A Feel Good Book About a Cat: Dewey

Hey there boys and girls. So I'm sorry about ditching you last week. As many of you know, since most of my readers, I'm assuming, are from New England, we got hit by a blizzard last weekend. And when I say blizzard, I mean snow all the way up to my waist. Yeah.We lost power, we lost heat, I may have even lost a little of my dignity while trying to heat soup with a tiny decorative votive candle. Needless to say I was a little busy, and though I certainly didn't forget about you on Monday, I did decide I had other matters less exciting, but certainly a little more pressing than Box or Bookshelf--like shoveling myself out (literally, we were almost trapped in the house by snow).

Anyway, though we did get more snow this weekend (talk about adding insult to injury), I am back. And this week, though I'm keeping it short, I promise it'll be sweet. I've chosen sort of an old favorite, Dewey, by Vicki Myron this week, because it's a nice uplifting story. Since I finished my temp job this week and am now unemployed (hopefully not for long) I just kind of needed one of those, and I though maybe some of you guys might too.

So, Dewey  is the nonfiction story of a library cat and the woman who "owns" him, though I use the term loosely because he is a living breathing cat, and a library cat at that--he belongs, not just to Myron, but also to all the people who's lives he touches, including, even, the reader. As a library cat, Dewey (a cat and the title character), works his way into the hearts of many and revives not only just the library he is a part of, but also the lifts the spirits of the people he comes into contact with while stalking through the bookshelves there. Since I myself am a cat lover, and proud "owner" (though you can't really own cats in my opinion, simply live with and love them) of two of my own cats, this book immediately caught my eye--there's a gorgeous orange tabby, Dewey Readmore Books, looking regally out at you from the cover and his golden gaze just kind of makes you want to know his story.

His story, by the way, is this--he's found by the library director, Vicki Myron, of the Spencer Public Library in Iowa, abandoned in the book return slot. After Myron and the staff nurse the tiny, cold kitten back to health, he becomes a mascot of sort, slinking, jumping, prowling, around the library, climbing into laps, perching on shelves, and just generally doing the quirky and endearing things that cats do. Meanwhile, amidst Dewey's amusing antics, frolicking, and unassuming affection,  Myron shares her own story as she deals with both the triumphs and heartbreaks of life.

What can I say, I'm just a sap for the cute and cuddly. Inspirational animal stories turn me into a puddle of "Awwww!." I love all those cheesy movies too--Air Bud, Black Beauty, Milo and Otis. Pretty much you put an adorable animal in it I'll watch it and I'll probably cry like the little girl that I am. And don't even get me started on how much I adore cats--I'm sure, readers, you already find me crazy enough without letting me start ranting about cats like the crazy cat lady I will probably one day be. I loved this book--it tugged at my heartstrings. It's the nonfiction book that finally convinced me that I do like nonfiction and that it can be interesting, not the completely and utterly boring babble I was convinced that it was for most of my young life. I'm personally grateful to this book for helping me grow up a little by introducing me, gently and endearingly, to the world of nonfiction that I was missing.

Really, in all seriousness, if you hate cats or nonfiction, you'll hate this book, because it most definitely involves both of those things. Otherwise it's a pretty good read. I mean, it's not some riveting, controversial exposé, or the most shocking and mysterious of conspiracy theories. It's just a heartwarming story about a cat. Sometimes that's not enough for a reader, but sometimes that's all you need.

I will caution you, you shouldn't ask too much of this book--the writing is nothing that will win awards really, but it is honest, relatable, and readable. The story is not a major innovation or anything that will eventually be considered a classic by literary critics across the globe. But if you're just looking for nice book to read some snowy weekend while you're stuck at home and feeling a little down, then I'd say this is the one for you. I personally kept it on my shelf for just such occasions and I'm glad I did. It will make you laugh, it will make you cry (or at least tear up) and it might leave you with a nice warm fuzzy feelings. So if those aren't things you want--and, I'll admit, sometimes that's not what I'm looking for in a book--then this might be a book for a
nother time. Otherwise it's worth giving a spot on your shelf, and perhaps in your heart.

Just the Tale I Was Looking For: The Thirteenth Tale

Why is it that it's always when you have a great book that life gets in the way of reading it? I don't know that this is the case for you, or whether it's even always the case for me, but it was certainly the case for me this past week. For once I actually had work to do at work! Imagine that. Anyway, sorry for the delay in posting, readers. Trust me when I say that no one could be more frustrated than I was by my lack of time to read. I will say, however, that I took solace (and you should too) in the fact that this book is absolutely immaculate and worth the wait.

"What book?" you might ask, leaning forward in your seat, despite yourself. You were going to try to play it cool--try to give me a little bit of the cold shoulder for making you wait. But, unused to such a fervent claim from me about a book, with no negative backpedaling, you find yourself no longer willing to indulge that desire for petty revenge. "Just get to the point, lady!" And get to the point I will:

My book for this week is Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale, and it is perhaps the best book I've ever read in my adult life. In case you couldn't tell from recent posts, my reading, as of late, has been rather less than satisfactory. It's been downright awful compared to the enthusiastic and voracious reading I did as a child--every book I pick up has been a disappointment. Not that the books themselves have been awful--again, as you can tell from my posts, there's nothing inherently terrible about the books I've been reading. In fact some (not all of which I've reviewed yet) really captured and kept my interest. But all of my favorite books are old favorites--books I've read so many times that, despite the care I take to preserve any book in my possession, they're creased, dog-eared, even falling apart, and they often fall open to certain beloved pages. It's been a very long time since I've come across a book where I immediately felt, "This is my new favorite. I would read this 100 million times over until I could recite it by heart." My reading, though still a joy for me since it is reading at least, sometimes leaves me saddened by a nagging feeling that something is missing.

Setterfield describes it perfectly in this book, as the main character, Margaret, says:
"I have always been a reader; I have read at every stage of my life, and there has never been a time when reading was not my greatest joy. And yet I cannot pretend that the reading I have done in my adult years matches in its impact on my soul the reading I did as a child. I still believe in stories. I still forget myself when I am in the middle of a good book. Yet it is not the same. Books are, for me, it must be said, the most important thing; what I cannot forget is that there was a time when they were at once more banal and more essential than that. When I was a child, books were everything. And so there is in me, always, a nostalgic yearning for the lost pleasure of books. It is a not a yearning that one ever expects to be fulfilled." 
And yet, just as the stories of Vida Winter fulfill that yearning in Margaret, so too did Setterfield fulfill my own yearning for a book that would restore that essential love of books.

So, in less sentimental terms, what's so great about this book? Well for starters, did you read the passage above? I mean, Setterfield basically had me at hello with stuff like that. It's not the only passage that immediately struck me either. Not only does Setterfield have a wonderful command of the English language, but she also knows how to get right to the heart of a reader and writer. She puts into words things that seem to have come from my very soul but that I've never been able to put into words. I may not have even known that's how I felt until I read Setterfield's expert explanations and got that "You hit the nail right on the head!" feeling. If you're an avid reader, and even a writer, like me, Setterfield will reintroduce you to yourself--you'll read the words and know that's how you've felt all along.

Even without those passages though, the book would still be excellent. Why? For one thing, the story is wrought with just the right amount of mystery. Not mystery in the sense that it's trying to be a prime time crime show, or even a Holmes-ian narrative, like The September Society. No, this is the mystery that comes from telling a story right. From building suspense and leaving out just the right details while keeping just enough of them in there, so that when the reader comes to the twist at the end she's all at once completely surprised, and simultaneously kicking herself for not figuring it out on her own. 

Meanwhile, within the events of the story itself there's a wonderful balance of darkness and shock value without that forced, vulgar, "I'm going to shock you" feeling I get from a lot of contemporary literature. In a world where everyone's either trying to please the masses or trying to outdo each other in terms of finding the best way to appall the reader, Setterfield  is able to walk the tightrope between the two. We begin the story following Margaret, a quiet bookworm who works in a bookstore with her father. She receives a letter from a famous author, Vida Winter, inviting her to write the woman's biography. She is both intrigued by Winter's talent and daunted by the fact that Winter is notorious for twisting of the truth, especially the truth about her own life, into a story. When she decides to accept, Margaret is pulled into the strange world of siblings and of Angelfield, where Vida Winter grew up. All of this is punctuated by Margaret's own mysterious past, and her present interactions with Vida Winter. The events themselves are told tastefully and/or hinted at in a way that's utterly appropriate for the mysterious, gossip ridden setting. And it's all told with the perfect flourish, framed as it is by the fact that it's a story being told within a story.

As if that wasn't enough to make it worthy of the shelf, Setterfield also knows how to write interesting characters. Yes she draws from the oldies-but-goodies, like Jane Eyre, but honestly I found her characters quite original. Since there are characters of all shapes and sizes in fiction and nonfiction alike, that's saying something. It was the details that brought the characters together. Yes there have been bookish, quiet, intelligent women like Margaret before, and yes there have been self-assured, successful but, on rare occassions vulnerable, powerhouses like Vida Winter. But not the subtly twin obsessed, or the ghost children that Setterfield creates for you. Not to mention, she doesn't neglect minor characters (a pet peeve of mine) and they are even so tidily wrapped up at the end that I can find absolutely no complaint with them, which is rare.

Finally, it is the change in narrators that really showcases Setterfield's talents. I actually didn't notice this so much until I reached a part of the story where Setterfield take on Mrs. Love's voice (one previously unused) to recount one particular event. Then another, more obvious narrator switch occurs later with Hester's diary. So natural and seamless is her switch between narrators and her command of each of their voices individually, that you almost don't notice it. Once I did, however, I was incredibly impressed. As a writer, it's hard enough for me not to meld character voices from separate stories I'm working on, much less switching between characters so different all in the same text. I mean, I'll go back into my old stories and realize how many of the main characters sound exactly the same, how many of them share the same quirks, character flaws, and turns of phrase. It's almost as much work for me fixing this after the fact as it was to write the character in the first place. Whether or not Setterfield had a lot of going back and fixing before it was perfect, I don't know. What I do know is that what she gives her reader is not some half-assed attempt at multiple narrators. When she decided to do it, she did it right. Yes, Margaret is the overarching narrator, and she admits to letting her own narration influence what was told to her by others, but we, the readers, are given extensive looks into the lives and voices of different characters--Vida Winter, Aurelias, Mrs. Love, Hester--often told by the people themselves. And no two are completely alike.

I could really go on and on about this book all night, but for the sake of your attention span and my bed time, I'll wrap it up. This might not be for you if you want a read to zip through--yes I read it quickly because i just couldn't put it down, but I did have to pay attention to it to get the full effect. This also might not be for you if you hated stories like Jane Eyre, and I mean hated the story, not the writing--older styles of writing are sometimes hard for the average modern reader to wade through and Setterfield's writing is certainly nothing of the sort where reading it could ever be described as wading. So, no worries there. And finally, this might not be for you if you're looking for a light-hearted romance--the romance you'll find in this book is, at the very least twisted, and perhaps more like obsession than love--the endings aren't exactly neat or totally happy. Otherwise, this book is definitely for you. And honestly, even if all of what I just said applies to you--you're a Jane Eyre hater with no time to read and a hankering for some good old fashioned happily ever after--I'd actually still say, read this book. Because honestly, I'm so smitten with this book that I think everyone should drop what they're doing, put aside what they're reading, and read this right now. The Thirteenth Tale is definitely one for the shelf.