(no subject)
I'm in Cape cod now, as I generally am in the beginning of July. Those of you who have been reading this journal for some time may know that I rather dislike the time I spend at Cape Cod, on the whole - I'm a New Yorker by nature, and in the quiet town of West Falmouth, iwth its yacht clubs and golden retrievers, I feel like Hedda Gabler - but I've been reading to excess, so many good books that I feel surely I shall overindulge on them, if that can be done, and that's enough to content me. They have wonderful library book sales around here, you see - I went to the first of them on Sunday, and got a great deal of wonderful things, which I shall list here at some point - not now, since I'm writing from a table outside a little place here that happens to have internet access, but as soon as I can.
Things I've been reading...I read Wet Magic, an E. Nesbit that I hadn't read before. For those who don't know E. Nesbit, she's a woman who wrote children's fantasy books in the Edwardian era, and I love her books for their distinctly Edwardian sensibilities, the little details of clothing and habit, and for the fact that her children protaganists can reference Cassandra in casual conversation - something that modern authors would never be able to get away with without making the child a stereotypical 'bookworm'. This book satisfied all those impulses in me, but faded a little in the later parts - E. Nesbit, you see, is as bad as realistic world creation as L. Frank Baum, and doesn't have his talent for gentle caricature. So, when her children go to magical worlds, everything tends to turn into a Utopia filled too much with sticky sentimentality. I'd advise a reader new to E. Nesbit to start with The Enchanted Castle and, if they like the style, move on to this.
Also, The Death of Vishnu, which I bought from a book sale on Cape Cod last year. That was very, very good, with gorgeous prose. The descriptions of modern India are so vivid, I could taste and smell everything described, and the charcters are rich and believable, particularly the title one. Spirituality was interwoven with it all artfully, and the ending was beautifully ambiguous.
I also read Rebecca, which I'd been meaning to read for some time. I loved it, loved it, loved it. It's...convincing Victorian melodrama with the self awareness of a book written after The Bell Jar. It won't work for everyone (I feel as if I always use this as a disclaimer when I love a book - probably that's wise of me), but it did work for me. I now would like to write a pastiche of it, in the form of Hedda Gabler fan fiction. Does anyone see where that's going?
Then there was Becoming A Heroine: Women and Fiction (I'm paraphrasing the subtitle; I don't have the book in front of me), which had an utterly brillant analysis of Clarissa and left me with a list of books I ought to read (isn't it wonderful, that there are so many good books in the world, that one can read so much and still have so much more to read?). Much of its effect on me was personal, comparing the way my own experiences matched and did not match with the author's. I have complicated thoughts on gender stemming from it, but before I voice them I'd be interested to hear other perspectives on the book.
Now I'm on to a new (well, to me) Mary Renault, this one about an ancient Greek actor - this book is delicious, so delicious, and I'm savoring it while it lasts.
So, what have the rest of you been up to?
Things I've been reading...I read Wet Magic, an E. Nesbit that I hadn't read before. For those who don't know E. Nesbit, she's a woman who wrote children's fantasy books in the Edwardian era, and I love her books for their distinctly Edwardian sensibilities, the little details of clothing and habit, and for the fact that her children protaganists can reference Cassandra in casual conversation - something that modern authors would never be able to get away with without making the child a stereotypical 'bookworm'. This book satisfied all those impulses in me, but faded a little in the later parts - E. Nesbit, you see, is as bad as realistic world creation as L. Frank Baum, and doesn't have his talent for gentle caricature. So, when her children go to magical worlds, everything tends to turn into a Utopia filled too much with sticky sentimentality. I'd advise a reader new to E. Nesbit to start with The Enchanted Castle and, if they like the style, move on to this.
Also, The Death of Vishnu, which I bought from a book sale on Cape Cod last year. That was very, very good, with gorgeous prose. The descriptions of modern India are so vivid, I could taste and smell everything described, and the charcters are rich and believable, particularly the title one. Spirituality was interwoven with it all artfully, and the ending was beautifully ambiguous.
I also read Rebecca, which I'd been meaning to read for some time. I loved it, loved it, loved it. It's...convincing Victorian melodrama with the self awareness of a book written after The Bell Jar. It won't work for everyone (I feel as if I always use this as a disclaimer when I love a book - probably that's wise of me), but it did work for me. I now would like to write a pastiche of it, in the form of Hedda Gabler fan fiction. Does anyone see where that's going?
Then there was Becoming A Heroine: Women and Fiction (I'm paraphrasing the subtitle; I don't have the book in front of me), which had an utterly brillant analysis of Clarissa and left me with a list of books I ought to read (isn't it wonderful, that there are so many good books in the world, that one can read so much and still have so much more to read?). Much of its effect on me was personal, comparing the way my own experiences matched and did not match with the author's. I have complicated thoughts on gender stemming from it, but before I voice them I'd be interested to hear other perspectives on the book.
Now I'm on to a new (well, to me) Mary Renault, this one about an ancient Greek actor - this book is delicious, so delicious, and I'm savoring it while it lasts.
So, what have the rest of you been up to?