Month: October 2020

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The Stories We Love as Children Never Leave Us

I am almost inclined to set it up as a canon that a children’s story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children’s story. The good ones last.

C.S. Lewis

My infant son’s bookshelf is well-stocked with books. My husband went on a book-buying spree in anticipation of our little boy’s birth, and we have generous relatives who gifted us new and used books, so when I say we’ve got a lot of books, please believe me. We have a lot of books. Right now, our baby is mostly interested in the touch-and-feel books and the board books; he likes to chew on the edges.

That said, I’ve already started to read him from more advanced books. We have a good collection of Magic School Bus and Berenstain Bears books, for example. These are shortish and hold his attention briefly, although I usually end up wrestling the book away from him in a futile effort to protect the pages from being torn. But someday, someday, I’ll get to share a real book with him. When I say “a real book,” I’m not talking about The Brothers Karamazov or anything. I mean the books that I loved as a child.

Think back to your own childhood. What are the books that have stayed with you? Not just the ones you have fond memories of (I’m a huge fan of There’s a Monster at the End of This Book and Stellaluna). I’m not even talking about the books that made you love reading for the first time. I was really into the American Girl books. I loved reading those, but I’m afraid they don’t hold a lot of fascination for me now.

No, I’m talking about the books that sank deep into your soul. The books that opened your eyes to what books could be. What were those books, for you? I bet you still love them, don’t you? That’s because, as the ever-wise C.S. Lewis said, a good children’s book is able to be enjoyed at all stages of life, not just in childhood.

For me, one of those books was Ella Enchanted. If you haven’t read this book, I want to know what you’ve been doing that was more important? The answer is nothing. And if you tell me that you don’t need to read the book because you saw that travesty of a movie, I swear on every library in the world that I will find you to berate you in person.

This book astonishes me every time I think about it. As a kid, all I knew was that it was a super fun story, but as an adult, I can’t help standing in awe of what Gail Carson Levine was able to achieve with this book. It’s a fresh take on the Cinderella story, so it’s got the comfort of the familiar while being different enough to be interesting. But aside from the engaging plotline, I can’t believe how much character development she crammed into this short book. Ella is a feminist role model, Char is just wonderful in every way, Mandy is a delightful curmudgeon, and Ella’s father and stepfamily are deliciously cruel. Gail Carson Levine is able to do so much with so little. This isn’t just a well-written children’s book; it’s a well-written book, period.

This may be cliché, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (or Philosopher’s Stone, for…basically everyone else in the world). Since the whole series has been out for years and people all over the world know Harry’s story, I think we sometimes forget that these started out as children’s books. In fact, many adults were reluctant to read them because they assumed they were only for children.

This was an utter joy to read as an eleven year old. I devoured Sorcerer’s Stone, and after I finished it I wouldn’t stop talking about it. I haven’t stopped talking about it for the last twenty-one years, actually, because Harry’s story continues to appeal to me. Once again, we have a shortish book that packs an incredible punch. Think about how much info J.K. Rowling had to introduce in this book. She had to build an entire world for us, plus introduce memorable characters, plus set up an incredible story, all in about three hundred pages. It’s masterful. I go back to this book, and all of the following books, again and again, because it’s not a good children’s book. It’s just a darn good book.

And, of course, we can’t forget The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. These seven books are each a master work in its own right, and together they are an extended Christian allegory. I’ve literally heard The Chronicles of Narnia quoted over the pulpit at church. There’s a lot of meat there.

The thing is, the theology of these books could fly right over your head, and you’d still enjoy them. I’m sure most children who read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe aren’t contemplating Aslan as a Christ figure; they’re just enjoying the fantastical world that C.S. Lewis created.

These are just a few of the books that have stayed with me into adulthood. I will be forever grateful to these authors who took the time to write, not just children’s books, but children’s literature.

Which books have stayed with you?

Happy Reading!

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Five Classic Novels You Can’t Live Without

If you’re on a book blog, chances are you read widely enough to have encountered at least some classic literature. Maybe high school English class scarred you and you find it snooty and inaccessible. Maybe it’s all you read. Maybe you can take it or leave it.

Even if you happen to love classic literature, and you’ve read a great deal of it, there will always be books that you miss out on. No one can read everything. If that’s you, then this list is five classic novels you may not have picked up yet, but definitely should. If you think you hate classic literature, may I suggest that you give one of these a try?

I first read North and South after a friend from England was shocked that I’d never read anything by Elizabeth Gaskell. I naively asked whether the style was similar to Jane Austen, and I think my friend almost choked on her tongue. No, I learned, Gaskell is not comparable to Austen. Not to knock Jane Austen; I love her novels, and so does my friend. But, as she put it, “Gaskell is grittier.” It’s true.

North and South is set in England during the Industrial Revolution. At it’s core, it’s a love story. However, the milieu of the Victorian factory town colors everything that happens. There are labor unions, strikes, and class distinctions to contend with. Plus a take-charge female protagonist! What’s not to like?

If you’re an audiobook lover, please listen to the Audible version narrated by Juliet Stevenson. She is the perfect narrator for this novel.

I sort of picked up How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn on a whim one day, but I absolutely fell in love with it. To this day it’s one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read. The prose is breathtaking.

This novel is basically a love letter from the narrator to his youth in a coal mining village in Wales. He reminisces on his childhood while coal slurry (basically the waste left over from coal mining), which has been encroaching on his village for years, finally overtakes his home. It’s a book about loss, about longing for home, and about how the ones we love never really leave us. I’m telling you. Read. This. Book.

The character of Dorian Gray, the beautiful young man who never ages while a hidden portrait depicts the hideousness of his soul, is pretty well known. But if you’ve never read the book, you’re missing out.

Oscar Wilde was a prolific writer of plays and poetry, but he penned exactly one novel. The Picture of Dorian Gray is that novel, and it’s a gift to the world. It’s somehow simultaneously heartbreaking, horrific, and hilarious. I read this book in my early teens, and it was the first time I realized, at least consciously, that the people of the past were just that—people, with inner lives and senses of humor just as developed as those living now. It was also the first time I laughed out loud while reading a classic novel.

I didn’t read East of Eden by John Steinbeck until I was out of college. Somehow we didn’t do a lot of Steinbeck in high school, and I’d convinced myself that I wasn’t really interested in his work. Don’t be like me. Dive into this Steinbeck novel if you haven’t already.

East of Eden has one of the best villains I’ve encountered in literature. Seriously, she gave me chills. But the story itself is quite uplifting. One important message from this book is that a person is in charge of their own destiny and decisions. They can’t blame their actions on blood or heritage or circumstance, because in the end we can overcome anything.

Tolstoy has a bit of a reputation (some might say a deserved reputation) for being inaccessible. I read War and Peace last year and, let me tell you, there’s a reason few people read that book anymore. However, if you’re looking for an “easier” Tolstoy novel, Anna Karenina is your girl.

This is a family drama, as opposed to a war novel. It follows the consequences of Anna Karenina’s decision to leave her husband and take up with the dashing Count Vronsky. It’s a fascinating look at social mores and what happens when someone decides to flout them.

Happy Reading!

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The Queen’s Thief: The Best Fantasy Series You Probably Haven’t Read

“Eugenides,” I nearly stuttered, “was the god of thieves. We are all named after him.”

The Thief, Megan Whalen Turner

If you’d asked me a few years ago what my favorite series was, I’d have said Harry Potter without a second thought. But about five years ago I stumbled upon a story that has challenged HP’s spot as my number one pick. The Queen’s Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner is nothing at all like J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, but those two series are tied for the top place in my heart and on my bookshelf.

I’ve been hesitant to write this post because I consistently fail to do these books justice when I pitch them to friends. The problem is that it’s hard to explain just what makes these books so genius while also being vague enough to not give away the plot. Suffice it to say that in the world of The Queen’s Thief, nothing is ever as it seems and everyone is lying.

This six-book series takes place on the Little Peninsula, a fictional Mediterraneanesque land whereon three small countries, Eddis, Sounis, and Attolia, jostle for prominence. The looming threat of invasion by the larger Mede Empire, and of a prophesied volcanic eruption, forces these countries to put aside their disparate goals and work together to preserve their independence. If you like political intrigue, this series is chock-full of it.

The fulcrum of the series is a thief named Eugenides, Gen for short. He’s the charmingly annoying, unreliable narrator of the first book in the series entitled simply The Thief. In The Thief, Gen is quite young, but we get to watch him grow throughout the series and come into his own. Of all of the characters in literature, Eugenides is one of my favorites. He’s a study in contradictions. He’s ruthless, but he can be surprisingly tender. He’s a genius who often plays the fool. He can be petulant, obnoxious, and sometimes plain ridiculous while simultaneously earning the respect of his countrymen. And his love story is one of the most unique that I have ever read.

The series boasts two powerhouse lead female characters—Irene and Helen. Irene, the cold, beautiful, pitiless queen of Attolia, is known for having poisoned her husband at their wedding feast. (He totally deserved it, though.) She’s maintained her power in the face of tremendous opposition from the Attolian barons and political maneuvering of foreign ambassadors. She’s the kind of woman who acts decisively and does what’s necessary.

Helen is also a queen, but her kingdom is the tiny mountain nation of Eddis. Where Irene maintains a white-knuckled grasp of her power, Helen keeps hers easily. Her people love her. She has the loyalty of the nobility, the commoners, and the army. She’s not an attractive woman. She’s more comfortable in armor than in a dress. She’s short and stocky, her nose is crooked, and yet she’s described as having a smile that most people would do anything to see.

Irene and Helen are examples of the “strong female character” done remarkably well. They’re depicted as human beings with rich inner lives, complicated relationships, and unique goals and desires. They’re queens, both literally and figuratively, and they wear their power much more comfortably than the men in the series.

Sophos is the last of the four main characters. He’s the disappointing heir to the kingdom of Sounis, a gentle young man who would rather study history than war. He’s the ultimate “cinnamon roll” character. You just sort of want to take him home, and it’s sometimes difficult to watch him come to terms with a world that’s often crueler than he’d like it to be.

The cast of supporting characters is just as loveable and interesting. Megan Whalen Turner has the knack for doing a lot with a little, and the short time we spend with some of the more minor characters (Costis, Kamet, Pheris, etc.) is enough to make us as invested in their stories as those of the lead characters.

Aside from the characterization, this series boasts an incredibly intricate plot. If you don’t read the books twice, you’ll probably miss half of what’s going on. The books are enjoyable on the first read, but the second (or third, or fourth) reads are so much fun because you find things in hindsight that you didn’t notice the first time around. This series relies a lot on misdirection and double entendre. On the first read, you experience the rush of seeing the plot unfold; on the second read, you get the thrill of being in on the secret.

Beyond that, the world-building is exquisite. Again, the author does a lot with a little. Without giving exhaustive descriptions or clunky info dumps, she introduces a whole pantheon of gods and goddesses, several political systems, and four distinct cultures. Truly, Megan Whalen Turner could give a masterclass on creating realistic, fleshed-out civilizations from thin air.

I hope I’ve made my case well enough that you want to read this series. The fact that it’s not more widely known is criminal. Read it. Read it in the correct order:

Resist the temptation to look at spoilers. I promise you that Megan Whalen Turner will take you on an incredible journey.

Happy Reading!

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Love Stories That Aren’t – Part 2

Continuing the theme from last week, I want to talk about another faux love story that’s still pretty ubiquitous. Twilight. If you read my review of Renée Ahdieh’s The Beautiful, you’ll know that I hate the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. I. Hate. It. I’ll admit that I sometimes watch the movie to make fun of it because, let’s face it, no one did their best work in that film. Every part of that movie was terrible, except for Billy Burke, who successfully played the only likeable character, Charlie Swan.

But I digress. It’s not just the movie that’s bad. It’s the book. It’s the story, and more particularly the love story. You guys, the romance between Edward and Bella is twisted. It is, in no way, a depiction of a healthy relationship.

Can we start with the fact that Edward sneaks into Bella’s room and watches her sleep? I cannot get over how creepy that is. I’d be weirded out if my husband watched me sleep for more than a few seconds, and I go to sleep already knowing he’s there! Let’s be honest. If Edward wasn’t oh-so-handsome, the thought of him (a 100 year old man) breaking into a teenage girl’s room to watch her sleep would give everyone the heebie-jeebies.

Edward is also super controlling. He tells her what she can do, where she can go, and who she can be friends with, all “for her protection,” of course. Gross.

Their whole relationship is based on this weird animal attraction that they have for one another. They’re invested in one another before they even have a decent conversation. All that Bella seems to care about is that Edward is super hot. No one has yet been able to explain to me why Edward likes Bella, because she has zero personality. To quote Bob’s Burgers, “If she was a spice, she’d be flour.”

The entire series is literal garbage. In the second book, Edward makes the executive decision to leave Bella “for her protection.” Gag. Bella literally curls up in the fetal position and refuses to move. Then she spends the next year of her life moping. She decides to take life-threatening risks because somehow she hears Edward’s voice telling her not to be stupid. Seriously, it’s so messed up. Girls, for the record, if a boy dumps you, you cry to your friends and eat a bunch of ice cream. You don’t crash a motorcycle and jump off a cliff. Also, Edward is so upset by not being with Bella that he tries to commit suicide. None of this is healthy.

And to top it all off, once they finally do get married, Bella is left with bruises after the first time they have sex. That’s abuse, people. “Edward is just so strong, he can’t help it.” Sorry, that’s not gonna fly with me. Then she gets pregnant and dies.

The Twilight franchise depicts obsession, abuse, depression, and suicide attempts. It doesn’t depict a healthy, loving relationship. The end.

I want to touch on another topic that really grinds my gears. Can we talk about Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy? Their story is a love story, by the way, but it’s been distorted and turned into a trope that is really gross. Allow me to explain.

Elizabeth and Darcy meet and she overhears him say that she’s not good-looking enough to entice him to ask her to dance. She decides that he’s a jerk. He kind of is a jerk.

He eventually realizes that he loves her and wants to marry her, but his proposal is filled with backhanded compliments and he basically tells her that he loves her so much that he’ll condescend to marry her. Elizabeth, who has some dignity, rejects him and calls him out on being an enormous bonehead.

He accepts her rejection. That’s it. He doesn’t try to convince her that she’s wrong. He does write a letter to explain a circumstance about which she’s misinformed, but he doesn’t continue to pursue her. He understands that no means no. He also takes her rejection as an opportunity to reflect on his behavior. He grows up a little, learning how to be kinder and less pompous.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth has some growing up to do, too. She discovers that her faith in Mr. Wickham was misplaced. She struggles with self-reproach when she discovers that her secrecy led to her sister, Lydia, running way with Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy ends up saving the day and ensuring that Wickham and Lydia get married, (mostly) sparing Elizabeth and her family from humiliation and ruin. He does this with no motive other than love.

When Elizabeth and Darcy are reunited, they have both changed. He has learned to treat people with respect, and she’s learned to look beyond the façade to see the man. They’re ready for one another now.

That, my friends, is a love story. It’s about two imperfect people who are made better by their association with the other. But tragically, all some people have taken from this story is “Handsome man treats woman like garbage but really loves her.” So many Young Adult books seem to follow this trope and it’s really starting to grate on me. Off the top of my head, I can think of several YA books in which the love interest is a huge jerk: The Cruel Prince by Holly Black, Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge, and Uprooted and Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik. Can we all agree to just stop this? It’s not cool, and it sets young people up to believe that it’s okay for your partner to treat you like trash. Can we not?

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Love Stories That Aren’t – Part 1

There is something profoundly irritating to me about books being mislabeled as love stories. I relish a good love story. A true love story. But some of the most famous romances in literature are not love stories at all. Why does that irritate me? Why should it matter to me if people want to call Wuthering Heights a love story and swoon over Heathcliff? I think because literature informs so much of popular culture and popular thought. The books we read become the movies we watch, the television shows that are produced, and the quotes we pin on Pinterest. They become the tropes that are reused by future authors. They’re the stories little boys and girls grow up reading, the romances they are told they should aspire to. If we as a society mislabel stories of obsession and abuse as stories of love, we’re sending a damaging message to the girls and boys, women and men who read them.

Today, I’m going to discuss two stories that are not love stories. I’ll be doing a part two of this post in which I’ll talk about one more non-love story and one love story that’s been grossly distorted and turned into a terrible trope. But for now, let’s dive in.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë is NOT a love story. It’s not. For those of you who need a reminder, Wuthering Heights is about Heathcliff and Cathy. Cathy’s dad adopts Heathcliff, a parentless vagrant child, brings him home and raises him as one of the family. Cathy and Heathcliff immediately connect and, over the years, fall in love.

Cathy eventually befriends Edgar and Isabella Linton, their neighbors. They’re kind to Cathy as the daughter of a wealthy gentleman, but they reject Heathcliff. Edgar proposes to Cathy, and even though she loves Heathcliff, she feels that she can’t marry him because of his low status. So she marries Edgar, and Heathcliff disappears. He returns years later as a wealthy gentleman and attracts the attention of Isabella Linton. He encourages Isabella’s love for him as a way to get back at Cathy and Edgar, and elopes with her. Cathy, cut off from Heathcliff and pregnant with Edgar’s child, dies. Heathcliff begs Cathy’s ghost to haunt him forever.

Heathcliff, of course, doesn’t care about Isabella at all. He treats her terribly, and she leaves him, giving birth to his son on her own. When she dies, Heathcliff brings his son home to live with him, and he encourages a connection between his son and Edgar and Cathy’s daughter. He forces them to marry, even though his son Linton is ill and Cathy (Edgar and Cathy’s daughter) doesn’t actually want to marry him. When Linton dies, Cathy is stuck at Wuthering Heights along with Heathcliff. He goes increasingly crazy, admits that he dug up her mother’s grave after she died, and dies himself in her mother’s old room. In the end, the people in the village say they’ve seen the ghosts of Heathcliff and Cathy walking the moors, together at last.

I’m sorry. What part of that was a love story? The part where Cathy doesn’t think the man she supposedly loves is good enough for her so she marries someone else? The part where she wastes away because she’s parted from the man she rejected? (Come on, Cathy, have a little dignity.) Or maybe when Heathcliff gets revenge on Cathy and Edgar by destroying Isabella’s life? The part where he continues to try to get revenge by forcing Cathy’s daughter to marry his son? The part where he digs up a woman’s grave? (That part always just creeps me out.) This is a story about obsession and abuse. Obsessive love can seem romantic, but it’s not healthy and it’s not something that anyone should aspire to. Read this book for the prose. Read it for the commentary on class, revenge, and madness. Read it for the vivid descriptions of the moors. Don’t read it looking for a love story, because you won’t find one.

Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare is NOT a love story. I might get a lot of heat for this, but I said what I said. I’m assuming we’re all familiar with the story of Romeo and Juliet. Two families, the Montagues and the Capulets, hate each other. Romeo Montague sneaks into a Capulet party and sees Juliet Capulet. They “fall in love” (read: are attracted to one another), have that famous love scene on the balcony, and get secretly married by Romeo’s pal Friar Laurence.

Romeo carries on the feud, kills Juliet’s cousin, and is banished from the city. But don’t worry, he pops by her place first (again, after killing her cousin) to consummate the marriage. Can’t neglect that, after all.

Juliet’s parents, who know nothing of her marriage to Romeo, want to marry her off. She pretends to agree, but arranges with Friar Laurence to fake her own death to get out of it. Romeo is supposed to be in on the plan but misses the memo, thinks she’s really dead, and commits suicide by poison. Juliet, seeing Dead Romeo, stabs herself with his dagger.

The feuding families come together to find their dead children and get a stern lecture from the priest about how their endless fighting caused the death of their kids. (Maybe it was actually your really terrible plan, Friar Laurence.)

While this is supposedly one of the greatest romances in literature, what I see is two hormonal teenagers who have a few days of puppy love followed by a few days of angsty separation followed by a weird and needless double-suicide. That doesn’t negate the beauty of Shakespeare’s writing, and it certainly doesn’t mean that the play has no value. But it’s more of a cautionary tale than a love story.

Again, I get it if you like these books. They have literary value. Romeo & Juliet has some of the most beautiful lines ever written. But these two stories are often held up as examples of true love, and that’s not only inaccurate. It’s damaging.

They’re not love stories. The end.