Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins

Posted on August 24, 2010 by Thistle

MockingjayNo Spoilers Section

Excited anticipation, with a little hesitance as well – that’s how I met with Mockingjay the morning I got up early and went to Walmart, forcing the lady stocking the books to open up a box so I could get a copy. She didn’t even know what Mockingjay was. Sigh. Sometimes I realize just how insular the book world is, and how little people outside of our world know about it.

The verdict? I loved every minute of Mockingjay. So much so that I read it twice. People complain that the beginning is slow, but I couldn’t disagree more. It was perfectly paced, while the end was actually a little too fast! There was very little talk of the love triangle (thank goodness after Catching Fire!) and the book focused more on Katniss’ journey, which I found fascinating. The beginning laid out a very strong emotional ride that I loved. While I never got teared up the way I do in the one section of The Hunger Games, there was instead one moment that had me laughing out loud for a good ten minutes. There was a wonderful balance of light and dark, and the ending was just perfect.

Unlike Catching Fire, the events were again minute-to-minute, without much recap, so the writing no longer had that awkward, stilted feel so prevalent in the first half of CF. Beyond losing the awkwardness, there were places where the writing was just downright gorgeous. For instance, take a look at this (spoiler-free) paragraph:

I’m not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together. The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt … and I could shatter into strange, razor-sharp shards.

Mockingjay exceeded my expectations in every way and completely made up for Catching Fire. Katniss was back to her normal, wonderful, not-stupid self!! Now I want to go back and reread the whole trilogy. There’s, of course, new information given in this book, and I want to see those old books in light of the new.

A few last notes: First, why do people take such issue with the naming system in Panem? I’ve heard people say Collins “makes up” ridiculous names, but at least half of them are old Latin names that she didn’t make up at all! Cressida, Messalla, Plutarch, Castor, Pollux, Octavia, Flavius, Venia, so on and so on. I don’t see what the big fuss is! Second, I really, really want a map of the Districts! We get more information about some of them in this book, and I’m dying to see what North American looks like under this new layout!

Spoiler Section
DO NOT READ PAST THIS IF YOU HAVEN’T READ MOCKINGJAY. Unless you don’t care about spoilers.

Also: This will be long. You have been warned. This is literally the longest review I’ve ever written.

The third book in this series has Katniss wandering around the underground world of District 13. Her home in 12 has been destroyed, with few survivors. District 13 runs on precise schedules and rules, and they all want Katniss to be the Mockingjay, a figurehead and mascot for the Rebels in this war. Katniss herself is confused, disoriented, grieving, and in pain. She’s in no shape to become a mascot, but she has little choice if she wants to save the people she loves.

There were so many good things to talk about in this book! First and foremost, I love the message on war: War is never one-sided. It’s messy, it takes sacrifices, and sometimes both sides will cross over an invisible line between fighting for justice and just plain inhumanity. Like Barty Crouch in the first war against Voldemort, sometimes the “good” side will fight according the same dirty rule book as the “bad” side. Gale with his bombs and his avalanche, playing by Snow’s rules in a fight to make a world better than Snow’s. How can you make a world better if you lose your humanity by using the same dirty tricks? It’s like what Peeta said before the first Hunger Games – the most important thing is not to lose your SELF in this war.

People really became divided here, those who wanted to win with the least amount of violence possible, and those who didn’t care who they destroyed in their quest to win. War divides. There are people who can see that no one is purely good or evil, and those who are blinded by their politics. The conversation Katniss and Gale have about her prep team is a great example of this, because are the prep team really to be hated? They may be wrong in doing what they do, but you can’t blame them either. This is their world. This is what they’ve been taught. They genuinely care for Katniss, even as they prepare her for slaughter. Good or evil?

War is so messy, and I love that Mockingjay didn’t end in some glorious battle scene. I love that everything fell apart, until you don’t know who’s on which side. Good, bad, right, wrong, it all gets jumbled up. Is Coin any better than Snow? Will Paylor be? There is no glorious climax in war, and I love that in the end, there was no real resolution. The Rebels won, oh yes, but to what purpose? By the end, it all just seems pointless in the amount of life that is lost. It didn’t slip by me, the irony of Prim’s death, seconds from the war’s end. Prim, who would have died had she gone to the Hunger Games in Book 1. Prim, for whose life Katniss tried to give her own, sparking the revolution that, in the end, could not save her. Prim, who after everything, died anyway, with Katniss powerless to save her. It was a masterstroke on Collins’ part.

The resolution of this novel is so anticlimactic, which in some twisted, grim way felt perfect to me. Exactly as it should be. Unexpected realism, and a good message brought with it. Still, even after reading the book twice, I do have some unanswered questions. There were conversations throughout the book that never led anywhere, like foreshadowing gone wrong. Boggs’ last words to Katniss are never fully explained. And why, why, did Katniss vote YES to the new Hunger Games? Was it because she knew she was going to assassinate Coin, and thus the new Games would never happen anyway? Did she say YES only to get Coin to let her guard down? Or was it because she knew it was a choice between a handful of innocent children dying and the whole population of the Capitol? You never find out if that last Games took place, and I want to know. I want to understand Katniss’ motivation, because in every other respect, I understand her so well.

That’s one of the reasons I loved this series so much. I love Katniss. So many readers were irritated with her, particularly when it came to the love triangle, but I understood her so well, and her character was so well developed for the first and third books (not so much in CF). Think about who she really is: Katniss, oldest of two, growing up in a horrible place, loses her father and mother at 11 years old. Suddenly, she’s in charge of providing for her family. She has to take care of them and keep them from starvation or worse. She never has a chance to process her grief for either parent, and the only way she survives is to bottle up those emotions and focus on the only thing that in that moment matters: survival.

Katniss is a girl who knows only one thing, and when anything takes her out of that comfort zone, she is lost. She knows how to read people, but not their emotions. Anything involving emotions throws her off-balance. Survival becomes more difficult with time because it’s less about food and protection, and more about emotional assault. Katniss deteriorates, becoming less and less able to handle the horrors around her. Death haunts her, and she hates the monsters people around her become in this war. She never wanted to be a leader or a fighter. She doesn’t even want to be seen. She only wants to be left alone to protect the ones she loves, and yet she’s become this crucial piece to a war game that she wants nothing to do with. And people sneer at her when she’s unable to do it well.

The unexpected, when it came to Katniss, was her singing. It was like she’d been pushed so far that the child part of her reemerged. All those years later, horror after horror, and suddenly she can do no more. So she sings. It’s a soft spot in her that proves she’s not only human, but has a heart. She is processing beyond childhood, finally growing up now that there’s no one left to protect.

I was Team Katniss, but I still enjoyed the way this book ended. Gale turned out to be everything I predicted for him. He was bloodthirsty, cruel, indifferent with innocent lives, and loved the revolution far more than he ever cared for Katniss. He proved, over and over, that he didn’t understand her at all, nor could they live together without fighting. Peeta, on the other hand, proved himself to be strong and resilient. The hijacking they did to him was horrible, but even through it, he’s still fighting for Katniss, still warning her of dangers to come, still trying to hold back those nightmares even as the impulses Snow put in him say to kill her. I felt so sorry for him, but admired him all the same, and the hijacking eventually helped Katniss to really appreciate how wonderful Peeta genuinely was. It gave her a way to pay back her debts to him, helping him to sort what was real and not real.

To put it all in Harry Potter terms (because that’s just fun to do), Gale is a Gryffindor: headstrong, brave, willing to jump into battle, restless, hasty, reckless, arrogant, and sometimes foolish. Peeta is a Hufflepuff: loyal, hard-working, and not necessarily too noticeable on his own. I guess there’s a reason I prefer Peeta. I married a Hufflepuff. They make great husbands.

As does Peeta. I was Team Katniss, but the way she ended up with Peeta, slowly over many years, was perfect. She doesn’t end up with him by default. She ends up with him because she realizes he’s exactly what she needs, and who she really loves. This paragraph from the last non-epilogue chapter says it all, and is exactly what I said in my predictions for Mockingjay:

What I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

That is why I’m okay with them ending up together. Because finally, Katniss can see exactly what many of the rest of us could see all through these books. It’s not because Peeta is a better person (though I would argue that he is). It’s because he’s better for her.

People complain about the epilogue, but I liked it. I love hearing how it takes Katniss many years, but she eventually decides she wants to have a family with Peeta. Katniss never wanted children, but that was only because she didn’t want them up for Reaping. There is no more Reaping. The epilogue says there are no more Hunger Games. For Katniss, the most important thing in the world is family and the people she loves and wants to protect. I don’t see her decision to have children when she is 30+ years old as contrary to her 16-year-old self. I see it as her facing her fears to do something that may scare her, but will also make her (and Peeta) happy. The anonymity of the children was also important, and goes back to Katniss’ wants in life. She never had the chance to stay quiet and hidden from the world. In not telling us her children’s names, she gives them that chance. It was perfect.

Last notes, written to two of my favorite characters, and then I will end this super-long review.

First, to Cinna. Oh Cinna, how I loved you, how I wished you’d come back! Alas, you didn’t, but at least you lived on in the things you designed and provided for Katniss. I was glad to at least see your presence all throughout the book.

Second, to Finnick. I didn’t really know you well in Catching Fire, and didn’t know how to judge you, but in this book, I fell completely in love. I know that happens often, what with discovering how many people were paying for your body after you won the Games (at only 14 years old! How tragic!), but what I loved was your self-deprecating humor. The stunt with the hospital robe cracked me up, so that I was laughing for a good ten minutes both times I read the book. I nearly cried when you died. No other death in Mockingjay affected me so much. I was glad to hear that you and Annie had a child, even if you never met him. You are the primary reason I want to reread the series, so I can see you in a new light in Catching Fire.

That’s all. I’m going to assume probably no one is still reading by this point, but I just had so much to say! Sorry to go on so long.

Posted in 2010, Prose, Young Adult | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Kindred, by Octavia Butler

Posted on August 22, 2010 by Thistle

kindredThe year is 1976. Dana, as a black woman married to a white man, has a myriad of race-related issues in her life. It’s not a good time period for interracial marriages, and both family and friends (on both sides) disapprove. Her troubles get worse, however, on Dana’s 26th birthday. That day, she is sucked back in time, landing in slavery-day Maryland just in time to save a young white boy that she later realizes is a distant ancestor.

This book was fantastic! I’ve tried to read Butler before, with Parable of the Sower, and didn’t get very far. I’ve wanted to try something else by her, though, and I picked this one up back in April at a school book sale. I had no idea what it was about before I began to read it. Each time I saw a review, I skipped the summary altogether. I had no idea there was a science-fiction element, or that it was about slavery. I didn’t even realize that the book was published in 1979 until after I finished it! I thought it was from the last decade. The back of my book calls Dana “a modern black woman” and I wondered about that, given that she lived a good 35 years ago, but now I realize “modern” was meant in relation to the book’s publication date.

I loved every bit of this book. I have this thing with history, where it’s very hard for me to imagine or empathize with any historical period without having some sort of personalization of it. Most history books teach about the broad basics, and the people they mention are groups and classes and figures. There’s rarely any focus on a specific individual’s experience, and that’s what I need to really understand and empathize with the group at large. Reading about Dana’s experiences in the antebellum South really made certain aspects of slavery real to me in a way no history book would ever be able to do. It’s no wonder this book has been used in school slavery units!

The book is intense. It never lets up, only spirals deeper and deeper. Butler did a magnificent job showing the tragedy of that time period, while at the same time illustrating that the situation was not completely black and white (no pun intended). The white people weren’t all bad. The slaves and free black people were not all innocent. Of course, the white people were in the wrong, but Butler breaks down modern-day thinking until you realize that the white people aren’t just wrong – they’re ignorant. They don’t know any better with the way they’ve been raised. The black people may know their condition is wrong, but they likewise have a conditioned response to accept their position as natural or normal. Definitely unbreakable. It’s horrible. The whole culture in the South from that time is repulsive.

Dana, in the beginning, can’t understand that mentality from either race. From her modern world, she never understood why the slaves didn’t fight for their freedom, and much of the book is the slow deterioration of her self-certainty. She starts to understand what’s at stake for everyone. If the white owner dies, the slaves will be separated from their families and sold into even worse conditions, so it would be disastrous (in more ways than one) to kill him. If the slaves rebel, they will not only be whipped and beaten, but their spouses or children might be sold off. Running away means almost certain death. In these conditions, it’s amazing that anyone escaped, or even attempted escape. I know I wouldn’t have been strong enough to do it.

Dana is a little stronger than I am, but even her tolerance for what she’ll allow done to her when she’s stuck in the past saving her great-great-great-(many times removed)-grandfather’s life grows wider and wider, until almost nothing remains. She’ll suffer a myriad of humiliations and work-orders to escape physical agony. She often ends up in a position to choose the lesser of two evils and the smaller of two pains.

I can’t sing this book’s praises enough! It is absolutely brilliant and I am only scratching the surface in this review. I can’t begin to talk about everything packed into these pages. It is so good, definitely a (semi) modern classic.

Posted in 2010, Adult, Prose | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

The Black City, by George Sand

Posted on August 20, 2010 by Thistle

blackcityÉtienne, nicknamed Sept-Epées for his expertise with metalwork, is a young man in mid-1800s France. He belongs to the lower class, but dreams of one day escaping poverty and the doldrums of daily work to live in the Upper Town above him. Only one thing can hold him back in the Black City where the lower class lives: love. And unfortunately, Sept-Epées loves a woman named Tonine. He must decide which is more important to him – love and happiness, or wealth and ambition.

When I first began to read The Black City, I expected this book was going to go one of two ways. Possibly Sept-Epées would take what we might call the Thomas Hardy route, shunning his feelings and working himself into the ground, only to find out that his lofty aim was either unattainable, or not as wonderful as he expected. Or, perhaps, it would follow what I like to call the “Of Human Bondage/Keep the Aspidistra Flying” route, where he pushes and pushes against his lot in life until he eventually gives in and accepts reality and responsibility.

George Sand surprised me. This was the first of her books I’ve read. Not too many have been translated into English and as far as I’m aware, none of them are widely available. Sand is quite popular in France and she was a very prolific writer. I’ve wanted to read one of her books ever since visiting her house at Nohant back in 1999. About a year ago, I saw The Black City at a Half Price Books and snatched it up. I didn’t know anything about the book itself, but I wanted to take the chance. It’s not often that you see her books around for the taking!

The Black City, despite being written in the 1800s, was surprisingly easy to read. It was fun, fast, and a great character study. It was far more optimistic than I expected (though I won’t tell you which of the two paths mentioned above – if either – that it follows), and there was quite a bit of commentary on idealistic socialist societies. There was also a great emphasis on the strength of women. In fact, without the women, absolutely nothing in this book ever would have been done well. The women are strong, self-sufficient, and decisive, helping their husbands, fathers, boyfriends, and friends to cope with the world around them.

I had so much fun reading this. Compared to other classics I’ve read on similar themes, this was a bit too idealistic and heavy-handed for my tastes when it comes to the literary aspects. However, the plot itself was enjoyable and I really liked the characters. In the end, I didn’t mind the idealism as much as I would have normally, because it was such an interesting ride along the way. I really do hope that I get a chance to read more from Sand!

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Rage: A Love Story, by Julie Anne Peters

Posted on August 17, 2010 by Thistle

RageJohanna’s life has been hard. Her father died when she was young, and she watched her mother slip away not long before she reached her senior year in high school. Now she lives on her sister’s mercy, and their relationship hasn’t been good in a long time.

Reeve’s life has been harder. She’s suffered her whole life under the abuse of a father, uncle, and drug-addled mother, and her twin brother is mentally handicapped on top of it. Coming from a home like this, Reeve is angry, unpredictable, and aggressive.

But Johanna still loves her. No matter what Reeve says or does, Johanna won’t let go. No matter how much Reeve hurts her.

This was a fascinating book, my fourth by the wonderful Julie Anne Peters. It’s very difficult for me to know what to say about it. I suppose I’ll start by just giving you my experience with the book. Just like with all of Peters’ books so far, I picked it up, started reading, and could not put the book down until I was done. Unlike her other books, this one didn’t make me tear up or cry, but instead turned my stomach a little, but in a good way. It was masterfully done.

When I read Between Mom and Jo, I was so invested in Nick’s character that I felt everything along with him. The same happened here, with Johanna as the narrator. I went through the book feeling her emotions, seeing with her skewed, blinded vision. She funneled in, and around, and deeper, never realizing when she crossed the line between loyalty and allowing herself to become a victim. I could see, but she couldn’t, and with that double vision, I felt just sickened for everything that she went through, and all the pain she felt in more ways than one. It was extremely claustrophobic. I wanted to slap her awake, but at the same time, I understood so well.

Because really, where do you draw that line between loyalty and victimhood? At what point do you stay for someone who desperately needs you, even when they are acting against everyone’s better judgement, and at what point do you separate yourself and say, enough, I’m done? When does abandoning a person justify the pain you will cause them by leaving, when you said you’d always stay? But when does staying with them while they hurt you justify your loyalty?

It gets all mixed up and confused. No, Reeve was never right to treat Johanna the way she did, of course not. No one ever deserves to be abused, and it’s never right to become an abuser. But how much of it was beyond Reeve’s control, given the life she grew up with? I can’t say she didn’t need someone to help and love her. She desperately needed help and love. Johanna, a natural nurturer, allowed her infatuation to blossom into a sort of protectiveness that blinded her. All she knew was that Reeve needed to learn how to trust and love, and the only way for that to happen was for someone not to betray her, ie abandon her. Johanna wanted to be that person, but at what cost to herself?

There is no easy answer here, which is what makes Julie Anne Peters’ books so great. I have been in a place in my life where I’ve had to decide between loyalty and self-preservation (though thankfully never with physical abuse!!). It’s a tough place to be in. A horrible place. Even if you’re only trying to survive, the guilt inherent in pulling away is enough to crush you. We are taught to put others before ourselves, and this is one place where we can’t. That doesn’t stop the guilt, the pain, or the fear, though.

This is a great book. Absolutely wonderful. Like I said, I felt sick after reading it because the situation is just so horrible. But it was the kind of sick that says this book was amazing, and it did its job fantastically. This is no ordinary story. It’s one that needs to be read.

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Foiled, by Jane Yolen

Posted on August 16, 2010 by Thistle

foiledAllie has grown up fencing and is really good at what she does. Perhaps too good. Perhaps more people than she knows have taken notice of her.

Chris said in his review that this was a strange book all the way through, with a twist near the end so that the book became VERY weird. That is 100% true. I admit, I like the first three-quarters of the book better, where Allie is fencing and dealing with her first real crush at school. I loved her awkwardness and quirkiness, and how she threw herself into her fencing because she didn’t identify with anyone else around her. I loved the art, especially the strange crows flying around in half the panels. The guy she’s interested in, Avery, is so creepy, but it’s hard to tell if he’s just an odd person or something dangerous.

The last quarter of the book, yes, got weird. And colorful, art-wise, opposed to the gorgeous blue monotone of before. I didn’t like the story or the art as much at this point, nor did I like which direction the story went. I would have preferred something much different, but I suppose that was to be expected. It seems to be a pattern for me with most of the graphic novels I’ve read this year – that I really love them to start, and at their climax, they shift and fall short of my expectations. But Foiled was better than most. I can accept the end, even if it’s not the way I wanted it to be. And I really did love the lead-up. It scores higher in my book because of that.

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Market Day, by James Sturm

Posted on August 15, 2010 by Thistle

Market-Day---SturmMendleman makes rugs by hand and sells them to support his growing family in the market in early 1900s Eastern Europe. One day, however, the person who usually buys his rugs is no longer in business. Mendleman can no longer support his family with his craft, which sends him into a deep depression.

I really enjoyed about 85% of this book. The story and art were both wonderful, and I loved the simplicity of both. But then the last 15% of this book degrades into disgusting depravity: dirty jokes, slurs against women, hallucinations of violence and rape, and alcoholic stupor. The book went nowhere at the end and left me completely unsatisfied. It made me want to throw it across the room. Maybe I just missed the point. I don’t know. But I’m glad that I only spent half an hour reading it. Ick.

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The Summing Up, by William Somerset Maugham

Posted on August 13, 2010 by Thistle

summingThe Summing Up is a combination memoir and writer’s manual, similar to On Writing by Stephen King. Maugham wrote it in his mid-60s, fearing that he might be close to death and thus that he should complete this before he died. Ironically, he went on to live until he was 91, and published many books after The Summing Up.

When I first started the book, I was absolutely in love with it. Maugham thinks about writing much the way I do, so I was jotting down quotes several times a page until I finally gave that up, deleted the document I was working in, and just read. I loved hearing his perspectives on grammar and style, as well as his thoughts about religion and culture. He was far funnier than I expected him to be. I’ve been reading Maugham’s books for nearly a decade and have read at least 13 of them, so I’m quite familiar with his style and the way he thinks, but I didn’t know he had such a comic and self-deprecating streak. It was awesome!

Unfortunately, all the good stuff of this book happened in the first half. The second half was pedantic, repetitive, and not nearly as focused. I got bored very fast, which made me really sad. Maugham was no longer funny, and he talked a lot more about his life than about his writing (which is the part I was interested in). I’ve been saying since early this summer that I no longer enjoy memoirs, and apparently this pertains even to people I really love, like Maugham. Besides, much of what he said was just the factual rehash of his semi-autobiographical novel, Of Human Bondage, which I read and loved years ago. I didn’t need to read it again here.

This wasn’t Maugham’s best work, and really I’d only recommend it 1) for people who love Maugham and 2) for the first half of the book only. And honestly I can’t imagine anyone else that I know getting the itch to read this.

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The First Escape, by GP Taylor

Posted on August 12, 2010 by Thistle

firstescapeSadie and Saskia Dopple are twins in a nasty boarding home for orphans. They are separated when a wealthy woman named Muzz Elliott decides to adopt Saskia. Sadie then escapes from the boarding home with their friend Erik Ganger. Many escapades ensue, including running away from police, a bloodhound, and a crazy magician, while Saskia has her own group of villains to deal with, as well as a mystery surrounding an evil seance.

So…I’m in two minds about this book. On the one hand, it was very fun to read, and I love that both Crowley and Yeats were at the seance!! It was spooky and fun, and I love the juxtaposition of half-text half-graphics (like Hugo Cabret). On the other hand, the twins and Erik were all awful characters, and actually I’m not sure there were any characters I liked in here. If the twins had been good people rather than little monsters, I might have felt sorry for them, but I didn’t. Also, I was split about the artwork, which was beautiful when drawing scenery and not my favorite when drawing the people. In the end, this was just a middle-of-the-road sort of book, and I doubt I’ll read further into the series.

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A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway

Posted on August 10, 2010 by Thistle

farewelltoarmsLieutenant Henry is an American. He’s in the Italian army. The time period is World War I. Henry drives ambulances. He drinks a lot. He eats a lot. He falls in love with a nurse named Catherine Barker. Or at least they get it on a lot. And then he drinks some more. And she drinks too. But he drinks more.

(I had too much fun writing up that synopsis. I hope those who have read Hemingway will get a snicker out of it.)

This is the third book I’ve read by Hemingway. My first (and favorite) was The Old Man and the Sea, followed several years later by For Whom the Bell Tolls. Interestingly, I’ve run into one of two different patterns with Hemingway. Either I seem to love his work more the older he was when he wrote it (Old Man was the oldest, Bells was in the middle, and Farewell is the youngest), or I have just progressively liked his works less as I get older myself. Or there is no pattern and both of these seemingly meaningful patterns are merely coincidences. I loved Old Man. I enjoyed Bells. I really didn’t like Farewell at all.

Hemingway’s an interesting writer. His characters, on the surface, don’t feel like real people. Women, in particular, are very flat. Dialogue is repetitive and circular. Non-dialogue sentences are clipped and fragmented, or go on in huge run-ons. With Hemingway’s books, you have to somehow pierce through this skin and get under it in order to see that his characters are not lifeless; his women are not flat; his dialogue and sentence structures mean something. While it took some adjusting to in the other Hemingway books I’ve read, I always managed to get under that surface. But with this one? No. I stayed above it, like it was an impenetrable bubble, the entire time I read. That was, of course, very frustrating to me, but perhaps now I can understand a bit more when people tell me they’ve tried to read Hemingway and walked away from the experience bewildered and/or frustrated.

For some reason, I just could not get into this book. It felt so sloppy compared to his other books. The others circled back on themselves and all the details were important. This one just bounced randomly from one event to the next, with a brief (and futile) attempt to refer to many of them in the last few pages, only to leave them behind again. I’d heard this was Hemingway’s masterpiece, the one everyone loves, but it just left me completely cold. And sad. Not sad at the story (which ends, as all Hemingway ends, in very predictable tragic circumstances). I couldn’t get worked up about the story at all. But sad because no matter how hard I worked at this book, I couldn’t figure out what was so special about it. The relationship between Henry and Catherine was ridiculous and not one I would at all classify as love. The war descriptions were mostly absent except in two short places. None of the characters were developed enough for me to care about them. The whole thing read more like a journal entry in Hemingway prose than like a book.

I don’t get it. All I can think is that I could never penetrate into the story in order to see that his characters had life. Maybe the love story felt like love for other readers. I could even see myself feeling like it was love if I’d been able to get that deep or invested or attached. But I couldn’t. The whole experience of reading this book felt like an utter FAIL and I’m sorry that it was, because I’ve always, always loved Hemingway in the past. Despite all the things about the author himself that I dislike, I love his books. Perhaps in the future, I should just stick with the later ones.

Posted in 2010, Adult, Prose | Tagged | 1 Comment

The Patron Saint of Butterflies, by Cecilia Galante

Posted on August 9, 2010 by Thistle

The_Patron_Saint_of_Butterflies_coverAgnes and Honey live in a religious commune in Connecticut. The two girls grew up together and were always best friends, but the last couple years have driven them apart. Agnes has become obsessed with perfecting herself and living like a saint: fasting, using a waist-string to hurt herself, sleeping with rocks in her bed, etc. Honey, on the other hand, is shunned by the commune and wants nothing more than to escape from it. When Agnes’ grandmother comes to visit unexpectedly, she discovers one of the commune’s most dangerous secrets and takes the two girls off the compound, where all of their lives will change.

Oh my. This book was fantastic. I expected it to be good. I recently read The Sweetness of Salt by the same author, so I already knew Galante wrote well. This story ended up being even better than I expected, though. It was extremely intense. And disturbing. And heartbreaking.

Galante herself apparently grew up in a religious commune, and drew in part on her experiences to write this book. I do admit that before I knew that, I worried about what could end up being in these pages. The words “religious commune” are synonymous with “dangerous freak-show” in the minds of many people. It’d be too easy for a book about a religious commune to come off as biased, judgmental, and inaccurate. But with the author having lived in a commune herself, she is able to show exactly how a community like this works and how/why its members can believe.

I don’t know if all religious communes are dangerous and scary. Of course, that’s all we hear about on the news, cults like the Branch Davidians or the FLDS. I do wonder, though, if there are peaceful religious communes out there that don’t have power-hungry leaders and brainwashed members. The Believers in this book are definitely dangerous. They certainly have a power-hungry set of leaders and brainwashed members, including Agnes. Even so, I don’t come away from the book thinking what awful places communes must be. What I come away thinking a lot about is this: Does the creation of a commune lifestyle necessarily lead to this sort of dangerous situation? Or can a commune retain a peaceful, non-brainwashed existence that holds on to a shared belief, just like a church can do outside a commune?

Obviously, I don’t have an answer, but it’s definitely something I’ve been thinking about a lot since I finished this book. The story itself is wonderful. I love watching Agnes in particular, how she learns and how she interprets the world. There is no easy severance of a whole lifestyle. It’s not like her grandmother can just take her off the compound and Agnes will magically be relieved to get away. It’s not like that at all. It’s very realistic and very scary, what happens to these kids. Up until the very last page I was holding my breath and hoping please, please, please that they would be okay. The Patron Saint of Butterflies was both powerful and thought-provoking, the perfect combination for an excellent book.

Posted in 2010, Prose, Young Adult | Tagged | Leave a comment