Gutenberg's Apprentice is a delightful little novel. The star, if you will, is young Peter Schoeffer a scribe-on-the-make (this is the fifteenth century, after all), who is devastated to be recalled from Paris to Mainz, Germany, by his foster father in order to become part of a harebrained new scheme to print books. Nothing could be more anathema to Peter's tastes and world view. Still, duty beckons and he enters into an apprenticeship with the inimitable Johann Gutenberg. The rest, as they say, is history: Gutenberg, his business partner (Johann Fust, Peter's foster father), his apprentice, and the rest of the printing team accomplish the impossible by reproducing the Bible using a printing press.
Reading this book, what most impressed me was actually the power of the Church. In twenty-first century America, it's easy to forget how all-encompassing and all-powerful the church was several centuries ago. Other books set in the approximate time period (The Midwife of Venice, for example, or Year of Wonders) certainly touch on the theme. Alix Christie hammers it home: one could do nothing - including print a book - without the explicit permission of the Church. In many respects, people's lives were not their own, a point worth remembering when thinking back on (European) history.
I would be remiss not to add that I enjoyed Christie's writing. Her characters were real, without feeling forced, and she really captured the essence of life in the Middle Ages, without belaboring the point. Often when reading fiction, I complain that the action unspools too slowly or that the author is in a hurry toward the end, but Christie committed none of those grave errors. From start to finish, Gutenberg's Apprentice was a pleasure to read. Reading the author's note and discovering how much of the book was true was the icing on the cake for me. Schoeffer, Fust, and (of course) Gutenberg not only really existed, but based on historical records, existed largely as Christie portrayed them. For a connoisseur of excelling historical fiction, there are few happier conclusions than learning that it really happened the way the author said.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Friday, January 22, 2016
Avenue of Mysteries
How disappointing.
John Irving is a master of improbable characters facing improbable circumstances. I have read - and loved - many of his books that fit this mold. (A Prayer for Owen Meany is the best example of this style - and still the funniest book I have ever read - but A Son of the Circus and The World According to Garp also fit this general mold.)
In Avenue of Mysteries, the characters and circumstances both crossed the line from improbable to impossible, but worst of all, the entire book felt forced. Also, I don't think I laughed out loud a single time. There's no rule that says Irving must make me laugh, but I have come to expect it and certainly appreciate it.
The premise of Avenue of Mysteries is that Juan Diego, a Mexican-American author who loathes to be identified as such, travels to the Philippines to fulfill a promise he made decades before to a man whose name he does not know. This trip allows (causes? forces?) Juan Diego to reflect back on his childhood in Mexico: his beginnings living in a dump with his equally improbable sister, who has a gift for readings minds and knowing the future. In the course of his travels, Juan Diego meets two women, Miriam and Dorothy, whose acquaintance dramatically alters the nature of his travels.
All of which is to say that I believe Avenue of Mysteries is Irving's most nonsensical, dare-I-say-absurd, novel to date. Had I not actually been in the Philippines, feeling Juan Diego's very real pain over the traffic in Manila and the state of the city (yes, bomb sniffing dogs are everywhere), I probably wouldn't have finished it. It's also completely believable that visiting Manila would remind Juan Diego entirely too much of Mexico - Irving's sentence to that effect early in the book was probably the most realistic bit!
I don't normally go seeking other reviews to include here, but I was so disappointed in this novel that I had to see if it was me or if it was Irving. Judging by the USA Today review, it was me. From their review: "Irving weaves together two vibrant storylines into a charmingly inventive novel."
USA Today also gave it four stars, where as I am included to think that one is sufficient.
John Irving is a master of improbable characters facing improbable circumstances. I have read - and loved - many of his books that fit this mold. (A Prayer for Owen Meany is the best example of this style - and still the funniest book I have ever read - but A Son of the Circus and The World According to Garp also fit this general mold.)
In Avenue of Mysteries, the characters and circumstances both crossed the line from improbable to impossible, but worst of all, the entire book felt forced. Also, I don't think I laughed out loud a single time. There's no rule that says Irving must make me laugh, but I have come to expect it and certainly appreciate it.
The premise of Avenue of Mysteries is that Juan Diego, a Mexican-American author who loathes to be identified as such, travels to the Philippines to fulfill a promise he made decades before to a man whose name he does not know. This trip allows (causes? forces?) Juan Diego to reflect back on his childhood in Mexico: his beginnings living in a dump with his equally improbable sister, who has a gift for readings minds and knowing the future. In the course of his travels, Juan Diego meets two women, Miriam and Dorothy, whose acquaintance dramatically alters the nature of his travels.
All of which is to say that I believe Avenue of Mysteries is Irving's most nonsensical, dare-I-say-absurd, novel to date. Had I not actually been in the Philippines, feeling Juan Diego's very real pain over the traffic in Manila and the state of the city (yes, bomb sniffing dogs are everywhere), I probably wouldn't have finished it. It's also completely believable that visiting Manila would remind Juan Diego entirely too much of Mexico - Irving's sentence to that effect early in the book was probably the most realistic bit!
I don't normally go seeking other reviews to include here, but I was so disappointed in this novel that I had to see if it was me or if it was Irving. Judging by the USA Today review, it was me. From their review: "Irving weaves together two vibrant storylines into a charmingly inventive novel."
USA Today also gave it four stars, where as I am included to think that one is sufficient.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation
Cokie Roberts's Founding Mothers has been on my reading list for some time. I put off reading it, though, after I finished Capital Dames, Roberts's work on women of a slighter later generation (namely, the Civil War as opposed to the Revolutionary War). Have just finished Founding Mothers, I can say what a mistake it would have been to not read it.
As a refresher, my chief complaint about Capital Dames was that Roberts tells the reader, rather than shows the reader, about the clever letters the women wrote. Rarely does she offer the reader more than a sentence or two at a time. In this way, it's difficult to get a real sense of the women as individuals, and they all kind of run together. Not until the last chapter did I feel like their true voices began to emerge.
In contrast, the women of Founding Mothers - Abigail Adams, Martha Washington, Eliza Pinckney, and Jane Mecom chief among them - emerge fully formed. Perhaps it is a testament to these women, that they were made of sterner stuff or wrote with more grace and humor, or perhaps it is the way Roberts approached this book, in a conversational tone full of her own humorous asides, but something here really clicked. (And speaking of asides, Mecom was the youngest sister of Benjamin Franklin, and his lifelong correspondent. She fares much better in Founding Mothers than in Book of Ages, which is entirely devoted to the Franklins' correspondence.)
Roberts opens with a disclaimer that these were extraordinary women, women who had the ear of the Founding Fathers, and that their experiences were not representative of the vast majority of women of their time. Fair enough, but Roberts also delves into the existence of the ordinary woman, where possible, and as it fits neatly within the narrative. Her account of women soldiers in the Revolutionary War is fascinating, particularly in contrast to the way those of the Civil War were treated. The former received official recognition and pensions; the latter were shunned and shamed for decades. She also examines the (slow) evolution of girls' education and the initial fights over suffrage. For example, in New Jersey women voted in large numbers until 1807 when voter fraud led the state's (need I say: all male) Assembly to clarify that only white males would be allowed to vote. But I digress.
Roberts also devotes no small amount of ink delving into the various scandals of the day, more than one of which revolved around Alexander Hamilton. Evidently, Martha Washington showed good common sense in naming her tomcat Hamilton. Even by today's standards he was a bit of a cad.
In short, Founding Mothers is pure reading pleasure. It is one of the best and most complete books on women's lives, certainly the best I've read since Plantation Mistress.
Five stars.
As a refresher, my chief complaint about Capital Dames was that Roberts tells the reader, rather than shows the reader, about the clever letters the women wrote. Rarely does she offer the reader more than a sentence or two at a time. In this way, it's difficult to get a real sense of the women as individuals, and they all kind of run together. Not until the last chapter did I feel like their true voices began to emerge.
In contrast, the women of Founding Mothers - Abigail Adams, Martha Washington, Eliza Pinckney, and Jane Mecom chief among them - emerge fully formed. Perhaps it is a testament to these women, that they were made of sterner stuff or wrote with more grace and humor, or perhaps it is the way Roberts approached this book, in a conversational tone full of her own humorous asides, but something here really clicked. (And speaking of asides, Mecom was the youngest sister of Benjamin Franklin, and his lifelong correspondent. She fares much better in Founding Mothers than in Book of Ages, which is entirely devoted to the Franklins' correspondence.)
Roberts opens with a disclaimer that these were extraordinary women, women who had the ear of the Founding Fathers, and that their experiences were not representative of the vast majority of women of their time. Fair enough, but Roberts also delves into the existence of the ordinary woman, where possible, and as it fits neatly within the narrative. Her account of women soldiers in the Revolutionary War is fascinating, particularly in contrast to the way those of the Civil War were treated. The former received official recognition and pensions; the latter were shunned and shamed for decades. She also examines the (slow) evolution of girls' education and the initial fights over suffrage. For example, in New Jersey women voted in large numbers until 1807 when voter fraud led the state's (need I say: all male) Assembly to clarify that only white males would be allowed to vote. But I digress.
Roberts also devotes no small amount of ink delving into the various scandals of the day, more than one of which revolved around Alexander Hamilton. Evidently, Martha Washington showed good common sense in naming her tomcat Hamilton. Even by today's standards he was a bit of a cad.
In short, Founding Mothers is pure reading pleasure. It is one of the best and most complete books on women's lives, certainly the best I've read since Plantation Mistress.
Five stars.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Ruins of Us
Keija Parssinen's novel is a bit off the beaten path from my usual readings. It is current fiction, set very much in the present, but in Saudi Arabia. This is only natural as Parssinen is herself Saudi-born. The protagonist is Rosalie al-Baylani, the American wife of a Saudi billionaire, whose world is upended when she discovers that her husband has taken a second wife.
Ruins of Us is the story of how she navigates these new and fearful waters, but more importantly it is the story of love, of choices, and of memory. Through Rosalie, Parssinen powerfully explores the essence of choice: what it is to make a choice, how one weighs past and present and future when doing so, and how each choice, no matter how small, is connected to the larger whole of one's life.
Each of the characters, of whom there are primarily five, are well created. These are full-blooded people, complex in nature, and utterly human. They range from 14-year-old Mariam al-Baylani, who years for just a bit more freedom, to her older brother, Faisal, who flirts dangerously with the thrills of extremism. The al-Baylani family feels real and complete, awful and wonderful, loving and resentful. They are, in short, all of the things that real families are at one time or another.
I must confess, given how much I loved the first nine-tenths of the book, I was deeply disappointed in the last 20-odd pages. I felt that Parssinen worked too quickly to wrap up the story after its climax. I would have liked to read more about how the relationships evolved and, particularly in the case of Rosalie, how she determined to make her choice.
Three-and-a-half stars.
Ruins of Us is the story of how she navigates these new and fearful waters, but more importantly it is the story of love, of choices, and of memory. Through Rosalie, Parssinen powerfully explores the essence of choice: what it is to make a choice, how one weighs past and present and future when doing so, and how each choice, no matter how small, is connected to the larger whole of one's life.
Each of the characters, of whom there are primarily five, are well created. These are full-blooded people, complex in nature, and utterly human. They range from 14-year-old Mariam al-Baylani, who years for just a bit more freedom, to her older brother, Faisal, who flirts dangerously with the thrills of extremism. The al-Baylani family feels real and complete, awful and wonderful, loving and resentful. They are, in short, all of the things that real families are at one time or another.
I must confess, given how much I loved the first nine-tenths of the book, I was deeply disappointed in the last 20-odd pages. I felt that Parssinen worked too quickly to wrap up the story after its climax. I would have liked to read more about how the relationships evolved and, particularly in the case of Rosalie, how she determined to make her choice.
Three-and-a-half stars.
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