Elizabeth Dean
Hmm. . . I'm still thinking about this one. Liked the overarching theme, and the individual stories were mostly interesting. I would like to go back and figure out how the puzzle pieces fit together, but it's not good enough to read twice. Looking forward to my book club's discussion. The story is kind of impressive, but it's also kind of dated. It was probably more amazing at the time it was published.
I never really cared about the Appalachian Trail before reading this book. I'm an indoor kid, with very little interest in flora, fauna, or backpacking. But what an interesting, charming read. I love it when authors take bit of natural history and turn it into an indelible piece of America. Bryson has done that with this book. And he's such an affable, friendly guy. Who wouldn't want to spend a summer in the forest with him?
Yes that's five stars for dear Ms. Vaiden. I'm still processing it, so maybe my opinion will go down, but basically, I loved it. Can I describe what I love about it yet? I'll try. I love how Kate's character is completely inscrutable. I just didn't understand why she made some of the choices she made. The ending didn't resolve it for me. I love how she accepts the consequences of her behaviors just as a matter of fact. I love the close, homey feel. This book is set in eastern North Carolina, where I grew up, Norfolk, VA, where I was born, and Raleigh, near where I live today. I love how a book about questionable choices ends with one last choice that Kate offers to her son.
I enjoyed this book. Not as good as the Key trilogy (my other Roberts venture) but still good. Eve Dallas is a great, tough, interesting character and I want to read more books in the series. Here's the deal: female characters in genre fiction are becoming more and more interesting to me than women in literary fiction. I read a lot of literary fiction by “serious female writers” for my book club. I'm getting disappointed in the decisions (or lack thereof) of female characters. Stuff just happens to them! They aren't in control of events or the narrative! WTF? It's almost 2010 folks, and woman isn't synonymous with victim. I used to just think it was the Oprah books but it's more than that. Anyway, more women's fiction on the horizon for me. I'm getting on the ranty bandwagon with Jennifer Weiner.
This is a quick read. And a fascinating introduction to Depression era circus life. But after the first 150 pages or so, you become accustomed to the circus train atmosphere, after which there's nothing that special about the story. In fact, here are some problems with it: 1) The ending is so predictable! 2) The best drawn characters in the book are an elephant and a dog. And that's only because I didn't expect the animals to be anything more than one-dimensional. 3) The use of violence against Rosie the elephant was gratuitous and manipulative. Somehow it just felt cheap. Although, I did really like the narration from the elderly Jacob's perspective. I thought that was well done. I'll have to think about it some more before my book club discusses it next week.
My second Nora Roberts book . . . who knew?? I guess her millions of readers knew, and I've been in the dark all these years. What great entertainment! Smart women characters! It's so refreshing to read a book where the assumption is that the women are smart and have it together, without a lot of complications. I can't wait to read more.
This book is really good - but why is it so irritating? Does everyone have their own love-hate relationship with Elizabeth Gilbert? I have been trying to figure out my reaction to it for months. Is it just envy? Cattiness? Gilbert's writing is very funny, likable, engaging - just the kind of person whose memoir you want to read. I love the earnestness with which she approaches her task. I was so grateful to read about someone else's struggles with meditation, mindfulness, and self-healing. But every time I get into a conversation about this book I want to roll my eyes, and, well, just be a mean girl about it. I can only determine that it is envy for her incredible experiences, perfect love story, and now, great fame. So forgive me.
Dear Daddy, what am I doing wrong? Why can't I get into these P.D. James books? I tried, I tried so hard but I had to put it down after 2 very tedious chapters. You were dead on about Elizabeth George. She's the bomb. Every time a new book of hers comes out, I am so sad you are not here to read it. Kind of like I'm so sad you missed the first Matrix, Harry Potter, and His Dark Materials. But PD James just doesn't draw me in. Who cares about all those repressed therapists at the psychiatric hospital? And her Adam Dagliesh leaves me snoozing. Where's his love affair the reviewers keep mentioning? I feel like a failure for not finishing it. But I will keep trying. Someday, Daddy. Until then we'll still have Elizabeth George and Doctor Who.
I have finally decided I don't need to finish this one. It's intriguing, but when I read self-indulgent memoir ramblings I prefer to read them by women. It's so dated too. If it were a contemporary blog I would totally read it. Also after picking it up, I read somewhere that it had nothing to do with Zen Buddhism. And I don't care about motorcycles or mechanics. That would put me definitively into one of Pirsig's categories of people, I think. The problematic kind. So now I'm done.
This book was a little disappointing. The opening sentence is fantastic. (See my favorite quotes.) The first chapters were OK - a little uneven but definitely interesting. The middle chapters of the book, which really lay out the mystery of the main character Arlene's past and her relationship with her cousin and Aunt, are great. However, the ending was soooo predictable. Midway through the book I thought, “If this is how she ends the book, I will be disappointed.” It was, and I was. But mainly because that first sentence is so damn good, she really sets the bar high. The book is worth reading because it's a nice alternative to traditional southern women's fiction. It's not at all cutesy. Another good one along similar lines (though without the mystery element) is My Summer of Southern Discomfort by Stephanie Gayle.
