Emma Donoghue's Room is not a book I would willingly pick up myself and read. There was a pit of dread in my stomach as my book club unanimously agreed to make that our December book, and yet, as we near closer to discussing it next week, I find myself not being able to wait. From the first two sentences of the back-of-the-book synopsis, I knew right off the bat that I absolutely did not want to read this book:
"To five-year-old Jack, Room is the world....It's where he was born, it's where he and his Ma eat and sleep and play and learn. At night, his Ma shuts him safely in the wardrobe, where he is meant to be asleep when Old Nick visits."
Talk about a bad week to be off my antidepressants! But since I flaked on our last book (Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet), I put my big girl pants on, sucked it up, and read my chapter book like a good girl. If you call putting my big girl pants on making a rule that I would only read the book in the daylight, when I wasn't alone, and I'd round out the evening with a Christmas movie.
Having it be written from the perspective of 5-year old Jack is a little off-putting, yet also comforting. You know something awful had to have happened, and since he's five, he's able to better understand the world - or lack thereof - around him, including the circumstances in which he wound up in Room. But you're left to fill in certain pieces of the puzzle yourself which is where I think the book wanders into dangerously depressing territory. It's especially easy for readers - parents or not - to take pause and wonder what on earth they would do if forced in to such a situation.
Although the story is told from the most innocent of perspectives, the twists and turns the story takes are still somewhat surprising. I'll be honest, the entirety of this novel is a heart-pumper! I found myself on the metaphorical edge of my seat right up until the very last page.
There are parts - my friend and I agreed - that are a bit far-fetched. But I just keep reminding myself that I'm reading a book, a land where vampires and humans can spawn, so I try not to get caught up in the semantics.
By far the most compelling part of Room is not the story itself, but the way this fictional child is able to spark within us basic questions of humanity. In a flash of a three-word sentence, the reader can find themselves in contemplative thought over their own life and how they are contributing to society: "Everything just repeats;" or, "in Outside everyone is always stressed." And if only it were still as easy as counting our teeth in order to feel calm and secure.
Room makes us look at the world - "Outside" - a little differently than we have before, if only for just a moment. For that, it is a definitely worth a carry in your tote.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Plain Truth
I had never read a Jodi Picoult novel until Plain Truth, even though they dominate the fiction section of the bookstore. I was under the impression her books are often turned into Lifetime movies, but I might be thinking of Nora Roberts. The new virtual member of our book club (this was a chosen read) predicted it would be a tear-fest and she wasn't wrong; even a lack of antidepressant withdrawal couldn't stop me from crying.
It was easy to get sucked into the book early on, but the main character, Ellie's, constant irritation, and general rudeness was a bit off-putting. She seemed to melt as the book went on, but often found it too easy to revert back to the ice-queen defense attorney with a pixy haircut and slender features. She suffers from the usual past relationship baggage we all insist on carrying around, only we never really learn what her issue is, just that she is a commitment-phobe, afraid love will mean certain strangulation. Ellie meets, and is forced to live with, someone who wants the complete opposite, love from everyone she encounters, even if that means putting herself on the line.
See, Katie has a problem. She doesn't know it, but she needs Ellie's help in keeping her - a sweet, young, Amish girl - out of serving a lifetime prison sentence for murdering her infant son moments after his birth. The evidence is astounding, making it impossible for the reader to think that anything else could have happened other than......that. But you find yourself thinking that there just might be another possibility because, shit, you've read about pubescent wizards, and glittery vampires, so who the heck know what could have happened.
Like most books, you find yourself rooting for the main character, but this took on a different turn with Ellie being a defense attorney, the epitome of evil, soul-sucking lawyers. She even begins by verbalizing a nightmare staring a child molester whom she'd gotten acquitted. Dabbling in the legal field myself, Picoult's tale rings familiar in terms of legal jargon and pomp and circumstance. Ellie splits herself between the eats-nails-for-breakfast attorney, and the helpful long-lost family member, which can sometimes get confusing; one minute she's hostilely interrogating Katie, the next she's comforting her in a mother's embrace. With such a wide array of emotions, its no wonder the reader is in tears by the end. Like Ellie, we aren't sure what to believe. We just want to know the truth but are forced to learn life-lessons a long the way, like the truth is our reward for time and energy spent on self discovery and revelations. (Does it sort of feel like every author is playing God?)
By the end, Ellie and I (the reader) have learned our lessons and are intent on choosing the path of self-improvement over what feels comfortable - hiding in the past. Katie, on the other hand, has been the teacher in her own child-like, sheltered Amish way. Picoult's wide range of knowledge from the legal system, police investigations, and both prosecution and defense attorneys really brings the book alive and makes you recognize that even though it is a work of fiction, it really isn't. We can all relate to it in some way.
There was a point as I neared the end where I was actually afraid we would never know what happened to Baby Fisher. Katie's defense is entirely plausible, and with so many variables, how could anyone be certain of what really happened that early morning? But one person knows. I got the feeling of how things would end, but it wasn't completely predictable. And I will admit, there was a portion of the ending that really disappointed me.
There is a lot to the story, so it's hard to read it over a weekend. Then again, you can't let it sit for too long or you might miss some crucial details. But, believe me, you won't want to. (So get with it, Virtual Member! I know you'll love it! ;-))
It was easy to get sucked into the book early on, but the main character, Ellie's, constant irritation, and general rudeness was a bit off-putting. She seemed to melt as the book went on, but often found it too easy to revert back to the ice-queen defense attorney with a pixy haircut and slender features. She suffers from the usual past relationship baggage we all insist on carrying around, only we never really learn what her issue is, just that she is a commitment-phobe, afraid love will mean certain strangulation. Ellie meets, and is forced to live with, someone who wants the complete opposite, love from everyone she encounters, even if that means putting herself on the line.
See, Katie has a problem. She doesn't know it, but she needs Ellie's help in keeping her - a sweet, young, Amish girl - out of serving a lifetime prison sentence for murdering her infant son moments after his birth. The evidence is astounding, making it impossible for the reader to think that anything else could have happened other than......that. But you find yourself thinking that there just might be another possibility because, shit, you've read about pubescent wizards, and glittery vampires, so who the heck know what could have happened.
Like most books, you find yourself rooting for the main character, but this took on a different turn with Ellie being a defense attorney, the epitome of evil, soul-sucking lawyers. She even begins by verbalizing a nightmare staring a child molester whom she'd gotten acquitted. Dabbling in the legal field myself, Picoult's tale rings familiar in terms of legal jargon and pomp and circumstance. Ellie splits herself between the eats-nails-for-breakfast attorney, and the helpful long-lost family member, which can sometimes get confusing; one minute she's hostilely interrogating Katie, the next she's comforting her in a mother's embrace. With such a wide array of emotions, its no wonder the reader is in tears by the end. Like Ellie, we aren't sure what to believe. We just want to know the truth but are forced to learn life-lessons a long the way, like the truth is our reward for time and energy spent on self discovery and revelations. (Does it sort of feel like every author is playing God?)
By the end, Ellie and I (the reader) have learned our lessons and are intent on choosing the path of self-improvement over what feels comfortable - hiding in the past. Katie, on the other hand, has been the teacher in her own child-like, sheltered Amish way. Picoult's wide range of knowledge from the legal system, police investigations, and both prosecution and defense attorneys really brings the book alive and makes you recognize that even though it is a work of fiction, it really isn't. We can all relate to it in some way.
There was a point as I neared the end where I was actually afraid we would never know what happened to Baby Fisher. Katie's defense is entirely plausible, and with so many variables, how could anyone be certain of what really happened that early morning? But one person knows. I got the feeling of how things would end, but it wasn't completely predictable. And I will admit, there was a portion of the ending that really disappointed me.
There is a lot to the story, so it's hard to read it over a weekend. Then again, you can't let it sit for too long or you might miss some crucial details. But, believe me, you won't want to. (So get with it, Virtual Member! I know you'll love it! ;-))
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Queenmaker
Have you read Michelle Moran's Nefertiti, Cleopatra's Daughter, or The Heretic Queen? Well, India Edghill's Queenmaker is exactly like those, only set in Biblical Jerusalem instead of pre-Biblical Egypt.
I reached page 4 when I got sucked into the book and realized the King David I was reading about was the David who defeated Goliath with a single stone. Surely, this would be a story of a great man, not like the extra large tool-bags I read about in Moran's fictionally historic novels. The first line: "People say David loved me because I resembled my brother." Ok, so maybe we were reaching into some Alexander with Colin Farrell and Angelina Jolie territory. But Edghill writes in such a way that we aren't entirely sure if David is a hero worth his praise or the creepy master manipulator from whence we all originated. Even long after finishing the book, when I encounter references to King David, a mixture of emotions and judgements bubble to the surface and I still can't decide if he was a good man. But maybe that is the point; it's not for me to decide.
Reading about the wife of royalty is always an interesting experience. Like the back of the book boasts, Queen Michal offers up an intense behind-the-scenes, first-hand account of her life as a prisoner of David's love; love for her or himself we're never quite sure. As an impressionable daughter of King Saul, she falls head-over-heels for the enigmatic, dashing stranger, David, brought to Jerusalem to play the harp for the King. He quickly imparts his wisdom on King Saul on how to handle the nation's enemies and approaching conflicts from expertly articulated innocence.
But Future-King David is anything but, slithering his way into Jerusalem's driver's seat by epitomizing the friend that stabs you in the back to your face. Michal is granted her prepubescent wish in becoming his wife, but is forced to live separated from her love. This is when Michal learns the most about her husband, and is faced with the realization that it was nothing more than puppy love and a case of raging adolescent hormones. King David, however, views Michal as a trophy from his first, and most influential, conquest that must shine at his side no matter how dull and jaded it became on the inside. No matter how many other wives he acquired - more than Kings before him - Michal remained his one and only, holding her captive from the man she grew to love in David's absence.
Like all great females of history, Queen Michal was able to extract her revenge, if nothing more than to realize it was David who ultimately suffered the most during his reign.
Edghill expertly captures the essence of Michal, the troublesome girl who grew into an introverted Queen. But her story was bleak and offered happiness in only the most painful of circumstances, something extremely difficult to relate to in this constant I-want-what-I-want-when-I-want-it culture. But, in that vein, she teaches us how to appreciate every little thing we have because it could be a lot less. Or, like Michal, we could have everything we thought we wanted, but nothing of what we did.
I reached page 4 when I got sucked into the book and realized the King David I was reading about was the David who defeated Goliath with a single stone. Surely, this would be a story of a great man, not like the extra large tool-bags I read about in Moran's fictionally historic novels. The first line: "People say David loved me because I resembled my brother." Ok, so maybe we were reaching into some Alexander with Colin Farrell and Angelina Jolie territory. But Edghill writes in such a way that we aren't entirely sure if David is a hero worth his praise or the creepy master manipulator from whence we all originated. Even long after finishing the book, when I encounter references to King David, a mixture of emotions and judgements bubble to the surface and I still can't decide if he was a good man. But maybe that is the point; it's not for me to decide.
Reading about the wife of royalty is always an interesting experience. Like the back of the book boasts, Queen Michal offers up an intense behind-the-scenes, first-hand account of her life as a prisoner of David's love; love for her or himself we're never quite sure. As an impressionable daughter of King Saul, she falls head-over-heels for the enigmatic, dashing stranger, David, brought to Jerusalem to play the harp for the King. He quickly imparts his wisdom on King Saul on how to handle the nation's enemies and approaching conflicts from expertly articulated innocence.
But Future-King David is anything but, slithering his way into Jerusalem's driver's seat by epitomizing the friend that stabs you in the back to your face. Michal is granted her prepubescent wish in becoming his wife, but is forced to live separated from her love. This is when Michal learns the most about her husband, and is faced with the realization that it was nothing more than puppy love and a case of raging adolescent hormones. King David, however, views Michal as a trophy from his first, and most influential, conquest that must shine at his side no matter how dull and jaded it became on the inside. No matter how many other wives he acquired - more than Kings before him - Michal remained his one and only, holding her captive from the man she grew to love in David's absence.
Like all great females of history, Queen Michal was able to extract her revenge, if nothing more than to realize it was David who ultimately suffered the most during his reign.
Edghill expertly captures the essence of Michal, the troublesome girl who grew into an introverted Queen. But her story was bleak and offered happiness in only the most painful of circumstances, something extremely difficult to relate to in this constant I-want-what-I-want-when-I-want-it culture. But, in that vein, she teaches us how to appreciate every little thing we have because it could be a lot less. Or, like Michal, we could have everything we thought we wanted, but nothing of what we did.
People Block My Posts on FB
Because everything I read, I post. What can I say, I read a lot.
GOP Supports Latino Districts in Nevada
Reports: Baby Lisa's Mom Preparing to be Arrested
CAUGHT ON TAPE: Cliff Collapses Into Ocean in England
Democrats Scramble for Votes on Jobs Bill
Anti-Wall Street Protestors Plan 'Millionaires March'
Rendell To Ant-Wall Street Protesters: You Made Your Point, Now Move on with Your Lives
Congressional Investigators to Subpoena Holder in Fast and Furious Probe
Cain Creeps up on Romney Ahead of GOP Debate
Fashion Industry Full of Predators
Cain: 'Effort to Intimidate Me Will Not Succeed
More Pain for Wall Street: Firms Seen Slashing Another 10K Jobs
GOP Supports Latino Districts in Nevada
Reports: Baby Lisa's Mom Preparing to be Arrested
CAUGHT ON TAPE: Cliff Collapses Into Ocean in England
Democrats Scramble for Votes on Jobs Bill
Anti-Wall Street Protestors Plan 'Millionaires March'
Rendell To Ant-Wall Street Protesters: You Made Your Point, Now Move on with Your Lives
Congressional Investigators to Subpoena Holder in Fast and Furious Probe
Cain Creeps up on Romney Ahead of GOP Debate
Fashion Industry Full of Predators
Cain: 'Effort to Intimidate Me Will Not Succeed
More Pain for Wall Street: Firms Seen Slashing Another 10K Jobs
Sunday, October 9, 2011
A Lazy Sunday Funday
Using Soap Operas, Birth of a New Career
Jude Finds Manipulation in Recall Vote in Arizona
Protestors Against Wall Street
US Presbyterian Church Ordains First Openly Gay Minister
Governor Brown Signs Second Half of California Dream Act
Cain Takes Aim at Perry in 2012 Race
My eyes started to hurt, looking at digital articles and the brain-stimulating ads that run along side them, so I finished The Carrie Diaries (review below!), and continued plodding through Plain Truth.
Jude Finds Manipulation in Recall Vote in Arizona
Protestors Against Wall Street
US Presbyterian Church Ordains First Openly Gay Minister
Governor Brown Signs Second Half of California Dream Act
Cain Takes Aim at Perry in 2012 Race
My eyes started to hurt, looking at digital articles and the brain-stimulating ads that run along side them, so I finished The Carrie Diaries (review below!), and continued plodding through Plain Truth.
The Carrie Diaries
If you were a child of the late '80's, early '90's, you may associate the title, The Carrie Diaries, to your mother telling you about the movie where a vat of pig's blood is ceremoniously empties on top of the most unpopular girl in school. But your primary association is that of the always-iconic-to-our-generation Carrie Bradshaw, fictional character created by Candace Bushnell, electrified on television, and legend-ized through books, movies, fashion, and pop culture in general.
Candace Bushnell is a clique-hold name, millions of women all over the world fantasizing the life that only the upper East coast can provide (and only a Western girl like myself can fantasize about). Her bestseller, Sex in the City catapulted her to fame on the coattails of 4 women who were an adequate sampling of women the world over. Although it was unwritten, character Carrie led the pack, in culture, politics, and fashion, so it was only natural we would want learn from whence she came.
I must be having some sort of mid-life crisis, or something, because I seem to be gravitating towards these coming-of-age novels. There is nothing that really separates The Carrie Diaries from any other book of it's kind, but I don't think that's the point. It's fun, and fluffy, with just the right amount of heart, soul, humility, and wit; never mind that sometimes you forget you're reading about Carrie Bradshaw until another character says her name.
Like we learned from the television series, Carrie met Samantha first, and I was pleased to find a link between adult Carrie and this new one I was learning about. But, what bothered me, was that I seemed to recall a scene in which a very pregnant Miranda was sitting on Carrie's stoop as they contemplated their roles in the ultimate demise of their relationships with men. Carries asks poignantly, "Do you think it's as simple as my father left so I'll always be messed up about men?" But now that I think about it, I suppose there was nothing to indicate she was referring to herself over a rhetorical question.
Like Judy Blume's Summer Sisters, Candace Bushnell was able to perfectly capture what us young women know about certain aspects of life, this particular lesson being that the best people you meet in life will be after high school. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda were sisters from another mother, while her supposed best friends since birth treated her like shit. I'm sure I'm not the only one who can sympathize.
Bushnell keeps the pages turning because you want to know what happens next, even though you know already and could see it coming a mile away; you want to know how it all unfolds. I have to admit, though, the book's description makes it seem grossly more interesting than it is. The writing style is a bit all over the place, an entire chapter completely devoid of pronouns.
Since the characters spend most of their time in school, I think of it as a fun fall read. It's definitely a book you can get absorbed in, not feel guilty about, and have a more sunshine-y outlook on the world once you're done.
Candace Bushnell is a clique-hold name, millions of women all over the world fantasizing the life that only the upper East coast can provide (and only a Western girl like myself can fantasize about). Her bestseller, Sex in the City catapulted her to fame on the coattails of 4 women who were an adequate sampling of women the world over. Although it was unwritten, character Carrie led the pack, in culture, politics, and fashion, so it was only natural we would want learn from whence she came.
I must be having some sort of mid-life crisis, or something, because I seem to be gravitating towards these coming-of-age novels. There is nothing that really separates The Carrie Diaries from any other book of it's kind, but I don't think that's the point. It's fun, and fluffy, with just the right amount of heart, soul, humility, and wit; never mind that sometimes you forget you're reading about Carrie Bradshaw until another character says her name.
Like we learned from the television series, Carrie met Samantha first, and I was pleased to find a link between adult Carrie and this new one I was learning about. But, what bothered me, was that I seemed to recall a scene in which a very pregnant Miranda was sitting on Carrie's stoop as they contemplated their roles in the ultimate demise of their relationships with men. Carries asks poignantly, "Do you think it's as simple as my father left so I'll always be messed up about men?" But now that I think about it, I suppose there was nothing to indicate she was referring to herself over a rhetorical question.
Like Judy Blume's Summer Sisters, Candace Bushnell was able to perfectly capture what us young women know about certain aspects of life, this particular lesson being that the best people you meet in life will be after high school. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda were sisters from another mother, while her supposed best friends since birth treated her like shit. I'm sure I'm not the only one who can sympathize.
Bushnell keeps the pages turning because you want to know what happens next, even though you know already and could see it coming a mile away; you want to know how it all unfolds. I have to admit, though, the book's description makes it seem grossly more interesting than it is. The writing style is a bit all over the place, an entire chapter completely devoid of pronouns.
Since the characters spend most of their time in school, I think of it as a fun fall read. It's definitely a book you can get absorbed in, not feel guilty about, and have a more sunshine-y outlook on the world once you're done.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Post Spa Saturday Day
What you'll find in my bag, hands, kitchen counter, computer, or Droid. I'm a total word nerd. (I started doing this a couple of weeks ago, so below is what I was reading then)
Romney Tries to Reassure Social Conservatives
Social Issues Pose New Test for Mitt Romney
Women throw bleach in Wal-Mart fight
Warm Reception for Bachmann at Values Conference
Prominent Pastor Calls Romney's Church a Cult
Ron Paul Wins Conference Straw Pole, to No One's Surprise
Romney Tries to Reassure Social Conservatives
Social Issues Pose New Test for Mitt Romney
Women throw bleach in Wal-Mart fight
Warm Reception for Bachmann at Values Conference
Prominent Pastor Calls Romney's Church a Cult
Ron Paul Wins Conference Straw Pole, to No One's Surprise
Summer Sisters
It has been many years since I've picked up a Judy Blume novel. The last of hers I read was long before getting my period was even a glimmer in the old Man's eye, and such subject matters made me uncomfortably curious. Even as an adult a year out from delivering my own baby girl, Judy Blume novels still have the same effect on me. Also similarly, I discovered they're impossible to put down, and once you do, you're sorry that it's over.
Summer Sisters made me fall in love with Judy Blume all over again. I don't know how she does it, but she is able to caption adolescent better than a psychologist; and kudos to her for embracing emotions and certain rites of passage we'd rather forget. The story begins at the moment we wish it were over - the awkward tween years where it seems almost impossible to make and keep friends. Hopelessly insecure Vix - Victoria - is invited to spend the summer with Caitlin, a girl whom Vix hasn't really spoken in great length given their habitation of very different social and socioeconomic circles. Thanks to an overly busy mother and generally apathetic father, Vix is given permission to spend the summer with Caitlin on Martha's Vineyard.
Caitlin is the charismatic, always gorgeous, popular girl us normal girls wanted more than anything to emulate. Even better, we wanted the Caitlin girls to be our friend, so we find ourselves just a wee bit jealous of Vix. Caitlin is just itching to meet someone who "gets it." Vix doesn't know what that is and is too afraid to ask; thus begins a long and tumultuous, yet deep and profound, seemingly impossible friendship.
We are rarely shown a glimpse of the world that occupies Vix's non-summer time; since Vix and Caitlin's relationship is rooted in the sandy beach, that is where the bulk of the story takes place. It isn't anything out of the ordinary - popular girl takes unpopular girl under her wing, takes advantage of their friendship and Vix's compassion, but manages to exhibit small flickers of friendship, which navigates through school troubles, friend issues, summer romances, and very different views of a successful future. But even though Vix is mousy, quiet, and never actually does "get it," she's tough, spirited, determined, and doesn't seem to pay any mind to what anyone besides Caitlin thinks of her.
With their differing personalities, Caitlin and Vix grab hold of their futures, while accepting the gradual emotional distance that comes with an aging friendship. And despite the quintessential best friend betrayal, they are there for each other as they figure out adult life, one without a guaranteed summer trip to the Vineyard.
The end is quite shocking, not what you'd get in any of Blume's teen novels. So, by the end, your guilty pleasure doesn't feel so guilty anymore, but - as always - you're saddened to read the very last page.
Summer Sisters made me fall in love with Judy Blume all over again. I don't know how she does it, but she is able to caption adolescent better than a psychologist; and kudos to her for embracing emotions and certain rites of passage we'd rather forget. The story begins at the moment we wish it were over - the awkward tween years where it seems almost impossible to make and keep friends. Hopelessly insecure Vix - Victoria - is invited to spend the summer with Caitlin, a girl whom Vix hasn't really spoken in great length given their habitation of very different social and socioeconomic circles. Thanks to an overly busy mother and generally apathetic father, Vix is given permission to spend the summer with Caitlin on Martha's Vineyard.
Caitlin is the charismatic, always gorgeous, popular girl us normal girls wanted more than anything to emulate. Even better, we wanted the Caitlin girls to be our friend, so we find ourselves just a wee bit jealous of Vix. Caitlin is just itching to meet someone who "gets it." Vix doesn't know what that is and is too afraid to ask; thus begins a long and tumultuous, yet deep and profound, seemingly impossible friendship.
We are rarely shown a glimpse of the world that occupies Vix's non-summer time; since Vix and Caitlin's relationship is rooted in the sandy beach, that is where the bulk of the story takes place. It isn't anything out of the ordinary - popular girl takes unpopular girl under her wing, takes advantage of their friendship and Vix's compassion, but manages to exhibit small flickers of friendship, which navigates through school troubles, friend issues, summer romances, and very different views of a successful future. But even though Vix is mousy, quiet, and never actually does "get it," she's tough, spirited, determined, and doesn't seem to pay any mind to what anyone besides Caitlin thinks of her.
With their differing personalities, Caitlin and Vix grab hold of their futures, while accepting the gradual emotional distance that comes with an aging friendship. And despite the quintessential best friend betrayal, they are there for each other as they figure out adult life, one without a guaranteed summer trip to the Vineyard.
The end is quite shocking, not what you'd get in any of Blume's teen novels. So, by the end, your guilty pleasure doesn't feel so guilty anymore, but - as always - you're saddened to read the very last page.
Friday, October 7, 2011
The Girl Who Played with Fire
If you're anything like me, you needed to be forced into reading the book following The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I told a friend of mine how that book put me on antidepressants, but she was adamant that I at least read what happens next to our near friend, Lisbeth Salander. In exchange, she read Marley and Me, a book that could have very well put her on antidepressants. As you would imagine, we both loved our respective reads, but for very different reasons (one of them being that her story stared a cute, lovable, cuddly pooch).
When I finished the introductory book, I mistakenly read the book-number-two special insert located in the back, the 2-3 pages that is supposed to entice you to buy the next book, then ultimately contribute to the franchise with books, movies, posters, CD's, clothing, etc. But, for me, reading about Lisbeth being strapped to her bed while a creepy doctor enters her padded cell and talks to her like their situations should be reversed had the complete opposite effect on me. So I stocked up on pills, made a deal with my friend, and off I went.
I came to find out that particular scene took place when she was 12-13 years old, which only makes it that much more uncomfortable and sleazy. This was just after "All the Evil" that we learned about in the first book but would now come to know, despite every effort. Surprisingly, however, it is Lisbeth that is the one interested in revealing the truth.
Once again, we join up with out friend, Mikael Blomkvist, resident hero of a self-described non-influential monthly financial magazine, who has become somewhat of a celebrity in the publishing and financial world, ultimately taking down the man who had him convicted of libel. Now, he is presented with a story exposing the world of sex trafficking that is lead by some of Sweden's most influential politicians, lawyers, policemen, and various other would-be stand-up citizens. But just as the story is about to g viral, the author and his partner are murdered, and it's none other than our heroin, Lisbeth, that is the prime suspect. While only us readers know what her motive would have been, her fingerprints were found on the murder weapon, which was also used to murder her guardian on the same night.
As you read, it becomes more and more difficult to believe Salandar isn't guilty, but you're at least empathetic and simply want to learn why she did it; she doesn't usually take a shit without having a really good reason, and donning her Irene Nesner wig. Although Blomkvist heads up the morality police, he stands by Salandar and is convinced of her innocence, launching his own private investigation in to what happened and, more importantly, why. Since he has more insider information than the police, he's able to privately interact with fugitive Salandar, and learn that the police are hindering the very investigation they head, and that the story delves much deeper than the imminent exposure of the sex trade. In fact, it started just before Salandar turned 13 years old.
We know Salandar didn't have the greatest of childhoods, floating from foster family to foster family, in and out of psych wards, abused, neglected, passed around, then spit out by the justice system. As Blomkvist uncovers secret after secret, he plunges deeper into Salandar's life than he had intended, learning the very mobster they're looking for is someone very close to Lisbeth. And, finally, he delivers to us "All the Evil."
I made a deal with myself not to read this book as it approached bed time, but then I found I couldn't put it down. I even admitted to my friend that I really found it interesting (she, in turn, admitted she did love Marley and Me even though she was in hysterics by the end) and that I wouldn't need to be literary blackmailed into reading the third installment. Coincidentally, she said it was her favorite and is interested to know my thoughts.
Although we know Lisbeth Salandar did not murder her guardian or the journalists, she is now subjected to revealing her role in the triple murders, which will ultimately tell her story from the beginning, and wrap up the three-book series quite nicely. The Girl Who Played with Fire left us desperately wanting more, Salandar barely clinging on to life.....
When I finished the introductory book, I mistakenly read the book-number-two special insert located in the back, the 2-3 pages that is supposed to entice you to buy the next book, then ultimately contribute to the franchise with books, movies, posters, CD's, clothing, etc. But, for me, reading about Lisbeth being strapped to her bed while a creepy doctor enters her padded cell and talks to her like their situations should be reversed had the complete opposite effect on me. So I stocked up on pills, made a deal with my friend, and off I went.
I came to find out that particular scene took place when she was 12-13 years old, which only makes it that much more uncomfortable and sleazy. This was just after "All the Evil" that we learned about in the first book but would now come to know, despite every effort. Surprisingly, however, it is Lisbeth that is the one interested in revealing the truth.
Once again, we join up with out friend, Mikael Blomkvist, resident hero of a self-described non-influential monthly financial magazine, who has become somewhat of a celebrity in the publishing and financial world, ultimately taking down the man who had him convicted of libel. Now, he is presented with a story exposing the world of sex trafficking that is lead by some of Sweden's most influential politicians, lawyers, policemen, and various other would-be stand-up citizens. But just as the story is about to g viral, the author and his partner are murdered, and it's none other than our heroin, Lisbeth, that is the prime suspect. While only us readers know what her motive would have been, her fingerprints were found on the murder weapon, which was also used to murder her guardian on the same night.
As you read, it becomes more and more difficult to believe Salandar isn't guilty, but you're at least empathetic and simply want to learn why she did it; she doesn't usually take a shit without having a really good reason, and donning her Irene Nesner wig. Although Blomkvist heads up the morality police, he stands by Salandar and is convinced of her innocence, launching his own private investigation in to what happened and, more importantly, why. Since he has more insider information than the police, he's able to privately interact with fugitive Salandar, and learn that the police are hindering the very investigation they head, and that the story delves much deeper than the imminent exposure of the sex trade. In fact, it started just before Salandar turned 13 years old.
We know Salandar didn't have the greatest of childhoods, floating from foster family to foster family, in and out of psych wards, abused, neglected, passed around, then spit out by the justice system. As Blomkvist uncovers secret after secret, he plunges deeper into Salandar's life than he had intended, learning the very mobster they're looking for is someone very close to Lisbeth. And, finally, he delivers to us "All the Evil."
I made a deal with myself not to read this book as it approached bed time, but then I found I couldn't put it down. I even admitted to my friend that I really found it interesting (she, in turn, admitted she did love Marley and Me even though she was in hysterics by the end) and that I wouldn't need to be literary blackmailed into reading the third installment. Coincidentally, she said it was her favorite and is interested to know my thoughts.
Although we know Lisbeth Salandar did not murder her guardian or the journalists, she is now subjected to revealing her role in the triple murders, which will ultimately tell her story from the beginning, and wrap up the three-book series quite nicely. The Girl Who Played with Fire left us desperately wanting more, Salandar barely clinging on to life.....
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
I'm a little late to the party in most situations; Desperate Housewives, LOST, The Office, Harry Potter, Twilight, and now, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series. I was given the first two in the 3-book series nearly a year ago but, if you've ever seen my bookshelf, I have a lot of catching-up to do. I suppose somewhere in the back of my ego, I don't always want to jump on the latest bandwagon. At any rate, I finally decided to pick up The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and about 150 pages in, I almost put it down for good.
I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, the back cover not necessarily misleading, but not altogether informative, either; it at least didn't even mention the plethora of Swedish financial information I'd have to weed through before the story actually got going. I e-mailed my friend, who I later learned is a big proponent of the series, that this first one was sooooooooooooooooo boring; and that the only reason I was continuing to read was because of my deep desire to have all of my questions answered, my main one being: what does all of this financial mumbo-jumbo have to do with a girl gone missing over 40 years ago? The answer to this question was not as interesting as I would have hoped, and the book eventually morphed from the Swedish Forbes who's who of swindling financiers to a sexually explicit, revolting train-wreck you can't turn away from.
The level of sexual depravity is beyond comprehension. Or maybe I have just led a very sheltered existence. Or maybe I was disheartened with the level of honesty that is presented in this novel. I know people have experienced sexual exploitation, deviance, rape, molestation, torture, and limitless other mind-bogglingly horrific encounters, but having it laid out in print was something I found surprising. But I am one of those naive fools who read for the purpose of escaping reality rather than submerging myself within it.
Once the story moves beyond Sweden's financial troubles - shockingly similar to that of the US, by the by - the premise of the story is revealed: an aging man who has had his hand in every pot of gold all over Europe lost his beloved niece over 40 years ago; and I mean lost in the literal sense. She disappeared like a fart in the wind, leaving in her wake limitless possibilities of what happened, when, where, and why. But first we're introduced to the 2 people who are supposed to ultimately crack the 40+ year-old case that not even the local authorities could solve (although if you've ever watched a soap opera you know that isn't saying much), both of which are highly unexpected sleuths.
For starters, there is Lisbeth Salander who, for some reason - which I've heard is explained in the following 2 books - we get to learn all the details of the sordid past of this "punk prodigy," who is covered in tattoos, piercings, and enough attitude to give all of those Emo kids a run for their money. But she became that way thanks to a past peppered with absentee parents, drug additions, sexual abuse, group homes, and conservators who took advantage of her apparent non-status in society. She spends all of her time - free and otherwise - using her powers to gain access to information on people us mere mortals could only dream of. Her methods are unconventional and could place her among the depravity she inevitably encounters if not for the goods she digs up.
No one saw her coming, nor expected her to, assuming she had been beaten down by the system and preferred to stay there with only her misery to keep her company. Her most recent case worker banked on this assumption and never even considered the possibility of the retaliation she conducted after he brutally rapes her. I, personally, found this aspect of the story very unbearable and only got through it by assuming the reader needed to know her entire story so we could eventually see how awesome a heroin she is. Just learning of her investigative talents was enough for me, thank you very much.
Another aside was learning all about our main character, the hero and Lisbeth's partner both in crime and eventually the sack, Mikael Blomkvist. It's not often someone convicted of libel turns into a hero and, sadly for the first book, he doesn't really amount to much of one in the eyes of his fictional public. Promised with the goods against those who accused him of slander, he hesitantly embarks on the journey to find missing Harriet Vanger; the most likely heir to the Vangar Corporation, Sweden's most prominent of floundering financial firms.
Armed with absolutely nothing but a family of liars, Mikael is introduced to Lisbeth as the last quarter of the book starts. He encounters her work through a lawyer who had the investigative firm run a report on someone who proves to have little significance to the overall story (remember the man who had Mikael convicted of libel? Yeah, him.) Even still, their paths are quite windy and shifty it's amazing they meet in the first place. But meet they do and, of course, solving an old mystery isn't all they get themselves into.
The case seems highly improbably - and the fact that Mikael was personally requested to accomplish the task is even more of a stretch - since all Mikael has to go on is an old photograph taken by a couple visiting the area on their honeymoon. And, lest we forget, any alleged crime took place over 40 years prior. Muddying the waters are members of the Vangar family who span the globe greater than the Kardashian family, and tell just as much of the same truth. It becomes painstakingly obvious that Mikael has inadvertently situated himself amidst a family secret he might have been better off not knowing, with a family hell-bent on keeping it hidden. So the story inevitably evolves into a battle of morals between Blomkvist and the Vangars. What he eventually uncovers, while navigating the bumps of his own personal life, is a level of sexual violence only imagined by those who occupy the most secure of imprisonment institutions.
To say the ending has a twist is an understatement, but I wouldn't lump it in with the twist-master himself, M. Nigh Shyamalan, or that guy who made all of those Bruce Willis movies. The end is shocking and I will not expound further.
As an extremely emotional person, I found this book to be highly intelligent, intriguing, disgusting, shocking, sordid, and just plain crazy. It left me feeling like learning more about Lisbeth would be satisfying but only in the way that eating an entire package of Oreos is satisfying. I'm forced to continue reading the series, however, since it was that in trade for my friend reading her emotionally-scaring equivalent: Marley and Me.
But when I eventually break down and read The Girl Who Played with Fire I'm at least armed with a fresh bottle of antidepressants.
I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, the back cover not necessarily misleading, but not altogether informative, either; it at least didn't even mention the plethora of Swedish financial information I'd have to weed through before the story actually got going. I e-mailed my friend, who I later learned is a big proponent of the series, that this first one was sooooooooooooooooo boring; and that the only reason I was continuing to read was because of my deep desire to have all of my questions answered, my main one being: what does all of this financial mumbo-jumbo have to do with a girl gone missing over 40 years ago? The answer to this question was not as interesting as I would have hoped, and the book eventually morphed from the Swedish Forbes who's who of swindling financiers to a sexually explicit, revolting train-wreck you can't turn away from.
The level of sexual depravity is beyond comprehension. Or maybe I have just led a very sheltered existence. Or maybe I was disheartened with the level of honesty that is presented in this novel. I know people have experienced sexual exploitation, deviance, rape, molestation, torture, and limitless other mind-bogglingly horrific encounters, but having it laid out in print was something I found surprising. But I am one of those naive fools who read for the purpose of escaping reality rather than submerging myself within it.
Once the story moves beyond Sweden's financial troubles - shockingly similar to that of the US, by the by - the premise of the story is revealed: an aging man who has had his hand in every pot of gold all over Europe lost his beloved niece over 40 years ago; and I mean lost in the literal sense. She disappeared like a fart in the wind, leaving in her wake limitless possibilities of what happened, when, where, and why. But first we're introduced to the 2 people who are supposed to ultimately crack the 40+ year-old case that not even the local authorities could solve (although if you've ever watched a soap opera you know that isn't saying much), both of which are highly unexpected sleuths.
For starters, there is Lisbeth Salander who, for some reason - which I've heard is explained in the following 2 books - we get to learn all the details of the sordid past of this "punk prodigy," who is covered in tattoos, piercings, and enough attitude to give all of those Emo kids a run for their money. But she became that way thanks to a past peppered with absentee parents, drug additions, sexual abuse, group homes, and conservators who took advantage of her apparent non-status in society. She spends all of her time - free and otherwise - using her powers to gain access to information on people us mere mortals could only dream of. Her methods are unconventional and could place her among the depravity she inevitably encounters if not for the goods she digs up.
No one saw her coming, nor expected her to, assuming she had been beaten down by the system and preferred to stay there with only her misery to keep her company. Her most recent case worker banked on this assumption and never even considered the possibility of the retaliation she conducted after he brutally rapes her. I, personally, found this aspect of the story very unbearable and only got through it by assuming the reader needed to know her entire story so we could eventually see how awesome a heroin she is. Just learning of her investigative talents was enough for me, thank you very much.
Another aside was learning all about our main character, the hero and Lisbeth's partner both in crime and eventually the sack, Mikael Blomkvist. It's not often someone convicted of libel turns into a hero and, sadly for the first book, he doesn't really amount to much of one in the eyes of his fictional public. Promised with the goods against those who accused him of slander, he hesitantly embarks on the journey to find missing Harriet Vanger; the most likely heir to the Vangar Corporation, Sweden's most prominent of floundering financial firms.
Armed with absolutely nothing but a family of liars, Mikael is introduced to Lisbeth as the last quarter of the book starts. He encounters her work through a lawyer who had the investigative firm run a report on someone who proves to have little significance to the overall story (remember the man who had Mikael convicted of libel? Yeah, him.) Even still, their paths are quite windy and shifty it's amazing they meet in the first place. But meet they do and, of course, solving an old mystery isn't all they get themselves into.
The case seems highly improbably - and the fact that Mikael was personally requested to accomplish the task is even more of a stretch - since all Mikael has to go on is an old photograph taken by a couple visiting the area on their honeymoon. And, lest we forget, any alleged crime took place over 40 years prior. Muddying the waters are members of the Vangar family who span the globe greater than the Kardashian family, and tell just as much of the same truth. It becomes painstakingly obvious that Mikael has inadvertently situated himself amidst a family secret he might have been better off not knowing, with a family hell-bent on keeping it hidden. So the story inevitably evolves into a battle of morals between Blomkvist and the Vangars. What he eventually uncovers, while navigating the bumps of his own personal life, is a level of sexual violence only imagined by those who occupy the most secure of imprisonment institutions.
To say the ending has a twist is an understatement, but I wouldn't lump it in with the twist-master himself, M. Nigh Shyamalan, or that guy who made all of those Bruce Willis movies. The end is shocking and I will not expound further.
As an extremely emotional person, I found this book to be highly intelligent, intriguing, disgusting, shocking, sordid, and just plain crazy. It left me feeling like learning more about Lisbeth would be satisfying but only in the way that eating an entire package of Oreos is satisfying. I'm forced to continue reading the series, however, since it was that in trade for my friend reading her emotionally-scaring equivalent: Marley and Me.
But when I eventually break down and read The Girl Who Played with Fire I'm at least armed with a fresh bottle of antidepressants.
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