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.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
The Best of 2015
I read more - and more widely - in 2015 than any year in my life. Looking back through this year's blog entries, I've documented 100 books since January 1. Many have been wonderful, a greater number have been informative, and a few have been downright forgettable. I have read more highly-anticipated new releases this year, from Go Set a Watchman (which, I'm sorry, I hated) to In the Unlikely Event...(which made me want to find my Judy Blume collection from childhood and read it all over again) to Dead Wake and the Wright Brothers, titles by two of my favorite non-fiction writers that delivered exactly what I expected.
Given the extent of this year's reading list, I've decided to shake it up a bit from past years. Rather than providing a straight list of books with a date of review and synopsis, I've decided to categorize this year. So, without further ado, my favorite books of 2015:
Non-fiction:
Despite declaring two years ago that I should read less of war and disease, I seem to have read plenty of war books, if not disease. The war genre seems to encompass primarily the American Civil War, World War I, and World War II. The best Civil War book I read this year was easily They Fought Like Demons, which tells the story of female soldiers in the war, including one who gave birth while on picket duty. This is an aspect of the war about which I knew virtually nothing, and was deeply interesting to learn about.
Moving chronologically, the best World War I books were easily The Last of the Doughboys, which I read in January, but was in fact one of the very best books I read the entire year, and Over the Top, which one could argue belongs more to the memoir category. Arthur Guy Empey captures the language and atmosphere of the trenches so thoroughly, though, that I would be remiss not to call this a book of war, and give it its due here.
As for World War II, in the European theater, The Last Jews in Berlin is the amazing and moving story of a handful of Jews who managed to go underground right under Hitler's nose and survive the war by dint of wit, luck, and frequently the goodness of strangers. It is simultaneously heartbreaking and heartening. Moving to the other side of the world, Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors provides a compelling glimpse of the last major naval engagement of the war - and, thus far, in history. It is one of the most riveting, explosive accounts of the war I've read. Like They Fought Like Demons, it also gave me new perspective on an aspect of the war about which I knew very little before reading this book.
Anyone who has followed this blog for the past few months knows that I've also read a heady dose of memoirs. I have said it before, but James Herriot and the Gilbreths are a balm for the soul. Herriot's anecdotes of life as a country vet in England from the 1930s to the 50s transport the reader to a time and place that no longer exists. They're also frequently hilarious. As for the Gilbreths, they, too, provide a window into a lost world, both in terms of time and place, but also in terms of a lifestyle. Does anyone have 12 children anymore??
Fiction:
Readers of this blog will know that, one, I read far less fiction than non-fiction and, two, that what fiction I do read is almost without exception of the historical variety. Having said that, I read a handful of truly excellent novels this year. They range from I Shall Be Near You, the tear-jerking tale of a new wife who goes off to fight alongside her husband in the Union Army (and, yes, this book inspired my reading of the previously mentioned Demons), to the much-acclaimed All the Light We Cannot See (which is as good as advertised). In the same vein, I enjoyed The Paris Architect as much as any novel I read this year. Lucien Bernard begins as a coward and ends as a hero, which is the most a reader can ask of a character whose success they're rooting for, even if, at times, against their better judgment.
Moving away from war-time fiction, Under a Dark Summer Sky set in the Jim Crow-era Florida Keys against the backdrop of the most powerful hurricane to ever strike the United States, combines the suspense of a natural disaster with the mystery of an attempted murder, spun around larger questions of morality. I also very much liked Ahab's Wife. Sena Jeter Naslund has envisioned a lively history for the wife of Captain Ahab (yes, he of Moby Dick fame). This story sees Ahab's wife, Una, through numerous adventures, a few of which veer just the other side of believable, but ultimately this is an excellent story filled with some of the finest prose I encountered all year.
Finally, I would be remiss not to include Meely LaBauve here, as the single most light-hearted and fun book I read all year. Light-hearted may be a bit of stretch given that Meely is a motherless boy with an alcoholic, absentee father, and his own share of troubles with the law. Still, Meely's spirit infuses this book, and I remember it fondly as perhaps the most entertaining book I read in 2015.
Happy New Year and Happy Reading!
Given the extent of this year's reading list, I've decided to shake it up a bit from past years. Rather than providing a straight list of books with a date of review and synopsis, I've decided to categorize this year. So, without further ado, my favorite books of 2015:
Non-fiction:
Despite declaring two years ago that I should read less of war and disease, I seem to have read plenty of war books, if not disease. The war genre seems to encompass primarily the American Civil War, World War I, and World War II. The best Civil War book I read this year was easily They Fought Like Demons, which tells the story of female soldiers in the war, including one who gave birth while on picket duty. This is an aspect of the war about which I knew virtually nothing, and was deeply interesting to learn about.
Moving chronologically, the best World War I books were easily The Last of the Doughboys, which I read in January, but was in fact one of the very best books I read the entire year, and Over the Top, which one could argue belongs more to the memoir category. Arthur Guy Empey captures the language and atmosphere of the trenches so thoroughly, though, that I would be remiss not to call this a book of war, and give it its due here.
As for World War II, in the European theater, The Last Jews in Berlin is the amazing and moving story of a handful of Jews who managed to go underground right under Hitler's nose and survive the war by dint of wit, luck, and frequently the goodness of strangers. It is simultaneously heartbreaking and heartening. Moving to the other side of the world, Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors provides a compelling glimpse of the last major naval engagement of the war - and, thus far, in history. It is one of the most riveting, explosive accounts of the war I've read. Like They Fought Like Demons, it also gave me new perspective on an aspect of the war about which I knew very little before reading this book.
Anyone who has followed this blog for the past few months knows that I've also read a heady dose of memoirs. I have said it before, but James Herriot and the Gilbreths are a balm for the soul. Herriot's anecdotes of life as a country vet in England from the 1930s to the 50s transport the reader to a time and place that no longer exists. They're also frequently hilarious. As for the Gilbreths, they, too, provide a window into a lost world, both in terms of time and place, but also in terms of a lifestyle. Does anyone have 12 children anymore??
Fiction:
Readers of this blog will know that, one, I read far less fiction than non-fiction and, two, that what fiction I do read is almost without exception of the historical variety. Having said that, I read a handful of truly excellent novels this year. They range from I Shall Be Near You, the tear-jerking tale of a new wife who goes off to fight alongside her husband in the Union Army (and, yes, this book inspired my reading of the previously mentioned Demons), to the much-acclaimed All the Light We Cannot See (which is as good as advertised). In the same vein, I enjoyed The Paris Architect as much as any novel I read this year. Lucien Bernard begins as a coward and ends as a hero, which is the most a reader can ask of a character whose success they're rooting for, even if, at times, against their better judgment.
Moving away from war-time fiction, Under a Dark Summer Sky set in the Jim Crow-era Florida Keys against the backdrop of the most powerful hurricane to ever strike the United States, combines the suspense of a natural disaster with the mystery of an attempted murder, spun around larger questions of morality. I also very much liked Ahab's Wife. Sena Jeter Naslund has envisioned a lively history for the wife of Captain Ahab (yes, he of Moby Dick fame). This story sees Ahab's wife, Una, through numerous adventures, a few of which veer just the other side of believable, but ultimately this is an excellent story filled with some of the finest prose I encountered all year.
Finally, I would be remiss not to include Meely LaBauve here, as the single most light-hearted and fun book I read all year. Light-hearted may be a bit of stretch given that Meely is a motherless boy with an alcoholic, absentee father, and his own share of troubles with the law. Still, Meely's spirit infuses this book, and I remember it fondly as perhaps the most entertaining book I read in 2015.
Happy New Year and Happy Reading!
Target Tokyo: The Story of the Sorge Spy Ring
Target Tokyo: The Story of the Sorge Spy Ring (not to be confused with Target Tokyo: Jimmy Doolittle...) is the history of the Richard Sorge Soviet spy ring that operated in Japan for nearly a decade, from 1933 to 1941. The Sorge ring is credited with providing Stalin some of the most crucial intelligence he received regarding Japan's intentions towards the USSR, leading him to go so far as to remove divisions of troops from Siberia and use them against German forces in the west, possibly turning the tide of the entire war.
That said...
I've been dawdling with Target Tokyo for the better part of six weeks now. The topic (espionage) interest me, as does the time period (immediate pre-war period) and location (Japan). There's no questioning the quality of research Gordon W. Prange has put into this work, and it is well written to boot.
That said...
I'm sorry, but it's just a bit dull. In fact, after six weeks of on-and-off reading, I've only just reached the half-way point, and haven't determined whether I will continue. Prange has included virtually every detail about every individual connected to the ring. As research, it's masterful, but as reading, frankly, it's a bit boring.
The ultimate verdict?
For World War II-era espionage, give me Operation Mincemeat any day of the week.
That said...
I've been dawdling with Target Tokyo for the better part of six weeks now. The topic (espionage) interest me, as does the time period (immediate pre-war period) and location (Japan). There's no questioning the quality of research Gordon W. Prange has put into this work, and it is well written to boot.
That said...
I'm sorry, but it's just a bit dull. In fact, after six weeks of on-and-off reading, I've only just reached the half-way point, and haven't determined whether I will continue. Prange has included virtually every detail about every individual connected to the ring. As research, it's masterful, but as reading, frankly, it's a bit boring.
The ultimate verdict?
For World War II-era espionage, give me Operation Mincemeat any day of the week.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
What the Lady Wants: A Novel of Marshall Field and the Gilded Age
After a heavy load of non-fiction, I needed some lighter reading this week.
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