and how do we judge a man?

The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni by Nikki Giovanni

Almost exactly 20 years ago, I sat in my college mentor's office whining about how much I hated my 20th Century American Literature class.  Everything is so depressing, I said.  So hopeless, so nihilistic, and I hate the way these authors write.  Dr. C. took a small, slim volume off one of her shelves, put it in my hands, and said "I think this is what you need."

The book was Those Who Ride the Night Winds, and it started a love for Giovanni's poetry that has lasted for two decades.  She is not only my favorite poet; I daresay that if she didn't exist, I wouldn't even have a favorite poet.

There are two things I love about her poetry.  The first is the universality and deep emotion of her poems. Although a lot of her writing is clearly from the perspective of an African American woman who came of age in the early 60s, and I will admit that some of her earlier, more militant poetry makes me uncomfortable, it is a good kind of uncomfortable. It's the kind of uncomfortable that any human being should feel when reading about injustice.  And at its heart, all of her poetry is about relationships.  Relationships between men and women, between friends and rivals, Blacks and Whites, a person and herself, a person and the people she admires.

The other thing I love is her skill at taking emotions and experiences we've all had and distilling them to their purest essence.  One of my favorite lines from Hemingway (from one of his worst books) is, "You have to know how complicated it is, and then write it simply." Of this, Giovanni is a master.

Nothing I write can possibly do her justice, so I encourage everyone to check her out. I'll leave you with a few of my favorite lines from one of my favorite poems, "The December of my Springs."

perhaps there will be no
difference between the foolishness of age
and the foolishness of youth
some say we are responsible
for those we love
others know we are responsible
for those who love us

Status update...

At the four-month mark, I am at 22 books reviewed and 2 read but not yet reviewed - grand total of 24!

Seems a bit behind track, but I read like a fiend during school breaks and the summer (I literally read four books in the last week.)  I was able to read and (mostly) savor 90 books during the calendar year of 2010, so I just need to step it up half a notch to make my academic year goal!

Merry Christmas to Me!

Thanks to wonderful friends, I have three new books with which to begin the new year:

What the Night Knows by Dean Koontz (thank you, Cindy!)
Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot (thank you for the Nook gift card, Christine!)

I also purchased Cleopatra by Stacy Schiff...I was going to get it for the Nook, but I wanted that one as an analog book.

So I'll be getting my thriller on in early 2011!

The Ultimate Be-Yotch...

Nefertiti by Michelle Moran 


Never, ever have I worked through an author's backlist so quickly.  I picked up Cleopatra's Daughter in late August, and bing-bam-boom - now I have to wait till February for my next hit of Michelle Moran's exquisitely written historical fiction.

I have to say, though, that Nefertiti is the weak link out of the three, in part because the titular character is, forgive my French, a bitch on wheels. She is every girl you ever hated in high school, on steroids. Combine Gordon Gecko, the mom from The Manchurian Candidate, and Regina George in Mean Girls and you come kind of close to Nefertiti. This charming young lady is chosen to marry the wing-nut, I mean Pharoah, Amunhotep, who she is supposed to rein in and make more stable.

Ummmm, no.  She uses Amunhotep (who soon re-names himself Akenaten and begins Egypt's, if not the world's, first experiment with monotheism) to try and fulfill her own desire to be remembered forever. Fortunately, the book is narrated by N's sister Mudjodmnet (which means "Sweet Child of the Goddess Mut - no, I'm not a dork, not at all) who is very likeable, although not as strong a narrator as those in Moran's other two Egypt novels. But the tale of palace intrigue, of balancing personal desires with family obligations, is definitely worth the read.

Full disclosure:  I am a complete and utter history geek, and next to the Jazz Age, I would pick ancient Egypt as the time period I'd want to live in. (When, unlike other eras I could mention, they actually BATHED.) Moran's novels make me feel as if I'm living in that period.  She is utterly frank in her author's notes as to what is fact, what is fiction, and what is a blend of both. I also love the fact that she is also a history geek, and encourage all like-minded followers to visit her blog at http://michellemoran.blogspot.com/, where she posts the most amazing links to recent historical discoveries. (Like, they might have found Amelia Earhart's bones!)

Alas, I do have to wait until Feb. 2011 for Moran's next novel, in which she regrettably departs from Egypt and spins a tale of Madame Tussaud during the French Revolution, a period in which I'm not nearly as interested (and in which they bathed much less frequently.)  But I'm still in.  If anyone can make 18th century France smell good, it's Moran.

Take That, Katniss Everdeen

Matched by Ally Condie

The comparisons to The Hunger Games were inevitable: a not-too-distant future world and a love triangle fueled not just by passion but by politics. However, this is no copy-cat novel. Ally Condie just may have created a new young adult sub-genre.  Not the dystopian, but the dys-Utopian novel.

Imagine this: In a not-too-distant future, the Society has eradicated cancer and most other life-threatening diseases.  Everyone is matched to a vocation that is perfectly suited to his or her talents,  crime is virtually non-existent, and everyone dies peacefully at the age of 80.  The ideal world, right?

Wrong.  The fact that "Society" is with a capital "S" should've been your first clue.

Another way in which Society ensures health and longevity is that they match individuals to marry who have compatible genetic profiles to guarantee healthy children. (The whole genetic-engineering concept should be your second clue.) When 17-year-old Cassia Reyes is Matched, she is initially overjoyed to find that her Match is someone she knows, which doesn't happen very often - her best friend Xander.  Her euphoria lasts until the very next day.  When she puts the micro-card of her match in the computer to look at Xander's baby pictures and think about what a perfect life they will have, for the briefest second - another boy's face appears. And she knows him, too...a shy, smart outsider named Ky, who is actually more than an outsider. He is what the Society calls an Aberration, for reasons unknown. Those few seconds not only make Cassia start to question the validity of her Match, but set in motion a snowball effect that lead to her challenging the foundations of the Society she lives in.

While this isn't as much of an adrenaline rush as The Hunger Games and sequels, I found this novel (and its protagonist) more interesting, more plausible, and more relatable, than Collins' (admittedly superb) trilogy. I also liked that the secondary characters, in particular Cassia's parents, are much more layered than the adults in Hunger Games.

Matched is the first in a planned trilogy, and I'll be eagerly pre-ordering whatever comes next.

Four super-short reviews

I went on a bit of a non-fiction binge last month - the humorous essays were calling to me. Here are two non-fiction, and two fiction books that I can't quite scare up a separate post on.

Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog by Lisa Scottoline - Scottoline mostly writes novels, but this collection of essays (first published as newspaper columns) was my introduction to her, and it made me want to check out her fiction. Fun, funny, and makes me confident that I, too, will be a cool chick when in my 50s. (Even without the two divorces, precocious child, and four golden retrievers and psychotic Corgi that Scottoline boasts.)

I'm Dreaming of a Black Christmas by Lewis Black - What can be better, and more amusing, than a Christmas chronicle written by a non-observant Jew?  That the non-observant Jew in question be Lewis Black, coiner of the phrase "If you think about it too long, your head will explode."  I absolutely adore Black, and even though this isn't his strongest writing, it was an amusing and fast read.

The Family Man by Elinor Lipman - I almost abandoned this one, and I'm glad I didn't.  Take one Upper-West-Side-dwelling gay man, his recently widowed Fifth-Avenue-dwelling wife, and a long-estranged ex-daughter who is taking on the media con of the decade, and what do you get?  Charm and hilarity. It took awhile to warm up to this one, but it was worth it.

Maybe This Time by Jennifer Crusie - Crusie is a master of snappy dialogue - one can imagine her writing for Hepburn and Tracy- and she usually spins a good story. This one let me down somewhat. Those of you who know me well won't believe I'm saying this, but I really disliked the supernatural bent of her latest book. Her strength is creating fun, believable relationships (albeit much better-scripted than real life) and this was a wild digression.  Didn't hate it, but could've skipped it.

Non-Cat Lovers Might Just Want to Stop Here

Homer's Odyssey, by Gwen Cooper


So this is what happens when I go into Borders to "buy Doubt for film class." Before I even get near the DVD section, my eye is caught by the bait; a big red sign that says "BUY ONE, GET 50% OFF THE OTHER!" Such signs were made for suckers like me, and I am further seduced by this cover:



Come on, what am I - made of stone?


After doing my usual ritual when buying a book about an animal - flipping to the end to be sure the cat doesn't die (the cat doesn't die) - I rapidly picked up my second book, Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog by Lisa Scottoline, and proceeded to the checkout. Oh, yeah, I did remember to buy Doubt.

Author Cooper was an early-20s, non-profit do-gooder, crashing with a friend in South Beach when Homer came into her life.  Her vet called her about a kitten she'd found whose eyes were so severely infected that she had to remove them, but whose sweet and fun-loving spirit was undiminished by sightlessness. When Cooper met Homer, she found (much as I did when faced with the cover) that resistance was futile.

While the memoir is partially about Homer's blindness, it is more about his utter cat-ness; having been blinded when only a few days old, he doesn't realize he's different.  The difference is more in Cooper's, and the people she meets, perception of him.  He is remarkable by any standards (he once scared away a would-be burglar/rapist) and Cooper's writing suggests that it is because of, not in spite of, his "disability."

In other words - fun, funny, heartwarming and sometimes heart-twisting (I was somewhat traumatized when Cooper wrote about being separated from her cats on 9/11 and not being able to get back to them in her downtown apartment for three days - it was totally a "there for the grace of God" feeling) and anyone with a heart and a scrap of pro-feline sentiment will fall for Homer, his owner, and his cat-step-siblings.

I was further charmed by the fact that Gwen Cooper is donating 10% of all her domestic royalties to organizations that benefit abused, abandoned, and disabled animals.  Go, Gwen!  And not only is Homer alive and well, you can friend him on Facebook. (Well, of course I did. Duh.)

Required Reading for All 80s Children

Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield and My Formerly Hot Life by Stephanie Dolgoff



Rob Sheffield owes me $15.00.

I'm not demanding a refund for the book (which I got out of the library anyway and thoroughly enjoyed.)  I just feel like he should foot some small part of the iTunes bill I incurred downloading 80s one-hit wonders whose existence I had totally forgotten until I read his book. (Come on Eileen, anyone?)

Sheffield, who used to write for Rolling Stone magazine, is a master at capturing small moments, and this memoir beautifully illustrates how intimately songs are linked with memory.  It's part coming of age story, part love-letter to the 1980s, embracing the decade warts and all.  A big part of the book's charm is Sheffield's persona; he writes about his earlier dorky days from an adult perspective that is not embarrassed by, but embraces, his past and present dorkitude. Which, as a total dork, I totally dig. Plus, he's cute!  I would have totally loved to see him with a boom box outside my window blasting Peter Gabriel. (Students, and anyone born after 1990, you'll need to ask me about the reference.)  (How thoroughly this book reconnected me with my misspent youth is proven by the fact that I used the word "totally" twice in one paragraph.)

I absolutely love the subtitle of Stepanie Doloff's blog-turned-book: Dispatches From Just the Other Side of Young.  What a great way to describe us children of the 80s, now in our early 40s, who don't seem to have an age bracket.  When I was at my class reunion last month, hanging out with my fab friends (and watching many of us dance JUST LIKE WE USED TO) it occurred to me that we don't seem middle-aged, even though we're now probably older than the teachers we thought were old, old, OLD in high school. "Just the other side of young" is a beautiful way to put it.

 While I imagine sitting with Rob Sheffield at Starbucks and picking apart Duran Duran lyrics (what, exactly, is "the union of the snake" a metaphor for?), I would love to sit down with Dolgoff for a cosmo or three. Except, as she describes, it'd probably take us three months to pick a date when we could both get together, and we'd be feeling it a lot more than we used to the next day. She describes perfectly the disconcerting experience of one's first non-Southern "ma'am"-ing, and all the other minor adjustments (fashion and otherwise) that one must make as one transitions from "young" to "just the other side."

I don't want to give away too much because I want all of my female friends to read this book, but I do want to give a big "AMEN, sister!" to Dolgoff's suggestion that we abolish the custom of saying a woman looks good "for her age." No one says that Denzel Washingon or George Clooney look good "for their age," so let's get rid of that last little bit of gender bias, m'kay?

Lest you get the idea that Dolgoff is some kind of militant feminist/age-ist, rest assured - her tongue is firmly planted in cheek for most of her observations.  In fact, her breezy, smart-ass, mildly self-deprecating tone is part of the joy of this book.  It is human, relatable, and utterly identifiable. 

Stieg's Sophomore Slump

The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson

After reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and discovering that it could, indeed, live up to the hype, my expectations were way high for the second installment in the trilogy.  I was not dramatically, but mildly, let down.

Played With Fire picks up about a year after the events in Dragon Tattoo and life for Mikael Blomqvist has returned, somewhat, to normal. (Although, really - is there ANYONE this dude doesn't sleep with?)  Not so for Salander, who has cut Blomqvist off and is living off the proceeds of her last caper in Dragon Tattoo.  Except, of course (Salander being Salander) she gets in boiling water and Blomqvist is the only one who can help her.

Mara Rooney

Noomi Rapace. Swedish Salander or Hollywood Salander? You decide.

While Played With Fire takes even longer to reach the main plot than Dragon Tattoo did, it didn't feel as long in this book because I had an emotional investment in the characters this time around. And on the topic of characters: As complex and multi-layered as Salander is (and I totally agree with the majority that she is one of the most interesting, unpredictable female characters in the history of ever) I find Blomqvist to be equally....well, not flat, exactly, but I don't see the charisma that makes every woman he meets want to sleep with him. Larsson tells us he's charismatic, but he doesn't show us. I like him, but I don't get him. Finally, I found some of the big plot reveals to be kind of predictable...but then again, I point out foreshadowing for a living, so I'm kind of a tough crowd.  On the plus side - the descriptions of Stockholm, the Swedish countryside, and the minutiae of daily life in Sweden kind of make me want to live there for awhile - and that's something I NEVER thought I'd say!

I found out from a student after I finished the book that it's a set-up for the last book in the trilogy, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest (which I own but have not yet read) and that made sense.  It felt like a "bridge" novel, kind of the print equivalent of The Empire Strikes Back.  When reading over this review, it strikes me as much more negative than my actual experience of reading the book was.  I really did enjoy the book, it just didn't have the "wow" factor of Dragon Tattoo.