.I.P. II (expect my first post later today). I probably won't finish it this month; I'll try to spread it evenly over the whole challenge.

Whew! I'm exhausted just thinking about my goals for this month! Well, I'm off to read more Bradbury; I'm only reading it at night, so as not to ruin the great writing with bright sunshine. Happy Labour Day weekend to all my fellow Americans. :)