Give the Gift of Books!

So, I guess you've already noticed that I took a break this week on account of Thanksgiving. You'd think the break would have given me more time to read, but in reality it didn't. Unfortunately I suffer from motion sickness, which I think is one of the biggest curses I could have been dealt as a reader. All the time I spend in the car could be better spent ravenously devouring whichever book I'm reading at the moment. Instead, my eyes are chained to the windows, watching pointless, repetitive scenery and lamenting the many chapters I could have gone through were I not forced, on threat of throwing up or passing out, to watch the road.

Basically, in more direct terms: the four hour car ride each way from Boston to Pleasant Valley, NY to visit my family did not translate into extra reading time. And, once I arrived, I was too enamored with family time to do much other than loudly rehash fond family memories, and stare adoringly at my mother, sister, grandma, my sister's cat, and pretty much anyone else who happened to share even the slightest connection to my family tree.

So anyway, not too much reading time over Thanksgiving break. But, since returning to MA, my love affair with books and the written word in general has reclaimed me with a vengeance. And today, after a trip to Barnes and Noble, and a sudden, fierce and somewhat conceited wave of appreciation for my own vocabulary, I was inspired to write this post about giving the gift of literacy.

Last night when my boyfriend and I were checking out at Barnes and Noble, the woman asked if we'd like to donate a book to the local faction of Cradles to Crayons. We were immediately seized and delighted by the spirit of giving and picked out an old favorite, Curious George, to add to our total and add to the life of a less fortunate child. This morning, when thinking on that happy opportunity  to brighten someone else's life, I was struck by how fortunate I am to have had my love of reading fostered and fed by my wonderful family throughout my life. Every Christmas my grandmother has given me a beautiful new illustrated children's book with a loving note inside. My mother has driven me, on countless occasions, to the bookstore of my choosing to spend my birthday money, and often some of her  own money (to cover the difference) on piles of books. Last year, on hearing of my lack of space for books, they gave me a Nook so that I could carry a library's-worth of books wherever I go. Since then, various family members (mostly my grandma) have continued the generosity by keeping my Nook stocked with gift cards so that I can buy a book whenever the mood strikes me without having to worry about my limited supply of money.

My family isn't wealthy, in fact we often struggle to make ends meet: they couldn't buy me a car for graduation or pay out of pocket for my college education like some crazy-rich parents (who often end up spoiling their kids into entitled jerkdom). What they've always given me, I think, is something much more valuable. On top of their never ending love and support, they've given me literacy. They've given me unendingly useful reading comprehension, writing aptitude, and just an unashamed passion for the written word. Without this, I'd be lost. Without my command of the English language it would be so much harder to get my point across--to share my ideas and feelings in exactly the right way. And without that ability to describe all the facets of life, I almost feel like it looses some of it's sparkle--or at least the sparkle is harder to see.

Coming to this realization, I was also reminded me that some people are far less fortunate. I strongly believe that, when possible, we should all do our part to share whatever knowledge and privilege we have with others. Whether you have technological expertise, an eye for design, scientific genius, money, etc. I believe everyone should make an effort to donate it, not only throughout the holiday season, but also throughout their lives. Though I may not have some of those things, I do have words, and I fully intend to share them. So today I want to take advantage of the public platform afforded by my blog and social media to encourage all you fellow book lovers to give that gift you were given.

You can donate, like I did, at your local Barnes and Noble, or find some other way to make sure that others are sharing the benefits of literacy. It's a gift and a skill that sometimes people overlook. Even I don't always stop and take a moment to think about how important it has been, is, and will be to me throughout my life. Unfortunately, many of the people who do realize its importance on a regular basis realize because they are unable to get enough of it. So donate your old books, donate your time and tutor someone who struggles with reading and writing, or read out loud to whoever you can get your hands on. (Maybe don't chase people down with your favorite paperback or anything, but you know what I mean). I encourage you to also check out the links I have in the sidebar that say donate, or check out this website, Playing By The Book, where someone has taken the time to provide an updated list of reading and literacy charities worldwide. Honestly, do whatever floats your boat. Just take the time to try and instill in others that passion for the reading, writing and words.

Brighter than Twilight: The Host

After being bombarded by thousands of pop-up commercials for the upcoming Twilight movie while online this week, I decided that I can’t escape Stephanie Meyer. And, as they say, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Now, for those of you adamantly against the Twilight saga, don’t worry, I’m not reviewing those books now, or ever. There are plenty of people telling you what to think about them without me adding to the mix. I will say, mostly because I can’t help myself, that the books are neither as bad, nor as good as they are made out to be. And I actually must say I admire Meyer’s attempt to revamp the vampire by making them sparkly. I mean, yes, maybe sparkly wasn’t the most prudent choice since it so easily invites ridicule by classic vampire fans, but at least she did what she could to make vampires her own--put her stamp on it so to speak.

Anyway, I’ll move on from Twilight before the decision to discuss it at all comes back to bite me (haha…see what I did there?). The book that I was inspired to talk about this week is actually Stephanie Meyer’s other novel, The Host. Despite the fact that this book escaped as much notice, I would venture to say that, though certainly no masterpiece of literary innovation, it is more deserving of the spotlight than Meyers’ saga.

Now, don’t get your hopes up too high, like I said, this is not something that will blow you away. What makes me an advocate for its readability, though, is the relative originality of the story. Unlike Twilight, which takes a story and creature that has already been thoroughly explored, The Host takes a much less hackneyed look at a “body-snatcher” alien creature. Yes, this has been done before, but, as I always feel myself on the verge of saying, “What hasn’t?” At least this is something you’re much less likely to find in the Young Adult section of your bookstore.

To give you a little background, the main character is actually two characters. Melanie is the actual owner of the body, but her body and mind are inhabited by Wanderer, a parasitic alien form. These aliens call themselves "Souls", and they have invaded earth and taken over, with the goal of creating a better world, without conflict or disease (as they have done many times before). Wanderer, however, finds that her host, Melanie, is not so willing to submit to a takeover that she sees as hostile. Because Melanie won’t go quietly, Wanderer is overwhelmed by emotions that both are and are not her own, mostly for Melanie’s fellow resistor, Jared. As a result, Wanderer finds herself rebelling against her own species as she and Melanie seek out Jared and the resistance.

Like A Certain Slant of Light, the duality of the main character makes for interesting development of relationships. It takes the expression “walk a mile in another’s shoes,” quite literally. What this particular partnership has over what is found in A Certain Slant of Light, is the tangible presence of Melanie—she’s still there and she and Wanderer literally fight for control of her body. Despite their original status as enemies, they eventually become a begrudging team and, later, unlikely friends. Through their friendship, both of their perceptions of “the enemy” change—their relationship exposes the fact that, as is often the case, neither side of this fight is necessarily in the right. Both have flaws in their arguments and weaknesses in the logic they use to try and prove that their side deserves to win the fight for Earth.

It is this theme, running throughout the book, that is one of the books most redeeming qualities. I personally think the message of the book is a good one to share with young readers (and old readers actually). Even those who seem like bad guys, or those who are your enemies, are not necessarily wrong just because they're your enemies--they have their own, often originally good intentioned, motivations. The fact that Wanderer is the main character really highlights this--Meyer's choice to have her, rather than Melanie, narrate this story, was perhaps her best decision of the entire book. Though it is not a new concept to have the "bad guy" tell their story, I think in this case it was particularly potent because you realize that Wanderer, who is a parasite trying to invade a human's body and take over her life--a character you would normally condemn as being evil--is actually sometimes a more compassionate, fair, and human character than some of the human characters she encounters. Meanwhile her perspective, as an alien outsider, simultaneously critiques and exalts in the wonders and flaws of humanity.

Another facet of her character that adds interest to the story is her conflicting emotions. Her in-between state as both alien and human provides the reader with a character who is constantly left wondering which feelings are actually her own--which I think is a relatable trait, even though most of us are not torn between our body and the parasite who has taken it over.Wanderer finds herself falling for the man that Melanie loves, Jared, at first simply from feeling and seeing Melanie’s love for him. When confronted with Jared in person, her feelings intensify. Though she did not actually share in the moments that made Melanie and Jared fall in love, she cannot erase Melanie’s memories, nor can she extract herself from the body and mind that react so strongly to him. Meanwhile Melanie is also conflicted: she finds herself jealous of her own self—or rather the parasite living within her. She both longs to be with Jared again and to keep Wanderer away from him. That confusion they both face--wondering what's right, what feelings are really coming from someone else or from some obligation, and what they really feel--is something I think will especially appeal to young women.

So yes, I liked the alien, body-snatchers and the way they influence character development, but there’s a reason I said this wasn’t some sort of masterpiece. This book falls short because #1 the writing is nothing to brag about. She get's the job done, but I wasn't reading it going "Oh my goodness, I could really learn something from this woman." And, #2, the story underneath is not so new. In general, it’s still predominantly a teen love story. Despite the originality of the setting and the characters you’re still bombarded with the somewhat immature “I’ll love you forever. We were made for each other,” mentality that you find in Twilight, and a lot of other YA novels. Unfortunately, because that’s also the driving factor behind Meyer’s Twilight saga, it can be difficult to ignore the fact that, in terms of creating romantic relationships, she didn’t create a love story that was all that much different. Yes there are different complications for Melanie, Wanderer, Jared, and Ian, but the love square seems a little reminiscent of Meyer’s previous love triangle with one more player added in.

However (and this is a pretty big however), I think the reader has to concede that most Young Adult books these days reuse the same old love story. Because really, if a large component of the story is romantically based, what else are they going to do: it almost always has to go something like "Girl meets boy, they fall in love, they run into some problems, and they either get through or don't get through those problems." And if there's no love story whatsoever, unless the story is otherwise absolutely amazing, the writer is going to lose the interest of the teenage girls who make up the majority of the audience reading YA novels. Could Meyer have written a more unique and compelling love story with the same setting, but stronger characters? Sure. But really, she didn't do too bad. Just the fact that she didn't use vampires, werewolves, or magic this time helped win her case.

So, all in all, this book is actually going to stay on my shelf. If I happen to find a stronger alien-body-snatcher story, it will probably get booted off, but for now it stays simply because, I'll admit it, I liked it. It was a quick, easy read and I don't have anything like it on my shelf. Will I tell you your life won't be complete until you read it? No. In fact, I know that many of you might not like it if you didn't like Twilight--it is the same writer after all, and she wasn't taken over and changed by an alien life form. What I will say is that maybe if you can borrow it from someone or the library, it would be worth giving a chance on a lazy day when you have nothing better to read/do.

A Little Blunt: Sharp Objects

As an avid watcher of television crime shows, I often find myself spurred to find novels that will quench the same thirst for fast paced mystery and the quick, but twisting logic of solving crimes. Unfortunately, though I have a mother who somehow manages to find great, satisfying reads in the genre, I somehow always manage to be disappointed in my own selections. Either I find the detectives, and other characters involved with the crimes whiney, boring and irritating, or I find the crimes themselves too easily solved. Or, even worse, neither the crime, nor the eventual solving of it make any sense because of a lack of decent planning on the part of the author

So, anticipating my inability to select decent crime novels, when I had the urge to buy the bestselling Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn, I stopped myself. Better, I thought, to save money by buying one of her older (cheaper) novels (Sharp Objects) first to make sure that I actually liked her writing. And, like most of the novels of this kind that I’ve read, I found myself on the fence about this one.

To start off with, though, I’ll tell you what I liked about the book, because it definitely wasn’t an overdone cop-mystery-thriller, and her main character was not whiny, boring, or irritating. In general, there was a lot that Flynn accomplished in terms of character depiction. I especially appreciated her treatment of the small town mentality and its detrimental effects on those who find themselves ensnared by it. And although this book didn’t always have me on the edge of my seat, like I wanted it to, it did have its own different allure pulling me in. The mystery was more in the main character, Camille’s, development and the effects of the killings on her and on the town where they took place (and where she grew up).

I think the reader should be aware before they read this though, that it’s not really a “chase-down-the-killer” type book. If you’re expecting to be hunting down a killer while simultaneously finding yourself running from them and being scared and shocked towards the end, this will probably disappoint you. Really I think that’s the main reason it disappointed me: I came in with the wrong expectations, and really Flynn shouldn’t be faulted for that. If you do choose to read this book, you’ll have to appreciate it more for the web of characters Flynn has created and the revealing of secrets and twistedness within those characters, rather than the unearthing and capturing of some terrible bad guy.

I will say, what I liked a great deal about this particular structure, is the look it gave you of Camille’s and her sister, Amma’s, contrasting personalities. Because less time is devoted to crime solving and so much time is spent hashing out the past and present events of Camille’s life, you get to see how Camille and Amma’s upbringing, by the same woman, Adora, yielded such similar, and different girls. They both missed out on genuine caring in their lives, but their ways of dealing with it are, at times, vastly different, but on a deeper level, they are always surprisingly alike.

In terms of execution, though, the main problem I think I had with Sharp Objects is that you can feel that it’s a first novel by Flynn. There was definitely a level of originality and planning on her part, but there was also that somewhat unformed feeling you get from reading something that maybe could have done with a little more work, or a second glance to make sure everything was cohesive. Unfortunately, because this was such a book about characters and their relationships and connections, there wasn’t that layer of quick action to distract you from any missteps that would have otherwise been overlooked in the frantic turning of pages.

The main character, Camille, certainly was not boring, but there were times where certain parts of her personality didn’t quite seem to fit—as though Flynn had a bunch of ideas about personality quirks Camille should have, but she may have been too attached to some of them to do away with the ones that didn’t work so well.

For example, Camille’s past habit of cutting, which now leaves her body marred by words that hum, burn, and sing to her in times of stress, though it definitely was a character flaw I haven’t seen before and it was certainly interesting, I think it could have been better incorporated in the rest of her personality. Certainly Flynn takes the time to keep reminding the reader that Camille’s scars make an impact on her. But, what could have done with more fleshing out, I think, might have been the briefly mentioned motivation behind those scars—the compulsion to write everything down. I think Flynn started to do this earlier on in the book, with Camille absent-mindedly writing words on her skin in pen, but as the story moved on, I almost feel Flynn forgot to follow through on that. And, although the reader can figure out what spurred Camille's drinking, sexual attention seeking, and other destructive behavior, I was left wondering where this fear of forgetting things came from.

Which brings me to my next point: the lack of follow through in general—more specifically, the book just kind of drops off at the end. I don’t want to give away the ultimate culprits of the story, nor the twist at the end, but I will say, that the twist was barely even given its own chapter. We spend the whole story building up, trying to figure out who the killer is, when really we already know, deep down, just like Camille does. But the actual catching of the killer is mentioned almost as an afterthought. Flynn doesn’t give the reader enough time, nor enough reason to be afraid of the killer. It’s almost anticlimactic how quickly it’s over, despite the fact (or maybe because of the fact) that Flynn spends so long constructing Camille’s own realization of who the killer is. It’s almost as if Flynn either should have made the whole ending quick, rather than have Camille’s slow foreboding about the identity of the killer, or there should have been more time given to the solving of the case and the arrests. The way it stands, the culprits almost felt like an afterthought—even though the horror of who they are and what they’ve done should have stood out more. And it’s described so quick and to the point that it didn’t fit in with the rest of Flynn’s idiosyncratic descriptions of things and events. Besides a mention of the goddess Artemis, that section of the book had almost the quick, purely functional writing of a report or a resume.

So, in the end, I’m still going to have to buy Gone Girl and her other book Dark Places, because I definitely felt like Gillian Flynn’s writing had real potential in Sharp Objects. I have the feeling she probably just gets better, which is nice to see in a writer because, as we discussed in one of my writing classes, it is often the case that a writer’s first book is their best, and the rest only disappoint (should I bring up The Hunger Games again?). So, although Sharp Objects will not make it onto my shelf, you’ll have to stay tuned for my future readings of Gillian Flynn’s other works.

A Certain Something Different: A Certain Slant of Light

So, to launch my return to B or B (finally) I'll clue you guys in on a book that's been sitting on my shelf for ages that I hadn't thought to pick up until now: Laura Whitcomb's A Certain Slant of Light.

Ever since I saw my sister reading it, there was something about this book that made me want to read it. It could be the eerie cover, or the fact that it deals with one of my absolute favorite subjects, ghosts. Who knows. In any case, it's not one of those books that jumps right out at you--you won't see it showing off on a display in a bookstore or plastered on ads in your magazine. It's just one of those books you pick up at the bookstore, among many others, and it unobtrusively sits on your shelf, waiting. Over time it just sort of quietly coaxes to read it.

So read it I did, and it reads in much the same way as it got you to read it in the first place. Though I wasn't completely blown away, it was definitely an interesting and thought-provoking read. While dealing with some of the usual high school love story, and coming-of-age themes, it also surprises you with some less common details, questioning both the notion of what makes a proper family, and the nature of god, the afterlife, and organized religion. Plus, there's also the fact that the main character, Helen, is actually a centuries old ghost, who haunts a high school English teacher and falls for a boy in one if his classes.

The protaganist, Helen, one of the Light (a ghost--loved that name for them too, by the way), has been attaching herself to readers and writers of the ages. I'll take a moment right here to commend Whitcomb her excellent grasp of the lives and personalities of various famous writers and readers throughout the ages. She describes them affectionately and in detail, without even having to mention names (though occassionally I wished she would mention names, as my grasp of the lives of famous historical writers is much looser).Anyway, the reader meets up with Helen while she haunts a high school English teacher, Mr. Brown, who also harbors a passion for writing.

While haunting his class, Helen finds, quite suddenly and disconcertingly, that a member of the Quick (the living) can see her. Upon further exploration she finds that the living boy who can see her is actually one of the Light, James, who has taken over the body of one of the Quick (a boy named Billy). I don't want to give too much away here, but Helen and James end up falling in love, spurring Helen to take over a body of her own (a girl by the name of Jenny) so that they can be together.

In my opinion, this is where it get's interesting. Though Helen and James are technically the main characters, I would say that they and their interactions are slightly less original--though there is a certain level of complexity brought about by the fact that they're ghosts living in other people's bodys. James sort of struck me as your typical, polite, calm, knight in shining armor, with hardly any flaws to speak of. He almost exists simply to spur on Helen's developement. Helen is a little more interesting because of the constantly mingled fear and strength in her personality. She is portrayed outwardly as a timid person but on the inside she's really quite passionate.While we get glimpses of this passion mainly through her thoughts, the rest of the world only sees this in bursts, when her emotions boils over, which, I thought, rang true not only for a woman from another decade, but also for the shy, modern young woman she, for a time, pretends to be.

One of the main problems I had with Helen and James, though, was their relationship with each other. Though the fact that their souls are literally bare sort of makes up for it, it is a little implausible how quickly and deeply they fall in love. Though it seems as though Whitcomb means for this to be true love, it really struck me as more like love of convenience--James is the first other Light that Helen has seen since her death. It's not like she had a lot of options in the eligible bachelor department, yet she acts like she would have chosen him out of a million others. Needless to say I was a little underwhelmed by their whirlwind romance--I think, after centuries, Helen is so relieved to no longer be alone that she would have fallen for almost anyone. She just got lucky that she and James are so compatible. I think it might have been made for stronger character development if Whitcomb had taken a moment to acknowledge the fact that their relationship is flawed, so that it didn't seem to happen only by accident.

I'd say a relationship that was far more interesting was actually the one between Helen and her Mr. Brown, as she often refers to him. Her status as a spirit that he cannot see nor hear sets them up for a relationship that could not be explored in the real world, and I think Whitcomb does an excellent job with it. Helen's feelings for Mr. Brown are a strange combination of motherly protectiveness and the ardent, almost reverential affection and jealousy of a lover. Needless to say it was a very interesting relationship to follow, especially because it reminded the reader of Helen's duality--yes she is placed in a setting with adolescents, and even takes on the life of an adolescent for a while herself, but she is actually a grown woman. 

Getting back to the other characters though,  I have to say the ones who really blew me away were the characters who were absent--Billy and Jenny. You don't actually get to meet them, really, until the very end, but the way Whitcomb introduces them to you is so different and intriguing that I couldn't help but find myself more curious about their lives than the past and present lives of Helen and James. Since they're not actually around, Billy and Jenny can't tell you what they enjoy or what their lives have been like. You only learn about them in bits and peices through the interactions of their bodies (with Helen and James inside, and sometimes baffled) with the people they knew and loved. This introduction makes their lives all the more mysterious--though I have to say that, in general, they were already interesting characters to begin with. Whitcomb didn't slack and write unoriginal characters just because she had a more original way of introducing them. Billy, though he picks up on some of the bad-kid with a troubled past generalizations that can be found in many young adult books, still has an interesting enough home life to make him stand out. And, I would venture to say that Jenny is actually one of the more interesting female characters I've read in a while, despite the fact that I know little about her.

That was perhaps the only downfall of Whitcomb's choice to have such a complex set-up. Though she tells the story very well--giving you just enough about each of her character's lives so that you come to know them all--unfortunately, with so many characters, I sometimes felt a little like I was missing on the real story. Plus, there were somethings left relatively unexplained, like the spirit world and the outcome of both Billy's trial and the allegations brought against Mr. Brown.

Finally, I feel I have to touch on the way Whitcomb deals with family structure and religion in this book. Whether you usually seek out or avoid books with opinions on religion, I think this book would be a good read for you. Helen's view of religion, I think, is a good one to read about because though she seems to feel passionately about god, and clearly she has an inside view into the afterlife, she doesn't claim to know God's plan, nor does she force her views on others. Perhaps her best moments are the ones in which she clashes with Jenny's family and members of her congregation over their selfish and judgmental assumptions about the afterlife and about God.

I think these views went hand in hand with the books look at family. Jenny's family, from the outside, seems far superior to Billy's home life. But the book gives the reader a reality check, reminding us that just because something looks better on the outside doesn't mean there aren't problems on the inside. Though Billy and his brother are not your typical family, and they definitely face some difficulties, you can see, or at least James can see even if Billy couldn't, that there is a genuine caring and a tough love level of support between the brothers. Meanwhile Jenny, who's parents are upstanding members of their community, is being stifled by her parents, and soon she finds her parents are even stifling each other. And even then, Whitcomb surprises the reader, and reminds us that even "bad guys," like Jenny's overbearing mother, sometimes face their own crises and have to be examined again in a completely different light.

So, overall, though I have to be very selective about the books on my shelf (and I'll probably box this one--only the best of the best YA books make it onto mine), I'd have to say this is a book to consider having on your shelf.

I'm Back!

Well ladies and gentleman, let me just apologize profusely, once again, for my extended absence. The details are quite boring but it basically boils down to a few birthday celebrations, a wildly erratic work schedule, and a yucky lingering cold. Hopefully, though, this will be the end of my unexplained absences from the blog, as I've just secured a new job and have much more free time for reading.

One thing that will be changing now that I'm back though is the posting schedule. I actually have normal hours now (yay!) and I have the weekends off so you guys should expect regular postings on Sundays or Mondays, as well as maybe a few bonus posts during the week if I blow through more books than usual.

Thank you guys once again for sticking through this with me. I know how frustrating it must be to expect postings and be repeatedly disappointed, and I apologize. From now on I should actually be able to keep up with my reading and keep you guys posted.

All the best,
Kelly

Make Sense of Animals: Animals Make Us Human

So my review this week is for all you animal lovers out there. Well, I guess you don’t actually have to love animals to read this book, but you should probably be at least mildly curious. After all, Temple Grandin’s (and Catherine Johnson’s) Animals Make Us Human is all about, what else, animals.

Anyway, let’s touch on some of the Pros and Cons of this book.  Pro: it gives you a great look into the behavior of domesticated animals—the ones we’re more likely to interact with on a daily basis. I mean honestly, for the average person, knowledge of giraffe behavior probably isn’t as useful as knowledge of dog behavior since it’s pretty unlikely you’re going to run into a giraffe just strolling down the street. That being said, this isn’t really a book that will teach you how to train your dog—though I personally think it’s great supplementary reading when you’re training your pets because it explores the motivations for why animals respond to certain types of training.

I will let you know up front though, this isn’t technically a “just for pleasure” read. If you have no use for more knowledge about animals, then you might want to skip this book (though, as a pretty serious animal nerd, I personally feel you’d be missing out).  If you do need to learn about animal behavior, for a class for example, this is probably a good book to check out, though you may have to supplement it with other, more extensive studies if you need to know more about a particular species. The people this book is perfect for are the people like me who, as I’ve mentioned before, just have a thirst for more knowledge about the world. It’s just detailed enough so you’ll know more than the average guy off the street, but not so much that you have to have a Ph. D. in animal science (like Temple Grandin does) just to understand it. I learned a whole bunch about animal learning and behavior that I now like to share with my friends, family and pretty much anyone else who will listen or pretend to listen (and all of whom probably couldn’t care less).

So, let’s just assume you’re either sort of like me, or you have a vested interest in animals. Why is this book for you? Well, for starters, the book is organized really well. Since Grandin and Johnson are dealing with a variety of domesticated animals in this book, they appropriately split it up into subcategories. While reading, you start with dogs, go on to cats, then horses, cows, pigs, poultry, wildlife, and zoos. This makes it a lot more manageable than some other books on the same subject because you can read about one species at a time rather than getting overwhelmed by a jumble of general animal behavior information. Plus, if you only want to learn about one of those categories and don't really have time to go fishing through the whole book, it's really easy to find and read just the section you're looking for.

Then, to make the book an even more manageable read, each section is also split into smaller sections so that you’re not just reading a huge blob of text. You get to look at each species and their behavior on a few different levels. And at no point did I really feel like I was drowning in excessive animal science jargon because another huge plus for this book is the writing in general--Grandin and Johnson take concepts that are quite difficult and talk about them in a way that is really easy to understand. 

Perhaps my favorite part about this book though, is that once you’re done you feel so much better able to understand animal behavior. Now I totally know what my cats are thinking!…yeah but on a less crazy-cat-lady note, it is nice to have a general idea of why cats, dogs, horses, cows, pigs poultry, wildlife, and zoo animals do what they do. Because you may think you're not really interested in what a pig has to say, but let me tell you, you'll find yourself intrigued anyway. I picked up the book mostly to learn about dogs and cats because I intend to own both throughout my life. A great part of the book for me was that it made me want to know more even just about animals I probably won't have in my lifetime. The knowledge of how one species communicates kind of informs our understanding of how the other species do. It reveals our expectations for how we think animals should communicate, and then shows us why we're wrong to simply assume that cats should behave like dogs, or pigs like poultry--they're each a whole separate species with different biological and instinctual motivations. And as far as practical applications go, knowing all this allows you to tailor your behavior so as to make both your own pets, and other animals more comfortable around you (and, I'd say, it also makes you more comfortable around them).

So basically, if you want to know what your pets are thinking (well, not really, but sort of) then this is definitely a book you’ll want on your shelf.

Indulge Your Inner Rêveur: The Night Circus

Yes, I realize I’ve been MIA the past two weeks, and I apologize profusely. I was dealing with some dental and medical issues that rather distracted me from reading and writing in general, and I was therefore temporarily poorly adapted for a blog that’s main premise is both of those things. I realize that many of you may have stopped following the blog in frustration, but I hope that you will, as I have, return with renewed vigor.

So, to start off my valiant return, we’re going to take a look at Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus. I could try to come up with a cute and amusing pun about how this book is appropriate for a valiant return because of its reoccurring appearance in various towns and it’s rebirth at the end, or something of the sort, but let’s not just throw ourselves back into things—it’s been a while, I’d better get warmed doing anything truly strenuous.

So, about The Night Circus: My overall impression of this book is that it’s definitely worth reading. Morgenstern starts off on my good side simply because of the fact that, although her book is technically about magic, she pulls a fast one on us by focusing on magicians rather than witches, wizards, faeries, or any of those other whimsical creatures who are typically enjoyable, but pop up way too often to be entirely original. Magicians you don’t come across too often and, as a fan of the movie The Prestige, I was immediately intrigued (though a little worried that the book would be too similar to that movie’s plot—I mean c’mon, magicians locked in a competition of skill? Sounds a little familiar). Morgenstern does not disappoint though—she builds a wonderful and unique circus, the appropriately named Le Cirque des Rêves (The Circus of Dreams), where two magicians are bound to compete, pitting their different magical styles against one another in an archaic, but hauntingly beautiful struggle.

Morgenstern’s writing is solid. The style of it helps perpetuate the mystery of the circus that she’s describing. She aptly chooses a third person narrator who is only partially omniscient so as not to give away too much. Morgenstern also employs the little used second person narrator in certain sections describing the circus, using the pronoun “you” to effectively pull you, the reader, into the story as though you are also a spectator at Le Cirque des Rêves. Meanwhile, she does a phenomenal job in general of relating the various scenes within the circus with enough detail to provide a framework of the circus’s appearance while still leaving room for the reader’s imagination to embellish. 

Thematically, the treatment of eternity and eternal life in this book is interesting and well done. The characters are trapped in this circus by the magic that makes it so mysterious and wonderful. Instead of reveling in their eternal youth, however, the lack of aging and changing is seen more as stagnation. Being stuck forever at one age, in one mindset, and not knowing why or how nearly drives a few of the characters mad. I think just throwing that idea in there—the exhausting nature of forever—strengthened the depiction of the circus as a whole. It showed the reader that even if you’re part of something amazing, and with amazing people, you still have to move on eventually—it is a curse to not be allowed to grow and change.

There are only two faults with this story that, I thought, kept it from being truly great. One is the pace. Morgenstern has so many characters and so much time to work with in her story that I think she got a little carried away. She jumps from character to character, time to time, in such a way that it can be hard to figure out when in the course of the plot what you’re reading takes place. The time jumps do accomplish some foreshadowing of certain events, but with a few characters who can tell the future, I’m not sure it was entirely necessary for accomplishing that. What I think she was mainly trying to impress upon the reader was the timelessness of the circus—that time itself does not function the same way surrounding the circus. But I think she forgets that we, as readers in this day and age, are usually pretty preoccupied with time. So removing it and jumbling it up causes confusion. The pace of the book is jarring and somewhat irregular—like a person skipping—it makes a sudden jump in time and then pauses there momentarily before suddenly moving on. And even though you’re making jumps in time, this pace actually makes reading the book a little slow, because you get caught up so often in trying to figure out when you are.

The other aspect of this book that could have been better is the characters. Morgenstern creates so many characters who catch your attention right off the bat—especially, in my opinion, Bailey, Chandresh, Tsukiko, and Freidrich. But unfortunately she doesn’t follow through and develop any of the characters enough. Because there are so many characters there wasn’t time to develop them all and Morgenstern didn’t sit down, recognize that, and pick the ones she could develop. Plus the circus itself is so much of a character that it almost took the spotlight away from the people. In particular the main characters, the magicians, Marco and Celia, were the most disappointing. There is so much more Morgenstern could have done with Marco and Celia. At the beginning of the book I even thought she might make them quite interesting. For example—as a child, Celia exhibits issues with anger and control. Throw in an overbearing and abusive father, and you’d have a character with anger issues who might sometimes snap and do very scary (and potentially much more interesting) things with her magic. Instead, Morgenstern keeps Celia as this character who is, in general, in control and passive, with only small outbursts and bitter remarks to indicate that she has any negative emotions whatsoever. 

Meanwhile, Marco really intrigued me because he is not really the nicest, most likeable guy (which, ironically, makes him a more original and likeable character). He is completely isolated from other people for pretty much all of his young life—which would leave him socially crippled and probably lacking in empathy. Fortunately, Morgenstern touches on that lack of empathy in the way Marco treats Isobel. The woman is completely infatuated with him and for a time, when it’s convenient for him, he indulges her. But we begin to see how badly he treats her—how little concern he has for her at all, in fact. Instead of cutting her loose, in an act that would be painful, but ultimately merciful, he lets her hang around doing his bidding until pretty much the last second when out of the blue he tells her he’s in love with someone else. This is the Marco I would have liked to see more of—a character with his upbringing, who would treat a woman like that, would also exhibit other, more severely self-centered behavior. I feel Morgenstern copped out a little by eventually showing him in a more positive light at the end because of his love for Celia.

Finally, Poppet and Widget are perhaps the most frustrating characters because they feel so one dimensional. At least Bailey has some hopes and dreams and concerns and confusion—though he would probably be even more interesting if we could see him in the future. Poppet and Widget, his friends from the circus, feel more like they came out of a children’s book than something young adult. They really only seem to serve as Bailey’s guides rather than their own characters, despite their momentary stand-alone status in other parts of the story. They are, however, partially redeemed by what they do bring to the table: the promise of a new generation of the circus. Though it might have been more interesting to learn a little more about Bailey, Poppet, and Widget, I can recognize that they are young and were not the focus of this story—they are simply the hint of the future, which makes their lack of growth almost excusable.

Don’t let my negativity towards the end fool you though, this really was an interesting book. Definitely worth reading, especially if you’re looking for something topically different. Plus, although she might have gotten a little carried away with a plethora of characters and some issues with timing, I commend Morgenstern for trying to share with the reader all aspects of the circus. She’s certainly not a lazy writer—she shows Le Cirque des Rêves not from only one perspective but many—touching on the experience of not only those behind the scenes of the circus, but also the general circus goers, the dedicated fans (the rêveurs), and the next generation. So, I think, because of my limited shelf space I will have to put this book in the box just to make room for others that might be more impressive, but it’s a good read and you may find it deserves a space on your shelf.