From the week of January 29

The books I’ve read this week:

Shout Down the Moon, by Lisa Tucker
The text is simple. The crisis was gripping, the resolution a little rushed, and the romance was undeveloped. If there is any artistic posturing it’s subtle. Unlike Tucker’s other novels, this novel features a protagonist who is not a genius. Actually she is, but it’s mostly unschooled instinct, and not ever really stated. Also, she’s weak and vulnerable and very much the saint of taking a lot of crap. I would like to dedicate the poem Invictus to her.

This year I’ve read all her books: The Cure for Modern Life (I like the romance), Once Upon a Day (I liked the humour), The Song Reader (I liked the mystery). What I get from her stories are: No one is perfect, everyone deserves happiness.

Five Quarters of the Orange, by Joanne Harris
This book is about Love. The kind of love that burns because we hold it so desperately close and it never finds expression until it’s almost too late, and most often is. Actually, it’s about fear of destroying what you love and waiting until it’s too late. I liked this book, but I didn’t love it. It didn’t make me happy. And there was a lot of arty posturing. For example: 1. paralleling fishing and catching old mother to the narrative, and 2 the seamless back and forth-ness of past and present events. There was even poetic justice, which I liked but it wasn’t crafted as carefully as Old Mother. Also, I felt dissatisfied with not knowing more about Mirabelle Dartigen. I admired her strength. While the daughter was supposed to be a clever mirror of her, I don’t even like Framboise at all. No one in this book is happy, although the book does try for a happy ending. It’s a deflated compensation for what could have been.


PS, I love you, by Cecilia Ahern
A woman is grieving for her dead husband who was her soul mate. Not a fantastic book, and not very well written is some places. Also there is a lot of swearing and a lot of drinking. I’d like to think there is more to life than those two things. Which brings me to what I liked about the book- the protagonist often laments that the only thing she was good at was loving Gerry (her dead husband), and now that he’s gone she has nothing to do for the rest of her life. Which explains all the swearing and drinking right? Ha! Well it turns out she can do other things, and she does, or she makes a start anyway. Its like her husband helped and hindered her life pursuits. What I appreciated more was how the author fleshed out a marriage with little insider details, good and bad. It showed a surprising level of maturity, considering the swearing and drunken revelry (I can't bring myself to use a happy face symbol, so just imagine it here), and what I gathered from the little author blurb, which unfortunately came across as pompous.

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak
Now this is a book about Love. And I loved this book. Death made the most horrific events matter of fact and funny and sad and ugly and beautiful. Somehow Death is one of those loveable creatures that can say the most irreverent things and get away with it. He’s (she?) a person, but not quite human. The writing is very clever, very witty, very well written. Now, it is a little AnneOfGreenGablesEsque that a little girl could weasel her way into the hearts of so many people. And Mama’s character was a wonderfully cliché. I almost wish she would swear at me. But I'm probably just jealous, and cliché exist for a reason. I didn't exactly cry at the end, but I know people who did.