A Bevy of Books

I’ve read some really great books lately and have been keeping them mostly to myself.  Today, the selfishness ends!

The Girl with No Shadow by Joanne Harris (whom I’ve slathered much love on here and here) is the next chapter of the story of Vianne and Anouk Rocher from Chocolat (the book, of course, not the film, though the stories are close enough that film-goers would enjoy it, I think).   It is every bit as wonderful as Harris’s best stuff.

It’s five years since we’ve been in Lansquenet and things are very different for Vianne. She’s given birth to a second child (Rosette) and has consented to marry a man she does not love.  She’s hiding from the world instead of trying to bring magic to it. Anouk is entering puberty afraid of herself, the magic inside her and the world around her, and wishes her mother was the woman she used to be.  Enter Zozie.

Zozie is everything Vianne used to be, but without the compassion and kindness. She is cool and interesting and not afraid to attract attention. She sees the potential in Anouk and wants it for her own selfish reasons. But in truth, she’s hiding even more than Vianne is – from herself more than anyone.

Harris’s writing is stellar, as always. The copy I have is the P.S. version, with interviews and background material, and I read every bit so I could live with the book and characters a little longer. I was visiting my sister and her family in the wilds of Northwest Montana and read it by flashlight in my tent, surrounded by the sounds of horses grazing around (and sometimes underneath) my tent late at night. The strange surroundings only added to the feeling that I was really in another world, living with Anouk and the others in Paris.

I’m not sure I can articulate what it is I love about Harris. It’s the same thing I love about a lot of authors, who write a lot of different stuff (Miéville, Chabon, De Lint, Shields, Kingsolver). Her works speaks of truths I knew but hadn’t recognized. Her characters are people I’ve been, or met, or would like to meet. I feel as if I know myself better at the end of the book than I did at the beginning. Her writing has a beauty apart from the meaning of the words. Her work helps me feel more strongly connected to the world.

It’s hard to turn the last page, sometimes, and let that go.

The fiction that William Gibson writes now cannot strictly be called Science Fiction (or, if you prefer, speculative fiction). The world in Zero History (and the rest of the Blue Ant trilogy, Pattern Recognition and Spook Country) contains nothing that is not currently available in the world today. Sometimes, you have to make an effort to remember that he’s made none of these facts up. Of course the plot and people and details of their story are fictional – but all have been created by things that really exist. The world in the Blue Ant trilogy is our world, we live in it. And seen through Gibson’s eyes – it’s a crazy, freaky, fabulous place.

The difference – the thing that makes him incredible and amazing and worthy of homage and envy – is his ability to translate a unique viewpoint into prose that puts the reader firmly behind his eyeballs (real or metaphorical) so that they see the world new and different. He seems to have ‘created a new world’ out of the real world that surrounds us. I imagine that he developed this skill by building ‘fake’ worlds inspired by what he saw in the real world, until the world morphed and the reverse was now more interesting or inspirational or what-have-you.

The plot is slightly less labyrinthine than many previous Gibson novels, but no less satisfying. And (spoiler alert) the meeting between Hollis and the never-named Cayce had me jumping for happy-joy.  These characters echo much of my own personal world-view, and I’m sure that Hollis and Cayce and I would be friends.

I feel I should mention (for those who’ve not read Gibson) that he writes fantastic female characters, without it ever feeling like he’s trying to write a strong female lead character. All of his characters are nuanced and real and convincing, and many of them happen to be female – females recognizable as fully human and in no way singled out as unusual in being so. This is certainly true for the Blue Ant trilogy, and if memory serves, is true for previous works. Chevette from the Bridge Trilogy (Virtual Light, Idoru, All Tomorrow’s Parties) is a favorite, and I’ve loved Cayce since the first page of Pattern Recognition.

I went to see William Gibson at Powell’s in September (day two of his book tour – yay living in Portland!) to hear him read from Zero History. And truly, to be in the same room with him and get a feel for who he is. Again, as with Chabon, it was everything I’d hoped it would be.  I’d recently listened to Spook Country on audio (not read by him) and so it was easy to slip back into that world.  The descriptions sound even more odd when you are listening to them rather than being on the page, where you can go back and read them again to figure out what familiar object he’s describing in such unfamiliar terms. I’d read Spook Country several times before hearing it, so I was simply being reminding, not told for the first time.

I am super-focused on getting my debts paid off right now, and don’t usually buy hardback books anymore, so I didn’t buy a copy that day. I’d had Zero History on hold at the library for more than a month the day the book was released (I think I was something like #26 on the list) and was ever-so-patiently waiting for my turn. It finally came the day before I left for Alaska for six days of child- and friend-bonding. Perfect! There’s nothing better than a highly-anticipated read on a trip with many plane rides and days spent waiting for people to get off work. I almost started it again as soon as I’d finished it (which I don’t believe I’ve ever done). And I was sad to give it back to the library – but of course did so quickly after returning home, since my book-receiving karma must be kept in tip-top shape at my only current, dependable source for new reading material. I’m tempted to put it on hold again right now so I can read it again soon. Though not too soon – currently 135 holds on 44 copies. It makes me happy to see how many other people appreciate fabulous writing and a unique world-view. Go. Read it. Start with Pattern Recognition. You won’t be sorry.

Five of the books I read in May were by Neil Gaiman. Three of them were comic book collections, so those are a quicker read, usually. But still – that’s a lot of Gaiman. And that doesn’t include the months (and months) of blog posts I read.  Plus, he’s the reason I read Alabaster. So, yeah.

He shows up a lot in June as well. And July. He’s a talented, prolific guy, what can I say?

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Absolute Death & Endless Nights and Marvel 1602, all by Neil Gaiman and various artists (Dave McKean, Mark Buckingham, P. Craig Russell & Andy Kubert to name a few). Reading these reminded me of how much I loved reading comics. Not as a kid, as an adult. I got hooked on X-Men comics the summer after I graduated from high school (my roommate had been collecting for years and I got to read all he had, and then had to start collecting my own when I moved away). I finally stopped collecting them after 10 years – not because I stopped liking them, but because it was too expensive to keep up with all the storylines I was interested in, too much work to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and they are much more fragile than books. Plus, I was a broke child and had to economize. But I never stopped liking them. I got all of these at the library – yay, libraries with graphic novels!

Absolute Death* & Endless Nights are both oversized collections from the Sandman comic book series. Death is the incarnation of death (a happy young goth girl) who is one of the Endless, a group of immortals (but not exactly) which includes Dream, Destruction, Desire, Delirium (formerly Delight), Destiny and Despair. Absolute Death is a collection of the Sandman stories that Death starred in, and Endless Nights has one story about each of the Endless. Both include forwards, extra text/sketches/back story/etc not included in the original comics. Much awesomeness.

Marvel 1602 is that most perfect of things: A COMIC BOOK by NEIL GAIMAN that has the X-MEN in it. Plus the Fantastic Four, Nick Cage, Captain America, Dr. Strange, and a bunch of other Marvel Universe regulars I’ve forgotten. Mutants start showing up in the year 1602, and prehistory starts repeating itself, sort of. It’s fantastic. A 6-comic series that ended up being 8 because there wasn’t enough room for it all. Even more awesomeness.

American Gods and Anansi Boys. I read American Gods (again) for #1b1t on twitter – in fact I joined twitter so I could follow it. #1b1t was the first twitter book club (one book one twitter). Twitterers voted on what book the world should read – and American Gods won. I read Anansi Boys (again) because I was reading the part of Gaiman’s blog where he was writing it – and wanted to give it another shot.

American Gods is a fabulous book, probably the novel that moved me from liking Gaiman’s writing to looooving it (I’d already read Neverwhere, Stardust and Smoke and Mirrors). It is the story of Shadow, a seemingly-regular-joe who got in a bit of trouble, and gets out of jail to find that ancient gods (like Odin and Icarus and hundreds of others) are battling new gods (like Media and Techboy), and he’s caught in the middle. A road story, and buddy story, a coming-of-age story, and a treatise on the waves of peoples who have come to the ‘new world.’ Also about human nature, and faith. Did I say I loved it? LOVED it. I think I first read it in 2002ish when it first came out in paperback. This was probably my fifth time – still fantastic. Couldn’t stick to the reading schedule for #1b1t and finished it the 3^rd week.

Anansi Boys is… well, my least favorite Gaiman book (see, my love is not blind!). To be fair, the first time I read it, I thought it was a sequel to AG, which it most definitely is not. It shares one minor character in a completely different context. This book is a comic (as in funny, not as in pictures + word balloons) undertaking, whereas AG is a serious and contemplative novel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But it’s like when the movie trailer looks like a romantic comedy and the film turns out to be gory horror flick – it messes everything up. So I was reading it again to give it a fair shot (and this time prefaced by Gaiman’s blog discussion). Still my least favorite Gaiman, but I liked it better the second time around. AG is my favorite kind of novel, and very well-done. AB… isn’t. My favorite kind of novel, that is. It is very well-done.

For those of you sick to death of me blogging (and talking, and texting, and facebooking) about Mr. Gaiman – you’ll be happy to hear that I only have about 18 12 months of blog left to read. Then I will have Read. It. All.

Well, all except the American Gods blog – which is in a book w/some other stuff, so I’ll be reading it there when I can get a copy. But I have to warn you… he’s still blogging. And writing. And twittering. And now I’m following his fiance and his assistant because they are both funny and interesting as well (no, Officer, I was not peaking into Mr. Gaiman’s windows. These binoculars? I was merely admiring those fine bee-hives over yonder, why do you ask?).

So, maybe he won’t own the place, but this will certainly not be a Gaiman-less zone any time soon. You’ve been warned.

* Absolute refers to the size and paper quality and such, and is not to be construed as commentary on Death, death, dying, or how it’s much like taxes. In case you were wondering.

The River Where Blood is Born by Sandra Jackson-Opoku – this is a multi-generational book, complete with gods and tricksters looking on. Much like some of my favorite Alice Walker (yes, this one starts in Africa as well). This will get a full review soon.

Best European Ficition 2010, which I reviewed for BookBrowse.com (I did like it, despite my avoidance maneuvers).

The Final Solution by Michael Chabon– this book was recently returned to me from a friend who had borrowed it. A novella of Sherlock Holmes’s final investigation. Chabon never disappoints, and I don’t even like Sherlock Holmes.

Madonnas of Leningrad by Debra Dean – the story of a woman who survived some of WWII by living (with the rest of the employees & their families) in a museum in the USSR. The story bounces back and forth between her current life in the U.S. Pacific NW – while she is suffering from Alzheimer’s – and her memories of that war-torn winter in… Leningrad, naturally. Lots of interesting questions about memory and what is real, and the power of the human spirit to survive just about anything, and the way myth and art assist in that survival.

My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud’homme– I read this because I loved the Julia Child portions of the Julie & Julia film, and this book did not disappoint. The film clearly captured her exuberance and passion for food, France and her husband that shines through this book. Takes us from their arrival in France through the second edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and the creation of her television show. Co-written by Child and her grand-nephew.

Paradise of the Blind by Duong Thu Huong– which I reviewed here.

A Disobedient Girl by Ru Freeman. This is the story of an Indian girl…. that I didn’t finish. I got through maybe two chapters, and it just wasn’t working for me. I don’t entirely blame the book – the character was mildly interesting up to the point where I stopped reading. But it was not capturing my interests enough to hang onto it (this was about the time I started reading Neil Gaiman’s blog, so I blame him at least partially for my distraction).  It was a library book, so I returned it without finishing it.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman.  This is the book I read instead of A Disobedient Girl. Neil was blogging about the audio book or something, so I had to go re-read my copy. Pratchett is a witty, fantastically funny author, and I’ve already told you how much I adore Gaiman. I remember finding this book and being thrilled – I’d only read Neverwhere by Gaiman at that point, but I’d read at least half dozen Pratchett Discworld books (Small Gods was my favorite at that point, and still in the top three) and was excited to see the two of them together. My only complaint in this otherwise hilarious comic romp through the apocalypse is the rather anticlimactic ending. Funny, funny, funny book. I can remember feeling compelled to read parts of it to friends because I needed them to know that I wasn’t imagining things, it really was that crazy.

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Looks like I only finished seven books in April.  Seems like a slow month (especially since I’ve already read eight in May, and it’s only the 19^th). What was I doing? Oh right, I was avoiding Best European Fiction 2010. Also, I read a year’s worth of Neil Gaiman’s blog. I’m not proud of it, but it does indicate how much free time I had on my hands.

These are all books by authors I’ve previously reviewed and loved and gushed on and on about, so I thought I’d spare us all the embarrassment and just give you a quick blurb, in case you are also a crazy fan person.

Me Talk Pretty One Day is another great read by David Sedaris, who rants about his technoloathing (not technophobia for him, no sir), bemoans his ability to communicate in French (hence the title) and cracks wise about the death of pets and parents.  I’ve waxed poetic about my love for Sedaris before, so I’ll just say he continues to satisfy my every snarky impulse.

Maps & Legends: Reading and Writing Along the Borderlands is a collection of essays by Michael Chabon that were originally printed in such places as The Washington Post  Book World, New York Review of Books and Architectural Digest (yes, really). His non-fiction is as precise and entertaining as his fiction writing, and he likes some of the same people I do (Philip Pullman, Neil Gaiman, comic books), so I’ve forgiven him for Sherlock Holmes.  Worth every penny of the $8 I spent at the Powell’s sale rack (and probably more).

Gentleman and Players is another winner by Joanne Harris. The story of an all-boys school in modern-day England, it explores the pain of growing up, the role of teachers in our lives, and the relentless march of time vs. the proud traditions of the past.  Not as powerful as Blackberry Wine or Holy Fools, but a great read.

Animal Vegetable Miracle is the family memoir of a year spent trying to eat local. Barbara Kingsolver, along with her husband and two daughters, commit to a full year of trying to grow as much of their own food as possible, buy food from no farther than an hour from their home (in the southern Appalachians), and try to live a life-less-damaging (to the planet). The book includes recipes as well as essays on some of the statistics behind commercial food production and what-not, but is mostly the journal of a fabulous writer who happens to be trying something difficult and important. I’ve yet to read a book by this woman that didn’t impress me. It makes me happy that there are people like her sharing the planet with me.