#47: Dedication

Dedication, by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus (New York: Atria Books, 2007)

Summary:
"What if your first love left town, without a word to anyone, days before graduation?

"What if he went on to become one of the biggest recording stars on the planet and every song he’s famous for is about you? What if, after thirteen years of getting on with your life – walking past his face on newsstands, flipping past his image on TV, tuning him out on the radio – you get the call that he has landed back in your hometown for an MTV special two days before Christmas?  What if you finally had the chance to confront him?  What would you do?


"Kate Hollis finds herself on the threshold of her thirtieth birthday, about to discover that the only way to embrace life as a fully-fledged, well-adjusted adult is to re-visit seventeen."

Opening Lines:
"'He's here.'
 "'Laura?' I ask into the phone, disoriented, voice sandy with sleep."

My Take:
Saturday of my first weekend in Boston was wet, wet, wet. As in, the 40 days and 40 nights kind of rain. OK, maybe it was closer to 4 hours, but I still don't think I could have gotten any soggier even if there had been an ark instead of just a parade of duck boats swimming by. It only hit me that morning that I'd left both my raincoat and all my umbrellas back home in NY.

About 5 minutes later, it dawned on me that I might would get wet if I went out anyway, but I was about as certain to get weepy and fragile and withdrawn if I just sat here alone in my conveniently-located but poorly lit apartment, and ... well, wet stuff dries. So I set off down Charles Street with an adventurous spring in my step, snapping artful pictures of puddles and park benches with my iPhone. I fueled up for my trek beneath the tin-punched ceilings of Panifico and vowed to walk off my delicious but generous plate o' hash before I went back home. I fell in love with Commonwealth Avenue and its memorials on every corner, flanked by the hundred-year-old townhouses with their curved fronts and indecorous flower boxes who seem to be Boston's true grandes dames. I stumbled across a Marshall's incongruously planted between a Talbot's and a La Perla, finally brought an umbrella after I was drenched enough for my hair and jacket to drip a path through the store, and told myself the funny looks I imagined getting from the Back Bay Brahmins (well, any who'd wandered into Marshall's by mistake on their way to the Kate Spade in the next block) would make for a colorful story.

And since I was right there on Boylston Street anyway, and it was a rainy day, I found myself in Copley Square across from the Boston Public Library, which just happened to be having a book sale that day. You can guess where this is going. For a dollar or in some cases (i.e., if you ain't too proud to read anything from the paperback romance boxes) a quarter apiece, I could stock up on fun reads aplenty. Most are still in the apartment unread, but I did read Dedication (you knew I'd get there eventually, right?) a few weeks ago.

Decent, but I fear McLaughlin and Kraus may always suffer from the fact that they'll never write another Nanny Diaries. Dedication was pretty good, a fun read ... but I felt like I was meant to empathize with Kate a lot more than I did. Wondering about an old flame, especially if he's gone off and become famous? No personal experience but I can imagine how it might work. But the degree to which it's become an obsession, and to which it's been The Only Thing Jake seems to have written about over the years? Not feeling it. Worth what I paid for it, I guess, but not really funny or moving enough to keep it on my shelf long-term.

#46: Sophie's World

Sophie's World: A Novel About the History of Philosophy, by Jostein Gaarder, translated by Paulette Moller (New York: Berkeley Books, 1997, c1994)

Summary:
"A page-turning novel as well as an exploration of the great philosophical concepts of Western thought, Sophie's World -- with more than thirty million copies in print -- has fired the imaginations of readers all over the world.


"One day fourteen-year-old Sophie Amundsen comes home from school to find in her mailbox two notes, each with a question: 'Who are you?' and 'Where does the world come from?' From this irresistible beginning, Sophie becomes obsessed with questions that take her far beyond what she knows of her Norwegian village. Through successive letters, she enrolls in a kind of correspondence course, covering Socrates to Sartre, with a mysterious philosopher, while also receiving letters addressed to another girl. Who is Hilde? And why does her mail keep turning up? To answer this riddle, Sophie must use the philosophy she is learning -- but the truth turns out to be far more complicated than she could have imagined."


Opening Lines:
"Sophie Amundsen was on her way home from school. She had walked the first part of the way with Joanna. They had been discussing robots. Joanna thought the human brain was like an advanced computer. Sophie was not sure she agreed. Surely a person was more than a piece of hardware?"

My Take:
Finally got around to reading this one after having it on my shelf for, well, longer than I can remember. Fascinating concept and an accessible, even enjoyable overview of Western philosophy for those who (like me) somehow didn't take that particular elective in college. The story and/or plot do get a bit bogged down at times, with the philosophy often overwhelming the Sophie-and-the-philosopher frame story ... but to be fair, part of this may be a result of the translation. Not quite a page-turner, at least for me, but still much more interesting than browsing Wikipedia or lugging around a college textbook for a taste of the history of philosophy.

#45: All Other Nights

All Other Nights, by Dara Horn (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 2009)

Summary:

"'How is tonight different from all other nights?' For Jacob Rappaport, a Jewish soldier in the Union army during the Civil War, it is a question his commanders have already answered for him -- on Passover, 1862, he is ordered to murder his own uncle in New Orleans, who is plotting to assassinate President Lincoln. After this harrowing mission, Jacob is recruited to pursue another enemy agent, the daughter of a Virginia family friend. But this time, his assignment isn’t to murder the spy, but to marry her. Their marriage, with its riveting and horrifying consequences, reveals the deep divisions that still haunt American life today.

"Based on real personalities like Judah Benjamin, the Confederacy’s Jewish Secretary of State and spymaster, and on historical facts and events ranging from an African-American spy network to the dramatic self-destruction of the city of Richmond, All Other Nights is a gripping and suspenseful story of men and women driven to the extreme limits of loyalty and betrayal. It is also a brilliant parable of the rift in America that lingers a century and a half later: between those who value family and tradition first, and those dedicated, at any cost, to social and racial justice for all.

"In this eagerly-awaited third novel, award-winning author Dara Horn brings us page-turning storytelling at its best. Layered with meaning, All Other Nights presents the most American of subjects with originality and insight -- and the possibility of reconciliation that might yet await us."

Opening Line:

"Inside a barrel in the bottom of a boat, with a canteen of water wedged between his legs and a packet of poison concealed in his pocket, Jacob Rappaport felt a knot tightening in his stomach -- not because he was about to do something dangerous, but because he was about to do something wrong." 

My Take:

Here's one I wish I'd reviewed for real shortly after I finished it, because I remember really liking it but can't remember enough details to offer a useful review. If the jacket blurb above intrigues you and you're a fan of Civil War fiction that's not the same old thing, check out Wendy Smith's Washington Post review, or just check out the darned book.   

#44: Walking to Gatlinburg

Walking to Gatlinburg, by Howard Frank Mosher (New York: Shaye Areheart Books, 2010)

Summary:
"A stunning and lyrical Civil War thriller, Walking to Gatlinburg is a spellbinding story of survival, wilderness adventure, mystery, and love in the time of war.

Morgan Kinneson is both hunter and hunted.  The sharp-shooting 17-year-old from Kingdom County, Vermont, is determined to track down his brother Pilgrim, a doctor who has gone missing from the Union Army.  But first Morgan must elude a group of murderous escaped convicts in pursuit of a mysterious stone that has fallen into his possession.

"It's 1864, and the country is in the grip of the bloodiest war in American history.  Meanwhile, the Kinneson family has been quietly conducting passengers on the Underground Railroad from Vermont to the Canadian border.  One snowy afternoon Morgan leaves an elderly fugitive named Jesse Moses in a mountainside cabin for a few hours so that he can track a moose to feed his family.  In his absence, Jesse is murdered, and thus begins Morgan's unforgettable trek south through an apocalyptic landscape of war and mayhem.

"Along the way, Morgan encounters a fantastical array of characters, including a weeping elephant, a pacifist gunsmith, a woman who lives in a tree, a blind cobbler, and a beautiful and intriguing slave girl named Slidell who is the key to unlocking the mystery of the secret stone.  At the same time, he wrestles with the choices that will ultimately define him – how to reconcile the laws of nature with religious faith, how to temper justice with mercy. Magical and wonderfully strange, Walking to Gatlinburg is both a thriller of the highest order and a heartbreaking odyssey into the heart of American darkness."


Opening Line:
"Years later Morgan Kinneson would conclude that it was probably reading that had gotten him and his brother, Pilgrim, into trouble in the first place."

My Take:
I didn't hate it, but this was one of those books that I had high hopes for based on some laudatory reviews, and it didn't quite live up to my expectations. Every other reviewer, it seems, calls books "lyrical," and perhaps this one was; it's been over a month but I do recall the language being intriguing, and several of the characters and scenarios Morgan wanders into have a fascinating, almost fantastic appeal. Overall, though, I had the impression that I myself was taking a long road trip through unfamiliar country: interesting and lovely to look at in places, but rather slower than I'd like in many others.

#43: My Name Is Mary Sutter

My Name Is Mary Sutter, by Robin Oliveira (New York:  Viking, 2010)

Summary:
"In this stunning historical novel, Mary Sutter is a brilliant, headstrong midwife from Albany, New York, who dreams of becoming a surgeon. Determined to overcome the prejudices against women in medicine -- and eager to run away from her recent heartbreak -- Mary leaves home and travels to Washington, D.C. to help tend the legions of Civil War wounded. Under the guidance of William Stipp and James Blevens -- two surgeons who fall unwittingly in love with Mary's courage, will, and stubbornness in the face of suffering -- and resisting her mother's pleas to return home to help with the birth of her twin sister's baby, Mary pursues her medical career in the desperately overwhelmed hospitals of the capital.
Like Charles Frazier's Cold Mountain and Robert Hicks's The Widow of the South, My Name Is Mary Sutter powerfully evokes the atmosphere of the period. Rich with historical detail (including marvelous depictions of Lincoln, Dorothea Dix, General McClellan, and John Hay among others), and full of the tragedies and challenges of wartime, My Name Is Mary Sutter is an exceptional novel. And, in Mary herself, Robin Oliveira has created a truly unforgettable heroine whose unwavering determination and vulnerability will resonate with readers everywhere.


Opening Lines:
"'Are you Mary Sutter?' Hours had passed since James Blevens had called for the midwife."

My Take:
Here's where the reviews get pretty terse and cursory. As I said, before I came to Boston, I spent a few weeks in Ohio. What I hadn't yet mentioned was that I almost got sent to Memphis for a few months. When that looked like a possibility, I began looking into what there was to keep myself busy after work and on weekends, and began making grand plans to indulge my interest in both Civil War and Civil Rights history. The trip didn't happen but a number of historical novels set during the Civil War did, and I'm still slogging my way through James M. McPherson's master single-volume work on the subject, Battle Cry of Freedom. 

Anyway, I enjoyed Mary Sutter. If you enjoy Civil War stories and want one with a slightly different focus than you're used to, like books about iconoclastic women ahead of their time (as opposed to reviews by redundantly verbose readers!), or enjoy fiction that touches on the historical practice of medicine, give this one a try.

#42: Marley & Me

Marley & Me: Life and Love With the World's Worst Dog, by John Grogan (New York:  HarperCollins, 2008)

Summary:
"John and Jenny were just beginning their life together. They were young and in love, with a perfect little house and not a care in the world. Then they brought home Marley, a wriggly yellow furball of a puppy. Life would never be the same.

"Marley quickly grew into a barrelling, ninety-seven-pound steamroller of a Labrador retriever, a dog like no other. He crashed through screen doors, gouged through drywall, flung drool on guests, and ate nearly everything he could get his mouth around, including couches and fine jewelry. Obedience school did no good -- Marley was expelled. Neither did the tranquilizers the vet prescribed for him with the admonishment, 'Don't hesitate to use these.'"


"And yet Marley's heart was pure. Just as he joyfully refused any limits on his behavior, his love and loyalty were boundless, too. Marley shared the couple's joy at their first pregnancy and their heartbreak over the miscarriage. He was there when babies finally arrived and when the screams of a seventeen-year-old stabbing victim pierced the night. Throughout it all he remained steadfast, a model of devotion, even when his family was at its wit's end. Unconditional love, they would learn, comes in many forms.


"Is it possible for humans to discover the key to happiness through a bigger-than-life, bad-boy dog? Just ask the Grogans."


Opening Lines:
"We were young. We were in love. We were rollicking in sublime early days of marriage when life seems about as good as life can get. We could not leave well enough alone."


My Take:
Expected to like it, but not quite the way I did. Expected a cathartic, glurgey, emotionally manipulative tearjerker in which at least one pet and/or child died before its time. Spoiler alert:  This didn't happen. Marley's a feel-good book, sure, and the ending is sad, but in a very natural, bittersweet way. A wise man I used to know (Filbert's late uncle) once told me that to love animals is to set yourself up for a lifetime of heartbreak; we don't usually dwell on it, but we know deep down that we're going to outlive all our pets except the last one or two. But we also know that every chewed wire, every gross waste management chore, every midnight veterinary emergency, and even that first wave of raw grief that stuns you with its intensity Every Damned Time, is worth it; in the immortal words of Garth Brooks, "I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance."

Tangent aside, this is an unexpectedly gentle and non-saccharine story of what it means to build a life and a family that includes a pet, and all the richness (joy, destruction, laughter, and sadness) our animal companions bring us.

Paging Passenger Hazelthyme

Sooo, by now, my loyal readers (yes, all 3 of you) have probably assumed I've given up on blogging. If you know me, and we've already established that I don't exactly have a faceless mass of internet-only followers, you know I haven't given up on reading. On the contrary, I've gone through more books in the past month and a half than I usually go through in, well, 2 or 3 months. (It's already been established that I'm a card-carrying book and library need.)

Blogging, however, has taken a back seat lately, as my life's changed pretty radically. In short, I've been working in Boston since mid-May (and in northern Ohio for a few weeks before that), coming home every other weekend and living in hotels and a well-located efficiency apartment since then. The job's an interesting one that's taught me more about my field and myself, and I've fallen hard for Boston (while feeling a bit disloyal to NYC, in whose shadow I grew up and which I've always stubbornly and probably undeservedly claimed as My City). The obvious, elephant-in-the-room drawback, of course, is that my family's still back home. My bleary-eyed breakfast table conversation with my husband, Filbert, takes place via text message. In 3 weeks, I missed 2 school concerts and an honor society induction; for the latter, Filbert couldn't get out of work either, so we had to ask Twig's best friend's parents to congratulate her and drive her home. I'm watching our new kitten grow up via Skype, during my daily check-ins with Filbert and Twig.

The experience hasn't been all bad, of course. As I keep saying in Real Life conversations, if I have to be stuck away from home in a small, dark apartment, I couldn't ask for a better place than Boston. Work is around the corner, and I'm across the street from a park and a T station. I not only don't have, want, or need a car with me; I haven't even bothered with the T except to get to and from the airport every other weekend. Instead, I walk. After a few aimless weeks of drowning my loneliness in Trader Joe's trail mix and the restaurants of Chinatown, and gorging myself on Law & Order reruns. I found WalkBoston.org, and I haven't looked back (well, unless it's to remember what street I'm on or make sure I really meant to take a right there).

At some point, I'll finish editing all the travelogue photos I've been taking on my phone (thank you, Snapseed -- best $5 I've spent in a while!) and establish a presence on one of the photo sharing sites. Heck, I'll enliven my LinkedIn profile and maybe even use that newfound enthusiasm for my work to get my job search back into gear (because as cool as Boston may be, I don't want to live away from Filbert and Twig indefinitely. The 3 of us relocating here, or to NYC, if the right opportunity arises? Well, that's a whole 'nother ball of wax.)

For now, though, I'm about to start turbo-logging everything I've read since I started hitting the road. More a list than real reviews under the circumstances, but hey, ya do watcha gotta do.