dappled shade

The Last Unicorn

In The Last Unicorn, Peter S Beagle wanders in and out of reality. He spends most of his time out, but steps back in occasionally to remind the reader that he's not quite taking it seriously.

One of my favorite scenes in the book is when Schmendrick the Magician informs the Unicorn that it could have been worse, he could have turned her into a rhinoceros, "which is where the whole silly myth got started." I think Beagle was checking to make sure that his readers were still paying attention.

This book teaches no great moral lessons - even the villain seems more pitiful than evil. Ideas and themes run through it, but more because a book must contain ideas than because they're really necessary to the story. One of the few ideas Beagle does seem really taken with is that only mortal things can be truly beautiful - and even that he never gets around to quite explaining.

This book reads like a book written by a young man - it kicks up its heels and is full of wandering fancies and fanciful connections. While the ending is bittersweet, the book is full of joy and optimism.

The first time I heard of The Last Unicorn it was read to me. I've re-read it several times since then and, as with all books, it has changed as I've grown older. It is still a book I retreat to, though, when I want a story full of drifting, fanciful characters and scenes that linger in my mind.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

I have to admit it - what finally induced me to buy Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell was its length.

People who had not read it kept telling me how good a book it was. People who had started to read it said that it was obviously a good book, but they just didn't like it that much as it was very dry, very slow, very detailed and very long - and then they'd look at me and say that I would probably like it.

But as I said, what finally tipped me over was its length. I was traveling in Britain at the time with long train journeys ahead of me and no book to read. With a healthy appreciation of how much my luggage already weighed, I decided I wanted one large book instead of many small ones.

I've not regretted it. This book is not for the easily intimidated reader, but it is very clever and full of dry humor (my husband sat across from me on the train journeys and he said that I chuckled constantly while reading the book).

The book is set in a fictitious England during the time of the Napoleonic Wars. The premise is: What if magic had once been real in England - how could it be brought back? Mr Norrell and Jonathan Strange are the magicians who re-introduce magic to England. (Mr Norrell largely through knowledge derived from books and Jonathan Strange through natural talent and audacity.)

Susanna Clarke has a great deal of fun mocking academics and their petty squabbles. From this mocking her two heroes are not entirely spared (especially Mr Norrell). The book is very appropriately named as the base story is the friendship and squabbles (ranging from minor disagreements to downright character assassination) between these two men.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is one of those beautiful books that there's more to notice every time it's read. The first time I read it, the subplot that got my attention was between Jonathan Strange and his wife Arabella. The second time, I noticed the descriptions of magic, and specifically magic as being part of England (I suspect that this will remain one of my favorite parts of the book). And, of course, the thread about Stephen Black is impossible to forget, no matter what reading of the book I'm on.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is very long with very dry humor, and is not a book for everyone (but then, what book is?). It is clever and absorbing, though, with commentaries on the past and present.

Mansfield Park

Let me just come out and say it: Fanny, the protagonist of Mansfield Park, is hard to like. She shrinks, she shies, she sighs, and she never seems able to stand up for herself. She's so very good, but so very timid.

It wasn't until I read Mansfield Park for a second time that I began to like Fanny. And it was only recently (after so many readings that I've lost count) that I think I finally understand her and what Jane Austen was getting at.

The point with Fanny is that she's got incorruptible morals. Any opposition she makes is certainly not for selfish reasons (she will avoid conflict whenever possible), but when push comes to shove she won't give way on a moral point. I can't remember seeing a heroine like her in any other book I've read - a noisy defense of morality is more common, and certainly more in tune with modern sensibilities.

I'm still surprised at what a hold Austen has on modern readers, especially a book like Mansfield Park which is so divorced from modern concepts of behavior. But far more intelligent, educated women like Austen than an author who wrote so long ago has any right to expect.

I think Austen's books are loved for two reasons - her characters seem real and she constructs a perfectly rational world. I like the characters because they foul things up and make fools out of themselves and have to learn from their mistakes. But the perfect, unrelenting, rational story line (with a satiric bite) rolls on, dragging the heroines with it, to a perfect harmonious ending in marriage. I think this rational construction of a deeply irrational world is what attracts a lot of people - we know the world isn't like this, but it would be nice if everyone really did get exactly what they deserve (especially as we all know that we're the ones who deserve the happy ending).

Mansfield Park is almost frightening in the degree to which everyone gets exactly what they deserve (though modern readers might find some of the sentences too harsh). It is undoubtedly one of the harder Austen books to read - if you're looking for an introduction to Austen read Sense and Sensibility or, better yet, Pride and Prejudice. But if you've read Austen before and want a perfectly ordered ending written by a mature author, read Mansfield Park.

The Songs of the Kings

Everyone already knows how The Songs of the Kings is going to turn out — Agammemnon is going to sacrifice his daughter, Iphigenia, so the Greek fleet can sail to Troy. But the devil is in the details, and this book is all about the details.

Even though Barry Unsworth's book is set in the ancient world, it is a modern exploration of social forces such as power, distortion of reality by the media, and religion. There are so many facets to this story that most readers will be able to find something that interests them and that they can relate to.

Unsworth's portrayal of the two-faced justifications for war ring disturbingly true. Unsworth shows that the war the Greeks want to fight has nothing to do with the stated reasons — and the Greeks routinely violate the morals they are pretending to uphold. The Greeks are going to war for power and money, but use patriotic and idealistic arguments to justify their actions.

The Songs of the Kings also contains stories that are implied. A continuous thread that holds the book together is the implied battle for control between the gods, even though the story is never told directly. The sacrifice for Iphigenia ulitmately represents the loss of power for the old goddess, and the gain of power for the newer god Zeus - and the final movement to a new male-centered society.

The Songs of the Kings is a deeply unsettling book, but a fascinating read that is impossible to put down.

An Introduction and The Princess Bride

Do you absentmindedly interpret song lyrics? Do you corner innocent people and insist that they discuss books with you? Do you secretly find Umberto Eco's "Foucault's Pendulum" partially unintelligble? And do you dislike "The DaVinci Code" - not for any philosophical reason - but because it is appalling badly written? Then this weblog may be for you.

I read chronically.

I always bring a book to the doctor's office for fear that I may have to just sit there for 15 minutes if I leave my book behind. I take public transportation and average a book and a half a week. I lend people books whether they want to read them or not - and then corner them to discuss passages.

My husband suggested that I start a blog about books - and a friend very kindly said that she'd be interested in reading it. So with a guaranteed audience of two (at least for the first post), I decided to launch this blog.

The Princess Bride

I purchased The Princess Bride from a local bookstore (because I don't want Amazon to take over the world) one sunny Sunday morning. Halfway home I pulled the book out of its bag as I didn't have the patience to wait any longer and there was a convenient bench in dappled shade. Imagine my disappointment that I had absentmindedly bought an abridged version.

(I have avoided abridged versions ever since I realized that the 300 page Count of Monte Cristo I grew up reading - and loving - was actually missing something like 700 pages. The long version with the drugs and the lesbianism is much better.)

But it got worse with The Princess Bride - not only was this an abridged version, but the wretched editor had put in all sorts of irrelevant and irritating comments. Sure they were amusing, but I don't read a book to find out what the editor thinks of it.

About halfway through I finally got it - the editor and writer are one and the same and the abridged version is the only version (though I would have enjoyed reading about Buttercup's three-year stint at the Royalty School).

The Princess Bride is a great quick read - and definately a good choice for anyone who loves the movie (which is apparently most of the western word). It is very similar to the movie, but fills in little details that were missing, plus the added entertainment of being gently mocked by the writer throughout the book. Buttercup doesn't come off quite so well, though.

The Princess Bride is recommended for anyone who loves the movie or has never seen the movie and just wants an entertaining read.