Monday, March 16, 2009
Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue: The Untold History of English, by John McWhorter
This book is boring the stuffings out of me. I guess I'm just not the person I thought I was.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume, edited by Jennifer O'Connell
I've been in a bit of a reading dry spell lately. I can't get into anything I've picked up lately. The only one that looked promising--An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, by Elizabeth McCracken--is a no-go, just because I can't handle reading about any more dead children. The first couple of chapters were really good, but I'm just not doing that to myself anymore. I can't handle it.
Anyway, I was definitely anticipating the one-two punch of books that I requested from the library: Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue, by John McWhorter (because I am fascinated by the history of English), and the essay collection Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume. My mood dictated that I start Everything first, and so far it's been slightly underwhelming.
When I first learned about this book, I was thrilled. Judy Blume was my favorite author from elementary through middle school. I had no idea that she wrote adult novels (and man, were they adult!). When I spotted my aunt Suzanne with a copy of Wifey at the beach, I excitedly asked her, "Have you read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing?" She hadn't, but she thought it was a pretty funny question. Judy Blume books started off as entertainment (Fourth Grade Nothing, Superfudge, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great) and became highly informational (Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret). I'm pretty sure that Judy Blume books are the reason that my childhood aspiration was to live in a New York City apartment and be Jewish. JB affected me so much that, I swear, I almost titled a grad-school paper "Are You There, God? It's Me, John Donne." Suffice to say, I am the target audience for this book.
It's not bad; in fact, I really enjoyed Meg Cabot's (yes, as in The Princess Diaries) take on Blubber, "Cry, Linda, Cry." Her mom bought the book for her when a human Bratz doll named Shoshona started making her life hell, and she used its lessons to stand up for herself. I thought it was a great story, and it's what I expected from the book--women my age talking about how Judy Blume's books shaped their worldview as kids. The rest of the essays aren't as successful. A few of them read like successful authors sharing their awkward girlhood stories and then adding, "Oh, yeah, here's a relevant Judy Blume quote." The great JB deserves better than that!
I must note that I have only read five or six of the essays; things might improve. Even if it doesn't, though, the Cabot piece is worth a read. If my kid ever gets bullied (and God help the kid who does it), I will not only give her Blubber but a copy of "Cry, Linda, Cry."
Anyway, I was definitely anticipating the one-two punch of books that I requested from the library: Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue, by John McWhorter (because I am fascinated by the history of English), and the essay collection Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume. My mood dictated that I start Everything first, and so far it's been slightly underwhelming.
When I first learned about this book, I was thrilled. Judy Blume was my favorite author from elementary through middle school. I had no idea that she wrote adult novels (and man, were they adult!). When I spotted my aunt Suzanne with a copy of Wifey at the beach, I excitedly asked her, "Have you read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing?" She hadn't, but she thought it was a pretty funny question. Judy Blume books started off as entertainment (Fourth Grade Nothing, Superfudge, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great) and became highly informational (Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret). I'm pretty sure that Judy Blume books are the reason that my childhood aspiration was to live in a New York City apartment and be Jewish. JB affected me so much that, I swear, I almost titled a grad-school paper "Are You There, God? It's Me, John Donne." Suffice to say, I am the target audience for this book.
It's not bad; in fact, I really enjoyed Meg Cabot's (yes, as in The Princess Diaries) take on Blubber, "Cry, Linda, Cry." Her mom bought the book for her when a human Bratz doll named Shoshona started making her life hell, and she used its lessons to stand up for herself. I thought it was a great story, and it's what I expected from the book--women my age talking about how Judy Blume's books shaped their worldview as kids. The rest of the essays aren't as successful. A few of them read like successful authors sharing their awkward girlhood stories and then adding, "Oh, yeah, here's a relevant Judy Blume quote." The great JB deserves better than that!
I must note that I have only read five or six of the essays; things might improve. Even if it doesn't, though, the Cabot piece is worth a read. If my kid ever gets bullied (and God help the kid who does it), I will not only give her Blubber but a copy of "Cry, Linda, Cry."
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Nightingale, by Morgana Gallaway
As The Continental would say, "Wowie wow wow." This book is such a great read. It has a little bit of everything: a smart, relatable heroine; an intriguing setting; a twisty, turny plot; death and destruction; and an emotional yet chaste love story. Oh, and a military-industrial complex conspiracy. How can you go wrong?
The Nightingale is the story of Leila, a 23-year-old Iraqi woman who dreams of being a doctor. Her dreams should have been within her reach: she comes from a modern family and already has an undergrad degree. However, the events of the war in Iraq changed her father from a forward-thinking judge to a radical terrorist. In order to further her career, Leila begins working as a surgical assistant and translator at an army base. You can imagine how well that would go over with her father, who is very much a "death to America" type, so she sneaks and lies. Compounding matters, she finds herself drawn to James, an American captain. He's kind of a Byronic hero--broody and conflicted about his job in intelligence. Also, he's a writer, and you know how the ladies love writers. They're sensitive! I kid, I kid. The love story aspect of the novel reminds me of what makes Twilight (the first book, not the whole series) such a satisfying read, but with the addition of a heroine who is a far better role model for young women than Bella Swan could ever hope to be. (Also, the writing is head and shoulders above the guilty pleasure that is Twilight. No one chortles or chuckles in The Nightingale.)
Twilight isn't the only book that The Nightingale made me think of; in a way, the book is like a tragic Pride and Prejudice. Like Elizabeth Bennet, Leila has a sweet, supportive older sister and a mother who is obsessed with marrying her off to a repulsive cousin. Also like Elizabeth, Leila is not interested with conforming to her society's expectations of women. Elizabeth Bennet is one of my all-time favorite literary characters, so maybe that's why I found Leila so appealing.
I'd love to go on and on about the plot, but I'd hate to give anything away. In a plot-driven page turner like this one, the joy comes from wondering what will happen next. The appeal of The Nightingale goes deeper than that, though; it's a thoughtful look at a conflict in which there are no easy answers.
The Nightingale is the story of Leila, a 23-year-old Iraqi woman who dreams of being a doctor. Her dreams should have been within her reach: she comes from a modern family and already has an undergrad degree. However, the events of the war in Iraq changed her father from a forward-thinking judge to a radical terrorist. In order to further her career, Leila begins working as a surgical assistant and translator at an army base. You can imagine how well that would go over with her father, who is very much a "death to America" type, so she sneaks and lies. Compounding matters, she finds herself drawn to James, an American captain. He's kind of a Byronic hero--broody and conflicted about his job in intelligence. Also, he's a writer, and you know how the ladies love writers. They're sensitive! I kid, I kid. The love story aspect of the novel reminds me of what makes Twilight (the first book, not the whole series) such a satisfying read, but with the addition of a heroine who is a far better role model for young women than Bella Swan could ever hope to be. (Also, the writing is head and shoulders above the guilty pleasure that is Twilight. No one chortles or chuckles in The Nightingale.)
Twilight isn't the only book that The Nightingale made me think of; in a way, the book is like a tragic Pride and Prejudice. Like Elizabeth Bennet, Leila has a sweet, supportive older sister and a mother who is obsessed with marrying her off to a repulsive cousin. Also like Elizabeth, Leila is not interested with conforming to her society's expectations of women. Elizabeth Bennet is one of my all-time favorite literary characters, so maybe that's why I found Leila so appealing.
I'd love to go on and on about the plot, but I'd hate to give anything away. In a plot-driven page turner like this one, the joy comes from wondering what will happen next. The appeal of The Nightingale goes deeper than that, though; it's a thoughtful look at a conflict in which there are no easy answers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
