Read This Now!
Incredibly wonderful analysis of what book reviews should encompass!
Book reviews, interesting links I find, etc.
Incredibly wonderful analysis of what book reviews should encompass!
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
10:19 AM
Posted by
Jill ONeill
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7:15 PM
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
11:58 AM
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
11:59 AM
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
10:04 AM

Title: The Man in the Picture
Author: Susan Hill
Copyright: 2007 (Published in the U.S., 2008, Overlook Press, Woodstock, NY; ISBN: 978-1-59020-091-9)
Genre: Gothic
Length: 145 pages
Summary: A modern scholar of medieval literature visits his old tutor at Cambridge University, the Chaucerian scholar Theo Parmitter. Seated before a fire, with the lamplight low, in Parmitter's college rooms, Oliver is told the tale behind a painting that has been in Parmitter's rooms for some time. The painting shows a scene of revelers at a Carnivale Masque by the Grand Canal in Venice. It is the history of the painting that forms a tale within a tale, deliciously macabre and eliciting a delicate shiver. There are elements of frustrated love and unending imprisonment in this very short, highly enjoyable literary ghost story.
Extract: 'I do not know what I expected to find,' he said, after sipping his whiskey. 'I had no preconceived ideas of the place called Hawdon or of this Countess. If I had...You think mine is a strange story, Oliver. But my story is nothing, it is merely a prelude to the story told me by an extraordinary old woman.'
Also relevant: This was a quick read as I got through it in less than a week of commuting to and from my office. You may remember that I had a tremendous liking for Hill's other work, The Woman in Black, which is similarly gothic in tone. The Man In The Picture offers masks, crowds, cold hatred and shadows, prisoners being taken into custody and a delightful sense of unease. You still have a week before Halloween. This one is worth ordering from Amazon now so as to have it in hand, to read as you wait by the front door for mysterious figures seeking treats on the 31st. Excellently done.
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
2:48 PM

Title: A Season of Splendor: The Court of Mrs. Astor in Gilded Age New York
Author: Greg King
Copyright: 2009, John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Hoboken NJ. ISBN 9780470185698
Genre: History
Length: 508 pages including 50 pages of notes, bibliography and index. (PDF excerpts available on this page)
Summary: Between roughly 1870 and the outbreak of the first World War, the class structure of American society was dominated by Caroline Astor and her famous four hundred. Motivated by a certain idealism, author Greg King suggests that Caroline Astor thought to "endow American society with tradition and a sense of noblesse oblige...imposing on them a sense of responsibility to establish taste for the enrichment of the nation as a whole". In an attempt to position American wealth and breeding on a par with that found in major European capitals, Caroline Astor forged a new understanding of social rank which bridged old New York Knickerbocker society and that of the industrial nouveau riche. King embarks on a thoroughly footnoted tour of the various elements that were used to display that breeding -- clothing, architecture, jewelry, transportation, etc. He notes that the real excesses of the Gilded Age were spawned during the latter half of that time period, by those possessed of more wealth than intellect. The spectrum of excess and extravagance is breathtaking, even as one recognizes that, over time, the wealth of these families has been distributed throughout the country to modern museums and philanthropic organizations. King offers detail that both exemplifies and illuminates the Gilded Age. This book both educates and entertains, making it a worthwhile and fascinating read. The New York Social Diary found it to be equally worthwhile during a recent October weekend in New York.
Extract: A few of the older, socially secure, and traditionally minded hostesses still clung to the soirees common in the first years of the Gilded Age. Soirees were considered exceptionally difficult affairs to manage; they existed in a separate category and could not stray into hte territory reserved for a dinner or a ball, yet had to offer both entertainment and substantial refreshment. Held in the early evening, a soiree was generally artistic in nature, focusig on a literary reading, a chorale, or a small concert, often accompanied by a small buffet supper. Such an entertainment called for both foresight and diplomacy. In an era of increasingly opulent parties, a quiet circle listening to arias or somber chamber music offered little excitement, and there were few potential guest unlikely to be bored by such proceedings. Eventually, given the problems presented, most ladies abandoned the soiree entirely. (page 343)
Also relevant: Let's face it. The elegance of the gilded age is fascinating. I loved to watch the series, America's Castles, on A&E a few years ago as much because it gave me a glimpse into another way of life as because of the introduction to the architecture. While it isn't unheard of to encounter debutante balls in this day and age, such events have nowhere near the economic significance that they had for young women a hundred years ago. Back then, a young woman's introduction to society was the starting gate to a wealthy marriage and lifelong financial security, regardless of compatibility. The extract selected above gives a sense of how carefully social events were scheduled and orchestrated. One had to display a level of cultural taste and understanding while avoiding boring one's guests. Greg King does a spectacular job of conveying all of this to a modern reader.
So successful is he in covering this period that I find myself going on a reading binge of related titles. Wharton's The House of Mirth is on the top of one TBR pile and a coffee table book with photos of the famous 'four hundred' is en route from a used book store even as you read this. My lifestyle doesn't support any need for a parure of diamonds or other precious gems, but the documentation of a social environment that insisted upon such a set (tiara, matching necklace, earrings, and brooch) as a wedding or anniversary gift set me all agog with vicarious enjoyment. A Season of Splendor is a surprisingly engaging read.
Bonus link: I feel confident in saying that Caroline Astor is likely twirling in her grave at being included in this particular list of top twenty socialites of all time.
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
2:27 PM
Fantastic essay about how important our reading is in adolescence. Truly worthwhile!
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
4:40 PM

Title: The Meaning of Everything: The Story of the Oxford English Dictionary
Author: Simon Winchester (author page with audio excerpt from the book, here)
Copyright: 2003, Oxford University Press, ISBN: 0198607024
Length: 260 pages
Genre: Non-fiction, history
Summary: In 1857, Chenevix Trench, an eminent churchman and then Dean of Winchester, read a paper at an evening meeting of The Philological Society with the interesting title, "On Some Deficiencies in Our English Dictionaries". Among other deficiencies identified, he suggested that the lexicons available to him and his colleagues offered incomplete histories of words, shallow, incomplete research as to the meaning of words and inadequate examples from English literature of the word in contextual use. The soon-to-be Archbishop of Dublin proposed that the Philological Society vote to sponsor the creation of a new dictionary that would capture the fluidity of the English language over the course of time. The result was the Oxford English Dictionary, a marvelous example of scholarship created by some of the most marvelous English eccentrics of the nineteenth century. Simon Winchester, perhaps most known for his book, The Professor and the Madman, presents the intriguing history of how this classic dictionary came to be compiled by dedicated volunteers and contributors.
Extract: The story of Fitzedward Hall might seem one of anger, bitterness and yet an obsessive devotion to duty; that of W.C. Minor, by contrast, is one of dangerous madness inelectable sadness, and ultimate redemption -- redemption in which his work for the dictionary became in time his therapy, a labour that he needed to perform in order to remain halfway sane. If the outward parallels between the two men -- both Americans, both learned, both with Eastern connections, both troubled in the mind -- are intriguing, the different ways in which the two made their separate contributions to the Dictionary -- and the ways in which the Dictionary in turn made improvements to their lives -- seem even more so.
Also Relevant: The Meaning of Everything offers an interesting reading experience, and I say that with something of a tongue-in-cheek meaning. On the one hand, it is a wonderful story that Winchester offers. It took roughly fifty years to assemble the various segments of the dictionary for final publication; the work was done by a scattered force of readers and scholars, each just a little more odd than the one before. I had only a casual awareness of how the OED came into existence so the book provided me with a historical perspective that I hadn't had before. I have a good deal more respect for Jimmy Wales and his work with Wikipedia, having read this book, than I might otherwise have. The effort of building the OED isn't very different from the effort of building the Wikipedia, except that our information and communication infrastructure is 1000 times more efficient than that supporting James Murray and his staff of editors. It is worth noting that just this past month the OED celebrated the 80th anniversary of the publication of the final fascicle of the original edition of the Dictionary. Given the problems surrounding its inital print publication, one wonders if any similarly ambitious project would ever found its way through the current economic jungle of publishing.
But as I think the extract shows, Winchester is somewhat obsessive and eccentric in his presentation of the story. His sentence structure is entirely convoluted and the reader has to frequently jump forward and back from the beginning of a paragraph to the final line of the paragraph to ensure that the sense is grasped. Add to that, the opening chapter offers a lengthy discussion of the roots of the English language as Winchester tries to show just how much our mother tongue shifts and morphs over time. It's fairly well-done, but that introduction represents about 20% of the book. (If you are one of those readers who decides to stick with a book based on whether the first 50 pages actively engages your attention, then in this instance, Winchester only has about 5 pages past that first chapter to retain your interest. ) Only further on does the reader discover the pigeonholes built to hold slips of paper associated with specific letters and word pairings or the depth of devotion shown by the afore-mentioned Fitzedward Hall as he spent four hours of every day for twenty years in delivering quotations, clippings, proofed pages, etc. to James Murray, the editor and true father of the OED.
I do believe that the OED should receive enormous respect, given its provenance. We're lucky that ninteenth-century England supported so many eccentric, detail-oriented readers.
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
3:02 PM
So I got a Kindle from Amazon about two months or so ago. During that time, it has really become one of those things (on the order of cell phone, glasses, keys, train pass, etc.) that I ensure I've got in my bag whenever I leave the house. I even bought a beautiful red leather cover for the device to protect it during travel and commute. It's an imperfect device but very convenient for reading in a variety of settings. That said, here's a list of titles currently on *my* Kindle device.
1. Kim Stanley Robinson's Science in the Capital trilogy. This trilogy consists of Forty Signs of Rain (2004), Fifty Degrees Below (2005) and Sixty Days and Counting (2007). It is interesting reading, part of a sub-genre in science fiction known as "mundane sf". The point of this sub-genre is to focus on the "what ifs" of modern technological life in the near-term, rather than the stereotypes of aliens and space ships generally associated with science fiction. The three volumes share thematic concerns -- primarily, global warming (or climate change, if you prefer) but also the balance between attitudes of "knowing" (scientific thought vs. buddhist thoughts), the associated pros and cons of national agencies' handling of science policy and funding in coping with global science issues, and the more cosmic theme of a human's place in the global ecosystem.
Robinson's style of storytelling is not particularly fast-paced. He throws in entire pages of hard science between chapters and scenes of characters' interactions. His characterization forms individuals into archetypes very quickly. Indeed, throughout the first volume, I was sure that the elusive female pursued by Frank Vanderwahl was intended to be symbolic of the Feminine Element rather than any specific identity in the story. Such characterization can be off-putting for some readers, but I think the patience and perserverance required in working one's way through the three books is rewarding. Robinson has a point -- some might say an agenda -- but the plot twisted just enough to keep my interest. The benefit of reading these on the Kindle was that I had the experience of reading all three volumes as a single narrative rather than having to wait a year or two between as with the original print publications.
Author interviews here, here and here.
(2) The Maltese Falcon, John Huston, Director by William Luhr. I have to discuss the classic detective novel by Dashiell Hammett in two weeks at the local library. I purchased this book because it has the script of the movie as well as several critical essays. I want to elicit discussion by the group of the challenges of transforming a novel into a screenplay. (The Kindle is conducive to focusing on shorter forms of writing. The screen -- six inches on the diagonal -- helps one to focus on grasping the point of each paragraph building the argument. I personally think it aids retention).
(3) Pride and Prejudice (Enriched E-book Edition) by Jane Austen. Undoubtedly you are questioning just how many copies any one woman needs of this particular classic. I do own multiple copies but each has a different value point to it. This particular Penguin edition contains the frequently-cited Tony Tanner introduction to the novel as well as extensive notes, a filmography, and a bibliography for suggested further reading including modern sequels. The book uses hypertext links throughout for navigation. (Not all publishers have been as smart on this.)
(4) The Missio-Dei Breviary. I would have preferred to carry around the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) on my Kindle, but Cambridge University Press hasn't made a Kindle edition of the prayerbook available as yet. Besides, there are plenty of Web-based versions of the BCP that I can use, if necessary. I like the Missio Dei Breviary for its brevity as well as for its roots in the social gospel. If you visit here and here, you can learn more.
(5) Mitch Albom's Commencement Speech to his nephew's high school graduating class (exclusive to the Amazon Kindle -- get some background on it here). This was a sweet gesture by the ESPN sportscaster who is also author of the best-selling Tuesdays With Morrie. I haven't read that one, but the commencement speech hit a nice, soft spot in me. I hope the nephew will grow to appreciate this gift from his uncle, if he doesn't already. I have read it frequently, just to bolster my spirits and keep my attitude properly adjusted. I even handed my Kindle over to my younger son so that he could read it. It has some lovely humorous touches as well as offering sound advice -- "avoid sushi in airports" and "call home regularly".
(6) The Vampire Tapestry by Suzy McKee Charnas. I'm not much for scary stuff and I certainly haven't read any of the Twilight series of books, but this is one of the best vampire novels I have ever read. None of the gross Renfield stuff or the fantasy of vampire as seductive lover, this presents the vampire as a lonely wanderer in modern society. Charnas does not minimize the horror of the vampire but does manage to generate sympathy for the anthropology professor who suffers from this biological mutation. (More of her views on vampires).
The novel was originally published back in 1980 (which is when I read it) but has been in and out of print since then. A print edition is being re-released this very week through the Macmillan imprint, Orb Books. It's very well-done and I heartily recommend it. The Kindle edition is being used (I suppose) to generate a build-up of interest. Charnas is not as well known as I think she ought to be.
(7) Touchstone by Laurie King. This was the very first book I bought via the Kindle store, specifically because I was about to go away for a long Fourth of July weekend but didn't want to lug along the heavy hard-back book.This stand-alone novel is a tale of suspense set in England in the period between the two World Wars. The country is under stress due to economic strain and a paralyzing labor strike is in the offing. Touchstone has only about seven major characters to track; the focus is on following the psychological mindset of each during negotiations between the various factions. There is a primary character that serves as a central focal point in the action for the bulk of the book – Harris Stuyvesant, a well-drawn American agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). King uses a slow pacing to build characters, but the final third of the book moves rapidly and carries the reader along. The final resolution is neither weak nor entirely happy. Another thoroughly enjoyable read that I can heartily recommend. The paperback edition is due out in December of this year. The hardcover is currently available.
Author interview here.
By the by, the backstory on the Kindle is that publishers had been wary of Amazon's intent and so took the less risky approach of licensing only older back-list titles or those titles already proven to be money-makers. However, early data regarding sales since last November must have been positive because an increasing number of publishers have committed to working with Amazon in delivering digital editions for this reader. I summed it up in my work-related column to members this way: "...the Kindle is not a replacement for the traditional print version of high quality content, but rather a supplemental convenience. It soothes a persistent irritation rather than satisfies a pressing and urgent need." And yet, I'm carrying my Kindle with me most days I'm out of the house.
**NOTE** Rumors of this blog's death have been greatly exaggerated. I have just been overly-occupied by work and family obligations. This seems to happen during the summer and I haven't figured out the stumbling block associated with the lapse in expression. Heat? Humidity?
Posted by
Jill ONeill
at
4:09 PM